#romeo just looks very unfazed about all of this

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[megu-meow]

romeo - Gojo Satoru

gojo x fem. reader

Summary: you're upset and Satoru has to find a way to cheer you up.

Warning: suggestive at the end.

Everyone has bad days, even the Strongest. Satoru knows not everything can be as perfect as he is, but he tries to brighten the lives of the people around him. He's the type of person to mask his own feelings with his silly and playful personality, but not everyone operates like him. So he notices straight away that something is wrong with you. You're not laughing at his lame jokes like you usually do, there's a dullness to your eyes that he identifies as a product of your sadness and he notices your lack of enthusiasm as well. At first, he's mad. Not at you, he could never, but at the source of your bad mood. Who or what dared to hurt his little mochi, the lover of the Strongest?

During one of his classes, he just tells the kids to practice some sparring so that he could come up with an elaborate plan to brighten your mood and get you out of your slump. Firstly, he has to identify the source of the problem. His first thought is that he did something to upset you, but he brushes that idea away instantly. He would never do anything to make you sad, he takes pride in how amazing of a boyfriend he is. Moreover, whenever you're mad at him, you give him the silent treatment, but you were acting normally that morning - trying to hide your bad mood from him, you gave him a kiss and told him you loved him before leaving the house, so that cannot be it.

"Gojo-sensei!" he hears his name being called by Megumi. He looks in his direction, the raven-haired boy is standing by his side, staring at him with confusion written all over his face. "What is up with you today? You're unusually silent."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Megumi." he answers curtly and the kid is not convinced that he's telling the truth at all. Suddenly, Satoru remembers something and puts his bulky arm around the Fushiguro kid's shoulder, despite his efforts to dodge the side hug. "You were out on a mission with y/n yesterday, right? Did something happen that made my little mochi upset?"

Megumi cringes at the nickname and rolls his eyes, but he tries to remember everything that you said or did during the mission. You were awfully quiet, but he just thought you were simply tired. He didn't think it was a big deal, but maybe Gojo was onto something. The mission was a huge success, but you were unfazed by the great outcome, which should have alerted the raven-haired sorcerer.

"Yeah, now that you're asking, something seemed to be wrong, she was very quiet and didn't even want to celebrate our victory with us."

"Hmmm, that's not good." Satoru says, his right hand scraping his chin like he's deep in thought. "So by the time you went on your mission with her, she was already upset. Do you know what she was doing before?"

"No, she didn't mention anything about her day. Although, when we met up with her she was with Nanami-san, maybe he knows something."

"Thank you, Megumi!" he says in a chipper tone "Class is dismissed!" he shouts and he leaves the kids flabbergasted, as he teleports to the blonde sorcerer with a new found purpose.

"NANAMIN!" he exclaims, not caring that the said man is currently in the middle of a meeting with the principal.

"Gojo, this behavior of yours is unacceptable, we're in the middle of something here!" says Yaga.

"Oh, so it's the perfect time to take a break!" he says nonchalantly, and both Kento and the principal start rubbing their forehead annoyedly.

"What do you need, Gojo-san?" asks Nanami, giving into his shenanigans.

"Did you do something that could've hurt y/n yesterday?"

"ARE YOU SERIOUS GOJO SATORU?! THAT'S YOUR REASON TO INTERRUPT OUR MEETING?!" Yaga exclaims and the white-haired sorcerer mumbles the words 'ew, scary' under his breath, annoying the principal even more.

"No, Gojo-san, I just walked five minutes with her from the main building to the gate, where Megumi and Ijichi were waiting for her so that they could leave on their mission. We engaged in some small talk, but nothing out of the ordinary." said the blonde.

"Okay, that's boring. Did she tell you what she was doing before that?"

"Yes, she was out for coffee with Ieiri-san."

"Thank you, Nanamin!" Gojo said, teleporting away instantly, leaving the two infuriated sorcerers to finish their meeting.

"Shoko!" he arrives in the healer's office with a huff, the woman not even batting an eye at his sudden arrival.

"What do you need, Gojo?" she asks, without looking up from the document she was reading.

"Why is y/n upset?" upon hearing his words, Shoko slams the file in front of her shut, glaring at the desperate male standing in her office.

"She's really upset?! I told her it wasn't a big deal..."

"Shoko, tell me what happened, NOW!"

"Ok, Romeo, be patient. I need a smoke, let's go outside." she says nonchalantly as she fetches her cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of her coat, walking out slowly, without any care in the world. Trailing close behind her, like a lost puppy is Satoru, trying to get her to finally talk, but the woman enjoys keeping him on the edge, so she doesn't say a word before lighting her cigarette and taking a puff out of it.

"The barista at the cafe told her she was annoying and she took it to heart." she finally explains and Gojo is in shock. Why would anyone call you annoying? You're the nicest person he's ever met, there's not a bad bone in your body.

"Is that all?" Gojo asks, because normally this isn't something you would be this upset about.

"The guy might have told her, that no one would ever tolerate her attitude in a relationship." she adds and puts out her cigarette with an exaggerated huff of air. Gojo finally understands and thanks Shoko while he leaves in a hurry, taking long strides.

Throughout the following days, Satoru does everything he can to make you feel better. First, he gets home to you, scooping you up from the couch into his warm embrace, showering your face with kisses, claiming how much he missed you, despite seeing you just that morning. He trails behind you as you shuffle into the kitchen to make some tea, keeping his hands around your waist, softly stroking your side under your shirt. He cuddles up to you, his grip possessive and strong around you and he reminds you of how much he loves you, before falling asleep.

He prepares some tasty sandwiches for your lunch and you're surprised to find a colored drawing of the two of you holding hands with a ton of red hearts in the air around the two poorly drawn stick figures. It makes you smile for the first time since the incident and you stuff the piece of paper into your clear phone case for everyone to see. It warms your heart every time you put your phone down and you remember to kiss your boyfriend lovingly on the lips when you run into him on the training field. He can already see that you're in a better mood, but he doesn't stop there.

He speedruns all his missions of the day, getting home early so that he could prepare a scrumptious meal for the two of you to share for dinner. You're surprised to find him in the kitchen, a huge bouquet of peonies sitting on the counter, and the dinner table decorated with candles and rose petals.

"What's the occasion?" you ask curiously, your smile reaching your ears as you take in the sight in front of you. Satoru is out of his uniform jacket, the white button-up shirt from underneath covering his torso. The sleeves are rolled up, highlighting his muscled arm and a few buttons are loose on the top, showing off his prominent collar bones. His blindfold is also missing, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you in awe.

"There's no occasion, little one. I just thought I would surprise you with something nice. There's no need for special events to show my girlfriend how much I love her." he slowly walks up to you, bringing you closer as he gives you the bouquet, leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

"Thank you, 'toru! I love you!"

"Don't thank me, silly! It's what men do when they're in love." he explains like he would to a child, and his high and mighty attitude makes you giggle, a sound he was dying to hear in the last couple of days. During dinner, you laugh at his silly jokes, which he considers as the ultimate win. You are finally back to normal, there is no sign of you being upset in the first place and he pats his own shoulder as he follows you into your shared bedroom. "I'm gonna draw a nice bath for the two of us to enjoy, alright baby?" he asks and he has a mischievous smile on his face.

"That would be nice, 'toru!" you smile and he disappears into the bathroom and he gives you clear instructions to stay out until he tells you otherwise. You wait patiently for him to finish and he sprints out of there on his sock-clad feet, picking you up easily from your comfy bed and he runs back into the luxurious bathroom that is connected to the bedroom. The lights are dim, the whole space is decorated with candles and petals just like the dining table, the bath is full of hot water and bubbles, the scent of vanilla lingering around. You're left speechless, but Satoru knows how to take advantage of that: he kisses you passionately, savoring the sweet taste of your chapstick. He pulls away slowly, looking into your eyes with adoration.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, baby. Please, don't let others make you believe otherwise. You are smart, kind, polite, and funny, no matter what anyone says. You also are the most beautiful person I've ever seen, my six eyes can be the proof of that. I will love you forever, even if you get old and wrinkly."

Your eyes swell with tears of joy, as you cup his face, bringing him closer so that you could invite him into a loving and passionate kiss, expressing how much his words and little deeds mean to you.

"Thank you, Satoru! I love you, more than anything!" you respond, leaving a small kiss on his chest, above his heart that's thumping rhythmically.

"Good. Now, can I see your titties?"

[thenewestxmen]

D&W fic part 3

Chapter 3: do I deserve him?

I practically jump away from Wade as Laura storms in. 

“Hey Laura.” Wade says, practically unfazed. 

Laura stares into my eyes, through the adamantium, and right into my soul. Damn it. Of course, the one time I fall for Wade, the one, Laura walks in.

“… Dad…? Is there something you wanted to let me know about?”

“I uh… well…” shit. It’s like words are getting stuck in my throat, they won’t come out.

Wade steps forward, “Laura. Your dad and I are in love! Like Romeo and Juliet except we can’t die no matter which bitch tries to tear us apart! Your young mind wouldn’t understand the love we have!” Wade says, so dramatically as he practically drapes on me. I would expect Laura to be mad. But instead of just leaving yelling and cursing in Spanish, she is grinning.

“Dad, I’m happy for you.”

Sorry, what? Didn’t catch that, what.

“You are?”

“Dad, when I said that Wade was in love with you, by the way Wade, was hardly discreet- - I meant that you should finally make a move. Trust me, I got Blade and Gambit to kiss in the void, of course I know love when I see it. You were too dumb to know you were in love with a guy you have a dog with, and share an apartment and a bed with? Dad… I expected more.”

Holdupholdupholdup. Laura knew I was in love with Wade, even when I was in denial of it… I’m so proud.

Wade leans over and plants a kiss on my forehead. “That means we can make out in front of people.”

“Absolutely not.” I say, but not before pecking his lips. He is still draped on me, I should probably be annoyed but he is so cute, staring at me with those big brown eyes and light pink blush. 

We have a good time with Laura, she wants to watch Mama Mia, which I again haven’t seen, I’m a menace to society again. The singing’s a bit much, but not too terribly bad, just questioning whether what’s-her-face is just an idiot or desperate for a father. Whatever. 

Wade approaches me after the movie, when Laura and Al are busy talking bad about us. 

“Honey badger, we have been in this little eensie weensie little love whatever you call this for almost twenty four hours. Peanut, I have never said this before but let’s start off slow, huh? This is the first relationship where I really know the person I’m in love with. Peanut, even if you don’t see it, you are the most perfect, attractive, sugariest titted man I’ve ever met, and I want this to keep on going. So can we please go slow…?” Wade says, wrapping himself up in my arms. 

“What? Of course Wade, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” I say, reassuringly.

Laura pulls me aside, I get a distinct feeling of de ja vu. 

“Papa, have you said it?”

“Said what?”

“Said it!”

“Laura, you’re going have to be more specific.”

“Oh my-… ‘I love you!’ Have you said it to Wade?!” She’s whispering while yelling. 

I should have probably considered it before I kissed him, but those big brown eyes just melted my brain. When Laura sees me hesitate she just tuts and massages her temples. She is really going too far as this whole matchmaking thing. 

“Papa. I’m going to say this very short and sweet… get your ass up and tell that jabbering, knife obsessed, child you love him!” Laura basically scolds me. I thought I was the father figure. 

“Jesus. Kid, we’re taking it slow. It hasn’t even been a day and we really want this to work out. I’ll say the words to him when I’m ready.” I try and say this as reassuring as possible. But still, a little feeling of anxiety tugs at me. 

We rejoin Wade and Al, same topic as yesterday, but it’s getting heated. Wade moves to my side and holds my arms close. But instead of the little tug of anxiety disappearing, it only grows. What if I take it too far, he wants it to go slow, what if I get too needy and he gets too tired of me? What if he opens his eyes and sees that shit personality in hiding, and all I am is just an alcoholic, metal, untrustworthy mess?

“You alright peanut?”

“Mm?”

“You ok, you look a little green… is that even possible to get sick?”

I snap out of my anxious haze and look at wades soft, slightly concerned face. I may as well hide it, take away at least a little bit of the mess.

“Yeah bub, I’m good.” I say, but the small tug of anxiety is still there.

The next few days I hide it good. It doesn’t go anywhere, it catches me at the worse of times, resulting into a few bad excuses. I wake up early in the morning after that little demon in the back of my head begins to work together with the little tug. I must’ve woken up a little on edge because Wade is stirring a bit. Every movement I make seems to make a small shake of the bed. I maneuver myself around the squeaks and small movements of the bed and get up, walking to the bathroom. As I look it the mirror, my hands leaning over on the sides of the sink, I study my face. It looks wore down, and I can see the little twinge of anxiety in my own eyes. The voice and the twinge are still working together, making me a little shaky. I grab some jeans and pull them over my boxers, taking a walk outside. It’s crisp for me to wear just a white tank top over my torso, but the chill doesn’t bother me. I walk a bit, trying to clear my head. God, Wade is so gorgeous in the morning, and all I can be is a flaming hot mess of demon whispers and anxiety. He deserves better, he just doesn’t notice. He’s going to regret ever calling after me at that shawarma joint. I’ve been with so many, and I mean so many people over the years, some I’ve spent years with, others only a night, but they always end up dead, or not wanting me, or both. Jean is definitely a good example, she always looked at me with those sharp yet gentle eyes, like knives that promise not to poke. Although she broke that promise pretty fast. I was definitely more into Scott than Jean. But I did have a thing for her. I mean usually, I would find myself staring at Scott, and Jean didn’t like that, she wanted the attention. So anytime I was near her, her clothing would strip down to, or almost nothing, trying to grab my attention, she would flirt, but the moment that I would get myself deeper, she would retreat back to Scott. Scott liked me too, he would always make me have to chase him. Both of them only seemed into each other around others, while other times, it was like I was only a prize they could win alone. Scott was always nice, pecking me on the lips with morning breath in the morning, removing his glasses just enough so I only got a small tickle when I refused to get up. Although when Jean saw it, she tried harder. She didn’t want me, she just wanted Scott off of me. Once, in the mansion, while all of the others were off on missions or training, she approached me, stripped of everything. She would dance or just preform some sort of show for me. But when I gave in, she did too. That is, until morning, when she greeted me in the kitchen with a “hey buddy.” And when I confronted her, she would yell, she would use her powers to make Scott think the same way as her. “Logan! You can’t be grateful I’m pitying you?! You’re lucky I would even look at you while all you’re full of is metal, and it’s almost as cold as you!” It went on and on, until the night when they would simply repeat the same dirty show, like it was a competition who won my heart. Only to eventually break it. They kept yelling until I went silent, and they didn’t need to say it, because that little voice in my head was born. I used to think it was Jean who put it there, intentionally, and always talking, but when she passed, it was still there. I was never enough for Jean, or Scott. 

I snap out of the moment when my phone is buzzing 10 times a second. I realize that I have been walking around for 3 hours. All of the texts are from Wade. I read a voicemail.

“Peanut, where tf are you?! You aren’t answering texts, or calls, and you aren’t in the apartment, or with Laura, or anywhere! Did you bail? Oh my g- - I’m so sorry peanut, I know I have been too leading. Did you go off and Wolverine or something? Did you have a nightmare? Are you in trouble? Did one of those TVA bitches come and nab you up? I bet they did, I’m on my…” I stop listening after that. Shit, Wade thinks it’s his fault. That damn voice wouldn’t leave me alone. It’s my fault, not his, damn it why can’t I just care for Wade, why didn’t I leave a note, or something! I can’t even make a note, how am I going to be a good boyfriend!?

I’m practically running home, calling Wade at the same time. “Bub! Hey, I’m so sorry, I went for a walk, lost track of time, I’m sorry. I’m on my way home.”

“Logan?! Al! He’s coming back- - yeah, I know! stop! Logan, thank god, I thought the TVA got to you or something. It’s not your fault.”

I hesitate, ending the call with a “yeah it is… it’s always my fault.” Honestly, I didn’t even know I said it until I got back. Wade pretty much jumps on me, wrapping his arms around me like he’s a koala holding on to a tree branch for dear life.

“Peanut! Sugartits! What did you mean?! It’s your fault?! No it’s not! What TF do you mean?!” And it really hits me what I said. I’m still thinking of Jean and Scott, their relationship with me. But that wasn’t really them, it was just anger and tension talking. But it didn’t, and still doesn’t feel good.

“Hey bub. Sorry, it didn’t mean anything. I think we got lost in communication, I meant I shouldn’t have run off, my bad.” I say with an artificially reassuring voice.

Quick save. But I guess I’m pretty tense and the twinge in my eyes is still pretty visible, because as Wade looks into my eyes, he only needs a moment to look at me before looks at me with a tense face.

“Logan… something’s bothering you. Please tell me what it is? Please? I’ll be your best friend?” The mention of my name, no nickname, no sexy voice, just my name didn’t sit well. I can’t ruin this relationship by complaining. Not this one. I can’t just whine, I’ll be fine. I’m being overdramatic. It was just a couple of bad relationships.

“Darlin’… I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. How about we go out for a breakfast with Mary, huh?” I say, knowing he won’t refuse. But instead, this last month has been full of surprises, he just pulls me close my the waist, his brown eyes looking down at me slightly, his voice serious.

“Please. Please tell me. Then we can go?” Wade says. He is not making this easy. What would Wade do if he knew about it all? This universes Jean and Scott are still alive, so would he blame them? Would it only add to the whining mess that is me?

“I’m fine. I promise.”

“Alright peanut. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me yourself. But just know that no matter how messed up, shitty, gruesome it is, I will always listen and love you.” Wade says, resting his chin on the top of my head.

Why does this feel so weird, so lovable, but so unfamiliar?

“Yeah bub. Of course.” I say, laying a kiss on his forehead. Of course, this is hot. The little hint of concern on his lips, the sensitive light in his eyes, his gentle hands on my hips.

“Can we have AppleBees for lunch?”

Authors note: OML I LOVE THEM. Finally getting into Logan’s backstory and stuff, what are they going to order from Applebees? IDK, post soon. This was probably the longest chapter so if you read through this TY

[ellewriteswrongs]

layers of love - prinxiety

1.8k words

ao3 / ko-fi / previous work

summary: self-indulgent fluffy prinxiety, very domestic, some shrek references, y'all know the drill

cw: mild swearing, slight innuendo/suggestive dialogue

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Virgil asked from where he laid against his boyfriend’s chest. Roman’s hand stilled as he played with Virgil’s hair.

“Hmm?” He hummed, continuing to rock them with one leg hanging out of their shared hammock. “‘Course you can.”

Virgil made something akin to a purr as he laid in the sun, his hoodie discarded for once.

“When you first said you loved me…was it scary?”

Roman’s brow furrowed at the question, leaning back to try and see the other man’s face.

“Scary? I…I guess I don’t know. I think, in the moment, it just felt right,” he spoke with a soft smile, pausing only to plant a kiss on the other man’s forehead. “But ever since I realized it…every time I thought about saying it, I was terrified.”

When Virgil only shifted, tightening his grip around Roman’s waist, the latter continued.

“I was so worried you’d be freaked out and think I was moving too fast and the last thing I ever wanted was to scare you off, but I…” he trailed off, letting out an amused chuckle. “I was only ever afraid of losing you. Loving you has never scared me.”

Virgil hummed, leaning up to steal a lazy kiss from the corner of Roman’s lips.

“But what about all those stupid stories you like?” He smirked, folding his arms over Roman’s chest as he rested his chin on them. “Quite a bit of pressure there, Princey.”

Roman chuckled, twirling a particular strand of hair around his finger.

“Ahh yes, those stupid fairytales that you make me read to you all the time,” he teased, earning a playful slap on his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I have more than enough understanding of when dramatic proclamations of my undying love are unwanted.”

Virgil just exhaled a short chuckle, reaching to pull Roman’s hand out of his hair and over to hold it against his cheek, first pressing a kiss into the palm.

“Isn’t that why it’s such a big deal though?” He mused, his eyes half-focused on the beach around them. “Like, isn’t the whole point of falling in love so that something changes once you say it? And…and nothing changed when we said it.”

Roman stiffed a little bit from under him. “Did you…want something to change?”

No. No, of course he didn’t. That was the best part about it.

He told Roman as such.

“I guess I just…always thought something would change, even if we didn’t really want it to,” he explained, closing his eyes as Roman started playing with his hair again. “But I like how we are. How we’ve always been.”

“How we’ve always been? I don’t know about you, stormcloud, but I think things have definitely changed for the better.”

Virgil huffed with a small smile.

“Alright, fine,” he said, his cheeks hot. “I’m glad we changed even if it was just a little.”

Roman chuckled, his chest vibrating comfortingly against Virgil’s head.

“Yeah, I think I like you a little bit more these days, sunshine.”

Virgil scoffed, jabbing Roman’s side with his elbow.

“Thanks, babe," he spoke teasingly. “What glowing praise."

Roman only wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tight, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other holding him by the waist.

"My darling dark and stormy knight,” Roman cooed dramatically, peppering kisses all over his face until the other started laughing. "The angel from my nightmares, oh how I adore you with everything I am."

Virgil smiled, his gaze soft and fond as he looked up at the man he loved.

"Mhm, that's more like it," he smirked, stealing a kiss. "I love you, dork."

Roman bent down to lean their foreheads together.

“What's with all the introspection, my love?"

"Good word, babe."

“Shut up, I'm just worried about you," Roman grumbled, tucking Virgil's head back under his chin.

"You're worried about me? Because I’m talking about being in love with you?" Virgil asked, taking one of Roman's hands to fiddle with his fingers.

"Well, you just don't...talk about it. We both don’t,” Roman explained, his voice vibrating through his chest. "And I'm glad we are, it's just...not what we do."

Virgil smiled, sighing contentedly.

"Nothing's wrong, I promise,” he assured him. "I guess I've just been thinking a lot lately."

"Oh wow, congrats," Roman teased with sarcastic claps.

“Shut up, oh my god,” Virgil complained, not even trying to hide his laughter. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"Alright, alright, I concede," Roman smiled, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"I just kind of realized that I've been feeling different lately,” he started, causing Roman to immediately stiffen and lean back to see Virgil's face. Virgil smirked, rolling his eyes fondly. “I just told you nothing's wrong, chill babe."

"You telling me to chill out is quite ironic, methinks," Roman teased, relaxing back into the hammock. “It's not my fault you're rubbing off on me, Frank Fear-o.”

Virgil snorted a laugh at the nickname before he continued.

"Ever since we said it, I've just felt... better," he spoke, a soft smile on his face. "I don't even know how to explain it, it's just...better. I get headaches less, when I get anxious, it turns into panic attacks like half as much."

He paused as Roman's lips met his temple.

"And I think the strangest thing is," he spoke, propping himself up on his forearm to look down at his boyfriend

below him. “When you told me you loved me, I didn't doubt it for a second."

Roman gave a short, watery chuckle; his eyes tearing up just a little.

"Even just a year ago, I wouldn't've believed anybody who said that to me but you," he paused, reaching to squish Roman's cheeks with one hand until they both laughed. "I knew you'd never lie to me, but more than anything, I felt it."

He leaned in, intending to only steal a quick kiss before it swiftly escalated.

“Who knew you were such a sap?" Roman teased, breathing heavily as they eventually broke apart.

“Says you, Romeo."

“Oh, I wear that badge with pride, darling," he beamed. "According to Thomas' Twitter, I'm his 'simp' side."

Virgil snorted, laying back down as he leaned into Roman's shoulder.

"Okay, they're definitely right about that one,” he mumbled, ruffling the other’s curly hair affectionately. “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger and you can’t even deny it.”

Roman grabbed one of said fingers and brought it to his lips, planting a dramatic, drawn-out kiss with the most exaggerated noise he could.

“But of course!” He bellowed, earning a fond eye roll from his boyfriend. “For it is my only duty to bestow upon you all of the love one can possibly muster.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got a few other duties, babe,” he challenged with a smirk. “Like maybe the concept pitch for the next scripted video that you haven’t done, or the notes for the editors, or the fact that Thomas hasn’t even picked up his ukulele since last year, or—“

“Okay! Okay, fine, I can’t devote my whole life to smothering you forever,” he agreed exasperatedly. “But if I could, I would.”

Virgil chuckled, folding his arms over Roman’s chest and resting his chin on top.

“Hmm, yeah I think I’d hate that.”

Roman gave an almost comical pout, pulling out the puppy dog eyes.

“Nope, absolutely not, you’re not getting me with that shit,” Virgil asserted, trying to maintain a firm tone as he came dangerously close to breaking into a smile. “Smother me twenty-four seven and I’ll dump you on the spot.”

Roman pulled a disbelieving face.

“You really think I’m buying that?” He smirked. “That you’d dump me for spoiling you absolutely rotten with my sweetness.”

He knew full well what he was doing.

“I need my space, princess,” he spoke, putting on a suave tone that he knew he wasn’t pulling off by the giggles that came from his boyfriend. “I gotta’ keep up the aesthetic.”

Roman brought Virgil���s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Alright, alright, I respect the commitment,” he spoke, punctuated by kisses from Virgil’s hand up to his shoulder. “It’s so tragic that Mr. Misery Business would rather brood than swoon.”

“Who says I can’t have both?” He grinned. “I’m multi-faceted these days, babe. I have layers.”

Roman snorted a laugh, ducking his head right by Virgil’s ear.

“Layers,” he spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, his hands squeezing Virgil’s sides. “Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. We both have layers.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil cackled with laughter. “I hate it. I hate you, never speak to me again.”

Roman smirked, unfazed.

“But Virgil, that’s what friends do, they forgive each other.”

“One more word and you’re not getting any kisses for the rest of the week.”

“It’s already Friday.”

“Well, I don’t exactly want to punish myself in the process.”

Roman flushed a little at the rare admittance of affection.

“You think you couldn’t go a full week without any kisses?”

“I mean,” Virgil spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to find out.”

He answered with a chaste kiss to the other man’s temple. “I guess the world may never know.”

“If Logan were here right now, he’d probably try to get us to find out.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I never listen to the ol’ poindexter anyways,” Roman grinned, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ahh, yes, my favorite thing about you,” Virgil teased with a sly smirk. “How you’d rather be eternally petty than have an ounce of rational thought in that pretty little head of yours.”

Roman gave an offended scoff.

“You know what, I’m just going to ignore everything you just said in favor of the fact that you called me pretty,” he defended with a humph.

“Oh, you like that?” Virgil continued teasing. “As if you don’t already know you're pretty.”

Roman feigned his innocence.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea, darling. Perhaps you’ll have to enlighten me on what you find so appealing,” he drawled, his voice syrupy sweet in a way that would’ve made Virgil weak in the knees if they weren’t currently lying on top of each other. “My cute button nose? Thick, wavy locks? Maybe my taut, round buttocks?”

Virgil barked out a laugh, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation.

“Pull another Shrek quote out of that ass and I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to sit for a week—a full week.”

Roman froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Is…is that a threat or a promise?”

Virgil just groaned, shoving him until the hammock teetered and he panicked, clinging back onto the other man. “You’ve been spending too much time with your brother.”

“You may be right, but this is certainly more fun, I must admit,” he sighed happily.

“Just shut up and take a nap, princess.”

“As you wish, my love.”

[buckleyirondad]

sleepless nights, soupless days

Words: 1k 

Evan Buckley Week - Day 2: “Why are you naked?” + Fun 

Buck has a mishap with a bowl of soup. The team will never let him forget it.

Read on AO3

"Shit!"

Buck blames his lack of sleep. Fifteen hours into a twenty-four shift and barely two hours rest under his belt, Buck's brain isn't exactly functioning at full capacity.

So, yeah, on his way to the table, he dropped his bowl, his idiotic reflexes attempted to catch it, and now, there's an entire serving of soup down his front.

Scattered pieces of porcelain surround his feet.

He holds his breath. He's the only one awake and is hoping his mishap hasn't woken anyone.

Nobody appears. He's safe, for now.

He grabs the 'floor is wet ' sign from the cupboard under the sink and places it in front of the broken pieces of china.

The soup has seeped under his shirt and sweatpants, "Ow!" He rushes down the stairs, muttering expletives under his breath, "Shit."

He speeds into the locker room.

He rips his shirt off, over his head, "Come on, come on!" He grunts, trying to keep his panicked voice down.

With the wisdom of hindsight and knowing the extent of his clumsiness, he shouldn't have taken his shirt off while moving.

His left knee connects with the bench at full force, "Oh—" He scraps his teeth over his bottom lip. He quickly pulls his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor as he bends to nurse his injury.

Today is not his day.

He limps over to his locker, yanking it open.

He stripes off his sweatpants, "How?!"

The soup has gone everywhere, and he means, everywhere. He stripes off his briefs and grabs a spare change of clothes out of the locker.

Buck's shoulders jerk up when he hears Eddie clear his throat.

Oh, the universe has it out for him. But, hey, it could be worse, it's his boyfriend - this isn't the worst thing Eddie has caught him doing.

Buck hangs his head back to greet him, but then he yelps, jumping into the air—he rushes to cover himself with his shirt.

Eddie isn't alone. Nope , it's the whole team, Bobby, Chimney, Hen, Albert, and Ravi.

Bobby and Hen have, respectfully, turned their faces away.

Ravi is staring heavenward; his hand slapped over Albert's eyes.

Chimney has covered his face with both hands.

Eddie has his eyes on Buck's face, and yes, he appears empathetic, but he can't hide his grin.

Chimney squeaks, "Why are you naked?!"

"I'm in the locker room!" Buck stops. "Why are guys here?"

Hen speaks, "Eddie realized you weren't in your bunk."

"And, then we heard you running—" Ravi says.

Eddie concludes, "Guessed you were in trouble."

"I—" Buck bows his head, "I dropped a bowl of soup."

Hen snorts a laugh, "I thought Bobby banned us all from using the kitchen unattended."

"I did." Bobby nods, then he demands, "Everybody out. Buck deserves privacy."

Buck sighs in relief, "Thanks, Cap."

"Get dressed," Bobby tells him. "You'll need to clean up whatever mess you've left upstairs."

"Copy that."

The team starts moving towards the stairs.

"I bet Eddie doesn't wanna leave." Hen muses. "Good excuse for

a make-out sesh."

"Diaz—" Bobby catches the back of Eddie's shirt, "Professional work-life balance, remember?"

Eddie squeals, "I didn't do anything."

"You've definitely made out in the locker room before." Chimney jokes.

Albert exclaims, "And the ladder truck!"

Their voices are distant, but Buck keeps listening, laughing to himself.

"Y'all need to stop saying ' made out .'" Eddie tells them, "This isn't high school."

Chimney raises his voice, "Hey, Hen was the one who used the word ' sesh !'"

Hen shushes him—their colleagues are still sleeping.

Buck can no longer make out what they're saying, so he turns his mind back to changing. He grows increasingly aware that his knee isn't right, he can't bend it, and it's already swollen to twice its usual side.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun." He says to himself, sarcasm obvious.

Eddie, Bobby, and Hen will worry about the injury, while Chimney, Albert, and Ravi will tease him endlessly for how it happened.

He limps up the stairs, clinging onto the banister, "Shit." The pain spreads up his leg, stopping him in his tracks.

Hell, most firefighters injured themselves on the line of duty, not following an incident when they dropped soup down their fronts.

Bobby steps down, fixing him with a concerned glance, "Buck?"

Buck offers him a pained goofy smile, "Hey—"

"Here." Bobby grips his arm, helping him up, "Did you burn

yourself?"

"No, no." Buck stops at the top, "The soup wasn't that hot."

" Amor ?" Eddie shot up from the couch, catching Buck's wrist.

"Slow down, Romeo." Hen teases as she hurries over , "What's up, Buckaroo?"

"Hit my knee on the bench."

Eddie and Bobby guide him onto the couch.

"No luck for you tonight." Hen kneels on the floor beside him, "Which one?"

"Left."

Hen gently pulls up his pant leg, "Ow." She hisses.

The bruise is darker than Buck remembers.

She examines it, careful with her actions, but fuck , it hurts.

Eddie sits, taking Buck's hand, which helps— always.

"Looks like a nasty bruise," Hen concluded, "But it could be a sprain."

Chimney emerges, arms crossed, "What did you do, charge into the bench at full speed?"

Buck raises his arm, "I was covered in soup!"

"You're gonna need to get this checked out." Hen tells him, "It's

swollen very quickly."

Buck dips his forehead against Eddie's shoulder, ashamed.

"Don't worry, kid." Bobby empathizes, "We can use a cover story, make it

heroic."

"Too late." Albert holds up his phone, "I just told everyone."

Buck bolts up, but Eddie's arm ties around his front, keeping him sat down.

Albert scrabbles, grabbing Ravi's shoulders, ducking behind his back.

Chimney reads from his phone, unfazed, "Maddie says, ' enough

is enough we're wrapping him in bubble wrap .'"

Hen shrugs. "Good idea."

Buck groans, annoyed.

"Hey, if the emergency room was like a Starbucks," Chimney muses, "You'd be entitled to a free coffee now."

Buck narrows his eyes.

Eddie holds up an arm, "Cap, I should drive Buck—"

"No," Buck doesn't want the fuss, "They need you here."

"But—"

"He's right, Eddie." Bobby holds up his phone, "But Athena's free." He squeezes Buck's shoulder, "She's on her way to collect you."

Hen teases, "It's like when a kid falls over at school, and their mom has to pick them up."

Everybody laughs.

Buck hides his face behind his hand, "I hate all of you."

[freddiefiction]

Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 20)

Figgy Pudding 🍮

Freddie was certain that this was the proudest achievement of his life.

Forget Bohemian Rhapsody. This was his jewel in the crown, his magnum opus, his pièce de resistance. To someone of lesser intelligence, it might have just looked like a misshapen, slightly overcooked Christmas pudding – but no, it was so much more than that. This was living proof that he wasn’t completely useless in the kitchen, as Joe fucking Fanelli had absurdly implied. This is what he would be remembered by. Not his music or his stage theatrics, but this single festive dessert; dried fruits baked into a sweet spongey bread and topped with brandy sauce. A delicacy. It was poetry in cake.

He was a mess, flour and sugar adoring his apron, brown batter smeared across his face like war paint. But it was all worth it.

He couldn’t wait to show Jim. He couldn’t wait to see the look of utter surprise on the Irishman’s face when he saw this remarkable creation. Jim would surely be so taken back by his husband’s accomplishment, he would sweep him off his feet right then and there and take him upstairs to bed to make sweet and passionate love. The very thought made Freddie weak in the knees.

After ensuring that the pudding was perfectly centred in the middle of the counter, Freddie brushed his hands against his apron and rushed off to find Jim, failing to notice several pairs of eyes glinting from beneath the kitchen table.

--

‘Something smells good.’ Jim chuckled, treading carefully as Freddie guided him towards the kitchen, covering his eyes with both hands. ‘And I didn’t hear the smoke alarm go off once. Joe owes me a fiver.’

‘Forget that Negative Nelly.’ Freddie said as they neared the kitchen door. ‘I haven’t tasted it yet, but I can assure you, this will be the most delicious figgy pudding you’ve ever eaten in your life.’ He reached around his husband to push down the door handle, before throwing his hands away from Jim’s eyes. ‘Behold!’

The moment the word left his mouth, Freddie caught sight of the counter and felt all the blood drain out of his face. What had once been the beautiful Christmas pudding he had put all his blood, sweat and tears into for the last six hours was now little more than a pile of crumbs; and five hungry cats were chomping away on the remains, munching through the fruit filling, and licking brandy sauce from their whiskers. There was a long, agonising silence, before Freddie let out a noise that sounded like a wounded animal.

‘My cake!’ he cried, his outburst causing the cats to scatter. ‘My perfect, precious cake – ruined!’

He immediately rounded upon the five offenders, who were now congregated on the kitchen floor, wondering what the fuss was about. ‘You are all very bad cats! Daddy worked very hard on that pudding, and you had no business eating it for yourselves!’

Miko purred loudly at him, her nose and mouth covered in white brandy sauce.

‘Don’t you make that face at me, young lady!’ Freddie thundered. ‘I have half a mind to smack your bottom for being such a naughty girl!’

The tortoiseshell stopped purring immediately and she let out a distressed meow, running to hide behind Jim, her sticky face nuzzling his leg as if asking him to protect her.

‘Now, now, love.’ Said Jim, as he bent down to scoop his favourite daughter into his arms. ‘It’s not their fault that your pudding was so delicious. They couldn’t resist, poor things.’ He pressed a gentle kiss on Miko’s head. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let Papa smack your bottom.’

Miko mewed happily, snuggling into Jim’s chest.

‘If any of them are sick, you’re going to be the one cleaning it up.’ Freddie grumbled, grabbing a tea towel, and attempting to wipe the mess off Delilah’s face. ‘Well, I hope you’re all satisfied, darlings; you’ve ruined Christmas!’

The cats seemed completely unfazed by this statement. Goliath licked the rest of the crumbs off his paws. Romeo was grooming Lily, trying to get every last spot of sauce out of her fur. Delilah made a noise that sounded strikingly similar to a belch. Miko yawned, ready for a nap now that she had a full belly.

Jim glanced at the counter and spied a small lump of cake that had been seemingly untouched by their wayward felines; he quickly grabbed it with his free hand and, after inspecting it for any stray cat hairs, popped it into his mouth. His brows immediately raised to his hairline.

‘Wow. This is fucking incredible.’

Freddie stopped scowling long enough to look over at his husband, who was sucking the sugar off his fingers thoughtfully. ‘You really think so?’

‘You were right, this is delicious. I dare say it’s better than my mum used to make – though don’t go telling her I said that.’ Jim gently set Miko onto the floor and went to wind his arms around Freddie’s slender waist, pulling him close. ‘Did you really make that all by yourself?’

‘Well, Phoebe helped me a bit with the oven.’ Freddie replied, recalling how frustrating it had been twisting all those knobs, trying to figure out which one turned the damn thing on. ‘But the rest was all me. I was so looking forward to presenting it after dinner tomorrow. Joe is never going to let me live this down.’

‘Joe doesn’t have to find out. We’ll make another one.’

‘What?’ Freddie stared up at Jim as if he’d lost his mind. ‘Darling, it’s almost nine o’clock. The cake needs to be boiled for six hours!’

‘Then we better get a move on!’ Jim chimed, pecking Freddie on the nose. ‘Right, I’ll get the children out of the way while you gather all the ingredients together. This is my first-time making pudding, so go easy on me.’

Freddie felt his heart do a flip as he watched Jim shepherd the cats out of the kitchen, his devastation almost immediately replaced with a new sense of hope. He rushed to the counter to begin cleaning up the mess, a grin spreading across his face at the thought of pulling an all-nighter to bake with his wonderful man.

Perhaps Christmas wasn’t ruined after all.

[gureishi]

Hi!! I’m so glad I’ve found someone still into MM! I just wanted to send a quick little imagine scenario, if you don’t mind?

MC who comes from a super wealthy family, like Crazy Rich Asians, if you’ve seen the movie or read the book. And all the characters reactions to MC and her family, and her family’s approval/disapproval with each character. I’d imagine only Jumin would have a chance of being worthy to marry into her family. All the others would have to win them over somehow!

♥️♥️♥️

Hello, my friend! Alas, I’ve never seen Crazy Rich Asians (I’m infamous among my friends for not having seen movies. My fiancé has been trying to get me to watch more movies for years).

But I think I get the gist! A super rich, high society-type family, right?

In that case: both Jumin and Jihyun have a good shot. I mean, Jumin is literally this MC’s family’s dream, right? He’s rich (and he comes from money, too); he’s important and powerful; he’s well-known and will only grow richer over time. This family is like...marry him right now (and Jumin is unfazed by them, too: he’s used to people like this). Jihyun is a little iffier: he comes from money, and he’s got his own money, too...but he is, of course, an artist. He’s famous enough that they’ve probably heard of him, and this works in his favor. As long as he doesn’t say anything too weird when they meet, he’s probably acceptable. He knows how to blend in at their parties—even if he doesn’t necessarily want to be there.

Saeyoung is questionable. He is, in fact, very rich: but he can’t say how he came by his money, and the family would not be thrilled about the secrecy. In fact, he can’t tell them anything at all: who his family is, where he grew up, what he does for a living, etc. He’s got going for him that he’s a great liar and can talk his way out of most anything: if he takes it upon himself to play the role of a eccentric, genius billionaire, or something (and to be fair, that’s mostly all true)—and if his MC is okay with her parents never knowing who he really is—he might be able to get away with it.

Now, as far as Saeran is concerned: if this is GE, we’ve got an interesting situation. At this point, he is famous—everyone knows who he is. So a whole lot depends on the MC’s parents’ opinions about the prime minister. If they’re horrified by what he’s done, and pleased to see he’s going to jail—then they will, perhaps, be sympathetic toward his sweet, estranged son. At least he has a strong and powerful bloodline! And god, he’s disarmingly kind. If they are pro-prime minister, though...not a chance.

Zen’s an interesting one too. He is not only not rich, but he is disdainful of people who’ve inherited their money (I feel you, my guy). But! By the end of his route, he is famous! He’s successful and he’s well-known and he has the potential to make a lot of money in the future—so that works in his favor. But he would have a very hard time getting along with the family; he’d try his absolute hardest, because he loves his MC, but they’d be like oil and water. This MC and Zen might just have to elope. 

Jaehee and Yoosung? Certainly not. Jaehee is everything these people are baffled by: a hard worker in what they’d consider to be a low-level position. They don’t see what she can possibly offer their child; she’s neither wealthy nor a part of their society. MC will have to run away with her, too. And Yoosung is such a good, diligent boy (by the end of his route, anyway)—but he’s got nothing “special,” in the eyes of this family. Even when he becomes a vet—a good job, with a big salary!—that is nothing to them. They look down their noses at him. Not gonna happen. Another Romeo and Juliet situation (but hopefully, with less death).

[nbrook29]

99 🖤🖤

Hello there! You’re officially my last dialogue prompt 🤩 I’m sorry this took so long, anon, I hope you’re gonna like it at least a little 🤓

I don’t take prompts for this challenge anymore. Just wanted to put that out there 😇 There are so many amazing ones on that list, but as of now I have 3 WIPs and one additional one in the works and I’d like to finish them before wtfock ends 😅

Anywho, here you go!

99. “I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”

* * *

Robbe is going to kill Moyo. 

In fact, he's going to kill all three of his so-called friends because none of them protested when Moyo, tipsy and on his way to drunk, announced that this party sucked and was in dire need of some spice. 

He wishes he had listened to his past self and stayed home just like he had originally planned. It was supposed to be a quiet night in, editing videos or maybe spent in bed rewatching Romeo and Juliet in peace with no broers around to mock his movie choice while stuffing his face with onion chips and pretending the movie does not make him emotional, no sir. The wetness in his eyes must be sweat, not tears.

Then, after the movie would have ended, his sulking levels high, it would be time for his favorite activity of recent - daydreaming about reality in which he actually had the fucking guts to make a proper move instead of turning red everytime a certain someone was in his close proximity; smiling at him with that perfect sweet lovely smile that turned his already gorgeous features so much more beautiful that Robbe could weep.

And doesn’t that sound like a magnificent evening?

It may sound kinda lame, Robbe is a man enough to admit that, but the prospect of spending the night watching his friends salivating over girls they can’t get being the alternative wouldn't be particularly alluring to anyone, he guesses. Especially since he never partakes in that salivating part himself, instead chugging one beer after another and playing his designated role of a wallflower. 

Story of his life.

The whole thing just plain sucks, because it’s not like his friends aren’t well aware of the fact that Robbe’s interests lie elsewhere and that he’s usually bored out of his mind at those parties. But when there’s at least a semi-attractive girl around them they don’t care about anything else but getting her number and Robbe’s not exactly their priority then. In fact, he could well enough not be there at all and it wouldn’t make much difference. It happens every time they drag him along to those parties and every time he just stands there, rolling his eyes on their embarrassing attempts of flirting. 

Not like he’s the master of flirting himself, but even he’s not capable of stooping as low as they usually do.

This time, he reluctantly agreed to come to this one, against his better judgement, after Jens bugged him about it for their entire biology class, trying to convince him it was going to be more of a small gathering rather than a party. And frankly speaking, he did that just to make him shut up so mrs Jansen stopped glaring at him. Like he was the one running his mouth.

Once Robbe said the magic words “I’ll be there” there was no way of getting out of it. Still, his plan was to come by for an hour or two to get the broers of his back, drink a few beers, talk to Jana maybe, and then quietly leave when everyone would be too drunk and too busy tonguing at each other's tonsils to notice he's gone. 

But to his surprise, the party turned out not to be the typical banger they usually attended. It wasn’t even that bad and he was kinda having fun since he wasn't forced to play the guys' sidekick-gay-friend this time around and instead was dragged by Zoe to the kitchen to drink shots with her, Jana and Luca right after he arrived.

However, parties are not really his scene in general so when it started getting really late he finished his last Buttery Nipple shot composed by Luca (don’t ask) and was just about to make an apologetic face at the girls and say his goodbyes. 

But then Noor and Brit arrived. 

With him.

And Robbe almost swallowed his tongue.

Nobody should have the right to look this good but there he was, laughing with Milan in the hall while taking his signature leather jacket off, running a hand through his smooth like silk hair (Robbe's convinced it's indeed very silky) to ruffle it a little like it ever needed any styling, and in general looking like he had just walked out of Robbe's dream straight into Milan's apartment. 

Sander Driesen.

The reason for Robbe’s cheeks being permanently stained pink as of late.

They met at one of those after school clubs led by Amber several weeks ago that Robbe came to only because he agreed (after pretty much being blackmailed into it) to play Aaron’s wingman in winning Amber’s heart. 

He was gone as soon as those green eyes met his and the boy in front of him, wearing a black Bowie t-shirt and a leather jacket, shook his hand while smiling a little unsurely but still friendly, never breaking their eye contact as he introduced himself in a honey-like voice that penetrated every cell of his body, knees buckling a little, heart stuttering, the whole shebang.

He’s still thanking god he managed to hold back the whimper that was about to get out when he was saying his own name back.

Needless to say, the meeting became much more bearable after that.

Even having to witness Aaron’s cringeworthy attempts of gaining Amber’s attention weren’t that bad anymore. Not when they made Sander chuckle under his breath and catch his eye over Amber’s shoulder, winking at Robbe with a mischief dancing in his eyes as he bit his lip to keep his own laugh at bay. 

And then, Amber came up with some stupid “love excercise” or whatever the fuck she called it and made them all hold hands in a circle. She claimed it released stress and spread positivity or some other bullshit, but Robbe was convinced it was just a ploy she came up with to hold the school’s number one fuckboy Senne’s hand (who, if Robbe had to guess, also wasn’t there out of his own free will). 

Robbe wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, especially with people he had no business of touching in the first place so the whole thing was beyond painful. Thankfully, Jana came to his rescue, snatching his right hand as they exchanged smirks over Amber’s lofty speech about positive energy filling their bodies.

But then someone else gently took his other hand and when he went to inspect who it was, annoyance already starting to creep in, his mouth went dry, eyes going up, up, up the person’s leather-clad arm before stopping on Sander’s face, looking far too entertained.

The boy took an overly deep breath, eyes closed and face feigning seriousness, breathing out loudly.

“Ahh, I can already feel that rush of energy,” Sander leaned in to whisper to him, a teasing tilt to his voice making Robbe giggled at his antics. 

“I guess Amber was right then.”

“No no, I don’t think it’s Amber’s techniques, I just think it’s because of you.”

Robbe just gaped at this shameless flirting, receiving another wink when caught blushing deep pink. Sander seemed unfazed though, totally chill, like saying lame lines and winking at boys was in his everyday repertoire. It definitely wasn’t like that for Robbe, and definitely not from boys as cute as Sander.

He should have probably rolled his eyes at him, called him cocky and full of himself. And yet.

There was something about Sander’s demeanor that screamed it was all a facade, and that underneath there was a huge dork that came out right after that guard was let down. Robbe couldn’t even be annoyed with the smug winking because it was adorned with such a cute smile that it called for a fond eye roll rather than scoffing.

Before he could form at least a half cool response, Amber started shushing all of them with a bossy face, glaring at every person that dared to make a sound. So with a rush of sudden boldness, Robbe just squeezed Sander’s hand and looked at him from under his lashes, biting his lip in an attempt at being coy (and cringing at himself internally) despite his body thrumming with nerves standing this close to Sander, and for some unknown reason it brought the desired effect. 

Sander kept smiling at him surreptitiously throughout the entire meeting, making him laugh with his playful faces at some of Amber’s more ridiculous statements, and it felt like they had an entire conversation even though they didn’t exchange one word during that half an hour.

When they were finally free to go home it was after 21, Robbe realized with a whine. After they all collected their things and were ready to leave, Sander turned around in the doorway, searching for Robbe’s eyes while ignoring the rest of their friends crowding against the door, and when Robbe glanced furtively into his direction his expression turned almost bashful as he said bye, Robin.

And then again with the winking.

Good god this boy.

And how cute it was he couldn’t actually wink? It looked more like a reinforced blinking, but he still looked cute doing it.

Once Robbe came back home that evening, thoughts occupied with bleached hair and the smell of leather jacket, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Sander’s social media. In just one sitting he gathered a handful of information, finding out Sander was a year older and recently transferred to his school (which would explain how he had missed him in the corridors). He also had a photo with Amber down at the bottom of his profile and from the caption it seemed like they were cousins. 

Robbe’s fingers hovered over the ‘follow’ button, but he didn’t want to seem like a stalker so he just closed the app, throwing his phone on his bed in exasperation feeling sorry for himself and his inexperience in talking to boys.

The universe decided to be graceful for him for once in his life though and put Sander on his path again only 3 days later.

Like every Saturday afternoon Robbe was in the skate park with the broers, taking piss of one another’s skills and trying out new tricks while basking in the October sun that felt more like it was full on spring rather than the beginning of fall. He was in the middle of showing off some of his best tricks to the sounds of his friends hollering when he caught sight of bleached hair in his peripheral, almost falling straight on his ass. But luck was on his side and he avoided making a spectacle out of himself. 

Once he was safely on the ground, skateboard under his foot, he glanced in the direction of white hair one more time to see Sander lowering his vintage camera and whistling, making an impressed face and promptly causing Robbe to downcast his eyes bashfully.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Robin.” 

Robbe sighed. “It’s Robbe.”

“I know, but isn’t that a cute nickname?”

Robbe ducked his head, smiling a little to himself, cursing the heat rising in his cheeks. “Are you always this annoying?”

For a moment, Sander seemed to be taken aback, but then he must have noticed the teasing glint in Robbe’s eyes because he relaxed visibly, confidence back on his face.

Then, easily and offhandedly, he said, “No, just with very certain people.”

If Robbe had any doubts before about Sander taking immense pleasure out of teasing him, he didn’t anymore. He was flashed with another mischievous smile and then Sander nodded at the bowl.

“That was pretty awesome.”

“Thanks.” Robbe scratched at the back of his neck self-conciously, ignoring his friends’ intrigued faces and praying they didn’t say anything stupid. “To be honest, these aren’t even that difficult, anybody could do them...”

“Pff, I tried this skateboarding thing once and let me tell you, I was an absolute disaster so don’t sell yourself short.” Sander nudged at his shoulder with a knowing look, the contact sending a shiver through Robbe’s entire body. 

“So what are you doing here if you suck at it?” He sent him a toothy grin when Sander gaped at his brazen words, faux-scandalized. 

He then lifted his camera swiftly and took a photo of Robbe’s dumbfounded face.

“I’m only around this deadly thing to take artsy pictures of cute boys.”

Looking very proud of himself, Sander laughed at his indignant spluttering, refusing to show Robbe the photo at first, giving in a few seconds later under his killer pout (Sander’s words). 

“So, is this where you spend your afternoons?” he asked casually once they sat down at a nearby bench, Sander scrolling through his camera roll and showing him the photos.

Robbe nodded, watching Aaron from afar attempting the backside ollie and failing miserably. It pulled out a snort from Sander.

“Well, you’re definitely better at it than your friends.”

Elbowing him in the side as a sign of loyalty to his friends, he replied. “Jens is actually better than me.”

Sander sent him a curious look. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“What?! Eww, no! I have way better taste than that.” It’s not like he’d admit he had crushed on his best friend a year ago. So, hopefully, he sounded convincing.

Sander lifted his hands in surrender, laughing at his outburst. “Okay, okay, message received, only the cutest boys for you,” he paused, biting at his lip to hold his smirk. “Makes sense,” he muttered under his breath, but Robbe heard him anyway.

Later that day, he got a instagram notification that informed him that earthlingoddity was following him as of now and damn if that didn’t make Robbe’s heart beat faster.

earthlingoddity sent you a link

S: Considering today’s unfortunate incident, I made you a bowie playlist, need to teach the youngsters like you the real music 😎😏

The first message from Sander made him scoff, but he rolled his eyes at himself anyway when he remembered his conversation with him at the skatepark, asking about the shirt and prompting Sander to quiz him about David Bowie’s songs.

Robbe hid his face in his hands at the mere memory.

Space Cowboy.

How embarrassing. 

Sander tried so hard not to burst out laughing at Robbe’s confusion when his answer was met with a blank stare, bless him.

R: So you're one of those people?

S: What people?

R: Self-righteous hipsters 😜

S: Now now Robin

No need for names 😩

R: It's Robbe

R o b b e

S: Okay Robin ;)

R: 🙄

Unbelievable

S: So 

What's up? 🙃

They kept up at this casual texting for 2 recent weeks, getting to know each other, and Sander confirming that he does, in fact, have a soft side. Robbe also realized he was a much bolder person when no face to face interaction was required when he had more time before responding to Sander. Then there were the occasional “hellos” at school when they crossed paths in the halls, but so far their friendship, if he could even call it that, hadn’t evolved further.

In fact, this party was the first time Robbe had seen him in a week.

Their eyes met for a few short seconds and Robbe waved at him, immediately after wanting to bang his head at the table because who the fuck waves these days? 

Sander didn’t seem to mind this dorky display at all, beaming at him from across the hallway and not paying much attention to Milan who was talking his ear off. A second later, he was out of Robbe’s sight, dragged by Milan and the girls to the living room, leaving him staring longingly after him. 

Before Robbe got his shit together and on shaky legs went there to maybe squeeze out a few words to him, Moyo was already on his way of arranging people into a circle and producing a bottle to spin. 

What a bad fucking timing.

This was so not Robbe’s idea of fun so he started to surreptitiously backing off to the hall to slide out the door but Jana, the traitor, grabbed his arm and sat him next to her, seeming very excited about the game.

It’s not like he was the only one reluctant to play though. Sander’s face looked rather bemused too.

“Come oooon, Sander,” Noor groaned at him, pulling at his sleeve relentlessly to make him plop his butt on her left side. “You promised to leave that sulky slash lovesick face at home and have fun. This is fun!”

“I think we have a different definition of fun, darling,” he retorted, his gaze sweeping through the half-drunk faces, stopping at Robbe’s for a millisecond. It was so quick he thought he imagined the apprehensive look on his face, but then Sander did sit down, letting out a long-suffering sigh and promptly avoided his gaze throughout the game. Which was clearly an intentional effort because they sat exactly opposite each other.

To say Robbe was confused would be an understatement.

And that’s how he finds himself here, sitting in a circle amongst his friends and several strangers who keep hollering and shoving tongues in each other’s throats. He had one close call when the bottle spinned by a redhead girl almost pointed at him, making him hold his breath but then stopping on Moyo sitting on his other side, who was way more eager to fill the deed.

When it’s finally Sander’s turn to spin the bottle, Robbe's heart starts beating double time and he twists his fingers nervously. He realizes with dread that there is no good outcome of this situation; if it lands on any of his friends or any of those few people he only vaguely recognizes, he’s going to have to watch Sander play tonsil tennis with them and his stomach turns unpleasantly with something akin to jealousy at the mere thought. 

But if it lands on him?

Oh god.

The bottle is spinning already, Robbe having missed the moment Sander put it in motion, too busy wrangling with his thoughts about what he should do. The fact Sander has been avoiding his eyes ever since they started this stupid game makes him even more nervous about the whole thing. 

Then the bottle stops, pointing at him so accurately that it leaves no room for question.

And Sander’s face positively falls.

Sitting near him Jens and Moyo are giving him subtle thumbs up and not so subtle shit-eating grins with Aaron next to them clearly confused at their behavior all the while Sander looks like he’s in pain.

Eyes glued to the floor, body rigid, looking like he’d want to be anywhere but here.

People are staring at them, waiting for something to happen and Robbe feels nauseous.

And so humiliated. 

How could he misinterpret Sander’s behavior so much? And it’s not even that, not really. Does the idea of kissing him disgusts him that much he can’t even give him one stupid kiss to avoid putting Robbe on the spot?

From the corner of his eye he can see Noor elbowing Sander in the side and there’s an entire conversation happening between them without one word being uttered. 

Then, several things happen at once. The boys let go of any subtlety and start whooping and hollering like they want to force Sander to make some kind of move, there’s a loud whack coming from the kitchen where one of the couples went to continue their PDA so Jana and Zoe get up to check the damage and then Adi, who has been rummaging through the liquor cabinet for the last ten minutes, yells that he found a ten year old whiskey, making the broers scrambling off the floor to get their hands on it.

The rest of the people are still here with them though. Still staring. And Sander still seems to be rooted to the spot.

And Robbe has had enough. 

Ignoring Noor’s soft Robbe, he gets up and with a heavy heart almost runs to the door, putting his jacket on in a haste, frustration and shame cursing through his body as he runs down the stairs two step at a time, wanting to get outside as fast as he can.

The cold air washes over him once he reaches the entrance and he breaths in shakily, feeling his eyes welling up despite his hardest efforts not to cry.

It just hurts. It really hurts. And if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that there have been witnesses to his humiliation is a small part of the reason why he feels this way. It’s about the fact that it was Sander.

Sander. This boy who let him believe there may actually be someone interested in him. In that way. Sander, who flirted with him, complimented him, smiled at him, listened to him and sent him Bowie playlists.

Sander, who he felt more connected to recently than to any of his friends. 

He wipes at his eyes angrily, scoffing at the fact that this asshole was able to make him cry, when he hears rushed steps on the sidewalk behind him.

“Robbe!”

Walking faster, he tries to ignore the sound until there’s a hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. He turns around ready to blow out in Sander’s face but the boy is faster.

“I’m so sorry for that,” he pants, voice tinted with desperation, apologies written across his face as his eyes flit all over Robbe’s like he’s trying to read his mind.

But Robbe only lets out a humorless laugh. “No worries, I understand, you were very clear. Point taken,” he sneers, starting to walk again.

“No, you don’t understand,” Sander pleads with him, taking his hand in his own to keep him from leaving. Robbe wants to pull it back, but the distressed look in Sander’s eyes makes him hesitate. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be a part of some stupid game. Not when I spent weeks trying to come up with a perfect scenario for our first kiss in my head.”

Robbe promptly loses his breath at his confession. 

“You wanted to kiss me before?” 

“Ever since I saw you,” Sander confirms in a small voice. His demeanor lacks the confidence Robbe got acquainted with, ripped of any trace of the usual conckiness. Instead, Sander appears almost shy, biting his lip nervously as if waiting for a blow and heart-breaking rejection.

There won’t be a rejection though. Not tonight. 

Without second-guessing himself, Robbe takes that one step that still separates them and seals their lips together, hands drifting to Sander’s rosy cheeks on their own, like there was a magnet pulling them in. Sander is stunned at first, his lips unresponsive, but it only takes about three seconds for his brain to catch up and then.

Then.

Then there’s Chernobyl in Robbe’s head.

Fuck.

The way this boy kisses.

Phew.

Robbe’s brain shuts off as Sander’s mouth moves over his with intention, sliding together in a rhythm that leaves him breathless. It’s almost impossible to keep all the noises that threaten to escape inside, one small whimper getting out without Robbe’s accord, but it’s okay because it gets swallowed by Sander’s unyielding lips right after it leaves Robbe’s, making Sander pull him even closer.

Eventually, they have to stop, getting dizzy from the lack of air. When their mouths do separate though it’s only for a centimeter and they keep panting in that small space between them, soon breaking out in quiet giggles.

“I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you too. Ever since that stupid meeting,” Robbe admits, feeling brave and like he’s floating on air, no confession scary enough right now. Sander looks very pleased with his words, and Robbe can feel the telltales of his regular confident smile coming back to his face under his lips when Sander pecks him softly.

Then, he draws back, regarding Robbe with eyes full of mischief.

“I only joined to meet you.”

That makes Robbe cock his brow in surprise and he searches his face for a lie or at least a joke, but he doesn’t find any. “You saw me before?”

There’s a pause and then Sander’s smile turns softer. “I saw you the first day of school.”

And, wow. He did not expect such a turn of events. 

“You were sitting at a lunch table with your friends, deep in thought, looking so beautiful you took my breath away. It felt like I saw an angel.”

Blood floods Robbe’s cheek and he drops his eyes under Sander’s intense gaze, because he’s not used to such praise, or praise whatsoever. And then there’s Sander, looking at him like he’s something precious, like he hung the moon and stars, touching him so gently and kissing him so passionately and Robbe feels like passing out.

Sander must have sensed he was getting overwhelmed because he chuckles quietly and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumb sweeping under his eye in a soothing motion as he leaves a few small kisses on his other cheek, melting Robbe in a pile of goo right there on the sidewalk, quiet night around them.

Once he pulls himself together, he can’t resist the tugging at the corners of his mouth and a full-blown smile blooms on his face that’s instantly matched by Sander’s own.

“You know, I don’t think I ever played spin the bottle before but I’d give it zero stars on booking.com,” he declares suddenly pulling a laugh out of Robbe. “I was so scared I’m gonna have to watch you kiss somebody else, phew!” He places a hand on his chest comically, turning on the dramatics. “My poor heart wouldn’t take it, Robin!”

And fuck, he’s so cute that Robbe can only laugh at this (his?) dork, fondly rolling eyes at his antics.

“Yeah, I didn’t want anybody to kiss you either. And it’s Robbe,” he adds with a long-suffering sigh, futilely, he’s sure, but it’s still worth it because Sander’s cheek in tongue expression lets him know the boy loves to rile him up and is not going to stop anytime soon.

Still, to wipe off the smug smile for the time being he pulls him back into a kiss by the lapels of his leather jacket and Sander doesn’t exactly protest such. The second kiss is slower, more thorough, but still mind blowing enough for Robbe to feel heat tugging at his stomach.

“Will you go on a date with me? Tomorrow? Or any other time you’re free? Please?” Sander whispers in the small space between them after they finally break apart, foreheads resting against each other and fireworks going on in Robbe’s brain. Despite them standing so close Robbe can see Sander’s face pretty clear, and he can see his hopeful but tentative expression as he waits for him to answer, eyes growing unsure with each second of silence.

Not wanting to keep him in suspense anymore, he gives his parted lips one more lingering kiss, too weak to resist them when they shine so prettily in the street light above them. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

[just-random-imagines]

Opposites Aca-Attract

IMAGINE: Pieter Krämer shows his interest in you and your friends, the Bellas become protective over you. Stacie is the only one who encourages you to go for it. WORD COUNT: 1.6k WARNINGS: N/A

“What the hell does that German guy think he’s doing?” Chloe demanded.

Fat Amy and Beca looked to the corner of the room where you sat. Just a few feet away, Pieter fidgeted with his shirt. Once he found it satisfying, he advanced towards you. At the sight of it, Beca balled her fists.

First DSM won the Riff-Off and rubbed it in the Bella’s faces. Now one of their leaders was going to brag about it to Beca’s sister. Big no-no right there.

Fat Amy, seeing this anger, held the singer back. “As much as I want to beat ‘em too,” the Australian stated, “we have to watch and see what that Kraut does.”

Huffing in frustration, Beca crossed her arms and glared. “He better not do anything.”

-

“And who are you?” You heard someone ask you.

Turning around, you see one of the Das Sound Machine members approaching you. His blue eyes seemed to stare you down almost menacingly as you search for an answer.

“Uh… What?” You asked him, confused that this god-like man was even speaking to you. Rolling his eyes, the singer proposed another question.

“You came in with the Bellas but did not accompany them in song. What is your relationship with them?  He asked.

Playing with your fingers, you shrug. “My sister is in the group and she invites me to every event. I’m their personal cheerleader, I guess.”

“Your sister is a Bella?” The German questioned. “I would never have guessed.”

“Because I’m not as talented as them?” You counter. 

“Of course not,” the man replied, taking a seat next to you. Unfazed, you let him explain himself. “You’re too beautiful. Their looks could never match up to yours.”

Instantly, your cheeks heated. Why did your friends hate these guys again?

“Ah! You’re the one who came in with Tiny Mouse,” Someone exclaimed. You and your guest turn around to see the other leader of Das Sound Machine approach you.

“Hi!” You politely greet her, offering a hand. She glances at it before turning to her friend.

“Pieter, I need a word with you.” As if on cue, a handful of Bellas approach you. Including your sister.

“Y/N,” Beca blurted. “We’re leaving. Get your stuff.”

“Must you go so soon, Tiny Mouse?” The female German asked innocently, barely hiding her condescending tone. “I thought you were having fun forgetting your loss?”

There it was.

“You are so tall!” Your sister word vomited. “But it doesn’t make you ugly! It just makes your face easier to look at!”

You and the Bellas look at her questioningly, but she waves you off. “You know what I mean! Let’s go!”

Fat Amy grabs your hand and gently tugs you away. Before you can get a suitable distance, Pieter calls you. 

“Wait, Y/N!”

The girls, including the DSM leader, looked at the singer. Ignoring their burning gazes, he held out your phone.

“Don’t forget this Schön,” Pieter told you quietly, placing your cell in your hand. The blonde glared at him angrily before tugging him away.

“What did he just call you?” Beca demanded. “I’ll beat all their pretty faces in if-”

“I think he was trying to compliment her,” Stacie commented, her nose quickly scrunching up afterward. “Does that make him off limits Y/N?”

“It does,” Chloe answered for you. “If he is with Das Sound Machine, he is off limits. Even to you Y/N.”

“Why?” You ask, genuinely curious. “Technically, I’m not a Bella so the rules don’t apply to me.”

“Girl,” Cynthia Rose grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re family. And they seem like a-holes to tear our family apart. We can’t let them.”

Taking it in, you slowly nod. “You’re right,” you agree. “Chicks before dicks.”

As the team cheered you on, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance towards the back of the room.

Das Sound Machine had huddled together in what seemed to be a heavy conversation. The group surrounded their leaders as the female quietly scolded Pieter. 

As if sensing your attention, the tall German looked your way. He sent you a small smile, one that quickly sent you reeling. His smile turned into a frown when the Bellas dragged you away.

A certain singer had not ignored this.

-

“You’ve got the hots for Pieter!” Someone squealed in your ear.

Dropping your phone in surprise, you look at Stacie. “What are you talking about?” You ask her, feigning innocence.

Rolling her eyes, she quickly snatched your phone. “Hey!” She pulls up your search history and proudly shows it off with a smug grin.

Pieter Krämer Das Sound Machine

Pieter Krämer

Pieter Krämer relationship? 

Pieter Krämer Boyfriend? 

Pieter Krämer Girlfriend? 

“How’d that get there?” You say unconvincingly. Scoffing, Stacie plopped down on your bed.

“You’re into him!” She stated. “And he’s into you! That’s so cute.” She clapped her hands. “They also forbid you guys to go out with each other! You guys are Romeo and Juliet cute!”

“They die at the end,” you tell her. “How is that cute?”

Stacie placed a hand over your mouth. “This is real life. You guys won’t die. Hopefully,” she added the last part under her breath.

“Another thing, how do you even know he likes me? The girls said-”

“Trust me,” she stated. “People think I’m just a pretty ditz, but I know when sparks are being made. And girl, you and Pieter looked like a damn firework.”

“Why aren’t you against him like the others?” You ask her.

Smirking, she points to her crotch. “Nothing is off limits to my boy. And I’m not as prejudiced as the others are.”

“I’m glad,” you tell her honestly.

Giving you a friendly smile, Stacie suddenly claps her hands once more. “I almost forgot!” She screeched.

Shaking your head, you glare at her. “It better be something important or I swear to God-”

“Remember what he called you at the Riff-Off?” She interrupted.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Sounded like Shawn or something? It was in German, so I didn’t understand what it meant.” Stacie’s wide grin alerts you she knew more than she was offering.

“Spill.”

-

The Bellas cheered happily as they realized they had won the World Championship. To celebrate their victory, they had returned to their resting area in the back. You, Benji and Jesse, greeted them all and cheered.

“I’m so proud of you big sis!” You congratulated Beca. “You were amazing!”

“I’m glad you could come,” she responded, giving you a hug.

“So am I,” you reply.

It was hilarious, actually. You weren’t planning on going in the first place, but a day before the Bellas were to leave; you received an envelope with a ticket to Copenhagen. It had no return address, but you had a suspicious feeling it was from Pieter.

What gave it away? Maybe the card inside that only had For You Schön written on it.

“Hey Y/N,” Stacie suddenly called you over. Giving a quick goodbye to your sister, you rush over to your friend.

“What’s up?” You ask her. Without a word, she hands you a small basket of mini-muffins. “Why-”

“Don’t ask,” she interrupted. “Just take this to your friend and have a little chat.” When you don’t move fast enough to her liking, Stacie quickly pushes you away towards a certain direction.

“Go!”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you make your way towards a group of very disgruntled Germans. A few DSM members sent you a few curious looks your way, but mostly, said nothing.

A lonely Pieter sits in front of a makeup stand as he wipes his eyes with a rag. “I think you missed a spot,” you tell him.

Surprised, the singer quickly spun around. “Y/N,” he exclaimed. Running a hand down his face, Pieter gave you a small smile. “Hello Schön,” he formally greeted you.

“So why do you think I’m beautiful?” You ask him shyly.

The German chuckled as he hid his grin. “How can I describe perfection?”

“You could use something else, like someone who is actually beautiful.”

Seeing that you would not change your mind, Pieter changed the subject. “What are the baked goods for?” Remembering the treats, you offer him the basket.

“I hoped that I could use these as a peace offering,” you tell him. “So maybe you won’t hate me because of my friends?”

Taking the basket, Pieter set it down on the table before standing up. You don’t remember him being a giant but goddamn; he was tall.

“I am not mad,” he stated quietly. Slowly taking your hand, he holds it against his fishnet covered chest. Between you and me, why have the shirt when it covered nothing?

“I am surprised you came to Copenhagen, I did not think you would come. I believed I would never see you in person again. But you had to prove me wrong.”

“D-did I?” You stutter. “I just wanted to say thanks. It would have been very boring to just watch you online.”

“Is that all you wanted to do, Schön?” Pieter asked you, leaning forward. “Watch me sing?”

“I-I guess,” you say. “I didn’t really think this through.” Your blush worsens as the singer cups your face.

“Who really does?  He doesn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is sweet, much like Pieter. 

Getting lost in the moment, you’re the first to pull away when you hear someone clear their throat. You and Pieter turn to see Beca and the rest of the Bellas eyeing the two of you dangerously.

“Who’s ready to hide a body?” Fat Amy asked the girls.

“Just another weekend for me,” Lilly whispered.

[thatsamericano]

Palm to Palm is Holy Palmers’ Kiss

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Hungary, Ancient Greece, and Canada are mentioned.

Genre: Fluffy high school human AU. No warnings. Teen-rated for minor cursing and mildly suggestive making out.

Word Count: 2154

Notes: Written for the Day 2 prompt “hand kiss” on @hetaliancupid-hetaliaevent. The title is taken from a scene in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, which is also quoted in the fic.

Summary: Alfred needs help rehearsing his lines for the school production of Romeo and Juliet, and his best friend Savino agrees to help him. But the fact that Alfred is playing Romeo and Savino is reading Juliet’s lines makes things complicated, especially since they’re rehearsing the first kiss scene.

“Hey, Vinny, do you mind helping me rehearse my lines a little? I’m supposed to start rehearsals with Erzsébet tomorrow, and I want to make sure I have them memorized by then.”

Savino glanced up from the math homework he’d barely started and saw his best friend Alfred standing there with a hopeful grin, sky blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, and an opened script book held in his hands. For his own well-being, Savino should have refused and told Alfred he was too busy to help him read lines. Alfred was starring in the upcoming school play as the male lead in Romeo and Juliet, and Erzsébet was playing his love interest. The last thing Savino needed was to torture himself by reading romantic lines to his best friend and secret crush when he would never have the guts to say anything romantic to him in any other context. But, unfortunately for him, Savino had never been good at refusing Alfred, especially when he pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

Savino frowned as he shoved his math book, his pencil, and the sheet of notebook paper he’d been using into his messenger bag. “I’ve got a lot of other shit to do, so I’ll help, but not if it’s gonna take too long.”

Alfred bounced over and plopped down on the couch next to him. “Don’t worry, dude. I just need you to help me with this one scene.” Alfred passed the script over to him. “My lines start at the top of page 15.”

Savino gulped when he saw that Alfred wanted him to rehearse the fucking kissing scene from Act 1. Jesus Christ. That was worse than the goddamned balcony scene.

He quickly glanced over Alfred’s shoulder just to make sure they were alone in the student lounge. Rehearsing this scene with Alfred would be embarrassing even without witnesses, but Savino couldn’t stand for them to have an audience.

Alfred abruptly grabbed his left hand, and Savino quickly glanced down at the page to make sure Alfred was reading his lines correctly. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” Alfred said. He read the lines perfectly, with a sincere, lovestruck tone that was appropriate to the scene. No wonder he had been cast as the lead in the school play.

Alfred bent his head down to brush a feathery kiss over Savino’s knuckles, and Savino trembled. Alfred wasn’t the best at picking up on the subtleties of body language, but Savino wasn’t being subtle, so Alfred noticed right away. He gave Savino a worried look. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if this is weirding you out. I wouldn’t normally kiss your hand, but I’m supposed to kiss Juliet’s hand according to all the movie versions of this I’ve seen. And I think it will be easier for me to remember my lines if I stay in character.”

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it, that was all.”  It wasn’t fine, but not for the reasons Alfred believed. Savino knew he wouldn’t be able to stop daydreaming about that simple hand kiss for weeks.

He cleared his throat and read Juliet’s responding lines out loud. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” His delivery was much more awkward than Alfred’s had been, but Savino wasn’t an actor and had never claimed to be.

Alfred shifted his hand a little so that their palms were touching. “If touching our palms together is kissing, what’s lacing our fingers together? Making out on the couch?”

Savino narrowed his eyes and tried to push the thought of them ignoring the script and making out on the same couch they were sitting on to the back of his mind. “Idiota, you know that isn’t the line.”

Alfred shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “I know. I was just wondering. The metaphor doesn’t really hold up, in my opinion.”

Savino rolled his eyes, and Alfred got back into character. He gave him a coy look, like he was trying to flirt. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

Savino quickly glanced down at the script book to read his next line. “Ay pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Alfred inched closer to him on the couch, like he was preparing to kiss him, and Savino couldn’t help stammering a little as he read his reply.

“S-saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

Alfred let go of his hand to cup his cheek, which had heated up, no thanks to all the blushing he was doing. “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

Alfred started to lean in, and Savino leapt off the couch, dropping the script book in the process. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I agreed to help you read lines, not kiss you, you stupid stronzo!” Under different circumstances, he would be thrilled to kiss Alfred. But he was not going to help Alfred rehearse how he planned to kiss another person. Savino may have had a problem going along with Alfred’s whims even when he shouldn’t, but he wasn’t an emotional masochist. Kissing Alfred when it wouldn’t mean anything was more pain than he was willing to put himself through.

Alfred pouted up at him. “Dude, Mrs. Karpusi told me and Erzsi we don’t actually have to kiss. We just have to make it look like we’re kissing. That’s why I covered your cheek. So that when I leaned in and stayed about an inch away from your lips, it would look like we were kissing if we had been onstage.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually.” Savino crossed his arms over his chest in an automatic attempt to shield himself since he was embarrassed by his own overreaction. Of course Alfred wouldn’t try to kiss him. He’d never even want to kiss him.

Alfred sighed. “I’m sorry I freaked you out. I wouldn’t try to kiss you just because I’m rehearsing a play. I know you don’t see me like that.” His body had slumped as he talked, and he was glancing over at the vending machine instead of making eye contact. His entire demeanor seemed despondent, and his mood seemed to be caused by something bigger than the fact that his best friend had just accused him of doing something he’d never even think of doing.

No, Savino thought to himself. That wasn’t possible. Unless…

“Do… do you want me to see you that way?” As soon as he asked the question, Savino wished he hadn’t. He immediately expected Alfred to laugh and tell him he was being ridiculous, but instead, Alfred sniffled and rubbed at his eyes.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you,” Alfred confessed quietly. “I figured, what was the point? It’s not like I have any clue what I’m doing when it comes to this stuff. I never even liked anybody before you, much less kissed anyone or gone on a date. You could have anyone at this school, except for the lesbians and straight guys. Why the hell would you want a dumbass like me?”

Savino sat back down on the couch. “You’re not a dumbass. At least not because you’re inexperienced and feel like you don’t know what you’re doing. Everyone feels like that sometimes. But you are a dumbass for thinking that you not having a relationship before would make me not want to be with you.”

Alfred smiled weakly. “You don’t have to be nice to make me feel better. I wasn’t expecting you to feel the same way.”

“I’m not being nice! I’m not a fucking nice person! I’m trying to tell you that I like you too! I jumped away when I thought you were gonna kiss me only because I couldn’t take you kissing me when it wouldn’t have meant anything!” It probably wasn’t fair for him to explode on Alfred like that, but, God, Savino was so frustrated.

“Oh.” Alfred grinned for real this time, completely unfazed by the fact his friend had just been yelling at him. “Really?”

Savino nodded. “Yes.”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this to happen.” Alfred blushed and fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically shy. “If I had kissed you, it would’ve meant something to me. Not just because it would’ve been my first, but because it’s you. You’re really special to me, Vinny.”

“You—you’re really special to me too, caro.” Savino was nowhere near as suave as he would normally be in this kind of situation. He had more romantic experience than Alfred, but when he was around his best friend, he felt like a little kid experiencing a crush for the first time.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you now? I mean, we don’t have to, but I really want to.”

“I want that too.”

“Awesome.” Alfred started to lean down towards him, and Savino’s eyes fell shut in anticipation.

Alfred obviously wasn’t an experienced kisser. He started very hesitantly, at least until Savino began to reciprocate. Then, he pressed his lips into Savino’s in a clumsy, overeager way that made Savino’s heart soar. When Savino attempted to deepen the kiss, Alfred tried to do the same thing, and their teeth knocked together.

Savino pulled away with a pained grimace. “Ow.”

Alfred winced. “Sorry. But uh, before I hurt your teeth, was I any good?”

“You were amazing,” Savino answered honestly. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”

“You were amazing too. I mean, I knew it would probably feel good, but I didn’t know it would feel like that. My mouth felt super tingly, and my heart was beating so fast I thought I was gonna pass out. Getting to kiss you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Savino was flattered by Alfred’s effusive, unprompted praise. “Grazie. Um, if I kiss you again, do you think you can stay relatively still?”

“I can try.” That was a good enough answer for Savino, and he leaned up to initiate a second kiss.

This time, Alfred kept his head still enough to prevent any more teeth-related accidents. But the way he moaned into the kiss wasn’t remotely saint-like, and neither was the way he buried his hand in Savino’s curls. Savino certainly wasn’t a saint himself.

When he needed to breathe, Savino reluctantly ended the kiss and laid a gentle peck on Alfred’s lips before shifting back on the couch. Alfred blinked at him dazedly, and his kiss-swollen lips stretched into a goofy grin.

“Damn, Savi. I was really excited about holding your hand earlier, but kissing you was way more intense than the holy palmer’s kiss thing Juliet talked about. Way, way more intense.”

Savino snorted. “Speaking of the play, do you still need to rehearse your lines?”

“Nah, I think I’m good. But if we go back to my dorm room, maybe we can rehearse the kissing thing some more.” Alfred winked in a cheesy, incredibly ridiculous manner. Part of Savino felt amused, but mostly he felt warm all over.

“What about your brother?” It would be incredibly awkward if Matthew was there when they got to Alfred’s dorm room.

“Mattie’s got hockey practice today, so he won’t be back for hours. We should get plenty of time alone.”

Savino helped Alfred find the script book he had dropped earlier, and he took the hand Alfred extended towards him as they left the student lounge. Alfred hummed to himself with a content expression on his face as they left the building and started heading back towards the student dorms.

“You look really happy,” Savino remarked softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m with you. Wait, I am with you, right?”

Savino squeezed Alfred’s hand before he could start to doubt how Savino felt about him. “Don’t worry, you are.” They might not have defined what their relationship was yet, but Savino was willing to be with Alfred in whatever way he wanted.

“Then I’m happy that I’m with the hottest guy in the world. I bet all the people around me are super jealous right now.”

Savino wasn’t paying much attention to the other students walking around in the quad, but he doubted they were all jealous of Alfred. Many were probably confused or curious, and others were certainly jealous of Savino right now.

Savino smirked smugly at a girl who looked irritated when she spotted them together and leaned into Alfred’s side. “I think they’re jealous of both of us, tesoro. They have good reason to be. And for the record, I’m happy too.”

[batfamily14]

An: Jason Todd x Reader!70s chick. The reader meets a mysterious bad boy at party. Barley knowing each other more than a day the two fall in love. Will they last or is it too good to be?

Rating: Explicit

———————————————————————

Chapter 2

A thick white sweater hung loosely off the girl’s frame paired with low cut blue bell bottom jeans and black platforms. Her hair stuck out on either side of her wool knitted cap. Her full, pursed lips frowned as she could barely breathe, the fumes of marijuana invaded her nostrils. Her freshly wet shoes from snowfall sank into the shagged carpet inside the packed unfashionable cheap sorority home. She left a dark trail as she navigated through the crowd holding Barbra’s hand like a life line. Barbra’s fiery hair like a red river flowing behind the beautiful young woman as she squeezed through the guest.

The girl cursed under her breath as the drink she was holding sloshed around in her red plastic cup, the liquid dampening the sleeves. Slowing a moment Barbra glanced back. Her green eyes greeted Y/n’s own, a sly smile pulled at Barbra lips. “Great turn out, huh?” Barbra commented loudly over the droning of the music. Which had just changed from The Beatles to a more electrifying melody of Jimi Hendrix. Y/n only nodded , not bothering to waste her breath to yell over the sea of people. Barbra only offered a knowing smile, before she tugged Y/n’s again until the two eventually settled in the back. The red haired woman smiled gleefully as they approached a group swarmed in a tight huddle, deep in conversation.

“Hey, Richard!”Barbra chimes, sauntering up to

a handsome man who looked up from a small blonde. His eyes a brilliant mesmerising blue, they remind Y/n of gazing up at the sky on a cloudless day. He groomed a lazy hand through his tousled black hair, sweeping it from his tanned face. “Hey baby.” He smiled earnest, pecking a kiss to Barbra’s cheek. “Richard, I’d like you to meet Y/n.” Barbra gestured to the girl behind her. Richard gave another charming smile Y/n’s way, tilting his head playfully. “Hey, I remember you from the theater program, the fall showcase of Romeo and Juliet.” He beamed and offered his hand. “My name is Richard but I prefer Dick. It’s nice to see you outside college.” Y/n takes his hand shaking it. “You too.” She replied shortly and dropped his hand. She tasted her drink and grimaces trying not to gag at the distasteful mixture of different alcohols.

“Are there anymore shows this year?” He continued seeming to not notice. “ Not sure.” She croaked, her throat and mouth burning from the aftertaste. “The spring showcase maybe? That is if the school can afford it.” She shrugs. Dick nodded understandably.

“Yeah, I heard Romeo and Juliet was a bit of a bust.” he replied mindlessly. Barbra gasped and elbowed his side making him jump. “B-But I digged it.” He stuttered quick and flustered, his face tinted with blush. He slumped an arm around Y/n’s neck leaning forward, and she could smell his expensive cologne. The delicate scent somehow overpowered the musky heat of the party. “Well, i'm glad you...liked it.” She faltered , her voice small as she held her drink close to her chest like a safeguard. “How’s football?” She inquired. Dick rolled his eyes to the ceiling leaning away, he awkwardly pulled at the collar of his shirt. “We are definitely not making the playoffs. We only won one game this season, but there’s always a next time, right?” He shrugged. “And you know what? Hopefully there is another show, I know you’ll kill it.”

Y/n's smiled, but she shakes her head brushing off the compliment.

“I don’t know about that. I didn’t even get the part of Juliet, I played her mother.”

“Well, every role is important right?’ He chirped. He held her eyes smiling, leaving Y/n disorientated again. Barbra interjected, “You know there’s a lot of people I want you to know tonight, Y/n.” She steps between the two, separating them. “Let me finish showing you around.” She takes Y/n hand rougher than before nearly yanking her off into the crowd. Dick waved goodbye and shouted after them, “And a happy New Year to you Y/n!”

Barbra pushed passed the guest, and practically dragged Y/n along. “Since you met the oldest Wayne, it can’t hurt to meet the others.” She said, looking around. “There’s Tim.” Barbra points to a young long dark haired teen in a band tee and baggy jeans much too big for his smaller body. He sat on the stairs surrounded by a group of people. The same blonde girl from earlier is draped around his side. Her purple sheer dress flows down the steps where they sat. “He’s the youngest of the adopted brothers and that’s his girlfriend Stephaine.” She points to the girl. She and Y/n walk again into the kitchen, there they find themselves near the speakers. Marvin Gaye sings a soulful melody.

“It’s a great night.” Barbra commented as she rested against the kitchen’s island. Y/n agreed, and sipped her drink growing used to the acidic taste. Barbra nudged her, until she gave in looking at the red head . “Oh come on I know parties aren’t your thing.” She chuckled, causing Y/n to squint her eyes at her curiously.

“Then why invite me?” She puzzled.

“Because I missed having you around.” Barbra admittedly truthfully, shrugging her shoulders. Y/n frowns remembering just how much time had passed between the two. “I missed you too.” She said sincerely , and Barbra half smiled at the sentiment.

“So,...” Barbra began, leaning up. “Are there any guys who you're interested in? Ya know besides Richard.” Y/n cringed, letting her drink sit abandoned on the counter top. “Sorry about that, I didn’t know what to do.” She apologized. “ It’s not your fault. Dick flirts with everyone, it’s just his personality.” Barbra huffed. Y/n gives her a long look but she avoids her gaze. “I'm just hoping you get laid tonight.” Barbra changes the subject casually leaving Y/n dumbfounded.

“What?” Y/n coughed . Barbra laughed, sweeping her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know.” She sighs, looking off into the crowd in thought. “You’ve been a virgin ever since we met, haven’t you thought about it?”

Y/n scoffs, crossing her arms defensively. “Of course I have. Who hasn’t?” She retorted.

Barbra smirks, side eyeing her suspiciously but Y/n scowled at her and then breathed a breath of annoyance.

“Look, I’m fine with not losing it at the moment, especially to some drunken idiot.” She nodded towards the party goers. Picking up her drink she tossed it aside into a trash bin. “Too bad all the best of the Waynes are taken.” The red haired girl remarked. Y/n was about to agree but stopped for a moment thinking. “Wait...” She began. “Aren’t there like three of them?” Barbra’s face fell and she grits her teeth in annoyance. “Oh yeah, you mean-”

She’s interrupted by a loud voice calling her name. Barbra turned on her heels finding Dick waving her over. She shoots Y/n an apologetic look before hurrying off towards him. Y/n can’t help but to watch as Barbra's face lights up and Dick leans to kiss her, his hand entangled in her hair. He held her close, whispering in her ear, and the girl laughed full heartedly. Y/n forced herself to turn away.

Sometime passed and Barbra had yet to reappear, alone in the kitchen Y/n steals a bottle of alcohol, with its company in her hand she wanders through the crowd aimlessly. Her eyes observed the guest surrounding her, watching them in their own worlds and suddenly she felt small.

It wasn’t like Y/n didn’t want to go to parties, she just figured she didn’t belong in places like this. She wasn’t like Barbra, she didn't have an overflowing amount of friends or the perfect boyfriend. They were polar opposite, always had been, and Y/n constantly found herself on the outside looking in. Deep in thought she’s startled when a hand pressed firmly against her back. She whipped her head only catching a glance of Dick as he smiled at her, rushing out the front door with other boys. She wandered, sipping from the bottle carelessly until she found Barbra again slumping onto the stairs next to Tim. As she made her way over, the room seemed to spin and found herself feeling warm and light. Pink Floyd played drowning the house in drum and bass.

“Sorry, I left you.” Barbra groaned as Y/n plopped down next to her. “Dick needed to go practice with the guys late again.” She sighed. “It’s like all he does nowadays.” Tim offered her his beer, and she took it from him drinking. After nearly downing the entire bottle Barbra attempted to stand wobbly, using shoulder Y/n for balance. “I should really stop drinking when I'm upset.” She says aloud but more to herself. She shook her head angrily before taking a few deep breaths. When she glanced back at Y/n and Tim’s worried expressions her eyes shifted quickly before the two.

“ I almost forgot,” she said suddenly. “ Tim, this is Y/n and Y/n this is Tim.” Tim and Y/n shared an odd look before greeting another. “You like Pink Floyd?” Tim questioned. Y/n bobbed her head. “I like all music.” She responded. “Well, how about we dance?” He suggested. He reached down and gripped her by the arm, pulling her up and away before she could answer. Y/n looked back at Barbra who talked with Stephanie now, her head in hands as she spoke. Tim ushered Y/n to a space on the floor and Y/n pardoned herself as she bumped into the other dancers. Tim gripped her waist and Y/n followed in example by wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“So, It’s been a hell of a night.” He said. Pressing his body up to hers. “I heard from Barbra you're looking for some fun tonight!” He whispered loudly in her ear. Y/n rolled her eyes, pulling back. “I wish she’d stop telling people that.” She sighed. Tim laughed drunkenly and began. swinging himself to the music very unrhythmically. “Well, half of the people are too drunk to see straight, ‘tis not a good idea.” He warned. Y/n shook her head unfazed. “Trust me I wasn’t looking.” She grunted. Tim nodded as they began dancing again.

“So, it must be kind of crazy being Bruce Wayne’s son?” Y/n inquired. Tim gives her a strange look. “Probably more than you can imagine but I’m not different from anyone else here.” he says finally. The two slow down their movement as the song switches to a softer tune, Y/n sucks in her cheek before continuing. “Why is it crazier than I think?” Y/n questioned and Tim stiffen for a moment. He sighed and twirled her around before pulling her close again. “He’s.. not as he seems.” He hesitated.

Tim leaned in close, his breath immersed with beer. “Have you met him?” He asked. Y/n tried not to show her discomfort as his breath invaded her air. “No.” She answered quickly. “It’s just so interesting, your dad practically owns our school.”

He cocked his head, giving her a wicked grin.

“What about me? Aren’t I interesting?” He said slurring his words, coming dangerously close to her face. “I’m not boring you am I?”

Y/n‘s turned her head. “No.” She backs away putting some distance between them, but Tim flushed them close again. This time Y/n pushed him away, he nearly fell as he fumbled back. He looked at her bewildered and Y/n‘s eyes widened. “I’m sorry.” She said flustered. “I think I need a moment.” Y/n pushed through people, she breathed quickly, her anxiety setting in as she needed to escape or she’d suffocate in the tight room. She fled to the balcony doors, she struggled with the lock before finally stepping out and taking a deep breath. She hastily closed it again, the cold fogging across the glass. She barely noticed the man facing away from her as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself for warmth. The man smoked looking over the rail to the city below them. “Fuck.” she mumbled, rubbing her face frantically. “The Wanye are so weird.” She thought to herself. Her and the mysterious stranger stood silently for a moment, the distant explosions of fireworks the only sound between them. Now and then, someone near lit a firework that made the sky glow in brilliant colors above them.

Finally breaking the silence the stranger said “You don’t look like you’re enjoying the party.” She glanced over at him, only to meet the back of his head. She tilted her head, curling her lips in a thin line, his face was barely visible in the dim lighting. “Neither do you.” She retorted. The dark haired man continued to stare out at the city wordless. Y/n rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly before speaking again,“I’ve never seen you around before.” She continued.

The stranger huffed, “That’s not surprising.”

He took a small box from his pocket, pulling out a cigarette before he offered the box to her. She shook her head no, and the man chuckled before sliding the box away, lighting his cig. “Worried about your health, huh? While drinking a bottle of vodka?” He said pointedly. She looked down at the bottle in her hand, it was half empty. Y/n snapped her head at him.

“I don’t always drink.” She countered defensively.

“I don’t care.” He responded dryly. Y/n pulled a face at him, rolling her eyes to herself. “Look, perhaps we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” She said and shifted until she was fully facing the back of him. “I’m Y/n.” She pulled her best smile offering her hand but the stranger didn't comply. In fact he took a long drag of his cigarette, purposely blowing it up into the air above them. Y/n let’s her hand drop feeling uncomfortable. She held the bottle closed to her chest and rocked on her heels.

“Well, can I at least know your name?” She insisted. “What would be the point of that?” He questioned. “You probably won’t remember by morning anyway.” His head nodded towards the bottle again. She felt herself beginning to fume from his rudeness. She became enraged and the bitterness of it churned inside her. Perhaps, it was the alcohol that made her suddenly brave or rather stupid but either way she strided over, poking the stranger in his back.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think are but you can’t just talk to me like that!” She exploded. The stranger suddenly dropped his cigarette onto the concert floor smashing it under his boot. He turned and rounded on her slow and menacing like a hunter on to its prey. The girl backed away now fully aware of what she just did and afraid.

The stranger stopped short remaining in the shadows as he glared at her. Her blood drained from her face and her heart hammered erratically in her chest. Finally his eyes met hers in darkness and she saw they were a piercing blue, narrowed, rigid, and cold. The fury inside them burned like hell’s fire. The sight caused the girl to stand frozen in place, her mouth dry as she tried to speak. All her words suddenly caught in her throat. The bottle of vodka hung loosely forgotten between her fingers before accidentally being dropped and shattering messily on the ground. The girl yelps loudly, gaining the attention of a few other guests as she tripped almost toppling over. The man suddenly moved again gripping her arm so she wouldn’t fall but she snatched it back. Struggling to inhale as she stepped away, her foot crunching on the glass

Before anything more could happen the balcony door flew open and Barbra glared at the man in dark. That's when Y/n remembered how to breathe, but was still unable to speak and she watched as Barbra and the man stood each other down and she looked dumbly between the two. Barbra glanced at Y/n and asked, “Are you okay, what happened ?” Y/n was speechless as her and Barbra’s eyes trailed down, looking at the broken bottle and Barbra shot an enraged look at the man again.

“What’d you do?” She bellowed, her brows creased and face tense. Y/n stared at her wide eyed and mouth open. She quickly latched a hand on Barbra’s shoulder turning the girl towards her . “It’s m-my fault, I d-drank too much tonight.” She stuttered. “I think I should go home.”

Barbra looked at her stunned, her eyes filled with worry. “A-are you sure?” She questioned holding Y/n hand. Y/n nodded, pushing passed her going back inside where everyone watched her unsettled and whispered in low murmurs before going back to the party. Y/n felt warm from embarrassment but didn’t stop walking until she reached the front door. Barbra closed the balcony door harshly before moving fast to catch up with her. Y/n walked quick and numbly, her head heavy from drinking. Barbra walked next to her as they both headed downstairs. She shoved herself through the door. Noticing a cluster of motorcycles on the lawn.

“What happened back there? Are sure you’re alright?” Barbra pressed on. “It's nothing, I’m fine.” Y/n brushed her off and shivered as they walled outside back into the bitterly cold streets of Gotham. “Thanks for inviting me, it was good to catch up again.” She sniffed, before she could turn away Barbra developed her in a warm embrace and Y/n closed her eyes savoring it. The two girls gave each other weak smiles as Barbra let her go.

“Hey, Barbra?” Y/n asked. “Why did you react the way you did back there?” Barbra cocked her head oddly surprised. “I thought you were in trouble.” She answered bluntly. “Yeah but I wasn’t.” Y/n blurted. “I’ve never seen you that way before.”

Barbra shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry you had to see me that way at all, he just has a way of getting under my skin ya know?” Y/n raised her eyebrows curiously. “He who?” Before Barbra was able to speak she was interrupted yet again by the entrance door flying open with a loud bang. Y/n and her whip around to two men standing in the doorway. A rugged dark haired man with familiar blue eyes glared at them. Behind him was a red haired hair man who just peered at the two.

The man in front pushed through the door and out into the snow nearly knocking himself in y/n his leather jacket brushes harshly against her. The red haired man follows quickly behind uttering a small sorry. The two leap onto the motorcycles and with the sound of the engine roars loudly making her slightly jump causing her to nearly fall over. Her eyes wide when the blue eyed man gave her a challenging look. She blinked back at him. Standing tensely. He drove away wordlessly with the red haired man on his tail. When Y/n turned around she found Barbra attention transfixed on the two, an unreadable look on her face.

“Barbra?” Y/n called. “Are you alright?”

“That was him.” She only said, still staring in the direction they rode.

“Who?” Y/n asked. Barbra turned to her. “What do you mean who? It was the guy from the balcony.”

Y/n heart stills. “ Which one?”

“The dark haired one ”

“And the other?”

“That was friend Roy.”

Y/n looked after the two as they vanished down the street.

“What’s his name?” Y/n asked almost cautiously, a feeling of dread sinking in her stomach.

“Jason...” Barbara started.

“Jason Todd, The last of the Wayne’s Boys.”

[mae-gi-writes]

Deobi Playlist (EP 2) | The Boyz Imagine

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Episode 2: in which Hyunjae is a drama queen.

Genre: fluff, friendship, slice of life

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10 | EP 11

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

Hyunjae is in the middle of playing a battle game when the sound of someone busting the door open causes him to yelp, fingers slipping over the keyboard as he watches his character die in front of his very eyes. 

He swivels around in his seat, glowering with anger, “KEVIN!” 

“Oops,” the said man slides in, totally unfazed by the glare that would’ve killed anyone else off, before looking around at the empty office that is stacked with piles of paperwork, most of them probably belonging to Hyunjae since he had always been messy. 

“Where’s everyone?” Kevin frowns while checking his watch, “I thought we were having dinner tonight.” 

“Too slow, romeo,” a voice chimes from behind. The pair turn around to see Mae holding up three takeaway bags. Kevin squeals in delight, rushing over to throw his arms around her in a hug.

“You are the best,” Kevin singsongs before grabbing one of the bags. Mae tuts at him, “woah wait a minute Kev, that’s not--” 

Too late, for Kevin’s hands have already opened up the box. He stares at the multitudes of shrimp on a bed of fried noodles, and a grimace falls over his face, “ew no, that’s not mine--”

Mae proceeds to snatch it away, “that’s why I told you to wait,” she huffs, handing him his rightful dish; fried pork and vegetables with rice. 

“Wouldn’t mind having him choke on some shrimp,” Hyunjae mutters gloomily, still sulking in his desk chair like a five year old child being denied cookies. Mae’s brow quirks up in curious amusement, before they flicker towards Kevin. 

The latter, already stuffing his face in like he hasn’t eaten for days, mumbles out through a mouthful of rice and meat, “he’s mad ‘cause I distracted him and his character died. The usual.” 

“You always lose, anyway Hyunjae. It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Mae opens up her own takeaway, a Chinese Korean dish named Jajangmyeon. She motions him over, “come on.” 

But Hyunjae’s pout only deepens. He slides into his seat, unwavering.

“You sure you don’t want it?” she taunts him, “I ordered it specially for you.” 

Still, the caramel-haired man twists his head away adamantly. Mae huffs, turning back to roll her eyes at Kevin, “fine then, suit yourself. I’ll just--” 

Hyunjae’s out of his seat in mere milliseconds, grab his dish, and sits down onto the shared couch with crossed legs and face looking as though he’s going to murder anyone who even tries to get within touching distance. 

“By the way, you remember the patient I was telling you guys about?” Kevin says, chewing on a mouthful of food, “the one that had a weird extra bone in her foot?” 

“The one who kept asking you to marry her?” Mae confirms. 

“She mustn't have high standards,” comes Hyunjae’s mumble, causing Kevin to cluck his tongue at him in disapproval before answering, “yeah, we had to shave it off cause she’s a rising ballet star. Her mother was livid when she heard that she wouldn’t be able to dance for a good six months.” 

“Sunji, was it?” Mae asks. 

“She came to see me today,” Kevin beamed, warmth practically alighting over his face, “gave me flowers and a box of chocolate.” 

“Did she give you a ring too?” Hyunjae adds mockingly.

“At least she likes me,” Kevin retorts while sticking out his tongue.

“Please! It’s not like she had a choice. You’re the only doctor she sees.” 

"Just a game, Hyunjae," Kevin reminds him, gesturing towards the computer with a roll of his eyes since he knows exactly why the older man is being salty at this particular moment. 

“Do you know how much time and effort I took into staying alive all that time?!” Hyunjae shoots back, leaning forward in his seat, “It was my fifteenth time!” 

“It. Is. Just. A. Game,” Kevin’s words punch through like staccato notes.

“I care about that game, like it or not!” Hyunjae moans, “now my life is over!” 

“Shakespeare needs to see this,” Mae mumbles behind her bowl of noodles, “he would’ve loved to write a story about you.” 

“I think that’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever given me,” Hyunjae smirks.

“It’s...not a compliment.” 

“I hate you. I hate you both,” Hyunjae sniffs before pouting and looking away, once again the very picture of a spoiled brat. The pair meet each other’s eyes before Kevin throws Mae a shrug. 

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t raise him.” 

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

The week, it seems, keeps getting worse for the titled drama queen, who proclaims that the heavens must be against him this week and that his astrological must be definitely off balance. Hyunjae’s shifts seem longer, tougher to handle this week, while the line of patients have suddenly multiplied by a tenfold the moment he thought that he could use a bit of a break. A few nurses have taken some time off for some last-minute vacation, meaning that he’s had to scramble around for help with no assistant by his side to jot down his every day needs. 

Most of all, he still hasn’t been able to finish that damn game, and he has no one else to blame but dear Kevin for that. 

“You look like shit,” is the first thing that pops out of Juyeon’s mouth the moment he stumbles into their shared office. He’s looking particularly dapper, with his freshly cut bangs and his usually hooded eyes alight with a sparkle that can only mean one thing:

“Did you guys kiss or something?” 

Colour blossoms across Juyeon’s cheeks, hooded eyes widening in alarm, “What?” 

Seemingly undisturbed by lack of sensitivity, Hyunjae proceeds to shrug off his beige coat as he opens his locker, “you look like freshly snogged material." 

“I--That’s--That’s not--” Hyunjae can’t help but smirk at the flustered expression on the younger man’s usually bland face. One of his favourite pastimes is to make fun of Juyeon, mainly because he seems so much younger than what he appears to be, for they are only a few months apart in age. Not to forget the fact that he's so innocent, despite his mature, bedroom eyes and the lazy, sensual smile he gives to women. It's, as Hyunjae had once stated, incredibly misleading.

"Want to shadow my surgery?" Hyunjae asks, picking up his clipboard to scan the patient's profile. The younger man stretches out in his seat and yawned, "what kind?" 

"Brain tumor I believe."

"Hm, I might shadow noona--"

"Oh right, loverboy's got a girlfriend now," Hyunjae rolls his eyes and lets out a soft sigh, "ah well, I'll just get one of the newbies on board. I love teasing them."

"They're all scared of you, you know," Juyeon can't help but point out.

"Oh really?" Hyunjae flashes a wicked grin.

Juyeon proceeds to roll his eyes, "that is not a compliment."

"You know, Mae said the exact same thing."

"No surprise there."

A few hours and a long trail of patients later, Hyunjae lets out a loud, noisy sigh when he finally allows his body to flop in his office chair, his feet aching from constantly running back and forth between wards. Mondays are always especially tiring, but he's quite satisfied that most of his patients seem on the track to recovery. 

His hand quickly darts towards his mouse, when his phone suddenly rings. 

Pressing the device to his ear, he murmurs out a quiet, "hello?"

"Son," his mother's terse soprano echoes through the receiver, "how are you?"

"Are you stressed, Ma?" Is the first thing that pops into his mind. There's only two reasons why his mother would call; either 1) she wants to give him food or 2) she has fought with his father yet again. 

It is no secret that Mr. And Mrs. Lee have been living apart for more than seven years now. The scar that Hyunjae still bears is now covered by nonchalance, and the fact that his two parents have kept an amiable relationship has helped balance out his upbringing. He has to admit that for a child with divorced parents, they handled him pretty well.

"Can't I call to ask about my son?!" Mrs.Lee retorts back. 

"Ma."

"Alright alright," she huffs, "I might have made some extra Kimchi stew and--"

"Ma, I told you not to cook so much," Hyunjae groans, one of his hands going up to ruffle his hair, "can't you just freeze it?"

"Freeze Kimchi Stew? Are you insane? I would never! Anyway, I already let the leftovers with--"

Knock knock!

Hyunjae glances back just in time to spot Mae standing in the doorway,  holding out a cooler towards him. 

"Ah," Hyunjae gestures for her to come in, "you met Mae?"

"Right right! Such a wonderful girl that one! Are you sure you've never had anything for her?" 

"Ma--"

"No no, if you're going to tell me that you're just friends, I don't want to hear it."

"Listen Ma, she's--"

"I can't believe you didn't even try it out with her--"

"Hey Ma, I got a surgery soon," Hyunjae hurriedly says while watching Mae stuff the cooler inside the fridge he shares with Juyeon and two other doctors. He holds out a finger for her to wait, "I'll talk to you soon  okay? Okay. Bye."

Cutting off the call right before she's about to keep on insisting how amazing Mae would be as a wife, Hyunjae lets out another trepid sigh before shaking his head at the said woman, who's gazing at him with raised eyebrows. 

"My mother really wants me to go out with you," Hyunjae rubs a hand over his face, clipboard in hand, before following her out into the corridor.

"Yeah I know, she told me the exact same thing when I bumped into her in the lobby," Mae shoves her hands in her pockets, smiling slightly. 

"I mean, if you weren't so much into Kevin, maybe--"

He doesn't get to say anything more because of Mae's hand slamming down atop his mouth. He groans in part pain and part protest, "that hurts!"

"I should've sewn your lips shut when I still had the chance," Mae hissed under her breath, careful to drop her hand and smile as they pass by a group of older doctors. 

"You guys are like turtles. By the time you ask him out, you'll both be dead," Hyunjae mutters loud enough for Mae to hear. 

She scowls back, "last I checked, I was the only one who decided what I could and could not do with my love life."

"You're doing a terrible job of it."

"I am not!"

"Okay, then where are the four children you said you wanted!? That's all you could talk about in college!"

"I was young and stupid, as were you."

"Ah, to be young and in love again--"

"Hyunjae?" 

The pair turn instinctively towards the sound only to fall upon a familiar face, a face that Hyunjae remembers almost instantly as one of the girls who had pined after him for years' on end. He briefly recalls breaking her heart once and for all when she'd decided to give him a box of chocolates during their second year Valentines. 

"Oh," Mae seems to be thinking the same thing as he does, for she doesn't waste time to smile up at him, clap him on the back and say, "see you then!" 

 And she's off, running down the hallway and leaving him to deal with the awkward aftermath of a rejected confession. 

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

I honestly just love Hyunjae because he's so loud and annoying and straight up transparent. Surprisingly, I wasn't attracted to his physique as much as I was to his natural genuine personality.

Hope you enjoyed this one! Next Ep will be out on Monday!

Episode 3: in which Juyeon has a complicated relationship with food.

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 20: The Actress Drops Her Mask

[edited to add my cover because a couple people liked the last one]

“What a terrible composition.” Several minutes into the sonata, a man standing nearby begins to complain. “I don’t understand why the host likes him so much, that hornswoggler can’t even play well.”

I turn to the man, and raise an eyebrow upon seeing the rounded, short-nailed fingers gripping his glass close to his face. A jealous pianist, no doubt. And a very drunk one, too.

“Really? I’ve heard some people claim him to be Mozart reborn,” I say, nonchalant, and hold back a smile. If only he knew. Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to us.

“Then those people are imbeciles!” he declares angrily before downing what’s left in his glass. After he regains his composure, he gets uncomfortably close to me. “What is a belle mademoiselle like yourself doing all alone here?”

Shit, apparently some men will be gross regardless of the time’s customs.

“Actually, I came here with...”

Halfway through my sentence, I spot Shakespeare talking to another gentleman, not too far from us. I wave my hand in the air to catch his attention, and soon he is walking towards us.

“Guillaume!” I exclaim, and curl my arm around his. “You know I hate it when you leave me alone like that, my love.” Unfazed by my whining, he plays along without missing a beat and reaches up to stroke my cheek.

“My sweet rose, thou knowest I shall always come back to thee. For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation.” I recognize the quote from one of his plays, but I fail to remember which one.

“Oh, Guillaume, you’re making me blush!” I pull him closer, effortlessly playing the role of the smitten lover, and lean up to whisper into his ear through a fake smile. “Get me out of here.”

“Let us go out into the balcony, my dearest Anaïs,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist. “We shall find more privacy there, where thou shall need not whisper these sweet nothings that make my heart flutter.”

The second we set foot outside, hidden from view, I let go and step away from him.

“Thanks,” I say before taking a much needed sip of champagne. “That man is green with envy, it was insufferable. By the way, I hate roses,” I chuckle, remembering the nickname he gave me.

“But thy beauty is that of the most lovely flower. Besides, it is always my pleasure to aid a damsel in distress,” he smiles, and I roll my eyes. A damsel in distress? Please, I practically dragged him here.

I look inside to make sure no one is watching, and proceed to set my glass on the stone railing and lift the hem of my dress, this time to grab the box of cigarillos tied to my left leg. Shakespeare observes me in silence, and shakes his head when I offer one. I light mine and lean on the balustrade, inhaling a deep puff of smoke.

“Thou art full of surprises, Anaïs,” he finally speaks. “I knew when I laid eyes upon thee that thou art not an ordinary woman.” I perk up and look at him.

“Did le Comte not tell you? I’m from the 21st century.”

“I was aware of thou being a guest of his, but he neglected to mention thou hadst traveled through time as well,” he says, his mismatched eyes shining with curiosity. They almost look like they’re glowing, like a cat’s. He gives me a tilted smile. “Thou art quite the actress, I must say.”

I playfully take a bow, stifling a laugh.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Although I should expect nothing less, from the great Bard of Avon himself,” I say, lifting the cigarillo to my lips. I thoughtfully look out from the balcony and breathe out the smoke before turning to face him again, my eyes narrowed. “Did you write ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ as a tragedy or a comedy?”

“A tragedy,” he answers immediately, and a satisfied smile grows on my face.

“Carlos owes me 50 pounds.” He tilts his head at my celebratory statement. “I just won a bet against a friend,” I explain. “There is a lot of debate in the future about how the play is supposed to be interpreted. The general consensus is that it’s a comedy. My friend Carlos studies literature, and he thinks the misogyny portrayed is just a product of its time, but I always thought you were making a point. Same for ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Isn’t that one a comedy?”

“Of course, what else could it be?” he laughs.

“See? They got everything backwards.” I sip my champagne. “Two literal children commit suicide after knowing each other for... what, like three days? Yet people still see it as the epitome of romance. I don’t get it.”

“Most people lacketh the insight to see what thou see, it appears. Which is why I only base my plays on those whom are extraordinary, for I have lost interest in the unremarkable dealings of lesser gents.” He pauses and glances at the ballroom. “It soundeth like Mozart hath ended his performance.”

He’s right, the music has stopped. I put out my cigarillo and return the box to its place under my dress.

“I better go before he starts looking for me. I enjoyed our talk, William.” I smile and excuse myself with a nod before heading back inside.

I discard my glass on a nearby table when spot him in the crowd, receiving the praises of a small group of people. Were it not for his striking white hair, I don’t think I would have recognized him. He’s acting like a completely different person.

“I do not deserve your kind words, monsieur,” he tells one of the men, the same one with the beard that went on the stage before. I assume he is the host of the ball. He puts his arm around my back when I enter the circle. “This is my companion, Anaïs Bertran,” he introduces me with a charming smile I did not think he was capable of.

“Pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle Bertran,” he greets me, taking my hand when I hold it out. By now, I have learned the basics of social etiquette in this period. “When I heard you were a guest of my dear friend Saint Germain I could not wait to have you here,” he tells me. I guess ‘Guillaume’ filled him in on some details. “Oh, how rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself! Pardon me, mademoiselle. Marcel Rossignol, at your disposal.”

“Thank you for inviting me, monsieur Rossignol,” I say with a polite smile. “Tonight has been lovely so far”

“I am glad to hear that. It is about to get even better. I trust you like waltz?”

Before I can answer, the small band that now takes up the stage begins playing, and ‘Wolfram Theophilus Perti’ extends his hand for me to take, to the delight of the group, who observe us in fascination.

“Will you dance with me, Anaïs?”

“It would be my pleasure, Wolf.” I take his hand and he guides me to the center of the ballroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I could swear I just saw a young lady swoon, and I can’t help but quietly agree with the sentiment. With his insufferably haughty attitude kept in check, Mozart seems to be quite the charmer. Not to mention how incredibly beautiful he is.

He leads effortlessly, and I follow his impeccably coordinated steps with his hand on my waist and mine on his shoulder. The dance itself is easy, like skating without the wheels. Once he knows I can keep up, he twirls us into increasingly elaborate moves, carefully avoiding other couples that have joined us.

“I am surprised you haven’t tripped yet,” he says, suddenly reminding me who my dance partner is.

“God, you’re the worst.”

He sends me on a spin with incredible speed, which I interpret as retaliation for my remark. This is his passive aggressive way of challenging me.

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask once we slow down.

“My father was always strict and obsessed with perfection. Socializing is part of being a musician, especially when the aristocracy is involved. I hate it with a passion, but I do what I have to. For the music.”

“Oh.” This is the most he’s ever talked to me, and I don’t really know how to respond. Before I can think of something to say, he ends our brief conversation by spinning me around once again.

By the time the song ends, I need to catch my breath. Mozart’s surprising agility is incredibly hard to keep up with, and I am exhausted from the effort it took to prove him wrong and avoid stepping on his feet. It was undeniably fun, however, and I enjoyed the challenge. The next song is slower, which provides a much needed break for my concentration and an excellent opportunity to keep talking. I am intrigued by this beautiful man, and his cold demeanor just makes me want to tear down his walls even more.

“I like how passionate you are about what you do,” I tell him. “I wish I was more like you in that sense.” I mean every word of it. Mozart is so devoted to his music that he has become one with it, to the point of using it as his language. During the week and a half that I have stayed at the mansion, I couldn’t help but notice how his emotions are so clearly displayed through the songs he plays. When I bring him hot chocolate, his melodies tend to become light and comforting. A few days ago, his music sheets flew out the window of his room. After I went to return them, the notes became fast and aggressive, because he was upset that the papers had become soiled from falling in the garden. What he feels is bare for all to hear, despite how emotionless he acts. One only needs to listen.

“Why?” he simply asks. It’s like he can’t understand what I am saying.

“What do you mean, why?” He just stares blankly at me as we keep dancing. At least he is no longer spinning until I get dizzy. “To have something to live for. To have a purpose,” I answer. To me, it’s obvious. “I’m just going through the motions, you know? Like waltz. I take the same steps every day, just to keep moving. I breathe, I eat, and I sleep. I water the flowers, I read... And all for what? I just feel like I keep waiting for something, but I have no idea what that is. I’ll be stuck in this pointless cycle until the day I die.”

I want to blame the champagne on an empty stomach, but to be fair, he’s the one who asked. After making me realize how tired I am of pretending, no less. Everything’s fine, I tell myself, ignoring every single thing that makes it not fine. In truth, I am merely surviving, keeping myself busy to forget how much I wish I could just... become a lump of moss, or something. That would be an easier existence. No consciousness, no problems.

“You sound like Jean.” I have no idea what that means, but I don’t bother to ask. “It’s not pointless... You make good chocolate.”

I chuckle at the compliment. This is the first positive thing Mozart has ever said to me. I look up at him as we dance, and am surprised to see him smile. It is so faint, but undoubtedly genuine this time, and the light tug at the corners of his mouth makes me feel better. I am starting to like him.

“That shall be my newfound purpose, then,” I joke, mirroring his smile. “Making you chocolate.”

The song comes to an end, and Mozart leads me away from the dance floor. He finds Rossignol and lets him know that we must leave, before thanking him for the evening. Though it is still early, I don’t complain. I think I want to get out of here too.

[hetalia-high-school-au-ask-blog]

Introduction!

This is all the information you need to know for this AU thingy!

So this AU is gonna be huge. All the hetalia characters I can think of will make an appearance. Now this will be mature, so if you are not comfortable with DARK topics, do not read it. This is my warning. 

Ships that will be in this (in no particular order):

Alfred x Arthur

Matthew x Gilbert

Ludwig x Feliciano

Lovino x Antonio

Yao x Ivan

Kiku x Heracles

Roderich x Vash

Feliks x Toris

Matthais x Lukas

Berwald x TIno

Emil x Li

Vladimir x Milen

Romeo x Anthony 

Some ships may be added or removed.

World Academy is a school in Washington D.C. It strives to be very accepting and very open, having many different people from many different countries. It has amazing sports programs, as well as art and drama programs. It's a huge school filled with different people, all with different interests. Because of this, the school has many sports from all over the world, such as soccer/European football, American football, and Australian football. The school has the highest grades in the area, and most students are well behaved, thanks to the high discipline by students and teachers.

Now I will give a little blurb about each character in the context of this AU.

Alfred F. Jones(America)- Alfred is an energetic young boy, your classic jock. He is a big sweetheart, with a heart of gold, and would die for his friends. He loves to cook, but enjoys some good chicken nuggets from McDonald's every once and awhile. He is also a VERY big fan of American football, and loves to play with his buddies. Despite being a popular jock, he would never bully someone for anything, especially for their sexuality, since he himself was bi. His life seems perfect, but is there something dark under the surface?

Arthur Kirkland(England)- Arthur is a prim and proper young man, with a bright future ahead of him. He is the student council president, and is feared throughout the school, since he holds the power of a staff member when it comes to punishing misbehaving students. He also has a secret sporty side, not playing on the school's official teams, but for fun on club teams. No one knows about this side of him, and he'd prefer to keep it that way. Very very gay for all the jocks in the school but refuses to admit it.

Matthew Williams(Canada)- Matthew is timid. You could tell from a mile away, if you could spot him. He was shorter than his older brother, Alfred, and is outshined by him in every way. The one thing he had a better grip on were his grades, which mattered very little to his parents. He too had a secret that even Alfred didn't know about, and he knew if he revealed this secret, Alfred would be pissed. Likes to refer to himself as demi, but is more gay than he realizes.

Gilbert Beilschmidt(Prussia)- Gilbert is a very loud and obnoxious boy, constantly harassing both boys and girls about numbers and flirting relentlessly. He hated following rules and would often disobey dress code, and be disruptive during class. Sometimes he'd straight up ditch class and waltz back in the food with no care in the world. He's protective though, especially of his little brother, and who he thinks needs it. He's pansexual, like the entire BTT.

Ludwig Beilschmidt(Germany)- Ludwig is serious and tough, not taking shit from anyone. He is the student council's vice president. He doesn't hold as much power as Arthur, therefore is less feared, but he makes people aware that they shouldn't break rules. He's a hunky man, and attracts many suitors, but he only has his eyes on one boy. A certain art student with a cute curl, and adorable smile. Demi sexual (or felisexual)

Feliciano Vargas(N. Italy)- Feliciano was an art student with an uncontrollable love for pasta. He is a bubbly and happy boy, and is rarely seen without a smile. He is one of the best artists in school and is commonly tasked with making murals and posters for events. He is quite popular for it. His best friends are Ludwig and Kiku, though he feels guilty about Ludwig. He won't deny that Ludwig looked a lot like his old crush from middle school, and kept him around for the fuzzy feeling. Though, he loves Ludwigs company either way. Gay for Ludwig, but doesn't really know yet.

Lovino Vargas(S. Italy)- Feliciano's meaner and more aggressive brother. He is considered by many to be an "evil twin," since his and his brothers personality clash. He does have a few soft spots though. He loves tomatoes, and his love for pasta is almost as big as his brother's. He is outshined a bit by his brother's artistic skill, and his ability to speak to others. It made him feel he was lesser, and he lashed out because of it. He still loves his brother, despite the fact he feels inferior to him.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo(Spain)- Musical nerd. He loves the classic musicals, and the new musicals as well. Often found singing in the drama room and will no doubt perform any musical song you ask him too. He can play the guitar, and likes to learn his favorite songs and Lovino will play tambourine along with him. One of the happiest and positive boys in school. Pansexual, like all of the BTT, but really likes Lovino.

Yao Wang(China)- Secretary of the student counsel so he is very serious about rules. One of the oldest kids in school, but pretty short. Most people know not to mess with him though, because he takes karate classes, and already has a black belt. He's kind of a neat freak, and wants everything to be perfect. Spends most of the time in the library organizing books and gossiping with the librarian.

Ivan Braginsky(Russia)- Ivan is one of the tallest and scariest guys in school, but is honestly very sweet. He doesn’t try to scare people, but ends up accidentally doing so because he is bad at anything social. He has a few issues, but is genuinely trying to fix himself, and understands people’s views of him. He has a big attachment to his sister, Katyusha, and keeps the scarf she made for him when they were children.

Kiku Honda(Japan)- Kiku is an odd boy. He has a fascination with art and mythology of all cultures. He also values his own life and culture and will happily tell people about it. He is the treasurer of the student council, and is pretty closed off, thanks to his massive love of anime. He tries to not let it bother him too much. His favorite mythology to learn about is greek mythology, since it is so far from his home country and is so different .

Heracles Karpusi(Greece)- A quiet and reserved boy, but incredibly horny all of the time. Often thinks of his friend Kiku in sexual ways, but is often unfazed by it. He quite enjoys these thoughts. He is Kiku’s main source of mythology information, since he himself is greek and they share a mythology class. He hates this guy named Sadik, and has hated him for a really long time because they were an item at one point. He doesn’t like to think about it.

Roderich Edelstein(Austria)- One of the most snobby rich kids you’ll ever meet. He thinks he’s better than everyone else and really only cares about himself. He was the previous president of the student council, but lost the election to Arthur this year. He is still upset about it. Now he spends most of his time playing the violin and piano. At this point he is only concerned about his image to colleges and nothing else.

Vash Zwingil(Switzerland)- Gun crazy, and very protective of his adoptive little sister. He has been in love with Roderich for years, ever since they were children, but has started to hate the person that Roderich has become, but is still madly in love. No one except his sister knows, and he would like to keep it that way. He does get it through to Roderich that he should treat people a bit better.

Feliks Lucasiewicz(Poland)- Very… comfortable with himself. His family is very christan, and he knew he was gay from an early age, and knew his family wouldn’t be supportive. So to give a gainate middle finger to his family, he began to cross dress, and ended up really enjoying it. He often gets mistaken for a girl, and is flirted with. He finds this cute, but usually tells them there’s no point. He is quite desirable among gay boys in his school.

Toris Laurinaitis(Lithuania)- The main writer of the newspaper club, and very shy. He was abducted by Feliks, and has grown a weird crush on him. He thought he was straight for the longest time, but this boy confuses him. He is slowly opening up more because of Feliks, and they go horse riding together a lot. He loves these rides because it’s an excuse to get even closer to Feliks.

Matthais Kohlar(Denmark)- A literal crackhead. He is often caught either in the middle of something bad, or about to do something dangerous. Whether he is always high or just reckless is never clear. He has broken practically every bone in his body, at least once. He is a massive headache to take care of but he's a pure hearted guy who loves his friends. Like this dude should jump off a cliff for the sake of friendship.

Lukas Bindevik(Norway)- Reserved and closed off. He is very mysterious and is often caught talking to himself. He grew up without siblings or friends, and his parents are divorced. He had no contact with his father, and only grew up with his mother, and therefore grew mother-like tendencies. He can be very protective, and is good at talking people through their problems, even with his minimalistic speech.

Berwald Oxenstierna(Sweden)- The tallest and most terrifying guy. He's 6'4 muscular and has this resting bitch face that could strike fear into the hearts of WWE wrestlers. But he is actually a giant teddy bear when it comes to the people he cares about. He's big and buff, his hugs are great. He likes to sing to himself while he's working or lost in thought, and many find this charming, earning him many suitors in the process. He's too dense, and too gay for a certain Finn to realize how popular he is.

Tino Vainamoinen(Finland)- One of the most positive and loveable boys in the world. He is only 5'2, and a little on the cubby side, but he is very confident, not afraid to show off his body. He may seem innocent, but on the inside is one of the most kinky shits. He loves a good pounding and will let you know. He will go into heavy detail about his sex life when he's drunk, making people laugh, or be uncomfortable. He's got his eyes on a certain Swede though. He’s also on the hockey team.

Emil Stielsson(Iceland)- Emil is a new kid. He had lived with his single father since he was an infant, not knowing anything about his mother. His dad never told him. But he came to this school this year. He was very awkward around new people, but found comfort on social butterflies talking to him. He is lowkey kinda emo and is stuck in his emo middle school. He is learning how cringy he had been.

Li Xiao Chun(Hong Kong)- A social butterfly. He somehow ended up being friends with every clique in his school from his broad range of interests and friendly personality. Though he does sometimes get fought over because of just how loveable he is. All the different cliques he's friends want to hang out all the time, but because he has so many friends, his schedule is usually filled. He never fails to make time for his newest friend, Emil.

Francis Bonnefoy(France)- The. Biggest. Man. Whore. He has been with practically everyone in school. Most notably his friend with benefits for 2 years, Arthur. Francis had fallen in love, but Arthur never returned the feelings. He always pressed a bit, to see if there was a chance Arthur changed his mind, but never forced him into it.

Alory Kirkland(N.Ireland)- In college. He’s the oldest of the Kirkland siblings (26). He’s very annoyed most of the time, the simple sound of people talking can make him angry. His little brother, Arthur, is the worst. For some reason that boy in particular could be breathing too hard and it would annoy Alory. He’s so glad to have moved out, away from his loud chaotic family. He loves them but he prefers it quiet.

Allistor Kirkland(Scotland)- The second oldest of the Kirkland siblings (24). He's also in college, but constantly visits, unlike Alory. He’s also much happier and peppy. He was never a role model though, always getting in trouble when he was a kid. But, he was the fun one for sure. He also likes to take his siblings golfing, since that is something that he does love to do. He can get competitive with everyone there.

Reuben Kirkland(Wales)- The most chill of the Kirkland siblings. He’s 22, and will visit every once and awhile. He doesn’t talk a lot, and really only spoke after he turned 16. He and Allistor got into all kinds of trouble as kids. He is an actual role model though and would apologize. When he doesvist, he likes to cook for the whole family, since he’s the one who can do it correctly in their family.

Dwight Kirkland(Hutt River)- He is LOVED by his grandparents and aunts and uncles because he sucks up to them when he’s with them.Because of this he is always sent piles of money, and ends up with about ~1000 dollars a year. He loves to flaunt his money in front of his other siblings and spoils himself with it. This is why no 16 year old should have this much money. They’ll use it on stupid things.

Jett Kirkland(Australia)- The athletic one of the family. He loves to swim, surf, and to play australian football. He has broken too many bones to count and has almost died multiple times thanks to being reckless. Kaelin had to perform CPR one time because he almost drowned. He still continues, even if he almost dies. He is quite dumb and will tag along with Alfred. They have many… misadventures. Let’s hope he doesn't die before he goes to senior year (hes 18)

Kaelin Kirkland(New Zealand)- One of the only people who can keep Jett from actually killing himself. He is a movie review youtuber, and spends most of his time in his basement, researching and recording for videos. He is also lowkey obsessed with sheep. His entire room is sheep themed, and it has caused every friend he’s invited over to laugh and call him cute. He doesn’t like being called cute. Acts older than he is (17).

Peter Kirkland(Sealand)- In middle school(12). He is still obsessed with disney and princes. He is convinced that Alfred is a hidden prince and will try to expose him. Also crushing hard on Alfred. He tries his best to be recognised by his peers, but his efforts are futile, since he just annoys the people around him.He trie ]s to ot let it bother him but he’ll be the first to admit that it did hurt him a bit. 

Wendy Kirkland(Wy)- She is quite aggressive. Jett taught her different ways to pin someone to the floor, and she’ll test these ways on Peter. Arthur tries to stop them, but Jett and Kaelin will make bets on these kids. Wendy always wins, because Peter doesn’t know how to fight back. Other than that, Wendy is very artistic and draws a lot in her free time. She impressed the people around her.

Romeo Vargas(Seborga)- Similarly to Matthais and Jett, he can’t keep himself out of trouble. He got stuck in a tree, and the fire department had to get called to get him out. He may have done this on purpose just to get carried by buff firemen, but that’s unclear. He’s the youngest and most reckless Vargas brother, but spends his time volunteering at the middle school as an assistant, and met Peter and Wendy through it.

Im Yong Soo(S. Korea)- He’s sorta a perv. He can get a little touchy at times, and will constantly flirt with any living breathing human. Kiku finds this annoying,but he knows Soo means nothing by it. He has a tendency to grope when drunk, resulting in a hard slap to the face from Kiku, who was not so nicely touched. Soo apologies\es profusely after he sobered up, knowing that what he did was wrong.

Natalya Braginskaya(Belarus)- Very creepy and has… incestous tendencies towards her brother. She is the one personwho can scare him and is constantly pestering Ivan to date her in secret. She hates Yao’s guts since she knows that Ivan has a crush on him. Thankfully weapons aren’t allowed on campus, otherwise Yao would not be alive. Seriously the girl is unhinged and needs help.

Katyusha Braginskaya(Ukraine)- She’s a very loving and caring big sister, but after a long series of events, she barely speaks to Ivan anymore. She knows he still loves her though thanks to him wearing the scarf she made for him when they were kids everyday. They are slowly working on rebuilding their relationship, but it’s a slow process. She desperately wants that relationship with her brother back.

Sadik Adnan(Turkey)- He absolutely hates Harecles’s guts from some stuff that happened in middle school. They constantly fight, usually behind the school, but sometimes find hospitality while bathing. They have normal conversations in the showers, but are at each other’s throats any other time. He breaks the dress code a lot by wearing a hat to hide his face most of the time, and refuses to take it off.

Gupta Muhammad Hassan(Eygpt)- Selectively mute. He can hear just fine but he doesn't talk at all, preferring to speak over text and emojis. Even then, his monotone personality shows through his texts, where he gives single word responses only. He's very reserved and all that's known about him is that he had something to do with the Heracles and Sadik drama that happened. He refuses to talk about that, text and all.

Lillia Zwingil(Lichtenstein)- Vash's younger sister, and the light of his life. She is very loving to her brother, making food for him every day and seeing new clothes for him in home economics. She also likes to go hunting with Vash, despite her dainty and cute persona, she has a wicked aim, thanks to Vash teaching her. She's also the only one to know his crush on Roderick.

Eduard Von Bock(Estonia)- Hacker man. Well sorta. He likes to work on computers but he'll admit that it's hard for him to work. Not necessarily because he's bad at it, but because his internet is slow. He does his best, but sometimes downloading a file tha tag takes three days only to be told you don't have enough space makes you want to punch a hole straight through the computer.

Ravis Galante(Latvia)- He small and just pushed around by the bigger boys a lot. He is often bullied for his height and shy stutter, and had no way to stand up for himself. He'll begin to speak, but either get shut down or chicken out. So he spends most of his time in the library, sitting in the loneliness. He did like friends, it just made it hard when the entire school hates you.

Gianna Bonnefoy(Monaco)- She's Francis's half sister and is just as flirty. She loves to make everyone around her blush in her presence, either by radiating beauty or making inappropriate comments. Francis will tell her to stop, which is really code for, keep going it's entertaining. She liked to braid people's hair, weather they're boys, girls, or anything in between. If you had hair she wanted to do it up all nice.

Vladimir Popescu(Romania)- Obsessed with everything paranormal. 100% believes in ghosts and likes to go out ghost hunting. He will go to abandoned asylums or hospitals to try and find spooky activity. He can get extremely jumpy and scared when it comes to ghost hunts, and has screamed like a girl on multiple occasions. When he's not doing that, he plays D&D, and is very good at it. He DMs.

Milan Hinova(Bulgaria)- He really likes yogurt. He and Vladimir go on ghost hunts and he is actually very calm. He doesn't believe in ghosts and will brush any sort of paranormal activity off as wind or the state of the building they're in, and is like Vladimir's protector. They'll often record and post videos of these ghost hunts. He doesn't play D&D, but will come to the sessions to hang out with Vladimir.

Anthony Gunner Jones(Molossia)- A sweetheart around his parents and when he's alone, but foul mouthed and angry with his friends. Alfred and Matthew's cousin, who they really like. He will get very flustered and embarrassed if he's complimented, and will punch people in the arms when he feels it's appropriate. He also volunteers at the middle school as a gym assistant, and has a GIANT crush on Romeo.

Thank you for reading.

[gracie-p8-officialblog]

A dream only time would fade… Chapter 6

A/N:  Thanks for the nice reviews so far. And thank you @thatonefangirl1223 for dropping into my ask box about the fic! Hopefully the wait has been worth it! 

This is an R/C Anastasia!AU which will mostly follow the musical but I’ll throw in a few easter eggs from the 1997 movie and a few changes would be made to better suit the characters in the story. This is a slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers. This entire series is rated T because I’m paranoid.

This story is also on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net.

“Ready to become the Grand Duchess Christine Daae?” Raoul asked the next morning, holding a leather journal in his hand.

“I want to go to Manhattan but I don’t want to lie to do it!” True, Christine was excited to leave, but she almost felt like a liar…

“You don’t know it’s a lie. What if it’s true?” he shrugged nonchalantly, almost unfazed by the possibilities of what could go wrong “Either way, it gets you to Manhattan, Philippe and I get out of here, and we all live happily ever after! Everyone wins!”

“I wish I had your confidence,” she bit back sarcastically. Sensing the tension, Philippe began as he led Christine to a small mirror in front of him.

“Christine, what do you see?” “I see a skinny little nobody, with no past and no future.” she sighed, her shoulders sagging and she began to slouch.

“No,” Raoul piped up, unaware of who was listening “I see a beautiful and smart young woman… who on a number of occasions has shown a regal command equal to any royal in the world,”

“Raoul?” Christine tilted her head slightly, peering at his reflection.

“Just… forget I said that,” he quickly brushed it off, hiding his face. But secretly, she felt a little better by his words.

“He’s right,” Philippe added for his brother “And I have known my share of royalty. You see my dear, I was a member of the high society,” “Yeah, until the revolution where we lost all our money and had resorted to stealing,” Raoul scoffed before Philippe gave him a stern glare.

“But…” Christine began, wanting to get down to business “How do you become the person you’ve forgotten you ever were?”

“Take a deep breath,” Philippe instructed “Close your eyes, and imagine… another time, another world…”

“You were born in a palace by the sea,” He slowly began.

“A palace by the sea,” Raoul emphasized.

“Really? Me? Born in a palace by the sea?” Christine placed a hand over her chest as she saw the breathtaking view from the holiday palace, trying to imagine it all.

“Yes, that’s right,” Philippe nodded, continuing their history lesson “And you rode horseback when you were only three.”

“Horseback riding! Me?” she shook her head in disbelief.

“And the horse’s name was Romeo,” Raoul interjected, only to receive an odd look from them “What? I’m trying to help you,”

“You often made faces and terrorized the cook! And your tantrums back then made the palace shook!”

“What a charming child,” the street rat smirked.

“Was I really that wild?” Christine tried to suppress a small laugh.

“Wrote the book!” Raoul cheered, smiling at her.

“But you’d behave when your father gave that look!”

“Imagine what your long, forgotten past was like!” Raoul smiled at her “Now, we have lots to learn before you can become the Grand Duchess Christine Daae!”

“Alright,” she began, taking it as a challenge “Bring it on!”

~~~

Philippe handed Christine a book “Now, let’s see you walk,”

Christine had taken her gloves and coat off and was now trying to balance the book on her head, beginning to move around slowly as she waved her arms around to keep balance.

“Try to float,” he prompted as he walked next to her, demonstrating.

“Am I floating?” Philippe cringed a little as she stomped and flailed helplessly.

“Like a sinking boat,” Raoul muttered loud enough for her to hear. She threw the book in his direction, missing him by inches before she argued, slightly frustrated and annoyed “Then why don’t you try it yourself?”

Princess training was so annoying. They would spend days holed up in this dusty palace, drilling rules of courtly etiquette, history lessons, and family trees. She was sick of the two men constantly telling her what to do and what to say, correcting her. What did they know about her own memories? It wasn’t like she knew who she was but still.

Philippe quickly stood between them and took the book off of his brother’s hands.

“Let’s learn to bow, shall we?” Philippe took their wrists and pulled them until their fingers intertwined. Christine felt her fingers in Raoul’s strong, firm grip like she was about to kiss her hand.

“Your hands are cold!” she protested, hating how she flinched at his touch. He wasn’t as rough or vulgar as the handsy men she had encountered before, the ones who would try and pin her down to fulfill their own desires, but she still hated his every touch. She knew what men were like, she wouldn’t let her guard down that easily.

“Well, your hands are rough and I never complained!” Raoul argued back, equally exasperated at the lack of progress they were making.

“Enough!” poor Philippe looked as tired and annoyed as the both of them “Try to be civil, for my sake. Now, imagine… you are in a ballroom, you are about to dance with your partner, and you bow,”

Christine could see it all clearly, so vivid… almost as if it were a memory. She could hear the music, she could see the beautifully dressed aristocrats waltzing together… subconsciously, she was bending her left knee, bringing her right hand to her chest, bowing her head, and a regal smile on her face. When she stood up, she almost felt like a different person; she was so regal, elegant, and graceful. She opened her eyes to find the two brothers, gobsmacked.

“How did you do that?” Raoul began slowly, slightly stunned.

“I didn’t teach her,” Philippe added before smiling “Christine, you’re a natural!”

~~~

Now, they were learning the Daae family history and Philippe was in front of a chalkboard, holding a history book in one hand.

“Now, we memorize the names of the royalty!” Philippe instructed, “Who’s your great-grandmother?”

“Queen Catherine Svenna Daae!”

“Who’s your great-grandmother?”

“Princess Catherine The Third!”

“Your best friend is…”

“My little brother, Gustav!”

“Wrong!” Raoul shook his head “Your best friend is-” “I know who my best friend is!” she interrupted stubbornly, marching up to him. “What a temper,” Raoul commented to himself.

“I don’t like being contradicted!” the young woman threw the book into his arms. “That makes the two of us!” the con man challenged as he tossed the book back to her.

“Continuing on,” Philippe nervously butted in before Christine threw the book at him. “I had enough! What do you know about me?” She began ranting, already frustrated “I’m so tired! And I don’t remember anything about my past! Just leave me alone!”

And with that, Christine turned away angrily, tears of frustration threatening to spill out.

“Christine,” Philippe began after a moment of silence, his voice calm and relaxing “Look at me,” she turned her head a little to peer at him.

“We’re all tired,” he continued “Now, shall we start again?”

When she nodded hesitantly, Philippe gave a warm, reassuring smile “Take a breath and count to ten,”

She took a deep breath and silently counted to fifteen, the extra five seconds being for the fact Raoul had annoyed her to her frustration.

“You are much more than you think you are,” he reassured soothingly as he pulled out a handkerchief “So blow your little nose, and dry those pretty eyes. A princess like you can do anything if she had her mind to it! Ready?” “Set,” Raoul added, leaning towards the whiteboard.

“Go!” Christine cheered, feeling slightly better after the pep talk. And with that, Philippe turned over the chalkboard, smacking his younger brother straight in the face from the impact. “Ow!” he yelled, clutching his nose as she tried to suppress a small laugh escaping her lips.

“Your great aunt Olga,” Philippe circled a name on the board “Had so many parties and balls she hosted!”

“Oh,” she gasped before Raoul pointed to another name on the board “Your distant cousin Anton had loved spending time in the palace library!” before he asked with concern, watching as the street sweeper attempted to memorize names and faces of some distant relatives and eccentric cousins as quickly as possible “Got it, Christine?” “No, not really…”

“The Grand Duke was short!”

“Count Louise often wore a feathered hat!”

“I heard he’s now very fat…”

“I missed that cat,” she muttered, fondly remembering the days she spent at the holiday palace playing with his cat. “I don’t think we told her that…”

“Christine,” Raoul smiled “You’re a dream come true!”

~~~

Now, before she could complete princess training, they were practicing a waltz. Poor Philippe groaned and massaged his temples over the past few hours. Despite his patient instructions, the two waltzing felt wrong. She kept looking away from his face, doing mental counts and he kept checking his behind, afraid of crashing as they waltzed.

“Back straight!” Philippe yelled “What are you doing? That’s not a waltz! Stop kicking him!”

“He stepped on my toe first!” she protested, feeling bad for Philippe to endure their bickering while feeling not-so-sorry for kicking Raoul in the shin, who winced in pain.

After some painful hours of bickering and berating, Philippe gave up. Grimacing, he grumbled “We’ll work on it tomorrow as both of you are insufferable! I’m going to get a glass of gin!”

“I could use one too,” Raoul grumbled.

“No!” and with that, his older brother exited the room.

~~~ Great, just great. Now, he had to deal with that bratty little know-it-all all by himself! A heavy silence fell between the two as Christine glared at him, painting an irritated expression on her face. “Why are you always so angry with me?” he asked. “Why have you been so rude to me ever since I entered that palace?” Christine hissed.He gave a hollow bark “Me? Rude to you? You acted as if you owned the place!” “How?” “You don’t take anything seriously and now, I’m going to have a welt on my shin because of you!” “You’re the one who stepped on my toes!” he stumbled back in shock before her voice softened and he could see her tear up, being vulnerable for the first time… “I’m trying, I swear I am…” she whispered hoarsely.“I know,” he reassured “I’m sorry. I was just so frustrated that I… lashed out,” Now he had a closer look at her face, she was so drained and pale… “Are you alright?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes. “Yes, yes,” she forced a smile “I’m just… tired,” She stood up and walked away “See you tomorrow…” Raoul could only stare at her as she walked out of the palace… It was already late. 

~~~

The next day, they were trying not to argue as they waltzed awkwardly. They were trying to perfect it for Philippe’s sake. Raoul could still sense her body tensing up whenever he touched her or approached her…

“Can we stop? I don’t feel so well…” Raoul stopped. She was paler than usual and she was so cold. He helped her to a chair before sprinting to the kitchen to get a glass of water and a piece of bread, kneeling in front of her, eyes full of worry.

“Did you have breakfast today?”

“No,” she croaked, her eyes closed as she massaged her temples. He suddenly noticed dark circles under her eyes. Everything made sense: her frustration, her tardiness…

“How long did you sleep for?”

“Two or three hours.”

“Are you insane?” his voice rose with each word.

“I can’t lose my job. They’re not easy to come by…”

Raoul felt guilt build up in his chest. This girl was falling apart because of him… Her groan of pain caused him to come back to reality…

“I’ll take you to a guest room,” he offered as he wrapped his arm around her waist and carried her to a nearby guest room. She fell blindly on the bed once they arrived. Raoul was taken aback as he saw her already asleep on the mattress, looking vulnerable and fragile. He felt his heart pang with sympathy and wanted to protect her. She deserved better than this, and he was determined to help her…

“I don’t know what you’ve been through and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but… I want to help you,” he whispered gently before exiting the room, every word of his genuine “Just… trust me,”

~~~

Christine’s eyes fluttered open, yawning as she stretched her legs. She hadn’t had such good, long sleep in a long time…

“Oh, you’re awake!” Raoul smiled from the open door. His eyes didn’t have the usual playful or teasing glint in them. They were filled with genuine concern and adoration.

“I’m so sorry,” she began, feeling guilty for sleeping in “I don’t want to be a pity case for the both of you and-”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, his face apologetic “I want to help you, but you have to trust me…”

He would not admit it but, she finally found someone who would listen to her…

~~~

Philippe walked into the room, not believing what he saw! Raoul and Christine were dancing in harmony and in sync! They looked like a couple in love instead of two strangers lost in the ballroom…

“Mon dieu,” he finally spoke up, speechless “Am I dreaming?”

Their grins answered him. Finally! The two were getting along as he wanted! No more arguing! And it was so peaceful and quiet… “We’ll wrap up early!”

~~~

The weeks went on with less bickering, but with the same lessons. Christine still argued with Raoul at times but there was less animosity between them. Insults became teasing and she even laughed at a few of his jokes.

She secretly loved the proximity between them. She didn’t know why but perhaps, it was because she only remembered how these touches would hurt her. She trusted him when he said nothing would harm her. And the foreign concept of a gentle touch slowly became more familiar…

“I feel like someone new,” Christine commented happily.

“You’re an expert now!” Raoul smiled tenderly and hugged her, ignoring the drumming heartbeat in her ears.

~~~

“Anything concerning the Daaes, even the most preposterous rumour,” Erik stared at the three girls sternly “We take very seriously,”

“She’s a street sweeper!” One spoke up “She was homeless until she took up with them!”

“Her name is Christine!” Another interjected.

“Thank you,” his tone was level as he said those words, clustering the stack of papers together, not looking them in the eye.

“Are you going to arrest them?” “You’ve done your duty. And I’ve done mine. Listening to your gossip.” he tried to keep his voice calm and stoic.

“It’s not gossip, it’s the truth!” she quickly defended before he slammed his fist on the desk, all eyes and ears on him now. Erik slowly stood up and placed a finger under the prostitute’s chin… “The next time I see the three of you soliciting on the streets,” he warned, his face and tone stoic, making his words more frightening, “I won’t look the other way.” The three women ran off and as he watched them run off, he ordered “File out a new report!”

The mere presence of one Daae could topple what the rebels had worked hard to achieve… there was no way this girl would waltz in to make their hard work go to waste…

~~~ A/N:  DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[solitaried]

        hey  hehe …  i’m  here  to  bring  u  the  ultimate  disaster  known  as  rom.  he  is …  very  boy  next  door  except  he  also  has  a  lot  of  qualities  that  i  despise  and  u  probably  will  too.  info  about  him  will  be  under  the  cut,  there’s  no  wcs  here  but  i  promise  u  i’m  better  at  brainstorming  …  pls  give  me  a  chance  and  slide  in  my  dms

first off: no one calls him romeo

sometimes even he forgets that his government name is romeo

everyone from the beginning of time has called him rom and that’s what he introduces himself as so if u call him romeo ur getting side eyed. possibly blocked. just pls call him rom thanks 

so rom’s parents are both influential research scientists, specifically in the field of neurobiology and have been focused on gene therapy for the past ten or so years

they come from a long line of guess what? also research scientists, with a few practicing doctors, politicians, and lawyers sprinkled around here and there

grew up with strict parents who (cliche vc) weren’t around much, he was put into tons of music/sports/etc to fill his afternoons and was always expected to be god tier at everything

anyway, rom was always been ur typical studious kid— got an almost perfect sat score, 4.7 gpa with 100+ hours of community service , etc etc

but uhm v long story short ….. he hated ??? hated …. hated …… academia, it sucked the life out of him and he couldn’t see himself do anything in the “acceptable” fields his parents laid out for him, which is a #1 crime in his family bc education + reputation is everything to them

has always been a creative at heart — loves drawing and photography, painting specifically really calls to him

as graduation got closer, it became harder and harder to keep up his golden boy image—  literally considered dropping out and running away skdjfd he HATES SCHOOL

so basically during summer break, after receiving an offer for an internship at a research facility nearby, he suddenly decided u know what ?? f*ck this, went and changed his major from bio to fine arts, burned his textbooks, all the dramatics u can think of

this uhm …. did not go over well with his family at all, bc they literally think that rom’s going to end up being jobless and on the streets and that they wasted yrs of tutoring, private school fees, etc etc, and also an art student?? in their family??? is just as bad as someone who didn’t go to school so yeah.... everyone hates him, there’s also personal reasons as to why they’re so hard on him for this decision but he doesn’t know them so i don’t go into it SJDFJKSD ik it seems dramatic but they have their reasons

does he care? yes

is he gonna cry about it every night? yes

is he gonna get over it eventually? no

anyway, he is most definitely not on speaking terms with his parents as u can imagine but he loves them and still texts them all of the time as if they don’t hate his ass…. im sick

v lost boy trope .. he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing w his life and he threw away everything he had worked so hard for just bc he likes to paint n he kinda feels like shit for it SKSKSKJD 

love alarm

rom doesn’t rlly care abt love alarm i will be honest with u. more than anything it’s a slight inconvenience... for someone who literally sucks at relationships and handling his emotions it’s mostly a burden BUT

being in the badge club equals popularity, which equals exposure for his art so he deals with it for the sake of hopefully bettering his chances of employment AKSJDFJD that’s literally it, otherwise he would have deleted it a long time ago 

he personally isn’t the kind of person to fall for someone based off of looks (or fall for someone in general sdjkfj) so he doesn’t get the appeal of himself ngl or just. how people can like him immediately.... pretty boy struggles </3

personality

v amiable, easy to talk to, actually really likes people …. weird flex

will talk to u about the weather when ur both in line at the grocery store

a softie but also a fcking idiot. a fuckboy. will stare at u like he’s in love with u and be completely “???” when u think he has feelings for u (typical art hoe fuckboy ngl)

he looks at (and speaks to) everyone like they’re the absolute love of his life but it’s just him being him. he’s very easy to idealize and romanticize bc that’s the image he portrays 

takes nothing seriously. is sarcastic/joking in every single conversation u have with him ever but he does it playfully??? he has a very soft way of speaking to people n is very easy to open up to 

if ur his friend and someone looks at u wrong he 10/10 will beat their ass, has serious anger problems

acts fearless? does not know what being intimidated is, his tongue is a little too sharp sometimes

if ur a bi*tch expect him to make u feel like an idiot by dragging u with class or being completely unfazed by ur rudeness so u just look like a clown .

he has very teen movie love interest energy... basically ur average soft jock personality with TONS AND TONS of flaws added in except in a lil art nerd