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gnocchighoul · 4 years ago

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the demons brothers + a touch starved mc

Lucifer

If you’re going to Lucifer because you’re touch starved, then you’re definitely going to be close to him already -- he doesn’t let just anyone touch him.

.......He’s also touch starved but won’t admit it, so one of you is gonna just have to bite the bullet and make a move.

(It’s gonna have to be you)

You’re going to have to go about this carefully--make a really good plan and then execute it flawlessly.

Literally just throw yourself at him.

He’ll catch you.

Probably.

Nothing says ‘give me affection’ quite like yeeting yourself off the staircase at him, and he definitely understands what you want when you latch on tight to him like a weird little barnacle that he cant peel off no matter how hard he tries dfghjkkgf

He’s really warm and he smells Really nice and he hugs you so tight, like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, so he’s honestly one of the best snuggle buddies.

He’s gonna act all fussy about your love-attack at first--just play with his hair and smother him with lots of kisses and he won’t be able to resist snuggling u. Or banging u, but that’s your choice

Y’know, because “demons can’t resist temptation” and all that jazz.

(tbh he just likes likes you alot)

Mammon

...Why are you staring at him like you wanna eat him?

Seriously, knock it off, you’re freaking him out!

Wait, why are you coming closer…? Get Back you Fiend don’t you DARE wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest like that what the FU--

...Oh.

Huh. This is kinda nice.

(Just hug him. If you want his affection, just wrestle him into a bear hug and don’t. let. go.)

At first, Mammon doesn’t really understand affection that isn’t along the lines of a friendly/loving punch. He’s not used to kindness. It’s a fucking tragedy.

He doesn’t know how to ask for love because I don’t think he even realizes thats an option, tbh.

He’s kind of like an unsocialized puppy--will definitely put up a fight until he realizes that, hey, being snuggled is nice.

Luckily for Mams, you are touch starved and determined to show his stupidass what affection is supposed to be like.

He’s going to get so blushy. Sooo blushy. He totally pretends to not like it at first, but inside he’s over the fucking moon happy.

It takes him a while, but eventually, he realizes that he can ask you for snuggles too. At first he’s all “C’mere human, I bet you’re just itchin’ for me to hug ya, so let me make all your dreams come true!”

(It’s a defense mechanism.)

But over time, he eventually seeks you out and just flops on top of ya, and doesn’t feel the need to make a big show about it.

He feels safe with you, and that’s priceless.

Levi

Is incredibly confused about why you’re seeking out him for affection.

When you ask him if you can give him a hug, he expects you to just like... Wrap one arm around his shoulders for .2 seconds.

Which doesn’t sound too bad, so he says “Um, sure, I guess? I dunno why you’d want to though”

So when you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around him like a koala bear, his brain straight up blue-screens.

Seriously, he forgets how to breathe. Don’t squeeze him too hard or he might never restart.

You smooch him on his cheek and his soul promptly leaves his body and is ejected into the atmosphere at mach 5.

This is literally better than Heaven. And he would know, he used to live there.

He totally freezes up and makes a wheezy sound that’s somewhere along the scale of “Dying Animal” and “Exploding Sink”

Needless to say, you create a snuggle monster.

I promise you that you’re never going to be touch starved again, because once you’ve given Levi a taste, he can’t get enough.

He constantly needs to be touching you. Holding your hand or the fabric of your shirt, leaning against you, sitting with you in his lap while he plays video games--it literally doesn’t matter, he just needs that contact with you or he might literally die.

He’s very enthusiastic about it dfghkfd

Satan

Look… Satan is very smart.

But he’s also incredibly dense at times.

You have to be blunt with him, or else he’s just not going to know what you want.

(Feelings that aren’t all consuming anger and hatred are still a bit new to him--he’s learning as he goes)

Just walk up to him and tell him that you need him to snuggle you right now, dammit. Lay your soul bare to him.

He really does love that you trust him. It makes him feel all weird and fuzzy inside.

And how can he possibly say no when you set his heart alight?

That said, he is a bit of an over-thinker.

Worries about crossing boundaries or making you uncomfortable and a million other things--give him lots of reassurance pls

He isn’t opposed at all to cuddle sessions, especially if he’s able to read at the same time.

It definitely becomes a normal thing to cocoon yourselves up in a really fluffy blanket to read together.

Satan is honestly one of the best to snuggle with because he’s very chill about it. You want this and he wants this, so he doesn’t see a point in playing games.

So yeah, he’s chill! But he’ll also threaten the life of anybody who interrupts you guys

Asmo

Please, he knows that you’re touch starved before you even do.

Until you’re upfront about it, he’s going to tease you by like, patting your head, playing footsie with you, giving you only the briefest of hugs--just slowly giving you a taste of his affection until you finally cave and demand that he snuggles you properly.

(Is that a euphemism? It could be lol)

As soon as you ask he’s gonna push you down onto the nearest couch/bed/whatever and just flop on top of you.

Honestly, Asmo wants You to be the one holding Him. He wants to use your chest as a pillow, and doesn’t he just look so cute all snuggled up to you like this? He totally does, you should take a pic of him!

Cuddle sessions are absolutely going to become a regular thing, and he makes them into a big event each time. My mans Asmo is gonna bust out the candles and the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows.

If the opportunity strikes, he’s definitely gonna try to bang you.

If not, expect to do face-masks together. Maybe manicures. But definitely the face-masks, at least.

He’s gonna spin this into a fuckfest or a self care session--it really just depends on what you prefer sdghjk

Once you’re in his arms, he will tickle you. rip

Beel

He is the BEST hugger in the whole entire world.

When you approach him and ask for cuddles he will pull you into a hug without hesitation.

I do not care how tall you are, Beel is taller. He will engulf you in a hug and rest his chin on your head and sway you back and forth

You want a piggyback ride? Hop on.

Just wanna watch tv and snuggle? Great idea! :D but maybe don’t watch cooking shows or he’s gonna drool on you dfghj

(lowkey I think he would really enjoy watching human movies with you. He found Mamma Mia to be absolutely enchanting)

Want him to lay on top of you and crush you until all of your woes have been squeezed away? He will absolutely oblige you

Congratulations on your newly acquired teddy bear! Please don’t forget to feed him.

Literally just sit on his lap or wrap your arms around him whenever you want, he’s always down for a good snuggle.

He’s by far the nicest about it too, he won’t tease you about it and he will never hold back from telling you exactly how much he loves holding you in his arms

Definitely loves to be the big spoon but has no problems with being the little spoon either.

He’s just so fuckimg SWEET

Belphie

Oh, you're touch starved? Perfect. He's been in the market for a good snuggle buddy.

You silly human, why didn’t you come to him sooner?

Don’t listen to what Asmo says, snuggles are Belphie’s domain.

Once it’s established that you two are going to be snuggle buddies, he will literally just abduct you for snuggle time.

He doesn’t care what you’re doing, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and haul you off to his blanket nest whenever he wants.

He just wants you all to himself.

Will share your snuggle time with Beel tho.

After abducting you, he's just gonna toss you onto his bed and fall on top of you. He's really warm and he really just wants to lay on you. Partially so that you cant escape once he falls asleep lmaoo

He's happy to just talk to you about whatever you want while you guys get your snuggle on, but be warned: he's eventually going to fall asleep.

Probably mid sentence.

He won’t wake up when you poke at his cheeks or shake him, either. So uh. I hope you’re in the mood for a nap too!

Get matching sloth onesies with him. He’ll tell you it’s stupid but he’s actually thrilled with them. (Make sure you also get Beel a bear one though)

((part two with the undateables + Luke))

#obey me headcanons #obey me hc #gnocchicanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me

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aqqleshiqqing-archive · 2 years ago

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Not sure if you've already answered this before but ! I haven't seen this question pop onto your blog yet so here i am asking! How did Tom and Jesse first meet? Was it a classic case of "Oh hey new neighbor!", or was it moreso "Hey Tom meet this rlly cool person I met :D"? And how did their ''confession'' play out? Like who confessed first, how did they do it, so on and so forth.

[Is this okay to ask ?? Like you can totally 100% disregard this ahah]

:000!!! HELLOOOO IM SO GLAD U ASKED HEHRHS I'M SO EXCITED I'm gonna put this on read more heheh it's very long :'D I'm gonna be so indulgent and cringe watch me

nobody actually asked me yet, until you!! SO THANK UUU EHEH I actually recently managed to come up with an idea so yES I do have a story for how they actually met!!! I had this discussed with my buddy so I'll copy paste that info here!! :DD

• jesse meets them at a yard/garage sale because edd and tom finally said "matt ur shit is clogging our house we're going to sell your stuff now"

• AS IF MATT COULD FIGHT BACK they eventually have a yard sale and while his stuff is being displayed outside matt tries to switch his items with tom and edd's items so that THEIR stuff would (hopefully) be sold instead

• jesse walks by their house and the first thing she hears is matt crying, and then the shitty drawn yard sale banner (courtesy of edd but it still looks horrible LMAO) but hey when there's stuff to sell why not go check it out

• so, she among some random people look at the stuff being sold.... half of the items are just any variation of matt's face... edd and tom attends to her because they're the ones hosting. edd greets her.

• "hello!! feel free to look around, let me know if- hEY — MATT STOP SWITCHING YOUR STUFF WITH MINE-" and then edd runs to matt and fights with him and she's left with tom

• it was, very quiet. he probably doesn't care enough to say smth damn but she tries to strike a convo.

"any good items you could reccomend?"

he looks back at her. "oh sure, yeah it's over there"

• she goes there and sees the checkered pattern bass on sale, its patched up but it looks pretty cool anyways. "how much is this, sir?"

"the prize is just there" he didn't look yet

"it looks pretty expensive for it just be sold like that.... it looks customized as well"

• and then tom realizes MATT PLACED HIS GUITAR ON THE STAND

• he runs to her and, forcibly grabs it away from her. after realizes his brash movement he quickly apologizes

• "i-uh. sorry. that's actually mine. that guy crying over there decided to switch my stuff with his because he didn't wanna ~lose his toy collection~" he was so salty in that last phrase, and crosses his arms

"you play the bass?" she asks

"oh, yeah. how did you know it was a bass?"

"i like music too, y'know? I'm not bland" she awkwardly cracks a joke, but her cute giggle was enough

• he laughs back, "I'm surprised you know that" he's a little impressed. pretty good first impression on her part

• after their short but nice exchange, she excuses herself to keep browsing some more items, tom still had his bass on his hand. he went back to his original spot but decided to observe her on his chair while he tried to strum his bass out of boredom. he thinks she's kinda cool after being able to differentiate an electric guitar with a bass

• she finds an item she likes and decides that she should buy it. she goes back to tom, who was still all by himself because matt and edd still be WRESTLING

• "id like to get this one!" she hands the item to him.

"oh, yeah sure."

• she nods, and pulls out her wallet. oh no, she's a few coins and money short uUH OH NO she panics

"oh. oh dear"

"huh?"

• "I, uh. I'm a little short on money" her anxiety got the better of her and she starts to try to look in her pockets if she had some spare while frantically rambling to herself

she was in awkward misery in his eyes, so he tries to save it

"wait, I can hold this item for you!" he tries to calm her. she pauses and looks back at him. "you can?"

• "i-i mean. yeah! me and my friend are running this, so why can't I make my own rules too?" not that he knows if this is even a possible rule in selling but since she seemed pretty sweet, he thought to make an excuse for her

• "oh, that's such a relief, thank you!!" she places her wallet back. "ill come back here tomorrow with the right money, I promise!!"

• "nah, it's all good. heck I've had it worse when my friend bought other stuff instead of nails when we tried to build something" he motions back at matt, behind him

• she notices matt, he's sitting and bound to the chair with ropes to keep him restrained from doing his shit again

"is he always like this?"

"don't mind it." tom tries to shift topic

• "since I'll be saving this item for you, can I get your name?" he grabs a random piece of paper and pen and hands it to her

• "ah, right. one moment!" she scribbles her name down. her handwriting is neat and pretty

•" 'jesse payton' nice. tom ridley by the way." he extends his hand to hers, and she responds by giving him a gentle handshake

• "it was nice seeing you! I'll be back tomorrow again!" she slowly backs up and waves a goodbye at him

he waves back at her, his guitar still in hand

"nice guitar by the way, you should take good care of it before it gets sold again!" she teased

"pfft. yeah that won't happen again!"

and there she left, he still watched her leave and then looked at the little paper

"you're pretty cool, jesse" (<333 UEUEUEUE CRYING)

edd comes back with a rope and scissors from trying to rope matt back. "did you sell anything?"

"no, but I did get a name and number"

edd frowns back at him. "that's not money"

"give me a break, edd"

ANDDD THATS HOW THEY METTT HEHE I still didn't figure out how they confessed, but tom most definitely fell in love first, and then she did much later. he also confessed first!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺💓💓💓💞💞

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING I GOT SO EXCITEDDDDDDD 😭😭😭😭😭#PLEASE I LOVE ANSWERING CONTENT ABT THEM PLS ASK MOREEE AHDHSHDHHSHD #❇️ wishi selfships #🍀 inbox #♥️ tomjesse #long post #I LOVED WRITING THIS TOOO WAAHH

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ragingpancake · 3 years ago

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Menace 2 Society

Set during any time period when Rodney and the gang are on Earth. Possible The Return era. John's away and Rodney finds out a life of crime really isn't for him even though he's really good at it. ~1600 words. Crack.

Author's Note: a repost from my old livejournal, written for @popkin16 allllllll the way back in 2011.

The alcohol stopped burning several shots ago. Now, it slides down as easily as a glass of water (hold the lemon) so he downs the cheap whiskey and motions for another. He thinks the bartender is smirking as he slides the glass across the counter, so Rodney salutes him sloppily with two fingers. "To," he hiccups and burps. Half the liquid sloshes out of the tiny glass as he raises it in thanks. "T'you. For keepin' the good stuff comin'," he says. Or at least that's what he tries to say but it's possible he's speaking Ancient. He swallows and drops the glass back to the smooth bar top and leans over, pressing his face against the cool wood. It feels good and he wants to close his eyes and just sleep. It's not like anyone would miss him anyway.

He sighs and rubs his cheek against it and then he sighs some more. This has turned out to be a spectacularly shitty day. "Ca'I get one more?" Rodney asks. He wiggles a single finger in the bartender's direction, but he will not be swayed. "Sorry buddy. I think you've had enough." It sounds familiar and Rodney remembers even though he came here to forget. "Says who?" He asks, drawing himself up to full height. It's most likely ineffective because he can feel himself swaying on his bar stool. He'll be lucky if he doesn't topple right over into the floor like Humpty Dumpty and that's enough to set him off in a fit of manly giggles. He mumbles the nursery rhyme under his breath--at least, he means to--as he stumbles to his feet and wrestles his wallet out of his back pocket. His fingers, normally so deft and skilled, feel fat and totally useless as he opens the flap and wrestles a wad of money out. It isn't easy but eventually he's successful. He tosses a couple tens down on the counter. "S'been real, m'man!" He calls to the bartender and sweeps his jacket gracefully off the back of the stool. Well, he thinks he sweeps it gracefully off the back of the stool except he's not graceful even under the best of circumstances and drunk out of his mind doesn't really count. He almost falls, but he compensates and manages to keep himself upright. He's the fucking man. "Smooth, McKay," he congratulates himself and saunters--stumbles--towards the exit. Rodney has one hand on the doorknob when the sound of raised voices catches his attention. He whirls around, but when he stops, the room keeps going and it takes a minute until it stops spinning until for him to see the cause of the argument. A guy who reminds him vaguely of Ronon save for the awesome hair, growling a woman who's smaller than Keller. Normally, he would back out quickly before the giant spots him because this is more John's forte than his, but fortified by several shots of cheap whiskey, Rodney puffs up his chest and opens his mouth before his brain catches up. "Hey!" The woman shrinks back, seemingly trying to disappear under the table as the guy turns, narrowing his eyes at Rodney. "The fuck is your problem?" The guy slurs. Rodney hasn't thought this far ahead but he tries for a defiant slouch and glares. "You're m'problem! Maybe you should jus'... jus' shut up and yell at someone your own size." Had John, Ronon, Teyla or even Zelenka been around, they would have reminded Rodney to take his own advice because how many times had he yelled at poor old Miko over the years? The guy laughs and rounds the table, but Rodney doesn't falter. If anything, he stands--tries to--a little straighter and rounds his broad shoulders. There's a very teeny tiny part of his brain, the part that's going to be pissed at him for potentially damaging valuable brain cells when he's not so drunk, that screams at him to run, but he just holds his ground. "You wanna say that to my face?" The guy asks, so close that Rodney can smell what he had for dinner. It's almost enough to make him throw up. "I said you should jus' shut up." The guy reaches out and shoves Rodney. The extra force is enough to knock him off his balance and he tumbles backwards into the coat rack. He's vaguely aware of the bartender yelling over to them, but he's annoyed now in a way that has nothing to do with idiot lab technicians. It's a struggle to get to his feet but he manages and this time when the guy swings, Rodney has enough foresight to duck. He'll thank Ronon later for teaching him to dodge the obvious blows and he'll thank Teyla for teaching him how to strike. His fist connects with the guy's nose and Rodney can feel the satisfying crunch under his fingers. "I did it!" He says, mildly surprised at actually landing a hit. The excitement doesn't last long though because he's only served to piss the guy off even more and this time when he swings, he doesn't miss. Rodney takes a couple of punches, but they're nothing compared to the beating he would have received before Atlantis, before Ronon

and Teyla, before John. They've taught him to use his bulk, his broad shoulders and big hands, to his advantage and while he doesn't escape completely unscathed, he's pleased to see that the other guy is no better off. Of course, he has exactly three point five seconds to celebrate before his arms are shoved behind his back roughly and held in place by the cool metal of handcuffs. A bar fight and an arrest all in one night? John would be so proud. And it's with that thought that Rodney doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach on the floor. --- There's nothing remotely exciting about being arrested, Rodney thinks mournfully as he shifts in the cracked plastic chair. He doesn't even get to go to real jail. Instead, he's being held in the processing room at the local police department, staring dumbly at the back of the officer's head. He's slouched down in a computer chair, playing Solitaire. Rodney wonders what it means about local law enforcement when they can't even win at that. He wisely keeps this thought to himself. "Don' I get a phone call?" He asks. His head is starting to ache and while he's sure he's already thrown up everything he's eaten in the last year and a half, he still feels like he's going to be sick. He really just wants Carter or hell, even Daniel Jackson to come get him so he can go home and sleep for a month. Or at least until John comes back. "Nope," the officer drawls and that's the end of that. Well okay then. He slumps miserably in his seat, handcuffs clinking the metal rail he's attached to. He really just wants to go home. Not home home but Atlantis home where everything was good and John wasn't being stupid and gallivanting off to another planet in the Milky Way with his brand new team. Without Rodney. Apparently, alcohol was counterproductive because while it was supposed to make him forget, it's all he can think about. He's pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a quiet click and when the door opens up, Rodney can hardly believe his eyes. "Hey buddy," John greets, smiling lazily like Rodney isn't handcuffed for a reason that doesn't involve kinky sex. "What are you doin' here?" "Bailing you out," John says easily. "And really? A bar fight? What were you thinking?" "I was amazing," Rodney says, smiling despite himself. He goes to stand and then remembers he can't exactly go anywhere, so he flops down into the chair and sighs loudly. "John?" "Yeah buddy?" "Can we go home now?" John just grins. --- By the time they make it to Rodney's apartment, Rodney's ready to seriously pass out. He's exhausted and his face is hurting from where that Neanderthal's fist connected with it, but mostly, he's just so happy John is back that he wants nothing more than to get upstairs, get naked and sleep for a month. This time with John. It's a chore to get out of the car and up the stairs, but when John finally shoves the apartment door open, Rodney stumbles in gratefully. "You left me," he accuses halfheartedly as he pulls his shirt over his head with clumsy hands, throwing it onto the back of the couch. "Big jerk. S'your fault, y'know." "It's my fault you got arrested?" "Yes," Rodney sighs. John doesn't argue; he grabs the shirt from the couch and then steers Rodney into the bedroom and Rodney is positive that he's stifling a laugh when he face plants onto the bed. "Turned me into a hardened crim'nal. S'all your fault," he mutters, muffled by the mattress. "A hardened criminal, huh?" "You make me crazy." "I feel the same way about you," John says fondly. The bed dips under John's weight and a second later, Rodney finds himself cuddled up against John's side. He presses his face against John's neck and breathes in his scent. "Don't go 'way anymore, 'kay?" "I'm not going anywhere," John promises. "Especially after this. Who knew a few hours apart would send you spiraling downward into a life of crime?" Rodney just nods solemnly and snuffles quietly against John's neck. "'M such a menace to society," Rodney mutters. John laughs his horrible donkey-laugh and

Rodney feels fond lips against the top of his head. "You're a menace alright. Get some sleep, McKay. I have a feeling you're gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning." Rodney's already fast asleep.

#sga fic #fandom: sga #mcshep #ship: mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #crack fic #this one always cracked me up

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years ago

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Fake dating au where demetris on his third strike with the school counselor so when they're about to fight again he holds his hand instead. Hawk cant help but blush and counselor Blatt jumps to conclusions and tries to be overly accepting

PFFFFT okay this is fuckin great

Like I’m just imagining Demetri doing the PETTIEST bullshit to get back at Hawk for that destroying-his-science-project business, like he writes “COBRA KAI SUCKS” all over his locker in sharpie in cleverly-disguised handwriting or pours soda on Hawk’s karate equipment and tough dude sportsballs (because come ON--Eli’s had the same locker combination for years, and just because he’s badass now doesn’t mean it would occur to him to change it) or steals his portable hair gel so that the ‘hawk will be sad and sagging by 6th period, and as soon as Hawk catches on to what’s going on, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out who’s behind all this chicanery. And he fuckin goes RIGHT up to Demetri during the next passing period (he knows exactly what part of the school that little nerd is in because he figured out and memorized Demetri’s class schedule SOLELY for harassment purposes and not because he likes him or anything) like “BRO YOU WANNA GO YOU WANNA FUCKIN GO” and Demetri gets ready to fight like “COME AT ME ASSHOLE” and Demetri’s getting ready to throw the world’s meanest punch to start the brawl (because his douchebag ex-best-friend ain’t the only one who can strike first) when the accursed Counselor Blatt rounds the corner.

She turns and fixes an icy glare right on them, and Demetri has to think fast. He unclenches his fist mid-punch and wraps a hand around Eli’s wrist. Eli’s hand flexes out in surprise, and before he can react, Demetri’s fingers have found their way up his wrist and laced with his own. Hawk’s face goes redder than his (already, sadly, beginning to sag) mohawk.

And fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hawk was absolutely not prepared for this. He absolutely was not prepared for the same goddamn helpless sensation of vertigo to hit as that time he held Demetri’s hand during Red Rover in the 6th grade (how in the hell did a couple of losers like them get invited to play, anyways? The teacher probably made the other kids include them or something). And Hawk fucking hates how warm and pleasant Demetri’s hand feels in his own, and how it fills him with the same hopeless longing that he hoped he could punch away into oblivion as soon as Kreese started training him.

But here comes that stupid-ass counselor, and something tells him that now is not the time to yank his hand away and slam Demetri into the lockers behind them, no matter how much he would like to.

“Demetri? Eli?” Counselor Blatt looks back and forth between the two of them, perplexed. “What’s this?”

“What’s what, Counselor Blatt?” Demetri pulls Hawk closer and swings his other arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders. Hawk can only bristle in barely-concealed rage.

“Did I just...see you about to punch Eli?” she continues. “When you’ve been to our seminar on respectful alternatives to physical aggression?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand!” Demetri laughs, and Hawk wants to smack him. God, his laugh is annoying. He’s annoying. Hawk wants to scream into a wall and he’s not sure why.

“I was just in a hurry to hold my boyfriend’s hand,” he goes on gleefully. “I haven’t seen him all day! Is that okay with you, Counselor Blatt?” He gives the counselor a challenging stare, and Hawk almost feels sorry for the woman and how utterly lost she is.

“I thought you were upset with Mr. Moskowitz here for ruining your science project,” Counselor Blatt says slowly.

“Oh, that?” Demetri snorts. “We were just on a little break. I think that was my indication that good ol’ Eli wasn’t taking it too well. But we worked everything out, and it’s alllll good now!”

He gives the counselor his most winning grin, and Hawk just turns to gape at him. Out of all the absurd directions Demetri could’ve taken this thing, framing him throwing a soccer ball across the cafeteria to smash Demetri’s project as a couple’s fight was one Hawk had not seen coming.

But then again...that did kind of let him off the hook, didn’t it? If all of his messing with Demetri was nothing but silly relationship drama. After all, Counselor Blatt hadn’t lifted a finger when the utter spectacle that was Kyler and Sam LaRusso’s breakup had ravaged the school’s gossip chain.

“You know, you really should be more accepting of LGBT relationships,” Hawk says, making a point to pull out the kicked puppy expression. “It’s hurtful enough that my boyfriend and I get as many stares as we do from other students.”

“I...! Well! I mean!” Counselor Blatt splutters, looking everywhere but their eyes. “I think it’s great you boys are able to...express yourselves so freely! I want this school to be an environment where students of all sexualities are able to be themselves. I’m so happy West Valley High is such a diverse place!” She smiles, brightly but still very confused.

“With all due respect, Counselor Blatt, we’re not just some token gay couple.” Hawk doesn’t let up on the puppy dog eyes. “We’re just two guys who love each other. That’s all. All we want is to be accepted for who we are.”

He feels Demetri stiffen beside him with surprise, but the grip on his hand and around his shoulder doesn’t loosen in the slightest.

Demetri’s really acting like he doesn’t want to let go. He’s really committing to this façade.

Makes sense. When they were in middle school, Demetri always tried to be the class clown--not that it ever worked. Eli would always cheer him up by insisting he had a natural talent for improv. The kid isn’t half bad at acting, he’ll admit.

“And...you are accepted!” Counselor Blatt reassures awkwardly. “I’m...sorry I misunderstood your relationship, boys. I should be better about checking my heterosexual privilege.”

“Not to worry!” Demetri says cheerily. “Anyone who works at being a good ally to the community is always appreciated!”

Hawk resists the urge to roll his eyes. What was this, a fucking gay Sesame Street episode?

“Sorry again, Demetri. Eli. Have a nice day.”

As soon as Counselor Blatt shuffles around the corner and out-of-sight, Hawk tears his hand away (as...reluctant as he admittedly is to do so. Feeling another hand curled around his made him feel calmer and safer than he had in months, no matter what utter pussy’s it was. Disgusting. Kreese would never train him again if he found out, that was for sure.). He shoves Demetri hard--not into the lockers, not in any way that’ll make a noise to be noticed, but enough to knock the wind out of that fucking runt.

“What the fuck was that?” Hawk snarls.

Demetri crosses his arms and glowers at him. “I just saved both of us from a month of detention. It was only so long before she figured out Cobra Kai’s the aggressor around here just as much as Miyagi-Do is.”

Hawk surges forward and tries to shove him again, but Demetri is ready this time and quickly blocks. “What the hell was your grand plan, anyways?” he scoffs. “Pick a fight with me in the middle of the school day?”

Demetri sighs, starting to back away. “Eli, Eli, Eli. I know you’ve got a good brain in there, buddy. Maybe start using it, if all the punches to the head haven’t messed it up too much.”

He taps his head a couple times before turning and disappearing into the throng of students around them. Hawk groans.

Mitch doesn’t make matters better as they walk away. “Dude, were you blushing?”

“Shut the fuck up, man! I was just fucking embarrassed!”

Bert sniggers. “I’ll say. Should I start planning the wedding?”

“Don’t make me fucking deck you! Look...he wanted to stay out of trouble, and I realized I could spin it to our advantage. So I did. We’re in the clear for now.”

“Yeah, only took a bit of...hand-to-hand combat,” Mitch snickers. “What’s next? Judo wrestling him in the janitor’s closet?” He and Bert break out in giggles, and Hawk shoots them both his most seething glare.

“If you mention any of this to Sensei Kreese, I will kill you,” Hawk growls.

“Fair enough,” Mitch says, shrugging. Bert nods in agreement.

Hawk reminds himself to wail especially hard on both of them during practice today.

#hawk x demetri #demetri x eli #binary boyfriends #hawkmeat #eli x demetri #demetri x hawk #elimetri #demetri cobra kai #eli moskowitz #counselor blatt #mitch cobra kai #bert cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai season 3 #hawk #demetri #eli #my askbox

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incorrectdmp · 3 years ago

Text

DMP SEASON 4 EPISODE 10 OUT OF CONTEXT SPOILERS

oh MAN these sure are spoilers! that i got out on tuesday bc i managed to do my notes in one day! (trust me that aint gonna happen any more after this)

so uh theres also a few jokes with spoilers for deltarune chapter 2, i’m gonna reblog those at the end under a DIFFERENT spoiler warning because i realized there are some people in this community who are still attempting to avoid deltarune spoilers and i would hate to do that more than i already have

Episode 50: Imma Get Yo Ass

“I cant believe that bastard turned my ex into a clown”

Daily reminder that charlie is very very gay

Doctor McMuffin

Cutty buddies

Hailey quotes the bible to a god

Southern CG isnt real he can’t hurt you

-cam

“Why is everyone talking like percy?”

Charlie channels her inner Goggles

Raz from psychonauts

Hailey has a serious talk with a hand up her ass

FINGERS IN HER ASSSSSSSSS FINGERS IN HER ASSSSSS HAILEY HUANG SHE LIKES FINGERS IN HER ASSSSSSSSSSS

-cam

Shut up percy makes its triumphant and wholesome return

T mobile has claimed another, Chaos God gets yeeted into the void

GOD POX

YEE HEE

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Val’s area makes a triumphant return

He’s back :)

Grace becomes a microwave

Ezra BECOMES FRENCH (derogatory)

stephen this is like the third time youve had dramatic art of you stabbing someone in the chest ahaha ur so sexy

Damn alex why does YOUR mom let you be both a gm AND a player?

SCOTTISH GRACE RETURNS

Dead meat cancer arms

Yugo’s wrestling outfit is a fursuit

DELIVER THE CHAIR THORIN

Toes time 2 electric boogaloo

CANCER ARMS STRIKES AGAIN

this grace empty: YEET

Peer pressuring percy

Percy hits puberty

And for Vinny’s neutral special: he wields a gun!

Signature move: dying

Vinny, to val: “aren’t you tired of being nice? Dont you just want to go apeshit?”

Mood whiplash as toes time turns angsty

Charlie can still be anime if she believes hard enough! Be the weeb you want to see in the world!

Docs back! And he has E Y E S

Doc finally gets to be hot, as he deserves

The cutt men were real boys all along!

Angst, with a convenient stephen doing jumping jacks backing track

Alex now has to play THREE CHARACTERS AT ONCE you FUCKING MADLAD

Shove that trauma back into this man

#dmp #discord murder party #out of context spoilers #dmp spoilers

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hale-13 · 3 years ago

Text

Hold Fasts

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 11 - Whipping

“Is that really all you got?” Peter asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and one of his incisors in the direction of his kidnapper. A few droplets of blood landed on the man’s hands to mix with the blood that was already dripping from his brass knuckles. The tooth clinked across the floor until it landed beside his foot - Peter really hated when his teeth got knocked out but at least this time it was one of the fake ones that had already been replaced and not one of his actual teeth.

Words: 2220, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Peter Parker, Tony Stark

TW: Whipping, Torture, Kidnapping, Blood

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Bored already?” The man asked in a light voice, punching Peter across the face again and opening up a cut on his cheek from the sheer force of the hit.

“I have a short attention span,” Peter croaked, blowing another globule of blood out of his nose to drip down onto his already ruined shirt. Masked Goon Number One’s mask crinkled in obvious disgust and Peter smiled at him. He could tell by the coppery taste in his mouth that his remaining teeth were covered in blood – surely making for a gruesome image.

Peter, definitely the unluckiest kid in Queens and maybe all of New York, had been snatched literally right off the street on his way to school the day before. Unfortunately for him as well, his kidnappers clearly had a modicum of common sense because they had not only divested him of all of his tech but they had to have disposed of it somewhere on the way to their cliché super secret base (read: abandoned warehouse – so unoriginal). At least that’s what Peter figured since Tony hadn’t burst in within a few hours of him being missing.

Even more unlucky – they had figured out he had enhanced strength and had compensated with heavy duty cuffs that kept him chained against the concrete wall. So far there had been no mention of his arachnid alter-ego so he had to be thankful for small miracles he supposed.

“If you would just answer the question-,” the man started, an edge of frustration to his voice.

“Not gonna happen.” Peter said firmly, his tone filled with steel in juxtaposition to the light smile on his face.

“Stubborn,” the man in front of him muttered before nailing Peter in the stomach. He grunted but didn’t make another sound, he really didn’t want to give them the satisfaction when he had been doing so well at controlling himself. So far their questions had ranged from wanting information on FRIDAY’s systems to the blueprints for the Arc Reactor. Peter had played dumb for a while until they made it clear that they knew about his connection to Tony and them he just started denying them outright. “Why don’t you think on it for a while. We’ll get back to you later.”

“Won’t change my answer,” Peter snarked back as the man left the room, slamming the door in an odd display of irritation and leaving Peter in darkness. Finally alone, Peter let himself dangle from the chains holding him, his shoulders screaming in protest and his back spasming as it took his weight.

“C’mon Tony,” he thought, letting his eyes slip closed. “Where are you?”

——————————————

“My guys tell me you’ve been pretty uncooperative. And after we provided you with such luxurious lodgings – this is top of the line you know,” a new man said, pushing the heavy steel door open hard enough it hit the wall with a bang and startled Peter awake from his light doze.

“Eh they’re pretty average,” Peter said shrugging and trying to keep the sleepy slur out of his voice – he really didn’t need to sound any younger than he probably looked. “Maybe a four out of ten on Yelp. I could be persuaded to bump it up to a five if you’d take these cuffs off though. A six if you offered a decent room service selection.”

“Tempting,” the man told him. “How about a trade? You tell me how to get past Stark’s firewalls and I’ll let you out of the cuffs?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Come on Marty! How many times do I have to tell you assholes no before it sinks through your thick skulls?”

The man blinks at him in surprise and confusion. “Marty?”

“You look like a Marty,” Peter shrugs. “It’s not like any of you have introduced yourselves. Its pretty poor manners you know.”

“They told me that you were intelligent but you clearly aren’t smart enough to save your own skin,” Marty told him nonchalantly. “Either that or you have no self-preservation instincts.”

“The second one,” Peter agreed with a nod, Mr. Stark had told him the same plenty of times when he was patching him up after patrol.

“Right then. Well we’ll just have to up the ante a little. Get him prepared.” Peter’s eyes narrowed as two of Marty’s henchmen came into the room and wrestled Peter until he faced the wall, arms twisted uncomfortably, and cuffed his ankles to the floor. “Just remember: we can stop at any time, all you need to do is answer the question.” The man turned and left the room, pausing at the door. “Oh and its Nicholas by the way, not Marty.”

“Don’t get your hopes up Nicky!” Peter called after him as he left the room, grunting when he was punched in the stomach.

“God I wish we could gag you,” Henchman One said under his breath as he efficiently slipped his knife into the back of Peter’s shirt and cut it clean down the middle, leaving it hanging open in the back and slipping down his shoulders to pool in the crook of his elbows. Every hair on Peter’s body stood on end as goose bumps rose up on his arms and neck and he let out an involuntary shiver.

“What are you doing?” Peter questioned, renewing his struggles and trying to break the cuffs or pull them out of the wall. Neither man answered him. “Hey shit-stick I’m talking to you!”

“You know? I’m really going to enjoy this,” he heard one of the men mutter before there was the sound of something cutting through the air and then his back lit up in a sharp sting. Peter gasped in a breath as his lungs seized. “Well that shut you up.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Peter croaked as his back lit up on fire again and his knees went weak.

“I’m sure you can figure it out you little brat,” Henchman One said, just barely popping into Peter’s peripheral vision as the whip cut across his back again. “Scream if you want to answer the question and make it stop.”

Peter grit his teeth and tried to hold in the scream that wanted to tear out of his throat when his back was hit the fifth time. By the seventh he could feel blood start to pool at the waistband of his jeans. He nearly bit through his lip on strike number twelve and he lost count after that – he’s unsure when he finally gave in and started to scream.

———————————————

“Come on Pete, focus up buddy,” a warm voice said just on the edge of Peter’s consciousness. “This isn’t a good look kiddo.”

Fingers tapped on his face incessantly and Peter groaned, allowing his head to loll back on his neck in the opposite direction to get away. “G’away,” he mumbled out, unable to speak louder than a whisper without his throat throbbing in agony.

“No can do Bambino,” the voice said, hands running through his hair and maneuvering him to be more upright, his chest leaning against something warm and solid. “But if you open your eyes for me I’d be willing to negotiate getting you out of here. What do you say?”

Peter huffed out a breath of exertion and slit his eyes open. Everything was a little blurry but he could clearly make out the comforting blue glow of the Arc Reactor from where the Iron Man suit stood sentry behind Tony Stark. The man was leaning Peter’s chest against one of his shoulders to keep him upright and was staring down at him with a pinched expression.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said, letting his eyes slip closed again and leaning more fully into his mentor’s side. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I’d ask if you frequented dumps like this but I’m honestly afraid of the answer,” Tony told him lightly, trying to joke but falling flat. “Think you can stand buddy? I can’t really carry you and I figured you might protest the gurney.”

Peter let out a huff and let his head drop to rest in the crook of his mentor’s neck. “I can walk.”

“Try to lean as much weight as possible on me okay?” Tony told him before beginning the complicated maneuver that they had both nearly perfected so that Tony could get his hands under Peter’s armpits and lift him to his feet. Once standing, Peter’s vision pulsed and went grey around the edges and he fell forward to rest against Tony’s chest as the room spun around him. “Whoa there Pete! You’re alright, just take a few deep breaths okay?”

“Dizzy,” Peter breathed, his vision still fading in and out. “Need to sit…”

“Need to…?” Was all Tony was able to get out before Peter’s vision failed completely and he started sliding back down toward the floor. “Oh shit! Can I get some help in here?! Pete? Peter! Stay with me!”

But Peter didn’t. The darkness was a lot more comfortable than being awake and he was pretty sure Tony would forgive him if he took a little nap. There was a lot of confusion and shouting around him and he was just so tired. With that thought swirling through his head, Peter let himself pass out.

————————————————

Even without opening his eyes, Peter could recognize the plush feeling of the MedBay bed and the sharp smell of betadine and chlorhexidine and industrial cleaner in the air. It tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze but he manfully held it in, burying his face a little more firmly into the plump pillow. He was resting on his front instead of his back like normal and he could tell by the slowness of his thoughts and the heaviness of his muscles that he was on his super strength painkillers and probably some sort of sedation as well.

His thoughts were murky and hard to get through with the pain relief on board so he didn’t try to think too hard for now and, instead, blinked his eyes open slowly. The room was dim like it was late in the evening even though warm light filtered in through the barely cracked blinds. There were two chairs beside his bed – the closest one held May’s purse and scrub jacket and the second had his mentor.

Tony was leaned over his tablet, one elbow propped on the arm of the chair and eyes half lidded as he read through something on the screen. He looked tired but, Peter supposed, he always looked that way when Peter ended up in the MedBay. “Mr. Stark,” he muttered out, blinking his eyes and barely managing to get them back open through his exhaustion.

Tony jumped and launched his tablet to the floor but was quick to recover and stand up so he could lean over Peter and run a cautious hand through his hair. “Hey Bambino,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter answered, letting his eyes close again. “High.”

“Yeah I’ll bet,” Tony agreed with him, a touch of amusement in his voice. “You should go back to sleep, you’ve got a lot of healing to do. You want anything before your nap?”

“What happened?” Peter asked, slitting his eyes open to look up at Tony’s worried face.

“When I asked if you wanted something I was thinking water or ice chips,” Tony told him pointedly but Peter didn’t let up on his relentless, woozy eye contact until Tony sighed and settled into May’s chair so he could hold Peter’s hand and continue to massage through his hair with the other. “You were kidnapped for information on me.”

“I didn’t give up anything right?” Peter asked, worried. He could vaguely remember some hazy memories but nothing was really clear through his tiredness and the drugs coursing through his system.

“Not one bit,” Tony confirmed, pride and concern warring on his face. “We’ll have a much more in depth discussion about that later and how you should always save your own skin over a couple passwords,” he promised, “but, for now, all you need to know is they messed up your back pretty good. Cho and Bruce estimate a full recovery with no scaring but you’ll be out for a bit while you recover.”

Peter searched his grey-tinged and sluggish memories before letting out a little hum of understanding. “They whipped me.”

“Yeah kiddo,” Tony confirmed. “They did. But you’re going to be just fine. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me,” Peter agreed, letting his eyes slip shut again. “Gonna nap now,” he said groggily, “night.”

“Night buddy,” Tony whispered and Peter fell asleep to the feeling of warm fingers carding through his hair and a calloused hand holding his.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump11 #Prompt: Whipping #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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cali-holland · 5 years ago

Text

Heartbreak Weather, Part One- T. H.

Pairing: Tom Holland X Horan!Reader

Prompt: After going through a rough breakup, you lose all hope in love, but your brother Niall Horan insists on getting you back into the world. When you meet his friend Tom Holland, you start to think that maybe your life isn’t just heartbreak weather.

Word Count: 4000

Featured Songs (All by Niall Horan): Heartbreak Weather - Nice to Meet Ya - Dear Patience - No Judgment

Previous Part: Teaser

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

MARCH 2018

“God damn it, let go of the ice cream.” Your older brother huffed, attempting to take the cold dessert from you

“No, leave me alone.” You pouted, refusing to move from your position on the couch.

“You need to get up and off this couch. Come with me to the gala- you already have a dress and everything.” Niall sighed a breath of relief as he finally wrestled the pint of ice cream from your arms.

“I don’t want to go. Leave me to wallow in my own pity.” You groaned, pulling your blanket up over your head.

Just three days ago, you were excited for your older brother to come to London and spend a few weeks with you. You were at school in the bustling English city, and he was usually very busy. Luckily for the two of you, his charity gala for golf lined up perfectly with a break in school; and he invited you to go along with him. You were so eager for that event, and he’s right- you did have everything ready for it, including a red dress you were in love with.

Your mood changed completely when you discovered your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you for over six months with his best friend. Niall’s arrival coincided with the downfall of your relationship. And now, you had no motivation to get off the couch; you simply wanted to be sucked into a void of sad dog movies and ice cream.

“No, you are coming with me to that gala. Think about it- you dumped Eric’s sorry ass and now you’re going to an event that will be flooded with paparazzi. Show him what he’s missing.” Niall said.

“As my brother, I don’t think you’re supposed to say that. I think you’re supposed to be over at his place, beating him the hell up.”

“Oh, trust me, if it was legal, I’d beat the shit out of him.” He stated. “Please, will you come?”

“Fine, but I’m going straight back to this state once it’s all over with.” You replied. You rolled your eyes while he cheered. You stood from the couch and headed to your room to get ready. Niall let out a sigh as he heard you begin to play Sam Smith over the speakers.

“As if she wasn’t sad enough.” He shook his head, before going to your guest room to get ready himself.

~~~

The gala was being held at a fancy hotel in central London, and you felt nerves overcome you as the car came to a stop outside of the entrance. The paparazzi lined the carpet and the fans lined the paparazzi.

“Can I go home yet?” You asked, and Niall gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“Come on, you’ll kill it out there.” He smiled. The car door opened and Niall stepped out with you following along behind him. You two stopped and posed for pictures on the carpet, before you stepped aside to let Niall have his moment.

Making your way inside, you took in the beauty of the ballroom- it definitely looked like a gala rather than a glorified hotel room. Bruno Mars’ Just the Way You Are sounded over the speakers, and you couldn’t help, but feel a sting in your heart. This was your song with your ex; and it still hurt to think about it. Your smile began to drop as you scanned the room, wondering if Niall had made it in through another entrance. Your eyes fell upon a brunette boy across the room. Almost instantly, his brown eyes found yours and he smiled. You felt your lips curve into a genuine smile back at the stranger. Something about him felt familiar to you, but between the crowded room and the surprisingly bad lighting, you couldn’t place him.

“Y/N,” Niall’s voice caught your attention, pulling you away from the stranger’s captivating stare. “Come on, we gotta get seated.” He led you over to your table, which had name cards placed on them.

“Who are we sitting with?” You asked, wondering if he would know, as you two sat down.

“My buddy, Tom, should be with us.” Niall stated.

“Tom as in-” Before you could finish your question, a loud British voice sounded from behind the two of you.

“Niall! It’s been ages!” The voice exclaimed, pulling your brother into a hug. As Niall pulled away, you felt your eyes widen with surprise as you were met with the face of Tom Holland in front of you- a.k.a. the brunette stranger from not even five minutes ago.

“Tom! How have you been?” Niall smiled.

“I’ve been great. I’ve been here for a few weeks, but I go back to filming in a couple days.” He replied, just as cheery.

“I’m on a break right now. We gotta get together before you leave and play a few rounds.” Your brother eagerly replied, “There’s this great golf course by Y/N’s place.” Niall caught himself as he looked down to you awkwardly sitting there at the table.

“Hi, I’m Tom.” Tom smiled, holding out a hand for you to shake.

“Y/N, Niall’s sister. The one that lives near a golf course apparently.” You joked, shaking his hand. Niall sat down and Tom took the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two.

“Y/N, do you still play?” Niall asked you.

“Not often, but I bet I can still beat you.”

“Really? You’re even better than Niall?” Tom inquired.

“Surprised I’m better than him?”

“Considering he’s the only person who’s beaten me every single time, I’d say I’m more intrigued and intimidated.”

“I’ll come play some holes with you two, then we’ll see.” You laughed.

The gala’s host made his way onto the stage and the three of you fell into a comfortable silence with the rest of the audience. Dinner was served shortly afterwards and there was a flow of conversation between the three of you.

“Oh, there’s Rory. I need to go say hi.” Niall stood up, once he finished his meal and spotted his friend at another table. He immediately went over to Rory, striking up a conversation with him.

“He’s such a social butterfly. Everywhere he goes, he knows someone.” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“I bet the fans get crazy with him, don’t they?” Tom asked.

“Ni gets spotted a lot less now that he’s got his brunette hair back. I’ve always liked it better natural than blond.” You stated. Before Tom could speak up again, you got a text notification. Though the contact was missing you knew exactly who it was, sending you a ‘I screwed up. Please, let’s work this out’ text.

“Uh, sorry, I just- I have to go.” You said, standing up from the table and avoiding looking at Tom. This whole night, you hadn’t thought about your ex at all; you were so captivated by Tom.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Tom asked, standing as well.

“Nothing, I just can’t be here right now.” You replied as your voice cracked through your words. With phone and purse in hand, you rushed out to the empty hallway and sat against the wall, letting your tears freely flow. You were crying so hard that you barely registered Tom sitting beside you and putting an arm over your shoulders to comfort you. As you steadied your sobs, you began to speak.

“Have you ever felt like your whole life’s been heartbreak after heartbreak; it’s always heartbreak weather at this point. I dated my ex for two years, and he cheated on me for months. And now he wants to get back together?”

“I’m sorry.” Tom said, “If he’s stupid enough to cheat on you, then he doesn’t deserve you. You’re incredible, and that’s coming from someone who’s only known you a few hours.”

“I’ve spent every day of the past two years devoted to him, and now I have nothing. I wasted so much time on him. I should’ve known he wasn’t the one. Niall warned me all that time ago that he wasn’t good enough.” Your voice was soft as you spoke. “I��m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been through this before.” Tom paused, thinking of how to lighten the mood, “Do you want to get out of here? We can go get some real food- this vegetarian stuff isn’t cutting it for me.”

“I look like shit now.” You said, wiping under your eyes in an attempt to fix your mascara that was bound to be all over your face.

“You look amazing. Come on,” Tom stood up and held out a hand out to you. You took it and he helped you stand.

“I don’t want to confront Niall, not now. I’ll just text him.” You stated.

“Just make sure he knows you’re safe.” He replied, leading you out the back exit as he called for his car. You pulled out your phone and texted Niall: ‘Went to go get actual dinner with Tom. I’ll see you tonight’.

You and Tom got dinner from a drive through and ended up taking it back to your place. Your shoes were both abandoned by the door, and Tom’s jacket laid on the back of a chair with his tie hanging loosely from his neck. He rolled up the white sleeves of his suit, giving him better access to chicken wings.

“This has got to be the best post-gala idea.” Tom laughed, taking a bite of the chicken wing, trying his best not to make a mess as you did the same.

“Absolutely.” You agreed. “I should have probably changed out of this dress though.”

“At least it’s red?” He offered.

“That does nothing to hide a chicken wing stain.” You teased.

“Just trying to be helpful.” He laughed.

After you finished up eating, Tom searched for something on Netflix while you changed into more comfortable clothes- a tight fighting dress was not the move for a night in.

“Do you want to watch anything specifically?” Tom called out to you from the living as you made your way into the kitchen, in search of some wine.

“How about a comedy?” You replied, “Do you want some wine?”

“Sure.” You grabbed two glasses and an unopened bottle, taking them into the other room. You set them on the coffee table and took a seat beside Tom on the couch.

“The Hangover?” Tom asked, and you let out a laugh, pouring out the wine.

“I love that movie.” You said, handing him a glass as he hit play.

“I’m not normally a big wine guy, but this is good.” He stated, surprised after the first sip.

“My ex may be a shithead, but he’s got great taste in wine. This was one of his most expensive bottles. I took this from his place about a week ago.”

“Damn, you might as well take his wine.” Tom joked. “I wouldn’t have expected you to like wine.”

“What did you expect me to like? Beer like Niall?”

“Yeah, actually.” He laughed.

“Don’t worry, I can hold my own with beer as well.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the movie played. At some point during the film, you shifted and placed your head on his shoulder, leaning into him. It didn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep.

You began to wake up when you heard a door shutting, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, too content with your peaceful sleep. You were only vaguely aware of two voices.

“Tom, you’re still here?” Niall asked, his voice at a regular volume.

“She’s sleeping.” Tom replied in a hushed tone.

“Oh,” He said, recognition coming over him as he saw your position. He glanced over and saw the wine, knowing exactly how you ended up in there.

“Yeah, we got dinner and watched the Hangover.” Tom explained quietly.

“Here, I’ll take her to her room.” Niall moved over towards you in an attempt to free Tom from his position.

“I’m up now, you dickheads.” You mumbled, keeping your eyes closed.

“You gotta get up or else Tom can’t move.” Your brother stated. You let out a groan before opening your eyes. Your eyes widened in confusion as you realized your head was fully on Tom’s lap, not at all on his shoulder like you last remembered.

“My bad.” You said, sitting up and giving Tom the opportunity to move freely once again.

“You’re fine, love.” Tom replied with a smile.

“Well, I’m going to get a shower. I kind of got champagne all over me.” Niall laughed, before heading off to the guest room.

“How long was I out?” You asked, slowly standing from the couch to clear the wine bottle and glasses from the table.

“I don’t know. I think the movie finished a couple hours ago?” Tom replied.

“A couple hours? Tom, you could have woken me up.” You said.

“You just looked so peaceful, like you really needed the sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you. When the movie finished, I moved your head so your neck wouldn’t be sore.” He explained. His words just about made you blush, thinking that he spent his whole night caring about your wellbeing.

“You’re sweet, you know that?” You smiled, leading him to the front door.

“Thank you for everything, Tom. I had a great night.” You admitted as you walked him to his car.

“I had a great time too.” He replied.

“Good night, Tom.” You said, stepping away from him.

“Good night, Y/N.” Tom got into his car as you walked back inside your apartment.

“So, you and Tom, huh?” Niall asked the moment you got inside, his hair still wet from his shower.

“Piss off.” You shook your head at him and ducked into your room. That night, you drifted off to sleep with thoughts of the next time you’d see Tom floating around in your head.

~~~

The next day, you woke up to the smell of Niall making breakfast. Sure, he could easily get his own place in London, but him staying at your place meant you two got to see each other more. By the time you made your way to the kitchen, he was already eating his portion and drinking his morning cup of coffee.

“Morning.” You smiled, helping yourself to the rest of the food.

“Did you sleep well?” Niall asked almost teasingly.

“Yeah actually. Best night’s sleep I’ve gotten in a while.” You replied, avoiding eye contact with him, knowing exactly where he was going.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain British lad now, would it?”

“I don’t know. Did Louis say something?” You teased back, sitting down at the table across from him. He rolled his eyes and playfully scoffed.

“Well, if it has nothing to do with Tom, then good.” Niall stated as you began to eat your breakfast.

“Good?”

“I wouldn’t want it to be awkward or anything. We’re going golfing today, and you’re coming with us.” He smiled before clearing his plate of food.

“I’m sorry, what?” You laughed awkwardly because yes, it would be strange having to see Tom again so soon.

“Golf. Eleven o’clock.” Niall clarified, before getting up from the table and clearing away his dishes.

“What if I don’t want to go golfing?” You asked.

“Oh come on, like you’d want to pass up the opportunity to beat me.”

He left the room in silence, leaving you to finish eating alone. You sighed, picking up your phone to flick through Instagram while you ate. Like every other day, you had to go through your follow requests. Being the younger sister of Niall Horan meant that a lot of fans tried following you for the past several years, but you wanted to maintain some privacy and kept your page hidden from the public. The fans still attempted to follow you though; you couldn’t exactly tell your brother he couldn’t follow you, and so they easily found it.

You paused your scrolling when you saw a verified mark. The little notification read, “tomholland2013 wants to follow you”. You let out a small laugh before accepting it and following him back- another one of your Instagram habits, you didn’t follow many celebrities besides the One Direction boys. You finished your scrolling and then went through the rest of your morning routine of checking out new posts and viewing stories. As you went to view the new stories, you saw Tom had just posted one. When you clicked on it, you didn’t think you’d be so surprised by it, but boy, were you surprised.

You weren’t sure what kind of stories Tom posted, but you definitely felt like a shirtless, sweaty gym video was an unusual story for him. You laughed, shaking your head. Sure, you had heard about the actor being incredibly ripped, but you never really thought about it in detail. And after that video, you were sure you would think about his muscles a lot more.

You decided that was enough of Instagram for now- you didn’t want to stumble into anymore thirst traps right then. Besides, it was time to get ready for golf with Niall and Tom.

A few hours later, you and Niall pulled up to a golf course on the outskirts of town, and you met Tom inside with his own set of clubs. You couldn’t help but blush when you saw him in his tight polo, especially now that you know exactly what his abs look like under there. He greeted you and Niall with a smile, and you tried to ignore the fact that his stare lingered on you.

“Who’s ready to play?” Niall asked, pulling you away from your thoughts as the three of you headed over to the golf carts.

“Are you ready to lose?” You quipped back, making Tom laugh as you all placed your clubs in the backseat of the cart.

“When’s the last time you played?” Your brother questioned.

“Like a year ago.” You replied.

“I might put my money on Niall winning then.” Tom joked, “He’s been playing weekly.”

“Hey, I had to practice weekly so I could beat Y/N next time we play together.” Niall stated.

“Just sounds like you’ve got no life.” You teased.

As expected, you won the overall game as Niall placed second behind you. He swore that you were cheating somehow. The three of you decided to go down to a nearby pub for lunch, and, also as expected, your brother ran off to the bar for drinks, leaving you and Tom alone.

“So, I see you found me on Instagram.” You said, teasingly, “How long did it take for you to try to find me?”

“Took me longer to decide if I wanted to actually request you or not.” Tom laughed, “I didn’t want to come off creepy, especially because your account is private.”

“It wasn’t creepy.” You laughed as well, “I have to say though, the gym video was a nice touch. A minute after I followed you too.”

“That happened to just be a coincidence.” He said as he began to actually blush at the call-out.

“Oh, I bet it was.” You teased.

“Is there any way I can get your number? I leave tomorrow for filming, but I’d like to stay in touch with you.” Tom asked, his voice sounded nervous. You were a bit surprised by his forwardness, but you already knew your answer.

“Yeah,” You replied and both of you reached to take out your phones. Swapping phones, you both added your numbers. You smiled, seeing his lock screen- a picture of a dog. You asked, “Is this your dog?”

“That’s my Tessa. She’s such a sweetheart.” Tom said, smiling as he looked at the picture fondly.

“She’s adorable.”

“Maybe you can meet her one day. She loves meeting new people.” Before you could even try to reply, Niall came back, pulling the two of you back into reality.

“I forgot I was driving.” Niall told you sheepishly and you laughed.

“I can drive, don’t worry.” You laughed.

You two parted ways from Tom, wishing him a safe journey to the states. The car was filled with a strange silence between you and your brother until he finally spoke up.

“Am I allowed to ask about you and Tom again?” Niall asked anyway.

“I gave him my number, but we’re just friends.” You said with a small sigh. “I dated Eric for two years. Up until last week, I thought he was the one, but then he broke my heart. He was unfaithful to me for months and-”

“Tom’s not Eric.” Niall spoke up calmly, “I know you’re afraid of rushing into things with Tom, and that’s fine- take it slow and be patient. You don’t even need to date him. I know Tom though, and he would never do to you what Eric did to you. Tom’s a good man. I never liked Eric; there was always something wrong about it. I thought he was using you to get to me sometimes-”

“Way to sound vain.” You quipped.

“My point is,” He emphasized, “I don’t let just any of my guy friends hang out with my baby sister, and I especially don’t leave you in social situations with them. Eric was a dick. I know you’re probably worried that the whole distance thing won’t work with Tom; maybe it will, maybe it won’t, I don’t know.” “Where are you going with this?” You sighed as you pulled up to your place, parking the car.

“What I’m trying to say is just give Tom a chance. Be friends with him, get to know him, maybe date him. Just don’t shut him out because of what Eric did. Don’t let Eric have that power over your life anymore. Don’t let him make you scared of dating or of even being friends with a guy. Alright?” Niall asked.

“Yeah, I get it. Thanks for the whole pep talk.” You said, getting out of the car with Niall right behind you.

“Besides, if you two date and he breaks your heart, then I’ll go beat him up for you. The press will love that one.”

“Oh yippee.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his antics. As awful as his pep talk was, he was right overall- you couldn’t let your past with Eric dictate your future with Tom. You were headed for some sunny skies, away from the heartbreak weather that clouded your past.

~~~

Part Two Part Three Part Four

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland series #niall horan #heartbreak weather

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ablogthatishenceforthmine · 4 years ago

Text

Zeke Character Profile

Physical

Zeke is a very physical person, in a multitude of ways. He is tough. He loves and is good at physical activities. He is obsessed with wrestling; he does it all the time and can’t seem to stop doing it. It seems also to be an emotional thing, as he often wrestles people when he is overcome with emotion or affection.

In group tasks or environments, he often occupies roles that demand physicality. At the makeshift gambling joint the Belcher kids run in their basement in “The Kids Run the Restaraunt,” he is the doorman and bouncer. In “Few ‘Gurt Men,” his role in the mock trial is the baliff. In the heist in "The Taking of Funtime One Two Three,” his physical strength is emphasized and used to win an arcade game.

He is not just physically tough, but also physically affectionate. He is physically affectionate with most people, but is especially so with Jimmy Jr., his best friend. Zeke has no shame, embarrassment, or self-consciousness in hugging, holding, or throwing his arm around Jimmy Jr. and other boys his age. It’s really refreshing to see a male character that so thoroughly enjoys showing physical affection to his male friends without any “no homo” posturing or thoughts. To give Jimmy Jr. credit too, he likewise has no problem with the physical affection Zeke shows him or giving Zeke physical affection.

Good Friend

Zeke cares a lot about about his friendship with Jimmy Jr. He values it above all else. He and Jimmy Jr. are inseparable. Zeke is a great friend to him. He always encourages and supports Jimmy Jr., showers him with compliments, and comforts him when Jimmy Jr. needs it. The only time he is disloyal to Jimmy Jr. is in the “Oeder games,” and that’s only after Jimmy Jr. turns on him first.

Supportive and Encouraging

Zeke is extremely encouraging and supportive of other people. He’s a cheerleader: not actually, but in spirit. He is constantly cheering on and complimenting people’s ideas and accomplishments. He just really believes in people and lets them know. Even when he is being critical, he does it in a positive when. In “The Land Ship,” when everyone is bashing Tina for being bland or boring, Zeke included, he at least does it in a somewhat motivational way, telling her “get some spice into you girl!”

Kind

Zeke is incredibly kind. He really cares about other people. There are many instances of Zeke being extraordinary kind. Because there are so many instances, I will just pick out a few examples that really stuck out to me. In “Broadcast Wagstaff News,” Zeke tells Tina that after a while, he continued to be the mad pooper for Tina. It’s a surprisingly sweet and touching thing. Even Tina, who is not partial to Zeke, thinks so. In “Midday Run.” he steals the mascot costume from Wagstaff for his grandma. She is going into surgery, and he knows that him prancing around in the mascot costume in front of her would comfort her and cheer her up. Once he is caught, he is desperate to get away, not to get out of trouble, but so that he can be there for his grandma. In “The Silence of the Louise,” Zeke falsely confesses to destroying Mr. Frond’s therapy dolls so that Jimmy Jr. and the other kids can go to the waterpark. It’s a completely selfless act, putting others above himself even when he doesn’t have to.

People Person

Zeke is a people person; he loves people and loves to be around them. He is very affectionate with people and often gives them nicknames; for example, he sometimes calls Tina “T-bird.” He also loves giving compliments, which he does all the time.

And people also really like Zeke. The best example of this is “A Fish Called Tina.” At different points, he is Rudy’s and Kaylee’s big fish (their mentor). He gets along with them so well. They really like him. Rudy even starts to think that Zeke could be his soulmate. After their first fish meeting, Rudy tells Zeke “I love you so much man.” Zeke replies in kind and they hug. Zeke loves people and they love him. Zeke just gets along with others so naturally and effortlessly. He is likeable, which in his case, is an actual skill. It’s no surprise he is such a great Big Fish. Zeke is able to bond with people who are completely different from him. He likes them even though they are nothing alike. Zeke is loud, outgoing, and energetic. While Rudy and Kaylee are quiet, bookish, and meek. But he doesn’t care about this, he doesn’t look down on them or think their weird or that they’re loses. Zeke likes and appreciates them, and people in general, for who they are. It’s also telling that such quiet and reserved people are able to care about Zeke so quickly rather than finding him obnoxious or draining.

Empathetic

Zeke is extremely empathetic, and always tries to understand the reasons for others’ behavior. In "Bob Actually,” when Tina run’s away from Jimmy Jr.’s jumping kiss, Zeke empathizes wither her, telling her “feelings are scary girl.” He’s wrong about why she’s running away (it’s diarrhea), but it’s telling that he takes a guess at why she is running away, and emphasizes with it. In “The Hawkening: Look Who’s Hawking Now,” Zeke is emotional and distraught over Rudy having a broken arm and he brings up the idea of a party to celebrate Rudy getting his cast off.

In "Sit Me Baby One More Time,” Zeke’s immediate empathy for Kendra is really incredible. He almost immediately zeroes in on the fact that her behavior stems from the difficulties of being the new kid in school. He intuits that Kendra is bullying others in a preemptive strike against rejection. He says that “she rejects them in their crouch before they reject her in their heart.” He offers this girl empathy and understanding, even though the few seconds he’s interacted with her involved her attacking him unprovoked. It’s really an outstanding moment of empathy, as well as showing that Zeke has an incredible ability to understand others.

Honest and Open

Zeke may lie about the trouble he gets into, but he is completely honest and open about his thoughts and feelings. He has no trouble showing or announcing how he feels. In fact, he almost constantly does so. The audience and the other characters in the show never have to guess what he is thinking or feeling.

He has no problem showing his emotions, which is quite refreshing to see in a teenage boy character, especially one as typically boyish as Zeke. He loves to express affection for people, verbal and physical. In “The Gene and Courtney Show,” he openly cries in class at Gene’s love announcement. He informs the whole class that he is crying. He also cries and gets emotional at the puppet show in “If You Love it so Much, Why Don’t You Marrionate?” In “The Trouble with Doubles,” He openly admits to being scared by the movie. He says it without being asked.

Below Average Intelligence

Zeke is not the most intelligent kid. He doesn’t have the smartest ideas or the best critical thinking skills. He doesn’t do well in school. He is in the Home Economics class that Mr. Frond describes as “for dummies.” Part of his problem with school, seems to be his short attention span, and he probably has ADHD, but he’s also just not book smart.

Zeke is aware of his lack of intelligence. In "Ex Mach Tina,” Zeke tells Tammy and Jocelyn that they’re making him feel smart, showing that he is aware that he isn’t smart. In “Bob and Deliver,” his whole plotline revolves around this idea. Zeke says he doesn’t need cooking, and that he’s not going to college. He doesn’t seem to believe he has a bright future, and has accepted that. Bob has to badger Zeke into trying to cook. Zeke repeatedly says that he can’t do it. When Bob goes to taste it the dish Zeke made, Zeke tells Bob that he probably wrecked it. It’s clear that he doesn’t believe in himself, at least when it comes to his intelligence and general abilities. This plotline is about Zeke gaining faith in himself, and learning he can do more than he thinks he can. He learns that he is more than what he has been told he is. Once he finds a teacher who believes in him, he is able to flourish.

High Emotional Intelligence

While Zeke may struggle with some forms of intelligence, he has incredible emotional intelligence and maturity. He may be the most emotionally intelligent character, and not just out of the kid characters, but all the characters. He accepts and expresses his own emotions. He is not ashamed or afraid of them.

He approaches people with empathy and is genuinely interested in their point of view. In “Midday,” Zeke honestly asks Tina why she likes being a hall monitor, and challenges her on what the job does/means. He is genuinely trying to challenge, understand, and help her, rather than just calling her out or antagonizing her. ”

Because of his empathy and sincere interest in people, he is incredibly insightful and smart when it comes to people, their feelings, and their motivations. In "Ex Mach Tina,” he has rather insightful things to say about one of Jimmy Jr.’s songs, the one about Jimmy Jr.’s father throwing the ball too hard for Jimmy Jr. to catch when they play catch. Zeke analyses the song, telling the group it’s about parents putting too much expectations on their kids.

In “Sit Me Baby, One More Time,” Zeke displays extraordinary emotional intelligence in his ability to understand Kendra. As described above, he only meets for her a few seconds, and during those seconds, she was trying to attack him. He hears secondhand from Tina that she is new in school and that she is bullying other kids. From just this information, he is gain accurate and incredible insight into her behavior and mindset. With this example, you get the feeling that Zeke really sees people, in all their complexities, masks, and flaws. In the same episode, when Jimmy Jr. tells Zeke’s he’s scared, Zeke responds “I know buddy, that’s what makes us human.” Again insightful and empathetic. He has a great attitude toward emotions. Better yet, he doesn’t mock JJ’s fear, the way that so many boys are taught to do. He doesn’t think that fear makes someone weak, or is unmanly. He just accepts fear, and offers empathy to Jimmy Jr.

Big Picture Thinker/Philosophical

Despite his below average traditional intelligence, Zeke things about big things and issues. He is also occasionally philosophical.

In "Tina and the Real Ghost,” Zeke reveals that he doesn’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife. It says a lot that he’s thought enough about death and the afterlife to have a strong opinion on it and to not believe in it. Zeke thinks about big picture things: some pretty serious, weighty stuff. When he does start to believe in ghosts, he says very seriously, and kinda in a sort of despair, that “this changes a lot for me. A LOT.” He has a world view, and nd there is some melancholy and despair under his cheeriness. When the fraud of the ghost Jeff is revealed, Zeke says he wanted to believe that there was more than this life. This is a much more serious and philosophical desire than the other characters desires: to have a boyfriend, to hop on the bandwagon, or to win in a rivalry.

There are some other examples of Zeke thinking about big issues. In “Ex Mach Tina,” he is excited about getting philosophical about growing up. In “The Quirk-ducers,” it is revealed that Zeke co-founded a “women’s issues” club. He is also aware enough to know that no women signing up for the club is a problem. In “UFO No You Didn’t,” Zeke is concerned about the bees dying, and becomes the topic of his and Tammy’s science project. And it’s actually a good one idea, showing that Zeke can apply himself when he cares about what he’s doing.

Loud and Excitable

Zeke is very loud and excitable. He has has a sense of wonder about the world, and gets excited about the tiniest things. He is extremely enthusiastic. He uses colorful, creative, and evocative language. Zeke also loves to entertain others. He loves the attention, and making other people laugh.

Juvenile Sense of Humor

Zeke has a juvenile sense of humor. He loves gross out and sexual humor, as best indicated by his mad pooper stunt. He also has a lot of traits that are typically associated with teenage boys, such as his obsession with boobs.

Impulsive

Zeke is very impulsive, often acting without thinking. This can be both good and bad. It can be good because it means he is a doer; he takes action. This can be seen in "The Belchies,” when he, Tina Jimmy Jr, and Gene are stuck in the elevator. While Gene, Jimmy Jr., and Tina are just sitting in the elevator, accepting that they are stuck, Zeke is the one that gets them out by lifting the elevator door thing on an impulse. But his lack of impulse control also causes serious problems. It leads him to make bad decisions, and it gets him in trouble a lot at school. Zeke gets detention A LOT. However, he is aware of his impulse control issues. In “Thelma and Louise Except Linda is Thelma,” he explains that his many detentions is because he has a problem with impulse control.

Rule-breaker

Due partly to his poor impulse control, Zeke is bad at following rules. He also is just a rebellious person who enjoys causing trouble sometimes. He likes pranks, and often acts out.

But sometimes, his rule-breaking has nothing to due with this poor impulse control or love of pranks. Zeke follows his heart and his own moral code. He knows that rules aren’t always moral or right. He does what he thinks is right, even if its against the rules. This is best evidenced in “Midday Run,” when he steals the mascot costume in order to cheer up his grandma before her surgery. By the end of the episode, Zeke ended up teaching Tina that rules aren’t always right, and she shouldn’t always just obediently follow and enforce them without question.

Troubled Home Life

The show repeatedly hints that Zeke has a troubled home life; it’s a running joke of the series. In the opening of "The Runway Club,” in a homage to the film “The Breakfast Club,” Zeke plays the Bender role, further connecting him to a troubled home life.

Most of what’s mentioned or alluded to isn’t too serious or concerning. But Zeke seems to have a more adult, messy, and complicated home life than the other kid characters. His family moves around a lot, his birth mom had him when she was in high school, he has a 44 year-old brother, a clown at 7th birthday part later become famous for murdering someone. These are just some examples of things mentioned.

In “Boyz for Now,” Zeke also tells Tina and Louise that his step-mother is an alcoholic and a shopaholic. Although, during the play, when they are talking about how great moms are, Zeke makes a point to include step moms, and gives his step mom a shout out. So, he clearly has a good relationship with her. So again, nothing too dark, but still a bit troubled.

Conclusion

Zeke is a deceptive character. By which I mean, at first glance, and when he was first introduced, he seems simple. He’s a loud, gross, not very smart, impulsive teenage boy with a juvenile sense of humor. But underneath these qualities, he has a lot of depth. He is philosophical, highly emotionally intelligent, and extremely kind.

And just like viewers may at first have written him off, Wagstaff and Mr. Frond have too. Zeke is the type of kid whom schools, at least American schools, routinely fail because they have such a rigid and limited idea of what a good student is. They value a specific set of qualities, and fail to value or even see others that lay outside of that set. Unfortunately for Zeke, he lacks the qualities schools value and excels in the ones they ignore and devalue.

Zeke is labeled a bad, below-average kid. But the thing is, he is actually an extraordinary and talented kid. His level of emotional intelligence at his age is incredible, and really, rarer than the book-smarts that the “good kids” possess. He is really great with people, at dealing with them, and understanding them. That’s a real gift. But Wagstaff doesn’t value or even acknowledge these skills and qualities.

These abilities and personality traits should be acknowledged, valued, encouraged, and nourished. It is possible to create a school environment where Zeke, and kids like Zeke, can thrive. Instead of endlessly punishing Zeke and telling him that he’s a bad kid not worth very much, the school and Mr. Frond should acknowledge and cater Zeke’s school experience to his considerable gifts

For example, Zeke has a lot of qualities that make a great leader, such as his people-oriented nature and big picture thinking. Obviously, he lacks some necessarily qualities for leadership, so Zeke works best as a co-leader or leading with a group. He needs a partner/co-leader that has the leadership skills he lacks: critical thinking, attention to detail, and long-term thinking.

In “Prank You For Being a Friend,” Zeke is put in the club ‘the Thinkgineers” as a punishment. Imagine if he was encouraged or put in extracurricular activities that actually suited his skills and interests. The Thinkginners is the absolute worst club to put Zeke in. The Thinkginners is a club about inventing. It involves critical thinking, problem solving, math, and minute details. If the goal was to punish Zeke, then Mr. Frond succeeded, but wouldn’t it be better to help help. Mr. Frond should have put Zeke a club where he can actually thrive and find purpose, like with his time as a Big Fish. So maybe a mentorship club? Or a club that interacts with a lot or helps people? Or even something with leadership? These types of “punishment” would be much more helpful to Zeke than any of the other punishments he is given. Isn’t his behavior improving more important than the act of punishing?

I imagine Zeke would me more motivated and be better able to work on his weaknesses, if his strengths were recognized and encouraged in school. If he believes that his is a capable and worthy person, he might believe in himself more and work harder on his weaknesses. He might enjoy school more, which could only be a good thing.

#bob's burgers #zeke #bob's burgers zeke #my posts #ablogthatishenceforthmine

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scary-lasagna · 5 years ago

Note

What would EJ, Ben, Toby and Dark Link look for in an s/o? (Personality, appearance)

Lord I wrote alot lmao

Personality

He enjoys people who are mellow and quiet.

Loud people annoy him and drain all of his strength.

But he'd rather have someone loud who accepts his eating habits than someone who's quiet and judgemental.

He'd also want someone who's willing to give him space when he needs it. He's a strict introvert and needs to be alone sometimes to recharge all of his energy.

But Jack would appreciate someone ho's willing to cuddle when he is. He loves his s/o and wants to be in their arms whenever he can.

He wouldn't mind an s/o that's clever and intelligent. EJ happens to be more logical, so conversations with a more clever-than-average s/o would be ideal to him.

Even if he doesn't talk that much.

Even if he might not like it, a jokester would suit him well. Jack still has a dumb-silly teenager still inside of him, and an s/o that jokes around and likes to have fun might bring out that side of him.

Appearance

He's not picky appearance-wise, given he sees himself as a living rotting turnip.

Poor boi has low self-esteem.)

And he finds himself lucky someone is attracted to him in the first place.

But he'd like someone with a little bit of thiccness. Thighs to rest his head on and hips to pull towards him on lazy Saturday mornings.

Brunettes and blondes also tend to catch his attention.

He also thinks tattoos and body mods are cool as hell.

And he wouldn't mind someone non-human for that matter. He's a demon, and he might like someone who he can relate to without that voice in the back of his mind reminding him that a human so may judge him more for being a monster.

BEN

Personality

He'd rather be with someone who won't get on his ass for being a lazy fuck all the time.

And of course, they'd have to have a lot in common for it to work out.

He'd prefer a gamer s/o, like him. Gaming is a huge part of his life (unlife?), and he'd like to spend it with someone he likes.

If not, they should be willing to try so they can bond and have fun together sometimes.

BEN would also love someone that jokes around alot. He's a little shit himself, so he's going to be pulling pranks on his s/o anyways.

But once they get him back??? Oh lord it's on.

I guess cooking is a personality trait??

He loves food, and he'll love anyone who can cook a good meal. Bonus points if it's healthy, which means that they care about his well being since he eats junk food all the time.

Appearance

BEN is a dirty blonde, so he likes darker colored haired people.

Like, brunettes and red hair. But the occasional blonde might be able to strike his eye.

BEN is a thighs and ass kind of guy, so he's going to prefer a thicc s/o.

Someone he can comfortably cuddle with and snuggle up to at night.

He'd also rather have a more innocent/pure looking s/o. Someone with bright eyes and he couldn't help but hug them cause they're so cute. But deep down, they're really the most badass person you've ever seen.

He'll dig that. But other than that, he’s not too picky as long as you don’t look like Jeff or smth.

Toby

Personality

Toby would like someone who he can be able to relate to.

Someone with a troubled past like his, and someone who understands what he's been through and what he's going through.

He'd like a relationship where they can always build off of each other to become better people.

But there are points where he's going to require someone to ground him when he starts to spiral.

Anxiety attacks are frequent with toby, and he's going to need someone to calm him down when they strike.

That goes the same with his bipolar disorder. He's able to get angry and depressed and everything in between over simple things. His s/o should be ready to deal with these and help him feel better.

Toby is also clingy so his s/o should be able to deal with that as well, along with his clumsiness that he's not able to help.

Appearance

Our boi isn't too picky when it comes to appearances.

As long as you don't wear clown make-up or look hella scary, he'll find himself thinking you look more beautiful as the days roll by.

But he'd prefer someone a little more on the lean side.

Toby is skinny himself, so he'd like someone that would match his body type.

Expect him to pick his s/o up on the regular tho.

He loves to feel the frame of their body against him.

But Toby likes anyone with soft hair that he can pet.

Or smooth skin compared to his rough-looking hands.

But if you have a cuddle-worthy buddy, he'll gladly sleep on you.

Dark Link

Personality

Dark is emo as hell.

Like, to the point where you get a lil bit of second-hand embarrassment from what he says sometimes.

He's also quick to anger, so he'd like someone who can deal with that.

Someone's who's level headed and can be able to calm him down.

But if he gets too rowdy, he'd like someone tough to put him in his place.

But once he gets in a relationship, he gets very protective over his s/o. And he'll throw some rounds with someone who insults them.

In light of that, Dark would like someone who plays along with this and lets him be the lead in the relationship.

Appearance

You know the 'big tiddy goth gf' meme?

Yeah, that's what he looks for in an s/o.

Dark hair, dark clothing, etc.

He doesn't mind weight either way, but he wouldn't like anyone who's too under/overweight.

But if he had a choice, he would pick an average weighted s/o. Not to thicc or skinny. But full enough so he can get some squeeze their hips when he pulls them close.

He'd also like someone physically strong, he play-wrestles and rough houses a lot. So he doesn't have to worry about hurting his s/o if he's the one being pinned.

#Dark link #BEN #Ben drowned #toby #ticci toby #toby rogers #ej #eyeless jack #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta imagine #creepypasta blog

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newbornwhumperfly · 5 years ago

Text

all i know is you’re the nicest thing

CW: references to past non-con, dissociation, panic attack, references to victim-blaming.

a spinoff gift fic of @haro-whumps brilliant, heart-wrenching group whump series. this is based on some headcanons we’ve exchanged. i hope you like it, haro!!!

Snow is thick on the ground and Galo is going stir-crazy.

He hasn’t been able to run around the mansion for a week now. While it was kind of a fun challenge to wrestle through the drifts when they were ankle-high, it’s now impossible while keeping good form. Per usual, he’s been visiting the gym regularly but that’s come to a stop with the week before Christmas, depriving Galo of even this pressure-release. He still lifts weights, pushes and pullups until his arms tremble but he’s pushed himself as far as he can without burning out. Video games always exist, obviously.

What’s really funny, Galo thinks sourly, plucking a thread loose in his coverlet, is how a little cold weather makes you realize how isolated you are. Sure, he’d never really cared for Christmas. Correction: he kinda hated it. Aside from the fact that he’s decidedly not religious, the holiday was always bound up with baggage. Being made to wear festive, uncomfortable dresses to seemingly infinite parties full of infinitely shallow, shitty guests tripping over themselves and one another to flaunt how well they were doing.

Ever since he’s gotten his own place, Galo never bothered with his own celebrations. No SO, no super close buddies to chill with, no way in hell he’s gonna make plans with anyone in his family. Outside of the occasional Christmas party at work and its flimsy temptation of free dessert and sparkly booze, he hasn’t bothered.

Now though…

Galo worries his lower lip as he sips the smoothie Sasha made for him. There’s a sprig of holly on the rim and it makes him grin. The timid woman has blended his breakfast for the past seven months and he’s come to lean on the reliability of it, the way that Sasha assembles the ingredients just so, drawing out a fresh deliciousness he’s never managed to coax from the mixture. She’s really damn good with food and he remembers to tell her so whenever the opportunity arises. It never fails to soften her.

Now he has people to take care of. Well, ok, they’re not children. But sometimes Galo feels that way, as guilty as it makes him. They’ve learned helplessness well, as they were trained to. As it was beaten into them over years and years, until they were broken, stitched back together with brutal routine. He grips his cup, fingers flexing in rage. Aunt Bethany may be cold in her grave but Galo’s anger refuses to cool, needing only a flinch or stammer or any unbidden reminder of the abuse to stoke that fury. The many weeks Galo has lived with these traumatized slaves has only peeled back fresh layers to the nightmare, all of it fuel to the simmering heat that lurks below his skin. He said he wasn’t religious but he really hopes hell is real.

Galo threads his fingers through his tuft of hair, yanking firmly to shake that train of thought off its runaway track. Now he can’t even work out until the burn of adrenaline smothers the hateful heat in his veins, he needs a new distraction other than his guild or fucking video games he’s played a hundred times before. The charity places he fills his spare hours with are all closed too, the heavy snowfall blocking most of the volunteers from service. He really is gonna go crazy, stuck for long, quiet hours in this sprawling estate with only his slaves for company. Who can’t leave and will all probably feed off his tension until they’re all an accidental frown away from a breakdown.

Fuck.

Bethany is gone but her horrors haunt this house, the ghosts waiting to strike in every corner.

Galo wonders if these guys celebrate the holidays at all. None of them can buy eachother anything, duh, but they’d probably made do? He doesn’t really have any clue what slaves would do on holidays but it’s probably none of his goddamn business. If he had to venture a guess, they probably did something special together after Bethany fell asleep. Or who knows? Maybe Christmas had shittier associations for them than even he had. That assumption was probably depressingly accurate. They were clearly devoted to this little unit of theirs and had probably found some way to make the day nice for one another.

And Galo had the nerveto feel stymied. He groaned as he threw an arm over sore eyes, blocking out the gaming livestream he was listlessly tracking on his laptop. He sure as hell wasn’t throwing a party in this gothic funhouse, most likely the first time in the group’s memory that they didn’t have to arrange an event. He was sitting pretty on millions of dollars, bemoaning his loneliness on a holiday he didn’t even celebrate in the first place.

He’s sure that the poor bunch downstairs could only dream of getting good things like he could get for himself anytime he wanted.

Oh.

Galo sprung up from his lazy sprawl against the headboard, an idea flaring up, getting brighter and warmer the more he thought on it.

This…this could be a good idea.

Could be being the operative word here, Galo determines, clicking away from the livestream to open a new search page as he reaches for his notebook and begins to flip through the pages of observations. He pauses, massaging his eyes as he considers his options. He’d have to be verycareful with this one; if he’s gonna do this, he needs to do it right or not at all. It might be a big fucking mistake, with the potential for backsliding practically a minefield under Galo’s still-balancing feet.

But it has been months. Dozens of days had crawled by without incident and he’s got wiggle room when it comes to potential fuck-ups – the last triggering incident was over two months ago and it had nothing to do with Galo’s actions. He figures he is safe for now. But, then again, he might never be safe when it comes these people – or rather, they might never feel safe with him, he acknowledges, heart panging sharply at the thought. Is it worth the risk, disturbing the fragile balance he’d so painstakingly built over the stretch of time?

Galo sighs, trying to release his tension the breath as he rubs his temple, ruffling the buzz of hair distractedly. It might be selfish, but he wants – desperately – to make them happy. To do something for them all other than just stay out of their way. There’s always the risk, in anything he says or does or doesn’t say or doesn’t do, that he will hurt them without even knowing it and it hurts. One thing he knows for sure is that he’s never been that person to resign themselves to doing nothing. Nothing is written in stone – if he has the heart and the care, he can do what he puts his mind to.

Sucking air into his lungs in one big, fortifying whoosh, Galo squares his stiff shoulders and starts typing suggestions into his search bar. He’ll start with Greyson, since his choices are easier, and then work his way down the list. He’s got less than a week and if he can do this right, and he needs – he reallyneeds – to get this one right, then they’ll be happier. And that’s all that really matters in the end. These people have never expected kindness outside of one another for their entire lives and Bethany had built the world in their minds in her image, a world of casual cruelty.

Well, it’s about the time to change that, and if Christmas is supposed to be a time of rebirth or whatever, Galo will exorcise his aunt’s presence with the ass-whooping spirit of the motherfucking season.

~ ~

Master Galo has been…animated.

Galo is almost always cheerful, at least in their presence, but the past week has thrown the man into a state of nervous energy. It isn’t…bad, as far as Greyson can pinpoint. There is an excitement which hovers around him but there is tension too. He’s been muttering under his breath a great deal, mumbling to himself in a distracted, half-aware manner as he has tended to do when he has a lot on his plate. He has been glued to his laptop a great deal as well, tending to pace with it as he wanders on socked feet between his usual haunts. Most hours, he drifts from one room to another, sometimes shutting himself into a room to make a call, sometimes contemplating something on the screen in long pauses, biting his lip, brow scrunched in focus.

Greyson has warned the rest to take care and not distract Master Galo, as he is prone to bumping into doorframes or nearly tripping as he turns about to set the device down and scribble swiftly in that bulky notebook that he carries in his pants pocket everywhere he goes. Whatever Master Galo’s true mood, Greyson knows it would not do to disturb his patterns of distraction. It has already been tense downstairs, what with Master trapped inside due to the harsh weather and lack of exercise routine. A bored Master is dangerous. His full attention could be easily caught by anything (or anyone) who got in his way right now.

And he cannot help but notice, even though he should not notice, as it is none of his business, that Master Galo keeps the screen darker than usual when he carries it around and he always closes it when Greyson or one of the others approaches. He does the same with the notebook but there is almost a caution to the movement when Galo notices he is being observed or approached, snapping the device shut and looking for a moment almost like a guilty child caught sneaking a treat. Greyson does notwant to think about what that means. He will find out soon enough, he suspects.

So for almost a week, as Christmas Eve crept closer through the soft, white hours, passing too slowly and yet too fast, Greyson watched and waited for something to happen.

~ ~

Nyla has brought several packages up to Master Galo’s room in the past week.

In the past, she wouldn’t take too much note of this. Mistress had had everything delivered to her once her knees got too bad to go out shopping anymore and she had always given Nyla’s own knees a good whack with her cane when Nyla brought her the latest purchase.

Now, however, it is unusual now and unusual is always bad. Master Galo doesn’t tend to buy things for himself, besides the occasional video game or set of clothes that he often chooses to drive out and pick up in person. Now, he has eagerly grabbed each new package from her, a pleased, giddy grin on his face every time. She doesn’t know what it means but she has noticed Master’s hyperactivity and knows that Greyson is concerned. When she allows herself to dwell on it, it concerns her too.

Master’s behavior might not be bad (yet) but Nyla certainly isn’t going to call it good. Master Galo insisted he wants Christmas to be uneventful and while Nyla would typically be beyond grateful for such a reprieve, her anxiety worsens with the lack of planning to busy her worried mind. Nevertheless, she pours the fretful energy into perfecting what she can. She can always be perfect. Nyla assures herself of this constant as she polishes and re-polishes, scrubs and sharpens and floats like a dust mote through the halls, quivering at the ready for Master’s beck and call.

Her headaches are beginning again. The season ushers them in without fail, sharp heat coiling down her neck, her jaw, up through her temples and between the eyes, at times so stabbing that she nearly staggers from the anguish. She doesn’t though, despite being uncommonly tempted to grimace against the cruel pale glare of winter sun through every window. Putting it out of her mind, she glides quietly in rooms near Master Galo.

Adjusting this, that was already straight.

Wiping this, that was already spotless.

She scrubs at a wood-stain on the balcony for the sake of scrubbing, letting the tingling cramps in her overworked wrists and sore knees distract her from the pain in her head. How much her jaw felt like it was trying to escape from her face, how much her neck seemed trying to twist off from the rest of the spine, and the constantpressure, the throbbing patch of nose, eyes, brow clamped with a spiked vice.

Mercifully, dusk was coming swiftly at the heels of the noon, the quickly dimming sky beckoning in Christmas Eve. Nyla has told Greyson to be ready with the car in case Master should want to go somewhere at the last minute. Lilah has kept the driveway shoveled with Evan’s help, bless them both, and salted. Sasha putters about the kitchen, busy with nothing as she travels in slow circles like a crumb circling the drain. They all feel it. They are all waiting. Master has been locked in his bedroom all day and most of yesterday, doing…something. Other than an occasional soft curse, Nyla has heard little when she passes (pauses, lingers, eavesdrops) by his door. She doesn’t think about what might be coming, what could be about to descend upon them swifter than the evening, better to lose herself in little meaningless labors.

Her focus thankfully helps her avoid a start when Master Galo flings his bedroom door open and pokes his head out, glancing about until his eyes catch Nyla, already risen from her futile polishing to a poised, submissive, smiling stance.

Perfect. She is perfect.

“Oh! Hey, Nyla, good – you’re exactly who I wanted. Um, is everyone…busy right now?”

Nyla parses the question. Everyone should be busy. That seems to be the right answer.

“Yes, Master Galo. Is there anything you require?”

Master didn’t seem outwardly displeased by her answer so she let herself breathe into his reply.

“Awesome. Yeah, actually. Why don’t you tell everyone to finish up whatever they’re doing? If it’s not finished, it can wait till later. After that, can you tell everyone that I wanna see them, and you too, in the living room? I’ve got some…gif-, uh, good surprises for everyone.”

Nyla can’t breathe in. She has breathed out already and can’t breathe back in. She needs to breathe in. Needs to speak.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Oh god.

Oh please.

Breathe.

She’s missed his words, muffled, underwater, swimming through too-thick air, no sound.

You need to breathe.

You need to listen.

Listen!

Air thins around the words and they make it to Nyla’s ears.

“-holiday spirit and, uh, yeah. It’s my festive mood coming out I guess. Don’t wanna give it away, you’ll all see the surprises in a moment anyway! But, yep, a few minutes? That good?”

Breathe.

She’s still smiling. She can feel it. She can feel her face, her mouth, her hands clasped in front of her. She can’t feel her lungs for some reason.

She blinks.

Nods.

She’s answered Master, right? God, please, has she answered Master’s question?

She must have. She must have. She must have answered correctly because he is grinning and nodding and thank holy god he isn’t really looking straight at her, rubbing his neck in that strange way he does sometimes. She must have answered him because he hasn’t gotten angry and he’s closing the door and she couldn’t have made it worse and she can’t make it worse and she’s perfect and she-

Perfect.

The word is like a splash of cold water and Nyla remembers how to inhale, knees buckling briefly with the dizziness of no air, catching herself on the balcony as the head-neck-spine-wrist-knee pain floods through her awareness, riding in on the icy wave of fear.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Perfect.

Enough. Nyla flicks her tender wrist with sharp, punishing taps until her limbs unfreeze. The moment she trusts her legs to carry her, she scoops up her cleaning supplies and lets her body take over. Drift gently down the stairs to inform the others. Obey. Guide the others.

Be perfect.

~ ~

It’s about fucking time.

Evan allows himself to savor this small prick of resentment on his swift walk to the living room, following only a minute behind Greyson, who’d tersely passed along the command.

Huffing harshly through his nose, he lets the tic in his jaw relax into his required, submissive blank while he tucks the flyaway hairs at his neck and forehead back into his ponytail. He doesn’t give a damn, of course, how pretty he looks. It’s not like his Master is gonna fuck him…probably. Gifts are not good; Evan should know that by now. Should know better than anyone. His gut lurches oddly at the memory of clammy, clawed hands pawing and pulling and scraping and taking what they want. He hasn’t been eighteen in a while but the space of years makes no difference and he can still smell the stench of smoky, heaving gasps. He can still feel the confusion like a sticky sweat crawl through his limbs morphing into terror-rage-shame.

It’s just the scent-memory which summons nausea, nothing more. He just…hates the smell of ash on breath. Hates that it’s been months since he’s had hands on him, years since that was new, hates that the hands fill his dreams and make him wish he had no skin to touch at all. He scratches the ghostly caresses off in the shower and tries to be grateful, bitterly, that no new hands have replaced the phantoms. Master isn’t gonna fuck him, at least, not soon. He shouldn’t have any reason to care about “looking proper”.

But Nyla would care, Evan thinks, the months-old regret clenching like an invisible vice around his heart. He owes it her to still be good, to at least try to live up to her poise.

It’s this duty which lulls him as he glides, smooth and graceful as he can, into place behind Nyla in the living room. He notices how she and Greyson have put themselves at the front, forming a fragile wall in front of Lilah, who is quivering in place and hunching to make herself shorter. Sasha has placed herself at Lilah’s left, shoulder almost brushing her bowed head as she curls ever-so-slightly inward towards the teen. Evan has been left Lilah’s right to stand at, his tall form shielding her from the room’s entrance. All of this was Nyla’s doing, of course it was. She has ensured that Lilah will, at least, not be the first to endure what is to come, has given her time to brace herself.

Evan’s love and respect for Nyla soars and nearly overwhelms him for a moment as he tries mirroring her back-straight neck-long eyes-low hands-clasped-lightly posture. She had forgiven him a while ago though softening took far longer and he is grateful for the generosity of time when he hears her hum, barely audible, in approval.

It is the only sound other than crackle-rumble of the enormous wood-fire blazing high and hot and he glances to the side to see the orange shadows dance over Lilah’s face. The dull roar has drowned out her breathing, too loud, too uneven. She hasn’t gone Quiet yet and he wishes she could when the flames reflect tears threatening to spill from her eyes already. She’s trying very hard, he can tell. His sweet baby Lilah. His sweet baby girl. He wishes so badly he could hug her right now. He wishes Master wasn’t about to hurt her for no fucking reason.

Stop it.

Those thoughts are dangerous territory and Evan will notlet himself ruin anything for everyone else. This isn’t about him. He needs to be perfect right now, for Nyla, for Lilah, for all of them. He owes them that much at the very least. It gets harder to keep his face flat, however, when Master practically strutsaround the corner.

In all the months he’s been here, Master has never looked so energized. He’s switched out his usual t-shirt and shorts for a casual suit, hair slicked, and when he strides to a halt in front of the Christmas tree, he’s almost bouncing on his heels. His hands keep clenching, unclenching, clenching with whatever jumpy giddiness that’s put that wide grin on his face. Whatever restraint has kept him tethered is loose now and it trembles through every line in his broad body.

Evan drops his gaze to the rug so he doesn’t have to look anymore, tracing the red-white-green stitching of embroidered wreaths below his shoes. He knew, he knewbetter than to trust Master Galo’s mood, so peppy, so eager, so cagey. Master’s gonna drop the act like a heavy fist down on their heads and Evan might almost be sickly satisfied if not for how a traitorous nausea is curling in his gut to swallow the rage, if not for how his whole family is trembling around him, if not for how he’d almost – almost – begun to wonder if Master was…different.

At least this stupid, stupid, stupidpunchline is about to be called. Cold comfort now with how chipper Master is, how he can barely contain himself with the sweet satisfaction of it all, to watch his slaves quiver on the cusp of long-awaited suffering. Evan just hopes its everything Master’s fucking dreamed of.

~ ~

Lilah is so confused that she wants to cry.

Usually, the tension would strain every muscle tight, fighting her mind that kept trying to Go Away, ‘cause it wasn’t time yet. She is about to cry, a little wetness escaping, wiped away quickly. She can’t cry yet, she can’t even cry yet ‘cause nothing even happenedyet and that’s bad. She can cry later. There’ll be plenty of time to cry, soon. Soon, will go Quiet and she won’t be worried about anything.

She doesn’t understand.

It’s so stupid to be confused. This just…used to be so simple and it hasn’t been the same recently and…she doesn’t get it. Evan was right, of course Evan was right, he’s always been right about Mistress things. She should’ve trusted him more about Master. But…but he…

He seemed different.

She’s never been good at the games, not like everyone else. She’s stupid about the rules anyway, and there’s so much that the rest of them all understand so easily, that they’ve learned from so many years of being good. She should know that there will always be a game. There will always be a rule. A test.

But still. He really did seem like he might be different than Mistress. His games were so very different that Lilah would wonder if he had a game at all. That’s stupid. But she had a good reason to be! Master had always been kind to her. He’d always smiled at her, real big, and he said such nice things about her work! He gave her lots of rewards too. Lots of rest and new kinds of food and special tools to make her yard-work easier, even though Lilah had always done a good job without those things.

“It’ll help you as a thanks for being so good at everything”, Master had told, all his teeth showing.

She should’ve known that was a lie. It had to be. But she’d wantedso badly to believe it.

Master never got mad when she went Quiet – kind of sad, or what looked like sad, and watchful and worried. But never mad. He’d never get mad at Lilah, even though he’s been mad at the others, been mad at Evan, even though they’re all better at this. Good enough for years. Good enough, at least, to not be punished all the time, day and night, beaten into place ‘cause she always had to be reminded of how not-good she is.

Bad girl.

Why? She just wants to know why and wanting hurts. Her heart hurts. It’s not a scared-hurt. It’s a sad-hurt, heart sore and throbbing wildly. She feels sadder than scared and that’s new and stupid but…she really did think Master woulddo something bad when nobody has been really bad and now he isgoing to and…she just doesn’t know why. But he is. And he’s happyabout it. Evan would say it’s ‘cause Master enjoys it, that he enjoys playing with them the way he does. She should listen to Evan. Why doesn’t she listen? Why can’t she ever keep up?

‘Cause you’re a bad girl.

Master’s voice rings suddenly through the room, the noisewhere there was no noise pulling Lilah’s breath in a little too quickly and Sasha barely twitches at her side. Lilah swallows a whimper before it escapes her dry throat and just…listens to Master.

Please, let him get it over with quickly,she begs to someone, anyone.

Please let it be quick.

And, horribly, selfishly.

Please.

Let him choose someone else first.

~ ~

“Ok! First off, Merry Christmas Eve to everyone.”

A silence hovers briefly and Sasha stumbles to say “Merry Christmas, Master Galo” in sync with the rest of the group. Their chorus, fortunately, hides her stammer. Master has not seemed to mind her stumbling speech but right now? There’s no doubt it that every broken phrase would tally up in whatever pain is to be doled out now.

“Thanks! So, you’re all probably a little confused by the lack of celebrations. I know my aunt had tons of parties but…that’s just not me. I don’t love parties at the best of times and I really don’t love Christmas. But I figured, hey, I can do the holiday my way and you’ve all been a big part of changing how I feel about it. Everyone’s been awesome about decorating the house beautifully and making things feel cheerful, so, thanks so much for that. I really appreciate it.”

There is another beat of silence before Nyla, sweet, sacrificing, perfect Nyla, glides forward a couple of steps, Greyson carefully sidestepping to fill the space in front of Lilah, and kneels at Master Galo’s feet before taking up his hand to kiss it.

“Thank you, Master, for your kindness. We are all honored to serve you in whatever manner you desire.”

Sasha thinks, for the first time in a while, of how starkly largehis hand is next to Nyla’s head. Cold sweat beads on her brow as she measures those palms as though examining them for the first time, how when Nyla’s lips touch the backs of Master’s fingers, the span of his knuckles bridges her brow from temple to temple. He could crushNyla’s face with a firm squeeze, shatter her delicate little nose with one heavy slap, how could Sasha everhave forgotten that, even for a moment?

And now, the little blonde woman is deliberately putting herself at those heavy feet, pulling that meaty hand towards her lovely face, flattering and appeasing, indicating that she has chosen to go first for whatever this is. She’s so brave. She’s so good. Sasha loves her so much and she wants to save her so badly. Sasha wants to curl around Nyla’s kneeling form until Nyla is hidden away by Sasha’s arms and back and she’s safe from the pain which frightens Sasha so much and which Nyla so plainly does not deserve. But she is petrified and spineless and would only make it worse.

Oh, Nyla.

Greyson.

Lilah.

Evan.

Me.

Don’t react poorly!

Sasha blinks furiously until her tears settle behind her lids, pulsing with restrained grief.

Don’t make this worse than it’s already going to be.

~ ~

Greyson should’ve been the one to approach Master Galo first.

He has a…dialogue with Master and either way, he is older, more practiced, should be quicker to know what to do. But Nyla has caught onto being what she should be in half the time it took him and has thrown herself into the line of fire with her typical grace. It sickens Greyson that he was too slow and let her take the burden.

Currently, Master’s glee seems to have abated at Nyla’s gesture and, seemingly, was not replaced with rage. Yet. He blinks down at Nyla’s upturned, sweetly submissive, face and smiles softly at her. No smirk. No secretive glint in his eye. Nyla must have done the right thing, yet again. Master has yet to…use Nyla in that way but he clearly acknowledges the faultless state of her service and it softens him towards her.

“That’s…wonderful, Nyla. Very good! Hey, while you’re down there, can you help me pull these boxes out?”

Before Nyla has even crawled over to the bottom of the towering Christmas tree, Master has crouched beside her, scooping out brightly wrapped packages from below the swoop of the low-dangling branches and jangling the glittering ornaments. Brushing pine needles off his pants, Master piles them, gesturing Nyla to copy him, onto an armchair before swinging back towards them all to clap his hands decisively and grin once more.

“Alrighty, then. So! Nyla?”

“Yes, Master Galo?”

Soft, immediate, lilting.

“I guess since you’re, uh, right here, I’ll give you your gift first. Uh, can you hold your arms out, Nyla? This one’s a bit big.”

Greyson has barely time to blink before Master has practically dropped one of the largest packages, a box of wide, flat golden cardboard topped with plaid bows, into Nyla’s quickly outstretched arms.

What?

“Sorry! Sort of threw it at you, didn’t I? You can go back to the rest, Nyla. Greyson, you’re up, my man.”

What?

Greyson’s feet carry him forward, arms already extending, body reliably obedient even while his brain is lagging.

“Here y–, oh, no need for both arms. Heh, sorry, dude, your gift’s not Nyla-big.”

What does that mean?

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to understand, Greyson reminds himself harshly, he only needs to obey. So he remains blank, cups his palms as Master Galo places a little sleek black box, neatly bound in white ribbon, into Greyson’s palm. It is not professionally wrapped, Greyson absently notes, the tape was raggedly snapped off the dispenser and the bow is a bit crooked. He glides into place back at Nyla’s side, poised like emotionless pillars with their…gifts held stiffly in front of them as each person is called forth. Lilah, then Sasha, and, finally, Evan; all are handed a package, unique in size and decoration and received quietly and quickly before they are re-assembled as they were before, only now clinging to…

Most likely, the instruments of their imminent torture.

Or, as Master Galo is saying…

“Awesome. Alrighty, so, you’ve all got your gifts now. That’s good. You’ve probably noticed that they’re kind of sloppy. I wrapped them myself and…let’s just say, I wasn’t born to be a decorator. You’re just gonna have to live with it, heh. So…if you guys wanna sit down, like, on the couches or on the floor or, like, wherever you feel most comfortable opening your gifts? Just, uh, yeah. Everyone just go ahead and enjoy!”

All are silent and it is Nyla who folds elegantly to the floor and first begins to peel the wrapping back, small hands fluttering like butterflies as she unwinds the ribbon. Greyson folds alongside her, hesitating a brief moment as he catches Master’s eyes on his knees and then, slowly, sits on the ground and folds his ankles neatly in front of him. Master looks pleased when he sits this way rather than kneeling and Greyson’s jaw slightly slackens as he settles in beside Nyla. Her quick grace disguises her shaking to all but Greyson, whose arm touches her shoulder and absorbs her tremors. He leans, barely, against her, steadying her (and, honestly, himself as well) while he neatly disassembles his own package.

His box is the smallest, Greyson has noted, so he is the first to lift the lid and find…

A pair of glasses.

They are frameless at the bottom, rimmed in delicate wire that is stained redder than a ripe apple. It matches the hue of Greyson’s favored necktie. Spongy black nose pads and grips at the tips of the temples show how the eyewear would grip the face comfortably. Coiled beneath the neatly folded pair, clipped to the ends of each temple, is a fine chain, dozens of miniscule links glittering silver beneath the clear lenses.

They are…beautiful.

Greyson cannot do much more than blink. He can tell that everyone else is unwrapping slowly, glancing from the corners of their lowered eyes at his reaction and he shouldreact in some way. But he…he can’t…

What?

He finds that he is trembling as he plucks the frames from their nest of silk cleaning cloths, cradling them like they will shatter if he breaths wrong. His eyes raise almost without intent, catching Master Galo openly watching him, a soft hesitance weighing his gaze. Greyson nearly starts but Master gets ahead of a potential apology by gesturing vaguely at Greyson’s gift.

“I, uh, I peeked through B –…through your records and found your prescription. It said five years ago and I don’t know if your eyes changed since then and, well, if I’d gotten an appointment for you, this wouldn’t have been a surprise. Someone recommended I make them a tad sharper and so I did but, if you wanna adjust them or if they’re too strong just tell me… Anyways, I, uh, I really hope they see as nice as they look, heh…oh, yeah, and the chain is to keep them around your neck and the cloths are yours. Like, in case that wasn’t clear, all the stuff in the box – hell, the boxif you want it – is all yours. But, I hope you enjoy them, Greyson.”

Greyson cannot speak. He opens his mouth, moves his lips, and nothing emerges. Trembling more pronounced now, his hands pull off and fold his glasses and tuck them into his breast pocket, he does not choose to do this. He does not decide to lift the new frames to his face, unfold them, slide them into place and loop the chain behind his neck. He blinks as his body reconnects with awareness again, the missed moments of automation causing him to startle bodily with the clean, unscratched, clarity of the room before him.

There is…something inside Greyson’s chest. It is like a living thing, pressing, stretching the wall of his sternum. It takes his heart and his lungs and squeezes, mercilessly.

It hurts.

The animal is resurrected, awakened from a peaceful sleep to roar in his blood, unfamiliar with the way his insides are warm and loose and tingle like his legs after rising from hours on his knees, all the blood rushing back to the numb area. He feels and it aches and his throat is tightened by the same animal grip on his innards.

The tight, the hot, the blood-rush, the suddenness of the old tenderness is tearing at Greyson and, suddenly, all he wants to do is weep. No hollow, scraped-out loss prompting the swollen heat pounding like a pulse behind his lids. A press, inexorable as it is tender, against his sternum is cracking him from the inside and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He abandons his typical protocol of vacancy to bite his inner cheek savagely, allowing the throb to distract and dull the other strange unfamiliar anguish below his ribs.

It hurts but Greyson can take hurt. This anguish which is not anguish will be smothered too and once he allows the ache in his gnawed mouth to ebb, he is clearer again.

~ ~

Evan is pissed.

At least, he’s really trying to be. What he really feels, right now, is confused as hell. Which angers him more, ‘cause he can take his own pain and humiliation and the games that never ever end but this is, admittedly, pretty fucking weird.

He will, in his own mind, confess to being tense, if not really surprised, about his box being the biggest. But as he lifts his…gift out of its mountain of tissue paper, he can’t feel much of anything. It’s like his head is disconnected from his shoulders and his hands move on their own to unfurl a frankly enormous blanket, at least six feet in all directions, fluffy and hedgerow-green and thick and light all at the same time.

The first thing he registers is how soft it is.

He almost starts when he feels the texture of the blanket, fingers sinking into the tufts of…what is it? Evan doesn’t know, he’s never touched something this soft. He almost expects it to melt like soap-foam between his palms but it settles, barely a weight against his folded legs. It feels nice.

Evan snaps back to clarity, lowly roving a glance around to the others. They’ve all opened their own gifts and they’re all as confusing as Evan’s. They all look like gifts, but real gifts. The sort which Mistress’ “friends” would exchange during those god-awful parties. Sasha is cradling something bright and delicate in her hands, Nyla’s got something to wear perhaps, and Lilah’s unwrapping something fluffy. He can’t clearly see what Greyson got in that little box but he’s oddly silent.

Evan tries to stay sharp. He needs to be sharp, to be aware, nothing is more dangerous than getting distracted right now. Nothing is…good about getting a present. But he’s drawn like a throat to thirst by the softness in his lap and sets his jaw before cautiously lifting the blanket like a cape over his shoulders. Tufts tickle the nape of his neck, gentle bulk shielding his torso from the open air, and Evan feels more than allows his spine to relax just a fraction.

It feels so good. He likes it so much and he hates that he likes it as much as he does. Yet even as he straightens his spine and keeps his eyes down, he cannot help but turn his cheek just barely so that the tufts brush, feather-like, against the skin.

Liking this is fucking dangerous, of course it is, of course it is, it must be fucked up somehow. But Evan is tired of caring right no. And so leans further into the softness. Maybe he’ll pay later but if he really got this as a…giftthen he’s gonna damn well enjoy it like one.

~ ~

Nyla is stalling.

Yes, she’s offered herself first. Yes, she made a show of opening her package. But…she hesitates and keeps twitching away when she tries to peel back the mountain of red tissue. She smooths is back in layers, slippery as onionskin, crackling at even the littlest movement. She’s afraid of what she’s going to find and she has no excuse for her delay but that fear which keeps her fussing with the final sheet of tissue.

It is only once Greyson has lifted his gift out its box that she finally, unforgivably late, folds back the final barrier. It is in the same moment that Greyson’s gift becomes clear in her periphery, unmistakably a new pair of eyeglasses, when she comprehends what lies before her in the box.

A dress.

A dress?

It is a dress and it’s a pretty dress and it looks expensive and it’s a real gift and Nyla almost doubles over, spasming fingers gripping the edge of the box in an effort to remain grounded. She hides her tremble with busy movements, not really thinking but allowing her body to take over and carefully pull the dress from its crinkly nest.

Nyla knows little about clothing except from what Mistress Bethany and her guests wore but she knows what quality cloth feels like and this dress is certainly a cut of the finest. It has a supple, satiny feel but it isn’t silk, more like good linen in a soft blue imprinted with a pattern like white and grey stitching. It is crisp and flat and smells a little like vanilla when she moves it. Pleated skirt which could hit just below the knee, elbow-length sleeves, slimming waist. It has a wide neckline which doesn’t plunge to her breasts but instead would barely sit above the collarbones and sit halfway down the shoulder to show off their delicate swoop. It would show off the arc of her neck perfectly.

She would look so elegant in this dress, appearing so proper and almost fancy in a modest way. It is how she has dreamed of looking, sometimes, when she neatens her apron and flicks lint off her drab, black, uncomfortable uniform. In this dress, she would look as perfect as she behaves.

Absently, she strokes the along the mysterious fabric, wondering what it would feel like against all of her flesh. She nearly shivers with pleasure at the very thought of sliding that material over her head, zipping it up nice and neat. She suppresses a second, cold, shiver when a gratitude rises, unbidden, at her presence amongst the rest of the group. Mistress Bethany had never forced any of them to strip more than a shirt in front of one another but…who knew what Master Galo might command? If they had been alone when Master Galo gave her this, she would certainly assume she was meant to unclothe and slip into her giftstraight away. Display it for him. Looking pretty in it for him.

Master has paid close attention to them all, that much is abundantly clear. Nyla glances to the side and sees how Sasha is mesmerized by her gift. It is some sort of hair ornament, a flat clip to bridge the top of the head, a glorious, darkly polished wood that had been carved with an inlay of golden roses. It won’t just hold back the cascade of ebony hair, it will brighten the wavy length which Sasha combs between her fingertips, which soothes her so. Which one would notice if one watched her for long enough. Sasha’s fingers fly between hair and the ornament, sunk fully back upon her heels as she turns the clip over in her fingers like it is glass, watching the firelight catch all the petals and vines of gold.

Sasha loves her hair. She loves her gift.

It is all gift, Nyla realizes. All of her clothes are a gift. Seeing properly enough to do tasks obediently, having glasses at all, is a gift. Everything they are allowed to have is already a gift, graciously given on strict conditions. Nyla can go without her gift – her clothes – at any time Master Galo desires.

Nyla soothes her fluttering pulse with a low breath, stilling her hands so they won’t seize the fabric and scrunch that ironed hem. She is here, right now, with her family. She traces the pattern with her eyes, counting the facsimile of stitches on the bodice as she allows that thought to ease the edge of sudden anxiety. There is absolutelyno sense in torturing herself with scenarios like that, no sense at all. There was no need. Even…ifsuch an idea did come to Master Galo, Nyla would give him no reason to play it out. She was perfect, she had always been perfect, and she will continue to be perfect; it is the only thing she can control. Nobody will have any reason to hurt her. Oh, Master can hurt her, of course he can, but he won’t have a reason to do it.

She won’t evergive anyone a reason.

~ ~

Galo hears a giggle and the surprise causes him to glance up from the game he’s been pretending to play on his phone, sprawled on the armchair several feet away from the group.

Lilah has opened her gift. A little red winter hat, ear-flaps and all, topped with a cotton puff which Lilah is poking at. She has pressed a hand to her mouth but is still grinning through her fingers as she pokes and ruffles the little poofy ball on the hat, on the matching gloves, on the tassels of the matching scarf. Lilah has lost herself in an almost open delight, youth bubbling through her nerves as she bats at her gift. Her bruises have long faded, all the cuts pinked and flat with age, so her freckles are stark. The absence of wounds makes her look so much younger than her eighteen years and her glowing grin gives her a childish glow.

Tears well in his eyes and he has to press his knuckles against his lids as he tries to swallow back the ache in his throat.

“Thank you so much, Master Galo! Thank you!”

Galo hopes his eyes are clear as he glances up again and sees that Lilah is the one who spoke. The others are clearly carefully looking anywhere but at either Lilah or Galo and, to be honest, he’s a little shocked at what amounts to an outburst from Lilah. She is trembling violently but is also clutching her gift tightly to her chest, gazing at Galo with…gratitude, heavy as worship, in her eyes.

Her grins widely at her, his gesture seeming to brighten that gratitude to a feverish glow. It’s all too much for Galo all of a sudden and he has to look away again so the tears won’t betray him and leak down his face, hoping to God that his reply doesn’t sound too choked.

“You’re welcome, kiddo. I’m…really glad you like it.”

i’m gonna throw myself into a pit now! hope ya’ll liked it!

#this is a spinoff of haro-whump's genius i want ya'll to acknowledge that #haro-whumps #gw #slavery #whump #whumpee #group whump #caretaker #spinoff fic #references to non-con #trauma #writing #past abuse #references to past non-con #panic attack #healing #fear #dissociation

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

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secret son

A/N: this was requested by anonymous, I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think. I might make a part two with Richie and Eddie’s son getting to know each other a bit better if anyone wants to read that? How’s everyone doing during this time?

Summary: Could you write a fic post it chapter 2 where months after the fight with Pennywise eddie shows up at richie's house with the ten year old son he didn't mention he had?

warning: some homophobia (like really really brief though)

Richie is nursing his third whiskey when a harsh knock on his door catches his attention. The scotch, a real one from Scotland with an earthy and smoky flavor that Richie only drinks when he’s feeling particularly sorry for himself, sways dangerously over the edge before stilling with only a drop off spillage when Richie hurries to steady the glass.

The reason his emotion threaten to bury him tonight more than usual, is the texts he has received from Bill. It wasn’t a bad text, but he asked if Richie had any idea why Eddie hadn’t answered his phone for a few days, and now Richie can’t stop his thoughts from spiraling. After reliving the same trauma twice, panic is the automated response when someone forgets to check in with them.

He’s being ridiculous, Richie tells himself, especially since he himself hasn’t texted Eddie in, well not since he left Derry. He packed his bags faster than Eddie had started walking again, choosing to run when he confessed the extent of his love for Eddie, and it was met with pure utter silence. His phone had started buzzing as soon as he crossed state lines, Eddie’s adult face pinched in annoyance gracing his cellphone screen, the photo he had taken during dinner the very first night after he won the game of arm wrestle, seemingly laughing at his expense. He didn’t pick up.

Of course he kept up with Eddie’s progress through the other losers, but he refrained from reaching out to Eddie on his own. Ever the coward, his traitorous mind provided with a hiss, the dark part of his mind growing a little everyday he wasn’t in contact with his best friend. Cause that was the place that Eddie still inhibited in his heart. He might have turned away from Richie’s feelings, but Richie still considered Eddie his closest friend, even if the opposite was true vise versa.

It’s his own fault anyway, if only he had some self-control, so he could stop the words from overflowing and his darkest secrets from tainting the perfect facade he had built around himself. When Bill texted that Eddie didn’t answer any calls or texts, Richie swallowed his pride and his embarrassment, sending a quick and short message Eddie’s way.

The white hotshame burned brighter than it had since Eddie turned Richie down when the former went radio silent. Richie supposes that he had that one coming, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. Another insistent knock caused the pounding in Richie’s brain that to intensify, by whoever is knocking gets what they want, Richie downing the rest of the scotch in on go, slamming the glass against the counter and getting up. He has no clue who it could be.

The last person to drop by his apartment was his manager, after Richie had neglected his duties as a comedian once more, to rouse him from an alcohol induced slumber and get him ready from him show. Today is Richie’s off day though, so he knows that it can’t be him. The only person that Richie can think off is his neighbor asking to borrow something, but that doesn’t appear to be likely. Whoever he was expecting to see, the man he left in a Derry hospital bed before said man was fit enough to leave was not it.

‘Eddie?’ Surprise crosses Richie’s face as soon as he makes eye contact with him, blinking dumbly behind his giant glasses who are sitting askew on his face. He looks good, a lot better than he did when Richie last saw him, white as a sheet and trembling from head to toe.

It hurts physically to see him up close again, while Richie wants nothing more than to reach forward and touch him, to hug him even in just a friendly way, but Richie figures that that is off limits. He can’t shake the look in Eddie’s eyes when he told him he loved him as more than friends, the look of pure and other fear, of him. Not Pennywise, but Richie, like not even being attacked by a killer clown was a terrifying as someone having a gay crush on you. He tries to focus on the now rather than reliving the moment that has haunted his dreams more than Pennywise.

‘What are you doing here Eds?’

Eddie’s face is doing that thing again where he can’t complete hide the fact that he is worried, but he’s trying his best to stay calm for someone else. It’s a sight that was thrown Richie’s way one too many times, often when he did something stupid and Eddie had to fix him up, but now Richie is unsure what could be the reason he’s sporting the look, until he lays on the little boy standing next to him.

With furrowed eyebrows, he stares at the kid who is clasping Eddie’s hand in his tightly. He can’t be more than six years old, his legs yattering with what Richie assumes is impatience, and he’s shamelessly staring at Richie. Kids don’t know any better he supposes.

The eyes strike recognition in a deep part Richie can’t name for himself, and suddenly, without any second guessing, he knows that the child is Eddie’s. A dead give away are the eyes, but also his general presence reminds him of a younger Eddie.

Something in his face must give him away, for when his gaze turn back to Eddie, all he does is nod. There are a thousand question Richie wants to ask him, for example why he never brought him up when they first reunited, or what they’re doing at his doorstep, but he notices how exhausted they look, and so he gestures with his head, giving them permission to enter the house.

‘Thanks Rich.’ At the sound of Eddie’s voice his body jolts, more aware than ever that a part of him went missing and he has no idea how to get it back or what to do about it.

Richie rushes back towards his kitchen, pushing past both Eddie and his kid, to hide the bottle of booze still out in the open. He’s not very subtle about it, and he can see on the judgment on Eddie’s face before it is carefully concealed.

‘So, what are you doing here Eds.’ Richie struggles to appear indifferent, but he is confused and dying to know why Eddie and his son where here, so he imagines that he’s not pulling it off very well.

Eddie glances at his son, still holding his hand and resisting the urge to pick him up. When he doesn’t respond straight away, Richie turns towards the boy, who is looking hesitantly up at him. His personality clearly mirrors Eddie’s, his wariness having transfer onto the next generation.

‘What’s your name bud?’ Ever since he was little, Richie has this gift when it comes to children, being able to communicate with them, and understand them when adults write their quirks off as annoyances.

He used to have a bond with Georgie back when he was still alive, and despite the usual horror stories off siblings, he got along great with his sister once she was born. He’s hoping that whatever charm helped him do that, will help him form a band here.

‘My name’s Matthew, but everyone calls me Matt.’ He seemed to be shy, toying with the hem of his shirt.

‘Are you my dad’s best friend?’ Richie blushed a bright red, since he not really knew what the answer was supposed to be. He assumes he still is, but he’s unclear about what Eddie might have told matt.

Thankfully, Eddie answers for him. ‘Yeah he is Matt.’ For a moment it’s quiet again, and the room fills with an awkward tension, neither Eddie nor Richie knowing where to go from here.

‘Is there somewhere Matt can explore?’ Eddie inquires eventually, the extra meaning behind his words crystal clear to him.

We need to talk, but not with my son in the room.

The apartment is not nearly big and all composing enough for a child to be able to go exploring, there’s only really 5 rooms in total, a kitchen, living room, the main bedroom and a guest bedroom and bathroom, none of which are necessarily child proof.

He does have a PlayStation attached to the tv in the guest bedroom however, even though he rarely uses it, and so he figures that’s the best place to direct Matt too.

‘You wanna go play a game buddy?’

Matt peers up at his dad, who nods reassuringly, giving him a gently push Richie’s way.

He waits for Matts affirmative nod before leading the way. It’s a miracle the thing works, as it’s been for three years completely unattended, but as soon as it starts Matthew jumps up and down excitedly when he sees the Mario kart logo pop up.

Richie leaves him with the door open just an inch, so that Eddie can still see him from the living room. ‘Do you want something to drink?’

‘No thank you I’m good.’

The awkwardness lays heavy on Richie. Things have never been uncomfortable with Eddie before, and he knows that it’s his fault that it is now. He wants to make a joke, or steer the conversation into safe waters with light topics to talk about, but he’s also aware that there has to be a reason why Eddie would show up to talk to him this late, without a phone call or any sort of notice. Because Richie’s brain is still muffled by the alcohol and he can’t think of a joke to make, he decides to ask the obvious first.

‘You didn’t text me back, Eds.’ It’s a stupid thing to stay, Richie knows considering he didn’t call Eddie back for months, but the question is out in the open and there’s no taking it back anymore.

‘My phone died on the way here.’

‘You fucking drove here? If you wanted to see me that bad you could have boarded a plane.’ Richie cringes when he hears himself speak. That was a quip he was used to making, but one that no doubt caused internal disgust in the other man.

‘I left Myra, and I need a place to crash.’ Eddie opts to say, despite it not being an answer to the question. For a moment Richie fears he might pass out, stumbling backwards but managing to keep upright thanks to the chair behind him. Out of all the possible explanations he was prepared for, this was not it.

‘Wh- why did you do that?’ Richie’s voice is shaking, his attempt to steady only being futile. He’s thrown for a loop so bad, that he forgets to conceal his shocked reaction. It’s out in the open, how Richie longs for him, but the least he could do was have the decency to cover it up.

‘Because,’ Eddie peeks past Richie to see Matt, who is fully focused and engaged in the game, before gaining enough courage to say what comes next.

‘Because I’m gay.’ He manages to spit out, his hands shaking by his side while he stares intently at Richie.

Richie has never been hit before. He’s been punched before and even kicked, yet never hit, but he imagines it feels somewhat like the words Eddie just breathed to life.

It’s strange since kid Richie would have done anything in the world to hear those words coming from Eddie, to the point where at night in his bed he would imagine scenarios in which he would utter them, but the situation at hand is very different than the one he fantasized about.

The fact of the matter is, that Eddie is not homophobic like Richie suspected him to be after his reaction, he just reacted disgusted because it was Richie, and that hurt even worse. He knows his not a catch. He woke up one day in college and saw himself for what he really was, a below average looking guy whose only talent was making jokes that would annoy others, with a ridiculous loud voice. And as he got older he only got worse, but he hadn’t expected that Eddie would use that against him.

He thought that Eddie might have let him down easier, but he guesses he just has that effect on people. His first instinct is to snap back in his hurt, to reply somewhat cruelly so that his feeling don’t show, but then he comes to the conclusion that he was just in Eddie shoes a few months ago, and he can recall exactly how scared and how disheartened he had been when he received negative comments, and he can’t do that to Eddie. Maybe to someone else, but not to Eddie.

Instead he replies with; ‘Oh well congrats for coming out. Welcome to the team Spagheds.’

Apparently, it’s not the reaction Eddie expected, for his face falls and his eyebrows furrow, confusion written all over his face.

‘Rich. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, it’s just that -.’ Richie interrupts him before he can say something else.

‘Hey, it’s fine. I get it. I wouldn’t tell the guy that made me uncomfortable either.’

Eddie blinks rapidly, opening his mouth but Richie intercepts, trying desperately to keep his feeling at bay.

‘Do you want to crash here for tonight? We can order pizza and watch a movie. Or whatever Matthew likes to eat is fine by me. I’ll get some extra sheets because I know you’d be disgusted if you found out what kind of action I’ve been getting. Not like I’m still hung up about a rejection, can you imagine?’ He laughs uneasily, scrambling to get together an extra sleeping kit, ignoring Eddie as best he can.

‘Rich’, he calls his attention, and despite being embarrassed, Richie would follow Eddie into anything, so he stops dead in his tracks and turns towards him.

‘I have a son.’

‘Yeah, I kind of figured that out Eds. I have eyes, he looks a lot like you.’

Eddie rolls his eyes in annoyance, huffing to convey how stupid Richie acts sometimes.

‘When you told me you liked me,’ Richie shrinks down, his shoulder turning in on themselves to make himself as small as possible, ‘I was worried you might feel different about me, because I am a dad.’

‘I could never, Eds. I just don’t understand why you didn’t mention him before.’

A sigh leaves Eddie’s lips, a sad smile gracing his lips. ‘I was worried IT might find out and use it against me. Besides, I didn’t even remember you guys all that well in the beginning. I was just scared.’

Richie gets it a little bit. When he was younger he was terrified IT might take his sister, and he would have done anything to prevent that. So he understands why Eddie wouldn’t say anything back in Derry, but why not after? Why didn’t he say anything when they left. Then again, it’s not like they talked a lot post clown fight two.

A thought suddenly downs on Richie then. ‘Wait, did Myra just like you take Matt with you?’

Eddie’s face turns bright red, a guilty look crossing over his features. Richie eyes turn wide as saucers.

‘Eddie, do not tell me you kidnapped your son’, Richie whispers screams, panic taking over as he thinks things through. It’s Myra, and from what he heard about her, she’s pretty much the same as Sonia, which means that she has no problem calling the police.

‘You could get arrested.’

‘Only if she calls the cops,’ Eddie hisses back, his body locked in anger, like he’s a bomb that is very dangerously close to exploding, quitting down when he sees Matt’s head peeking through the crack in the door. He waits until Matt is turned back towards his game to continue.

‘Look, I told her that I was gay, and she told me to get everything that’s mine out of her house immediately, anything that I had ‘infected with your homosexuality’. So I took me son with me. I wasn’t going to leave him there.’

All at once, the fight leaves him, and he crouches down on the couch, his head in his hands while he begins to sob. It produces back a memory, from a time where he had to go over to Richie’s house to tell him he was leaving Derry and not coming back, and Richie hurries to ban the thought out of his head before he joins in.

‘Two days ago, Matt fell of his bike in our backyard, and when he did he started practically screaming. I’m sure it hurt a little, but he was crying hysterically, and he begged me not to tell his mom, because she would freak out.’ Eddie’s eyes filled with tears focus on Richie’s, who is slowly making his way over to sit next to him. ‘Then he asked me if he would get really sick now because of the dirt on the ground that must have gotten into his wound.’

Eddie laughs humorlessly. ‘I though that by staying with Myra I would do him a favor. I was just trying to protect him. I can’t believe I was convinced staying with Myra would be good for him. She’s exactly like my mother Rich, and I didn’t protect him.’

Despite better judgment, Richie puts his arm around Eddie, shuffling closer so that their knees are touching, and Eddie gracefully accepts, leaning further into Richie so he’s practically a pillow, a sob wrenching from his throat.

‘You did protect him Eds, you moved with him right? He’s gonna know that his dad did that for him, because you loved him.’ Placing his chin on the top of Eddie’s head, Richie breathes in deeply, forcing himself to stop from being overly affectionate, even when he’s clearly failing.

‘When Myra told me she was pregnant, I freaked out. I love my son, I would do anything for him and I wouldn’t give him up for anything in this whole wide world, but when I saw the pregnancy tests, all I could think was ‘oh god please no’. I’m a terrible father.’

Richie shakes his head determinately. ‘Eds, look at me. That’s normal, we went through some tough shit when we were kids, even if we didn’t remember it. You love him, and you look after him, and trust me, none of those are attributes to being a bad parent like you claim you are.

Eddie sniffles, placing one of his hands against Richie’s cheek, who embarrassingly enough nuzzles against it like a wounded dog would to a loving touch.

‘I’m sorry Richie. I really am. I love you. I think I somehow always have, even when I forgot, but I was so fucking scared when you told me, that I turned you away. As soon as I did I regretted it though, but I didn’t want to scare you off, and I didn’t want to put Matt through that change. Can we start over? I just really want to try this again.’

Richie is almost scared to believe the words coming from Eddie, but hope blossoms in his chest anyway. The piece that had cracked when he was turned away seem to magically fix itself, making his heart feel whole again.

‘You want me to confess my love for you again? Jees demanding much? You know your mom was the exact same way, always needing reassurance that our night together felt as good to me as it did to her.’

‘I changed my mind. And to think I was about to thank you for being serious for the entire conversation.’

Despite the meaning of the words, Richie can’t help but laugh when he sees the face Eddie is pulling, cheeringly outwardly when Eddie breaks and laughs alongside him.

Matt comes out of the room to check out what the commotion is about, a childlike glee all over his face when he sees his dad happier then he had ever been. ‘Can we order Pizza please?’ He begs Eddie with the same puppy dog eyes Eddie used to own when they were young themselves.

Richie grins at the boy, and while Eddie is pretending to contain plate it Richie nods excitedly, causing him to giggle with glee.

‘Alright’, Eddie eventually pretends to give in, watching as Matt jumps up and down in pure joy. He looks like the kind of child that has an endless supply of energy, and Richie can’t wait to find out more about him. This is the son of the man he loves, and if Matthew is even half the person Eddie is, than Richie loves him already.

‘Hey Matt, we’re going to stay with Richie for a while longer okay? If you don’t have anything against that?’

Matt just shrugs, eager to get back to the game and get some eat some food. ‘Sure.’

‘oh, we can’t tell mom though, she’ll freak knowing I ate pizza.’

‘Shit’, Eddie curses as soon as Myra’s name comes back up. Matt glares at him, placing a finger on his lips as an indication to be silent, and Richie can’t help but titter.

‘We’ll figure it out Eds, we always do.’

And if Richie spend the next few weeks looking for a new house for them to move into, well then that is just them figuring it out.

#reddie #reddie imagine #eddie lives #eddie has a son #and he shows up at Richie's apartment with him #the loser club imagines #My writing #it chapter 2 #eddie kaspbrack #richie tozier imagine #Richie x Eddie #eddie as a dad

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years ago

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Lunch Buddy: Chapter Nineteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts: Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 19: Twelve Strikes

Chapter Summary: Honestly, New Year’s Eve is usually mostly uneventful for most people. Usually. Mostly. For most people.

Chapter Word Count: 5380

A/N: This chapter was kind of fun and I hope you enjoy it. I really hope you enjoy it actually because while I know sort of how I want the next chapter to be I have no idea how it’s going to go, so an update might take a little longer. Also, just housekeeping news: I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I decided to make this story a series. Part one is this, the getting together. Part two is tentatively titled “Dinner Date” and it’s pretty much going to be the cute couple shit I’ve been wanting to write. I haven’t decided how yet I want to organize it, whether I’ll just be adding a new section to the LB masterlist or making a new post and linking it. I’ll let you know by next chapter as it will be the last one for this story before I start the next.

Anyways, please enjoy!

This was a bad, bad, bad idea. Me, alcohol, Steve, Steve’s friends, Steve, Steve in a tux, me, alcohol–

“Are you hiding already?”

I almost leaped out of my skin, but Sam just laughed at me. Jerk. But I hugged him because it was good to see him. And, if I was being honest, it was literally good to see him– Sam was a beautiful man and looked no less in his dark blue suit. However when I hugged him I was fine and normal. Why couldn’t I just appreciate Steve as an objectively beautiful man the way I could appreciate any of his friends as objectively beautiful people?

Although Natasha was so stunning in her long glittery black dress that I had run to the bar so I’d have an excuse not to babble “you pretty lady” at her like the caveman I was. So maybe I was just a mess.

“I’m just– getting a drink,” I said and gestured, only to accidentally hit the glass and scramble to keep it from sliding right off the ridiculously smooth and utterly unblemished “wood” counter. That’s what the whole place felt like actually– bright and shiny with nary an imperfection to grab onto.

“You okay?” Sam asked and leaned against the bar. His body blocked me from a happily chattering couple just as they made it to the space next to us, and I tried to calm the fuck down. Steve invited me, I got in just as easily as anybody, it was fine; I was fine.

“I’m okay. Can’t remember the last time I went to an actual party but other than that.” I picked up my drink but it was already almost gone so I put it right back down. Even if I wasn’t trying to monitor my alcohol intake that would have been worrisome. I breathed. I was here and I (and everyone else) was going to have to deal with it.

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene either, but.” He shrugged and smiled. “It’s New Year’s Eve; why not live it up a little?”

Said the man who looked like he belonged here. “I guess,” I said and looked around. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to see Steve or avoid him.

Sam motioned for a bartender and made a few smooth hand gestures that got me a refill and him a copy of my drink. He took a sip, paused, and then raised both eyebrows at me.

“Don’t you judge me,” I said and sank closer to my cup. “Steve promised good alcohol. And this isn’t even the top shelf.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s all top shelf. But I wasn’t going to say anything.” He pushed away from the bar. “Come on; you found the best thing about Tony’s parties and now I’m going to show you the second best thing about them.”

That did make me perk up. “The food?”

Sam grinned. “The food.”

Second best had yet to be claimed, as first place was a tie.

“Do you think they’ll miss it if I just steal the whole tray?” I asked, staring at the waiter walking around with the really good wraps. I didn’t know what the hell was in them but I didn’t care. If I ended up poisoned later I would have no regrets.

“Thor’s done that before,” Darcy said. “It was awesome.”

Jane’s expression told me why Darcy used past tense. Too bad, but I could tell why he would have towed the line. Darcy (“Avengers wrangler extraordinaire”) and Jane (astrophysicist and Thor’s partner) were kind, smart, beautiful, and fun. That guy kept really good company.

“I think Steve’s done it too,” Sam said. “At least once.”

“Hm.” The tray was getting low, so I looked around the room for another one to pick at. “Do you think if I say I’m eating Steve’s share they’ll just hand it over?”

“What am I sharing?”

I took a moment to, again, chill the fuck out, and then I turned to look at Steve. Somehow it was easier to see him all put-together in a suit now than it had been the night he had shown up all disheveled, but he still looked stupid handsome in straight black and combed hair.

“I’m going to eat all the food on your behalf,” I said and swatted at his stomach. Lightly, because I wasn’t a jerk (and otherwise I would have just hurt my hand). “I’m helping you watch your waistline.”

“I've seen how much Steve eats,” Natasha said, coming around him and somehow making Steve look boring with her dark red matte lips, sparkling chandelier-like earrings, and flawlessly fitting gown. She smiled at me and raised a single perfect eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Would you like some?” I asked her. “I’ll share. Just not with Steve; he owes me, like, at least three more grocery bags of snacks.”

“So much for hospitality,” Steve said. He sounded like he was trying to be flat but the smile he couldn’t wrestle off his face fucked that up. But it was a good thing. “If I give you all my food here are we even?”

I thought about it. “The food is pretty good…”

He laughed and opened his arms, and I went in for the hug. When he squeezed me my heart did a happy little somersault and I briefly considered letting him break it. Any more of this and I would have small woodland creatures following me pretty soon. Talk about a dead giveaway. “Easy, easy,” I said and tried to straighten up. “I have delicate alcohol here.”

“Oh, right; I forgot about what’s really important,” Steve said, still smiling widely as we parted.

“I’ve got priorities,” I said and took a sip. “Alcohol, you.”

“I come before food?”

I had to think about it. “Alcohol slash food, you.”

“I come before–”

“Take a fucking compliment Steve,” I said and downed the rest of my drink. A few of his friends laughed and I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

“If only,” a new person said. A beautiful blonde woman who had somehow sidled up right between Steve and Natasha without me noticing. Without Steve noticing too, by the way he jolted. But he looked delighted to see her. “Sharon,” he said and hugged her carefully to keep her full flute of champagne from spilling over her ash grey silky smooth dress. For fuck’s sake; could Steve have one friend who didn’t look like a goddamn model?

When Steve turned to introduce us I realized, oh yeah, that was me. My glass was far too empty but I swallowed back the bitterness on my own. Sharon was very sweet and had no problem turning her attention away from Steve to properly greet me. Unlike the people starting to gather and gawk.

“That’s a lovely bracelet,” Sharon said. “May I see?”

“Sure,” I said, feeling my mood lift at the mention. She and Natasha admired it. As well they should have.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha said. “Where did you get it?”

“Um…” I looked around at all the strangers, some of whom were trying to sneak in closer to Steve– who looked a little uncomfortable while some woman chatted him up. I decided to play it safe and said, “A friend gave it to me for Christmas.” Hopefully my smile didn’t look as big as it felt.

“A friend?” Sharon pressed.

“A very good friend,” I said.

She tilted her head and smiled like we were in on something together. I wished I knew what it was. “Are you sure they’re just a friend? That’s a pretty special m–”

“Hey, do you want me to go get you another drink?” Steve asked me.

I was sort of relieved Steve stomped on the conversation at that point because I was just going to be miserable if we tread that road too far. However I couldn’t believe what he was asking me; he must have been desperate to escape his conversation. “Do you have any idea what I’m drinking?”

“I can guess,” he said, which…he never drank, so how… “Fine; then come with me?”

I looked at Sharon who was seemingly unbothered by the interruption. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you,” I said and Steve, acting the perfect gentleman, gave me his arm to hang onto while we made our way through the crowd. Hanging onto Steve, good alcohol, his friends being nice and not looking at me twice; I actually felt…okay.

“Are you having a good time?” Steve asked, sounding hopeful.

“Did you see that? I had a perfectly normal conversation with another human being,” I said proudly.

“You’re doing very well.”

I jumped as Natasha came up and took his other arm. “Hello again Natasha,” Steve said, sounding annoyed. Apparently he didn’t like her sudden appearing act either.

“You're not the only one wanting the bar, Steve,” she told him. She then looked past him to smile at me. She did ‘reassuring’ shockingly well. Well, she was a spy; she could probably do anything she wanted. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks,” I said. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

She batted her hand at me, but it was her coquettish smile that made me laugh. “Be careful with complements like that, or I’ll steal you from Steve so I can hear them more often.”

It might have been a joke, but a woman like Natasha was so beautiful maybe people just assumed she knew. “You should hear it more often,” I said sincerely.

Natasha’s smile smoothed out– in a good way, I thought. She gripped Steve’s arm hard enough to make him flinch. “I’m glad you got yourself someone with sense,” she said and slipped away just as we got to the counter.

“It’s a little sad you make me look sensible by comparison,” I said and ordered another drink for me, and something for Steve to try.

“It’s a low bar,” Steve admitted and put his arm around behind me. It was just because the space was crowded, but it felt so nice. When the drinks were delivered I grabbed mine with one hand and slid Steve’s over to him with the other. “Am I carrying your drinks now?” he asked.

I elbowed him and looked around for one of the less-populated areas of the room I had scoped out earlier. “I think you’ll like the taste of it,” I said and grabbed the edge of Steve’s jacket to lead him. “Come on; let’s go catch our breath.”

He didn’t complain then; he just followed along.

“Captain Rogers!”

Or tried to.

A woman (beautiful, of course) with wavy blond hair came right up to him– and I got my first red flag when Steve tensed up. I got my second red flag in flashing lights when she practically shoved in between us. Had I stayed where I was it would have been literal, but I managed to save my dress and drink from combining. And, when she failed to apologize (or even acknowledge my existence) I considered turning my glass up over her head. Instead I took a sip to quell the growing rage and glared daggers at her perfectly-made-up head.

“Hello,” Steve said and looked at me. I lifted my cup and mimed dumping it on her. It got a smile, at least.

“It’s so good to see you again; I missed you at the last party,” she said and gave me an aneurysm when she wrapped her arms around his arm. Steve tugged but man, she had him worse than a boa constrictor. It was almost admirable, if I didn’t want so badly to take some hairspray and a lighter to get her off.

I took another drink. ‘Down girl; he isn’t yours,’ I told myself. It didn’t do much.

“I wasn’t at the last party,” Steve said, looking at me and drawing her attention.

I got my polite face on just before she turned her head my way. She sized me up and I stared at her. Yeah, pretty, sure. But Sharon was prettier. And nicer. “Hello,” Handsy said, perfectly icy. “Do you need something?”

‘Yeah– for you to fuck off,’ I thought. “Oh, I’m just waiting for Steve,” I said and smiled. It felt bland and fake and I didn’t care if it looked it.

“Well, we’re going to be a while,” she said even though Steve’s face clearly said that no, no they weren't.

“That’s fine; I’ll wait!” I said, a little more chipper than I wanted but, fuck it, she was pissing me off. She glared at me, so at least the feeling was mutual.

“STEVEN!”

We both jumped and Steve took the chance to extract himself from Handsy’s grip. “Thor!” he said and the two of them gave (and therefore received) hugs that looked like they would crack lesser spines. Wow Thor was even bigger than I thought he would be. Objectively he wasn’t that much bigger than Steve, but it felt like he filled the room. It was a little intimidating. But Handsy smiled patiently, and she was the reason I stayed close by– I didn’t want to risk leaving Steve alone with her.

“I want you to meet someone, actually,” Steve said and that was all the warning I got before Steve reached around Handsy to grab me and pull me in front of him so he could introduce me to Thor, Thor to me.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Thor said and shook my hand with very measured strength. It was easy to forget that Steve was strong, but I had a feeling you couldn’t forget it with this guy. “I’ve heard many good things.”

That sounded a little rehearsed, so maybe he was nervous and awkward too? I ran with it. “Likewise,” I said, because it was polite, and also true. Steve really respected and liked Thor and I wanted to make a good impression. I just didn’t know what to say. “I, uh, met Jane and Darcy earlier.”

He brightened at the mere mention. “Are they not wonderful?”

“They’re great,” I said and (only partly joking) added, “You’re a lucky guy; you must have done something pretty good to deserve them.”

Thor froze.

I froze too and started a chorus of ‘shit shit shit shit shit’ in my head. However I didn’t get a chance to even plan my apology before he let out a loud laugh that made me jump. “Oh, I am sorry!” he said and put his other hand on my arm. “It is true, but I did not expect to hear it from you.”

Weird, but I had the good sense not to say so. I was still coming down from the almost fuck-up so I missed what Steve said, but when Thor enthusiastically responded with a flurry of words that were unrecognizable despite being in a mostly-English sentence, I stepped back to let them geek out. Some people were coming and I really did need a breather, so I waited for Steve to look at me. When he did I held up one index finger, he nodded, and then he put his arm around Thor to lead him in one direction while I went the other.

The gaggle followed them. Or maybe people simply went in that general direction, I couldn’t tell and didn’t really care. I got to a little offset spot where the walls met awkwardly and took a few minutes for myself. I spent most of that time staring at a dark-haired woman who went between Steve and Natasha and I wondered if I had met her yet. She looked familiar but maybe she wasn’t? This was frustrating.

Handsy showed up again just as I was thinking about going back to the bar for some water. “So,” she said, still smiling politely but without even trying to introduce herself. ‘Handsy’ it was then. “How did you meet Captain Rogers?”

Trying to reconcile Steve with the image conjured by “Captain Rogers” caused a cognitive dissonance so strong I nearly had to physically shake it out of my head. “Oh, um…we met at a coffee shop we both happened to be at. Became friends.”

She waited for a few seconds, but since it wasn’t really her business I didn’t go on. “How cute,” she said blithely and smoothed out her dress. Admittedly she did cut a lovely figure in it. “The captain and I met at one of Stark’s parties a while back. We really hit it off.”

“That’s nice.” Thankfully I caught sight of Pepper heading my way so I straightened up at the prospect of a distraction.

Handsy turned to face her too and while I couldn’t see the look on her face, the high-pitched (super fucking fake) excited squeal of Pepper’s name from her mouth and look of absolutely strained politeness on Pepper’s face made me want to merge with the wall to avoid what was almost certainly going to involve bloodshed. But they hugged and, though stiff, they miraculously came out of it with all eyes and limbs intact.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t mind,” Pepper said and gestured at me.

“Oh, of course; it was lovely to see you,” Handsy said.

And then left.

I gawked and when Pepper said my name in a tone of “what’s wrong” I wanted to ask her what the hell that was– in a polite, reasonable way befitting an adult who got invited to a Very Fancy Party– but what came out of my mouth was, “I thought you two were going to fight.”

I glared at my drink in betrayal, but I was so unaffected that it wasn’t even funny so the glass was just a convenient scapegoat. Pepper laughed at least– and smiled to show teeth. “It wouldn’t have been much of a fight.”

I laughed. And then, because I was a (mostly) functioning adult: “Thank you for letting me tag along on Steve’s invite; I appreciate it.”

“‘Letting you’ nothing; I’m glad Steve finally got you to come to one of these,” Pepper said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all right; taking a breather,” I said. The dark-haired lady was talking to Jane now. “I’m trying to remember names now before I wade back in.”

Pepper nodded. “That’s Maria Hill.”

“Oh thank god, I don’t think I’ve met her yet.” I then realized Pepper was hosting (mostly, I thought; Stark was being loud elsewhere so maybe it was a two-pronged approach) and I looked her over. She looked perfect, but still. “How are you? It must be tiring.”

“Oh, a little.” She waved a hand carelessly. “It gets easier.”

“That’s good,” I said. And had nothing else. I looked around but the bar was busy– Plan B then. “I should go find Steve so he doesn’t think I ditched him.”

“I think I saw him at that end of the bar,” Pepper said and gestured to one of the crowds, because of course. As she motioned though, she saw someone she knew and waved.

“Thanks Pepper. I’ll track him down,” I said as the other person brought his partner over to say hi. Well, that was one hiding place completely ruined. Hopefully the others were all right.

“If you have any problems, just come find me,” she said and went to greet her friend with actual joy and excitement. That was a nice offer that I absolutely wasn’t going to take her up on. I could handle a crowd of people and bitchy partygoers. Weddings were way worse than this scene. So I shored up and went to the place where Steve apparently was. Which he was– in the middle of a crowd of people who had gathered around to listen to Thor tell a story.

I didn’t even try to nudge my way in. I made a trip to the bathroom, snagged a new drink from a small open spot at the bar, and went over to the food table. Natasha and Phil Coulson were talking to their friend (Maria). They looked up when I got closer and I nodded, trying to be unobtrusive as I grabbed a little crostini-thing with some stuff on top of it, but they turned to face me and I stopped before I even got the thing to my mouth. “Uh…” I said, looking at all of them. I lowered the hors d’oeuvre. “Sorry; I didn’t mean to…intrude?”

“You didn’t,” Phil said and extended his hand. I had a drink in one hand and food in the other, and nowhere to put the food. So I shoved it in my mouth, switched the glass to my food-tainted fingers, and shook his hand while I chewed like I was trying to take a prize at an eating contest. Not easy with how crunchy it was but it was good, at least.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said like I hadn’t just done a disaster dance right in front of him. Nice man.

I swallowed. “And in a better situation,�� I said, trying to pretend at dignity.

Natasha said my name and then introduced me and Maria Hill to each other. She added, to me, like she was telling me a funny secret, “Don’t worry; she doesn’t bite.” Natasha even winked. Wow; who knew a woman that gorgeous could also be such a fucking dork? I was a little in love.

“Oh Natasha, don’t lie to her like that,” Maria said and very obviously scoped me out. Honestly, I might not have minded the biting. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

‘Finally?’ What the hell was Steve saying about me? “Uh–”

“Ooo, is this a new spy induction ceremony?”

Tony Stark sauntered up and I tried not to laugh at him outright but the idea was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but snicker. Stark raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “I’m clumsy, would rather walk under a ladder than walk past a gym, and avoid people if I can help it. I would be the worst spy ever.” I swirled my glass. “All that said, thanks for letting me tag along with Steve. I like your booze.”

“At least you have taste,” Stark said. “Are you the reason I saw Rogers walking around with a half-full glass himself?”

“Still half-full huh?” I asked and looked around, but there was no Steve in sight. With the one second loss of attention Tony Stark moved on to talking to the other three. Since I was hemmed in in a way that would attract attention should I leave (and I was right by the best snacks that just got replaced) I stayed and socialized. Or ‘socialized.’ Stark was a talker– not as fast as I had expected but fast enough that whenever he looked at me for a response I only had time to make a facial expression before he was on about something else. He was kind of funny, but also kind of an asshole– like, he was okay, but I still felt cautious and I could see how he and Steve might be at cross-purpose more often than not.

I felt pretty pleasant though. Nobody was glomming onto the Avengers just for being Avengers anymore (even Handsy was off laughing with a group of friends), people were talking around me without making me participate, the lights were bright in a sort of haloed way, I had good food and drink in hand, and the room was comfortably warm. I just needed one more thing and it would have been perfect. Or maybe I was better off without him.

…No. I still wanted Steve around, even if I was being the world’s biggest idiot about having a dumb crush. Even if this only ended in heartbreak and I had to watch him hook up with other people for the rest of my days, his company was worth that much.

I was only half-listening to Tony when he made some dumb joke and I had sussed out his personality enough to comfortably and casually tell him, “Go fuck yourself.”

His mouth dropped open and he gasped. “Cap!” he said and pointed at me like he was a lawyer in a courtroom drama and I was this week’s case. “Your plus one just told me to go fuck myself!”

Warm chuckles drifted on high from behind me and I felt even more comfortable when Steve came around to stand at my side, just slightly behind my arm. “Is that all? She tells me that almost every day.”

I was taking a drink so I flipped Steve off without looking.

“See?” Steve said. “Sometimes even nonverbally.”

“Well,” Tony said, pouting. “Now I don’t feel special.”

I gave him an awkward consolation pat on the shoulder.

Pepper arrived then so Tony turned his mania onto her. I turned my head to look up at Steve. His shoulders were loose and his expression leaned closer to a smile than not. “Hi,” I said, trying not to smile too big.

“Hey,” he said. “Having fun?”

“Mm hm,” I replied. His smile was soft and sweet and the light formed a glow around him.

Someone coughed next to us. Steve jolted and I turned my eyes as far away from him as I could. “I’m sorry,” Steve said to someone else and lightly tugged at the shoulder of my dress as he said my name. “I want you to meet someone.”

I looked back but didn’t let myself get to Steve. I settled my eyes firmly on the (of course, handsome,) wavy-haired brunet next to him. Steve then introduced me to his friend, Bruce Banner.

“Sorry for the terrible first impression,” I said as we shook hands.

“I’m sure Steve deserved it,” Bruce said kindly. “And I know Tony did.”

“Hey,” the two of them said in near-unison.

“You are right,” I said. “On both counts.”

“What is this rudeness at my party?” Tony grumbled. “I could kick you both out.”

“You promise?” Bruce said, which was much funnier than my response of grabbing a few hors d’oeuvres and hastily wrapping them in a napkin.

Steve tugged at my sleeve again as the conversation turned to Who Can Roast Tony The Best. I leaned in closer to Steve and he came down to my ear to ask, “Do you still have that corner open?” in a low voice that made me shudder.

‘Boy do I,’ I thought but kept that to myself. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled as I slipped out of the group, and he followed easily.

The party picked up in noise and excitement but Steve and I stayed in my second-favorite corner for a while, sharing my napkin-wrapped snacks and drinking the water he had momentarily stolen away to grab (and which he refused to replace with alcohol until I had drunk the whole thing).

It was getting a little chilly since we were right by a patio door but I was content and tried to show as much. Steve left momentarily to go say hi to someone and I rubbed my arms, trying to warm and wake myself at the same time. While it wasn’t necessarily past my bedtime it was just…tiring. I was a little relieved that Steve had stepped away, because it gave me a few moments to rest my eyes.

“Hey.”

“Back already?” I asked and opened my eyes as I smiled at him.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked and hesitated, like he would actually leave if I said so. Dork.

“Of course not,” I said. “I just…I know you have friends here; you don’t have to keep me company if you don’t want to.”

“What if I want to?” Steve said and glanced around, coming back to me with a shy smile that was begging for a kiss.

I swallowed the urge and smiled at him. “Well. I’m certainly not going to chase you off.”

His eyes brightened and he retook his place next to me. We went back to staying in affable silence and it was good to have a reminder of why I didn’t really want to kiss him. This was the most comfortable I had been with a human being in a very long time and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. Not for awkwardness, not for regret, not for anything.

Apparently I was worse at concealing the chill than I thought. “Here,” Steve said and didn’t wait a second before he draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Is that better?”

I was caped with a warm, surprisingly soft jacket that smelled like Steve. ‘Better’ was a wildly inaccurate term; I was lucky I wasn’t fucking catatonic. God, I had problems. “You don’t need it?”

“Nah,” he said. And put his arm around me. “Is this okay?”

“Warm,” was the only word I could form.

“Good,” he chuckled and did not pull away from me, even when the door didn’t open for a while. I was so comfortable. Too comfortable. But I ignored the warning bells and leaned my head against his shoulder, letting my eyes droop a little in comfort.

And then I noticed his friends were staring at us and my eyes opened right back up. Fuck, shit, fuck, did they know? He had at least two spies for friends, they had to know, I was lucky Steve hadn’t yet noticed; how did I get so fucking sloppy? I sat up straight.

“Are you all right?” Steve asked.

“Uh, I think your friends might need you,” I said and nodded in their direction. While he looked over them I swirled the remainder of my water and then tossed it back. “I need a drink.” Understatement.

“All right then,” Steve said and stood with me. “It’s my turn to show you my favorite corner.” And so it was my turn to follow and I did, but when he slipped his arm around me, as we pressed together to squeeze through people, I leaned into it and stole yet another little, selfish moment for myself.

As soon as I got my replacement drink he then led me all the way down the bar, then around and over to a lesser-used part of the wrap-around counter that was away from most of the fun and in an awkward corner that was even out of the light and shaded.

“Nice,” I said. “It’s a little small though. Are we going to rock-paper-scissors or just shove each other out of the way for it?” If I angled just right I could make him shove me into it. Granted, I would probably be made one with the wall, but sacrifices must be made sometimes.

“I have an idea,” Steve said. And he sat down. But just as I was about to commend him on his deviousness he

1) put his hands on my waist

2) pulled

and I

3) turned to grab onto something

4) failed

and 5) fell.

Into his lap.

I sat, frozen for a moment. But I didn’t say anything. Steve didn’t say anything. And I didn’t get up. I just kept…sitting on him. Eventually I found my voice. “Did I crush you?” I asked, feeling a little hoarse, and probably drowned out by the sounds of cheering.

“No,” Steve said, hard to hear through the excitement of the countdown as it started. I turned my upper body to look at him, but whatever joke I was going to make about ‘comfortable seats’ died before it formed.

Steve, half-cast in shadows and whatever scattered lightshow was going on behind us, stared at me, something inscrutable. A spot of red light splashed over his lips for a moment and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. They were slightly opened, dry from the air, and I felt so warm, so…what could it hurt? Just one little moment; would he mind so much just one little ta–

His arms tightened around me and he moved, bringing those lips to meet mine as the room erupted in cacophony. After just a second I slid my drink onto the counter, wrapped my arms around him, and returned the kiss with everything I had.

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

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primroseprime2019 · 4 years ago

Text

Jack Darby opened his locker, exchanging the textbooks in his hands for the ones he would need for next period. There was no real need to hurry; the break between classes still had a good five minutes left to it, but the young man was not a fan of the local scenery. By whatever joke of the universe that was being played on him, Jack had found his locker to be rather annoyingly close to the one belonging to Vince, Jasper High's resident Jerk with a capital "J."

The red haired teen was currently laughing about something in the center of a group of friends, more than likely completely oblivious to what time it was. Not that Jack was particularly interested in reminding him. Closing his locker, and giving the combination dial a spin for good measure, the young Darby prepared to leave. Before he'd taken his first step, something new caught his attention.

Miko Nakadai had just turned the corner of the hallway, a questing look on her face that changed the moment she saw Vince. Lips pursing and jaw clenching, the Japanese exchange student began to march over to the bully, her feet stomping hard as she glared at him. Of course this did not go unnoticed by the red head.

"Can I help you, pigtails?" Vince asked with a chuckle as he flashed what he probably thought was a roguish smile. If said smile was supposed to disarm girls, Vince obviously hadn't counted on ones like Miko.

"Okay, dorkus, where are they?" the sixteen year-old girl demanded, glaring into the older student's eyes. That Vince was a head taller than her didn't seem to faze Miko at all.

"Uh… what are you talking about?" Vince said in a creeped-out voice, holding up his hands as Miko proceeded to violate his personal space.

"Don't hand me that buddy, you know what I'm talking about," Miko countered. "I know you took 'em so ya better just give 'em back." For a brief moment Vince's face visibly darkened, and Jack thought he might have to get involved if things turned violent. Fortunately the school bully was apparently not low enough to strike a girl just for bugging him.

"Look, toots, I get that you wanna leave an impression on the ol' V-man," Vince began, his face muscles relaxing into a somewhat condescending sneer, "but trust me, crazy psycho nut-job 's been done to death. So how 'bout you just tromp off to wherever it is little punkette wannabes like you hang out, huh?"

"I ain't goin' nowhere, drippy, so you might as well gimme what I want before I have to get physical with you," Miko said in a threatening voice, one thin finger stabbing into Vince's chest.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?" he asked with a derisive laugh, knocking away the girl's hand. "What, you gonna bust out some sorta chop-socky on me or something?" he challenged, reaching out a hand to shove the smaller student's shoulder. This proved to be something of a mistake.

Miko did not, in fact, know any karate. She claimed she'd once tried to learn after seeing an old Bruce Lee movie, but simply hadn't had the patience and had quit after three lessons. She was, however, quite a devoted student of the ancient and noble art of professional wrestling. That she had also become quite adept at mimicking some of Bulkhead's moves only added to her repertoire.

As Vince's arm had extended to shove her, the smaller girl had grabbed hold of his wrist with both hands, slipping behind him and swinging his arm around into a half-nelson. The redhead managed only a single startled yelp as his assailant progressed the hold into what looked like a modified version of a cobra clutch. Of course with Miko being shorter than him, Vince also found himself involuntarily bending backwards as the girl applied pressure to his arm, straining his back muscles awkwardly.

"All right, scuzzo, now you can either tell me where you stashed the goods, or its nappy time for, like, two hours. And that's if I remember to let go," the slim Asian girl growled, straining to keep her victim under control. Vince struggled to break the hold, but his body was panicking as the choke hold began to cut off his air flow.

"Let… Let go of me you crazy-" he began to croak, only to be cut off as Miko twisted hard.

"You know what I wanna hear, Vincy, just tell me and I'll let go." For a moment, Jack again wondered if he should get involved. Much as he disliked Vince, the young man was fairly certain Miko would get into too much trouble if he let her kill the redhead. Fortunately Vince had enough of a survival instinct to know when to cut his losses.

"Locker… Locker!" he choked out, pointing back to his still open locker. Casting a suspicious look to where Vince had indicated, the frown on Miko's face was suddenly replaced by a satisfied smile. Releasing her grip on the older boy, the slim Asian girl reached into his locker and carelessly yanked something out. From his vantage point Jack saw a familiar looking orange vest, shirt, and pair of jeans. With a derisive sniff at Vince, Miko rolled the bundle of clothes up and put them under her arm before stomping off. Sensing this was something he needed to see the resolution of, Jack moved to follow his friend, passing the still recovering Vince as he did so.

"Tell me you didn't do what I think you did," he said as he passed the red head, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Oh bite me Darby," the school bully choked out, glaring darkly at his accuser. "Not like I hurt the little punk." Growling, Jack continued after Miko.

The exchange student was almost sprinting down the hallways she was moving so fast. Her path soon took the two teens to the school's gym, where curiously a group of boys were standing just outside the locker room, annoyed looks on most of their faces. Without even paying any attention to those looks Miko walked up to the front of the line where a green haired boy in a purple shirt with the words "Slash Monkey" emblazoned on it stood. The boy smiled as he grabbed the approaching girl about the waist.

"Hey, babe, you get what you were looking for?" he asked. Miko smiled back before disentangling herself from his arm.

"Yeah, thanks for keeping everybody out of the locker room for me, Luc, I owe you one."

"Swag from the next concert's on you Meeks," he said, making a clicking sound as he aimed his fingers at Miko. Smiling, the Asian girl turned back around and walked to the door of the boy's locker room, Jack finally catching up to her.

"Hey, what happe-" Miko ignored him as she reached out her fist and gave the door a loud knock. After a few minutes the door slowly swung inward a bit, just enough to allow a mop of damp brown hair and the familiar face of Raf to peek timidly out. It was fairly apparent from the redness of his eyes that the tween had been crying, but his dour face brightened a bit as he saw his friends.

"Miko! Did you…?" Miko gave the younger boy a triumphant smile, holding out the clothing she'd liberated from Vince's locker.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," the prodigy blurted out, a skinny arm darting forward to snatch the offered bundle before ducking back into the locker room, just as the buzzer signaling the start of class sounded. There was a collective groan of annoyance from the students who'd been inadvertently held hostage.

"C'mon Nakadai, we were supposed to be out on the field by now," one of the waiting students angrily pointed out. "The coach is going to blow a gasket."

"Oh he will not Max, and one tardy isn't gonna kill ya," Miko shot back, her hands on her hips. Behind her the door to the locker room once more opened and Raf stepped out, looking much calmer as he finished pulling his orange sweater-vest on. The crisis now over, the waiting students shuffled past the three friends.

"So I guess we're through here?" Jack asked as they turned to leave for the classes they were now late for. Suddenly the sound of the school's PA system coming to life was heard.

"Miko Nakadai. Please report to the Principal's Office… Immediately." Now it was Miko's turn to look annoyed as she let out a sputtering huff.

"And there goes the other shoe dropping," the slim said, shaking her head. Raf gave her an apologetic look, but the living ball of energy just perked back up. "Okay, I'm gonna go see what ol' Mr. Cameron wants to do to me. Catch you guys later, neh." With that the teenage girl trudged off, leaving her friends to cast worried looks at one another.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Later, at the base, the Autobots' army base, Jack sat on the couch the kids had claimed for their own when they'd taken up part-time residence with the refugee Cybertronians. Ostensibly he was supposed to be doing his homework, but every so often he cast a worried look at the inactive ground bridge. School had been out for about two hours and his two human friends had yet to make an appearance at the base, a fact that was unsettling considering the events the young man had witnessed earlier.

Towards the end of the day the Principal had called for Rafael to come to his office, and there he had apparently remained given that neither he nor Miko had shown up when the Autobots had arrived. Having thus been left out of the loop, Jack was also feeling just a touch curious as to how the situation had been resolved.

A sudden chime signaled the activation of the base's comm. system, followed by a string of blips, beeps, trills, and whistles.

"I read you Bumblebee," Ratchet said. "Activating ground bridge." With a roar the familiar green vortex swirled open as a yellow muscle car and a dark green hummer rolled into the base. Doors opened on the two vehicles and Raf and Miko exited their respective guardians.

"Ah! Freedom, there's nothing like it!" Miko declared as she stretched, acting for all the world like an inmate being released from prison.

"It wasn't that bad Miko," Raf said, shouldering his backpack. Then he looked up at their clubhouse, noticing Griffin, Jack and Kaitlyn leaning over the railing. "Hey guys."

"Hey yourselves," Griffin called back with a wave. "So don't leave us in suspense, what happened?" At young MCHenry’s question, Miko, Isabel and Raf soon realized they now had not just his attention, but that of the Autobots as well.

"Yeah, spill Miko," Bulkhead urged, clearly miffed the girl hadn't recounted her tale already while he had driven her home.

"Not much to tell really. Cammy was pretty steamed about me puttin' the squeeze on Vince, but I handled it."

"'Puttin' the squeeze' on him?" Optimus Prime half asked, half stated. "You attacked another student?"

"Well, I really didn't have a choice. Vince wasn't exactly being cooperative," Miko defended herself as she walked up the stairs leading to the loft and crashed onto the sofa in a laying position, causing the red and blue Autobot to shake his head and rumble in disappointment. Violence to defend oneself he could understand, but this… and that Miko seemed so unrepentant about it unsettled him further.

"Don't blame Miko, it wasn't really her fault," Isabel said, perhaps sensing Optimus' displeasure. The Prime's gaze shifted to the girl, and immediately Raf backed up a step, an embarrassed look crossing his face.

"What do you mean?"

"She was just trying to help me out," the young boy admitted. "Vince… kinda…" Raf began to blush a little, his cheeks turning red as he tried to figure out what to say. It was Miko who broke the silence.

"Vince stole Raf's clothes," she said rather bluntly.

"Miko!" the younger boy yelled in horror, his face reddening even more. The exchange student gave him a surprised look.

"What? 'S not like Jack didn't know." A sudden burst of concerned beeps and clicks sounded from Bumblebee, causing his partner to hold up his hands defensively.

"No, no, nothing like that," Raf assured the scout as the worried mechanoid approached him. "I was just cleaning up after P.E. and Vince snatched my stuff before I could get dressed. Said if I wanted them back I'd have to come get them. But Miko heard me, um… just heard me, and she said I should just stay put and she'd take care of it."

"And that's when you went and put Vince in that choke hold," Jack surmised, his voice indicating that, while he didn't wholeheartedly approve, he wasn't overly distraught about that fact.

"Hey, you heard me ask him nicely," Miko said with a smile, waving her arm dismissively as she did so. "When diplomacy fails…"

"It is my understanding that there are other humans in your school in positions of authority," Optimus stated. "Would it not have been more sensible to involve one of them, rather than actively seeking a more violent path?"

"Pfft," snorted Natalia rather derisively. "Why give Vince that kind of satisfaction?"

"'Satisfaction?'" Linewire asked.

"How exactly would this Vince-creature get satisfaction getting into trouble through proper channels?" Ratchet asked. Again Natalia snorted.

"You wouldn't understand," she said in a slightly condescending tone. "You're just too… old."

"Excuse me?" Ratchet asked in a more incredulous voice. Marley gave an exasperated breath.

"Yeah, I could have gone to a teacher or something, and they probably would have gone straight to Vince and gotten back Raf's stuff. And then Vince'd probably get a suspension," Miko said in a bored tone, like she was explaining simple math to a moron. This fact was not lost on Ratchet and Ultra Magnus.

"And this would have been unacceptable because…?"

"Because then the whole thing woulda been broadcast all over school." At the girl's words Raf visibly shuddered. "Sure Vince woulda gotten a suspension or something, but poor Raf'd be a laughingstock at school. Do you seriously think the teacher would've been able to keep something like that quiet, especially since Vince wouldn't've? But now…" Miko smiled at this, "ol' Vinnie-boy's the one who got humiliated. Plus he got suspended for bullying Raf, so any chance he has to clear up what happened is gonna sound like he's just coming up with a story to get back at me."

"Ha ha ha, serves the jerk right," Wheeljack mused loudly, shooting the young girl a thumbs-up.

"Wheeljack, this is not behavior to be encouraged," Ratchet admonished.

"I have to agree with the Doc bot," Fireblade said, ignoring the red and white Autobot's irritation at the nickname. "Revenge might have been what Vince deserved, but you were needlessly reckless." This time it was Bulkhead's turn to snort.

"You make it sound like she went around the school kicking everyone's aft-plate," he retorted, sticking up for his partner. "Miko saw a problem and fixed it, end of story. No fuss, no muss." He then turned to the Asian girl. "I'm surprised this Principal guy didn't thank you for fixing the problem for him."

"I know," Miko responded, kicking up her feet and hands for emphasis. "But instead what does he do? He gives me two weeks detention and a boring lecture." Suddenly the teen girl's voice became comically deeper as she began to imitate Principal Cameron. "'We have rules here young lady, and they do not allow for vigilantism.' Like I'm some sort of idiot."

"Well you did put another student in a chokehold," Paige pointed out. Miko favored young Kendrick with a sour look, causing Paige to throw up her hands in surrender. "I'm merely pointing it out," she said defensively.

"Like Bulk said, I saw a problem, I fixed it."

"And you received two weeks detention for it," Grimlock reminded her, with Optimus hoping the realization that she hadn't got off scot-free would temper the human's judgment in the future. Again Miko dismissed this.

"Two weeks. I can do that in my sleep." The teen paused as she considered something that caused her to let out a short laugh. "Come to think of it, I probably will." Realizing Miko was most likely to continue crowing if asked more questions, Kaitlin attention turned back to Raf.

"So," she asked the smaller boy, "I guess Principal Cameron called you to the office to confirm Miko's story, huh?" Raf nodded at that.

"Oh THAT was the best part," Miko blurted with glee as she swung into a sitting position. "Since Raf here was the victim in all this, Cammy had to call his parents and let them know what had happened. And when Mr. Esquivel found out, did he read the Principal the riot act. I didn't even know it was possible to switch between English and Spanish so much." The Asian girl looked at her smaller friend. "Seriously, it sounds like a great language to get angry in."

"It wasn't as funny as you think," the embarrassed Raf said, scratching the back of his head. "Papa never liked the idea of me going to public school, and this didn't exactly help his opinion."

"You think he might yank you out?" Shiloh asked. The younger boy shook his head.

"I hope not," Raf said. "He's been talking up this private school back in his hometown, but that would mean having to go live with my grandparents back in Spain. I love Tato and Tata, but I'm really not keen on having to move in with them." Bumblebee suddenly began beeping and clicking in rapid succession, attracting Raf's attention. The boy let out a laugh and shook his head at the humanoid robot. "I don't think the Principal would be overly thrilled if I had a car following me between classes in the school."

"It would destroy the carpeting to say the least," Demetrius quipped. A series of angry clicks escaped the robot and Demetrius held up his hands as Bumblebee leaned in close to him.

"Bumblebee," Optimus chided his scout, "I'm sure Demetrius is treating this with as much concern as it is due."

"Yeah Bee, I'm not going anywhere yet," Rafael assured his friend. "And I'm sure Papa'll cool down after a bit." After a moment's thought the boy added, "Uh, as long as nothing else happens."

"Oooh, sounds to me like you need a bodyguard," Miko said, swinging her legs about on the couch as she punched the air. "Someone to kick a little aft for you human style."

"I think you've kicked more than enough 'aft' for the time being," Prowl pointed out.

"Prowl is right, Miko," Drift said. "Fixing a problem is one thing; but the last thing we need is you getting yourself expelled or something for picking fights."

"Oh you guys are no fun," Miko quipped, the smile on her face indicating she'd been joking. With that, she leaned back on the couch next to Jonah. Bulkhead's hand rose to his helm as he shook his head, wondering if he had been this cheeky when Ultra Magnus was gathering the original Wreckers.

#transformers #my ocs #fanfiction

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ashleyswrittenwords · 5 years ago

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The Homecoming Formal [ZeLink College AU]

Note: Hi hello it’s me, Ashley. I know this isn’t HTBAQ, but I’ve been drabbling on the side and I very much like this idea. Also there’s a hot fraternity president that I happen to know and anyway, thought it was topical. This is kind of mature rated? Kinda? If you don’t like reading about sexual mentions and stuff or if you’re uncomfy. This will be a couple chapters and then I’m retiring the idea lol. It’ll be cute, promise.

Summary: [Zelink College AU][Greek Life] Zelda had a one-night stand months ago and finally got over a big break up, but the shame of it happening weighs down on her. To make matters worse, her best friend keeps pushing her to go to formal with a fraternity boy. What happens when she meets their homecoming fraternity's president and her past mistake comes back to haunt her? Can I make this sound any more like a Wattpad book? Can this be anymore cliche? Yes, probably.

Warning: Mentions of the sex.

The Homecoming Formal

The bass seeped from the floor and through her wedges. She was completely off beat but she finally felt comfortable dancing. Dancing wasn't really the word for it, it was more or less being very low and bobbing with the music. There was lots of alcohol and none going on Zelda's tab. She was happy, shouting to the music that the club provided and danced with her girlfriends without a care in the world.

Maybe Midna was right and she should get out more.

It helped when she was paying the bill.

Men had come around every now and again, asking to dance with them and offering drinks. Midna was very staunch about the sudden arrival of testosterone and manhandled them away. Zelda had grinned wryly repeating how much she loved everyone. More jelly shots please.

Countdown and shots. It was a cycle.

How many did she have? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now. Zelda wanted to have fun.

She turned around and didn't see her friends. They were on the dance floor. She felt wobbly and a steady sense of vertigo washed in. Okay, the bar is nice now anyway. The bar stool was cozy and gave her relief to the balls of her feet. Someone brushed against her, slurring to the bartender. Zelda didn't recall what was said, but the nice drink lady was reluctant to give him more. Oh, it was a man. She had looked at him and he had looked at her.

Fun had found her.

Daren ΚΗΣ : Yo me and the boys are tailgating across the street from the stadium. You going to the game tmrw?

Zelda's eyes flicked up to her phone, which dinged, and pulled her from her glazed over stare. She sighed and stretched before grabbing the phone.

Me: Yea

A beat passed before the phone buzzed again.

Daren ΚΗΣ: Ahahah slideeee

She squinted at the phone screen and opted to stare off into the corner of the library. The calculus homework that glared at her from her computer screen seemed to hate her more than she hated it. A woman bounced through the door and immediately locked eyes with her. Her stare was piercing and Zelda felt like crawling under the table.

"Zelda Harkinian, what are you still doing here?" Midna said, accusatory.

"I…" Zelda paused, her brain not giving her a snarky reply, "I needed a couple more hours before the test." The woman picked up the cup of coffee that sat under Zelda's chin. It was still half full and hours old. The scent was comforting, at least.

"Cold coffee again?" The scary woman dumped it into a trashcan without another word, drawing attention from the people around them.

Zelda wined, mourning the lost cup, "Midna! You know that coffee here is expensive!"

"Only because you're too lazy to get off campus for a fix, besides you're addicted. Look at those eye bags! You know we have a social this weekend and you still insist on torturing your skin. What have I told you about at least using eye cream?" She went on, the blonde zoning out. She wondered how she would get out of this one. Midna was obsessed with socials. Especially this year, being that their homecoming fraternity was Kappa Eta, also known as Kappa Eta Sigma. It didn't make complete sense to Zelda, she wasn't the one for Greek drama, but if it made Midna happy she would be happy for her. In all honesty, a lot about being in a sorority confused her. It took a lot of pressure from her friends to rush with them two summers ago.

It was quite possibly the worst experience she'd ever faced. Standing outside sorority houses for fifteen minutes in the hottest days of summer weren't exactly what the movies depicted. The feeling of an hour's worth of makeup melting off her face made her shiver to this day. But to her friends it was something worth doing and Zelda couldn't complain. She met amazing people in her house and having Midna joining her made it even better.

"Anyway, tomorrow before the game we're going by their tailgate."

Zelda groaned, "Are you serious? Why? I'm trying to pull a disappearing act on one of their brothers."

"Because they're our homecoming frat and Paya said everyone has to stop by at least once if we're going to the game. And free drinks and free boys," Midna pulled her phone out, typing something in it was a grin. "Is it Daren again?"

"Yes," Zelda said breathlessly, shutting her laptop closed, "He's been either texting or snapchatting me everyday since the date party." She flung her backpack on and followed her tall friend out, looking around shortly for any of Daren's frat brothers. Believe it or not, fraternities were more invested in drama than any top-tier sorority. They always played that bad boy persona, but could never dish it. Of course, in Zelda's opinion. If anything, they were middle schoolers in snapbacks… just barely old enough to drink cheap liquor.

"Hey, I told you to get that other guy on their list. The blond one with the tan."

Zelda huffed, "I didn't know I was being catfished, Mid. Not my fault."

"Just, you know, make out with some other guy in front of him. He'll get the message."

"I'd rather die."

Midna looked up from her phone with another striking stare. How does she get her winged eyeliner so perfect everyday? "Don't give me that, Zel. You try pulling that perfect scholar attitude on me all the time, but I know you can get some if you really wanted to."

Zelda rolled her eyes, "I've no clue what you're on about."

"Really? After that last boy? When we went clubbing and you wore that skimpy black dress and we lost you. I thought you were kidnapped, but you just ran off with a boy."

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Zelda felt heated, "It was one night and I regret it." And she did truthfully regret it. That night haunted her as much as it did thrill her. She couldn't remember his face or name but he sure was good at-

"OMG you're so thinking about it."

"No!" Zelda fumbled as they descended down the hill, almost tripping in front of a man on a longboard, "I'm not!"

"Oh, my Zelda. Growing up so fast! Having one-night stands with hot men! I'm so proud," Midna pretended to wipe a tear. Some random girls caught wind and looked at the duo in a strange manner.

The blonde girl fumed, crossing her arms and pulling her math notebook close. She thanked her stars for the leggings she decided to wear. The days were getting cooler, but she couldn't bear to turn to jeans just yet. The oversized shirt she wore displayed her universities name: North Hyrule University.

"When is your calc exam?"

Zelda looked at her phone, "At 2. So, I have a couple hours to kill."

Midna looked at her with that look that made Zelda worried.

"Midna what are you planning?"

Silence.

"Midna."

A smile was being wrestled with on her red lips.

"Oh, Hylia above help me."

The accused girl gasped dramatically, "My stars! Would you look at that! Kappa Eta has a tent put up just down the sidewalk. What a coincidence!" Zelda's eyes were immediately pulled towards a row of tents in the common area. Damn it, of course she would lead us here. It was still early in the semester so clubs and chapters were scouting for freshmen. There was an outlandish difference between sorority and fraternity recruiting, the latter going through recruitment events throughout the semester. Sorority rush however was a week filled with suffering. It wasn't fun for anyone involved.

"I really don't want to go," Zelda whined.

"You are," Midna looped her arm around Zelda's as a move to take her as captive. She was evil. "We should at least meet some before the social. Maybe we can get you a new formal buddy! Wouldn't that be peachy?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure any man would want to see me in no makeup and hellish looking. Perhaps I should tell them that this horrible hair bun is Vogue," the blonde groveled, trailing behind Midna who looked positively radiant.

"That may work," Midna said absently, responding to a yell with her name. She had already put on that dazzling smile, while Zelda was trying to remember if she brushed her teeth that morning. Kappa Eta's tent was loud to sum it up. Loud and obnoxious. Several were talking to nervous freshmen and showing off their acts of good deeds. Or whatever frats boasted about. Midna was talking to Kafei, a man she loosely knew from a friend. He seemed nice enough, but Zelda ended up zoning out on the background. Why did frat boys tend to wear the same outfit 8-year-olds wear to their grandma's for Easter? The bright shorts were killing her. At least some of them took the decency of wearing long khakis and a normal tee shirt with their letters. That makes sense.

A hard nudge to the side sent Zelda into the real world again.

"-and Zelda here is our Academics Chairwoman, as you can see she's clearly been wrapped up in it. She's in Calculus 2, you know?"

"Are you finished with the dossier on me?" The accused woman glanced at who Midna was talking to. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." The man was looking at her odd and his expectant gaze caused her to stop thinking for a moment. His hair was longer than what she usually saw with typical frat boys, shaggy and blond. His eyes contrasted greatly to his skin. He was tan and she wondered if maybe he was on the football team. He seemed like he could be built for that; a linebacker? It occurred to her that this was the same guy that Midna had recommended before for the date party. Zelda mentally kicked herself for not taking more care of her appearance today.

"Link," he finished his weird stare and smiled. Almost hesitantly. It made her wonder if she looked worse than Midna described. Had she actually spared her feelings this time?

No, probably not.

He held out his hand and she took it, shocked for a moment by his delicate grasp. She thought he'd be more firm.

"Zelda, this is Link Forester. He's the president of Kappa Eta Sigma." Now it made sense why Midna sounded so professional. She was the Social Chairwoman after all. She had to be diplomatic in some way. A hot flush crept up Zelda's neck, "Oh, I'm sorry. I probably should have known that."

He kept hold on her hand and laughed, "It's fine. I don't expect people to know me. Why should I?"

"Isn't that Zelda?" A sly voice crept in and it took a lot for the named woman to not roll her eyes. Link dropped her hand as another man approached them. He was shorter by a fraction and everything she didn't want to deal with at the moment.

"Hi Daren," she said, trying not to sound lame.

"'Hi Daren'? That's all I get?" It sounded like he was talking to a child. He glanced at Link, "Excuse me, Mr. President. This is my date to formal."

"Formal buddy, but okay," Midna interjected. To be fair, there was a stark difference. Date suggested… other things. Buddy, of course, was a more amicable form of date and Zelda hoped perhaps her own would change before formal. Daren only gave Midna's comment a side glance. "Where's my hug, Zelda?" He was going in for it and Zelda raised her eyebrow in question. Was he really trying to hug her? She had met him a total of one time.

Link pulled him back by the collar and Daren stumbled back. "Yeah, no. We're not doing that here. I told you and the rest of the guys that it's a bad look on the chapter, but I'm honestly not too surprised that you forgot so quickly." Daren mumbled something but complied.

"I apologize, ladies," Link again was looking at us, softer than he was before with Daren. "It was good to see you again Midna," he said, nodding at her and then looked to me. The same smile from before was playing on his lips. "And it was wonderful to meet you, Zelda."

He turned away, said something else to Daren and went to help his brothers with recruitment. Midna was easy to turn Zelda and herself away and begin surveying the rest of the booths as they walked. Zelda hummed, "I do believe I should have followed your advice."

Her companion scoffed, "Please. I should have followed my own advice."

#let me know what u think #college au #loz #loz au #zelink #greek life au #zelda #link #ahhhhhh #fanfiction

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