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a-simple-imagine · 4 years ago

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A Little Bit Of Love... Potion?

Prompt: "I promise I won't let him draw on your face with permanent marker." "Hmmm... So can I draw on his face with washable markers?" "No!"

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader, lots of Ron Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 4.6k

A/N - This was written for @firewhisky-kisses writing challenge. This is my second Harry Potter themed story ever since I only joined the fandom like two weeks ago (very much feeling like an outsider atm) so please don’t judge too harshly. I am still getting used to these characters and the wizarding world itself. I decided to write something a little lighthearted.

Warnings - Playful threats of violence

"I'm gonna kill him," You growl loudly as you storm into the common room in search of Hermione Granger. She was one of three people at Hogwarts you would consider your best friend. The others were Harry Potter; and the other you were about to murder for catching you off guard. You held a towel around the top of your head to conceal your worst nightmare. Stray Gryffindors were settled around the room doing one thing or another as the day was drawing to a close. Hermione was resting on an armchair by the fire utterly engrossed by the massive book in her hands.

"Who?" She doesn't even bother to look up as you approach.

"Ron obviously," You groan, grip tightening on the towel to stop it from slipping. "who else would go out of their way to annoy me."

An unamused sigh falls past her lips as she finally lowers her book. "Show me,"

"No, it's embarrassing." You protest. Looking around the room; you didn't speak to anyone else in here too often so what did it even matter what they thought.

"Well then I can't help you,"

You shift your weight uncomfortably before pulling the towel off in a dramatic reveal of your beautiful head. Hermione's eyes drift over you; struggling to hold back her amusement as she finally sees what happened. "It's... not so bad," She replies quietly, a melodic chuckle drifting into the air. "Bright."

"I look like a walking highlighter." You whine, taking a seat on the arm of her chair. "Fix it,"

Hermione whips out her wand and with a flick of her wrist you assume your hair has gone back to normal. She was too good of a witch for it to not have. Reaching for her book, you inspect the cover as you slide into her lap. Absentmindedly flipping through the pages with complete disregard for where she was up to. "Ronald Weasley is gonna regret ever messing with me,"

"It is not that bad," Hermione plucks the book from your grasp. "You did slip him Puking Pastilles the other day."

"That was funny though" A smile spreads over your lips at the memory of Ron throwing up in the great hall before charging out. “This isn’t”

"He threw up all over my shoes,"

"Gross," you laugh a little. "If it had been my shoes, it'd be a different story. What should I do to get back at him?"

"Leave him alone? Show you're the mature one and move on?"

"Don't be silly Hermione," Your head falls back against the plush fabric of the chair. "Why should I stop and not him? Maybe he should be the mature one."

"He won't stop unless you stop,"

"I could hex his broom at quidditch practice," You think out loud; chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Watch him fall on his face."

"Absolutely not. You're not putting him in the hospital wing over some silly prank war."

You gently roll your eyes. "We could-"

"There's no we," Hermione interrupts. "Please do not include me in your nonsense. I'm not helping you. Can you get off me?"

Sliding off her lap and onto the floor, you rest your head against her knee. "I'll think of something- don't you worry. He won't be getting away with this."

"At least do it quietly,"

You're quiet for the moment; going over different options while staring at a tower of books on the coffee table. Next to them say some parchment and a quill. "Are those yours? Can I borrow your quill?"

"Knock yourself out,"

You grab the feather and a piece of parchment paper and get to work laying out all your options to get back at Ron. Hermione would probably kill you if you hurt him so that rules out a fair few things. You could buy something at Zonko's but at this point he'd probably see those coming; you can only slip him sweets that make him sick so many times. Then again maybe it was just simple enough to work. You scribble it down on the parchment paper anyway. Next you add the nose biting teacup but that was rather impractical considering he hardly ever drank tea. Acid lollipops were an option, they would just burn a hole in his tongue but that could count as hurting him even if it was an easy fix.

"What are you writing?" Hermione wonders, you glance up to her and smile a little. "I assume you’re not studying all of a sudden."

"Nope," You hold up the paper for her. "I'm listing ways to get back at Ron."

"Of course you are," She takes your list. "Why don't you just buy a joke wand?"

"Boring," Jumping to your feet, you snatch the paper back. "I need to do something out of the box."

"Don't come to me when things go wrong," She insists softly, returning her attention to her book.

"Things won't go wrong," You declare proudly. You'd been doing this since your second year so you kind of have a knack for pulling pranks at this point. "Have a little faith in me."

It takes a day or two but thanks to Harry dragging you along to advanced potions class at the start of the year you decide the perfect way to get back at Ron is to make him fall in love with you. Well, a weird embarrassing obsession kind of love. Commence operation; practice your potion making by creating a love potion and tricking Ron into consuming it. Not only do you get to embarrass him but it can count as studying which will keep Hermione at bay. Not that you're going to tell her because Love potions of any kind are banned at Hogwarts and she'll just insist it's a bad idea. Now all you had to do was figure out how to actually make a love potion. Professor Slughorn has made one at the beginning of the year but you weren't actually taught how to make one nor do you actually remember much about class that day. Once you figured out how you could collect the ingredients and then trick Ron into drinking it. It shouldn't be too complicated.

Every free period following is spent huddled in the back of the library, searching through what felt like a mountains of books on potions. A good portion of what you read is just the history behind the potion itself and the dangers. It wasn't a potion that would cause him any harm so there was no need to worry. Eventually, you manage to create a checklist of ingredients that consisted of;

Ashwinder eggs

Rose thorns

Peppermint

Powdered Moonstone

Pearl Dust

Rose Petals

This joke was beginning to feel like more effort than it was worth but you were determined to see this through. Ron would never see this coming. After returning all your books to the shelves, you figure getting some help from Harry is the next step. The only place to get all the ingredients was from the potions classroom or the supply room. You couldn't just walk in and take stuff without seeming a little suspicious; you also weren't exactly Slughorn's favourite student. Everyone knew it was Harry. So your final option was to sneak around.

"Harry- wait up," You run up beside him as g walks through the courtyard. Rather surprised to find him alone considering your next class was with him and Ron.

"Hey,"

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Depends," He shrugs. You offer him a very gentle smile, fluttering your eyelashes a little. He wasn't exactly the type to say no to you but better safe than sorry.

"Can I borrow your invisibility cloak? I promise I'll return it tomorrow."

"What for?" Your stomach sinks a little at his question. You can't risk telling him in case he tells Ron which will ruin the surprise.

"I need some ingredients for a potion and I don't really feel like asking for permission," Telling half a truth is much easier than coming up with an entirely new lie. "Please? How many times have I broken the rules for you now and I would do it again."

"Professor Slughorn probably wouldn't mind if you just asked. What are you making anyway?"

"I just wanna do some late-night practice. I'm more of a do what I want then ask for forgiveness later kinda person so can I? Please?" Emphasis on the 'please' in hopes that it will somehow help your case.

"Sure,"

"Thank you," Looping your arm with his, you begin to practically drag the poor boy through the courtyard. You couldn't be late for class again. Snape would take any excuse to punish you. "let's get to class before we both end up in detention."

Thanks to Harry's cloak, you manage to collect every ingredient needed for your forbidden love potion and get to work. You wouldn't say potion making was your worst subject but it's definitely not your best either and it was showing. After a few attempts by candlelight in the early hours of the morning, you finally manage to create a love potion. Normally you'd test a potion before recklessly using it on unsuspecting friends but there was no time or way to do that without them catching on. The last step was simple, deliver all kinds of spiked candy to Ron Weasley and pretend like everything was normal.

Sitting in the great hall, you slowly lift spoonfuls of cereal into your mouth as you listen to Neville drone on about his dream; at least that's what you hope he's talking about. Last night had wiped you out; your body was exhausted. You could just about keep your eyes open and all you wanted to do was go back to bed. Hermione was sat directly across from you, very delicately buttering a piece of wholemeal toast.

"I don't think it means anything, you're just thinking too much into," Hermione explains to Neville. You just shrug your shoulders; you hadn't really been paying attention anyway but you manage to perk up a little as Harry plops down beside you.

"What time do you call this Potter?" You scold, bumping your shoulder playfully against his.

"And where's Ron?" Hermione continues.

"He should be here soon enough. He's just taking extra care getting ready."

"Why?"

"He's trying to impress someone," Harry reaches for a bowl of fresh fruit.

"Oh do tell," An aura of giddiness envelops your words as if you don't expect the answer to be yourself. There was a chance he hasn't taken the bait yet and he just genuinely had a crush.

"I promised I wouldn't,"

"Come on, Harry. We won't tell."

"He's never mentioned liking anyone before," Hermione adds to the conversation, biting into her toast with a crunch.

"I don't know- ask him." As if summoned on cue, The redhead appears beside Hermione. He doesn't seem any different other than the smile and distant look in his eyes. Not to mention, he may have combed his hair? You couldn't be sure though.

"Did you sleep in again," She pauses for a second, her brows knitting together in a frown. "And is that... cologne I smell?"

Ron doesn't answer, he just looks at you with the expression of someone hopelessly entranced. It's a little weird but you take it as a compliment on your potion-making skills. "You alright there Ron?"

"Perfectly fine," He nods.

"Are you gonna eat something? We have class soon?"

"I'm not hungry,"

"Not hungry?" The volume of Hermione's voice catches you off guard. "When have you ever not been hungry, Ronald?"

"First time for everything Hermione," You take a sip of your water. All eyes were on Ron but he couldn't tear his away from you; that dopey grin never quite fading away. Was this how it was supposed to work? You had never seen it in action before. "I'll see you all at lunch " You announce, rising from the table. "I forgot my quill again this morning and I can't keep pretending I remember the stuff I'm being taught."

"How many classes do you have today?" Harry calls out before you can leave. You'd think he'd know your schedule by now. "I was thinking we could practice some potions later?"

"She has two," Hermione answers for you.

"Today pretty quiet for me usually but I have a study session later with Luna. She's helping me in care of magical creatures sorry," You flash a tight smile. "Maybe next time."

You had one class this morning and then one straight after lunch. Your free periods were supposed to be spent studying considering you were taking five N.E.W.T classes but you've never been one to study when you don't have to. Thinking on it, you probably could have studied with Harry in your free period before lunch but you think he has class then. The morning class is over before you know it and you're heading back to your dorm for a well-deserved nap when you practically crash into a none other than a Weasley.

"Watch where you're going, Ron."

His expression immediately brightens and he stands a little taller. "Oh, it's you, hey."

"Hello," Ron was a pretty awkward guy on the best of days but this felt weirder. A small, awkward smile settles on your lips. "Don't you have a class right now?"

"Mhmm," He nods but doesn't move nor continue talking.

"Ooookay then, well... I'm gonna go." You slide by him and scamper away. "I'll see you in a little bit."

When you imagined him under the influence of a love potion you expected less creepy staring but maybe he was just working his way up to it.

After a very short nap, that kept getting interrupted you're sat in the great hall waiting for classes to end and lunch to officially begin. There were a decent amount of students, all doing their own thing. Meanwhile the Gryffindor table was practically empty other than Dean, who was sat at an angle on the other side of the table and a couple of seventh years. You'd gotten so bored while pretending to study that Dean had suggested playing a game; this is the third match to decide who comes out on top as the Hangman champion of this free period. Three letters in and none of them had been right. The wooden frame was already drawn and waiting for the stickman to be hung

"S?" You guess.

His head shakes as he draws a wonky circle to start the stickman's fate. "Sorry."

"... I maybe?"

"Finally you got one.," it was a ten letter word and he filled in the second and eighth letters With I's.

"Can you give me like a hint?"

"I'm not gonna help you beat me," Dean replies. "Hey, Harry,"

"Harry!" You greet brightly, turning to find him towering over you. "We're playing hangman, do you wanna join? I'm about to win."

"No, you're not-"

"Did you do something to Ron?" Harry cuts of Dean. You swallow hard. Busted... or maybe not. Your brow furrows as you focus on the curled edge of the parchment you had been playing on.

"What are you talking about? I haven't done anything, I've been with Dean for like the last hour."

"He just seems very interested in you all of a sudden. I thought it was a one-time thing this morning but I've had to suffer through two classes of him talking about how cute and dreamy you are."

"Ron has a crush on her?" Dean's tone was rather playful.

"Maybe he just realised how cool I am," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "H?"

"Where is Ron anyway?" Dean adds the letter H to the begging of the word. You still have no clue what the word is but thankfully your two other friends finally appear just in time to interrupt. You'd rather draw by forfeit then lose altogether. Ron nearly shoves Hermione out of the way just to sit down next to you.

"I missed you this morning,"

"Missed you too Ron," You pat him twice on the cheek.

"What did you do to him?" Hermione's eyes narrow in on you.

"Who?"

"Ron obviously," She huffs. "I bumped into in the hallway and he said he couldn't wait to see you."

"As his friend, I'm happy he's excited to see me," You counter, resting your head on his shoulder. "At least someone at this table appreciates how cool I am."

"You're awesome," Ron wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight side-hug "I think I may be in love,"

Dean giggles to himself but Hermione is anything but amused. "For goodness sake, you can't be serious?"

"I'm very serious," He fights back, sounding almost offended but such an accusation. "In fact," a wave of regret washes over you as Ron gets up and climbs onto the bench in front of the now rather busy great hall. "I'm in love with-" you sink down as he shouts your name for everyone to hear. Mean snickers and playful giggles follow. You reach for his hand, tugging on his arm gently as to not hurt him.

"Sit down," you spit through gritted teeth. Heat rushing to your cheeks as if him announcing his love to everyone wasn't embarrassing enough already

You try to enjoy lunch as much as possible with Ron attached to your side. Hermione was relatively quiet but her harsh glare was enough to put you off starting anything with her. And so you mostly spoke to Harry and finished your game with Dean. The word was Hippogriff which you managed to guess before the final leg finished off the stickman. Thankfully, your next class provided a nice escape from Ron. However it couldn't stop the sly comments in the hallways and mean laughter. This joke was very quickly becoming anything but funny.

This continued into the next day, you were regretting spiking so much candy. Not to mention Hermione hadn't spoken to you since lunch yesterday and you couldn't figure out why exactly. Normally she gets a little annoyed at your silly jokes with Ron but she seemed really mad at you. And considering you share a dorm room, things were feeling very tense, to say the least.

Managing to slip away from Ron long enough for a quick conversation, you find your fellow Gryffindor sat alone having an early breakfast. "I said I wouldn't help you,"

"Huh?" You hadn't even asked her anything yet or sat down for that matter but at least she's talking to you again.

"You want my help right?" She meets your gaze as you take a seat. "What did you do?"

"I actually wanted to know what was wrong?" Which was very much true. "You seemed... upset yesterday. I don't like it when you're mad at me."

"Judging by the way he was all over you yesterday my guess is It was a love potion correct?" you're impressed that she managed to guess and so quickly too. "A strong one at that. That is the only way to explain him suddenly being in love with you."

"I'm offended that you don't think Ron could like me that way," The words came a little more defensively than intended. "am I really that bad?"

Hermione's face morphs through a sea of emotions finally settling on looking a little disheartened. You wonder what's going on in her pretty little head. "It's not that I don't think he could like you that way- maybe he does and that would be fine. You're..." She seems hesitant to continue, her head falling. "amazing. Just that's not what this is."

"You're right," You confirm, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice. "Like always. I slipped him a love potion thinking it would be funny and now it's not."

"How can you be so reckless," Compared she seemed so delicate just moments ago, she quickly bounces back to scold you. "You know they're not allowed at school."

"Worth it," A small chuckle bubbles up from your throat. It had been a little funny and definitely embarrassing plus you got to test your skills so you weren't inherently regretting your decision. You just wish the effects would fade already. "I didn't learn the antidote and I'm not spending hours in the library again."

"It'll wear off soon enough, how much did you give him."

"I made like... a cauldron full but I don't know how much he consumed."

"So it's my understanding that you idiotically gave him a lot?"

Words mumbled by your juice, you nod to convey your answer.

"Then it'll take a while to wear off."

Ron slides up beside you, taking you by surprise. The juice comes back up in sputtering coughs. "Speak— of— the devil."

"Good morning my beautiful angel," Even you cringe at that one. Harry takes a seat on your left side. "Did you sleep well?"

"You should know, you were watching me this morning," Ron pulls you closer to him. When you awoke this morning, not only was Hermione already gone but it had been quite the surprise to find Ron had snook into the girl's dorms to be with you.

"You're so adorable when you're sleeping."

"If you'll excuse me, I can only handle so much nauseating sweetness," Hermione takes one sympathetic look at you and then scurries away like she can't handle being here any longer. Something was definitely off with her. Today was gonna be a long day...

How you longed for the weekend to come early as each class tortured you with new knowledge that had to be burnt into your brain. It didn't help that Ron was getting increasingly annoying; it was like he was incapable of being alone. After the school day finally ended, you retired to the common room; both the boys joined you. Harry was complaining about how much work he's been assigned from one class while Ron seemed happy to just be near you in any compacity. Which right now meant having his arm around you.

"Here," Hermione interrupts, dropping a plugged vial onto your lap.

"What is it?"

"An antidote." She was biting back an insult or an 'I told you so', you couldn't be sure but there was a hint of aggression behind her words.

"Drink this," Before you even have time to process, Harry is shoving the vial towards Ron.

"What is it?"

"I think you should try it," Ron doesn't even question the request when it comes from you. He takes the vial and downs it in one. An unsure look is shared between you and Hermione but sure enough, Ron's goofy grin begins to fade.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

"I slipped you a love potion and you became obsessed with me." You answer. "It was funny at first but then you announced you were In love with me to the whole school."

"You think a love potion is the same as a comb that changes your hair?" The boy sank into the seat cushion, finally removing his arm from around your shoulders. "I don’t feel so good."

"He needs something to perk him up," Hermione states. If she knew that, she should have come prepared.

"He has candy hidden in his draws"

"Yeah... it's probably best if he gets rid of all that," You admit, getting up. "Wait here,"

It was only fair you provided something so you grab the last chocolate bar you had from your dorm room. "You shouldn't have messed with my hair." You declare, handing over the chocolate with an almost sad smile.

"Now you two can hopefully put this silly war to bed."

"Not likely," Your voice syncs with Ron's, and with it comes a genuine smile. It was nice he was back to normal.

"I have to get back at her."

"And how will you do that Weasley?" You drop back down next to him.

"I think I'll go back to the good old fashioned permanent marker while you sleep."

"Why would you tell me in advance?"

"Because you don't know when I'm gonna do it." He declares with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So now you'll be on edge waiting for it to happen."

In this situation, the equivalent to snitching to a teacher to prevent something from happening was to tell the only one opposed to this whole situation entirely. "Hermione tell him. You had no problem insisting I be the bigger person."

She simply rolls her eyes before turning to Weasley. "Ronald, Consider not retaliating especially with a permanent marker before one of you," she glances towards you; rightful so. "Goes too far."

"she started it," He protests, "I didn't sip her a love potion."

"You better not come anywhere near me with marker pens."

"Sometimes I think I'm talking to myself." And with that, she wonders off

"I'm watching you, Weasley," Now, you were going to have to keep a very close eye on him to assure you didn't wake up with a fake mustache or something. Jumping up you chase after Hermione.

"Thanks for helping." You fall into step with her. "I'd be lost without you."

"I know,"

"Wow. Modest." You mumble sarcastically before falling silent; unsure of how to approach the next question. "Do you like Ron by any chance?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you like Ron?" You repeat. It was the only explanation you could come up with over why she would be so angry the last couple of days. "You seemed really upset since he's been all over me so I thought maybe it was like jealousy or something."

"Don't be ridiculous," She fires back. "I don't like Ron."

"I never imagined you two together but I think you'd be sweet," You comment, intentionally trying to get a rise out of her. Hermione sighs loudly as she comes to a stop.

"Ron is one of my best friends but I don't like him in that way," From a few steps away, you turn back to her. She's clutching a few books tightly against her chest, refusing to look at you. "I swear that I don't."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," She shrugs pathetically. "I just saw him all over you and I didn't like it. You're never normally like that together and he kept pushing me aside to get to you."

"I'm not following," You're honestly more confused than before.

She approaches you slowly, still unable to meet your gaze but her lips very softly connect with your cheek. "I promise I won't let him draw on your face with permanent marker."

Her words spark a lightbulb. You've never done a double prank but perhaps now would be a good chance. You could do it to him before he gets the chance to do it to you.

"Hmmm... So can I draw on his face with washable markers?"

With a heavy sigh, she simply states her favourite word "No!"

"But-"

"No." Hermione continues walking and you're left watching her.

"Hey," You call out. "Do you wanna head down to Hogsmeade tomorrow? I'll buy you a butterbeer to say thank you."

"You just want to visit the joke shop, don't you?"

"Desperately," She always could see right through you. "But still. I want to go- just you and me."

"I would like that," She finally meets your gaze and she looks happier now. The almost set sun, casting her in such a warm, welcoming glow. Hermione was a hard girl to figure out but that's what made her so interesting. "I was hoping to get a new quill anyway."

#Hermione Granger x reader #ron weasley x reader #harry potter #Hermione x reader #hermione granger #ron weasley #harry potter fanfiction #stephs200challenge

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aperrywilliams · 4 years ago

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Maxcer HC/Blurbs: Career Day

Another one for Maxcer HC/Blurbs/Mini-fics! This one if for my dear friend @dreatine. Hope you like it! Any like, reblog, or comment is appreciated.

Request: “For the Maxcer request blurb: Before Max gets the Smithsonian job, she’s still a teacher to 7-8 year olds. So, she decides to bring Spencer in to talk to the class about his job during career day. He charms them and Max falls deeper for him. Thank you. Peace.”

Word Count: 1k.

Warnings: None.

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“What? You want me to do that?” Spencer asked Max.

“Yeah. It would be fun. The kids already love everything related to community services. We have been talking about firefighters, nurses, cops...” Max explained to Spencer.

“But I’m a profiler. I catch serial killers for a living. I don’t know if that is appropriate for kids.”

“Well. You can skip the serial killer's parts and its darkest details. You can say you catch the bad guys using your brain. I think that’s pretty amazing. And I know the kids will love it!” Max proposed. Reid frowned, considering Max’s words.

“I’m glad you can see the bright side of my job,” he chuckled.

“Of course I do. You save lives, Spencer. That's something no everyone can say,” Max replied, taking his hand. “So, can I count with you on this?” Spencer nodded, smiling at her. “Yes! Thank you!” Max wrapped her arms around his neck, peppering kisses on his face. Spencer giggled at the sudden display of affection.

And like this, Spencer just accepted to go to Max’s school on the ‘career day’ to talk about his job. Max and Spencer were dating for two months now, and the spark between them could be ‘smelled’ yards of distance, despite neither of them verbatim too much about it yet. The team didn’t say anything to not overwhelming Spencer, but they knew he was totally hooked for Max.

“Good morning class!” Max greeted her students with a smile. Spencer was next to her and only waved to the kids. He didn’t know why, but he was nervous.

“Good morning Miss Brenner!” The kids greeted her back.

“Well, class. As you know, today is ‘career day’ so I brought you a special guest to talk to us. He is Spencer Reid. Shall we say hello to Spencer?”

“Hi Spencer!” The kids chorused.

“Hi!” Spencer replied, waving again.

“Spencer is going to tell us what he does in his job, and then you can ask him questions about it, okay?”

Max looked at Spencer, giving him a reassuring smile, and then she sat on her desk, leaving Spencer with all the kids' eyes focused on him.

“Okay. As miss Brenner said, my name is Spencer Reid. I work with the FBI in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You may ask what that is, right? So, well, I can tell you that we do something pretty similar to cops do: we catch the bad guys, but we use the psychology to do that. It’s pretty close to doing magic, you know?”

The kids seemed genuinely interested in Spencer's words, although they couldn't understand some of them.

“Are you show us how you do magic in your job?” A girl asked.

“You want me to do that?” Spencer asked the class, smiling.

“Yeeessssss!” The kids replied enthusiastically.

“Okay. I’ll need some assistance here. Ms. Brenner, could you please lend me your board marker, please?” Max nodded and handed him the marker. “Can I borrow that boxes too?”

Spencer gave each child an empty box. Then he gave the marker to one of the girls.

“I’m going to be outside the classroom for a minute. You give the marker to any one of your classmates so they could hide it in the box. When I come back, everyone will have their box closed, and I’m going to find out who has the marker, okay? I’ll let you know who has it ‘reading your minds,’” Spencer said in a mystery voice, rolling his fingers. The kids giggled.

Spencer looked at Max and grinned. Max swear that she would melt in that spot right then. He seemed so focused on the task in hand, and the kids were pretty interested.

When Spencer left the room, the children decided who would hide the marker and then returned to their seats.

Spencer came back, and the play began. He started to pace in the classroom, looking at each child. Some of them shifted in their seat; other averted their gaze from him. Then he sat in front of them to analyze their micro-expressions.

“Okay. Did you know that face’s expressions are very important when you're trying to know when someone is telling the truth or hiding something? If we furrow our brows or twitch our noses, that could mean uneasy or nervousness, for example,” the young doctor explained to the class. Some giggles and coughs were heard between the kids. “But! Also, the body language is very important: rubbing your hands in your pants, bouncing your legs, arch your back, or sinking in your seat could be helpful to find out who has the marker.” Spencer narrowed his eyes, looking at all the kids in the room. The children almost contained their breathing in anticipation. And after some minutes of deliberation, Spencer spoke in a soft voice.

“Adrian, could you open your box, please?” Several “oh” were heard. They knew Adrian had the marker, but when he opened the box, it was empty. The class was confused. Even Max furrowed and looked at Spencer, puzzled.

“Oh, maybe I made a mistake? Uhm, weird. But wait a minute, perhaps the marker is trying to escape; what do you say, Adrian?” Spencer said, looking at Adrian’s face, reaching his ear, and pulling the marker. The class erupted in howls, ovations and questions about how he did it.

Max couldn't help but remember when she met Spencer and the magic trick he performed for Sammy at that time. Her heart fluttered at the memory. That man was full of surprises, and she likes that. The awkward, tall, lanky, and shy guy managed to maintain a group of children entertained and interested, making something so simple as a magic trick and showing them how his job was at the same time.

Was she falling for him? Yes. And maybe too fast - considering that she wanted to keep it slow. What she didn't know was he was falling for her as fast as she for him. she wouldn’t find out yet, but the spark continued growing between them.

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Permanent Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @andiebeaword @calm-and-doctor @mind-of-a-girl @katelynnwrites

Maxcer’s Army: @dreatine @andiebeaword @ironwoman18

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #maxine brenner #max brenner #maxcer #spencer reid x max brenner #spencer reid x max #spencer reid x maxine brenner #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #spencer x max

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annebrontesrequiem · 3 years ago

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Ask game, Higurashi version. Contains spoilers one specifically.

The first character I first fell in love with:

Rena Ryuugu. Now to be honest I first saw Higurashi when I was like 11 or 12 so my memory is pretty fuzzy, but considering the fact that Rena was one of the first things I ever drew in a sketchbook (having borrowed my friend’s Copic markers) I’m pretty confident in this. She was the perfect combination of creepy, tragic, and relatable for little me to grasp onto and honestly I still love her. The character I never expected to love as much as I do now:

Definitely Rika. I did not expect her to become my hands down favorite during the second half of me watching Higurashi/reading the manga. But oh boy did she become my favorite. Hell my name Bern is lifted from her witchy counterpart (simplified)! She is a very relatable character (take that as you will) and I just, yup I love her.

The character everyone else loves that I don’t:

Probably every member of the Sonozaki family that isn’t Mion, Shion, Kasai, or Akane. I just never really got over what they did to Shion, and I just, yeah. Sorry Oryou, I will continue to hold a grudge.

Oh and I don’t think many people like Ooishi that much but I’m still putting him on the list cause fuck Ooishi. The character I love that everyone else hates:

I know some people aren’t the biggest fan of Keiichi but honestly I love this stupid idiot. He is such a complex character, and a great subversion of the trope of the only guy in the visual novel. Seeing him redeem himself and go above and beyond for his friends when he used to be so lonely and angry is just heartwarming, and his character is just so tragic I can’t get over it. Especially for the Curse Killing arc, I just, it’s so heartbreaking. He’s such a wonderful character, and he deserves recognition. The character I used to love but don’t any longer:

...Satoko. Look this is definitely a post-Gou problem. So I’m going to just throw it out there and ignore it. I really appreciated Satoko in the originals, and I think that Satoko had potential in Gou if only the writing wasn’t rushed and stupid at some points.

Also maybe Irie? Tbh before rewatching the series I forgot how weird he acted sometimes because I basically just reread Festival Accompanying Arc. I still like him and I know it was for subversion and comedy, but it’s just a lot sometimes. The character I would totally smooch:

Miyo Takano. Evil milf simping. The character I’d want to be like:

All of these main characters have good qualities I wish to emulate. But maybe above all I wish to be like Keiichi, who is optimistic and loving despite all the horrible things he experiences and who decides to trust in his friends and never stop fighting for them.

I also wish I could be like Mion who despite all the trauma she’s experienced will still be there for others and still loves those around her. She is such a valorous character and I feel I could learn a lot from her. The character I’d slap:

Miyo I may like you but you are getting slapped. Also the leader of the mountain dogs whose name I refuse to Google. A pairing that I love:

I don’t really ship anyone tbh. (This is ignoring Umineko explicitly) Maybe Takano and Tomitake? A pairing that I despise:

Shipping Keiichi with Mion or Rena feels counterproductive to the greater narrative of friendship, that being said I do understand why people ship them.

#I'm gonna do higurashi and then maybe one more; i could do two but the second one would be a bit embarassing and prolly not enough info??#anyways #higurashi #bern speaks

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buckyreaderrecs · 5 years ago

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Wax and Wane

Summary: Bucky was sure he'd felt all the different types of bad a person could feel. He was wrong. You were pretty sure it was illegal to drive away with an Avenger in the back of your van, but what else could you do? A story about grief that is basically the 'flowers grow in the sidewalk cracks' metaphor fanfictionalised.

Words: 5,614 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Thor Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame never happened), Stark Tower still exists, other Marvel characters are mentioned but aren’t central to plot, recovering Bucky, not angsty but a sad story, she/her pronouns Warnings: illness/death, sick children, grief

Note: This was written for Nik's 1k Writing Challenge - @serpienten My dialogue prompt was, "I'll keep you warm. Hold me closer." I hope you love it, Nik!

EDIT: Accidentally had all the Y/N replaced with my name because of the Chrome extension. Hopefully fixed, but if you see Rhiannon pop up, please let me know so I can edit. Embarrassing lol.

Wax and Wane

As the paint was brushed gently across their skin in broad strokes, you could read the joy and pleasure in their sweet little faces. It was a very minor and short term relief from their day-to-day pain, but it was the very least you could do. Face painting wasn't going to cure cancer or mend broken bones, but it made the residents of the hospital's children's ward happy.

Most of the long-term patients knew you. You were the girl in the tutu and butterfly wings that would come and blow bubbles and make them smile. But on that day, you weren't the one they were excited for.

The children were in a frenzy as The Avengers entered the room, dressed in their best outfits (minus any dangerous weaponry, you assumed). You stood to the side of the room with the doctors, nurses, and parents, and listened along with an enraptured audience as Captain America and Iron Man introduced the team. The kids couldn't sit for long, so very quickly the nibbles and treats were brought out and the room calmed into a soft party atmosphere.

As soon as you'd set up your station, there was a line of children wanting to have webs and stars painted. You worked quickly, getting through the line fast. Staying put, you only had a chance to briefly survey the room before Liam, one of your most special friends, trotted up to you, pulling along someone new.

"Hey, Liam," you greeted. He let go of his new friend's hand to hug you.

"Look, Y/N!" he said, pointing up. "It's Bucky!"

You looked up at Bucky Barnes, who would have towered over you even if you had been standing. The child's size plastic chair you were on really added a comical size difference though.

"Hi, Bucky," you said, coy smile. Bucky softly smiled back. "You're Liam's favourite,"

"Yeah, I told'ed him that!" Liam said, not a shred of self-consciousness in the child. "And now we can be matching,"

"Matching?" you asked.

"Yeah, 'cause you do the painting and you can paint my arm like Bucky's," Liam explained, holding his prosthetic arm out in demonstration.

Glancing up at Bucky to make sure he was privy to the plan, he simply gave a little shrug.

"Sounds good to me. How about you sit in this chair here, Liam, and we get Bucky to sit right next to us on the floor. Is that okay?" you asked both of them.

Liam jumped into the seat, sticking his arm out ready.

Bucky had a bit of a harder time folding himself down, but he eventually managed to sit in front of you comfortably.

"Okay if I borrow your arm for a bit?" you asked Bucky.

He nodded and held it out to you. When you took it, laying it across one of your legs so you could copy the seams and markings, Bucky held his breath. Most people hesitated. He figured some of them were afraid, and some didn't want to appear rude. Not you though. To you, his arm was just that - an arm. You'd kinda grown used to celebrities (is that what superheroes are classified as? you wondered to yourself) by then. Make a Wish and fundraising events and all that jazz… Turns out most famous people are pretty normal, boring even.

Bucky watched you pull a bunch of markers out of your kit and begin replicating the aesthetic of his vibranium arm onto Liam's plastic prosthetic. He let you gently move him as needed, and found himself in awe of how good your Sharpie skills were.

"You're really good," he said, speaking up for the first time.

Liam held most of the space in the conversation, which was fine by both of you. He told Bucky about his illness, and how even though he'd lost his arm, he was the "luckiest kid in New York" because he was alive and because he got to meet The Avengers. There were shades of adult in his words, like he'd been told of his own luck before.

While Liam spoke, you stole glances at Bucky. Mostly, his gaze was on Liam, sometimes darting over to you and away just as fast; he was avoiding eye contact. However, he quickly would turn to focus on particularly loud sounds or doors opening. If you'd had a chance to watch any of the other heroes in the room, you'd note they all did the same.

"Doin' okay, Liam?" you checked in when the boy had gone quiet.

Liam nodded frantically, not wanting to disappoint. "Yeah!" he affirmed.

"Maybe just need a little nap after this, huh buddy?" you asked.

"Maybe," he replied, relieved that there was a nap in his future.

"Think I might need one too," Bucky chimed in. Liam giggled like it was a joke.

"All done!" you announced.

When the very elated Liam was done tippy tapping and hugging, he ran off to show his parents how absolutely cool he was.

You and Bucky stood, both stretching out your limbs.

"Think you've made a friend for life there," you told him; he softly smiled in reply. "Can I just say something that might be way out of place? I just… I don't know… I feel like you need to hear it."

Bucky frowned, studied your face for a second. "Sure,"

"Okay… So… You do know that you deserve to be here, right?"

Mostly his expression was blank, then his head tilted to the side just a little. You'd been reading him the whole time, he realised. He felt exposed. But there was nowhere to run to.

"Maybe…" he finally settled on saying.

"Maybe?" you scoffed. "I mean, kids are lining up to meet you… And you're not questioning if, like, Wanda Maximoff or Natasha Romanoff should be here, you know what I mean?"

Bucky looked over to where Scarlet Witch and Black Widow were forming a girl gang. "They're different. It's different," he argued, but his words were laced with too much sadness for you to give in.

"Yeah… If you wanna get technical, weren't you the only one under mind control or whatever?" you posed.

Bucky looked at you, tried to figure out why you were being so… persistently kind. Your logic made sense, and something in him considered believing it.

"I'm just saying," you continued, "You deserve to be here. And if you don't wanna accept that, then it can be like… Liam deserves for you to be here."

That, Bucky could get behind. He nodded. "Thank you," he said, awkward but earnest.

You shrugged it off, then took a slow step towards him. "Hug?"

He blinked stupidly, then nodded, opening his arms and letting you step into them. While you wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, Bucky hesitated for a moment, then slid his arms around you. People around the room, even the ones that didn't know Bucky, watched how his hands lingered in the air before settling on your back. They saw how he melted into the hug, let his head rest on your shoulder and closed his eyes.

When you stepped away from each other, he'd inherited some of your fairy glitter.

"I'll see you next time, I guess," you offered, letting your sentence trail off enough that Bucky could catch it if he wanted. There was room for him to say anything. But, he just nodded.

Bucky watched you walk away.

Sam appeared at his side. "So, are you gonna-" Sam said, the amusement clear in his tone.

"Don't," Bucky interrupted.

"She's clearly-"

"I said don't," Bucky snapped, walking out of the room.

Sam went to follow, worried he'd genuinely upset his friend, but he caught Steve's eye. A subtle shake of the head told him to stand down.

…

Although you buried it deep inside, there was some small part of you that thought maybe you'd hear from Bucky. You weren't exactly sure why you thought that was going to happen. It was easy to let that idea fall in the face of logic though; he was an Avenger… very busy… very private… etc. etc. Nonetheless, that small part stayed alight, and it fed your dreams all the way through to the next time you would cross paths with Bucky again.

It was a different hospital, but the same type of event. Sparkle and shine and cheer the kids up. Although there were less Avengers than the first, the children were entirely chuffed with meeting their heroes. And, this event had something the previous did not. Thor. His laugh bellowed all through the ward's corridors, providing a sharp contrast to the otherwise sterile mundane life of the hospital.

Thor promised the children that it wasn't that they weren't worthy of wielding Mjolner, it was that they just weren't ready yet. "You're far too little! When you're big and strong, like me!" He filled the children with more hope than they'd had in a long time.

Your attention constantly being drawn to the larger-than-life Asgardian was a welcomed distraction… You were trying to give Bucky space, deciding that if he wanted to talk to you, he could. You wouldn't push it. Two superheroes that apparently did want to talk to you, though, were Falcon and Captain America.

Like you were their mission, there was hardly a second where one of them wasn't by your side. Sam was entirely unhelpful, giving creative input to all the face painting. He made the kids laugh though, often at jokes that went over their innocent heads. It was his sassy tone they really liked. Steve was a little calmer, answering weird and wonderful questions only children could think up.

They were both charming, personable, and genuinely fun to be around, but what were they doing? Were they trying to coax Bucky in? Provide a buffer? Or, no… Maybe they were keeping you from him? Shaking the thought from your head, you simply blew bubbles and painted faces and covered the room in confetti.

You would have liked to say you didn't notice when Bucky slipped from the room, not returning, but that small part of you most definitely did. It most definitely noticed and you most definitely felt the effect of him not speaking to you, not even offering a smile across the room.

"Did I do something?" you finally asked Steve, not needing to explain the context.

"No… It's not you…" he answered, looking over at the door Bucky had left through. "He's just… He's trying…"

…

The children's ward was quiet. It was like that on Tuesday mornings. No events. Rounds over. Just the everyday life of sick children and distraught parents. As you walked down the corridor, you glanced through open doorways on your way to the nurses' station.

It was a hard place to be.

Something caught your eye and you stopped yourself a second too late, passing the room before you could see what it was. A flash of something. Stepping back, you snuck a look around the corner.

A sunbeam off vibranium. Bucky Barnes was folded next to a bed, his arms crossed on the edge of the mattress, his head resting on them. He was asleep. You took a step into the room, then looked to the occupant of the bed. Your heart dropped. Liam.

Liam was asleep in bed, sweating and small.

Cautiously, you crept further into the room. Neither of them stirred, so you took a chair on the opposite side of the bed to Bucky and reached over to pick up Liam's chart from the end of his bed. It didn't say a lot, just the need-to-know for nurse rotation. But you knew those medications enough to know it was bad. Really bad. The emotions caught were too big. You put the chart back; the plastic-hitting-plastic sound it made woke Bucky up. He shot up, chair almost knocked to the ground if it weren't for his reflexes. He looked across the bed at you then, recognition instant. A worried expression took over his face.

"Y/N?"

"He's sick again," you said, your voice sounding far away.

Bucky tracked your gaze to Liam. He nodded. "Yeah… They, ah… It came back… His parents went home to get some sleep. I said I'd stay." When you didn't move, didn't say anything, Bucky grew nervous. He could hardly handle his own reaction, let alone yours too. "They, the hospital, got in touch when he came back in. Said that… I could help. Make him feel… brave, or… I don't know.. It's been a couple weeks, but…"

He couldn't bring himself to say it and you didn't need to hear it.

"I've… I've got to… go…" you said.

When you stood up, you wobbled on the spot and tried to take a step to the door. Bucky was next to you before you even clocked him moving.

"Come on. Don't wanna wake him," Bucky whispered, helping you out of the room gently.

In the corridor, away from the door, you felt the wet hot tears roll down your face. Stupid, you thought to yourself, you should be used to this. It's happened before. The obvious and cruel downside to volunteering in the pediatric ward of a hospital.

Bucky stood in front of you, watching for only a couple seconds before pulling you into a hug. He squeezed you into his chest, your arms curled comfortably between him and you.

"He's talked about you. He'd wanna see you... Come back this afternoon and see him."

You nodded, keeping your eyes shut tightly.

"Okay," you tried, your voice squeaky and small.

"Okay," Bucky repeated, trying to channel the humanity pre-Hydra Bucky showed when Steve's mother passed away. He knew what to say and do then. "You're okay… Go… Go do what ya need to. We'll be here. I've got him," he said.

When he let you go, you felt cold. You wiped your tears, nodded once and looked up at him.

"Go," he prompted, and you nodded again, turning and walking away.

…

"Yeah, I don't know what that is,"

"Finding Nemo?!" Liam repeated, like if he said it louder Bucky was more likely to recognise the title.

You chuckled from the seat next to Bucky's.

"You knew?" he asked.

"Everyone knows just keep swimming, Buck," you told him with a shrug.

"Guess that's another one for the list then," he said, pulling his phone out and adding the film to his ever-growing list of 'to watch'.

Hours could go by like that. You, Liam, and Bucky sitting around, reciting movie quotes to each other. Guessing titles. Laughing at all the gaps in Bucky's pop culture knowledge. Liam loved feeling smarter than an adult, and he completely lost himself in hysterical laughter when Bucky burst out his chair in joy when he finally recognised a film.

"Star Wars!" Bucky had screamed so loud the nurse came in to shush him. "Luke, I am your father!" Bucky whispered at her, grinning ear to ear. Then there was the Harry Potter time. "I got tricked into watching them," Bucky had said, shaking his head. Apparently, during his stay in Wakanda, Shuri had convinced him that Scarlet Witch and those who attended Hogwarts were from the same breed. He should, she said, watch it so he understands Wanda Maximoff better. Shuri would remember Bucky's face forever when he came back from visiting Team Cap.

"My turn," Liam said. He thought for a second. "I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse," he said, his voice forced as deep as his tiny child body would allow.

"Woah! Who let you watch that?!" you said, completely horrified.

"My cousin David," Liam snitched immediately. "The horse head didn't even look real,"

"It didn't," Bucky confirmed, again, happy to identify The Godfather. "Alright, my turn… Ah… Okay. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."

You were as lost as Liam.

"We give up," Liam reported after maybe five seconds of thinking.

"Casablanca?! Come on, guys. It's a classic!" Bucky argued.

"God, you're showing your age," you teased.

"Alright, you do better,"

"Easy," you cleared your throat for dramatic effect, "To infinity and beyond!"

"TOY STORY!" both Liam and Bucky yelled in unison.

Liam then taught Bucky how to act out the "Buzz, will you get up here and give me a hand?" scene, complete with thrown prosthetic.

…

"Theeeeeee… beeeeestest… leaf!"

You and Bucky ran off in opposite directions. The hospital courtyard wasn't exactly bursting at the seams with nature, but it was enough to complete a little scavenger hunt.

On Liam's orders, you returned with the most impressive leaf you could find. Bucky was right behind you. Handing them over, Liam carefully considered them from his bunded up seat in his wheelchair.

"The winner is…" he said, pausing to cough. "Y/N!"

"What?!" Bucky screeched.

"Calm down. It's one-all," you reminded him. His feather was iridescent therefore better than your grey pigeon one.

Bucky grinned at you, ever competitive and ever aiming to make Liam happy. "Alright," he said. "What's next, little man?"

…

"Not today, guys," the nurse replied when you ask if Liam could go for a walk.

"Maybe we'll just read a couple chapters of The Lord of the Rings then, yeah?" you said, turning your suggestion to Bucky.

Bucky nodded solemnly, suddenly and deeply affected by the reminder of Liam's weakening state, of mortality.

Before entering Liam's room, you reached out and touched Bucky's arm. He stopped, looked at you with glossy eyes. You don't wanna see it, think it, but sadness didn't take away from Bucky's beauty.

"You okay?" you asked.

It was a loaded question and almost a rhetorical one. Bucky knew that. He didn't answer, just gave you a weak, lopsided smile.

"You Sam or Frodo today?" he asked, shaking it off and moving again.

…

For the whole time you'd known Bucky, his size had always been so obvious. Sitting beside children, beside Liam, he looked like a giant. Even next to the nurses that came and went he towered. Small hospital chairs. Small plastic cups. Small, sanitised rooms.

So, when you turned the corner and saw Bucky sitting on the floor of the pediatric ward's hallway, looking so fucking small, it stopped you in your tracks. His head was in his hands, and you knew what it meant.

Slowly, step by heavy step, you walked the hallway and came to stand in the doorway of what was once Liam's room. The bed had been stripped of linen, but wasn't yet made ready for the next patient. The charts were gone, and the many tubes and plastic bags of chemicals too. A crushed, empty juice box was on the ground.

Behind you, a nurse cleared her throat.

"Y/N… I'm so sorry… We tried to call ya this morning but-"

"I left my phone at home… I was running late. Locked myself out my apartment. Left half my kit there too. Was late to this fairy party gig I had downtown… Bad day… and-" you were rambling, tears slowly running down your face. The nurse's hand gently cupping your shoulder stopped you.

"S'alright, love… Nothing you could've done. But it's good you're here now. Reckon the Sergeant here might need a little TLC, yeah?"

Nodding, you wiped your tears away on the sleeve of your hoodie. Suddenly, it felt ridiculous to be wearing a pink tutu.

The nurse left you alone with Bucky.

Bucky, who had not moved a single inch since you arrived. Bucky, who looked small. Bucky.

"Let's go," you said, kneeling on the lino floor in front of him. "Think maybe a crying fairy and ah, statue Winter Soldier might confuse the kids… So… let's go."

You thought maybe he wasn't going to reply, but he lifted his head, faced up. Bucky's eyes were rimmed red, but they were dry. He looked haunted. Shaking his head the smallest amount, he told you, "I… I can't… can't leave him…"

"Okay… Okay, yeah. Um…" You looked up and down the hallway, trying to think while your head was drowning in grief. "Alright, um… My van is downstairs, in the lot. Let's just… I don't know, get that far."

Bucky just starred at you. For one… two… three… "Yeah, okay," he agreed, standing.

He didn't say a word as he followed you into the elevator and down to the carpark. People tried to not stare as you walked by.

Arriving at your van, you opened the back and shoved some things out of the way, pulling the small mattress and pillows down from where they were propped up against the side. Turning to face Bucky, you read the confusion in his face.

"Oh, ah… I don't live in it… I just…" There was no point in sugar-coating at that point. "I spend half my time around sick kids, you know? I need somewhere to be when it gets too much. Somewhere to… cry or sleep for an hour or whatever."

Bucky looked from the van to you, gave you a small nod of acknowledgement.

"We can just stay here… for as long as you need…" you offered, feeling embarrassment swell in you, but it quickly gave way to the apathy summoned by abject grief.

If Bucky thought it was weird, he didn't say and you wouldn't have cared. He didn't though. He moved to sit where he could politely unlace his boots and nudge them under the van, then he scooted back onto the mattress, laid down. You crawled in after him, closing the doors behind you.

He'd returned to his state of seeming too big for his surroundings, curled up in the back of your van. When you laid down next to him, he looked over at you. "Thank you," he said, voice croaky.

As tears began to form in his eyes, you had the grace to pretend not to notice. "I think there's a blanket somewhere…" You sat up, looking over a box of costume fairy wings. Before you could locate the blanket, Bucky's arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you into him.

Your back was to his chest, his face buried somewhere between your neck and the pillow.

"I'll keep you warm," Bucky said, "Hold me closer." So, you did, putting your arms over his and threading your fingers between his. You didn't need to be kept warm, but he needed to hold onto something solid, someone living, breathing, real, and there. He needed you.

…

Usually, sleeping in the back of the van was fine. When a super soldier was taking up 80% of the space, however… different story. You lasted forty minutes before snaking your way out, jumping over the front bench seat to sit behind the wheel.

Bucky was definitely dead to the world. You could hear his heavy sleep-induced breathing. But, you couldn't just drive off with him in the back. That would pretty much be kidnapping an Avenger, right? You looked over the seat at Bucky. Waking him up seemed like an equally bad idea, both practically and morally speaking. He was so peaceful.

So, against your better judgement, you got out, grabbed his boots, and jumped back in, putting the key in the ignition and turning.

At every car horn, New York pedestrian, and sharp turn, you glanced over to see if he'd been startled awake. Alas, sleeping beauty. After about fifteen minutes of sitting on your phone when you'd arrived home, parked in the back lot of your apartment complex, you ran out of feeds to refresh. Leaving the car key close to Bucky, where he'd see it, you left him there, figuring he'd probably be able to defend himself if anyone tried to steal the van.

Hours later, close to midnight, you found yourself walking around your place, lost and teary. Pulling your nightgown on, you left your apartment and ventured outside. It was cold. That type of night time chill that only exists when you're at your most sad. Bone freezing. Visible breathing.

There was no reply when you knocked on the back door of the van. Opening it, you were startled by Bucky's upright frame. He was sitting awake, back to the interior wall.

"Buck?"

No reply.

You were a little scared. Unsure of what to do next.

"I… I thought you could use the sleep. We're at my place now…"

Still, nothing.

"Do you want to come inside?"

You chewed your lip for a second, waited, but he remained still. His super soldier body would be fine without food or water for a little while longer, you reasoned. And, he constantly radiated heat.

"I'm apartment 5C. Come up when you're ready."

He didn't look over as you closed the door and retreated back into the safety of your home. There, you cried. Grieved. Tried to sleep. You told yourself you would make him come inside in the morning.

…

The sun rose red over New York City. You'd left your blinds open all night; waking up to natural like was meant to be good for you. Sitting up, you stretched the last remnants of a restless sleep off your heavy body and stepped out of bed.

Maybe Bucky got himself in overnight. Crept in through an unlocked window. Used some sort of superhero technology to unlock the front door. He wasn't on the couch, though, or anywhere in the apartment.

Teeth brushed and coffee brewing, you once again donned the nightgown and headed outside.

At least he's lying down, you thought, opening the van door.

Bucky was back under the blanket. He was awake, the lines under his eyes deep set and sharing space with purple shadows.

"Come on," you said. "You can't stay here. People are gonna come looking for you."

Slowly, Bucky rolled his head to the side to look at you. Previously, he was staring at the van ceiling. "Steve knows," he told you, throwing his phone over. It landed on the blanket with a gentle thud.

You didn't pick it up.

Bucky continued, "Messaged him last night. Phone's dead now,"

"Um… okay… Well, you should still come inside. There's more room,"

"I'm fine."

It wasn't defiance as much as it was apathy. You wanted to say something. Anything. Be reassuring. But to be honest, you were surprised by his grief.

Surely, the Winter Solider knew loss. Surely, he'd mourned and learnt to cope.

No… No, this was different, you told yourself. The first child who passed away when you started working with the hospitals destroyed you. It took a month to even go back to the pediatric ward. Since then, you'd put things into perspective and learnt to process everything a bit better. Not as equipped as the doctors and nurses to do so, but able enough to survive the pain.

The pain. Entirely unique. Something Bucky hadn't felt before.

He really thought he'd felt all the types of bad there was to feel. He really thought he was no longer able to love. Besides Steve. And Sam. Wanda. Nat. Shuri… Okay, so he was kidding himself. Still. It fucking hurt.

…

Around lunch, you took Bucky some food. Around dinner, you found it untouched but replaced it anyway.

It was a Sunday night. In the morning you were expected over at the palliative care centre. Reading aloud to the patients helps.

At 5:30 am, you woke from a fever dream. After shoving the sheets in the apartment building's basement washer, you called the centre.

"Oh, no worries, Y/N," they told you. "Sally's bringin' her new puppy in today. That ought to bring some cheer to the place anyway."

Guilt alleviated only slightly, you trekked to the van.

At least he'd nibbled on dinner at some point.

"Bucky?"

It was dark still, the sun only just waking up. You could make out Bucky's form in amongst your stuff.

"You have to come inside today. I…" Guilt. Maybe a guilt trip would work. "I need my van for work…" It almost sounded like a question. "And, I'm sure you've got things you need to do…" No response. "Superhero stuff?"

A muffled snort, but nothing else.

…

"Any chance you can just leave him there?"

For a second, you thought Steve was joking. The silence at the end of the line said otherwise.

"Ah, I mean, it's been almost two days,"

"I can get a car sent over to you if-"

"No," you interrupted. "That's not it. I'm just… Is this normal?"

Steve sighed. "There's not a normal for us, Y/N. There's just… coping… day by day."

Holding in tears, you nodded to yourself. "Yeah, okay. I, ah, just wanted to check in. See if there's anything I should be doing,"

"I'd wager that you're already doing it… It means something that he's chosen to be near you. He could have run. He does sometimes. So, really, for him, this is… progress. He trusts you."

You're weren't sure what you'd done to deserve that.

"Thanks, Steve,"

"Anytime. Call anytime, Y/N."

When you'd phone Stark Tower looking for help, you didn't really expect to be taken seriously. As it turned out, they were waiting for your call.

…

To your relief, Bucky was sitting up when you opened the van doors around 5 pm. He watched in interest as you awkwardly climbed in, handing him the tray you were carrying so you could settle in next to him.

"Choc chip cookies and tea," you announced, not letting him give the tray back. "And I'm not leaving until you drink your cup and have at least two cookies."

Bucky looked down at the presentation in his lap. "Guess I can't argue with that."

You chewed your cookie slowly, making sure you'd not finish before him.

"Did you make these?"

"Yeah… I bake when I'm… Whatever," you replied.

He nodded, then took another bite.

"You called Steve?"

"How'd-"

Bucky shrugged. "Just figured you would. What'd he say?"

"Um… That you're okay here," you told him.

Bucky didn't reply, instead picked up his mug of tea and held it between his palms. The china softly chinked against his left hand.

You wanted to ask if he was indeed okay, but you weren't sure of what you'd be able to say if he lied. Or told the truth. Or anything in between.

When the tray was empty of food, you climbed out of the van, and half-heartedly asked if he was coming inside.

"I'm fine here," was his equally half-hearted reply.

Together, maybe, you could make a whole person, something functioning and able to cope better than either of you were doing alone.

Back inside your apartment, you ran out of plain flour and dishes to clean. All that was left to do was mourn.

…

It had been three nights and days since you'd arrived home from the hospital. Almost eighty hours of saying goodbye to Liam and telling yourself to be grateful that you knew him, and that you were able to help him laugh and find joy in his final few weeks. Hours of phone calls to friends, family, and your favourite nurses. Hours of standing at your apartment door, ready to march down to the van and pull Bucky out by his boots. Hours of it all.

Like all things though, good or bad, it was waning and you were beginning to see how you could survive.

You were sitting at the kitchen bench, practising your pipe cleaner and pom pom crown-making skills when there was a knock on the door. Glancing at your phone as you stood, you thought it was around dinner time. Probably next door, asking to borrow an egg. Or the old lady from down the hall that always made too much lasagne.

Without checking the peephole, you opened the door with your best polite smile ready.

Bucky.

The sight of him hit you, not like a tidal wave, but a waist-deep wave that knocks you back unexpectedly. You stumbled, had to refocus. Felt a little out of control.

Out of the mess of the back of the van, it was easier to see how utterly fucked he looked. His long hair was ratty, visibly knotted in parts. Expression strung out, he looked like he was in amphetamine withdrawal. His skin was too shiny, and his clothes were crumpled and damp in places.

Bucky went to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. He looked pained, then sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hoodie's arm.

Without any warning, you burst into tears.

Your hands went up to cup your mouth but it was too late. The sobs were heaving up from deep inside you, and Bucky was born with too much empathy to not be affected. Tears began to roll down his face.

And that was it. Any pretence or attempt to be stoic was entirely dissolved. You crumbled into each other.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and you pressed your head hard into his chest, almost pushing against him like you were trying to push the feelings out of yourself.

"I know," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

As his arms tightened around your body, you could feel how it was calming you. It was only a short term relief from the grief, but it was the very least Bucky could think to do. Holding you wasn't going to make anything better, but it made you both feel less alone.

Showers and fuzzy bed socks. Hot cocoa and trashy television. Sleeping close. Waking up together.

From the deep unwanted darkness of grief, something was determined to find a way to grow.

Tag list (open): @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter @bubbabarnes

(not sure if you want to be tagged in new fics @animegirlgeeky?)

#Bucky Barnes #Mine #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes imagine #Marvel fanfic #niks1kwritingchallenge

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welcometophu · 4 years ago

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Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 7

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 7

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Nate leaves early in the morning, waking Pels enough to let her know that the leftover scones would make a good breakfast, and telling her to feel free to make tea before she goes. When she wakes again two hours later, there’s a note on her pillow with the combination for the garage door so she can close it after she leaves, along with Nate’s phone number scribbled below.

It’s weird being in this house alone. She stays curled on the air mattress on Nate’s floor for a long while, listening, just in case his father came home and is upstairs, but there’s no noise. She wonders if Nate even told him she was here. Probably not. Pels wouldn’t have, if she were in his shoes.

She finally convinces herself to get out of bed and go shower, spotting the lavender bubble bath next to Nate’s shampoo. It smells good, and it’s almost tempting, but she decides to just borrow Nate’s toiletries and shower quickly instead. She leaves her hair wet after toweling off, knowing that no matter what she does, it’s going to curl around her face chaotically because that’s what it does.

Once she’s dressed and shoving her clothes from yesterday into the dirty laundry in her bag, she realizes Dad is sitting on Nate’s bed.

“You should clean up before you go.” He nods at where her phone is half-shoved under her backpack. “Someone’s been trying to get hold of you.”

“Be useful,” she says. “Fold the blankets. Put the rest in the laundry.” She crawls over to her phone and tugs the charger from the plug in the wall, shoving it into her pack so she doesn’t forget it, then unlocks the phone to see the group chat with Shane and Jess.

When do you want me to pick you up? Nate sent me the address but he said you were sleeping still. I was still sleeping when he sent it. Maybe you’re awake now too?

Jess had added a picture of herself with bedhead and Shane in the background spread-eagled across her bed still asleep. The time stamp is an hour ago for that first message, and there have been several since, mostly pictures.

We’re spending the day in the Quad because it’s nice and the cats really like being outdoors, whether they are actually cats at the moment or not. Ángel and Hayley put up with it because they love them. We put up with it because well, we’re hanging out with them.

Pels checks the time. I’m just cleaning up here. Lie, since Dad’s the one leaving a neatly folded pile of blankets on the bed, and taking the pillowcase off the pillow she used. You could probably come get me any time. I’ll go outside when I’m done and wait in the driveway.

Great! We’ll see you then! Can you text Nate and let him know we want a box of pastries and I can swing by Teas Please to pick it up? I think he already likes you better than me. He literally thanked me for letting him have you stay over.

Pels’s fingers go still against the keyboard.

“You’re smiling.” Dad kneels at the end of the air mattress. He pulls the plug and pushes on it, the air whooshing out.

“I have literally never had anyone say that someone likes me better than them.” Pels shakes her head, trying to let it go, even though the thought is spreading through her warmly. Sure, she types back.

She helps Dad get the air out of the mattress, and together they fold it up and put it back in the box where it lives under Nate’s bed. She sends the text off to Nate, and gets back an affirmative. Once she’s outside in the driveway, the garage door securely closed behind her, she sits with the phone cradled in her hand, staring at it and trying to formulate words.

Hey. I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday. I really appreciated having a place to stay, and I had fun watching movies.

She should send thank you notes when people do nice things, right?

That’s what friends are for! Nate sends back. And Mallory is giving me the evil eye for hiding in the kitchen to text, so I’d better get back to work. The box for Jess is at the hostess station. Please tell me you ate something for breakfast. I cannot possibly eat all that on my own.

Pels looks down at the crumbs on the driveway. I stole the last cranberry scone and the little tub of clotted cream and I took a cookie for later, she admits. I hope that’s okay.

Totally fine! Have fun today. Let me know if you need crash space again tonight, or if you’re going to sleep at Jess’s, okay?

Right, there’s a question Pels isn’t sure she’s ready to answer. Okay, she sends back.

Logically, it’d be easier to stay in Jess’s room. She lives on campus. Pels could just walk over to the dorm any time when her access will be active again. Emotionally it’d be easier to stay at Nate’s. He made everything seem so effortless. It was kind of nice.

“Is last night what normal people feel like?” she asks, and Dad laughs. It’s such a strange sound that she looks at him, her brow furrowed.

“Last night is what you deserve to have normally,” he replies. “By the way, Jess is almost here.”

Pels shoulders her backpack and brushes crumbs from her shirt. By the time the car comes into view, she’s at the end of the driveway, bag in hand. The trunk pops open as Jess pulls up in her small sedan, all of her windows rolled down.

“Go ahead and toss your stuff in the trunk,” Jess directs, so Pels does so before climbing into the passenger seat.

It’s a newer car than Nate’s, and she’s able to adjust the seatbelt so it’s less likely to choke her, although it sticks and takes a few tries to get it properly buckled. Jess reaches over to help, and Pels draws back so abruptly that Jess stops dead.

“I’ve got it,” Pels says. There’s a sharp note in her voice, and Jess visibly deflates, leaving Pels wincing on the inside. “I mean. I just don’t want—”

“I get it.” Jess focuses on getting the car moving. “Boundaries. This is still weird.”

“I still don’t know why you have a crush on me,” Pels tries to explain. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“And you don’t actually like me at all,” Jess counters. “I get it, Pels.”

“It’s not—I don’t—” This is more like her usual life, floundering for words and wondering why Dad doesn’t pipe up now to try to help. He’s more than happy to push her into things, but less likely to provide words when she can’t find them. Pels crosses her arm, trying to make herself even smaller than she already is. “I don’t not like you,” she mutters. “I just don’t want to be forced to like you. There’s a difference.”

Jess’s grip on the steering wheel eases, and this time when she says, “I get it,” it sounds less resentful, and more understanding. “I can’t really understand why I have a crush on you either, if that helps. There’s just something about—I saw you and I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to get inside that wall you’ve got up all the time, and now it feels like you’ve built that wall even higher, but you’re peeking over it at the same time.”

“Sounds about right,” Pels admits. “I’m not good at this. Some people make it seem easy, but it’s not for me.”

“It’s okay.” Jess lifts one hand from the steering wheel, reaching towards Pels like she might pat her before Pels pulls away and Jess is left hovering there for a long moment. Jess carefully puts her hand back on the wheel and doesn’t say anything while she navigates to Teas Please.

There’s a short discussion while Pels gets out her wallet and insists on paying for the box Jess ordered. In the end Pels wins, because Jess stays in the car while Pels runs in to give Jess’s name to the girl standing at the hostess station.

It’s a tiny victory, but it feels like she did the right thing.

Jess takes Pels up to Ángel’s room instead of her own, so she can leave her things someplace safe before they head out to the big lawn between several dorms that makes up the Quad. There are several groups out there already, and a pickup game of frisbee at one end of the Quad. Jess heads to where Hayley is reclining on a blanket, leaning up one elbow talking to a tall boy who seems even more lanky in person. Hayley waves and the boy rolls over, coming to his feet before Pels gets there.

He takes the box from her, opening it up and grinning. “This looks great.” His smile is charming, and Pels feels like people must swoon when they see it. “Hi, Pels. I’m Luca.” He pokes through the box, his smile falling away. “No cannoli?”

“Cannoli tonight,” Hayley says. She lies back on the blanket now, her head pillowed on bent arms. “We’re going to order in from Minnisale’s and you can see how good our Italian is up here.”

Luca huffs. “Won’t be anything like the real thing we’ve got back home.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Jess tells him. “There’s a huge Italian community here, and Minnisale’s is one of the best. Third generation is running it now.”

Luca’s expression eases, like he might be appeased. “I suppose.”

“Where’s Shane?” Her voice sounds too loud, and Pels isn’t sure how to interpret the look Jess gives her when she speaks. “I mean—” Pels could try to explain, but that’ll probably just dig whatever hole she’s in deeper. “I just thought there were going to be more people.”

“For you to avoid,” Dad finishes the thought in an all too on-the-nose way.

“Shane and Ángel went to grab lunch to go with the breakfast you brought, and Tanner and Tony are picking up some drinks from the coffee place Ángel took Tony to earlier this week, because Tony really liked it.” Hayley pats the blanket next to her, on the side where Luca wasn’t lying just a few minutes ago. “C’mere, Pels. I don’t bite. I mean, neither do they, and I do spark a little bit, but it’s okay. We’ve been seeing you around for a while. It’s cool that you’re hanging out with us.”

Pels gives Luca a wary look as she slowly sits next to Hayley. Jess sits nearby, but with the box between them, which gives Pels a buffer zone. Pels isn’t really hungry for more sugar, so she ignores the box and lets the others find their own treats.

“Here.” Jess holds out a paper-wrapped something with “Pels” written on it in bold marker. “I think this one is for you.”

Pels takes it carefully, avoiding Jess’s fingers. “Thank you,” she mutters, half to Jess and half to Dad for not pushing her and forcing things she wasn’t ready for. As she unwraps it, she smells the bacon first, peanut butter second, and the sharp scent of cranberries third. Her mouth waters and she takes a huge bite, making a small pleased noise around it.

Hayley sits up to peer closely at the sandwich. “Is that—?”

Pels nods. “Peanut butter, bacon, and cranberries. And it’s so good. Mallory gave it to Nate last night and I wished I’d eaten the whole thing and we hadn’t shared it. He must’ve had her make one for me today.” Which is possibly one of the kindest things she can think of. “Jesus, he is so nice.”

“Nate’s a good guy, that’s why we figured he’d help out last night.” Jess is staring down at the muffin in her hands, and Pels has a small twist of guilt in her stomach. She must have done something wrong for Jess to look so down.

Who is she kidding? Of course she did something wrong. She has no idea what she’s even doing in the first place.

“Jess, I—”

“Make room!” Ángel’s calls out.

They must have met up, because all four of them are returning at the same time. Tony carries a large cardboard box, while Shane has a thermos swinging from one hand, while he leans on his cane with the other. Ángel leads with a covered platter, and Tanner brings up the rear with two paper bags.

Pels isn’t sure where she’s supposed to go, so she simply pulls her knees up, hunching over to see how small she can become in the corner while still protecting her sandwich. She’s half done eating it by the time everyone sorts themselves out in a circle around the edges of the blankets, with food laid out in the middle.

It’s a lot of food.

Luca, Tanner, and Tony tuck in and make a lot of it disappear frighteningly fast.

Somehow Pels ends up between Tony and Hayley, while Jess settles on the other side of the blanket, next to Shane. Pels is incredibly aware of the distance between them, and the way it feels deliberate. She can’t tell if Jess is giving her space or avoiding her, or a little of each.

Shane reaches for a scone, and stops halfway there with a wince. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I think I overdid it.”

“Can I help?” Jess pats his shoulder, then gives him a small shove until he lies down. She immediately reaches for his hip, digging her fingers into the top of his thigh, just below his hip. Shane closes his eyes with a groan, and Jess pauses to pat him reassuringly before continuing.

“That’s friendship,” Dad murmurs.

Pels ignores him, licking the remains of the cranberry and peanut butter off her fingers.

“Is it permanent?” Tanner asks. He waves a hand at Shane. “You said you broke it in January. Shouldn’t it be better?”

“It was a bad break to start,” Shane says, still lying on his side with one hand over his face. “Chances are I’m stuck with a limp this time around. It’s not the first time.”

“Not your first limp?” Tanner asks, confused when Hayley thwacks him across the chest.

“Not my first lingering injury.”

“If it weren’t for bad luck, Shane wouldn’t have any,” Jess says quietly, her fingers pressing with sure motions into his muscles. “Rory figured out it’s his innate Talent—it’s all about Chaos. But he’s been injured before.”

“I don’t heal fast. And I’m accident prone.” Shane bats at her hand as he rolls to sit up. “I’m good. Thanks. My parents are both Talented, so I was raised in the community. We’ve always seen Healers when we’ve had to, and one was involved this time, even though I needed surgery in the end, too. It’s just something else to get used to. And maybe I’ll get a cool cane eventually.”

“You could probably convince one of the martial arts clubs to teach you how to fight with it,” Ángel suggests.

“And that would be cool.” Shane uses his cane to poke at Ángel from across the circle. “I could defend myself.”

“Am I the only person here who isn’t Talented?” Jess asks.

Tanner raises his hand. “I’ve only been Talented since last weekend, so—I can relate.”

“Besides, you’re a farm girl, which is an entirely different kind of superhero,” Shane points out. “I’m pretty sure you could bench press me if you wanted.”

“Not you.” Jess shakes her head. “Pels, definitely. Hayley maybe.”

“Anyone could bench press Pels, she’s tiny,” Tanner says quickly. “I could probably do it.”

Pels’s eyes go wide, because she has a horrible feeling someone might try. She goes to scoot backwards, but Dad’s there, keeping her firmly within the circle. “Please don’t,” she says.

Tony makes a low noise, almost like a growl under his breath; everyone else goes silent. “No one’s going to do anything you don’t want,” he assures her. “They’re all extroverts. Just ignore them.”

For some reason that makes her snicker, and Tony looks surprised, then pleased by her smile. He leans over to speak quietly, while the rest of the conversation wanders off into something else involving Tanner and Luca shouting, while Shane laughs.

“I didn’t want it,” he says quietly. He’s speaking to her, she’s sure of it the way he leans close and keeps his voice low, but his gaze is fixed on Ángel. “I couldn’t trust magic. I couldn’t even trust my own nose. Then he barged into my life, and this happened.” Tony holds out his hand, wrist exposed.

There is so much ink there. The phases of the moon dance in a line down the inside of his arm, and at the wrist are two vivid angel’s wings, wrapping around him.

“Is that all…?”

“Just the wings.” Tony pulls his arm back from her view. “I heard you’ve got one.”

Pels offers her own arm cautiously, wincing slightly when he takes it and touches the mark with his thumb. “It’s kind of a mess,” she says.

“Mm.” Tony’s gaze remains on Ángel. “I haven’t met Rory or Kit, but I’ve heard about them. They seem happy. I know Hayley’s happy with Tanner, and well, Luca—he’s called Tanner’s cat. I thought I had what I was supposed to have before this, even if I wasn’t happy with it. I couldn’t figure out how to change my life, and when I was offered something good, I almost didn’t take it, because I didn’t trust it. I’m glad I did.”

Across the way, Ángel smiles, and Pels wonders if he overheard their quiet conversation. Then Tanner tackles Ángel, knocking him into Shane, and they all go down in a pile before Tanner and Luca emerge as large cats instead.

“How did you know?” Pels makes a face. “I just mean—it’s all so complicated. I’m not good at this. I don’t even know you and talking to you about this feels weird, and then there they are and I don’t know them either. And I’m not ready to cement this whatever it is and get locked into some kind of life that I’m not ready for.”

“I didn’t know Ángel, either. My family adopted him, and I got to know him, despite myself. Give it a chance.” Tony’s gaze flicks at Jess and Shane. “Give them a chance.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Pels grumbles.

“Maybe because it’s true,” Dad says. “He has a point.”

“I’m not saying you should start planning a wedding, but give yourself time to figure it out,” Tony suggests. “Don’t hold back because you’re afraid. You deserve good things just as much as they do.”

“I’m not a good thing for them,” Pels says quietly.

Tony just looks at her, and when she blinks, there’s a cat there instead. The cat—Tony—head butts her knee, then meows loudly before jumping into the fray where Tanner and Luca are playing with Ángel and Shane.

He’s so serious when talking, but she can feel the joy in his actions now.

Dad gets up and moves quickly, sitting next to her and somehow taking up space before Jess sits down, even though Jess can’t see him. Pels exhales, even if Dad makes it harder to look Jess in the eye.

“If the afternoon goes anything like the rest of the week, we have now devolved into kitty play time,” Jess says with a soft laugh. “How are you at frisbee?”

Pels touches her finger to her own chest.

“Yes, you.” Jess pushes to her feet, momentarily holding out a hand before withdrawing it quickly and wiping it against her jeans. “It’s frisbee. There’s no accidental touching involved.” Jess waves the frisbee, and Pels follows, Dad trailing after her.

“You can help,” she mutters. “Make them think I’m some kind of miracle worker. They already think I’m Telekinetic. I think.”

Dad claps his hands together, rubbing them quickly. “I never thought I’d hear you actually ask for for help.”

As Jess starts to pull away, leaving Pels so she can move far enough away to throw a frisbee, Pels calls out, “Wait.”

Jess turns back, the frisbee held in one hand. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Pels doesn’t know how to do this, or what to say to make it right. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess about this. I’m sorry if I don’t seem grateful for your help. And I’m really sorry that I’m terrified of touching you right now. It’s not—it’s not you. It’s just everything. To be honest, I’m not so sure about touching Shane, either, and I’ve already landed in his lap. I’m just not good at this. Any of it. And it kind of freaks me out completely just how okay with it everyone else is.”

Jess is silent for so long that Pels is sure she’s made a mess of things. She’s said the wrong thing. She always says the wrong thing.

She almost misses it when Jess tosses the frisbee at her fast, and the frisbee dips before it reaches Pels. She starts to reach for it, but Dad gets under it, popping it up so Pels can grab at it awkwardly. Her fingers close over the plastic rim, her foot sliding on the grass as she regains her balance.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Jess says quietly. “I’d be surprised if you’re not. I mean, I’m the only one getting my wish here, right? Shane’s used to chaos because that’s what his entire life has been. I’m used to things working out, because I’m the mathematician—I figure out how to make things balance. And you, you’re not used to people, I guess, so you’re nervous. But I really hope you’ll give us a chance. Just get to know us. It’s okay if it doesn’t get romantic. I mean, I don’t even know if you like girls. But maybe that mark means we can be friends, and I’d be happy to be your friend if that’s how it works out. Are you okay with that?”

Jess makes it sound easy, but she also sounds like she’s giving Pels a way out.

“You could give her a chance.”

Pels stares at Dad, stares at him hard and wills for him to hear her inside voice, so she doesn’t have to go as far as making it an outside voice.

He just stares back, which means she has to choose her words carefully.

“As long as no one pushes me into anything,” she says, her gaze still resting on Dad. She finally looks up to see Jess sprinting as far as the nearest tree.

Jess waves. “No one’s going to push you into anything,” she calls out. “Just throw me the frisbee.”

Dad is suspiciously silent, but Pels can’t afford to say anything again, not with everyone listening. She exhales and tries to relax, loosening her grip on the plastic. It’s just frisbee.

She turns her body, swings her arm before she releases the disk. It goes high in the air, wobbling before it drops straight down. Jess dives for it, sliding across the grass and laughing as she misses it, despite the fresh stains on her jeans.

When Jess sends it flying back to her, Dad pushes her so she crosses paths with the frisbee, stumbling when it thunks her hard in the chest. Pels drops to her knees, rubbing at the ache.

It’s just frisbee, but she really hopes it isn’t also a metaphor for anything else right now.

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cheetahsprints · 5 years ago

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Title: Fresh Flowers

Prompt: April Showers

Summary: Amy gets the opportunity to grow closer to her crush.

Words: 1400

Rain is relentlessly pounding the window. Amy groans and holds a pillow over her head. She’s totally bored. It’s the weekend, she should be bouncing off the walls with no college courses to attend. She’s run out of steam with possible binge watches and all of her usual friends have something else going on. Specifically, her often reliable roommate is off at some NASA nerd convention with her buff girlfriend. What Amy wouldn’t give to have a significant other to smother her.

Amy doesn’t blame any of them. Their lives don’t revolve around her. She had her chance of course, maybe, but she wimped out. She stuffs her hand in her pocket and pulls the crumpled note. She was supposed to pass it in class.

To Dot: Wanna Hang?

It could be a date or whatever

No pressure

Yes | No | Just friends

-Love, Amy

She rubs her eyelids with the heels of her hands and groans again. She flinches when a light thunderclap is accompanied by the sound of something crashing into the door. A swift series of knocks shortly follows. She flops on her belly, not caring how it squishes her in awkward places. She doesn’t have the mental energy to drag herself from the bed.

“Come in, weirdo, it’s unlocked.”

“Er - are you sure? Perline told me you were here, but - but I don’t need to come in,” a nasally, nervous voice answers that she would easily recognize in a crowd.

Her eyes widen. Immediately, her heart races, her mouth dries up, and her palms sweat. She has it bad. Her despicable roommate knows this and sent her here just to torture her. She clears her throat, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Why did she say that? Why couldn’t she tell Dot she has a cold or something? She has no idea what to do once she’s inside. She buries her face in her pillow and waits. She’s surprised when the bed frame squeaks. She moves the pillow to take a peek. Dot is kneeling on the bed, violently shaking. Her green-tinted glasses are askew. Amy squints. Her hair and clothes look damp, as though she ran straight here through the rain. Wait no, she has a motorized scooter thingy. Somehow, that seems worse.

Through chattering teeth, Dot explains, “My roommate went on a camping trip!”

“And?”

“She usually plays her tambourine really loud to soothe me during thunderstorms,” Dot says in a rush. “I know I sound like a baby, but I don't know what to do! I need comfort!”

Awww, she’s like a scared kitten. Amy decidedly does not remark on that out loud. It would probably seem patronizing at the moment. She searches for a response - a reasonable and rational way to handle the situation that’s been thrust upon her.

“Uhh…” Instead she blurts, “Wanna cuddle or some junk?”

“Yes!”

Dot puts her arms forward, making grabby hands. Well, that’s unexpected. Amy takes a deep breath. She doesn’t need to get further ahead of herself. She softly says, “Should get you out of those wet clothes first - er - that is haha, you should change. I have something you can borrow.”

Amy digs through her drawers for clothes to fit Dot’s short, slight frame that won’t look completely ridiculous. Once found, she raises them in the air like a flag with a noise of accomplishment. Just then, there’s another clap of thunder. Dot squeaks and falls to the floor in a pile of limbs. Oh boy. Amy makes to show her to the bathroom, but Dot promptly rips the clothes from her hands and starts undressing.

Amy covers her eyes and throws herself back on the bed. Oh hell. She’s soon graced with Dot wriggling underneath the covers beside her. This doesn’t have to be weird or awkward, Amy tells herself. She can be a friend, and that’s fine, great in fact. An odd mixture of fresh flowers and citrus suffuses their space, and it takes willpower to keep her breathing steady.

“Hi.”

“Hey there… you.”

Dot whimpers. Taking her cue, Amy wraps her in arms and blankets alike. “There, there, I’ve got you. You’re safe from the big, bad storm.”

Dot sniffs. “Thank you. I know the science behind storms, that it’s not going to hurt me… but I hate this season! The allergies! All the rain and storms! I was so disturbed I ran headfirst into your door!”

Amy listens closely to keep up with Dot’s distressed, rapid fire speech. It’s more attention than she ever pays in class. “So that’s what that noise was.”

“Sorry. For that and… and this. You barely know me but…”

Amy rubs her back and hopes that Dot can’t tell she’s blushing. “It’s okay. Really.”

It’s mostly silent with the background noise of the storm. Ironically, the thunder seems to have ceased. Amy isn’t eager to give this up though, and luckily, Dot doesn’t seem keen on that either. Dot nuzzles the shoulder of her hoodie and makes a contented noise in the back of her throat. There’s the crinkling sound of paper that takes a moment for Amy to notice above the rain hitting the glass and pavement.

“Ooh what’s this? Lovey dovey notes to your special friend?”

“Actually I’m single - wait what?”

Dot extracts herself, somehow ending up with her bare feet at the head of the bed while she flops onto her back. She raises her arms toward the ceiling, clasping a small note. Amy freezes. She must have left it under the blanket and not returned it to her pocket! She attempts to snatch it, but she has to dodge Dot’s foot almost nailing her in the face. Amy squeezes her eyes shut as Dot reads it aloud to herself.

She finishes with - “Oh. Um.”

Amy clenches her teeth. “Sorry I. I was going to - but I - it’s stupid.”

Dot brings it to her chest and bites her lip. She looks at Amy with eyes wide as saucers. It reminds her of Perl’s godson’s obnoxious cat Lion when he watches birds. Also, Amy curses that Dot is so adorable it makes her stomach do somersaults.

“Can I have a marker?”

Amy swallows and nearly chokes on nothing. She doesn’t dare speak. Instead she trudges across the carpet. She rummages through Perl’s desk - she’ll get yelled at for it later, but she’s used to that - and grabs the utensil. She offers it to Dot, then crawls to the headboard. She sits with her arms around her legs staring at the Netflix home screen still displayed on the television. She wants to sink through the pillow and hide in pillowland forever.

There’s the noise of a scribbling marker. Amy doesn’t look, can’t look. Then there’s a soft bap as the note is shoved against her chest just below the collarbone. Dot has her head turned, a few hairs loosening and falling into her eyes. Their fingers brush when Amy takes the note back. Dot’s fingers are still a little cold, somehow, but that isn’t the cause of Amy’s slight shudder.

To Dot: Wanna Hang?

It could be a date or whatever

No pressure

[Yes] | No | Just friends

-Love, Amy

P.S. YOU’RE SO COOL

SINCERELY, DOROTHY P. W.

She lowers the paper to see the lovely sight of Dot grinning ear to ear, her hands folded under her chin. Amy’s heart is pumping so hard, and she wonders if it’s the same for Dot. Chuckling happily, she lunges and embraces Dot. She giggles into Amy’s neck. The rain slows to stop. Dot lifts her head. Amy can’t resist tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. The brightness she feels inside makes Amy feel like they’re snuggling in a field of sunflowers rather than her half messy half neat apartment after a rainstorm.

“The storm is probably over… is it okay if I stay here for a little while anyway?”

“Sure! But don’t touch Perl’s stuff or she’ll spray the whole place with lysol. Ugh, it makes me sneeze.”

Dot grasps her nose and gives it a wiggle. “No problem, I won’t be nosy!”

There’s a round of jokes and laughter. Eventually, they find out Dot hasn’t seen a series that Amy loves - Magnetic Peaks, about siblings and puzzles. She can’t wait for Dot to be shocked by the reveal of the clone. The series is thrown into another exciting light to be shared with someone new.

#amedot #amedotweek #su #steven universe #romantic amedot #su fic #humanized au #humanized names #astraphobia /

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years ago

Text

Valentine’s Days

Title: Valentine’s Day

Summary: Stevie is the queen of gift-giving. Duff doesn't think he'll be able to compete.

Warnings: None

AN: This is an It’s So Easy one shot, so it’s Fem!Steven. Thanks to @that-kiss-bitch for helping me out!

“Babe, why are we up so early?” Duff groaned as Stevie drove them towards something that she was bouncing with excitement about.

“Something special, and we can’t be late,” She told him. “You’ll love it. Trust me.”

“The last time you said that, we ended up glammed out at a Motley Crue party,” Duff laughed. Stevie just smiled and pulled up at a recording studio. “Babe, it’s Valentine’s Day. We’re not working.”

“This isn’t for work,” She told him. “Come on.” She got out of the car and dragged Duff into the building. Stevie talked to the receptionist, who smiled and directed them to the elevator.

“Is this a Misery thing?” Duff asked with a laugh. “Or some other weird psychological thing?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you borrow Ash’s Stephen King books,” She laughed. “You’ll love this. I just know it.” The elevator doors opened and they headed towards a recording studio.

And the person inside made Duff’s jaw drop. Because inside the studio was Prince.

“Oh my god,” Duff’s eyes were wide. Stevie smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s honey,” Stevie smiled. “I’m gonna wait out here. You have a jam session to go to.” In a daze, Duff made his way into the studio to play with Prince.

“Oh my god,” Duff just stared at the other musician, who laughed.

“It’s great to meet you,” Prince shook his hand. “I really like your work with Guns n’ Roses. And that solo album was pretty raw. I like it.”

“I had your poster on my wall!” Duff told him, making the other musician laugh. “I can’t believe I just said that…”

“Your wife went through a lot of trouble to book this,” Prince told him. “She’s very convincing. She’s a keeper.” Duff looked out of the window to where Stevie was talking with a sound guy.

“That she is,” Duff nodded. He turned back to Prince and they started their jam session, but in the back of Duff’s mind, he was thinking about how poor his gift to her was in comparison.

****

“So, did you have fun?” Stevie asked when they got back to the car.

“Babe, that was amazing. Thank you,” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “I never would’ve guessed that’s what we were coming here for.”

“I’m the queen of gift giving. Especially since we have money,” She laughed. Duff kept smiling, but he was trying to think of what he could do at the last minute to make her gift over the top. He had found a copy of Kiss Destroyer and it had been signed by Gene, Paul, and Ace. He knew she would love it when he gave it to her at dinner that night, but it just felt lacking compared to what she had done for him.

They headed back home, where Stevie went to take a shower and Duff tried to think of something, but nothing was coming to mind. Especially at the last minute.

They got ready for dinner. They had reservations at a nice restaurant that normally wasn’t their scene, but it was a special day. Stevie had on the most beautiful black dress and Duff had to fight the urge to miss their reservation. But they headed to the restaurant and found their seats. Duff had the gift bag with Stevie’s record in it, but he was trying to think of the best time to give it to her.

“I’ll be right back,” Duff told her, excusing himself to the restroom. With a groan, he leaned against the counter and closed his eyes.

“Dinner that great?” A voice asked.

“I’m just a failure at gift giving,” Duff sighed, not even looking up. “She got me an awesome jam session with Prince, and all I got her was a Kiss album…”

“Well, I’m no expert, but if she’d wanna meet a member of Kiss, I’m game,” The man told Duff. Duff looked up and his eyes widened.

Because Peter Criss was right there.

“Dude, she loves you!” Duff told him. “She’s a drummer and she always loved the Catman! And the album I got her is signed by everyone but you!” Peter chuckled.

“Well, maybe I happen to have a marker and I can give her the final autograph,” Peter smirked. “She digs the Catman huh?”

“Yeah,” Duff laughed a little. “A couple Halloween’s ago, we dressed up with a couple of our friends. Tommy and Nikki were Paul and Gene, I was Ace, and she begged us to be you.”

“That sounds like a sight to see,” Peter shook his head. “Come on. I’d love to meet the little lady. It’s Stevie Adler, right?”

“Yeah,” Duff nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Uh, you realize you’re famous, right?” Peter asked. “And they say I’m dense.”

“Right…” Duff sighed. The two of them left the bathroom and headed back to the table, where Stevie was sitting there, waiting. “Hey babe, so, I have a two-part gift for you.”

“Duff, you didn’t have to…” Her mouth dropped when Peter pulled up a chair at the table.

“Have you met Peter Criss?” Duff asked.

“Pleasure to meet you Stevie,” Peter kissed her hand. “I’ve heard you’re a fan.”

“I...Catman…” Stevie kept staring.

“So, the other part is I got this,” Duff handed her the bag. She took out the album, her eyes widening. “And Peter said he’d sign it, since he’s the only one missing.

“Oh my god, would you?” Stevie asked.

“Let me see it sweetheart,” Peter took the album and a marker from his pocket, scribbling his name over his image. “There you are.” He handed it back to her, letting her stare at it.

“T-thank you!” Stevie’s cheeks were red.

“Anytime,” He winked at her. “I’m going to let you two enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you around.” He got up and waved bye to them. Stevie looked up at Duff with a big smile on her face.

“Thank you!” She all but squealed. Duff chuckled.

“Anything for you babe,” He told her, kissing her hand. “Because if you’re the queen of gift-giving, well, I’m the king.”

Forever Tags: @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme @marvelismylifffe @mrslogansixxpixx

Guns n Roses Tags: @duffshairdye @slashscowboyboots @hauntedapricoteggsclam @bitter-13-suite @arianareirg @lucyboytom @ozzy-dumbass-of-darkness @julessworldd @solopadawan @stradlin-cold-heartbeaker @catsandacoffee

It’s So Easy Tags: @str4nge-haze @viralwolf02 @overlyobsessedfangirl

#it's so easy and other lies #duff mckagan #steven adler #guns n roses #duff mckagan x steven adler #fanfiction

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hermannsthumb · 5 years ago

Note

If your'e still taking prompts the one from the halloween list: "we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to to the party so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression of me is on point and you know me better than you know myself are you sure you’re not in love with me??" seems like such a good newmann one. love your writing :)

from list of halloween prompts here

this one is literally so fucking good for them. god. GOD. theres like the tiniest bit alluded to not sfw in the beginning (after the making out) but after that its fair game

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

“Ngh,” Newt says. “Keep doing that.”

“Hmm?” Hermann says. He drags his mouth up from Newt’s collarbone, eyes dark, pupils wide, mouth curled into a lazy smile. Almost coquettish.

Newt blinks down at him blearily. And with a little poorly-concealed irritation. “I said keep doing that,” he says. “Not stop doing that.” He gives Hermann’s head a nudge. A tiny gentle one. He’s eager, he can’t help it; Hermann always gets him all eager and hot and bothered. He doesn’t think he’ll mind. “C’mon, baby, c’mon--”

It’s a mistake. Hermann minds: his demeanor changes in an instant, like Newt flipped a light switch that was clearly labeled with a do not touch! in masking tape and Sharpie. (Shit, Newt thinks.) “Don’t,” Hermann snaps, and swats at Newt. “You know I can’t stand it when you pull--”

“I’m not pulling your hair!” Newt says. He drops his hand away and holds it high above his own head just to make his point. “I swear. I was just trying--”

Hermann rolls off of him and onto his back, huffing, arms folding across his bare chest. Lacking any better ideas, Newt follows him. “Aw, Hermann,” he says, “don’t be like that.” He presses kisses to Hermann’s jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to--”

“Unhand me at once,” Hermann mumbles. Newt kisses his cheeks, his mouth. Hermann kisses back. His hand slides up to cup the back of Newt’s neck. “Wretched little man,” he continues to mumble. “Ah.”

“There we go, Hermann,” Newt says, grinning against his lips, and adds, sarcastically (because it always makes Hermann laugh), with a little nip of teeth, “There’s my Hermy-wermy.”

Hermann makes a face. “You know I can’t stand that either.”

“Really?” Newt murmurs. He tiptoes his hand down Hermann’s chest, down to the waistband of his ugly slacks, the open zipper; his grin spreads wider. “Because I think,” he starts to tug Hermann’s slacks down, “your hermy-wermy would say otherw--”

There’s a knock at the door.

Mood ruined, and all of Newt’s hard work getting Hermann game to go again ruined, too, Newt slides his hand back to safe territory and lets out a colorful stream of profanity. Hermann wrinkles his nose beneath him. Whatever, he curses just as much as Newt. “Fuck,” Newt finishes. “Who the hell is that?”

Hermann pushes him off and sits up with a grunt. “We’ve probably got a damned laboratory meeting we forgot about,” he says, “because someone couldn’t keep it in his Hot Topic skinny jeans long enough to wait until we clocked out for the night.”

“They’re not from Hot Topic,” Newt says. He pauses. “How do you even know what Hot Topic is, anyway?”

“I’ve seen the label on them,” Hermann says. There’s another knock. Hermann sighs, and makes to slip out of bed. “If you won’t get it, Newton, I will.”

Newt drags him back down quickly. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “Get back here! You are not answering my door looking like--” He plucks at the elastic of Hermann’s tighty-whiteys peeking out, pokes at the hickey purpling on his neck. “--this. Or at all, actually, how suspicious would that look? This is my bedroom.”

“We’re colleagues,” Hermann says with a sniff. “It’s perfectly natural for us to--er--consort. Outside of work. For all they know we’re talking about work.”

“In our underwear?” Newt says, and points out, “It’s not really natural for colleagues to screw each other as much as we do.”

Hermann flushes. “No one would be able to tell--”

To be completely honest, Newt really, really doesn’t care whether or not people know he and Hermann are--uh--rivals with benefits, but Hermann is always so weird about privacy, and Newt supposes it’s a little bit of a cliche to sleep with a co-worker, so he takes one for the team. “Jesus, Hermann, I’ll get the door,” he says. He swings his legs to the floor and does his jeans back up, then grabs the first shirt he can find and pulls that on too. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Newt learns two things in the course of squeezing his head out the door and talking to a mildly intoxicated LOCCENT worker: one, that the guy was sent by Tendo to remind them about the super awesome spectacular Halloween party going on down the hallway right his second, and two, that Newt and Hermann were invited to this Halloween party, apparently agreed enthusiastically to coming to it a week ago, and if Newt doesn’t find Hermann and show up with him in ten minutes, Tendo is totally never speaking to them or inviting them to another awesome party ever again. Newt learns a third thing once he and Hermann toss on the rest of their clothing, smooth out their hair a little, and hurry down the hallway to where the party is being held within those allotted ten minutes: he’s accidentally put on Hermann’s shirt. A fourth: Hermann’s accidentally put on his.

Before Hermann can waltz in through the door and raise questions (because his buttons are straining obviously under his low-cut button-up sweatervest, kaiju blood stains a spot just under the lapel, and Newt’s swimming in Hermann’s sleeves and has got a fucking pocket protector in), Newt drags him off to the side and shoves him against a deserted wall to explain their predicament.

“We have to change,” Hermann declares immediately. “We can’t be seen--”

“No, look,” Newt says. He’s quickly formulating a plan. They won’t be able to swap pants, obviously, but-- “Take off your blazer and sweater.”

Hermann frowns. He tucks his blazer tighter around himself. “No,” he says.

“Take them off, jackass!” Newt orders, ripping his own tie off from around his head and starting to kick off his boots. “And your shoes. Look, it’s a Halloween party, right? People dress up for Halloween parties. Let’s just say we’re going as each other, everyone will get a huge kick out of it, no one finds out we’re, you know.” He adjusts his left index finger and thumb into a small circle, and pokes his right index finger through it a few times with bonus sound effects. “Rendezvousing. Platonically. Your public image is saved.”

“No,” Hermann repeats, though he flushes. “I am not wearing your disgusting boots.”

Patience running very, very thin, Newt corners him closer against the wall. Not very successfully: Hermann does, after all, have several inches on him. Newt has to glare up at him. “So help me God, Hermann,” he says through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me your blazer right now, you can find some other horny bozo to--”

“Fine!” Hermann says quickly. He yanks the skinny tie from Newt’s hands. “If you spill anything on--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

After a hurried exchange of accessories which leaves Newt looking like an exceptionally short and baggy Hermann, and Hermann like Newt if he wore contacts and enjoyed attacking his hair with scissors, they waltz into the party together. Newt’s actually pretty pleased with how their costumes turned out, all things considered--Hermann even consented to having Newt draw shitty approximations of his tattoos on Hermann’s arms with a marker they found in Hermann’s pocket.

Everyone at the party gets a total kick out of it, too, which is the best part--especially when Newt decides to toss in some quality Hermann Impressions.

“Newton,” he grumbles, poshly, hands on his hips, "quiet down right this instant.” That gets a few laughs. “You know I can’t stand it when you have fun.”

More laughs; Hermann, nursing a drink, looks only the vaguest bit amused. “Very funny,” he says. “My turn, now.” He shrinks in on himself in a way that makes him look just a bit shorter, and clears his throat: the voice that comes out next is so high-pitched, so scratchy, so fast, so--uncomfortably Newt that Newt nearly drops his own drink in shock. Especially once Hermann tosses in equally uncomfortably Newt hand gestures. “I’m going to do something ill-advised and dangerous to prove I’m right and give Hermann a stroke,” he declares. “Don’t you just love kaiju? They’re so cool.”

“I’ve never said I loved kaiju,” Newt says, but he’s grinning.

“They’re so cool,” Hermann repeats. “Do you like my tattoos? You know I have a Doctor Who one on my--?”

“Dude!” Newt hisses. He was eighteen, okay? Anyway, that’s not the kind of private, personal information that Hermann should be sharing if he wants to even remotely pretend they don’t get up to hijinks in the lab after hours.

“Dude!” Hermann echoes, perfectly.

The little crowd of their co-workers laugh. (Louder laughs than any of Newt’s impressions got.) Newt laughs, too, despite his embarrassment. And despite something beyond embarrassment, something he can’t quite put his finger on--it’s making his heart race, his palms sweat. Hermann sure must, well, know him to get him down like that, obvious comical exaggeration aside. (Or maybe it’s just because Newt talks a lot.)

“Ha, ha,” Newt says. “Okay, you win.”

“Thanks, dude,” Hermann squeaks in his Newt-voice. He winks.

Newt corners him at the snack table crammed into the far back of the room later, while Hermann is--innocently--scooping some bat-shaped pretzels onto a plate with a large plastic spoon. Newt makes his presence known by stealing a handful and swallowing down half of them. “Gotta say, dude,” he teases, “I’m a good look on you.”

“Of course you’d think that, you narcissist,” Hermann says, but he’s smiling. He swipes a few pretzels back. “Get your own. The bowl is right there.”

Newt steals another from Hermann’s plate. “It’s a crying shame you didn’t borrow my jeans, too,” he says. “I bet you could rock ‘em.”

“Mm, I highly doubt that.”

“You absolutely could,” Newt says. He glances around to make sure no one’s looking, and quickly darts his hand out to pinch Hermann’s ass. Hermann drops the spoon back into the pretzel bowl in surprise. “Though I guess there’s not much to fill them out--”

“You’re a wretched little man,” Hermann says, for the second time that day. The guy really needs some new insults.

“Your voice was really fucking good, by the way,” Newt says, casually, as they lurk in a different corner (lit up with a blacklight) a few minutes later. He’s finally gotten his own plate of food, though he keeps stealing from Hermann’s anyway. “Your Newt voice, I mean. And the--” He waves his hands around. “Do you practice it a lot?”

This pulls a snort from Hermann. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“How’s it so good, then?” Newt pushes, and Hermann shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “I suppose I just--pay attention to you.”

Newt cracks a grin, and bumps his elbow against Hermann’s side. “I would kinda hope so.”

“Not like--” Hermann sighs; Newt shuts up fast. (Hermann’s moments of emotional candidness are very, very rare: the most he’s ever done after a fun romp in the sack, beyond leaving immediately, is pat Newt’s hand and say thank you, Newton.) “What I mean to say is that I am...fond of you. Fonder than I am of anyone else. And I watch you, occasionally, because I am fond of you, and notice small things about you--your speech patterns, how you carry yourself...”

That’s, well--it’s certainly candid, and unexpected, and good, of course, to know that Hermann like-likes him, but it’s also a little-- “That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “You watch me?”

“That’s not--” Hermann stammers, and it turns into a quiet groan. “Oh, I’ve fouled this up. Newton--”

Newt saves him by stretching up on his tiptoes and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. Completely chaste. Devoid of any dirty intentions, like all of their previous kisses have been, like what they’re used to. Just a simple little kiss. It takes Hermann aback: Newt can feel him freeze up before he returns it tentatively.

It’s over in seconds. Newt pulls back and pats Hermann’s cheek. “I know what you mean,” he says. “I feel exactly the same way.” Then his grin returns. “I mean, I don’t watch you like a creep or anything--”

“Shut up,” Hermann says, pink-faced and very pleased.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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szopenhauer · 4 years ago

Text

What star sign is the last person you text messaged? Aries

How did you feel when you woke up today? not well

Do you know what the person you're dating is doing at this moment? napping

Who was the last person to make you cry with laughter? my gf

Who was the last person you talked about sex/love with? either her or my father

Who introduced you to the person you're in a relationshop with? my high school classmate K.K.

How many brothers does your father have? two

When was the last time you did something which you knew was wrong? I don’t know what’s wrong and what not, ugh...

Do you still speak to your first crush? nope

If you could get your own house with one friend, who would you pick? dad but I’d prefer to live alone

Which is worse, too-tight clothes or much too-loose clothes? too tight are worse

What is something that you are willing to fight for? hmm...

If you jump, can you touch the ceiling of the room you’re in? noooo

Which do you think is worse: ear aches or tooth aches? tooth aches

How many different colors are you wearing right now? 3 (4 counting panties)

You can only listen to one band for the rest of your life, who do you pick? omg I can’t choose :o

Do you like big or small cars better? big

What store do you get the majority of your shoes from? *shrug*

What place, in your mind, is heaven on earth? How about hell on earth? there’s no such thing as heaven on Earth to me as I would bring myself there and ruin everything but almost whole planet is hell mostly because of people

Do you think there is anything scary about midnight? midnight is the time of ghosts but no longer minute before and/or after :P

Can you snap with both of your hands? yep

In your opinion what is the absolute worst house chore? laundry?

How young do you think is too young to get married? definitely under 20 but I think it’s best to get married 30+

Who do you think is the dumbest superhero? I can’t believe Green lantern is an actual superhero...

Would you rather be a hair stylist or a clothes designer? clothes designer

Would you rather be 3 inches taller or shorter than you are now? taller

Are there any foods that you think smell good, but taste bad? possibly

Would you ever stay overnight at any of your neighbors houses? why would I?

Do you think it would be cooler to play a hero or the villain in a movie? hero

If you had the last name of your favorite actor, what would your name be? I like many actors so...

how many syllables does your first name consist of?: 3

do you know someone who is allergic to chocolate?: used to know

have you worn a dress [casual, formal, etc] within the past week?: not within the past week

when was the last time you saw the last person you kissed?: days ago

is that person your significant other?: yup

last person you talked to on the phone and what was it about?: mom, I informed her she probably didn’t take out the matches from my pocket and now she’s washing my shorts with ‘em inside the machine and my instinct was right so she turned it off in the last moment, minutes or even seconds later water would soak the package and that could ruin the clothes, I wish she checked or asked while taking my stuff away

got any plans today?: been to laboratory, done shopping but am too tired to help my parents in carrying wood

were you born in an odd or even numbered year?: even

did you drive anywhere at all today?: took the bus

which of your parents did you see last?: both at once

describe your current shirt: black tee Nie każdy musi mnie lubić w końcu nie każdy ma dobry gust with Lil My

are you currently listening to music?: I’m very picky about songs today

do you fill out your own surveys or do you think it’s just weird?: I do

where did you buy the shoes you last wore?: Biedronka (Tom & Rose)

last disappointment?: health issues

do you still talk to the person you first kissed?: yeah

did you seriously believe that the opposite sex had cooties in elementary?: I didn’t think about that

did you take a nap today?: I barely ever take naps in general

name something random in your car: I don’t own a car

would/did you cheat on someone for revenge or if they wouldn’t find out? neither

would you rather be remembered for something bad or forgotten? forgotten

would you date someone twice your age for money? only if I really had to survive and there was no other way but not forever?

rate your self-confidence, 1 being insecure, and 10 being cocky. I’m insecure but not sure how much

are you content? I wish

would you knowingly be who someone cheats on someone else with? cheats with me on someone they pretend to love? hell no

would you sleep with a teacher to pass a class you were failing? ewww, yuk

have you ever contemplated physically hurting yourself or another? mhm

are you prejudice against any groups of people? I am

is there anything you chose to be ignorant about? (war, animal rights, etc) maybe

would you replace any family members if possible (& who)? oh well...

do you lie when asked how you’re doing? what for? to blame then for not noticing? to be an ass who’s lying?...

do you have any plans for tomorrow? meeting with M.

are you able to get a tan? not much

the next time you are on an airplane, where will you be traveling to? umm... no thx

are you satisfied with the picture on your id card? could be worse but also could be better

what are your chances of getting with your crush? I'm taken

what color is your car? no car!

is the song you’re currently listening to being sung by a male or female? two women

where did you get the shirt that you’re wearing? it was a gift

how tall is the last person you kissed? taller than me

is anybody in the room with you right now? not rn

how long have you been with your significant other, if you have one? 3 months

do you enjoy dried fruit? meh

How’s your day going? blergh

What does your umbrella look like? I borrow my parents’ umbrella, I hate umbrellas

Do you share a room with anyone? there are furniture with stuff inside that don’t belong to me

Do you have socks on? Describe them. grey

Are you one of those people who has like a hundred apps on their phone? I have spotify, choices, tumblr, tik tok, fb and messenger

Do you have good reflexes? I guess

Picture you think is cute.

Do you like blowing bubbles? sometimes

Are you better at posing good questions or coming up with outrageous dares? depends

Has there been a celebrity death that really affected you? I cried after some celebs but that’s all

If you’re out of high school, have you stayed in touch with your high school friends? I haven’t :(

Do you think, if it came down to it, that you’d be able to kill someone? I believe I might

Are you good at rating things? am not

Do you get into a lot of arguments? :x

Can you pass for older than you are? can’t even pass for my real age lmfao

Do you talk a lot? at times

Are you capable of finishing a game of Monopoly? it’s not that hard

Do you own any tie-dye clothing? I hate tie-dye

How much soda do you drink in a week? - Do you like being asked questions? love Are you nosy? slightly

How well can you pay attention to someone talking? depends What is the closest yellow thing to you? rosary Would you mind living on a farm? I’d try Are you a patient person? wouldn’t say so What annoys you the most about people? what doesn’t... Does your computer freeze a lot? my browser freezes right after turning on the computer and my internet dies often

Have you ever ate glue? wtf

When is the last time you took a picture? this day

If you could know one thing about the future, what would it be? when will I die for example

Do you like Ellen Degeneres? she’s awful

Are you comfortable dancing in public? whatever

Would you like to live to be 110 years old? I wanna die already

Do you like getting your picture taken? I’m ugly

Do you like being the X or the O when you play tic tac toe? X

What do you think is the most popular name for a girl? I checked:

Zofia Hanna Julia Zuzanna Alicja Maja Helena Maria Oliwia Pola

What about a boy?

Jan Franciszek Antoni Aleksander Stanisław Jakub Adam Leon Mikołaj Szymon

*do ya like any?

How many people are around you right now? my family’s in the kitchen eating so I’m alone

Do spicy foods give you heartburn or make you make you gassy? both and more

Is body hair attractive or unattractive to you? it’s normal/natural?

Do you prefer bare feet or socks? socks

Hard wood floor or carpet? hardwood

Would you ever want to work in a toy store? yasss

Do you like asking questions better or answering? answering

Do you follow your head or heart more? head

Would you rather give up your hand or your foot? foot

Have you ever tried crowd surfing? too risky and no fun

If you could have 16 wishes, tell me just one you wish: I don’t need 16, 3 are enough

Do you like the movie Bambi? If so, who is your favorite on there? I don’t remember Bambi

Would you rather be on the computer all day or watch TV? computer

Would you rather be a police man or a firefighter? police

Do you like jokes or riddles better? jokes

Do you like onion rings? disgusting

Do you like odd or even numbers better? even are easier to count

Last song you heard? Marroon 5 - Animals

Ocean or lake? lake

Do you know a lot of people with the middle name Marie? weird but no, Anna is more popular

Do you like loud or quiet people better? smth in between unless in public - quiet strangers are better

Taking pictures or getting your picture taken? taking

Do you like chocolate? meh

Favorite day of the year? New year’s eve?

Favorite holiday? same

Crayons or markers? markers

Snookie or Vinny? Snookie

have you ever been to an animal shelter? that would break my heart

are you tired right now?

who is the worst actor or actress in your opinion? there are plenty have you ever bought someone else lingerie? nope where are your parents right now? run around the house like crazy if you have a dog, does it bark a lot? luckily not, he howls rarely too have you ever seen a magic show? sure can you juggle? I tried to learn but failed

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choupichoups · 6 years ago

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Blue [1/2]

Prompt: soulmate au

Eliott’s world has always been black and white.

He’s not even being dramatic— he’s already seven years old, he’s too old to be dramatic.

“That’s not the green marker!” He hears the teacher hiss out, exchanging quick whispers with the poor assistant who’d come running inside the room only minutes earlier. Looking up at the commotion, Eliott stares at the assistant’s bewildered expression and immediately determines that the girl is one of the lucky ones with the syndrome.

The fancy adults call it the Soul Syndrome. Eliott likes to call it the Annoying Syndrome.

“Can I borrow your red?” One of the few students still remaining in school taps him on the shoulder and Eliott shrugs, pushing his bucket of paint tubes forward. He can’t tell which one’s red and he’s too lazy to read the labels.

You see, about forty percent of the world’s population are born with the Syndrome— the condition has them seeing in complete black and white until their one true love comes along, pokes them in the face, and suddenly the world bursts into colour. So basically Eliott has to put in the extra effort to make contact with everyone he meets just in case one of them happens to be his soulmate.

Eliott just wants to paint pretty pictures. It’s honestly very inconvenient.

And what if his soulmate doesn’t show up until he’s like, ninety years old? How is he supposed to differentiate between a broccoli and a cauliflower meanwhile, huh? It makes eating his mama’s disgusting vegetables all the more stressful than it already is.

He stands from his seat, looking out the window to check if his parents have already arrived, having to squint at the plate numbers on the parked cars because he obviously doesn’t know what colour their car is. He has to repeatedly memorize new plate numbers, especially when his dad is the weirdo with a strange obsession with exchanging cars every so often. Again, very stressful.

The after school program only runs until a certain time, because teachers apparently don’t live in their classrooms (they eat and live lives outside of torturing students with big numbers and words with too many letters) and Eliott always ends up being one of the last students left in school. His parents work for the same company very far away from where they live and Eliott understands that they try their best to come early but he gets really bored of staying in one place all the time.

No one can blame him for sneaking out of the classroom while the supervising teacher freaks out over her markers.

He takes his bucket of paint tubes and the half finished artwork with him so he can finish up without the distracting screeches from the adults. He’s peacefully walking along the quiet hallway when one of the classroom doors slams open and a small child rams right into Eliott, careless like a spooked puppy.

The impact has him losing grip of everything in his hold and Eliott falls on his bum on top of that. Honestly, can he just live one day without stress? The tubes are probably scattered all over the hallway and he can hear his bucket still clanging obnoxiously against the floor as it rolls and rolls and rolls.

Eliott huffs, opens his eyes-- and almost screams immediately after.

The wide eyed boy huddled in front of him is not in black and white.

In fact, nothing is in black and white.

Eliott doesn’t know exactly what he’s seeing, but he’s certain that this is what colour looks like.

The other boy’s eyes are swimming with tears but Eliott decides that no other colour can be as pretty as it is.

“That’s ugly,” the other boy says, sniffing into his sleeves, pretty eyes trained on Eliott’s unfinished painting.

Eliott looks down at it and, well, yes it’s a little ugly now but hey, it was really nice in black and white. He frowns, defensive over his ugly painting. “It’s called abstract.” He enunciates carefully, saying it exactly how his papa describes the other ugly paintings in their house. It’s the biggest word he knows so he’s hoping it might impress his soulmate.

His soulmate doesn’t look impressed.

“I don’t care, I don’t know what that means.”

Eliott pouts. Great, even his soulmate is stressful. The other boy looks around in wonder, eyes eventually catching and lingering on Eliott’s shoelaces. His mama’s the one who fixes his shoelaces for him, Eliott only now sees how very bright the colours on them are.

“What colour are those?” The little boy points at his shoes.

“I don’t know,” Eliott answers truthfully. “I just saw them now too.”

“Oh.”

The big double doors of the front entrance slides open and Eliott immediately recognizes his mama as one of the two adults approaching. The other lady has very long hair and eyes almost as pretty as his soulmate’s.

Eliott looks at the boy and asks frantically, “What’s your name?”

The boy blinks back at him. “Lucas.”

Eliott’s lips spread into a big, toothy smile, standing up and dusting off his hands to make sure they’re clean enough before taking Lucas’ hand to pull him off the floor as well. Now that they’re standing upright, Eliott notices how teeny tiny his soulmate actually is. He giggles in delight.

“Eliott!” His mama calls out, and Eliott gapes at the very bright colour tinting the bottom part of his mama’s hair. “What are you doing outside the classroom?”

“But mama—”

“Lucas, what’s wrong baby?” The other lady asks, kneeling down to coo at her son. Eliott looks over to see the tears back in Lucas’ eyes.

It’s official— seeing his soulmate cry is the worst thing in the world. Even worse than brussel sprouts.

“I was napping and then I woke up alone in the classroom!” Lucas blubbers out, sniffing as tears pour down his face. “I thought you forgot about me,” he finishes off, looking miserable.

Lucas’ mom reaches out but Eliott is closer so he takes it upon himself to wrap the smaller boy into his arms, copying the way his parents hug him every time he feels sad. It’s always the best feeling in the world so he wants to share it with his Lucas.

“Don’t cry, Lulu, even if they forget you, I won’t!”

“I don’t even know you,” Lucas muffles into his shoulder and goodness gracious it’s just Eliott’s luck to have a soulmate so rude. No manners, this one.

“I’m Eliott!” He pulls away to place a big kiss on Lucas’ forehead. “I’ll be here from now on, so don’t ever cry again, okay?”

Lucas just looks at him with his big, shiny eyes and slowly shuffles away, hiding behind his mother’s skirt. Eliott pouts.

His mama is laughing at him. Both of their mamas are laughing actually.

“Did you make a friend, Lucas?” Lucas’ mom asks, running a hand through her son’s hair.

“I’m not just his friend, he’s gonna marry me,” Eliott says as he walks around collecting all the paint back inside his bucket. He hears a strange sound behind him and sees the two women bent over in laughter. Adults are so weird. His eyes move down to Lucas but he can only see little hands gripping tightly onto the long haired lady’s skirt.

“Come on, Eliott, let’s go home.” His mama holds out a hand for him but Eliott frowns— he knows that voice. She doesn’t believe what he’s saying. Eliott will show them.

Peeking around the other lady’s skirt, Eliott mumbles a polite, “Excuse me,” as he goes to search for Lucas’ pretty eyes again. “I’ll give this to you,” he says, all firm and serious like his papa pretends to be during work parties.

Lucas looks down at the painting. “No, thank you.”

“What, why?”

“It’s still ugly.”

“I said it’s abstract.” Eliott stomps his foot. He hears a snort from above them but his eyes are glued on Lucas. He frowns, feeling himself tear up out of frustration— how does he convince Lucas to accept his token of love?

The painting gets taken from him so quickly that Eliott thinks he’s accidentally dropped it, but when he looks up, Lucas’s hugging it in his arms, eyebrows all scrunched up in concern.

“Don’t cry,” Lucas says. “It’s not that ugly, I guess.”

Aha. Eliott knew it. He’s going to be a world-renowned painter one day.

“Okay, Eliott, we really have to go, your dad’s waiting.” His mama takes the bucket of paint with one hand and drags Eliott away with the other.

“Wait!”

“You’ll see Lucas again on Monday.”

“Wait, I have to do something!” Eliott wiggles out of her hold and runs back to Lucas, who’s studying Eliott’s painting with his mama.

“Lucas!”

The little boy looks up, confused that Eliott’s back again. Eliott runs straight at him, knowing that his mama really wants to go home now so he’s got to hurry.

He stops in front of his soulmate, grinning big and bright, before leaning in to smack a quick kiss on his lips, just like he’s seen in those Disney movies.

Lucas promptly bursts out crying.

Eliott plays with his paintbrushes on the way home. They’re all dried now so it doesn’t stain when he runs his fingers over the bristles.

Noticing that one of them looks almost the same (not as bright, not as sparkly) as Lucas’ eyes, he bounces up in his seat to ask, “Mama, what colour is this?” He shoves the paintbrush in between the two front seats, wiggling the tinted brush around.

His papa takes a deep breath and his mama smiles. They do their weird eye contact juju where they don’t speak but somehow smile and nod at each other anyway. Adults are weird.

“That’s blue.”

“You like that colour, Eliott?” His papa asks, looking like he’s about to cry for some reason. Eliott hopes he’s not sad cause then Eliott will be sad and it just won’t be a fun Friday night for anyone.

“Yes!” He answers, giddy as he thinks about his cute soulmate. “It’s my favourite.”

“Do we have a name?” Papa whispers towards Mama.

“Lucas,” Mama responds and Eliott perks up at the mention of the name.

“I’m gonna marry him!” He declares to no one in particular, running his eyes over his paintbrush. Blue blue blue.

“When are you planning to do that?” Papa chuckles.

“On Monday.”

The chuckles turn to choking. Papa must have breathed wrong, it happens to Eliott sometimes too. “How ‘bout we slow down a bit, huh, little man?”

“But I already kissed him, we can marry now.”

“What?”

“Long story,” Mama says, rolling her eyes as she smiles. “Maybe wait a little before marrying him, hm baby?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s too young.”

“Why?”

“He’s not a big boy yet, not like you.”

“Oh, ok. I’ll just keep kissing him then!”

Papa makes a weird, squeaky noise. “Maybe wait for that too.”

“Why?”

“Remember, Eliott, too young.”

“When should I kiss him?”

There’s a short silence, with Eliott watching his parents make tight lips and wide eyes at each other, shaking their heads and nodding at odd intervals. He’d be concerned if this didn’t happen on a regular basis.

“Wait until he’s... fifteen.” Papa flounders. Mama rolls her eyes, knocking her head back into the seat while Papa shrugs helplessly.

Eliott frowns, that’s so long. But for Lucas, he’ll wait. He has manners and such.

Then maybe Lucas won’t cry next time since he’ll be a big boy like Eliott.

#skam france #elu #fictag #lol i introduce to u #elu fluff week #crawls on the ground laughing #this isn't the thing i was talking about either #that i was already planning to post #there's more #but i wanted to write kid elu #elu soulmate au

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astagfirullah-house · 5 years ago

Text

Couple by Accident

Suga had just dyed his hair. Again. A light blue, almost white. He was known for dyeing his hair excessively. He had no idea why he did except that he just liked to do it. It was that simple yet people wanted to make it complicated for some reason.

He was on his way to his cozy room where he would hole up for the weekend, sleeping and working on his music. He didn't know why people would want to leave their rooms for so long, hanging out and socializing mindlessly, gossiping and what not. He would rather do stuff that mattered.

Occasionally he would hang out with his friends, catch up and chat, but not often enough, and certainly not to mindlessly gossip. He preferred to talk about music, about stuff that mattered.

He was almost home when he got a message from a friend. A minute later he received a call from the same person. "No" Suga greeted. "I'm not coming".

"But hyungnim. Please!" the younger friend whined. "I know you don't like to go out. But please this one time. I haven't seen you in so long. I want to catch up and maybe we can talk later about some stuff? I'm having a hard time hyungnim".

"Alright" Suga sighed. It would seem that he would do it for his friend. But this created a challenge for him. He would have to dress up. He was the least likeliest person to be excited about it, but he couldn't go without the costume; the younger would whine all night and it would get on his nerves.

He switched on his phone and scrolled through bare minimum Halloween ideas, stopping at an extremely simple one. Something that could be done, especially with his newly dyed hair. He smiled as he called his stylist. He wanted to borrow a lab coat they used for one of their music video shoots. An hour later he rummaged through his closet, finding brown pants which definitely wasn't his - probably one of the members' - and pulled it out along with a light blue T-shirt.

He quickly got dressed, deciding to air dry his hair to get the messy hair look that Rick perpetually had. He grabbed his keys and wallet and left the apartment, driving to the Bighit office.

"Thank you for meeting me on your day off noona", Suga politely said to the stylist as she tried to find the lab coat. She asked him about his costume and when Suga mentioned Rick, she clucked her tongue.

"You need to put gel in your hair. Make it stand up". She led him to a chair and grabbed a hair gel from the shelf, using it to style his hair in a similar way to that of Einstein's. She then handed him the lab coat, reminding him to not damage it and left the building after locking up the dressing room.

The house was decorated extravagantly. Pumpkins, lights, lanterns every and any Halloween associated prop was in sight. He walked up to the front door, passing a few drunk people yelling

"Hey Rick, where's your Morty" to him.

Before he could knock the door opened to reveal his friend. "You made it! And in a costume! I'm impressed. Come in". Suga entered the house and was dragged towards the kitchen where he was handed cheap beer.

"This many people...can't have expensive beer you know" His friend muttered as he kept chatting about his amateur career, asking advice and listening attentively. This is why Suga loved his friend; he listened with so much passion, Suga could tell he was serious about his music. After an hour of chatting, the friend excused himself while Suga walked towards the main hall.

Plenty of people were dancing in the center, carefree and Suga had to move through quite a resistance to get to the back lawn.

"Hey you guys are so cute!! Your costumes match so well!". Suga turned around to see a girl smiling up at him.

"Uh thanks" he said while wondering what on Earth the girl was talking about.

"Yo Rick! Your Morty is the cutest! Did you pick the best one out of all the alternative universes?" A guy winked at him as he passed by.

"You two look like a perfect couple!! Every Rick needs his Morty am I right or am I right?" a girl yelled smiled at him, clearly drunk.

Suga was so confused. He came here alone, why were people being so weird, he wondered.

A minute later he shrugged and went out to the back lawn. He saw a slight figure already there standing with her back to him, a backpack slung over like a school kid. The backpack had the tag "Morty" on it, which is when Suga realized what all the comments were about.

"I'm too busy! I have exams next week and I haven't even opened up my books yet. I'm not going. Its final" Hira was extremely frustrated.

She wanted to enjoy her time but because of being a med student, it was extremely difficult for her. She was always busy with studying. She sighed as she opened her book and began studying.

An hour later she opened her phone to see 10 missed calls from her friend. "What" she answered. "WHAT?!" Hira was going to murder him. She was going to kill her instructor and then spend a happy life in prison.

"Yes. It's cancelled which means you can come with me to the party. Hurry up! we only have two hours. I'll pick you up" She didn't wait for a response as she ended the call.

Hira wondered what she could do. It was too last minute, she hated unplanned things and now here she was without a costume. She clicked open her phone and flipped through costume ideas, halting at Rick and Morty. Rick might be difficult given the almost white hair. Morty, on the other hand, was extremely doable. She opened her wardrobe, searching for her blue jeans and the lime green shirt she never wore. At least she could wear them today.

Standing in front of the mirror she surveyed her costume. It was too...mainstream. People might not even recognize her costume. In a stroke of inspiration, she emptied her brown backpack, grabbed a sticky note, stapler and marker and hastily made up two name tags, one for her bag and one for her shirt - in case people saw her from the back or the front.

Ten minutes later she was walking towards her friend's car. "Hey"

"Hey. Are you dressed as Morty? Well done you for such a last minute costume" her friend, who herself was in a cute Mario costume with the fake moustache and red cap said.

They drove to the party with windows down, singing loudly to mainstream pop songs like they did back when Hira had enough free time to have fun. When the reached the party, Hira got extremely excited, bouncing on her feet while her friend tried to calm her down.

"I haven't been to one in so long!" She yelled as she power walked towards the house.

"Hey Morty! Did you lose your Rick?" some drunk guy yelled at them. Ignoring the boys, the girls went up to the door and opened to find the party in full swing.

"I'll get some drinks" her friend said walking away while Hira tried to find a space on the couch. Giving up she leaned against the wall when a girl walked past.

"Hey...Morty! Of course. This is so cute you know how you two matched so cutely" The girl talked fast.

"Um who?" Hira was confused. What was she talking about? But the girl had already left. She spotted her friend weaving through the crowd and she grabbed the soda from her hand.

"Let's dance" She grabbed her hand and pulled her towards an empty corner. After 15 minutes Hira had to take a break and step out in the back lawn.

"Hey girl! If you're looking for your Rick, he's in the kitchen" a random boy walked passed raising his hand for a high-five. Hira reluctantly raised her own hand, wondering why everyone was talking about a Rick. As she was standing there, a guy walked up to her.

"Why are you standing here alone Morty. Did your Rick ditch you to go to a super galactic adventure alone. Typical men" he sighed.

Hira looked over at his costume, realizing he was Sherlock Holmes only after he pulled out a magnifying glass.

"Hey. What's everyone talking about. Rick who?" Hira was genuinely confused.

Was there a Rick running around claiming he was together with a Morty? With her?

"Damn, that Rick messed up. Anyways gotta go my Watson is here".

Hira turned around to look at him walking back into the house. This is weird she thought as she turned around.

"So you're the one who keeps associating herself with me" came a voice from behind her.She turned around to see Rick, expecting some wannabe loser trying to win points by declaring himself not alone. Except, he was cute. As in cute af. With light blue, almost white hair that stood up every which way and pale skin, he really did look like Rick.

"Well" he said.

"Um. So you're the one who is going around claiming you came to a party with someone. That someone is me by the way. And please don't say I'm with you." Suga didn't expect Morty to be a cute girl with a soft voice. But cuteness aside, did she just imply that he was the one going around telling people they were together.

"Look. Whatever your issue is don't bring me into it".

"You're the one bringing me into it" Hira said annoyed. They both fell silent for a while until suddenly Suga muttered a whatever and turned around.

"Wait. Why did you do it? I mean it's not like someone would be unwilling to be your Morty", Hira wondered. He just gave her a look, that look. The famous 'are you still talking' look. It annoyed Hira even more.

"Hey at least talk back, Rick!" she said, his silence getting on her nerves.

"Well, since you haven't realized what's happened, let me enlighten you. None of us said anything. People assumed because we were wearing couple costumes, we were together. Does that answer satisfy you", he directed his impassive gaze towards Hira who stared at him in shock. His voice was so attractive and she wanted to hear more of it.

"So, since we are Rick and Morty and also alone, let's stick together. I'm Hira by the way", Hira trailed behind him trying to make him talk.

An hour later, Hira was still at his side. But by now Suga was talking. He found her annoying, but also cute. Extremely cute. He usually didn't get along with people, but he did with her. She was as good a listener as a talker, and an hour passed by without him getting bored once.

"Well. It's late. I need to go work on my music" he said as he excused himself and moved towards the door.

Hira wondered if she would ever see him again. He didn't give her his number and was leaving just like that.

"Hey" she turned around to see him standing in the doorway. "Treat me to food since you spent so much of my time talking about yourself" Suga said, still in that impassive way of his.

Hira was realizing what kind of personality this boy had, tough exterior but a softie inside. She didn't take offense at that and instead agreed happily. She had a date! Sort of. A/N: This was inspired by a prompt. Imagine if this were to happen in real life, I would die from the cuteness

#astaghfirullahhouse #btsfic #sugafic #tae.chi

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years ago

Text

Robin’s Girl [3/4]

Pairing: Robin x (OC) Clara | Steve Harrington x Reader

Sequel to: Meet Cute | Chapter List

Chapter Title: Bad Reputation | Words: 1.8k

Note: I know this chapter is short, sorry for that, I just lost my writing mojo these past few days and I’m hoping to get it back for a long and fluffy finale. And who knows, I may just do another Christmas Special for this series too, somewhere down the line.

If you enjoyed this story don’t be afraid to like, reblog or comment. I don’t bite. Taglist is open just send an ask.

Playlist by Ari ♥

Clara rubbed circles onto her best friends back while they sat in her empty bathtub, legs dangling out of the tub just like when they were kids.

A box of tissues placed between her folded legs so she could easily reach down and hand Y/N a new tissue when she needed it. The room was filled with sounds of soft hiccups and stuttering breaths between silent sobs.

Y/N had always been a silent crier, it panged at Clara's heart to see her so conflicted.

Robin had stayed with Steve to carry out her own respective best-friend duties that consisted of throwing things at Steve while asking him "Hey dingus, what the fuck did you do?" repeatedly. At least that's what Clara kept picturing after she left Steve's big, empty house with Y/N tucked under her arm.

"I- I… just, ugh! I hate this!" Y/N grumbled. "We've never fought like this before!"

"I don't get the big problem here," Clara handed her a tissue. "I thought you wanted to have the whole small town family, white picket fence and four-bedroom house aesthetic. Not to mention, raise the perfect two and a half ratio of kids with Mr Perfect Hair?"

Y/N laughed feebly, before sniffling. "Yeah, eventually. When I'm like thirty-five and have already started working on my crow’s feet after having spent my twenties doing dumb shit like getting a terrible tattoo and renting a shitty apartment with no heating!"

"I take it he isn't planning on leaving Hawkins anytime soon?"

Y/N shook her head, her hair bouncing about. A stray strand hit Clara in the eye, making her recoil and blink agitated tears away.

"And to think, if we'd been popular, we'd probably be in the same situation as him," Clara tried to cheer her up, but Y/N just kept her chin tucked under her neck.

"Don't joke, you're bad at it," She said flatly. "Besides, it’s not just about him being reluctant to send out college applications. There’s something else... He's got a secret, I can feel it. I was fine with it at first, I mean everyone is entitled to their secrets. I just always figured he'd tell me, you know... when he was ready, too. But..."

"But it's been a year and he still hasn't told you," Clara finished.

"Yeah..." Y/N sighed. "Whatever his secret is… It's part of the reason why he won't leave."

"Okay, that's it!" Clara sat up from the tub and yanked Y/N with her.

"Wha--"

"We aren't going to sit in here and mope about like those women in that shitty TV drama my mother lives and breathes by!” Clara’s face assured Y/N that she wasn’t having any of this mopey bullshit. “We're young and deserving of a good weekend! Now wipe those tears away, put on some tacky makeup and dust off the most questionable outfit in my wardrobe. We're long overdue for a girl’s night."

Clara marched Y/N into her bedroom and pried the untidy closet doors apart, clothes falling out in the process.

"Where are you going?" Y/N asked when Clara turned to leave.

"To hotwire my dad’s convertible!" She flashed her pearly whites mischievously.

"Can't you just look for the keys?"

“Don’t want to waste any time!”

***

Robin lifted her hands in hopeless prayer that Steve would see reason.

"Why won’t you just tell her why you're so afraid to leave?" She threw a pillow at Steve's head for the umpteenth time in a row.

Steve deflected the pillow easily, using it to lean his chin on instead.

"Yeah, because that would go just swimmingly," Steve rolled his eyes before rambling in a fake voice: "Oh, uh, hey Y/N I have to tell you something. The reason I don't want to leave is... well, believe it or not, Hawkins is smack-dab in the middle of some sort of hot spot for a creepy mind-flaying creature from a dark dimension known as the Upside Down and no matter how hard I try to move on from that act, every time I close my eyes I'm reminded of all the very real things that go bump in the night!"

Steve's hands shook subtly as he ran them through his hair, clearing away long stray hairs.

"Okay, but Steve, you do realise if most people knew what we knew they'd want to leave Hawkins because of the fact it was a hotspot for weird shit!" Robin tried to reason with him.

"And if everyone who knows about this shit leaves, what happens then? What happens if that thing returns and there's no one to stop it?"

Robin slammed her hands on the table, "You're one guy Steve. You're not Eleven or Hopper, you don't have superpowers or a badge and gun. What could you do all by yourself? Yeah, you managed to knock out one Russian, but that was once. What would you do if it was an army or... that creepy flesh monster? Throw a firework at it and hope for the best?"

"I've got my trusty bat!" Steve said defensively as he looked away from his best friend.

Robin groaned, "That bat isn't even yours, it's Nancy's!"

"Hey, don't shit talk the bat," Steve pointed at Robin.

"Whatever," she shook her head before plopping down next to him on the couch. "I just don't get why you'd risk letting this amazing girl slip away from you just for a hypothetical. You love her Steve! I know you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have nearly crashed your car twice in one day when we went to pick her up from the bus station."

Steve rested his head on Robin's shoulder, eyes turning glassy, "It's just… what if something happens and he needs me and I'm not around to be there for him?"

Robin lowered her voice when she saw how conflicted Steve appeared, "You mean Dustin?"

"Yeah..."

A small smile crept onto her face, "You mean the kid who was able to build a super radio tower just so he could talk to his girlfriend from camp, that kid?”

“When you put it like that...”

”Trust me, if he needed you and you weren't around, you best be damn sure he'd find a way to get a hold of you."

Steve chuckled before he sat up, the phone's high pitched ringing disturbing their moment.

"I'll get it," Robin offered.

Steve tucked himself into the couch with a blanket as he stared blankly at the muted TV screen.

"Hello," Robin's voice barely a whisper from across the room. "Yeah? Oh- uh… I'll see how Steve feels about it first, he's kinda down. Yeah, sure. I'll call you back in a sec."

Robin set the phone down and stood in front of the TV screen to get Steve's full attention.

“Hey, can’t you see I’m pretending to watch that?”

"So… Clara called. Said she's got something planned and asked if I could make it. Just say the word and I’ll call her back and cancel."

Steve took a moment before he pulled the blanket closer to his chin, "Nah, go. I'll be fine. I think some time alone with my thoughts is just what I need."

Robin bent down to look him in the eye, "You sure?"

"Yeah, no point in both of us being miserable. Go, salvage what's left of the day."

“Fine,” Robin gave in. “But I’m going to call you a babysitter.”

“A babsitter?” Steve sounded confused.

“Right after I call Clara back.”

Robin ruffled his hair affectionately before making her way to the phone to dial Clara's number.

"Just make sure to write down the address of where you're going in case you guys need me for anything!" Steve shouted as he unmuted the TV.

***

Clara honked the horn of her dad's convertible, the top rolled down, night lights beaming brightly against the pitch-black road with no working street lights.

Her best friend was laying across the seats in the back, forearm draped over her eyes as she let out less than eager noises.

Robin rushed from Steve's house still in the clothes she borrowed from Clara earlier.

Robin motioned to open the passenger door but child lock was still on, Clara reached across her seat and opened the door from the passenger side.

"All set?" Clara asked with a large smile on her face.

"I think so," Robin shrugged.

Clara reached into the glove compartment, her hand grazing Robin's knee making them both exchange heated looks. After an awkward laugh, Clara grabbed a handful of cassette tapes and placed them on Robin's thighs.

"You're designated DJ! Y/N is in no state to operate the radio unless you want to listen to sad romance ballads by Heart!" Clara joked.

"Ugh, love is deeeaaaaad!" Y/N said bitterly.

Robin's eyes went wide, her lips pressed closed to keep a laugh from escaping. "What do we want to listen to?"

"Dealers choice," Clara winked before shifting gears and driving away from Hawkins for the night.

Robin read all the song titles written in different colour pen or marker and finally made a decision. She popped open the plastic case, took out the tape and jammed it into the radio. After rewinding the tape she pressed play on the clunky button and Bad Reputation by Joan Jett blared out of the cars static fizzling speakers.

***

The queue to get into the club was long. Clara, Robin and Y/N had been standing out in the cold in less than warm apparel for about twenty minutes.

"Ugh, Clara it's been forever! Let's just go back home so I can drown in a tub of chocolate chip ice-cream and watch re-runs of Baywatch!" Y/N groaned childishly, tugging on Clara's leather jacket.

Clara sighed, "Not a chance. Those two things are ingredients for disaster. Gimmie a sec."

Clara excused herself from Robin and Y/N and made her way to the bouncer at the door. After a few minutes of conversing and pointing to the back of the line, Clara wore the bouncer down -they seemed quite chummy with one another- before she flagged Robin and a moody looking Y/N over.

Robin ducked her head to try and block out the glaring looks from the people still stuck in the line while Y/N apologised to each person her eyes landed on.

Once through the heavy steel doors and down a corridor that was so tight it felt like the walls would cave around them, Clara opened her arms with a smug smile on her face and a slight nod to the beat of the loud music coming from the live band.

"Alas, ladies… Welcome to my mecca!" Clara said excitedly as she turned to look at the bewildered Robin and droopy faced Y/N. "Now, let’s get us some drinks!"

"Uhhh, finally, a good idea!" Y/N cheered as she led the charge to the cramped bar.

Clara bit back a laugh as she leaned in to whisper in Robin's ear, "Something tells me I’ll have my work cut out for me babysitting Mrs Perfect Hair!"

Robin chuckled, "Sometimes I think we are practically their guardian angels!"

Clara cocked her head to the side, a sneaky grin toying with her facial muscles, "Did you just call me an angel?"

Robin blushed, "Wha- No, no… I- I didn't mean it in that way."

Clara laughed as they tried not to get separated in the large crowd, "No, I think that's exactly what you meant."

Clara winked just as she heard her best friend shout without any reservation, "Give me whatever has the highest alcohol to sugar ratio! In fact, make that two!"

"That's my cue to make sure she doesn't give herself alcohol poisoning," Clara yelped with wide eyes as she raced passed the still blushing Robin.

***

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