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artxyra · 3 years ago

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The Return of the Premier Chaotique

Marinette was only eight years old when her primary school life changed for the better.

On that fateful day, in Mlle. Gilbertine’s classroom was the introduction of a new transfer student. He introduced himself as Damian; there was no last name. And if there was one, Gilbertine made sure she didn’t say a word of it.

To Marinette, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Kim, he was an odd boy. Someone that would fit right into their group after a push, as Damian stressed for no social interactions with anyone.

During the early weeks of his stay, Marinette had caught him several times engaging in lonesome activities, whether they were in the classroom or out in the field messing around. Marinette, being the outgoing child that she was, began to plot.

Created from that plotting period was her life’s mission to befriend the emotionless kid.

It was hard at first.

She and the others tried tricking the young man into hopscotch matches, and when that didn’t work, it was a game of red light, green light. Occasionally, Nino and Kim would challenge Damian to dance battles.

Damian was very much against the childish games claiming that they were beneath him, but humored them into defeat.

That was until Marinette decided on a shooting game with water guns and makeshift go-carts out of bike parts. Damian’s eyes lit up with excitement, and Marinette knew right then and there that she finally fulled her goal.

After being soaked from head to toe and laughing amongst friends, Marinette and the others swore Damian into their friend group, thus changing their lives forever.

Soon newer and crazier games began to take over the classroom of Mlle. Gilbertine.

The moment Nino would bring out his portable CD player and the music began to boom out of the speakers, everyone knew what was about to happen.

One day, while the group was in the school’s pool area pretending to be sea monsters attacking each other with kickboards and pool noodles, they were officially dubbed the “Premier Chaotique” cult. As they were youthful and the material they came up with was more chaotic than anything the future Hawkmoth could ever create.

Everyone knew that Marinette and Damian were the leaders. Together they oozed power, as Marinette was their strategist while Damian was the chief.

Chloe was their lawyer and location scout. The blonde knew what areas had cameras and heavy guarding. Kim was their chaotic developer. He knew what methods were more chaotic than the rest. Kim never failed to disappoint. Nino was their sound design and videographer in some cases. His love for filmmaking and DJing started here and continues to grow. Nathaniel was the tagger as he made sure every graffiti they did was perfect.

Nothing could ruin these kids.

Mlle. Gilbertine, bless her soul, was determined to get the Premier Chaotique cult under control, but they were slick and made plans at random. She remembers the day when empty ice cream cups filled her classroom. Every desk was covered, and nothing could explain the appearance of snow sleds in the class.

It was no rumor that the mini cult managed to create their own little snow resort using ice cream and shave ice. It was a pain to clean up.

Marinette remembers the days when the mini cult would paint the city red with flowers and chaotic goodness. Or turning the entire city into a roller skate derby.

It’s a miracle that the cops never brought their parents into the investigation. Then again, with a child as pure as Marinette in the lead, people would fall over when they saw her smile.

Their significant achievement was when the school’s kitchen managed to catch on fire during a lunch period. During the evacuation, the group somehow managed to slip through the adults and back into the cafeteria.

Kim had brought marshmallows that day.

When the firefighters entered to put out the flames, the six children greeted them with wooden sticks eating s’mores and telling scary stories.

That fire had been their last valuable success because they experienced the worst nightmare a couple of days later, Damian had to go back to his home country.

It was heartbreaking for everyone within the cult but groundbreaking for the city.

Marinette fell into depression along with the others. After a month without Damian, they vowed to never speak of the best year of their life unless they were ever to meet Damian again.

It was no secret that Marinette had a crush on the foreign boy, so the cult disassembles along with any memories of Damian and the cult.

Years passed since that day.

Chloe took it upon herself to bully Marinette when they had entered college, as those who knew them in their younger days forgot that they were ever friends. Marinette took up fashion designing and making her seem like the perfect student. Nathaniel started working on comics based on their adventures. Nino stayed friends with all but Chloe and continued with his calling in music production. Kim began busying himself with sports, specifically swimming.

Soon the name that used to strike fear in the hearts of the Paris citizens began to fade away into a false memory.

Little did anyone know, the spirit of the Premier Chaotique cult lives on and would ignite in a blaze of fire.

At sixteen, Marinette works her butt off to make their end-of-the-school-year trip a reality.

The trip was not for the approval of her classmate, which has gone stale but for her sanity. Three years of being Ladybug have put a toll on her, and she plans to take advantage of the lack of akuma attacks going on.

When the acceptance letter landed in her hands, her parents swear they saw a boulder lifted off their daughter’s shoulders. She was smiling more and appeared less stressed than she had ever been since finding out the school board decided to move teachers with their students as a handful of teachers left Paris, some even left France altogether.

Her allies (remaining friends) were the first to know about the trip to Gotham, New Jersey, and they cheered happily for her. Lately, someone else has taken the credits for her work.

The day before the trip, Marinette rundown the patrol routes, and emergency protocols with Luka and Kagami, ensuring the safety of Paris if and when Hawkmoth decided to go active while the rest of the team was away.

She then goes on to convincing Kaalki to come with her to Gotham only to be used as an emergency. Marinette was ready to leave Paris and head to Gotham.

Upon entering the streets of Gotham, a cold chill runs down everyone’s spines aside from the former mini cult members. Too Mme. Bustier, the chill was all too familiar, bringing up memories of the kids that terrorized the streets before Hawkmoth. She looks around to see nothing out of place before promptly calling out her students so they would make it to the hotel.

Everyone who felt that chill had every right to be wary.

On the first day, everything seemed fine, but when you leave nearly all the members of Premier Chaotique alone for a moment, well, chaos was sure to happen.

Chloe and Marinette had put aside their differences during the Lila era of the classroom reign. Even after it was over, they managed to remain friends, rekindling the essence of primary friendship. The boys joined in on them not long afterward.

Plans were made but not yet enforced. It did not feel right, and they knew why– it was because they lacked their chief, the one and only Damian.

~☾★☽~

All Marinette wanted was a cup of coffee, but instead, she got something--someone much more pleasing.

Frozen in place, she calls out a single name, “Dames?” The dark-haired male turned around; she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes soften at the sight of her first crush. He hadn’t changed by much, though he was now taller than her.

“Mars?” That nickname sent the French-Asian teen running into the arms of the Ice Prince himself. Instead of pushing her away, he wraps his arms around her.

Time froze in that café for several reasons, but the main one was definitely because they just witnessed Damian Wayne hugging someone willing.

Their embrace ends with them staring into each other’s eyes. It felt surreal. They couldn’t find the words to say, but they didn’t have to.

Life continues in the cafe as Damian leads Marinette away from the flashes of lights. It wasn’t long before Damian’s phone began to blow up with notifications. He turns his phone off and stuffs it back into his pocket.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Marinette pulls Damian in closer. Lifting herself onto her tip-toes, she whispers, “The others are here too.” into his ear. She steps away to see what she has unleashed, hoping that nearly a decade away from each other hasn’t altered their relationship.

This time it was Damian who smirks, bringing Marinette closer to him. “Mm, shall be bring Gotham to its knees?”

They share a smirk that ends with an explosion, thus, reigniting the Premier Chaotique cult with a burning passion for mayhem.

They decided to meet that night after hours.

Music blared in the streets of Gotham, seemingly close to the classroom’s hotel near Wayne Enterprise.

The members of Premier Chaotique strut down the middle of the streets in inflatable dinosaur suits dancing to the remixes that played from the boombox on one of the dino’s skateboards (Nino’s).

Jamming to Bats @crazyforbats Did anyone else wake up to music and dancing dinos last night?

Bearbe @Bearbe Replying to @crazyforbats THAT WAS REAL!!??? I THOUGHT I WAS HULLACINATING

Krazie Kay @gokaykaer [A one-minute video with various strobe lighting colors flashing around and six dinosaurs doing the Cha-Cha-Slide] I swear I just saw @thebloodwayne for a split second.

Vera Pitts @vera_pitts [A short video of inflatable dinosaurs chaotically dancing to the Harlem Shake.] I thought this trend of over and done *crying emoji*

By the morning, Twitter was blowing up with various videos and gifs of the events that happened the night before. The only people who weren’t affected by the popularity were the people who were a part of it.

At Wayne Manor, Bruce could already feel a migraine coming as his two oldest play the videos repeatedly in the main room.

Damian scoffs at his family members, while Dick complains about why they haven’t thought of that for a family outing. It’s all about class, Dick; it’s all about class.

Alfred, being all-knowing, takes notice of Damian's hidden smirks and recent purchase from his account at a party store. Nothing to worry about in this household. However, Damian asking him about where to find used pocket bikes (mini motorcycles) and wire rope reels was troubling.

The next night began the fears of every Parisian that experienced the reign. Blessed that it wasn't not happening in their city for once.

Per their plan assignments, Chloe and Kim found the buildings necessary for the zip line. Nino was in charge of setting up the equipment with the help of Nathaniel. Damian’s task was to get the bikes and zip line wire. Marinette’s job was to keep the class and others from finding out their plan.

Once everything was ready, the Premier Chaotique entered their playground wearing hooded leotards (or bodysuits) with matching latex masks stretched over their eyes.

Kim went first down the zip line as Damian race down the streets on the bike. Initially, they were going to use the bikes, but the zip line couldn’t hold the weight of the bike and the person on it, so they turned it into a race instead. Of course, they put challenges throughout the route to make it more even.

Their mayhem took a turn for the best when someone had called the cops, causing the for once silent night into a regular night of crime. Instead of stopping, like normal people, the mini cult went on a high-speed race against the GCPD.

Gotham’s Twitter users were having a blast with the events. It was the best and bravest thing to surface since Batman, though some were very vocal with their opposing thoughts.

The GCPD never caught the Premier Chaotique members, and they went on as if nothing happened.

It was during the tour of Wayne Enterprise that the Premier Chaotique members learned Damian’s last name. He was an effing Wayne.

Marinette had asked Damian what his last name was when they were eight, and he replied nonchalantly with something along the lines of not being a Wayne until he was ten. Afterward, they continue hanging out and plotting throughout the tour.

After seeing their younger brother interact with teens his age, Dick specifically begs Bruce to invite the group while the rest stands there in shock. The sight of seeing Damian doing what they thought was impossible needed to go into the history books.

While it was a momentous occasion for Damian’s brothers, it was a reality check for Mme. Bustier. Her screams echo against the halls of WE as buried memories of the chaos awakens.

She stared pointedly at Marinette in denial. There was no way her star student was in the cult that did so much damage all those years ago. When Chloe, Nino, Kim, and quiet Nathaniel joined her, Caline started to feel faint. She immediately excused herself to call her therapist. Her wails for help could reach the lobby.

Bruce unknowingly invited even more chaos into his household that night.

It didn’t take Chloe and Marinette much to convince their teachers to let the five of them stay with Mr. Wayne for the night in hopes of “catching up” with Damian.

After getting the approval from Mr. Wayne and their parents, she agreed, secretly ecstatic that they wouldn’t be in her care for the next several hours.

~☾★☽~

“I’m bored. Let’s play a prank?” Kim randomly shouts, playing catch with himself, when they were all staring out the TV waiting for something good to come on.

“What do you have in mind?” Marinette asks, making her way over to Damian. He pushes her away, knowing that she’ll use him as a throne.

“Hey Dames, do you own go-carts are something of a familiar nature?”

Damian thinks about it for a minute, “Tt, father wouldn’t dare let those things in the house. We can prank my brothers. Scaring them would bring me joy.”

“Well I have a few ideas, we can use.” Chloe states, pulling out the book of mischief from her purse.

They all huddle over the book with smirks on their faces.

-----

A retouch version of Request #9.

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #artxyra one-shots #slight daminette

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maggies-scribblings · 4 years ago

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Yarning For Her

Adrien is smitten with the girl who's always been there, in the row behind him. But when his plans to ask Marinette out unravel, a secret throws him for a loop…

Written for the Miraculous Writer's Guild April Event 2021: Followers sent five emojis as prompts to the @mlwritersguild Tumblr for the writers to pick one to write for. I chose the emojis sent by @ladycat1: ✨ 😊 👀 👩🏻 🧵

Canon compliant up to Season 4, Episode 4: M. Pigeon 72.

👩🏻

It was finally happening. The event everyone was waiting for… well, everyone except the main protagonist of said event.

Marinette could feel it, though she could hardly believe it. She noticed Adrien looking at her with more intensity, when he thought she wasn’t looking. How he had trouble finding the right words when talking to her. All the tiny gestures of attention, like offering to help with a difficult subject or a complex art project, or praising her outfit every day, even if she’d worn it several times before.

Nino could tell, too: questions about Marinette and her favourite colour, food, flower, or whatever else were whispered in his right ear all day.

Actually, the whole class noticed Adrien’s marked change in behaviour. His cheerful hellos were now stuttered in Marinette’s general direction. His head hid on his shoulders whenever Marinette sighed or yawned, as if his neck couldn’t handle her fresh breaths. Even his athletic skills were now replaced with an unexplained jerkiness. The fact that the weather was warmer and the girls’ gym suits gave way to short shorts and strappy tops might have had something to do with it.

In short, Adrien fell in love with Marinette. Hard.

👀

When it started, Adrien couldn’t exactly tell. Ever since that first day of school, Marinette had held a special space in his heart (most of which had been stolen by Ladybug the previous day). She was one of his first and dearest friends.

But now… after getting to know Marinette, her loving and kind nature, after seeing her helping others without asking for anything back, after finally noticing how pretty she was… he wasn’t so sure.

That day at the pool was definitely a turning point.

First there was that unplanned double dive. During those milliseconds when they were falling, Adrien’s thought process went something like this:

Danger!—Why is Marinette here?—Protect!—Wow, she looks so cute in that swimsuit!

As they hit the water, their arms instinctively reached out to the other as they sank, swirling back up to the surface in a soft embrace — just like that night in New York, when they had danced floating in the air, under the full moon.

And when they were leaving the pool, Adrien was so happy and surprised to see she still had the umbrella he’d given her way back then! Sweet as always, she offered to give it back to him, even though it was raining and she had to walk home.

She was standing next to him (she linked her arm in his!) when that pesky umbrella decided to close on them, and they were pulled even closer for a few seconds. Very close. He could smell the chlorine in her hair mixed with the scent of sweets that always surrounded her. He thought he felt her heart beating faster and faster. Maybe it wasn’t. His heart certainly was. He could feel her warm breath through his shirt, and it drove him a little crazy.

When they said goodbye that day, he could hardly take his eyes off her. He even bumped his head on the car door frame. Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the charming, elegant model Adrien Agreste, unable to enter a car (come to think of it, he seemed to have a bit of a problem with doors whenever Marinette was around).

✨

The few weeks that went by did nothing to sort out Adrien’s feelings about the two black-haired girls in his life. His days were mortifying, his nights restless. On one such night, Adrien tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn’t come. The full moon and bright stars shining through the window frames painted his room with grid patterns, a constant reminder of his confined life.

Adding to that, his mind was racing with memories of his (now frequent) clumsiness and embarrassment at school. He recalled the fumble of the day: going into the classroom while trying to look cool, he managed to snag his bag strap on the door handle, causing him to jerk back and hit the ground on his butt in front of the whole class.

Adrien groaned and turned again. Worst thing was, he had no idea how she felt for him. She kept sending mixed signals. Her behaviour towards him wasn’t as weird as it had been, but that didn’t mean a lot. He’d even asked her a couple of times. He remembered the time they visited the wax museum, when she said she didn’t like him like that.

“What’s the matter, kid?” Plagg yawned from his side of the pillow, annoyed by his bearer’s restlessness. “Who is it this time? Spots or bakery girl?”

Adrien didn’t bite, going back into his musings instead.

His mind turned to Ladybug… These days, Spots occupied a much smaller part of his thoughts. He still got the occasional butterflies in his stomach when he saw her, or when she praised him and his humour. She would always be his first love, and not an easy girl to forget… but she was right, of course — she was always right — as long as they had enemies, they couldn’t reveal their identities, much less deepen their relationship. Back when Bunnyx first showed up, they found out that there would be a new Hawkmoth and countless akumas in the future, and who knew when that would end?

Plagg was still grumbling about sleep and cheese. Adrien playfully flicked his kwami’s ear.

“Shut up, Plagg! I’m trying to sleep!”

“Very unsuccessfully, I might say,” Plagg flew out of his reach. “You sighed four-hundred and fifty-eight times in the last hour.”

“Come on… can’t you see I’m in turmoil here?” Adrien turned his back to the kwami. It was no use arguing with a deity, no matter how minuscule.

“Four-hundred and fifty-ni—” Plagg’s teasing was interrupted by a pillow hitting him.

😊

This wouldn’t do. Adrien couldn’t stand his own indecisiveness any more. He decided to ask Marinette out, that very day. After a reviving shower, he got dressed and looked in the mirror. The dark circles around his eyes were evident, but he hated wearing concealer to school. He might as well add a couple of details to his usual get-up: a pair of Gabriel’s new collection sunglasses and his favourite blue scarf.

He arrived at school early, and while most of the class was either chatting in the courtyard or going into the classroom, Marinette was nowhere to be seen. Adrien went into the locker room, and lurked behind the last row of lockers while students got in, got their things and left.

Finally, the hurricane that was late-for-class-Marinette thundered in, scolding herself for oversleeping as she got her books for the morning. When she closed the door, there was Adrien, leaning against the cabinets with his best Chat Noir smirk as he looked over the rim of his sunglasses and greeted her.

“Good morn—”

He didn’t have time to finish his line, as a very startled Marinette squeaked and grabbed his free arm to spin him around and pin him to the lockers with an elbow to his throat.

It took a few moments for Adrien realise exactly what had happened, before she released her hold.

“I’m sorry, I… panicked,” Marinette said, as she stepped back and continued to gesticulate wildly and mumble more awkward apologies.

Still frozen in place, Adrien managed to adjusted his crooked sunglasses.

“Marin—” he had to clear his throat. “No, I— It’s o-ow!”

Adrien tried and failed to step forward, as he heard a ripping sound — his scarf was caught in Marinette’s locker, and the momentum slammed him back into the metal doors with a loud bang.

The proverbial stars that blurred his vision cleared up to show Marinette very close to him, fumbling with the lock to release the scarf.

“Sorry, so sorry, I’m such a klutz!”

“It’s okay, no harm do—”

Adrien stopped talking when he saw that the scarf had a large rip, disappointment obvious upon his face.

“Oh no!” Marinette covered her mouth as she saw the damage. “Your scarf! I ruined it!”

At this point, Adrien would usually smile and say something like ‘it’s okay’ or ‘no worries’, but he couldn’t lie: he really loved that scarf. It was his favourite colour, warm and cosy, yet light enough to wear on a spring day, and a rare thoughtful gift from his father. He pouted a little as his fingers traced the tear.

“I can fix it!”

He lifted his eyes to Marinette as she got on her tiptoes to unwind the scarf from his neck.

“I can make it look as good as new. I know you’re worried, after all it’s your dad’s birthday gift,” she rambled as she delicately folded it, “but I have leftover yarn— I mean, I think I have the same colour, and it’s a simple pattern.”

There was something odd about the way she worded that, but Adrien dismissed it. He must have made a weird face, because now she had a concerned expression.

“I mean, if you trust me with it… I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t after I destroyed it. ”

“No—I mean, don’t be silly, it was an accident… I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you like that!” He managed a relieved little smile. “Still, my father might be upset if he saw I ripped it. Are you sure you can fix it?”

Marinette’s eyes averted his for a moment, as she returned the folded up scarf.

“I’ll do my best! I’m not a pro like your father, but I’m sure I can make it as good as new in no time at all!”

They agreed to go to Marinette’s place after school so that she could start working on it right away, then ran off to class as the second bell rang.

Not exactly the way I planned it, Adrien thought as he scrambled onto his seat, but I guess it worked!

🧵

Adrien reclined in the chaise-longue and looked around Marinette’s bedroom. It was the total opposite of his, huge and aseptic and cold. On the contrary, these walls had warm colours and pictures everywhere, and it smelled amazing, fruity shampoo mixed with glue and ink from her many design projects, mixed with sweets from the bakery, and everything about it was so welcoming and cosy and so… Marinette.

“Yes!” Her delighted voice interrupted his reveries. “I knew I still had it!”

Adrien chuckled as he saw Marinette triumphantly holding a ball of light blue yarn, then get several needles from her yarn basket and sit at her sewing station to start working. He switched seats to her desk chair and rolled close to her.

“Can I help?”

“Sure! Let me just…”

Marinette picked up a long, thin knitting needle and started to thread it on the scarf, just above the tear. She was so concentrated and her movements so careful and precise, she might as well be defusing a bomb. Adrien noticed her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth and wondered what her kisses would taste like.

“There. I have the brakes on, now let’s get going.”

Marinette found the end stitch at the corner of the scarf and cut it. Giving Adrien the end of the yarn, she continued.

“Hold this. Make a ball while I unravel it.”

“Huh? Un-what?” Much as Adrien trusted her skills, he panicked. “Won’t you make it worse?”

“No, because I’m holding the knitting with this,” she pointed at the longer needle she had threaded through the scarf.

Marinette turned her chair, so they were sitting face to face, knees almost touching, and started to quickly unravel the bottom part of the scarf, while he rolled up the thread in a ball, both enjoying the comfortable silence. He noticed a small piece of fabric falling from one of the edges and bent down to pick it up.

“What’s this?” Adrien thought out loud while examining it.

As soon as Marinette lifted her eyes from her work and saw what he was holding, her eyes went wide and her cheeks red.

“Oh, it’s nothing—” she tried unsuccessfully to snatch the fabric from his hand. “Probably just the washing inst—”

It was not an ordinary washing instructions tag. It was tiny and had been woven into the knitting, so discreetly he’d never noticed it before. He turned the fabric over to see a recognisable signature.

Marinette

“Wait— you made this?” Adrien picked up the other end of the scarf from her lap and examined like he’d never seen it before. “Wha—? How? D-did my father buy it off your website?”

So that’s why she was so confident about fixing it. He searched Marinette’s face for an explanation, but she just shook her head and kept looking down, unravelling the loops one by one.

“No— of course not— your site wasn't set up back then, we only took those photos later…”

Adrien thought back to the time Nathalie handed him the present, neatly packed in a box with a ribbon. He’d never seen that kind of care in his father’s presents, just standard gift bags with expensive pens, straight from a corporate catalogue. His train of thought was broken by a couple of tears falling on his hands.

“Marinette…” he murmured, lifting her chin to look into her misty eyes. “Did you make this for me?”

She nodded with a tiny smile. He moved his hand from her chin to cup her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“Was this supposed to be your present for me?” Another nod. “How did this mess happen then?”

“I…” Marinette had to clear her throat and finally looked at him. Something in her eyes changed from avoidance to determination. “I wanted to give it to you personally, but I couldn’t gather the nerve… then one thing led to another, and I left it in your house, and I even signed it, but…” she shrugged.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just… couldn’t. You were so happy with the present from your dad. I couldn’t ruin it for you.”

Adrien made a mental note to find out exactly what had happened, then set all his negative feelings aside. His heart was too full of love to think about anything other than the girl in front of him.

“Oh, Marinette…” he softly chided as he hugged her. How could this girl be so selfless, on top of everything else? She cared for him, really cared for him, even back then. “I wish you’d told me.”

He released the hug and pulled her closer, into his lap. Marinette set the scarf on the sewing table and put her arms around his neck. Her tears were gone and a hint of a smile played on her lips.

“That way,” Adrien caressed her nose with his, “I would have thanked you properly.”

“Oh yeah?” Marinette breathed, her lips very close to his. “You can thank me now.”

They closed the distance between them, their lips melding into a sweet kiss, then another, and then a few more. Adrien’s heart was beating so fast he could hardly bear it. Then he remembered he should probably breathe at some point.

“Wow.”

“If that’s the way you thank a person for a present, I’ll start giving them more often,” Marinette joked.

“Not anyone.” He pecked her lips. “Only you.”

They kissed again, this time more passionately. He kissed her eyes, the tip of her nose, her forehead, her neck, then back up to her lips…

The scarf was left forgotten on the sewing table. It could wait a few more hours before repairing.

Fin

Thanks to @hari-writes and @deinde-prandium for the beta read! ❤️

Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies, please let me know.

My AO3. My Twitter. My Instagram.

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celestial-fucking-weeb · 4 years ago

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Anonymity be Damned

Hi, everyone! This is my first ever fic, and it’s a part of the Citrus Server collab! I’m so excited about it, and I know it’s super self indulgent, but I worked really hard on it and I hope you like it. Please give me feedback and tell me what you like and what I can improve on; also, please be nice to me, I’m a baby.

MASTER LIST IS HERE Go check out everyone’s hard work!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, brief angst, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x chubby!female reader

Taglist: @reinawritesbnha

Prompt: "Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits started to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…"

—————————

Of course, not thinking twice about accepting came back to bite you as soon as the realization set in that you would, in fact, have to go. Suddenly hyper-aware of your need to buy a dress, and knowing how little you enjoy shopping, you call your best girls for the job. A quick text to the groupchat had Mina and Yaomomo screaming with excitement that you were actually asking to go shopping. Jirou and Ochako sharing your apprehension, and Hagakure and Froppy bowing out due to their schedules, but wishing you luck with sweet emojis.

Yaomomo chose the dress shop, under the enthusiastic offer that she’d pay to ensure everyone would receive something from her favorite designers. You knew this was a place only Yaomomo could frequent- beautiful gowns lined every wall, display mannequins donning the most gorgeous dresses, made of the best fabrics with jewels perfectly beaded in, none of which had price tags so as to not “ruin the material” as she had told all of you. Whisking you all into dressing rooms bigger than your entire apartment, the staff practically fawned over each of you, offering assistance, refreshments, recommendations, and- oh fuck- measurements. Nerves shot through your entire body and made you nauseous, ready to make a stupid excuse to leave before your insecurities were announced to your girlfriends. You’ve always been...bigger.

The word tasted bitter on your tongue. The consultant made barely a sound as she pulled out her tape, but you heard it. That little “hm” noise, indicating judgement, knowing that most of their stock isn’t going to fit you properly, what with your plump thighs, soft tummy, squishy arms, the rolls that seemed to stay no matter how many workouts you do..

“We don’t carry plus size gowns, but I’m sure I can find something for you.”

All is confirmed when she says those stupid fucking words with that Joker-esqe smile and that hint of disgust in her tone. ‘I shouldn’t be here, I never should’ve accepted that invitation, why did I even think this was a good idea, the whole thing is for beautiful skinny girls like your friends, this is all a mistake,’ you think to yourself, insecurities and anxiety flooding your brain. Mina’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Excuse me, I don’t believe we asked for your personal opinion on her body. In fact, I believe we only asked for you to do your job, but if you can’t complete such a daunting task, I’m sure there are 20 other people who’d love to take your place.” she grinned, in a tone too perky for her threatening choice of words.

“Also, as I happen to frequent this shop, I know your entire inventory. As such, I know that you do, in fact, carry gowns for each of our sizes. If you can find one to fit my chest, I know you have a variety of gowns to fit my beautiful friend, y/n. I suggest you begin pulling them, as I’m sure you’ve gotten the measurements you need. Now.” This time it’s Yaomomo, handling the situation with dignitary-level finality, before gracefully walking to you with a comforting smile. Ochako wipes a tear you weren’t aware had fallen, attempting to comfort you with false empathy, saying how you two are “practically the same size”, but you know you’re not. It’s comforting nonetheless, having the support of your friend group. Jirou cracks self deprecating jokes to lighten the mood, complaining, “If I have to wear a frilly gown to this bullshit, so do you, y/n. You’re not getting out of this that easy,” and you absolutely know she means it.

With your spirit slightly renewed and the consultants carrying in a multitude of dresses, you all end up having a blast laughing about how the pink ballgown does not fit Jirou’s aesthetic and the skintight green satin number Ochako tried on would quite literally have Deku passed out on the floor. You giggled with Yaomomo about how certain dresses looked risqué and nearly pornographic on your respective figures. Mina whined about how each dress didn’t have enough glitter, her complaints falling on deaf ears. Over the course of two and a half hours, each of the girls had secured a dress. Mina, in a teal mermaid-style dress with enough sparkle woven into the tulle to blind. Jirou, in a simple deep purple velvet gown that gracefully fell off her shoulders. Ochako, deciding, after much peer pressure, to opt for the green satin to make Deku drool. Yaomomo, in a red gown with beautiful beading, and a deep V neckline. You, on the other hand, were struggling to find something that doesn’t have you hyperfixating on one aspect of your body or another, limiting your breathing and movement so as to not further sink into the mean thoughts swirling around inside your head. The girls have gone into full support staff-mode, bringing you dresses of every cut known to man, offering more champagne to dull the anxieties, Yaomomo even offering to make you a custom dress with her quirk. Jirou sheepishly comes into the room, head down, hoping no one brings attention to the fact that she just sifted through dresses for a good 15 minutes and didn’t hate it, before nudging your soft side. You turn to her, defeated, and ready to give up, when you realize what she’s holding. She’s picked a dress for you, even though she hates shopping anywhere that isn’t blaring music through the speakers and dimly lit. You smile sweetly at her shy offering, reaching out to take it before she pulls back.

“No, I have an idea… I know it’s easy to look at your insecurities before the dress is all the way on, and I think you should let us help you into it with your eyes closed… Then, when you turn around to the mirror, you can see all the beautiful parts, like we do!” She looks down at the floor as she mutters the words, as though she’s embarrassed to be so soft and sweet.

“THAT’S A GREAT IDEA, JIROU! OH MY GOD, Y/N, YOU HAVE TO LET US DRESS YOU, IT’LL BE JUST LIKE CINDERELLA WITH THE BIRDS AND THE MICE, COME ONNN…” Mina bounces up and down, grabbing your hands and pleading, knowing you never say no when she gives you such excited eyes.

“Uh… fine… Yeah, I guess it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like I have anything to lose.” You shyly whisper, looking away.

If it were anyone else, you’d never want them to see you getting dressed, soft tummy and extra squish uncovered, leaving you vulnerable to their judgement. But these are your best friends, you’d known them for years. They’d held your hair on your 21st birthday, and cuddled into bed with you when you were crying over unrequited love. They’ve had your back, they’d never make fun of you, and Jirou chose this dress all special for you, you couldn’t say no. With that, you turned around and closed your eyes, arms out and waiting for them to help you into whatever Jirou had deemed right for you.

“Okay, y/n, almost done, just have to zip this last part up and… DONE!” Mina and Yaomomo stepped back from their positions holding the sides and pulling the zipper, respectively. Finally admiring the you in the dress, there was a moment of absolute silence. You started shifting uncomfortably, wondering just how horrible you looked if they didn’t even have words to describe it. Ochako was the first to break the quiet and a teary-sounding “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”, followed by Mina’s signature squeals of excitement. Yaomomo clasped her hands together and began ranting about “how gorgeous you looked” and “how perfect the dress was” and “how she didn’t even know they had this one yet”. Jirou, sensing your anxious shifting, finally told you to open your eyes and turn around with a hand on your shoulder, the satisfied smirk on her face audible in her now assured voice.

“Oh… wow…” was all you could manage to say, eyes wide as you saw yourself in the full length mirror. This was, in all honesty, the first time you felt beautiful in years. The dress did nothing to hide your body- no- it somehow managed to accentuate every single curve in the most beautiful way possible. The gown was black, made from silk and taffeta, with some built in structure, and oh so soft. Simultaneously comfortable, secure, and elegant, the strapless gown mimicked a one shoulder, right side jutting up in an asymmetrical style and the left dipping just low enough to show your cleavage before cascading down your curves, hugging each roll of your body gently, showing off your figure and flowing down to the floor with a slit up your thigh, only visible when you walked and showing the ample flesh of your hip and thigh. God, it was perfect. You felt strong and classy and sexy and beautiful. Turning to Jirou, you pull her into your chest and hug her, thanking her a thousand times for finding it.

“Whoa, hey, okay… I’m glad you like it, you look absolutely beautiful. But- um- hey, can you let go? I’m suffocating in titties here.” Jirou laughed, genuinely struggling to breathe in your embrace.

“Oh shit, sorry, Jirou! I’m just so happy, I love it so much! I kinda forgot you can’t breathe when I do that…” You chuckle nervously, releasing her from your embrace.

“Yay! Okay, now that everyone has a dress, let’s go purchase them and get some food. I’m starving!” Yaomomo pitches the idea, and everyone agrees, excited to hurry out of the shop for a meal.

_____________________________________________________________

The day had finally come, and your nerves felt fried. The other girls all had dates; Momo and Jirou deciding to go together, Ochako with Deku, even Mina was going with Kaminari. But here you were, riding in the car service alone, makeup absolutely flawless, complete with falsies and red lipstick that was the perfect shade to stand out against your skin. Such a shame no one was going to be benefiting from your efforts tonight, although the thought that your longtime crush, Sero Hanta, would be in attendance was enough to urge you to adjust your carefully placed mask, ensuring your anonymity and polishing your confidence. Sero had been in your friend group since high school, and was the first person you truly warmed up to upon your acceptance into the group. You quickly became the “shy little sister” to the loud ones in the group: Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina. Jirou and Sero were more your speed; quieter, more laid back and chill, with great senses of humor that not everyone was privy to. With Jirou as your designated best friend, Sero was proclaimed the unrequited love interest. You friendzoned yourself almost immediately, assuming Sero wouldn’t go for a girl like you, not when he was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular. A budding pro hero wouldn’t want you, not with your shy insecurities and soft body…

Little did you know, Sero had been pining after you since the beginning, flirting with you subtly in hopes that you’d express your interest. Eyes wandering down your curves during movie nights, taking in your too-small shorts and how your oversized shirt would raise just enough to see your little tummy pouch, wishing his face was buried between your plump thighs, praying he would be able to leave hickeys on every delicious roll, pleading he could see those cute chubby cheeks covered with tears while your plush lips wrapped around his cock… No- he couldn’t think of you like that. After all, you never returned his flirting, and there’s no way you’d like him when you could crush on manlier guys like Kirishima and Bakugou. ‘He was just a “dollar store Spiderman”, as Bakugou liked to call him, just a guy… Nothing special…’ he thought to himself as he adjusted his own mask in the bathroom mirror at the gala. His friends had all confirmed that you were coming, and that you were coming alone (said by Kaminari while wiggling his eyebrows). Every other person in the group had a date, including Bakugou and Kirishima, who had to practically drag the former to the event in the first place. He was the only one “stagging it”, aside from you, who would no doubt attract attention and end up going home with some flashy hero higher ranked than he was. He sighed, adjusting his tux jacket and cufflinks, and exited into the main ballroom to get a drink.

You walked into the venue, checked in, and stood frozen outside the ballroom entrance. You adjusted your mask, steeled your nerves, and squared your shoulders, reminding yourself how absolutely gorgeous you looked and donning your best “bad bitch” aura. You strut into the place like you own it, suddenly very aware of how many people there are, scanning for familiar faces as you sway your luscious hips to maintain your balance in your heels.

“Holy fuck... “ Sero utters, jaw slack and eyes locked on you. You’re so perfect, breasts bouncing with every step, thighs and tummy jiggling, soft smile gracing your face. He’s staring, and Kaminari has to elbow him to wipe the drool from the side of his mouth before you get there. You’re equally as enchanted, seeing Sero in his black fitted tuxedo, crushed velvet lapels, tapered pants making his quads look positively biteable, crisp white shirt tailored over his pecs, black bowtie (slightly crooked, very fitting of his personality) and mask obscuring his face, leaving him as nothing more than a handsome stranger. A yellow pocket square catches your attention, reminding you of your favorite hero in his costume. You smirk to yourself, knowing you chose yellow gold heels specifically because they reminded you of him.

“See something you like, Sero-buddy? You’re staring so hard, you’d think she was God.” Kaminari punches Sero in the ribs, trying to break the spell. “Maybe you should talk to her, finally get over your crush on y/n by getting under someone else.” he winks, completely unaware that he’s talking about you in both respects.

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I think I’ll give it a minute, maybe grab another drink and enjoy the party for a while. I’m not trying to start hitting on some random chick just yet, though hot she may be.” Sero laughs, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. He diverts his eyes down to his drink, downs the rest of the liquid, then focuses back on you. You wait at the bar for your drink of choice, aware of that beautiful stranger still staring and leaning against the counter just enough to push your ass out. You hear him nearly choke on his drink, and move around the party satisfied with yourself.

A few drinks later, you find yourself on the dance floor, watching from the edge and lightly swaying to the music. A masked man with shaggy black hair, who you can only assume to be pro hero Grand, given his mask barely covered a fourth of his face probably only worn to fit the theme, approached you for a dance, hand extended and bowing at the waist.

“A lady as beautiful as yourself shouldn’t be a wallflower. Care to dance?” he asks, voice low and alluring, looking down at you with a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes.

“I might…” you smile shyly, taking his hand and letting him lead you.

Once out on the dance floor, he pulls you into his chest with a hand on your lower back. It’s nice to be wanted, to dance so close to a man who finds you beautiful, especially one as chiseled as Grand. ‘Wait- is he…? Are you fucking kidding?’ Your fight or flight response kicks in as soon as you feel his hand drift lower and lower onto your ass. You pull away, ready to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but before you can get a word out, he puts a hand over your jaw, fingers tightly snapping your mouth closed. Unable to speak and too shocked to move, you feel helpless as he whispers in your ear.

“God, I love fat girls. Your self esteem is so low, I can do whatever I want and you’ll fall for it. So stupid, so fun.” His laugh is so dark, and you start to panic before a large, strong hand reaches between the two of you and wraps around Grand’s throat, yanking him back and off of you.

“Listen, this is a classy place, so I’ll give you a choice. Either you apologize to this absolutely gorgeous woman and get the fuck out of here, or I beat you to a bloody pulp right here and ruin both your suit and your face.” The handsome stranger who had originally caught your eye growls, voice so low and intimidating you didn’t doubt for a second he meant every word. ‘His voice sounds so familiar, but I can’t quite place it. He’s so angry, and he’s speaking so low, I can’t figure out where I’ve heard that before.’ Thankful for his saving assistance, and trying to calm yourself from hyperventilating, you watch Grand’s retreating form before turning to the man who is quite literally your Prince Charming of the evening.

Voice still low and angry, “Listen, I need you to distract me. Calm me down so I don’t turn around and kill that guy.” he seethes. “You are stunning, absolutely gorgeous. He was so wrong. He’s an asshole, absolutely vile, and he never should’ve even had the nerve to approach you, much less touch you. God fucking damn it, I should-”

You cut him off by pulling him close, placing your hands on his chest and letting them roam up to fix his still crooked bowtie.

“Thank you…” you whisper, tearing up as you put your head on his chest. His cologne is so calming, his scent enveloping you as his arms instinctively wrap around you and his hand finds the back of your head, holding you to his chest.

The two of you slow dance in silence, his head resting on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo and hairspray comforting him and taking him to a dream where he was dancing with the y/n he knew, feeling your soft body pressed against him, imagining how you’d look in the dress on the girl he was actually dancing with. ‘Oh fuck, y/n would look so fucking perfect in this. Her curves- fuck, this dress is soft- I would absolutely love to run my hands along her body in this dress, press her up against me like this, fuck her thighs- wait… SHIT-FUCK-NO’ Snapped out of his thoughts by the increasing tightness of his tux pants, he prays to god the sexy girl pressed against him doesn’t notice.

You notice something nudging against your thigh, breaking you out of your daydreams about the mystery man being Sero Hanta, opening your eyes before you realize exactly what you’re feeling. ‘Oh… OH. Holy fuck, did I make him hard just dancing? He- uh- feels… big… Maybe if I just-’ you subtly shift your hips, thigh brushing up against him and slotting between his legs just enough. A deep groan rises from his chest, and he leans down to your ear.

“Babygirl, if you keep doing what I think you’re doing, I’m going to have to return the favor~” His voice sounds so familiar, but the lust clouding the low rumble has it taking on an entirely new timbre. You lean in, feeling emboldened by his words, swiping your tongue along the shell of his ear with a simple “Oh really?~ And what if that’s the goal?”

With that, he crooks his finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. What starts as a sweet and simple kiss quickly evolves into a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. His fingers gently resting on your neck, just above your collarbone, and tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You sigh into him, granting him access and letting his tongue explore your mouth, relishing in his deep rumbles and pressing impossibly closer, hoping he’d get the message and take you somewhere more private. Luckily, it seems he seems to read your body language and leads you to a side hallway by pressing his hand on the small of your back, possessively guiding you. Pushing you up against the wall, he leans back in to resume kissing you, with an arm steadying himself above your head. In a simply embarrassing display of clumsiness, your hand reaching for his cheek goes slightly off course, accidentally knocking off his mask and causing you to fumble to the floor to retrieve it. Upon looking up, you see Sero standing with a flushed face and his hand reaching up to the back of his neck, the endearing nervous tic you’d learned from him over the years. Oh God, if your heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it sure as fuck was now… The man you had yearned after for years not only swooping in to save you from some low-life creep, but also having you in a kabedon against the wall of the fanciest place you’ve ever been in. He laughs, nervous now without his anonymity, and reaches down to help you up.

“I- uh- sorry, I might’ve gotten carried away. I hope you’re okay, I know I’m probably not the hero you wanted. I really do think you’re beautiful, you actually remind me of someone I know and- wow- I’m rambling…” He goes on like this, panicking that he’s somehow ruined your fantasy and disappointed you by existing. He only shuts up when you stand back upright and kiss him softly.

“You’re exactly the hero I want… The hero I’ve always wanted.” You blush, staring up at him with the most loving doe eyes you can manage.

‘Wait… Her voice… Is that- ?’ Sero came to quite possibly the best and utterly terrifying realization; that the girl he’d been lusting after all night and the girl he’d been wanting for years could be the same girl. He hesitantly brought a hand to your face, lightly grazing your mask as though asking for permission. You nod, never breaking your gaze on his concentrated expression, and parted your lips. He gingerly lifts the mask from your features, damning your anonymity, and each of you hold your breath in anticipation. The way he looks at you is like something out of a movie, or one of those shōjo manga you love to obsess over: pure relief, adoration, lust, love. Oh, you want him to look at you like that forever.

“Y/n, I-... You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you. I have been wanting to kiss you for years, and to finally do it, and with you looking… Wow- you are so fucking stunning, I have never seen anything as beautiful in my life. Fuck, I just- I wish I could tell you how perfect you are, express in words how flawless I’ve always thought you were- still do… “ Sero breathed all of this as though he had to get every word out before you disappeared. He held your face in both hands, lightly squishing your cheeks and stroking his thumb over your lips, taking in your hopelessly enthralled expression. “You know what? Fuck this. No- I mean- not ‘fuck this’, I just… I want to do this right. I want you, I need you. I want to express how important you are, I need to show you that you’re everything to me. I want to worship you, kiss every inch of your body and make you feel so incredibly complete and full and whole and appreciated. Do you understand?”

“Hanta… I- Yes. Yes. Please take me home, I need you. I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.” You lean into his touch, wanting to be ever closer to his warmth.

You yelp as he suddenly picks you up, bridal style, as though you don’t even provide a struggle.

“HANTA, you can’t be carrying me, I weigh more than you, no no no, I’m too heavy, you can’t-”

“Y/n. I’m a pro hero, are you seriously telling me I can’t carry you? I can carry 3 people at once while hanging from a strip of tape in midair. I’ll hold you up forever if you’d let me.” He squeezes you in his hold, emphasizing his point.

His cocky attitude was majorly driven by how good you felt, soft tummy and jiggling tits against his torso, the perfect squish of your thighs in his powerful arms, chubby hands and cheeks tucked into his chest and the crook of his neck. He swore he could die happy right there. In the elevator, he took a moment to take in your entire figure, but upon reaching your feet, something turned him absolutely feral. Your shoes. You were wearing his colors. Every single piece of clothing matched his hero costume. ‘Holy shit… You knew. You wanted him before this even happened. You were his.’ The possessive growl that tore from his chest startled you as he adjusted you in his hold. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, hands unapologetically on the ample crux of your thighs and ass, lips on yours in a desperate kiss that was all tongue and teeth, grinding his hard cock against you. You whimpered against his lips, shocked by his sudden change of demeanor.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my colors, aren’t you? You want me to claim you? You want to be mine? I’ll give you anything you want, babygirl. I just need you to ask for it.~” He growled against your neck, nose tracing the column of your throat.

“Hanta, please, yes- ah~. I want to be yours. I only want to be yours. I need you. Please, please, please.” Normally, you’d be way too shy to beg this much, embarrassed about how desperate you sound, but fuck he’s making you so needy. The gasp that escapes you when Sero licks a stripe up your neck turns into a moan when he starts sucking a hickey over your pulsepoint. He feels so good, the heat between your thighs steadily building with every nip of his teeth and roll of his hips. You thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and pull gently, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. He works his way up to your jaw, leaving pretty little marks in his wake, and returns to your lips like a safe haven. He strokes your tongue with his own, committing your taste to memory. He never wants to forget this moment, especially not when you lightly suck his tongue and pull him in further with those perfect fucking thighs. You’re so soft, being wrapped in your plushness with his fingers digging into the pliable flesh of your ass is too much. Sero’s sinful thoughts are interrupted by your fucked-out voice, so small and innocent, as though you’re afraid of his answer.

“Um… Can I- can I touch you? I mean- I- can I mark you, too?” You sound so unsure, not used to someone wanting to show you off. You’re so breathless, and he’d be lying if the pleading in your voice didn’t make his dick twitch in his pants.

“Awwww~ is my babygirl shy now? You want to mark me, too? Go ahead, mi amor, sí se puede. I’m all yours, just like you’re mine.” Sero cranes his head to the side, baring his neck to you, waiting for you to bless him with those full lips, waiting for you to make a show of him finally having the most perfect girl he’s ever known.

If he could’ve taken a picture of your face in that moment, he’d look at it every day. Squishy cheeks blushing, eyes wide with surprise and excitement, gaze clouded with lust. You were so pretty, he couldn’t wait to ruin you. Sero moaned as you sucked a small dark mark onto his skin and happily carried you from the elevator to his room. You tighten your arms around him when he reaches for his key card, involuntarily pushing your chest together and pressing up into him.

“Oh, mi corazón, if you keep pressing into me like that, voy a tener que lamer cada parte de ti y puede que no te deje ir…” His threats sound more like promises when he’s carrying you through the threshold and placing you down gently, though his hands never leave your body. Tracing your sides, memorizing your curves, squeezing any part he can get his hands on. His right hand inches down your torso, resting on the pouch of your tummy and making you flinch. Sero notices and worries he’s hurt you, or that you don’t want him to touch you. The hurt in his eyes is obvious when he takes in your tense muscles and eyes squeezed shut, realizing it’s your own insecurities holding you back. He wishes you could see how beautiful you are, see yourself through his eyes. He was going to make you feel so fucking loved, he just had to show you what he couldn’t express in words. You stripped him of his jacket as he unknotted his tie. With nervous hands, you unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it past his broad shoulders, fingers trailing down his sculpted chest and lean abs, admiring the enticing adonis belt and pretty trail of coarse black hair disappearing into his pants. Sero, with his ego now boosted by the lustful look in your eyes as you took him in, returned your gaze to his face with an intensity that made you shiver. He kept eye contact while sweeping your hair to one side, and slowly unzipping your gown. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans down to place open mouthed kisses along your shoulders as he pushes your dress down your body, kissing down your arms as it falls, and places a sweet kiss to your hands. Pushing you onto the bed with a soft thud and climbing over top of you, he moves the hands that raise to cover yourself , grasping your wrists in one hand and cupping your cheek with the other, as he softly reassures you.

“Princesa, please don’t hide from me. I’ve waited for you for so long, and I want to worship every inch of you. I’m going to make you cry out my name, and show you just how perfect you are while you cum on my tongue. You will not say a single bad thing about mi amor, you understand?” he says lowly, so loving yet commanding.

“Yes, Hanta… I- I’ll be good for you, I promise.” you whine, praying your submission would please him.

The sound of his given name in that pleading tone has him painfully hard, but he’s too focused on hearing his name from your sweet lips again to care. You pull him down into a passionate kiss and roll your hips against his clothed cock when he laves down your neck and leaves love bites across your chest. He sucks your nipple into his warm mouth and rolls the other between his forefinger and thumb, earning a high pitched keen from you. He switches to give the same attention to the other side, tongue swirling around the peaked bud and relishing the way your chest heaves just from his mouth on your tits. ‘So needy… Fuck, how did I ever wait this long to see y/n like this and hear her sounds?’ Sero thinks to himself, so ready to watch your eyes roll back in your skull the minute you feel his cock fill you. The thought of you bouncing on his dick, watching you jiggle with his thrusts, letting him grip the fat on your hips and help you fuck yourself on him, feeling your lovely thighs straddle him, has him impatiently rutting into the mattress. He needs to taste you, leave marks all over your delicious tummy and thighs, and feel you coming undone beneath him. His large hands slide down your sides, rubbing back up under your breasts, gripping the extra flesh over your ribcage, the soft love handles on your sides, caressing the perfect pouch of your belly and settling on your hips. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing and licking every place you had deemed undesirable like they were the sexiest pieces of you, leaving dark hickeys on the front of your hips to remind you that all of these parts were now his to love.

“Lo siento, babygirl, pero no puedo esperar más, necesito mi lengua en ese bonita coño jodidamente ahora. Estas necesitan estar en el suelo ahora.” If his panting growl of Spanish didn’t already have your pussy gushing, his strong fingers ripping your panties and hoes off your body had you dripping onto the bed. Your shocked squeak turning into a moan when he parted your legs and nipped at the soft skin of your inner thigh, Sero is beyond delighted by feeling your beautiful thighs squishing against his face. If he could choose his end, it would undoubtedly be suffocating between this plush heaven. He snaked his arms under your parted thighs to hold your hips, squeezing and marveling at the feeling of your warm body protruding between his spread fingers, trying to fit as much of you in his grasp as he could and never getting enough. You’re just about to plead for him to touch you where you need him most when you lock eyes and hear the teasing lilt in his voice when he groans “Itadakimasu~” and flattens his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit.

“So wet for me, princesa, is this all for me? You’re so thoughtful to give me a meal so sweet.”

“Hantaaa, please. I want you, please don’t tease me, please touch me. I need- ah~”

Your begging is interrupted by his tongue diving into your sex, lapping at your slick like a man starved. The moans coming from the man between your thighs were sinful; in this moment, Sero Hanta was no longer the friend you’d watched superhero movies with and silently crushed on for years- he was a man, a lover, all you’d ever wanted. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking the sensitive pearl into his mouth, he pulled one hand from your hip and slowly slipped two long fingers into your sopping heat. The callused pads from years of hero training now rubbing perfectly against your walls have you crying out for him and grasping his hair, begging him to go faster. He suddenly props himself up, bringing his palm up to grind against your clit and slowing his thrusts, wanting to hear you beg for him and watch your desperate facial expression.

“What is it you want, babygirl? C’mon, you’re going to have to use that pretty little mouth of yours. Tell me what you want, baby, use your words. I wanna hear you beg for me.” That normally dopey smile was replaced with a lewd smirk, hungry and covered in your juices.

“H-Hanta, please please please. I need you, need your mouth. Please I wanna cum, please let me cum, I want you to fuck me! Please please pleaseeeee~” Hips bucking forward, sweat lightly covering your skin, hair splayed out, body covered in his marks, begging for him… Shit, he’d give you anything you asked for. Oh, he’ll give you what you need- don’t you worry.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. I’ll make this pretty pussy cum. Hold onto me and just relax, princess.”

His lips returned to your clit, flicking his tongue and sucking lightly, and increased his pace. He curled his fingers just right, finding the spongy underside of your clit and he chuckles darkly to himself when your back arches, head falling back onto the pillows.

“There it is~, there we go, babygirl. Cum for me, just like this. I’ve got you, let go, cum on my fingers.”

It doesn’t take long after his mouth goes back to nursing on your clit and his fingers continuously hitting your g-spot for the coil in your belly to finally snap. You climax hard, eyes screwed shut and screaming out his name as his tongue works you through your high. Once you’ve come down, you open your eyes and see Sero sucking his fingers clean of your release and unbuckling his belt with the other hand. You sit up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and unbuttoning his pants. He grows impatient with your pace, shoving his pants and tight boxers down at once. ‘Fuck, his dick is pretty’ you think to yourself, marveling at the masterpiece before you. He’s long, maybe 8.5-9 inches, thick enough to stretch your walls so deliciously but not too thick to fit in your mouth, prominent vein running along the underside and leading from the neat crop of black hair to the leaking tip, begging for your tongue. You start to rise to your knees before being pushed back into the duvet, looking up at him in confusion.

“No, no, mi amor. As much as I want to see your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock, that’s gonna have to wait. I want to be inside you, I need to fuck you until all you can think about is me and how fucking beautiful I think you are.” His eyes are so sincere. He looks down at you with the most loving stare you’ve ever felt, so calm and safe in his presence. You’re lulled into submission, every doubtful argument you had died on your tongue, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He leans over you, bracing himself on an elbow with his hand on your jaw to keep your eyes fixated on him. The other hand wraps around the base of his cock and teases the head along your slit, pressing on your clit just enough to have you squirming, trying to impale yourself.

“So needy for me, so wet. You’re so perfect, babygirl, I wouldn’t want to go too fast now. I want to savor every inch, feel you stretch around me while I watch those e/c eyes roll back in pleasure.” He holds back from thrusting into you when you whine in response, breathing heavy and struggling to get him inside. “Damn, baby, if you’re that desperate, why don’t you tell me exactly what you want? Beg for my cock, mi amor.”

“PLEASE, I need you inside me, please! I need your cock. Please fuck me, Papi~” You gasp out in succession, trying out the name you had once heard Kaminari teasing him about. It was a desperate attempt to get him to move, one your fucked-out brain decided was your best shot at getting him feral. And holy shit were you right. Sero fills you in an instant, hard length thrust to the hilt in your tight hole, causing you to cry out, eyes rolling back just as he promised.

“FUCK!” He’s losing restraint, driven mad by the filthy name coming from your angelic lips. The squeezing and fluttering of your walls is the only thing grounding him to Earth as he smirks down at you, baring his teeth while his other hand comes to wrap around your throat and apply light pressure to the sides. “Oh you know what you’re doing, don’t you? You have no idea how many times I imagined you calling me like that with these soft thighs wrapped around me; trust me, it’s nothing close to how sexy the real thing is. If you want to play dirty, princesa, don’t blame me when you can’t walk tomorrow.”

He backed up his statement with a few deep strokes that had your mouth falling open and eyes unfocusing, still unable to look away from the man about to wreck you. In a weak attempt to ground yourself, you reach up and place your hands on his back to feel the flexing of his muscles as he gave you slow, deep thrusts. Running your hands along his shoulders had your pussy clenching, and the groan pulled from his chest accompanying a harsh increase in his pace had your nails clawing at the corded muscles, causing him to put more force into fucking you into the mattress. A cycle of reactions, spurring the other on to continue and escalate.

“You feel so good, babygirl. S-So tight, you feel like you’re fucking made for me. I love you so much. I love everything about you. God, I fucking love your body- I love your curves, I love your legs wrapped around me, I love your sexy fucking thighs, I love your cute tummy- love how you feel pressed against me, I love running my fingers up your arms and kissing back down, I love gripping your hips when I hold you, I love watching you jiggle when you walk and bounce when I fuck you like this. You’re so fucking beautiful, so perfect for me.” Sero babbles out praises like he’ll die if he doesn’t get them out. You’re a blushing mess, knowing these words are completely true, tumbling out of his mouth unconsciously as he thinks them. “I love that expression, angel. Still so shy at my praises, even though I can feel you trying to milk my cock at every word. Such a good girl for me. Why don’t you tell me who makes this pretty pussy feel so good, huh? Say it, angel.”

“Hantaaa~ you feel so good. Please don’t stop!! I’m so close, please. I wanna cum, I wanna cum on your cock, please Papiiii~. You make me feel so good. I love you, I love you, I’m all yours. Please, I’m yours-ah~, I wanna be yours. I need you, I love you so much. Only you could make me feel like this-fuck- it’s only you. Please make me cum, Papi~” Your moans and pleas are getting louder and louder, chasing your impending climax. Every emotion flowing out of you, combined with the wonderful overstimulation, had tears rolling down your pudgy cheeks. You hadn’t yet realized you were crying when Sero leaned down to kiss and lick away the salty streams.

“Okay, princesa, I’ll give you what you need. How can I say no when you're being so good for me? Such a beautiful mess, all for me. So perfect. My good girl~” His right hand smoothes down your torso and settles between your thighs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Come on, babygirl. Papi’s got you, I’ll take good care of you. Cum for Papi. Cum on my cock.”

Your final orgasm has your back arched off the bed, eyes crossed, tongue lolling out, screaming out a string of “Hanta”, “Papi”, and “I love you”. Sero keeps his pace steady, fucking you through your climax and trying to prolong it as long as he can. The feeling of your doughy pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice, the gloriously wrecked ahegao face, and the sound of your cries as you creamed on his dick had him right on the edge of his own high. He started to pull out, not wanting to cross any boundaries, when he felt your legs pull him in even further. He looks back to your face; hazy, loving eyes drawing him in with that innocent look.

“Please cum inside me Papi, I want it! I’m yours, I want you. I want you to fill me up.” The permission to claim his longtime love and the aftershocks of your orgasm having you still pulsing around him finally push him over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a feeble attempt to muffle his moans of your name as his hips stuttered, thick ropes of cum warming your insides and painting your walls white. You feel so full and so content. Staying inside you, Sero rolls the two of you over to lay on his back, still holding your sweaty bodies together as he kisses your forehead and strokes your hair, telling you how good you did, how happy he was, how proud he was of you.

No one has ever made you feel so good, so wanted. Normally, your post-sex thoughts are plagued with insecurities, but instead all yoou can think about is Sero and how perfect this was. How beautiful he made you feel… and how you didn’t want it to end.

“H-Hey… Um… Sero?” you timidly get his attention.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to start calling me Hanta if we’re gonna be together. It’s a little weird to call your boyfriend by their family name, isn’t it?… Unless you wanna call me Papi, of course~” He says, his normal goofy grin and teasing tone returned.

“Wait… You- you really want to be with me? You don’t want me to keep it a secret? I will if you tell me to… I don’t want to embarrass you, I know I’m not exactly the ‘trophy wife’ the other heroes go for… I just really like you- um- actually, I’ve been in love with you for years now, and I just got really excited that you wanted me and-” Your nervous muttering is cut off with his lips softly pressed against yours, his hand moving to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Mi amor, I’ve been in love with you for just as long. You are my trophy, the greatest part of me. Every single thing I said is true, and I’ve thought those things for our entire friendship. If you think for a second that I won’t be walking around shirtless, showing off all of these marks to Kirishima and Kaminari, you don’t know me at all.” He winks at you and brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “Princesa, babygirl, mi corazón… Nunca te dejaré, yo nunca te dejaré salir, yo prometo. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you, too, y/n.”

You fall asleep on his chest to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat and steady breathing. Upon waking up, you assume you had just dreamed the entire affair, chalking it up to your vivid imagination and drinks at the ball. That is, until you realize you’re trapped in a tangle of limbs with Hanta, leg hiked over his body and arms encompassing each other. You try to shift slightly to see his sleeping face, but he stirs and rolls over on top of you with a groan. The jolt of his muscles jerking awake told you he also thought he had dreamed the entire thing, believing that the prospect of your mutual pining actually coming to fruition was too good to be true.

“Good morning, angel. I’m so glad you’re real… And that you’re all mine.” Sero softly sighs, voice rough from sleep, nuzzling his face into your chest and squeezing your soft midsection to hold you closer.

“Good morning, love. I’m so so happy, but there’s one thing…” You say, trying to hold back your giggles.

“What is it, baby? Is something wrong? What did I do?” Sero starts thinking of every possible scenario as you soothe his thoughts with a cheeky smile.

“I- um… I think I need you to carry me to the shower, you weren’t lying when you said I wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.” Both of you erupt in a fit of laughter. He scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the shower, so content in finally having his girl.

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A/N: WHEW okay… I’m actually really proud of this, and I hope you guys like it. The Latin Sero headcanon hits me so hard and I just absolutely simp for this sweet tape boy. Huge thank you to @reinawritesbnha for inspiring me to write this matchup, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten for encouraging me and giving me the courage to post, and my dear, sweet Sage for reading it to make sure I don’t embarrass myself and inspiring me to write in the first place. <3

#sero x reader #sero hanta #hanta sero #sero hanta smut #bnha #mha #mha sero

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headoverheelsforramsey · 4 years ago

Note

Hey hey hey! Here are this week's newlywed questions! So excited!

Note: Once again, this week’s round focuses on photos! Dialogue is entirely optional, though for some of these, it’d be fun to know the story behind the pictures ;) Tumblr mobile only allows 10 picture uploads (there are 10 questions), so collages are highly encouraged! Otherwise, the non-beta version of Tumblr desktop will allow more than ten.

Have fun!

For MC

Favorite childhood photo of Ethan

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Contact name and photo for Ethan

Top three photo results when you Google Ethan

First picture of or with him that you uploaded to social media

For Ethan

Favorite childhood photo of your spouse

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Contact name and photo for your spouse

Top three photo results when you Google your spouse

First picture you ever took of or with your spouse

*Credit to the anon who sent me the first three questions!

Hi Bree! These questions were so fun to answer, I loved it! 🤩 Thank you for sending these to me! 💖

P.S. : Ignore my mediocre editing skills, I tried my best! 😬

So lezz go!

FOR MEERA

Favorite childhood photo of Ethan

Meera : Ooh! Starting with a bang!

Ethan : No, Meera. Bree said favourite not embarrassing.

Meera : What if the embarrassing one is my favourite?

Ethan (with a snug face) : Fine then, I have ammunitions too.

Meera : You do?

Ethan (nods)

Meera (thinks for a moment) : Fine, so can we call it truce that no embarrassing pictures this round? (extends hand)

Ethan (shakes hand) : Sure Dr. Ramsey-Bose.

Meera : After the infamous CPR pic, this has to be my favourite. Look at this kid. Isn't he adorable? 🥺 You were always a dog person, no doubt we are soulmates.

Ethan : That's Tito. He was the pet to an elderly couple that lived accross the street from us. He was a very good boy.

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Meera : This picture from our wedding is one of my favourite.

Ethan : Mine too.

Contact name and photo for Ethan

Meera : He didn't allow the 🥵 emoji so I bargained it for the 🔥 one.

Ethan : I neither understand the purpose nor importance of this.

Meera : Try being a millenial to understand babe.

Top three photo results when you Google Ethan

Meera (chuckles) : Remember the first time you did this for the pictagram profile.

Ethan : I said this that day, I'll say it again, the internet is a scary place.

Ethan : Officially off the market? What even is that?

Meera (not being able to stop laughing) : You look so cute when flustered.

Ethan rolls eyes

Meera : Okay this is the article from when you announced on national television that you are not single. And the rest two are your recent achievements.

Ethan : Yes but how is something from four years back still the top result?

Meera : You did break almost a million hearts that day.

Ethan (a huge grin on his face) : Damn. Bad luck, I am stuck with you.

First picture of or with him that you uploaded to social media

Meera : Oh my my I have to scroll waayyy back for that.

Ethan (looks at Meera's screen as she scrolls) : Howcome there are more pictures of me on your profile than yours?

Meera : Because you are hotter and more famous and that gives me much more likes and followers.

Ethan (shakes head) : Kids these days.

Meera : So, a little backstory. Dr. Ramsey kissed me infront of the entire hospital on the day of the Gala. But then didn't want to make our relationship public. I agreed because everyone was not in a right mindspace with the hospital closing and losing jobs.

Ethan : We were also figuring things out since we no longer would be working in the same place.

Meera : Then the hospital got saved and everything went back to normal. But he still didn't want to make it public. Next he wanted to take me for a getaway before the hospital opened after the remodeling. So I told him that I had to make it public now.

Ethan : As far as I remember, you ordered.

Meera : Yes I did. You tell me Bree what was I gonna tell my roommates? That I am going away for a romantic getaway with my BOSS? So I had to make it public a week before we left with this post. And all my friends and acquaintances literally roasted us alive in the comments. (facepalms)

Ethan : In my defense, how was I suppose to know that every single person knew?

Meera : You weren't quite subtle about it babe.

Ethan : But at the end it all paid off. (kisses Meera)

FOR ETHAN

Favorite childhood photo of your spouse

Meera : Remember no embarrassing ones.

Ethan : I got you, love.

(just breaking character here to say this is me lol 🙈)

Meera : Oh my God! How did you even get this?

Ethan : Maa (Meera's mom) sent this.

Meera : This was at my uncle's wedding. I was what? Four.

Ethan : and the cutest four year old.

What’s your phone wallpaper image?

Ethan : One from our Indian Wedding, where she looked like a queen.

Meera : I LOVE this picture!

Contact name and photo for your spouse

Meera (sighs) : Gonna be something boring for sure.

Meera : Okay Ramsey, I see you played well. Now what about adding a 🥵 emoji beside the purple heart?

Ethan : I'll delete the picture and the heart if you try to bring me to put one of those faces.

Meera : Okay, okay, I hear you. Better be happy with what you have!

Top three photo results when you Google your spouse

Meera : Am I even famous enough to be Google searched?

Ethan : Ofcourse you are, darling!

Meera (chuckles) : Yeah I am, after marrying you.

Ethan : That's not true see this one is about you heading the DT.

Meera : And the other ones are about our wedding and honeymoon respectively.

Ethan : Don't worry you will recieve all the recognition and love within a few years, I promise. (kisses her forehead)

Meera : With a husband and mentor like this, ofcourse I will.

First picture you ever took of or with your spouse

Meera : Shit! Why can't I remember this?

Ethan silently pulls out the picture.

Meera : Oh yes this was in Miami, with Ines!

Ethan : Absolutely correct.

Meera : Now I remember. I was too afraid to ask you for a photo so Ines made you click one of us. And look at you know, my designated photographer for life!

Ethan (grins) : Can't say, I don't enjoy capturing your beauty.

Meera : Aww!

(they kiss)

Phew! Another week done! Thank you Bree for this once again! 💖 @jamespotterthefirst @messrprongs

A/N : I realised after creating the social media post that @gryffindordaughterofathena had used the same photo. But she gave me a green light to post mine so thank you Dri! 🤗

Tagging my usual : @starrystarrytrouble @mm2305 @charisworld @choicesfanaf @potionsprefect @genevievemd @shanzay44 @little-flowers-on-heaven @schnitzelbutterfingers @coffeeheartaddict @gryffindordaughterofathena @chemist-ana @adiehardfan @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @natureblooms24 @mainstreetreader @izzyourresidentlawyer @a-crepusculo @quixoticdreamer16 @starryeyedrookie @barbean

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed. Also if you want to sit out only the answers to the newlyweds game then hit me up too. There will be no hard feelings I promise! 💜

#newlyweds game with your host bree #queen bree supremacy!#ethan x meera

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costellos · 4 years ago

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a/n: here are all the Bucci gang asks from last Thurday’s Halloween headcanon ask game! I decided to compile them into one giant post bc... hoo boy... there were a lot. nonetheless, thanks for participating, friends! this was so much fun!! (also, side note, there are still a ton in my ask box. I’ll get to those sometime this week, so hang tight!)

tw: minor gore mention in Abbacchio and Fugo’s descriptions

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & some misc. halloween headcanons!

bruno bucciarati.

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@buuni asked: ahhh the Halloween emoji game seems fun !! could I ask for Bruno 🍂 thank you !! And I hope you’re doing well this spooky season 🐇💕

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

participating in All Souls Day. although Bucciarati was raised Catholic, I don’t think he’d remain a practicing one. still, there’s something comforting about honoring the deceased. he’d tell you fun, little stories about his father and the kind of household Bucciarati was raised in. you can’t help but notice how happy he looks as he talks. how his eyes sparkle, that rare, genuine smile on his lips. at the end of the day, he tucks a chrysanthemum behind your ear and places a kiss on your temple. “I appreciate your patience, amore,” he hums, that smile still on his lips. “it means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

leone abbacchio.

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@heartsllabyul asked: OMGOMGOMG TOYAAAAAA 🍂🍿 with the loml leone abbacchio please 🥺

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

trying seasonal foods. Abbacchio finds a lot of it fascinating since “fall” isn’t really a season in Italy. it gets colder sure, but the culture around autumn isn’t nearly as big as it is in your country. he thinks a lot of autumn-based foods are odd. pumpkin spice anything tastes artificial to him, though he thinks butternut squash soup is decent. his favorite is spiked apple cider! but he’d never admit it. he thinks it’s entertaining watching you desperately search for some seasonal food that he’d like.

🍿 how they react to watching a horror movie

he doesn’t! Abbacchio doesn’t see the appeal behind horror movies. besides, his time as a police officer and mobster has made it difficult for him to see them as anything other than cheap entertainment. and that goes for slashers, psychological thrillers, and gorey flicks. despite all that, he’ll watch horror movies if you like them. he finds your interest endearing. he gets more embarrassed than he’d like to admit when you hold onto his arm as you watch.

giorno giovanna.

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anonymous: giorno + 🏠🍂? Abbababy Anon asked: Hmm hmm~ how about 🎃 for Fugo and Giorno?

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🏠 how they would react to being in a haunted house

pretty well! Giorno isn’t someone who scares easily. the most he’ll do is take a step back when something gets him. he keeps his fingers laced with yours, ready to advance (or abandon ship) whenever you’re ready.

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

watching meteor showers. autumn is an astronomy hot spot, an event that he would love to share with you. anything about life and human existence is a topic of interest of Giorno. how to preserve it, how to observe it. he’d happily share everything that he knows with you. Giorno would take you far away from the city, far enough for you to clearly see the night sky, and far enough to be completely alone. but once the meteor shower starts, strangely, he wouldn’t be watching what seems to be falling stars. no, his eyes would be locked on his other favorite spectacle: the person sitting right beside him.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

not seriously, and he’s not a big fan of it. he hates scooping out the pumpkin’s guts to start carving. the wet and sticky texture, along with the smell... no thanks. he’d rather watch you do it. and once you’re finished, he’d be happy to sprinkle some cinnamon in so that the pumpkin smells more palatable once it’s lit.

guido mista.

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@zellyroo asked: 🍂 and 🎃 w/ mista please? 💛💛

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

Mista loves picking apples. it’s a laid-back activity with a high return rate. spending time with you and getting food while feeding the Pistols? count him in. plus, he loves feeling like the perfect boyfriend when he has to help you grab those hard-to-reach apples. and dear god, don’t get him started on apple cider donuts. oof. he could eat 10, easily.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

very seriously. he’s seen so many cool designs, how hard can it be? Mista quickly learns, however, that carving pumpkins is quite difficult. you laugh when you hear him curse under his breath as he tries to cut through it. the Pistols bully him for his ugly design, but it’s hard to understand them when their mouths are stuffed with pumpkin seeds. Mista just tells them to shut it. in the end, he gives up on his elaborate design, opting for something more simple. after all, he hates anything that complicates his life (and boy, is this stupid pumpkin doing just that). it comes out like any other jack-o’-lantern.

narancia ghirga.

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anonymous asked: Hi; May I ask 🧙‍♀️ for Narancia, please? Thank you! :D 🧡

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🧙 if they would dress up & what they would dress as

it would take a little convincing to get Narancia to dress up. he really, really wants to do it, but he doesn’t want to come off as childish! you’d have to tell him that everyone in the U.S. dresses up on Halloween. but once he’s convinced, he’s convinced. he’d be bouncing a variety of ideas with you; he’d probably have a new one every hour. in the end, he’d settle on something spooky with you, like dressing up as zombies! (much to Fugo’s dismay.)

pannacotta fugo.

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anonymous asked: 🧟‍♂️ 🍂 for Fugo! Abbababy Anon asked: Hmm hmm~ how about 🎃 for Fugo and Giorno?

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🧟‍♂️ a non-serious fear that they have

zombies. the idea of a virus spreading, how it wrecks your immune system and makes you lose control of yourself... it reminds him too much of Purple Haze. on a less serious note, he just thinks they look gross. he’s seen his fair share of innards and bodily fluids during his time in Passione, but. still. eugh.

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

corn mazes, surprisingly! it was one of those things he thought was stupid at first, but loved once he was actually in one. the maze attendant gave you both a series of riddles mapped according to different intersections in the field. Fugo had a blast trying to figure it out; after all, it was just one giant puzzle. he had a smug look for the rest of the day once he found out that he beat Mista’s time.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

too seriously for it to be fun. being raised in a demanding household has built him to be a huge perfectionist. carving pumpkins was something he thought would be really easy until he got to it himself. the pumpkin’s rind is so difficult to cut through that it makes his lines look jagged. and god, he was not expecting it to be so messy. Fugo had this elaborate design planned out, but once he finished, he ended up with a standard jack-o’-lantern face. you’ll have to remind him that it still looks great.

trish una.

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anonymous asked: 🍂 and 🎃 for trish?

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

getting fall-themed coffee, obviously! but not pumpkin spice lattes. god, no. Trish thinks they’re overdone. she’d rather go for anything with caramel and / or cinnamon. bonus points if it’s sugary (bitter coffee is only tolerable). she laughs when you get whipped cream stuck on your top lip, but her honey-sweet giggle is always followed by her swiping her thumb over your face. it’s a great excuse to touch you.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

not too seriously. at least not initially. she sees it as another part of American culture that she doesn’t understand. but when she sees how much fun you’re having, she can’t help but get into it herself. it’s a fun past time, albeit difficult (who knew these gourds were so thick?). Trish makes it her personal goal to make her pumpkin look nicer than yours. although she’s unsuccessful in her endeavor, she’d admit that pumpkin carving was “just okay” — aka really fun.

#bucci gang #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #headcanons #golden wind #part 5 #ask game response #giorno giovanna #Bruno Bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #Narancia Ghirga #Pannacotta Fugo #trish una #gore mention /#after about 3 months of running this blog #I finally got a Trish request #bless u anon :')#she was a joy to write for

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ne0sgotmyback · 4 years ago

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Fake dating II part 4 II Wong Yukhei

see masterlist for part 1-3

fashion designer ! wong yukhei x florist ! reader

It has been a few weeks since your high school reunion when Yukhei texts you without any warning. But since you are at work, you decided to ignore the text for now. You will deal with it later, atleast that was your plan. With every passing minute you get more curious, wondering why he would even text you after three weeks with no contact. With your mind not at your work you cut yourself instead of the flower’s stem. ‘y/n, what happened? You are usually not this clumsy. What is on your mind?’ your boss asks your concerned. Your boss is an older lady who’s love for flowers is almost bigger than the love for her husband. You answer her question it’s nothing and you are just a bit tired. ‘You know what, you can get five minutes of to get a band-aid and ease your mind. So you do as your told, going into the back of the shop to get a band-aid and a glass of water. Your curiosity got the best of you and after aiding your finger you decide to unlock your phone and up the text Yukhei sent you.

Hii,

Lucas here. Do you remember me talking to Kun at the reunion? Well he was willing to invest in my fashion line. But he still thinks we are dating, so he invited the two of us over for dinner. Are you willing to help me out? If not I can just tell him we broke up.

Let me know what you think

Bye

Not knowing what to respond to this you just leave him on read and decide to text him back when you finish work. So after finishing your glass of water you go back in to the shop, helping your boss making a few bouquets.

It has been a long day at work when you arrive home. After finishing the bouquets for the next day, another order came in for four more bouquets. You offered to stay overtime and finish the bouquets, since your boss is a bit older and you don’t want her to overwork herself. So when you finally open te door to your apartment you just want to go to bed. But as you enter the living room you see Da-hee sitting on your couch and as you want to ask her what she’s doing her, you notice Ten walking out the kitchen. ‘Hey y/n, how are you? We thought it was time to have a small get together. We missed you, our hard working girl,’ Ten excitedly explains why they are at your apartment. Setting down the glasses and bottle of water he was carrying. You just sighed and sat down next to Da-hee on the couch. ‘what’s with that sigh, my friend?’ Ten asks you curious.

‘I’m just very tired from working all week,’ you answer, forgetting about the text Lucas send you halfway during the day. You grab the bottle of water and fill your glass, gulping the water down in mere seconds. Da-hee follows your example and also fill her glass with water. Ten however grabs the remote from the television and puts on some show. ‘Do you guys want something to eat as well? I haven’t had dinner yet, so I will just make some ramen. Nothing special,’ you tell them and they shake their heads. They probably had dinner before going to your apartment. You get up from the couch and walk towards the kitchen. While making the ramen your hear some screaming from the couch.

‘y/n! why didn’t you tell me this?’ Ten questions you about something you apparently should have told him. ‘Since when are you and Lucas texting?’ He screams excitedly, and that is when you remember the text you were still supposed to answer. You hurry to the couch making sure you can get your phone back from Ten. You see another text

Okay, I knew this was a onetime thing. But leaving me on read, when I ask a favor back is a bit low y/n. I hope you know that.

‘F*ck!’ you scream not explaining anything to Ten and Da-hee. You sigh and fall down on the couch, your head in Da-hee’s lap. She just starts stroking your hair to calm you down. ‘Guys, I f*cked up,’ You then see and Ten starts laughing. In between his laughs you can make out that he grabbed your phone and saw Yukhei’s text. ‘Ten! Stop laughing,’ you whine, feeling really bad for yourself.

‘I’m sorry, but this is hilarious and such a Lucas thing to do.’

‘Well since you know him so good, why don’t you help me?’ getting a bit angry with Ten for only laughing at you. Atleast Da-hee is trying to comfort you even though she still doesn’t know what happened. ‘now please hand me back my phone.’

‘Okay,’ Ten answers and hands you your phone back. Since you are feeling so bad for yourself you don’t want to explain what happened to Da-hee, so you just hand her your phone. She looks at you confused but your eyes tell her to read the texts.

‘Okay, I think your reaction was a bit too much. You can just tell him you forgot to answer since you were busy at work. I don’t think it’s that bad,’ Da-hee comforts you after reading the texts. She also starts typing immediately. Within a minute she shows you the text she thought out. You read it over.

Hii,

I’m sorry for not replying earlier. I was very busy at work and when I read your text a costumer came in and it stayed busy after that. To answer your first text, I think the least I can do is going to that dinner. How is your fashion line working out so far, do you have any options for me to buy?

Bye

‘Thank you so much girlie!’ you scream at Da-hee and click send. Afterwards you give your friend a tight hug and put your phone away. ‘No it’s time to have fun,’ you tell your friends excitedly and your evening with a lot of laughing and drinking starts.

It’s been almost two weeks since Yukhei had texted you about Kun wanting to meet the both of you again and you have been texting every day since. It started out as getting to know each other more, so nothing weird could happen, but now you actually enjoy it. Right now you are at work, but when you get off in an hour or so, Yukhei will be here to pick you up. You have a change of clothes in your bag, so you can change out of your work clothes at the shop.

Hii, I will be a bit earlier to pick up a bouquet for Kun and his girlfriend. Is that okay?

You read the text Yukhei just send you, you just answer his text with a thumbs up emoji. Then the bell rings announcing there is new costumer in the shop. ‘Hello! How can I help you?’ you question the costumer and start picking out a bouquet. After this costumer a few other costumers also come in. Up until five minutes before closing time it’s pretty busy in the shop. You sigh cleaning everything as fast as possible. Just before it’s closing time your hear the bell again.

‘Hello? y/n?’ you hear Yukhei ask. Relieved it’s not another costumer you answer him that you still need to clean. ‘no problem, take your time. Just know that I still need to have a bouquet, so if you can request anything that would be great,’ Yukhei casually lets you know and sits down on the stairs that are next to the counter.

‘Yeah yeah, I remember. I have them ready in the back. Just need to clean and count the sales and then after I changed we can go. You answer starting the cleaning process. Yukhei walks to you and takes over the vacuum cleaner. Cleaning the floor, you thank him and go to the counter to count the sales you had today. After cleaning and counting you quickly go to the back of the shop and change into your outfit for the night. Nothing special, a white blouse and black jeans. It still looks classy, but it doesn’t look like you tried to hard. When facing Yukhei you notice his eyes on your body. ‘let’s go, before we are too late,’ you say trying to avoid his eyes. Yukhei nods and opens the door for you, since you are holding the bouquet. He follows after you, until you realize you can’t find his car.

‘Hello Yukhei, nice to see you. Good to see you brought your girlfriend along,’ Kun beams at you two. Yukhei enthusiastically hugs him, while you shake his hand respectfully. He is still a older than you, can’t forget to show him respect. ‘how are you guys?’ Kun then continues to ask while looking at you. As if he knows Yukhei’s answer already.

‘we are good. I just finished work so Yukhei picked me up to join the diner. It is nice seeing you again,’ you respond friendly but with manners. Kun just smiles, apparently content with your answer. He does tell you, that his girlfriend Ji-su is going to be late. She got hold up at work, but you don’t mind it. Since was one of the bullies at your high school.

After ordering and some more small talk, Ji-su arrived at the restaurant. She instantly looked shocked, as if she didn’t realize you would join the dinner. ‘Hi baby, how was work?’ Kun asks her as he places a quick kiss on her lips after she sat down at the table. She answered telling it was a lot, but it was also still fun.

‘what do you do for work?’ you decide to ask her, showing her you could be the mature one. Feeling slightly scared by her stare at you, you look down. Your hands fumbling with the ring on your finger. Yukhei notices and grabs your hand under the table. Hoping the other two wouldn’t notice your anxiety.

‘I work as a nurse at the hospital. I hope to become one of the head surgeons some time in the future. But what about you, what kind of work do you do?’ She asks you weirdly curious. You expected her to say something about not getting to know it at the reunion, but somehow she doesn’t.

‘I am a florist, I work at a local flower shop,’ you answer her question.

‘Oh really? That is so amazing! You must see a lot of different people every day. Each of them requesting something different for you. Must be pretty difficult,’ she mocks you and your job. You just sigh and nod your head, being used to it. Yukhei however doesn’t enjoy it and looks at Kun accusingly. Who notices the animosity between the two of the girls as well and tries to minimalize it.

‘She is right. I think it is a hard job y/n, not everybody can do it and a lot of people underestimate it. I mean, I know I couldn’t make a bouquet look pretty,’ he soothes everything down a bit. And everyone let’s out a little chuckle at his remark.

‘So while the girls catch up with each other. Shall we talk about fashion?’ Kun continues his conversation with Yukhei. As if Ji-su heard it as well she ask you a few question about your job and the place you live in. But she also asks about Yukhei and how things are going, if you are living together, or planning on getting married. You surprise yourself and answer all her question without any anger, and most of them even honestly. When she gets to the questions about Yukhei you start doubting your answers, what would someone in love say. But since Ji-su is interested in your answers, you can’t dodge the questions. Which means you got to think about them.

‘you know, that is a good question Ji-su. I don’t immediately know what I would say is Yukhei’s best feature. And do you mean like personality wise or appearance wise?’ you answer Ji-su’s question.

‘You can answer both, and I know it’s a good question. I asked it,’ she answer laughing softly.

‘it’s my humor, of course,’ Yukhei saves you once again laughing at his own joke. You just nod in agreement and look at him. You notices the sparkles in his eyes, it makes it look like he really does enjoy this dinner. Well he should, he is talking about his fashion line. But deep down you know, you hope it is something more. You hope he enjoys your company.

‘you are indeed very funny Lucas.’

‘thank you,’ Yukhei mutters a bit flustered. She seemed to be lowkey flirting with him, even with her boyfriend present. You sigh at her actions. Yukhei turns his head to you. ‘is there something wrong, babe?’ he questions your sigh. You shake your head and tell him you’ve got to use the bathroom.

Dinner with Kun and Ji-su was a success according to Yukhei. He seems over the moon with everything. You guess you would be too, if someone wants to invest in your clothing line. ‘y/n, I don’t want this to end yet. Do you want to come over to my apartment?’ he sing-songs his question to you. He did have a bit too much to drink, so maybe it would be safer for him and you if you would drive him home.

‘Yeah sure, why not. Shall I drive us?’

‘No! I can drive. I didn’t have that much to drink. You see, I can still walk in a straight line,’ he tells you walking in front of you. Indeed he did walk a straight line, without wobbling or stopping in between. Maybe he really didn’t have that much to drink. So you give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.

‘okay, you can drive. Where is your car?’ you ask. Yukhei doesn’t answer, instead he puts his arm around your shoulders. Leading you towards his car. he opens the door for you and you sit down in the car. he jogs around the car to the driver’s side and sits down as well. As he starts the engine, you realize you’re actually going to his apartment. You start to panic a bit, you didn’t think this through, if the both of you drink more alcohol you won’t be able to go home. But you also can’t stay at his place, what are you supposed to do now. Did Yukhei even think this through? Suddenly you feel his hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circling in order to try and calm you down. At least, that is what it did. How he knew you were stressed is still a mystery to you, but at least you calmed down. His hand remains on your thigh for the rest of the drive, except for when he needed to switch gears of course.

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pedros-mustache-main · 5 years ago

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when your love reaches me (i)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 9.3k+ (i am abundantly sorry for how long this is. curl up with a snack, my dudes)

warnings: required: total suspension of disbelief. also: screwed up historical timeline, slight angst, language, innuendo, suggestive moments and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: hi! a day late, but i wanted to respect the ‘out of time’ epilogue which came out yesterday as this is very much inspired by @perriwiinkle and her lovely fic. this is my take on a similar theme, only with brian and just three (3) parts. thank you to @deacyblues for your beta-ing help on this mini-series; i heart emoji you. anyways, let me know what you think. enjoy! xoxo!

in this chapter: something—be it fate or otherwise—transplants you to a place you do not belong.

it’s raining hard, thunder and lightning battling for dominance in the gray sky. you clutch your textbook to your chest and duck your head against the onslaught, feet nearly slipping on the flat stones of the sidewalk. london weather has always been unpredictable, but you’ve never seen a storm like this, never been caught in one either. it’s too far to make it back to your flat without catching pneumonia and the library feels just as far away so you push forward. the sky turns bright white followed closely by a boom of thunder, and you squeak, picking up your pace.

across a muddy patch of grass stands union concert hall. it’s likely to be locked on a saturday evening, but it’s worth a shot. you squelch through the mud and run the remaining hundred yards to old brick building. your hands, wet with rain, scrabble against the brass doorknob, which, to your surprise, turns with ease. muttering a prayer of thanks, you wrench the door open as a gust of wind turns the rain sideways. you slip inside, breathing heavy, and fall against the door as it shuts.

silence. blessed silence.

you heave a sigh of relief and run a hand through your drenched hair.

the concert hall is empty, but the lonesome rows of chairs and desolate stage come as no surprise. with fall break around the corner, imperal college is largely devoid of students on the weekends. there’s parties to be had, memories to be made; no one wants to be cooped up on campus. you, however, don’t have that luxury. there’s too much to be done in too tight a span of time.

as the rain pounds the roof and slides down the windows, you take a seat at the back of the hall. the plastic chair creaks underneath your weight, and each time you move a soggy squish echoes about the room. your textbook—creating exhibitions: collaborations in the planning, development, and design of innovative experiences—rests open on your lap. the laminated binding curls as it dampens, but you’re soaked to the bone. there’s no avoiding the damage. if you must, you’ll pay the thirty pounds at the end of the semester to turn your rental into a purchase.

if you think about it, it really is quite sad, the way you’re sitting on your own on a saturday night, highlighter clamped between your teeth, eyes scanning the pages of your textbook with far too much interest. if you think about it, you know you should be out with your friends. this morning rachel had tried to convince you to come out after your shift at the museum, but you’d said no—again. you’ve been given a full ride in the masters of science communication program, and you’ll do nothing to jeopardize the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. rachel insists that a simple evening at a local pub is harmless, and you know she’s right, but your answer is always the same: no. it’s easier that way.

you read for awhile, highlighting the text and annotating the margins of your textbook with the thoughts or questions that flit through your mind. as you dry, the legs of your jeans turn stiff, and your hair feels frizzy with humidity. not for the first time, you wish you’d remembered the pink umbrella leaning against the coatrack in your flat.

an hour passes, maybe two. with a heavy sigh, you shut your book and meander through the rows of chairs toward the bathroom. the washroom light flickers a muted yellow when you switch it on, an incessant electronic buzz filling the room. crossing to the counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror. you look atrocious: tired bags under your eyes, streaks of mascara on your cheeks, hair unruly, clothes sodden and weighed down on your body. you’d laugh if it wasn’t so damn depressing. you look like a madwoman, like some sort of victorian nightmare. in an effort to clean yourself up, you splash cold water on your face and scrub the makeup away until your cheeks hurt. you wet your hair, run your fingers through the tangles, and attempt to dry yourself under the hand dryer.

it’s still raining outside. there’s a single skylight in the bathroom, and when you look up, it’s a funny sensation, watching the rain slam against the window but never hit your face. you smile faintly; there’s just something about being inside when it rains. it’s similar to a warm hug or a—

a crack of lightning breaks you from your reverie. the sound goes straight to your heart, stopping it with the force of its blow. with a gasp, you clamp your hands against your ears, eyes screwed shut, and you’re suddenly six years old again, scared of a simple thunderstorm. white light pours through the skylight, drowning the room in an almost heavenly glow. thunder trips over the heels of the lightning in an effort to make itself known. the thunder is more like a roar, and you swear you can feel the foundation of the building jostle.

then all is quiet. even the sound of the rain on the roof has stopped.

you pull your hands from your ears, breathing heavy, and look around the bathroom. maybe... maybe you should call a cab or an uber. you’d rather not be stuck in the concert hall overnight, and the storm feels eerily close.

grabbing your bag from the counter, you fumble for your phone in its depths. you come away empty-handed, but you must have left it on your chair alongside your textbook. you pull open the bathroom door and step into a crush of bodies.

your heart stutters in your chest, confusion stealing the air from your lungs.

there’s a crowd of people in the concert hall. it’s hard to move, to breathe, to think. the room is dim, lit only by orange and white lights on the stage. there’s music pounding through the room, and it sounds vaguely familiar, but you’re too stunned and confused to place it. a haze of smoke filters over the heads of onlookers; the air smells like cigarettes and sweat. where had everyone come from? how long had you been in the bathroom? surely not long enough for a band and a crowd and—

a thought strikes you: this is not the union concert hall you were just sat in seeking shelter from a bad storm.

a hand circles your arm, and you startle, head twisting to the left. “you okay, love?” a voice asks. the man is short with warm-toned skin, his hair like a dark halo around his head. he stares at you in earnest, and you’re sure you’ve gone pale.

in lieu of answering, you stumble backwards, back into the bathroom. the subway-tiled walls of moments past have turned a dull green, and the hand dryer has been replaced with a paper-towel dispenser. the linoleum under your shoes is grimy, unwashed and stained. the air is heavy with cigarette smoke thanks to the women lounging around the open stalls, dripping ashes to the floor with a simple flick of the wrist. the scent clings to the inside of your nose, and you blame the tears pricking the corners of your eyes on the smell.

“excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a lithe woman with blown-out blonde hair. she gives you a once over, her brow furrowed, before leaving the bathroom.

at the sink, you brace your hands against the edge. the sink feels like cheap plastic, easy enough to rip from the wall. where the sturdy white countertop has gone, you aren’t sure. for the second time in one day, you splash water on your heated face.

“hey. are you okay?”

you look up and meet the doe eyes of a short girl standing behind you. her hair is bobbed at her neck, her eyes lined with a deep purple liner. her appearance is warped by the faded mirror, but you can see the way she’s looking at you, and you don’t blame her. you’re sure you look as crazy as you feel.

you straighten at the sink and shut the water off. “i’m just...” you flounder for a good excuse. your insides feel like mush, and your brain has paused, as if the loading symbol is looping over and over in place of producing any coherent thought. “do you have a phone i could borrow?”

“there’s a payphone around the corner,” she says, her words slow with apprehension. “did something happen out there? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

there’s a pounding in the back of your head, hard and steady, and you rub your temples. “i was studying and then i was here and i don’t really remember the rest.” you pause. “it’s been a long day.”

the girl’s face softens as she smiles. she moves to stand beside you and withdraws a thin tube of lipstick from her clutch. “i know what you mean. i can get pretty bogged down and feel like the time’s flown by and i’ve been asleep the at the wheel, but, god, it’s queen! they started here, you know, in this very concert hall. and now they’re back, just for us! how bloody exciting is that?” as she speaks, her irish accent grows stronger, in tandem with the excitement lighting her face.

you frown, unsure if you’ve heard her correctly. “queen? like... the band queen or queen elizabeth?”

she pauses in her lipstick application. “the band queen, silly. are you really that knackered?” with a grin, she puts the lipstick down and takes your shoulders in her hands. “you’re at a queen concert, love. it’s friday, september first, ninteen-seventy-eight. has been all day, ever since you woke up in your jammies.” she laughs, her blunt bob swaying as tilts her head to the side. “you gonna be fine?”

your first thought: no, absolutely not.

the only answer you can give, punctuated by a weak smile: “yeah. yeah, i’m gonna be all right. thanks.”

the girl puts her makeup away and gives your shoulder a final squeeze. “i think they’ll be finishing soon, so i’m gonna pop back out so i don’t miss it. try and get some rest, yeah? you look like you could use it.”

she exits the bathroom, a song momentarily pouring through the door, and you find yourself alone in the empty room.

before you can stop yourself, you twist on your heel and lunge for the nearest toilet. you vomit, heaving what little remains in your stomach, until there is nothing left to unearth. dropping back against the stall, you duck your head between your knees.

this is just a fever dream. maybe you got scared during the storm, hit your head, and passed out on the bathroom floor. there’s no way in hell—no way in hell—this is nineteen-seventy-eight. that’s preposterous. and sure, queen might have gotten their start at imperial college—everyone knows that—but that was eons ago. freddie mercury is dead, john deacon is retired, and brian may and roger taylor are well within their seventies. the girl must be mistaken or strung out or high or all of the above.

or maybe you are. you can’t be sure anymore.

your legs tremble beneath you as you stand. if any good has come of this, it’s that you’re dry now—suspiciously so. despite the pale sheen on your face and layer of sweat on your forehead, it’s as if you were never drenched to begin with. your cream pleated trousers have no wrinkles along the back after you spent all afternoon stuffing and unstuffing boxes on the floor. your navy top is void of the stubborn coffee stain you’d gotten this morning as you rushed into the museum ten minutes late. it’s almost as if the day never happened.

it’s almost as if the day—saturday, september fifth, twenty-twenty—is still forty-two years in the future instead of thirty minutes away from ending.

“all right, we’ve got one more for you lovelies tonight! this one’s new, so keep it a secret ‘till the record comes out, okay?”

you turn at the sound of a familiar voice amplified over a loudspeaker.

freddie mercury.

though you’ve never been a huge queen fan, you’re positive anyone with even a passing knowledge of classic rock could hear his voice and pick it out in a lineup.

heart in your throat, you sling your bag over your shoulder and squeeze out the door. the energy in the hall has heightened tenfold since you last stood in the bathroom doorway. perhaps it’s due to the fact that the concert is rapidly drawing to a close and everyone wants to drink in the last moments before it’s all over.

perhaps it’s simply because it’s queen.

as your eyes slide to the stage, you can’t help but feel a giddiness rise in your chest. your throat goes tight, eyes misty, as you weave through the crowd on auto-pilot. you’re drawn to them; who wouldn’t be? the floor shakes beneath your feet as the music surges around you. he’s magnificent—freddie. he commands the crowd with ease, and you feel at home, relaxed, like you’re watching a friend goof around. seeing him there—whole, well, happy—is nothing short of a miracle.

“aren’t they marvelous?” you turn to see the girl from the bathroom. she holds your bicep tight in her fingers. her smile is radiant, her face glowing with unbridled joy. “i’m glad you made it out for this!”

you nod dumbly, swiveling back to drink in the final moments. matthew at the coffee shop you frequent would kill for something like this. you want to text him, to rub it in his face with a good-natured wink, but he hasn’t been born yet, has he? seeing freddie mercury on stage confirms it.

you’re not in twenty-twenty anymore.

the song draws to a close, and you find yourself smiling despite the uncertainty of your current situation. you can’t help but applaud alongside the rest of the audience. someone shouts “encore” but freddie waves him off with a laugh.

“we just did a fucking encore!” he says.

they take their bows—all four of them—and then disappear backstage. a moment passes before the house lights flicker on, and the crowd begins to disperse. trash litters the floor, and the room doesn’t feel as magical as it did seconds before, but you find it hard to breathe nonetheless. try as you might, you can’t tear your eyes away from the stage.

“oh my god, wasn’t that brilliant?” bathroom-girl practically jumps up and down on her ballet-slippered feet. “i’m anna, in case you were wondering,” she says.

you hesitate. there’s too much going on around you, so many things you’ve only read about or seen in pictures: the fashion, the hair, the fucking band. you feel dizzy—dizzy with fear and excitement. it’s like you’re standing in line for a rollercoaster. you know what’s coming: the slow climb up the first hill, anticipation bubbling in your stomach before the first drop, then the madness of letting yourself plummet at incredible speeds. all you can do is laugh, just like you do on the rollercoaster.

“[y/n],” you say between fits of amusement. “sorry! i don’t know what’s gotten into me!” you press a hand to your mouth, shaking your head back and forth.

anna grins. “that was me when the concert first started.” she bends her head toward yours conspiratorially. “i nearly pissed myself when i saw john deacon walk out for the first time.”

your laughter turns to girlish giggles and holding her forearm is all you can do to keep from falling to the floor. you’re drunk, surely. drunk off what, you can’t say, but you’ve felt like this before.

“hey!” anna’s eyes go wide, and you can see the lightbulb turn on above her head. “i saw where they parked their vans. we could go have a look-see!”

your initial reaction is a resounding no. just the thought of standing mere meters away from queen makes you want to break out into hives. you’re sure to say something stupid and embarrassing or screw up some time-continuum-thing. you’ve seen enough doctor who to know not to mess about with time.

oh god, you must be really fucking crazy if this is what you’re life has come to, deciding what the right or wrong move is based on a children’s television show.

yet there’s still a sliver of your heart holding on to the hope that this is all a dream. you could wake up at any moment, still in the concert hall, yes, but where you belong and a soaked mess from the rainstorm. so, even though you know you shouldn’t, even though your heart of hearts tells you that you’re a girl out of place and far away from home, you nod and let anna drag you toward the a side-exit door.

outside, the air is chilly, but it soothes your hot skin.

standing outside the concert hall is perhaps more strange than standing in it. you know this spot; you walk behind the building every day. if you follow the winding path toward the dormitories and then veer to the left, you’ll eventually reach your flat—or you would if this were some other time. it’s not a terribly long walk, and most of the time, you find it refreshing. but today, with the sun replaced by the moon and the evening air and anna’s nervous energy, you find yourself a mite too cold. the cold settles in your stomach, not on your body, and you catalog the area. the parking lot has been repaved, all the dips and cracks you know so well gone. the tree which overhangs a dumpster in the corner is but a small sapling, and the dumpster is nowhere to be seen. the cold in your belly spreads to your chest, and, for a moment, you forget what it is anna dragged you here for.

but then her fingers grip your wrist tightly, and you remember: queen.

“look,” she whispers. “there they are.”

you follow her eyeline to the gaggle of men descending a ramp propped beneath a set of double-doors. in the thin veil of darkness you inhabit, it’s hard to make out who is who. brian is unmistakable, what with his gangly arms and legs and tilted shoulders. freddie is easy to pick out, too; he walks with a swagger only he can pull off. everyone else is a jumble of faces obscured by the night and a cloud of cigarette smoke. they’re loud, but not rowdy, and it reminds you somewhat of a group of teenage boys out to make trouble.

“let’s go over.” anna steps forward, but you stop her with a hand on her elbow.

“no, we shouldn’t. i’m sure they’ve got security, and we really can’t just waltz up there. besides, what would we say?” you shake your head. “this is close enough, don’t you think?”

“fuck no!” her exclamation startles you, your eyebrows lifting, and she laughs. “this is likely the only time we’ll be able to meet true rockstar royalty. you can stay back if you want to, but i’m gonna go.”

“go where?”

in unison, you turn with anna on the ball of your foot. your movements are slow, hers hurried, but you both come face to face with roger taylor and you both inhale sharply.

your first thought is foolish: he looks so young. but of course he does. he’s twenty-nine here, not seventy. half a cigarette hangs out of his mouth, and his blond hair brushes the collar of his jacket as he goes to remove the cigarette and puff a plume of smoke to the side. he wears sunglasses, despite the late hour, and if you weren’t so bloody unsettled, you’d find him attractive.

anna finds her voice first. she points her thumb over her shoulder. “well, we were gonna go and... that is, we thought we might...” she heaves a sigh, and her smile turns angelic. “you put on a great show tonight.”

roger grins, his eyes fixed on anna. “i thought i saw you in the crowd.” his voice is raspy and high and dripping with innuendo. you all know he did not see anna from behind his drum set, but that doesn’t stop her from pulling her lower lip between her teeth and batting her eyelashes.

“oy, rog, can we get a move on, please?”

roger frowns and slips between you and anna, his hand firm on her bicep. he shouts in the general direction of the disembodied voice. “don’t get your fucking knickers in a twist, crystal, jesus!” he rolls his eyes and looks back at anna. “sorry, he’s like a damn mother hen. i didn’t catch your name.”

“anna.” she’s breathless, ready to drip to the floor in a puddle of goo. it’s painfully obvious, and roger seems to like that. his hand rubs an untraceable pattern over her shoulder.

“and your friend?” he doesn’t look at you when he speaks, just jerks his head in your direction.

you should be offended, but really you feel like crying. an overwhelming homesickness builds in your chest. everyone you know, every place you hold so dear, none of it is as it should be. those fleeting magical moments during the concert are quickly wearing off, and you feel yourself slipping back to the panic you’d fought in the bathroom.

“that’s [y/n].”

“would you gals like to join us for some drinks?” this time roger does look at you, his gaze soft but purposeful. he’s daring you to turn him down.

maybe it’s the homesickness. maybe it’s the idea that you can be anything, anyone, here with few personal repercussions. maybe it’s the haughty glint in roger’s eye. whatever it is, it finally gets you talking.

“lead the way,” you say, your eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

roger’s smirk widens, and he tugs anna against his side with an arm around the waist. “gladly.”

the inside of the tour bus is cramped. you suspected it might be so based on the outside, but you didn’t realize just how tight the quarters would truly be. you’re stiff, sat on a stool between two men with long brown hair and equally long faces. there’s a tremor in your leg, and you itch to steal the cigarette out of the man-on-your-left’s mouth and smoke your anxiety away.

for anna’s part, she seems at ease, and you envy that. she’s wrapped around roger’s arm, pressed against him on the couch, and in that moment you feel a certain flare of hatred toward her. you’d always been jealous of the girls who could so effortlessly flirt and make a move and get what they want. you never had to the confidence to follow suit. sitting as you are near the back of the bus, crammed between two sullen and tired roadies, you’re reminded of secondary school lunches. a rush of discomfort heats the back of your neck, and you shift on the stool. your movement must disturb to the man next to you because he shifts, too. he leans away, twisting his neck to look at you.

“you good?” the smoke that leaves his parted lips circles around your head, stinging your eyes.

“i wish everyone would stop asking me that,” you mutter. it comes out before you can stop it, and when you realize what you’ve said, you sink down further on your stool. your hand comes to squeeze your forehead. “oh god.”

but the man just laughs. “here.” he hands you an unopened beer. it’s cold to the touch, dripping with sweat. “you look like you could use it.”

you lift it slightly in a sign of thanks before popping the tab and taking a swig. it’s cheap, and that surprises you considering it’s queen, but you drink it anyway.

“so, who picked you up?”

your eyebrow arches, and you look at the man on your left with a mixture of shock and distain. “no one, thank you. i came on my own accord and i’ll leave in the same way.”

out of the corner of your eye, from his place on a low bench in front of you, you think you see brian turn slightly, his curls swaying with the movement. but he doesn’t face you after all, so it must have been your imagination.

“okay, okay!” the man holds his hands up in surrender, mirth etched along the lines in his face. “sorry!”

you resist the urge to huff, cross your arms, and pout like a child. you pull at your beer instead.

the man nudges you with his elbow. “chris taylor, by the way. crystal.” he points to the man on your right. “that’s ratty—pete.”

pete looks tired enough to fall out of his chair. all he can do is raise his eyebrows in greeting and drop his head back against the wall.

“i’m [y/n].”

crystal mirrors ratty’s movements and stretches his legs out underneath the card-table. “well, i must admit that you might be one of the most level-headed lasses we’ve had in here—and we’ve had plenty of girls grace this bus.”

you aren’t sure if he’s bragging or simply making conversation, so you ignore the comment and say, “i’ve had a... strange day. it’s a lot to take in.”

you’re not lying. really, it is a lot to take in. the tour bus is hot and sweaty, but conversation is quiet, like a background hum. it’s not what you thought it would be; nothing is.

“didn’t think you’d end up here?”

you shake your head. “absolutely not.”

crystal smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, the truth in your words humorous to you and you alone.

the bus door opens, and a flurry of sound enters the already-cramped space. crystal sits forward; ratty seems to wake up. at once, the energy is higher. you feel your heart begin to pound against your ribcage.

freddie enters the bus in all his post-concert glory. you’d been a baby when he died, but now you sit at the back of his tour bus, watching as he laughs and jokes and lives. it makes you want to throw up all over again.

he stands in the center of the bus, hands on his hips, surveying the jumble of roadies and groupies and band members. “well?” the corner of your mouth quirks upward at the sound of his voice; you can’t help it. “have we decided where we’re crashing yet?”

“uh, yeah.” john deacon pipes up from his spot at the front of the bus. you hadn’t noticed him all night, but there he stands, leaning against the driver’s seat, a map in hand. “i think we’re gonna—”

“oh hell, we don’t need that!” roger slaps the map out of john’s hands. it crumples between his fingers, and he all but pulls anna onto his lap. she squeals in delight. “we’ve got our own personal tour guide right here. not to mention brian. he’s got to know his way about.”

“don’t forget [y/n], roger!” anna says, ever the good friend.

no, please. please, for the love of god, forget [y/n].

as one, the tour bus turns to look at you. this time bile does rise in the back of your throat.

sitting in the back of the bus you can handle. crystal is nice, and simply being in the presence of music royalty is sure to be the peak of the rest of your life—whatever that may look like. but having them all look at you, expectantly, waiting for you to giggle or blush or say something, it’s that too much you told crystal about moments earlier. only this time, it’s so much you feel like your head might explode.

even though it feels like decades, only a few seconds have gone by since everyone began waiting for you to make a peep. so when you look at anna and say, “i’m sure you know better than me,” it doesn’t sound awkward. it sounds like a comment shared between friends. you’re thankful for that, at least.

“okay, fine.” anna claps her hands together. “what are you in the mood for, freddie?”

your eyebrow lifts at her familiarity, and beside you, crystal chuckles behind his hand. god, she’s good. you are... decidedly not.

“anything fabulous. we’ve just had a good show, if i do say so myself, and i want to have some fun before we really have to start working.”

“we are working, fred.” it’s the first thing you’ve heard brian say all evening. you can’t see his face from where you’re sitting, so his voice sounds far away. far away but ever so nice to the ears.

freddie waves his hands dismissively. “you know what i mean.”

“there’s a disco club a few blocks from here,” anna offers. “it’s not garishly disco, but it’s fun.”

there’s a pause before freddie says, “it’s late, so it’ll have to do.” he turns to brian with a grin. “do you think we should call ahead?”

twenty minutes and three phone calls later, you’re walking side-by-side with crystal and ratty, hands twitching at your sides, desperately wishing for the comfort of a pair of pockets. if you’d hazard a guess, you’d say there’s about twenty people headed for the club. you know you should feel happy, exuberant at the chance to party with queen in the 70s, but your head hurts. it really, really hurts, and you haven’t the faintest idea where you’ll spent the night. you have no money, no contacts—nothing but the clothes on your back and the half-empty purse thrown over your shoulder.

“[y/n], where are you from?” ratty asks. his questions is harmless enough, but it breaks your underarms out in an uncomfortable sweat. how can you explain that you’re from here, the very here you’re walking on, without also explaining why you have no idea where the disco club is or where the charming flower stand on the corner has gone?

you settle on something vague, but passable. “not from around here.” the toe of your shoe kicks at a loose pebble, which skips forward, nearing the long strides of brian.

“on holiday then?”

“something like that, yeah.” you smile to soften the blow of your unsubstantial answers, and it seems to appease.

you chat with the roadies about inconsequential things—roger’s horrible morning breath, the oil crisis and its impact on the upcoming tour, whether or not pigeons lay eggs. it’s small talk, and you ask more questions than give answers, but it relaxes the ache in your shoulders. you have to remind yourself breathe, drink in what you can while you can. you’ll be okay.

you have to be.

the group rounds the corner like an amoeba, all uneven edges and uncertain direction. though the hour is rapidly closing in on one a.m., the road is filled. a few of the cars closest to the curb honk and frenzied arms reach out windows to wave as queen passes them by. a girl flashes her tits from the sunroof of her car; roger gives her a thumbs up.

“is it always like this?” you ask.

crystal laughs. “this is nothin’, dove. we’ve got this party planned for october in new orleans, and i am honestly a little bit afraid of what might happen.”

the club comes into view, music ebbing through the open front door. climax is written in bright yellow lightbulbs across the marquee, and someone squeezes anna’s shoulder with a laugh. the line waiting to enter is long, roped off in anticipation of your arrival. those in queue push forward as your party begins to enter. freddie signs a few autographs on the back of receipts. brain scrawls across the crest of someone’s hip with a shit-eating grin on his face.

the resounding thought that you shouldn’t be here flickers through your mind and not for the first time. you ignore it as crystal leads you into the club, a hand tucked in the small of your back. his touch is anything but sexual, and it’s a relief. he likely sees you as a lost puppy, out of her depth, and you might have to lean into that come closing time.

“do you want something to drink?” he shouts over the music and laughter and shouting.

you nod eagerly. “yes, please!”

weaving through horde of dancers, you find a spot at a cocktail table tucked near a back corner. “boogie wonderland” plays over the louder speakers, and it grates against your headache. the disco ball in the center of the room spins and spins and spins, casting sprinkles of white light over the room. you can’t stop watching it, wondering what it would feel like to wrap yourself around the ball and stay there forever. it probably wouldn’t feel very different from how you feel right now, though your legs are planted firmly on the ground.

“lost in thought?”

you turn, expecting to see crystal with your drink, but you’re met with the incredibly tall form of brian may. you have to tip your head back to meet his eyes he’s standing so close. he must notice because he takes a fraction of a step backwards, his smile widening.

your mouth goes dry, but you manage a shaky nod. “yeah, i guess.” you blink and run your eyes over his face. like roger, he’s painfully young. his curls are dark and full, his skin smooth. he’s handsome, ridiculously so, and despite what some may believe, you think he knows it too.

“you’ve been awful quiet tonight.” he leans against the table with ease. the edge, which reaches your chest, seems to dig into his hip, and he adjusts himself to a more comfortable stance. “most girls are chatty.”

“that’s what crystal said.”

brian chuckles under his breath. “yeah, crystal would know.” he glances over his shoulder then looks back at you. “[y/n], right?”

you’re surprised he remembered or overheard or asked someone before walking over. it’s a simple thing, but just hearing your name grounds you. you don’t care who says it; it reminds you that you are, in fact, still human. and it doesn’t hurt that brian’s voice is like butter. it could put anyone at ease.

for the first time that evening, you feel a lightness in your chest as you smirk and meet his gaze. “brian, right?”

at this, he throws his head back to laugh. his reaction brings a blush to your face, and you duck your head, uncertain where your burst of flirty energy has come from. moments ago, you’d been yearning for the comfort of a good bed and solid night’s rest. now, you could stand in this dark corner and look at brian, hear him laugh, until you fall asleep standing.

when he’s calmed, brian looks at you again. there’s a shift in his stare, one you can’t quite place. “what do you do, [y/n]?”

this time, you decide to answer honestly. “i’m a student, most of the time,” you say. “but eventually i’ll be a curator for museums.”

his eyebrows lift. “a curator? that’s bloody brilliant.”

you shrug. “i like history and photography and design. it’s kind of the perfect blend.” glancing at your empty hands, you fumble for your words then meet his eyes through the underside of your lashes. “a little birdie told me you’re pretty smart yourself.”

he tilts his head in a noncommittal manner, and you swear you can see a tinge of color rise along the top of his exposed chest. “i suppose.”

“what is your specialty again? besides the guitar, of course.”

“astrophysics with a concentration in interplanetary dust.” before you can make a quip about how much interplanetary dust is actually around to study, he leans close. he has to bend at the waist to lower his mouth to the shell of your ear, and when he speaks, it’s hardly above a whisper. “i’m good at other things, too, you know? besides space and the guitar.”

you draw back slightly, enough look into his eyes. his pupils are dark, overpowering the hazel tint of his irises. if you move an inch, your lips will brush his mouth; you stay still, your eyes darting back and forth between his.

you feel utterly ridiculous for a fraction of a second. he’s brian may, first of all, and you are decidedly not worthy of his attentions. but more than that, this isn’t your home, your time. the thought makes you cringe.

fucking hell, you don’t belong here.

his long fingers skim your waist. the touch is feather-light, a mere whisper, but it pulls you from your thoughts.

“what are you thinking?” he breathes.

“not much.” it’s a half-truth; you can barely focus on your existential crisis with his fingertips working along your skin as they are. he’s brazen enough to dip underneath the hem of your shirt just enough to touch the skin of your hip. you bite your tongue. “wondering where you got the nerve to be so cheeky all of a sudden.”

he withdrawals his hand as if he’s been bitten by fire, cheeks gone red as flame. “sorry, sorry,” he stammers. “i just thought that—”

you know you shouldn’t, that it will only lead to trouble, but you do it anyway.

you grab his wrist and squeeze tight. “i’m only joking, brian.” your grip relaxes as you grin. “come dance with me.”

he huffs a sigh of relief, shaking his head. “damn, you really—”

you interrupt him again, your feet moving on their own accord toward the dance floor. there’s this strange desire in you—a desire to forget—and he seems willing enough to be the one to help you lose track of your troubles. “come dance with me.”

“i don’t really know how,” he admits, though his smile is wide, showing off his teeth.

“me neither! we can look like idiots together.”

somewhat reluctantly, brian follows you onto the dance floor. the music is louder here, the song changed to something you don’t recognize. you weren’t lying when you said dancing wasn’t your forte. in primary school, you’d stepped on the toes of every boy in your music class during the week of mandatory dance lessons. things haven’t changed much since then as you promptly land your foot on brian’s seconds into the song.

you gasp and clamp your hands over your mouth in an effort to obscure your laughter. “shit, i’m sorry!”

“it’s fine!” he yells, straining to make his voice heard over the thrumming of the music. “the clogs, they’re kinda like a protective shell.”

swaying to the beat, your hands slide along his forearms. “oh yeah? what do they protect you from?”

“klutzy girls like you.”

looking back on the moment years later, you wonder if that’s when you fell in love with him first, on the dance floor, his gangly body unaccustomed to fluid movement. he makes you laugh with his two left feet, and you forget, like you’d hoped, that you do not belong in his arms. as the music ebbs and flows like the tide, you follow it, swinging, swaying, twirling in whatever way you can. you’re sweaty, and he’s sweaty, but you’re both smiling. at some point, you bump into anna who bumps into roger who bumps into freddie and then it’s some version of disco mosh pit, arms and elbows and feet tangled together. you’re laughing—truly laughing for what feels like the first time in ages—and, if you could, you’d stay in that moment forever.

the music slows. you breathe hard, nodding as anna whispers something in your ear about leaving with roger. you aren’t sure if you’ll see her again, aren’t sure if it matters, but you’re thankful for her nonetheless. hers was the first kind face you met, and for that, you can never repay her.

a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you tight against a lean chest, dipping you side to side as the music trills in the background. he mumbles against the skin of your neck. “rog’s leaving with anna.”

you nod and curl your fingernails around his forearms. “i know.”

“is it too presumptuous of me to ask if you’ll do the same? not leave with him, i mean. leave with me.”

you could say something about his proposal being too forward after only a handful of hours together, but you don’t. you feel dizzy from dancing, dizzy with a sense of freedom. normally, you’d never follow a guy home after just meeting. it’s never been in your nature, despite the times you wished it were. tonight, though, you feel like you can do anything.

and if that means letting brian may take you back to his hotel where he’ll likely screw the daylights out of you, so be it.

you twist slightly in his arms, enough to look up at him. you repeat your words of earlier. there’s no hint of a challenge in your voice this time, only desire. “lead the way.”

by the time you reach the door of brian’s hotel room, you’re fumbling with what buttons on his shirt are actually buttoned. his lips are pressed against yours, and you can feel his smile on your teeth as you struggle to both kick the door open with your heel and work the last two buttons.

“you know,” you mumble against his mouth. “you’d make it a lot easier for me if you just don’t button any of them. you’re halfway there, anyway.”

“so i’ve been told,” he replies, his own fingers pushing the three buttons of your blouse through the small holes.

the comment gives you pause. your hands still on the warm skin of his shoulders, and you pull back. his eyelids are heavy, his lips parted and plump. you don’t know what it is about his words that make you stop. maybe it’s the idea of him in a similar situation with another girl. of course, you know you aren’t the first concert-goer he’s dragged home; you aren’t that much of an idiot. still, the thought niggles at the back of your brain.

his hands slide away from your shirt to cup your face, and he bends down to kiss you softly. this kiss is different from the ones he’d given you in the lift—hungry and demanding—and in the hallway—earnest and consuming. he’s gentle, painfully so, and tears spring to your eyes. you’ve never been kissed like this, not so tenderly. it makes your heart stop.

“just you and me, [y/n],” he whispers when he breaks the touch. “just you and me.”

you nod and finish pushing the white shirt off his shoulders.

he doesn’t fuck you. he truly makes love to you, worshipping your body until you both are spent and sweaty, sheets tangled around your limbs. when he collapses beside you with a soft groan, you feel the overwhelming urge to cry. it’s embarrassing, really. but it’s been such a long day, and you’re tired—tired and happy and warm. you throw your arm over your eyes to keep from showing your emotion. you absolutely refuse to be the girl who cries after having sex with brian may.

you feel the bedsheets rustle as he props himself up on his elbow. his fingernail skims along your collarbone. “you’re so... divine.”

you drop your arm to stare at him, heart thumping in your chest. his eyes flick up to meet yours. he smiles and looks at you as if he’s known you his whole life, not seven hours. there’s nothing you can say that will capture how you feel in this moment, so you simply grab him by the neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss.

later, when you’re drifting off to sleep, one of his sleep shirts swallowing you, his chest against your back, one leg pushed between both of yours, you wonder if you’ll wake up in the morning and find it was all a dream. it certainly would make for a good story once you make it home to your flat. even so, if it isn’t a dream, the part of you that so desperately yearned for home hours earlier is slipping away.

you could stay here, like this, if he let you.

shaking your head, you burrow against him. such silly thoughts. even if you have to stay here, out of place, for the rest of your life, this night was a one-time thing. you must know that. so, you’ll cherish his arms around you while you can and commit everything to memory.

come morning, you find yourself still in nineteen-seventy-eight and deliciously sore. you’re embarrassed to say you smile at the revelation of both situations.

stretching your arms over your head as your eyes flutter open, you groan with your stretch. after your eyes have adjusted to the bright morning light streaming through the open curtains, you look around the room and find brian sitting at the small table in the middle of the kitchenette. he has the hotel phone cradled against his shoulder and ear and looks delightfully sleep-muddled. you slip from bed, uncertain how you should act.

will he send you away now that the night is gone? you wouldn’t blame him. your fingers twist the hem of his shirt as you sway from foot to foot at the base of the bed.

he looks up and waves you over. a good sign, at least.

bare feet padding against the carpet, you cross to his side, but don’t reach out to smooth the unruly curls on his head as you wish you could. the thought crosses your mind that you are painfully in love with him already, and it doesn’t even phase you. it just makes you laugh to yourself.

“what do you want for breakfast?”

you blink. “sorry?”

“breakfast? what do you want?”

“i don’t really care. anything,” you say with a shrug. at his pointed look, you concede with a roll of your eyes. “fine. a waffle.”

he adds a waffle to the order, thanks the person on the other end, then puts the phone down. he’s quick to grab your waist and pull you to his lap, his lips attaching to a sensitive spot on your neck. you giggle and swat his shoulder.

“i thought you wouldn’t be so keen about me come morning,” you admit, keeping your tone playful as you pull back to brush the hair from his face.

his forehead crinkles. “why wouldn’t i be?”

you shrug. “we barely know each other. plus, i’m [y/n] [y/l/n] and you’re brian may. not exactly an obvious match.”

he’s quiet a moment, eyes searching yours, before he says, “what do you think about plato’s allegory of the cave?”

you choke on a laugh. “i’m sorry?”

“you know, plato’s cave—what do you think about it?”

he’s being serious, something that absolutely stuns you into answering honestly. you settle on his knee, arms twisted around his neck, as you consider your response. “well, i mean, i think it’s a good metaphor.” you pause. “it makes me think of people and their cell phones.”

“cell phones?”

shaking your head, you backtrack. “i mean, just technology in general. when it comes to technology, we never really know what we’re getting, do we, usually until it’s too late. i know it wasn’t his intention, but the cave makes me think of that. the way technology can so easily take control and we’re powerless to stop it.”

your words hang in the air for a long while. then he dips forward and claims your mouth with his. you shuffle in his lap, surprised, a soft oh parting your lips. he kisses you with that same hunger you’d felt in the lift the previous evening. when he draws back, he presses his forehead to yours.

“come with me,” he breathes.

you still completely, hands dropping from his neck to his arms. the clock on the desk in the corner ticks, loud and annoying. “what?”

“come with me.” he draws back to run a hand over the hair framing your face. “on tour. we leave next month.”

“you’re insane, brian.”

he shakes his head. “no, i’m not.” his words are resolute, anything but unsure.

“we’ve only just met and i don’t think you know what—”

“i know what i’m saying, [y/n].” his hands move to hold your face. “come with me. i’m crazy about you. say what you will about the timing, but i don’t care. you’re smart and funny and beautiful and i want to get to know you more, but i’m leaving. i’d kill to have you by my side.”

“brian...”

your head is spinning, your throat gone dry. someone knocks on the door in the hall—room service—but he keeps talking.

“it’s north america first, then europe, then asia. it’s long, i know, but you don’t have to stay the whole time. i couldn’t ask you to leave your studies like that. you can leave any time you want.”

“brian,” you say again, this time more forcefully, yet he continues.

“i just think that... after last night... fuck, i really like you, [y/n], and i’d hate to see some other guy swoop in while i’m gone.”

he stops at last, breathing heavy, his wiry frame practically trembling with anxiety. you smooth your hands down his neck and across his shoulders, smiling softly. and maybe you’re just as crazy as he is because you lean in, kiss his lips, and say, “okay, i’ll come with you.”

you don’t think twice. don’t have to, really.

he grins, his fingers squeezing your thighs. “really?”

you nod. “really. but only so long as we can go to a disco every now and again. i think john would like that.”

he laughs and delves his fingers in your hair, kissing you hard. you forget about the breakfast waiting in the hall. it doesn’t matter.

a month and a half later, you’re stood outside the record company’s london office, thumbing through your hastily-acquired, perhaps-not-totally-legal passport. crystal had gotten it for you. there being no record of your birth, you aren’t sure how he managed it, but you don’t ask any questions.

the last month and a half have been a whirlwind, to say the least.

you’ve been, largely, happy. any chance you get is spent by brian’s side, and he seems just as eager to pass his free hours with you. you were able to snag a job at a corner diner to make some money for basic necessities—a change of clothes, for starters—and anna, also invited on the tour, gave you free reign of her pull-out sofa without asking for an explanation.

but despite spending more time in brian’s hotel room than anna’s living room, and despite the blissed-out evenings and comfortable mornings and long chats and shared moments of quiet, despite everything that makes you happy here, you still know it’s not right. it’s not where you belong.

so as you’re standing outside the record company, heavy suitcases at your feet, roadies and groupies alike milling about, you can’t help but feel on edge. it’s that same feeling you had the first night you arrived: your heart is in your throat, your chest tight.

maybe it’s the clothes: the tight, flared jeans, white prairie blouse, chunky tan heels. it’s cute, but it’s not you. not yet, anyway.

maybe it’s the hair: you’d had to get it cut earlier in the month, anna dragging you to a salon after claiming your hair was too dowdy. when you look in the mirror now, you feel like farrah fawcett, and that’s not totally bad, but it’s taken some getting used to.

maybe it’s the lack of technology: you’re so used to your phone being attached to your palm, or your car keys jingling in your purse, or your earbuds falling out of said purse at inopportune times. now, you just have a bag with a book in it and a few pieces of really uncomfortable makeup.

all of it serves as a reminder that this is not home.

“ready to go?”

you look up from your passport and squint as the sun hits your eyes. brian stands in front of you, and he moves to block the sunlight. you laugh. “you’re like my own personal sunblocker.”

“it’s a gift and a curse.” dropping a duffle bag, he bends to unzip it and pull out a box wrapped in plain brown paper. “here, i got you something.”

you frown. “brian, that’s not necessary.”

he pushes the box toward you. “just hush and take it.”

with a sigh, you take the box from his hands. over your shoulder, gerry stickells, tour manager, calls for everyone to load the bus with their belongings. the flight to dallas doesn’t leave for several hours, but he likes to be punctual, and the band plus thirty-odd crew and three or four extra girls makes for a hard group to wrangle at once. you don’t envy him his job.

brian leans a little closer, dropping his voice as he watches gerry herd stragglers toward the bus doors. “open it before he comes to shout at us.”

“fine, but you still shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

you rip the paper from the box then slide your nail under the edge. pushing back the cardboard folds, you find a camera nestled amongst sleeves of tissue paper. it’s a small camera, the name canon etched along the silver rim. a thin leather strap is curled around the black casing.

“brian,” you breathe. you meet his eyes, which shine and sparkle and send a thrill to your chest. “this is too much.”

“when we met you said you liked photography. i figured there might be things you’d like to take pictures of while we’re gone.”

cradling the box against your chest, you rise to your toes to press a firm kiss to his mouth. your fingers wind in the hair at the back of his neck, and his hands come to rest on your sides. as has become custom, you feel his smile on your mouth.

“does that mean you like it?” he murmurs.

drawing back, you nod. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide. “yes, of course! thank you!”

gerry’s voice interrupts brian’s response, and you turn to see him, red in the face, pointing to the running vehicle. “hey, you can do that on the bus! get a move on!”

by the time you find your seat on the bus, the tour is already running behind schedule. gerry blames brian, who only shrugs in apology. there’s a brief speech of general safety and schedule from gerry then one of excitement and giddiness from freddie. then the bus rolls out of the parking lot.

you’re nestled on brian’s lap, his arms around your stomach, a game of scrabble on the table in front of you. to your right, john pulls at a cigarette.

“fred, we haven’t even left the country. i don’t want to be sick of this game before tomorrow.”

freddie sticks his tongue out. he places a letter square down and rubs his hands together. “ha! that’s... sixteen points. deaky, write it down!”

brian shifts to glance over your shoulder. “no, that’s not a word, fred.”

“of course it is!” he points to you. “[y/n], please tell him it’s a word.”

instead, you smile and take a picture of him, consternation on his face, finger pointed in the direction of the camera. he groans and rolls his eyes, dropping back against his chair. brian snuggles you close, his breath ghosting over your neck.

as the bus heads for the airport and the game of scrabble continues, crystal leaning over your seat to add his two-cents, you lean back and sigh. there’s a warmth in your chest, in your heart, that you haven’t felt in a long time. you intertwine your fingers with brian’s and squeeze his knuckles.

maybe... maybe this where you belong after all.

~*~*~*

taglist: @bhmay @grigorlee @teenagepeterpan

#brian may #brian may fic #queen #queen fic #j writes #brian may x reader

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smollestnerd · 4 years ago

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XigXem SFW Headcanons

I love doing these to get ideas for headcanons I wouldn’t normally consider, and since I finished filling these out today I thought I’d share! Borrowed from the @otp-imagines-cult post here!

(Just a heads-up, this is a messy mashup of canon-compliant and modern au headcanons)

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Xemnas spends so much money on Xigbar. He doesn't even try to say no at this point, he knows Xig will get his way.

Xigbar sometimes feels guilty about how much Xemnas spends on him, but those feelings fade as soon as Xem comes back from shopping with bags full of gifts for Xig.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Xigbar sleeps in Xemnas’s lap. It's rare that it's the other way around, usually only if Xem is extremely tired or upset (he'll fall asleep while being comforted and held of course).

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

They both do. Well, Xigbar runs around HALF naked, Xemnas is just full frontal at any given point if they’re home alone. Xig will tell him to cover up, but he doesn't ever mean it.

When they have guests, Xigbar is fully clothed 100% of the time. Xemnas, though? There’s always at least a 10% chance he’ll forget wearing a shirt is a thing people expect from him. Everyone is either too afraid or horny to tell him to put one on, thus the responsibility falls on Xigbar to tell him. (Again, about a 10% chance he’ll “forget” to tell him to put on a shirt.)

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

Bold of you to assume they both don't have 11pm bedtimes.

But every so often Xemnas will lose himself in his work and suddenly it's 3am.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

Xigbar is forbidden from cooking anything that isn't microwaveable.

Xemnas's fallback career was fancy chef if “Superior of the In-Between” didn’t work out.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

Neither, but only because neither of them are very online. I think if they were though, Xemnas would see their relationship in everything but not say anything out loud. He just smiles to himself and moves on.

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

Xigbar is an accomplished hoodie thief. Xemnas wears Xig’s croptops sometimes to work out in, but always returns them when he's done.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

Xemnas is usually the one running errands, but he rarely forgets anything on the list. Xigbar always asks if he remembered everything, though, just to soothe his own anxiety, and quietly hoping to catch Xemnas slipping up so he has something to tease about.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

Xigbar drives ever since Xemnas got his license suspended for running too many red lights.

Or; Xig drives like a maniac and Xem is just so used to it he doesn't even bother to insist on driving anymore (unless he's the designated driver, which usually he is). Xem is lowkey surprised Xig has a clean driving record.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

Xemnas poses, Xigbar draws. Xig’s had plenty of lifetimes to perfect his hobbies, and even though he hasn't had time for them in a while, it doesn't take long for him to get back into the swing of things. What better way to capture his lover's radiance than through charcoal drawings and oil paints?

Plus, Xemnas absolutely adores the attention. He just basks in the glory of another being finding him beautiful enough to immortalize on canvas.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

I want to say Xemnas is the super cool backflip guy and Xigbar is the one with the chips, but honestly? It's the other way around. Xig likes to show off in front of his man, and who could blame him?

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

Xemnas overdoes it. He doesn't drink nearly as often as Xigbar does, so he doesn't exactly know his limits. Xig tries to keep his eye on him and make sure he doesn't drink too much, but unfortunately Xem is REALLY good at acting sober, so Xig never realizes Xem has overdone it until its too late.

He takes really good care of Xemnas, though, no matter how drunk he is himself.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

Xemnas and Xigbar both surprise each other quite often. Xigbar gives Xemnas little things like seashells and shiny baubles he finds on missions/outings that he thinks Xemnas will like for his office shelves. Xemnas sends Xigbar flowers when he senses Xig having a bad day, and buys him every new book that Xigbar expresses even a passing interest in.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

Xemnas. He's definitely the romantic here. He's got an Entire Notebook filled with different combinations of their names squashed together.

Xigbar is lowkey terrified of major commitment. He'd say yes if proposed to of course, but he'd never offer himself up like that.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

Xemnas saves it, Xigbar just squishes it. Neither are afraid but they have different approaches to dealing with bugs.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

On most cold days you can find Xigbar wearing a too-big leather coat and Xemnas in naught but a t-shirt or turtleneck.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

Ansem tried. He tried so hard. But he severely underestimated Xigbar’s resistance to intimidation tactics.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

Xemnas. He planned out a whole mega-elaborate date for the two of them, and confessed his love for Xigbar.

Xigbar: "Wait we weren't dating already??"

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

They would make fantastic fathers, they'd care about their kids so much. But christ alive that household would be chaotic as all fuck.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

Xemnas used to type with perfect grammar and spelling until he learned about text lingo. "It's more efficient, Xigbar, I am a busy man and don't have time to type everything out." It's a damn lie, though, he just thinks it's neat.

Hell will freeze over the day that Xemnas uses an emoji.

Xigbar relies on emojis and autocorrect and if it doesn't catch a typo or he sends the wrong emoji, “Oh well.”

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

The bully gets attacked by them.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

Xigbar is the pun king. Genuinely funny. “10/10 would hear again.” -Xemnas, probably

Xemnas tries sometimes, bless his soul. Xigbar just doesn't have it in him to tell him they're bad.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

To Xigbar's dismay, this has happened more than once. He's the dad that is against the pet but ends up loving it, and Xemnas just can't resist bringing home strays.

They have 2 big dogs, a little dog, and a cat, and have fostered a few puppies and old, sickly cats here and there.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

When Xemnas gets too drunk to stand, Xigbar will give him a piggyback ride, but he never tells him the next day. Xemnas is too prideful and would be very ashamed to hear of it. Plus, Xigbar kinda likes keeping those moments between them to himself; like a secret he’s keeping safe for a special occasion.

Xigbar will ask for piggyback rides all the time, and Xemnas is happy to indulge him.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

When Xemnas cheers for Xigbar, it's less overzealous and more normal cheering, it's just that Xemnas' voice is booming and carries over the rest of the crowd with ease.

(Don’t ask me what competitive activity Xigbar does, for I Do Not Know)

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

They both do. The main difference is that Xemnas focuses the camera on Xigbar, and Xigbar gets them both fully in the shot.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

Both of them would be willing to give the other a makeover, but neither of them have asked.

But! Xemnas does Xigbar’s makeup sometimes, and Xigbar has bought his own style of clothes for Xemnas on a few occasions, just to see what he’d look like.

(Unrelated sidenote: they have matching onesies with cat ears and a tail that Xigbar refuses to wear unless he has to, or unless Xem asks him while Xig is wasted)

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

Before they moved in together, Xigbar refused to go inside Xemnas's house unless his husky was in the backyard. He got used to her over time, and now Xemnas sometimes comes home to them asleep cuddling on the couch.

Xemnas was never actually afraid of Xigbar's beloved corn snake, but he wasn't a fan either. He’d hold him, but he wasn’t thrilled about it.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

Xemnas holds the umbrella, Xigbar holds the Xemnas

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

In a canon setting they’d go worldhopping for a week, but in a modern au they'd take trips every year to cities and small remote locations around the world.

They've never been properly camping though. Xemnas refuses.

Their first trip together was small, just to a little known beach on the west coast. They lounged on the beach most of the time, and every night they ate at a different food truck. The last night they were there Xemnas surprised Xigbar with reservations for the fanciest 5-star restaurant in the city.

Xigbar thought he took all the pictures until he was going through them after the trip, only to find over half the memory card filled with photos of himself that Xemnas took when he wasn't looking

#kingdom hearts #xemnas #xigbar #xigxem #xemxig #xemnas/xigbar #otp headcanons #my writing #headcanons #sfw

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excelsi-or · 4 years ago

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just a little sweeter (pt.6)

Hello wonderful friends. The start of this semester is a hARD one. My friend best explained it as “it feels like it’s December 13, the second week of finals week and it’s the home stretch”. Online school is not my thing. I hope for all of you who are went back to school are having a better time than I am.

BIPOC recs: If you’re feeling helpless like I was last night, watch AOC’s live stream that she did after the death of RBG. I admire the work this woman is doing and how hard she, and other progressives, are working to protect the American democracy. Follow Ty & Shay on IG. Their photography right now is so bright and happy. Something we all need right now.

w.c. 3.2k (oops, I apologize that it’s so long; fluffy fluff fluff, if you don’t like date stories, i’d skip this one; next part is a little more domestic-y/couple-y stuff :D)

pt.1; pt.2; pt.3; pt.4; pt.5

“She’s going to be fine,” Seungkwan promises.

Jihoon brought Eunha over an hour ago so that he could head out on his date. He wanted to make sure that she was settled in and enjoying herself before he disappeared for a few hours.

Jihoon, sitting on the couch behind Eunha, looks up at Seungkwan. “I know.”

“Then you can leave. Are you even dressed?” Seungkwan demands.

Hansol colours on the floor with Eunha, but looks up to gauge Jihoon’s outfit. “He looks dressed to me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Seungkwan puts a hand on his hip. “Isn’t this a first date?”

“You ask me as if you’ve been on plenty of first dates,” Jihoon retorts. He looks down at his outfit. He’d struggled to decide what to wear. Experimenting with his clothes before the date seemed like a bad idea. And the first two outfits he’d tried on hadn’t worked. So he’d gone with something he was used to wearing: a baggy top and jeans. He decided against a hat, because that seemed too casual. Fiddling with his currently grey hair is going to make him stick out like a thumb, but he’s never had a real issue with fans or the like. He’s hoping tonight is no exception.

“You still haven’t told us where you’re taking her though, hyung,” Hansol points out.

Jihoon stands. “I think it’s time for me to go.” He squats down and kisses Eunha’s head. “You be good, okay? Uncle Seungkwan and Uncle Hansol are going to watch you.”

Eunha tips her head back to look at him. “You’re going?”

“I’m going to go have dinner with a friend,” he answers. He brushes the hair out of her face. “But I’ll be back before you go to bed, hmm?”

“No, Dad’s going to be back after you go to bed,” Seungkwan insists. “He’ll take you home and give you cuddles there.”

Eunha’s gaze shifts past Jihoon to Seungkwan and then back to Jihoon’s face. Jihoon can see the lack of understanding in her eyes, but she nods anyway. “Okay.” She closes her eyes as he kisses her forehead.

Seungkwan walks Jihoon to the door. “Hyung, don’t cut your date short because of Eunha. We’re all here to watch her. The members are coming back after dinner.” He waves off anything Jihoon can possibly say. “She’ll be fine for one night without you tucking her in.”

“If the world starts ending, you better fucking call me,” Jihoon hisses.

Seungkwan nods, holding back an eye roll. “Yes, hyung.”

Jihoon checks his phone on the way to the elevator. There are good luck messages from the members to which he replies with an eye roll emoji. Then seeing her name in his phone makes his heart flip before wondering what she could be messaging him about.

They’ve been texting on and off for the past few days. If the café is busy, she can only really text him late in the afternoon. That’s the busiest time of day for him, but when he’s free at night, she’s usually already asleep.

So the fact that they could even pin down a day to meet up is a miracle.

What if she’s cancelling?

The message just says: Meet you at the café.

There are no emojis, no tildes (~), nothing to insinuate that she’s excited to see him. He gets a cab to the café, because getting on the train with his grey hair is a horrible idea. When Jihoon steps out of the cab, he sees her first. She’s sitting on the bench outside the café on her phone. Her hair, usually out of her face in some sort of half up-do, cascades around her shoulders. As he gets nearer, he can tell she’s dressed just as casually as he is. They telepathically communicated that this was a jeans and t-shirt kind of date.

When Jihoon walks right up to her, she takes a second to glance up at him. A wide grin splits her face. “Jihoon!” She stands and hugs him.

Jihoon is surprised at the contact, but lets his arms wrap around her waist in greeting. “Hey. I’m glad you also went casual for the date.”

She chuckles and pulls away, glancing down at her outfit. Up close, Jihoon can admire the design of her baggy white t-shirt. It’s a simple line drawing of a naked woman’s back.

“Where are we headed?” she asks.

Jihoon shrugs and starts to walk away from the café. “I had a few ideas in mind.”

She tucks her phone into her back pocket. “This should be interesting.” She glances over at him. “Is there a certain time you need to pick up Eunha?”

Jihoon snorts and shakes his head. “Seungkwan specifically told me not to cut my date short.”

She nudges him with her elbow. “I get you all to myself this evening?”

He hears the teasing in her tone and smiles a little. “Yeah, you do.” And it feels nice to say that.

They walk in silence for a while and it starts to feel heavy around him. They’ve done the basics already. He knows what she does. He knows where she lives. She knows where he grew up. The woman already knows he has a child. What’s left to even say?

“So what do you do when you’re not in the studio or taking care of Eunha?” she asks.

Jihoon meets her gaze and wonders if the silence had also been getting to her or if she just had impeccable timing. “At the gym or sleeping, really.”

She pauses, waiting for more. Then she laughs when nothing comes. “Seungcheol oppa warned me that this was your first date in a while.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows. “What did he say?”

“Just that you might be weird.” She look as if she’s about to reach for him, but stops. “I’ve also been forewarned that you don’t like to be touched.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “I might as well call the date off now. Seems like everyone’s given me a bad rep already.”

She smiles.

“I don’t mind.”

She tips her head.

“The touching thing. I don’t always mind.”

She watches his expression carefully as she loops her arm through his. Jihoon likes the feeling of her next to him. When the members try to hug him, a lot of the time, it feels too overwhelming. This feels like they’re sharing space rather than someone overtaking his.

“They didn’t say anything bad. Just told me a few things.”

Jihoon encourages her to continue. “Well, Seokmin said that you would probably take me out to eat at three specific restaurants. Seungkwan said that you might be distracted all night between Eunha and work.” Her eyes go to the sky as she thinks. “Soonyoung said that you might not like to answer some of my questions, because you’ve been hurt before. Chan told me he’s surprised you’re willing to go on a date with me at all.”

Jihoon’s face is on fire at this point. “None of that sounds any good on my part.”

She throws her head back with a laugh. “I think it says a lot about you that you have friends who want me to like you. Which is hilarious, because I’m pretty sure I liked you first.”

Jihoon looks to her. “Did you?”

“As soon as I saw Eunha on your hip at the grocery store.” She nods. “I was hooked.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Huh. Didn’t think it would be my daughter that would land me a date.” He adjusts his hand in his pants pocket. “About what Soonyoung said, this is a date. I’m willing to answer any questions you have to ask me.”

“Really.”

“As long as you answer any question I ask you.”

“Seems like a fair trade. Can I go first?”

Jihoon turns left down an alley and he feels her move a little bit closer. “Yeah, sure.”

In the pause of conversation, she gauges their surroundings. A neon sign catches her attention. “You’re taking me to an arcade, aren’t you?”

“I’m specifically taking you to a bowling alley, but there’s an arcade there.”

“You bowl?”

“Not very well,” Jihoon admits. He holds the door open for her and lets her through first. “But I had an inkling to play.”

She grins back at him. “I suck at bowling.”

The sound and smell of the bowling alley is familiar. It’s a little bit musky, a little too loud, but the atmosphere is light-hearted. He stands at the counter and catches the eye of someone who works there. The man comes over from the lanes to step behind the register.

“Shoe size?”

“4,” she says.

“You’re a 4?” Jihoon doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Yeah,” she snorts when the guy puts shoes down in front of her. “Get it out of your system now.” She heads towards their lane while Jihoon waits for his shoes. He scoffs in disbelief when she passes him on his way to the lane.

“Too small?”

She rolls her eyes. “Too big.”

When she returns with her regular shoes in hand, Jihoon glances at her feet. She shows off her heel with the shoe size on the back.

“Awe, you’re a 3! I think Eunha wears those size shoes.”

She thwacks him in the arm and tucks her shoes into a cubby. She sits next to Jihoon while he sorts out their names on the board.

“Let’s play a game,” she says.

Jihoon presses enter. “We are playing a game.” He leads her towards the racks with the bowling balls.

“A game within a game then.” She lifts an 8 lb. ball and compares it to a 10.

“What is it?”

She decides to keep both. “Between every turn, we ask each other a question.”

“You’re gonna make me think of questions while beating you at bowling?” Jihoon demands. He takes two balls back with him to the lane.

“Exactly,” she chuckles. “I need to get something out of this too.”

“You make it sound like I’m really good or you’re really bad.”

“A good mix of both, I think.” She puts her bowling balls down and then holds a hand out to Jihoon. “Deal?”

Jihoon studies her. The blue light of the bowling alley soaks into her skin and turns her white shirt blue. “Deal.”

He put her name first, so she bowls first.

“First question,” Jihoon says when she knocks over 4 pins.

She lifts an eyebrow, glancing back at him. “Shoot.”

“What…” Jihoon tilts his head. “What is your favourite Seventeen song?”

“Easy.” She tosses her 10 lb. down the lane. It veers a hard left, only clipping two pins. She turns back and sits next to him. “Check In.”

“That’s an old one and it’s not even a vocal team song,” Jihoon protests. He goes to take his turn.

“You asked me what my favourite Seventeen song was. You didn’t say you had to be on it.”

“You didn’t think to choose a song I actually sing on?”

She smirks. “I’m not here to pretend to be anything I’m not.”

Jihoon grins and bowls a spare. He stands on the opposite side of the table, hands down, leaning towards her. Her chin rests in her hands as she stares up at him. “Favourite thing about your last girlfriend.”

Jihoon blinks in surprise at the question. She gets up as the pins reset, brushing past him.

She only manages to knock down two pins and Jihoon still doesn’t have a proper answer for her.

“You dated her. Must have been something you liked about her,” she snorts.

“Well, we broke up.”

“Yeah, but you dated her before you broke up with her.” She rolls her eyes, smiling. “Break ups aren’t always terrible and horrible.”

“She gave me Eunha. Does that count?”

Realization seems to dawn on her face. He has the baby. He’s raising her alone. Not all break ups are terrible and horrible; his definitely was.

“That’s sweet,” she decides to say.

Since she seems entirely okay with deep dive questions, Jihoon turns the question on her. “What was your favourite thing about your last boyfriend?” He gets up to bowl.

It only takes her a beat to come up with an answer. “He has a great sense of humour. Really dry and witty.”

When he returns to her, she asks, “Favourite thing that one of the members has ever cooked for you?”

The change in topic is surprising, but appreciated. Either she wants to keep their first date light-hearted or she sensed his mood change when Yeri had come up.

And it happens often. Their conversation starts to go down a certain road and each time they hit the road block of his ex-girlfriend, she finds a way to turn the conversation around. Jihoon feels a deep appreciation for her. While they can be serious, they spend a lot of time bantering and teasing each other about bad plays. She manages to find a groove during the second game and beats him by a few points.

After the third game, they agree that hunger is a larger priority than fun and they should get something to eat. Due to the question and answer she inserted into their game, they leave the alley nearly 3 hours later. Jihoon is pleased that he hasn’t had to check his phone, which is on sound and loud. A few text messages had startled the both of them out of conversation, but they were work related and could be ignored until he gets home.

She loops her arm through his as they wander the streets to find somewhere to eat.

“Are you able to go somewhere where there’s a lot of people?”

They’d had a few people come up to him while bowling. His grey hair and hairstyle are apparently pretty distinct. But it could have been much worse. “Do you have somewhere in mind you want to go?”

She shrugs. “It’s not exactly date-style food, but I want mall food.”

He laughs. “Let’s go then.”

She watches him run his hand through his hair again. “Do you want a hat?”

Jihoon looks around. “You just have one on demand?”

She rolls her eyes and points towards a store down the street. “Wait here.” She ducks inside and walks back out with a plain black cap in hand. She plops it on his head. Before he can say anything, she tips her head in contemplation. Then she reaches up and folds the bill of the cap and pushes it up slightly to show off a bit more of his face.

Jihoon watches an expression of approval grow on her face and he’s tempted to lean down towards her, but holds back. She pulls away a little too quickly for his liking.

“Now we can take the train!”

On the train, someone seems to recognize him and keeps sneaking glances. That is until she pushes Jihoon into the corner and gets closer to him. Jihoon is surprised for her to be underneath the bill of his cap. “You’ve watched Marvel movies,” she whispers.

Jihoon pecks her nose. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

A blush spreads across her cheeks from his affection and she bows her head in embarrassment. Jihoon pulls her a bit closer to him as more people get on the train.

“This is ridiculous,” she snorts. “All I wanted was food.”

“We’re going to eat,” Jihoon reminds her.

“This is a first date, we haven’t eaten yet and you’ve already,” her voice drops to a whisper, “kissed me.”

“I beat you in bowling,” he reminds her.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, thanks.”

They wind up talking for hours and wander the mall after eating. When it closes, they go out and wander the brightly lit streets. When she starts visibly yawning, Jihoon glances at his watch. “Oh shit.”

“What?” she yawns.

“It’s almost 1.”

“That explains the yawning,” she mumbles.

“I should take you home.”

She pouts. “I would like to argue with you, but I won’t. I have to work tomorrow.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “You open at 7.”

“Yep.”

“You should have told me.”

“I’m having fun.”

Jihoon waves down a cab and climbs in after her. “We can meet up again.”

She lifts an eyebrow as she fires off her address to the driver. “Really?”

“You don’t want to go on another date with me?”

She chuckles. “I didn’t say that. I’m surprised you want to go on another date with me.”

He threads his fingers through hers.

When they get to her apartment, Jihoon asks the cab driver to wait. He walks her to the door of her apartment. “I’ll message you.”

“And I’ll try to reply,” she promises, as she unlocks the door. She holds it open with her body and turns to look at him. She waves him closer.

Jihoon closes the distance between them and smiles when she lifts the bill of his cap higher. She pecks his nose. “Goodnight, Jihoon.”

“Sleep well.”

She shakes her head with a laugh and disappears into her apartment.

Seungkwan is the one who answers the door. “How’d it go?”

“Is she sleeping?” Jihoon asks, avoiding talking about the date. There’s such an airy feeling in his chest and he feels like he’s walking on clouds. He doesn’t want to share the feeling with anyone else just yet. Maybe after he writes songs about it.

“She’s sleeping with Hansol,” Seungkwan answers. He glances over at Jihoon. “Do you want to spend the night here? We have schedules tomorrow.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Jihoon collapses onto the couch and grabs a blanket nearby. He tosses his cap onto the coffee table.

Seungkwan shuts the lights off, but not before giving Jihoon one last look. He recognizes the messaging app and the slight movement of the bubbles as Jihoon messages someone back.

Seungkwan wasn’t sure what Soonyoung was worrying about until this moment. Seeing Jihoon vulnerable and giddy isn’t uncommon, but they sure don’t see him like this around other people.

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #lee jihoon scenarios #lee jihoon

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dancethroughthethunder · 5 years ago

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The Best Kind of Eternity

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k (I cannot shut up ever about anything)

Prompt: I’ll take whatever you give me

Summary: You’ve had a terrible week so your best friends, Peter, Ned and MJ, have planned a night of yummy comfort food, face masks, and cheap wine to unwind. You’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, and unbeknownst to you, he feels the exact same way. Ned, and MJ are having fun watching the sweet disaster that is you and your Peterman. After a few glasses of wine and a long week, you’re ready to admit it. Best friends to lovers, mutual pining, and college!au all in one.

Author’s Note: It’s here!! My first fic in literally years and my first fic on this account! This is a college!au and everyone in this fic is of legal drinking age. There is mention of alcohol and feeling tipsy but nobody is explicitly drunk. I’m just really soft okay, please love my soft Peter.

Y/N = your name, Y/N/N = your nickname and Y/F/S = your favorite show

It had been a long week. No, scratch that, it had been the longest week that any human being in all of history had ever been subjected to. It was one of those weeks where you had every big test and assignment at once, where everything you did at your internship was wrong, where the food in the dining hall made you sick, and where you were both home sick and also so glad you were far from home as your loving mother nagged you about how much sleep you were (not) getting and the amount of vegetables your diet was likely missing.

Needless to say, you were beyond ready for a relaxing weekend. All week you managed to keep yourself going by remembering that once Friday afternoon rolled around, life would get so much easier. You had a surprisingly free weekend for once, and an easy week coming up and you were ready for the much needed sleep, and time with your friends that your weekend would bring. You just needed to get through the awful eternity that was this week.

Sometime between the 5th and 20th stressed out text from you at work earlier in the week, your best friends decided that what you needed was a night to relax. Even when the four of you were just hanging out, you were usually the one to make the final decisions about where to hang, what to eat, and what to do, but not this time. With MJ bringing the wine, Ned bringing the snacks and Peter bringing your favorite stressed out comfort food for dinner, your friends were ready to listen to you complain just one last time about your boss, your professors, and the idiot in your one class you’d dubbed “Loud Dumb Boy” and then ply you with drinks, face masks, and yummy food.

You’d never been more grateful for your friends than you were Friday morning when you received a text in your group message (named, to MJ’s chagrin (“What it’s just so lame”, she groaned when you’d suggested it), the Core Four):

MJ: Alright Y/N/N, we’re having a junk food & wine night tonight. What: the greatest night of your life. When: 7, so you have time to take a nap after class. Where: Your room, Who: You, Me, and the Idiot Twins. Why: Because people suck and you deserve it.

Ned: How: don’t worry Y/N/N! We’ve got all of the planning covered

MJ: I’m getting the wine, and the boys are getting the food. All you need to do is be in your room, awake and wearing pants at 7

MJ: Or not wearing pants

MJ: it’s a free country

MJ: somewhat

Peter: I can’t wait!!!

You let out a cross between a moan and a sigh at the thought of having a fun relaxing night that you didn’t even need to plan. And MJ made sure that you’d have time for a quick nap beforehand? Honestly, how do people make it through college without friends like these three?

Checking to make sure that you weren’t missing anything up on the board, you pulled your phone back out to type your reply

You: Sounds heavenly.

You: Also, MJ if you want to see my ass all you have to do is ask (wink wink)

MJ: Y/N, did you really just say wink instead of using the emoji

Ned: I think it’s funny

MJ: Stop encouraging her

You: At least Ned loves me

MJ: since you can’t see me I just want you to know I’m flipping you off

You: Fair enough

Thankfully, not only did texting your friends help pass the time but your professor was feeling generous and let you out a few minutes early. Just one more test to go and you’d be back in your dorm ready for a nap.

Five hours later and you had successfully taken your exam (thus concluding the week from hell), gone back to your dorm to clean up a little bit, taken care of a few emails, called home to talk to family and finally snuggled into your bed for your much needed and deserved nap. You rolled around in your bed wondering whether it was worth it to shut your eyes for the few extra minutes until your alarm went off, signaling you to get out of bed, put on pants and get ready for your friends to come over. The second your head hit your pillow again, you figured that if you didn’t get out of bed now, you’d still be there when MJ undoubtedly showed up earlier than she had said.

You jumped down from your bed, and began digging through your drawers to find your comfiest pair of leggings (listen, you’re a firm believer that naps are meant to be a no pants zone- and really, who could judge you for that) and to grab your deodorant to freshen up before your friends get there. As soon as your shirt is back on, there’s a knock on your door accompanied by what you’re pretty sure is the sound of MJ attempting to get your attention and make sure you’re awake.

You cross the room to open the door and find that your assumption was correct; MJ stands there balancing a heavy bag that you’re pretty sure is full of wine in one hand, phone in the other ready to call you if you were still sleeping.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting forever”

“You knocked like ten seconds ago, Michelle” You rolled your eyes, you loved your best friend but sometimes she could be impatient in a way that just really made you want to scream.

“Ten seconds, forever, who’s to say the difference. After all, time is a-”

“Construct” You finished for her.

“Exactly, you get it” MJ smiled as she bumped you with her hip.

Given that you didn’t have a roommate and had a double room to yourself, your room was the designated hangout spot. Without needing to say anything, MJ went ahead to put the wine in your fridge and started to make herself at home.

“Y/N, I say this with all of the love in my heart…. Have you looked in a mirror since you woke up?” To her credit, MJ was managing not to burst out laughing as you took a few horrified steps over to your mirror.

Uh oh, you had fallen asleep with your hair down and now looked like a cross between the Heat Miser and someone from Who-ville and somehow you thought your Christmas-inspired gremlinry was not the look you wanted to be sporting when Pete- uh your friends, yeah all of your friends, were over...

“Shit, MJ, the boys will be here in any second and I look like a gremlin” You ran back over to your dresser to grab some dry shampoo, a spray bottle of water, and a brush to try and contain the mess that was your hair.

“Ah yes, because Ned cares so much about the state of your hair. Oh, what was that? It’s not Ned you’re worried about? Could it be an arachnid adjacent friend of ours?”

Without even turning around to look at her, you raised one hand to (lovingly) flip off your best friend. In any other friendship, you assumed it would be weird to be in love with your one best friend who had previously dated your other best friend, but MJ had declared an exception in girl code for you. It was no secret that MJ and Peter dated in high school, it was also no secret that it just didn’t work. There were no hard feelings, no big revelations, no massive fights or betrayals of trust, they just worked better as friends than they did as partners. You respected them both for making that decision before it got to a point where it might have been hostile, and while you knew there were no residual feelings you couldn’t help but be a little jealous of MJ sometime. You knew there was a reason it didn’t work out but at least she had the chance to try. Either way, you were pretty sure that there would be no chance for you if you looked like this when Peter knocked on your door.

“You’re infuriating sometimes, I hope you know that” You finished your sentence with a groan as MJ smirked, reminding you that she definitely knew that.

“Get over here and I’ll braid your hair” MJ got onto one of your desk chairs and patted the spot between her legs, indicating that she wanted you to give her the hairbrush, sit down and let her work her magic since she knew you couldn’t put your hair in a good braid if your life depended on it.

Right as MJ tamed the wildest part of your hair, there was a knock at the door, without either of you getting up, both you and MJ yelled out that it was unlocked and in walked the other half of the Core Four.

“Hey, Y/N!” Ned smiled as he came into the room carrying a bag full of snacks, both sweet and savory that definitely had far more food than you could have ever eaten. (“What, I wanted her to have all of her favorite options” Ned would say later when MJ and Peter teased him about buying the entire store).

“Honey, we’re hoooome” Peter Parker, your best friend and quite possibly the love of your young life, was right behind Ned, winking and carrying boxes of what you hoped were pizza and garlic knots.

“Took you two long enough, I want food.” You jumped up from your spot on the floor to grab plates and napkins so you could start eating.

“She’s cranky but she’s got the right idea.” MJ laughed.

“Hey, I’m not cranky, I'm hungry.” You tried to whine and pout at MJ but couldn’t hold it through your laughter.

A little while later you had all eaten as much pizza and garlic knots as you possibly could and had drunk a couple glasses of wine each already. It was time for part two of the night to commence: face mask time. You walked over to your dresser where you kept your various skin care products to grab a few of the face masks you and MJ had bought last time you went to Target.

“Hey, Pete? Which do you want?” You held up the various face masks in question, to show him his options.

“I’ll take whatever you give me”. You were glad that you were already flushed from the couple of drinks because otherwise there would have been a tell tale blush in your cheeks that would have given you away.

Cmon Y/N get it together, he’s just talking about face masks. It was just one innocent sentence. You’d said far heavier and romantically laced things to him before, but for some reason as soon as he said this, your heart started hammering so loudly in your chest you were sure your neighbors would think there was construction happening nearby. Was it a sign of trust? Did he just not care that much about the variety of face masks you were offering? Or was it something more? Did he really mean whatever? Of course not, you’re reading into it. It had to be the alcohol kicking in, you couldn’t possibly be that head over heels and flustered. Right? Right.

“Y/N/N? You good over there?” You blinked and realized you had completely zoned out staring at Peter, while still awkwardly holding all of the face masks in your hands. Cool, way to be subtle Y/N.

“Wha? Oh! OH! Ha sorry, I must have completely zoned out there.” Must have completely zoned out there?! Could you have picked a lamer thing to say? At least come up with a good excuse next time, damn.

“Oh Y/N, can I have that one?” Ned excitedly popped his head into your line of vision to ask about the lavender de-stress face mask that you know he says makes him feel like the “king of treat yo self”. What you would do without Ned and his perfectly timed distractions, you never wanted to know.

“Oh yes, of course. As if I’d give you anything else”. You winked at Ned, and without missing a beat he brought a hand to his chest and pretended to swoon.

“I’ll take that one thank you very much.” As MJ grabbed one of the face masks remaining in your hands, you made a decision for Peter and tossed one to him, keeping one for yourself as you went to find a headband to keep those annoying baby hairs out of your way when you had the mask on.

“Hey, Y/N/N?” You turned around to see Peter looking at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes on the planet.

“....yes P?”

“So you know how sometimes I miss spots with face masks?”

“Yes…”

“And you know how you’re so good at them”

“Who the hell isn’t good at face masks, you just smear stuff on your face it doesn’t take a degree to figure out” MJ snarkily whispered to Ned who was unsuccessfully biting back a laugh.

“I mean in the sense that I know how to put them on my face and avoid my eyebrows and everything, sure I’m a regular aficionado. Why what’s up?”

Peter looked at you hopefully, looked at the face mask you had just tossed him, and then right back at you. A big grin broke out on his face as he held it right back out to you

“Are you asking me to put your face mask on you?”

“Yes please you’re just so good at it and it always gets stuck to me and you always do it anyways and pleeeease” Once again Peter was giving you the eyes that you and MJ had dubbed the “Spidey Pout” with you both joking that it’s the best weapon against bad guys he could ever have.

Okay, so this one was on you. The first time you ever did face masks with the guys, Ned wasn’t too sure how he felt about the texture so you offered to help him put it on, and then helped Peter as well. Ever since, Peter has always made a point to have you help him put on his face mask. (Neither of you will ever admit it, but you both know he knows how to do it and avoid his eyebrows but you both relish in the pure affection and domesticity that comes with putting a face mask on someone else. Who knew smearing gooey mud on someone’s face was a whole love language in and of itself).

“Okay, fine, come here Parker.” You grabbed an extra hair tie and handed it to Peter who excitedly pulled back as much hair as he could into the tiniest, cutest, ponytail ever. You looked over at Ned, who was putting on his own face mask and smiled when you saw that he too had a tiny little ponytail to keep his hair out of the way.

You gestured for Peter to sit in front of you in your other desk chair as you sat at your desk and started opening the mask to put on him. You’d given Peter a peel-off mask, which you knew he liked because he didn’t have to go wash it off making it easier and because of the satisfying feeling that came with peeling it off. When it comes to putting a face mask on someone else, you relish in having an excuse to be so close and to have physical contact, after all you’re incredibly physically affectionate. When it’s Peter, it’s even better. He sometimes closes his eyes, giving you a chance to just admire him. You can watch the stress melt away as you gently spread the mask over his face, and you get to take in the beauty that is Peter Parker. When he doesn’t close his eyes, he just watches you. It should probably make you nervous, feeling watched so closely and so intensely but there’s something loving in his eyes that makes you feel seen. Sometimes you take your eyes off whatever part of his face you’re putting the mask on and the two of you just hold eye contact- not long, just a few seconds, but given all of the feelings you’re both holding back, it feels like an eternity. It’s the good kind of eternity, it’s falling asleep in the shade at the beach listening to the water and losing track of time; it’s rocking a baby to sleep in a dark room knowing that nothing else matters; it’s falling in love in a second and knowing that even if you don’t say it, somehow it’ll be okay. After all, despite the awkward moments and the way that you’re sure it’s unrequited, it’s been an absolute pleasure to fall in love with Peter Parker.

You move your chair in between Peter’s legs so you have better access to his face, and try not to think about the way that MJ and Ned are undoubtedly making faces to each other about all of this. You misjudge the angle of your chair, just a bit as you go to sit, undoubtedly caused by the moscato coursing through you and you don’t even have time to catch yourself because someone’s already done it for you. You look down to see one of Peter’s hands on your hip, the hip hanging off the chair and, not for the first time in your life, you’re thankful for his spidey-reflexes.

“Woah there, you okay?” You sit into your seat as you nod in response to Peter and you try not to focus too much on how the hand that was on your hip as casually migrated to your thigh. You couldn’t know it but right now Peter is silently thanking whatever in the universe (your wine) that made you slip for giving him an excuse to touch you. It’s not sexual, he just likes physical affection as much as you do and he finds it’s even better when it’s you. Ned once told him that his love language is probably touch. Peter disagrees, he thinks his love language is whatever you’re doing. It’s like that tik tok trend with the sound of the Penguins from Madagascar or whatever that movie is, where in order to translate one penguin motions and only one other penguin understands it to translate. His love is already there, but no matter what it is he wants or thinks, you seem to be the only one who can translate and bring it to life. For example, he never knew how easy it is to memorize someone’s laugh. It helps that yours is just so you. He swears he could pick you out of a crowd, blindfolded, just by your laugh. But, you have no way of knowing any of this as your heart skips a beat when he absentmindedly rubs his thumb on your thigh.

You lean forward, and start to apply the mask to Peter’s face, giggling when he shudders at the initial coldness. Today is a closed eye day, it seems, and you don’t mind because you think that with his hand on your thigh still, you might not be able to handle intense eye contact without imploding.

“Y/N can I use a washcloth?” Ned’s face mask has already been on, and dried by the time you remember that there are in fact, two other people in your room.

“Yeah of course, dude.” You turn your head to indicate where you keep them, but see MJ already grabbing one for herself and tossing one to Ned.

“You know for someone worried about privacy and surveillance, you’re incredibly comfortable going through my things.” You flash MJ a smirk over your shoulder before going back to Peter’s face mask.

“Alright love, you’re done.” You stand up to go clean the residual mask goo off your hands as Peter stands up to check out your work in your mirror.

“Thanks, dear.” You feel a swell of pride every time Peter uses some pet name for you. You’re the type of person that calls everyone some kind of nickname or pet name, and throughout your friendship Peter has started to do it more and more but only ever with you. Well, maybe sarcastically with Ned too.

A little while later and you’ve finished with face masks, vented one last time about your week and have been playing some drinking games when Ned lets out a massive yawn.

“Ah I’m sorry guys, I’m just so tired all of a sudden.” Ned smiles sheepishly and glances toward your clock.

“Look at the time, wow. Thank you for coming over and helping me to unwind. It was a hell of a week and this was exactly what I needed. I know it’s late, you guys can totally stay for a bit or head out and go to sleep, promise I won’t be offended if you want to leave.” You smile sweetly at Ned, knowing that since you had such a bad week, his instinct is to stay until you kick him out, but also knowing that he’s so tired and you do honestly feel so much better.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna head out then. Do you wanna grab breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Make it closer to brunch, we all know I’m sleeping in.” You laugh as Ned stands up to leave.

“Alright, I think I’m peacing out as well. Things to do, people to see.” MJ gets up and starts to follow Ned to the door.

“MJ, you know we see past your whole ‘cooler than you mystery girl’ thing, we’ve been friends for years.” Peter rolls his eyes, laughing.

“Yeah but where’s the fun in that. You staying or coming with, Parker?”

“I’m gonna stay for a bit, I think Y/N and I are going to watch an episode of Y/F/S”

“Okay, good night!”

“Night losers.” MJ and Ned walk out of your room, letting the door shut naturally behind them.

“Okay, if you pour us another glass of wine and get the lights, I’ll queue up the show.” You pass Peter your wine glass and grab your laptop and a blanket, and sit back down on the pillows you put on the floor.

“M’lady.” Peter tips an imaginary fedora as he hands you both glasses, so he can sit down and get comfortable without worrying about spilling his wine.

Peter settles in next to you and takes his wine while you start the show. After a few minutes, you start slowly leaning until your head finds Peter’s shoulder. He laughs, knowing how extra cuddly you get while drinking and is surprised it took you this long. He hears you mutter something that sounds like the word comfy, and is genuinely surprised when you pick up his arm and toss it over your shoulder. While it’s nothing new for the two of you to sit together normally, and cuddle after a long day or when drinking, this is definitely something new. Not that he’s complaining.

Peter smiles down at you as he shifts a little in his seat, hand on your upper arm as he adjusts the arm behind you. Whether it’s the alcohol, his little comment from earlier, or the way things felt different when you put on his face mask, you aren’t sure what’s propelling you to be more forward than usual. Maybe you’re just sick of pretending you wouldn’t be his in a second, and the other things are just contributing to lessening your fears of rejection.

You look up at Peter, and let out a soft “hi”.

“Hey there, you comfy?” You nod, suddenly unsure of how to communicate your feelings without sounding like an idiot, while simultaneously feeling incredibly warm, inside and out. Luckily for you, Peter decides for once in his life to pick up on someone’s signals and decides he’s going to go for it.

“I, uh, meant it earlier, ya know?”

You raise an eyebrow, confused, as you sit up straight so his arm is still around you (his hand is still tracing absentminded circles but it’s fallen to your waist now) but you’re able to see him better.

“When.. when I said I’ll take whatever you give me. I meant it. I’ll take it. Happily.”

There’s a moment, a brief moment, where you’re scared. You’re scared that somehow despite what he’s saying, this is all one big misunderstanding or that you’re reading too much into it. But, the moment passes and you look into your best friend’s eyes and see love and a distinct lack of judgment and you realize that there’s no way you’re not thinking the same thing.

“Yeah? What if it’s my love, that I want to give.” You almost feel silly jumping right to the L word, but you’ve known for a while now that you love him, you capital L Love Peter Parker and suddenly you find yourself wondering how you’ve never brought yourself to tell him before.

Peter smiles at you, and your dorky awkward best friend finds himself at a loss for words. You’re here, and you love him and he doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s never heard anything better. So, he just smiles and nods and hopes that you can see it in his eyes, that you can see everything he’s thinking but can’t say. He wishes he knew how to tell you it all. He wants to say “I love you, you’re my best girl, my favorite person. I love the way you put your hair up when you’re thinking. I love the way you always listen when someone is talking, and make sure that nobody has to trail off because nobody in a group. I love the way you sing in the car and hum when you’re cleaning and in a good mood. I want to hear your sleepy content sighs when you put your head on my shoulder after a couple of drinks for the rest of my life. Name it and I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

But, he doesn’t know how to say any of that. So instead he says “Are you offering it?”

“I don’t think I have to offer it, P, you already have it. It’s yours if you want it. I just.. Just need to hear you say it.”

Peter sees you’re getting shy and knows he has to reassure you, he knows how important it is to you that he says it outright.

“I love you. I want it, I want you. Let me love you right. Please, Y/N/N, let me do this. You’re my best friend, be my girlfriend?”

Peter starts to lean into you and you nod, giving him your silent consent not only to the kiss but to everything: his love, his time, giving it a go.

It was the week from hell, but right now you’re sitting here kissing your best friend- your boyfriend, and he knows you love him and he loves you too. And as you kiss him, with his hands lightly on your waist (he needs to feel you, to know you’re real, to put as much love into your body as he can) and with yours cupping his face, you think that if you got to do this forever, it would really be the absolute best kind of eternity.

#in which meg writes #my writing #college!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #reader insert #peter parker fic #peter parker #ragnarachael800challenge!#college!au #first fic jitters

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trashfor-imagines · 5 years ago

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The Music Series: Haikyū Edition! | 2

21 ft. Oikawa x Reader

Summary: You were always on and off with Oikawa in high school, but it was clear you were in love. However, it was hard knowing you would barely make the top three in his life. Warnings: None, really. A seasoning of angst, for taste. Spoilers: If you’re only caught up on the anime, this story mentions what happens to the characters in the manga after high school and their professional lives.

“Toru! There’s a difference between putting volleyball first and just not calling me to say you needed to cancel our date. You straight up didn’t show!” you yelled, tears welling in your eyes. You willed them not to fall. “I know I’m not your number one priority, no one is, but for once can you at least act like you mean it when you say I’m - a - priority?”

He stood there silently in the living room of his apartment feeling small and terrible. He left you waiting in the rain for a date that he wasn’t going to show up to. Again. The coach had extended practice and it didn’t cross his mind to tell you, simply excited to play more. This was the same old fight since high school and he knew he should have known better by now. He had always made volleyball a priority and you honestly didn’t mind - he knew that, but being young and dumb and incapable of communication, he’d always tell everyone you broke up with him because you thought he was obsessed with the sport and not because he was incapable of thinking of others’ needs. Iwaizumi had always told him he was a fool when it came to you and honestly he wished his best friend was there to remind him of what to do to fix this.

“You’ve had so many chances. You don’t respect me and I can’t do this. Call me when you figure out how to dial my number. Or don’t. You probably won’t.”

You slammed the door shut and it absolutely destroyed you to go home alone that night.

“‘Hit it until it breaks.’ Huh. Just like your relationship,” Takeru snickered at you as he looked at an old sports magazine in the dessert cafe you were at. He found an old interview of Toru in it. “My uncle’s an idiot. I’m sure he’ll call you soon, big sis.”

It’d been two weeks since you broke up with Toru and you’ve heard nothing. Not even a blip on social media. Feeling bad about yourself, combined with the fact it was summer break, you went home to Miyagi for some R&R. You had a few things for Toru’s mom that you’d been collecting so you stopped by to drop it off. Takeru just happened to be staying there for the week and asked if you’d take him out to do something. Now you were sitting at a cafe having kakigori and honestly his company was incredible, despite being almost 11 years younger than you.

“I can’t believe my only friend right now is Toru’s 9 year old nephew,” you sighed softly. Your college friends were busy with their jobs, internships, and extra curricular activities that they hardly had time to sit on a phone call let alone come over to watch you cry over Oikawa Toru for the hundredth time. You weren’t even going to try calling Iwaizumi about it. Last time you asked his childhood best friend to knock some sense into the man, he simply replied back with an upside down smiley face emoji. What the hell did that even mean?

Takeru’s cheeks puffed up and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey! I’m almost 10! And I can leave if you’re going to be like that. I swear, you’re just as bad as uncle.”

“Hey. No swearing of anything,” you reprimanded him. “And don’t go.”

“Fine, but only because I like you.”

“So... got a girlfriend yet?” you teased, changing the topic.

“Big sis, I know we Oikawas are good looking, but aren’t you a little old for me?” he deadpanned.

Your face lit up red. “You little brat! I wasn’t asking for me!”

School was starting up next week so you went back after a couple of days home. The Oikawa family actually cried when you told them you were going back, having missed seeing you almost every day like when you were in high school. They were an incredible family with their own quirks who loved each other so much. It was similar to your own.

It was Sunday afternoon and you were cleaning your apartment when you got a phone call from Toru’s mom, asking if you’d talked to her son today.

“No, I’m afraid we still haven’t spoken. Is something wrong? Do I need to get to him?” you asked, panic levels rising in your voice.

“No, no, my sweet daughter. Nothing like that,” she sighed softly. “He should really be the one to tell you this, but Takeru said not a chance. He was drafted as a setter for Club Atlético San Juan today. My son’s going to Argentina.”

You dropped your phone in shock, the noise of it clattering to the floor interrupting your short meltdown. Quickly picking up the phone, you apologized before asking questions. “When is he going? W-what about school? And you and the family?”

‘And me?’ you wanted to ask.

Carefully, you listened to every detail she could give you. Your heart was so heavy you were sure you’d sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Time passed painfully. Days turned to months. Soon it was a new year. Then it was graduation. You started a job as a graphic designer that allowed you to work remotely and you did freelance photography, often shooting for travel magazines. You moved home to Miyagi to live with your parents when you weren’t traveling, cutting out unnecessary expenses. It wasn’t smart to have your own place when you weren’t going to use it for 3/4 of the year. The truth was, life was lonely without Toru around. Sometimes you found your vision blurring with tears whenever your phone pinged as a new article featuring the setter was published, or when you let your mind wander to old memories.

You were in Australia when June came around. Life had been pretty exciting for you since April, picking up a photo journalism job for National Geographic touring Southeast Asia and Australia. You’d briefly gotten away from thoughts of Toru when you received a photo late one night from Iwaizumi of Toru and that cute little tangerine from Karasuno on the beach by a volleyball net. Apparently they ran into each other in Rio

(Y/N): Thanks Iwa. Iwaizumi: Np.

After Australia, you went home for a few weeks before you were on a flight to Bolivia to capture the Uyuni Salt Flat. It didn’t take too long to complete the job and you found yourself sitting in your hotel room and scrolling through Toru’s social media. Selfies on him throwing up peace signs, his teammates, sunsets, food, nothing out of the ordinary filled his feed. You didn’t scroll for long though; photos of the two of you would start appearing.

A notification pinged on your phone and your brows furrowed. It was his birthday tomorrow. Setting down your phone, you packed your bag. You were going home in a few hours.

While waiting for your flight, you wondered if that notification was a sign to call him. You stared at his number, unsure. Was it even his number still? You probably locked and unlocked your phone thirty times before setting it to airplane mode. It was time to board. The almost the entire flight home was sleepless as the need to call him grew and grew.

By the time you made it to Japan with over a day and a half of flying due to inconveniently timed layovers, his birthday was over. You wanted to look at his Instastory to see what he did. It was his 21st birthday. He’d been excited for that one because it meant he could “drink anywhere in the world.”

When you got home you unpacked and went about your day. It was midnight when you went to the rooftop terrace of your parents’ house and sat on one of the couches. You called stared at Toru’s contact photo for thirty minutes before you called, pressing the phone to your ear and waiting.

“(Y/N)?” You bit your lip, words suddenly leaving you. “(Y/N), are you there?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m here. Happy birthday, Toru. Sorry I’m a day late.”

“That’s okay, and thank you. It’s good to hear your voice.” His sounded sweet and gentle. There was a hint of a sleep as well, making you laugh quietly. Definitely partied. Definitely just woke up.

“It’s good to hear yours as well. So how was it? Turning 21.” You pinched your thigh out of nervousness.

“It was nice. My teammates took me out to a club. Definitely drank too much and stayed up later than I should have. Iwa would have been pissed.” There was a playfulness in his tone.

“Wow, wish I had been there.”

“Me too, (Y/N). I’m sure you would have done something cooler though. You’re really good at that stuff.”

You laughed lightly, “Well, you know me. I definitely already had a plan for your 21st when you turned 20.”

He laughed as well, boyish and familiar. “Really? What was your plan then?”

“I’d have thrown you a surprise party; invited Iwaizumi and your old teammates, our friends from college. The theme would have been Around the World. I would have set up a photo booth. We’d have drinks from different countries to try, play different drinking games, and dress like tourists.” Your vision began to blur and your voice wavered. “We’d stay up so late that-” You stopped mid sentence, covering your mouth with your hand as you tried to swallow your sobs.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He sounded so concerned it killed you.

Sniffling, you wiped at your eyes furiously. “No. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. My whole family’s been on me since we... You know. They call me all the time to tell me what you’re up to and where you’re going next. They really love your postcards and little souvenirs. Seriously... Thanks for looking over them.”

“Of course. I mean, your mom calls me daughter,” you laughed sadly.

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she.” He paused and the conversation lulled for a moment. Clearing his throat, he spoke up again, “I’ll be home next week if you’re in Miyagi. It’s just a quick visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” You had so much more you wanted to say, but you wished him good night instead.

“Good night.”

Days passed and you wondered when he’d be home. You hadn’t heard from him since that phone call and you weren’t going to bother the Oikawas over this. His original plan was probably to come home and see his family. You only became a part of it because you called him. You had to be patient. If you fit into his plans, then you fit into them. You couldn’t force it.

It was Saturday morning when the doorbell rang. You were still in your pajamas when you answered the door, speechless to see Toru standing there with your favorite flowers in his hand. He smiled wide. “Let’s go out, (Y/N).”

Letting him in, you told him to make himself at home while you got ready. It didn’t take you long as you put together a cute new outfit you’d gotten the other day in town. Applying light make up, you checked your hair before heading downstairs.

The two of you walked into town, going to a cafe that you both often frequented throughout high school. He ordered your usual and it was a small crumb of relief to know that he still remembered something as trivial as a drink order. The two of you sat quietly, hands cradling cups, observing each other and taking your appearances. You'd both evolved in over a year. Toru had always been capable of being serious if need be, but his default settings were usually stuck at high school drama queen levels. He was definitely more mature and he’d always been attractive, but he oozed sex appeal right now and you wondered if it was because you were already biased towards him. No, you knew what it was. He had more confidence.

“I guess I should explain what happened. I called Iwaizumi that night after you left. He was pissed it was so late. He called me an idiot, told me stop wasting your time and grow up. I hadn’t told you about it, but I was struggling with a few things. Remember Jose Blanco?”

You nodded, sipping from your cup. He and Toru connected in high school when Toru wasn’t sure about what to do with volleyball anymore. He’d helped so much and was a great mentor.

“I was talking to him about a few things that were on my mind. Then you and I broke up. He ended up talking to some people and I got a call that I was going to play for San Juan. I got swept up with interviews and press statements and moving. The next thing I knew, I was half way across the world with no idea how to tell you I was starting my overseas career earlier than planned. I decided it was best I didn’t call you. I mean, we broke up because I didn’t know how to include you in my life the way you deserve.”

Sliding your hand across the table, you let your finger tips brush against his hand. Instantly he held your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles lovingly. Tears welled in your eyes. You’d waited for so long for Toru to finally see you completely and acknowledge what it was that he spent so many years of your youth apologizing for.

“Not having you there with me this past year was so hard. It felt like not breathing. I still love you, (Y/N), and if you can forgive me, I’d really like to make it work this time.”

Nodding your head, you sniffed, a teary but happy smile on you face as you wiped the corners of your eyes. “I love you, Toru. Let’s make it work.”

tag list: @hihiq

#oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu #volleyboys #the music series #fanfic #reader insert #one shot #imagine #21

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #282

“daddy’s flown across the ocean / leaving just a memory / a snapshot in the family album / daddy, what’d you leave behind for me?”

What is your favorite type of dance? I like modern dances, especially those unusual or creepy with unique music. They’re the dances I look forward to watching in dance competitions. Do you find making scenes in public fun? Oh fuck no. Lemonade or pink lemonade? Pink is Supreme in so many ways. Where do you feel safest? At home, especially if Mom is here. Have you ever been to a gay pride parade? No, but I’d love to. Would you take your dream job if it were out of the country? No. I don’t want to move to Africa. What do you like to do when you're home alone? HAHA okay so I almost exclusively watch Unus Annus when Mom isn’t home because I will almost without a doubt cackle at least once, and… explaining why I’d be laughing would be WILD. UA is a fucking gift & I’mma miss it when it’s gone. What kind of music calms you down? My best bet is nostalgic music that I hold very close, like Ozzy. The soundtracks to SotC and SH2 are also magical when it comes to soothing me. Who did you last go to a park with? Uhhhh… probably not since I took family pictures for someone. Got some nice ones. Have you ever been robbed? Thankfully, no. Are you working, a student, both, or neither? Neither, and at nearly 25, it’s fucking humiliating. I’m thinking of appealing my disability case (you very rarely get it the first time), but of course self-doubt and anxiety just slaps me across the face again and again by asking, “Do you really need it?” That shit is agonizing. Very highly regarded people in my life agree that it’s realistic for me, at least at this moment, while I sort out my mental health. I don’t plan on being on it forever, fuck no. But right now I am, no matter what anyone says, a leech in my home. What's your favorite holiday? Christmas. I prefer Halloween’s “vibe,” of course, but I am much more excited and just thankful at Christmastime, especially now as an aunt with children who *understand* the holiday. Their joy and excitement is enough of a gift to me. It’s always really hard on Mom because she’s convinced she doesn’t do enough (she cries at least once like… every year), but my sisters and I always reassure her. It’s also a nice opportunity to see Dad and my stepmom, also with my sister’s family, and once again we get to see the kids so happy. But enough about them; what I love most about Christmas is I generally am able to put my troubles into perspective and take the time to remember I am, in the big picture, lucky to have what and who I do. And SNOW!!!!! If you can’t tell I’m stoked for Christmas. Do you prefer male or female friends? Both are great, but I’m more relaxed with female friends because of the whole “scared of men” ordeal. What's your favorite dessert? Biiiiihhhhh lemme get my hands on ice cream. Do you ever go on chatroulette or omegle? Noooo, I never did. That shit creeps me out. Besides, I’m shy. What kind of tea do you drink? None. Do you know anyone in a gang? Not to my knowledge… What color is your fridge? White. We decided to use the fridge already in this house versus our old one. Is your phone mostly on vibrate, silent, or ringtone? It’s just about always on vibrate. Do you own black sunglasses? I don’t own any sunglasses. Are you currently looking for a job? Fuck if I know. Not actively, but if something suitable magically popped up, I’d definitely pursue it. Do you watch MTV? No. Do you like to tell people who you like? Historically, I tend to keep my mouth shut about it to people who know that love interest unless explicitly asked, and even then, it depends on if I think they’ll keep their mouth shut. How often do you braid your hair? It’s too short to be braided. I very rarely had it braided beforehand. What color is your microwave? Black. Do you wash your face in the morning when you wake up? If I remember, especially if I’m groggy. Are you interested in the ocean? No more or no less than the average person. What's a big turn on for you? Keeping physical stuff outta this, I’m just such a fuckin sucker for being authentically romantic lmao. Have you ever thought about being a teacher? Heeeeeelllllll no. What's the first thing you do when you turn your computer on? Close out of the stuff that automatically pops up after it starts. Do you drink Gatorade? Ugh, ew, no. Do you hate when people replace 0's with O's? EX: 9:OO AM. Lol no, it’s honestly aesthetically pleasing in some formats. Did you hate riding the bus? Some of my best school memories are the long bus rides home w/ Jason so uh- Do you ever use XOXO in texts, letters etc..? Nah. Has anyone ever told you they liked you to your face? Yeah. Have you ever touched an elephant? No. Reading or writing? Writing. Do you have a childhood nickname? Mom called (and sometimes still does lakjdf;alkwe) me “Twinkie.” She gave sweets-oriented nicknames to all her kids. Have you ever had a Moon Pie? UGH they’re gross. I have this faint memory as a kid of a sweetheart babysitter my sisters and I had always offering us banana moon pies as a snack or dessert, idr. I’ve always hated anything banana-flavored. Has your car ever had troubles? N/A What's your birthstone? Amethyst. Would you join the navy? I want nothing to do with anything remotely related to war. What's your favorite board game? Battleship. Do you like chess? I’ve never played it nor even know the rules. If you’ve ever tried drugs or alcohol, what was your reason for first trying it? I was absolutely parched after a long, sweaty walk and was offered it to “try” by my mom without me knowing it was alcohol… the “WAIT NO STOP” from everyone was so quick lmao. It was just hard lemonade, so nothing super serious. Do you think you could ever have an abortion if you unexpectantly turned up pregnant right this second? I probably would. There is no fucking way I can emotionally handle carrying a baby right now. But I’d feel like absolute shit, even though I’m pro-choice. I just don’t want to picture myself in that situation. Is there a situation where you caved into peer pressure and regretted it? Probably. Although generally, I’m very resilient to peer pressure when it comes to something I really don’t want to do. What is your favorite video game console? Why? PS2, of course. I think the best games came from that era, many ahead of their time. Example, the original Shadow of the Colossus graphics massively pressured the limits of the software, and it still to this day blows me away. Sure, you have some lag in return, but the end result was just magnificent. I seriously, seriously, seriously hope I’m able to play the remake one day. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? I was. As of this minute, what is going through your mind? How I need a change and purpose in life so motherfucking badly. Where’s the last place you went? I was riding around with Mom, doing some errands. Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yes. When was the last time you went apple picking? Never. Do you have a good relationship with your cousins? We don’t really… have a relationship. We don’t talk, we just kinda “exist” knowing we’re related. What was the last kids movie you saw? I watched some of Hotel Transylvania 3 with my niece and nephew. Do you know anyone who was born in Africa? When I was still in college, there was at least one guy in my class who was. Tutored me in math. Patience of a saint, haha. Have you ever been to an internet cafe? I actually have zero clue what that is. Has the year gone quickly for you so far? I’ve barely discerned 2018-2020, if I’m being honest with you. It’s just a lump of time where I’ve done jack-all. I mean yeah, school fits in there somewhere, but mentally I wasn’t in a wonderful place and haven’t been “happy” for a long time. My mental state has been the same for a few years. How many siblings does your significant other have? N/A Are you one of those people who can drink vodka straight? Oh, I hiiiighly doubt it. I loathe the taste of alcohol. Do you share a middle name with any of your friends? I legitimately have one of the most basic white bitch middle names in America, I know tons. How many pairs of jeans do you own? None. Do you know the name of the pharmacist at your local drug store? One, yes, considering Mom worked there before the cancer and is still in touch with this pharmacist. What flavor is your toothpaste? Mint. Are you sleepy right now? I think I’m permanently sleepy. Do you like crime films and tv shows? Not especially. Are you bitter about anything? Many things. What was the first online account you remember having? Neopets. My older sister helped me set it up when I was somewhere around eight. Do you use emojis? More than I used to. I’m gradually converting from emoticons to emojis, oof. What was the last type of soda you drank? Mountain Dew. Do you remember much from high school? I probably remember too much from high school, if I’m being honest. I remember far too much in far too much detail during the almost four years I dated Jason. Where would you go for the ultimate honeymoon? Probably the Bahamas, mostly for the pink beaches, aha. It would also be an incredible photography opportunity. Do you know anyone who has a strong accent that is hard to understand? My former best friend’s dad was so southern that yes, I could barely understand him whatsoever. If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you get? If you mean a fresh, new one and not a glow-up on the Mark tribute tat I’ve mentioned five thousand times, a tribute to Teddy featuring his portrait, pawprint, and the Powerwolf lyrics “and we’ll meet where the wild wolves have gone.” I’m going to be picky as a motherfucker about the design itself, though, so realistically it probably wouldn’t be tomorrow since I’d probably commission people to draw in varying styles. Ugh, I need that tattoo gun, my man. What was the last podcast you listened to? Do you listen to it regularly? That would be 4 Peens in a Pod (it’s… not a porn I swear, it’s Fischfuck and the boys lmao). I’m waaaaaaaaaaay behind on it, though. I watch so many different things now that I’m behind on like… everything I watch/listen to. Are you on a first-name basis with your boss? (or last boss if unemployed) I think I was with all of them? What was the last thing you wrote in a Word document? This survey. Because I combine short ones into Big Boys that I usually don’t finish in one go, I save my progress on it. Who do you miss and what do you miss about them? I miss a number of people and would rather not retrospect on them. What were the best and worst costumes you’ve ever worn? *shrug* Do you know anybody who is gay and married? I think so. What did you last take painkillers for? A headache. Are there any hobbies you want to get back into? Ugh. A whole fucking lot. I’ve thought quite a bit recently on how I miss video editing, but I just don’t have the motivation and dedication for that anymore. Have you ever shared a home with a friend? Yes. What’s the craziest or weirdest place you’ve ever slept? Nowhere that strange at all… Probably just like, the floor, but even then with blankets and stuff. What did you have for lunch today and who made it? I haven't had lunch yet. Are you allergic to anything? How did you find out? Pollen is pretty obvious, while serious discoloring and itching let me know I was allergic to silver. Have you ever been on a date with someone you met online? How was it? Yeah, I was visiting her for a couple weeks. It was nice. Who was the last very physically attractive person you saw? In ~real life~, probably some friend on Facebook. Do you know anyone who is deaf? We recently found out actually that my youngest niece is deaf in her left ear due to a massive buildup of fluid in it. I’m so ready to hear about her reaction to hearing normally once it’s taken care of. Has there ever been a person you regret ever being friends with? Probably at some point. “Ever” makes this question difficult. Do you think you have a good understanding on love? Yes. What do you think of your parent(s)? I love them both immensely while acknowledging their flaws. What celebrity do you think should of never become famous? I don’t care enough to think on this honestly haha. Did you ever get into the Twilight saga craze? What about the Harry Potter craze? Neither. What's your opinion about Katy Perry's song "I Kissed a Girl"? It was bold for its time, for sure. I’ve never minded it. Actually since coming out as bi I’ve known that this song has to be included in the recession dances of my wedding if my partner is female lmao. Do you believe in heaven? If so, what's it like? If not, why? I hope there’s some sort of total bliss after death if you’re deserving of such, but I don’t know. I definitely don’t know how I actually picture it. Even if there’s not, well, I’m assuming I just won’t exist anymore, so I wouldn’t be able to care anyway. Sometimes I hope that's the case. What email service do you use for your main (or only) email account? Hotmail. Did you ever believe in the Tooth Fairy? Yeah. I remember there was one time where “she” didn’t trade my tooth for munz and I was so mad lmao. Mom apparently forgot and slipped something under the pillow while I was getting ready for school. How I fell for it, who knows man, kids are wild. How do you feel about Taco Bell? I’m not a Mexican food fan, really, but I do love their cheese (with or without chicken) quite a bit. The cinnamon bite things are bomb as FUCK, too. I’m still mad tilted they took potato products off their menu tho because I used to destroy the fiesta potatoes. How often do you go on to YouTube? I’m like… always on it. Not focusing on it at all times, but something’s in the background. Back when Spongebob Squarepants was famous, were you interested in it? Well of course, man. What's your dream pet? Ugggghhhh a sunset morph ball python, probably. Buuut I’ve seen some over $2k with their rarity. More realistically, I really, really want a Brazilian Black tarantula. And an arctic morph hognose. I want a lot of pets. ;_; Who's been your favorite teacher growing up, and why? God, I have a lot, honestly. All things considered, the answer is probably Miss Tobey, who was my physical science teacher in high school. She’s an extremely close family friend now involved regularly in my family’s lives. She can be… difficult and says shit before thinking, but we love her nevertheless. What's your favorite fairy tale? Fuck outta here if you say Shrek isn’t one. Do you have a favorite pen? Uh, no… I barely ever use pens anyway. Has a child ever asked you a question you found difficult to answer? Yeah; it happens sometimes with my niece and nephew. Name five books you've read in the past year. I think I’ve read the first three Wings of Fire book within the same year, and I’m currently on the forth. Other than those, I started The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but only got through the prologue I think before my focus shifted onto WoF. I still plan on reading it at some point, though. ^Are any of those books your favorite? No. The prequel to The Testaments, The Handmaid’s Tale, is very high up there, though. Are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? Not at all. Once I read it once, I’m done. There are VERY few books I’ve reread, and most of those were children’s books from when I was little. Do you have a favorite talk show host? Don’t watch any. Which sounds the most refreshing: a hot shower or a cold one? I prefer hot showers unless I seeeeeriously need to cool down. Have you ever made your own soap? No. Can you sleep with socks on? UGH NO. When was the last time you were pissed beyond belief and why? Ummm good question. I don’t know about *that* mad. Maybe when Ashley’s mother-in-law shared a massively homophobic article that condoned conversion therapy on Facebook that resulted in me removing her from my friends and RAGING to my mom about it. That was forever ago, though. Do you have a favorite candle brand? No. What is your opinion on taxidermy? I have… very mixed feelings. If the animal was hunted for sport, then it’s fuckin disgusting; you literally killed an animal with the intention to show off the fact you’re a goddamn murderer. On the other hand, taxidermy of naturally-deceased animals can be educational, and even… artistic sometimes? I don’t know. I can’t really pick one stance over the other. Would you ever want to own a body part in a jar? Actually, yes, particularly of fetal animals (that WERE NOT killed for the sake of displaying), but for the same reasons above, I’m not sure if I would *really* do it. They are incredibly interesting to me, more so than taxidermy probably, but yeah, I still question the morality of it. What is the worst thing you have ever done to your own hair? I don’t think I’ve ever really done a “bad” thing to my hair. What qualities of yours do you think could potentially harm a relationship? I’m very clingy and, in the beginning, very paranoid that you’re going to leave. Have any of your childhood habits carried over into adolescence/adulthood? I had AWFUL separation anxiety from my mom for a very long time as a kid, and I guess that evolved into my extreme inability to handle loss well, maybe. I’d say they’re at least somewhat related. What is the first band that comes to mind when I say 'dark'? Cradle of Filth popped up first. As far as relationships go, what are your biggest deal-breakers? Abuse, arrogance, and distrust probably top the list. Be honest: do looks really matter to you? Nah. It’s nice to be physically attracted to my partner, but it’s not a must. Have you ever done something simply because you were of age? No. Do you think it's worth it to tell someone you had feelings for them when you don't have them anymore? I mean, what’s the situation? Are you hanging out, talking about relationships casually? I’d say it’s fine then if it’s relevant to the conversation. I don’t think it’s worth going out of your way to tell someone you liked them if you don’t anymore, though. Have you ever done something you once thought you'd be too chicken to do? Y’know that ride at fairs where you go up really high on a circular thing with other people and then drop abruptly? That. I screamed like a mf lmao. I had to put a lot of effort into not yelling “SHIIIIIIIIIIIT” lmao. What's a food you love but don't get to eat very often? Stuff involving shrimp, ig. What's your favorite mythical being? Dragons! Have you ever felt a baby kick? I don’t think so, and I don’t want to, considering it’s fucking terrifying to me. I can’t even see a baby move without screaming and wanting to hurl. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Who the fuck knows… What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Said things I shouldn’t have. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? A lot. I can’t be bothered to go through all of them. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? I’m not sure. Do you feel that way around anyone now? I don’t think so. What is your main heritage? German or Irish, idr which is more prominent. What is a song that you hate to admit you like? “Bitches” by Hollywood Undead came to me first lmao. What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? More than anything, watching inspirational YouTube videos. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? I suppose maybe my ears? I had tubes put in as a kid, I had an absolutely agonizing ear infection once, I had earwax adhered to my eardrum, and they've always been STUPID dry and flaky. Are you watching your weight? Like a hawk, but it doesn’t seem to matter anyway. :^) Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? Most of my closest friends I’ve met online. What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? You’re asking the wroooong person, lol. I’ve just seen way too many… Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? Lots of things; drawings, some writing, photographs, video edits… What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? Just ketchup and mustard. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Sex. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? MEERKATS and MARK What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Tell me I’m weak. Or that my mental illnesses truly do make me unlovable. Just essentially do fucking not make me feel what Jason did. What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Said some extremely mean and potentially scarring shit.

#survey #quiz #questions #questionnaire

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petrodobreva · 5 years ago

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ooh would you do Ted and Alexis? in a magical world where they get back together after ted's contract runs out and alexis takes over nyc?

Yes! Omg, I’m going to get EMOTIONAL. Thanks for playing <3 <3 <3

who reaches out to new neighbors

Both of them. Ted will be courteous and polite and awkward, and is mostly doing it because “it’s the right thing to do, and it’s important to put yourself out there.” For Alexis, it’s a little bit like a game--most people she meets think she’s flirting with them at first, and actually, they’re never really sure she’s not?

who remembers to buy healthy food

Both of them. They’re very into fruits, vegetables, and things that are high in protein.

who remembers to buy junk food

Do the protein bars with chocolate count? Just kidding, they don’t buy junk food, they make the junk food together (cookies, cupcakes, brownies, etc) because it’s a great bonding activity and like, a really cute look for them.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

It’s broken? Alexis didn’t notice. But not to worry, Ted already has a list of people he can call.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

Ted. Otherwise, they would all definitely die.

who wakes up earlier

On weekday mornings, they both wake up with their alarms. They spend the first few minutes talking about what their day looks like and then both get up and brush their teeth at their his/hers sink. Ted showers first and Alexis starts her day with a glass of water and scrolling through her social media. They have different exercise schedules because they have different work schedules. Alexis is a morning run, Ted is in the evening. So, she gives him a kiss goodbye and then goes for a run. On weekend mornings, they turn off their alarms (unless there’s somewhere they have to be) and cuddle. They both love mornings, so they try to spend mornings on the weekends together. They might make a big breakfast, or go on a hike or bike ride or a picnic. In the summer, they might pack up food for the whole day and go swimming.

who makes the bed

Ted. That’s one point of contention in their relationship. The bed in somewhere Alexis will hang out during the day, whereas Ted feels like once you’re up, you’re up, no going back to bed. So she’ll mess up the bed and then not make it. She’s trying to get better about hanging out more on the couch. They need a bigger couch. Maybe two couches.

who makes the coffee

Ted had to teach Alexis how to do it, but it’s not a big deal because they usually only make morning coffee on the weekends. The rest of the time, they get their coffee at their respective offices (made by their assistants), or Alexis goes out for coffee with her coworkers/clients.

who burns breakfast

Alexis. Ted gave up on that one.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

Hahahahahaaaaa. Alexis forgets she’s supposed to do that and is reminded by a text from Ted later that says “where are you?” “Oops,” she responds back, “I went [insert activity here] with [insert gal pal here]. I’ll be back at [insert time here]. *kissing emoji*”

Ted makes full eye contact with Alexis and says, “Babe, I’m going to the store, do you need anything? Are you sure? Are you really sure? Okay. *kiss* Love you. *accepts nose boop*” When he gets to the store, she texts to remind him to buy the lip balm she likes that she can’t remember the name of.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

A smooch. Alexis waggles her eyebrows suggestively and flirts with him. Ted tells her they can’t do that because they have plans, remember? She says they can spare the time. Often, they can and do.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

Neither of them is very good at this. Ted’s not very spontaneous and Alexis shows her love in other ways. Once in a while, one of them will try, but they usually miss the mark. Like, one time, Alexis brought home a plastic dog figurine from an animated movie her coworker’s promoting. Ted doesn’t know where to put it, but Ted gets Alexis a book on Women in Business, but it’s like, super depressing. On the other hand, they are very good at giving big gifts. Ted buys Alexis jewelry, and a laptop, and a phone for her birthday and Chrismas; and the shoes once a season. He gets her a big spray of colorful flowers for Valentine’s Day. She buys him watches, cologne, designer jackets and sneakers. One day, she comes home with a framed and autograph portrait of Jessica Alba who’s doing a movie for Interflix and stopped by the office. He really really really appreciates it. That’s much more their speed. who picks the movie for movie night

their favorite kind of movie to watch

During awards season, Ted makes sure they watch all the movies. Alexis loves a good horror movie or thriller and Ted is somewhat disturbed by it, but it’s all part of what makes her the monster of a woman he loves.

who first suggests a pillow fort

Ted, when Patrick visits and tells Ted about how fun it was when he and David did it.

who builds the pillow fort

Patrick and Ted.

who tries to distract the other during the movie

Alexis, she gets bored easily and finds talking with Ted and kissing Ted much more worth her time.

who falls asleep first

Ted, especially because he works out in the evening, so he falls asleep hard. Alexis is usually up late on her phone at night texting everyone and scrolling through social media on weekdays. On weekends, they’re usually out pretty late--at parties, at concerts, out with friends...

who is big spoon/little spoon

When they first started dating, Ted naturally took up the position as big spoon. But then, Alexis showed him the light. They don’t always spoon, but when they do, Alexis curls around Ted like a cat and he feels all snuggly and warm and cared for.

...........................................................................................

omg, these two are such go-getters, they don’t relish in the domestic moments of life the same way other couples do, but they just love each other and enjoy each other’s company so so muuuuuch!

Yay! Thank you for playing.

[click here to drop a ship in my ask for the domestic ship game]

[here’s a list of some of my favorite ships if you’re not sure]

[here’s the original post if you want to reblog]

#alexis x ted #schitt's creek #fangirl #ask #anon #fanfiction

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ollieologys · 6 years ago

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summertime (with you) | p. parker | prologue.

SUMMARY; In Queens, things have finally calmed down for Peter Parker - he’s more than content with the way life is going. In Brooklyn, Y/N struggles with her own identity. Out of nowhere, Spider-Man dies, and Y/N begins to stick to things. (into the spider-verse/multi-verse au)

PAIRING; peter parker x spider-woman!reader

WORDS; 2k

WARNING; mentions of death

BEING Spider-Man was never easy.

Those who knew the story knew the story. Those who didn’t have no idea. No matter what anyone knew, everyone was sure that Spider-Man protected New York no matter the cost. Peter Parker knew that, too.

Of course, he still was simply the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man and kept a mask on. He still went to school every weekday and even had a curfew (to which he broke constantly). Peter had some crushes here and there, never acted on them though - too nervous and he knew he wanted to focus on his duty. He tried his best to be engaged with his life, though. Ned was still frequently found on his bed with scattered legos waiting to be pieced together.

Things were going relatively well for Peter. It was safe to say that he was happy. He even had personal contact with Mr. Stark now.

At the end of the day just before the weekend, Peter stuffed his unneeded books into his locker and slammed it shut.

“Are you going to see Tony Stark today?” Peter jumped and turned.

“Dude,” Peter started, glaring at Ned. “Don’t scare me like that.” Peter glanced around, but no one had seemed to overhear what Ned said. Not that it really mattered, he still had the whole “Stark Internship” scheme going.

Ned laughed nonetheless. “Sorry. I thought your, um, senses would have let you know I was here!” Peter shook his head, adjusted his backpack strap, and walked out of Midtown High with Ned beside him.

“Anyways, are you going to?” He asked again.

“I think so. Happy said he would meet me at my place after school.”

“Peter, that’s literally so cool. You have a chauffeur. Just remember me when you finally become famous.” Ned gushed. Peter smiled softly at his friend. He had no plans of telling the world his true identity anytime soon, and he certainly did not see Happy as anything close to a chauffeur. Even so, Peter felt pride flow through his chest. It was really cool that he was Spider-Man. Super cool, if you asked him.

Ned stopped walking when they reached the downward stairs into the subway. “I’ll catch you later. Betty and I are gonna go grab lunch in Manhattan.” Peter tilted his head to the side.

“I thought you guys broke up?” He questioned.

“Yeah, but she and I are still friends. Anyways, you’re gonna be late.” Ned stepped forward, and he and Peter exchanged their personalized handshake. As Ned disappeared down the stairs, Peter waved and put his earbuds in his ears. He walked with a skip in his step, a small yet genuine smile forming on his lips. Not only was he excited to see Mr. Stark, but he had a good day. He aced his Pre-Calc test, and they served his favorite school lunch. Even standing on the crowded bus, he felt happy.

His keys jangled as he struggled to find the right one. He noticed Happy’s car out front, but he needed to freshen up before he left. As he opened the door, he saw his Aunt May chatting with Happy.

“Oh, hey Peter,” May said. “Hungry?” She asked. Peter shook his head no.

“Hey, kid,” Happy greeted him with a wave. Peter nodded and looked between the two adults, suspicious as to their “summer-fling” as it wasn’t even Summer just yet. “Hey, Happy. I’ll be ready to go in just a sec.”

Peter headed into his room and fell backward onto his bed, thinking as to what he needed before he left to go to the compound for the weekend. As soon as he got his thoughts together, he packed his toothbrush, toothpaste, clothes, laptop (that he was gifted for his birthday by Mr. Stark), and of course, his suit. Not long after, he said farewell to May and hopped in the backseat of Happy’s car.

They didn’t make much conversation, though it wasn’t awkward. Peter looked out the window and listened to his music. Happy did the same, though his music was fainter.

When they arrived at the compound, Peter smiled to himself. He never failed to be impressed whenever he was in the presence of anything related to the real Avengers. Seeing them all in one place made him feel a different sense of familiarity and family that Peter cherished deeply.

Happy parked the car, and they walked inside together. Mr. Stark was kind enough the greet them at the door.

“Kid! Good to see you, how you been, huh?” His arm draped over Peter’s shoulder, and he couldn’t help but stutter while his eyes shied away. “I’ve been good, Mr. Stark,” Peter answered. Happy trailed behind, eventually breaking off to place Peter’s bags in the room designated for him.

“Good,” Tony responded. He looked to be enjoying his time, too. He was wearing his signature suit, but also had his high-tech, multi-billion-dollar sunglasses on. Peter wondered what compelled him to continuously create. “We got work to do,” Tony said, leading Peter into the elevator after waving at Betty, the receptionist.

“You’ll be staying next to Vision, alright. You won’t mind. He’s really working hard on not going through walls that are bedrooms. You can do some training - if you’d like, but we’re for sure gonna work on that little Spider-Man suit of yours.” Peter simply nodded as Tony waved his hands around as he spoke. When the doors opened, Peter was created to what seemed like the living space of the compound. Though he’s met them all before, this was really the first time he was staying with them all as though they were one big, happy family.

Tony grabbed the attention of all the Avengers. They all greeted Peter kindly. He knew they viewed him just as the kid he was, and appreciated the protection he gave the city of New York. Despite being relatively comfortable, Peter fumbled over his words as he greeted everyone. Steve just laughed and went back to reading his newspaper, and the rest didn’t pay much mind to his nervous attitude.

“Well!” Tony started as he looked at Peter, “I’ll catch you in my lab in say, ten minutes? Let you unpack and everything?” Peter nodded quietly and smiled as Tony gave him one last pat on the shoulder before walking off and saying something to Friday.

For the day, Peter spent the majority of his time with Mr. Stark. They listened to music they both enjoyed and tested out new prototypes for his new suit. Peter loved every second. He never thought he’d feel this connection once his Uncle Ben died, but Peter was grateful that he was wrong. At the end of the day, the Avengers joined together to have a meal and discuss amongst each other. By then, Peter had warmed up once more and laughed as Mr. Stark made jokes, and the rest of the team responded. Yes, he was most certainly happy.

After dinner, Mr. Stark wanted Peter to try out the changes in his suit.

“You go ahead and get changed and then go hang out in the living room. I’m gonna go grab some stuff from my lab.” Tony closed the door to Peter’s room, his footsteps fading. Peter looked around the room. It was somewhat bland, but Mr. Stark said that Peter could decorate however he wanted. He wasn’t planning on asking Mr. Stark to buy anything for him, of course. But he did plan on bringing in some of his Star Wars posters and other things of his. Peter shook his head and attempted to regain his focus. He stripped down to just his boxers and slipped on his suit. Though baggy at first, he pressed the center spider, and the suit lost all bagginess - hugging his form so that it became a spandex-like material.

When Peter entered the living room, he was alone. His phone buzzed, and he looked at the message. Ned texted him. “Send me cool pictures of the Avengers base!” it read. Peter laughed, sent him an eye-rolling emoji jokingly, and put his phone away. He looked back up at the tall, wide windows. It was dark outside. He looked at the clock and saw that it was just past nine. He took in the view of the sky. Clear and scattered with stars, he inhaled the sight. After all, it wasn’t every day he saw constellations and stars brighter than city lights. The city was much too polluted for that.

“Pretty, right?” Peter jumped and turned. He felt a sense of deja vu from earlier. Nonetheless, he nodded and walked towards Mr. Stark. “Yeah. Sucks we can’t see it in the city.” Tony shrugged. “It’s the little things that you don’t always have that make you love it so much more.” Peter smiled and agreed. “Yeah, you’re right, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiled back. It was quiet for a moment. Peter opened his mouth to speak until suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His eyes widened. Tony seemed oblivious, though. “What is it, kid?” He asked. Peter didn’t answer, but his senses were tingling. No, they were spazzing.

Tony, realized the dexterity of Peter’s anxiety, stepped forward. Suddenly, the floor began to rumble. Peter crouched slightly, bending his knees, preparing to fight. There was no enemy, though. His senses told him to look up, and Tony followed suit. In the middle of the ceiling was what seemed to be a forming black hole. Literally a black hole. Shades of blue and purple poked out from the sides, and it appeared as though it were glitching - but the crater continued to expand.

“What is that?” Peter questioned, his voice reaching an octave higher in panic. Objects in the room began to levitate. “Peter!” Tony yelled. The couch, TV, TV stand, coffee table, and lamps were suddenly in the air - and so was Peter. He searched around in a panic, looking for anything to latch to. Tony reached out his hand, but Peter was scrambling, and no matter how hard Tony pulled, he wouldn’t come down. Tony himself was shaken to his core in fear. He had no idea what the hole was or where it came from, but he couldn’t lose Peter.

The vacuum of space pulled Peter faster. He shot his web-shooters in at the floor, trying to pull himself back to the ground. “Mr. Stark! I- I can’t pull myself - I can’t--!” He was cut off as he suddenly was sucked into the vacuum, his web snapping and his body vanishing.

The objects fell onto the floor, and Tony blinked with his mouth open in shock.

Meanwhile, Peter screamed as he felt his body misshaping itself. He opened his eyes for a split second and saw colors all around his glitching as though they were static. He had nothing to grab onto. It felt as though he were falling forward if that were even possible. Then, he felt his body, including his face, hit something hard - it felt like cement. He stopped screaming, his throat sore. He bounced between hitting the pavement and being in the air, but he couldn’t pull himself together quick enough to see where he could shoot his webs. Then, he slammed into a pole and stopped moving.

Peter groaned, slumped over for just a moment before trying to stand up properly. He rubbed his eyes. Looking down at himself, he was still in his Spider-Man suit. The new one, he and Mr. Stark, had been working on. Peter glanced around. Quickly, he realized he was in Manhattan. Times Square it seemed like. Only something felt different. He felt like he was in the wrong place. He was, to his knowledge. He was supposed to be in upstate New York at the Avengers Compound with Mr. Stark. Then, his eyes landed on the large monitor placed on the tall skyscraper. After seeing the screen, Peter was beyond confused.

On the monitor with a photo of what appeared to be Spider-Man, although it wasn’t Spider-Man. It was, but it couldn’t have been because he was Spider-Man. Next to the photo was a man similar-looking to Peter - yet he was blonde-haired and blue-eyed with a freshly growing back beard. Then, as he read the caption, Peter’s heart dropped.

“Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, dies at 26.”

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