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cherrykindness · 3 years

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wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry imagine

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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A Snowy Morning After (Part 2)

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After being stuck at Reader’s house because of a snow storm after a one night stand, Spencer wants a round two.

Part One

A/N: Hey guys ☺️ This is my fourteenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!!! This one was requested by @dreatine who asked for a second part to my short fic A Snowy Morning After which ended in a cliffhanger. This ones kinda porn without plot lol- read the first part of you want the plot 😂 I’m curious to hear from all of you- feel free to drop me an ask about anything here. Join my tag lists here! Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Non specific dominant, Oral sex (F receiving) - nothing else really ☺️

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.4K

You glanced out your window as snow still trickled down out of the sky to add to the blanket of white covering everything in sight. At first you had been afraid of any more painfully awkward moments between you and Spencer while you waited for the roads to clear. Even though you had offered him a cup of hot chocolate you didn’t know where the conversation was headed, or if there was going to be any at all.

It hadn’t been as awkward as one might expect, you both fell back into how you had been last night before you had taken him back to your house. There was a reason that you had fallen into bed so easy with him last night, conversing with him was addicting, to say the least. The way he talked with his hands and rambled on with such passion made you want to pull him right back into bed again.

The conversation you both had been having as you had been sipping on the rich chocolate drink had been seemingly innocent. The words you had both been speaking, asking him casually about his job, then him asking about yours, had no real weight to them. Tension was still thick around you both, the air seeming hot and heavy even though you hadn’t turned your heat on blast because of the cold.

Eventually all the words fell away, trailing off as you both took another long sip. Spencer’s eyes were roaming every inch of your body, completely unashamed about it. Not that you minded, he had already seen everything last night. And, it was fun to tease him slightly by spreading your legs a little to give him a peak at the panties you had slipped on. They were the ones he had almost ripped off of you the night before.

“Are you trying to tease me?” The sudden questioning and flip from an innocent conversation ended in silence to back to how he had spoken to you while you had him in your bed gave you whiplash.

You squirmed in your seat, the harsh tone of voice he had used making your panties dampen. Going off of natural instinct would have made you wither underneath his piercing gaze, but it had you wanting more. So, you spread your legs a little wider. “Yes.”

In a flash his mouth was on yours, forcing you to stand up by wrapping a hand around your waist and tugging you up. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss, grabbing your cheeks to pull you as close as possible.

You already felt hot despite everything around you having a tinge of cold, panting in his mouth while he continued to explore what your lips had to offer just like the night before. His whole body was warm against yours, like he was shielding you from the cold just outside your door as he pressed you into the table.

You pulled yourself up so you were now sitting on the table, propping yourself up with your hands. Spencer was on his own mission, separating his lips from yours to slowly make the descent down. He lingered at your neck for a while while gripping your hips hard, adding to the collection of hickies he had created last night. Tilting your neck to the side gave him full access, then you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck. You ghosted your fingers over the hickies you had left on him the night before, thinking about leaving more on him.

Spencer didn’t give you the chance as he pulled the sweater you put on over your head once he was satisfied with the work he did on your neck. Immediately he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples and began to play with the other in his fingers. His eyes glanced up at you, making you buck your hips towards him, wanting him to touch you where you needed him the most.

When he didn’t move his mouth off of your nipple to place it where you wanted him you whined in indignation. It caused him to pull off of you and chuckle out, “You’re impatient, we’ve got all the time in the world. Those snow plows won’t be around for hours.”

He then moved to your other nipple, sucking and biting until it was at a stiff peak like the other one. Finally he moved his hands to start pulling down your panties, which he tried to do slowly, but you kicked them off out of impatience. You couldn’t help but whimper and curl your toes when he knelt down in front of you. Pulling you to the edge of the table by surprise, you raked your fingers down the wood, causing another unexpected noise.

He separated your folds with his fingers, exposing your clit more to potentially give him more access. His staring at your dripping core made you wriggle a bit, feeling exposed underneath his gaze. Being exposed didn’t make your desire disappear, it only seemed to make you drip down your inner thighs more. You almost wanted to complain again, but you predicted that would just make him go even slower.

When he dove his tongue into your core it was unexpected as he had been fixating his gaze on you for a while without any signs of movement. A clanging noise filled the air along with the soft moans you had begun to produce, causing you to snap your head to the source of the noise. A pool of spilt hot chocolate was by the edge of the table; you must have knocked over your mug when Spencer had unexpectedly begun to feast on you.

Spencer was unfazed by the noise while you groaned at the mess you had just made, and because his tongue had moved down to your dripping hole, circling around it just to tease.

“Please- don’t tease!” You gasped out loud, grabbing his hair to bring him as close as possible. Your other hand dropped down so you were resting on one of your forearms when Spencer pushed his tongue inside of you. Cursing loudly at the new stimulation you then started to grind your hips into his face while keeping your hold on his hair tight.

Spencer’s ability to breathe was undoubtedly obstructed, especially when your shaky thighs began to clamp around his head. Instead of pulling away he became even more eager, if that was possible. He removed his tongue from your entrance to lick a broad stripe all the way up to your clit, then suctioning his lips around it. When he started to nibble slightly at it your orgasm started to fast approach.

Sensing it he moved one of his hands to come between your thighs, you were going to become addicted to his fingers no doubt. Last night you had gotten a taste of the skill he harbored with his fingers, but he had mostly only used his mouth on you. When he entered his fingers inside of you in tandem with his mouth still sucking and nibbling at your clit you cried out even louder than before.

“Cum for me.” He mumbled into your core. The added vibration of his voice against your clit caused your slowly built orgasm to reach its crest, and crash down around you. You pulled on his hair harder than you probably should have while you rode your high out on his face, though he was obviously enjoying it as he moaned when you had yanked on it hard.

After you had come down from your high, you had glanced over to see the pool of hot chocolate that you had made. “We’re going to need to clean that up.”

He smirked, glancing at the spilled hot chocolate, “We’ve got time.”

Your own smirk was devilish even though in the back of your mind you couldn’t stop thinking about when the time ran out. You both had time now, but that time was limited. The snow plows and salt trucks would eventually come, you’d have to make the most of it, “I’d like to use that time to do something else.”

“What do you want to do instead then?” Arousal still swirled deep in your gut, you were definitely going to pull him back into your room for another round. But, his words had made you think about how you didn’t want this morning after to end. And, you didn’t want to just push that thought down, only to have him slip through your fingers when you could have spoken up.

Ignoring the spill, pushing it off till later, you pulled him by the hand, walking him back towards your room, “I want you to fuck me- but I also want to talk about what you want to do tomorrow morning.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join): A strike through means tumblr won’t let me tag you

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #30 fics in 30 days

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planetdemon · 3 years

Text

I just wanted to be a swan

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst, fluff, but mostly angst

warnings: low self-esteem, body hate/dislike, eating disorders, swearing, food, insecurities, arguing DONT READ IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH IT!

wc: 2.003

note: so this scenario has been going through my head for quite a while now, and I tried writing it by myself lol. Hope it's good ;) I've also sent a request to @channienet about the same topic, so make sure to check her interpretation out as well! enjoy!

summary: Due to Chan's heavy working schedule, spending time alone was a thing you couldn't quite befriend with, especially after you've noticed some changes you have gone through. There is a to change it, but it isn't quite... let's say healthy. How will Chan react, after he finds out? Will he even care? (dude I'm shit at writing summary lol)

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Taking a bath was normally something that should be considered relaxing or calming. You've always enjoyed letting the hot water surround your body whilst taking all the dirt and negativity off that you have collected during stressful days at work.

But lately, taking a bath wasn't as enjoyable anymore as it once was. Chris has been working a lot lately, due to the kingdom stage and their nearing comeback. He has been spending more and more time at the company, working on producing new tracks for him and the kids, often staying at the dorms because they were closer to the studio than the apartment you shared. So you were left alone, by yourself.

Even though you wished he would be by your side while you were falling asleep, you couldn't be mad at him. You knew what his work meant to that boy and you would never tell him to stop doing what he loves just so you could spend some time together.

But being alone also meant that you had to kill the boredom somehow and, thanks to Felix's Brownie and Cookie recipes, you had the perfect thing to do in the meantime. Baking and eating delicious desserts.

You were just stepping out of the bathtub, grabbing the towel you had prepared, and drying yourself with it. Once your body was half-dried, you turned around to hang the towel back at the hanger, so it could dry properly.

And at that moment, you knew, you've fucked up. You couldn't avoid looking at your wet, naked body in the hot, steamy mirror near the hangers.

You always hated looking at it, but thanks to the sweets you had been eating lately, looking at yourself only made you feel sicker than it ever did.

You couldn't tear your gaze off the excess of flesh around your tummy and thighs and the stretch marks, that decored your boobs only seemed to scream "Look at me!". You slowly turned around and saw the tiger stripes creeping up your bum and the undersides of your arms.

'Fucking disgusting', that little voice in your head sneered.

'How could I let this come this far?', you thought. At this point, you were somehow happy Chris wasn't here, knowing he would be disgusted with how you've changed.

You've always felt a bit insecure by his side, knowing you could catch up with neither his attractiveness nor his muscular godlike body. But seeing yourself like this destroyed every little self-esteem you had left in your cells.

It has been nearly two months since 'the incident' in the bathroom and you couldn't shake that feeling of disgusts off. Not even for one second.

You only wanted to try a one-week detox diet that was blowing up all over social media, hoping you could lose a little bit of weight, so you would be back to normal. But seeing the numbers on the scale dropping so unbelievably quickly only made you realize that you could look even better than you thought you could.

You kept on following the diet and restricting everything that wasn't included, not noticing that restricting also damaged your mind.

One time, Han and Felix asked you if you wanted to have lunch with them and the others, but fear crept up you back as soon as you thought about the food they would have ordered, knowing that you would only gain weight again if you didn't follow the rules.

So you stayed home, keeping yourself isolated from your friends and most importantly, Chan.

You were lying on my bed, scrolling through Tumblr when Chris' Caller ID showed up and your phone started to ring. You sighed lowly, not wanting to talk to him.

Over the past few months, you stopped showing up at the studio, being afraid the boys would notice the changes your body went through, thanks to the diet. You were happy about it, knowing that you were losing weight, but you haven't reached my goal. You were afraid, they would judge you the way you did when you looked at yourself.

"Chris?"

"y/n? Han just told me that you weren't coming over. Are you okay? Y-" Chris's muffled voice appeared and you felt instant regret deep in your guts, knowing how much fun you guys had when you spent time together back in the days.

"Yeah, I'm okay Channie, don't worry. I just feel a little sleepy. I'll come next time. Promise" You tried your best to sound optimistic or at least not too sad, hoping Chris would believe your lie. "Okay," he mumbled, "I love you, baby girl".

You knew you were in big troubled the second Chris opened the fridge, seeing no food in there.

He randomly decided to stay over the weekend, saying that he missed you. You weren't ready for this, knowing that you couldn't hide the signs of the 'passion' you had developed in time.

"Why is there no food?" You fumbled with the arms of Chris sweater you were wearing while looking at the ground. "I've forgotten to go grocery shopping" You answered.

"But there is nothing in there, y/n. Nothing" He walked over and took hold of your cold hands while looking you straight in the eyes.

"Why is there no food?" Chris asked again.

"I just told you I forgot to go grocery shopping, Chan. Relax" You snapped back, getting anxious about the fact that he could notice something.

You were nearing your goal, even though you knew that you could never be satisfied with how you looked. He couldn't just come over and ruin all the progress you've made after being not here for so long. He doesn't have the right to do this.

"Don't fuck around, y/n. You always have at least some butter in your house. Where is the butter? Where is Ramen? You must have some food here!"

Your body started to shake as you heard his voice rise, keeping your gaze low, not daring to look him in the eyes right now. He was right.

You always had something at home, so you could quickly cook something when you were hungry. But you didn't saw a point in keeping food at home if you wouldn't eat it anyway. It would just rot.

"Y/n look at me" he whispered, after realizing that you were trembling. Chris gently grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. You were expecting to see anger, but the only thing you saw in his brown orbs was sadness.

You started to tear up after you noticed it, knowing that he put one and one together. You missing out on lunch with the boys, you not showing up at the studio to bring him food and spend with him there, listening to his tracks, you not having any food at home. It was obvious, but you still hoped he wouldn't notice.

Chris slowly took you in his arms, noticing how your figure felt smaller and bonier than before. It made him sick, knowing what you did to yourself. 'Why would my girl do something like this?' he thought 'how could my little princess torture herself this much?' But he couldn't find a 'because'.

In his eyes, you were the best thing that happened to him. You were the prettiest girl on earth. Warm tears were running down his pale cheeks, dropping to the floor.

He couldn't stop blaming himself for what you did. Maybe if he would have been there, he could have stopped you. Maybe if-

"Channie?" You quietly asked, looking up at his tear-stained cheeks. "Channie why are you crying? We can go to the store and grab something if you want. You don't-"

"Why have you been doing this to yourself, y/n?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you been eating"

Well, shit.

"What are you talking about, Channie?"

"Don't fucking lie to me, it's too obvious for you to do so. Why haven't you been eating?"

"I... I, I'm pressured Chan" You answered, knowing that he wouldn't believe you if you would tell him otherwise. Telling him the truth was the only option at this point, even though you didn't want to.

"Pressured?"

"Yes"

"Princess, I don't understand what you mean by that"

You shook your head and let go of him, before walking over to the couch and sitting down with a low sigh. "Maybe you shouldn't understand," I said.

"Jesus, y/n" I heard him mutter under his breath. He walked over and sat on the floor, in front of you, looking at you with a scared expression.

"Please tell me what's in that pretty little head of yours. I can see that you have lost weight, but I don't understand why. I mean, you are the prettiest human I have ever seen in my whole life, why would you do something like that?"

"Why do you even care? It's not like you here anyway" you simply said, grabbing your phone, trying to ignore him.

After he noticed your intentions, he quickly took your phone out of your hands, placing it on the coffee table behind him.

"Hey! Give me my phone back, you dump a-"

"Fucking stop it, y/n. Stop ignoring me. I care for you because I love you! You are my everything and I know I haven't been home lately, but at least I tried making time for you and inviting you to the studio", he said, "but you never came! Don't act like it's only my fault we haven't seen each other."

You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. He was right, it was also your fault. And you hated the fact that he was right. "I-"

"Please y/n, please stop turning away from me and closing up. I-I know it's not easy to open up, but I'm here for you. I'll always be."

"Well, I... I couldn't, no, I can't feel happy when I look like this, Channie. I mean, look at you, look at your perfect body and your perfect personality and your perfect everything! I don't fit in. I don't fit in, because I am the ugly duck surrounded by beautiful swans. I just... wanted to be a beautiful swan, Channie."

That's it. You've made it. You've told him what was going through your mind all the time.

He slowly pulled you off the couch, into his lap. He could feel your seat humps against his thighs, how bony and strong they were. Chris shook his head in disbelieve, another wave of sadness crushing over him.

"You are perfect, baby girl. You are perfect in every single way. You always were the most beautiful swan I have ever seen in my entire life. I love everything about you, y/n. I love how your thighs wiggle whenever you run towards me when we meet, I love how curves look in that dress I brought you a year ago, I love how your stretch marks are decorating your body like silverish paint. I don't want you to change for me, because you are perfect the way you are. Jesus, even Hyunjin said you are even prettier than himself, and that means a lot. Please don't hurt yourself like this, princess. You are destroying yourself"

He took hold of your hands and kissed your palm.

"I promise I'll stop working so much, so I can spend more time with my beautiful girlfriend, but please... stop hurting yourself" he whispered, searching for any signs of discomfort in your eyes. But you just set in his lap and listened to him.

"Hyunjin thinks I'm prettier than him?" you asked awkwardly.

Chris chuckled and nodded "Is this the only thing that got stuck in your pretty little head?" He asked.

You smiled a bit, leaning your forehead against his while closing your eyes. "I'll try to get better, Chris" you whispered.

It wouldn't be an easy journey going back to 'normal. Once the hole is there, digging is difficult. But it is possible, especially if someones helping you.

#bang chan imagines #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan images #skz imagines #skz chan #skz angst #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #bangchan fanfic #fanfic #x you #x reader

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7team7 · 5 years

Text

Making his list

Summary: The holidays are a busy time, so when Sakura is out of commission due to her pregnancy, Sasuke takes matters into his own hands. Modern AU, pregnant Sakura, good househusband Sasuke. [2.3k words]

A/N: sorry this is late, but happy holidays everyone!! This was the most voted option on twitter, but office au coming soon enough I guess!! Stream The Carol by Haseul and Christmas Tree Farm by TS

Sakura adored the holiday season. The chilly weather gave her the perfect excuse to cozy up near a fire with a mug of hot cocoa. She loved finding the perfect gifts for her friends and family, finally spending some of her hard earned money. She always marveled at all the decorations and loved taking the time to bake the sweetest confections. The hospital was busy as usual, but it was honestly fun to treat kids who had maybe eaten a bit too much sugar.

But as a pregnant woman, she just couldn’t keep up as well this time around. The normally welcome weather seemed to be more biting than usual and her pregnancy made her more tired. She was so busy getting things for the baby, she had less time to shop for other gifts. Being on maternity leave meant she had both nothing and everything to do. The thought of decorating and baking for hours on end made her feet ache.

Sasuke hated the holidays. It usually served as a reminder that his family was dead and he was all alone. People seemed to forget how to drive when it rained or snowed and lines were always too long everywhere.

But when he married Sakura and got her pregnant soon after, he found himself changing his mind. He couldn’t wait to watch her in action around their home. They’d been friends long enough that he’d received some of her incredibly thoughtful gifts and seen all the traditions she liked partaking in, but it was different now that they shared a home together. When they were just dating, he couldn’t hog her as much as he did now. He used to think Black Friday was ridiculous, but he had a feeling he’d be clambering over all the other parents for the toys his child would want next year. Why pass up a good sale?

[continued under the cut]

The night of December 1st, Sakura gave him a gift, claiming she just couldn’t help it. Sasuke unwrapped the shiny paper and opened the box to be faced with the ugliest ugly holiday sweater he had ever seen. It was red with white stripes and had a huge picture of the Grinch in the middle. “It’s funny, right? Because you’re kind of grumpy like him, but you just need a little holiday spirit to make your heart grow!” Oh yes, being likened to the Grinch did not make him very happy, but his wife did make his heart grow three sizes.

He pulled it on immediately over his t-shirt. Sakura’s eyes were practically sparkling. “Thanks for buying one that’s not itchy. Where’s yours?”

“Oh,” she bit her lip softly, like she hadn’t even considered matching like she usually wanted. She disappeared into their closet and pulled hers out—covered in candy canes and jingle bells.

“Um,” she said as she stuck her head through the collar, “I don’t think it fits me right now.” Her eyes immediately welled with tears. She loved this sweater and the hormones were not helping. She’d had it forever, so it was a little tight now that she was older and taller, but she couldn’t even get it past her belly.

“Uh,” Sasuke grappled with his words in an attempt to make her feel better. He hated seeing her cry, especially over something so menial. Sakura normally loved the holidays, and he had seen her wear that sweater at least once every year since he’d known her. “You can just wear it like this, right? With a shirt underneath or something? It’s just kind of a crop top now.”

Sakura looked up at him, more tears coming, “But then the baby will be cold!” Sasuke immediately yanked his sweater off and put it back in the box. “It’s okay, I just won’t wear mine until next year. We can match with the baby next year or something,” he said as he started helping Sakura out of her sweater. That easily helped cheer her up.

“Oh, Sasuke, we’re going to have a baby by this time next year! We’re going to buy so many toys I can’t wait!” She started babbling excitedly about the stages of development and what kinds of learning and playing kids did at what age and Sasuke decided this was much better than crying over an ugly sweater.

“We’d better get our tree soon before all the good ones get taken. I want to have it up all month so we can enjoy it,” Sakura mentioned to Sasuke the next day. She had started sorting through decorations after breakfast. “It smells so good and makes the house feel so much more festive. Hanging up ornaments is always fun, I even got a new star to put on top this year.” Sasuke simply nodded and started clearing their plates while she continued digging through boxes.

“I’m going out,” Sasuke announced after he finished washing the dishes. It was the weekend and they normally enjoyed reading the newspaper on the couch together after cleaning up, so Sakura was a bit confused. “Do you need anything?” he asked as he gathered his coat and scarf.

“Yeah, the perfect Christmas tree,” she joked. “No, I’m just going to be unboxing decorations here. Ever since we moved into this house I keep forgetting where I put everything so it’ll take me a while.”

Sakura had only managed to hang a wreath and put on some holiday music when Sasuke returned home.

“I brought you something,” he said gruffly as he propped the door open.

“Ooh, an early present? But why not just wait a little longer, darling?” Of course, Sakura loved receiving gifts from Sasuke because they were always things only he would think to give her, but she could wait.

“You said you wanted it now,” he said as he hauled in a huge evergreen tree. It wasn’t in a net like the ones they had at lots and it even had snow dropping off the branches. The thick trunk looked like it had taken a real beating.

“Sasuke,” she asked slowly, “did you chop this down yourself?”

“Of course I did,” he said matter of factly. “You said you wanted the perfect one and I found it for you. I just strapped it to the top of the car and brought it back. This one is way better than anything at those overpriced lots. It’s fresh,” he added, as if she didn’t notice. The snow was beginning to melt all over their floor.

“You’re not really allowed to do that, but thank you.” She didn’t even want to ask where he chose to cut it down because no matter the location, it probably wasn’t legal if he returned so quickly. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, still a bit cold from spending time outside. “It really is perfect,” she praised after she got over the shock. It seriously was a lovely tree. Sasuke was just the type of person who did things his own way, she supposed.

“If I put it in the corner, you’ll decorate it, right? Just call me when you need to put the star on top. I don’t want you falling.” She gave him another kiss and let him be on his way to read the paper they missed that morning. He didn’t end up going far, though, preferring to observe the way she danced around the tree and got excited every time she opened up an ornament she had forgotten about.

“Damn it, I completely forgot that I have Ino’s holiday brunch tomorrow. I promised to bring my usual cookies, but I’m beat.” Sakura had just finished eating dinner and decorating the house when she realized there was still more to do. She had already purchased all the ingredients from the store but there just wasn’t enough time in the day. She sighed, “I guess I’ll have to go pick something up on my way tomorrow. I’m sad, they’re such a tradition at this point.”

Sasuke knew which cookies she was talking about because he liked them too. She made them spiced enough for him to enjoy, so he found himself a little disappointed by the thought that they might not happen this year. “Why don’t you just go to bed early? No use in stressing over cookies. I’ll be there soon.” Normally Sakura preferred to fall asleep with her husband there to keep her warm, but she was too tired to argue or even think. Sasuke kept the heater on high and made sure she had an extra blanket before he tiptoed back into the kitchen.

If she wanted the cookies, he would give her the cookies. Surely he could make cookies. How hard could they be?

It turned out, cookies that tasted the way Sakura made them were very difficult to pull off. He even managed to pull out the original recipe, but it seemed like so many tweaks were made that he had to make several test batches before he got anywhere close.

At some point in the middle of the night, he baked himself into a frenzy and produced some damn good cookies. At least the oven made the house warmer, and the kitchen smelled divine. He crawled into bed beside his wife, not caring if he was covered in flour and sugar. As long as she was happy.

Sasuke was normally a heavy sleeper, but he was roused by Sakura’s shrieking in the kitchen. Fearing that something was wrong, he bolted out of their cozy bed with his eyes still half closed.

“Look, Sasuke, my cookies! Who made these?” He had even taken the time to arrange them into a neat pyramid on one of Sakura’s fancy platters. He hoped they would taste good, but even if they didn’t, at least they looked presentable.

Sasuke rubbed his bleary eyes, glad nothing was wrong. “Dunno. Maybe Santa was feeling generous and gave us cookies instead of eating everyone else’s.” Sakura beamed at him and took one off the top to bite into.

“Mm, they’re perfect! You did such a good job Sasuke! What a perfect surprise. Here, try,” she broke off a piece and handed it to Sasuke.

“Breakfast of champions,” he muttered after he finished chewing. He gathered his excited wife into his arms and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. He was tired, but it didn’t really matter because she was happy. He absentmindedly rubbed her pregnant stomach, wondering if their baby would like these cookies too.

“Thank you, you’re the best. Now go back to sleep while I get ready to go,” Sakura said to him.

After changing and finishing her hair and makeup, Sakura walked back to their bed to pull the covers up towards Sasuke’s chin. He kept his eyes closed but mumbled, “drive carefully, please. The roads are supposed to be a bit icy today.”

He was still in bed when he received Sakura’s text that she made it to Ino’s safely. She also sent him a picture of Ino’s house covered in lights, telling him to remind her that they need to put lights outside. It looked tasteful, but Sasuke had a feeling Sakura wanted something a little more over the top and festive. He tossed his blankets to the side and started getting ready for the day. If she wanted lights, he would put some lights up. And it would look better than everyone else’s in their neighborhood.

When Sakura returned home, she honestly didn’t notice. She was too exhausted from all the talking and eating she did at Ino’s. She walked into the house feeling ready to spend the rest of the day with Sasuke. She’d have to give him extra kisses to thank him again for the cookies. And the beautiful tree sitting in the corner of their living room.

“How was it?” he asked as he welcomed her in. One simple question got her talking for a while; she filled him in on anything and everything, from Ino’s decorations to the food to how her girlfriends were doing. “Oh and did you see the picture I sent? Her lights looked really nice, I’ll have to remember to put our lights up soon too.”

“Mhm. Do you notice anything different about the house?” “We have to turn some lights on in here, it gets dark so early in the winter,” she mused as she got up to switch the light on. Sasuke followed her and prevented her from doing so. “No, look outside.” Sakura moved away from the light switch, expecting to see fresh snow that had started falling after she had gotten home and only Sasuke noticed. When she got to their front window, she gasped.

Their lawn was decked out with bright lights, from a snowman to a reindeer to their front pathway lined with lights. She looked up and noticed the roof covered in lights too. She hadn’t noticed partially because they weren’t on when she got home during the day. Her eyes welled with tears as she opened the front door to step outside and get a closer look.

She surveyed their house, lined perfectly with twinkling lights. Their house looked much more festive and cheerful than anyone else on their block. “Did you do this?” she asked Sasuke who followed her out to bring her a coat.

“Glad you finally noticed,” he teased. “You said you wanted lights, but I wasn’t going to let you climb on a ladder while pregnant. So I put up the lights. I bought a few more because I figured you’d like them.”

“They’re perfect!” she exclaimed, giving him a big hug. She looked up at his handsome face, softly illuminated by all their new lights. “You’ll have to do this next year too. And make the cookies. And get the tree.”

He rolled his eyes. He’d gotten sucked into the holiday madness because of this dynamo of a woman standing before him. He was really in it for life. “I’ll have to put it on my list, I guess.”

“I promise I’ll be really nice to you,” she giggled as she pulled him back inside where it was warm.

“I won’t mind if you’re a little naughty,” he murmured as he pinched her hip playfully.

She stuck her tongue out at him, “Hey! The baby can hear you!”

A/N: I just love writing ss as same-same-but different in the intros, if you read a lot of my works you’ll notice that, but they’re just so easy to write like that lmao it makes me happy when people tell me they like the way I portray them because sometimes I do fear I’m just writing them as these not complex, static characters but. It be like that as a writer :-)

#sasusaku #fan fiction #happy holidays #my writing #one shot #my formatting is the most inconsistent thing in the world lmao

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sweaterproducer · 4 months

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esunfabric · 3 years

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The difference between poplin and oxford

First of all, the biggest difference: Poplin is a traditional handicraft, and Oxford is a new type of fabric.

Secondly, poplin and Oxford spinning are made of different materials. Commonly used raw materials for poplin are pure cotton, polyester/cotton and so on. Poplin is a dense plain weave fabric woven from cotton, polyester, wool, cotton or blended yarns; while Oxford spinning uses finer combed high-count yarns as double warps, and thicker wefts are interwoven with a heavy flat weave. Become.

The feel and appearance of cvc poplin material fabric is similar to silk, so it is called poplin. Commonly used raw materials for poplin are pure cotton, polyester/cotton and so on. Poplin fabric is produced using a simple top/bottom organization. The yarn tends to be finer and weave tighter than Oxford. The resulting fabric has a smoother texture, and provides higher softness and better drape, so most textile and garment manufacturers will provide cvc poplin fabric for sell.

Poplin is a dense, smooth and shiny plain-weave cotton fabric. Although it is plain weave with plain cloth, the difference is quite big: Poplin has a good drape and can be made more dense, with rich hand feeling and visual richness; while plain cloth is generally of medium thickness and cannot be made into a very delicate hand feeling, with a simple look.

Because the cvc poplin material shirt gives a stylish polished look, making it an ideal outfit for office wear. Its lightness is also very suitable for matching sweaters or suit jackets.

Oxford cloth is a new type of fabric with various functions and wide applications. The main products on the market include: checkered, full stretch, nylon, tige and other varieties.

Oxford fabric, also known as Oxford spinning. Originated in England, the traditional combed cotton fabric named after Oxford University, Oxford cloth began around 1900. The finer combed high-count yarn is used as the double warp, which is interwoven with the thicker weft yarn in a flat weft structure.

The oxford fabric shirt fabric has soft color, soft body, good air permeability, comfortable to wear, easy to wash and quick-drying, and is mostly used as shirts, sportswear and pajamas. There are many varieties of products, such as plain color, bleaching, color warp and white weft, color warp and color weft, medium and light color striped patterns, etc.; there are also polyester-cotton yarns woven. The relevant quality and performance of the fabric can be tested by related testing equipment, such as tensile strength testing with material tensile testing machine, composite strength testing with peeling testing machine, color fastness testing with friction testing machine and thickness testing with thickness gauge, etc.

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batwake · 6 years

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Living Room Song - chapter 2/12

No one new ever moves to Derry, Maine.

The worst day of Eddie Kaspbrak’s life is the day that someone does.

read it on ao3

chapter 1

chapter 2: september - timeless

The first day of school comes and goes, and as does the week and the week after. The elusive Richard ‘my friends call me Richie, Mrs. Wakeman’ Tozier has not spoken a single word to Eddie, even though they’re both in Wakeman’s sixth hour psychology, but Eddie quickly decides that Stan was right about the guy being annoying, as he talks to anyone who bothers to look at him. People learned not to spare him the time after the first few days, and though Eddie is one of them, he can’t help but wish that the other boy would seek him out. They sit on opposite sides of the classroom, and Richie is always quick to bolt out the door, so Eddie never gets the chance to talk to him, even if he could work up the courage. His siblings are nice, though, and Eddie talks to them regularly. Neither of them ever bring up each other or their third sibling, so Eddie never asks. The only time he ever sees them together are at lunch, when they sit together in the back corner of the lunchroom.

On September 2nd, two weeks after school started, Sonia sends Eddie in to town to run errands. Since Eddie has gotten older she has become more lenient about her son going to town by himself, although she is wary and double checks that he knows their home phone number and can call if he needs her to come get him.

Eddie can understand the paranoia. It doesn’t bother him anymore.

So he goes into town. Picks up his and his mothers’ prescriptions from the drug store, and ventures into the grocery store. It’s quiet on this Monday afternoon, most people having already finished their shopping for the week. The only people working are the old woman that Eddie sees waiting at the bus stop every Tuesday and Thursday evening and an acne ridden teenager that Eddie vaguely recognizes as the kid from his freshman year world history class.

He beelines for the fruits and vegetables after grabbing a cart, picking four of every produce on the list his mother gave him, each one in their own separate bags. Sonia was always very specific about her grocery shopping, that was something that had not changed over the summer.

The speakers are playing some new radio hit that Eddie has heard a hundred times already, but he still finds himself humming along. He gets so wrapped up in listening to the song he doesn’t even see the cart appear in front of him before he is hitting it.

“Shit-“ Eddie starts, then covers his mouth. “I mean. Sorry.”

Richie Tozier, the man of Eddie’s nightmares, is laughing. His sister is glaring at him.

“Richard can you please pay attention to where you’re pushing this thing?” Eddie’s eyes flick from Richie to Margo. He has never really seen them interact before.

It feels a little like he’s watching two animals at the zoo.

“Margaret can you please explain to this fine gentleman what ‘look before crossing both ways’ means?” Richie shoots back. Margo turns to look at Eddie for the first time, and her face lights up.

“Hey, stranger!” Margo is wearing the same thing she wore to school, a dark blue sweater over high waisted white jeans. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail that Eddie thinks makes her look more like her brothers. Her green eyes stare all the way down into Eddie’s soul.

It’s a little unnerving, but Richie’s gaze saves him, because he speaks up next. “Edward, right? From psych?”

Eddie blinks, looking over to the tallest of the three of him. Richie is almost a full foot taller than Eddie, and Margo is even shorter. Still, Eddie feels smaller under Margo’s strong green eyes than he does with Richie’s warm brown ones. “Eddie,” he corrects, “but yes. I sit on the other side of the classroom.”

“Eddie. Eddie-Spaghetti.” Richie nods like he is making a mental note of it and leans his arms on the cart, bending so he is more at his companion’s height. “Are you that guy who was laughing in the lunchroom the first day of school?”

“Richie!” Margo snaps, elbowing her brother. Richie looks at her and mouths what?

“It’s okay. Yeah, that was me.” Eddie shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “That was the mental breakdown everyone was waiting to see.” Eddie assumes that they must’ve heard the whole story from someone else at school, otherwise Margo wouldn’t be so wary of the subject. He likes that Richie doesn’t seem to care about it so much.

Eddie takes the brief moment of awkward silence to study Richie’s attire. He clearly has a weird sense of fashion, or perhaps a lack thereof. Today Richie Tozier wears black jeans that have random patches of fabric sewn into them, bursts of color like yellow with purple spots on his thigh or rainbow stripes on his calf. His t-shirt says Freese’s in cursive text, and shows off his long arms, the wrists covered in bracelets. A few of his long fingers have rings on them, but Eddie has a hard time focusing on them. His broken-to-hell glasses top off the entire look.

Richie notices him staring and shoots Eddie his lopsided smile.

Warmth spreads to Eddie’s cheeks. “So, where’s Mike?” He says, desperate to change the subject from his mental breakdown and get Richie’s eyes anywhere other than Eddie’s hands, which twitch and fidget with the grocery list in his hands.

He earns two very different reactions from the pair in front of him. Margo rolls her eyes and focuses them on somewhere above and to the left of Eddie. Richie snickers and straightens up.

“Our dad has some conference a few towns over and took Mikey with him,” Richie says, his voice heavy with something that Eddie can’t quite place. “Margo is mega jealous.”

“I’m not jealous-“

“-she’s totally jealous-“

“-I’m just a little annoyed that he picked just him to go, that’s all! I mean there’s three of us. You can’t pick just one.”

Richie’s stance changes and Eddie wonders if Margo notices. He stands a little straighter, crosses his arms. The smile on his face looks tight and fake. “We know all about that-“

“Beep beep,” Margo snaps, holding up a hand. “We don’t need to subject Eddie to our family problems.”

Eddie’s a little lost. He doesn’t say that, though, just awkwardly laughs. “Beep beep?”

“People say that to get me to, quote en quote, shut the fuck up.” Richie throws a hand over his heart and leans over Margo, using his height advantage. “It really hurts mah feelins, Eddie-Spaghetti’,” he says in the worst southern accent that Eddie has ever heard. He laughs, and it is not to break the silence, nowhere near awkward.

“That was awful. And don’t call me that.”

Margo shoots Eddie a look, ducking away from Richie and causing him to stumble. “Try living with it.”

Eddie is smiling, and laughing, with people he doesn’t even know. He hasn’t done much of that in a long time. “Yeah, I hear he never shuts up.”

“Your mom wasn’t complaining in bed last ni-“

“Beep beep,” Eddie and Margo say together, and burst into giggles once more.

The three of them chat for a little while longer before Eddie says that his mother will be worried about him, and quickly departs, his cheeks red and sore from smiling. He does not dislike Richie so much, finds him fascinating. He is still a bit of a mystery, as are the other two triplets. The way Richie got cold when Margo mentioned separating the three of them, and Margo’s apparent jealousy of Mike being with their father. Eddie thinks of the Tozier’s, as he walks home, of Richie. Of his curly hair and stupid glasses and lopsided smile.

Eddie almost drops the bags when his heart speeds up at the thought of the other boy.

He has never walked home so quickly.

Eddie likes to think he is a good son. He doesn’t stay up late or sneak out, his friends are, for the most part, well-liked by his mother, and he has never done any drugs.

(He tried one of Bev’s cigarettes, once, but coughed the second he inhaled, and hasn’t touched one since)

Helping Sonia unpack groceries is just one of Eddie’s many good qualities. There aren’t many, with just two of them, but he worries about his mother spending too much time by herself. He thinks that she worries about him, too.

“I ran into some kids from school,” Eddie comments as he passes her a carton of eggs. “They’re new.”

Sonia hums and straightens, putting the eggs on the shelf in the door. “Derry doesn’t get new people very often.”

“Yeah, I think they’ve probably heard enough of that. They’re triplets.” Eddie pulls out the Froot-Loops and puts them in a cabinet.

Eddie feels his mother's presence next to him, like a hawk. “Bad luck come in threes, Eddie-Bear.”

It just got very, very cold in the room. “I know, Ma.” And he does- Eddie knows this too well. His mother’s little superstitions have always gotten the better of her. No shoes past the entryway, never open an umbrella inside, knock on wood, etcetera. Eddie just entertains her, at this point, afraid of upsetting her more than he already has.

Sonia pats the side of Eddie’s face while he stares straight ahead at the ugly wallpaper. “Don’t talk to them, Eddie, sweetheart. Only bad things can come from it.”

Nodding and swallowing, Eddie looks down at his hands that are holding onto a bag of potatoes. Sonia’s band moves from his cheek down to his arm, hovering over the bare skin. Eddie holds his breath, waiting for her to ask what she always asks when things get too quiet between them-

“How are you feeling, Eddie-Bear? Are you taking your meds? You can always talk to me-“

“I’m fine, Ma!” Eddie puts the potatoes in the cabinet next to the spices. “Really.”

Her eyes start to water, and Eddie immediately feels bad. They’re both still recovering from the summer. “I’m sorry, Ma. I had a long day. I think I’m going to go to bed. Love you.”

Sonia says something, but Eddie is already walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom.

The library after school is always quiet. Eddie likes going there to do homework instead of going straight home. It’s quiet, and there is no Sonia Kaspbrak hovering over his shoulder. Usually Stan or Ben are usually with him, but Stan had plans with Bill, and Ben was joining the cross country team this year. Eddie is by himself in the library for the first time of the new school year.

Calculus is hard, especially with the most boring teacher that Eddie has ever had. One thing equals another thing but only sometimes- it’s starting to get jumbled in his head.

Eddie checks his answer for the fifth time, and it’s still wrong. Groaning, he crumples up the piece of notebook paper and tosses it somewhere behind him.

“Hey, that’s littering, Spaghetti-Man.” Richie is suddenly sliding into the spot across from Eddie, holding the crumpled up piece of paper in his hands, reading the failed problem. “You’re using sine. You should be using cosine.”

Blinking, Eddie snatches the paper back, scanning the paper for his error. “Shit, you’re right.” He grabs his notebook and starts rewriting the problem, trying to ignore Richie’s presence. “I’m awful at calculus.”

“Clearly.”

Eddie glances up at Richie’s response. Richie is resting his cheek on his fist, pushing up his glasses just the slightest bit, revealing more freckles splattered across his face. They stand out more on Richie’s pale skin than they do on Margo’s, who is tanner than her brother by a longshot.

If they were not in a public place, Eddie thinks that he may have jumped across the table and began to count each one.

“What are you doing here?” asks Eddie, fighting the urge to say something stupid.

“Mike has AV Club and Margo likes going on runs around the school while we wait.”

There is a beat of silence while Eddie waits for Richie to keep going. He doesn’t.

“I didn’t know we had an AV Club.”

Richie shifts, his arm hitting the table once it gets bored with supporting his head. “It’s kind of Mike’s whole thing. Walkie-talkies and radios and the like. What about you, Eddie-Spaghetti?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “What about me? And don’t call me that.”

His lips spread in the crooked way they usually do, giving Richie an almost evil look. “Okay, Eds. Why’re you here after school?”

Rolling his eyes and not bothering to correct him, Eddie shuts his notebook, deciding that he isn’t going to get anymore work done with Richie here. “It’s easier to get work done here than at home.”

Richie looks like he understands. “That makes sense. Are you doing anything after this?”

The question is so abrupt and unexpected that Eddie takes a few seconds to answer. His plans were just going home and hoping his mother won’t baby him, as well as waiting by the phone ready for Bill’s call that probably won’t come anyway. “No,” Eddie decides, figuring spending his birthday with a stranger is better than with his mother anyway.

“You are now!” Richie says, all too loudly for a library, standing up and grabbing Eddie’s calculus stuff and his backpack. “You’re going to show me all of the coolest spots around Derry. We have to take Mike and Margo home, first.”Margo and Mike home though. They like you, so they’ll let you sit in the front seat.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise suspiciously. “You drive?”

The brown eyes behind Richie’s glasses glitter excitedly. “Sure do! Surprisingly I am the best driver in mí familia. They call me baby driver!”

Eddie’s face must read confusion, because Richie deflates. “Simon and Garfunkel? Bridge Over Troubled Water?” Eddie stares at him blankly. “Wowza Eds, uncultured much?”

Scoffing, Eddie stands up and holds his arm out in an attempt to get his stuff back. “Not all of us are music aficionados-“

Richie moves around him like a dancer, twirling and throwing and arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “They call me baby driver, and once upon a pair of wheels, I hit the road and I'm gone-“ he sings, his mouth close to Eddie’s ear. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“Okay, okay. I get the point.” Eddie ducks away from Richie, aiming another grab for his stuff. Richie is too tall and too fast, slipping away and towards the glass doors that lead into the hallway. “You sound like a dying goose.”

That’s not true, Eddie thinks. Richie’s voice sounds like the kind of thing you’d hear on the radio nowadays, on the rock stations his dad used to listen to-

“Spaghetti, you flatter me. Now. We’ll go stop by the AV room where Mike is then meet Margo somewhere outside.” Richie is out the doors within seconds.

Eddie’s head is still reeling from before, but he manages to follow, pushing his way out of the doors and jogging to catch up with Richie.

————————

They don’t quite make twin beds like they used to, Richie decides. When they were kids, the three of them could always squeeze into Mike’s without a problem, on the nights where their parents would fight well into the night and their mother would slam the front door as she headed out to the bar. But now that they’ve gotten older, Richie and Mike taller and lean with Margo curvy and filled out, it’s hard to find the right ways to lay so they can still be close.

The one benefit that they can all agree on is that at least, in the new apartment, they don’t have to sneak into Mike’s room. Margo just slips under the covers next to him. Richie doesn’t even have to touch the floor to squish in next to them.

Still, they all manage to fit somehow. Margo lays between her brothers, on top of them more than anything, her hair in a bun on top of her head so it does not get into anyone’s mouth. Richie’s chin is hooked over her shoulder, and Mike is on his side looking at them, up against the wall.

Richie pulls the blanket up over their heads, blocking out the sounds of the street below their window. All of their bedding are just sheets that they found at some hand-me-down store and quilts made by their grandmother, and no matter how long it has been since she died, Richie still thinks it smells like her.

“It’s weird being under here and not hearing mom and dad fighting,” whispers Margo. Richie has to agree- they haven’t done this since they moved. Since before the divorce, since the court ordeal.

“Dad’s probably glad to finally be getting some sleep,” Mike says into her cheek. “He never got that when he was with mom.”

Richie can feel the small laughs that Mike and Margo give. His blood boils, his skin crawls, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He doesn’t say anything, for once in his life.

Wentworth Tozier always liked Margo and Mike better, for whatever reason. Maggie liked Richie. She listened to him when he cried and never ever blamed him when he would get sent home early from school because he got in a fight, or cursed out a teacher. Margo never connect with her namesake like a normal daughter did, and Mike thinks that their mother was trashy.

Richie saw her for everything she was, because she was the only one who did the same for him.

The last time the three of them had gathered under Mike’s covers, Richie had told them that he wanted to live with Maggie. Margo had pushed him out of the bed and Mike had started yelling, something that Mike didn’t usually do. Went had to come break them up at three am, and all three of them got grounded.

The judge didn’t allow siblings to be separated, much less triplets, unless it was special circumstances. The Tozier’s divorce was anything but. Maggie had gotten pregnant before she and Wentworth were even married, so they wed a month later and found out they were triplets two after that.

Went and Maggie were never meant to last. That much is true. It’s surprising that they made it sixteen years.

“They were in love, once.” Margo’s hand slips into Richie’s, which was resting against her stomach. It’s as if she can read his mind. Which, Richie reminds himself, she probably can. “At least, I like to think so.”

“Leave it to Margo to be the romantic,” Richie says, his voice soft and earnest. His heart hurts, although his words betray him.

Mike’s fingers find their way to Margo and Richie’s clasped ones, covering them with his own. It is comforting, despite everything.

If he cannot have his mother, Richie thinks that having his siblings isn’t so bad either.

Wentworth greets his kids when they come home from school with a simple hand raise from his paperwork, which is spread on their dining table. Margo greets their father with a kiss on the cheek and a barrage of questions about the work he’s doing. Richie isn’t interested, and plans on leaving the room and heading to their bedroom as quickly as he possibly can, but their conversation catches his ears while he is digging through the empty fridge.

“-nd Richie will have to go grocery shopping while Mike and I are out of town.”

Just catching the end of the conversation, Richie can already tell that Margo is livid. “That’s not fair! Why does Mike get to go?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike retorts.

“Settle down, Margaret-”

“That’s not my name-”

“-Michael is coming and that’s final.”

Margo growls something incomprehensible and storms out of the room, and down the hallway a few seconds later, slams their bedroom door shut. Mike’s chair screeches against the floor as he stands and leaves, following Margo out of the room. Richie never understood why those two got along better than they did with Richie, except for when it came to their dad. They were always vying to be the favorite, leaving Richie behind in the dust.

Standing alone with his father, Richie looks awkwardly over at him. Went looks exasperated, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his forehead. A million things cross Richie’s mind to ask, but he settles on, “You got a grocery list?”

Wentworth digs through the stacks of paper for a few seconds, looking for a spare piece to scribble down everything they need. He finds it and does so, passing it to Richie, along with a twenty dollar bill. “That should be enough.”

Taking it, Richie nods. “Thanks.” He spares one last look over his shoulder at his father, who has returned to his work, then leaves the kitchen. “Good talk.”

Richie finds Mike standing in the hallway outside of their bedroom, hitting his fist against the door and twisting the knob every few knocks. “Margo you’re being completely unreasonable-”

“Just leave her alone, Mikey, clearly she’s upset that she’s not the favorite today.”

Mike shoots Richie a devilish glare, shaking the knob as he does so. “Just because you and dad don’t get along doesn’t mean he plays favorites.”

“Sophie’s Choice, that’s all I’m saying.” Richie gets close to his brother, talking his own turn at hitting the door. “Are you coming with me to the store or not?”

Neither boy expects it to swing open, but it does, revealing their sister. Margo wipes at her face, shoving past the two of them and out of the apartment, presumably to Richie’s car. The brothers sigh at the same time, then share a look.

“See you, Rich.”

“Bye Mike.” Richie follows his sister out of the apartment, ignoring whatever Mike says after him.

Eddie is visibly uncomfortable in the passenger seat of Richie’s car, having offered the spot several times to Mike and Margo, who sit in the back and chat idly with him. He fidgets with his seatbelt and stares nervously out the window as Richie pulls out of the school parking lot, as if waiting for something terrible to happen.

“I told you I’m a good driver, Eds.”

Margo and Mike both laugh as Eddie whips around to look at Richie, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide. “Don’t call me that.”

Richie pays extra attention to his driving for once, stopping for longer than necessary at stop signs, staying below the speed limit, and keeping his eyes on the road instead of looking at Eddie, like how he wants. Out of the corner of his eye, Richie can see Eddie’s grip on the door loosen with every passing second.

When they finally pull into their apartment parking lot, Eddie looks up at the building. “My friend Beverly lives here.”

Richie parks and grins wildly. He and Beverly have PE together, and smoke outside during lunch together. “Miss Marsh! I love that girl.”

Margo pats Eddie’s shoulder, signaling that he needs to get out so that her and Mike can get out of the car. Eddie does so, opening the door and stepping onto the sidewalk next to the car.

“Bye, Eddie!” Margo says cheerily after she and Mike have both gotten out.

“Have fun on your date.” Mike winks at Eddie, then heads inside with Margo. Richie can feel his cheeks turn pink, and worries briefly that Eddie is offended.

He doesn’t appear to be as he slips back inside. Richie reaches towards the seats in the back for his cassettes, hiding his pink face for a few moments, looking for one in particular.

“Aha!” He cheers, emerging and holding up his most prized tape.

Eddie takes a second to read it, then smiles. “Bridge over troubled water.”

Richie shifts in his seat and puts it into the player, backing out of the spot as the car processes the tape. “I love this album,” he says, not mentioning that is was a gift from his mother, the day that they moved. “I could listen to it forever.”

Art Garfunkel starts singing the opening verse and Richie hums along, stopping at the turn out of the lot and awaiting Eddie’s directions.

He takes a few seconds to think, then says, “turn left and head down Mile Hill. We can go to the quarry.”

“Sounds exciting,” mutters Richie to himself, doing as he is told. He continues humming, and feels Eddie’s eyes on him.

They pass by all of the stores and enter a more residential area that Richie hasn’t been down before.

“Down that street is 29 Neibolt. It’s totally haunted.” Richie can hear the shakiness in Eddie’s voice.

“Why do people say it's haunted?” Richie glances over at the passenger seat and hopes that Eddie doesn’t chew him out for it. But Eddie isn’t even looking over at him, just out the window.

“When we were like, thirteen, a bunch of us went in there.”

“No shit!”

“Yes shit,” Eddie grimaces, but there is almost a laugh in his voice. They are well past Neibolt street, yet he still seems shaken. “We got seperated and I fell through the floor and broke my arm.”

In an attempt to cheer him up, Richie jokes, “what, did a ghost push ya?”

Eddie just huffs. “No, dumbass.” Finally, he looks back over at Richie. Averting his gaze back to the road, Richie tries to keep his eyes on the road. “It just seems like… the house was purposefully separating us, you know?”

He doesn’t.

“There’s this old science facility in my hometown that everyone says is haunted. Says some crazy experiments on kids and shit went down in there.” Richie glances once more over at Eddie, who is still looking at him. “I was never brave enough to go in. I’ve heard stories from people who did, though.”

Eddie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really.”

“Mhm. Mike and his friends went in one time. Found a bunch of old records of these freaky kids-“

“This is so fake.”

“It’s not!” Richie defends, laughing, but is sure that it is. He wouldn’t put it past Dustin or Lucas to pull that kind of shit and swear it's true until the day they die.

Quiet befalls them, after a few moments of laughter. “There’s a dirt road you turn onto, up here.”

The ride gets bumpy as Richie does so, then stops once Eddie tells him to. The duo get out of the car, and the sound of shutting the doors echoes through the trees that now surround them. Richie notices a cliffside, and heads over to it, raising his eyebrows. “You trying to kill me, Spaghetti?”

“If you keep calling me that, I will.” Eddie joins Richie at the edge. “The Losers always come here during the summer to jump off or play loogie. Usually I just go down to that rocky area down there and wait for the others-“

Richie holds his hand up. “Wait, why don’t you ever jump?”

Crossing his arms across his chest protectively, Eddie takes a few steps away from the cliffside. “Because I don’t have a death wish.”

“You’ve never jumped?”

Eddie shakes his head no.

Richie claps his hands together, making Eddie jump. “Well, today is your lucky day, Spaghetti. We are jumping off this cliff right now.”

A beat of silence. Then, “you’re fucking kidding me. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” Eddie turns and starts to walk back to Richie’s car, but stops when Richie reaches out and grabs his hand. Richie notices that it is shaking.

“Come on, Spaghetti-Man. It’ll be like a baptism. New school year, new us!” Richie lets go of Eddie’s hand, reluctantly, and shrugs off the jean jacket he was wearing and starts to kick off his shoes.

Eddie turns slowly, staring at Richie has he removes each layer of his clothing. After the shoes, Richie removes the belt from his acid wash jeans, then his yellow t-shirt. As his hands go to the hem of his jeans, Eddie speaks once more.

“If I jump will you stop calling me those shitty nicknames?” Richie notices that Eddie is looking anywhere other than him. “And don’t tell the others?”

“Sure,” Richie promises, almost letting Eds slip out of his mouth. He holds out a pinkie, keeping his other hand at his jeans.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie steps forward and slips his pinkie into Richie’s. “I hate you.”

Richie grins and pumps their hands up and down once, sealing the deal. “Nah that’s wha I’m talkin abaht!”

Eddie pulls his hand away, his shaking hands going to the sleeves of his t-shirt around his wrists. “That accent is awful.”

Sensing that Eddie is uncomfortable, Richie turns to face he edge and swiftly takes off his jeans, leaving him in just his plaid boxers. He places his hands on his hips and stares out at the glittering water fondly. It is a bright bluish-green underneath the sun, and perfectly flat, like glass.

Eddie materializes next to Richie after a minute, his chest and legs bare.

Richie scans Eddie’s small body. His skin is slightly tan, like he spent the last few weeks of summer outside, and his shoulders and arms covered in freckles that his face lack. His arms are crossed tightly to his chest, hiding the scars that Richie knows are there. They don’t cover the ones on the thighs, which are white against his sun-kissed skin.

“Staring is rude,” Eddie snaps, making Richie avert his eyes.

Richie leans over the side, his cheeks pink and mirroring Eddie’s. “Briefs; I approve.”

“I fucking hate you.” Eddie reidderates, stepping backwards and going towards his clothes.

“Nuh-uh! You promised.” Richie grabs Eddie’s wrist, making him wince, tugging him back to his side. “We can jump together.”

Their brown eyes connect, something passing between them. Eddie sighs, looking away. “Okay. Whatever.” Clasping their hands together tightly, Richie pulls them up to the edge, their toes hanging over. Eddie’s palms are shaky and sweating. “You aren’t going to take your glasses off?”

Richie shrugs, taking a deep breath. “You ready?”

“No,” Eddie says, his voice dripping honesty and fear. “You?”

The distant sound of a highway and birds chipping fills Richie’s ears, but Eddie’s voice comforts him. “No,” he admits. “This isn’t even the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I believe that.” Richie feels Eddie squeeze his hand. “I broke my fucking arm falling through the floor.”

A laugh bubbles in Richie’s chest. “On the count of three.”

Eddie nods. “One…”

“Two.”

There is a beat as Eddie hesitates on three. Then a yelp as Richie is tugging them both off the side. Richie doesn’t even get to think about how funny Eddie’s scream is before they’re both hitting the water, shattering the glass surface. It’s cold, Richie realizes first, then, Eddie’s hand is gone. Richie breaks the surface, pushing his hair away from his face and his glasses up onto the top of his head. Eddie is already up, gasping for breath. “You fucking suck, Tozier.”

“Your mom wasn’t complaining about it-”

Richie chokes and sputters on the water that Eddie splashes at him. “I can’t believe you made me do this, I could’ve died-”

“But we didn’t!” Richie says cheerily, staring at the blur that he knows is Eddie. “You jumped off a cliff with someone you’ve talked to a grand total of once before today!” Richie floats on his back, staring up at the shifting clouds.

Eddie’s hands push at Richie’s side, moving them towards the shore where The Losers usually hang out so that they can actually stand up. Richie lets him, closing his eyes and the corner of his mouth turning up. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, huh, Eds?”

“Didn’t you promise to stop calling me that?”

Richie moves to place his feet on the ground now that they can, keeping most of his torso under the water, just his head and shoulders above the surface. He stares up at Eddie, who is still a blur, but Richie thinks he might be almost smiling. “What would you rather I call you? Baby? Dear? Sweatpea, darling, loverboy-”

“Richie, can I tell you something?”

Richie stops his teasing, furrowing his brows. He nods his head aggressively so his glasses fall off his head and down onto the tip of his nose. Eddie pushes them up before Richie can even get to it, then drops his hands so that they rest on Richie’s warm shoulders. “Yeah, of course you can.”

Eddie crouches down so that he is at eye level and is also mostly underwater, keeping his hands on Richie’s shoulders. Richie expects some sort of confession, like about the scars on his arms and thighs or why everyone at school seems to treat Eddie like he’s a glass house just waiting for a rock to be thrown.

The breath that Eddie sucks in is shaky. “It’s my birthday.”

He has to laugh. Richie leans forward a little, not believing that Eddie made a big deal out of that. “Okay? Happy birthday?”

Eddie is moving away before Richie can truly appreciate how close they are. “I just... It feels like a big deal. For some reason.”

Richie can read between the lines, he isn’t stupid. Eddie is telling him, I didn’t expect to make it this far. Eddie is still under the water, but if Richie squints, he can see the lines that Eddie is trying hard to hide from him. Richie has heard some of the things people say about Eddie- but most of them contradict each other. He won’t pry, not yet. Today, he will just support his new friend and call him stupid nicknames.

“Every birthday is a big deal to Richie Tozier!” Richie exclaims, moving to toss an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, and begins to sing a terrible rendition of For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow, making Eddie laugh but not shove him away.

They go underneath the water once more, together, and this time, they do not separate.

#reddie #reddiefanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it (2017)#shut up mary

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kinkykinard · 7 years

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You Make it Feel Like Christmas

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Montgomery Scott X Female Reader. Prompt: Tartan blankets, hot chocolate, and a surprise gift. Word Count: 2008. Rating: All ages. Genre: fluff. Summary: Scotty’s the kind of guy who can’t wait to see you open your present, and it might just be the best one you’ve ever gotten. Author’s Note: Written for the absolutely amazing @youre-on-a-starship for my 2017 Star Trek Holiday Fic Exchange! I hope you like it, darlin’!

“No!” You shriek, flouncing awkwardly through the knee-deep snow, feeling clumps of it fall into the tops of your boots and start to melt against your skin. “Stop! Mercy!”

Another snowball hits you square between the shoulders and you laugh, stooping to pick up a handful of the fluffy stuff. Squeezing it into a firm ball of your own, you turn around and huck the projectile at your target, grinning as it nails him right in the middle of the sternum. Turning to run off again before he can give chase, your foot catches a tree root beneath the snow and you yelp as you pitch toward the ground, landing in a snowbank and sending a spray of frosty flakes into the air around you.

“Are ye alrigh’, lassie?” Scotty asks as he runs up next to you and drops to his knees at your side.

You giggle and reach up to wipe some snow off of your face as you roll over onto your back. You stare up at him as snowflakes drift lazily down from the clouds overhead in the warm evening light from the nearby street lamps, giving you the feeling of being in a snow globe.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, feeling your face heat a little from the exertion.

“Jim would kill me if I broke his favorite ambassador,” Scotty says with a grimace.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, holding out a hand.

“I’m not made of glass,” you tease. “Now help me up; the snow’s soaking through my clothes!”

Scotty reaches out to take your hand, scrambling to his feet before helping you up. As you stand, he lets go of your hand and briskly brushes away the bits of snow clinging to your clothes, tickling you a little in the process.

“Stop it!” You squeak. “It’s fine!”

“It’s too late,” Scotty says grimly. “Yer soaked. We should get ye inside before ye catch cold. Dr. McCoy would have my head if I brought you back to the ship like tha’. I can just hear ‘im now. If tha’ virus gets intae the central air circulation we’ll have an epidemic on our hands. What were ye thinkin’, Mr. Scott?”

You can’t hold back peals of laughter at Scotty’s awful impression of Dr. McCoy. Reaching out, you take his hand and give it a tug, leading him toward the cottage, watching the smoke billow from the old, cobbled chimney. It takes the two of you less than a minute to reach the front door and Scotty ushers you inside, locking up behind himself and stepping closer to you.

“Let’s get ye out of these wet clothes,” he suggests, reaching for your toque.

You allow him to pull it off as you untie your scarf, draping it over a nearby hook on the wall. Scotty unbuttons your coat for you and helps you slip it off as you kick off your boots. Before long, you’re standing there in your soggy base layer, shivering now that the cold is catching up with you.

“Go on and change intae something dry,” Scotty instructs you. “I’ll stoke the fire and make ye something tae help warm ye up.”

“You’re the best!” You trill with a smile, stepping forward and pausing briefly to give him a peck on the cheek. “I won’t be long.”

You miss the faint blush that colors his cheeks as you walk away, and you don’t notice his gaze following you as you round the corner and head for your shared bedroom. All you can do is focus on not shivering too badly as you make your way to the bathroom, already pulling your damp sweater over your head.

It doesn’t take you very long to strip and throw your wet clothes into the hamper. You jump into a quick, hot shower to freshen up a little and then dry yourself off before slipping into your favorite pair of flannel pajamas and a soft, warm pair of slippers. You pause beside the bedroom window for a moment, drawing a snowman in the condensation that’s collected on the window with your finger with a smile.

You linger at the window for a moment, staring out at the falling snow, taking in the panorama that’s glistening with the light from a distant full moon. Taking a deep, contented breath, you eventually pull yourself away and flick off the light as you make your way toward the den. You can see flickering spots of light dancing on the walls in the room from down the hall and hear the crackling of logs in the fire place and it makes you feel wonderfully at home.

As you near the living room, the rich scent of melting chocolate hits your nose and you take a deep breath, letting it out in a contented sigh. The noise gets Scotty’s attention from across the room and he beams at you from where he’s carrying two mugs of steaming hot drinking chocolate toward the coffee table near the fire. You shuffle over, your slippers rasping against the hardwood, and grin at the sight of the whipped cream spirals peeking out over the tops of the mugs.

“Is this the real stuff?” You ask.

Scotty nods as he sets the mugs down and takes a seat on the couch, motioning for you to join him.

“Made with heavy cream an’ real Swiss chocolate,” he replies. “An’ a dash o’ cinnamon for a touch o’ Christmas cheer.”

“Well it smells delicious,” you say brightly, reaching for one of the mugs with a shiver as a draft sweeps through the cabin.

The trembling doesn’t escape Scotty’s notice and as you take your first careful sips of the piping hot drink, he gets to his feet and moves over to an old wooden chest nestled in the corner of the room. You watch him as he pulls what looks like a couple of large bolts of cloth out of the chest and realize quickly as he returns to your side that they’re actually blankets.

“It’s best we keep ye nice an’ cozy,” he explains as he shakes out one of the blankets before draping it over your shoulders.

He follows suit with the other, this time laying it across your lap as you snuggle back into the couch cushions with the hot chocolate in your hands. You curl the fingers of one hand tightly around the mug and reach out with the other, gently playing with the knotted frills at the edges of one of the blankets. You admire it’s classic simplicity, lazily tracing the green and white stripes on the red background.

“Is this your family tartan?” You ask softly.

Scotty smiles and shrugs.

“In a way,” he answers. “It’s the tartan o’ the Scott clan, but family tartans are an invented tradition tha’s a lot more recent than ye think. It doesnae quite work the way most o’ the world seems tae think it does.”

You surface from where you’d dipped your head to sip at the cocoa and reflect his grin.

“You’ll have to break down tartan history for me one day,” you suggest. “I’d love to know more.”

“I can regale ye with the tales o’ the tartan while we prepare Christmas dinner,” he suggests. “I think I can manage tae shorten it down tae a two, maybe three hour lesson…”

You roll your eyes and reach for one of the throw pillows behind you, tossing it playfully at Scotty as the jest and spirit warm you from within. The two of you giggle for a few moments before you’re able to quiet down and when you do, Scotty shifts closer to you on the sofa, his knees bumping yours as he reaches out to take your mug from your hands. You let him and watch as he sets it on the coffee table before reaching for your hands instead, squeezing them gently.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any,” he says slowly.

“For what?” You ask.

“To give ye yer gift,” he replies, slipping off of the couch, kneeling on the floor and reaching under the couch.

“We agreed on no gifts this year!” You exclaim. “Besides, Christmas isn’t for two more days!”

Scotty smiles up at you as he pulls something out from under the couch, keeping it out of sight.

“Ye cannae deny a man the joy o’ watchin’ the love o’ his life open a Christmas gift,” he says, feigning hurt.

Rolling your eyes, you shift around a bit, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of the couch so it’s easier for you to take whatever it is he’s hiding. Instead of the large sized box you were expecting, however, he produces a very small one in the palm of his hand, reaching to open it up with the other, exposing a beautiful, glimmering, intricate ring.

Your mouth drops open as you stare at it for a long moment, feeling your heart leap in your chest. Slowly peeling your eyes away from the diamond solitaire, you look up at Scotty, his expression mingled excited and anxious as he reaches out to take your hand with the one unoccupied by the box.

“This ring is a promise,” Scotty says slowly, affection and nervousness warring for dominance in his eyes. “It seems sort o’ grim to say ‘til death do us part considering some o’ the situations we find ourselves in in this line o’ duty, but I can promise that I will always be here for you. I will walk with you through anything, and I will love you to the end. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and through anything else that comes – I just don’t want to jinx it with tha’ last bit.”

Tears well up in your eyes at his words, trapping starbursts of firelight in them and distorting your view. You reach up with your free, shaky hand to wipe them away as you nod furiously.

“Yes,” you whisper at first before gaining your resolve. “Yes!”

Scotty’s expression screws up into one of amusement and mild confusion.

“But I havnae even asked ye anything yet,” he points out.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You encourage him.

With a renewed vigor, Scotty steels himself, sits up a little straighter, and meets your gaze with a confident, loving one of his own. Squeezing the hand of yours that he’s holding, he sets down the box and plucks the ring from its velvet cushion, holding it up and ready to slip onto your finger.

“Will ye marry me?” He asks softly.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaim. “Of course I will, Monty!”

You watch as he slides the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly and sits gorgeously, scattering the flickering flames dancing in the nearby fireplace like a mirror ball. You lean in to examine it more closely for a moment, a sense of awe and unconditional love filling you.

Once the ring is in place, you quickly pull your hand out of Scotty’s grip and launch forward, crashing into him so hard the blankets slip off of you as you wrap your arms around him. Your inertia sends him off kilter and he topples to the floor with you astride his hips, grinning brightly as you lean in to kiss him.

“I want to have the wedding right here at the cabin,” you say in between brushes of your lips on his. “Just a small ceremony, you in your kilt, Jim officiating…”

Scotty laughs and nods.

“How could I ev’er deny ye anythin’?” He says softly. “O’course, hen.”

You smile and roll off of Scotty, straight onto the plush carpetl You shift and nestle in close to him, your hot chocolate long forgotten on the table as you wrap an arm around him, dreams of wedding bells dancing in your head.

“Merry Christmas, Monty,” you murmur, nuzzling into his neck.

“Merry Christmas, Alex,” he replies softly before tipping his head to claim your lips again.

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#it's beginning to look a lot like Star Trek 2017 #Star Trek AOS #Montgomery Scott #reader insert #fanfiction #imagines #fluff #Christmas

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daegustreetlights · 7 years

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Celebrating the Holidays with BTS

A/N; :’^ enjoy the sappiness

Seokjin:

The holiday season was definitely Seokjin’s favorite time of the year. The colder weather was perfect for sipping on hot chocolate and indulging in the sweet scent of pastries as the two of you spent your evenings baking together, and he found that he enjoyed moments like this quite a bit. The heat of the oven would gradually fill the room, making a pleasant warmth settle in the air as the conversation the two of you had been engaged in gradually died off. He’d simply gaze at you, nothing but love and adoration apparent in his eyes as he studied each of your features. After a few moments of this, you felt your cheeks heat up, a faint blush dusting them. “What? Is there something on my face?” You huffed out. He chuckled in response, shaking his head. “No. I’m just enjoying the view.”

Yoongi:

It was as if something changed within Yoongi every time the holidays rolled around. He was still the same sweet, lovable man that you had fallen in love with, but it seemed as though he was exceptionally affectionate during this time of the year. The two of you would often lounge around and watch Christmas movies, a heavy fleece blanket thrown over your bodies as you cuddled on the couch. His arms would be wound securely around your waist, his chest pressed flush against your back, and the two of you would be so comfortable that neither of you would want to move for hours on end. Not that you were complaining. He’d press chaste kisses to whatever exposed skin he could reach, whether that be your neck or shoulder, soft “I love yous” falling from his lips every so often.

“You’re the best gift I could ever ask for, Y/N.”

Hoseok:

You had been anticipating this day since the beginning of the month, and the moment you woke up you could feel excitement flooding every inch of your body. It was Christmas morning, and you couldn’t wait to spend the day with your boyfriend, feasting on copious amounts of food and binge-watching movies after gifts had been exchanged between the two of you. With a happy squeal, you rolled out of bed and dashed into the living room, the sight of an equally giddy Hoseok perched in front of the tree greeting you. “Jagiya~” He hummed out, taking hold of your hips and pulling you down onto his lap once you were within his grasp. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, making a warm smile form on your lips as you shifted and made yourself comfortable. A pleased hum fell from his lips as he reached out and picked one of the smaller gifts that had been resting under the tree, the silver ribbon that adorned the wrapped box glinting in the light as he handed it to you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you carefully unwrapped the present and removed the lid of the box, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as you gazed at its contents. He had purchased a locket, your initials engraved on the golden face of the small heart. The image inside was a picture from one of your first dates. You had opened your mouth to speak, wanting to thank him for the beautiful gift, but he was quick to silence you. With a sly grin, he produced a small bundle of mistletoe, holding it overhead.

“I think I’d like my gift now.”

Namjoon:

Namjoon certainly wasn’t the most graceful individual, and often went out of his way to avoid touching things that were delicate or held deep sentimental value to others, lest he break the item in question. That being said, when he insisted on helping you decorate the large tree that had been set up in the corner of your living room, you were a bit taken aback. He stood atop the ladder, a look of determination present within his eyes as he removed one of the round glass ornaments from the box he was holding in his left hand. He leaned forward, placing the delicate decoration at the end of one of the protruding leaves on the fake pine tree. A sigh of relief fell from his lips as he pulled back, and a cry of triumph was set to leave him when the ornament slid from its perch and smashed against the linoleum tiles of the floor. He glanced over at you, the look on his face screaming that he was beyond done with himself at this point.

“Why does this always happen to me?!”

Jimin:

Christmas was always a fun ordeal, but the joy that came with the winter holiday was magnified whenever Jimin was around. After the house had been decorated and the ornaments had been hung on the tree, the two of you would sit in front of the fireplace and talk about anything and everything that came to mind. The warmth that radiated from the fire and the hazy orange glow that illuminated your faces made it easy to relax and lose track of time, simply enjoying the presence of one another. Jimin listened intently as you began to talk about how your day at worked had faired you, finding the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about the kids you taught to be rather endearing. It was then that he realized he wanted to spend every year like this. He wanted to stay by your side, basking in your sweet smile and the melodious sound of your laughter. That thought alone made his heart swell, and before he knew it he was getting lost in the sound of your voice, a happy smile spreading across his lips.

Taehyung:

You and Taehyung had always seen the holidays as the perfect time to express yourselves in somewhat unconventional ways, believing that it would bring more joy to not only the two of you but the people you chose to spend time with as well. That being said, you had opted to throw a party this year rather than simply exchanging gifts with your loved ones, making the focal point of the gathering the sweaters you had asked your guests to wear. Taehyung entered the living room as you began setting out snacks on the coffee table, a truly hideous article of clothing adorning his body. The sweater he was wearing had to have been at least two sizes too big, and the green and white striped sleeves didn’t compliment the red material that had been used to make the rest of it. Large multicolored ornaments were attached to the entirety of the piece of clothing, as well as a string of lights that were currently blinking. He extended his arms, turning to give you a better view. “It’s great, right?” You merely nodded in response, biting your lip to stifle a laugh as he flashed you a bright grin.

“Taehyung, you can’t enter the ugly sweater contest if you’re hosting it.”

“Oh…”

Jungkook:

As Christmas day drew nearer you found yourself growing more and more frantic, doing your very best to ensure that everything came out perfect. That being said, as of late, a large portion of your time was spent out and about, buying things you felt you needed, whether it be new decorations for the house or ingredients for the baking you planned to do. You had just returned home from one of these outings, fumbling to get the key for your front door into the lock, when you felt something cold and spherical slam into your back. A gasp fell from your lips as you turned to face your assailant. The man in question just so happened to be your impish looking boyfriend, Jungkook, and several more snowballs rested by his feet. Without a word, you dropped the bag in your hand and hurriedly formed a snowball of your own, launching it at his face. The two of you stayed out there, chasing each other and screaming until your fingers were beginning to go numb and the tips of your noses had turned red.

“It’s so cold…but you continue to warm my heart.”

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts reactions #v #jimin #jungkook #jhope #rm #jin #suga #namjoon #hoseok #taehyung #seokjin #yoongi

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