#i guess all those cookies i clicked paid off

[barbie-necromancer]

wehn u try to make cookies for your friends but they look so fucking perfect you want to eat them all urself

#mood log #i guess all those cookies i clicked paid off #katie bakes #m&m cookies

[slytherinbangchan]

Inked Dreams (NCT Dream Tattoo Artist!Au) (M)

Chap 10 out of 10 -> First arc: Haechan&Chenle x female reader Second arc is Jisungie's arc!🐹 Let me know if you guys are interested~

>>Chap 1 here

Summary: A NCT Dream Tattooist!Au where the Dreamies are college's heartthrobs and most likely will steal your heart whenever you less expect it.

Inked Dreams Masterlist~

[My First and Last: Chap 10🐬]

The moment you cross the door all eyes are on you and Hyuck. “What?” He asks and Mark looks at you and then Chenle. They all have their phones in their hands so you automatically take yours out too and see a bunch of notifications. “Of course.” You say, then you scoff and put your phone away again. That girl posted Chenle's video on instagram with a very long text you don't really feel like reading.

Hyuck chuckles as he checks his phone and double taps on the post, making you chuckle too. “You should read it, babe. It's actually funny.” He tells you, dropping the cookie box on a table as you walk over to sit next to Chenle, who looks just as confused as the rest of the guys. “It's okay, he knows.” You say, ruffling Lele's hair, and everyone suddenly seem way more relaxed. Guess Chenle updated them about the whole thing just before you arrived. “Should we all like that post?” Jaemin asks and Mark chuckles. “No, but I think it's a good idea though?” He says. “Yeah, if we just go with it, people won't care for it as much as if we actually try to deny it.” Jisung adds and Jeno chuckles. “We? Are you part of the love triangle?” He asks, pulling some smiles from everyone. “Well, Jisung is Chenle's soulmate after all, isn't he?” You say and Jisung winks at you. “Okay, let's like the post.” Renjun agrees. “I'm kinda annoyed though you guys won't let me just tell that girl off. It's not the first time she does something problematic.” He sighs. “What do you mean?” You ask and the guys look at Hyuck and he looks at you, clearing his throat before talking. “Okay, y/n you remember that I told you people used to ask me to tattoo them but then cancel cause they only wanted an excuse to get to talk to me?” He asks and you nod. “Well, actually it was a bit more complicated than that.” He says, then his eyes drift to Mark's and he sits up on the couch. “Yeah, y/n, back when the tattoo thing happened, we found out that the girl who posted Chenle's video was paying those people to get info about Haechan.” Mark continues. “What??” You ask. “Yep, she has a lot of money apparently, she and her friend also looked completely different back then.” He says and you look at the guys and then at Hyuck. “But what did she want?” You ask and Renjun clicks his tongue. “Just Haechan I guess? She was obsessed with him in a very weird way.” He says and Hyuck sighs. “Yeah. Her friend kissed me at a party and I followed the kiss. She told the guys at the arcade that me ghosting her friend is the reason why she was mad at me, but she was pretty much a stalker even before her friend kissed me.” He explains. “Yeah, we actually thought her friend was just another person she paid to get closer to Haechan.” Mark adds and you feel terrible in almost every way possible. “I'm so sorry I introduced you to them again at the arcade.” You apologize but the guys brush it off. “Please, how could you have known? It's not your fault at all.” Jaemin says, and the others agree. “Y/n, at first not even I could recognize any of them. I only did when they started talking.” Hyuck says and the guys agree. “We only noticed after you guys left so...”

The doorbell rings, saving you all from talking anymore about that horrible person and most of the guys move to help getting the food from the delivery man.

You pout at Hyuck and he chuckles, then you walk towards him to hug. “I'm sorry that I made you talk to her earlier today too.” You say. You really feel bad. “I should have asked about her earlier.” You say as you pout, hanging from his neck and he chuckles. “What? It's fine, dummy.” He says, taking a lock of hair out of your face before pecking your lips. “I could have told you about the whole thing too the day we saw them at the arcade.” He says, pulling you closer with a hug. “Stop blaming yourself, okay?” He asks and you nod, still pouting, making him chuckle softly again before meeting your lips in a kiss.

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

“What did you order Jisungie?” You ask him, since it seems nobody is handing him his food yet. “Ah, I didn't order anything, I can't eat.” He says and Renjun chuckles. “You can have some ice cream Sung-ah.” He tells him, but Jisung pouts. “No way, after hyung nagged so much at me last night I'm not eating anything.” He says, a bit sulky, and Renjun laughs. “I just can't believe you did shots last night after getting a tongue piercing.” Jeno says, joining Junnie's laughter. “You got a piercing? That's why you've been talking kinda weird? Show me!” You say, but he's still sulking and that only makes Renjun want to bite him apparently. “Jisung-ah. I'm sorry that I nagged at you so much. I was worried about your tongue.” He says and Jaemin chuckles. “He was also sulking about something else last night and took it on you.” He says, casually playing with Junnie's ear and Renjun clicks his tongue, slapping Jaemin's hand away. But Jaemin smiles and pinch Jun's cheek, which makes Renjun frustratedly sigh. “Whatever. The thing is that I was only worried about you last night, but you should definitely eat something cold if you're hungry.” He explains.

You meet Chenle's eyes, who is now sitting in front of you as Renjun and the others keep talking, and realize that you haven't got the chance yet to check on him. But guess it's not the best time right now anyway. Everyone is settling down to finally eat. “Here.” Hyuckie says, handing you some chopsticks and a spoon before sitting next to you. “Thank you~” You smile at him, then you look at Chenle again who smiles at you after a second. Seeing his eye smile for the first time since that video was posted makes your heart jump in happiness. It's the first time too though that you see him so quiet around the guys.

He also seems kinda nervous everytime anyone asks him something, even if it's just to pass the soda or stuff like that, so you decide to wait and ask him when the guys are not around.

He's not finished eating while the guys clean up a bit so you move to sit next to him. “Hey...” You say. “Hi...” He answers, but you hear Hyuckie clearing his throat even before you can actually start a conversation, and you and Chenle look up to see him standing in front of you. You tilt your head confused and Hyuck chuckles softly. “Renjun is asking for you in the kitchen.” He says and you sigh. “Can't he wait?” You ask but Donghyuck shakes his head. “Nope, it sounded urgent.” He says, so you click your tongue and stand up to walk to the kitchen. “Hey, Hyuckie says you called me.” You tell Renjun and he looks at you a bit confused. “I didn't?” He says and now you're more confused than ever. “You didn't? None of you called me?” You check, just in case, and the guys shake their heads.

You walk back to the living room ready to nag at Hyuckie but you stop right before you enter the room. “So... You're not mad at me for not saying anything, hyung?” You hear Chenle ask, and your heart skips a beat. Hyuck clicks his tongue and playfully pulls Chenle towards him with his arm around his neck. “Of course not. I was just worried about my cute dongsaeng and had to check on him.” He says and you pout as your heart gets soft just watching them. Chenle scoffs as soon as he sees you and Hyuck laughs at your pout, releasing Chenle from his hug and inviting you to sit with them. “Agh, I was so ready to nag at you but you were here being all wholesome.” You say and the guys laugh. “Yeah, I'm sorry I tricked you baby, but I really wanted to talk to him alone for a minute.” Hyuck apologizes and you hug him. “Yeah it's fine.” You say. “Are you really okay though? You seemed pretty awkward at lunch.” You ask Chenle and he sighs. “Yeah... I mean, I do feel bad that hyung had to find out about my feelings for you cause of a revenge post instead of myself, but that's my fault too. I could have told him about my feelings getting real before any of this happened.” He says and Hyuck chuckles. “Yeah? Were you ready to talk to me about that, though?” He asks, making you chuckle too and Chenle scoffs after a second as he smiles. “I guess not. You were so fucking whipped... It was kinda scary just thinking about mentioning it.” He admits and you all chuckle. “Aw, you were whipped for me Hyuckie?” You ask, hugging him and he smiles and nods. “I still am.” He confesses before meeting your lips and Chenle rolls his eyes. “See? I thought he'd kill me if I said something. Or he'd try at least.” He says, making you both smile on the kiss.

“Can we come back to the living room now?” The guys ask and you all chuckle. “Yeah.” You say, then you look at Chenle. “Can we talk somewhere else then?” You ask as the guys come back. Chenle nods and Hyuckie lets go of the hug after pecking your lips so you can leave with Lele.

You sit outside in the balcony but regret it almost immediately as you can't even keep your eyes open under that extremely shiny sun, so you laugh at your stupid decision and go back inside and to Hyuckie's room.

You were feeling a bit nervous at first, but not anymore after the balcony moment. “You know, I thought you just wanted to talk, but turns out you wanted to kill me instead.” Chenle jokes and you laugh. “Damn, you were too quick to notice. I'll have to think of something else now.” You say and he chuckles, then you both just remain silent for a bit as you smile.

You sigh after a minute and hold his hand. Guess you got that habit from Hyuckie now. Chenle laces his fingers with yours and you bite your lower lip as you put your thoughts in order inside your head. “Are you really okay with that post?” You ask and he nods. “I was only worried about hyung's reaction since I had already talked to you, and I don't care at all about what people say so...” He explains and you agree. “I'm fine too as long as you two are okay.” You say, then stare at him for a second. “I'm... sorry too that I didn't know what to say earlier today when we first talked.” You apologize and he sighs. “It's okay y/n, I understand. Really.” He says. “I... kinda know what I want to tell you now though... Do you want to hear it?” You ask and he nods as he smiles softly. “Well... I love you.” You say and he chuckles cause he didn't expect that. “Probably not in the same way you may love me, but I do. And... I hate that I hurt you and that I can't fix it.” You say and he smiles kinda mischievously. “Yeah, I hate that too.” He says, squeezing your hand softly, and you pout.

He sighs and sweetely caresses your cheek with the back of his free hand. “I guess we grew closer than we originally thought we'd do, huh? But I'm happy that it happened that way.” He says and your heart flutters. “I think I do love you the same way you love me though, y/n. Me liking you in a romantic way has nothing to do with it... I'm sure I'll still love you even when I get over you. So don't say you don't love me the same way... Just that you love me, yeah?” He says, and you can't help the tears in your eyes. “Yeah.” You say, trying not to break down crying, but failing a little. Making him chuckle at your pout. “Such a crybaby.” He lovingly says, softly wiping the tears that fell down your cheek and you frown, making him laugh again. “I'm sorry.” He says, pulling you into a hug. “Thank you for loving me so much y/n.” He says and you grasp on his clothes as you squeeze him harder. “I love you just as much. I just can't cry at all.” He says, making you giggle. “Ah, that's fine.” You say, pulling away. “I'll cry for the both of us.” You say and he nods as he smiles before you pull him into another hug.

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

Epilogue. “Is Jaemin asleep?” Hyuckie asks as you both walk across the living room. “Mhm~ sound asleep indeed.” Junnie distractedly says as he takes his eyes from his drawing for a moment to check a notification on his phone. “Okay, well, I'm gonna drive y/n home. I'll be back in a bit.” Hyuckie tells him and Renjun nods. “Bye Renjunnie~” You say, hugging him. “Bye~ Be careful yeah? It's late.”

You yawn as soon as you get in the car and Hyuck smiles. “Too many emotions today, huh?” He asks and you giggle. “Yeah, I'm exhausted.” You admit. “Mhm, make sure to get a lot of sleep tonight. Cause I'll be bothering you all day tomorrow.” He says, making you smile. “You better, cause I just know I'm gonna miss you so much tonight.” You say and he chuckles. “Then why are you even leaving? Stay. I don't want you to go? I couldn't even bring myself to start the car yet.” He says and you both chuckle. “Oh god, we're so fucking clingy.” You say. “Yeah!” He proudly says. “Okay, I'm staying then.” You say. “Of course you are!” He exclaims. “Oh, but wait. I want to ask you something before it slips my mind again.” He says and you nod. “So... Your birthday is close right? What would you like to do and is there something you want?” He asks and your heart flutters. “As a present?” You ask and he nods. “Well, duh... I want a tattoo.” You say and he chuckles. “Yeah, I thought so. I'll talk to Renjunnie then.” He says and you shake your head. “I want you to do it, dummy.” You say and he blushes. “Me?” He asks. “Of course, you idiot.” You say before pulling from his shirt to kiss him. “I love Renjun's work but what I really want right now is a tattoo from my cute, clingy boyfriend.” You say, making him chuckle. “If he's okay with it~” You sing and he nods as he smiles. “You can have all the tattoos you want from your silly, clingy boyfriend.” He says. “I never said silly.” You giggle. “That really is a dream come true though. I don't know how it never occurred to me before that dating a tattoo artist could mean infinite free tattoos.” You think out loud and he laughs. “Who said they'll be free?” He asks and you pout. “I'll take ten kisses per tattoo.” He says and you smile. “Just ten?” You ask. “You can always tip.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you giggle. “I sure will.” You say before meeting his lips. “Alright let's go back to the house, I want to smooch you properly.”

The lights are off in the living room as you enter the apartment, so you two just tiptoe your way to Hyuck's room just in case, not to wake up anyone. He pokes around his drawers for some comfy clothes for you while you wait, sitting on his bed. “Just give me whatever you wear to bed. If it doesn't smell like you I don't want it.” You say and he can't help a smile as he keeps looking for it. “Mhm~”

You check your phone for a moment and chuckle seeing how that girl had to delete her stupid post cause everyone was throwing hate at her. Guess the guys were right about liking her post.“Here.” Hyuckie says, handing you one of his shirts and you leave your phone aside again to change. “Thanks~” You say, then a thud coming from another room startles you, followed by some objects clattering and a moan. Your eyes look for Hyuckie's as you blush, but he's staring at the wall, pursing his lips, trying very hard not to smile. “Was that...” You ask and Hyuck bites his lower lip, still trying not to smile or laugh, as if he knew something you don't. But that was definitely Renjun's voice. “Is he... Alone..?” You ask, and Hyuck finally chuckles as you hear more moans and you blush even harder. He sighs then chuckles again. “No y/n, he's not.”

Chap 9.... Next Arc~

#nct x reader #kpop scenarios #nct dream scenarios #tattoo artist nct dream #college nct dream #college au #chenle x reader #chenle fluff #nct imagines #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct #haechan fluff #boyfriend haechan #nct dream chenle #wholesome haechan #cute haechan #cute chenle

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Haven

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: This was already posted on ao3 last week so I’m just putting it here too.

A few familiar characters show up and as for the timeline, as mentioned we're right after it was announced the Berlin Wall would come down, so we're in about 1990 atm. That means certain events in the MCU timeline have changed or haven't even happened!

I won’t demand but do ask for feedback; likes, reblogs, replies, comments, asks, especially on this series, but again, enjoy in your own way! <3 Love you!

Steve asked James, rather this man he called ‘Bucky, if he had a car. You thought it odd since James had sought the man out for help but you trusted that he was cautious enough for the both of you.

You’d left the car a few streets over. You sat in the back with Luka as he began to nod off and James drove as Steve gave directions. You hugged your son anxiously and inhaled the scent of his unwashed hair. You hoped you would have a bed for the night, if you were fortunate, a shower.

The street lights cast shadows on the men in the front as the New York streets passed by. Even a soviet-born Russian like yourself marveled at the infamous city. Never in all your life had you expected to end up there.

“You don’t live in Brooklyn?” James asked as his gripped the steering wheel.

“I do. Bought mom’s old place,” Steve answered, “But I can’t take you there, Buck.”

James was silent. He sighed as you pondered this friend’s name for him. ‘Bucky’. It sounded odd and didn’t seem to fit the man you knew. And yet, like much of his character, it confounded you. Perhaps it suited him after all.

“Not because of you, but to protect you,” Steve intoned. “Same reason we didn’t take my car.”

“Protect me?” James peeked in the rear view mirror as you stared at his silhouette.

“I’ll explain when we’re standing still,” Steve said curtly as he brushed back his hair with his fingers.

“Right,” James said grimly. “How ya doin’ back there?”

“Fine,” You answered in Russian without thinking. He nodded and continued on.

Silence pervaded the cramped space of the Chrysler as Steve pointed James down the next street. Luka’s soft snores floated around you and warmed your chest as he leaned against you. You dared to hope that you might sleep that night.

James pulled into an underground garage next to a high rise. The two men climbed out of the front seat and James opened the door for you and took Luka gently into his arms. The boy didn’t stir as he was cradled against his father. You stepped out into the smelly garage and Steve waved you onward.

He led you up a staircase and past several business housed in the building above. He stopped at an unmarked metal door one would assume was a utility closet and shoved a key in the slot. He opened it carefully and ushered you inside. The door closed heavily behind him as he flipped the lights on.

Within was a small living space that surprised you. There was a sofa, chair, a single bed in the corner, and a smaller door just beside the narrow counter along the wall. There was a square table at the far end with a boxy computer and an old telephone. James’s eyes scanned the room as if searching for some trap.

“A safehouse for now,” Steve explained. “This is my Plan B but haven’t had to use it so far.”

“Plan B for what?” James hissed.

“Just in case,” Steve shrugged. “It’s safe here, besides.” He strode past the couch and turned back. “This folds out.”

James nodded and crossed to the small bed in the corner. He sat as he laid Luka down and slipped him beneath the quilt. He touched his cheek before he parted and stood to face his old friend. Steve looked between the two of you.

“So, I take it you two met in Russia?” Steve chuckled. “You know, that’s a long way to go for a wife, Buck.”

James said nothing as he tucked his hands in his jeans pockets. The phone rang and Steve flinched as he grabbed it before the second chime. He put it to his ear and listened. He replied with two short words; “Eagle. Demo.”

The line clicked loudly from the mouthpiece and Steve replaced the phone in its cradle.

“We have tonight,” Steve stated as he leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “You can rest. Get clean up in the shower,” He nodded towards the other door, “There’s food in the cupboard. Basic rations but we’ll get better tomorrow.”

“Then what?” James asked sharply. “We go to S.H.I.E.L.D.? That’s who you’re with, right?”

“I am and I’m not,” Steve answered. “But the important thing is I know people who can keep you safe.”

“Safe? Do you even know what we’re running from?” Bucky sneered.

“Not hard to guess,,” Steve tilted his head and sniffed. “Buck, do you have any idea how unbelievable this is? That you’re still alive? How much of a relief it is?” He dropped his arms and pushed himself away from the table. He crossed to James and clapped his shoulder, “Bucky.”

The other man winced and grabbed Steve’s hand. He pushed it away and held up his own. He slowly rolled his glove up his palm and slid free his fingers. He turned his metal hand in show and lowered it in shame.

“Can’t say they never gave me any gifts,” James uttered, “Though I would say I paid for it.”

Steve frowned as he watched James’ hand then looked him in the eye.

“Well, good thing I didn’t say anything about finding you in one piece,” Steve scoffed.

“Ha,” James snorted and shook his head. “You promise your friends are gonna play nice?”

“You trust me?” Steve challenged.

“Always,” James avowed.

“They’ll play nice.” Steve assured him, “But you know it’s not that simple.”

“I know,” James grumbled as Steve brushed by him and went to the door, “But I’m not worried about me.” He paused and looked at you, then Luka, “You understand?”

“I do. You know we’ve always been as good as family, Buck.”

“That was a long time ago,” James insisted. “A different life.”

“Yeah,” Steve rested his hand on the door handle. “But we’re not so different.” Steve smiled and peered past James, “It was nice to meet you.” He opened the door slowly as he spoke. “You two have a good night. Get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

Steve shut the door behind him as he stepped out into the hallway. The door locked from the other side and James stared at the metal barrier. You stood behind him, still, silent, watching as he hung his head. You neared the couch and sat.

“James,” You said gently, “You are going to sit and tell me who Bucky is and how he knows Steve Rogers.”

James turned and swallowed as he looked at you. He approached reluctantly and sat beside you. He leaned back and gripped his thighs as if to brace himself. His fingers danced on his knee anxiously and he nodded.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes and Steve Rogers is my best friend. We served together in Europe. We grew up together in Brooklyn. He was this kid, used to wear newspapers in his shoes, built like a toothpick. His mother, Sarah, was his only family besides me. But that was before I died in the war; before I was the Soldat…”

✰

James let you have the foldout couch to yourself. You were unused to the emptiness beside you but you hadn’t the heart to move Luka as he dozed soundly. James took his usual spot on the floor.  He slept with his back against the door though you doubted he actually got much rest. You woke often and looked at him, sometimes his head slumped down, and others he seemed to stare endlessly into the dark.

James roused first and you sat up as you heard him open the cupboard. You grumbled and stripped the thin mattress before folding it away. You left the thin blankets in the chair as James turned on the single burner on the counter. He set the kettle atop it and turned to face you.

“Tea?” He asked. You nodded as he leaned against the counter.

Luka slept on and you let him until a knock came at the door and woke him. As James set out two mugs of steaming tea, three short raps came and had him frozen. He motioned for you to stay back as he neared the door and you went to Luka as he rubbed his eyes and sat up in confusion.

James unlocked the door and inched it open. His shoulders dropped and he stepped back to let Steve in. Another man followed him and James quickly stiffened. The man strode haughtily inside, his silver hair combed back neatly, as he wore a tailored suit that bespoke of money.

“Howard,” James greeted the strange man with a grimace. The door closed heavily and pierced the tension between them. “Why’s he here?”

“He’s a friend. A real friend.” Steve said.

You helped Luka out of bed and sat him at the table with the box of tea biscuits you found in the cupboard.

“Don’t be rude, James,” You managed in your best English, “You ask if they want tea.”

“James,” The man he called Howard chuckled.

James sighed. “Do you want tea?” He asked tersely.

“We’re good,” Howard answered with a smirk. “So, I think my first question is where they came from?” He pointed at you and Luka. “Lucky the kid looks like his mom.”

“Really, Steve? This jackass.”

“Buck, you don’t understand. S.H.I.E.L.D., it’s not… not safe. There're approximately three people you can trust in this country and we’re two of them.” Steve insisted.

“Three? Who’s the third?”

“Peggy,” Steve replied curtly. “Everyone else, well, we’ve figured there hand-in-hand with the bastards who chased you here.”

“Hydra?” James asked, Steve nodded. “They’re here? Where?”

“Calm down,” Howard strolled around the room as he felt around in his jacket. “We’ll fill you in once you do the same for us.” The man stopped beside Luka and pulled out a bill. “Here, kid, maybe later you’re mother can take you out to buy some candy.”

Luka’s eyes rounded at the money and you nodded to him. “What do you say, mishka?”

“Thank you, sir,” He smiled and accepted the money.

“You didn’t have to--” You said as Howard grinned.

“Got a boy myself. Bit older but I miss when he was smaller. Easier to handle.” He said. “And I’m fairly sure those cookies are well past stale.”

“So it’s just the three of you? Against Hydra?” James interjected. “You really think you can help me?”

“We have safeguards,” Howard turned back. “And it’s better to keep enemies close.”

“Not Hydra,” James’ hands balled into fists. “You don’t understand--”

“No, but we want to try.” Howard neared him. “Look, I’d say that kid is what? Four? Five? And there was a certain Soviet assassin that just up and disappeared as many years ago. A certain experiment abandoned after its perpetrators were slaughtered… think maybe you can fill in the details?”

James paled and looked to you. His eyes fell to Luka and he blinked. “Not in front of the kid.” He glanced at Steve pleadingly. “I’ll talk,” James snarled, “Just… the boy. He can’t--” He took a breath. “Come on, Howard. You said you had a son, too. Please.”

“It’s early, we don’t have to get into it right now,” He raised his hand defensively. “I just needed to know that I was right.”

“And I need to know that you’re gonna keep them safe. I don’t care about me, but they didn’t do anything.” James stepped closer to the man until they were chest to chest. “You swear to me that they’re safe and I will tell you everything.”

“Mother knows something too, she must,” Howard said.

“I tell you,” You stood and squeezed Luka’s shoulder before you left him. “But as James say, not in front of boy.”

Howard considered you then turned back to James. “We’ll move you tonight. Bigger place, much nicer too. Then, we’ll have a long debriefing.” He turned to Steve and checked his watch. “You keep them here until I can get it sorted out. You know the rules.”

“Got it,” Steve said. “And Peggy?”

“One thing at a time,” Howard said as he went to the door, “As far as she’s concerned, you took the day off.”

#bucky barnes #Winter Soldier #dark winter soldier #dark!wintersoldier #bucky barnes x reader #fic #series #breach #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #Steve Rogers

[spacedikut]

how to ask a girl out ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader

summary: elle sees an opportunity to teach spencer about asking a girl out. 3275 words

a/n: based on this scene. this is the longest fic ive ever written so sorry if it’s a painful read 

Spencer feels creepy staring at you like this.

There’s no other way to put it. He feels like he’s twelve again, the youngest in his Las Vegas high school, staring at all the pretty girls that get his heart racing just by existing. But you’re more enchanting than those girls. He could watch you do anything, he thinks, because no matter what you’re doing you look picture perfect, like you don’t have a single bad angle.

Spencer still has the social skills of twelve year old him, though. Especially when dealing with cute people.

“You know,” The voice makes Spencer jump, “If you stare long enough, she just might notice.”

Elle is smirking with her arms crossed, shooting Spencer an incriminating look. He tenses.

Seeing his discomfort, Elle relents, “I’m teasing, Reid.” He visibly relaxes against the door frame he’s half hiding behind, half leaning against.

“I’m not trying to be weird.” He mumbles. Elle thinks he sounds like a kid that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I know you’re not. Have you… spoken to her?”

You’re somewhat new to the unit. Some kind of assistant to JJ who joined several months ago (three months and three days, if Spencer counted correctly) (he did), which means the team don’t see you that much, just enough that you’ve been the topic of discussion a few times. It doesn’t help that JJ sings your praise, and Hotch recently revealed you made yourself available for babysitting his new-born if he ever needs it. Every time someone mentions you, it’s followed by some kind of compliment. Everyone loves you. Spencer has said all of five words to you, and he’s smitten.

“Hi. I’m Spencer. A doctor.”

When you were introduced you didn’t pay him much attention. He can’t blame you, it was overwhelming for you – being introduced to a whole bunch of FBI agents and then thrown head-first into sorting cases for them. But Spencer paid attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Derek’s caught him staring one too many times, but it isn’t Spencer’s fault he can’t stop thinking about you. You enter the room and Spencer’s attention is pulled to you, like a magnet.

Derek thinks it’s time he made a move. Spencer agreed and maintained that confidence for all of fifteen minutes, until he heard your joyful laugh dance down the hallway and his tongue felt too heavy to form words.

That’s when Elle noticed.

Across the room, you’re laughing at something Derek said with JJ. Seeing you smile makes Spencer smile, and Elle nudges him.

“Have you considered approaching her? Rather than, you know, watching her from afar like she’s prey?”

Spencer huffs, “You think I haven’t tried?”

Every time he’s moved to start a conversation, he finds himself unable to complete a single sentence. After he says hello, then what? He dies?

Elle breathes through her nose in frustration. “She’s a nice girl. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She mentioned the other day she wants to visit the local museum, since she just moved and hasn’t really explored yet. Shame no one is available to accompany her, right?”

“Are you implying something?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t. I can’t-“

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Spencer’s always admired Elle’s ability to be blunt and fearless. But he isn’t Elle, Elle isn’t him, so to him it doesn’t feel like he simply chooses to pussy out of talking to you – it feels like he’s physically constrained. Like he’s fighting against the tide of the ocean to reach you, and he keeps getting pushed back, further and further away from you.

Elle’s eyes shift between you and Spencer, like she’s watching a tennis match. “Just go up and ask her. It’s that simple. If she says no, she says no. No big deal!”

Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t do that. It’s Y/N! She’s-she’s-“

“A normal human being. You know, like you and me? The second you start putting people on pedestals is when things start falling apart.” She pats him on the shoulder as encouragement, “Have some confidence, Reid.”

And she walks away, as if just telling him to have some confidence will make him suddenly have the courage to whisk you off your feet.

He wishes he could whisk you off your feet.

+++

The paperwork is never ending. Times like this, Spencer considers recanting his stance on technology – maybe having everything on an online database would be a good idea. The stacks upon stacks around him would agree.

A paper ball hits the back of Spencer’s head.

He turns, slowly, and Elle gives a wave from her desk. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can I… help you?”

“Yes, you can.” She nods to the paper on the floor, “Read it.”

He leans and grabs the ball from the floor, opening it with furrowed brows.

Step 1: Actually talk to her.

Suddenly, Elle is standing right next to him, looking all-too-pleased with herself. She leans over him.

“What does this mean?”

“You wanna date Y/N? Talk to her. That means marching right up to her pretty little face and saying more than, like, a few words to her. You need to have a conversation with her to let her know you’re interested.”

Elle’s clearly confident in her plan, but it seems she’s forgetting an important detail – this is Spencer that she’s dealing with. Not Derek, who can charm anyone out of anything (or into anything), not Hotch who, when he wants to be, is the smoothest criminal ever. Not even Gideon, with his soft eyes that make anyone that stares into them feel safe. He’s Spencer Reid who, according to one guy, looks like a pipe cleaner with eyes.

Spencer’s hesitant to take any of Elle’s advice.

“What would I… say to her?” He asks. If he does talk to you, what does he even say? Do you even want to talk to him? What if you immediately hate him and JJ beats him up? She could do it. He’s seen her guns.

Elle looks at him incredulously, “Reid! C’mon! Anything! Ask how her day has been, if she had a good weekend, are there plans for this weekend… Literally anything.” Spencer gives a look of distrust, “You’ll know if she’s interested, trust me. She’ll reciprocate. If she doesn’t, she’s not up for it, and there’s your answer without even asking her out.”

At that moment, you and JJ appear from thin air, whispering to one another with your arms full of files. Both Spencer and Elle’s watchful gazes follow you right up until JJ’s office door is clicked shut and when you can only slightly be seen through the blinds, Spencer still stares. Elle hits him over the head.

“Pay attention!”

“She’s distracting!”

“She walked by you, not gave you a lap dance! Focus on the plan!”

With a sigh, he looks back to the crumpled paper in his hands. “What’s step two?”

The paper’s yanked out of his hands and Elle furiously scribbles something before handing it back to him.

Step 2: Make her laugh.

“I can’t do that.”

She scoffs, “Reid.”

“People laugh at me, Elle, not with me. The only way she’ll laugh is if I make a complete fool of myself and when I do that, I’m running away and never looking back. You’ll never see me again.”

Sick of the self-deprecation, Elle leans close to Spencer’s face and begins to whisper menacingly.

“Listen, bud,” She threatens, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re young, you’re inexperienced – that’s why approaching Y/N is so terrifying. Not because she’s out of your league, or you’re not good enough, it’s because you’ve never done this before. It’s simply a fear of stepping out of your comfort zone, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, silently wishing something could get him out of this situation. He’s not used to being complimented so ferociously.

God answers his prayers. In the worst way possible.

“Incoming. Make her laugh, Reid.” Elle says, slinking off back to her desk.

Spencer quickly realises you’re approaching and his hands grip the armrests of his chair. He’s not ready for this. He wishes he had time to prepare, maybe google how to woo a woman, but you’re in front of him, all precious smiles with a manila folder in your hand.

“Hi, Doctor Reid.”

Your voices sounds like heaven. He can’t help but think, despite only listening to classical music, he could listen to your voice and only your voice if given the option. It’s like honey, sweet and smooth, and something inside him stirs. Everything about you is lovely.

He clears his throat and nervously wipes at his nose, “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“I was told to bring this to you,” You hand him the folder, “And JJ wanted me to check up on you. She said you’ve been working non-stop and that you probably consumed your bodyweight in coffee with enough sugar to give a small army diabetes. My guess is she wants to check your heart is still beating.”

Spencer laughs at that, which encourages you to giggle along. He freezes when he sees the way your eyes scrunch and smile widens when you laugh – he’d only seen it from a distance, up close it feels intimate and causes his throat to tighten. When your laughter dies, you’re left with an awkward silence as he stares. You shuffle your feet.

Elle is trying to look like she isn’t paying attention, but in her head she’s screaming at Spencer to say something!!!

“Sorry for disturbing you if you’re – um – if you’re busy.” You gesture to the mess on Spencer’s desk, and it’s then that he realises how his silence could’ve looked – to him, you quite literally took his breath away, but to you? He’s a weirdo that is still holding the file mid-air and hasn’t said a thing for far too long.

“No! No,” Spencer brushes his hair back, “Thank you for the file. JJ’s right, I should probably take a break-“

He looks up then. This is his chance, right?

“Are you busy right now?”

You glance around and your eyes find JJ’s office, where she’s signalling for you to come over, “Yeah. Sorry.”

It feels like a punch in the gut – is this rejection? – but there’s a look of sadness that crosses your face. Your mouth falls at the edges and your brows slightly crease – do you wish you weren’t busy?

If Spencer didn’t feel like he’s seconds away from vomiting, he’d ask. Maybe. That sounds a whole lot like flirting and he isn’t sure he can handle that.

You quickly leave, not before you tell him to look after himself (his heart swells), and the second you’re far enough away Elle is marching right over and throwing the paper at him, again, even though she’s standing right in front of him.

“She rejected me.”

“Yea- wait, what?” Elle starts to celebrate, but stops at her words, “No she didn’t. Did we see different things?”

“It sure felt like rejection. Felt weird.”

“That was the perfect chance to ask her to go out after work or maybe on the weekend, but, in your defence, that’s a Derek-level response and we’re not quite there yet. Step three, go.”

Spencer unfolds the paper ball begrudgingly, wondering if any of this is actually worth it.

Step 3: Get JJ to back the fuck up.

Spencer laughs.

“Either you tell JJ you like her assistant and ask for her help, or you tell JJ you like her assistant and that she needs to stop using her so much.” Elle sounds matter-of-fact and confident.

“You want me to tell JJ to stop giving her assistant work?” Spencer asks, face scrunched.

With a shrug, Elle says, “Or you could ask her to help you. She knows the most about Y/N.”

Looking up to JJ’s office, he realises how true Elle’s statement is. JJ knows you better than anyone else here, you’ve quickly become good friends, and JJ wouldn’t lie to Spencer about you if it involved his feelings. He trusts JJ like that.

But then you throw your head back in laughter, a hearty laugh that JJ follows with her own tinkling chuckle, and Spencer is reminded of the sinking feeling he’s had when he’s been rejected before. The emotional slap in the face that causes you to lose all confidence. In his head, he rationalises that attempting to ask you out is pointless. You won’t like him, scrawny profiler who follows his team members like a lost puppy, the guy unable to maintain eye contact for more than four seconds. The logical side, however, the side that runs the show when Spencer is on a case and hides his feelings, tells him he has nothing to lose. Morgan would be proud of him, not ashamed, because Spencer had the guts to ask someone out – Spencer! Elle would understand and tell him something about learning for next time, and the rest of the team wouldn’t really care.

He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. A date with you? A relationship with you? That’d feel like winning the lottery. It feels more likely than winning the lottery, too.

Then Morgan walks past him, more like swaggers, all good looks and charm and everything Spencer doesn’t have.

Spencer decides he’ll save himself the rejection.

+++

JJ gets involved without Spencer realising. He connects the dots on the way back to Virginia, after a case in which you were brought along instead of JJ.

There was a “family emergency”, apparently, after the debrief and right before take-off. Although it wasn’t your first case, it was your first time travelling with the team. When you pad in, sparkling eyes gliding all around the jet, Spencer zeroes in on the gruesome scene photos to avoid being caught staring.

You fit into the role flawlessly. It’s like you were born for the part, effortlessly slipping into the job of communicator between the team and the police force, standing fearlessly in front of the press as they piled on the pressure.

In the conference room where the team set up, he noticed you actively try to stay out of the way whilst simultaneously help in any way you could. You offered coffee every two hours (Spencer counted), cleaned up any and all rubbish the team left around – burger wrappers, useless post-it notes – and mothered the team by reminding them they need breaks, too.

At the hotel, you jokingly poked Spencer in the shoulder and said, “No more coffee for you. You’ll get a sugar rush and won’t be able to sleep.”

“Like a toddler?”

“Exactly like a toddler. Straight to bed for you.”

You grinned at eachother before you separated to go to your rooms. Around three am, Spencer instinctively went to make himself a drink but stopped and thought of you. He decided for that night, just that night, he could get a somewhat decent amount of sleep.

Now, on the flight home, Gideon pauses before his move in their third game of chess to stare at something behind Spencer’s shoulder. When he notices, Spencer turns to see what has his mentor’s attention and stutters when it’s you. You, looking like you’re straight out of a cheesy romance movie when you push your hair back while reading your book.

Gideon switches from staring at you to staring at Spencer.

“She’s a pretty girl, huh?”

Spencer knows where this is going.

“Elle told me you’re sweet on her.”

“Elle shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Elle has been watching you two the entire case.”

“Elle-“

Gideon clears his throat, making Spencer finally make eye contact, “You scared? Worried?”

“About what?” Spencer asks.

“Rejection. If she’ll laugh in your face, say something about never wanting anyone like you.”

Sometimes, Spencer is terrified of Gideon’s ability to read people. He swears he has this inhuman ability to take a peek into people’s minds, read their most intrusive and negative thoughts, and confront them about them. Like he’s doing to Spencer now.

“Something like that, yeah,” Spencer murmurs. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s your move.”

“I know.” Gideon nods to you, making Spencer look again, “Don’t you think, in twenty years’ time, you’d want to look back at this moment and be glad you asked? No matter the outcome? Rather than wondering if she’d said yes, asking all kinds of what-ifs…”

“You’re telling me to ask her out?”

Gideon gives Spencer a smile that fills him with confidence. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts Gideon with his whole life. If he tells him to go for it, then he should go for it, right?

“I happen to know the Virginia museum is having a deal on tickets if you order them online. Might be something to look into.” He sounds borderline smug now.

With one last look to Gideon, he stands and slowly waddles to the chair opposite you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, a hand gently resting on the back of the empty seat. You startle slightly at the unexpected voice, but gesture for him to sit with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” You wonder, squinting slightly as the sun shines in your eyes. It makes them sparkle, and Spencer has never understood wanting to drown in someone’s eyes until that moment.

“Just glad the case is over. You did a great job, by the way, filling in for JJ last minute.” Spencer is surprised that his voice doesn’t crack or stop completely.

You beam at the praise, “Thank you. JJ’s got some big boots to fill, even if it’s for one case.”

He shrugs and pulls a face as if you’ve said something ridiculous, “Don’t sell yourself short. When she realises how good you are, she’ll start taking all kinds of holidays.” He jokes.

He can’t help but grin when you laugh.

Elle passes. In the very brief eye contact they make, Elle’s eyes are wide and jumping from you to Spencer, Spencer to you. She’s sending him a message, and he bets Gideon is watching, too.

“Hey,” He starts, leaning on the table between you. You instinctively lean closer, too, which Spencer takes as a positive sign, “How would you.. like…”

He has to take a second to inhale a shaky breath and nervously push his hair behind his ears. You wait, all patient and divine, and his eyes dash around your face.

“To go to the museum with me?”

It comes out rushed and you look confused. “Huh?”

Spencer tries again, after clearing his throat, “How would you like to go to the museum with me? When we get back. As a date.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“…Yes?”

If you weren’t staring directly at him, he’d think you were making fun of him and about to unleash a nice bout of rejection.

You move one hand to lean your face against, moving in a little closer, “I would love that.”

Spencer is speechless. You would love that?

“Oh- wow. Yeah, thanks. Good.”

Who says thanks when someone agrees to go on a date with them?

You giggle.

“We’ll plan when we get back?” You ask.

“Yes. Definitely.” He nods three times.

You can’t help but bite your lip, he’s too cute, and it immediately draws Spencer’s attention.

Behind you both, Gideon turns to Elle. “Success.”

Elle rolls her head against the back of her seat and stares out the window, “Step four: Get Gideon to get the job done.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #this is incredibly self indulgent because i would give anything to go on a museum date with spencer or mgg #also this was longer before editing and originally included a whole thing with a male police officer being interested in reader but it was #already SO LONG

[wholesomemendes]

The Winter Ball Date

College/Friends to Lover Au

Summary: When one year you get asked to the annual Winter Ball by someone other than Shawn, the two of you realize what you’ve been looking past for years.

Author’s Note: Long time no see! This is part of Julia’s Winter Writing Challenge by @wondershawns and I am so excited to have participated! My setting prompt was “A knock on the window” and the line “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this”. I hope you guys enjoy! As always, I love hearing any type of feedback and I love you all x

Word Count: 8.4k

Presents, Christmas music, your mother’s famous cookies on your tongue, all playing one by one in your mind. The feeling of just being home again instead of in a small, stuffy dorm seemed so close, yet so far away and you couldn’t help but wish that this last month would fly by. A soft nudge to your foot broke you out of your thoughts, “What’s got you in a daze?” You blinked your eyes rapidly to focus your thoughts to the present once again, turning your gaze to the curly haired boy next to you with a bright smile on his face. 

“I’m just thinking about Christmas and being home again,” you sighed dreamily, your head coming to rest on your hand. 

“Christmas is over a month away, you’re better off worrying about finals if you’re thinking that far ahead,” he laughed as a hand came up to lightly push your shoulder.

You cast a harsh glare at him through the dim light of the library, “It’s never too early to start thinking about Christmas. Aren’t you excited?”

“Of course I’m excited.” Shawn leaned back against his chair looking into space, “I get to go home and see family and I only have to worry about my sister instead of a bunch of rowdy frat boys.”

You let out a chuckle at his words, “Aren’t you also a rowdy frat boy?”

“You wound me.” He dramatically placed a hand over his heart, “Besides, I’m more excited to annoy you every day over break.”

“You already annoy me every day.”

“Maybe, but it’ll be much more convenient than me walking all the way across campus to get to your dorm.” You couldn’t lie that he did have a point there. The two of you had been best friends ever since the day your family moved into the house next to his in middle school. You had been inseparable ever since, choosing to go to the same college a few hours from your houses and meeting almost every day since you had joined as freshman. Three years later and nothing had changed, except for how tall Shawn had managed to grow in those years and how the both of you definitely had matured in both personality and appearance since you were in middle school.

“How fortunate for me then,” you laughed, turning your attention back to the abandoned textbook in front of you. 

Shawn’s eyes remained on you, cocking an eyebrow your way, “What, you’re not looking forward to my random visits?” 

“Oh no, I am so looking forward to being woken up in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep.”

“Hey that was only twice!”

“Two times too many if you ask me,” you mumbled under your breath, however the smirk on your face told Shawn that you meant for him to hear it. He simply pulled your chair closer to him and rammed his knuckles into your head until you were laughing and begging him to stop. 

____________________

“You’re coming to the game tonight right?” You had found your way into Shawn’s bed after a full day of classes with your head on his chest, a random hockey game playing on the television across from the two of you. Shawn’s arm provided a comforting warmth as it laid across your stomach, pulling you into him, and each pass of his fingertip onto your skin made you relax further into him. The cuddling wasn’t anything new to the two of you, even the electric feeling you felt from his touch had almost become normal to you. Almost.

“Of course I am. I’ve never missed one, have I?”

“You’re right you haven’t,” he smiled down at you, a stray curl falling in front of his face, “Just wanted to make sure my good luck charm would be there.”

You reached up to brush his hair out of his face, but Shawn quickly grabbed your arm, playfully biting your finger until you pulled away and your wrist was left in his grasp. “I refuse to believe I’m your good luck charm.”

“We’ve been undefeated for three years, hun. You’re my good luck charm.”

“But-”

“Nope, shut it. Don’t want to hear a peep from you.” He pulled you tighter into him before placing a delicate kiss to your hair, “Remind me to give you my jersey for tonight. Want to make sure everyone knows whose good luck charm you are.”

“You’re such a goof.”

____________________

Shawn won. Again. It was no surprise, especially since the team they were up against were no good, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t incredibly proud of him. He absolutely amazed you every time he went out on the ice and you couldn’t help but wait impatiently in the main corridor of the arena. Students rustled around you as you waited though you paid them no mind, simply choosing to admire the banners on the wall instead. The sudden increase in noise caused you to turn your head towards the locker rooms where a certain curly-headed boy was leading a pack of freshly showered athletes. You sprinted past the crowds of people in his direction as Shawn dropped his bag, opting instead to pick you up in his arms as you ran straight into him. You wrapped your legs around him like a koala with your head buried into his neck, breathing in the strong, heady scent of his shampoo. “There’s my good luck charm,” he sighed into your hair and you laughed, only causing a brighter smile to form on his face.

“You were incredible, Shawn. You’re constantly impressing me out there.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, lifting his head to look you in the eyes, “Always means the most coming from my number one fan.”

You flashed him a smile that mirrored his as he slid you down to the floor, making sure that you were always close to him even while others were surrounding him. Your eyes stayed trained on him and the aura that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. They followed the path of his jaw, his neck, to his broad shoulders he always made you massage for him. But before you could finish admiring him, you felt a presence behind you and a slight grasp on your arm. You turned only to be met with a tall figure with beautiful green eyes and dirty blonde hair. He seemed to be about Shawn’s height, maybe an inch shorter, and although his smile wasn’t as bright as Shawn’s was, it still managed to take your breath away for a moment. “Hi, I’m Grant,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand for you to grab, “Are you Shawn’s girlfriend?”

You turned your focus back to Shawn who was currently in the middle of a conversation with a couple fraternity brothers and sorority sisters before coming back to this new mysterious man. “Oh no, we’re not, we’re not dating. We’re just best friends.” Grant seemed to have some distrust in his eyes at your words, his eyebrow lifting up slightly in question. “I’m Y/n by the way.” Grabbing his outstretched hand you let yourself appreciate the polite person in front of you.

“I’m sorry I assumed you’re dating. I’m in the frat with Shawn; we’re not good friends or anything but I’ve seen the two of you around in there.” Suddenly your mind clicked to where you had seen him before off of the rink. Most of the boys on the hockey team all resided in the same fraternity so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to you to learn that you had been in the same house as Grant multiple times. “You two are really close, I can’t be the only one that has mistaken the two of you as dating.”

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, sparing a glance back at Shawn, “It happens a lot more than you think. But I promise we’re not. I’m as single as one can be.” Grant’s smile seemed to grow at your words and his shoulders relaxed an inch. 

“Well in that case I actually wanted to ask you…”

“What’s going on over here?” A heavy weight slid across your shoulders, effectively pulling you into a warm body you immediately recognized. You rolled your eyes at the interruption. Perfect timing as always, Shawn. 

“Nothing, just introducing ourselves to one another,” Grant replied, that smile that you were beginning to grow fond of diminishing slightly. 

“Good, was worried that my good luck charm was switching sides.” Shawn sent a pointed look your way with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Good luck charm?”

“Why do you think we haven’t lost a game yet?” Shawn questioned, reaching out to pinch our cheeks, “It’s this little one right here giving me all the luck.” You swatted his hand away bitterly, but his smirk only grew. “Well I’m sure this has been great. Grant, I’ll see you later at the frat and you missy, we have a celebratory dinner to catch.” He maneuvered his way through the people calling his name, bringing you right to his classic jeep.

“You’re horrible you know that right,” you huffed as soon as you got into the seat.

“What ever could you be talking about?” he said innocently.

“If you keep acting like this, I’ll truly never get into a relationship.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Says the one that literally interrupted an entire conversation I had barely even started yet.”

“I was simply worried about you.”

“Mhm, sure.” You stared out the window in protest, not even moving when you felt his hand on your lower thigh.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you liked Grant. I was just looking out for you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I like him, I’ve known him for all of five minutes, but it would be nice to maybe explore some options without my personal bodyguard getting in the way.”

“Once again I’m sorry that I got in the way then. I guess Grant is not the worst guy you could have chosen out of the bunch,” he trailed off as he pulled into the diner parking lot the two of you had been frequenting at after almost every hockey game, “Now let’s put this behind us. I’m really craving some fries and a milkshake.” 

____________________

The brisk wind of the courtyard made you tighten your jacket around yourself in a poor attempt to keep the chills away. A sigh of relief escaped your lips once you rounded the corner of the lecture hall you had previously been in, leading you through a row of buildings that temporarily protected you from the harsh weather of Toronto. You kept your eyes trained in front of you, desperately trying to will your feet to somehow move faster to get you to Shawn’s frat house for your usual post-class wind down.

“Hey Y/n!” You whipped your head around to see the source of your name, but after coming up empty handed in the small crowd of students behind you, you shook your head, convincing yourself you just imagined it as you continued your walk. “Y/n, wait!” Pausing this time, you turned your body around completely only to be met with the sight of Grant maneuvering his way carefully around the other students. Upon seeing you stopped, his face light up and he started to jog his way towards you until he was close enough for you to feel some of his body heat. “Hey.”

“Hey, Grant. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. Sorry to catch you at such a bad time, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you again,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “I also didn’t want to wait too long to ask this because I was afraid I’d miss my chance.”

“What’s going on?”

“Are you going to the Winter Ball with anyone?” The Winter Ball was the annual end of the semester party Shawn and Grant’s fraternity held every year that was incredibly exclusive. The only way to get in was if one of the members took you as their date, which meant that almost every girl was dying for someone to ask her. 

At that moment your gaze fell to the beautiful bouquet of red roses that were present in his hands before your eyes lifted to meet his that were so full of hope and nerves. “As of right now I am not. Why do you ask?”

“That’s great! I mean, that’s not great that you’re not going with anyone, but great because I, um, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go with me?” 

You flashed him a bright smile as he handed the bouquet towards you, “I would love to go with you, Grant.”

“Really? That’s, that’s amazing. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So am I.” 

He wrapped his arms around you in a quick hug before moving the other way, “I hate to leave right away, I’d love to stay and talk, but I really need to get to class.”

You waved him off, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah of course,” he began walking away until his eyebrows raised and he came back, “Wait, can I actually get your number?” You saved your number into the contacts of his phone and gave him a wave, heading your way back to the line of frat houses you were looking for. The butterflies in your stomach were doing front flips as you tried to will the humongous smile off of your face. A guy just asked you to be his date to the Winter Ball. A really cute, sweet guy just asked you to be his date to the Winter Ball. Never in a million years did you think someone like him would even imagine asking you to be their date yet here you were, the most delightful smelling roses in your hand and a fluttering feeling in your body. You hardly comprehended that you had already stepped foot into the frat house until you were opening the door to Shawn’s room and falling onto his bed next to him with a dopey smile on your face. 

Shawn looked over at you questioningly from his phone, ‘What’s going on with the flowers and the face?”

“Shawn, you won’t believe it!” you practically squealed, turning onto your side, “Grant just asked me to be his date to the Winter Ball!”

“The Winter Ball?”

“Yes! Isn’t that the best thing ever! I’ve never been asked before!”

“What do you mean? You’ve been my date every year.” If you hadn’t been so caught up with the giddiness in your chest you might have been able to notice the fleeting look of sadness in his eyes as he spoke.

“That’s not the same though. I wasn’t really your date, we just went as friends.”

“Yeah, but you were still considered my date.”

“Still, it’s not the same thing.” 

A small moment of silence took over the room before Shawn cleared his throat. “So...you said yes?”

“Of course I said yes, I’d be stupid not to.” 

“Oh.”

You watched as he focused back on his phone, a tiny frown on his face that you could hardly notice, “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing. I’m glad you’re so happy about this.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mendes, what’s wrong?”

“Just wondering what I’m going to do about a date this year.”

“That’s what you’re upset about?” you looked at him incredulously, “Please, you’re one of the most sought after guys in this school. You could go up to any girl on this entire campus and none of them would even hesitate to say yes.”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” you scoffed, “What about Jessica? I’ve seen the two of you talking a lot at post game parties and everything. You two look like you get along.” 

“Yeah, I could always ask her,” he sighed, “But Jessica isn’t going to drag me into my room at four in the morning asking me to sing her a song on the guitar so she can fall asleep.” He sent a teasing smile your way as he referenced your habit of pulling his hand through crowds of people until you got to his room when you felt too tired and wanted to go to sleep.

“I’m sorry, Shawn. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You thought for a moment, “I know! I’ll buy you pizza from your favorite pizza place! You know, the one across from the campus coffee shop where they put extra cheese on top.”

“That’s not my favorite pizza place.”

“But every time we go there you say…”

“I only say that because I know it’s your favorite pizza place.” His gaze fell soft upon you, “Don’t get me wrong it’s not bad, but I don’t have a favorite and I know you’re more likely to go there if I said it’s also my favorite.”

“Oh,” you looked down at your hands, “Well thank you.” Shawn hummed in response, his eyes traveling back to his phone. “You can still come over beforehand to get ready together like we always do.”

He let out a sad chuckle, “Don’t think Grant would much like that, honey.”

“That’s too bad if he doesn’t like it because it’s important to me that we get ready together and you’re the first person to see me all fancied up.” 

Shawn swore he felt his heart stutter in his chest, “If you want me over, I’d be more than happy to get ready with you.”

“Perfect, it’s a date.”

____________________

You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt when you noticed that Shawn had been a little more distant with you in the past week. Your texts sat on delivered for longer, you were no longer going over to his room after every lecture due to him “being busy”, and the nightly FaceTime calls were no longer nightly. You blamed it on hockey practices piling up and finals getting closer but in reality, you knew that wasn’t the case. There was only a week until finals, and therefore the Winter Ball, when you finally ran into Shawn again on your way to a class, very obviously catching him off guard. “Hey, long time no see.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been really busy lately,” he told you, but you knew him long enough to tell that the way his eyes wouldn’t maintain contact with you was a telltale sign that there was more to the story.

“Don’t worry about it, just miss you is all. Did you find a date yet for the ball?”

“Oh yeah, I asked Jessica like you told me to.”

“That’s great! Are you doing anything later today?”

“Uh, I don’t know…”

“I’m going dress shopping for the Winter Ball if you want to come with me like you always do.”

“Uh…”

“Come on, Shawn, you’re not going to break tradition are you?” 

He desperately wanted to respond with, “You already broke a tradition by ditching me without warning and going with Grant,” but he bit his tongue. “Sure,” he replied with a heavy heart, “I’d love to help you pick out a dress.”

“Yay! Why don’t we go right after class?”

“Ok, I can pick you up at three?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Mendes!” You left a searing kiss on his cheek before rushing off to class, leaving him staring after you longingly.

____________________

“Any ideas on what you want?” Shawn trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you skimmed your way through the many clothing racks. 

“Not really. Just want something that says ‘Please don’t regret inviting me. I swear I’m a good choice.’”

He couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips, “I don’t think you need a dress for that. You do that by yourself.”

You bit your lip to contain your smile, “Thank you, but I don’t know if everyone feels that way.”

“Well they should,” he mumbled, his fingers mulling over the beautiful items of clothing. A deep maroon, velvet dress caught his eye immediately and he pulled it out, examining it carefully before nodding his head, “Try this one on.”

“Hm,” you turned to look at him as he studied the dress, “Oh, that’s gorgeous. I’ll try it on if you want me to.”

He nodded his head before turning back to the dresses silently, not making any other comments as you looked around. Once you were satisfied with the dresses in your arms, you headed towards the dressing rooms, looking both ways to ensure that no one was around before pulling Shawn into one with you. He turned around as you changed; sure he had seen you in bikinis before and you were both sure that on more than one occasion when you were drunk that you had both changed in front of one another, but he still had enough respect for you to turn around whilst you put the first dress on. 

The first one was a simple black dress with long sleeves that you thought would be nice for the cold climate that came with living in Canada and although it was flattering, it didn’t feel like anything special. You turned to Shawn with a sigh, “What do you think?”

Personally, from the second you told him to turn around, Shawn swore he had seen an angel. The way the dress hugged your curves had him twitching in his pants and he had to swallow thickly in an attempt to control his thoughts. “I, um, I mean you look beautiful. I like it.”

“Really?” you asked, admiring yourself in the mirror, “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel special to me.”

“Why don’t you just come back to that one then. I think it’s really pretty on you.”

“Yeah, you’re right I’ll just do that.” Four dresses later and you still hadn’t found the dress for you. There was a dark green one that you didn’t feel complimented your skin tone well enough (Shawn begged to differ), a black one with a plunged neckline that went way too far down for your comfort zone (Shawn was glad he didn’t have to protest against that one, he didn’t particularly like the idea of all the drunk, disrespectful boys in the frat seeing that), another black one that went too far down your legs (even though Shawn argued that it would keep your legs warm), and a light blue one that didn’t really fit your feeling of winter (Shawn almost lost his mind when you had bent down in front of him in that one to pick up a loose string that had fallen off of it). 

Finally, you had reached the dress Shawn had picked out for you, just as you were beginning to lose all hope of finding a dress. The moment you slipped it on you knew it felt different than the others: it fit you perfectly with a plunging neckline that showed just enough, the fabric wrapped along the middle to the bottom to accentuate your waist, your curves were shown in a way that it was flattering, but not too overwhelming, and the maroon color complimented your skin beautifully. You couldn't lie, Shawn had somehow managed to find the perfect dress for you. “Ok, you can turn around now.” 

He slowly uncovered his eyes and faced his body towards you, his mouth immediately going dry at the sight of you. The combination of your body in the dress and the gorgeous smile on your face was kryptonite for him and he couldn’t help but wish even harder that he was the one who was lucky enough to be your date for the ball. He motioned you towards him, rubbing his fingers along the fabric of the dress in a way that sent your stomach flipping. “This the one?” he asked, looking up at you with bright doe eyes. You nodded slowly, watching him tug his bottom lip between his teeth. “Grant is very lucky to have you as his date, honey.”

You paused. The thought of Grant taking you to the ball instead of Shawn had completely escaped your mind and in that moment you regretted ever agreeing to changing your date this year. “Yeah, um, right, I hope he likes it.”

“If he has a brain in that head of his then there’s no doubt he’s going to be blown away by you.” He gave a gentle smile your way before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and tapping your hip lightly, “Now go and get changed so we can go cash out.”

You nodded your head as he turned back around, silently smacking yourself in the face for the sudden butterflies that were forming in your stomach. Since when did he have such an effect on you? And why was he doing it so easily?

The moment you got to the cash register, he immediately pushed you out of the way and gave his credit card to the cashier before you could even pull out your wallet. “Shawn, why did you pay for that? I was going to…”

“Calm down, honey,” he laughed at your outburst as he opened the car door for you, “Think of it as an apology gift for me not hanging out with you as much as I usually do this week.”

“But…”

“No buts, it’s already done.” The car engine roared to life and all you could think about while you sat in the passenger seat of his car was how you were going to be wearing a dress that not only did Shawn pick out, but also bought for you while you had to act like you weren’t constantly thinking about him as you stood next to Grant the whole night. Shawn had made sure that you were completely and utterly screwed.

____________________

“Are you almost done?” you heard Shawn’s impatient call from your bedroom. You were living in a larger suite with a bunch of other girls so you were lucky enough to have your own bathroom attached to your room. Shawn had gotten ready in the bathroom before you but you refused to look at him until you were finished as well, not wanting to ruin the surprise. So he sat out there waiting for you while you fixed your hair and makeup relentlessly, watching the time pass by ever so slowly.

“Give me one more second!” you called out to him, adjusting one final strand of hair. You checked your makeup one last time before opening the door, revealing yourself to a Shawn who was sat perched on the end of the bed, phone in hand. 

He looked up at the sound of the door opening, his mouth dropping open ever so slightly, “Damn, you look just perfect.” 

You willed the heat in your cheeks to go away, “Thank you. You don’t look half as bad yourself. Quite dashing if I say so.” It was true, he was wearing a simple black button up with black dress pants that fit to his thighs perfectly as he stood up in front of you. His outfit shouldn’t have looked as attractive to you as it did, maybe it was something about the way he had the top few buttons open to reveal the small amount of chest hair he was currently sporting or the way his hair was styled to perfection with your favorite curl hanging out in front, but your heart couldn’t stop fluttering at the sight of him. And then it dropped the moment you realized that you weren’t the girl that got to walk hand in hand with him that night.

“Before we go I have something for you.” Shawn turned towards his bag where he pulled out one single rose for you, “I know I’m not your date this year, but it felt wrong to break tradition. Besides, needed to make sure a beautiful girl like you got a flower in case Grant dropped the ball.”

You were suddenly extremely aware of how close he was to you, his nose almost touching yours. His eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment, so fast that you couldn’t even tell by the way you were so focused on his breath hitting your lips. “Thank you,” you whispered, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I definitely should have.” His eyes went to your lips once again, this time letting them linger slightly longer so you got the hint. Your hands were trapped holding the rose against his chest as his hands ghosted over your hips, fingertips teasing the fabric of your dress. Shawn tilted his head ever so slowly, nudging your nose with his until your lips parted with a breath.

The sound of your phone ringing broke the two of you apart in a hurry as though you were both afraid of being caught. You scrambled away from him, heading to your dresser to grab a hold of your phone, Grant’s name lighting up the screen making the guilt in your stomach grow. “Hey, Grant, what’s up?”

“Hey are you going to be here soon?” his voice filled your ear.

“Yeah, I’m leaving right now.”

“Perfect, can’t wait to see you.”

“Can’t wait to see you either,” your voice came out soft before you ended the call, bringing your phone down slowly to face Shawn. He had the same conflicted look in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher as he held eye contact with you. 

He let out a deep sigh, picking up his bag that was on the floor, “We should probably go.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, but made no move to head towards the door.

Shawn came over to you, placing his hands in his pockets. “Grant’s waiting for you.” You nodded your head. “Jessica’s waiting for me.” You nodded once again. He let out another sigh, putting a soft hand on your cheek and a kiss to your hair, “We need to go.” You watched as he walked towards the door, looking back at you once he reached the doorway, and you had no choice but to follow suit.

____________________

Oh my god, I almost kissed Shawn. We almost kissed and we would’ve kissed if Grant hadn’t called me. Oh my god Grant. Why didn’t I think of Grant when I was with Shawn? Shawn’s my best friend, I can’t like him like that. Does he like me like that? Can you imagine if he liked me like that? 

“We’re here.” You looked over at Shawn who hadn’t uttered a single word to you the entire way here and was already proceeding to get out of the car without you. The door slammed shut and you winced, not understanding why he was so angry about what happened. Did he really want to kiss you that bad? Your heart couldn’t help but beat faster at the thought of him wanting to kiss you, but you willed it away, instead choosing to clamer out of the car after Shawn and attempt to focus your thoughts on Grant who was without a doubt waiting behind that door for you. 

“Shawn, wait up!” you called out as you ran after him, almost catching up to him as he reached the top of the steps before your heel got caught on the step and sent you tumbling forward. The second a squeal left your lips, Shawn’s arms were already around you, effectively saving you from a face plant on the concrete. You looked at him breathlessly, trying to compose yourself after what felt like a near death experience, “Thank you.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes. Even when he was combating his emotions he still cared so deeply about you.

“Yeah I’m fine. I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for you though…”

“Y/n, there you are!” Grant opened the door, with a wide grin on his face, but upon noticing the position you and Shawn were in, his brows furrowed, “Are you two ok?”

“What?” you looked between the two of you, “Oh, we’re perfect. Just took a little tumble up the stairs is all.” Shawn pulled you up with an arm around your waist until you were stable on your feet before immediately retracting as though you were made of fire. 

“Thanks for saving her man,” Grant told him, clapping his shoulder as he snaked an arm around your waist, “Jessica’s been asking about you in there by the way. Told her you’d find her when you got here.”

“Right, thanks.” Shawn awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before excusing himself to push past the two of you into the house.

Grant leaned in closer to you as you both watched Shawn leave, “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about him,” you reassured him, “Why don’t we get something to drink?”

“Sounds perfect.” Grant took your hand softly into his, leaving a light kiss to your cheek and leading you into the noisy house.

____________________

It had been hours since you arrived at the loud, people filled house. You had barely seen Shawn the whole night; you thought you might have seen him and Jessica making out in a corner at one point, but the multi-color lights in the house didn’t exactly make picking people out of the crowd as easy as it usually was. You had spent the entire night with Grant attached to your hip, whether it was while you were getting a drink, talking to friends, or dancing, he was always right by your side. His hands were currently on your hips, chest pressed to your back and peppering gentle kisses to your exposed neck as you swayed in rhythm to the beat of the song blaring through the speakers. The two of you hadn’t kissed yet, but with the way the drinks were affecting you, you doubt that statement would stay true for long. You were nursing your almost empty drink, the description of the contents long forgotten, all you knew was that your body had a nice tingly sensation running through it and your head was feeling just foggy enough that you knew exactly what you were doing, but you were willing to make some decisions you definitely wouldn’t make sober. Grant pressed a longer kiss to the back of your ear before whispering into it, “Stay here. I’m just going to run to the bathroom.” 

You nodded your head in his direction, taking the time to look around at the people around you. After waiting a few minutes for his return, you became bored and took it upon yourself to get yourself a new drink. You had been here enough that even drunk you knew your way to the kitchen so you easily maneuvered through the clusters of couples until you pushed open one of the entrances to the kitchen. No matter how much you desperately wished you couldn’t recognize the brown haired boy that was in there with you, there was no amount of alcohol that could make you forget his defining features. At the sound of the door closing, his head perked up to look at you and you became painfully aware of how the two of you were the only ones in there as you stared into his honey colored eyes. “Hey,” you breathed out, stepping closer until you were practically shoulder to shoulder with him. 

“Hey,” he bumped your shoulder with his, “Long time no see.”

The loopy smile he gave you told you that he was also feeling the alcohol, but probably only as much as you; the man knew how to hold his drinks. “Whatcha doing in here?”

“Told Jessica I’d get the both of us something more to drink,” he motioned to the two cups in front of him, “What about you? Where’s Grant?”

“Bathroom,” you replied, leaning back onto the counter, “I got bored waiting for him out there.” 

You lifted up Shawn’s hand that was resting next to you and began tracing the pattern on his fingertips. “What are you doing, love?” he laughed, the pet name slipping out as they usually did when he had some alcohol in his system.

“Playing with your hand.” You locked hands with him while he moved in front of you to make it all the more easier for you to continue your task. His large body trapped you against the counter, but you hardly noticed until his breath fanning over your face tore your attention away from his hand. “You’re very handsome you know,” you smiled, releasing his hand to run your finger over the light scar on his face, “So pretty.”

He let out a breathy laugh as he moved his now free hand to the counter to fully lock you in between his body, “That’s funny coming from someone who looks like those goddesses we used to learn about in school.”

“I don’t look like a goddess…” your voice trailed off, too occupied with outlining the features of his face.

“Yeah you do. Look like the prettiest one...what was her name again?” He smirked down at you, knowing Greek mythology used to be one of your favorite topics in school.

“Aphrodite?”

“Mhm, that’s the one. Swear you’re a real life Aphrodite.” He moved in closer to you, brown eyes boring into you and forcing your gaze back into them. He heard your breath catch in your throat as his nose touched yours, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...you’re just close is all.”

“I am close,” he whispered, biting his lip when he felt the hand you had on his jaw move to his neck. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“What would you do if I kiss you right now?”

Your wide eyes batted up at him innocently from where he was towering over you, your heart absolutely racing, “I’d kiss you back.” 

And with that his lips connected to yours feverishly, his body pressing to yours harder. His lips were soft and you could taste the alcohol from whatever drink he had been sipping on before that made him intoxicating. He licked tentatively over your bottom lip, practically groaning into your mouth when you immediately opened up for him. You tasted so sweet to him, so sweet that he swore he could easily become addicted to your taste. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting a soft moan from you that made his grip on the counter tighten and his hips push against yours harder. You could feel a bulge pressing against your lower stomach and you couldn’t help letting out another moan that Shawn eagerly swallowed into a kiss. Pulling him closer to you by his hair, he took that as a sign to thread his right hand through the base of your hair, the other hand reaching down to harshly pull your leg around his hip. Your hips bucked against his as his tongue fought yours for dominance that you easily gave him. 

Just as his hand was about to run up your thigh, the door to the kitchen burst open and Shawn swiftly moved completely away from you and back in front of the drinks he had originally come in for. You almost whined at the sudden lack of content, but the look of shock on the stranger’s face shut you up. It only took one look at your wide eyes and swollen lips and the sudden wrinkles in Shawn’s shirt for them to hastily exit the room with an apology spilling from their lips. 

The second they were gone you made your way back to Shawn, who was breathing heavily as he stared at the counter. You placed your hand on his chin, bringing his face back to you. Using your thumb to swipe at a rogue smudge of lipstick that had transferred onto him, you looked at him carefully, swallowing thickly when he placed a gentle kiss to the pad of your finger. You looked him in the eyes for the first time since your heated moment and while you could only see what you believed to be lust in his eyes, he saw yours change from lust to fear and to what finally made his heart drop: regret. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, successfully dodging Shawn’s attempt to grab your arm.

“Y/n wait!”

“I’m sorry, Shawn.”

“Please!” was the last thing you heard before you shut the door to the kitchen and rushed through the crowd of people. Your breathing was becoming erratic the deeper into your thoughts you got until you felt you were on the verge of a panic attack with no one to save you.

“There you are,” Grant sighed relieved, causing you to jump when his hand wrapped around your arm, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” 

“Sorry, I was bumped around in the crowd and got lost trying to find you again,” you lied, trying to avoid his eyes.

“That’s alright, I’m just glad you’re here,” he smiled at you, his brows furrowing while his hand came up to your lips, “Hold on your lipstick is a little smudged.”

Your eyes grew ten times wider, “Um, I think I must have just messed it up while I was drinking or something.”

“Ok, do you want to go dance again?”

“Yeah, uh, that sounds great…” your eyes met a frantic Shawn’s as he searched for you in the crowd, “You know what, I actually think I’m going to go home.”

“What?” Grant asked, confused as he followed you through the people.

“I just don’t feel good all of a sudden, it has nothing to do with you I swear. You’re amazing, I just need to go.” 

“Stay here overnight, don’t go home.”

“Grant, I don’t feel well.”

“I know, I don’t want that. I mean you’re gorgeous and everything, but if you’re not feeling well then obviously not. It’s just, I’m not in the right mindset to drive, it’s frigid out there, and a drunk girl all alone in an uber sounds like a horrible idea. So why don’t you just stay? I’ll sleep on the floor so you can sleep in my bed.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, I just want you to be safe.” 

Your eyes lingered over to wear Shawn was still watching you, this time with Jessica in front of him, obviously trying to get his attention onto her. “You know what...sure. I’ll stay.”

A bright smile formed on Grant’s face, “Perfect, let’s get you all settled then.” He grabbed your hand and led you up the stairs toward his room, Shawn’s eyes following you with a heavy heart.

____________________

The next morning you bumped into Shawn in the hallway as you were exiting Grant’s room wearing his clothes he had let you borrow to sleep in for the night. Neither of you said a word as you silently made your way past him and down the stairs towards Grant’s car while Grant came strolling out of his room with his classic smile on his face, having no clue how heart broken Shawn felt when he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

____________________

It had been a week since you last spoke to Shawn. Not a single message or interaction between the two of you. You didn’t know what you would say if you even had approached him, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to find out. Having to pack up your dorm for the semester gave you an excuse for not talking and a way to busy yourself to get your mind off of him. But no matter what you did Shawn Mendes was still hanging in the back of your mind, taunting you with replays of different moments with him over and over again. You were lucky that this time you hadn’t been planning on driving back home with him so you didn’t have to face him on the hours long drive back, though you knew that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be seeing him at some point upon your arrival. All these thoughts were swimming through your head as you pulled into your parent’s driveway, immediately being met with a swarm of greetings from your family. You seemed to have arrived before Shawn, which you felt incredibly fortunate for as you were ushered into the house. 

You didn’t see Shawn the whole first week you were there either, no matter how much your heart ached for him. You found yourself more often than not wondering what he was doing just next door and if he was thinking about you too or if you had already become something unattainable and therefore not worth his time. Even though you knew he wasn’t that type of person, the little devil on your shoulder kept telling you that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

Christmas Eve you were tucked into your bed, soft breaths coming from your mouth. The snow was coming down in light, fluffy flakes, just enough that it was the pretty white Christmas you always loved without the terrible snow storm you couldn’t stand. The first knock on your window sounded like the wind, but the second one was unmistakable, abruptly pulling you from your sleep and to the window. A gasp escaped your lips when you saw Shawn’s face staring back at you and you hurried to open your window for him. “Thank god,” he chuckled, “It’s freezing out there.” Shawn had been climbing up the side of your house to reach your room since you were young, so it truly should have been no surprise to you that he was scaling it in the snow.

“What do you want, Shawn?” you sighed, already making your way back into bed as he followed you, “It’s two in the morning.”

“That it is,” he agreed, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you turned to face him, eyes only opening slightly in your sleepy haze.

He brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face, “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this.”

You shrugged his hand away, “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” he whispered with his hand still lingering on your face, “My little Aphrodite.”

Your eyes shot wide open, your senses suddenly wide awake, “What’d you just call me?”

“My little Aphrodite.”

You sat up next to him. “Ok, Shawn, what do you want? Why did you come here in the middle of the night on Christmas nonetheless?”

“Can’t I just say hello to my best friend?”

“You haven’t said hello to your best friend in two weeks so that’s not a good excuse.”

“Don’t say that like you haven’t been avoiding me either,” he chuckled darkly.

“I couldn’t face you, Shawn!” you choked out, eyes beginning to well up with tears as you scooted away from him, “I couldn’t, not after....not after that night.”

There was a heavy silence for a moment before Shawn spoke harshly, “Why’d you hook up with Grant that night?”

“What?”

“Why’d you hook up with Grant?”

“I didn’t hook up with Grant,” you spat out, “Why would you even think that?”

“You really expect me to believe that after I saw you not only go upstairs with him, but also leave his room the next morning wearing his clothes!”

“I do expect you to believe it because nothing happened! I wanted to leave after what happened because I didn’t want to be in the same room as you anymore and he offered me a place to stay since it was cold and I was drunk. Nothing. Happened.”

“You didn’t want to be in the same room as me? Wow.” He shook his head, leaning back against your headboard on the other side of the bed, “One second I have your leg around me, moaning in my mouth, and the next you’re leaving me without an explanation and now you’re going to tell me you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me?!”

“You don’t understand…”

“What don’t I understand?!”

“I couldn’t be in the same room with you after I realized something…”

“What did you realize, huh? What was so groundbreaking that you couldn’t even stand to see me?”

“That I was freaking in love with you!” Your mouth hung open. You had mulled over the thought of loving Shawn in the weeks you were apart, but you dismissed it every time, not believing you could have allowed yourself to fall in love with your best friend. Shawn stared at you with bated breath, his silence slowly killing you from the inside. 

Just as you were about to hide under your blanket in embarrassment, you felt something warm covering your mouth and a hand in your hair, his lips moving softly on yours. You sighed into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him eagerly to let him push you back onto your bed. He hovered on top of you, holding you close to him as he kissed you with every ounce of passion inside of him, stealing your breath away completely. His kisses were gentle, but still heavy with emotion. He parted from you to let you both catch your breaths, placing light kisses to your cheeks. “I am so in love with you, Y/n. You have no idea.” 

He left one last searing kiss on your lips before pulling away and leaning off the bed to retrieve a small wrapped box. “I got you something for Christmas.” 

You gingerly took the small box in your hand, carefully pulling off the paper to reveal a small black box. You looked up at him with curious eyes, but he only nodded his head for you to continue, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. Opening the box, a beautiful silver dove charm was revealed to you on a necklace, the light of your room catching off of it making it shine. “Shawn…” you breathed out, “it’s gorgeous.”

“It’s a dove. You know, the symbol of Aphrodite,” he smiled at you nervously, “Do you like it?”

“Of course, I love it. Put it on for me?”

Shawn pulled your back into his chest and brushed your hair out of the way to place the delicate necklace around you. Once the necklace was clasped, he left the softest of kisses to your shoulder. “There you go. Perfect for my little Aphrodite.”

#shawn mendes #shawnblr #mendes army #shawn peter raul mendes #wonder #shawn mendes wonder #shawn mendes in wonder #tarzan #smtt #sm4 #shawmila #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fandom #shawn mendes request #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes boyfriend #shawn mendes blurb

[kitazura]

it’s the thought that counts, tendō satori

1.6k words of fluff; gn!reader

synopsis: tendō doesn’t understand the excitement surrounding valentine’s day until he decides to celebrate it with you.

notes: i haven’t finished the manga but i’m making timeskip content :D thank u rissie (@sugas-cookie) for beta-ing mwah <3

Tendō’s come to learn that Valentine’s day brings waves of purchases made by eager youth preparing to confess their affections, frantic lovers who’d completely forgotten about the occasion, and other last-minute shoppers looking for gifts to give their loved ones. This year is no different; the orders pile up so quickly he can barely keep up with them.

He’s not complaining—not when his bills are getting paid—he just doesn’t understand why everyone lets themselves get carried away by the Valentine rush. At the root of it all, it’s blatant commercialism, another scheme by society to run your bank account dry through obligatory benevolence, so why play into it? Well, as long as it keeps him in business, he supposes he’ll keep his critiques to himself.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little cynical?” you say when he shares his thoughts, the gentle smile on your lips showing you mean no harm. “I think the idea behind Valentine’s day is charming.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, humming in response. “Why’s that?”

“Isn’t it sweet when someone puts time and effort into something just for you?” you gush. Tendō watches your gaze turn dreamy as your mind wanders off into the clouds. “Like making chocolates for the person you like.”

“That’s what I do for a living, darling.”

“You like all of your customers?”

“Of course; they give me money, after all.”

You laugh, swatting his arm lightly. “I guess it’s hard to romanticize something you do as work.”

You’re not wrong. At some point, it’s expected for your job to lose its magic, no matter how passionate you are about it in the beginning. Chocolate has long lost its allure to Tendō, and now he spends day in and day out pouring it into molds and hurrying to shape it before it hardens beyond salvation. It’s become a chore for him, and even just catching a whiff of a candy bar sends his brain into the stress of work mode.

“What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?” you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

“What an odd question,” he remarks, clicking his tongue like a fussy mother hen. “I think about what I have to do to make it look presentable, of course. And then I count down the minutes until I come home to you.” He beams, proud of his response.

But pride turns to dismay when he catches a glint of disappointment in your eyes. His expression falls as he pulls you closer. “What’s the matter?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Would you ever make me Valentine’s day chocolates?”

He tilts his head in surprise, then kisses your forehead. “I’d make you chocolate any day; all you have to do is ask.”

You seem to drop the matter, although he swears you sigh, “It’s not the same.”

He spends the next couple of days convincing himself he’d only imagined it, but something about your tone and attitude makes it stick in his brain. Whether you’d said it or not, there was clearly something behind your first question.

He asks you about it over dinner: “Is there a reason you want Valentine-themed chocolates in particular?”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” You laugh a little, surprised. “It’s not the Valentine theme I want; just the knowledge that you’re thinking of me on that day.”

He pesters you to elaborate—he’s always thinking of you, don’t you know that?—but you dodge his questions, leaving him in the dark once more.

Since you won’t give him any answers, he’ll just look for them on his own.

He texts Ushijima that night: “Why do you buy chocolate for the one you love?”

“Because they like it,” comes the reply. It’s simple, straightforward, but it’s not what he’s looking for.

He texts Semi the same question. The response is the length of a school essay, explaining the motivations of love in depths only a poet could reach, but it’s still not enough.

At work, your question echoes in his mind: What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?

What was he supposed to think about aside from the process? His customers?

He looks again at the order he’s making. It’s one he expects every year—it comes a week before Valentine’s, by a man whose wife adores chocolate covered strawberries. Tendō remembers it not only because of its consistency, but also because it’s always preceded by an order by the aforementioned wife, who asks for milk chocolate filled with raspberry créme that her husband is so fond of.

He wonders why they order the same thing at the same time every year. There’s no surprise in it, so what’s the point? Had he been in the husband’s place and you in the wife’s, he’d make sure to buy you something different every year, each present more extravagant than the last. He’d make sure that you’d always have something to look forward to in your married life.

A cheery little tune takes form beneath his breath as he pictures a life with you: silver bands around your fingers, lazy mornings on your days off, walks along the Seine.

He sweeps the excess chocolate off the molds in one clean stroke, sighing dreamily. You would buy a bigger, better apartment once you’d saved up enough, or even move to a quiet little cottage in the countryside.

His thoughts wander through the clouds as he mindlessly flits from one project to the next, forgetting to count the hours until his duty for today is through.

Lately, some of Tendō’s usual customers have been dropping by to say the same thing: there’s something different about his work these days. It’s not negative; on the contrary, actually, the quality’s spiked. But he can’t figure out what he’s been doing differently for the life of him.

It weighs on his mind from the time he clocks in to when he clocks out. He’s been using the same ingredients, the same equipment, so what was it?

His answer arrives in the form of the Chocolate Strawberry man, on the very eve of Valentine’s.

The man enthusiastically shakes Satori’s hand and thanks Him for his work, his hands warm and clammy from excitement despite the biting Parisian air.

“My wife would have liked to come along as well, but she’s preoccupied with the baby,” the man explains. “She wants you to know how much she enjoys your work, though. We look forward to it every year.”

“Then why not buy it off-season, when it’s cheaper?” Tendō asks. The man looks surprised, prompting him to continue. “With all due respect, you order the same thing every year, anyway, so why wait?”

The man laughs at the sincere look of curiosity in the chocolatier’s eyes, patting him on the shoulder, like a father to his son. “Why wait until birthdays to buy a cake? Why wait until Christmas to exchange gifts and set up the tree? It’s old advice, but it’s good: it’s always the thought that counts.” With one last pat on the back and an affectionate chuckle, the man wishes Tendō a good night—“Enjoy tomorrow with your loved ones.”

The stores are packed with the usual extremely last minute rush on Valentine’s morning, and for the first time, Tendō Satori is part of that crowd.

His arms are filled with the goodies he’d woken up early to buy: heavily discounted candies in tacky packages, a cheesy card, a bouquet, an offensively pink stuffed bear, crumpled foil balloons. (He’d made chocolates for you too; those were waiting in the fridge at home.) If it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you wanted, he decided, then it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you’d get.

He’d sent you out to pick up a cake across the city just before he’d left that morning, so the apartment is still empty when he returns. He checks his watch—only half an hour at most until you’d come back. Setting the bear on the counter, he gives it a determined grin.

“Think I can set everything up in fifteen?”

He’s just barely managed tying the balloons closed when he hears the knob on the front door jiggle as you unlock it.

“I’m home!” Your shoes thud to the floor, joined by Tendō’s footsteps as he hurries to help you with the cake. You thank him when he takes it out of your hands and leads you to the dining table while you chatter away. “Boy, did you see how many people are out there? It’s like all of Paris decided to run their errands this morning. It’s a miracle I got the cake here in one piece—what’s all this?”

Tendō grins, proudly motioning to his handiwork. The bouquet sits in the center of the table, surrounded by neatly arranged dishes of your favorite foods. The plush bear sits at the head, the card and candies tucked into its paws. Balloons reading “Happy Valentine’s” are tied to your chairs, gently swaying to and fro in greeting.

“Do you like it?” he asks. “I figured you wanted to do something for Valentine’s, but all the restaurants are booked so I had to improvise—”

You cut him off with a kiss, and another, then another. “I love it! I love you and I love”—you wave at the room—“all of this.” Another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for thinking of me, Satori.”

He laughs as you hug him, squeezing as tight as you can. He thinks back to the strawberry man’s remark, “It’s the thought that counts.” And maybe, just a little, he’s starting to understand that there’s more to Valentine’s than business.

As you prepare the cake and gush over the bear, he pats the pocket of his jacket. The pretty little velvet box would have to wait until after lunch.

postscript: heyyy <3 i stopped writing for like three months srry LMAO but im back in business baby !! if i try hard enough and school stops kicking my ass maybe i’ll start posting twice a month ahaha ... unless?

#haikyuu fluff #tendou fluff #hq fluff #tendou satori #tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

[elvendara]

Sugar and Spice Day 3

July 14th

Rock concert (Rockstar/Fan)

“Five minutes till curtains up!” the man ran backstage shouting over the din. Saeran expected a knock on his door shortly and sure enough, it came. Without waiting for an answer, the man opened the door to let him know the time limit. Saeran locked eyes with him through the mirror and nodded.

Once the door was again closed, he stared at himself. He’d long ago bleached his hair white to differentiate himself from his twin. Saeyoung worked in the shadows, it wouldn’t do to have a famous brother who looked exactly like him. He also utilized colored lenses. It served two purposes, he didn’t need to wear glasses, in fact, his fans didn’t even know he needed them, and the mint green was a stark contrast to his regular, amber-colored eyes. The pink tips were a more recent addition, but he liked them.

Black eyeliner was expertly applied, years of practice making it almost effortless. He took a sponge and smudged it, giving himself that perfect edgy look. The earrings were already in, silver crosses dangling on each side of his face. Ironic really, considering he didn’t believe in God. The thick black silver studded collar was snuggly around his neck as was the matching cuff around his right wrist. He stood and grabbed his leather jacket, sliding it on and glancing into the full-length mirror he had been given in his dressing room. He was comfortable in this persona. The music had been a way for him to deal with his life. Writing down his anger, confusion, and loneliness was a way to get it out of him. It became bigger than him pretty quickly and he found that hiding behind rock stardom meant he didn’t have to answer any real questions about his true self. It worked. Except it kept him lonely and alone. He’d come to terms with spending the rest of his life that way. It was easier than imagining being real with someone. Who could ever love the real him anyway?

He smirked at his reflection as he laced up his biker boots. Time to bring the house down!

..

He was soaked in sweat but didn’t feel tired. In fact, he felt invigorated, like every time he finished a concert. Feeding off the audience was one of the biggest perks to his career. Someone handed him a towel and he wiped his face with it.

“Great show Saeran!” one of the concert coordinators told him. She held a tablet to her chest and had a handful of fans behind her. Five doe eyed girls and one shy looking boy. Well, now that he looked closer, he was definitely a man, close to his own age. He looked sheepish being with the teenaged groupies. “These are the VIP’s for tonight’s afterparty. Thought I’d introduce you before you change.”

“Nice! Great to meet you, I’m glad we’ll be hanging out tonight. Hope you have a good time. Congrats on winning the backstage passes.” He regurgitated. There wasn’t always an afterparty but there were some special guests, rich, who had paid for the whole thing, so he’d been pressed to oblige them with an appearance. He hated the politics of being famous, but he did love his fans. It was because of them that he could enjoy what he did. If it was up to him, he’d fill the party with fans and not rich entitled groupies. He knew he would spend the night fending off offers to ‘get to know each other better’ all night.

“Oh my GOD! It’s really you!”

“Wow! You’re so HOT!”

“Ahhh, my friends are never gonna believe this!”

The girls were just cookie cutter versions of every other girl he’d seen. He couldn’t blame them; it’s how they sold his image. The man looked embarrassed; he wouldn’t even look him in the eye. He took the chance to check him out. He appeared to be a tad shorter than himself, with blond hair and pink clips holding back his bangs. He wore one of his concert shirts and tight-fitting skinny jeans. His nails were painted alternating pink and black with the black ones having his band’s logo on it, a mint green eye. So he really was a fan. Cute too.

“Uh, well, like the lady said, I have to go get changed for the party, I’ll see you all there. And be sure to grab your swag bags before you leave, don’t let them rip you off there! There’s a CD with a snippet of some of our new songs.” He winked and walked off. There was a lot of oohing and ahhing as he left.

He took a quick shower and dressed in a ripped black T-shirt, black jeans and his biker boots, putting all his accessories back on and reapplying his eyeliner. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked out to the convention center next to the arena. Of course he wasn’t alone, he had security that surrounded him and paparazzi snapping pics as he made his way to the party. They screamed questions at him that he didn’t answer, he smirked, the signature look the media had come to know him by. Surrounded by so many yet feeling so alone. Making it next door took longer than it should have because of the circus around him, but make it he did.

Once he was inside he was taken by the arm by the coordinator who had introduced him to the fans, he couldn’t remember her name but she seemed nice enough. At least she didn’t flirt with him like other women did and took her job seriously.

“You’re here, great, first you should go say hi to the Han family, they’re the ones footing the bill for this afterparty, then you can have a few minutes with the fans before talking to some reporters…”

“Whoah.” He stopped in his tracks and could swear she left skid marks with her heels she’d been going so fast. “I want more than just a few minutes with those fans, and who are all these people anyway?” He saw his bandmates and some of the roadies, but everyone else was a stranger.

“Nobody you need to worry about, uh, I’ll see what I can do with the schedule.” She seemed frazzled but clicked away on her tablet while heading off again. He assumed he should follow, so he did.

“Mr. Han, I appreciate you taking the time and effort for this function.” Saeran greeted the elderly man.

“Ah, of course of course, anything for my new bride!” he had his arm around a young woman who was clearly less than half his age. The rumors about C&R’s head were obviously true. Standing on his other side was a tall and elegant man who appeared to wish he was anywhere but here. He’d seen that face plastered on magazines of all sorts. The heir apparent, Director of C&R, Jumin Han. They nodded respectfully at each other, Saeran feeling sorry for the man and having to deal with his father’s escapades, but the old man seemed like a descent sort. After a few minutes of his ‘wife’ fawning all over him, making him feel uncomfortable, the coordinator pulled him away. He was thankful to her for saving him.

She escorted him towards a section in the back, past all the dancing and the loud music, that was closed off. The music was still loud but at least he could hear himself think. In the section the fans sat, eating and drinking snacks on the coffee table. They all stood up and rushed him. Well, the girls did, touching him and giggling. Where were their parents? They didn’t look old enough to be out. They sat him down and pressed against him. The blond man sat to the side in a chair and continued to sip his cola and eat the snacks, sneaking a look now and then. He wished he could just be alone with him and have a conversation. At least he wouldn’t try to crawl on his lap like these girls seemed to want to do. Well, maybe he wouldn’t mind if the blond tried that.

After about 30 minutes, which felt like a lifetime, the coordinator gathered up the girls and took them out. It was past midnight and he guessed he had been right about their age, couldn’t have minors out at all hours of the night. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It felt like they had leached some of his life force out and he was drained.

“I guess that happens all the time to you huh?”

Saeran sat up abruptly, how could he have forgotten about the blond?

“Sorry, I’ll go if you want to be alone.” He stood and Saeran panicked.

“NO!” he stood, banging his knee on the coffee table, sending him on his ass back on the sofa. He grabbed at the knee, eyes scrunched, “Ow ow ow…”

“Let me see.” Suddenly there was a presence by him as the blond sat beside him, his fingers touching his knee. Because of the ripped jeans, it was easy to see his skin in that area. “Doesn’t look so bad, at least you didn’t break the skin. You’ll have a hell of a bruise though.” The blond raised his gaze to Saeran and he finally got to see the full view. Wow, those eyes knocked him out, was that color even natural? Maybe he was wearing amethyst-colored lenses like what he himself wore. His face was kind, a soft pink flush growing across his cheeks and bridge of his nose. It was adorable.

“Ah, that was really stupid of me. But…I’m glad you didn’t leave. We didn’t even get a chance to chat.” Saeran tried to regain his coolness but found he couldn’t seem to be bothered to try and act in front of this man. “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Yoosung. Don’t have to ask yours I guess.” He smiled, lighting up the entire room.

“Yoosung…I like it.”

“Thanks. I…uh…like you. I mean…I…your music…I…I…like your music…and…uh…I”

Saeran laughed and waved off Yoosung’s explanation.

“So you’re a fan huh? And what…a doctor?” he asked, placing his foot on the ground gently, still rubbing his knee.

“Not quite. But I am going to medical school. And yes, a BIG fan!” his eyes got large, as did his smile. “Your songs spoke to me when I was at a really low point. I don’t know, it felt like you knew what I was going through and understood my pain.” The smile faltered as his thoughts went back to those days. Saeran reached out and placed his hand on Yoosung’s, yes, he knew what it was like to be in pain, he could see it in his eyes.

Their eyes met, an understanding passing between them.

#my posts #fic #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #mysme #mystic messenger #Sugar and Spice #Day 3 #July 14th #OK #I know these are supposed to be Saeran as Spice #but damn if he isn't the sweetest baby boi! #He just wants to be loved!

[mine-sara-sp]

Where it decays [ch2]

Lets not think about the fact that i took so long for me to write this, just enjoyyyy [AO3] and [Ch1]

In which the hermits come to check on Scar’s weird murder crystal.

Click, Click, Click. 

It echoes, it rings in his ears. Rhythmic and unnerving.

One of the few details still clear in this memory. Not where, not when, not the face of his host but that sound. The damp air, the soft and humid surface of the moss he was sitting on, the light weight of something placed in his hands. 

A gift.

A boney texture. Moss covering its edges and bringing it all together around a single precious crystal. 

He can drop it, sure, he would never force him to take something he doesn’t want. But it will be back in his hands the instant he wants it again. He knows. 

“You can take this as an..invitation.” 

Tempting sure, but that wasn’t the time to accept the invite yet. Still too much to do, to explore, to create. 

He lets the gift fall. For now. 

The sound of the communicator buzzing beside his bed woke him up. Messages appearing on the tiny screen. 

Oh? He needed to go check on a friend. 

----

Scar tapped his foot anxiously as he passed his new health crystal from a hand to the other. He felt the sting from pain whenever the crystal touched the bandages on his left hand but barely paid any mind to it, he kept his eyes focused on the murky waters surrounding the giant crystal and thought about his options. 

The crystal was… weird. Dangerous, but he wasn’t sure how much. The decay wasn’t really spreading past the lake for now. Still, he didn’t want to take the chance since Larry was just a few meters away from the shore, and having the entire jungle die would be a problem.

Healing it was a big no. It didn’t want to heal.

He thought about destroying it, but he couldn't. Just the thought made him feel nauseous. A horrible feeling at the start of his stomach. Maybe it was just his guts telling him that the crystal could probably do to him what it had done to the little crystal he was trying to use on it. 

 He paced back and forth on the lakeshore for a while, avoiding to look up at the shiny green stone floating at the center of the monoliths. 

How silly he thought. 

He was getting so nervous around it that he didn’t want to look at it! It’s just a big magic rock throwing a kinda deadly temper tantrum Scar! You can deal with it!

Well, maybe he could deal with it with some help. 

Not sure of how anyone could help with this but better than trying alone again. He wasn’t sure who to call, so he called everyone that felt like coming to see what was going on. 

He picked up his communicator and stared blankly at the chat. Cub and X seemed to be busy right now but Tango said he’d come and take a look. Maybe some admin commands could get rid of the crystal?  Or at least make sure nothing else could start rotting.

Scar felt a chill creep its way up to his spine. 

He finally looked up at the crystal floating in the air. 

The decay was probably something manageable but what the crystal showed to him was something- someone? Someone else. The crystal was not connected to him like all the other smaller ones were, it was connected to whoever that was.   

Scar nervously tapped his fingers on the side of his leg as he felt a bit of nausea starting to rise in his throat. Suddenly he wanted to go and hide far away, maybe he could just move to the desert with Cub and stop trying to be a magician. 

But he couldn’t give up so easily, could he?

He let out a shaky breath and kept tapping his fingers. 

“So, the spooky aesthetic wasn’t intentional?” Scar jumped away from his friend in surprise letting the health crystal fall off his hand. He didn't hear any rockets firing or steps coming from behind himself so he was caught completely off guard.

He turned around to see Grian chuckling lightly. 

“I gave you all those compliments but you didn’t say anything about the murder crystal!” He said jokingly, leaning in closer to Scar. 

The wizard smiled lightly before retrieving the small crystal from the ground, closing his hand tightly around it and pushing it into his robe pockets. 

“Did you sneak your way here just to scare me?”

“Maybe,” Grian replied with a wink. Scar laughed, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. 

Grian moved to the side a little and looked up at the crystal. Scar didn't, tapping nervously his foot on the ground and facing the jungle and Larry.

"It doesn't look too bad honestly if it doesn't go further." 

"if." Scar remarked, "I don't know what it wants to do, maybe it's gonna stop and be happy like this or maybe it's gonna get worse. I tried talking with it and it… it wasn't nice."

Scar felt the coldness of the mist seep into his bones again. The eyes on the other side of the crystal staring at his back now. 

He didn't realize how tense he'd become until he realized his hand hurt from keeping it closed too tight. 

He let go and tried to shake it off when he saw Grian looking back at him now, frowning. 

"Wait, is the crystal alive?" 

"Alive and kinda finicky, I tried to stop it from making everything rot and it made my health crystal explode." Scar replied taking his left hand out of his pocket and giving Grian a small wave with it. 

Grian cringed slightly at the sight of the bandaged hand. 

He gave one last look at the crystal then turned around, putting a hand on Scar's shoulder. 

"Why don't we wait for the others inside Larry's shell? You seem tired." 

Scar nodded. Not looking at the crystal was probably the best idea for now. 

Grian got up first and immediately made his way into Scar's kitchen, meanwhile, the wizard stopped and stared at the doorless entrance. Did he really steal his door again? He rolled his eyes and sat at the kitchen table, putting his elbows on it and resting his face on his right hand. 

"These door bandits are getting a little out of control, don't you think?"  He said trying to sound oblivious of the other's shenanigans. Tapping his fingers to the side of his cheek. 

Grian tilted his head to the side as he reached for Scar's cookie jar and got a few out. "Yeah, they're the worst!" He took a bite off one. "I mean, who steals doors? That's ridiculous!" 

Scar chuckled and reached to grab a few cookies himself, Grian tilted the jar in his direction. 

"Luckily, I got a vault full of them." He said before starting to eat too. 

"Isn't a vault a bit too much for a few doors?" Grian asked as he sat down too, putting the jar on the table between them. 

Scar kept quietly munching on his cookie, looking at an undefined spot on the table.

 "I don't keep only doors in it." 

A light knocking caught their attention. Tango stood at the entrance of the snail house, smiling brightly.  

“I heard you needed a bit of admin magic!” 

---

The magic crystal issue seemed to have attracted a lot more attention than Scar would have anticipated, not that he didn’t expect his friends to come and help him with the situation but he knew that most couldn’t really do anything with this.

 He was the one who meddled with magic crystals and sometimes vex magic and the only result he got was nightmare fuel and a light wound. Most of his friends didn’t play around with other kinds of magic as far as he knew but they still came to check in anyway. 

Along with Tango, Impulse and Zedaph had arrived, chatting lightly as they walked around on the little island underneath the crystal meanwhile Tango went up the monolith to work with his commands and see if he could do anything. 

Scar heard Zedaph talk about things he would have tried to do with the crystal if was in his cave of contraption, list included “Extrazombiflying capsule” which he didn’t want to find out what it was supposed to do in and how it should have worked in Zedaph’s mind. 

Scar felt the need to tell him not to touch the crystal, just as a precaution, but he saw him tap the crystal a few times anyway. He didn't drop dead so it was probably fine.

Stress and Mumbo arrived together, they apparently met on the way in the jungle and decided to walk and chat the rest of the way to the crystal. Mumbo almost ignored the crystal completely as he saw a particularly cute mushroom and stopped to look at it. Stress was as amazed as him but still gave an enthusiastic wave to Scar and Grian before crouching down to get a better look at the mushroom. 

Scar choked back a small laugh, meanwhile, Grian went to fetch the two. They made him stop to look at the mushroom as well. 

This was a strangely cheerful scene considering the reason why he called them here, it made him feel a bit calmer. 

He started to tap his fingers on the small crystal in his pocket again before looking up at the shiny green problem at the center of the lake. He didn’t keep his gaze on it for too long, moving it to watch Tango on the monolith next to it. 

Scar could see him dangle his legs off the ledge and stare at his comm’s small screen with a rather lost expression. He wasn't as used to deal with bugs and problems as Xisuma was and this was a weird problem to deal with, to begin with. 

Joe wandered in at some point, appearing seemingly out of nothing and arriving under the crystal, startling Impulse that was too intent in shouting something to Tango to notice him, Zedaph had a good laugh at that. 

It was a fun scene but Scar was starting to feel a bit uneasy with the number of people around the gem, he was about to ask them to get a bit farther away from it when he heard the thud of someone landing close.

He turned to see Iskall a few steps away, bionic eye making a quiet buzzing sound as it focused on Scar. 

“Hallo!” He said with a cheerful voice, stepping closer to Scar.  

“Hey,” Scar replied with a tired smile, turning to look again at the people under the crystal. No one dropped dead still, this is fine. He can calm down.

“So that’s your problem child,” Iskall said, looking up at the gem and putting his hands in his hoodie’s pocket. 

“I guess you can call it that, It seems… calm for now.” He replied looking at the stone, feeling again as if someone was staring back at him from the other side.

The air got tense as he stiffened slightly at the sensation, no one seemed to have this same reaction, the gang under the crystal was still talking animatedly same as the others next to the adorable little mushroom. Scar took a sharp breath, tapping on the side of the gem in his pocket and then looking back at Iskall. He seemed to have noticed his sudden tenseness because he looked a bit worried. 

“it looks like iskallium, you know?” He said suddenly.

“Uhm?” Scar raised an eyebrow. 

“Iskallium is my own gem, so if it keeps causing trouble I can scold it and it will have to listen to me!” He declared with a big smile on his face. “It’s science!”

“I wouldn’t try that.”  Scar chuckled lightly. “You don’t fix magic problems with science, especially if it needs you scolding the rock that has been having deadly temper tantrums”

“Trying wouldn’t hurt.” 

Scar avoided telling him that, yes, it would. His hand was proof of that. 

The clicking rhythmic sound of his nails against the gem helped his nerves a little as he saw Tango literally lean on the crystal as he typed in something in his comm. Why was everyone so careless around that thing--

“Scar.” 

“Uhn? what?”

“Why are you doing that?” 

Scar frowned and looked back at his friend, he looked slightly worried again. 

“Doing what?” He asked confused, tilting his head a bit. 

“The clicking.” 

Clicking? oh. 

Now that he thought about it he had been a bit extra fidgety since the crystal started being a problem, tapping his fingers and bouncing his leg.  

“I guess I’m just a bit nervous, sorry.” He murmured taking his hands out of his pockets, only to find that he was starting to tap his feet instead. 

Uh. 

Scar made the effort to stay still for a moment but found it really difficult, his hands twitching slightly. 

He wasn’t that shaken, was he?

Scar pulled the health crystal out of his pocket and closed his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to channel the gem’s properties on himself. The magic flowing through him felt like warm water taking away some of the tension he was feeling, making the wound on his hand hurt less and…

Click, Click, Click.

Scar’s eyes snapped open. His nails clicked against the glassy surface of the crystal and he couldn’t control it.  He felt the fog seep into his body again, the person on the other side of the crystal staring down at him. What did that thing put into his head?

“I-- I’m not doing it on purpose.”   

He was about to shove his hand back into his pockets to at least quiet down the sound when iskall gestured him to stop and took Scar’s hand in his. Looking down at the finger’s movements. 

“Listen.” 

Scar frowned and stared at Iskall for a moment, he looked extremely concentrated on the sound. He started paying more attention to his involuntary tapping as well even if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to hear. 

Click, Click, Click.

There was a specific rhythm to the tapping, he tried and couldn’t change it. One slow tap, two fast, two slow, one fast, repeat. 

One slow. Click.

Two fast. Click, Click.

Two slow. Click, Click.

One fast. Click.

Repeat.  

Wait.

“Morse?” He asked. Iskall nodded. 

Why in the world was he tapping morse. Maybe he could go fetch some of his old stuff from area77, Doc did give him a little paper sheet with morse code written on it. Hopefully, he didn't throw it away, they didn't really end up using it.

“T-I-M-E.”  Iskall said letting go of Scar’s hand. Eh?

“Why do you know morse, Iskall?” Scar asked shoving his hands in his pockets to not hear the sound anymore.

“Oh you know, friends.” He replied, shrugging slightly and putting his hands back into his pockets. “I’m guessing this has something to do with the magic problem child, is it making you spam “time”?”

“I guess…” Scar murmured looking back up at the giant crystal. 

“Any idea why?”

Scar nodded. There was one thing that came to his mind. He didn't really know why or how whoever was on the other side of the crystal knew about it. Still, it was worth seeing if something could be done with it. 

He glanced at the crystal one last time before walking over to the others that were still talking near the mushroom. Grian and Mumbo were discussing something about messages not being replied now. 

"These two sound like annoying lovebirds don't they?" Stress commented before getting distracted by Iskall waving at her and quickly running past Scar to go meet him. 

Scar looked at Grian and Mumbo, he was unsure if the argument was gonna continue for long so he just decided to literally jump between them.

 "Hey Mumbo, could you help me with something real quick?" He asked, grabbing the tall man's arm. 

Mumbo raised an eyebrow. "Sure, what do you need?"

Scar heard a tiny whine in protest coming from Grian as he pulled Mumbo away.

"I need you to open the vault for me, I lost the key." 

---

Breaking open the K.G.O.O.M.R. wasn't that difficult for Mumbo, not that he enjoyed it but he had already done it a few times. Scar really needed to find that key at some point. 

Nevertheless, as soon as the iron door on the floor opened Scar knelt down next to the first chest of the three. 

Grian peeked in from behind Mumbo that pushed him slightly away from the vault.

"Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm not gonna touch the doors, I'm just curious!" He said with a fake offended tone. 

Scar chucked, It's true the vault was full of doors mostly, but there was one other thing he deemed important enough to have to stay in it.

Well, not really important, more of a work in progress. An unstable work in progress. 

He opened the chest and pulled out a shiny orange gem.

To the other hermits, it might have looked like just another of his crystals but this one was different.

Using the crystals to channel healing properties was a thing, using them to play with time was another. 

It was unstable, complicated, and honestly not that worth messing with, Scar had started experimenting with it just to test his abilities, to see what he could and couldn't do. 

He managed to stop a few things in time; A plant that never withers away, an arrow stuck in mid-air forever. He brought some things back and forth, making tools rust away in a few minutes or go back to being brand new in the same amount of time. 

It was exciting at first; then he had a tiny accident with a bird that flew a bit too close when he was practicing and decided to stop working with the crystal.

 Until now, probably. 

He made the gem twirl around in his hand a few times, the lights in the room hitting it and projecting colored shards around him. 

He could feel the stone's powers, not that he'd forgotten how it felt to experiment with it. It would be difficult to forget how that much power running through your veins felt. It was a bit like Vex magic, but without having to borrow it from the fey. Being in complete control of something like that was more dangerous but more rewarding. 

If he thought about it this little gem could technically be stronger than the giant crystal. 

He could… He could turn time back on the crystal, bringing it back to being simple dust. 

But could he really risk trying that? 

Scar stared at the gem for a few seconds before putting it in his pocket. The wound on his hand burned slightly, reminding him to be careful. 

"Thank you for the door, Mumbo." Scar said smiling, before climbing the ladder up to the exit. 

"You're welcome." The redstoner replied behind Scar. 

"Grian put that door down." He heard him say as he left the room where the vault was. They followed him soon after. 

He walked over to the lakeshore and saw that now Iskall and Stress had joined the others under the crystal and that Tango was not on the monolith anymore, he was on ground level with everyone. He was gesticulating energetically while explaining something to everyone else, Zedaph was behind him mimicking the movements with a bit too much accuracy to be the first time he did it. 

Scar quietly ran his fingers on the time gem, he wasn't tapping anymore now that he thought about it. 

He didn't know if he could feel relieved about it.

With a jump and a little push of his elytra he almost got to the island, he still got his feet wet by missing by a few blocks but using a rocket would have probably made him collide with someone. The thing that Grian does less than half a second later, headbutting Joe off the island and into the water. He apologizes quickly trying to get the other hermit back on his feet.  

“And here I thought nothing could hurt as much as Cleo’s punches.” Joe gasped, hugging his stomach where Grian had impacted. 

“Grian is more dangerous than anything else here right now.” Impulse said with a grin. 

“Careful Impulse, I got more rockets.”

"This creeper farm gives him too much power Scar! Too many rockets he can get his hands on, maybe the crystal was trying to save us all along!" Zedaph gasped with an over-dramatic tone placing the back of his hand on his forehead in an exaggerated gesture. 

Scar wished he could laugh with the others at that but all he could think of right now was how much that magic crystal was starting to weigh in his pocket.

"So, anyway--" Tango started saying while rubbing the back of his neck "I was saying to the others that I don't think I can do anything right now. Maybe if I manage to get Xisuma together we can find something but on my own, I really don't know."

Scar nodded, of course, it couldn't be easy. "It's okay” He reassured Tango. 

“I think I might have a solution," he fidgeted with the fabric of his sleeve "But honestly don't know if it's a good idea, or if it's worth trying."

"Well, if it's a horrible idea we will definitely warn you about it," Joe said, still slightly bent down for the pain of the impact with Grian. 

"Okay, so… I could try using this." Scar showed the small orange gem to his friends, leaving it on his open palm."This crystal is special, I can use it to control time a little. I was thinking I could try using it to make the crystal go back to before it was... Uhm, like this?" 

There was an excruciatingly long silence. 

"I'm sorry, did you just say you can control time??? " Tango asked. 

"Kinda? I can't go back in time myself, I think, but I can change the effect of time on objects, make things older or newer." 

"Does it work on people too? Could ya turn someone into a baby?"  Stress asked leaning a bit closer to look at the crystal. 

Scar closed his hand on the crystal nervously making Stress pout. "Definitely on birds" 

"Oh, I guess Grian wasn't the only reason why I wasn't finding any parrots," Mumbo murmured. 

"Didn't you find the double-sized parrot?"  Iskall asked grinning. Mumbo chuckled nervously. 

"Anyway, what do you guys think of my idea?" Scar asked, holding tightly the gem. 

There was another moment of silence before Impulse spoke up. 

"You were the one preaching with Doc about the dangers of messing with time last season. I think you know about the risks of using this thing better than any of us." He said. 

"Also, didn't that crystal already hurt you for trying something like this?" Grian asked, gesturing to Scar's bandaged hand. "What if it does it again, and you end up being the one that gets rewind, who knows what would that cause!" 

Scar frowned. The thought of becoming suddenly younger wasn't that fun, especially since he didn't know if that would regard only his body or if his mind would be affected as well. 

"You should also think about from where you got the idea of using that thing, Scar," Iskall added, leaving the others except for Scar slightly confused. 

Scar signed and looked at the gem in the palm of his hand.

"I think you already know it's not a good idea," Joe said, putting his hand on Scar's shoulder. "We can find a different solution that doesn't require using that." 

Scar was silent for a moment then nodded.

“You’re right, I think I’ll go put it back in the vault-" A single tiny green shard fell at his feet. Suddenly he felt his blood run cold, he blinked and looked up. 

A cracking noise filled the jungle. 

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #iskall85 #zedaph #impulsesv #tangotek #joe hills #stressmonster #WID #where it decays #sp fic

[katymacsupernatural]

There For Him

Dean Winchester x Reader

1275 Words

Written For: @spngenrebingo

Square Filled: Cuddling

Requested by Anonymous (requests are closed)

Summary: When Y/N notices that something is bugging Dean, she is there for him.

Warnings: Self esteem, body issues

It wasn’t easy to spot, but you could. Maybe it was how long you had hunted together. Or the fact that you spent hours locked in a car together, or nights in small cramped hotel rooms. 

It was probably the fact that you had recently fallen into a relationship with Dean Winchester. Fallen being the perfect word. Falling into bed with him, falling for those beautiful green eyes that betrayed his feelings to anyone who dared look close enough. 

But lately, those eyes had become guarded. His smile had begun to falter, and his arms didn’t reach for you in the night. You worked hard to not take offense. After all, he had been through so much. It was probably just a phase or mood he was going through. 

Instead of letting it hurt your feelings, you began watching him closely. Watching the way he would light up at the sign of a hamburger joint, but drive past. The way he began pushing away the pies you offered. 

Even lately he would undress in the bathroom at night, crawling into bed and rolling on his side. Not reaching for you, or making love as you had so hoped. 

“Sam,” you finally sought out his brother’s wisdom. “Have you noticed anything different with Dean?”

Sam barely even lifted his gaze from the screen of his laptop. “Not that I can think of. Why?”

Sighing, you sank down in the oak chair beside him. Sam was busy scrolling on his laptop, no doubt looking for another case. And while you didn’t want to bother him with this, you were worried about Dean. “I dunno. He just seems..off.”

Finally, Sam’s hazel eyes glanced over to you, his smile on half-hearted and short-lived. Closing his laptop, he turned his full attention your way. “I guess I haven’t paid much attention. But we haven’t had a case for what...two weeks? And you know how that makes him.”

Sure, it could be that. After all, Dean hated going so long between cases. But it seemed something...different. “Yeah, I guess,” you sighed again. “Just keep an eye out, okay?”

“Of course,” Sam assured you, reaching for and grasping your hand, squeezing it lightly. “We’re all in this together. And I appreciate how much you care for my brother.”

You patted the top of his hand before pushing the chair back, the usual sound of wood rubbing against wood calming your nerves slightly. “He saved me. When I didn’t know I needed saving. I’d just like to return the favor if needed.”

Dean was still out on what he called a supply run, and you didn’t want to be all alone in your room. Instead, you went to the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for cookies. Baking seemed to calm you, and it would pass the time until Dean returned. 

You were just pulling the final batch of cookies from the oven when you could hear Sam talking to Dean. Their voices were muffled before Dean’s voice left, and it was silence once again. Placing the cookies on the cooling tray, you washed your hands just as Sam entered the room. Leaning against the frame, he crossed his long legs, stuffing his hands in his distressed jeans. “You’re right,” he admitted without preamble. “Something’s up.” 

You wanted to say I told you. Instead, you handed Sam a warm chocolate chip cookie, before sitting down at the table to stare up at him.  “What do you think it is?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. He um...he came back from the store empty-handed. When I stopped him, he said everything was fine. But Y/N, he never comes back from town without beer or pie or…,”

“So we’re still thinking lack of hunts?” You asked, even though you weren’t convinced that was the case. 

“No, not anymore,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, he won’t talk to me, but maybe...he opens up to you.”

You knew exactly what he meant. Standing up, you patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you head to town, pick up what Dean should have, and I’ll talk to Dean.” 

Sam nodded, heading back down the hallway. Minutes later you could hear the rumble of the Impala through the quiet bunker. Planning what you were going to happen, you piled a plate full of cookies. Pouring two glasses of milk, you walked down the hallway, hoping Dean would like the surprise.

The door to your shared room was cracked open, and you peered through before stepping inside. Dean was off to the side, his shirt off and tossed on the bed. He was standing there, looking at himself in the mirror. And it made everything click. 

“Dean? Is everything okay?” You asked. He jumped, quickly reaching for his shirt. Setting the cookies down, you stepped over, grasping his hand before he could put it on. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, the black t-shirt bunched tightly in his hand. “Can we not?” He pleaded, but you had given him space long enough. Shaking your head, you pulled him down until you were both sitting on the edge of the bed. “Let’s talk,” you insisted.

His jaw ticked. “It’s stupid,” he muttered.

“I don’t care,” you argued. “It’s upsetting you, and that means it’s upsetting me. So come on, what is it? If it’s the scars, I’ve told you they’re sexy.”

He shook his head, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Y/N, have you noticed....I’ve...well, my body isn’t the same as it used to be?”

Your laughter quickly turned into a cough. He was being truthful. “Dean, what are you talking about? Sure, there are more scars than before, but you’re…,”

“Not the scars. I sound so stupid, but I see Sam, and how lean he is with all his freaking running. But my body, it’s gotten..freaking pudgy! I have, what do they call it? A Dad’s bod, and I hate it!”

“A Dad’s bod?” You had heard the term before. And it fit Dean. He was strong and could fight with the best of them. But his body was finally feeling the after-effects of all those burgers and pies, and his stomach wasn’t as defined as he wanted it. But you were okay with that. He was softness and strength all wrapped in one amazing human being. “Dean, who called you that?”

“The cashier at the gas station,” he muttered. “It wasn’t meant for me to hear, but..,”

“Dean, this body is perfect,” you assured him. “It’s strong when it needs to be. It holds so many scars that have amazing stories behind them. It’s literally been to hell and back. But it’s also soft and gives me comfort when I need that. Dean, you have nothing to be ashamed about.”

“It’s just,” he sighed. “I know we already have the age difference between us, and I didn’t want my...aging body to disgust you.”

“Nothing about you disgusts me,” you assured him. “Not these strong arms, or these laugh lines around your eyes. Or the way I fit perfectly in your arms. Dean, please know that I love you the way you are.”

He sighed, finally peering up in your eyes. “Thank you. You always know the right things to say.”

Laying back on the bed, the cookies long forgotten, you pulled him down until you could rest your head on his chest. “See? This is perfect?”

For the first time in weeks, Dean held you close, and you hoped you had pushed his worries away. Never had you expected Dean to be self-conscious, but it had only made you love him more.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278   @bi-danvers0  @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk  @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420  @screechingartisancashbailiff   @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl @deanwanddamons @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heartislubbingdubbing​ @heyitscam99​ @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher​ @iwriteaboutdean​  @jayankles​ @jensen-gal​ @justsomedreaming​ @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @linki-locks11​ @littleblue5mcdork​  @lowlyapprentice​   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @mogaruke​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @musiclovinchic93​  @nanie5​   @percussiongirl2017​ @plaid-lover-bay25​   @roonyxx​ @ronja-uebrick​ @roxyspearing​  @samanddeanmyheroes​ @sandlee44​ @shamelesslydean​ @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting​ @sgarrett49​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnwoman​   @superbadassnatural​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @vvinch3st3r​  @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​

#spngenrebingo #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #dean x y/n #dean x reader #y/n

[kidney9-9]

Petty Chapter 5

Yay it’s updated, I hope you enjoy! MJ in this series is not a love interest of Peter Parker, but she is friends with him and Ned. In this chapter, you’ll see the struggle going on with the Reader, as she tries to make a decision about Peter Parker. 

Tags will be in the reblog; to be added to the taglist send me an ask, or click the link in my bio to fill out the form :) Let me know if I forget you in the taglists as well, or if my tags aren’t working. Thank you!

Series Masterlist  

Peter Parker x Reader  Warnings: Swearing and some anxiety Word Count: 1.6k

You shuffled the mini cookies into your mouth as you read through the lines over again. You muffled your mouth shut as the teacher glanced over to your desk, and you moved your head down even more towards the desk, trying to lose his attention. History class was… it was shit. You were terrible at it, and you needed those notes, but Peter ruined them.

The pre-exam made no sense to you, because all the questions were so mixed up. It included questions about the type of clothing people would wear, and the language, but you barely paid attention to any of that stuff, instead you tried memorizing the dates and certain names. It sucked. You glanced up to the clock, instantly wincing when you noticed you only had five minutes left, and you just got to the second page of it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Peter either, which did you no good now. You were going to apologize, maybe even try to get to understand why he wanted to be a stupid superhero, but now you felt even more pissed. You cleared your throat, shaking your head at yourself to stop thinking about him, and focus on the test.

You scribbled down random things at the end of the test, for the bonus question, just hoping your teacher would be forgiving. The bell rang the second you sat your pencil down, causing you to sigh. As you glanced over your exam quickly, you cringed, realizing some of the mistakes you made and you bit your lip, shaking your head as you stood up.

“Look- I don’t know what to do, you’re going to be stuck here during vacation. I have to go out of town for those meetings, and they booked my flights really far apart. You’re old enough to stay home for three weeks by yourself as well, and I’ll send you money for food and supplies.” Your mom rambled on the phone as you strolled through the halls. She called you a few minutes ago, telling you about this sudden trip, and you didn’t know what else to do but feel worried.

“Mom, but what about, what if someone breaks in?” You questioned her back, stressing about the idea of being home alone and the exams coming up. Your mind spun up with many other possibilities about everything, while your mom laughed back, thinking you were just joking, “It’ll be fine. You’re already an adult, just see this as practice.” She responded.

You cleared your throat as you found a seat outside. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner though, right?” Your question was left unanswered as your mom yelped out, “Oh got to go, Simon’s calling,” You sighed as she hung up. You glanced around, looking for any of your friends as the second bell rang, signaling the official end of school.

You hummed, not seeing any and looked back down to your phone. Should I? You wondered as the thought of Peter Parker came back to your mind. Your finger edged over the Twitter app, as you thought if you should look him up. You clicked on it after another second of hesitation and sighed as you quickly typed out his name. “Shouldn’t be doing this…” You mumbled to yourself, clicking on his profile. You bit your lip, almost nervous as you scrolled to his latest tweets. You raised your eyebrows as you started to read them over, “Does anyone have notes for English? Lost them and freaking out about exam.” You pouted at it, instantly feeling guilty again.

Should you feel guilty though? Not exactly, since he destroyed your notes for History, causing you to fail, or at least barely pass that class. That history test was supposed to boost your grade just the slightest, so when you failed the real exam (because you were terrible at memorizing history), it would lower your grade to a C, or around 70%. Sure, even that grade wasn’t that “good”, but it was passing, and you could retake it during the summer, before college.

Speaking of college, your application to NYU was accepted for now. You were happy with that. If everything worked out, you’d be going there. You scrolled through Peter’s twitter again, still feeling the ounce of guilt build up into something more, as you started to bounce your fingers against the bench. The doors opened again, and you glanced up, seeing a few of your friends and classmates. You grinned to a few of them, waving as your leg started to bounce nervously.

You looked back down to your phone after the door closed again, and you scrolled all the way back up to the top, rereading his last tweet. You hummed, shaking your head to yourself, “Oh, fuck it.” You decided, getting up in an instant and stumbling to the door nervously.

You needed to help him.

That was the human thing to do, right? Or the villain redeeming themselves? Yes, it was, you nodded, coming to terms in your head.

Where was Peter though? You looked at random people, groaning as you couldn’t see his face, and stomped through most of the first hallway, confused. You huffed out a sigh and leaned up against one of the walls, glancing around. A few people still were walking around, and you knew for sure that Peter or one of his friends still had to be here. You glanced down the hall, back to the lockers he lifts in the mornings sometimes and wondered if he’d even let you help. It was quite a dumb idea now that you thought of it.

He was close to hating you, and you were close to hating him. But why did you even want to help him after he fucked up your history grade? You kept second guessing and thinking yourself, he was a complete asshole! Why would you even help?

You groaned aloud when you thought of an answer immediately, because he’s hot, and because he’ll be held back probably without help. Your groan was heard by MJ, and she furrowed her eyebrows at you slightly, recognizing you as the girl that fucked Peter’s grades up, he told her the whole story so many times.

She cleared her throat, staring at you almost indifferently, “What are you doing?” She questioned causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You let out a strange noise, shaking your head as you thought about what to say. “I just- uh, nothing.” You responded, stuttering back to her.

You knew her from your freshman year computer science class, which was boring to say the least. You remembered how she would turn her computer off ten minutes into class and scroll through her phone instead, because the teacher never paid attention. “It’s MJ, right?” You asked politely, scratching your head. She nodded, raising her eyebrows back to you.

You both stood there, almost awkwardly. You blinked, realizing you’ve seen her hang out near Peter before, or with him. You opened your mouth for a second before closing it, wondering if you should really go through with this plan.

You listed the pros in your head: he might be kind to you, he’ll forgive you, your mom won’t be upset with you anymore, and your cousin will act normally again. Cons would be everything fucking up and backfiring. You let out a sigh at the thoughts, before you focused on MJ again, seeing she was still standing there.

You had to do it.

“Hey, MJ, you know Peter Parker, right?” Fuck, fuck, nope, you instantly regret it. But you watched as MJ tilted her head back to you suspiciously. You griped onto your hands, tugging on your fingers nervously as she nodded back to you.

MJ didn’t know what to say except this, “You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Your face melted into a weirdly guilty look as you laughed back, holding back a groan at yourself. No, you weren’t going to kill him, and even if you were, you wouldn’t tell one of his friends. That would just be dumb.

“No, of course not! He’s fucking Spi-” You cut yourself off, cringing in distress at the almost slip up, and quickly covered over it, “He’s fucking splendid, I love him so very much.” You lied through your teeth, almost wanting to roll your eyes at yourself.

“Great,” MJ smirked back, chuckling quietly at your obvious devastation, knowing what you were trying to hide. “Were you going to confess to him? I’ll go with you.” She continued, causing you to groan, shaking your head.

You wanted to crawl in a hole and stay there. Like a rabbit, or a gopher. Or maybe one of those bears that go into hibernation, you quickly shook your head at the thoughts, getting distracted.  “I- no, I just wanted to talk to him about the English exam.” You explained back to her, dropping your head low to stare at the floor.

Wow, the floor was very interesting now. It looked amazing in fact, to the point you’d- okay, stop. You blinked back up to MJ, listening as she explained where Peter was.

He was out back at the football stadium, sitting under the bleachers with Ned and a few other classmates. You thanked her and briefly apologized to her for lying about loving him, which she laughed over, shrugging it off. You huffed quietly to yourself as you started to walk back outdoors, preparing yourself to just ask if he’d like any help. Maybe he wouldn’t want it, you had no idea, but you were about to find out.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker/reader #peter parker/you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker series #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x reader insert #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers/reader #avengers series #avengers fluff #avengers angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #thank you for reading! #love y'all! #kidney9-9

[ubemango]

commission 4: slow burn/best friends/college au w/  jin

(+or: we’re best friends and you’re literally So Great and i suck at knowing what i want but anyway i’m starting to think i like you ??????? au)

note 1: For my very very sweet and understanding friend @yeuj​ who helped me out when I needed it most .... I hope you enjoy 🥺🥺💕!!!!!! And thank you to Micah + Clove for helping me with my questions—thank you for your thoughtfulness, insight, and love!!!!! 🌷🌷🌷

note 2: I tried to make ramen-making as unboring as possible but it really is just....water and spice. If you’re confused about eating ramen at convenience stores please search that up on Youtube, I’ve exhausted my link resource skills (except for when I want you to listen to songs.) Also, the songs I mention are titanic/the end by cehryl and Subside by Eloise. I actually listened to Sweet Night on repeat while writing this so if u wanna listen to that... ;_;

note 3: everything about this story is in medias res. I realized I had no proper beginning or conclusion and I didn’t wanna change the flow of the story by concretely adding one or the other... so if the story feels incomplete/fragmented then please understand that this was a conscious and intentional decision done on my part :,) It’s slow burn!!!! I Love you ha ha!!

(i)

The library is open twenty four hours. The convenience store in the student centre is not.

“Please use your car,” you assert.

Seokjin huffs. “Then pay for my gas.”

It’s an empty threat. He’s got no business driving hard bargains when he has capital in the form of a rich CEO dad. He ignores your glaring, calmly closing his laptop, shoving it into his bag. Closing up shop after a derivative crisis you’d called him up for because he lives on campus, plus he never sleeps early. You appreciate that he gives into you so easily.

“Fine.”

So you go, searching for a convenience store that has those instant noodles you suddenly came up with a craving for this late at night. Seokjin’s used to it by now. You get things done when you want to, even if it means making a home of the pillowy chairs in the library you’d claimed for studying purposes.

The mathematical theory of chaos. You don’t want to think about it, and you click your seatbelt with a yell, throw your bag in the backseat with as much strength your anger allows for. “I hate school!”

“Please don’t scream in the car.”

“I hate it!”

Seokjin slots the key in. “Can you look up where the convenience store is?”

He tosses you his phone to unlock. You jab at the screen with more grumbling and colourful cursing, pulling up whatever Google Maps says is the nearest store open.

“Plug in the AUX cord,” Seokjin urges next. He merges into traffic, which is really only one car and the late night bus. A quiet night for your suffering.

“Can I play my—“

“Nope.” You sneer. Tapping open his playlists, you pass under orange lamp post after orange lamp post and scroll in silence before Seokjin groans. “I made a new playlist, pick that one.”

“What’s it called?”

You can see that he’s stiffened up. You don’t comment. “The one with the three heart emojis.”

Simple enough. You don’t care to sift through the songs, and the first one plays with one more indulgent tap of the screen.

Why don’t you tell her? I think you should. You know how you’re feeling, you can’t fight the truth…

Google interrupts the soft voice with the indication of the next right. Seokjin eases on the gas pedal. You watch him nod his head to the softness of the stereo. “I can’t pay for your gas.”

“I know you can’t.”

“I can pay for your ramen,” you suggest. Seokjin makes a quiet noise, like he’s amused by your generosity, or maybe he just thinks you’re dumb. You think it’s the latter.

“I don’t want you to pay for my ramen.”

“Then what do you want?”

The lamp post light striking Seokjin’s face gives way to the harsh red of the stoplight. In the stillness, he sends you a hard look. It makes you feel weirdly vulnerable, like he’s stripped you bare.

To make things worse, Seokjin says:

“Nothing you don’t want to give me.”

He doesn’t heed your confusion because he presses on the gas, looks straight ahead. You do too, and you try not to contemplate the cool brevity of his attention you suddenly want back. You push your uncertainty aside.

(He has a handsome face, you think.)

Seokjin interrupts, “So why’d you wait till now to study?”

“You know me.” Procrastination. The complete and utter mistake of underestimating the allotted time needed to get a successful grasp of concepts for your midterm. In not so convoluted terms, this class sucks ass.

“Yeah but that was—a lot of notes.”

It was. You probably pushed five weeks of material in the span of three hours. You can feel the very tips of your nervous system frying up as you pass through gas station-lit intersections. But there’s a real answer to his question, and you have the intense need to curl in on yourself in this leather seat.

“Well I would have started yesterday, but I was busy,” you counter.

“With what?”

“So you know Hyukjae from Psych?”

Seokjin pauses to listen to Google’s instructions, and immediately makes a left onto another main intersection. “Sure.”

“We went out yesterday,” you admit.

He hums a tight sound, tapping on the wheel. “Hm. How’d it go?”

It wasn’t bad. You shared butter tarts and laughed at his anecdotes and Hyukjae-from-Psych paid for your Uber home. He gave you a very weak hug before you slipped into the car. It was in that seat you’d decided you wouldn’t be sending him an I had fun! text that night.

“It was okay. Like, nice to me and stuff. But nothing…”

“…Worth revisiting.”

“Sure,” you mimic, and you wonder why he’s right.

“The guy’s okay,” he says. Almost like it’s with relief. “It’s—not to sound rude, but. Uh. I think it’s, uh—good. That you weren’t… interested.”

You think he’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why?”

“Can’t trust guys with bad handshakes.” Seokjin chances a glance at you, and laughs at the confused scrunch of your eyebrows. “I met him during that networking conference in third year. Limp-wristed me. Like a chump.”

“Ew.” You can’t say he’s wrong. That hug Hyukjae gave you really was weak. The dude has noodles for arms. “But yeah, I guess you’re right. Wasn’t really my type.”

“Hm,” is all Seokjin comes up with. You watch him pass right through the turn Google tells him to take. “Oh shit. Sorry. I’m just. Thinking. About… limp… men.”

You snort. “What?”

“Like a man. A limp man. Hyukjae. Not me,” he clarifies fast—proudly— “just. Anyway! Back to you saying what your type was.”

“I wasn’t,” you accuse.

“Yeah well now I’m asking because I don’t wanna think about limp men. Your type, please.”

He sounds weirdly inquisitive. Demanding, almost. You chalk it up to the near-delirium of being awake past 1AM.

“I—don’t know,” you start. Somehow you feel like you’re messing something up. “He was kind, I like… kind. And soft. Sweet. You know Kim Taehyung? From Neuro? Like, almost big shoulders but not really. I like big shoulders. Yeah. Guys like Kim Taehyung-ish.”

Seokjin just hums again. There’s another song playing, and you don’t know how many you’ve rotated through in this playlist. You didn’t think it’d take this long to get to the store.

Google says it’s just two minutes away now. Seokjin says, “Cool,” and then sings along to the stereo.

You got me losing sleep over you… I usually sit still but now I can’t help but move… When I see you, I don’t know what to do…

(ii)

“Spicy or not spicy?”

“Whatever keeps my stomach lining intact,” Seokjin says.

You don’t say anything more and grab two of whatever ramen packaging isn’t scarily red. The convenience store is void of any customers, and the cashier rings you up with a very sour face for interrupting the show he’s got playing on his phone. His face shrivels up even more because all you can pay with is coins. Seokjin laughs behind you when you apologize for clattering the dimes too harshly on the counter.

“Enjoy,” the cashier announces, and he doesn’t mean it one bit.

The hot water machine at the back is a very intimidating thing next to the tiny display of cookies.  Too many buttons and knobs you don’t understand, so Seokjin takes on the chivalric role and prepares everything for you. He rips the plastic open with gentle hands. Dumps the powder with too much conviction.

You both watch the water stream hot into the noodles. “Do you like macadamia nuts in your cookies?”

“I guess,” you say.

“Wanna split a cookie?” He hands you chopsticks to stir the ramen with, gestures at the cookie display with a jut of his chin.

“Are you paying?”

“Can you imagine if I made you pay after I asked to split,” Seokjin spits at you. “Yes I’m paying.”

“Then I want chocolate chip.”

He freezes, then jabs smartly at his noodles for a tense ten seconds.

“You make me mad,” he finally answers. “Should we eat in the car?”

“The bowl is too hot to hold.”

The counter at the window it is. You’re sad that you didn’t buy pickled radish, but your coin purse has weeped all its coinage out. Seokjin leaves you as Noodle Guard, going off to pay for that bonus cookie with a crumpled five. In the next second you contemplate the evaporation of ramen soup, the cookie is duly dumped right next to you, and Seokjin takes a huge bite of what still appears to be extremely hot noodles.

He promptly chokes, and makes sputtering noises.

“Holy shit,” Seokjin cries.

You take a much, much slower bite. “You’ll be fine.”

“I thought I could be cool for you,” he cries some more.

“You don’t need to be cool for me. Who eats ramen in a cool way?”

Seokjin nods his approval, that tear of theatrics sliding down his cheekbone. He eats carefully. A noisy car roils on outside, and passes quickly outside your periphery.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you remember to say.

“I love standing at counters and eating things hot,” Seokjin retorts. He dodges the fist you aim at his abdomen with swift ease. “It’s no problem.”

“I—“ You don’t really know why but you need to talk. “You know—you’re really, um, kind.”

Foolery. Absolute foolery that sentence was, and the cashier probably heard that foolery, and Seokjin definitely heard that absolute foolery, and he’s laughing. Like really laughing, caught with the noodles dangling from in-between his teeth. That’s all you had to say? The guy drove you out to get cup noodles out of his own volition. That’s kindness maxed out, and he deserves better than you fumbling between your teeth. Your nerves have fried up so bad, you guess.

Seokjin’s giggles dwindle down. “Thanks,” he says, smiling small.

You blame the heat of your cheeks from the heat of your soup.

Neither of you are desperate to get to that last quarter of noodles to broth ratio. The knots of your shoulders loosen with the sound of your slurping combined, and silently you are reminded of Seokjin’s warmth, standing so close to you.

The easiest path to a nice ending involves a happy belly and Seokjin driving you home with nothing more than a goodbye and a thank-you as you slam the car door shut. This is not unknown to you, because you and Hyukjae-from-Psych took that easy path yesterday.

You just don’t do this often, contemplating all the routes of romance. When is it appropriate to laugh at a joke, to wipe your mouth on the napkin? To smile and peel at your heart and grant that person access to all your inner workings? You belatedly notice that Seokjin did not bring napkins.

(The moment in the car—nothing you don’t want to give me—you want to laugh at his jokes, and smile, peel and peel and peel at your heart, but slowly. Slowly, you put your chopsticks down.)

How funny it is to come to very sound conclusions within a split second, because all you know is that it feels good, being with him like this.

Seokjin, in your quiet realization, takes it upon himself to decide the cookie-eating rights.

“Want the first bite?” He asks, propping the chopsticks horizontally on his bowl.

You nod. Desperately you try not to look at him because you might make more realizations, and you don’t think you’re ready for any more unleashed and unknown emotions. “Please.”

He gives it to you. The right side decidedly has more chocolate chips, and  it’s a very nice explosion on your tongue. So nice you groan into it. “Oh that’s really good.”

He snatches the cookie away before you can take another bite. “I get bigger bites because I paid for it.”

“That—? Uh, that’s not how sharing works.”

“Yes it does,” Seokjin argues. But he just takes as normal a bite as ever. You can’t say you don’t focus on his mouth for too long, though—

—And you immediately seize up at the thought. Horrified, you shriek: “Actually just—have the rest of it!”

He looks alarmed. “O…kay?”

“You’ve got a nice mouth,” you blurt out next.

An absolutely awful feeling settles heavy in your stomach. Because almost immediately you realize that this is a kind and soft boy with nice anecdotes that have yet to be uncovered this night (he likes telling you stories) and he’s got wider shoulders than Kim Taehyung and you’re not sharing butter tarts but you’re sharing a cookie with him.

Another realization: does Seokjin have limp arms?

He puts the cookie down. (His arm looks very strong, doing that.) “I—thanks?”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” you note.

He watches you slump over the counter. Purposefully burying your face in your elbows to muffle your betraying mouth. “It’s late,” is all he says.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” You don’t think you’re breathing. Your lungs have evaporated, like those steamy ramen noodles you just ate. Seokjin probably notices you’ve stopped moving, so he says, “Really.”

“Okay.”

“Did it—did it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” you say.

“Cool. Do you wanna go—“

You stand up straight, grab all your garbage before he finishes. You don’t look at him. “Yep, yep, please.”

(iii)

He puts the key in the ignition, and doesn’t budge.

“Somehow I feel like you wanna say something else,” Seokjin says.

You curl your hands into fists. “It’s late.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” You are acutely aware of how garbled you must sound. It’s starting to get on your nerves, how flimsy you’re being. “I’m not… thinking.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re being pretty articulate for someone with an empty brain.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seokjin sighs.

The seat squeaks where you tense up. “I don’t want to think about your mouth.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” You nod. Jesus. You’ll just let him do the talking from now on because your tongue can’t be trusted this early in delirium, late in the hour. “I—I…”

Seokjin struggles some more, then deflates. He starts laughing.

“I… don’t drive just anyone out to convenience stores at two in the morning for ramen. You have to know that.” He clears his throat. His eyes are shiny with the harsh glare of neon signs. “I guess I just—wanna know… what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking…” Your lips part. Searching for words feels like a physical thing—your stomach is swimming with what feels like a billion thoughts but nothing comes up for air. “I’m thinking I—don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Seokjin turns to look at you. “I won’t make fun,” he whispers.

“I think. I think, you look—um—really… Good. Um. R-Really… good, right now.”

“Thanks.” He looks up like he wants to say something but his eyes harden where he gazes, locking in on the dust motes of the windshield. Your lungs swell small in the quietude. “I think you really look good, too.”

If baser compliments already have you burning then you don’t know what you’d do if he tried anything more romantically complex. Some people are meant for loud love stories and grand gestures and you—all you can do is think too much and you want to say more but Seokjin understands. He understands your silence, your ineptitude.

In a fit of controlled passion, you reach over the console, grasping at his knuckles till he flips his palm right into yours.

“Feels… ”

You wait for something to come to mind. A phrase, a proper thought to give utterance to, all the failures and successes of the night. Faithfully, nothing comes.

It just feels.

And Seokjin seems to agree. He holds tight between the grooves of your fingers.

“You’re very pretty and it hurts,” he says, and he doesn’t try to meet your gaze, and one feeling comes resolute: it feels right.

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bts #jin #seokjin #ubemango fic #f: commissions

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (VII)

Chapter 7: A Time For Lilac

 Here we go for a new chapter!!! It's getting a little angsty over here… oops?

I'm still very efficient writing this story, so I'll keep on updating it every 48 hours!

I hope you like this new chapter!! Tell me what you think about it :)

Word Count: 2887

It was the fourth time that this man came to the shop, and seemed to wait until you were available to walk inside and ask for a bouquet. Sometimes for his mother, sometimes for his sister, sometimes for a cousin, but never for his girlfriend.

Four visits in less than two weeks, you were starting to get a little suspicious.

Ever since the brilliant success of the wedding you had planned (that had almost turned into a disaster, but had been saved by your friends), you had earned more freedom in your work, alongside a nice raise. It was still far from enough to even imagine asking for a loan to the bank, but slowly, you were building a little pile of gold. A few years, and you would eventually have a chance at buying your own shop.

But these were days to be planned far ahead. In your immediate future, what needed your attention the most was this man coming again and again to the shop to see you.

Jasmine had dropped by, waiting for you so you could get lunch together. She was chatting with Sandra while you finished the bouquet of a client.

And that's when the mysterious man entered in the shop.

He was staring at you as you waved at the customer goodbye, and you welcomed him with a smile as he approached the counter.

"Hello, miss," he shyly smiled. "I… I was wondering if you could help me get a bouquet."

"Sure, what kind do you want?"

"Uhm… it's for… my colleague. She's just had a baby."

"Oh, one for congratulations then! I would advise… irises of course, they're perfect for congratulations and… some lilac too, to wish a good luck for the next step in life."

"That sounds perfect," he nodded.

Meanwhile, Jasmine was carefully watching the scene unfolding before her.

Because it was so obvious that this man was only here for you.

You, on the other hand, seemed partly oblivious, but not completely. She guessed that you suspected that something was up but had connected the dots yet. She wasn't surprised. You didn't believe in yourself enough when it came to relationships.

"Alright, I'll make you a bouquet with these then… Gareth, right?"

He gave you a bright grin, tumbling on his words a little, because you remembered his name.

"Yeah… that's… that's it. Y/N, right?"

You pointed at the pin with your name on your shirt.

"Yep!"

You laughed as you prepared his bouquet, and Jasmine was ready to throw up at how Gareth was giving you crazy heart-eyes…

Five minutes later, and he was leaving with a beautiful bouquet, and you were joining your friend to cross the street to buy some Tacos and eat lunch in the little park up the street.

"You didn't tell me about your secret admirer," Jasmine blurted out as you were taking a bite of your food.

"What do you mean?" you replied, your words distorted as you chewed on your food.

"Gareth! The guy in the shop. He was all mushy around you."

"He wasn't!"

"He was! How many times has he come to the shop?"

"Four times in ten days…?"

"Yeah, he wants to shag you."

"Jasmine!"

"Okay, date you… whatever."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but the thought lingered in your mind.

"Do you really think that though?"

She knowingly nodded.

"Yep, I'm sure. But I didn't think you would be interested…"

"What do you mean?"

"What about Harry?"

You snorted in response, and took another bite of your tacos to avoid looking at your friend.

"Harry is my friend. My best friend."

"Harry is handsome and adorable."

"Harry is my best friend."

She put down her food, sign that she was getting serious. But if you thought that she was going to say something ridiculous, you were completely wrong this time. When she spoke again, her words were wise and concerned, so different from her usual light tone.

"Look, I've known you for years. I know when something is up with you. And I think that you really need to take a decision about how your relationship with Harry is going to evolve. Because you're falling for him, sweetie, and I really don't want to see you getting hurt."

You shrugged her remark away.

"He doesn't see me like that."

"How do you know? Have you asked him?"

You snorted once more.

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course not!"

"Then how do you know?"

You let out a breathy laugh, that sounded a little more bitter than what you meant to reveal about how you truly felt.

"I just know. He doesn't see me like this at all. I mean… look at me! Do you really think that I'm the kind of woman to write songs about? Of course not. It's not me at all. I'm his best friend, and that's all."

"Can I give you an advice then?"

"You're going to even if I refuse."

"Get him out of your system," Jasmine warned you. "Get him out before he settles there too much. Before he can truly slip under your skin. Gareth sounds like he is exactly what you need. Find someone else before your heart settles for someone you can't have."

You thought about it as you chewed on your food.

"I don't know… it feels like second choices…"

"You've just told me that you weren't going to be with Harry, so he's not really second choice, if Harry isn't one."

You nodded.

"I guess…"

"You should listen to me and squeeze the feeling before it becomes heartbreaking."

You chuckled.

"No worries, it's not that bad."

The pinch of guilt in your heart though made you think that perhaps you were lying a little now…

But you chose, as always, to ignore the feeling and look away. Some truths were not meant to be faced.

Harry was beyond nervous.

He wasn't done with his album yet, far from it, but he had finished this one song that… he thought it was good. He thought is was very good, actually.

But then, he had made it, crafted it himself with his friends and colleagues, and he reckoned that it ought to blur his judgement towards the piece. There was only one way to make sure that he wasn't heading in the wrong direction: he had to ask someone else's point of view. And who could help him better than you?

No, you weren't a musician, but that was an advantage in his eyes. He had spent so long working on this song in the studio, he needed someone who was completely out of the whole process of making music to tell him if there was any good in this or not.

He trusted you with his life, he would do anything you asked him blindly. He had absolutely no fear of you telling anyone about the song. It would be safe in your hands.

He climbed the steps to your apartment too fast, his lungs burning, but he paid little attention to his lack of air.

In his hand was the memory stick upon which he had saved his song. He hadn't told you about it at all, you were simply supposed to spend the evening together. Sleepless in Seattle was on TV, so it obviously called for an evening in, watching rom coms all night through while eating pizza and these chocolate chip cookies you adored. He had a whole bag of those in his purse to get you through the night.

He wasn't surprised to find the door open for him and didn't bother knocking.

"Hi, Y/N!" he chimed, coming in and locking the door behind him before taking off his shoes and throwing his jacket on the back of your armchair.

You were sitting on your sofa, already in your pyjamas, buried under two blankets while reading a book, and he couldn’t refrain the tender smile that made its way to his lips at the sight.

"Hi, Harry!" you grinned up at him, and let him lean down to kiss your cheek before he would settle on the sofa by your side. "How are you? How was your day?"

"Uhm… fine… what about you?"

"Great. Had lunch with Jas. It was nice."

"Hmm."

"So… pizza?"

"Pizza," he nodded.

You only needed a couple of minutes though to see that he was nervous, for some reason.

"Is everything okay?" you asked him with concern making you frown.

"Yeah… yeah… uhm… actually… can I ask for a favour?"

He seemed all shy now. What was wrong with him tonight?

"Of course! Anything."

He nervously ran a hand through his curls, messing his hair a little.

"I… uhm… I just… need your… opinion on something."

"Sure! What is it?"

"Uhm… I've just finished this song today… or at least I think it's done but, uhm… I'm not sure is it good or not so… could you listen to it and then tell me what you think?"

Your expression turned from worried to ecstatic in 0.1 second.

"YES! Of course! Oh, I'm so excited! Can I listen to it now?"

He wasn't expecting to see you so excited about it, but then, he didn't know what else he could have been expected from you. You were always so supportive with him.

"Sure, here."

He handed you the memory stick.

"You… don't have to do it right now though…"

But you were already reaching for your computer, so he let out a chuckle and reached for his phone.

"I guess I'm the one in charge of ordering the pizza for tonight," he smiled while dialling the right number.

The song was all there was on the memory stick.

Sign of the Times

So you just clicked on it…

"I'm gonna get some wine," Harry mumbled, jumping to his feet and hurrying to disappear in the kitchen.

He picked up two glasses and one of your bottles of red wine, knowing where everything was stowed, as if he were in his own home. But then, your home was a little bit his as well, just like Harry's large house was a second home to you.

He heard the first notes of the piano rising from the living room, and his heart started to beat so damn fast…

What if you didn't like it? What if you thought it was terrible? What if he had been wrong for the past few months?

His voice rang through the apartment as well, deep and soft and sounding exactly how he wanted it to sound like. Would it be enough though?

On one hand he reckoned that he was an artist, and he had to stick to what he wanted to achieve with this song. He wanted to make a record in which he would be himself, sing songs full of honesty, talking about stories he wanted to talk about…

But then, there was the reality of being good or terrible, and he had lost sight of this thin line between the two after so many hours spent on that one song.

He took a deep breath, and made his way back to the living room to see your reaction, no matter how terrified he was.

The guitar and drums were kicking in as his eyes fell on you. You had closed your eyes, your hand resting on your heart. You seemed to be breathing more heavily than usual.

So… that was the kind of songs he had in his heart, huh?

You felt overwhelmed, to be honest. The song was beautiful, and the lyrics pulled at all the right strings in your heart, and his voice… God, his voice was heavenly.

A thousand emotions crossed your frame as you listened intently to every detail of the song, from the melody to the instruments and the way his voice changed. A thousand emotions because of the song itself, because of its lyrics, because of how Harry's voice carried so much passion it was tearing your heart apart, but also because a realization was suddenly coursing through your veins, and you didn't want it to.

Just stop your crying

Have the time of your life

Breaking through the atmosphere

And things are pretty good from here

Remember everything will be alright

We can meet again somewhere

Somewhere far away from here

A single tear rolled down your cheek, but you were too immersed into the song to brush it away.

Your best friend had made that…

We never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets

It was his voice speaking such lyrics, and all you wanted to do was hold him close and never let go.

Just stop your crying

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away from here

We gotta get away from here

Stop your crying

Baby, it will be alright

They told me that the end is near

We gotta get away from here

This realization that had punched you in the guts though, it was so obvious now… You had been right all along.

We never learn, we been here before Why are we always stuck and running from The bullets? The bullets

Of course, you had always known the truth. You had simply done a wonderful job at hiding it right in the spotlight.

We don't talk enough

We should open up

Before it's all too much

Will we ever learn?

We've been here before

It's just what we know

There really was no need to talk about any of this. What an idiot you had been to ever question it, to ever imagine… oh, you were such a silly girl…

Stop your crying, baby

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away

We got to get away

His voice on the recording turned into almost a shout, hitting a high note, but it sounded almost like a call for help. You were fully crying by now.

It was so beautiful, and you were so… so foolish indeed… unable to see what was right in front of you that whole time.

The song died out, and you needed a moment to open your eyes again. When you did, Harry was handing you a tissue.

"Please, don't tell me that you're crying because you think it's so bad and my entire career will be ruined."

You laughed. He really was the only person able to make you laugh while you were still crying.

He was so stupid sometimes. So… so stupid.

You looked at him as he gave you a shy smile, clearly waiting for you to tell him what you thought about the song. But how could you describe how you felt?

There was one word that fitted quite well though…

"Proud."

He frowned, not following your train of thoughts, but you shot him a bright smile letting out a breathy giggle.

"I'm so proud of you."

His frown turned into a touched smile, and you were quite certain there were tears shimmering in his eyes.

You pushed your computer aside and launched yourself to hold him in your arms, burying your face in his shoulder and holding him so close… just because you needed to let him know, physically, how much you l…

… hell, you couldn't say it, could you? 'How much you cared' would have to do.

"I'm so proud of you," you repeated, as he tightened his own hold on you. "This song is so… I have no words, really. It's such a beautiful song, Harry."

"Thank you," he smiled in your neck, his voice shaky but clearly relieved. "Thank you."

"It's so beautiful. And I'm so, so proud of you."

"Thank you."

He cleared his throat, his voice breaking several times before he could go on.

"So… I'm doing okay, right?"

You let out a laugh.

"I would say you're doing amazing!"

"Great."

Amazing. Yes, that was exactly what he was. Amazing.

What a foolish girl you had been, how could you even think that he would feel the same? He was so… he was way, way too good for you.

The realization was a punch in the stomach. You didn't deserve him. He was somewhere among the stars and you… were far behind.

He was your best friend, and would remain just that, because there was no way someone like him could feel anything more for someone like you.

Jasmine was right.

Get him out of your system. Get him out before he settles there too much. Before he can truly slip under your skin.

Get him out of your system before he could truly slip under your skin…

You should listen to me and squeeze the feeling before it becomes heartbreaking.

Squeeze the feeling… Yes, that was what you needed to do. Squeeze the feeling until it died out. Until it was nothing more than a memory…

"Alright, enough tears for tonight, at least, until Meg Ryan listens to Tom Hanks in that car," Harry pulled away, drying his cheeks with his palms. "Let's drink to that, huh? To my song?"

You accepted the glass he offered you, giving him a warm smile.

"To your song."

And as your glasses rang together, you knew you were right.

Gareth was a much safer choice indeed…

***********************************************

Tag list:  @ponycake27​ @horsesreign​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @jbluevelvet​@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss​ @stuckupstucky​@snek-shit​ @suchatinyinfinity​@i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters​ @staringmoony​@madamrogers​ @cronias13

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #series #imagine #harry styles imagine

[shirorozutriea]

Till Death Do Us Part

Audience List

Day 4: Goddesses AU

Till Death Do Us Part

Death.

Hearing or even uttering the name makes mankind and even deities quiver from where they stood. Death had been in existence for quite some time already. Before even the beginning of the world. They had been there. Lurking. Observing.

As the world of Remnant made it’s appearance they had been there, looking from who knows where. And as the time passes by, it became a tradition, a thing of the humans to worship and give their sacrifices to the gods they serve, and most especially, to Death.

Death, however, didn’t pay attention to such sacrifices and would sometimes give them to the poorest of poor. Of course, without them knowing. For if Death visits you, it’s your time. Although contrary to known belief, that would never happen. They are also the God of Time, they would know if it’s your time.

Some sacrifices are warm with genuine feelings, like appreciation and thankfulness. Not many people register the other reign Death have. They're the God of Death and Time, and as well as Life. But of course, most of the sacrifices are all for the sake of not getting killed or getting visited by them. And also cookies. That’s their favorite sacrifice. Especially chocolate chip cookies. But of course, if there’s pleasant sacrifices, there is also unpleasant ones. Poison fruits. Live cattle(what could they make of that?).

And of course, there’s always the one that would take the cake. Princesses or first born child. Just why? Death had been so kind to give those children a new life, by giving them to those who deserves a child.

And speaking of princesses, there’s one on their temple right now.

The child quivers on the cold stone floor. Teeth chattering and breathe puffing white air. It was winter. Death questioned whomever left a child at this kind of weather with nothing but a nightgown. They appeared on the steps of the temple and the child saw them, fear brimming in their eyes. Those blue eyes glistened with tears, and Death felt their stomach churn.

“Child, what is your name?” Death asked. The child opened her mouth and spoke. “W-Weiss Schnee. S-second Princess of A-Atlas Ki-kingdom.”

Weiss stared at the dark figure. Their body covered in dark smoky cloak, hood covering their eyes and a scythe looming tall on the figure. She shivered at the figure and gulped.

“I-I am the kingdom's o-offer to… to you. I… I will… be willing to…” She choked on her words. Curses, a Schnee never choke on their words. “T-to be your concubine…”

Death took a step forward and Weiss forgot how to breathe. Death took notice. “Breathe, child. I will never harm you.” Weiss nodded and shivered from the cold.

Death reached to where Weiss stood and kneeled down, taking their cloak off and covered the shivering child. “Since when did I asked for a concubine?” They muttered.

Weiss blinked. “M-my father, told me to do so. Originally, it was supposed to be my sister, Winter. But she escaped. And so, I was burdened by the task.”

Death narrowed their silver, glowing eyes. “Then I must bring you to a new home. I do not need of a partner, for I will be living for eternity and beyond.” Weiss’s eyes widen. She gaped and looked down.

Now what would she do? All her life, after her sister left. She was supposed to held the title of being the rightful heir of the throne, by being the sacrifice, the concubine of the feared God of Death. All her life, she willed herself to not be scared of the deity. But here she was, shivering. Scared. But, nothing was more scary than her being alone. She don’t want to go back. Nor does she want a new home.

And so, with a new vigor, she looked up. Stared at the glowing pools of her god and spoke. “I will stay with you. Until death. Until you take my spirit. I will stay. Please let me stay.”

A spark.

Death looked at the child in front of them. She stared at those determined blue eyes that greatly reminds them of the vast seas and skies. Death looked at the child amused, one moment she was scared, the next she’s proclaiming to stay at their side until death comes for her.

“I don’t want to go home, nor I don’t want anyone. I just want you to accept me as yours. I've been raised to worship you. I’ll do so.” Weiss stated, firmly. Death's eyes glowed bright.

“I will not take you as mine. But I will provide you whatever you need. A home, a life. You shall stay.” Death said. Weiss eyes glowed as she grin at Death. “Thank you, Death!”

A beat.

True to their words. Death took her in, gave her a home, with Weiss insisting that they would stay with her at her new home. Death was genuinely surprised at how they had grown accustom at the presence of the white haired girl. The girl would welcome them home. The girl would cook the sacrifices that Death receives. All in all, Weiss pampered the deity she was promised with.

“I still didn’t think you would let the girl stay.” The sunny god pointed out.

“I worry about the child. She would not want to go to a new home, and keep on insisting that she should stay with me.” Death stated, as she watched the girl play with a faunus girl. “What about you, Day? Why take her in?”

Day crossed her arms and huffed. “You know those ‘priests’, right? They just… won’t let the girl back in. Saying that I like cats and, well, she’s a cat faunus. So they sent her to my temple, and basically like Weiss here, she was chosen to be my concubine.” Day puffed up a fire breathe as she snorted.

Death sweat dropped at the statement. “Remind me why do we have priests?” Day shrugged and looked at Death. “I don’t know.”

The two gods looked at the two girls giggling at some story book they had read. The first time they met, both were reluctant to talk to each other. With the faunus girl being treated poorly by human priests and the heiress being taught that Faunus are some sort of rabid animal. Needless to say, the two didn’t see eye to eye. But of course, things are bound to change. Right now, they're almost inseparable.

“So, Blake. How did you meet the God of the Sun?” Asked Weiss as she settled down the book they had read. Blake's ear twitched. “The priests… dump me in her temple.”

Weiss cringed at the word. “Dump? Like, they abandoned you there. Like some sort of free cattle?” She hissed. Blake timidly nodded.

“But that’s all in the past. I got you, and Day, and even the fearsome god of all, Death. I have a family now, and that’s all that matters.” Blake sighed in contentment. Weiss nodded and continue to stare at her, now best friend.

“Aren’t you curious about who were your family?” She asked.

“I am.” Blake nodded. “But I’m not right now. Soon, maybe, I’ll go searching for them.”

Weiss smiled at her. “Look at you all mature.” Blake rolled her eyes. “We’re basically the same age, don’t treat me like a kid.”

Weiss giggled and looked at Death who was talking to Day. “Well, I'd say I lived a little bit longer.”

Blake looked at the same scene Weiss was looking and agreed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Weiss laughed haughtily. “What an ironic way to actually grow up.” Blake can’t help but laugh along with her.

A bit of years had gone pass and the two girls had grown into a splendid beautiful women. People were flocking them, wooing them, trying to get the two to like them. But the two paid no attention to them and merely shrug them off and ignored them. Even having gone to far to turn them away by stating;

“My own would only belong to none other than, Death/Day.” The two would proclaim. But people ignore this, thinking that they are out of the god’s league.

Weiss let out an exasperated huff as she recall this day’s events. This was utterly stressing her out, and she swears that she could also speak for Blake's sake. She groaned when she remembered a certain ashen blue haired… boy, who wouldn't stop hitting on her.

“Are you okay, Weiss?” Blake asked as she prepare tea for the both of them. Blake was permitted to stay with Weiss so that they wouldn’t be alone, because the two gods are always out and doing ‘god’ stuff.

“Do I look like I’m okay?” Weiss said, monotonously. Blake grimaced at the tone, but understood her very well.

“I mean, where in Oum’s name do they not get that I am not interested with any of them?” Fumed Weiss. Blake solemnly nodded in agreement. “But enough about me, how are you, Blake?”

Blake let out a deep sigh. “Same as you. I’ve been pelted by dozens and dozens of letters, flowers and whatever they think that would please me. Even money has been offered! I just wish they would stop and… I just wish she would, notice me.” Blake's ears drooped low and her gaze shifted downwards.

Weiss stood up, circling her arm to the faunus’ waist in a side hug. She leaned her head on the taller woman in sympathy. She feels her, she know what she’s feeling. They're the same. Wishing the same thing.

“It’s okay. She’ll notice soon. I hope.” She heard a sniffle from her friend, and that broke her heart. Blake looked at her. “How about you?”

Weiss blinked and gave an empty chuckle. “Me? Same as always. We’re both a bit… you know…” Blake laughed. “Tea?” Weiss nodded. “Yes, please.”

It has been years since they stayed with their respective gods. At first they were not exactly in love with the two deity, they are more of a guardian to them, and in the same position of being their alleged concubine because that’s what they were raised for. But as the time passes by, they felt a spark. They fell in love. It’s not like it was that hard, it was pretty easy with how caring the two gods are, it was overwhelming. A good kind of overwhelming.

As the two were sipping tea, the door clicked open and they saw two familiar figures.

Weiss immediately stood up and greeted the two. “Hello Day, Death. Are you both okay?”

Death looked at her and averted their gaze as Day laughed at the reaction. “Oh we're both fine! Totally!”

“Shut up, Yang.” Grumbled Death. Weiss and Blake looked at the two, both wore a look of confusion. Death looked at the two in realization. “Of course, we haven’t told you our names.”

Day, or now called Yang, looked at Death in surprised. “No wonder she still calls me Day.”

Death scratched their head and cleared their throat. “Day’s name is Yang. And I am Ruby. Duly note, while my name may be a woman’s name. I am genderless.”

“Yeah, Death here is genderless. Although, Death looks like a woman but then again they also looked like a man too, so no biggie.” Day chuckled. Death briefly wondered what will the two do with that information. Or what would the ex-heiress do with it.

Death looked at the two. “You may call us, whatever you like. But I suggest you to drop the formalities, we are all basically family.” Day aww’d and encircle her arm onto Death’s neck. “D’aww, Rubes! I’m touched.”

Death groaned and pushed Day. “Get off, Yang!” Day laughed, then she perked up, releasing Death. “Right. Blakey, I need to talk to you.”

Blake blinked before nodding at her. Day smiled at her warmly, making the former blush which didn’t went unnoticed by Day. She then looked at Death who’s posture is undoubtedly stiff and rigid.

Day leaned in a bit and whispered. “Remember our talk? I’ll do my part, you’ll do yours.” Death sighed and begrudgingly nodded at her as she remembers the ‘talk’.

Death was walking around the forest near their temple, observing ten by ten of people entering the infrastructure with a basket or a platter of offerings. And they swore there were also cookies there. Death felt a hum of aura behind them. “Day?” The said god was leaning on a tree, quietly staring at the former’s back. Death looked back, their eyes glowing ethereal silver.

“You know what I’m thinking of, right?” Quipped Day, her arms crossing on her chest as she looked at the powerful deity in front. Death nodded. “I do know. But why that all of a sudden?”

Day huffed and brushed her golden mane, a sign of uneasiness. “Pyrrha, did.” Death sent her a questioning look and asked. “What did Pyrrha have to do with that thought?”

“She helped me, with it. Made me realize something. It’s outrageous. Totally normal, yet, it’s not something you and I, or some other gods do.” Day started. Death listened to her, patiently, urging her to continue. “We both made a vow—to not be fully involved and indulge with any sorts of human… interaction. But, if you noticed, more and more gods had picked their chosen, mortal. Pyrrha did too, you know.”

Death gave her a nod. “Of course, Jaune the Brave. I know of him. The boy who were granted Pyrrha’s divine blessing, before walking on a path of a warrior under her reign.” Death stated, before their eyes glowed in realization. “Blake?”

Day nodded, her shoulders sagging. “But the thing is, I know what she is talking about. I know, for years. I’m not dumb, nor am I oblivious. It’s just that… she deserves more than a god with magic and stuff. She deserves to live a life with a mortal lover and die with said mortal lover, than die in my arms because I’m immortal.” Thunk. The sound of her head hitting the bark. “I’ve been avoiding it like a plague. But Oum forbid, Eros with his arrow struck it’s way to my heart, and now… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Death could only listen at her ministrations. Silently soaking the information deep in their mind. Engraving it, realizing how of a truth it was. How it resonates with them. They also knew. The child they swore to protect and raise, was actually, and ultimately in love with them. They know. Of course, Death would always know. And for the first time in their eternal lives, they don’t know what to do.

They could do the same thing as the other gods would have done. But committing on something they swore not to do, is breaking whatever unwritten rule they laid out. Committing means, loving, and getting hurt. Death may not be able to feel pain, but it differs for when they commit into something. But it doesn’t compare to the same fear Day is feeling. The feeling of death of their loved ones. And that’s specifically why both of them won’t ever commit. Not that there were actually potential lovers to begin with. But that’s besides the point.

“Are you going to tell her that she is your chosen?” Asked Death, curious as to what she would say. Day went tense, her eyes flickering everywhere. Then her shoulders sagged even more. “I-I want to… but I don’t know if I should…”

“What's stopping you?” Death asked, and in one look they understood. They sighed. Their hand taken a grip on their scythe. “I assure you, she will live long.”

Day looked at them. “But what if she died? Will the cycle of rebirth do her bidding?” Death's eyes glowed and shook their head. “Even Chance cannot predict the work of the cycle of rebirth.”

Day closed her eyes and sighed. “Since you’re the all knowing God of Death and Time.” She opened her eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

Death averted their gaze and spoke. “You have time. But I suggest you to not wait. Time is running.” Day sighed for the umpteenth time. “So I have to take my chance. Because time and change is my enemy.”

Death nodded. “Precisely. But it’s up to you. Like I said, you have time. Sooner or later is up to your choice.” Day huffed, her eyes glowed red. “I’ll choose the former. What about you?”

Death flinched and looked at her nervously. “Me? What about me?” The former gave the latter a look. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“I haven’t any slightest of idea to know what you are talking about.” Stated Death. Day let out a scoff. “Death, I am not blind. I can see how she fancies you. You can’t avoid it like I do.”

Death let out a low growl. “But she—” Day quipped. “No buts! The fear you felt, is also the fear I am trying to accept. Death, like you said, time is our greatest enemy. You can’t also keep her waiting.” Day protested.

Death sighed. “I’ll do what I can.”

And now, they find themselves in this predicament. Day and Blake had long since left the house, leaving the two standing in awkward silence, at least, in Death's part. Weiss continue to look at Death, tilting her head, making her look cute! Why does she have to act so… adorable.

Death gulped. They didn’t know the extent of her prowess under them. How they can easily succumb to her bidding. Them, the God of Death! If Day didn’t exactly open the topic they may not be able to give a thought about this. And they wouldn’t feel so awkward about it!

“Are you okay, Death?” Asked Weiss. Death shuffle in their feet. “Ruby is fine.” Weiss blinked and cleared her throat. “R-ruby?”

Oh Oum, my name… is my name that actually beautiful sounding or is it just her? Death gulped slowly. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

Weiss eyes brighten at the request and nodded eagerly. “I would love to, Ruby!”

A spark. The same spark they felt when they met for the first time. Who would have thought that they had actually had been feeling like this from the very start. Who would have thought that they had already succumb to the feeling so long ago. Death’s eyes subtly widen as they watch the girl, now a woman, skipping in absolute glee in the woods. The sudden realization was a bolt out of the blue. Death wonders if it was a good or a bad thing.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Weiss spoke, suddenly turning around. And in Death’s eyes, time seems to slow down.

The light from the sun, slightly blinded by leaves illuminates the woman in motion. The sudden motion gave the effect of her hair flowing like sleek waves in the ocean, the sun giving her an ethereal glow. And it that seconds, that felt like minutes, Death stumbled in the bed of red roses.

“Beautiful…” They breathed.

Weiss was taken aback by the sudden compliment. Sure, it was not foreign to her, given the circumstances with her suitors. But this is rare, a once in a blue moon compliment from Death. Weiss couldn’t help but to stare, mouth agape as she witness the otherwise pale features of Death turning red every second.

“W-what did you say?” She stuttered. Death didn’t hesitate. “You are… beautiful. Like no other.”

Weiss blushed and looked away. “You’re just saying that. There’s more beautiful than I, in this whole wide world.”

Death grew bold. “But what if I told you, there’s no one had caught my eye, other than you.” Weiss let out a scoff.

“Me? Caught your eye? Really?” She retorted sarcastically. Death understood.

And then they grew more bolder. “You already caught me, even before you fully admitted that you love me.” Weiss’ face flushed, but denied the fact. “And who told you that.”

Death smirked at her and took a step closer to the in denial woman. “I am Death. I know all.” Weiss puffed her cheeks in a pout. “After not noticing me for years, you’re making a move. No.” She huffed.

Death let out a chuckle. “But I do, in fact, had noticed you already from the start.” Death visibly frowned. “And I am sorry for making you think otherwise.”

Weiss relaxed and her shoulders drop. “What took you so long?” Weiss looked at them curious. Death took a deep breathe. “Complications. Due to my upbringing.”

Weiss flinched and looked at them. “Am I a complication?”

“No. You’re… a blessing. That I try to not take notice. I was afraid—” Weiss have them a look. “You? Afraid?”

Death nodded. “Yes. Believe it or not, us gods, have something we are afraid off. Some are silly, some are just quite personal.”

Weiss nodded, understanding. “You have your reasons. I accept. But now that you have confirmed your… hidden affection—did you confirm it? Am I not jumping into conclusions?”

Death let out a melodic laugh. One that made Weiss’ heart beat faster for more. “Yes. Yes, I am. I am deeply infatuated with you.”

Weiss nearly hyperventilate. “Y-you mean—does that mean we-we’re… together?” Her eyes shining with hope.

“I sure hope so. After my coming out with you.” Death grinned. Weiss, barely containing her excitement, launched herself to Death's arms and gave them a hug, sobbing all the while. “I-I… oh my god.” Death couldn’t help but laugh, making the latter fell more in love with the god in her arms.

“Weiss. I’ll be honest. I’m scared.” Death’s voice droop low, almost a whisper. “Committing, means I’m going to hurt. And I know what entails—”

A kiss.

Weiss looked at them lovingly. Death was taken aback. “Don’t think too much ahead, Ruby.” Death shivered, they're a bit relieved that Weiss didn’t took notice of it. “What’s important is, whatever is happening right now. And I am content, now that I know you’re here, with me.”

Death tighten their hold on the latter's waist. Death stared at them and Weiss was once again, taken aback by the emotions swimming in the former’s eyes. There was love, admiration, respect, care, and many more. It was overwhelmingly good. It made her feel loved.

Death leaned in and rubbed their nose together, eliciting a soft giggle from the white haired woman. “I adore you.” They whispered.

“And I love you, always.” Whispered Weiss.

Omake 1:

Day stood on her temple, admiring the gold linings and plates of her throne. It was splendid. The carvings are well-made. The materials ran smoothly in her palm. She could flick the armrest and a light ‘ting’ will be heard, accompanied by a yelp. Wait what?

She looked back, thankful for the fact that she’s invisible from whomever was inside her temple. A group of priests and a… faunus? What do they want with her?

“Oh God of the Sun, the Fire, and Wealth! We humbly offer you this gift. A faunus girl as your concubine. She will forever be yours!” They proposed.

Day couldn’t help but stare at the priests as they left the girl on the feet of the temple. What in Oum’s name are they doing? Are they really leaving a vulnerable, shivering child in her steps. Are they really?!

Day unveil herself, and she glowed. The faunus child noticed this and they shiver even more. Day flinched and looked at the child.

“Calm down, girl. Are you okay?” Day almost slapped herself for asking such obvious question. Of course the girl is not okay!

Day made her way to the faunus girl and knelt down. She looked at the amber eyes of the girl and smiled. “Hug?”

The girl threw her arms around the offering god. The said god leaned the girl comfortably around her and sway around. After a minute, the girl fell asleep and she took off, teleporting to a certain someone that could mayhaps, help her since they had the same predicament.

She arrived at the doorsteps of a house which made her confuse, but nonetheless knocked. The door opened, revealing a dark looming figure with glowing silver pools. The figure had their eyebrow upward as she took a glance at the child in Day’s arms.

“Erm… help?” Day grinned sheepishly.

Death was sure enough that everything will never be the same. But they felt that, it was a good change.

“Come in. Weiss is sleeping. I’ll lent the child an extra bed.” Said Death, opening the door.

Day grinned. “You’re a lifesaver!” And with that the door closed.

Omake 2:

Now's the right chance. He won’t slip again. This time, he will succeed into taking the woman's hand in marriage. It had taken him three years on continuously courting the alabaster woman. And now, he’s going to take a step further. By asking her hand in marriage.

He knocked on the door and patiently wait for it to open. And it did, revealing the woman he had been waiting for.

“Weiss Schnee, the beautiful fair maiden I met for the longest while. I had admire you from afar, wanting to be with you. Wanting to hold you in my arms. Long I stood here, in the very same doorstep, to court you. Whilst asking you to be mine. But of course! A fair maiden like you is surely hard to get. And I love that most about you! Your aura. Your persona. Your everything! I am prepared to worship you in any way I can. And now, I am here, to ask you. The lovely maiden I fell for to have your hand in marriage.” He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said. “Marry me, Weiss Schnee.”

Weiss blinked at the scene happening in her feet. “Uhmm… no.” She stated. The man did a double take and looked at her wide eyed. “C-come again?”

Weiss straighten her posture and said, much more firmly. “No.”

“B-but—”

“No buts. I’m afraid I have been spoken for. And I am quite happy with my relationship with her.” Weiss stated.

“H-her?” He asked.

“Yeah. Me.”

The man looked behind the woman and saw a very familiar figure that sent chills running down his spine. “D-Death?”

Death's eyes glowed menacingly and the man whimpered. Weiss took notice of it. “Harigold, or whatever your name is, I suggest you to stop coming here altogether. And as well as courting me. I already have a lover. And a lover I wished to keep forever. Now go, before she actually kick you out.”

Not needing to be told twice, he scampered around the dirt, running off to Oum knows where. Weiss let out a sigh of relief and a giggle on her palm. Death looked at her confused.

“What’s so funny, Weiss?” Death asked.

“You.” Weiss giggled. “It was surprising to see you jealous.”

“No, I’m not!” They denied. Weiss giggled more and Death pouted at her.

“I love you for it though.” She kissed the cheeks of her lover. “I love you, Ruby.”

Death sighed contentedly as they leaned in on their lover's arms. “I love you too.” They hummed.

Weiss leaned back and took a hold of Death’s face, peppering in with kisses, until her lips began ghosting the god’s lips. Death whined and leaned in, capturing the former’s lips on their own. It went from cautious and slow, to heated and feverish kiss. Death bit the former’s lower lip, allowing them to gain entrance and began exploring their lover's mouth. Weiss moaned at the motion and intertwined her tongue to the latter's own.

“Haah… R-Ruby…” She panted. Death looked at her with half lidded eyes, brimming with lust. She shivered at the gaze and leaned in to give them a peck. “I so, fucking, love you, Ruby…”

Ruby grinned and softly bit her lover's lower lip seductively. “I’ll give the fucking you needed, Princess.”

Weiss chuckled, her eyes glowed, a sign of a god’s chosen. “Take me, Ruby.” She rasped.

Ruby chuckled and smiled. “Will do, love. Will do.”

Note:

Weiss was seven when she met Ruby. Eleven when she met Blake, the same age where the latter was left in Yang’s temple. Both are nineteen when the ‘talk’ happened. And on the second omake, Weiss is twenty-one.

This was heavily based on like, every God AU in the RWBY fandom, especially the whiterose ones. And I had actually written one too in the WRW 2018.

So, Ruby is the God of Death, Time and Life. Yang is the God of Day, Fire and Wealth. Pyrrha is the God of War, Peace and Beauty. Chance is Robyn, the God of Chance, Change, Honesty and Rebirth.

It was actually hard to make this thing. Partially because, it was hard to tap in on Ruby's identity as Death, being godly and whatnot.

#wrw2020 #white rose week #rwby white rose #otp: thank me later #day 4 #bees yees #arkos is sailing #another god au

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter s i x

There wasn’t an easy way to tell Carly you were lying to her. There wasn’t a simple explanation to the photo of you looking awfully cozy in Harry’s mum’s living room with a glass of cabernet in your hand like a sceptre. So after a panicked call to Alyssa in the dark of your bedroom, you decided to just wait it out. 

You’d be back at work in 48 hours--and this conversation felt like it’d be more appropriate for a New York sidewalk than thousands of miles apart, separated by an ocean and telephone wires. 

When you woke the next morning and rolled up your clothes, stuffing them into your suitcase before zipping it shut and bringing it down the stairs, you realized this was likely the best trip home you’d had in a long time. Despite the whole Jessie blabbing about seeing Harry and an awkward midnight countdown. 

So while there was still information to gather about just how much contact had been occuring between the rest of them, you decided that today was not the day to do it, especially when Harry put a hand on your thigh under the table at brunch.

“You’re literally so avoidant, Y/N,” Jessie teased from across the booth--the big one in the back at Annie’s, the setting for hungover brunches or painful goodbyes. “Saying you’ll never move back here is--”

Bryn cut her off, a forkful of food into her mouth, “avoidant?”

“Exactly,” Jessie laughed.

Harry’s hand seemed to creep it’s way closer to you, resting right above your knee, his fingers tracing a circle in the blue denim. You jumped at the contact, a smirk on his lips as he reached for a sip of tea as cover. He’d never touched you like that. Just high-fives--how you doin’ pal? 

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked when your eyes went wide, leaning forward on the table, concerned by the jolt of your shoulders. 

“Cold, s’all, sorry,” you lied, a forced smile as you took a sip of your own cuppa.

You slipped your free hand under the table to push his away--he resisted at first, anchoring his hold on your leg, then eventually letting his hand slide down onto his own lap. You certainly couldn’t do all of that right here. You’d barely had a minute to process it all on your own, the words pulled right out of you last night after his lips touched yours. If you hadn’t even had a conversation with him about what it all meant, there was no way Jessie Alby was about to find out that after seven years, it had finally happened. 

You knew what she’d say: you’ll get your heart broken. He’ll leave again, he’s so busy, he’ll never, he won’t, you’ll get hurt. And while future Jessie might have a point, you decided to bask in the warmth of the big booth, Harry’s thigh against your own while you nursed a cup of tea. 

Luckily, Adam--who sat on the other side of you--was too busy diving into the waffles he’d ordered to notice any type of movement underneath the table top. 

“M’not saying I’d never come back here at all,” you explained, back to the original topic of conversation. “Just not Holmes Chapel or Manchester or anything. Maybe London. But that would be it. And besides--why do you care? You’re so uptight about me being far away but I don’t see any of you jumping on the British Airways sales emails that I forward to you lot.”

Adam laughed, his mouth full. “When I make more than fifteen quid an hour I’ll consider it, Smalls.”

You sighed. “All you need is flights, y’know. I’ve got a couch and a bathroom and a floor--enough space for all of you, especially if you’re game to sleep like we did the other night.”

Jessie let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, well, maybe one day if flights aren’t like eight-hundred euros I’ll consider a trip to the Big Apple.”

“Don’t call it that,” you laughed. “No one says that.”

“Just in the movies?” She asked, scrunching her nose at the cliche she’d used.

“Only in movies.”

“Y’know--if it’s really an issue, I could always look at tickets, too.”

Bryn stopped chewing, Jessie set her mug of tea down. Jake looked between you and Harry, waiting for the silence to be broken. You turned to look at him, eyes as wide as silver dollars. “Wh--you mean--so they can see me? I just--I can fly here, s’not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, no, s’really fine, we don’t miss her that much,” Jessie laughed awkwardly, as if there wasn’t now an elephant in the room, one that looked a lot like Harry’s bank account. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so weird if he’d been better at keeping in touch. Maybe those  were perks that a lot of his new friends were used to--flights and gifts and expensive things. Based on the look on everyone’s face, though, there was still a lot of shock around the fact that he’d paid for your ticket in first class with him--saving you from the cramped legroom in economy for the six hour flight.

“Well, we could think about it--I mean, m’there too, now, at least for a while.”

You felt weird. The conversation of Harry’s money had come up plenty of times, but never with him in the room. Jessie guessed that his mum’s house cost over two million, add that on top of a New York City apartment with three bedrooms, at least five or six cars, definitely a house in California--you guessed that he had enough money to buy the entire menu at Annie’s a thousand times over. 

“So what’s the rest of the year look like for you, speaking of,” Jake changed the subject, nervous air leaving your lungs like a popped balloon. 

Harry hummed, his mouth twitching to one side in thought. “Tour in March for a bit, through the summer. Mainly in the writing stage for the next album, whenever that is.”

“So you’ll be in New York until then?”

He shrugged, eyes twitching to you quickly before settling back on the toast on his plate. “Yeah, Los Angeles a bit as well, but, I’ll be around for sure.”

It felt like his comment was more directed at you than at Jake, his words lingering in the air, another sip of his tea. He handed his card over before anyone could protest, a sweet smile to the teenager who’d waited on your table, a posed picture with her while everyone headed for the car park. A murmuring of thanks, you didn’t have to, we could have, we would have. 

“What’s up with him?” Jessie asked quietly, her arm linked in yours as Jake held the door open to the car park. 

Bryn popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed, squinting in the sunlight. “Seems like things are going well.”

“With us?” You asked, zipping up your jacket to shield you from the wind. You shrugged, slipping your hands into your pockets as Harry jogged to catch up. “Nothing--just, being friends.”

“What changed?” Jessie laughed, her words more challenging than you would have liked. 

You would have answered--your mouth parted to tell her that you didn’t really know what changed, even though you could name the exact time on the clock when things clicked into place. The moment in the driveway when he kissed you like he should have two or three or seven years ago entirely. 

But then Harry caught up. 

“Sorry--ready?”

“You came together?” Bryn looked from Harry to you, then over to the black car in the lot. 

“He passes mine to get here,” you said quietly, eyes on the ground. 

Quiet for a second, wind blew and a family spilled out of the restaurant, kids laughing as they raced to the car. 

Jake wrapped his arms around your shoulders, a kiss to your forehead. “See you soon?”

“Springtime, or summer, for sure.”

“Not too long, okay?” Bryn bumped her hip into yours, immediately pulling you into a hug when Jake let go. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed. 

Harry--with sunglasses on--watched as Jessie kissed you on both cheeks. You wondered how it felt to watch the goodbye, Harry like an outsider, despite his previous inside status. They took their turns wrapping their arms around you, moving on to him when they were finished, a noticeable decline in emotion. 

But that wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t help the fact that they missed you more--after all, you’d been around much longer. A mainstay. But he wrapped his arms around them as well, fewer words, promises to not be a stranger. 

You didn’t tell him, but when you climbed in the car to head back to yours--a quick goodbye to  your family before heading for Heathrow--you hoped that he meant it. 

**

Tongue-tied. Maybe by the flowing of the fountain on the wall or the leather couches, separated by partitions. Or maybe by the nervousness in your stomach, the uncertain and shaky footing. 

He scrolled on his phone, his eyebrows twitched as he read. The lounge was silent. 

You cleared your throat. “This is nice.”

“Mmm,” he nodded. “Sorry--reading an email from Jeff.”

“Sorry,” you said quietly, a whisper into the big room. There were other people--a family, business men, maybe 9 others aside from you and Harry. One couch, your carry ons by your feet. 

This would have been the perk of leaving work early before you came. A warm cookie brought to you by a woman in uniform, a silver name tag on her dress informed you of her name, Denise. “Thanks,” you smiled up at her. 

He clicked his phone shut when she approached, smiling at her before he took one, his eyes on you as she walked away. “Sorry--I just, had to read that.”

“S’fine,” you said, suddenly suffocated by the smooth music and beige carpet that matched the beige walls, beige, beige, beige. Sure, it was more relaxing than the crowded terminal with crying babies or fighting for phone chargers, but it felt cold and disconnected. 

Or maybe that was just you.

“What’s up? You seem--weird.”

You rolled your eyes at his word choice, leaning back against the couch. It felt like the night you got Thai food. Unspoken thoughts and feelings floated in the air, only this time, the leather beneath your bum wasn’t ripped and stained from years of sliding in beside a friend.

So how did you tell him that you felt weird? Going from friends to strangers, back to friends and then kissing on the front step of your parents house felt like crossing into an unnamed territory that you didn’t know a thing about. 

He put the last bite of his cookie into his mouth. “Y’okay?”

A nod, though you weren’t sure if it was believable. 

“Smalls,” he laughed a bit, his eyes telling you that it wasn’t. “What’s up?”

You licked your lips, where did you start? Back in New York, here in Holmes Chapel or Heathrow? How did you tell him that all of this felt terrific and terrifying in exactly the same moment?

You were trying to avoid doing the same thing as before: saying too much and thinking too little. So instead of letting the words tumble out of your mouth before passing through any type of filter, you locked them up. Instead, you found a more appropriate way to express concern.

“My co-worker, Carly--y’know, the one who really likes to write about you?

A nod. 

“She uh--she saw your sister’s instagram story last night, I guess. Of us.”

His lips puckered, eyebrows dipped as he realized the gravity of the situation. “Do you--should she delete it? I can ask her to take it down.”

“That’d be good,” you said, an immediate wave of relief washing over when he picked up his phone and composed a message. Sure, texting Gemma and getting the story taken down was a start, but it didn’t undo the damage with Carly--it only assured that no one else would see it. And it didn’t begin to voice the concern about the fact that he kissed you and he was still famous, and just because you’d finally spoken about some of the things that were harbored didn’t mean that either of you were the sixteen-year-olds you used to be. 

“Is she upset?”

“Carly?”

“Yeah.”

“I think,” you sighed. “I didn’t text her back. Figured it’d be best to just handle it in person.”

“Do you think it’ll affect your job?”

“Don’t know,” you shrugged, your eyes glued to the carpet in front of your waiting feet. “If I can get to her before she gets to Whitney and explain it in a way that she feels is adequate, then hopefully not.”

“And if you don’t,” he prompted, leaning forward so his hand grazed the top of your leg. 

You deflected, too afraid to think about that scenario. “I don’t know--I’ll start a podcast, write a blog, share all the secrets of kissing you. People will pay big bucks for that, I think.”

He laughed, his posture relaxed when you looked back up at him. “I just need to talk to her.”

He nodded, a beat of silence passing between you before he asked if that was all. 

You told him you were tired, ready to be home, hoping to not be too jet lagged for work the next morning. You were ushered to your seats before anyone else was on the plane, your carry ons stored above by another uniformed woman. You figured it wasn’t the time to label what had happened or label the steps moving forward. You didn’t even know if he’d want to.

He fell asleep only twenty minutes after take-off, you watched the way his chest rose and fell, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. You wondered how tired he was--how the touring and the performing and the traveling all added up. You felt guilty for some reason, like you’d been dishonest about more than just the nerves in your belly. 

He adjusted in his seat, only partially reclined due to the fact that the sun still shone through the windows of the plane. His eyes didn’t open, but his hips twisted to face you and his hand reached out, resting on your thigh as he let out a sleepy breath. 

This was what Jessie meant. This was what she warned against when she said to be careful. The knot of nerves and the coursing of adrenaline in your veins--red flags for heartbreak much more weighted than last time. 

So when he adjusted again, eyes closed and desperate to find a comfortable upright position, you hoped that Jessie was wrong. Wrong about him, wrong about you, wrong about the way it would feel. 

But what if she wasn’t?

**

Walking in to work the next morning was worse than the first day. The nervous beating of your heart pounded in your ears as the lift climbed, depositing you before The Scoop’s front desk. The big logo was affixed to the wall--and Kayla, the girl with a headset and a clipboard, was seated in her usual seat. She offered a smile when you walked in. 

You didn’t have time, though. Usually you’d ask how she’d been--did she have a nice Christmas? A Happy Hanukkah? You’d pause and make small-talk, a momentary reprieve from the screen you’d stare at for eight hours. 

You blew by her, weaving through desks and cubicles and coworkers catching up, murmurs of Happy New Year followed you all the way up to Carly’s desk. 

She was seated, headphones in and her computer frozen on the startup screen. A picture of her two sisters was thumbtacked to her cube in front of her. 

“Hey,” you said quickly, she turned at the sound of your voice, her eyes scanned over you quickly. 

She laughed. A short, sarcastic, angry laugh danced up from her lips and wrapped around your heart. Fuck. 

“Um, I was hoping we could--maybe--talk?”

She licked her lips, pulling out the earbuds before letting them fall to her lap. Gabrielle walked by, coat and scarf still on, offering a wave to both of you. 

“You couldn’t text me back?”

“Carly,” you sighed. “Can we please get a coffee or something?”

She watched you for a second, silently deciding whether or not she’d show some mercy. After a a momentary stare-down, she stood from her seat and grabbed her coat, following behind you as you made your way for the Starbucks on the corner of East 19th and Park. 

The ride down to the ground floor was quiet, four other people crammed inside to head back into the cold morning. You wrapped your scarf around your neck when Carly pushed the door open, turning to her once you were off of office property. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you back, okay? I wanted to just wait until I could see you and explain.”

“Knock yourself out,” she said, motioning for you to get to it. A man with a briefcase cut her off, eliciting an eye roll from her as you slowed on the sidewalk for her to catch up. 

“I--”

“Know Harry Styles?” She widened her eyes at you, dodging another commuter in a suit. “That’s probably a good place to start.”

You got stuck in a swarm of people trying to cross Park Ave, the orange hand flashed, condemning restless legs to their street corners for a thirty second pause of the intersection mad dash. “We grew up together,” you said after a sigh. “I’ve known him since I was, like, ten.”

“And you just didn’t think that was worth mentioning?” She crossed her arms, eyes scanning your face as people shoved by you to get closer to the cross walk. Her cheeks were cold from the morning air--her lips in a thin line. 

“I didn’t know what it would do to my job or to us and--” you lifted your palms towards the sky, “then it was too late and I knew this would happen.”

The light turned red--the orange hand was traded for a flashing human figure--Carly headed into the intersection with hundreds of people sandwiched around, her blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail that swayed in the hustle. 

“This happened because I literally saw a picture of you in his house,” she offered a sarcastic smirk, the hope in your gut sinking below street level. “I mean, what the fuck, Y/N--you literally lied to me for nine months and you just expect to talk your way out of it?”

“No,” you said, trailing behind her when she stepped back up to the sidewalk. “I know you’re mad and I know it was shitty and I can’t take that back. But if you’re going to tell Whitney and get me fired I would rather just tell her myself and resign or something--I don’t want it to be a big scene.”

She grabbed at the door--a gust of wind pulled you inside, suddenly safe behind the glass. A scent of caramel and morning rush seemed to lace the air, Carly unzipped her coat and let out a huff. “Well--I mean, I thought about, I’m not going to lie.”

“I know--I would too.”

Even for five past nine, the line was long and the atmosphere relaxed. “You’re really not going to defend yourself?”

You watched her for a second. You’d thought about all of the excuses on the subway. 

It never came up. False. 

It slipped your mind. False. 

You didn’t think it mattered. False. 

“I--,” you paused, stepping up in line when the people in front of you shifted. “I wouldn’t know where to start. I fucked up.”

She made a face at that--one that read no shit--another sarcastic laugh as she reached for her phone to check a message. “I can’t decide if I’m too mad to ask for more details.”

You looked over at her, pulling your eyes from the menu. You’d hoped she’d show some interest--if anything, that meant there was hope. 

You offered her a hesitant smile, another step up in line. “I mean, I’m happy to tell you about him.”

She didn’t have the chance to ask--the barista behind the till asked for her order and then pushed her aside. You spit out the same order as always. Vanilla latte--extra hot. 

“So--you’re seriously just friends with Harry Styles?”

“Don’t say it so loud,” you said quickly, looking around when his name spilled into the room.

You couldn’t tell what she was asking. You’re seriously just friends with Harry Styles? Or you’re seriously just friends with Harry Styles?

Was she asking if you were more than that? Or was she asking if you were casually acquainted with the love of her life as if he weren’t a wildly successful musician?

You went with the latter. 

“Yeah--I mean, he’s a good guy. Grew up down the street.”

“So when you said you grew up ‘in the country’ you literally meant Holmes Chapel?”

A shrug. “I think I left that part out because I figured you’d put it together.”

“Yeah, I mean--same age as him, same town--I’m not that stupid.”

A pause. The woman standing in front of you fetched her drink from the counter and squeezed by to get out the door. You wondered where Harry was and what he was doing--you hadn’t spoken since you slid into the backseat of Roger’s Suburban somewhere in Long Island last night.

“So you’ve kept in touch and you’re like, close enough to hang out with his family?”

You bit at your lip, wondering how to explain the timeline of your relationship. You were aware that Carly seemed momentarily distracted from the rage you’d seen in her eyes this morning, you took the break in tension as another good sign. 

She watched as you chose your words carefully. “We were friends growing up--basically until he left for the show and then things kind of shifted. Just didn’t see him as much.”

True. That was all true. Sure, maybe you left out the fact that somewhere in there was a teenaged crush gone bad, but it felt good to not be hiding as much from her. 

“He must have been so busy,” she tilted her head to the side, seemingly enchanted by his hard work and grueling schedule. 

“Yeah, something like that,” you nodded. “So we’d see him here and there throughout his time in the band, but, we really actually only reconnected recently.”

“Well he’s here, right?”

“In New York?” 

She nodded, you realized it was naive to think that his fans didn’t know his location and near every move. “Yeah,” you said. “He’s here.”

A green aproned teenager called out Carly’s name, offered a smile as she stepped up to receive her drink. You didn’t know if it would help or hurt to confess about the Spotify concert--maybe it would reinforce the fact that you hadn’t seen Harry in a long time, so it’s not like you’d been actively hanging out with him the entire nine months you’d known your easily excited coworker. 

When she fell back into place next to you as you waited for your latte, you cracked. “Remember, uh, that Spotify concert thing you’d mentioned? That was actually the first time I’d seen him in two years.”

“What?!” She said, a smile creeping over her cheeks. “You were there?”

“Yeah,” you tried not to blush. “It was low key--I just, I guess I probably should have told you then but I just assumed he’d fade back into oblivion like always,” a dismissive blink when your brows lifted. 

“That shitty at keeping in touch, huh?”

You offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I was a shitty person and lied--or, neglected to tell the truth, I guess. Honestly,” you paused, taking a breath and hoping the words would come. “I was worried that if people knew I knew him, they’d read my stories because of that--or they’d think he got me a job or think that my success was because of him.”

Something in her softened--probably because if she didn’t work at The Scoop, she’d be one of those people to only read your stories because maybe--just maybe--you’d mention that one time, Harry Styles braided your hair in Year 8. 

She let out a sigh and let her ear fall to her shoulder, a sip of her coffee. “You’re a fucking bitch, honestly,” she laughed. “Can’t believe you’ve kept me from meeting him all this time.”

Oh. You parted your lips to speak, but your name was called and a latte was placed on the counter. Did you let Carly meet him? Did you let him meet Carly? That felt like the colliding of two worlds that weren’t even in the same solar system. 

When you turned on your feet, latte in hand, Carly was already by the door, looking over her shoulder as you wove through commuters, patiently awaiting their caffeine. Once you stepped back into the brisk air, Carly spoke. 

“I mean, meeting him would be helpful in terms of getting over it. You know, how you lied and all that,” she offered a playful smile, her words more threatening than the eager smile on her face. 

How could you deny that? How could you say no when she had the power to tell your boss or someone else and single-handedly ruin your career?

“Carly,” you said, coming to a stop on the sidewalk when the traffic light turned green. 

She turned to look at you, hesitance on her face when she saw how serious you were. 

“Will you promise to not say anything?”

She smiled. “Can I meet him for dinner?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but you have to, like, not freak out. My roommate won’t handle that well.”

**

Alyssa had her nose in a book after you’d finished the dishes. She was cross-legged on the couch, her eyes glued to the page when you came in from your bedroom.

“How’s your boyfriend?”

“Wouldn’t know,” you said. “Also not my boyfriend.”

“What do you mean wouldn’t know?” She turned to look at you and shut the book on her lap. “I thought everything was perfect and a fairytale and you were riding off into the sunset?”

You let out a short laugh and fell into the couch. “Never said any of that, but--dunno, I haven’t heard from him in four days.”

“Four days?”

You nodded, pulling your legs up to mimic her position. The Christmas tree still stood in the corner--the lights had been unplugged and the few ornaments you’d managed to throw up had been put back in a box--the slow unraveling of a past holiday.

“Have you called him?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

She tucked her legs underneath her, a newfound excitement in her eyes. “Uh--I don’t know--you kissed me the other day so I’m just wondering where we stand and if we’re gonna have sex or not?”

“Not really my biggest concern,” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face, slightly embarrassed by her forward thinking. 

“Oh please,” she threw the book onto the coffee table--it landed beside a magazine and slid on the smooth surface. “I’m sure he’d wondering the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just want to know where we stand.”

“You mean, the label?”

“No--I dunno, he just--he said all those things and then kissed me and I thought that was good but then why hasn’t he called me or texted me or anything?”

Alyssa hummed, she pulled at a pillow and held it on her lap, fingers tugging at the tag on the corner. “M’sure he’s just busy, or working or something.”

You let out a breath, tracing over the words he’d said on the plane. 

A few meetings, he’d said. Planning out new tour details. 

That didn’t give you much information, but nothing sounded like it was such an undertaking that texting was out of question. 

“What did he say?” She asked, a knowing look on her face told you she knew exactly where you’d trailed off to in thought. 

“Nothing so outrageous he couldn’t text me to say hi,” you shrugged. “I just--I told Carly she could meet him and she asked me today when it was going to be and I had to lie--again--and say that he was too busy right now. But I don’t fucking know that--he could be planning on never speaking to me because I’m a rubbish kisser or had bad breath or something,” you let your face fall into your hands, turning up the theatrics despite the fact that they were all a possibility. 

“Oh my god just call him,” Alyssa threw her hands to the popcorn ceiling. “Just text him and ask what the fuck he’s been up to and tell him you like him.”

“No,” you looked up quickly, shocked by her words. “Are you kidding? The last time I did that it literally backfired so hard.”

She stood from the couch and rolled her eyes at you. “I’m taking a shower. By the time I get out, I hope you realize how dumb you’re being.”

You sighed, watching as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving you alone with your anxiety in the living room. Calling Harry felt like it wasn’t an option. So instead, you hoped that Jake was still awake and willing to pick up on FaceTime.

He squinted into the camera after a few rings--it was dark in his bedroom but he didn’t seem angry.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah--just scrolling on instagram before bed, y’know, typical bedtime routine.”

You let out a laugh, moving forward to sprawl out on the couch. “Can I tell you something?”

“Oh god--is this more Harry drama?”

“Okay--not drama, so fuck off,” you said, watching through the screen as he readjusted. He seemed to sit up, pushing his glasses over his nose before blinking a few times. 

“What’s up, Smalls?”

“He kissed me.”

“He kissed you?”

“Yeah,” you said. “The night before we went to brunch.”

“What?!”

“I already told you the exciting part,” you said, laughing at his reaction. 

His eyes were wide and his attitude was exaggerated. “Wanna start from the beginning, though? I mean--that would be helpful!”

“I went to his mum’s house--we just hung out and had wine and played Candyland. And then he walked me home--”

“You walked?”

“We like walking,” you shrugged, not letting him derail the story. “So he said something about how I’ve been acting so weird, which, like, of course I have. I threw up in front of him after blurting out that I had feelings.”

“That is still hilarious,” he stifled a laugh.

“Anyway,” you waved him off, your voice stern and unimpressed. “He said that he fucked up that night because he didn’t kiss me back and he said he had feelings for me too but when I kissed him that night he was drunk and didn’t want it to happen like that.”

You let out a breath, the adrenaline of reliving it coursing through you. “Why are you not excited?” You asked.

“Smalls--I knew he liked you.”

“What?”

“I mean--I dunno, he’d just always said stuff that kind of hinted at it.”

“You--what do you mean?”

Jake shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Relax, will you? He never outright said it or confessed it, or whatever. He just always would ask about you and seemed to be more interested in hearing about you than anyone else.”

“Oh right--you mean all those fucking times you talked to him without my knowledge?”

“It wasn’t much, honestly.” He looked around the room and narrowed his eyes. “Saw him that one time the Christmas the year after, y’know, you barfed. Texted a bit but nothing much.”

Another sigh from you, pushing a throw pillow under your arms to prop yourself up. “Well--that night was terrible so forgive me for keeping my distance.”

He laughed, “yeah. Jessie really overdid it a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Wait--does she know you and Harry finally kissed?”

“No--and you can’t tell her, Jake. She’s been obnoxious about it the whole time.”

“Oh.”

“What do you mean she overdid it?” You went back to the original topic, heartbeat picking up, mouth getting dry as you sat up and stared into the phone. “What are you fucking talkaing about?” You asked again, more urgency in your voice. 

“Alright, relax. I just--she knew you were in the bathroom that night.”

“What?”

He sighed. “She saw you guys go in together and came to tell us, and I guess, I dunno, she walked by and realized you were stuck in there and she said we should leave it.”

“Leave it?!” You nearly screamed the words at hi, your face red and hot as you stood up. “Leave me trapped in the bathroom with Harry so drunk that I told him I liked him and then threw up to prove it? Oh she’s fucking dead.” 

“Y/N, wait, hold on,” Jake seemed more nervous now, too, like he’d spilled a secret and was now trying to scoop it back up. “She was trying to help, she thought it would be good for you to finally have to see him and talk to him. I think she was just hoping you’d hook up, to be honest! She wanted it to be good!”

“Well it wasn’t,” you reminded. “It was fucking miserable and caused two years of shit.”

“But it’s fine now, Smalls. It’s all good--he kissed you, he said he liked you!”

“Well that doesn’t undo it. Did you all know about this?”

“Yeah--I mean, that’s why Bryn eventually let you out.”

“Oh my fucking god. I can’t believe her.”

It didn’t make sense. Jessie had always been the one to tell you to not bother. You’ll get hurt, she’d say. It won’t end well. 

“So what, she thought it was funny?”

“I dunno,” Jake said, his voice quiet. “I think she hoped you’d make out and get it out of your system or something.”

You let out a groan, standing in the center of the living room. “Well--what sucks is that I can’t even bring it up to her yet because the last thing I want to do is tell her that we kissed and have her be all fucking annoying about it.”

Jake nodded, his smile fading from his face. “Sorry--I just, she wasn’t trying to be a dick. She loves you.”

“I know,” you said, a roll of your eyes to tell him that you didn’t care. 

“The good news is that he finally kissed you. We’ve all been waiting long enough for that to happen.”

You let a huff of air pass through your nose. “Yeah, well, haven’t heard from him in days.”

“Where is he?”

“I dunno--here, somewhere. On this brilliantly small and yet enormous island.”

“Why can’t you call him?”

“Because I’m--” a sigh. “I don’t want to be annoying or something. I don’t know if he wants to talk. Maybe he regrets kissing me.”

“Oh, Jesus, Smalls, don’t do that. Don’t get in your head and fuck it up.”

“M’not!” You argued, walking back to the couch to sit. You tugged at the pillow you’d previously had. A stain from the time Alyssa got too drunk and spilled wine. “Listen,” you said. “I should go.”

He sighed at that, bidding you goodnight before you exited out of the call. When Alyssa got out of the shower, she noticed the crazed look in your eyes.

“Y’alright? You look a bit neurotic.” Her towel was tied around her chest, wet brown hair framed her face as she padded across the living room and into her bedroom. 

“M’gonna go over to his apartment.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at you. “Bold, sexy, I like it.”

“I just want to talk to him and figure out what we do from here. If he doesn’t think it should go anywhere, fine. But I need to know that.”

“You probably won’t sleep until you do,” Alyssa laughed, pulling a t-shirt over her head quickly. When she turned around, she smiled. “Do you. I won’t wait up.”

So you were out the door, pulling a coat over your shoulders as you called an Uber. Heartbeat in your chest when you pulled up his number in your phone, only two blocks away.

You pressed it quickly, hoping less time to think would equal less anxiety. It didn’t. He picked up on the third ring. 

“Smalls?”

You pulled your head back--thanking the driver with a wave as you climbed out of the car. “Hi--I’m outside your apartment.”

“What?”

“I’m outside,” you said again, voice quieter this time as people passed by the big glass doors. It wasn’t as quiet as it usually was when you were stood eight stories below his flat--people were still out to eat or seeing friends, not asleep in their beds like they tended to be 1am. 

“Oh, I can--I’ll call the front desk to let you in.” 

“Okay,” you hung up, stuffing the phone back into your pocket. 

Twenty-three seconds before someone at desk came to open the door, a polite nod as you headed for the lift. You pressed the button Harry had hit last time, eliciting a ringing sound from the elevator, as if it was making a phone call. 

You stayed like that, the door open and exposing you to the marble of the foyer before another beep--like the tone of a number on a landline. Three beeps. The doors closed, the lift rose, Harry was leaning on the back of the couch when they slid back open. 

He was in a sweatshirt and joggers. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you said, words suddenly gone from your brain. Your jacket was still zipped up to your chin, a puffy protector from the wind outside.  You struggled to reach for the metal of the zipper, pulling it away from your face. “Sorry, I hope you’re not busy.”

He let out a small laugh. “S’okay--are you, is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you stepped into the flat, he came to take the jacket when you slipped your arms out of it. “I was, uh--I hadn’t heard from you. I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“Oh,” he said, hanging the jacket on a hook behind you. “Yeah--sorry I didn’t call, I was busier than I expected just figuring a few things out.”

“For tour?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning on socked feet to head towards the granite island. “Wine?”

“Sure.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached down below the island and produced a bottle of red. 

“Yeah--I just, was worried, I guess. If you don’t want to hang out, you can say that, y’know.”

He set the wine on the counter, his eyes lifting to find yours when the words left you lips. He abandoned the bottle on the counter, stepping around it to come closer to you. “No, Y/N, I just--I got busy with things and I totally should have called to tell to you that.”

You nodded--it would have been nice. A few steps closer. “I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said. “I was thinking about it but I didn’t know if you needed space or not. Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” you said. “So the solution was showing up at yours unannounced, I guess.”

He laughed, one more step before his front  was flush against yours, arms draped over  your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. Your lips pulled into a smile--one that matched his. “I waited, like, seven years to kiss you. One time isn’t going to be enough.”

His lips felt like honey, his hands were warm and soft. It was short, when he pulled away, he smirked over his shoulder. “S’pinot noir.”

“My favorite,” you cooed, walking to sit at the island. “Guess what I found out tonight.”

“What?” He asked, his hand around the neck of the bottle as he twisted the screw in.

“That Jessica Alby is a piece of shit friend.”

He could sense the joking in your voice, but a look of confusion still washed over his face. “She fucking knew we were locked in the bathroom.”

“At Kenny Tilley’s?” He pulled the cork out. 

“Yeah--and she fucking left us in there hoping we’d hook up.”

He let out a quick laugh, careful not to spill on the counter. “Not exactly what happened.”

“Not even close. I’m pissed at her, really.”

He passed you a glass. “How’d you find this out?”

“Jacob.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “He knows a lot.”

You sipped at the wine. “But I can’t tell Jessie that I know yet because she still doesn’t know about us.”

You  wished you could take the words back as soon as they came out. You looked up at him, hesitation on your face. “I mean, just that we kissed.”

“When do you want to tell them?”

“I told Jake tonight, but I don’t know if I want to tell the rest of them.”

He stuck his head forward, a sip of his wine. “You don’t?”

“Jessie would be a tough sell, I guess.”

“How so?”

You sighed. You weren’t about to explain it all to him, at least, not right now. She thinks I’ll get my heart broken because I’ve been in love with you for years.

You settled for something else. “She’s just Jessie, she has a lot of opinions.”

“That’s definitely true.”

“So, we just won’t tell them, yeah?”

“Never?”

His question implied this wasn’t a short phase. You shrugged, hoping the heat wouldn’t rise to your cheeks. “Not yet.”

He nodded, walking around the corner to come stand beside you. “Missed you, y’know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Guess it’s my own fault though.”

“It is,” you nodded. “You know what they say. He who does not call...misses the other person.”

“Is that what they say?” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed as a curl fell down over his forehead. 

“Mhm, they do.”

“Hmm,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips again. “They were right.”

read the other parts here

AN: ahhhhh you guys there is so much more to come for these two, because let’s face it, the work drama is NOT over. And JESSIE. What a little sneak. Buckle the heck up because things are gonna get messy!!!! Also dropped a hint in here of what is to come but it’s seriously so subtle hahahah

tag list:  @clorenafila​ @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry  @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon​ @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole  @shawnsblue​  @gendryia​ @g0bl1nqueen​  @laula843​  @flooome​  a-woman-without-a-plan @awomanindeniall​  @shaw-nm​ @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind​ @anssu-amry​ @my-fandomful-life​ @stylesfantasy​ @bookingbee​  @mleestiles​  @haute-romance-quotidienne​  @craic-head-horan​ @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry​ @at-least-im-1​ @paigemck00​ @rawmeharry​ @pinkpolaroidgirl​

#harry styles fanfic #tytl #two years too late #harry styles story #1dff #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurbs

[we-are-fam-ily]

Two Lies and a Truth

Wordcount: 1,600+

Tags: Roceit, Intruality, Secret Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Allusions to Sex, SFW

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386231

Deceit pressed Roman up against the nearest wall in the empty mindscape hallway and then hungrily captured Roman’s lips in a possessive kiss.

Roman responded enthusiastically, willingly opening his mouth when Deceit’s forked tongue sought entry against his lips. In the middle of their heated kiss, Deceit slotted his thigh in between Roman’s, drawing a moan from the other Side.

Deciding he liked that noise, Deceit disconnected their lips and pulled Roman’s collar out of the way just enough to start sucking and nibbling at Roman’s neck.

He was rewarded with another delicious moan, and Roman shifting his hips in a desperate attempt to get some friction. Deceit smirked and mouthed at a spot right behind Roman’s ear that caused the other to whine, a high pitched, needy noise.

“I- ah! I want to- mn… Tell the others.”

Deceit pulled back immediately, drawing another whine from Roman.

“Yes, we can absolutely tell the others.”

Roman’s eyes opened and he stared at Deceit.

“Why not? We’re in love, why would they be unhappy for us?”

“We’re not just having sex, Roman.”

That was a lie. Deceit was madly in love with Roman. But, Roman didn’t know that. Roman had just confessed one day and Deceit had kissed him without saying anything.

Their sexual relationship had blossomed from there. Roman kept trying to take Deceit on dates, but he’d made up excuse after excuse, going so far as to insist they keep their trysts secret from all the other sides.

“Is- is that all you think this is?” Roman was looking at him with so much hurt in his eyes that Deceit almost told the truth.

“Obviously”

Roman frowned and turned away. “I guess I was wrong about you. I thought you had more in you than villainy. If you don’t have a good reason why we shouldn’t tell the others, we should call this off.”

“Patton wouldn’t like a Dark Side dating a Light Side.”

That entire sentence was a lie. Deceit didn’t know what Patton would think.

“That’s… Not good enough for me. I guess you really were just in it for the sex. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret. We’re through.”

Deceit didn’t say anything, and Roman began to walk away. His posture was so defeated that Deceit almost reached out, but… What good would that do? He’d just ruined the best thing he’d ever had.

Feeling tears begin to fall down his cheeks, he snapped them away with a lie.

He was fine.

He didn’t notice the green door at the end of the hall click shut.

~~

“Patty! Pit-a-Patton! I need your help!”

Look. Remus didn’t care that Deceit and his brother were fucking. It was none of his beeswax. He did, however, care that they broke up. Loudly. In front of his salad.

Also Roman and Deedee were crying and nobody made them cry but him, not even each other.

So! He had a plan! Deedee was afraid that Patton wouldn’t like their relationship, so he just had to get Patton to pretend to be fucking him and then Roro and Deedee would get back together and be happy! Boom. Awesome plan.

Plus the bonus of flirting with Patton. Talk about daddy.

“Sure, kiddo! What’s up?”

“We need to pretend like we’re fucking.”

Patton’s pretty little mouth dropped open, and he also dropped his half-eaten cookie. Remus caught it before it hit the floor and offered it back to the other Side.

“See, Roro and Deedee are fucking, well, they were, but Deedee thought you wouldn’t like it so I thought if they thought we were together they would get back together and be happy!”

Patton blinked, but didn’t say anything. Remus blinked back. Slowly! Like a cat! And then he remembered.

“Right! Magic words! Please, daddy?”

The other Side gulped, took his cookie back with a trembling hand, and nodded once.

Boom! Remus had the best ideas.

He heard another Side come into the kitchen and grinned. Showtime. He leaned down and pecked the unresponsive Patton on the lips.

“Thanks, daddy!”

“S-sure thing, kiddo.”

Remus winked at Virgil, who was staring at the two of them, walked past Patton just far enough to give a little patpat to his butt, and then sunk out.

He was never washing that hand again. Patton’s butt was a thing of fantasy.

~~

Patton cornered him the next day.

“So. How- how do we do this?”

Remus heard footsteps again, coming closer to the two of them.

“Easy! We just get close,” he backed Patton into the wall, bracing an arm over the other Side’s head. “And stay there.”

Patton made an aborted squeaking noise as Remus leaned down to kiss him. He noticed that Patton tasted like hot cocoa and cookies.

“Patton? Remus?”

Remus pulled away and licked his lips, noting the dark blush on Patton’s face, before turning to Logan.

And Roman. Ha!

“What are you doing?”

“Fucking! Right, daddy?”

“Language,” Patton squawked.

But he didn’t deny it. In fact, a tentative hand came up and clutched at Remus’ sash.

Logan looked out of sorts, and Roman-

Roman looked furious.

Oops.

“Is this some sort of joke, Remus?”

He shook his head, hoping that Patton wouldn’t say anything.

“Hey!”

Crap.

Patton weaseled his way out in front of Remus, hands on his hips.

“Don’t be mean to Remus! We’re not doing anything wrong!”

Oh. Nice. Great work, daddy.

Patton spun and pulled Remus down into a quick, but bruising, kiss.

“My room later, okay baby?”

Holy fucking shit.

“You got it, daddy!” Did Remus sound as breathless as he felt? Probably.

Patton winked, grabbed his butt, and then walked away, swinging his hips a little. Talk about daddy.

“I suddenly know more about Patton than I needed to know.”

“And he’s all mine.” Remus was in love. Patton was sneaky as hell.

~~

Deceit and Remus were in the middle of a game of Cheater’s Chess when Patton came upon them.

“Ha! Pay up, Deedee! My forces just hired Cthulhu!”

“Remus.”

Deceit watched in fascination as Remus flinched and looked up at Patton.

“Yeeeees, daddy?”

What the fuck.

“I told you to meet me in my room, baby. Are you disobeying daddy?”

“No sir!” Remus shot out of his seat and bolted in the direction of Patton’s room.

“What the fuck.”

“We have a date. Have a good night, Deceit!” Patton turned and followed Remus at a more sedate pace, whistling.

Well. Maybe Deceit could repair the thing with Roman… Maybe he could even be honest about his feelings for once.

He had mainly been worried about how the others would react to their relationship, but if Patton and Remus were a thing, maybe…

Maybe it would be okay.

It would not. Roman wouldn’t even look at him, much less talk to him.

Unbeknownst to Deceit, Patton and Remus studied their every interaction.

~~

“New plan! We gotta set them up on a mushy date!”

“Hmm…” Patton seemed reluctant. Time to pull out the big guns.

“Please, daddy?”

Patton laughed and capitulated.

Remus was in charge of setting up the imagination. So, maybe his trees were a little ominous and the butterflies had skulls on the backs of their wings, but he got a kiss or two out of it anyways.

The other Side was in charge of the picnic, as well as getting Roman to the assigned spot.

Remus had to get Deceit.

~~

“Come on, Deedee! We’re close!”

Deceit climbed the hill behind Remus, grumbling under his breath. He had wanted to spend the day trying to woo Roman back, maybe even take him out on a proper date, but now he was stuck with the wrong half of Creativity.

“Hey look! It’s Roman and daddy!”

Or maybe not. Deceit watched as Remus sprinted down the hill and swept Patton into a kiss, after which they sunk out together, leaving Roman and Deceit staring at each other.

“It seems we weren’t set up.”

Roman looked like he was about to sink out himself, but Deceit rushed down and grabbed his arm.

“Look, there’s not a picnic blanket. Can we… Can we have that date, now?”

“Why? You made your feelings very clear.”

“I- I’m sorry, Roman. I lied to you because I was scared. I’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.”

Roman didn’t look at him for a long while, and Deceit started resigning himself to a broken heart.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I shouldn’t, but I love you and I want to make this work. So we can try this again. But!”

Uh-oh.

“Do not lie to me again, and we aren’t having sex until we’ve figured this thing out properly.”

Oh, that wasn’t bad. Deceit nodded so quickly he felt like a bobble-head doll, and led Roman over to where the little picnic was set up.

“Do those butterflies have skulls on them?”

Roman laughed.

~~

Boom! Plan worked. Remus grinned at Patton as they watched the two others reconcile. Patton smiled sadly back at him and then sunk out completely.

Frowning, Remus followed, only to find Patton beginning the preparations of stress-baking.

“Something wrong, Pattycake?”

Patton flinched. “No, Remus. Nothing at all.”

“There is! You’re acting weird. Tell me!”

Patton didn’t respond, only kept pulling out ingredients. Fine. One last time. Hopefully it would work even after their ruse paid off.

“Please tell me, daddy?”

The other side growled and pulled Remus down, almost into a kiss.

“I’m in love with you, baby, and it’s going to kill me if you keep calling me that as a joke.” His words were feather-light and oh so tempting against Remus’ lips.

Remus blinked. It had never been a joke to him. He leaned down the short distance it took to connect their lips gently.

After a long while, Patton pulled away first. Remus winked at him salaciously.

“There’s more where that came from, daddy.”

Patton kissed him again.

#roceit #intruality #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts roman #ts deceit #ts logan #ts remus #ts patton #ts virgil

[content-to-convert]

VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR...

VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR it just made him dress nicer 

By Pat Mellon 

Speaking of your brand evolving, PODCASTS are now a wise bullet to have in the arsenal of promotional weapons. In the early 2000's, for instance, you didn't have the option to record and distribute a PODCAST. The technology didn't exist to even IDENTIFY, much less create one- if you typed PODCAST into an email in 2002, it would have been flagged as a misspelling. 

But now, thanks to Audioblogging, re-branded as PODCASTING thanks to the iPOD, you can reach a targeted captive audience in a car on a long commute, with content that they've actually sought out. It's essentially a radio infomercial for the lifestyle of your product, without the PAID-PROGRAMMING aftertaste. Plenty of people have been slow to warm to the idea of such self-promotion and have waited to see if the technology and its effectiveness sustained or if it waned, the way QR codes did, or video discs did until the invention of the DVD. It can be an amazingly powerful part of your brand. 

Many rejected podcasting, as I did initially, as a waste of energy. In fairness, early on when there were no networks for podcasting and its business model was less focused than now, it smacked of self-congratulatory volunteer work. I saw it as an infringement on my profession. I have 15 years of radio hosting experience. I saw podcasts as competition. In my short-sighted view then, I didn't see the full potential of a podcast. I just saw it as people wanting my job. But as time went on, I began to see the ways, at least in terms of in-car entertainment, that podcasting was the future. And like the cryptic fortune cookie says, "Kill Your Darlings". Or maybe go with the less-confusing, "Reinvent Your Business Constantly. The End Goal May Be The Same But The Tools and Methods Evolve Constantly" which is a Ken Tucker quote I saw on a Snapple Cap. Or even the more direct, "You Have To Reinvent To Stay Fresh and In The Game" which Madonna said once. 

But early on, I saw it as the enemy - the way news journalists must have felt when FREELANCERS started getting a lot of the work in the late 90's. I thought, "If all you need to broadcast is a computer and an opinion, why the hell did I major in Broadcasting? It's like everyone becoming a Youtuber or a Social Media Influencer (seriously, that is NOT a good name. It's just saying what you're doing. It lacks creativity, like naming the glass thing you drink out of a "glass". Or the room with the bed a "bedroom". Or the thing you swing on a "swing". Or the... Sorry-I'll move on.) Anybody can become a Social Media Influencer these days, (and if they're under 14 and haven't been trying for half their lives then you might want to make sure they're breathing) and that means fame, sometimes money, but more important: LIKES. I overheard my 8 year-old playing with her friends and they were pretending there was a genie or something granting wishes and one girl asked for a pony, and another asked for a house of chocolate, and my daughter asked for a million LIKES on her video. LIKES are currency for pre-teen popularity. And LIKES or even merely PAGE VIEWS can be currency in the grown-up world of business. My point is that anyone with a computer and a camera can make money on Youtube if they hustle. It's simply the new normal. It's great, if not dangerous. We've yet to see the fallout of a generation raised on Youtubing, unless, of course, you count cautionary tales like Logan Paul or Jo Jo Siwa, both of whom are rich. It's simply another entertainment option for kids. I kinda thought podcasting was that, but for adults who only wanted quasi-fame; to show-off. But it's bigger than that.

If you're a plumber, for instance, and you want to maximize business, you probably want a decent social media footprint, some solid YELP reviews, and maybe even a podcast. Toilet clogged? Click here for an interview with master plumbers from all over. It's not the ONLY thing you should do. It's ONE of the things you should do.

On the consumer side, you have to realize that traffic, especially the bumper-to-bumper kind, is GOLD to a radio talk show host. People listen the most in their cars, so DJ's in New York and Los Angeles, the #1 and #2 radio markets depending on who you ask*, for instance, who entertain on the radio, are always on their toes to stay funny and relevant because it's so easy to push a button and change the station.

Then suddenly there was a new game in town. People were bypassing the radio altogether and plugging external sources into car sound systems, removing the commercials and unwanted Morning Zoo shenanigans, and rendering my entire college education and training void. My only hope was wishing death to the podcast movement, which I think I did a couple of times on the radio accompanied by a sound effect of a toilet flushing (Take THAT, Podcasting!). It didn't work. I kept hearing the word. Podcast. (eerie voice) PODD CAAAST! My head was in the sand. People would say to me, "you should do a podcast" and I'd cringe and wildly swing fists at imaginary ghosts who were accusing me of "Resting on your laurels" and "Holding on too tight.”

It took a while, but I get the appeal and, more importantly, the power of the Podcast. It's like a book-on-tape for the 21st century- 10 times as cool, though, because it's technologically relevant, and can be different every time you listen. So we agree that podcasts are real. And we acknowledge that there is room for many things on the dashboard of a car, be them outlets, or additional buttons. And we agree that the the way we do business is always changing and we have to adapt to some degree. So why all the hub bub? Because we can't have an intelligent conversation about the delicate existence of Podcasts without talking about Shane Gillis, the comedian who was hired and fired by Saturday Night Live in the same week last year. We need to understand the power of what it was that torpedoed his streetcar (tune into Mixed Metaphors with Pat Mellon Tuesdays on The Podd Couple, right after Poddamnit at 8, and Pod of Thunder with Gene Simmons at 8:17) He and a buddy do this show, this podcast, it's like a radio show but you don't listen to it on your grandpa's Victrola, you tether your MP3 player to the radio inside grandpa's Camry, and there's bad language, which there never is on traditional, boring old dumb talk radio, so right away, it's awesome (honestly, the only difference between Howard Stern on radio and Howard Stern on satellite is the F word) and the internet allows curses and take that, Mr. Suit and Tie, and this is going to be amazing. And on one particular show from 2018, Gillis said "chink" when describing someone in Chinatown. Not a huge scandal, but I guess you'd have to ask Roseanne Barr if the internet can get you into to any kind of trouble. She was exiled from the the entire US for a social media post that mentioned race and monkeys. And the same new normal that allows John Q. Anybody to do a podcast ALSO watches everything you do online and will sink you if it sees something it does not like. America can be confusing that way. Freedom of speech and freedom of complaining about freedom of speech are always at each other's throats, it seems. And you can't have it both ways. The guy who alerted the world to Bill Cosby's dating rituals online is loved by many but is also shunned by others, but that guy knows what he did and he knows not to complain about the ones who, well, complain. It's the price you pay.

The point is, you need to constantly be hustling and using all of technology’s modern tools to get your product out (they’re not burning DVD’s anymore) and maybe one of those avenues is a podcast with salty language, and maybe that podcast exists among your body of work that clients can enjoy whenever they want.

But we live in a new age of retroactive outrage. Eddie Murphy was on SNL and is arguably the most talented person the show has produced. He did a stand-up special in which he explores “What if Mr. T were a Faggot?” It was inflammatory and it was insensitive and it was homophobic (though that buzzword was still a decade from conception) because the premise of the joke- the attribution of homosexual behavior to a big, strong, black man being marginalized as solely predatory sodomy - crossed the line. When I spell it out like that it looks horrible. But it’s a simple comedic device: assigning unlikely behavior to someone for comedic purposes. It’s the fish-out-of-water gag. It’s why we had Mork, and Alf, and Balkie from Perfect Strangers. It’s Freaky Friday. It’s why The Rock playing a babysitter or a tooth fairy is funny. Murphy did this AFTER he was on SNL. But if has been released before he auditioned, do you think he’d have been hired? 

  Of course he would have. Because the Mr. T thing was a small part of that special (though, I recall, an extremely quotable part) and the people who didn’t like or appreciate the language didn’t have the bionic megaphone of the internet so they could get their outrage all over your conscience. The point is that your podcast is a reflection of your brand. You have to weigh your desire to speak freely and loosely with your desire to keep the Cancel Culture at bay. At a MINIMUM, though, you should keep things clean for your clients, listeners, and most importantly, your potential customers. Shane Gillis missed out of being on SNL and fame, instead on infamy because he broke one of society's biggest rules:he said something controversial out loud. Granted, it was in bad taste, but if that were a crime half of us would be in jail. It's just important to remember that your language on a work-based podcast should be professional, which I realize cannot be defined easily, but maybe stay away from slang and cursing. Just because you CAN doesn't mean you SHOULD.

#podcast comedy hilarious