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theringers · 3 years ago

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counting crimes - pierre gasly

illicit affairs, part three

summary: “wandering eyes and comfortable lies, you seem to sleep just fine” counting crimes / nessa barrett

a/n: i’m thinking there’s only gonna be two more parts but that may change, we’ll see. enjoy this and let me know what u think! feedback is always appreciated xoxo

also this gif today killed me

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, semi public sex shocker!, lil angst, cocky pierre

Your eyes widen as you try to comprehend what to do. Someone was at the door and Pierre was still inside of you, in shock. “Hey, y/n? Are you in there?” Max’s voice could be heard through the door. He tried to push the door in but the deadbolt stopped him.

You glared at Pierre, cleared your throat and placed a finger on his lips. “Yes, give me a few seconds.” You panicked and pulled your dress up, trying not to make too much noise.

Where the fuck was Pierre supposed to go? You should have just kept quiet. Your eyes focused on the window and you pointed towards it, quietly shoving him out.

He squeezed himself through the window and stepped down onto the grass. After quietly shutting the window, you looked in the mirror and readjusted your dress. Your hair needed some readjusting as well, so you quickly brushed through it.

You unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to see your husband. “Hey,” he smiled at you, genuinely happy to see you.

“Hi, Max.” Your voice was shaking but you smiled to try to play it off. You usually had a good amount of time to psych yourself up before you went back to Max but you could still feel how Pierre had fucked you.

You were awful. He placed his hands on your hips and kissed your cheek. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re kind of hot.” He placed the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Yeah, it was really hot in there but I feel better now.” Hopefully he would buy that story.

“Well, if you’re feeling better now, I have an idea.” His hands rested on your hips again and pulled you into his body. “We have a few minutes to kill. What do you say we have a little bit of fun in here? It is our anniversary after all.” His lips found your neck and placed soft, gentle kisses on the skin. “You look so beautiful tonight, baby.” You were feeling sexually frustrated after being interrupted but he was right. It was your anniversary, so what the hell.

You leaned your neck to the side, inviting him in. “I love this dress, but it needs to come off.” He looked you in the eyes and smiled, reaching around for the zipper. He bent his knees and slowly pulled your dress to your ankles. His hands rested around your calves and move upwards while his lips trailed kisses on the soft skin of your thighs.

His finger pushed aside your panties and he slid a finger between your folds. “Jesus baby, you’re so wet.” He smiled and looked up at you. You moaned and rolled your eyes into the back of your head to avoid making eye contact with him. His tongue found its way between your legs, licking lightly before fucking your pussy with his tongue. You let out a moan while your body jerked toward his face uncontrollably. You needed him to finish you off so badly.

His fingernails ran lightly over the skin on your abdomen down to your thighs. “Oh, Max” you moaned.

Your hand quickly covered your mouth, remembering that even though he wasn’t out there possibly listening there were other people who shouldn’t hear you right now either.

He pulled his suit pants down and took himself in his hand, smiling at you. “I love you,” he said before entering you. He pressed against your body and thrusted up into you while looking in your eyes.

“I love you too, baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a moan.

Sometimes you forgot what it was like to have sex without the looming threat of someone finding out. Instead of worrying about someone catching you cheating, you were able to focus on the sensation and the intimacy but even now, something was missing.

Max left the bathroom before you, allowing you more time to clean up and look normal. You didn’t want to draw any more attention. “Hey guys, sorry I wasn’t feeling to well.” You said, grabbing your napkin off the table and taking your old seat. Max looked flushed for obvious reasons and couldn’t hide his smile.

You turned to your left and smiled at Pierre and Anna. “Did I miss anything?” Pierre’s gaze was glued to the stage ahead and he refused to look at you. His jaw was clenched and you could feel the steam coming out of his ears. You made eye contact with Anna and cocked your head in confusion. Why was he acting this way? Maybe Anna thinks it’s something she did wrong.

“Nothing important, for us at least,” she said, fixing single pieces of her hair.

Max’s hand gripped your inner thigh and he looked over to you and smiled. You returned the smile but immediately looked in Pierre’s direction to see him still refusing to look at you, his fist balled at his side.

Hotels in random cities at 2 am are lonely. The sound of Max’s snores kept you awake longer than expected. Your mind was wandering to places you wish it wouldn’t and you couldn’t get silence long enough to dream. The air conditioner in the room was set to the coolest temperature - hotel air always hitting different. Your mouth was dry, making you uncomfortable and adding to another thing making you unable to sleep.

You pulled the covers aside in frustration and grabbed a pair of shorts to put on under Max’s oversized Red Bull Racing shirt. You looked around for the room key and slid it off the table as soon as you spotted it.

As you stood in the elevator, you looked down and noticed your bare feet. It was 2 am so you were hoping there was no one important in the lobby. You just wanted a sip of cold water to help put you to sleep.

The night before races always made you nervous. You never knew what was going to happen so you had a constant pit in your stomach over your husband’s safety. That stress only increased when you began sleeping with another driver. Someone else’s safety to worry about.

You smiled at the older couple that greeted you when the elevator door opened. You crossed your arms and tip toed to the mini bar, grabbing the largest bottle of water they carried. After giving the gentleman your room number, you ran towards the closing elevator doors only to be met with familiar blue eyes. His hair was messy and his skin was glowing from sweat.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, stepping to one side. Even though he clearly just worked out you could still smell the strong scent of his cologne. “How have you been, y/n?”

“I’ve been okay. Your summer break looked fun,” you took a quick sip of your water and smiled at him.

“As did yours.” The silence was uncomfortable. You two were always laughing and talking nonstop. It was what you loved about him.

You focused on the pounding of your heart and your eyes wandered, trying to pass the uncomfortable time.

You suddenly lost your balance as the elevator shook, the lights flickered off, and the cables stopped. Turning your head towards Pierre, you began to get worried.

“Did this just break?” He asked, pressing the floor buttons and hoping the lights would come back on.

“Just our luck.” You laughed at yourselves. Why did the universe hate you? You plopped down onto the ground and twiddled your thumbs, realizing that you left your phone in the hotel room. “Do you have your phone?” You asked Pierre.

He lifted his wrist to show his apple watch. “I just went on a run. I never bring it with me on a run.” Of course he didn’t.

You groaned and banged your head on the wall behind you.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” He laughed, pleased with himself. He slid down to join you on the floor, the summer heat starting to creep into the elevator.

After not speaking for the entire summer break, this unconventional meeting was quite uncomfortable. You watched on Instagram as him and his wife vacationed in Bali, looking happy as ever. Granted, he did the same with you but he would never admit it. He had too much pride.

“Why didn’t you ever reach out?” You asked him, bluntly.

He looked at you making you feel dumb. “Why do you think I didn’t? I spent four weeks straight with Anna. Would you want me calling you up while you were on holiday with Max?”

“I don’t know,” you stumbled over your words. “I just would have liked to talk to you.”

“I told you before, I can’t keep doing this.” He said, exhausted at the back and forth you two had done.

“Yet, you do. You tease me and torture me and then say you need to be devoted to her. It’s not fair to me.” You let out a deep breath, exhausted over feeling this way.

“You want to talk about fair? You had sex with Max right after me. Less than five minutes after I was inside of you, he was too.”

You looked at him confused.

“I thought you were just going to talk to him for a few moments and then send him off.” Oh no. “I was waiting for you to open the window and let me back in.” He ran his hands over his face.

“Pierre, I’m so-”

“Don’t, y/n.”

He heard you and Max. You felt remorse for doing it, putting Pierre through that. But at the same time, you didn’t. Pierre is sleeping with his friend’s wife. He has no place to be jealous or mad. He comes second.

“How much did you hear?”

“I left when I heard him talk about how wet you were. He thought it was because of him but he had no idea that it was all for me.” Pierre scooted closer to you and put his hand on your thigh. “He has no idea how wet you get for me.” He moved in closer to your ear. “How good I make you feel.”

Your head spun at his words. When he made you cum, you forgot about everything in the entire world except for him.

“I’m really sorry, Pierre. That was shitty of me.” You rested your hand on his chest. “Let me make it up to you.” Your hand moved to his thigh and grazed over his thin mesh gym shorts.

You pulled his shorts off and took him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head. He pulled your loose hair into his hand as a makeshift ponytail. He let soft groans escape his lips, being mindful of the setting. He would look down to see you taking him fully and have to look away or else he would finish quicker than he would like. Each time his eyes trailed down, his hips thrusted uncontrollably and a grunt would leave his lips.

“That’s it baby,” he said, in a low tone but almost whining. “God, your mouth feels so good. It was made to take my cock.” He continued to fill your mouth and throat, making you gag and tighten around him.

He pulled your head up by your hair and looked at you. “Come sit on my face.” He looked at your outfit, examining how he could take it off in the easiest way possible. He slipped off your comfortable sweat shorts, leaving you in just your Red Bull tee.

He laid down on the ground and hoisted your legs up and around his chest, getting the perfect view of your ass.

You stroked his cock and started to grind your hips against his chest. He took you in his hands immediately, not up for teasing, and pulled you onto his face. You rocked your hips over his face at a slow, light pace while still focusing on taking him in your mouth.

His tongue flicked your clit while his thumbs massaged your ass, pressing down hard and most definitely leaving bruises.

You moaned at the feeling of your legs beginning to tingle. He loved to 69 with you because every time you got an ounce of pleasure, your moans vibrated around his cock. You would tighten your throat and gag, sending him down a spiral. You both knew how to make each other feel incredible.

His facial hair tickled your inner thighs and left light scratches on the skin. As you ground your hips into his mouth, the sensation got rougher but the pleasure just increased.

He used his ab muscles to thrust into your throat, looking for his release. You tightened your grip around the base of his cock and suctioned even harder with your mouth as he let go.

Your legs went fully numb as the tension began to build in your stomach. You reached your peak, hearing Pierre’s tongue lap at your juices.

You rolled off of his body, looking for your shorts. The guilt was already beginning to set in and you couldn’t escape it now. You were stuck.

Pierre wiped his mouth with his hand and you noticed his whole face was wet. He was still smiling.

“I just hope Anna and Max aren’t standing there waiting for us when these doors decide to open.”

“Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?” You laughed, brushing your fingers through your now knotty hair.

Pierre pulled his shorts back on and looked at you. “Now be honest with me, who eats your pussy better? Me or him?”

“You can’t ask me that.”

“I can and I did.”

“Well, I’m not going to give you an answer.”

He laughed at you, not the reaction you were expecting. “Don’t worry, I already have the answer. I heard the sounds you make when he’s between your legs. It’s nothing compared to the sounds you just made for me.” He winked at you, knowing exactly where you stand with him.

next part

#f1 imagine #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fanfiction #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #smut prompts #f1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly smut ask #pierre gasly imagine #pg #mv

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bisexualwannabewriter · 3 years ago

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“This is killing me” Part Twelve - Spencer Reid x female reader

Summary : You’re working for the BAU, and Dr Spencer Reid is your best friend on the team. Actually, he’s your best friend, pErIoD. The thing is, you’re not supposed to feel that way about your best friend. He makes you feel some type of way, everyone in the team can see it, except you and him.

In the previous chapter, you put all of your focus on a new case involving a disorganized unsub, with an obsession with conspiracy theories and the existence of “lizard people” within our society. Spencer tried to tell you something about his date with officer Maggie Rowe, and Derek even tried to encourage you to listen to what he had to say. In addition to everything, you overheard a conversation between Spence and Maggie, that left you dubious : the both of them kissed, but it didn’t seem like things were going well between them...

You can find all the previous chapters here.

Chapter Summary : Your hard work has paid off. On the trip back to Quantico though, you and Spencer finally have the most honest conversation you’ve had so far. Your relationship takes a new turn, but things can never go too smoothly between the two of you. Still, after some clarification from Derek, hope starts to creep in...

TW : Violence, death, mental illness, drug use, conspiracy theories, exhaustion, anxiety. It’s fluffy, it’s angsty, it’s romantic, it’s clumsy, the tension is crazy. We’re getting there, people. Slowly but surely.

(Not my GIF)

You caught the unsub in a stupid way, really. He just killed at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Sometimes it happened. You could work as hard as you wanted, know the killer better than yourself... they would just leave one body, in a way that was even more sloppy than the others, and you could catch your man. One mistake, and that was it. It was a good thing, of course, but in situations like this, you never knew what the unsub's next move was going to be. They didn't even know it, until they did it. Your unsub fit in every category of an unorganized killer : below average intelligence, check. Socially inadequate, check. Worked an ungrateful job near the crime scenes, check. Living alone, check. Check, check, check. Your profile, your whole theory on his obsession with lizard people : check. You knew you would have caught him one way or another, as Spencer had managed to narrow down the places where the unsub could have been living, given the places of the last murders. But you caught him thanks to dumb luck. Gabriel Calahan was just a paranoid schizophrenic, whose mental illness had been exacerbated with severe drug use as a teenager. He believed some higher power was ordering him to uncover the truth about those controlling reptilians, who were going to lead us into chaos.

///

On the jet back to Quantico, you sat alone. You needed some peace and quiet. You were exhausted. You really worked your ass off on this case. Derek seemed a bit worried about you, while Hotch and Prentiss were pretty happy with your efforts. Spencer seemed restless, and the bags under his eyes were even darker than usual. His mind was a wonder that worked in mysterious ways, but you could tell he was just really agitated these days. Not telling you what he wanted to tell you, probably took more efforts and energy from him than an average person could possibly understand. You wanted him to go into a peaceful sleep, to forget about what was troubling him. Even in times like this, you just wanted him to be okay. Things were probably complicated for him right now. You somehow managed to get over the fact that he kissed Maggie, and tried to focus on the rest of the chat. It was wrong to listen to people's private conversations, and you lacked context. What they were talking about could mean a hundred different things, and you would know soon enough anyway. The rest of the team was slowly drifting off to sleep, and you were trying to as well, but you could feel Spencer nervously glance at you pretty regularly. At some point, you just gave up, let out a deep sigh, opened your eyes, and motioned him to come join you on the couch.

He sat heavily next to you. You just stayed together in silence for a moment. You didn't want him to start to talk. Because that would be it. You would be having the conversation you had been dreading for a while. Eventually, he had to start talking, and you felt your heart beating like crazy in your chest. "Go ahead Spence, break my heart." was all you could think about. Instead...

"Listen y/n, I know this isn't ideal. But... you have been avoiding me for a while now and... I don't even know if you want me in your life or not anymore. I just... we texted over the holidays and everything, and we hugged like nothing happened when we got back to work but... Things aren't... Things have been weird for a while now, and... I hate it. I hate to see us drift apart like this." You were listening to every single word that was coming out of his mouth as carefully as you could, like someone waiting for their verdict at court. You felt like you were going to get the death penalty somehow. He paused, before starting to talk again. "I don't know what to think anymore. I've been trying to understand, but it seems like my brain... can't function properly when it comes to you." You were going to die from a heart attack, right here and there. On the outside, you tried to put on your best poker face, but hearing Spencer utter those words made your eyes betray you, you were sure of it. You felt exactly like this when it came to him too. How could two people feel things so similarly, and still not understand one another ? He looked so nervous, as he was looking for the right words to say exactly what his heart had been meaning to tell you. " I guess I'm just... I think... Jesus, why is this so complicated ? Just... say something, y/n. Anything."

You honestly didn't know what to say. He said so much and so little at the same time. What was there for you to say ?

"I... I don't know what you want from me Spence... I know things have been weird, and I'm... I'm sorry, okay ? I've been acting strange for the past couple of months, I know it. I just... Of course I want you in my life. And I hate that we don't even know how to talk to each other anymore... You said you wanted to talk about your date ? What does it have to do with anything ?" You tried the innocent card, but Spencer wasn't biting. "Come on y/n... no more mind games. I was trying to get there slowly but... You're not giving me much of an alternative, are you ?" He stared at you, more directly than he had in a while. You hadn't noticed, but he got closer too. You had to fight the urge to drag his face to yours to kiss him feverishly. He was so right, your minds just wouldn't work properly around each other. Something about the way you were looking at him might have given him some newly found determination, because he carried on without letting you out of his sight at any moment, shifting his gaze between your tired eyes and your slightly parted lips. The nervousness was still there, but he was going to say whatever it was he wanted to say, no matter the consequences now.

"As you know, I went on a date with Maggie. It was great. I wanted to have a good time with her. I really did. Everything worked out just fine. It was almost too cliche, how smoothly the evening went." You felt your heart sink in your chest. Yup, there it was, you thought. The end of all hope. "She was wearing this really pretty red dress, and at first, all I could think about was how you have a really pretty red dress too, that you don't put on nearly as often as you should. But then I thought, hey, you're on a date with her, with Maggie. Y/n even seemed happy for you, even though you thought she kind of hated her. So focus on her, focus on Maggie. And I did. I tried." He paused, looking for something in your eyes. Were you supposed to understand where he was getting at with this story ? "I... we kissed. Okay ? I kissed her, after I walked her back home. It was really romantic. The sky was filled with stars, and there was a nice little breeze... I- It was perfect." You couldn't help it, but you wanted to cry. You felt like you couldn't breathe anymore. Why was he telling you this ? It took eveything you had in you to keep listening to him as calmly as possible. "And then... I don't know why, I just... I couldn't... You're not supposed to think so much, when you're kissing someone, are you ? It just makes sense, and you go with the flow. And so... I thought I could kiss her, touch her, and hold her. I wanted to try to take my mind off of... things. But it felt... wrong ? It just felt weird, like something wasn't... what it was supposed to be ?" And then, the hope subtly came back.

You saw how hard it was for him to express himself. What was the point of all of this ? What was he really saying ? You wanted to scream that question, to just demand an answer from him. Your emotions were all over the place. He had a date with Maggie. It was perfect. She was wearing a little red dress, that looked like the one you put on, when you went out of your way to impress him when you went out sometimes. But he had a hard time focusing on the present moment, even as he kissed her, because... ? "What are you saying Spence ?" you murmured as softly as you could, contrasting with the inner turmoil you were facing. He tilted his head to the side, looking almost desperate, silently asking with his eyes why you couldn't understand the true meaning of what he was trying to say.

Behind you, you felt Hotch and JJ move in their seat. The jet was almost back at Quantico. Spencer saw them, and you saw him slouch a little. He looked more exhausted than ever. The determination in his eyes seemed to have abandoned him. "Nothing, y/n. Forget it. I had a date with Maggie, we kissed, but it didn't work out in the end. It's okay. It doesn't matter now." It mattered. You saw how much the whole conversation meant to him. You thought you could understand now. You felt like it was starting to make sense. But you had to hear him say it, otherwise you would never truly believe it. "Spence..." you tried to call, as he stood up. "We're nearly home, and we need some rest. I'm gonna get my things now."

When the jet landed, Spencer barely acknowledged your presence. He went back home as quietly as possible, without letting anyone know he was leaving. Derek helped you with your luggage "You look like you've seen a ghost. I don't understand, didn't he tell you about his date with Maggie ?" You hesitated : "He tried... I don't really know what he was trying to say." He gave you a soft smile and answered "Yes you do y/n. Come on, let me drive you home."

The ride home was pretty quiet. You were both tired. When you got there, Morgan and you sat in silence for a moment, before he told you : "Listen, I know me and Garcia have done enough already when it comes to the two of you. I don't want to overstep on your boundaries. But I feel like you guys just need a little extra push, otherwise it'll take ages." You laughed a little "I thought you said we were going to find our way back to each other at one point or another, no matter how much time it would take ?" He chuckled "Yeah yeah, I know what I said, but listen... what I understood from this entire situation, is that kissing that woman made him realise just how much he wanted you. The only problem with her, no matter how perfect the whole date was, was that she wasn't you. He thought he could be with someone else, he thought he could give her a chance. After all, you showed him you supported his decision, thumbs up and all that bullshit, right ? He kissed her, felt like shit, tried to kiss her some more to get over that weird feeling, started to think about you, got into it, but then she said something, and that threw him off." You were raising your eyebrows at him, questioning what he was reporting. "Hey, me and pretty boy talk a lot, alright ? And what he doesn't tell me, I understand. I see right through him. The rest is just me being good at my job. The only way the kiss kind of worked, was if he was thinking about you. Trust me, I know that. I've been there. You can try and pretend for a little while, until it doesn't work anymore, and you end up feeling like shit because the poor girl doesn't deserve that." You just stayed there, numb with fatigue and the overwhelming nature of what Derek was telling you. You told him about the conversation you overheard between the two of them "I think she was calling him to try and understand why it didn't work out between them, even after that perfect date. Knowing Spencer, he didn't want to hurt her feelings, and he didn't tell her what was really going on." It wasn't like you did either. What WAS really going on ? Morgan answered "Yeah, he vaguely told me about it. My guess ? She knows it's about you. She just needed to hear him say it. Just like you do. But deep down, you know what this all means. You know what's going on." After a little moment, you admitted "You're right. And I knew what he was trying to say, but I just... froze. I can't really... fully comprehend any of it right now. I think I just need some sleep." You paused, before breathing out with a soft smile : "He tried... he really did..." Morgan answered "Now it's your time to try, pretty lady." You smiled at him, not entirely sure whether that whole conversation was a dream or not, and headed back home to get some restorative sleep.

Chapter Thirteen is here !

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iflostreturntosteverogers · 4 years ago

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If You Love Her

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, EraserMic, Ejiriou Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinsou, Kazuya Yamazaki (OMC), Hanta Sero (Mentioned), Mina Ashido (Mentioned), Denki Kaminari (Mentioned), Izuku Midoriya (Mentioned), Shouto Todoroki (Mentioned)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Grief, Little Smidge of Fluff

Word Count: 2278

Beta: @sorenmarie87

A/N: Lyrics used from the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Masterlist

Katsuki hums as he prepares breakfast for the two of you. You lean against the doorframe admiring him in his hero costume. “Just gonna stand there, Firework? Or are you going to come kiss me good morning?” He smirks over his shoulder at you. You push off the door frame and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He sits his knife down and turns in your arms, cupping your face and kissing you. “You know you could’ve slept in right? UA is on holiday.” You shrug.

“I couldn’t sleep. I’m a little anxious this morning for some reason. Plus, I wanted to see you before you left for patrol.” Katsuki squeezes you hard before letting you go and turning back to his task. You grab your favorite mug and start to pour yourself a cup of coffee when his voice stops you.

“Don’t drink coffee if you’re anxious. You know it makes your heart race. There’s tea in the cabinet. Do you want me to stay home with you today?”

“Thank you. No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine, Kat, I promise.” You reach up on your tiptoes for the tea on the top shelf. You had a sneaking suspicion that Katsuki liked to place things you used regularly up out of your reach so he could grab it for you. He chuckles and grabs the tin, placing it in your hands. “Thanks.”

“Welcome, babe. Breakfast is ready, but I’ve gotta take mine to go. I’m running late for a meeting with Deku, Shouto, and Kirishima before our patrols.”

“Be safe, Kat. Come home to me.” He leans down to kiss you and presses your foreheads together.

“I will. I promise.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most, Firework. I’ll be home for dinner.”

The envelope in his pocket feels like lead as he sits through the shitty meeting Deku is leading. The truth is he’d woken up with anxiety too. Terrified about the future and what would happen to you if he was gone and wasn’t there to protect and love you anymore. It’s not like hero work was exactly safe. There was always that risk. They had already lost friends and comforted significant others at burials. Kirishima nudges his leg. “Hey, man. You good?” Katsuki looks around and realizes the meeting room has emptied, leaving him and his best friend alone.

“Just thinking about Denki and Shinsou. And Sero and Mina.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s been what about a year since Sero was killed?”

“Mhm and only a few months since Denki. Fuck, man. Feels like forever ago and yesterday at the same time.” Kirishima’s eyes fill with sadness thinking about their fallen friends.

“Yeah. Listen, Kiri. I need you to do something for me.” He pulls the envelope from his pocket and holds it out to him. “If I- if I ever die, I need you to take care of her for me. Make sure she lives her life, man. Don’t let her shut down and her light die. She’s too bright for that, man. You protect her. You have to help her keep going. Make sure she falls in love again. And when she does, you give him this.” Katsuki’s voice cracks, thick with emotion.

“Katsuki, I-”

“Promise me, Ejiriou.” Katsuki shoves it at him. Eyes desperate and pleading.

“Of course, Katsuki. I promise.” He pulls Katsuki into a hug, a move that would’ve earned him an explosion to the face years ago. They stay like that until Katsuki’s calm and in control again.

“Let’s get out of here. I need to blow something up.” They both let out watery laughs and stand.

“You know everything’s gonna be fine, right?” Kirishima places his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I just can’t stop thinking about how wrecked Mina and Shinsou were. Hell, they still are. We’ve done our best to be there for them but Shinsou shut down and pushed us away completely. He blocked everyone’s numbers, except Y/N, but she’s his sister. Mina tries, but we all know she can’t even look at us anymore, because she just sees the one who’s missing. I have to make sure someone takes care of her. For my peace of mind.”

“That makes sense.” They slip their comms in their ears and leave the conference room. Kirishima stops by his desk to store the letter while Katsuki texts you. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

Their patrol goes slowly. Katsuki just wants to get home to you. It’s hot as hell and quiet on the villain front. The only thing they’d done was rescue that dumb cat from a tree. “Dude, one more quiet block and I’m calling it a day.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I think we can let the sidekicks handle the last couple hours without us.”

You stand at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for stir fry. The news drones on in the background as you make dinner. Katsuki had checked in multiple times and said his day was boring and long, so you figured you’d make his favorite food and you guys could have a movie night. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket, but as you reach for it someone bangs on the door. “Good grief.” You lay the knife aside and wipe your hands on a towel. “I’m coming.” The banging continues, growing more frantic. “Jesus, I’m coming. Chill.”

Time slows in that moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Katsuki’s picture on the news screen and turn. The doorknob jiggles as the person gives up on knocking and resorts to their key or picking the lock you don’t know. “Pro Hero Dynamight was killed moments ago in an attack. He and his partner, Red Riot, were on their way back to their agency when they were ambushed by a group of villains.” You stop dead in your tracks. The door opens. “Dynamight was dead by the time sidekicks and backup arrived. Red Riot has been rushed to the hospital. Dynamight was ranked number two behind Pro Hero Deku and leaves behind a wife. Japan thanks you for your sacrifice.” Your knees buckle, but arms wrap around you, keeping you from collapsing completely. Katsuki was dead.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” A familiar deep voice rumbles in your ear. Aizawa holds you close as you sob into his chest.

“Daddy, he’s gone. Katsuki’s gone. I can’t do this without him. I can’t!” You cry and scream on the floor in your father’s arms. Hizashi arrives moments later, hitting his knees and wrapping you both up.

Everything is a blur after that. People are in and out of your house. Arms hold you, but they’re the wrong ones. Someone shoved a cup of tea into your hands that went cold a long time ago. You shiver at the cold emptiness that has seeped into your bones. Hizashi wraps a blanket around your shoulders and kisses your forehead. You don’t acknowledge him nor Aizawa when he tries to coax you into eating some food. “Baby, please just drink some water then.”

You fall asleep on the couch late into the night, because you can’t bear to sleep in your bed without him. Your dads sleep on the couch opposite you. They’re curled protectively around each other, having been reminded once again that time is short and how lucky they’ve been.

Katsuki’s service is beautiful. People from all over the country come to say goodbye. Your dads hold your hands, while Kirishima, Deku, and Todoroki speak about their friend. It takes all your strength to stand at that podium. “Most of Japan knows Katsuki as Pro Hero Dynamight. The explosive, sometimes crass hero who never backed down whether in battle or simply in the way he spoke. I knew him as the love of my life. He never held back in loving me. He put things on top shelves that I couldn’t reach just so he could get them down and then kiss me. He loved to cook and has made breakfast for me every single morning since we began dating our second year. Katsuki was incredibly caring, even if he wouldn’t show anyone. I love you more, Katsuki. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without you.” You break down as you address your lost love. Hizashi realizes you won’t be able to move on your own and walks up to you.

“Come on, baby. Come back and sit down. You did so well.” He places his hands on your shoulders.

“I can’t, Papa. I can’t do this.” Tears flow freely down your face as you grip the podium.

“You can. One step at a time.” You let go and lean against him as he leads you back to your seat. The service concludes just after sunset. Fireworks fill the sky as tribute to the explosive hero.

Kirishima sits at a table in the cafe, enjoying the beautiful weather and cherry blossoms. You make your way over to him. “Thanks for coming, Kiri.” He stands and pulls you into a crushing hug.

“Of course I came! How are you? You look great!”

“Thank you. I’m doing good.” You smile and he pulls your chair out for you. “I actually asked you here for a reason. I-uh, I’ve met someone. His name is Kazuya. Kazuya Yamazaki. He works at UA teaching Hero Ethics. He’s incredibly sweet and caring. He’s compassionate and understanding. He’s not Katsuki, but I love him. I miss Katsuki so much, Kiri. I still love him. I’ll never stop loving him.” Tears come to your eyes when you mention your late husband. Kirishima smiles.

“Sweetheart, that’s awesome. Katsuki wanted you to live life after he was gone. He wanted you to find love again and be happy. He made me promise that I’d take care of you and make sure you lived and moved on. He’d be so proud of you.” He hands you a napkin to wipe your tears away and chuckles. “Do I get to meet him?”

“That makes me feel better. And yes, you can. We can do dinner at my house this week and I’ll introduce the two of you. Until then, let’s order some food. I’m starving.”

You order and catch up with each other. When you start to leave he hands you an envelope. “Give this to him.” You look down at it. Written on the front is “To the Extra that loves her after I’m gone” in Katsuki’s handwriting. You hug it to you.

“I will.”

You close your car door and take a deep breath. Kazuya makes his way over to you and the two of you walk silently to Katsuki’s monument. “I wanted you to come here for a reason. Today at lunch Kirishima gave me this.” You show him the letter in your hands. “It only felt appropriate for it to be read here.” He takes the letter from you and you both sit in the grass with your backs against the cold marble. You lean your head over onto his shoulder as he reads.

“To the Extra that loves her after I’m gone. Extra?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “that’s just how Katsuki was. Keep going.”

“If you’re reading this shit then I must be gone, but it also means that she’s found happiness and love again. That’s all I want for her. She deserves the world. But if you’re going to love her there’s some things you should know. If she gives you her heart, don't you break it. Let your arms be a place she feels safe in. She's the best thing that you'll ever have. She always has trouble falling asleep, and she likes to cuddle while under the sheets. She loves Pop songs and dancing and bad trash TV. There's still a few other things. She loves love notes and babies. And likes giving gifts. Has a hard time accepting a good compliment. She loves her whole family and all of her friends. On days when it feels like the whole world might cave in, stand side by side and you'll make it. She's the best thing that you'll ever have. She'll love you if you love her like that. Kiss her with passion as much as you can. Run your hands through her hair whenever she's sad. And when she doesn't notice how pretty she is. Tell her over and over, so she never forgets. Make her breakfast every morning, because she hates mornings and it makes her happy. Don’t let her drink coffee, it just makes her anxious. Buy her flowers and candy and those dumb stuffed animals she loves so much. Make her smile every chance you get because it is the most beautiful thing in the world. Love her. Love her more than anything else in the world. Don’t let her be sad over me. Make sure she shines. Her light is so bright and warm. Take care of her for me. -Katsuki Bakugou”

You wipe tears from your cheeks. “Oh, Katsuki.” Kazuya wraps his arm around you and lets you cry on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, sweetheart. There’s no reason to be sorry. He was your first love, your husband. You are allowed to still love him and to still be grieving him. I know there’s room in your heart for both of us.”

“Thank you. Even after ten years, it still hurts and I still miss him.”

“And that’s okay. Why don’t we go to the market and buy some flowers, so we can freshen up his arrangement? And then we can go home and you can tell me more about him.”

“That sounds great.”

Tags: @fictionalabyss, @leave-me-2-rot-among-the-flowers

#bnha katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugou #Angst #my hero academia #fluff #sad #kirishima

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missroserose · 3 years ago

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WIP snippet meme!

@redmyeyes tagged me to share a snippet of my WIP! (Luckily, she didn't specify which one.) I'm going to tag @paperbodiesamongthestars, @twobrokenwyngs, @sirsparklepants, @withoneheadlight, @trashcangimmick, @wendigosam, and @keziahrain—let's see what y'all are working on!

As for me, while I haven't actively worked on Act III of Waters for a while, it's been haunting my ruminations for some time now. So here's an early version of one of the early scenes. It's the week after Billy and Steve got together in secret, and things have been a little rocky between them—and then, of course, there's school...

---

Steve thinks about skipping the lunchroom, maybe going out to his car for a smoke—it’s been a while since he did, Nancy didn’t like it, but Nancy’s in the lunchroom and not out in his car, and frankly that seems like as good a reason as any. But Tommy’ll be there, and Eric, and the rest of the guys, and even if it is unseasonably warm there’s something of an unspoken rule that they all eat together in the lunchroom come December. So he shows up fashionably late, grabs a tray, takes his apportioned apple and slice of pizza and pint of chocolate milk—

A round of applause interrupts his good old fashioned pity party. Sends his attention towards the corner of the cafeteria where the guys from the basketball team are sitting—all clapping, whistling, giving those weird hooting gorilla grunts combined with a spun arm of approval.

All at Billy, standing in the doorway.

Billy’s staring, hostile, mean, but then Tommy runs up to him, slaps him on the back—“hell yeah, stud, like father like son“—and of course he misses the flash of anger this sends across Billy’s face. Steve crosses the room, careful to put a careless saunter in his step, and stands at the end of the table, watches as Billy takes the guys’ semi-sarcastic congratulations. Leans over, where Dan Miller’s sitting, stabbing at his rubbery pizza slice with a plastic spork. “What’s going on?”

“Something about his dad,” Miller responds. “It’s dumb but Tommy got it into his head that it’d be a funny joke.” He looks over at Steve, half surprised. “I would’ve thought you were in on it.”

“What, like Tommy can’t think up unfunny shit on his own?” Steve elbows Dan, gets a half-smiling chuckle in response, straightens. Returns his attention to the drama playing out at the head of the table, hears snatches of conversation. “Lydia Hayes—“ “God, I’ve had a crush on her since middle school—“ “those tits though—“ “shame her daughter didn't get those, huh?”—this last greeted with a round of knowing nods and chuckles.

“Hargrove, what the hell? You weren’t going to tell me it was your bachelorette party today?” Steve bumps his way in through the receiving line, gives Billy an elbow in the ribs.

“Ha ha. Save your congratulations for my asshole father. Apparently he banged some bitch's mom that these idiots have been drooling over for years.” Billy’s eyes slide over the rest of the team with unveiled contempt—most of them have gone back to eating at this point, the joke over.

“Not just some bitch. Lydia fucking Hayes, dude.” Tommy, never one to understand when a joke’s been stretched to its limit, claps Billy on the back. “Loud and proud enough that his wife went nuclear on the Hayes’ holiday decorations over the weekend.”

“It was a public service, really,” one of the guys cracks.

“Jesus, you hicks are hard up for entertainment,” Billy mutters, and stalks off to go grab a tray.

Steve nabs the seat next to Tommy, does his best to change the subject. Remembers his own words to Billy, earlier. “So, what’s your family doing for Christmas?”

“My family? Skiing again. Lame-o.” Tommy gives an exaggerated yawn, stretching one arm up as if flagging for the entertainment. “Luckily, I’ve talked my way out of it. Told the ‘rents I’ve got way too much homework over vacation. Wouldn’t want to risk my GPA, maybe get my college acceptance withdrawn.”

Steve flashes his best Risky Business smile. “So you’re throwing a party?”

“Fuck yeah I’m throwing a party. Friday night. You coming?”

Steve’s smile turns into a grin, all teeth. “I’ll bring the keg.”

“That’s King Steve.” Tommy punches him in the shoulder approvingly. “Wonder if we can set up two. Get you and Hargrove in direct competition—that’d be a hell of a draw. I bet we could sell tickets.”

“Psh, a kegstand’s no draw if you don’t have girls.” A thought occurs to him. “Can we get the girls to hold us up? Like wrestling champions. That would bring in the crowds.”

“What’re we bringing?” Billy’s returned, alotted pizza slice and milk carton and fruit cup all perched on his tray.

“Your A-game!” Tommy, never one to wait for an idea to finish baking, practically crows the words. “This Friday, man. Start-of-Christmas-vacation party! We’re gonna knock the socks off these hicks.”

Steve would swear he could see Billy’s eye twitch at Tommy’s easy appropriation of his personal vocabulary. “I’m not sure I’m really in the mood for partying, Hagan. Besides, didn’t Kristie just throw a kegger last week?”

Tommy scoffs. “Hardly. It was sad, man. There were, like, five people sitting around in ugly Christmas sweaters. Not even enough to play Spin the Bottle.” He shakes his head, expression as tragically pained as someone looking at those pictures of the starving children in Ethiopia. “You going to tell me we can’t do better than that? We’ve got the whole team!” His voice rises on the last note, as if he’s expecting the others to cheer, but he barely garners a couple of glances before the rest of the guys go back to their conversations. Steve can’t blame them—nobody cheers for Tommy other than Tommy.

“So what’re you gonna do if the team’s all who show?” Steve glances over at Billy’s sharp tone, realizes he’s got that look on his face—eyes narrowed, tension across his shoulders, and (Steve would bet) at least one fist balled up beneath the table. “Can’t play Spin the Bottle without girls.”

“Yes! Exactly what Steve here was saying.” Tommy nods, as if he’s some kind of expert on girls and their partygoing habits. “So we were thinking, new idea: two kegs, and we get four of the prettiest girls to assist. Double keg-stand!” He practically crows the words. “King versus king! The ultimate battle for keg supremacy!”

Steve has to give Tommy this much credit for cunning—in the mood for partying or no, there’s no way Billy can turn down an invitation like that. His face goes easy, lazy—the sort of half-smile where you’d never see the knife hidden beneath if you didn’t know to look for it. He turns it on Steve. “Wha’d’ya say, Harrington? Shall we settle the question once and for all?”

The knife is there, Steve knows—always is, with Billy. Even if Steve didn’t know him as well as he does, he’d guess—there’s something a little too clear about the sudden sparkle in Billy’s eyes, something aggressive about the way he suddenly focuses all of his attention on Steve. But frankly, Steve hasn’t gotten where he has by backing down from a challenge.

And it feels good to have Billy’s attention on him again.

“Only if you’re ready to bow before your king.” Steve keeps his voice mild, takes a sip of milk as easily as if it were a longneck. Watches Billy from the corner of his eye.

Billy’s eyes flash, and his voice raises just a hair—nothing obvious, but enough that the whole team’s attention is on them now. “All right. Let’s raise the stakes. Loser crowns the winner, and offers a forfeit.” He takes a sip of his own milk, considering. “We’ll need a crown.”

“And a robe,” Tommy says immediately. “I’m on it. We’re gonna determine this thing right.”

A satisfied nod, Billy turning his smile back on Steve, hitting him with the full wattage. “Don’t worry, Harrington. I’m a generous ruler. I’ll only have you streak around the block once.”

Steve laughs along with the rest of the team. It’s all in good fun, after all. Just guys being bros. “And here I was gonna say, I’ll only make you call me Daddy once.”

Against the backdrop of the team’s ooooos, Billy’s face loses its smile, eyes pale as they look at Steve. “I’m gonna fuckin’ take you apart, Harrington.” He downs the last of his milk, bares his teeth, traces of white still clinging to his gums. “And don’t you forget it.”

#my writing #stranger things #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tommy hagan #angst #when the waters start to cross

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harrysgloves · 4 years ago

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Trouble (college roommate!AU)

>>>Catch up with master list here!<<<

word count: 4.5k

story summary: You’re nothing but trouble and Harry can’t help the fact that he wants a taste.

warnings: LANGUAGE (feel like everyone reading me shouldn’t be surprised by this) // girl on girl smut (oral sex) // Bisexual character.

a/n: Figured my next fic should be a bit different then the last but let me warn you now that this will have a bisexual MC and many bisexual/gay supporting characters if this offends you this is not the story for you!

Also, you may disagree with a lot of the shit the MC does and you’re more than welcome to not read at any point if you get uncomfortable.

>>><<<

"Fuck this." Rose, your part-time fuckbuddy and full time best friend, groaned from the armchair you were leaning back against. She threw her notebook down on the living room floor. It landed directly beside you causing you to look up from your own notes, turning your head slightly to see her long blonde hair flowing down the side of the armrest, her bright eyes that you loved so much staring off at the ceiling making you smile.

"Yeah, this sucks." You agreed as you laid down on the floor, hands covering your face. You thought college meant fun and freedom not crying about some test you definitely weren't prepared for the next day.

For it being your second semester, you still weren’t any way prepared for the shit show that was college. You hated waking up early, hated studying, the only thing you were good at? Partying, but you tried your best to at least semi-pass your classes so your parents didn’t murder you when you came back home for the holidays.

“We should be strippers.” Rose said, snapping you out of your thoughts with a laugh. Turning your head to look at her daydreaming about the good life of not having to study for a math test ever again.

Which was dumb anyway because you weren’t even majoring in anything that required math so you didn’t understand why you still had to take core classes. Especially since you had to pay for the classes you weren’t even going to use in the future.

“Might need to if I fail this test.” You sighed, eyes staring up at the ceiling of your shitty on-campus apartment that you loved so much because it was your first one. Even if the tap in the kitchen dripped all night long and the washer and dryer didn’t work half the time. It was still yours, well, and your roommates but you liked him so it wasn’t that big of a deal to share your space.

He was a friend of a friend who always seemed to be hanging around your little group all the time anyway so when he needed a place to live and you had an extra room it was a no brainer. It didn’t hurt that he wasn’t the worst to look at when he walked around in just a towel after his shower.

Plus, he let you decorate how you wanted and cleaned up after himself. In your book, he was a pretty great roommate. A lot better than your last.

“Yeah, it’s time for a break.” Rose said as she rolled off your navy blue chair onto the white rug that took up most of your living room floor.

She crawled over to you, straddling your hips, her red denim skirt riding up her tanned tattooed thighs as she smiled so innocently down to you, her sun-kissed blonde hair tickling your face as she leaned over you. Her hands resting on either side of your head.

“You gotta stop stealing my clothes.” You complained, hands rubbing up and down her thighs before tugging gently on the skirt that used to be yours but was now apparently hers.

“No way. It’s why I’m your friend.” She smiled as you rolled your eyes, letting out an annoyed huff.

��That's the only reason?” You questioned eyes focusing back on her irritatingly smiling face. She hummed pondering your question, knowing it was pissing you off the longer she took to answer you.

“Oh, well you also buy me lunch.” She giggled as you tried to push her off you. Your hands gripping her hips as you pushed.

“Okay! Okay!” She laughed loudly, hands grabbing yours to stop you. “You’re also good in bed. There’s that too.”

“That’s it. You’re buying lunch for a month.” You muttered, eyes drifting away from her. She could be such a brat when she wanted to be.

Of course, that’s what you liked best about her.

“Not happening! You’re the one with a hot daddy buying your shit. We gotta use that black credit card while we can before the money train stops.” She pouted, her perfect dusty rose painted lip sticking out and all.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to give my money to someone else.” You laughed as she sat up, faking being shocked, knowing damn well you wouldn’t ever tell her no. Especially when it came to money.

Rose didn’t have nearly the nice life growing up like you did. She didn’t have the nice parents or the nice 4 bedroom house with a white picket fence. No, she had many reasons to be the way she was. You, on the other hand? You had no excuse.

You just liked doing whatever the hell you felt like whenever you wanted.

You liked being completely and totally free to be with whoever you wanted to. You didn’t like being tied down. Not to friends, not to anyone you slept with. You had a bad habit of hurting people doing whatever the hell you pleased.

Not like you cared much. You always got what you wanted in the end anyway and you always gave fair warning that you were a bridge burner. Giving up on people before they had a chance to hurt you should have been considered one of your kinks.

It wasn’t that you weren’t a nice person. You were, maybe even a little too nice sometimes. You just didn’t put up with anyone’s shit. The second a person got too clingy or didn’t understand that no, you didn’t want to date them. They got the ax. To you, college was the time in your life for you to find yourself. Find out what you liked and what you didn’t. Have all the fun experiences you could possibly have in 4 years before being forced to settle down into a boring office job for the next 40 years of your life.

Now was the time for you to be adventurous and spontaneous. You didn’t have time for people’s shit and you didn’t have time to be tied down to someone.

Luckily, most of your friends understood your way of thinking. Rose was one of the lucky few you kept close to you. One of the ones you actually opened up to and not just slept with whenever she was single and you were… bored. She understood your need to never say no to anything. She got the fact you craved to try anything and everything you could possibly do in the short amount of time you gave yourself.

She was also the world's worst influence and encouraged your bad behavior. Plus, she joined in most of the time which made everything a lot more fun.

“What happened to Josh?” You asked as she laid back down over top of you. Your loose black crop top band tee pushed up higher on your chest as she pressed harder up against you.

“You mean Josh-U-AHH?” She giggled, smiling wide as she rested on her forearms around your head. Her nose trailing softly against your neck.

“Mhm.” You said, a shiver running down your spine when she paused, lips hovering so close to the sweet spot on your neck you could feel her hot breath hitting your skin.

“Ditched him. He didn’t think it was funny that I kept screaming Josh-U-AHH every time he tried to fuck me.” She said before pressing her velvety soft lips exactly where you wanted her to. The moan you would have let out was replaced with a chuckling laugh.

“Oh my God. What a loser. Everyone loves Friends.” You could feel her lips curl into a smile as she hummed out her agreement. Her mouth trailing light kisses across down your neck. Your body arching ever so slightly into her. Hands grasping her thighs, running up her smooth legs, bunching her skirt around her waist.

When her perfectly straight teeth nipped gently at the crook of your neck, you gasped, knees instinctively bending your legs pressed tightly together.

Your other favorite thing about Rose? She knew how to play dirty. The girl could read you like a damn book. Always knew exactly which buttons to press to get you going.

She could have you whimpering in seconds.

Her hand wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you up into a kiss. Her plump supple lips pressed so fiercely against yours, making your pulse pick up in anticipation. Wanting her so badly you could feel the ache running through your dampening core. Your legs sliding back and forth as her tongue waited for no invitation to claim whatever she wanted.

She was always like this with you, fiery, in control, you loved her like this. On top of you making your body burn with desire.

"Gonna let me fuck you?" She asked, pulling back from your open and waiting mouth so slightly her lips were still touching yours as she spoke.

Your core clenched at her question. A begging whimper coming from you as you nodded your head yes.

Her lips back on yours with so much force it knocked the air from your lungs. Leaving you gasping in a breath of totally her. The intoxicating scent of her sweet strawberry body wash flooding your senses.

Her one hand gripping tightly on the back of your neck as her other slid slowly up your flowing tee. Her nimble movements against your bare breast had you arching your back into her gentle touch. Needing so much more than she was giving you.

Right as you were about to beg for her to stop teasing you the front door to your apartment flew open.

"Jesus, y'fuck in the middle of the livin' room with the door unlocked?" He grumbled, one earbud still in his ear.

"Whatever. You're just jelly I'm fuckin' your girl, Styles." Rose said, leaning back to give Harry a sickeningly sweet smile across her beautiful face. Her hands were still running under your shirt making you bite your lip to suppress your sounds.

You had no idea why she loved teasing Harry so much about this. It wasn't like you two had ever hooked up and honestly he never showed much interest in you. Even before he lived with you he was very indifferent about your existence in your guys' friend group.

You chatted here and there a few times. Got drunk together a lot but other than the cigarette chats outside the bars or at friends parties, you both seemed to go your separate ways.

Even living with the guy you hardly hung out together. Besides the handful of nights, you'd stay in, watching scary movies curled up on your couch. He'd come back from whatever the hell he did and would sit with you, teasing you every time you jumped at a cheap scare.

He rolled his enchanting green eyes as he walked past you two towards his bedroom. You maybe would have possibly been a bit embarrassed but the smirk he shot you as his glance so subtly met yours made your stomach do somersaults.

"You always gotta do that to him?" You questioned when you heard the door to his room shut.

"Shut up. He was totally eye-fucking you. I have no idea why you haven't slept with him yet you've done all our other friends." She said, hands retreating from under your shirt.

"Hey!" You sat up on your elbows so quickly she stumbled back a little on your hips. You knew it was true but damn, she didn’t have to make it sound so bad. You were only having some fun. Besides, she slept with half the people you had so she really had no room to be talking shit.

"What? It's true!" She said with that bright smile across her face, knowing she was getting under your skin.

"Yeah but Harry's not interested, like at all. I mean, he avoids me almost like the plague when we all go out." You sighed, laying back down flat on the floor.

You weren’t used to people not throwing themselves at you. Honestly, Harry was the only guy in your group of friends you hadn’t slept with and it had more to do with him than you. The guy was like a closed book which of course made him so much more intriguing when he never took any of your advances.

"Oh, he's interested. He's just not into sharing." She said, your eyebrows furrowed together as you thought back to all the people he’d brought over to the apartment.

He honestly didn’t seem to have a problem with sharing, so you weren’t really sure what she was getting at. He didn’t seem to ever have anything official but he’d only hang out with one person at a time. Something that hadn’t ever been your style but you respected his decision to not be involved in all the drama that usually followed with your group of friends.

"You know what? Why don't you fuck him if you're so set on him getting laid?" You asked, peering up at the blonde still sitting on top of you.

"He's not my type." She said, making you laugh instantly, Harry had a way of being everyone’s type.

"Bullshit, he's like a walking sex dream." You laughed the second her cheeks tinted the slightest shade of pink. Knowing damn well she had done her fair share of checking him out but she was sort of right. Rose had a bad habit of chasing down frat boys which always sucked when she dated them and you had to pretend to like them when you all hung out.

Which was always extra hard since they were all pervy idiots who always asked to watch you two hook up and Rose would never let you slap the shit out of them for asking that. Even though they deserved it.

"Yeah, but he's too smart. I need my men to be as dumb as a doornail." She said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Her smiling face beaming down at you and you wished she was joking but you knew she wasn’t.

"Oh my God, you're a terrible person." You said cracking up as she swatted your shoulder, obviously offended.

"I am not!" She said, her voice raising, pissed off you were laughing at her. You couldn’t help it though, she was being so serious and it was the funniest shit you’d heard in a while.

"You kind of are but whatever.” You sighed, lifting your head up slightly to look around her at Harry’s door to make sure it was still closed. “Besides a guy that looks like that is probably shit in bed anyway."

"I heard he's hung." She said, making your head snap back around to look at her.

"What the fuck? Where'd you hear that?" You asked, sitting back up slightly. Most of the people he had hooked up with weren’t in your group of friends so you never heard anything about him. Besides when he brought people home, which really didn’t happen as often as you bringing people home, and you’d hear them in his bedroom.

But you really thought they were exaggerating.

"Elena, she was screwing him for a bit." Rose said, her eyes moving away from yours as you frowned slightly. You thought those two were together for a while and if you were being honest you were very much Team Relena. They were super cute together and she was so much better than that dumbass Josh. Plus, Rose deserved to be happy with someone in an actual committed relationship at some point, not anything you’d ever be able to give her.

Luckily, she always understood that and it never got in the way of your friendship. If anything it made you guys closer.

"Wait, is that why you two broke it off and you went for dumbass Josh?" You asked, trying to get her attention back to you but she shrugged you off. Trying hard to act like it didn’t bother her when you know it did.

"Yeah, Mr. Smarty pants over there stole my girl." She said with a forced laugh trying to move the attention off of the fact she was a little hurt and you didn’t blame her.

The one time she had openly dated someone in a while and she got left for someone else? Plus, Harry and Elena weren’t even dating or hanging out now. Harry hadn’t even hung around her at any parties or bothered to bring her back to your guys' apartment. You wouldn’t even have known they hooked up if Rose didn’t tell you. You knew that had to hurt, which was just another reason on the long list of why you don’t date.

"At least she was shit in bed?" You asked, trying to get her to cheer up a bit.

"Who's the terrible person now?" She said with a giggle as you tried to push her off you again.

"Get off me." You grumbled, her hands grabbing onto yours when you tried your hardest to get away from her. She wasn’t going to be a dick to you and also try to still get you to sleep with her, wasn’t going to happen.

"No way! I'm gonna prove to you that he's into you." She sounded so determined, it made you roll your eyes. Shaking your head at her.

"You know, most people, when they're fucking someone aren't trying to pimp them out to someone else." You said, raising your eyebrow as you questioned why the hell she was so set on this but eventually settled on the fact that if you screwed him he’d more than likely leave Elena alone for her.

"Good thing we only fuck when we're bored or avoiding homework." Her sweet smile spreading wide across her perfectly flawless face.

"I see how it is." You huffed out, arms crossing over your chest as you pout your lips at her. She loved teasing you about this shit so much it was basically a part of your everyday routine. She’d tease you about something, you’d act upset, then you guys fucked. It was your thing.

"Awe baby,” She cooed at you, leaning down, brushing the hair out of your face. “Don't act so surprised. You couldn't date anyone if your life depended on it. Besides, I'm your best friend and I like proving you wrong when I know I'm right."

"Fine, whatever, but when I'm right you owe me lunch for a week and not the shit that comes with your college fees either I'm talking real lunch." You said, finally realizing she wasn’t going to leave this alone. It was your last roommate all over again, only this time you didn’t think Harry would move out when Rose harassed him nonstop.

"Well, when I win you owe me lunch at that real nice sushi place I like on you and not your fancy daddy." She smiled, teasing you about your sugar daddy. Who she’d only met once but still decided that he was hot shit and you needed to marry him.

"Be prepared to lose." You shrugged, knowing she was going to lose this bet she had set up. It wasn’t like you really turned many people down and Harry had plenty of opportunities he just never took them. So it looked like you were going to be having lunch on her for a week.

"So, what are you going to do? Write a little note that says do you want to fuck Y/N? Circle yes or no, under his door?" You asked, sitting up slightly before she could start getting you worked up again and the thought slipped your mind.

She always had a way of distracting you.

"I have my own ideas. Damn, give me some credit." She sat back, pouting that you’d interrupted her before she could kiss you again. Her big doe eyes pleading with you to drop it already and you didn’t blame her. That studying was pointless and there was no way you two were going to do it.

And you guys hadn’t hooked up in a while.

"Well, you got to tell me what it is!" You said loudly, sighing, and laying back down on the floor. Your mind reeling with all the crazy shit she’d probably do to him. Which made you silently cringe, not wanting her to chase off the one good roommate you’d manage to keep around.

"I will but we were kind of in the middle of something and I know you haven't been laid since you slept with Finn like 3 weeks ago." She whined, burying her head in the crook of your neck. Her blonde hair laying across your face making you sputter and spit it out of your mouth. Your hands desperately swatting away the long strands that you were now eating.

"Wow, just keep up with my sex life why don't you." You said, rolling your eyes as she finally sat up again and got her fucking hair out of your face.

It might have smelled amazing but it wasn’t so much fun to eat.

"Kind of hard to miss when he bragged about it at that frat party Josh and his boys threw last weekend." Your nose immediately crinkled in disgust. Sure, you understood bragging rights but to a whole party? No way.

"Ew." You fake gagged, the guy might have been your friend but damn he needed to learn some manners. You never talked about your conquests unless people asked and hardly even then. You kept your shit to yourself.

"Eh, he talked you up real good." She shrugged, leaning back down to your level, her lips pressing softly against the place right behind your ear that always made you gasp. You felt the smile on her lips the second the air left your lungs.

“You talk me up too?” You asked as she continued her delicious assault on your neck. Her lips pressing lightly against your hot skin as your legs pressed together.

“Always do.” She whispered so quietly before her teeth gazed gently against your ear lobe. Your body arching into her as she pulled away. Her smiling face was beautiful, it felt like the sun was looking down at you.

Her hands slipping back around to the back of your neck while she enjoyed the view of you already getting so needy for her. Your big pouty lips sticking out for her to kiss but the gently shaking no of her head made you whine.

“Please?” You whined, all thoughts of before completely wiped from your mind as you pleaded up to her. Hands gripping her waist in a desperate attempt to pull her closer to you.

She hummed, amused at the fact you were already a mess. Her lips pressed harshly against yours, her lipstick smashing all against your face but you didn’t care one bit.

You felt that familiar fire of need burning so deeply in the pit of your stomach. Your nails digging into the flesh of her ass when you ground her hips forward over top of you, the sweetest sounding moan drifting from her as her core ran against your midsection.

You smiled, seizing the opportunity for your tongue to intrude her mouth. It wasn’t often you took control, always happy to let someone else play the lead but you were tired of waiting. Tired of her playing her games.

But that wasn't her style. No, letting you take control wasn't something she was into. She liked you desperate, needy, begging. The complete opposite of how you usually were outside of the bedroom or in this case the living room floor.

Her lips disconnected from yours. She left wet hot kisses slowly down your neck as her hands flipped up your shirt. Your bare breast on complete display and you might have said something about not being the safety of your room but when her tongue swiped over your already pebbled nipple it was game over.

Your chest arching into her mouth as her amused eyes flickered up to yours. A smile across her face as her tongue trailed across your sternum down the sensitive skin of your hips. She pulled back from you, biting her lip as she climbed between your legs.

You whimpered at the sight, her hands running down the inside of your legs as she pushed your skirt up around your hips. Your eyes peering down at the absolute assault she was doing to your body. Wet kisses trailing the inside of your legs followed by small love bites here and there.

Your hands balled up in fists, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you shifted your hips closer to her face. Whining when she stopped what she was doing to look at you.

"What's wrong, baby?" She asked in that sweet voice you loved so much, wrapping her fingers around the soaking black cotton of your underwear and moving it aside.

"Please, God, please. Just touch me." You begged yet again but the second your hips shifted into her she pulled back from you, tsking.

"Gotta ask nicer than that." She mused, as your head fell back to the floor. She was trying to murder you, literally murder you.

"Please, Rose."

A loud moan leaving you the second her tongue ran across your slick folds. Your knees desperately trying to close around her but she kept pressure on both legs, holding you open for her.

"Keep your head back, baby." She said as her fingers slipped into you and if you would have been in your right state of mind you might have asked why or even looked up.

So of course you didn't notice Harry standing in the kitchen. Wide-eyed, mouth gaping as he held the fridge door open like an idiot. You didn't notice Rose turning her head around to look at him, shooting him a sly wink before pounding into your sweet spot with such precision you could already feel your walls clamping around her hand.

"Gonna sing for me?" She asked, tongue going back to run circles around your clit. Your body felt like it was vibrating from how well she knew how to work you.

All you could do was mumble out a soft "mhm" through your moans. Your body felt like it was convulsing underneath her as your eye clenched together tightly. The pit in your stomach growing so warm before your orgasm washed over you in violent waves of euphoria.

You couldn't even lift your head when she was through. You gasped for air as you laid on the floor, legs feeling like jello as the high finally subsided.

"Enjoy the show?" She said, breaking through your foggy mind as you sat up on your forearms, eyes instantly locking on Harry's wide green eyes. Then promptly moving downward to the bulge in his basketball shorts. A smug smile across your face as he sputtered about for words.

"Uh, just came to get water." He said, a bottle of water not in hand as he turned to bolt for the safety of his room.

"Fuck." You groaned, laying back down on the floor. "I owe you lunch."

"Yeah, you do!"

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles x Y/N #Fanfic #Fanfiction #writing #mine #Trouble

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henrik-von-schneeplestein · 4 years ago

Text

Crazy To Suppose

Ship: marvelsepticeye, background/established schneeplebro

Summary: Chase and Henrik invite Jackie, Marvin, and Jamie over to celebrate New Year's Eve. The night doesn't go the way Jackie imagined, and the end of his year is far from happy. The beginning of his new year, however, starts looking up.

Warnings: alcohol; not so much a warning but just a note that this story obviously does not take place during covid - don’t go to parties during pandemics!!!

Word Count: 1812

Click here if you’d prefer to read it on AO3 :)

Jackie snuggled into his blanket, flicking through channels with the remote Chase had left him with. Jamie was still sitting next to him, but Chase and Henrik had gone upstairs to put the kids to bed and Marvin had wandered off and disappeared.

It had been a nice evening so far. Dinner was delicious - Jackie had spent more New Year’s Eves than he’d care to admit ordering delivery from overtaxed restaurants and waiting forever for it to arrive. And even aside from the homecooked meal, it felt good just to get out of his apartment on the holiday and end the year chatting, laughing, and watching Chase’s kids try to stay awake until midnight (they didn’t even make it until nine).

He heard footsteps coming back into the room behind him; Chase had said something about watching a movie until it was time to watch the ball drop, and left Jackie in charge of picking. Marvin still wasn’t back, so Jackie pitched the others some options as Chase and Henrik brought out some snacks and made themselves comfortable on their couch. He almost jumped when a voice came from right behind him.

“I’m gonna head out, but thanks again for dinner guys.”

Jackie turned. Marvin, apparently, had been in the bathroom changing into a sparkly gold dress that came to his mid-thigh. He looked glamorous and perfect as always; like a model in a fashion magazine article about New Year’s Eve. It made Jackie understand the saying “dressed to kill;” it was like Marvin was stealing the air right out of his lungs.

Chase was less impressed. “You’re gonna freeze in that.”

Marvin rolled his eyes. He walked back through the kitchen and opened the hall closet without asking, helping himself to one of Henrik’s coats, a long black one that extended down to Marvin’s knees. It was loose on him, so he ignored the buttons and just pulled it around himself. “Does this meet your standard, mother?”

Chase crossed his arms but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll bring it back tomorrow. I’m leaving this here anyway,” Marvin said, dropping a bag that looked to contain the clothes he’d worn earlier in the evening. He fished out a smaller bag, one that matched his outfit, and started putting his shoes on.

“Do you at least have your phone?” Chase asked. “How are you getting home? You don’t have your car.”

“My date’s driving.”

Jackie didn’t know why it hurt so much more than usual. Marvin went out on plenty of dates, and it was never easy, but Jackie had gotten used to telling himself that it was ok, that it wasn’t his business. Being in love with him didn’t give Jackie the right to judge Marvin’s decisions, and just because Marvin never showed any interest in Jackie didn’t mean it was a personal attack when he went out with someone else. But Jackie had thought that they would be together tonight, even if just as friends, and now he had to watch him ride off with someone else. And maybe, when he’d seen Marvin dressed for a party, he’d had the tiniest hope that he was going to ask Jackie to come along.

Headlights appeared outside the window, Marvin waved goodbye and wished them all a happy new year, then left and closed the door behind him while Chase was still in the middle of telling him to be careful. In his absence, there was a five minute intermission for Chase to rant about how inconsiderate he was and how he was going to end up dead in a ditch one of these days, and then they redirected into the movie. Jackie chose a superhero movie, since Marvin wasn’t there to complain about it, but found he only missed the way that Marvin would’ve made fun of it when they ended up watching in almost complete silence.

They caught the last fifteen minutes or so of the live footage in Times Square, and before they knew it they were counting down. When midnight struck, he found himself staring as Chase and Henrik kissed each other, swaying a little as they held each other. They were so happy. Jackie wondered if he’d ever know what that felt like.

He felt a kiss on his cheek and turned to see Jamie smiling at him. He tried to smile back as Chase and Henrik finally separated and turned to hug the two of them. He knew he should enjoy the laughter and friendship, but he was stupid enough to check his phone. Marvin hadn’t texted him.

Chase and Henrik didn’t really have a guest room, what with having five kids, but since Henrik’s kids were with their mother that night, they offered Jamie and Jackie to crash in their empty beds. Jamie accepted and went upstairs with them, but Jackie figured he’d honestly be more comfortable on the couch than in a twin, and besides, he was grateful to have the TV, especially once he was alone. He couldn’t sleep, and it gave him something to distract himself with.

He was zoning out in front of some 90s sitcom he’d never seen when his phone buzzed at around 1 am. It was from Marvin - “hey can you let me in”

What did that mean - it made it sound like Marvin was right outside. Jackie walked towards the front of the house and squinted through the window. He could see something moving. “Jesus,” he muttered. He opened the door and Marvin slipped through. “You’re creepy as shit, you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. What are you doing here?”

“I accidentally left my keys in that bag with the clothes I changed out of.”

“Oh. Is your, uh, date waiting for you?”

“God, no. He was an asshole. I took an Uber; I’ll just crash here tonight.” He took off his coat, revealing a full bottle of wine he’d been hiding under it. “We can have our own party.” He opened the bottle expertly and took a drink directly from it. Then he held it out to Jackie.

“I don’t know if we should -”

“Oh come on,” Marvin said, giving him That Grin. “You already helped me sneak in, you’re complicit here. Besides, Mommy and Daddy are fast asleep upstairs, they’re not gonna catch us.” He dropped onto the couch, making himself comfortable in the space Jackie had abandoned.

Somehow, Marvin had a way of making it feel like they really were rebellious teenagers breaking all the rules, and the sadness that had hung around Jackie all night suddenly seemed distant, like the two of them had been a part of this secret scheme all along. He accepted the bottle and took a sip.

“Sorry if that guy ruined your night. You want me to beat him up?”

“Nah, not even worth the energy. He tried to do the whole ‘kiss someone else at midnight’ thing to make me jealous. Please. I practically invented that move.” He leaned over for the bag of chips on the coffee table and took a handful. “I mean, the crazy thing is,” he said between bites, “I used to do that with Chase, back when he was fun.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s up between the two of you, anyway? Why are you at each other’s throats all of a sudden?”

Marvin hesitated. He wouldn’t quite meet Jackie’s eye, staring down at the wine he was swirling restlessly. “He’s mad at me for going out tonight. He thought we should all hang out, make sure you had a fun New Year’s.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah. Just cause, y’know, it’s the first holiday season since Lizzy, and he’s been worried.” That was the last thing Jackie had expected. Lizzy was his ex-girlfriend, but they’d broken up months ago, back in spring, and he’d been the one who ended it. But then again, they’d been together for two years, everyone had been asking when the ring was coming, and she really was great. Maybe he should still be upset, but he hadn’t even really thought about it. That was why he’d broken it off in the first place - he knew it made him a jerk to stay if he had feelings for someone else, and even now, his only real feeling was hope that maybe the reason Marvin hadn’t invited him along tonight was because he couldn’t take him away from a party that was meant to be for him.

“And I would’ve stayed, it’s just that I already had those plans.”

“It’s all good. Chase is sweet, but I’m really fine.”

“I was stupid to go anyway. Honestly, I knew this guy was a loser I just… I know it’s dumb and it doesn’t really compare to your thing, but ever since Nico I’ve been weird about dating.” Nico was Marvin’s ex. Jackie didn’t like him, obviously, but the other guys didn’t either. He was weird, dark and broody, and they were pretty sure his name was really just Nick. Marvin had stayed with him longer than he’d ever been with anyone else, though. “I know we weren’t together as long and that you guys didn’t like him, but he was always sweet, y’know. And I still wonder if I made a mistake ending it.” He took another long drink. “And it’s like, any time I meet someone too nice it just freaks me out, I don’t know. Like I don’t wanna do that again.”

“That makes sense. I don’t think it means you should go out with assholes, though.”

“No. I think Anti’s snake is getting hungry; I keep stealing its dead rats to put in guys’ mailboxes.”

Jackie laughed. “You’re something else, Marvin.” He grabbed the bottle and took another drink. He didn’t even like wine, it was just nice to share. “You’re gonna figure it out.” He raised the bottle in a toast. “To a year of dating nice people, for both of us.”

“Mm, yeah.” He rested his head on Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie could feel the tickle of his long hair, smell the booze on his breath, and it made his heart beat faster. “That’s the spirit,” he yawned.

“There are beds if you think you’d be more comfy.”

“Nah.” He pulled his legs up under him. “I’m good here if you are.”

“I’m good.” He tried to fix the blanket so it was over both of them, and Marvin’s weight grew heavier against him.

He was pretty sure Marvin had fallen asleep, so he was surprised when he heard him mumble, “I can’t believe I didn’t get a kiss on New Year’s Eve.”

Jackie leaned over and kissed his forehead. “How ‘bout that?”

Marvin hummed, now so out of it that his voice came out in a muffled breath. “Nice.”

Jackie laughed. “Happy New Year.”

This time, he didn’t receive a response at all other than deep, steady breathing.

#marvelsepticeye #jacksepticeye #marvin #jbm #schneeplebro #chase #schneep #jj

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starkerforlife6969 · 5 years ago

Text

Starker - Accidentally Perfect

It all started with a bet.

And Tony hates how much of a cliche even that is. A bet. He's let himself get dragged into a bet by a fresh-faced eighteen year old who has a walkman ironically and brings a dictaphone into every lecture.

Goddamn, he hates Peter Parker. He seethes furiously at him from across the quad, the hot summer sun beating down on his shoulders. His blank tank top is helping keep the heat off, but it's still almost unbearably warm. Sticky with the promise of the summer holidays only a few weeks away.

"Do you actually think you can stare him out of existence?" Rhodey asks, a cool, amused voice from back in the shade of their stand. Tony turns and glowers, pulling his sunglasses off.

"He's such a little shit."

"He's eighteen, Tony. All eighteen year olds are little shits. We were, remember?"

Tony doesn't remember them ever being as unbearable as Peter. His face must say as much, because Rhodey sighs.

"We're twenty-seven." He says gently. "We're getting a little too old to keep blaming college wars on the freshman."

He barely resists the urge to stomp his foot. "He started it!"

It's true, Tony thinks. He can't really remember how it all started. He remembers the beginning of the semester, deciding to take a break from the all-consuming robotics thesis of his doctorate and go and drop in on a lecture. He remembers a bright-eyed boy with fluffy hair stumbling through a presentation in front of his peers. He very vaguely remembers calling out one or two inconsistencies with Peter's presentation. He remembers the bright red flush that had spread across Peter's cheeks, and the way he'd stumbled quietly over his words, and- okay- in Tony's defence, he was sleep deprived- trying to think up his proposal, still trying to get his second phD started and-

It had turned into all out war pretty quickly.

Turns out, Peter didn't respond well to being picked on.

Not that Tony had picked on him, just-

"Gluing all my furniture to the ceiling? Selling my text books? Hiring someone to fire a paintball at me every hour for four days?!" Tony runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head. "He's evil!"

Rhodey barely blinks, eyes on his phone. "But..."

Tony's shoulders droop. "...But I started it." He mumbles under his breath.

"What? I didn't quite catch that."

"I started it, alright? Jeez," he winces, "I said sorry."

"No. You didn't."

Okay fine, he's not big on apologies.

Whatever. It doesn't matter anyway. They're where they are now. The bet. Whoever raises the most money for the oil spill just off of Mexico's coast wins. Their two stands sit opposite each other on the quad, six hours to raise money, loser has to get down on their knees in front of the entire student body and declare the other their superior in every single way.

That's why Tony's here. In a tight black tank top, muscles on display, sunglasses on, hair messy, grinning at everyone who passes.

"How much have we got, Rhode-aroo?"

There's a gentle clatter as Rhodey checks the basket. "Uh, $12?"

Tony winces. That's not great. "Whatever. It's gotta be more than Parker has anyway."

Rhodey hums.

***

As the third hour ticks by, Tony slinks back into the shade of their stall and dozes off a little. It can't be more than fifteen minutes, but when he opens his eyes, there's a trickle of students leaving their classes and walking through the quad.

For some bewildering reason, they're all walking to Peter's stand.

Tony frowns, tiptoeing over to enemy lines.

The first thing he sees is that Peter's money basket is full. Not just one money basket, but four money baskets. At least $100 in change, loose bills and Starbucks vouchers.

What the fuck?

And then- then he sees why.

MJ, the equally annoying friend, is manning the booth. She's concise and thoughtful and armed with scary statistics as she neatly collects money and scares more into baskets.

But Peter, Peter is all cream silk shirt and tight blue shorts, and big eyes and enthusiasm.

"I just keep thinking of the baby seals," Peter whines, rocking on the heels of his feet, pink converse scraping against the grass. "Those poor animals, all covered in oil..." he bites his lip, bats those eyelashes, and the tall jock who's leaning over him, nods, already fumbling for his wallet.

"Yeah totally, the-the seals."

"Right? Oh, thank you," Peter sighs, voice a little wanton moan, touching the guy's elbow, leaning in. "You're a hero."

The guy tosses in another twenty.

Jesus Christ. Tony can't help his grin of disbelief, even as irritated as he is that he didn't come up with it first.

Devious little shit.

***

When the crowd has dispersed a little bit, and the dynamic duo have bled most everyone dry, Tony makes himself known, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"Wow, Parker. We're more alike than I thought."

Peter turns, looking up at him, eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh yeah? How's that? Did you actually start caring about the oil spill?"

Tony hums, feigning nonchalance. "I just mean, I thought your standards were a little higher."

The boy frowns, little face scrunched up in confusion. It's annoyingly endearing. "Huh?"

"C'mon, no need to hide now. Playing dumb and pretty to get donations? Way to care about the animals."

The outrage that flits across that expressive face is way too believable. "Pretty anddumb? Screw you, Tony. You're just jealous I'm winning." Peter humphs, crossing his arms. "Is surly know-it-all not enticing the crowds the way you thought it would?"

Tony shrugs. "Maybe. Because I won't reduce myself."

"What are you talking about?!"

"Come on, Peter. You know what you're doing to people." Here, Tony raises his voice. Hopefully, he'll be able to steer people away from here and over to his own stand. Though, Rhodey's death glare from across the quad is making him think maybe that's not an excellent idea- why, he's not sure. He barrels on, attention on him. "You're doing that thing- with the big sparkly brown Disney eyes and the scandalously short shorts and the elbow-touching. You're fake laughing at bad jokes and fluttering your eyelashes and selling your torturous mix of princess and bombshell that none of us can resist to trick people into giving you their money, admit it!"

Peter gapes, mouth in a delicious 'o'. "I am not!" He shrieks: scandalised.

Tony scoffs. "You expect me to believe that you're thisfucking irresistible on purpose?"

The boy doesn't seem to know what to do with that. He scrambles, blushing under the stare of the passers-by. "I'm...I don't...um...thank you?"

Tony stares. No way. No fucking way is this not an act, it can't be or-

"Yeah." MJ sighs, the sigh of the long-wearied, as she unfolds another dollar bill into the pile. "Join the club."

***

Tony's pacing back stage, still trying to understand everything in his head.

The entire student body is waiting on the other side of that curtain, mostly drunk, hopefully too drunk to remember this in the morning- to see his apology act.

"Big sparkly Disney eyes," Rhodes hums, re-watching the video on twitter. "I'm surprised you went with that one, you're always going on about his Bambi eyes. What's the difference?"

"I swear to god, if you keep talking-"

"I think my favourite bit is where you basically announced to the world that your kink is sexy princess."

"Oh my god-"

"Uh- T-Tony?"

Tony whirls around to see Peter standing at the curtain, and Tony can't help the groan of embarrassment.

"Look, Pete, I'll do it, alright? Just give me a second to shed the last of my dignity."

"No, it's not..." Peter blushes, and Rhodey lifts his hands, shuffling away to give them some privacy. Peter edges closer, stupidly gorgeous with all of his freckles, a fucking dandelion crown perched on his chestnut curls, like he's just trying to press all of Tony's buttons and- "Look, Tony," Peter murmurs, all sweetness and loveliness, "I was thinking, you don't need to- you don't need to go out there and say anything." He wrings his lily-white hands, silvery bracelets hanging at the wrist, "Really. I feel like- the fact that video from the quad went viral was- that's more than enough."

Tony doesn't know what to say, but it doesn't stop him from trying. "Pete, about what I said..."

"I really wasn't doing any of that stuff- I-, I wasn't trying to play dumb, or- I mean, maybe I was? I didn't- I didn't mean to, I just wanted to help the seals, and I've already bought my ticket to volunteer for seal cleaning over summer break and-"

Tony laughs, shaking his head. Because he knows. He sighs, meeting those lovely brown eyes. "I know you weren't. You're not- I was just- I'm sorry, Pete. For all of it. For the day we met."

Peter looks shy, but pleased. "You were an ass." He agrees amiably.

"I was. Am. Trying not to be."

Peter chews on his bottom lip, accidentally embodying Tony's every wet dream. "You could buy a ticket for the summer seal cleaning task." Peter shrugs, eyes darting away. "If you like."

"With you?" Tony wonders aloud, "with you being so...unintentionally you? Not sure I could cope."

"True," Peter whispers coyly, "imagine if I was actively trying to seduce you. You wouldn't last a minute."

At that, Tony laughs again. Loud and delighted. Head tipped back, unaware to how Peter drinks in the sight. "Is that a bet, kid?"

Peter beams.

#starker #peter x tony #college au #young tony #tony is a doctorate student #peter is 18 #fluff #peter parker is a sweetheart #precious peter parker #tony stark is a dork

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blackhakumen · 4 years ago

Text

Mini Fanfic #711: Very Green Day (Kingdom Hearts)

10:45 a.m. Outside of the Coffee Place in Traverse Town........

Aqua/Terra: (Burst Out Laughing at What is in Front of Both of Them) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Lea: (Stares at the Laughing Couple in an Annoyed Manner.....All While is Hair is Dyed Completely Green) ............... (Slowly Turns his Head to Isa) Why didn't you let me say home today?

Isa: (Calmly Reads his Book While Ignoring the Look Lea is Giving Him) Cause Aqua and Terra would be worried if you didn't show up.

Lea: One day of me not meeting up with you guys here wouldn't kill anyone. And besides, they're laughing like a bunch of loons here!

Isa: Well, consider this punishment for trying dye your hair green. (Casually Sips on his Cup of Coffee)

Lea: (Glares at Isa) Well, excuse me for not wanting to get pinched 24/7!

Aqua: (Trying her Best to Calm Herself Down) Oho, Lea!~ We're sorry. (Wipe a Tear from her Eyes) We didn't mean to laugh at you like that.

Terra: (Tries Calming Down as Well) Yeah. (Snickers a Little) We were just....Really caught off guard by that brand new color of that hair of yours. What gives?

Lea: (Sighs as he Turns Back to Aqua and Terra) Well, if you two lovebirds must know, I've been wanting to prevent myself from getting pinched by the two numbskulls that happens to be my kids. (Starts Rubbing the Back of his Hair Back & Forth) So I figured I would try and....dye the very front of my hair green for a while. At least until the holiday is over and done with.

Isa: But once he tried doing that, with little to no knowledge of how to properly dye parts of his hair and without asking name for assistance, he somehow to get his entire hair green. Thus, his own stupidity has grown immensely stronger than before.

Lea: (Turns Back to Isa With Anger in his Eyes) OH AND LIKE YOU HAVEN'T TRY AND DID ANYTHING STUPID IN YOUR CRUMMY LIFETIME!!!

Isa: While I'll admit that I have done some reckless, idiotic things from time to time, but at least I wasn't dumb enough to try dying my own hair color for a simple holiday. Just goes to show you that your own stupidity knows no bounds to almost anything. (Takes Another Sip of his Coffee)

Lea: (Hands Shaking in Anger While Growling) You..... Smartass piece of-

Terra: Lea, come on. Just try and calm down for us, okay?

Aqua: Terra's right. We didn't mean to laugh at you earlier. (Smiles Softly) The hair color really does look nice on you.

Lea: (Sighs as He Turns to the Couple in Front of Him) I admire and am thankful for your kind and honest hearts. (Glares Back at Isa) At least you didn't sit here and belittle me for a couple of minutes like an asshole!

Isa: Love you too, Lea.

Terra: Well, look on the brighter side, at least the day it couldn't get any worse for you-

?????: ('GASPS') AXEL!!!!?

Everyone in the table turns around and see Kairi with a very surprised and horror look on her face.

Lea: Uh. (Smiles Very Awkwardly at Kairi) Heyyyyyyyyyy there, lil.sis! Good morning! (Chuckles Awkwardly) How are you today?

Kairi: (Almost at a Loss of Words) Y-Y-Y-Your hair.........

Lea: Oh! You mean this bad boy? ('Heh') Funny story about this actually. You see, I-

Isa: Your brother thought it be a good idea to dyed his hair green for St. Patrick's Day.

Lea: (Glares Back at Isa While Silently Growling at Him) Do you SERIOUSLY not know the concept of shutting up?!

Isa: (Simply Shrugs) Just telling the honest truth here, my dear.

Lea: Yeah, but I don't want Kairi to know about all of tha-

Kairi: Axel.........

Lea: (Slowly Turns Back to Kairi and Immediately Gets Terrified Once He Sees the Scary, Angry Look in her Eyes)

Kairi: Explain.......

Lea: O-Okay, sis? I know this might be the most stupidest thing I have ever done in life.... B-B-But I only did this to save myself from getting pinched today! I swear to god!!

Kairi: So..... your idea of being green for the holiday IS TO DYE YOUR OWN HAIR COLOR!!!?

Lea: Well, I mean..........When you put it like that....(Chuckles a Little Bit Awkwardly) It almost sounds blike a bad th-

Kairi: IT IS A BAD THING!!!! I mean, seriously! You could've brought yourself a green shirt! You could've ask ME to get you a green shirt, matching ones even! NOT DYE YOUR HAIR IN A PUKEIST GREEN COLOR!!!

Lea: Ah come on, Kairi! It doesn't look that bad!

Kairi: Lea, I JUST did your hair weeks ago!

Aqua: Aww~

Kairi: Your hair was already beautiful as it is! And now you did all this and just.....('UGGGGHHH') (Makes her Way to her Big Brother) C'mere, you!

Lea: Woah woah woah, hold on a second! What are you- GAHH! (Winches in Pains As Kairi Pulls his Ear, Making him Get Up From the Table) Not the ear! Not the ear!!

Kairi: (Angrily Walks Away from the Table While Dragging Lea Along with Her) You are coming with me!

Lea: Jesus Christ, sis! Where are we even going!?

Kairi: To my place! We are NOT going back to town till I change EVERY SPECK of your hair back to their original color!!!

Lea: (Turns to Isa and the Others) Guys!!? H-HELP!!!!

Isa: Ah. I wish I could but....(Holds Up the Book he Was Reading) I'm not finished reading this book yet.

Terra: (Smiles Sheepishly While Rubbing the Back of his Head Back and Forth) Plus, we're not entirely done with our cup of coffee yet so uh.......(Slowly Shrugs) Sorry!

Lea: (Glares at Three of his Friends While Still Being Dragged in the Ear by Kairi From a Bit of a Distance) Screw you guys!! All of you SUCK!!!!

Aqua: (Happily Waves Goodbye to Lea) We love you too, Lea!~ We hope you and Kairi have a good time together!

Terra: (Sighs as He and the Others See Lea and Kairi Are Already Off into the Distance) We're terrible, aren't we?

Aqua: I hope Lea isn't too mad at us for not helping him.

Isa: I wouldn't worry too much about him really. He'll be able to get over it eventually.

Terra: You know, it still kind of baffles me how people takes this whole "Pinching Those Whose Don't Wear Green" Rule that seriously nowadays.

Aqua: ('Sigh') I'm just glad that all of our children doesn't participate in that kind nonsense. Isn't that right, Vantias? (Sips on her Cup of Coffee)

And with that, Vantias immediately ran back to the dark portal while wearing a green shirt.

Happy (Late) St. Patrick's Day Everyone!

@26shann

@keyenuta

@khtext

@caleb13frede

@albion-93

@ma-lemons

@cyber-wildcat

#kingdom hearts #lea #kh axel #isa #aqua #terra #kairi #vantias #humor #kairi is best little sister #st. patrock's month #fluff #hair dye

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strangerfictions · 5 years ago

Text

Detention In December

Request: //Hi!!! 🙋 I was curious if you would do number 17 off the Xmas promp list with Billy X chubby reader?? I think it'd be cute!! XD

17: “I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve and I’m stuck in a snowstorm with you.” “There’s worse company.” “Doubtful.”

Summary: You and Billy end up in detention together. After arguing back and forth you both begin to feel comfortable around each other.

Warnings: Mentions of Billy’s shitty dad but other than that I think it’s just full of soft Billy really

Words: 3205

A/N: Thanks to @shewhofeelsnature for this amazing request. I had to think about this one for a bit but was inspired by the book ‘One Of Us Is Lying’ and also ‘The Breakfast Club’ so hope you enjoy this fic! I tried to make this a chubby reader fic so hopefully I did it justice! This is my last fic for a while because I’ve decided to take a break for christmas. I will be opening my requests again after christmas so if you have any requests sit on them until then!

As if your week couldn’t get any worse you were made to go to detention on Christmas Eve. It had started to snow before you left your house and by the time you made it to school it was a full-on blizzard. You knew you would get detention for what you did but you didn’t think you would be punish so harshly.

As you push the door open to the detention hall you see that it’s just you and one other person. That person being Billy Hargrove. It was well known that you hated Billy Hargrove but that was proven last week after he beat up Steve. You walked straight up to Hargrove the next day and punched him breaking his nose and giving him another black eye.

As you let the door close behind you Billy turns a full 180 in his chair to see who was joining him for detention today. His eyes lock with your and he lets out the most dramatic sigh you had ever heard. You knew it was better to sit on the other side of the room well away from Billy. You didn’t need another day in detention over the holidays.

You looked at the clock above the desk to see that is was already 12:05. The supervising teacher was late meaning you were left with Billy unsupervised and you really didn’t like the idea of that. You glance out the window and see the snow getting heavier. There was no way you were getting home easy in that. Your day couldn’t get any better.

You take out your homework from your bag as Billy continues to huff and puff from the back of the class. You begin to do some physics questions glancing at the clock every now and then. At 12:15 Billy stands up and stretches.

“As much fun as this has been Y/L/N I’m out of here” Billy walks towards the door as you continue to ignore him. You knew he wouldn’t get very far with the snow, so you expected to see him again.

As you continued on with your physics homework you could hear banging from outside the classroom. You were intrigued so you got up from where you were sitting and walked towards the door. You peak out the door to see a defeated Billy leaning against a row of lockers.

“You know punching lockers isn’t going to make your situation any better” You shout down the hallway receiving a glare from Billy. You hear him scoff as he pushes himself of the lockers and walks towards you. You turn on your heal and sit back down.

“This is all your fault Y/L/N. If you hadn’t of punched me, we wouldn’t be here no would we.” Billy walks across the classroom and sits on the teacher’s desk watching as you put away your books.

“You think I’m happy about this whole situation? I can’t believe it’s Christmas eve and I’m stuck in a snowstorm with you!” You huff as you kick your legs up onto the chair in front of you sliding down slightly trying to stay warm.

“There’s worse company.” Billy stretches his face plastered with a smug smile.

“Doubtful.” You truly meant it too. You couldn’t stand how cocky Billy was. He knew he was pretty and loved getting any sort of attention.

“Well we are going to be here for awhile so get over it princess!” Billy suddenly stands up and walks towards the radiator near you.

“Well at least we have heat…kinda” Billy jokes as the situation begins to set in. It’s Christmas eve and you were stuck in school with no other than Billy Hargrove.

“Not funny. This whole situation is not funny. I’m going to look for food because it’s a lot more serious than you think Hargrove. Grow up!” You snap at Billy as you storm out of the classroom and down the hall towards the canteen. You knew Billy was immature, but it turned out he also didn’t have a serious bone in his body. He thought everything was a joke.

“Hey Y/L/N wait up!” You continue to walk towards the canteen as you hear Billy jog after you. As you both walk silently to the canteen your steps fall in sync with Billy’s.

“You’re probably right about this whole situation. I just like to look on the plus side of things” You glance over to see Billy looking down at his feet while he talks to you.

“Alright fine well lets just hope there is food here considering it supposed to be winter break!” You push the doors open to the canteen feeling a cold breeze hit you as you both walk in. You shiver slightly as you make your way to the back of the canteen where the kitchen was.

“Jesus why is it so damn cold here” You look Billy up and down as he walks ahead of you. As per usual he is barely wearing clothes. His jacket is ripped in places and his shirt might as well be wide open he has so many of the buttons open.

“Before you say it…I know I should be wearing heavier clothes. Don’t be that person” He glances at you as he pushes the door to the kitchen open.

“What do you mean by ‘don’t be that person’” You hold up your hands making air quotes much to Billy’s dismay.

“I mean don’t be a know it all now can we find the food before I freeze in here” You nod your head as he walks to the other side of the kitchen to search for some food. You do the same. After five minutes of searching you both have handfuls of food to last you at least a day.

“So, you still think I’m the worst person to be stuck in here with?” Billy asks as you both walk though the canteen to get to the detention hall.

“Yes, Billy I really do. Just drop it” You didn’t want to talk about this now all you wanted was some warmth.

“No, I won’t drop it” It was his turn to do the air quotes now.

“You seem to forget that you were the one who punched me and gave me the black eye and almost broke my nose!” You scoff as you walk ahead of Billy.

“Really Billy? Maybe if you didn’t beat up everyone that got in the way of this ridiculous act you have going on! You might be able to fool everyone around you, but no one acts like you for no reason!” You stomp into the detention hall and head straight for the radiator. You can hear Billy’s boots hit the floor behind you as he walks towards the opposite side of the room. He kicks a chair on the way almost tripping himself up. You choke out a laugh earning you a glare.

“Enjoy your trip Hargrove?” You begin to laugh as Billy’s face begins to turn red. You can’t tell if he embarrassed, angry or both.

“Shut up Y/L/N” Billy growls from across the room. Angry. That what that face is saying.

“Relax it’s a joke…do you even know what they are Hargrove or are you that dumb that it doesn’t reach that far in your brain?” You knew you were annoying him, but you continued to rile him up see how far you could take it.

“I’m not dumb” You look up from the spot on the floor you were staring at to see a defeated Billy sit in a chair by the window.

“Really because to me anyone who hangs around with Tommy and Carol is dumb. I mean you could be friends with anyone in the school and you pick them…I mean what have they got on you ?” You are genuinely curious why he was friends with those two they just made everyone’s life hell.

“You wouldn’t get it Y/N” The way Billy says your name gets your attention.

“Oh yeah? Try me! I don’t know if you haven’t noticed but I happen to be regarded as a bit of a nerd so you know with that comes a brain…sometimes…so I think I will understand. We all have our issues. I know that all too well!” Billy looks up as you mention your own problems.

“Oh yeah what kinda problems does a nerd with perfect grades have?” Billy asks you as he leans back in his chair with a cocky grin on his face. He thinks he has you figured out, but you aren’t the person he thinks you are.

“I’m not the person people think I am. People think I’m super smart and happy all the time…Well I’m not! I’ve always been the bigger girl in my friend group. The nerd who hasn’t dated anyone. I’d been bullied in middle school and so I promised myself when I started high school, I would stick up for myself and so I did. A kid tried to push me into a locker first day of freshman year and so I pushed him back and threw the first punch except I didn’t stop. I ended up breaking the kids nose, gave him a split lip and eyebrow and two black eyes. People left me alone after that, but I was still this walking stereotype. The chubby nerd! I mean you clearly have a lot of issues but I’m willing to listen…I want to understand the real Billy Hargrove because this certainly isn’t him!” You gesture at him as you speak hoping he will let his walls down.

“You seriously think you are chubby?” You scoff and look down at the ground afraid of what he will say next.

“Not what we are talking about Hargrove” You mumble as you hear him get up off his chair.

“I’ll cut you a deal. You listen to what I have to say about your problem and then Ill let you know what my deal is yeah?” You look up to see Billy sitting on the table opposite you.

“Fine” You nod as you readjust your feet as you continue to bask in the heat from the radiator.

“Okay here’s what I think. Yeah, you’re a nerd but so what ? I had heard about your reputation from Tommy but didn’t believe. How could a pretty little think like you beat someone up that good. That was of course until you punched me and almost broke my nose. Nice punch by the way. Harrington could learn a few things from you. As for the chubby thing I really don’t think that’s accurate” You look up to see Billy standing over you.

Leaning in towards you he whispers “I think you’re far from chubby…curvy yes but not chubby…I always liked curvy girls they have more character than the dumb blondes I’m used to so when I saw you I knew I had to have you princess…nerd or not!”

He pulls away from you and sits back on the table opposite you smug grin on his face. You could feel your cheeks heating up at Billy’s words. Of course, you knew better than to believe him.

“Uhmm I’ll be back in a minute I need to use the bathroom” With that you run out of the room and down the hallway. You hated the way Billy Hargrove was making you feel. Damn snowstorm was to blame for everything. You run into the bathroom and into the cubicle. Were you having a panic attack? No, you were just out of breathe but you were experiencing butterflies. You hear the door to the bathroom open and close…he followed you.

“You know it’s creepy to follow me into the bathroom” You shout out at the boy who is leaning against the sink opposite your cubical.

“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay…you ran out pretty quickly. Something I said princess?” You can hear the genuine concern in his voice, and you realise that he may have been telling the truth the entire time. You open the door to see him leaning against the sink.

“Uhmm…” You hesitate as Billy’s eyes met yours. You notice how beautiful his eyes are. You could stare at them all day.

“I get you haven’t dated before but let me break down this wall you have built up around you and I think we may have more in common than you think…but first I promised to reveal the real me I guess…I want to stay in here though. It’s warmer in here than in that damn classroom!” You nod and sit up on the counter beside him.

“Where do I even start? I don’t want you to feel sorry because that is not what I’m looking for here. You let me in a little so that’s what I’m doing. I want you trust me Y/N because you’re right I do put on an act, but I have to. My dad’s a pretty hard man. He is never happy with anything you know. When my mother left, he began to treat me like a piece of shit. Did I deserve it? Sometimes but still it messed me up and so when I knew we were moving here I decided to make a change…like you. I wasn’t taking shit from anyone and this was also my way of rebelling against him you know. I had girls over every night just to annoy him. I gave up on wanting to be this perfect son cause I knew that wasn’t going to work. Tommy and Carol were the easiest targets, I guess. If I’m dumb, they are even dumber because they do anything as long as they are in your good books!” Billy sighs once he is finished talking. You haven’t taken your eyes off him as he explained everything to you. You never expected him to actually tell you anything let alone confess this to you.

“I’m not going to pretend to know what things are like for you but this you is a lot nicer than the one I’m used to. I can’t imagine how hard things have been for you, but I want you to know that I’m here for you if you need a friend…a proper friend not like Tommy or Carol!” You smile when you see Billy visibly relax. He was now comfortable around you and you were happy that you had managed to break down his walls. You knew what was coming next and you didn’t like it.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Surprisingly it’s like a weight f my shoulders to let someone in you know” You nod because you do know. You felt the same way telling Billy even if your confession was far from his.

“So…are we going to talk about you running away from me or just ignore it because I would like to talk about it but if you want to ignore it we can” You let out a shaky breathe unsure on where this conversation was going to go.

“I mean what is there to talk about. You said…what you said, I freaked out and ran out and here we are. Nothing to talk about really. You know why I was spooked by what you said” Once you stop rambling Billy jumps down from the sink counter and walks to where you are sat stepping in between your legs.

“I want you to relax. I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to tell me a few things first. Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You shake your head as Billy pushes a strand of hair from your face behind your ear.

“Okay and would you like someone to guide you through it princess?” You are about to refuse but then you think back on what had told Billy earlier in the detention hall. You were a walking stereotype. You nod your head too nervous to say anything.

“Well I know someone who is pretty qualified in that area I can hook you up if you want” You laugh as Billy’s hand reaches up to your cheek. He moves towards you as you prepare yourself.

“Relax princess I’ll guide you” With that his lips are against yours. Despite the fact that they are barely touching you can feel how soft they are. You get a slight taste of cherry of his lips. Cherry coke! Billy has now deepened the kiss your lips smashing against his as things begin to heat up between the two of you. You hand goes to the back of his neck and you begin to play with the hair eliciting a moan from Billy. After what feels like hours Billy pulls away allowing you both to catch your breathes a little.

“Who knew the nerd Y/N Y/L/N was such an expert kisser” Billy says as you laugh.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be” You mumble as Billy steps away from you.

“That’s cause it was with me! I’m an expert at this kind of thing!” You laugh because it was true.

“I wonder if the snow has let up any?” You ask hoping of the counter.

“Lets go check” Billy takes your hand and pull you out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the door leading outside. Once you get to the window you realise the snow has finally stopped which means you could leave.

“Yes! I’ll race you back to the room!” Before Billy even has a chance to argue you begin to run towards the detention hall to get your things. You can hear Billy’s boots hit the floor as he runs after you. As you get to the door you stop dead seeing the supervising teacher sitting at the top of the class.

“Shit” Billy almost collides with you as he skids to a stop.

“We are fucked Y/L/N” You open the door ready to hear some shouting from the supervisor.

“Where have the two of you been?” The teacher asks as he stands up and walks over to where you were standing.

“Well since you were very late and we thought we would be stuck in here we went to search for somewhere warmer than here and food and now we are leaving to go celebrate Christmas with our families because I’m not risking getting stuck here and I don’t think Hargrove is either” You brush past the supervisor and grab your things Billy right behind you. You walk out of the room and wait for Billy to follow who runs out behind you.

“Who knew you had it in you! You really don’t live up to that stereotype you know. The more I see of you the more I realise that your nothing like a typical nerd” You smile at Billy’s words feeling your confidence build in you as you both walk towards the back doors leading to the carpark.

“Do you need a lift home?” You forgot that your mom had dropped you off and you planned on walking home.

“That would be great!” Who knew detention could bring two people who hated each other together. You were surprised you even talked to Billy all things considering. Now to celebrate Christmas.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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@an-antisocial-writer @charmed-asylum @takemebillyhargrove @technolilly @multifandomgirl16 @dreamin-of-dacre @1998--js

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agreatperhaps12 · 5 years ago

Text

There are a lot of misconceptions about Warren Peace. Five times Layla Williams saw through the bullshit, and one time Warren returned the favor.

happy holidays, @katiewont :)

Misconception No. 1: Warren Peace loves a good fight.

Warren Peace does not go looking for fights. Fights find him.

See: Stronghold chucking a lunch tray at him the first week of class. Dumb and Dumber challenging them to Save the Citizen. Stronghold’s date going full supervillain at homecoming and nearly dropping a school-size anvil on an unsuspecting suburb.

That’s just the highlight reel for September.

When another villain interrupts Warren’s History of Heroism midterm with another school invasion, Warren’s first thought is: Could everyone around here chill for five fucking seconds.

No. Literally, not ever. See: three weeks later, when Warren is standing in line for lunch with the entourage of freshmen he’s long since given up trying to shake off. It has not even been five minutes since Warren and Stronghold defeated their latest challenger at Save the Citizen, and Zach is already doing a clumsy live-action replay.

To Stronghold, “Did you see his face when you were like?” Zach swings his arm with the spectacular confidence of someone not standing in a very crowded cafeteria. To Warren, “And then you were like—” Zach mimes shooting fireballs from his fists, complete with sound effects. “Totally brutal. You looked scary, bro.”

“He always looks scary,” Ethan says, smiling at Warren like that’s a compliment.

Warren glares down at his tray. He and Stronghold have been defending champions of Save the Citizen for over two months, Hero Team every time. He doesn’t get how people are still managing to make him feel like the bad guy about it.

“How was play-pretend battle?”

Layla has emerged from the crowd to stand beside Warren, with a smirk that makes a stupid something flutter behind his sternum. Layla stopped coming to their Save the Citizen matches after their dozenth victory, because “violence should be the last resort in any hostage situation” and “Save the Citizen completely undermines a valuable opportunity for Sky High students to learn strategic negotiation skills.” Warren doesn’t know what she does with the free period.

Take me with you, he thinks.

“The match was epic,” Zach says. “Will got to throw a car.”

A bashful smile overtakes Stronghold’s dumb, Labrador face.

“And Warren almost barbequed Evans,” Ethan says.

Jesus, could they shut up about it already.

“Really,” Layla says, eyes on Warren while he pays for his food.

“Yeah,” Warren says, in a deadpan to rival Magenta. “It was epic.”

Layla frowns, but instead of launching into the pacifist manifesto that Warren is expecting, she holds up her bagged lunch says, “Want to eat outside?”

Before Warren can answer, Stronghold says, “Outside?” like he’s never heard of such a place. “It’s freezing out there.”

“It’s almost forty degrees,” Layla says, “and I had to come in early to finish a project, so it’s been over—” She checks the clock. “—five hours since I’ve felt roots under my feet. I’m eating outside.”

“Okay, but like.” Stronghold glances at Warren. “Do… you want me to come?”

“No, you’ll just be a baby about it,” Layla says gently. “Warren doesn’t get cold, do you?”

She looks to Warren for confirmation of a fact that Warren is one hundred percent sure he’s never told her. He shrugs to hide his wrong-footedness.

“Great.” Layla claps a hand on Stronghold’s shoulder and uses it to steer him toward the others, who are already sitting at what used to be Warren’s personal lunch table, once upon a time. She shrugs on her jacket, flips her hair out, and looks to Warren. “Shall we?”

Warren follows her outside warily. Sitting down across from her at the picnic table closest to the edge of school grounds, he says, “So, what is this, exactly?”

Layla pauses in uncurling her lunch bag. “What do you mean?”

Warren shrugs. “We don’t really hang out. Alone.”

They did, a little. Back when Layla was using Warren to make Stronghold jealous. But that pretty much ended with the homecoming debacle—after which Layla and Stronghold spent a few weeks trying to get their romantic relationship off the ground, decided they worked better as friends, and went back to normal.

“What are you talking about?” Layla says. “We hang out at the Paper Lantern all the time.”

It’s true that Layla eats at Warren’s workplace a few nights a week, when her mom is too busy with day-saving to make family dinners at home. But Layla is always doing homework, and Warren is always doing Work work, so, “I don’t think that counts.”

“It does,” Layla says confidently. It’s the kind of confidence that only Layla can pull off, because rather than coming across as arrogant, she gives the air of a mysterious woodland nymph, whose secret knowledge mere mortals wouldn’t understand.

“Okay,” Warren says, because he has precious little personal experience to back up any assertions about how friendship is supposed to work. “But this isn’t the Lantern.”

Layla raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to go back inside?”

“No,” Warren says. He doesn’t want Layla to leave, either. There’s a sureness about her that Warren finds comforting. She’s never been afraid of him—probably because she could kick his ass. Warren likes that about her. But he also likes to know where he stands with people.

By way of explanation, Layla says, “Did you know that when you get stressed out, literal steam comes out of your ears?”

“What?”

“Mm-hmm.” Layla pulls an apple out of her lunch bag. “A little. It’s easier to see when your hair is pulled back.”

Warren brings a self-conscious hand to the rubber band he used to tie his hair up during Mad Science Lab.

“It happens a lot when Zach is doing his Save the Citizen play-by-plays,” Layla observes. “Thought I might spare you an entire lunch of that.”

“Oh.” Warren’s hand drops into his lap, blind-sided by the unexpected kindness. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” Layla maintains eye contact while taking a bit of apple. Warren shifts in his seat and drops his eyes to his pizza. “You could tell Coach Boomer to assign Will a different partner,” she says after a moment. “Save the Citizen isn’t mandatory.”

Yeah, except it kind of is. No one’s ever voluntarily stepped back from a winning streak like Warren and Stronghold’s. Benching himself would never be worth all the extra side-eye in the halls. Not to mention the explanation he’d have to give Boomer. What kind of superhero-in-training refuses to fight?

Except for the one Warren is currently sitting across from, of course. Who’s looking at Warren with such doe-eyed earnestness that it almost squeezes a “Yeah, maybe” out of him. But Layla is a difficult person to lie to, so he says, “I thought we weren’t going to talk about Save the Citizen.”

Layla sits up a little straighter. “Right,” she says. “Consider it forgotten.”

“Thanks.”

Not that Warren doesn’t trust Layla, but she is the kind of person to press points she thinks are important. Before her mind can cycle back to Save the Citizen from some other angle, Warren says, “Sorry I dragged you outside in the middle of November.”

Layla tilts her head to the side. “You didn’t drag me. I dragged you.”

“Yeah, but for me,” Warren says, and there’s that stupid fluttering feeling again.

“And for me,” Layla says. “I wasn’t lying about needing to get out for a bit. Being inside all day, with the linoleum and cinderblock.” She wrinkles her nose. “It’s creepy quiet, when you’re used to feeling everything alive around you.”

He’s never actually thought about it, before. How Layla has her finger on the pulse of something so vast and intricate, even when she’s not bending it to her will.

“Even in November?” Warren says. “Isn’t everything, like… dead?”

Layla laughs. “No. Just taking a long nap.”

“Huh.” Warren looks around the grey-brown landscape of the schoolyard, with its bare branches and faded grass, with new eyes. It’s a nice idea, that all these lifeless-looking things are just waiting to wake up.

Misconception No. 2: Warren Peace doesn’t give a damn about his bad reputation.

Anyone who dyes a single streak of hair, wears fingerless gloves, and walks around like he’s got nothing to prove has something big to prove.

For Warren Peace, that is: I do not give a fuck about my family legacy.

Before starting high school, Warren figured a couple kids might recognize him, by name or by strong family resemblance. But Warren’s dad had already been locked up for a long time. It wasn’t like he made the news anymore. Worse came to worst, Warren thought he might have to field a few awkward questions about it.

Homeschooling did not prepare Warren for how big a household name Barron Battle was.

The first week of school was all open seats around Warren in class and at lunch, cold and curious looks over shoulders on the bus, “Check it out, that’s Barron Battle’s devil spawn” and “I can’t believe they even let supervillain kids in.”

It was treat or be treated like dirt, and Warren chose the former.

Fast-forward to junior year, and Sky High students know Warren Peace for the asshole he is, rather than the asshole his father was. Warren is comfortably back to pretending like his dad doesn’t exist. It mostly works.

Except during a History of Heroism unit on the most notorious villains of the twentieth century, when Warren’s class is staring at a PowerPoint slide that depicts the leveled Brooklyn neighborhood where Barron Battle and the Commander had their final showdown.

Warren ignores his classmates’ not-so-covert glances as Mr. Magnificent rattles of statistics like ‘seven dead and dozens injured’ and ‘nearly one billion dollars in damages.’ Magnificent has to pause his lecture to silence the white noise of whispers that has swelled up, and Warren wants to sink through the floor.

It’s like the first week of freshman year all over again. Warren is projecting I don’t care vibes so hard, there’s a good chance he’ll spontaneously combust.

What feels like an eon later, the classroom lights come up. Warren shoves everything into his backpack and heads for the door before anyone can try to talk to him. As usual, Layla is out of Hero Support early and waiting in the hall to meet Warren for lunch. Her patent sun-bright smile slips as Warren escapes the classroom.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” she says.

“What?” Warren stops up short. “Nowhere. There’s no fire.”

“I was kidding,” Layla says, and winces at herself. “Poor choice of words. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Warren rakes his fingers through his hair. “I can’t come to lunch today. I have to—work on something.”

Normally, when Warren is feeling like shit, there’s nothing he’d rather do than sit with Layla in their little oasis of calm at the schoolyard picnic table. But right now, Warren needs at least thirty minutes to pace around the empty auto shop classroom, literally and figuratively cooling off, before he subjects himself to more human company.

“Okay,” Layla says, hugging her notebook to her chest and looking at him critically. “Are you—”

“Yeah. It’s—whatever. I’ll see you later.” Warren shoulders his way through the crowded hall toward the shop room, head down.

Smooth, he thinks at himself. Very smooth.

Shut up.

Warren assumes the first chance he’ll have to apologize to Layla is the next day at lunch. But when Warren shows up for his shift at the Paper Lantern at five, Layla is already sitting at her usual table. Weird, because Layla usually doesn’t come to the Lantern on Thursdays. Weirder, because when she does come, she typically arrives sometime after eight, when the dinner rush has mostly cleared out.

“What can I get you?” Warren says, drawing his pencil out from behind his ear as he approaches Layla’s table. They do try to maintain some appearances of an employee-customer relationship, to appease Mrs. Zhou.

“Hmm.” Layla examines the menu. “I’d like one kung pao tofu, one green tea, and—” She looks up at him. “—for you to explain why you fled your History of Heroism class today.”

“I didn’t flee,” Warren says. “I stormed out.”

“All right,” Layla agrees easily. “Why did you storm out of History of Heroism?”

Warren crosses his arms. “None of your business.”

“Okay.” Layla holds out her menu.

Warren blinks. “What?”

“You’re right, it’s not my business,” she says. “I just thought you might want to talk about whatever it was.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Warren squints. “Okay…”

“Okay,” Layla says again, and flaps the menu in her hand.

Warren takes it slowly, waiting for the catch. But Layla just pulls a binder and notebook out of her backpack. “Honey with the tea, please,” she says, and clicks open a pen.

“I know,” Warren says, and leaves Layla to her homework. He spends most of the next half-hour trying to untangle why he feels disappointed rather than relieved.

The thing is, Warren sometimes gets a “What was that about?” or “Dude, what the hell happened back there?” from classmates after he goes nuclear. Like after his cafeteria fight with Stronghold in September. Those questions always feel voyeuristic. Prickly and probing.

With Layla, though, the question feels less invasive and more inviting. For the first time, Warren wants to explain himself. He wants Layla to understand. He doesn’t want her to see him as some moody, unapproachable asshole. But he also doesn’t know how to approach her, or the subject, now that he’s already shut it down.

He’s been talking himself in and out of going back over to Layla’s table for ten minutes when Mrs. Zhou sidles up to the pass-through window where Warren is brooding.

“If you’re going to stand around making eyes at your girlfriend, take your fifteen and go over before the dinner crowd arrives,” she says.

Warren’s face heats, and he looks around to see whether anyone is in earshot, even though he’s pretty sure none of Mrs. Zhou’s whitebread suburban customers understand Mandarin. “She’s not my—never mind.”

Deciding he’d rather be having any other conversation besides this one with Mrs. Zhou, Warren forces himself to walk over to Layla’s table and sit down.

“We learned about the Barron in class today,” he says, abandoning any attempt at preamble, “for a lesson on notable supervillain takedowns.”

If Layla is surprised by Warren’s sudden attempt at conversation, she doesn’t show it. She hooks her pen through the spiral of her notebook, closes it, and waits for him to continue.

“Magnificent was showing pictures from the last time Dad and the Commander fought in New York,” Warren says, “and people were looking at me like I was involved somehow, even though all that shit went down when I was still in diapers, and those people have been in my classes for three years, like—I know, we all know Barron Battle is my dad, why can’t everyone fucking get over it already—”

Layla lays a hand on his forearm, cutting Warren off and drawing his attention to the fact that his clenched fist is smouldering like a hot coal. “Shit. Sorry.” Warren shakes out his hand, and Layla pulls back. He wishes she wouldn’t.

Layla waits for the red glow of Warren’s knuckles to dim and then says, “Mr. Magnificent is an idiot. It was totally inappropriate to include your dad in a presentation, especially without asking you first.”

Warren shrugs. “A lot of people’s parents end up in his presentations,” he says. “They’re just usually on the right side.”

“He still should have asked you,” Layla says. “Also, you helped save the entire school in September. If people still think you’re anything like your dad after that, they’re idiots and you shouldn’t care what they think.”

Warren wants to say “I don’t.” What comes out is, “This is high school. Everyone cares what everyone thinks.”

“I don’t,” Layla says.

Warren wants to contradict her, but from what he can tell, Layla genuinely doesn’t. “You have to care a little,” he says.

Layla raises her eyebrows like oh, yeah? and points to her characteristically Whoville-style twist of braids and glittery clips. “You think these hairdos made me a lot of friends in middle school?”

“I didn’t go to middle school.”

“Well, they didn’t,” Layla says.

“Then why do you wear your hair like that?”

“Because I like it.” Layla twirls a stray piece of hair around her forefinger. “And I don’t need to be one of the pretty girls to feel good about myself.”

“You are pretty,” Warren blurts, and immediately has to suppress the urge to set himself on fire.

Layla’s eyes go wide. The last time Warren saw her blush this deep, he’d just called her out for crushing on Stronghold. But instead of straight-up embarrassed, this time Layla’s blush is weirdly, shyly pleased. “You think so?” Her chin is tilted down so that she’s looking up at him through her eyelashes, which is not fair.

“Me?” Warren points at himself, like an idiot. “I don’t—I mean, I do, but it’s not just—you are pretty. People know that. It’s an objective fact.”

“Really.” Layla’s cheeks are still pink, but her smile has a playful slant now.

“Yeah,” Warren says, more defensively than he intends. Christ, he was so much better at this when they were fake-dating, when none of Warren’s smirks or swagger could mean anything. Now, without the protection of pretense, everything feels altogether too personal. Warren is not good at personal.

“Thank you,” Layla says, and bites her lip in hesitation before tacking on, “you’re pretty, too.”

Whatever that comment is—reflex, or politeness, or something else—it is officially too much. “I have to get back to work,” Warren says, overloud in the quiet restaurant, and bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his haste to stand up.

“Okay,” Layla says, trying to hide a smile behind her hand. Before he can turn away, she adds, “Warren,” and points to either side of her head.

Warren stares at her blankly for a second before he catches her drift, yanks his hair down from his ponytail to hide his surely steaming ears, and practically runs back to the kitchen.

Misconception No. 3: Warren Peace thinks he’s got the best power.

“I feel like I should warn you,” Layla says as she turns the key in her front lock, “my house is kind of crowded.”

Warren frowns. “I thought you were an only child.”

“No siblings,” Layla says. “A lot of roommates. You’ll see.”

What Warren sees is a menagerie that would do Ace Ventura proud.

“Watch out for the—everything,” Layla says, leading him through a flock of peacocks, a few dogs and several cats that slink by too quickly to count.

“Why… is this?” is the only semi-coherent question that Warren can formulate as he shoos a parrot from his shoulder and shakes his pant leg free of a fox’s jaws.

“You’re not the only one who has to live with your parent’s superpower,” Layla says.

Layla’s mom, apparently, is a zoolinguist. The only place in the entire house not overrun by furry or feathered residents is Layla’s room.

“Wow,” Warren says as he crosses the threshold.

Layla’s bedroom is situated on the back corner of the house, and the two external walls and ceiling are all paneled glass. Presumably to usher in maximum sunlight for the greenery that crowds almost every inch of space besides Layla’s bed and desk. Warren has to shed his winter coat immediately to avoid overheating in the humidity.

“Yeah,” Layla says. “Sometimes I forget how weird it is. Will’s the only friend I’ve ever had up here.”

Layla is the only friend Warren has ever had in his room—which she immediately declared “entirely predictable,” on account of the punk rock posters plastered across his walls. Layla’s room is way more predictable, if you ask Warren. Or at least, Warren would have predicted this, if he’d known literal greenhouse was a legitimate option.

“It’s nice,” he says. “Peaceful.”

“Isn’t it?” Layla takes Warren’s coat and hangs it on a hook behind the leaves of an elephant ear plant. “Mom had the place renovated before we moved in. I think she figured, if she was going to let every animal in the neighborhood have the run of our house, it wasn’t fair to exile my plants to the backyard.”

“Do they all live here all the time?” Warren says, pointing at the floor to indicate the veritable petting zoo downstairs.

“Some of them,” Layla says. “Mom is good at finding homes for most. I think donations from her fans are single-handedly keeping every shelter in the city afloat.”

It’s rude to ask about superheroes’ secret identities, but context clues give Warren a pretty good idea who Ms. Williams might be. Charismatic Megafauna is basically a one-woman PETA operation, liberating animals from factory farms and delivering them to free-range pastures as often as she commands her elite squadron of apex predators to take down baddies. She’s a more controversial figure than the Commander and Jetstream, but she does have an extremely dedicated cult following.

“Her power sounds amazing,” Warren says.

“Most of the time,” Layla says. She collects a watering can from beside her bed and begins to fill it with a knee-high spigot beside the door. “But there’s a lot of animal suffering in the world. It can get exhausting for her to be tapped into it all the time, you know?”

Warren pauses to consider. “Yeah, I guess that would be overwhelming.”

Layla turns off the tap and carries her watering can to the closest table laden with potted plants. “Everyone’s superpower looks spectacular on the news,” she says, with a very un-Layla-like smile. “No one’s around to see it when your power makes you so sad you can’t get out of bed.”

“Except you,” Warren guesses.

Layla drops her not-really-smile. “Except me.”

Warren shuffles along the row of plants beside Layla while she waters them. He waits until she finishes refilling the can and starts a new row before asking, “Does that ever happen to you? Your powers getting you down.”

Layla studiously waters a flower with orange starburst petals. “Plants have more…auras and vibes than thoughts and feelings,” she says, and tickles the flower under one leaf. The plant visibly perks up under her ministrations, and Layla smiles. For real, this time. “Their pain doesn’t feel as sharp to me as animals’ pain does to my mom.”

“But,” Warren prompts.

“But sometimes, yeah,” Layla says, and moves on to the next plant.

Warren casts around for something comforting to say, but comes up with nothing better than, “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Layla says, “but it’s the exception to the rule. Most of the time, I wouldn’t give up feeling this—” She rubs her fingertips over a browning leaf to paint it green. “—for anything.”

Warren shouldn’t be jealous of Layla’s powers. Especially after she’s just admitted what a burden they can be. But Layla has also just confirmed what Warren has long suspected: Superabilities, even the ostensibly powerful ones, are not created equal. Warren’s pyrokinesis is, fundamentally, a weapon. A blunt tool to wield when the situation calls for violence. Layla’s power, on the other hand, seems more like a sixth sense. A trapdoor to another plane of reality.

How much of Layla Williams’s worldview draws on the alien insight of plants that no other human being, least of all Warren Peace, could ever possibly understand?

Layla interrupts Warren’s inferiority spiral with, “I’ve never talked about this with anyone but my mom.”

Warren watches Layla coax a stem into standing up straighter. “Not even Stronghold?”

He should not take as much pleasure as he does in Layla’s dismissive laugh. “Especially not Will.”

“Why not?”

“For a long time, he didn’t have any powers, and he was so jealous of mine, it seemed mean to complain about them to Will.”

“And now?”

“Now, he’s in the honeymoon phase with his new powers,” Layla says, “and it seems mean to bring him down.”

Not even Warren believes Stronghold can be that fragile. “I’m sure he’d get over it.”

“Maybe, but, you know. The things we do for our best friends,” Layla says, with a what can you do shrug, and returns to the faucet for another refill.

“So, why tell me?”

Layla chews the inside of her cheek. “I guess because you already have a complex about your own powers the size of Texas, thanks to your dad.”

“What?” Warren balks. “I do not.”

Layla squints. “Don’t you, though?”

“No. I—shut up.” Warren looks away, feeling hot all over.

Layla bends down to turn off the tap. A moment later, her hand on Warren’s shoulder startles him into looking back at her. Her big, brown eyes are wide with sympathy. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset,” Warren snaps.

“Okay.” Typical Layla, letting him feel whatever he’s going to feel and say whatever he’s going to say and refuse to throw hands about it.

Warren’s spark of anger sputters and dies. He huffs out an exhale. “It’s not only about my dad,” he admits, quietly, mostly to the floor.

Layla’s hand remains on his shoulder while she waits for an elaboration. Warren very carefully does not acknowledge it in any way, for fear it might stop.

“Fire is...useful,” he says. “But it can only destroy things. I can’t create. Not like…” He waves a hand around Layla’s room. “All I’m good for is fighting, and sometimes I wish—” Warren shoves a hand through his hair. “I dunno. It’s stupid.”

Layla’s hand squeezes his shoulder. “First of all, you are not your power,” she says. “No matter what Boomer or anyone else says. Second, fire is creative. It creates light and warmth.”

“If I’m ever transported back in time to an era before electricity, I’m sure that’ll be extremely handy,” Warren says, aiming for wry and not quite making it, because the tickly feeling that flitters to life in his chest whenever Layla says nice things about him is going wild.

Layla rolls her eyes. “Third of all, you do not need a superpower to create and nurture things.” Before Warren can stop her, Layla has pushed her watering can into his hand.

“What?” he says. “I don’t know anything about plants. I’d probably kill them all.” He holds the watering can out to Layla, who does not take it.

“Don’t act like you don’t have a book of Keats in your backpack right now,” she says. “If you know ‘To Autumn,’ you already know the most important things about plants. Everything else is technicalities.”

Warren gives her a doubtful look.

Layla sighs. “Trust me. Which you should, because I know literally everything about plants, and I’m a very good teacher, and I would not let you hurt any of my babies. Okay?”

Layla holds out her hand, and Warren has to channel all his concentration into keeping his cool enough that he doesn’t burn her when he takes it in his own. Layla grins, and Warren feels a little light-headed with the thrill of it.

“Come on,” she says, and pulls him toward the row of potted flowers where they left off. Warren follows, as helpless as any of the flora around them to resist the benevolent force of nature that is Layla Williams.

Misconception No. 4: Warren Peace doesn’t get scared.

This illusion is at least partly on purpose. Part of the do not fuck with me ethos Warren has been cultivating for the better part of three years.

In reality, plenty of things scare Warren. Like the idea that everyone is right about him after all, and he’ll end up on the Superheroes Guild’s Most Wanted List someday. Or that deep down, a kernel of grudge in his mother resents Warren for taking so closely after his father. But those are more midnight-existential-crisis concerns than acute fears.

Warren gets scared during battles, too. But the initial kick of adrenaline always seems to knock his consciousness clear of his body, such that he spends most of the fight controlling the firestorm of his fists from somewhere above the action. He usually doesn’t realize how freaked out he is until after the fact, when his brain plugs back into his body and he thinks, huh, my hands won’t stop shaking.

It’s rare that Warren feels, in real time, the bass-drum beat of his heart and a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. But that’s exactly what happens every time he gets close to asking Layla out on a date.

He’s come close so many times. He’s had the tickets in his jacket pocket for weeks. But the prospect of actually asking Layla invites the prospect of Layla saying no, and Warren—can’t.

Sometimes, he can almost convince himself that she would say yes, despite the fact that Layla is kind, beautiful, mystical Layla, and Warren is social-pariah, problem-child Warren. Like last Tuesday, when Layla said “you’re such a disaster” with such heart-stopping fondness, while she pulled a rubber band from Warren’s hair to replace it with one of her own, more comfortable fabric hair ties. Or last Friday, while they were watching a movie at Layla’s place, and she tucked her socked toes under Warren’s thigh on the couch. Or yesterday, when she held her hands out over the picnic table for Warren to warm her pink fingertips between his palms.

And always, in the back of Warren’s mind: “You’re pretty, too.”

But whenever Warren opens his mouth to ask, his tongue goes dry and his palms go damp. It’s such a stupid thing to be afraid of, it makes Warren want to close his head in a locker. Worst case scenario, Layla turns him down. They’d still be friends. She wouldn’t be cruel. She’s Layla. But Warren isn’t used to having so much of himself caught up in another person. The idea that Layla isn’t equally caught up in him provokes a strangled, withering feeling in the pit of Warren’s stomach that he can only imagine would intensify tenfold after the actual rejection.

So, Warren’s been procrastinating.

But time is running out.

It does not help that Stronghold’s flock of freshmen is currently obsessing over Winter Formal like a bunch of… well, freshmen.

“You guys asking anyone?” Zach says at lunch, one day when freezing rain is lashing Sky High too hard for even Layla to sit outside. Zach hooks an arm over Magenta’s shoulder, as if to underline the fact that she’s already spoken for. Magenta rolls her eyes but doesn’t shrug him off.

“I would ask Larry,” Ethan says, pushing steamed vegetables around on his plate with his fork. “If I could stop going full-puddle every time he looks at me.”

Layla and Magenta make sympathetic noises.

“I think I’m gonna ask Abby,” Stronghold says, eyes cast over at a table where Warren assumes this Abby must sit. He hasn’t bothered to keep up with Stronghold’s latest romantic fixation. They’re already two—three?—full crush cycles past Layla. Warren can’t believe he ever felt threatened by a kid with the attention span of a housefly.

“She’d totally say yes,” Magenta says. “I overheard her about how hot you are during the Shapeshifting Students Association meeting.”

“Really?” Will says, at the same time Layla goes, “Magenta!”

“What?”

“Gossip.”

“Okay, Mother Williams,” Magenta says. To Will, “We’ll talk later.”

Layla looks intent on pressing the matter, but Ethan says, “Do you have a date, Layla?”

Everyone turns to Layla, except for Stronghold, whose eyes inexplicably flick over to Warren—who glares him into dropping eye contact.

“No,” Layla says, unconcerned.

“Not yet,” Zach says. “Just a question of who asks first.”

Warren’s heart stutters, and he swallows back a “What?”

Luckily, Stronghold has less restraint. “What?” he says, like he wasn’t ogling another girl 0.2 seconds ago.

Zach looks at Stronghold like, Are you kidding? “Layla’s hot,” he says slowly. Magenta nods in agreement. “Chen, Robinson, and Feinstein are all thinking about asking.”

“And those are just the ones we’ve heard about,” Magenta says.

“Where are you guys getting this intel?” Ethan says. “We’re your only friends.”

“You can hear a lot from the inside of a locker,” Zach says.

“Or from the vents,” Magenta adds.

“Who’s still shoving you in a locker?” Layla says, frowning at Zach.

“Don’t deflect,” Magenta says. “Who are you going to take?”

“I don’t know,” Layla says, very pink and very determinedly acting like she’s not. “I didn’t know I had options until right now.”

Warren didn’t know he had competition until right now. In his defense, he deliberately pays as little attention as possible to rest of the Sky High student body, except for the five freshmen who invaded his space last fall and refused to leave. But of course other guys want to ask Layla.

Fuck.

“What about you, Bucky Barnes?” Zach says, throwing Warren an upward nod. “Got your eye on any hot junior goths we don’t know about?”

Warren scowls. “No.”

“Warren’s too cool for school dances,” Magenta says.

Stronghold frowns. “He took Layla to homecoming.”

“Only to make you jealous,” Layla is quick to correct.

Warren’s eyes snap over to her, but Layla isn’t looking at him. Just stabbing at her salad with her fork and letting her hair partially obscure her still pink cheeks.

An uncomfortable, sour feeling settles in Warren’s stomach. He makes himself look back at Zach. “I don’t do school dances. I have a thing anyway.”

“What thing?” Magenta says.

“A thing,” Warren says, with enough finality that even Zach knows better than to push it.

That is, until Stronghold corners Warren at his locker after final period to ask, “What thing do you have to do instead of Winter Formal?”

Warren continues loading books into his backpack. “A thing.”

Stronghold, in a bid for Warren’s full attention, shuts his locker door. As soon as Warren turns a glare on him, the kid goes bug-eyed.

“I am so sorry!” he says, reaching out to open the locker, only to remember that, duh, it’s Warren’s and he can’t. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Warren must be spending too much time with Layla, because instead of picking Stronghold up by his shirt collar, he merely swats Stronghold’s hand away and unlocks his locker.

“It was only—I know someone who was hoping you’d ask them to Winter Formal,” Stronghold says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Warren fixes Stronghold with a flat expression. “You’re not my type.”

For an aspiring superhero, Stronghold flusters extremely easily. “Wh—not me!” he says, and then leans in and lowers his voice. “You know.”

Warren, who is not in the business of getting his hopes up—no matter how many summersaults his stomach is doing—raises his eyebrows.

“Layla,” Stronghold murmurs, so low that Warren has to read his lips.

Summersaults, cartwheels, handsprings. Warren’s stomach is performing a full-on gymnastics routine. “Did she tell you that?”

“No,” Stronghold admits, and Warren’s stomach immediately flops. “But I am something of an expert on Layla Williams.”

Warren, who has an entire September’s worth of evidence to the contrary, makes a psh noise.

Stronghold squares his shoulders and ticks off on his fingers: “She hangs out at the Lantern all the time. She eats lunch with you, alone, every other day. The way she talks about you—”

“She talks about me?”

“Dude.” Stronghold lays a hand on Warren’s shoulder, looking so delighted with the irony that it takes everything in Warren not to ignite. “You’re so stupid. She’s totally into you.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Right.” Stronghold’s hand immediately slides off. “Seriously, though. If you don’t ask Layla to the dance, someone else will.”

“Noted,” Warren says, like he isn’t already tying himself into knots over that exact possibility.

“You’re gonna ask her, then?”

Warren heaves a sigh. He can’t believe he’s about to confide in Will Stronghold, of all people, but at this juncture it seems like the path of least resistance. “I have tickets to something that night, and I want to ask Layla to go with me.”

Stronghold has the audacity to look innocently perplexed. “So, why haven’t you?”

“I’m, you know.” Warren pushes back his hair. “Waiting for the right time.”

Stronghold looks dubious. “It’s a date, not a prom-posal.”

“I know that,” Warren snaps.

Stronghold blinks, and something seems to click in his head. His expression goes slightly amused and, even worse, sympathetic. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not,” Warren says, but it sounds like a lie even to his own ears. “I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Okay, well.” Stronghold blows out a breath and puts his hands on his hips. “Any chance the right moment might be, like, today? Around now-ish?”

Warren narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because Magenta texted me five minutes ago that Andrew Chen is standing next to our bus, waiting for Layla.”

Warren’s heart lurches. “You should have led with that, Christ.” Guess he’s doing this now. Is he really doing this now? He has to, so he is. Warren slams his locker and swings his bag over his shoulder. “Where is Layla?”

“Magenta said she stayed after class to talk to Mr. Boy about—oh, okay, then. Bye! Good luck!” Stronghold calls after Warren’s retreating figure as he strides off down the hall.

Warren is so preoccupied with figuring out what he’s going to say to Layla when he finds her that he nearly runs into her as she exits Mr. Boy’s classroom.

“Warren,” she says, blinking up at him in surprise. “Hi.”

Warren, who suddenly feels like he’s stepped on stage with no lines prepared, takes a second to remember how to breathe before he gets out a “Hi.”

Layla stares up at him expectantly. Right. He’s supposed to say more words.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

A pucker forms between Layla’s eyebrows. “Sure. I actually wanted to talk to you, too.”

Warren clenches the tickets between sweat-damp fingers in his pocket. “Okay. Do you want to…” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the mostly empty hallway.

“Okay.”

Layla follows him out into the hall, and they stand in semi-awkward silence until Warren says, “You first.”

“All right.” Layla tucks her hair behind her ears. She already looks embarrassed. Not good. “So, I might be way off base here, but I get the feeling you’ve been working yourself up to asking me to Winter Formal?” Her voice lilts up like a question, but she must find all the confirmation she needs in Warren’s expression, because she immediately continues, “and I just wanted to make it clear that you don’t have to.”

When Warren opens his mouth, “Oh” is all that comes out.

“Yeah.” Layla hooks her thumbs through the straps of her backpack. “I know school dances aren’t really your thing—and they’re not exactly mine, either. So I didn’t want you to think homecoming set some sort of precedent, that you have to ask—”

“I wanted to ask you,” Warren says, finally unsticking his throat.

It’s Layla’s turn for surprised silence. It takes a full two seconds for her to get out, “You did?”

“Yeah, but—not to the dance. Here.” Warren pulls the tickets out of his pocket. His thumb has smudged the ink of the top ticket, so he hands the bottom one to Layla. “Town hall is holding a fundraiser gala next Saturday to raise money to build a park on an empty lot in my neighborhood.”

Layla takes the ticket in both hands and stares down at it.

“There’s going to be food and music and dancing,” Warren says, heart rate accelerating. “I think they’re going to auction off dedications for benches and flower beds and stuff. There will probably be a couple boring speeches by some government officials, but.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I dunno. It sounded like it could be fun.”

Layla still hasn’t said anything, and Warren’s heart is throwing a fit in his ribcage, so he adds, “It’s the night of Winter Formal, though. So if you wanted to go to the dance with someone else and hang out with your friends, I totally—”

“No,” Layla says, looking up at him with bright eyes and a wide smile. “I’d love to go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Warren says, too overcome by the cold flood of relief pooling in his gut to say anything more substantive than, “Cool.”

Layla carefully slots her gala ticket into the front pocket of her backpack. “Took you long enough,” she says, angling a teasing smile at Warren. “I couldn’t take another week of you opening your mouth like you were going to ask me something and then not saying anything.”

“Thank Stronghold,” Warren says, wondering what his life has come to, that those words just came out of his mouth. Must be the generosity of giddy relief.

Layla’s nose scrunches up in tickled confusion. “Why?”

“He warned me that Chen was gonna ask you to the dance this afternoon,” Warren says. “Sort of lit a fire under my ass.”

“But Andrew—” Layla breaks off with a laugh and shakes her head. “Will.”

“What?”

Layla takes Warren’s hand and starts walking them down the hall. “Andrew Chen’s been sick with the flu all week,” she says. “He’s not even here today.”

Warren’s mouth hangs open for a few seconds. “Stronghold.”

Layla laughs again and swipes her thumb across the back of Warren’s hand, and a great, soft warmth blooms in Warren’s chest.

Well. If he has to be indebted to Will Stronghold for something, this is as good a favor as Warren could have asked for.

Misconception No. 5: Warren Peace is not a touchy-feely person.

Warren himself would have sworn by this one, until a month ago. He has never, in all his life, considered himself a cuddly person. By any stretch.

It turns out that in order to identify as a cuddly person, you need someone to cuddle. Or, more specifically, someone you have permission to cuddle.

Dating Layla Williams finally gives Warren that permission.

He expected it to be harder, weirder, more awkward to transition from being someone who looks at Layla and thinks I want to put my arm around you, to being a person who can actually reach behind her back and curl his fingers over her hip bone.

It’s not hard at all. The first time Layla kisses Warren, up on her toes with her hands fisted in the lapels of his suit, in the dark of her front porch after the fundraiser gala, there’s a shift. A gravitational kick that sends them into closer orbit around one another, so that now it’s routine for Warren to wrap Layla in his jacket and tuck her into his side as they walk. Steal her hand to press her knuckles to his lips. Knock his knee gently against hers under their picnic table.

“Who knew Warren Peace was such a cuddle bug,” Magenta says, tipped back in a papasan chair to peer at Warren upside-down.

Warren is sitting on the shag carpet of Stronghold’s basement with his back against the couch to let Layla play with his hair while they talk over a movie. She’s just tied off an elaborate braid, so now his cheek is resting against her knee while she twirls the fine hairs at the nape of his neck around her fingers.

“Call me ‘cuddle bug’ ever again and I’ll roast you like a marshmallow,” Warren says, too sleepy and comfortable to put any real heat behind the threat.

Magenta, true to form, doesn’t so much as blink. “Hate to break it to you, but an elegant Dutch braid kind of undermines your whole tough-guy act.”

Warren simply shrugs. It’s an occupational hazard of dating Layla, spending a lot more time around her—their?—friends outside school. Warren resisted at first, but at this point, it’s more exhausting to continue holding them all at arm’s length than to let them have the run of his life.

“Layla, in general, kind of undermines his whole tough-guy act,” Zach says. “You know he wrote her a poem for Valentine’s day.”

“Read her a poem,” Warren says. What else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t very well get Layla clipped flowers.

“That’s still sappy as hell, dude,” Ethan says.

“It was very sweet,” Layla says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Warren’s forehead.

Warren unsuccessfully tries to bite back a smile.

“He’s preening so hard right now, oh my god,” Magenta says.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t tease him, or he won’t come back,” Layla says, but Warren hears the smile in her voice.

“Please. He’d go anywhere you go,” Magenta says, and as Layla’s fingertip traces the shell of Warren’s ear gently, always gently, Warren doesn’t even attempt to contradict her.

+1 Misconception: Layla Williams is a just happy, go-lucky hippy chick.

Outside Layla’s bedroom window, everything green is tucked under snow and the weight of waiting for spring. On the other side of the world, everything is burning.

Record-setting wildfires have raked Australia for weeks. Neither Layla nor her mom can directly feel what’s happening to the outback. But Layla knows her mom must sense it like she does, every time a singed koala or graveyard of splinterlike tree trunks appears on the news: a gnawing sensation that something on the far edges of her mind is vanishing into smoke.

The worst part is knowing there’s nothing Layla can do. Even if she had the means to get to Australia, there’s no way to salvage the aftermath of a forest fire. Layla wields incredible power over living organisms. But it’s like conducting an orchestra. Not much to be done if the entire ensemble is already dead when she takes the stage.

Actually, the real worst part is knowing that the inferno currently eating up Australia isn’t an outlier. The warming world is parching landscapes and revving up hurricanes, and every weather-related threat to her beloved biosphere is only going to get much, much worse. It makes Layla feel horribly, inescapably small.

To avoid sitting around the house and chewing her nails down, Layla takes on more volunteer shifts at the animal shelter. Helps Magenta with outreach for the Shapeshifting Students Association. Spends a couple Saturdays with the local river cleanup volunteer crew. Cooks dinner on the nights her mom is actually home. Overstudies for an exam in Hero Support.

It’s all a good distraction, but at the price of exhaustion. Layla feels emotionally sore. Like she’s been doing the psychological equivalent of running springs.

Case in point: “Layla?”

Layla blinks herself out of her middle-space-stare at the picnic table. “Hmm?”

Warren frowns. “I said, are you coming to the Lantern tonight?”

“Oh, no,” Layla says, and winces her apology. “Will’s coming over to study for Hero Support.”

“Why? You’re gonna ace that thing.”

“I promised Will I’d help him review.”

Warren’s frown deepens.

“What?”

“You should take a break,” he says.

Layla hides a yawn behind one hand and waves the other dismissively. “I’m fine.”

Warren gives her a flat look. Most of his expressions are pretty flat, but Layla has gotten good at reading the subtleties. This one says, quit your bullshit.

“What?” she says.

“You—” Warren spends a couple seconds struggling to find the right words. “Your hair is in a ponytail.”

Layla replays that in her overtired mind, wondering whether she heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

“No sparkly clip things. No scrunchies. You didn’t even do the thing where you wrap a little piece of hair around the elastic to hide it,” Warren says, as though that clarifies anything. When Layla’s expression makes clear that it does not, Warren sighs. “Babe. You’re exhausted.”

“Am not,” Layla says, and feels totally betrayed by her own body when the words are stretched out by a yawn. “Coincidence,” she says, in response to Warren’s unimpressed eyebrow-raise.

“Layla.”

“It’s fine,” she insists.

“Take a break,” Warren says, more insistently. “Stronghold can survive cramming for one exam on his own. Let baby bird learn to fly.”

“He’ll drop like a rock,” Layla says mournfully.

“Probably,” Warren says. “But you don’t have to be there for everyone all the time.”

Layla studies her bitten nails. “It makes me feel better.”

Warren’s ever-warm hands take hold of Layla’s, making her look up. But whatever he has in mind to say is interrupted by the bell. Warren gives her fingers a brief squeeze before releasing them, so that they can collect their things.

“Tell Stronghold to find himself another tutor so you can have a night off,” Warren says, hooking an arm over Layla’s shoulders as they head for the front doors. “Please.”

Layla does not. Which is why, when she says “come in” to the soft knock on her bedroom door at eight o’clock, she expects Will. Instead, she gets Warren, hovering on the threshold with his usual carefully concealed uncertainty, like he’s a vampire who has to wait to be invited in.

“What are you doing here?” Layla says, sliding off her bed. “I thought you had work.”

“Got someone to cover my shift,” Warren says. He’s holding what looks like a magazine. “This was more important.”

“What is… this?” Layla says. “You know Will’s going to be here any minute.”

“No, he’s not,” Warren says. “He’s at Magenta’s”

Layla narrows her eyes. “What did you do?”

“Told him to go find another study partner,” Warren says. “Since you’re already prepared.”

Layla crosses her arms and sinks her weight into one hip. “I told you, I want to help.”

Warren adjusts his grip on the magazine. Layla hears the paper stick to the sweat on his fingertips, but his determined expression doesn’t change. “Then help me.”

Layla blinks. “With what?”

Warren holds up what turns out to be a gardening catalog. “I want to get my mom a couple of indoor plants for her birthday,” he says. “Something pretty but doesn’t require a lot of attention, because she’s gone so much. I thought maybe you could help.”

Layla stares at him. “I love shopping for potted plants,” she says slowly.

Warren exhales a short laugh. “Uh, yeah, I know. And you are a good teacher, so.”

He rolls the catalog up between his hands and looks at Layla with guarded hope that shoots a bolt of affection like heat lightning straight through her stomach. She needs to sit down.

“Come in, then,” she says, and ushers him through the door. While Warren is taking off his shoes, “Just so we’re clear, you are not going to make a habit of rearranging my schedule behind my back.”

Warren stands up straight, dead serious. “Got it.”

Layla indulges a smile and leans up to kiss him. “I’ll forgive you this time, though.”

They sit on Layla’s bed, flipping through Warren’s catalog, as well as a stack of magazines that Layla has pulled out from under her desk. Warren loops his arms around her waist and hooks his chin over her shoulder, listening intently while she explains the care and keeping of flowers. It’s comfortable and easy and requires just enough idle attention to avoid falling into a slump. Layla could do this forever, she thinks.

Not an hour later, Layla is lying with her chin propped on her hands, which are folded over Warren’s chest, struggling to keep up conversation through yawns of increasing frequency.

“You can go to bed, you know,” Warren says, dryly amused, and tucks a strand of hair that has fallen out of Layla’s loose ponytail behind her ear.

“I might fall asleep right here on top of you, if you keep talking about it,” Layla says, closing her eyes and pillowing her cheek on her hands.

She feels, rather than hears Warren’s hitched inhale, and suddenly feels more acutely awake than she has all week.

Three seconds pass before Warren murmurs, “You can. If you want.”

Layla very carefully keeps her body relaxed and does not open her eyes to avoid breaking the fragile moment. “Mmm-kay,” she says, and adjusts to find a slightly more comfortable position. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Warren says, one hand splayed between her shoulder blades, his other thumb smoothing the hair back at her temple.

Layla is so keenly aware of every point of contact that she thinks she might stay awake after all. But within minutes, the soft touch pulls her down into sleep.

#layla williams #warren peace #sky high #my 11-year-old self would be proud #first het fic ever #but i caught feelings writing this and guess now i ship ForestFire #i think it got angstier than your original adorable prompt intended but #what else is new #apologies for the climate change existential crisis that popped up at the end there #i might have been projecting

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kpopchangedme · 5 years ago

Text

All I Want For Christmas is: The Maple Goddess [Youngjae]

Love is in the air at the Christmas Market when you finally get to spend some quality time with the cute guy from the ice skating rink.

Protagonists: Choi Youngjae & You

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: SFW - Holiday Season - Romance - First Date - shy!jae || [One Shot]

[All I Want For Christmas: is a GOT7 collab]

GOT7 | M.list

You’re glorious today, as usual. Your red winter coat brings out the colours of your cheeks, even from the other side of the alley, you're glowing. Youngjae rolls his thick sleeve to peek at his watch, almost an hour to go before his first break… Sniffing, he observes from his fortune hideout as you explain something to rare morning onlookers, waving your hands around energetically. When he's sitting down behind his booth, he's mostly concealed by the counter, hardly able to see you. In the end, they buy something from the stand, how could they not? No one can resist a smile like yours, and you grin every time you make a sale. A series of aggressive knocks on his wooden counter forces him out of his daydream. He stands up from his chair in a hurry, taken by surprise.

“Size twelve.” A boy narrows his eyes haughtily and his four friends snicker behind him. He's a teenager – he was probably in diapers when Youngjae finished high school – but still, he has nothing but contempt for the older guy. The Ice Skating Rink promised to be a romantic mystical workplace with its Christmas lights and view on the giant decorated tree, but it turned out to be a damn babysitting job.

Don't push your friends... No headsets! I told you, this is your last warning...

“Then it's size eleven,” Youngjae blinks, quickly catching on, “and 10 bucks.”

“The raffle guy said you'd make us a discount!” They immediately start to whine in protest, and Youngjae bites the interior of his cheek to remain polite. Grabbing the frame of his booth, he bends through the opening to glare at his ‘friend’. Bambam shrugs unapologetically, not looking exactly contrite enough to his liking. He's been sending his victims to the rink for discounts far too often this past month.

“How much do you have left?”

Sighing, Youngjae bargains with the group, ending up renting all of them skates at half the value. How are other businesses supposed to make a living if Bambam keeps scamming kids out of their allowance? He cusses lowly, picking up 5 pairs of ice skates from the tablets behind him and handing them. It's his first year working at The White Miracle Market and definitely his last. He thought it would be a great opportunity to earn some extra cash for his Christmas gifts, but that's not how it went. Instead, he ended up spending his days freezing to death, quarrelling with kids, and spending all of his money on the job.

Work with us, they said…

Youngjae shouldn't have let himself get convinced by the guys. He's the only one that ended up in a stall with a defective heater and… Ok, fine, admittedly he has the greatest view of all time… Raising his head to your booth facing his, he forgets for a brief second he's still standing up and hits the large metal radiator hanging above. Yelping, he reaches for his head with both gloves, for once thankful the thing isn't working at full capacity. Through his tears, he glares at the heater with rancour.

It will be fun, they said…

Carefully sitting back, Youngjae loses the next half-hour reluctantly monitoring the skating little monsters through his left side window. He doesn't even find it in himself to scold them when they start throwing ice at each other. One could lose an eye or two for all he cares.

___

Today is a bit of a slow start. It could come as a surprise considering there are only a few days left before Christmas, but it's often like that during the day. People come to the Market for enchantment and a chaotic array of wooden stalls doesn't quite reach its full magical effect before sunset. Even with the current beautiful snow falling in slow motion from the gray sky. Of course, your booth isn't like the other boring ones, you don't rely on fir ornaments, red velvet bows or fairy lights to sell. Undeniably, the Maplesque!’ strongest asset is the alluring smell of maple syrup always cooking in the large pan.

“Ouch,” Emma giggles, making you raise your head from the wood bucket of clean snow you're preparing, “that outta hurt!”

“What?” Whipping around to see what she means, you wince. Cute guy from the ice skating booth is holding the top of his head with both hands. Above him, his stall's radiator is wobbling. You hope he didn't burn himself. “Don't stare,” mortified by the secondhand embarrassment, you click your tongue, forcing your sister's eyes down.

“Why not?” She smirks, leaning above the counter and making the display of leaf-shaped lollipops tilt dangerously. “He stares at us all day.”

“Does. Not.” You lie, pushing the rack back to safety and Emma rolls her eyes. “Stop being delusional and go check the pan's temperature.”

“In case you didn't notice…” She stretches both arms open towards the empty snowy alley like she's the messiah. “No one buys your taffy before supper, Ô dear Maple Goddess.”

“If you're unhappy, you can go home.” Grumbling, you round the booth, done with your taffy-on-ice tempting display. Walking by the pan, you check it yourself, pleased to find the temperature of the syrup is climbing slowly.

“There's no ridiculously hot guys at home.” Emma sing-songs and you look at her, dumbfounded. “The White Miracle might be cold but I swear, there's no better place to be in town…”

“What?” Crouching, you plug the hot chocolate machine. Is this why she comes to the Market even though she never lends a hand?

Your little sister has been obsessing a lot about boys lately, maybe she's at that age. In previous years, she never cared to visit. Your parents were the ones running this booth while you helped out as much as you could. It's the first year you fully took over so they could stay on the farm, handling most of the crafting and shipping. This Christmas Market is a tradition, sort of a mandatory one when it’s the whole family business. Holidays are always very busy, right before the maple season starts.

“Are you dumb?” Emma snorts in disbelief, “Blind? Every guy here is sexier than the other. It's like they are fighting every day to win me over. There's the toymakers pair, very kissable under potential mistletoe; the steamy ticket seller, I personally find his constant frowning highly attractive; there's Santa, help me Lord-”

“I guess I’m too busy to notice,” you interrupt unimpressed and check the display one last time to see if everything is in order, “someone has to work our booth.”

“Well, hot rental-guy notices, rental-guy isn't blind. Everyone at TWM knows he's desperately pining over you!” You turn to her – acting lost – and she rolls her eyes once more in desperation. Without another word, Emma raises her glove the rink’s way, unsubtly pointing to the man in his ice skating booth. Gasping, you jump forward to pull down her arm, feeling your whole face flush in shame. You're acutely aware of how much he looks your way, there's no need to make it more obvious. Really, how bold can a fifteen years old get?

“Jesus, Emma,” heaving you hold her arm down tightly, “we don't point at people!”

She tugs at it, but you don't let go. “Oh look, he's staring again!” She waves hello his way and you let her go in horror. Urgently spinning around only to discover that rental-guy isn't looking your way. Not at all, in fact, he seems rather absorbed by the contemplation of the kids skating on the rink. “You should see your face right now!” Emma cracks up, sinking back into her chair with a book and you kick her leg, fuming. You swear sometimes she still acts like a 10 years old. "Admit it, you like him back, he's cute...”

You don't dignify this with an answer, dropping your chin into your open palms, bent in two, elbows resting on the counter. Cute? Ice skating guy is cute alright. You aren't as blind as you'd want her to believe. You've been looking forward to his breaks for an entire month.

You asked you noted; Choi Youngjae, your age, first year working at the White Miracle, single… Very unsubtly crushing on you and talking about it to a lot of people.

He's off in around 50 minutes; which means he’ll come by to pick two maple hot chocolates just to see you. You hate to admit, but he is at his cutest when he's a blushing mess for you.

In a parallel universe, one where the Holiday season truly is magical… You'd both do a lot more than stare.

He'd actually ask you out, maybe he'd spill his drink on his coat while doing so, but you wouldn't mind. You wouldn't mind because you'd be busy being nervous yourself, smoothly agreeing to anything. You like him too, a lot. How could you not fall for the guy who gave you the most flattering nickname to ever be?

Not Farm-Girl like back when you were in high school.

Maple. Goddess.

You're an OG of this Christmas Market, so of course, everyone told you about him. The White Miracle’ staff is like a second family, you were made aware of his infatuation within a week of him starting here. Even the guy at the Mulled Wine stall knew about Youngjae and you and he's a loner that keeps to himself.

You bite the interior of your cheek, sneaking another glance at the rental booth.

Maybe you should just ask him out yourself. It's not like waiting on him is doing any good and Holiday season is almost over...

___

To be honest, Youngjae doesn't feel particularly excited at Jackson showing up for his break. It's suspiciously that he considers his friend when his face pops over the counter to gaze down at him. By this point, Youngjae was dozing off, ice rink empty and his will to live in the negative – matching the mercury-in-glass quite nicely.

“OY!” The exuberant chocolate-lover greets, face sliced in two by his largest grin. The last time they spoke was two days prior, Jackson was so taken by some dumb competition with another booth that he snapped and told Youngjae off. He got mad and claimed he was done, that he couldn't stand hearing about y/n again.

“Hi,” wary, Youngjae sits straight, “I thought you didn't want to be around me anymore.”

Jackson's face twists, “What? I never said that. I’m pretty sure my exact words were ‘man-up and ask her out for baby-Jesus’s sake!’... But I’m here to apologize, I'm sorry I yelled, Jinyoung says I need to make amends…” Picture of innocence, the childish man smiles and tilts his head. This look on him is never a good omen. Whenever Jackson wiggles his brows like that, he's always about to cause a holy mess. “Sooooooooo,” he goes on mischievously, “I thought about it and decided I should be the one that buys you hot chocolate today.” The last words are utter so theatrically they’re barely words at all: “At last, I shall meet your maple dame!”

Sheer panic courses through Youngjae's body when he understands. He knew he had reasons to be apprehensive. Of course Jackson is gonna get involved with his crush! The man can't ever stay out of anyone's business! Your formal rejection is the last thing he needs before Christmas. He'd much prefer remaining anonymous.

Unfortunately, Jackson has already crossed the snowy alley in your direction before he is even out, running after him. Mid-way there, Youngjae stops altogether hesitating; he could face this like a man and apologize, or run away and never come back to this cursed Market… Sadly, then he'd never see you again.

There's no doubt he's tomato red when he finally joins his former friend in front of the Maplesque! stall. You're already smiling, greeting them, as kind and breathtaking as ever.

“HI, HELLO!” Jackson blurts out too loudly, making you twitch back in surprise. “You're the Maple Goddess!” Dumbfounded, your eyes fall on Youngjae, standing a step back and wincing nervously.

“It's just Y-Y/n,” you stutter cutely on your own name, making his knees weak, “you're the chocol-”

“Jackson Wang!” Your little sister seemingly jumps from under the counter, eyes glimmering in awe. She's there every day with you, always on her phone or reading a book. “Excuse my sis, she's no good around hot guys!” Bending in two through the stall opening, the younger girl reaches to offer her hand in a hurry. To Youngjae's despair, she's obviously very taken by Jackson.

Getting rejected might not be the worst possible outcome to this encounter after all, you could fall for the chocolatier's charm. Like everyone else always does...

"Well, aren't you a treat!” Instead of shaking her hand – like a normal human being – the bold man straight up kisses her glove. Youngjae cringes so hard, he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “And you are...”

“Emma!” She blurts out in pure glee:

“Please Y/n, don't mind Jackson!” Finally stepping up, Youngjae slaps a 10$ bill on the counter, startling you. Gulping, he falters under your wide gaze, “He's always been odd.”

“I’m afraid his reputation precedes him.” You divert your eyes to the bill, biting your lower lip. “Two maple hot chocos coming.” Turning around in haste, you elbow the lollipop display and your sister catches it with a dramatic eye roll before it crashes. Youngjae can only smile like a fool, observing as you work. You're irresistible.

"So – Maple Goddess – are you free?” You're pouring the beverages when Jackson asks the question and you visibly spasm, nearly scalding yourself. Youngjae turns to his friend in horror. He might want to help, but he's as subtle as a bull in a China shop.

Emma snorts; “Yes, but Y/n's all work and no fun.” The young girl plops herself down on the counter, dropping her chin in her palm to gaze at the older men. “I'm all fun.”

"You’re jailbait.” You deadpan ruthlessly, bringing the men's attention back on you and making your sister whine. Still, you frown in concentration, pouring syrup in the two hot chocolates. “I’m just busy building a maple empire, Jackson, I’m sure you can relate.”

The chocolatier seems severely undermined and he grimaces; “That's unfortunate, Youngjae was hoping you'd join us for a break at the rink.” Wait, what!? Jackson just said what?

“Me, skate? On ice.” You seem confused, as though that's the strangest idea ever. Oh God, you hate them both already. You're gonna reject him.

“Yes…” Narrowing his eyes at his friend meanly, Youngjae clenches his fists, mustering his courage. For weeks, he had been considering the best way to asking you out and that wasn't it at all. “I was wondering if you would like to take a break from the stall and skate with me… and Jackson.” He's completely winded at the prospect but his friend smiles brightly, offering two thumbs up, very proud of himself. What is the point of this? With Jackson there, that's not even a date. It doesn't help him at all, it's a shitty plan.

“Oh, the thing is–” You start to protest but get interrupted.

“I’ll keep the booth!” Emma blurts out, beaming and you turn to her with a scowl. “I can manage here for a while, you go… Have fun… With guys...”

“You don't have to!” Youngjae eagerly offers an out, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. Still, his heart is pounding in expectation, waiting for your answer. Part of him wants to murder Jackson for forcing him out of his comfort zone, but what's done is done. The two maple hot mugs are now abandoned on the counter, steaming.

“I...” You seem to be unsure what to say, put on the spot. It takes a moment for you to finally make a choice. “Y-Yes, I would like that a lot.”

___

You're buzzing in a mix of excitement and dread stepping out of the booth. Even after agreeing, you aren't sure how it happened, don't know how you even let yourself get convinced. Sure, you've been daydreaming about spending time with rental-guy for a month – Youngjae – but still… like that? You must have momentarily lost your mind. And it's not like he invited you to join them on his own, his friend did. You follow awkwardly when both men walk back to the rental booth, Emma delighted coos echoing from the Maplesque!. Really, you're gonna have to kick her ass when you get back home tonight.

You should say something – call this whole ice skating thing off – but instead, you give Youngjae your shoe size, waiting as the guys silently bicker with one another. Clearly, you aren't the only one that hasn't thought stuff through.

You're still trying to find a way to get out of this without hurting anyone's feeling when Jackson suddenly slaps his forehead. It's like he just remembered he forgot to close the tap back home. "Oh SHOO!” The man pouts dramatically and his friend turns to him, oblong eyes round of evident apprehension. Jackson is already stepping backwards in a hurry, fleeing away from you both. He fakes looking down at his phone. “I forgot Mark had something to tell me! I need to go right now!” He's almost running up the alley now. “May your date be maple and bright!”

Wait.

What.

Date?

Did the chocolatier just set you up with his friend?

You knew you intimidated rental-guy – so did the whole world – but you didn't think it would come to this. When you face Youngjae however, you realize this wasn't his plan either. He's staring blankly at the pair of skates he picked up for you on the counter, cheekbones afire. Clearly, he's in shock. His friend just forced this unto him and he doesn't know what to do.

Wow. Can it be considered a real date if you're coerced into it? Even if you both want to meet, dates are supposed to be planned, actual outings, not just random breaks taken from work.

Besides, you don't know how to ice skate.

Well, it's not like you can get out of it now. If you try to stop this from happening it will be worse. Youngjae is so adorable, you don't want him to think you aren't interested.

Surely, ice skating can't be that complicated. You see kids on that rink every day...

“I knew about it,” you hush, trying to find something to initiate conversation.

Startled, he looks up. “Uh?”

“The whole Maple Goddess thing.”

“Oh,” Youngjae forces a chuckle, clenching his teeth, “Jackson comes up with weird stuff all the time… Sorry...” Never has a lie been more obvious. You meant his crush too, but he doesn't seem to want to hear that. To hide your growing smile, you bring your hands to your mouth, blowing air to warm them up. Unfortunately, you let your gloves at the booth.

“You don't have to do this, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to trick you into hanging out with me. I didn't even know what Jac–”

“It's fine,” you interrupt, “I was actually about to give up and ask you out myself.”

“You... What?” His mouth is open in astonishment.

Ok. This is the perfect set up for a confession. There's snow falling, you're all alone… You should probably just get it out in the open.

“I hear about you and… I like you too.”

“You like me,” Youngjae repeats doubtfully.

“Yes.” Butterflies. Butterflies everywhere. Grabbing the dreaded skates, you turn to face the rink, grinning. “So, are we gonna do this or what?"

Amused beyond logic, you laugh, leaving him hanging to go sit on a nearby bench. You try to control your nerves, slipping out of your Uggs to tightly lace the rental skates. Ice can't be much different from concrete, you've rollerbladed before. Dead silent, Youngjae comes to sit next to you, putting on ice skates himself. His are black and red, evidently personal ones, way fancier. You've never seen him on the rink before, but one probably needs to know how to ice skate to be hired at that booth. It makes sense. Done, you wait for him to finish.

Well, that's painfully awkward. You should be talking. People talk on dates. Is this a date?

Suddenly, Youngjae stands up, sliding on the ice with no effort whatsoever. He's gracious, grinning at you from ear to ear. He seemed to have processed your little confession now, at least. His feet form a V shape, making him swirl in a large circle before he stops back in front of the bench. In a messed up way, you kind of wished him to be as clumsy at this as everything else.

Evidently, he's waiting for you to get up and do some twirls of your own, a grandiose arabesque perhaps, impressive, breathtaking. Oh God, the longer he's anticipating this the worse is. Come on, here goes nothing. You can do this. Ice skating can't be that complicated. Finally standing up, you pray for some sort of miracle. You take a weird step forward on the ice. Unfortunately, your stance is so wobbly you very nearly fall on your ass, arms flying in rotation to regain balance. At the last second, Youngjae catches your forearms, saving your ass (literally). His hands wrap around your elbow holding you up steady on the slippery ice. It's the first time he has touched you and even though it's through layers of clothing, butterflies soar once more.

You look so stupid. Breaking your neck won't charm cute rental-guy. You’ll just humiliate yourself.

“You can't skate.” Youngjae states this simple fact and your entire face burns of shame. You try to pull away, to step back on the much safer and stable snow, but he holds on. Probably because he fears you're falling again.

“I can skate,” you lie, vexed, “I just haven't done this… In a while.” More like ever.

“Have fun?” Youngjae's smile widens inhumanly at his joke, lips curling upwards to expose the entirety of his dentition.

"If you call breaking a leg fun, you're a weird guy.”

You don't even notice when you start to glide, too busy smiling back. "That's okay, I got you.” Youngjae is easily skating backwards pulling you with him. “But just to be clear… You agreed to this even though you couldn't skate?”

“I couldn't refuse, you never invited me to do anything before… And I can skate,” you repeat. Just not on ice.

“So you accepted Jackson's invitation… To be with me?”

You aren't sure what he finds so hard to grasp. “Yes,” you breathe out, embarrassed, “but now I might die for it.” Your eyes dart down when Youngjae expertly crosses his blades, he's got some very impressive moves. “Showoff.”

He laughs and instantly you feel a whole lot better. “I won't let you die on my watch!” Well, the relief was short. You yelp when he releases your arms, disappearing in your back.

“H-Hey!” Precarious, you straighten and lose your balance but this time Youngjae grabs your waist, holding you up.

Wow. If you didn't risk severe head injury otherwise, you might believe he has game. But that's impossible, rental-guy spent a whole month openly pinning over you without even making a move. Plus the only reason you're in this mess is because Jackson and Emma ganged-up on you.

“I got you now, I won't let you fall. I'll teach you.” Youngjae's voice rings above your shoulder.

Though he sounds serious about the task ahead, you can't help your chills at his breath on your ear. Unfortunately for him, his close proximity is highly distracting. He's pressed against your back and you mentally curse the thickness your damn winter coat. You wish you could actually feel him, but that may be too much for a first non-date.

“Bend your knees,” he whispers in concentration, “more, more, there. Lean forward.” Biting your lower lip, you try to push aside the other images his commands summon. What is wrong with you? The man seems oblivious to his effect, intended on helping you learn. When Youngjae is fully satisfied, you're in a weird semi-sitting position. “There, you need to keep your center of gravity low to avoid falling.”

You must look absolutely ridiculous but this is strangely romantic. Something tells you Emma is filming the whole scene from the stall, although you forget everything about that when he presses closer.

“Now you just… Glide...” As you obey once more, Youngjae's hands slide down on your hips. “Again, push to the side, like me. You want the blade to bite the ice...”

Screw that. It may come as a total surprise, but the man has game. Enjoying every second of this – probably a bit too much – you begin to gain momentum with his help. He's still holding you tightly when you complete your second full circle around the rink. Even though you're vacillating and your steps lack finesse, you'd say you are doing a pretty good job. You're skating, on ice, alone with cute rental-guy. Smiling in joy, you bend a bit lower to accelerate. After a while, Youngjae's hands desert you altogether, and you would protest but he quickly reappears in front of you. Skating backwards, he barely needs to look over his shoulder to know where he is going. It's like its a second nature to him, something you find strangely attractive. As if aware of this, he maintains eye contact for far too long, you feel the tip of your ears burn and not from the cold. His brown hair is flying around his face, strands whipping the wind. For some reason the sight makes you light, you're flying around above the Christmas Market with the cotton-like snow.

Fine, maybe not all dates need to be official to be meaningful.

“I told you I could skate,” your bold claim makes him snort in disbelief.

“You might need to practice more often.”

“How about…” You pause, holding a breath, “We make this a daily thing?”

“Sure,” Youngjae offers a hand and you take it, electrified by the touch, “I’ll trade you lessons for free maple choco.”

Your heart race at the thought of doing something like this with him every day. Humming, you fake to consider his offer for a second; “Deal!”

“It's a date then!” Laughing, you keep skating, staring at each other like you're alone in the world.

Unfortunately, you forget you truly aren't and he does too. Youngjae is totally spooked when someone hollers at him aggressively, a young teen is standing in front of the rental booth for service waving both arms. Apparently, break is over.

Twisting his skates without warning, Youngjae comes to an abrupt stop in front of you, forgetting one major detail.

You hit him at full speed, albeit not very fast, but it still manages to sweep him off his feet. With a loud huff, air exhales his lungs when he hits the ice and you land on top of him. Mouth ajar, you gape, meeting his soft chestnut irides. You're too flustered to say anything and he's not doing much better than you. That's not exactly how you envisioned ever climbing him up.

Your faces are so close you can see every single one of his eyelashes, his cute pinkened nose, his beauty mark. Your eyes keep exploring his features, dipping low to his dark pout, full and inviting. You want to kiss him. Snow keeps falling, swirling in the chilly air around. You haven't chosen between pulling away or going for it when Youngjae's hand finds your nape. Slowly, he closes the gap between you, lips brushing yours delicately. Adding pressure, you kiss him back.

You knew it. The man has game.

There's no mistletoe, no fairy lights flickering, but your first kiss is fireworks. The moment is enchanting, infinite, as you both lay on the ice like one. Maybe that's the famous magic of The White Miracle Market you've heard so much about. You forget about the outside world, space, time. There's nothing but you two and the snow.

When you pull back to breathe, Youngjae is smiling softly. “Tomorrow,” he whispers, so low you can barely hear, “I'm teaching you the snowplow stop.”

“Yes,” you breathe out, winded, “that might be useful.”

GOT7 | M.list

[All I Want For Christmas: is a GOT7 collab]

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velveteencurtains · 4 years ago

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evermore first impressions!

willow - GIRL EUEJDNSKJDJEJD LOST IN YOUR CURRENT LIKE A PRICELESS WIINE!!!!! TAKE MY HAND!!! WRECK MY PLANS!!! THATS MY MAN!!!!!! girl this is so fcuking GOOD! gonna be 100% honest the 1 is a better album opening but this is so fucking good you guys. life was a willow and it bent right to your wind!!! ID COME BACK STRONGER THAN A 90’S TREND???? EVERY BAIT AND SWITCH WAS A WORK OF ART??? SHES SICK SHES REALLY SICK I SWEAR. the way she sings “that’s my man!” yes ma’am yes ma’am!!!!!! the parallel between “I knew you stepping on the last train” and then “you know my train could take you home” SHES SICK YOUR HONOR SHES SICK

champagne problems - okay we love a piano opener. i’m so conflicted on what i think this song is gonna be about. MORE TRAIN LYRICS GIRLIE. this really is this is me trying’s older, sadder sister. “our group of friends/don’t think we’ll say that word again” MA’AM??? SHE WOULD HAVE MADE SUCH A LOVELY BRIDE SUCH A SHAME SHES FUCKED IN THE HEAD??????? IM LOSIJG MY FUCKIJG MIND. taylor and joe wrote this together? we love a couple with shared mental illnesses

gold rush - jack antonoff do not let me down. GIRL THE HARMONIES AT THE VERY BEGINNING JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE. okay I can definitely see what they meant by this song being about being lost in a daydream, the juxtaposition between the chorus and the verses is AMAZING. this is just gorgeous’s older sister huh???? “ocean blue eyes/looking in mine/i feel like i might sink and drown and die” and “eyes like sinking/ships on waters/so inviting/i almost jump in”

‘tis the damn season - i can’t tell if i want this song to be christmassy or not. OH SO THIS IS JUST HOLIDATE. TAYLOR JUST WATCHED HOLIDATE AND WROTE A SONG ABOUT IT. this is a continuation of tim mcgraw, argue with the wall. NO BC TIM MCGRAW IS ABOUT LIKE A LOVE FROM HIGH SCHOOL AND THIS IS LIKE COMING HOME FROM COLLEGE AND REUNITING WITH THEM BC YOURE BOTH DEPRESSED AND LONELY

tolerate it - jesus christ i’m not emotionally ready for this. STOP THIS IS THE PRELUDE TO BETTER MAN. LIKE BETTER MAN IS AFTER SHES ALREADY LEFT BUT THIS IS BEFORE WHEN SHES STUCK AND KNOW SHE DESERVES BETTER BUT SHE JUST TAKES IT IM GONNA CRYYYYYYYYYYY. okay but i’m imagining the babe music video and that whole of like the doting housewife who gave up everything for her husband and does everything to make him happy but he just does not appreciate it at all and he doesn’t see how much his indifference hurts her. @taylorswift mv now. honestly? loved that but as a track 5 it’s pretty weak

no body, no crime - I PREDICTED THIS WAS GONNA BE MY TOP SONG ON THE ALBUM LETS SEE IF I’M RIGHT. GIRL THE SIRENS AND “HE DID IT” AS THE FIRST LINES?? THEN THE COUNTRY INSTRUMENTAL??? TAYLOR HAS FINALLY GIVEN ME A GOOD OLD FASHIONED “MURDERED MY CHEATING HUSBAND” COUNTRY SONG HELL YESSSSSSS. OH THE WIFE IS MISSING???? NOT GONE GIRLLLLLLLLL MISS TAYLOR CHANNELING AMY DUNNE HERE!!!!! OH SHUT UPPPPPP SHES A LESBIAN WITH ESTE’S SISTER AND THEY COVERED UP HIS MURDER AND NOW THEYRE GONNA LESBIAN TOGETHER MISS TAYLOR

happiness - okay miss happiness you’ve got a lot to live up to but let’s do this. NOT THE MIRRORBALL PARALLEL “i was dancing when the music stopped” and “when no one is around, my dear/you’ll find me on my tallest top toes/spinning in my highest heels, love” NOT THE IDEA OF CHANGING YOURSELF JUST TO KEEP SOMEONE BY YOUR SIDE IM GONNA SOB taylor please stop this i cant emotionally handle any of this. girl this is the prelude to tolerate it which is the prelude to better man

dorothea - okay so seven’s older sister? so dorothea and whoever this singer is were besties when they were teens and then dorothea moved away and now the singer misses her former best friend and also first love and also they’re lesbians yeah it’s gay it’s so gay. taylor i’m literally begging you from the bottom of my fucking soul please give us a music video with two girls please miss swift i ask of you this one (1) thing

coney island - see i thought this was gonna be seven’s older sister when the tracklist was announced so now idk what to expect! JESUS OKAY I KNOW IT SAYS “feat. The National” IN THE TITLE BUT I FORGOT AND I GOT SCARED BY HIS VOICE. NOT A FUCKIJG CAR ACCIDENT TAYLOR IM REALLY SORRY I RRALIZE YOU ARE YOUR OWN PERSON AND I NEED TO STOP CONNECTING YOU TO HARRY BUT REALLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. okay anyway here’s my theory hear me out: This is dorothea’s husband who’s confused why his high school sweetheart wife doesn’t love him anymore and why she’s now hanging out with her old high school best friend again damn that’s weird they’re like really super close that’s super odd. anyway that’s just a theory I actually don’t really know what this songs about! miss swift is too smart for me

ivy - stop this song is so sweet!!!!!! i feel like this is getaway car’s sister! i need to stop doing that i know it gets annoying but really honestly it is! NO NO NO THIS IS DOROTHEA’S PERSPECTIVE WHEN SHE HAS AN AFFAIR WITH HER HS BESTIE AND HER HUSBAND STARTS TO FIND OUT GUYS IVE FIGURED IT OUTTTTTTT. WAIT WAIT WAIT THE HS BESTIE IS FROM NO BODY NO CRIME AND DOROTHEA IS ESTE’S SISTER GUYS IVE FIGURED IT THE FUCK OUT YOU GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I GOT IT

cowboy like me - let’s yee and let’s haw ladies and gents. WHOS SINGING????? WHOS SINGING WITH HER???? taylor shut up for a second lemme hear who tf this is. AM I CRAZY OR IS THIS JOE???? i’m probably dumb. but am i? why can i not at all remember what joe’s voice sounds like rn. is that joe??? im so confused. maybe i’m super dumb and it’s really obvious and i’m just fucking stupid. it’s probably not joe it’s probably some country legend that everyone else knows bc they grew up yeeing and hawing and i’m but a wee city slicker but i’m gonna hold onto this stupid theory that it’s joe singing with her until someone proves me wrong later. also this song is fucking gorgeous where’s my cowboy hat not wearing one while listening to this song makes me feel sacrelige. okay wait tay and aaron wrote this one is it aaron? i’m sorry taylor i don’t listen to the national you can hate me if you want

long story short - god the production on this slaps!!!!! and the idea of being hurt before and then finding your love and being all about them and not even caring abt what happened before!!!!! god i’m gonna cry i’m gonna cry. NO MORE KEEPING SCORE NOW I JUST KEEP YOU WARM?????? taylor really said “oh you’re not in love and i’m gonna make you feel like SHIT ABOUT IT” taylor pls a petition to let us say “BITCH” after the last line so it’s “i survived...bitch!” okay pls and thank you

marjorie - oh is this about taylor’s grandma :(((( i knew she used her name but this feels like it’s really all about her. babey. this is so sweet. taylor i love you

closure - okay the opening??? slaps! literally! okay the production of this is interesting! okay i’m like trying to figure out who this is about....who cares this is so good. oh my god the distortion??? it just underlines the anger of it all so perfectly and i love

evermore - exile hive let’s GOOOO. please be an exile pt 2 pls be an exile pt 2. so odd to me because, as a whole, this actually feels like a way more happy and optimistic album than folklore did, yet the title comes from the line “i had a feeling so peculiar/that this pain would be for/evermore”. OKAY BON IVERRRRRR. the violence of the dog days? that’s my next instagram caption thanks taylor. NOT A DUET SECTION AGAIN LIKE IN EXILE TAYLOR PLEASE I CANT HANDLE THISSSSSSS. “we always walked a very thin line” AND “is there a line that we could just go cross?” THE PARALELLELLLLRJSNDBBD. I’m gonna die for this I really think. okay so she ends it on this pain wouldn’t last evermore so that’s good

overall? this is a masterpiece. miss swift has done it again. folklore aoty 2021 and evermore aoty 2022. no body, no crime is really THAT BITCH. i need a mv miss swift! okay bye gonna go cry over this

update: after listening all night i feel like i need to point out that i’m stupid and thought este was the mistress and the singer was the wife when in fact ESTE is the wife in no body, no crime. SO addendum to my theory: este and dorothea were besties in hs then dorothea left and got married and so did este but este’s hubby cheated so then este’s friend murders him and she’s cool w it, then dorothea and her husband move back home and este and dorothea reconnect and realize their long hidden feelings for one another, dorothea leaves her husband and she and este run away together

ANOTHER UPDATE: ‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON IS FROM DOROTHEA’S POINT OF VIEW!!!!!!!! WHEN SHE COMES HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS AND SHES SINGING TO ESTE!!!!!! CJNECNSJSNNDN

#taylor swift #evermore #taylurking #evermore era #this looks weird on mobile but normal on desktop so if this looks weird to you i'm sorry idk how to fix it #my post

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vikingsarememes · 5 years ago

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Pairing: Y/N x Ragnarssons

summary: you and your mother are visiting her best friend Aslaug in her country house as a Christmas tradition! you get reunited with your childhood friends; Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar, too many good memories and they’re definitely more dramatic than you remember

warnings: light bullying

word count: 2712

A/N: this is a little messy but hopefully it will lighten up your holidays! requests are pretty open so feel free to do that, but nothing smutty though, I personally believe I’ll suck at writing smut, oh and Merry Christmas!

Your mother and Aslaug Lothbrok had been friends ever since you could remember, you were raised with ِAslaug’s boys as one of them, you were treated as a family, your father died when you were an infant while Aslaug’s husband disappeared shortly after her youngest son was born, Christmas was a lonely time for both women, that’s why they made it a tradition to celebrate it together even though time sent each in a different path.

Every year, you’d speed a weekend at the Lothbrok’s country house, all the boys would fly and drop whatever they were doing and go there, and this year was no different.

You and mother arrived, knocked on the door, Aslaug was the one to open it, she immediately greeted you both with a hug “Elvi! My dearest friend, you are finally here! Y/N! Look at you! You grew into becoming such a lovely woman! Come in, your rooms are ready if you want to rest and the boys are already here” she announced after both of you entered the house, Aslaug was ridiculously rich, and the country house showed that well.

Aslaug and your mother instantly ignored your existence and headed to the kitchen to catch up with each other, while you put your bags aside then headed to the living room, where you could hear loud screams, laughter, and noises, once you set a foot in the room, it went soundless, the four boys looked at you as if they saw a ghost, “uh… Hi?” you said uncertain of their reaction.

“Y/N?” Ubbe asked confused, perhaps a year could change someone more than they think “of course it’s Y/N! Who else could make us go quiet like that” Hvitserk rolled his eyes and got up, he walked to you and hugged you “it’s been so long! We almost forgot you existed” he chuckled and his brothers followed, hugging you one after another, welcoming you among them “excuse us for not recognizing you, last year you had glasses on and braces!” Ubbe clarified and you rolled your eyes “thank you for reminding me Ubbe” you scoffed.

You sat down on one of the empty couches “so… Y/N tell us! How’s New York treating you?” Ivar asked curiously “very well, I’m a photographer for TIMES magazine now, and things are great, I love the city, it’s not as beautiful as it is here, not as calm but it has its own beauty, you guys should visit me there someday! I’ll take you to my favorite spots and introduce you to amazing people!” you beamed “any boys we should beat?” Sigurd grinned “No, unless you count my colleague Karan, he’s an asshole, but other than that, I’m as single as I could ever be” you explained, Ivar laughed, while his brothers looked at each other as if they just heard that they were nominated for an award.

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Aslaug called you in as her and your mother prepared a table, it was time for dinner, the five of you took your usual seats, the ones that were decided ever since you were children, Aslaug and your mother excelled themselves this year; turkey, pumpkin pie, ham, a feast made for ten at least, you wondered how you’d finish all the food but then Hvitserk started eating.

Small talks filled the air, mostly your mother asking about the boys’ life now, Ubbe’s been married to a woman named Margrethe, she ran away and returned after many months but he divorced her, Hvitserk had been the same player he is, Sigurd was discreet, no one knew what’s new with him, and Ivar moved out of his mother’s house and he’s seeing a physician to treat his ongoing condition, he can walk now, with the use of crutches, of course, last time you saw him he used a wheelchair.

“And this woman, she knocked on my door in the middle of the night and stripped! She said she wanted to get back at her ex! I closed the door and went back to eating the chicken legs on the bed!” Hvitserk exclaimed the others laughed, Aslaug and your mother seemed more interested in whispering between the two of them.

“It’s so unlike you to refuse a woman brother!” Ivar noted as he picked a piece of turkey meat in his fork and ate it “I love women, yes, but no one can interrupt my binge eating after midnight on a weekend! It’s the holy laws of my household, besides, there will be next times, don’t worry about me, I’m quite charming” he smirked and sipped some wine.

“Excuse Ivar, he’s nineteen and hadn’t gotten laid yet, he doesn’t possibly understand pussies can be replaced” Sigurd mocked, everyone but Ivar laughed and with that, you knew it wasn’t a dinner anymore, it was a warzone “I doubt you know more than I do Sigurd” Ivar responded, he was angry you could tell, even if he hid it well behind a calm tone and a fake smile.

“I know my dick works, can you say the same?” Sigurd replied, seeming offended by Ivar “Jesus Christ Sigurd! Enough! we’re trying to eat!” Ubbe finally said and their little conversation died like that, an awkward silence fell upon the table, besides the whispers of your mothers of course.

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The five of you decided to sit and watch a movie, like the good old days when you used to be children, it was night and you were bored, after all, Hvitserk brought a popcorn bowl for everyone, Sigurd took responsibility for the drinks, while Ivar set up the movies mode on the television while you and Ubbe brought the blankets and pillows for everyone.

“We are not watching Ready or Not Ivar! It’s Christmas! We will watch a Christmas movie!” Ubbe bickered, “just because its Christmas doesn’t mean we have to watch some romantic bullshit with tacky writing!” Ivar protested “I thought we were watching a comedy” Hvitserk pouted, “we agreed we’ll watch a musical!” Sigurd said annoyed.

With that everyone started arguing and screaming at each other, as much as you love these boys, you hated it when that happens, you took a deep breath then whistled, grabbing everyone’s attention “we’ll watch the lion king, and that’s final, it has horror aka Scar, Comedy aka Timon and Bomba, Romance Simba and Nala, and of course amazing music!” you listed and didn’t wait for anyone to complain, one thing you remember clearly about the boys, they’d leave their differences aside for a good Disney Classical gem.

No one said anything during the film, all of you were so concentrated, and even though you saw the movie thousands of times, you all cried at the sad parts, laughed at the funny parts, and awed at the lovely parts, Hvitserk finished his popcorn before the end of the first half, he then started stealing from everyone else’s, you ended up sharing yours with him since you couldn’t really finish it by your own, it only made him last for another thirty minutes.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

After the movie was over, and the crying had stopped, you all decided to revive an old Christmas ritual of yours, which is playing spin the bottle, thanks to Hvitserk you already had an empty bottle to spin, the five of you sat in a circle, and Ubbe span it first.

The bottle’s neck stopped on Sigurd and the bottom on Ubbe, Ubbe was to ask, and if the person didn’t want to answer they must drink a shot of vodka that was already prepared by you, Ubbe snickered a little “Sigurd, my little brother! What should I ask you?” he said thinking, even though part of you suspected he already had something in mind “Sigurd when will you bring us a man to the house?” Ubbe asked with a wicked smirk, rumors have it, Sigurd was gay but no one can confirm it “why? You’re not man yourself you need a manlier man?” Sigurd replied playing dumb “he’s asking whether you are gay or not” Ivar jumped, Sigurd rolled his eyes and took a shot.

Next, it was you and Hvitserk, your turn to ask him “how is it even possible that you don’t get fat? You eat so much!” you said “is this a question or a personal assault?” he frowned “a question man! I need your diet tips” you answered “well, I move a lot usually, not now but back in my place it’s not rare to see me running around the house screaming at three in the morning, I just move a lot, also sex helps lose weight” he shrugged.

Later it was Sigurd and Ivar “how come you’re a spoiled brat at the age of nineteen?” Sigurd asked him, mainly to piss him off “because mother was disappointed enough by the time I was born and she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t end up an annoying turd like you” he replied with a grin on his face that declares he won this round of sarcasm.

“Ubbe, tell us, who’s the mysterious woman you’ve been texting whenever you had a chance?” Hvitserk asked when it was his turn to ask a question “oh, it’s no mysterious woman, it’s Torvi, we are sending dog memes to each other” he responded “Bjorn’s Torvi?” you asked shocked, almost as shocked as everyone, the four of you exchanged a look, Ubbe looked at you all confused, letting a what but no one answered.

And for the final spin, it was Ivar’s turn to ask you a question “Y/N, tell us, now that you are a lovely grown woman, which one of us would you rather date if you have a chance?” he asked with a prying look on his face “well Ivar, you are mean, Hvitserk’s head on the cloud all the time, Sigurd is basically a bully, Ubbe is too old for me, so that leaves me with no one unless you guys have a secret ideal brother?” you grinned, the four boys were left speechless.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

You all agreed to ditch the rooms and have a sleepover in front of the TV, you agreed on watching Lilo and Stitch’s two movies until you fall asleep, Sigurd and Ivar went upstairs to their rooms to grab few things, Ivar hated the stairs, you know that cause he kept cursing with every few steps he took, you also heard the sound of something falling but no one really paid any attention.

Later, the blue-eyed rascal returned, holding a blanket and another pillow, with a big grin on his face “why are you smiling?” you asked as you were the first to notice something was up, “what? Can’t I be happy for a change?” he replied, he can of course, but you were familiar with this mischievous smile too well “no, not really, what’s up?”

“I just saw Sigurd roll down the stairs” he chuckled, his brothers looked at him as if it was the most normal thing ever, Ubbe quickly got up and went to check on Sigurd while Hvitserk just sighed and focused on the screen instead.

“You bastard! What’s wrong with you? I told you to hold me!” a shouting, angry, injured Sigurd stormed in “I can’t, I’m nothing but a useless cripple remember?” Ivar said giving him the most innocent look ever while Sigurd glared at him non stop.

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You were the first to wake up, you went to the kitchen and prepared coffee for yourself and everyone else, Ivar followed next, the two of you sat and ate your breakfast together, it was quite nice, Ivar was a nice guy when his brothers weren’t around.

“So… tell me about the physical therapy, is it actually working?” you asked, he nodded “yes, it’s extreme though, I thought I’ve experienced all kind of pain but apparently I’m wrong, nothing is more painful than taking your first step, I could hear my bones cracking, that’s why the physician had to give me those braces and stings attaching my bones together” he explained, Ivar was okay to tell you about this kind of things, he trusted you enough to know he’s in pain.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” you said comforting “it’s alright, I can walk now and It’s not as painful as it used to be, I’m almost numb in the legs anyways unless I try to use them” he shrugged, Sigurd woke up next, he came to the kitchen and poured himself coffee in his mug, he took few sips “numb in the leg you say?” he snickered and spilled the rest of his coffee on Ivar’s leg, Ivar didn’t say much but you knew this hurt from his facial expressions even though he was hiding it well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you shouted and ran to Ivar, helping him get up “what? He feels nothing! He said it himself!” Sigurd bickered “you can be such an asshole sometimes” you muttered and then you took Ivar to the downstairs bathroom, helping him clean up.

The skin was red from the heat, you reached for the first aid box in the mirrored cabin and treated his burn “I’m okay Y/N, you can stop worrying” he mumbled, you rolled your eyes “you’re welcome” you said sarcastically.

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You spent the whole day playing video games, or watching the Lothbroks play video games, or fight over video games, all but Ubbe who was deep in his phone, after a while, Hvitserk decided he’d lay his head on your lap and play sims on his phone instead, so it was only Ivar and Sigurd and you knew this would escalate sooner than it should.

“Would you play with my hair? I’ll share my stash with you” Hvitserk suggested, you nodded and started playing with his blond braids, he enjoyed it, then you decided it would be for the best to ignore Ivar and Sigurd this time, and get involved with the elder brothers.

“Why didn’t Bjorn and Torvi come?” you finally asked Ubbe, he shrugged, “Torvi says Assa is sick, that’s why they can’t make it on the road, Bjorn thinks it’s best to skip and go to Lagartha’s this year instead, it’s closer” you were really looking forward to meeting Bjorn, you weren’t very close but he was eye candy, you had a crush on him growing up.

Nothing serious but you simply liked looking at him, Ubbe knew, he’d always teased you about it, but this time he didn’t, he knew you’d tease him about Torvi if he does.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

“For christ’s sake, Hvitserk slow down on eating! This is no manners!” Aslaug shouted in the middle of the lunch after her son ate his second plate “I’m hungry” he protested, “maybe if you ate slower, you wouldn’t be this hungry!” she argued “oh come on Aslaug! Let the poor boy eat, he’s a developing boy!” your mother giggled “he’s twenty-five, he passed the level of being a developing boy instead he’s a food monster!” the two women laughed.

Hvitserk brushed them off and moved to the dessert instead, your mother’s famous krumkake, one that no one could resist or hate.

Ivar and Sigurd exchanged hateful glances every now and then, but they didn’t say a word to each other.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

You and your mother decided to leave in the evening, your brother, Havard was visiting tomorrow with his wife and two children, so you had to be home to prepare a meal and gifts, your mother and Aslaug spent what seemed like forever saying goodbyes, the uber driver hated you both for the delay.

The brothers said their farewells, already missing you, you invited them to your photography exhibition next month, you thought it would be a good idea for them to see your city, especially since they thought New York was nothing more than trash, they all promised to come.

You both got into the car and the man drove you to the airport “It was good seeing them no?” your mother asked, you were looking through the window, you wanted to stay there longer but your stupid brother had to ruin this for you “it was” you mumbled.

tags: @youbloodymadgenius

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

Text

I Like Surprises Too (Sriracha, Part 44.)

Series description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Diane was gone just right after she came for a visit, but there was still more to go through.

A/N: I just wanna be done with the series, tbh.

Word count: 2.4 K

Tagging: @nemodoren, @missdictatorme, @ysljordy, @creedslove, @hopperlover, @btchsm, @rita-lean

Master list: H E R E

Series playlist: Jim Hopper 😠

IMAGE SOURCE

For the first time forever, you were afraid to come home. The last time you were so terrified of opening the doors was when Hopper drove you after you've puked all over his beloved Blazer. It was logical for you not to come home - you were standing in front of Harrington’s house, more specifically in front of a building where he had rented a flat, and waited for Robin to open up the door for you.

She came there only in her t-shirt and pajama shorts, her eyes were still glued together by sleepers and she was looking... Awful. Both her and Steve were extremely worried about seeing you at their hour in such an unholy hour, but she ran down to open the door for you. And the worse it got when Robin noticed that you had mascara all over your place, your face was colorless and your hands were shakily holding three cups of coffee and doughnuts from a Dunkin' Donuts. It was obvious that you and Hopper argued.

Without questions, Robin took you in and helped you with the sweets you brought. Steve was pleased to see you, so after he hugged you, he took off your coat and offered you a shower, getting you some of his clothes. Which was something so nice of him that you cried again? And the boy was wondering what did he do wrong.

"Spill the tea, sister. Let the council judge you." - Robin said, already spread all over the lazy chair while eating one of the donuts. So, you talked - about Diane just appearing out of nowhere with a kid, about Hopper drinking... And the small part when you shouted at him that you're pregnant.

"Oh, fuck." - Robin sighed, sitting straight by the end of the story. - "Oh, fuck indeed." - You answered, drinking your cup without caffeine. Steve was looking at you with a shocked furrow. - "You're pregnant? I'll be an uncle?" - Suddenly, he was on his feet, walking around the room. This was the reaction you expected from hopper - pure happiness.

"Robin, you and I will be the best uncle and aunt in the Hawkins, I tell you. Is it a boy or a girl?" - He sat next to you, his eyes shining at the question. Jesus, the boy was something, but you loved the energy. With tears in your eyes, you smiled at him and shook your head.

"I'll tell you as soon as I know something, deal?" - You asked back, having steve falling into a rant about taking the kid to restaurants, swimming pool, teaching them to play basket, and how to pick up girls... And Robin was just laughing at that. In the middle of his ranting, you've fallen asleep - night shifts were a bitch. It was quite funny when Robin and Steve was co-operating to get you into his bed, whisper-shouting at each other because Robin thought you'll bang your head into the doorframe every second. In the end, you were there, safe and sound.

It was around midday when Hopper called the if they have seen you. Eleven reported to Jim that you hadn't shown up the whole day, so Jim rode his daughter to your mum's - so she wouldn't be home alone since it was fall break starting.

Since Steve would tell Hopper all he wanted to know, because that boy was a little bitch, Robin told James the most innocent 'no' of her life before promising she'd call him when you'd appear at their place. You got up around two in the afternoon, smelling something Robin was cooking. Steve was nowhere to be found, presumably being at his shift in the VHS store.

"That looks good." - You hummed and realized how hungry you were. Robin nodded at you with confidence, serving you a plate of her risotto. - "I should go home, shouldn't I?" - You asked silently when you had half of the plate inside, having Robin look at you carefully.

"I kinda wanna tell you you can stay here... But you should go home, yeah." - The girl fixed a few strands of her hair. - "Listen... This isn't a thing about which someone calms down in a few days. This is a baby on its way. A new life you and he created. Even if you'd keep him in the dark for a little longer, he'd get to know eventually. You'd got bigger, you'd have swollen feet and Hopper isn't a dumb guy at all. So, go home, wait for him, talk to him. You'll make it work, at least I hope so." - Robin supported you with the purest tone you've ever heard. - "And if don't, we and Steve can help you with the baby. He's a damn good babysitter." - The girl tried to cheer you up once she saw other tears in your eyes. Geez, these hormones were doing things to you, didn't they?

Soon after the delicious lunch, you set on your way home. What should you expect? Him yelling at you? Will it be a heated argument full of bad words? He already told you that you were acting like a bitch into the phone, so it was quite possibly the words will get harsher from face to face. Was he looking for you when you were gone? Or was he at home? He was sure worrying for you, you knew Jim wouldn't be calm about you just disappearing even for the morning...

It was quite a surprise to find his car missing in the driveway. He had a day off, or at least you remembered so, so it was quite surprising to finding the home completely silent. El was at your parents' and you let her stay there - it wasn't a good idea to call her to come home before talking to James about the whole baby thing.

You were nervously looking around the house, calling out his name to see if he isn't hidden somewhere out there, but the house was empty. - "Well, fuck." - You whispered to yourself. It was an hour later, an hour of nervous waiting later, when you heard him pulling onto the driveway. And at that moment, it didn't seem that you were sitting in the kitchen for an hour. The panic inside of you intensified almost instantly. Every sound coming from the outside was strumming through your ears like fucking Chinese gong. The stopping of a car motor, the opening of the door, and James' frantic footsteps as he realized that you were finally inside the damn house. You would swear that you heard him talk to himself, but you wouldn't swear that.

The front door opened in the following minute. This sound made your heart stop. Were you ever so scared? No, damn, this was horror at its best. Dear Lord, you closed your eyes for a second - your palm gently rubbed your belly, please don't let us argue. And don't let this relationship end. It would mean the world to me. There was not a single percent of you being religious, but when you saw Jim's shadow in the main hall, you suddenly started to pray to every god you ever heard about.

When he saw you sitting at the table with your nose red, he almost started the conversation by telling you that you look like Rudolf the reindeer. Yet he rather just put his bag down and went to hug you with a great force. One of his palms ruffled your hair as he took in the scent of your perfume. It was just one day and Jim was already going crazy from not smelling it. - "I was lookin' for you everywhere. Jesus fuckin' Christ." - The man pushed you off his chest just so he could palm your face, looking you in the eyes. Your face was already falling into an emotionally unstable expression as you started to cry almost immediately.

"I was worried to come here." - And there you were. There it was. The quiet, basically meowling, tiny voice which indicated that you're not only terrified but guilty as well. This side of you was not to be seen too often. It was possible for the second time Jim was ever seeing this behavior. You shut up, listened, and you were able to say 'yep, I've fucked up too, I've messed up, let's just talk about it'. And honestly, it felt very good. - "I didn't want to argue, again. After you called me a bitch... And the stuff I've said." - You almost rolled your eyes out when Jim chuckled at what you've said, yet he was quick to smooth your shoulders to calm your down. - "We've argued way worse than this. Come on. This was nothin'."

"But the matter is something, Jim. I should've done it differently. I should've told you maybe... Before Diane came here. But I was shitting myself with fear." - The way you clung onto him was almost heartbreaking. It was incredibly sweet, yet done out of fear - it was the fear of losing him. - "I would be terrified too." - The man mumbled into the back of your head, closing his eyes. If I would be pregnant, I mean. Tellin' you would be the worst thing that had ever met me, probably." - The man whispered. This speculation made you grin.

Sure, you two could argue. You could yell at each other for hours to come to no avail. You could tell each other rather nasty things, be very mean and angry. Or you could turn it into a joke. A happy occasion if you will.

Sure, having a baby was far from an actual joke, but you got what Jim was trying to do. He wasn't the most excited to do it again, mainly because of the everlasting fear regarding Sara, but he was happy that he was going through this by your side. A kid. Wow. A damn kid.

"I'm sorry for gettin' so drunk. I fucked that up." - The man whispered as he moved strands of your hair from side to side. - "Sorry for acting like a hysteric bitch. I should've trusted you with Diane. And I failed." - You answered after a while, sighing quite loudly. Carefully, you tiptoed to kiss him, closing your eyes as you leaned into the kiss itself.

"'s alrite. I was probably more confused than you, baby." - Jim's thumbs gently smoothed the sweet spots under your eyes, massaging your skin in the process. He was unbelievably gentle with you. As if you could break under his fingers any minute. - "You acted without thinkin', but yeah, I can be a fuckin' asshole sometimes." - James admitted sincerely, having this small sweet small light inside his eyes.

This man has admired you for some time now. And the more time passed by, the more years you've spent together, the more love he had in himself. It took him a few more weeks to adjust himself to the whole pregnancy situation. And yes, occasionally, there were some misunderstandings and small arguments between the two of you, but would you be a married couple if you didn't have these?

Diane called here and thereafter her visit, still climbing on Jim's nerves and getting inside his head, but these calls lasted less and less time every time it repeated. Eventually, she stopped calling completely. And since then, there was no doubt in your mind about James and his intentions.

What about the other acknowledging that soon, you'll be a mom? Eleven was over her heels. The girl always adored small kids. She loved spending time with them and every time she met some downtown, she stopped just to chat with the kid or to make faces at them. Having a younger sibling almost sent her to another dimension.

Mike and the other kids were regularly happy. Kids were cool... Unless they were younger siblings. Lucas had miss Erica as his sister while Mike had Holly, of both the brothers had to occasionally had to take care. Both the boys realized that over time, Eleven will have to spend her time with the small kid too. And they would most likely have to look after them.

Yet the young gentlemen were so cavalierish that they managed to overcome themselves and to promise you that they'd sometimes look after the kid. You managed to seal a deal with them, pre-planning them as occasionally, fully paid nannies - although your concern about what they'd do with the kid was growing more and the time as you heard what they plan to teach the kid.

Over time, as expected, you grew larger and larger. You grew so much that you had to move your seat in behind the steering just to fit there. Any of your coats and blouses didn't fit you anymore and over the time, you needed to buy some preggy jeans. When you had a worse day than you usually did, which you could recognize based on your back pain, Jim tried his best to help you with the household - he could do dishes, do the laundry and when he was feeling courageous, he tried to cook something. It was nice of him, yes, but he didn't know how to cook at all. Even Eleven could cook better than him. Sometimes, when you woke up from your slumber, you just saw black smoke coming from the kitchen and you knew what James was up to.

Slowly, the time when you couldn't go to work anymore came by. It wasn't that you were sat down on a wheelchair all day or something - but it was quite hard to run around the hospital and to interwiev kids all day. But that didn't take anything from your charming personality - James made sure he behaves or he could be schooled like a small kid. You didn't care how long would it take, but you would have an elaborate lecture all night if needed. It was one silent, calm night when it came.

#jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #robin burke #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things hopper #stranger things netflix #jim hopper stranger things #eleven hopper #jane hopper #jane ives #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #will byers #joyce byers

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