#i see her having like ten sweaters of this type in her closet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fredheads · 1 year

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Fredsythe + 1 or 8 for the fic prompts 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

of course i chose sweater weather look at my icon...

Fall comes in fast that year, cool rainy weather sweeping in to replace the September sun before the high school’s been back in session for a month. There’s a definite chill in the air when they walk home, the whisper of more rain always on the horizon.

FP’s never been the type to dress for the weather - he wears his leather jacket or letterman all freezing winter and well into the summer heat, shivering in sneakers and bare ears when it snows and sweating in the sun. He’s been known to wear sleeveless shirts in late, chilly fall, or cover his bruises with long sleeves when it’s ninety degrees in the shade. He has no rainjacket or any kind of snow gear to ease the changing of the seasons; indeed he has very few clothes at all, which explains most of the disparity. It’s not hard to be dressed poorly when your whole wardrobe for all four seasons fits in a duffel bag.

Tonight, though, he’s warm in an old, stretched-out man’s sweater from Goodwill that’s two or three sizes too big for him. He has three of these in his closet, all secondhand and thin from overuse. FP’s never owned anything that wasn’t worn and mended, but he cherishes these specifically for their derelict appearance. Gladys teases him frequently that he’s trying to look more like Kurt Cobain. Maybe there’s a grain of truth in that, but there’s another association that’s more precious to him:

They remind him of his mom.

Linda used to dress in sweaters just like these when FP was growing up. He remembers how the sleeves were always too long for her, how she would let him fidget with the worn collars when she held him on her lap. When she’d died, senior had tossed them and the rest of her clothes without a second thought. It was too much to hope that they had found their way into Riverdale’s thrift store inventory - it was more than likely that those memories of his childhood were laying buried wherever the landfill trash from almost ten years ago ended up.

But either way, when he’d come across this one in the belly of the thrift store a year ago, he’d almost cried from the memory. Fred had been with him, and FP remembers him half-heartedly warning him about how thin the fabric was before he must have seen the look in FP’s eyes. Fred had fallen silent and paid the dollar for it without a second thought, and on the way home FP had explained it to him as best he could without crying harder. This was something he had retained from his childhood; boys didn’t cry. Certainly not over something like a sweater.

When they’d reached the corner where they usually parted ways, Fred had pulled it out of the bag and over FP’s head, even though it still smelled like the musty store. FP, predictably, had been in a T-Shirt that was much too light for the weather, but the sweater was just right.

“You look good in it,” Fred had said, just that, a little smile on his face and love in his eyes. And FP had worn it almost the entire year since, drifting back to the thrift store now and again to see if anything similar ever showed up, eventually taking home two cousins to the original. The sweater was now more worn than ever, with holes at the collar and hem, but FP just grew more and more attached to it. Fred and FP traded clothes freely, everything from hoodies to gym socks to boxer shorts, but Fred had never asked for one of those sweaters. FP would have lent them freely - there was nothing in the world so valuable to him as Fred - and surely Fred knew that, but he still didn’t ask. That was just how Fred was.

FP does have one of Fred’s own hoodies on his bedroom floor - an RHS Athletics one with Andrews on the sleeve. He has one of his own too - currently somewhere at Fred’s house, probably stuffed into the closet where Fred’s zillions of other hoodies and shirts are threatening to burst the closet at the seams.

Fred has a wardrobe that changes with the seasons: baseball tees in spring that show off his newly well-defined arm muscles, cut-off denim shorts and cropped T-shirts in summer that drive FP to throes of sexual frustration for those long weeks at the end of the school year, and from fall into winter he favours oversized hoodies and fluffy crewnecks that hang on his small body like a tent. He looks so unbearably cute in them that FP can no more concentrate throughout their shared classes in the fall than he can when Fred’s bare back is exposed to him all June.

That’s what he’s wearing when he knocks on FP’s door in the middle of that rainy fall night. It’s well past Fred’s usual curfew, so his best friend is the last person FP expects to see when he peers through the crack of the door out into the rain. It’s not pouring, but it’s damp, small cold droplets falling out of the dark sky with enough persistence to get the trees and eaves dripping. Fred also owns at least two raincoats, so he’s not sure why his friend’s just in his big crewneck sweater, the shoulders and sleeves damp and his hair soaked down to his head.

He knows there’s something wrong right away. Fred comes in and doesn’t say anything, just stands in FP’s kitchen like he’s somehow an unwelcome guest. He has his shoulders hunched and his eyes cast down, looking like a kitten that had had water thrown at it. His sweatshirt sleeves hang all the way past his hands, and he’s playing with his fingers almost nervously, though the actual gesture is lost somewhere in his sleeves. FP’s holding him immediately, hands on Fred’s shoulders, which are almost buried under the fabric of his sweater.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” FP asks immediately, worry making his voice harsh and clear.

“I just needed to see you.” Fred’s voice is too soft, his eyes red from crying when he glances up into FP’s face. He’s shivering from the cold, and sniffling like his nose is running. He blinks furiously, lips trembling. “I wanted to see you.”

“In the middle of the night?” FP prompts gently, eyes travelling instinctively down Fred’s body to see if he’s hurt. He can’t tell if he’s hiding anything below the oversized sweater, but there’s at least no sign of blood or broken bones. Fred looks back down at his soaked feet, letting FP see how wet his brown hair is. It’s dripping, and there’s a stripe of darker fabric running down the back of his sweater from the collar.

He mumbles something to the floor, and FP catches the words my dad.

“Your dad?” he prompts, gently using his fingers to tip Fred’s head back up so he can look him in the eye. Fred sucks in a gulp of air, his pale cheeks now taking on a pink tinge from the change in temperature.

“We had a fight.” Fred’s pale little hand comes up to rub a tear off his face with his knuckle, the skin ice cold when it brushes FP’s wrist. His voice is teary and fragile as a sheet of stained glass. “It’s just s-stupid, I’m sorry.”

“About me?” FP asks quietly, already anticipating the answer. Artie Andrews made no secret of the fact that he thought Fred could have found a better best friend, though he was at least decent enough never to say it to FP’s face. But FP could feel the way Artie’s eyes swept his leather jacket, painting him with the same brush as the rest of the Southside. FP can’t fully blame him. He’s never really felt good enough to be Fred’s best friend either. Fred says nothing, and FP prompts him gently. “Fred?”

“No.” Fred’s eyes are filling up with tears again, looking straight at FP at last, and the raw, honest, grief in them makes FP feel like he’s being ripped apart from the inside. Fred had the sweetest face he’d ever met, and the flipside of that was that whenever he got upset, it was like watching a little kid find out there was no Santa Claus. “Not you. About me.”

Fred pulls out of FP’s grip and starts pacing the kitchen, shoulders tightening towards his ears again. His lips are pressed tight together, and FP recognizes the look of someone who’s trying desperately not to cry. He feels himself relaxing somewhat, though his stomach still clenches to see Fred so obviously distressed. But at least FP knows what’s going on. Or he has a good enough guess.

“I’m never going to be good enough,” Fred whimpers coherently in the middle of his pacing and muttering, confirming FP’s read of the situation. He’s leaving a small river of water on the shitty trailer linoeleum as he walks back and forth, sniffling and wiping his nose and face briskly with one of his too-long sleeves. FP’s heart sinks more and more as he watches him.

He knows how viciously Fred holds himself up to an impossible standard, set already high by Artie and his brother and higher still by his own insecurity. FP knows that deep in Fred’s heart, whatever he says in fits of rebellion, he has a desperate need to be accepted by his father and himself.

On very rare occasions, watching Fred suffer under these self-imposed pressures, FP feels a fleeting sort of relief that the bar was set so low for him. It sucked to have everyone - yourself included - think you were a piece of shit, but at least he’d accepted long ago that torturing himself wouldn’t change the outcome.

“He wants me to be perfect,” Fred whispers, hiccuping in the middle. He had slid neatly from self-pity to rage and now back again, the puddle of water growing under his feet. His face crumples when his eyes land on FP, and he finally stops pacing. “I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. You’ve been through so much, and I’m just-” He gestures with one floppy, too-long sleeve, his face falling even further. “I’m sorry, FP-”

FP crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around Fred in a tight hug. Fred freezes in surprise, and then returns the hug tenfold, squeezing FP’s back furiously. Protectiveness explodes in FP’s mind like fireworks as the cold rain from his best friend’s clothes soaks into his front.

Fred’s his best friend and his sweetheart, and he’d hurt anyone, any day, who let him think he was less than wonderful. But something about Fred in that sweater makes him seem a thousand times more vulnerable, until FP can hardly bear to uncurl his arms from around Fred’s skinny frame. It feels like a betrayal worse than death to let go. Maybe it’s because he hates to think of Fred feeling cold, maybe it’s because he looks so small when he’s drowning in his big sweaters, or when his body seems all the smaller and bonier when you have to search for it through all that fabric. He feels like he’s holding something incredibly delicate and precious, and it’s an effort to release him.

FP puts his hands on either side of Fred’s face, holding his frozen cheeks.

“Come with me,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument.

Fred’s right, that FP is usually the one in the position of asking for help, and usually in much more dire circumstances. But the flip side of that is that FP knows exactly what Fred would do when someone showed up bedraggled and crying at his door, aching for a love that felt impossible to get.

He leads Fred into the bedroom, stopping to grab his bath towel from the bathroom door. FP pushes Fred down onto the bed, then gets down on his knees and unlaces both of Fred’s dripping wet Nike sneakers, easing them off his soaked feet. Fred hasn’t made a move to use the towel that FP had dropped in his lap, so FP gets up and rubs his hair briskly with it until it’s a bird’s nest of damp brown waves. He combs his fingers playfully through it, pushing it back from Fred’s face so he can see his eyes.

“I’ve got dry clothes,” he promises, rummaging through his falling-apart dresser until he comes up with two thick pairs of holey socks, an undershirt, sweatpants, and underwear. He changes Fred’s socks first, then helps him pull his huge blue sweater up off over his head. It comes off attached to his soaked T-shirt, and even his narrow bare chest is damp with rain. Fred stands obediently and helps FP change his lower half, though his fingers stay just loose and clumsy enough that he doesn’t entirely take over. FP glances at the closet and sees what he’s looking for immediately: another one of his cherished Goodwill sweaters hanging near the front.

He slips it over Fred’s head, helping him slide his arms clumsily through the sleeves. The worn fabric clings to his body in a way the thicker sweater had only obscured, bringing attention to his bony elbows and shoulders. FP would have given him the one he was wearing, but it’s a little damp from their hug, and he doesn’t want him to catch cold. He pulls the hem down firmly and glances around the floor until he locates the school sweatshirt that had crossed his mind earlier - it’s the warmest and newest piece of clothing he owns.

It’s not Fred’s, he realizes, as he pulls it out of the mess on the floor - they must have switched back at some point unknown to him, so he’s holding his own. He can tell even without checking the sleeve, because of the size. Their school initials are printed on the front in the shape of a football, his name and number embroidered on the sleeves in blue and gold. Fred had always loved that sweater, and it’s still plush inside from newness, the fleece not yet worn flat. When he gets it over Fred’s head, he feels something in him relax at last. If nothing else, he can keep Fred warm. Warm and safe.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, very close to his best friend, so that their thighs are almost on top of one another. Fred’s staring at his hands, which sit limply in his lap, and FP leans in and kisses him gently on the temple before standing up.

Fred speaks up at once, his voice worried. “Where-”

“I’m going to be right back,” FP promises.

He all but runs to the soggy kitchen, boiling a kettle of water and digging his hairdryer out of the bathroom cabinet while he waits. When the kettle finally boils, he starts making a cup of hot cocoa so hurriedly that hot chocolate sloshes over the sides, blistering his fingers. When he re-enters his room, Fred’s still sitting on the end of the bed, wrapping himself up in FP’s sweatshirt and pulling the sleeves over his hands.

“I made this for you,” FP offers, holding out the mug of cocoa until Fred takes it. Fred looks into the mug and smiles slightly when he sees what’s inside. While he’s drinking, FP plugs in the hairdryer and blasts Fred’s wet hair with it, lifting it through his fingers so that it dries evenly without burning his scalp. Little by little he feels Fred coming back to him, breathing more normally, his shoulders loosening, as though he’s actually defrosting him from ice.

When FP crosses to the foot of the bed again, Fred looks up at him with eyes that have a spark back in them. He’s not quite smiling, but there’s such a tender, affectionate look on his face that FP suddenly feels a little shy. He’d rather this expression than Fred’s sadness, of course, but even after all this time he wonders if he’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of that naked affection. Fred holds out his cup, lukewarm and half-empty, and FP takes it gently out of his fingers.

“All done?” he asks, and when Fred nods he sets it aside on the nighttable and climbs onto the bed to smother him in an ferociously tight embrace. FP pulls them both gently down onto the mattress, squeezing Fred tightly and securely in his arms. Fred ducks his head into the hollow of FP’s neck, his hair, still warm from the blowdrier, tickling FP’s throat. FP kisses him on the head and snuggles him like his life depends on it.

“You are good enough,” he whispers ferociously in his ear, a lump rising unexpectedly in his throat. He hugs Fred tighter, trying not squeeze the tears out of his eyes, though Fred can’t see him. “You are wonderful, okay? You are incredible. You are perfect to me.”

Fred says something very soft that’s lost in the space between FP’s shirt collar and skin. FP readjusts just enough so that he can lay with his forehead pressing against Fred’s forehead, looking right into his big brown eyes.

“What was that, mumbles?” he asks softly, tracing the downy curve of Fred’s cheekbone with his finger.

Fred’s lips curve into a smile. “You know,” he replies softly. FP thinks he does.

FP rubs his back as Fred’s eyes close against the pillow, drawing the comforter up over both of them to keep him warm. He links their legs together below the sheets and watches as Fred’s eyes flutter closed. His muscles loosen under the pressure of FP’s arm until he’s relaxed, but FP doesn’t release him from his warm embrace. The urge to take care of him is like a physical fire burning in his chest, and he thinks he could happily hold him in this nest of blankets for the rest of his life.

Maybe there’s a little bit of his mother in him after all.

#fp jones #fred andrews #fredsythe #riverdale #parentdale

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spokenrambles · 1 year

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[ Maya Hawke, Genderqueer, She/They ] Oh, them? That's Robin Buckley, they are Twenty-Two years old. They are currently a [ Film Studies & Linguistics, Community College student and part time employee at Family Video]. I hear people say they are Witty, Analytical, Highly Intelligent, but also Blunt, Sarcastic, Verbose. I always think of worn down red converses, doodles on anything but paper, black chipped nail polish, an ungodly amount of VHS’, and meaningful looks exchanged between friends. I wonder what their favourite scary movie is?

˗ˏˋ Ooh, I think I found our morning movie - Doctor Zhivago ´ˎ˗

✧.* BASICS.

FULL NAME: Robin Elizabeth Buckley

NICKNAME/S: Rob, Tweedledee, Trumpet girl.

BIRTHDAY: May 27th.

ZODIAC: Gemini.

SEXUALITY: Closeted Lesbian.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.

OCCUPATION: Community college student and Part time Family Video employee.

✧.* PHYSICAL.

HEIGHT: 5'8", 173 cms.

HAIR COLOUR: Light brunette - Dirty Blonde.

EYE COLOUR: Blue.

TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: She has both her left and right ear lobes double pierced. She has an auricle and industrial piercing on her left ear.

NOTABLE FEATURES: Light freckles litter her body, only really able to be noticed in the right lighting. She also has a small baby scar, less than 1 cm long from when she used to play soccer in her younger years and fell onto a rock, the rock being sharp enough to pierce the delicate skin above her elbow leaving her with a lifelong scar.

.·:*¨¨* Ou-yay are-yay ump-day. *¨¨*:·.

✧.* LIKES.

Late night drives (even though, she's yet to get her license).

Languages.

Sweaters and denim/corduroy jackets.

The idea of travelling (Just being anywhere than where she is right now).

Girls who seem to fall in love with sterotypical Jocks/men who peaked in high school, instead of her

✧.* DISLIKES.

Being backed into a corner. Robin is very much the type that no matter the social environment she is in, likes to know that she at least has one way of escape.

Being Isolated/alone. Robin can’t stand being by herself, she doesn’t like being left alone with her thoughts. Where she has no choice but to reflect on everything.

Hawkins.

Jell-0 (The texture itself completely throws her off, it genuinely gives her the creeps).

`*:;, Took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies :.,;*

✧.* HOBBIES.

Learning new languages, whether that be within an educational setting or in her own free time.

Making the greatest top ten movie list to ever grace the four walls of family video (while also slowly rating all, if not most, of family video's film collection).

Arguing with anyone, who dares to doubt that Mint choc is the superior ice cream flavour.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Maybe, I’m happy by myself? Not everyone needs a relationship to be happy, you know ˚₊‧✩ੈ

✧.* FEARS.

Being outed and becoming a social leper.

Never being good enough, or living up to the high expectations those around her have seemed to have set for her.

Never 'escaping' Hawkins.

Watching those she loves die, she’s not quite sure how this fear came to be but it’s something that whenever Robin notices her brain slowly drifting towards it; she finds herself going through fifty-five unwarranted, internal panic attacks.

✧.* GOALS/AMBITIONS.

Finishing college.

Saving enough to run away travel, she just wants to see the world. After all, it’s not like there’s anywhere worse than where she is right now.

Getting out of Hawkins.

˗ˏˋ So like, I wasn't super focused in there or anything, but... I'm pretty sure that mom was trying to bang her son ´ˎ˗

✧.* BIO/HC'S.

: ̗̀➛ Robin was born to Richard and Melissa Buckley, two borderline teen parents.

: ̗̀➛ Due to her parents age, when they had her. Robin didn’t have the most materialistic upbringing, her parents barely being able to keep a roof over all of their heads but hey! At least they were happy…. For the most part.

: ̗̀➛Robin had always been naturally gifted at music. As a child, it was one of her only talents/hobbies that her mother enthusiastically approved of and encouraged her to improve on.

: ̗̀➛ Robin originally joined the soccer team as a way to bond and connect with her father. She ended up being part of said team for a good year or two. Before, she’d witnessed one of her teammates gruesomely break her leg. Something that’d end up causing her to leave the team. At least that’s what she said was the reason.

: ̗̀➛ Robin started learning languages at a young age as a way to pass her time. It was her distraction/escapism from the everyday loneliness she’d constantly feel in her life (something that was the result of being an only child and having very little friends, something that wouldn’t really change until high school).

: ̗̀➛ The only real friend Robin had growing up was Barb but Barb by their later middle school years, traded her in for the perfect and totally not a priss Nancy Wheeler! Something that to this day, Robin still hurts a little over.

: ̗̀➛ Robin held a deep resentment towards Steve Harrighton for majority of her high school experience, his cocky and aloof behaviour, along with his constant tardiness and the way he'd ask dumb questions; fuelling her distaste for him. But what really cemented her resentment of him during those years was the way he was effortlessly able to obtain the attention of her high school crush, Tammy thompson. Something that she was never able to do herself. However, she swears up and down, that she's completely over it now!

: ̗̀➛Robin has always known she was different, ever since she was a little. She just didn’t realise that, that difference was that she was a lesbian. Something she didn’t figure out until the very end of middle school.

: ̗̀➛ Robins never actual had a committed/serious relationship with anyone throughout highschool, even till now. Of course, she’s kissed a guy or two but besides that? Nothing. She’s always tried to argue the fact that Hawkins men just didn’t do it for her, or how she’d rather not risk catching something because, ‘hey, have they seen the guys they let live in this town’, or hell! How she just ‘doesn’t want a relationship’. Just saying anything really to push past the subject.

: ̗̀➛ Robins relationship with her mother is strained to put it lightly, she loves her mum and she’s sure she loves her too. It’s just her mother never seems to be satisfied or to approve of her life decisions or future plans, and has taken a habit of constantly pointing out her flaws and reminding her of them on a daily basis. Something she’s been doing to Robin, ever since she was little. She however, does have a close relationship with her father and knows that no matter what, at least he’s always there to support and love her unconditionally, regardless of all her little flaws.

: ̗̀➛ Academically? Robins college life is going well. It’s been worth every hard earned penny in her mind. However, Socially? Well, that depends on who you ask but in all honesty, it leaves much to be desired for her. She’s constantly left longing for some sort of real connection with any of her peers, something that doesn’t result in her having to put up some façade to keep those around her happy.

: ̗̀➛ Robin recently rescued a little black cat, that she’s affectionately named ‘Whiskers’. Something that has caused a few “you’re going to turn into a crazy old cat lady” comments from those closest to her.

: ̗̀➛ As mentioned previously, Robin still hasn’t gotten around to getting her license, the whole being poor thing and now having to pay her way through college, pushing it further onto the back burner. So, instead she either gets around via public transport, friends who offer her a ride or, her trusty two wheeler.

: ̗̀➛ After only just coming to terms with her sexuality and what that meant for her throughout her entire high school experience, she’s now began to question her gender expression. Something that currently has her conflicted and has her digging herself deeper into the closet.

: ̗̀➛ Trying to keep her mind off her internal conflicts when it comes to her identity and her family pressures, she’s been throwing herself even further into her studies and her job. Taking on more hours and tasks, than she can actually handle half the time.

: ̗̀➛ To be updated/continued!

✧.* PLAYLIST.

- TBA.

#horrorinhawkins.intro

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basiccortez · 2 years

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Baby Series ~ telling the family

note: HAPPY NEW YEAR🎉

REQUESTS AND INBOX OPEN

also let me know if you would to a tag list for the series

warnings: cursing, allusions of sex

Josh:

Monica laid on Y/N’s bed as she watched her walk from err closet to the full length mirror for the ten thousandth time. Each time she had a new outfit ensemble on. Josh had invited her to his place for a dinner with his family, and to break the news that she was with child. Y/N had spent the better part of two days tearing apart her closet for something to wear.

"I like that," Monica said at the latest outfit, a pair of black jeans and a white button up, "I also l liked the last 10 outfits you put on,"

"This is important," Y/N groaned, "I've only met his brothers a handful of times and his parents once, and now I have to go tell them I'm knocked up?!"

"You'll be fine," Monica said and walked to her closet. She shuffled through a few shirts eyeing them, "His parents give off the 'send you an apple pie just cause' vibe,"

"They totally are," Y/N said looking at her changing body in the mirror, "They are sweethearts, the type of parents who would help you hide from the cops,"

"See! Nothing to be worried about," Monica said and pulled out a cream colored sweater, "Here. You'll probably get cold, and it hides your boobs,"

"You really think they're that big?" Y/N asked looking in the mirror. Monica shrugged and Y/N pulled the sweater over her head and fixed her hair.

Josh didn't even give Y/N a second to breathe as he was waiting for her by the door. He hugged her tightly as he led her into the house, the smell of brown sugar and butter filling her nose. Y/N noticed the several pairs of shoes by the door and the laughter that was coming from the kitchen.

"Trying to be fashionably late?" Josh joked.

"Couldn't find anything to wear," Y/N rolled her eyes as she walked into the kitchen.

"Y/N! About time!" Sam yelled, clearly having one too many margaritas, "Drink?"

"If you're making them. . . I'm good," She said.

"Good choice," Ronnie said.

"Best choice," Danny agreed.

"You look beautiful as always, Y/N," Karen said pulling the girl into a hug, Y/N greeted her back and then hugged Kelly.

"Come on! Let's eat!" Josh said. Josh, with the help of Sam and Jake had made vegan spaghetti, using zucchini pasta. It was something that she normally loved, but for some reason couldn't stand the smell of the vegan mozzarella cheese Sam was covering his in.

Y/N sat down at the table, Josh next to her, and Sam on the other side. Danny, Jake, and Ronnie sat across from you, as Karen and Kelly sat at opposite ends of the table. They all dug into their food, making various small conversations as they ate. Y/N on the other hand, pushed the pasta around on her plate, taking small manageable bites.

"You okay?" Josh whispered to her.

"I feel like if I open my mouth wide enough, I'm gonna throw up on this whole table," Y/N whispered back and Josh put his hand soothingly on her thigh, "Maybe before that happens, we tell them,"

"Tell us what?" Sam said crashing in on the conversation. Josh glared at him and he smiled innocently.

"Well, mom, dad, brothers, sister, Daniel," Josh said, sitting up straighter in his chair, "I invited you all here, not only because I love you, but because I- We have an announcement."

"Y/N's pregnant," Karen said.

"Y/N's- wait how did you know?" Josh said and his mom just smiled from ear to ear.

"She's glowing!" Karen said gesturing to her, "I can tell a pregnant woman when I see them! Oh, congratulations!"

The whole Kiszka family and Danny took their turns hugging both Y/N and Josh to congratulate the two of you. Karen, of course wanted to see the ultrasound pictures and was ready to spoil the hell out of her soon to be grandchild.

—————————————

Jake:

The days were few before the boys had to hit the road again. Y/N and Jake had flown back to Michigan for one last family dinner before the tour starts. Y/N loved going back to Michigan, that was her home too. The Kiszka house had become like a second home to Y/N. The Kiszka parents being more than happy to invite the girl in when Jake had brought her home for the first time.

Everyone sat around the living room, sharing stories about the Europe tour and what they had expected for this part of the North American tour. Y/N sat on the floor, wrapped in Jake's arms, sighing in content at the warmth that radiated off of him.

Jake kissed her forehead as her body got heavy with sleepiness. Y/N had been more tired and fatigued lately. Her usual power nap during lunch had turned into a power sleep. She could fall asleep anywhere now, in the car, in the studio, and especially in Jake's arms.

"You falling asleep again?" Jake joked.

"I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open," Y/N said and Jake moved to grab a blanket that was near by, "You're going to have to carry me out of here,"

"I'll just leave you here," Jake smiled and Y/N looked up at him. He leaned down and kissed her lips and she smiled, "Hey Mom, can you go grab that gift that Y/N and I brought,"

"Oh yeah! I meant to open it before we moved in here and got comfortable. Y/N looks ready for bed," Karen said.

"I'm fine," Y/N smiled and sat up more in Jake's arms, "He's just like a heater, and it's cozy on the floor,"

"Josh, can you grab the gift, it's on the table," Karen said and Josh jumped up from his spot to grab the gift and handed it to his mom. Kelly sat next to his wife and watched as she dug into the pink and blue bag. Jake's grip on Y/N got tighter as his mom removed the tissue paper and pulled out the picture frame.

"Baby's first picture," Kelly said, “Baby’s first picture?”

"Baby's first. . . oh my god," Karen said, "A baby?"

"Yeah," Jake smiled and kissed her cheek, "Y/N's pregnant,"

"Hey! Congrats!!" Sam cheered and leaned over to hug the girl. Y/N hugged the younger brother back.

"I already knew," Josh said putting his feet up on the table, "Twin perks,"

—————————————

Sam:

Y/N and Sam had never hosted anything at their house, but now was the perfect time to break in the house. Sam had agreed to cook and Y/N had spent most of her day off cleaning the house and getting it ready for guests. She had of course invited his parents, his brothers, Ronnie and Danny and Mackenzi.

Sam and Jake were arguing about how to properly cut up some vegetables as Y/N and Mackenzi were setting the table. She had decided to use the blue china plates that her mom got then, silently thanking her for her recommendation.

"Your guys' home is just. . . so cute," Mackenzi said.

"Thanks," Y/N smiled looking around at the home. The large windows in the dinning room showed the dark outside world as the snow began to softly fall. Y/N had somehow found enough Christmas decorations to throw up on some bare walls to make it look good.

"You two got the perfect place," Ronnie said, "I couldn't imagine you two living anywhere else."

"I can't either," Y/N said, absent minded placing a hand on her flat belly, "I'm gonna go see what those boys are doing, anybody need a refill?"

"I'll take some more!" Karen said handing Y/N her wine glass.

"I think I've had one too many of Sam's margaritas, I'll just take a water," Ronnie said and Y/N laughed.

Sam smiled as she walked into the kitchen as the boys and Kelly were sitting around the kitchen. Y/N grabbed the wine bottle and refilled Karen's glass before getting Ronnie some water.

"Dinner almost ready?" Y/N asked them.

"Almost, yeah," Sam said, "Go take a seat, We can bring these in,"

"Speak for yourself, Samuel," Jake said and Josh hit him lightly, "I mean, I'll help."

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked back into the living room and handed the drinks to their respective owners. She had sent the rest of them to sit down, as her and Sam gathered up the dishes to bring to the table.

"I'm nervous," Sam whispered to her as they both stood in the kitchen.

"I'm excited," Y/N said, her hands shaking as she grabbed a dish of cauliflower and broccoli, "Come on, before they think we're defiling the kitchen,"

"You think they were conceived in the kitchen," Sam joked and Y/N giggled. She sat the last dish on the table and stood back, "Okay, so first family picture." He said grabbing his phone and stepping back from the table. He clicked video and held it up to get everyone in it, "Okay, say 'Y/N's pregnant, 1, 2, 3."

"You're pregnant!" Jake yelled.

"You missed the countdown, Jacob," Sam said and you giggled.

"Yeah, I am," Y/N said. Josh got right up from the table and hugged you tightly.

"And the best part is. . . " Sam said, "Drumroll, Daniel," Danny nodded and tapped his hands on the table rapidly, "It's. . . twins!"

"Sam managed to make two!? At the same time!?" Jake said, "Well shit, I guess we're fighting over who is the favorite uncle,"

"Actually, Kiszkas, I think I got that," Danny said.

—————————————

Danny:

Y/N had spent all day trying to come up with the best way to tell the news that you were pregnant. She had gotten lost in the Pinterest rabbit hole of birth announcements. She couldn’t just pick one, each idea had it’s own unique spin on it. Y/N had decided to pick her top 3 favorites, made a list of what you needed, and headed to the local craft store. Did she mean to spend over 200 dollars and got more than what was on her list? Yes, but Y/N reasoned with herself that it was all for a could cause, her future baby.

Once Y/N got home, she sat all the bags on the kitchen table and began digging out what she needed for the craft. She waited for one craft to dry, and started working on another one, and then another one. Soon enough, the kitchen table and counter were covered in DIY projects. Y/N’s fingers had dried hot glue and paint, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t even notice the garage door opening or her husband walking through the door. He leaned against the door frame and watched as she basically were painting with her fingers.

“Busy day?” He asked startling her and a small scream left her lips.

“Oh hey, didn’t see you there,” Y/N smiled, “But yes! I found some ideas on Pinterest for the baby announcement, went to the craft store and found some other stuff I wanted,”

Danny looked at the project she was working on and smiled, “You make one for us too?”

“I made one for us, my parents, your parents, Josie, and the boys,”

Danny laughed, “Well, I invited everyone over tomorrow. Think they’ll be done by then?”

“Yes! But now I need to go to the store,” Y/N said and before Danny could say anything she was grabbing her keys and heading to the store.

The house was filled with the scent of pasta and oregano. Y/N had been craving an old family recipe, and decided to make it. She also made some homemade bread and zucchini. Danny had cleaned the house, and wrapped the gifts while she cooked. He was just excited as Y/N was to tell the guys and their family. The first to arrive was Sam, who arrived almost 2 whole hours before they said to arrive. Y/N put Sam to work in the kitchen in making a salad, hoping that he didn’t mess it up. Everyone had arrived around 6, except Josh who was fashionably late saying his famous quote: “Traffic was a bitch,” before popping open the bottle of wine he brought and pouring himself a glass.

“Y/N, you look amazing,” Her mom said, “How is everything going?”

“Things are. . . going,” Y/N said not wanting to give anything away.

“How many did you have after this last round?” Mrs. Wagner asked, “Danny told me you guys had 6 fertilized,”

“Yeah, we have about 14 left frozen, but we inserted the 6 that matured.” Y/N answered, “If this doesn’t take. . . I think we’ll be done,” She hated thinking of the worst case scenario, but it was always hanging in the back of her mind like a dark cloud, “I don’t think him or I can take another loss. It’s hard to go through that loss, if you can even call it that. I still don’t quite understand it all,”

“It will all work out,” Her mom said hugging her. Y/N smiled and announced that dinner was ready. Everyone grabbed a plate and then settled at your dinning room table. Everyone comfortably falling into small talk as they ate. Y/N basically had to hold Danny down from him bursting with excitement at telling everyone the news. Once everyone was starting to finish up, she squeezed Danny’s hand as a signal that she was going to get the gifts.

“Before we forget, we have gifts!” Y/N said and stood up from the table to grab the gifts from the kitchen. She handed everyone their assigned gifts and sat back down next to Danny. He gripped her hand tightly as he watched everyone dig into their gifts. Sam was the first to get his opened and read the words on the frame she had made before looking back up at you guys with wide eyes.

“You serious?” Sam asked, a goofy grin on his face, “Really?”

“Wait what-“ Jake said looking at Sam’s frame, “No fucking way. . .”

Y/N’s eyes landed on your parents who’s eyes were filled with tears, “Is this real?” Her dad asked, “We’re going to be grandparents?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said and Danny smiled at her, “We’re pregnant!”

“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Wagner said and stood up to hug her son, “How far along?”

“About 8 weeks,” Danny said, sitting back down, “We had our first ultrasound last week with Doctor Collins,”

“Okay but the real question is, how can we all be the favorite uncle?” Josh asked pointing to his picture frame.

194 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Vaincre

It’s here!! Thank you all for the support of this universe, it truly means so very much to me. Every time I get a comment, or get to read the fan fiction you all write, see the art you create...it just fills me with so much joy. I’m so excited to share the Sweater Weather sequel with you, Vaincre! Go Lions!

cw: brief mention of past injury and past abuse

part i: July

I’ve been holding my breath

I’ve been counting to ten

The media wasn’t kind. There were network shows and blogs. Magazines and papers and podcasts. Not to mention Twitter.

Remus had heard his name on all of them, even if he wasn’t listening. It was part of Alice’s job to make sure he knew what was being said about him. It was his job to tune most of it out. Some outrage. Some elation. Some confusion.

This is my question, one podcast asked. I mean, I’m happy for Black. Lupin, too. I’m happy for the hockey world to have this happen, it’s about time, I mean, tune it, come on, and all that.

I’m confused about the, you know, ‘let’s put the PT on the roster.’ I’ve seen college clips, like, those have been released, we know that he got injured, we know all that. He’s fast, we know that, too. But a lot of guys are fast.

Just…what a move by Coach Weasley. A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Remus had always loved to run. It cleared his head. It had been one of the forms of exercise he had been able to do first once his shoulder had healed, before weights or any sort of strength training. His therapists had recommended it. Endorphins, they had said.

But Remus liked it because it was the closest he had been able to get to gliding on the ice, even when he still couldn’t stand to even look at a rink.

A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Remus was used to not knowing. He was beginning to think he thrived on it. Would he play hockey again? Would he ever find love? Would Sirius want him?

Was this really happening?

He didn’t think of dreams as coming so late, but, then again, why should dreams be put on any sort of time schedule?

Now, he banged out the screen door and onto the rickety, well-loved porch of the lake house that had been passed down through his family for years. His mother and her brothers split it up in the summer, overlapping for a week or so, and there were always little gifts left behind for each family at the trade-off. A bottle of the best maple syrup, or some of the local honey. They were small, but Remus smiled when he saw what his uncle and aunt and cousins had left for him and Sirius after his parents and Julian had given them the month of July with the house to themselves. A little flower arrangement with two hockey sticks, carved out of wood, sticking up in the middle.

Sirius had plucked one from the dirt, twirled it over in his fingers, and smiled.

“Your family will never stop surprising me.”

Green Lake was deep, prime for fishing, and gorgeous. The smell of the water, of the soil and sweet summer air was as good as home to Remus. He breathed it in now as he bent to lace up his sneakers. He could smell the fire pit that they had lit last night, one that he and Julian had roasted thousands of marshmallows over.

“I showed Jules how to roast the perfect marshmallow here,” Remus had said that first July night, leaning back against Sirius’ chest.

Sirius had blew out his burnt-black one. “Like this?”

Remus had scoffed. “No, you heathen.”

Sirius looked good here, surrounded by the woods and rusty cabin, wearing the old fleeces that never seemed to leave this place for when the sun had yet to warm the chilly mornings. Some mornings, they’d make their coffee, tangle their socked feet together on the small couch until the sun began to get high and they’d strip it all off in favor of swimsuits and sunscreen. Other mornings, Remus would rise, pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’ sleeping face, and take to the dirt road that ran around the lake.

Sirius, just off of the hard won playoffs, needed to rest. Remus needed to train.

A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

They would leave in two days for Pascal’s Cup Day celebration, and then to meet Remus’ parents, his little brother Julian, and Regulus back in Gryffindor for Sirius’ Cup Day. And August training. Remus stretched his hands to his toes and closed his eyes. A strange type of adrenaline filled him whenever he thought about practicing with the team, about the fitness tests that would come first. He’d have to prove himself again and again. He wanted to. But part of him wondered what would happen if he couldn’t.

The screen door squeaked open and shut again, and Remus jumped, looking up to find Sirius, still sleep rumpled, standing there in running shorts.

Remus laughed, reaching up to trace a pillow crease in his cheek. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in while you can.”

Sirius let out a grumbly sort of yawn and gathered his hair, long from the summer and just brushing his chin now, back into a small half-up bun.

“I can’t believe you do this before coffee.”

“Too acidic. Gives you running stitches.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius sighed, and threw his arm around Remus’ shoulders as they walked up the steep driveway to the road.

Remus kissed his wrist. “I’ll miss being here with you.”

Sirius smiled. He was tan from the summer, hair dark as ever and his skin sun-kissed.

Remus leaned into his shoulder. “I mean look at you. I like seeing you this relaxed.”

Sirius bit his lip as the rounded a bend, waving at Mrs. Barrow, who was tending to her garden.

“I don’t think I knew I could be this relaxed,” Sirius admitted. “It was always train, train, train, you didn’t get a Cup, try harder.”

Remus was familiar with the notes that appeared in Sirius’ voice now from years of Sirius’ small slips in conversation, even when, to Remus, Sirius had only been they youngest captain in the league, cold and reserved from even more years of his father’s abusive, relentless attitude towards hockey and Sirius’ skills. Even when Remus had only been the team’s physical therapist, closeted, crushing on Sirius, and surprised by the cracks Sirius showed when he had gotten his ankle smashed by Severus Snape, Captain of the Slytherin Snakes—the Gryffindor Lions greatest rivalry. Pain, it had seemed, and fear of never stepping on the ice again, had given Remus his first glimpses into a different Sirius beneath it all, a boy who was filled with much more than just a need to win, but for whom the want of winning only made him love his sport, and his team, more.

“And now that you have a Cup?” Remus asked. “How’re you feeling?”

They came to the road and Sirius balanced on one foot, stretching his thigh. “Now that I have you,” he said. “I’m feeling just fine.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, the Stanley Cup Champion part has nothing to do with it.”

Sirius laughed, but took Remus’ face between his palms. “If I didn’t have you, and I had only a Cup, all I would be doing right now is thinking about another Cup.”

Remus put a hand on his chest, fingers finding the number twelve pendant that rested there.

“Now, there’s more,” Sirius said simply, and leaned down for a tender kiss. “Like your mother’s peach pie.”

Remus punched him in the arm as Sirius laughed loudly.

“You’ll have to beat me if you want a slice of that!” Remus called as he took off.

Sirius made a wounded noise, but sprinted after him until they were side by side again.

“I don’t think I can leave this beach,” Leo mumbled into the lounging cabana they were spread out beneath, and Logan looked down at him from where he was reading—trying to read—one of the books Finn had given him. He didn’t know how many books Finn had tried to get him to read over the years, but he knew he never made it through more than a few pages without looking up, getting distracted, or having to go back.

“Non?” Logan asked.

Leo shook his head. “The sun. The sea. I’m in heaven.”

“What about hockey?”

“Brr.”

Logan laughed and settled back into the pillows, setting the book aside and rolling towards Leo to feel his sun-warmed back and leaned down to kiss his temple. A private beach definitely had its perks—and so did three hockey salaries.

“We’ll just stay here, then.”

They’d had a good summer. Leo’s Cup Day, Finn’s, his own, all in their hometowns and accompanied by large parades and fanfare. Logan had finally gotten to take Leo home to his sisters and parents for the first time. It had been nice to see Finn around his family again, too, after what felt like eons of avoiding him in that small gap between being at Harvard and then them both making it to the NHL, and to the Lions.

Leo’s sleepy smile up at him melted Logan like ice in the sun.

“Okay, good,” Leo said, then his eyes went behind Logan. “There’s the ghost-on-toast with our drinks.”

Logan snorted and looked up to see Finn—and Finn’s tiny blue swim shorts that he insisted weren’t see-through—walking towards them through the sand from the resort bar with a tray of drinks in his hands.

“Hey, lover-nuts,” Finn said as he set the tray down in the shade. “Got us some snacks, too. That bar tender loves me.”

“You are so pale,” Leo laughed. “I love you, though, please put more sunscreen on.”

“Keep your sandy feet off my towel,” Logan nudged Finn’s foot with his own as he reached for his drink. Finn just smiled and nodded at the book.

“How is it?” Finn asked.

Logan just looked at him.

He laughed and ran a hand through Logan’s salty, damp hair. “I know. I’ll read it to you later. I just thought you might want something for the beach!”

Logan held up his cocktail. “I have something for the beach.”

They settled back under their cabana, the thin, white linen curtains fluttering around them in the three o’clock breeze. Maybe Logan, as he closed his eyes between Leo and Finn, Leo’s hand still on his thigh, Finn’s arm pillowing the back of his neck, never wanted to leave this beach, either.

“Back to Gryffindor tomorrow,” Logan said.

“Group chat says most guys’ll be back this week,” Finn said, squinting at his phone over his sunglasses. “We gotta be back for Dumo’s, and then Cap’s Cup Day. That’ll be nice, man.”

“I like that they’re bringing it to Gryffindor Pride,” Leo said, rolling onto his back. “Should have thought of that. Or, I guess…” Leo trailed off and Logan frowned. They couldn’t do that. Not yet, at least. Leo caught Logan’s expression and rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. “I’m glad we get to go, even if its for them on the surface. That’s real thoughtful of them, you know?”

Logan nodded. It was thoughtful. When Remus and Sirius had brought it up to them, he’d found himself getting a little choked up.

“We want you guys to be able to experience that, too,” Remus had said. “If you want. No matter what you decide to do public-wise in the future.”

Finn clicked his phone off and chucked it to the side. “Hey, don’t take me off island time yet. We’ll order to the room, eat on the deck, hike up and stargaze…”

Finn rattled off the perfect list, tilting towards Logan until their lips met.

“And then we’ll go win another Cup.”

Leo and Logan punched him at the same time.

Thomas sat in the shade with Kasey as they watched Alex try to take on Natalie and Noelle at pool basketball.

“I really think they’re going to accidentally drown him,” Thomas said thoughtfully.

“He probably thinks that, too, and is just too competitive to stop,” Kasey replied.

Thomas laughed, and held out his beer to cheers.

“This is a nice house the O’Haras have, man,” he looked at the sparkling ocean beyond the steps and fence, and at the pool with the grill and lounge chairs. They’d only come up for the weekend, between training and visiting their own families, and before returning to Gryffindor for the season.

“Tell me about it.”

“Cheating!” Alex spluttered from the pool as Natalie put all of her weight on him to dunk him under the water. Alex pointed very seriously to the foot marker on the side tile. “We agreed from that to Thomas’ chair, I was too far away!”

“Too bad!” Noelle shouted as she made another basket.

Thomas didn’t think it was the alcohol that made him feel a little fuzzy at the edges as he looked over her in her swimsuit. She was all curves of tanned muscle, softened the summer around her stomach and arms. Thomas was a goner. But she seemed pretty gone, too, so he guessed it was all right.

“This moment’s always rough,” Kasey said softly from beside him, and when Thomas looked at him questioningly, he gestured vaguely with his beer. “The end of July. One more month, but not really. Alex’ll go back for training, you know? It’s like a trick. I always think, I get three months with these two. But it’s more like two and the first week of August.”

Thomas nodded. “I know. Noelle, too. Her training camp starts on the eight. I’m just…”

Kasey sighed in sympathy.

“At least you have Nat, you know?” Thomas said. “Not that I’m saying you have it easier, I just…”

Kasey shook his head. “I know. Believe me, I’m thankful for that every day. But…when you miss someone, you miss someone.”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”

Last season hadn’t been too bad. His relationship with Noelle had been new. They only really knew FaceTime dates, and squeezed in weekend flights that sometimes left them more exhausted than sated. They had been taking it slow. Thomas had been kissed by Noelle—a lot. Enough to make him dizzy with it. Only, then she’d met him at the airport in Quebec, they’d spent a month with her family in France…

And Thomas wasn’t sure he knew how to do just FaceTime anymore. There was a new yearning, knotted just below his heart. He knew what her skin felt like under his hands now, knew what she looked like right when she waked up, even her skincare routine before bed. It would feel like being away from the ice for too long, the knot pulling tight. He thought this year was going to be harder. Maybe he knew it, but if he did, he was pretending it might be easy still.

“T,” Noelle called, floating on her back, dark hair fanned out in the water. “C’mere!”

Thomas smiled, setting his drink down. He would come, whenever she called. Wherever.

Cole Reyes didn’t know if Adele Dumais staring at him the way she was was a good thing, or a bad thing. He was nervous enough without the seemingly disapproval of Pascal Dumais'—the Pascal Dumais of the Gryffindor Lions, oldest player in the league—teenage daughter.

“Don’t you talk?” Marc, one of his sons, asked.

Cole blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah.”

Adele waved her brother off. “They’re always super nervous at first. Remember Sirius?”

Marc scoffed. “I was a baby.”

Cole let out a breath. Now they were casually talking about Sirius Black, who had lived in the very room Cole had been sleeping in for a week now when he was a rookie, too. It was the same with Logan Tremblay. He felt like he needed to keep the room pristine, like he was living in some Hockey Hall of Fame museum that he had not earned the right to be in yet.

“You’re still a baby,” Adele shot back.

“Kids,” came Celeste, Pascal’s wife’s voice from where she was setting the table. “Come on now.”

“Sorry, maman,” Marc said softly.

“Sorry,” Adele sighed more reluctantly.

“Go help your father with the grill, you two,” she said. “Everyone will be arriving soon.”

Katie, Celeste and Pascal’s youngest daughter, perked up from where she was sitting beside Cole, drawing. Not Pascal, Dumo—Cole kept having to remind himself that he could call Pascal by his nickname now, that it was all official, that he was a Gryffindor Lion, too. Katie hadn’t left his side since he arrived a week ago to billet with the Dumais, and he still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Even the Cup?” she asked.

Celeste laughed. “Oui, ma cherie. Cole? Would you mind going to get the flowers for the table? They’re on the kitchen counter, just inside.”

“Oh, sure, Mrs. Dumais,” Cole nodded, glad for something to do. The thought of the Cup arriving gave him the chills. He’d have to be careful not to touch it. He was scared to even look at it, to be honest. His mom would be laughing at him right about now. He wanted to call her afterwards, tell her everything.

“Call me Celeste, I told you, please,” Celeste smiled. She was lovely, with her dark hair twisted and clipped up and a summer dress as green as her eyes, silky against her olive skin.

Cole flushed, but smiled. “Celeste.”

Cole made his way through the sliding door from the back yard and through the dining room. The kitchen was one of the biggest rooms in the house—and it was a big house. Beautiful copper pans hung shining above the island, along with some herbs that Celeste grew and dried herself. It looked like something out of a magazine to Cole, and it was nice, but it wouldn’t beat his mom’s kitchen in the small apartment they shared in Boston. The small space would fill up to the brim with the smell of spices, or cobbler. The thought sent a pang right to his heart. He missed home, that was for sure. After being away for so long, for so many hockey camps, he’d hoped he would be more used to it by now.

The flowers were right where Celeste had said they would be, and he was reaching for one when the back door that led to the garage dinged open. Cole froze, sure that he was about to run into captain Sirius Black completely unprepared, when a girl stepped through instead. She was dressed in denim shorts and a white tank top, had dark brown skin, and a Gryffindor College hat over her hair, which was plaited back into many small braids.

She smiled when she saw him. No sign of surprised, or of the nervousness Cole felt when he met basically anyone.

“You must be Cole,” she said.

Cole nodded. The girl was gorgeous. Cole was a mess of nerves already. He didn’t need the stare of the teenage daughter of one of his idols, but he especially could not handle a beautiful girl right now.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “No, yeah, um. Yes.”

The girl strode forward, setting her bag down on the counter, along with a water bottle decorated in stickers. He caught a few Lions ones. She offered her hand, which was slender and had two golden rings on it. “I’m Layla. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Cole took it, trying to place her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I babysit for the Dumais family,” she said in explanation, then waved her hand. “Well, this year, at least. I’m actually—we’re going to be working together.”

Cole blinked. “You mean the Lions?”

She nodded. “I’m in the middle of my undergrad for physical therapy. Dumo’s amazing and he got me an internship under the new PT. You know. I’ll probably get you stick tape or something,” she laughed. “Congrats, by the way.”

Cole tilted his head and she raised an eyebrow.

“On making it to the NHL?”

“Oh,” Cole laughed. “Oh, I, yeah, thanks. You, too—or…yeah.”

Cole was going to stay in his room in the basement and never come out.

“I gotta—Mrs. Du—Celeste wants these flowers outside,” he said, picking the vases up.

“Sure thing,” Layla smiled.

“Layla,” came a shriek, and a moment later Katie Dumais came sprinting into the kitchen and wrapped herself around Layla’s legs and smiled at Cole. “This is my new hockey player.”

Cole couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t have a lot of experience with kids, but Katie sure was cute.

“Yours?” Layla gasped as she smiled at Cole. “He’s all yours, is he?”

Katie nodded. “Like Tremzy and Sirius. His name is Cole, like when Santa Clause doesn’t like you.”

Again, with the casual mentions of Logan Tremblay and Sirius Black.

“Oh, of course,” Layla laughed. “Well, I’m sure Santa Clause has never not liked you, babes. Let’s go let your mom know I’m here, okay? Your new hockey player can come with us, too.”

“He’s yours, too!” Katie insisted. “You’re here all the time, so he’s yours, too, don’t worry.”

“Oh, good,” Layla said. “I was worried.”

When Katie looked at Cole expectedly, Cole managed, “I guess everyone does need a hockey player?”

“Exactly!” Katie squealed, and Cole could only follow them outside, heart pounding.

It was good to be back in Gryffindor. Remus and Sirius had dropped their bags in Sirius’ entryway, said hello to Regulus, showered, and then hopped right back in the car to get to Pascal’s house.

“You two look disgustingly happy,” Regulus said, leaning forward from the back seat.

“We are,” Sirius grinned at him in the review mirror. “I am also happy,” he stroked the leather steering wheel of his Range Rover. “To be back with this baby.”

While Sirius’ hair had grown longer, Regulus had shaved his short. The curls were barely curls at all anymore, but Remus was happy to see that his seemingly ever-present dark circles had receded some.

“Why, thank you, Regulus, you look happy, too,” Remus snorted. “When do you leave for NYU’s orientation?”

“August 23rd,” he said. “Been texting with my housemates, too. They seem cool.”

“Maybe one of you will pull a Finn and fall in love with each other,” Sirius said.

“Twice,” Remus laughed, and Regulus did, too.

“I think I’ve had enough romance drama to last me a life time, thanks,” Regulus smiled. “But, yeah. I’m just…I’m focused on friends right now, I think. Normal, non-hockey creatures like you two. But that’s not to say if something came up…or I guess someone. Who knows.”

Sirius’ smile was softer this time. “Focus on whatever you want, Reg. You deserve it.”

Regulus just grumbled something about hockey gods, and then they were pulling up to the Dumais’. There were silver and white balloons lining the driveway and the fence to the backyard where, as Remus slammed his door, he could already hear laughter. A zing of excitement shot through him.

“I missed this team,” he sighed as Sirius took his hand.

Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple. “Your team.”

“Our team.”

“Jesus Christ,” Regulus said, and gave them a shove forward.

Thomas gave a loud woop when he spotted them coming out to the backyard. Regulus immediately made a B-line towards Leo and the Cubs.

“Yes! The Captain!” Thomas said and pulled Sirius into a hug. “Missed you, man.”

“You, too, T,” Sirius said. “Ready to tear it up?”

“You know it.”

Remus smiled as Thomas hugged him next. “I forgot you two train together before pre-season.”

“You two?” Thomas raised an eyebrow, the small gold hoops in his ears glinting in the sun. Remus noticed he’d shaved three stripes into one side of his head. They were a little wobbly. Maybe Noelle had done it. “You’re not coming with us?”

“You know how this one is about his routines,” Remus said, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist. “Wouldn’t want to mess anything up.”

“Please,” Sirius said. “I want you there more than I want a second—”

Remus and Thomas punched him at the same time.

“I know you weren’t just about to say that,” said an accented voice from behind Remus, and they turned to see Pascal standing there. He looked as he always did, smile lines around his eyes, gray streaks at his temples. He wore a white t-shirt and had Katie on his hip. She was definitely getting too big to be carried around like that, but Remus couldn’t see a time when Pascal would ever refuse her. He’d probably carry Adele around like that, too, if she’d let him.

“Dumo,” Sirius smiled, and took the two beers he was holding out, handing one to Remus. He kissed Katie’s forehead. “Good summer?”

“The best,” Pascal laughed, and nodded towards the edge of the yard. “Especially with the promise of seeing that thing again.”

Remus followed his gaze, and his breath caught, just as he knew it would. The Cup stood there, its guards near by with drinks and plates of food in their hands. It sat proudly on a table, surrounded by white tulips—no doubt Celeste’s doing.

“I’m excited to see you two bring it to the parade,” Pascal said. “That will be a wonderful day for everyone.”

Remus glanced at where Logan, Leo, and Finn were standing with Kasey Winter, Gryffindor’s goalie, and his partners Natalie, with her long blonde hair, and Finn’s brother Alex, who played for Tampa Bay.

Sirius’ smile lit up his face. “It will be.”

Remus peered around him. “Is that our rookie?”

Sirius scoffed. “A rookie can’t call a fellow rookie rookie, rookie.”

Remus blinked. “What did you just say?”

“That’s Cole!” Katie said. “I love him.” Then she turned and shouted his name again. He looked up from where he was standing quietly beside Jackson Nadeau, another player, and Remus suppressed a smile at the way his eyes widened when he saw Sirius.

“Oh, here we go,” Sirius mumbled.

“Oh, hush,” Remus said, and sounded far too much like his mother to himself. “You’re going to be throwing hands for him the second someone gets close, and you know it.”

“I don’t know how to tell rookies I’m just a person!” Sirius whispered as Cole began to make his way over. “They act all…”

“Star struck?” Thomas offered.

Sirius just glowered at him.

Cole Reyes did not look as young as he was. Even at 19, he was jacked, and tall, with light brown skin, green eyes, and a stripe shaved into one of his eyebrows. His hair was shaved at the sides, but longer on the top and in tight curls.

Remus glanced somewhat self-consciously down at himself. He could only put on more muscle healthily so fast. He thought he’d been doing well, but looking at Cole…

“Hello,” Cole said hesitantly and Pascal set Katie down and clapped Cole on the shoulder.

“Reyes, meet Sirius. Sirius, meet the boy who is a much better billet than you ever were.”

Sirius snorted, and Cole laughed—nervously.

“Hi, Cole,” Sirius said, and held out his hand. “I know we spoke briefly over the summer, but it’s nice to officially meet you.”

“You, too,” Cole said, smile slight. “Thanks for the call. My mom freaked out. I mean—well, me too, but my mom…” Cole stuttered out, wincing.

“Loves me?” Sirius laughed. “I get that a lot.”

“He’s so humble,” Remus shook his head jokingly. “Hi Cole, I’m Remus. Welcome to the team.”

“You too…?” Cole said hesitantly. “Well, the roster, I guess.”

“Cole,” Katie said, taking his large hand in her small one. “Come meet Tremzy. He’s my best friend.”

Sirius feigned a pout. “What about me?”

Katie smiled sheepishly, throwing herself at Sirius’ legs, “You, too!”

“Always one-uped by Tremblay,” Thomas laughed, shaking his head. “How’s it feel, Cap?”

“Wonderful,” Sirius said dryly and then looked down at Katie, petting her head. “Go on, go show Cole your best friend.”

They watched her lead Cole through the crowd for a moment before Sirius huffed.

“See?” Sirius whispered to Remus. “It’s like he’s scared of me.”

“I’ve never heard you use the phrase spoke briefly in my life. Who are you, Alice?”

“I was trying to be professional!”

Remus laughed. “Why?”

Sirius just rolled his eyes and dragged him over to stack their plates with food.

The party went well into the evening, the sky pink and blue in the setting sun. There were lanterns floating in the pool where Evgeni and Jackson were playing chicken with a delighted Marc and Louis, or sometimes one of Coach Arthur Weasley’s boys, on their shoulders. Logan was sitting with Cole and Finn, cradling a sleepy Katie against his chest, Leo and Regulus laughing with Kasey and Alex.

Remus found Sirius again standing alone in front of the Cup. His hair was falling into his face, the curls gentled by the evening breeze and the Cup’s silver surface reflecting the silver of Sirius’ eyes. Remus went to stand beside him, and neither of them spoke for a moment.

“I’m nervous,” Remus broke the silence.

Sirius nodded. “I know, mon loup.”

Remus sighed, resting his head against Sirius’ arm. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Sirius switched his drink to his other hand so he could run his fingers through Remus’ hair. “This is…big.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” Remus whispered. It felt dangerous, to say the words aloud. “It’s everything that I lost. Last time.”

Remus could still feel Fenrir Greyback rip at his shoulder, even if it was years ago now, while they were still at college. Being in the NHL meant that Remus would have to play against him again whenever they met Vegas.

Sirius turned towards him, hand on his cheek.

“You will have this,” he said earnestly, and then smile, reaching into his shirt for his necklace, the one Remus had gifted him last Christmas. He brought it to his lips. “Loops.”

Remus smiled at the now familiar sight, touching the pendant when Sirius’ let it drop.

“You know,” Remus said. “You’re everything I’ve always wanted, too.”

Sirius’ smile was one of Remus’ favorites, and he tucked him against his side. Remus followed his gaze to find him looking at Cole again.

“I’m not happy with the way it happened,” Sirius said softly, and Remus knew he was thinking of the pictures that someone had leaked of them kissing. The pictures that had upturned their entire lives. “But I’m glad I get to hold you like this in front of new faces. I wasn’t thinking about trades—I try not to—but getting Reyes, if things had been different, would have meant we were back to square one at parties like these.”

Remus nodded, taking a drink. “And he seemed okay with it. With us.”

“I was thinking we should invite him to train with us. With me, you, and T. Maybe Dumo would join, too. I know he usually goes with Sergei, but Sergei might be with Kuns and Nado, even though they usually like it just them. The Cubs—”

“Okay, Captain, okay,” Remus laughed.

Sirius pressed a hand over his eyes, laughing. “I just don’t like it when they’re nervous around me. Like Leo was. It’s so much better now that we’re friends.”

“You’ll get there with him,” Remus said. “Yeah, invite him to train with us. The more the merrier.”

Secretly, Remus wanted to see how Cole trained. He couldn’t shake the analytical side of him, the physical therapist side. Cole was built for such a young age.

“If I didn’t know better,” Sirius said softly, mouth close to Remus’ ear. “I’d say you were checking him out.”

Remus spluttered. “I’m not! I want to know his routine!”

Sirius cracked up. “This is your superstition, isn’t it? Cracking other player’s codes.”

Remus just shrugged, smiling into his cup.

“Have you cracked my code?” Sirius asked in the low voice he used that made Remus not want to be surrounded by people.

Remus looked up at him. “Maybe. It certainly has nothing to do with a piece of toast at five o’clock.”

“My pre-game toast is very important to me.”

Remus leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “No, you just like honey and cinnamon.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m going to talk to Reyes now.”

“Catch him if he passes out.”

Sirius just glowered over his shoulder as he stalked across the grass. Remus looked around at the back yard, at the team, together again. His team.

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papergirllife · 3 years

Text

-nct dream and wayv reaction to a tiny / small chested ( sfw for 01 and 02 liners )

• Kun

Kun would be very likely to have a tiny s/o because he enjoys being protective towards his s/o, not necessarily tiny in terms of size, but more towards height, he's not one of the taller ones in wayv, so I think he’d enjoy the feeling of being older and bigger compared to you. He'd love to see you drowning in the many sweaters he owns, and as in terms of small titties, I think he's more of an ass man, so small titties don't bother him, in fact I think he'd be very adoring towards them, engulfing his whole hand around your tits sexually and non-sexually on a daily basis, just an emphasis of how tiny you are.

• Ten

Ten would love a tiny s/o, Ten himself is quite tiny, so if he ends up choosing a tiny s/o, it'll be because of the advantage of sharing closets, Ten would be the type of boyfriend who’d be quick to get comfortable in a relationship, and ask for your permission to share your closets. It would've started off as you staying the night and needing a change of clothes, you could practically see hearts in his eyes the first time he saw you in his clothes. Ten would use this an excuse just to buy more clothes, sometimes even doing the honours of dolling you up himself. Ten wouldn't have a particular take on tits, to him, smaller to average tits are more to his liking.

• Winwin / Sicheng

Sicheng wouldn’t have a preference towards his s/o’s height, but most likely he'd go for someone at least half a head shorter, I think Chinese men are more traditional in this sense, going for someone who’s shorter than them. I think Sicheng would be more particular towards his s/o’s size, he’d go for someone who is skinnier than him I have a hunch. In terms of small tits, I think he’d prefer ones that are more to average Asian size.

• Dejun

Dejun would be the one with the highest chance of having a tiny s/o in terms of size and height, in an interview, he chose Ten as the person he would date if Ten was a girl purely because he's shorter. I think Dejun would really dote on his tiny s/o, so she would look very much childlike in terms of tits too because Dejun wants to feel manly when he's with his s/o.

• Hendery

Hendery is a wild card, he's the must open minded one among wayv in my opinion, and would most likely date a girl of any size and height, and wouldn't have a preference towards titties either. But if he did choose to be with a tiny s/o, it’d be because he could easily win when him and his s/o are play fighting or have a liking towards teasing his tiny s/o, even purposely putting the kitchenware in higher shelves just so you need him to get it for you.

• Lucas

Lucas would probably have a tiny s/o as well in terms of height and size, just like Kun, this sweetheart would strive to be your knight in shining armour, just like how he protected his fellow co star in keep running, this man is raised to be a gentleman and a tiny s/o would be perfect for him just so he could easily care and protect you. In terms of tits, I think he’d like average tits at least? Since his hands are so big, I think he’d prefer bigger titties.

• Yang Yang

Yang Yang definitely would go for a tiny s/o, idk if you guys know this, but he likes it when fans call him oppa, so I think this liking comes with certain particularity towards how his s/o is physically. So he’d go for someone who's shorter and smaller in size just so he could feel older (regardless whether she really is or not, it's just the aesthetic he wants). Like Ten, I think he'd love to see his s/o in his clothes, especially if she doesn't have a similar style, he’d bring over his sweaters just so he could see you drowning in them. As for tits, I think he’d love smaller ones, I think he enjoys how pretty they look, nothing like the ones in porn where he always see and finds them overrated.

• Mark and Donghyuck are in 127’s reaction.

• Renjun

Renjun himself is very much tiny, so looking for a tiny s/o who's just as or is smaller than him would be like winning the lotto to him, he’d love to hear the member’s gasp of surprise when he lets them meet her, putting a stop towards all the teasing of how he'd never find someone who’s tiny and doesn’t mind a tiny boyfriend. Renjun would also love small titties, the way small titties look in old paintings (since he loves art and I bet he's seen some), he’d love the aesthetic of small titties. In fact this infatuation might even lead to him asking to paint you nude one day, with his s/o’s consent of course.

• Jeno

Jeno would love and absolutely adore a tiny s/o (you can't tell me this man doesn’t have a size kink). He'll love to have his s/o in his lap, arms caged around his s/o small waist. He loves how he could easily carry his s/o, as if she’s just a feather in his strong arms. Small tits would be to his liking purely because he could engulf the whole titty into his mouth (you can't disassociate oral fixation from Lee Jeno). Did I say his liking towards manhandling too? I genuinely wish his s/o good luck.

• Jaemin

Jaemin loves to baby his s/o, and doesn’t have a preference to how she looks like physically, but since his babies (Chenle and Jisung) after both quite big, I think he'd want to baby someone who's actually baby sized. Just like Ten, he’d adore seeing his large clothes on his s/o's tiny frame, cooing at every chance he gets, if you think his adoration towards Jisung is bad, buckle up folks, this is going to be a bumpy ride. And as for titties, I think he'd love titties despite the size, but small titties? Catch him pinching and cupping them at every chance, it could just be a regular cuddle session, but his hands are definitely lingering upwards.

• Shotaro

Idk much about Taro, but what I can predict is that he’d prefer a tiny s/o, It might be the aesthetic that he likes, cue the ullzang couple photos on his camera roll, might have a thing for caressing your small fingers while holding hands, just a hunch, and likes to see his s/o in his clothes. I don’t think he has a preference for tits, tits are tits to him.

• Sungchan

From how big he is, I don’t think he’d make way to look for a tiny s/o, maybe a head shorter at most? I think Sungchan wants practicality in his relationship, so it’d be weird to him if he needs to lean down a lot in order to kiss his s/o.

• Chenle

Chenle would be likely to go for someone who’s tiny, at least a head shorter, he wants to feel more adult as compared to his s/o, he babies Jisung on a daily basis, so I think an ‘actual baby' s/o (unlike the giant like Jisung) would be more of his preference.

#nct smut #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct #nct dream #wayv #wayv smut #mark lee #jeno #jaemin #kun #lucas wong #renjun #jisung #ten lee

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multi--kpop--fanfics · 3 years

Text

(Not) Such A Good Boy

sub!bf!Juyeon x dom!fem!reader (ft. Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae)

genre: smut, slight crack, a bit of fluff towards the end

contains: dom/sub themes, degradation, oral sex (f receiving), marking, biting, spanking, Juyeon is a brat on a choker and a leash, unprotected sex (be safe y’all)

Author’s note: This man right there has been wrecking my existence lately (I blame Kingdom) and this GIF screams sub!Juyeon so yeah, enjoy this filth

“Lee Juyeon, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you scoff under your breath. You have been waiting for the past twenty minutes in the living room, outfit and makeup on point, since you were about to go clubbing with your group of friends. But apparently, your dear boyfriend had lost all sense of time, trying to get ready.

Visibly irritated, you storm to your shared bedroom, your heels angrily clicking on the wooden floor. “Juyeon, I swear to God-” you mutter and stop mid-sentence, only to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, fully dressed and a lop-sided smirk plastered on his handsome face.

“You called, babe?”, he asks teasingly and before rolling your eyes, you give him an once-over, processing his choice of clothes - a pair of tight black leather pants that were hugging his muscular thighs deliciously, a pair of black combat boots, a cropped black sweater with holes around his clavicles and a black belt-like choker around his neck. He was the epitome of the emo bad boy that all parents hated and all girls craved.

“Um, what is this?”, you question him with a pointing finger. "That, is my outfit for tonight", Juyeon states, the previous smirk still on his face, "What, you don't like it?". "Isn't it a bit unfair for me to wear not so revealing clothes all while you're dressed as an emo himbo?", you complain and he laughs, "An emo himbo? Wow, you're getting more creative with your descriptions, Y/N. You're right though, it's a sort of questionable outfit". You perk up at his response, hoping he'll change into something more colorful and less hole-adorned, only to be utterly disappointed, as Juyeon reached into the closet only to drape a black leather jacket on top of his broad shoulders. "Now we're good to go", he turns to you and winks with audacity. Brat, you scoff mentally and pick up the keys to unlock the door and finally leave your shared apartment.

"Finally! What the fuck took you so long?!", your friend Eric yells at you, trying to overcome the loud bass of the club speakers. "Your complaints to your friend over there, he was the one who took twenty minutes to get ready", you roll your eyes pointing to Juyeon, who was greeting Hyunjae and Kevin, your other friends. "Yooo, Juyeon, what's up with the collar, bro?", Eric amusingly points out. "It's a choker, you tasteless twat. But what would you know of fashion, since you only know how to wear t-shirts and ripped jeans?", Kevin comments and Juyeon mouths a 'thank you' to him. "Simple is the best, my dear friend. Besides, I've been getting all the girls, unlike you and your snake print jacket", Eric retaliates. "Excuse you, this jacket is a fashion statement!", Kevin bites back, feeling insulted. "Not gonna lie though, it does look like a collar. Will you put him on a leash too, Y/N?", Hyunjae comments in a snarky way, making Eric cringe in disgust. "Hyunjae, please go get some drinks, for God's sake", you reply with a dismissive manner. "Yes ma'am", he rolls his eyes and goes to the bartender.

You turn to Juyeon, who was extremely stiff after Hyunjae's comment. "You okay, baby?", you nudge him softly and he's brought back to reality. "Y-yeah, I'm fine, no worries", Juyeon replies, praying that the loud bass could cover his shaky voice. "Don't listen to Eric and Hyunjae, they have zero fashion sense, bro. I would wear that choker too, looks hella good on you", Kevin adds while pointing to the choker and Juyeon's smile is back on his face, "Thanks, bro, I really appreciate it", he replies with a chirpy tone.

The music suddenly changes into a slower jam and Juyeon smirks devilishly, as he winks at you and walks towards the dance floor. You watched as he starts swaying his hips and shoulders in the most smooth way possible, his half-lidded eyes never leaving yours. Eric and Kevin were whistling and cheering on Juyeon, all while Hyunjae was snorting at their antiques. You were simply lost in the image of your boyfriend dancing like there was no tomorrow. He wasn't just following the rhythm, he was riding it - and boy, was he good at doing so.

In fact, he was so good that he gained the attention of many people in the club. And you were lowkey proud, because that man was yours. However, a certain girl wasn't aware of that - hence why she approached Juyeon and started dancing with him. You were a bit jealous, not gonna lie, but the next moment made your blood fucking boil.

He had the fucking audacity to put his hands on her waist and dance with her - all while looking to you over her shoulder with the most smug expression on his face. That fucker, you mentally curse. This was definitely payback for everything you said before you left the house. You just knew it. You weren't even the jealous or possessive type of girlfriend to begin with.

But you'd be damned if you were to let a random bitch run her hands over your boyfriend.

Hyunjae catches up to your motions and he grabs you by your wrist. "Hyunjae, what the f-" "Shut up and listen to me. Going there and creating a scene will not end up well for you and you will give Juyeon exactly what he wants", he states and his words hit home faster that you expected. "Since when did you become so perceptive?", you raise an eyebrow and he chuckles, "I have my moments too, Y/N". "So, since your brain decided to actually function tonight, do you have any idea?" you ask in defeat and Hyunjae starts pulling you to the dance floor by your hand, leaving Eric and Kevin completely baffled. He then pulls you into his chest and leans in your ear to whisper

"Just dance, Y/N".

A Cheshire cat-like grin spreads on your lips, as you catch up to his ulterior motive and you start dancing with Hyunjae, hoping that Juyeon will notice the two of you. "Don't think too much about it, it will happen naturally", he adds, "You're too stiff, Y/N, just relax and enjoy dancing".

His words actually succeed in making you relax and you sway your hips more comfortably, actually enjoying the slow jams echoing through the club speakers. Under the dim lights, you lock eyes momentarily with Juyeon, who was licking his lips and his gaze was a mix of lust and death glares, the last one directed to Hyunjae. "Told you it would work", he comments, "You owe me this one". "Shut the fuck up, Hyunjae", you spit back and he laughs.

However, his laughter is cut short by a very jealous Juyeon, who has grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Next time I see you dance with Y/N, I'll break your fucking kneecaps", he growls and Hyunjae takes a step back, "She's all yours, bro", he raises his hands in defense and returns to the table. Juyeon then turns to you, his blood still boiling with jealousy, as you watch him with a proud smirk.

"You find this funny, huh? Dancing shamelessly with my friend?", he clenches his jaw. You then thread a finger through his choker and pull him close to your face, making Juyeon gasp. "Funny? No honey, I'm fucking fuming right now, because you decided to act like a brat and put your hands on the first bitch that threw herself on you", you retaliate, your chill facade slipping away. A sickly sweet smile adorns Juyeon's face as he watches every single movement of yours. He lowers his head, his lips hanging mere centimeters over yours and he slyly pokes out his tongue to lick your lips, hissing at the wet feeling.

"You're so fucking hot when you're mad, baby".

That was the last straw.

"Get your stuff, we're going home", you announce and he flashes a toothy grin. "Yes ma'am", he replies almost immediately and you return to your friends' table. "Guys, we'll be leaving now, hope you enjoy the rest of the night!" you announce and Eric looks between Juyeon and you. "Do I want to know what's going on?", he questions and Kevin pats him on the back while shaking his head as in 'no'. You both bid farewell to your friends and you walk out of the club, jogging towards your car. Juyeon whips out the cars keys and he opens the door for you, his gentleman-like gesture a complete contrast to his previous bratty behaviour.

The ride back home feels like it lasted for hours, when in reality, it lasted only ten minutes - maybe it's your sheer desire to fuck your handsome boyfriend to oblivion. By the time you entered your shared apartment, your lips were on Juyeon's neck, your hands roaming his toned body and his arms wrapped around your waist.

"You love acting like a bratty slut, don't you?", you sneer at him and he releases a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, and so do you", he whispers and he trails kisses upon your neck and behind your ear, nibbling your earlobe. "Are you going to punish me for being a bratty slut?".

You thought you came right there and then, 'cause fuck, he is so hot like this.

"Is that what you want? Fine then, you'll get the punishment you deserve, slut", you hiss while gripping Juyeon's jaw, your manicured nails raking his porcelain skin, "Don't say I didn't warn you", you whisper into his ear and he releases one of the lewdest sounds you've ever heard in your life. "God, you're a desperate little bitch, aren't you, Lee Juyeon?", you ask while removing the detachable strap of your bag and clasp it on his choker, creating a make-shift leash. "Only for you, baby", he replies with a sultry voice and half-lidded eyes.

You pull him by the make-shift leash, and you push him onto the couch, where you settle yourself on his lap, his hard cock straining his already tight pants. You remove his shirt, exposing his chiseled body. Wasting no time, you attack his collarbones with your lips, trailing red and purple blotches on his soft skin. You bite the juncture of his neck teasingly and he releases breathy moans, making you chuckle. You grind your clothed core on his bulge, and the sweet friction makes Juyeon mewl again. He tries to reach for your crotch with his hand, but you stop him by pulling the leash, making him gasp.

"No sweetheart, no touching tonight", you chastise him, as you pull back to remove your clothes and his pants, leaving the both of you only in your underwear. Juyeon's bulge is even more evident now, the thin material of his boxers having a wet spot, due to his cock leaking pre-cum. The sight in front of you makes your own wetness pool in your panties - your boyfriend on a leash, his perfectly styled hair now disheveled, his upper torso covered in love bites, his muscular thighs fully spread and his cock straining against his boxers.

"Baby, fuck, please do something", he pleads with bleary eyes. "Lie down for me", you order and he's laid flat on his back with one swift motion, his desperation showing. You remove your underwear and place your naked pussy right in front of his face. He reaches for your thighs with his arms, but you slap them away. "I said, no touching", you say sternly, "But-", "You should have thought twice before touching that bitch with your hands. Now, be a good boy and use your pretty mouth", you demand.

Juyeon pushes his wet tongue into your heat without second thought and he's lapping up your juices like a starved man. You can't help but moan with satisfaction, having him under your control like that gave you a huge adrenaline rush. You raked your nails from his torso to the hem of his boxers, the sensation making him moan and momentarily halt his actions. You slap his left thigh to alert him and his cock twitches, the vibrations of his moans coursing through your body as well. Juyeon now flattens his tongue against your folds with a faster tempo.

"You like it when I spank you, huh? Naughty boy", you smirk and land another slap, this time on his right thigh. Juyeon retaliates by sucking on your clit harshly, making you yelp from pleasure and you feel him smirk against your pussy. You find the leash and tug it, pulling Juyeon's face even closer to your core. "Behave, or you'll sleep without cumming tonight", you warn him and he whines, but resumes his efforts nonetheless. "Good boy, k-keep it u-up", you stutter as you feel your high approach with each passing second. His tongue is alternating between circling your clit and pumping in and out of your hole, the squelching sounds creating a pornographic scene.

You scream as you cum on Juyeon's face, your whole body shaking, as he helps you ride out your orgasm with kitten licks. You pull yourself together and turn around to face him, as he nastily licks his lips to taste your essence. "Sweet like fucking candy", he comments, "Want a taste, baby?". You pull him by the leash and crash your lips on his, tasting yourself, as your tongues dance crazily in a battle of dominance. "You're still acting like a brat, but since you did as I said, maybe you deserve to cum after all", you state and bend down to remove his boxers and free his painfully hard erection.

"Y/N, stop fucking teasing already!", Juyeon whines again and you slap his thigh again, "Where did your manners go, baby?".

"Please, Y/N..."

"Please what?"

"Please use my cock to cum"

"Fuck, such a good boy", you moan and spear yourself onto his hard cock, the sudden stretch tipping between pain and pleasure. You give yourself almost no time to adjust and you start riding Juyeon like a mad woman. He pistons his hips in unison, pounding into you with a speed neither of your brains are able to register. You put your hands on his broad chest for support and he holds your hips with his hands so tight you might get bruises the next day. Neither of you are able to contain your obscene moans nor form coherent sentences, way too lost in pleasure and lust.

"Fuck, Juyeon, you're such a good boy, so good for me", "Only for you Y/N, shit- only yours", he groans and his hips start to falter, signaling his upcoming orgasm. "I-I'm close again, nngh..", you mewl as you feel your insides clench around his cock like a vice. "M-Me too, Y/N please let me cum, let me f-fill you up baby", "Oh God, yes, fill me with your cum, babe", you moan loudly.

Juyeon moans with you as he stills himself, his cock twitching uncontrollably and flooding your cunt with his hot cum, painting your insides white. You collapse on top of him, panting heavily, the both of you sweating and spent, laughing breathlessly. You muster all the strength you have left in you to remove the choker from Juyeon's neck.

"Oof, thank you baby", he nods, rubbing his neck softly. You swipe a few dark strands of his forehead. You notice the marks on his neck the choker left and you can't help but feel a little regretful. "Did I hurt you?", you ask sheepishly and Juyeon smiles softly and presses a kiss on your nose. "No baby, you were perfect. We should do this more often, actually. You look hella sexy when you take control", he teases and you playfully smack his chest.

"So you intend to dance with random girls in clubs?", you ask and Juyeon smirks,

"No, but I intend to be not such a good boy for you".

#juyeon smut #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz smut #the boyz fanfics #tbz #would you look at that #another juyeon fanfic

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair

I reached that 500 followers everyone! So in celebration of all the people who I love dearly, this is the first part of my 10 things I hate about you series that I’m doing.

Heads up that the next part might take a while to post, especially since I’ve been posting the work I get each week, y’all see the amount of stuff I have to do. Part two is already started, but it’s just gonna be a minute before it’s ready.

I hope you guys like it, and thank you again for 500 followers 💛💛💛

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

________________________

“How long are we going to keep dancing around the fact that you and I are meant for each other?”

“How long is it going to take you to understand that I hate so much about you?”

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

“Alright, chica, are we meeting the guys there, or are we stopping by their place? What’s the plan for tonight?” Evelina asks, sitting down on the couch next to you.

“Last I heard, we were meeting them at their place but if you don’t get ready fast enough, we have to meet them there,” you tell her, lifting her off the couch before she can get too comfortable and make you late.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, your other best friend texting you a stupid meme that he found online, followed by a sexual innuendo that was normal for your friendship. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he talked to you, a stupid smile covering your face as you drag Evelina to her room in the hopes that she’ll get ready in a timely manner.

“Is that your man?” she asks, sitting down in front of her mirror, hopefully, to start her makeup.

“He’s not my man,” you protest, not tearing your eyes off your phone, responding to him with an equally snarky and somewhat crude response.

“You’re sexting him as we speak. I can tell, you have that stupid grin on your face that you only get when it’s him replying to you,” she fires back, starting on her makeup. God you hoped she wouldn’t put much on tonight; you were supposed to be meeting the guys in half an hour at one of their houses.

Her comment, however, makes you look up from your phone. “I don’t think you know what sexting is. I am fully clothed. This is not sexting.”

“I will look up the definition of sexting and make us late. But, are you really wearing that tonight?” she asks you, making eye contact with you through her mirror just in time for her to see you roll your eyes. “Take something from my closet; if you’re going to see him tonight then you need to be wearing something better. You get up from her bed in a huff, going to her closet to try to find something there that was remotely your style. Evelina’s clothes were great, they just weren’t things that you would wear. “And you don’t need clothing off just to consider it sexting.”

“He’s literally just my other best friend. Maybe you’re jealous that I’m closer to him than I am to you!” you yell to her from her closet. “And hurry up with the makeup or I’m picking out your outfit.”

“That’s mean,” she says, a slight dig on your sense of style, or lack thereof. “I just need my eye makeup, calm down.” She leaves you in silence to rummage through her wardrobe. You hope that her non-follow up meant that she had dropped the conversation topic about your admittedly weird relationship with him.

She eventually meets you in her closet, pulling out the perfect outfit for herself in a matter of seconds while you struggle to find something. There was a reason why you were wearing the jeans and sweater you already had on; you didn’t like anything else at this point. “What about this?” she asks, handing you a crop top and a flannel to go over it. You give her an unsure look, not really wanting to change at it was. “Come on!” she begs, “This is so much sexier than what you have on now.”

“Why do I need to be sexy?” you argue, taking the clothes from her and changing into them anyway.

She rolls her eyes, knowing that the two of you have the same conversation nearly every week. “You literally sext him constantly,” she repeats in a sing-songy voice.

“It’s not sexting!” you say at the same time, her mimicking you with a slightly higher pitched voice than the one you already make. “You clearly like him. You never come home with me when we go out with them.”

“Maybe that’s because I go home with someone else.”

She laughs, calling your bluff, “You go home with the same curly-haired boy every single week. Admit it: you’re in love with Matthew and he’s in love with you.”

“We’re. Just. Friends,” you argue again, going out to see how the outfit looks on you. “Are you sure this looks alright?” As much as you hated the idea of the crop top, revealing as much skin as you did, she was right that it looked better on you than the sweater.

“Something’s missing,” she says, standing behind you. “And you literally send me a Snapchat from his bed every weekend. He’s never wearing a shirt in those snaps, I might add.”

She leaves you to stare at yourself in the mirror. She could not be more wrong about your feelings for him: he was your best friend, that was it. “He just sleeps without a shirt, the same way you don’t wear pants when you sleep. That’s right, I know you put those shorts on when you wake up.”

“We’re roommates. You know everything about me. That’s not a weird thing to know,” she says. “Why are you so stubborn to admit that you like him?”

“I hate way more about him than I like,” you try to counter. The same argument every week meant that you were running out of original ideas about how to tell her the same thing.

She comes out of her closet, holding a pair of black wedge booties, shoving them in your hands. “Name one thing you hate about him.”

“I hate the way he wears his hair. He’s got amazing curls and yet he lets them hang over that weird side shave of his? Either have it shaved like he did when he was drafted, or go full curls. Pick one.”

She rolls her eyes, getting her own shoes on as your phone buzzes on her bed. “That’s weak. He’s also texted you five times in the last ten minutes.”

“Probably because he’s wondering why we’re running late, even though he knows you’re never on time for anything.” She tosses you your phone. You see the messages asking you where you are, telling you to just meet them there because the guys got too antsy waiting for the two of you to be on time for once. “That’s something I hate about you: you’re always late,” you tell her, hoping that she would drop the subject.

“Join the club. So does my mom.” She gets up, pulling you up with her and admiring the two of you in the mirror before turning to face you. “If you can think of ten things that you hate about Matthew Tkachuk, ten legitimate things that overpower your ability to love him, then I will drop the subject of you and him dating entirely until you bring it up yourself.”

You look at her, trying to figure out if she were serious or not. You loved Evelina more than anyone, definitely more than you loved Matthew, who you didn’t love at all. But her biggest fault was her constant need to gossip. “Does the hair thing count? And how long do I have to come up with the list?”

“Fine. And I’ll give you a month, starting now. In one month, if you don’t have nine more reasons for hating him, then you’re going to hear about how you and him should be together until you get married. If not, then you have to ask him out on a date.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to have to ask him out if you can’t give her the ten satisfactory reasons. But, come on, you could think of so many things you hated about him, just none are coming to mind. “Deal,” you decide, grabbing her hand to lead her out the door.

“You will get married to him, though. I’ll be maid of honor obviously.”

“Keep this up and you won’t even be invited, and neither will Matthew because I won’t be marrying him.”

“We both know that you’re going home with him tonight,” she says, referencing the point she made earlier.

You couldn’t go home with Matthew tonight, and you knew it. If you didn’t have someone else to go home with, then you would have to, though. Or you could just go to your actual home. Pulling up your messages, you type out a message to Matthew: ‘Unless we can both find someone we’re interested in, then we go home with each other alright?’

‘So, both of us go home with someone or we go home with each other?’

‘Yeah, sound good?’ You didn’t care if he wanted that or not. You had to convince Evelina that you weren’t interested in Matthew, first with the list, second with going home with someone else.

‘Just come home with me, like you always do. We can do something different tonight if you’re interested?’ he replies, earning an eye roll from you.

‘Like what?’

‘We obviously both know what we want from each other’

‘Haha, no.’

‘Sad but fine :(’ he sends. Staring at his phone, the three dots appearing and disappearing as you try to find the words to say to him, he wanted nothing more than to be the one who took you home tonight.

You and Evelina get to the bar, not really wanting to see the boys. As soon as Matthew saw you, you knew he would have his hands all over you, but that was it. He would never try to kiss you or anything, even if he wanted to. Even if you were oblivious to the fact that he wanted to.

The entire thing was just confusing. You loved the relationship you had with him, but you knew it was never going to go anywhere. You didn’t want it to. You just had to find someone else to go home with tonight. Ideally, you would fall in love with them and never have to think about Matthew as more than your friend for the rest of your life.

Scanning the bar, you couldn’t see anyone that remotely interested you, other than the usual suspects. The boys had led you to a bar that you’ve frequented enough times that the bartenders knew your drink order on sight. It also meant that you’ve seen the patrons of the bar enough times to know that unless someone new walked through that entrance door tonight, you were going home with Matthew. Unless you could convince one of his teammates to go home with. Maybe you could go home with Elias? Or Noah, worst case.

The same group of friends that was there every weekend was sitting in the front corner, a group of college students who were probably underage sitting in the back, some wine moms probably talking about how horrible their husbands are for buying the wrong brand of designer purse for their birthday presents were sitting in the front. The guys and now Evelina for that matter were nowhere to be seen, meaning they were in the back room, probably hoarding the pool table, like they did every time you guys came here. Not seeing the guys also meant not seeing Matthew.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t see you. As soon as Evelina bounced into the room, his mind was occupied with the thought of finding you. Then when she told him that you were dressed in some of her clothing? He could feel himself going crazy trying to picture what you were wearing, knowing some of the outfits he had seen your roommate in. All he had to do was convince you not to go home with another guy. That was going to be easy, right? He stands by the bar, out of your line of site, just to admire how you looked. Evelina knew damn well what she was doing when she picked that outfit for you. She had to know seeing you in that would drive Matthew crazy like it was.

You nearly forgot about him, thinking only of your options of who you could go home with when you felt him come up behind you, your entire body tensing up as his hands snaked their way around your waist, pulling you close to him. Your breath stopped when his thumb hooked onto the belt loop of your jeans. He leaned in, his hot breath sending a chill down your spine, letting out a whisper, “Just come home with me tonight. I’m gonna make you cum so hard.”

You exhale, rolling your eyes, running your tongue over your teeth. You knew he would say something like that to you; it was the exact type of statement that you would text each other constantly. He couldn’t see the smirk on your face that you know would drive him crazy. “What, to my senses?” you whisper back. His hands drop long enough for you to turn around to face him, draping your arms on his shoulders just for him to pull you back in to him, leaving no space to escape with your back pressed to the bar counter. “Don’t be crude. You know our deal, Matthew. We just made it, you can’t be that forgetful.”

“And who do you see here that you would be remotely interested in besides me?” he teases. “The guy macking on a girl on the other end of the bar, or the college kids who may or may not be legal?”

“The night is young, Rat Man,” you call him the nickname you knew he despised, ruffling your hands in his hair, tangling your fingers in the curls. “Maybe instead of looking at me, try going for those girls that just came in already can’t seem to keep their eyes off you.” You motion to the table of girls sending you daggers just over Matthew’s shoulders.

“Why would I do that when I have you already right in my arms?”

You lean in, running your hands down his body. You could feel his heart racing at your touch, knowing you were driving him crazy with every word you uttered, “Because we both know that’s not something we do,” you tease him, getting an idea as the guys filter into the main bar area. “Worst-case scenario, I’ll go home with Elias.”

He pulls away from you, trying to hide the pain he was feeling from coming through on his face. “Why would you do that?”

“Have you seen Lindy? You know I’ve always had a crush on him, why not act on that?”

“Because I would hate that?” he questions. You had to know he would hate that. There’s no way you could be so oblivious to the fact that his ‘jokingly sexual texts’ weren’t joking for the most part, right?

“Maybe that’s why I do it,” you tease. Nope, you were oblivious. Even though Evelina had told you earlier, you thought she was lying. “So, where is he?”

Matthew bites his lip, debating on telling you where his teammate was or not. He couldn’t let you go home with Elias, but you know he’s single. He could just tell you that he didn’t come tonight, but then what happens when you spot him. What if he just said Lindy had started seeing someone recently? “I don’t know,” is all he can tell you. He can’t lie to you. Not if this was something that had the potential to make you happy.

“Then I’m gonna go find him,” you say, kissing him on the cheek and weaseling your way out from his grip. You were determined not to go home with him tonight. Evelina was wrong about the two of you being in love, and this was the first step in proving it. Actually, the second, the list was the first step. You just needed nine more things.

“What the hell was that?” Matthew hears a voice snap him out of the trance you sent him into while he watched you walk away to find his teammate. He looks next to him, Evelina sitting there. He could not read the girl to save his life: was she mad? Was she actually confused? The girl only showed emotion with her voice. Either that or Matthew was just oblivious when it came to reading her.

“What are you talking about?” he pretends not to know, signaling to the bartender to get him another drink. If he had to watch you go home with his friend, he might as well be able to forget about it come morning.

She rolls her eyes at him. “I just had this conversation with her. How are you both so dumb?” she says off to the side before sighing and looking at Matthew, “You clearly both love each other.”

Matthew looks at her, the panic written all over his face. “Wh-what?” he stammers out. No one knew he’s liked you for a while now. At least, he hadn’t told anyone. Was he that obvious? Of course he was obvious, he blatantly flirted with you all the time. “We are not in love with each other.”

“Oh, stop lying, everyone but Y/N knows that’s not true. You two will be going out on a date by the end of the month,” she says, staring down at her drink. The confidence in her voice was baffling, considering Matthew didn’t even think he could ever convince you to actually date him. How did Evelina do it?

“You’re one of the first people to tell me that I’m an idiot so I really need you to give me more explanation. We both know I can never figure out what you’re saying to me.”

She sighs, taking a long sip of her drink. “I made a bet with her: if she can come up with ten things that she hates about you by the end of the month, then I’ll stop talking about you two for the rest of your lives. If not, then y’all are going on a date.”

Matthew could feel himself starting to panic. “Only ten things? Are you joking? There are at least five guys in the NHL who could think of fifty. My own teammates probably have thousands. My dad probably hates more things about me than he likes!” he starts to spit out. This was not going to end well, and he knew it.

“Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes yet again. “If she really didn’t like you, then she would have come up with something better than the way you shave the side of your head like that.”

He subconsciously lifts his hand to run it along the shaved sides she was talking about. “That’s all she could think of?”

“That’s it. I know Y/N better than anyone: she’s going to try to think of ten things and she’s not going to come up with them and she’s finally going to realize that she loves you.”

“This is either going to be great or awful.”

“Which one do you want it to be?”

“Great, obviously, but how are you sure it’ll end up with the two of us together?”

She looks at him and just smiles. He couldn’t tell if it was because she was trying not to laugh at how dumb he was or because she was genuinely happy or hopeful. “She’s going to figure out that you like because and love despite. It’s a saying for a reason.”

Before he can say anything, the two of them are interrupted by the sound of you and the rest of the boys roaring with laughter. They both find the group through the crowd to see them all huddled around Elias going on a rant about something. Evelina drags Matthew over, plopping him down next to you, leaving you sandwiched between him and Elias.

“What’s going on?” Evelina asks once he finishes his rant.

“We’re playing ‘don’t get me started,’” you explain, subconsciously settling into Matthew as he drapes his arm behind you. “Elias was just talking about the idea of a ‘puck bunny.’” Evelina raises her eyebrow, egging you on to continue, “He thinks the concept is dumb and that women should be allowed to like the sport without being accused of wanting sex and all that jazz. We love a feminist,” you coo, playfully nudging Elias as he smiles. Matthew could feel himself going crazy at the site of it, putting his arm around you as if to mark you as his.

Evelina raises her glass, “Thank god, you’re a good man, Lindy,” toasting to him before setting her glass down. “Who’s next?”

“I guess it’s me?” you say. “Someone give me a topic.”

“Gifted Education Program in US education,” Evelina says, already knowing your feelings about it. The alcohol in your system was only going to make the rant better.

“Don’t get me started about the Gifted Education Program,” you start, already feeling yourself get heated even though there was a smile on your face, playing perfectly into the game that you and the guys had started to play. “It had to be one of the worst things, if not the worst thing that has ever happened to me. And all because of a fucking standardized test that I took when I was seven years old. What the hell kind of school system tells a child they’re ‘gifted’ because of a stupid test that they don’t care about? I mean, if Matthew here went to school with me and took the same test,” you start, looking over at him, feeling the heat rush to your face as you prepared for his reaction to what you were about to say, “He could have guessed on the entire test and been labelled as ‘gifted.’ Does he seem like someone who would be ‘gifted’ academically?”

The guys laughed around you as the two of you just stared at each other. Part of him hated how easily you were able to chirp him, knowing that he could never find it in him to chirp back.

“I mean, what the hell does the gifted program even do? It pulled me out of class and made me miss instruction time which I then had to teach myself what I missed. And for what? To be a defense lawyer for the Big Bad Wolf from the Three Little Pigs? I didn’t even get to plan what I said by myself: I was given a script and had to memorize it. How is that gifted education? What does that promote? When we read The Indian in the Cupboard? When we did math problems that we were told high schoolers had issues solving? Or, how about the way we wrote a newspaper every single week but since we only worked on it for thirty minutes, we never published a single issue. I don’t even know what my section of the paper was.”

You keep going on about the gifted program, the guys laughing more and more. Matthew couldn’t focus on what you were saying, he was too busy focused on your hand, which you didn’t even realize kept grazing his thigh, driving him crazy, just like everything else you did. He pulls out his phone, searching for Evelina’s contact.

‘Are you sure this list is going to work in my favor?’

She snaps out of listening to your rant, trying to catch her breath as she looked at her phone. Looking between you and Matthew, she smiles at him, the first look he was able to properly read: it will.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #ratty matty #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl #nhl imagines

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dastardlydandelion · 3 years

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So...what kind of horror movie would you write featuring the Hargrove/ Mayfield family? (That you haven't written already lol)

oh boy, u may regret asking me this bc i am indecisive af and i can’t pick just one!

two that i'm actually writing are max as (g is for) ghostface killer in the abcs of neil’s death and also the max + tory nichols werewolf movie fic outlined here. also some more misc gorror junk bc i’m a demon and esp horny for susan wearing blood splatter. but more ideas commence below:

horror movie #1: another creature feature! awhile back @lucdarling sent me an ask abt max + billy hiding smth from susan and her like, playing along, pretending she doesn't know, and one of the scenarios that popped in my head was them keeping a baby bat as a pet. max finds it and she’s only like six or seven, and she thinks it’s going to turn into a vampire. so here is that scenario except horror edition: baby bat is actually a vampire type creature. not rly a vampire like, what’s prolly popping into ur head, like an undead human like dracula or smth, but like a bat monster that sucks blood.

billy being a lil older doesn’t actually think the bat is going to turn into a vampire. he makes fun of max for believing this, but he helps her take care of it anyway bc he thinks it’s cool. susan, like in the non-horror version, knows abt the bat but plays dumb bc she’s feeling a lot of guilt abt max’s difficulty adjusting to the blended fam (as of rn tho, neil has yet to reveal his abusive nature. the red flags are not yet red, more of a brownish maroon, and he is on his best behavior almost all the time, showering susan + max with affection and keeping the swears out of his mouth when he scolds billy in front of them) and knows the lil furry baby makes her happy. she tacitly cleans up after the bat whenever the kids miss a spot (bats poop a lot, dude) and distracts neil, deterring him from discovering it whenever he gets close.

baby bat gets rly big rly fast. and the older it gets, the more it starts to look monstrous. it still has bat features but it’s just like, different. its fangs grow suspiciously long, its hooks grow suspiciously long. its feet are elongated. a dorsal ridge emerges from its spine, spikes at first just flesh but soft fur rather like peach fuzz eventually sprouting. billy catches on that smth is strange abt this animal when it's as long as his forearm after two wks and still growing. he nearly shits a brick when the bat is clinging to his sweater one day and he steps in front of a mirror and only his reflection looks back at him— no bat.

max laughs at him all like, “stupid brother, ofc there’s no reflection. nosferatu is a vampire, vampires don’t have reflections.” 😂

susan catches a glimpse of the thing when nosferatu crawls out of the home max built it in her closet the same wk billy realizes it doesn’t have a reflection, and also almost shits a brick. she doesn’t know what it is, but it’s NOT a fucking bat. not a normal one, anyway! cue a comedy scene where she’s chasing it around the house with a butterfly net and it’s always one flap *ba dum tss* ahead of her, flying just out of reach. she suddenly regrets not getting rid of it sooner, scolding herself for ever allowing her daughter to keep a wild animal.

she can’t catch it. max comes home, susan tells her she needs to get rid of it. max cries, flips her the bird, refuses. billy tho…billy has mixed feelings. he loves nosferatu but he’s worried it’s going to get dangerous. he loves his dad and his dad is dangerous too. he’s stressed out enough, always on edge, knowing that one way or the other, neil is going to hurt him again. he’s already waiting for his dad to hurt him, he doesn’t need the added stress of waiting for nosferatu to hurt him too. and while max is 100% nosferatu’s favorite, it likes billy too. billy’s been handling it since it could fit in the palm of his hand, it trusts him much more than it trusts susan and doesn’t know any different when billy takes it out of the closet when max isn’t around.

billy frees nosferatu at an abandoned farm. there are always bats flying out of the old silo adjacent to the dilapidated barn. while he knows nosferatu isn’t a *normal* bat, it’s still bat like enough that he thinks it might make friends and be happy here…

yeah, that doesn’t stick. before long, nosferatu is feasting on that colony. leeches the blood out of a couple bats nightly. the number of bats increases with nosferatu’s size. meanwhile, max mourns her missing friend. she’s sullen af and won’t speak to susan at all. she thinks susan is the one who got rid of nosferatu. billy never fesses up and susan doesn’t contradict max’s assumption bc she wants the step-siblings to get along.

neil, meanwhile, is getting more comfortable. those maroon flags are slowly but surely brightening to scarlet. he starts sabotaging susan’s plans with her friends, trying to keep her around the house more and more, quietly but steadily eroding her relationships with other people. he’s getting more visibly aggressive when he disciplines billy. he curses him out with a virulent venom that dunks susan’s stomach in ice water and scares max so badly, she runs to susan and hides behind her even though she’s still so mad that susan got rid of her beloved baby vampire.

nosferatu’s appetite surpasses what the bat colony can offer. it’s like the size of a ten yr old human child now. fucker’s big. it doesn’t just have fangs on top, but tusks on bottom. it can’t go out in the sunlight anymore, the sun sears its flesh. it misses max a lot and before, it wasn’t strong enough to fly back to her house. but now it is. it’s extremely strong, actually.

so bc it's hungry, nosferatu grabs a snack along the way. some nameless rando, it swoops down and sucks dry. nourished and much happier, nosferatu makes its way back home. patiently waits outside of max’s bedroom in the moonlight, tapping its hook against the window until she wakes up. initially max is a lil startled— nosferatu looks so different, there’s a beat before she recognizes it— him?? yk, ig it’s male, the og nosferatu was a guy. sure, why not, nosferatu is a boy now.

once she realizes who it is, she is so! happy! max opens the window and embraces her friend. she isn’t freaked out by the blood on its fangs. she’s always known nosferatu is a vampire, albeit, she was thinking he’d look more like dracula than this bat-monster-thingy.

nosferatu moves back into max’s closet. it hangs upside-down from her rod by its weird, elongated feet. we get more shots of nosferatu sucking rando ppl dry at night, tho he remains gentle with max. when max drags billy in to show her he came back, nosferatu is less friendly with him. he’s not aggressive with billy, but he is standoffish. nosferatu’s thought process is somewhere between human and animal. he doesn’t quite cognitively understand that billy took him to the farm with the intent of getting rid of him, but he does understand that the last time he clung to billy, billy left him alone and never came back. max puts two and two together, and realizes it was billy who “stole” her friend. she yells at him a lot, he yells back, she then ices him out.

billy acts out bc he’s upset. runs away, thinks he’s going to find his mom…the cops find him first and call neil. neil is rly embarrassed and pissed abt the whole thing. he breaks down and beats billy in front of the mayfields for the first time. nosferatu smells the blood and it’s time for the main event! we love dead!neil, yes, we do.

nosferatu flies out the closet and right into the living room where billy’s bleeding and teary but biting his lip so they don’t actually fall. susan’s covering max’s eyes but so shocked and tbh, FRIGHTENED, she doesn’t move a muscle beyond that. neil’s got the belt raised, preparing to bring it down again, and nosferatu smashes right into him. neil stumbles, turns back to see this freaky monster looking thing. proceeds to whip the belt at nosferatu. tries to fight him off with the belt and it doesn’t accomplish much beyond pissing him off more— nosferatu, like most classic vampire types, has a healing factor!

max rips her mom’s hands off her face in time to see her pet sink its fangs into her stepdad’s throat. nosferatu sucks neil dry. billy’s a little dazed, not quite frightened. susan is just dead ass frozen, too scared to scream, even. nosferatu crawls over to billy and nudges at him, making sure he’s in once piece and forgiving him in the same go. max darts over and that snaps susan out of her stupor, but she isn’t as fast as our blood-sucking bat monster.

nosferatu stretches his wings out and with a truly impressive wingspan, hugs both of the kids. <3

horror movie #2: a haunting! this one opens with a bang. it’s a tragic horror, beware. we’re in hawkins post s3. billy died at starcourt mall. neil’s obvi had a longstanding abusive mindset and abusive behavior, but he rly takes his grief out on susan and max. mostly susan. she does her best to protect max however she can, whether that means shielding her w her body, sending her out of the house, getting neil’s goat to inspire his ire in max’s place, etc. but sue simply isn’t around all the time and when she isn’t, but max is, well. yk.

one day neil comes home early (bc he lost his job for a violent outburst, tbh) and discovers susan packing a suitcase.

sue fights hard. she rly does. but neil is bigger, heavier, crueler, and to boot, he caught her completely unawares. he kills her. and no, no it’s not some accidental thing where neil makes one bad move rage-blind. he strangles her with his belt. she’s clawing at his arms and making these horrible choked, trapped animal noises. thrashes and twists her body with everything she has trying to get him off but he’s so strong, his grip is unrelenting, and she's growing weaker, lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. strangulation can induce incontinence and when susan blacks out, her piss streams to the hardwood— neil hears that as much as he felt the clawing and heard the noises, even now he could stop, but he doesn’t. he just. doesn’t think his wife has the right to leave him, esp not after his son just did.

neil burns the body and the suitcase in the woods while max is at school. max has been spending as much time as she can (and often with sue’s prompting) outside of the house, so it actually takes her about two days to realize her mother isn’t around. neil tells a pretty convincing story about how susan abandoned them, voice saturated with apology and sorrow. he takes her out for a fancy dinner and promises he’s going to be a better father-- that being a better father is the least he can do now that her mother abandoned her and they are alone in their grief.

max doesn’t know what to think. she’s been preoccupied with her own grief and pain. she finds it hard to believe her mother would just leave her to neil’s wrath. she has a lot of hangups with susan and anger toward her for marrying neil and not getting them out sooner, but she’s also old enough to realize there would be risks involved with that. it’s hard to reconcile the memory of her mother just last wk pinning max to the wall to protect her from neil’s blows with her own bod just abruptly taking off without a word in the middle of the night. but hey, maybe that’s why susan left. maybe she got sick of protecting her, maybe the pain got to be too much and she turned tail.

but also…it’s early october now, abt three months after billy’s death but still fairly warm outside. yet neil is wearing long sleeves. neil never used to button his collared shirts all the way up, and yet. every collar is buttoned. also, mom’s car is still here. why would mom leave without her car?

that ceramic pelican she loved so much is still here too, on the mantle in the living room. it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she would leave behind, she's had it since max was a baby.

max almost wants to believe neil because she’d rather her mother abandoned her than be dead somewhere, rotting in a storage locker or a hole in the ground. under the earth with the worms, just like billy. max has the worst feeling low in the pit of her gut. she thinks she knows the truth. she thinks abt going to hopper and hesitates bc she’s not sure she could handle it if he actually found smth. or what would happen to her if he did, where she would be sent, who she would end up with.

this movie would be more on the ambiguous end of things. an arthouse horror, if u will.

the days turn into wks and neil is crawling in his skin. the viewer isn’t sure if the shadows he’s seeing, always, always susan-shaped shadows, are of a ghostly nature or if he’s just hallucinating out of guilt. but the signs gradually point to the former— that smth paranormal is indeed going on. bc those scratches and bite marks susan left in his skin?

they do not heal. they do not get infected. they do not become necrotic. but they do not heal, either. days turn into wks and the wounds still look fresh, like she just left them moments ago. neil can’t wear light colors anymore because his wounds weep red into the fabric. he isn’t just seeing susan’s shadows either, he’s smelling her.

he washes his sheets and pillowcases a dozen times and the scent of her shampoo, her lotion, it’s like it’s woven into the fibers. he walks into the hallway and chokes on the aroma of susan’s perfume. he wonders if max is screwing with him, if max figured it out and she’s trying to torture him into a confession. one day he stomps off to max's bedroom, furious, adamant on confronting her. he grabs her doorknob, prepared to yank it open and then lets out a yelp, jerking his hand back with a sudden sharp pain.

it feels like a bee sting (which would be esp bad for this fucker in anything i write, bc i headcanon him as being allergic). but there’s no stinger. no injury. nothing. neil is freaked out enough that he backs down.

max, on the other hand, is getting gentler signs. when she turns the radio dial in the camaro, it’s somehow always her mom’s favorite songs that come thru the speakers. when she goes to pull clothes out of her drawers in the morning, she discovers that the things she’d just shoved inside in wrinkled balls are perfectly folded, neat as a pin, exactly like how susan always folded. susan was always fond of cardinals and suddenly max is seeing cardinals, pretty red cardinals, in just abt erry tree and shrub.

neil wakes up one night to his wife’s voice whispering “boo” right in his ear. he throws the covers off and discovers ashes in the bed. he doesn’t smell susan’s shampoo or lotion anymore, he smells the kerosine he’d poured all over her body.

his wounds still won’t heal. whenever he looks in the mirror, he catches a glimpse of susan walking past behind him, peering at him from her peripheral. he whips around, heart hammering, but there’s never any tangible person there.

max is almost certain her mother is dead at this point. neil’s been so bizarrely nice to her lately. she never believed in ghosts but her experiences with the upside-down broadened her perception of reality. she doesn’t know how else to explain the songs, the cardinals, the folded clothes. the way that these days, whenever she does feel fear toward neil, it just fades away. her fear melts like popsicles in the sun, immediately replaced by the sensation of a warm, maternal hug, as if arms she can’t see are trying to reassure her she truly doesn’t need to be afraid of him anymore.

in fact, max feels so unafraid of neil and brave, that one night she calls him out on it. he’s grizzled and unshaven in his recliner, beer in hand. she steps in front of the television he’s vacantly fixated on and folds her arms across her chest.

“you killed my mom, didn’t you?”

quick as a flash, neil leaps to his feet. he brings his arm back like he’s going to strike her and susan’s ceramic pelican on the mantle explodes into shards. the lights flicker, the television program cuts to snow with a static roar. every other knickknack on the mantle rattles and framed photos tumble off the wall.

neil very wisely lowers his hand. he slumps, boneless. he doesn’t say a word. max sees the answer in his eyes. it’s the dead of night and she snatches the camaro keys off the hook, marching out of the house, slamming the door behind her. it’s the dead of night and she doesn’t care. she’s going to blow past every stop sign and pound on the chief’s door until he opens up. and fuck, i just realized if this is post s3 he’s supposed to be in russia. shit. i don’t watch this show, but i know abt russia bc i DID watch the clips of that demogorgon that i rly hope isn’t stuck in captivity!! okay, but let’s pretend that didn’t happen?

it’s an au?? i mean, errything i write is always technically an au anyway, bc when i write stuff susan has an actual personality and billy isn’t *completely* abhorrent. okay, so it’s an au and mr. hopper didn’t blow up and un-blow up in russia. he’s still here. so max drives to his house.

she pounds on the door so hard this guy snaps outta bed, thinking someone’s trying to bust it down. she tells him neil confessed to killing her mom. it isn’t true, exactly, but he didn’t have to. so it’s a helluva grim drive back to cherry lane, this time in the cop car.

but when they go inside, chief prepared to arrest neil, no need. neil’s hanging from the belt he strangled susan with, shirtless for the first time since that night, erry seemingly fresh furrow and bite mark on full display. below his dangling feet is a map, the area he burned susan’s corpse in circled in red marker. did he kill himself or did the ghost do it?

up to u, we soundlessly cut to credits without a concrete answer to that question.

horror movie #3: crossover special! stranger things meets the chilling adventures of sabrina. sequel to that fic i wrote where susan makes out with lilith, queen of hell, and lilith kills neil for her. sue officially joins the church of lilith. bc in this ‘verse the church of lilith actually happens after caos s2 instead of the nonsense that was s3 and the inconceivably godawful migraine-inducing shit-fest that was s4.

killing neil was lilith’s only freebee. susan isn’t a witch, she’s a mortal, so in order to reap the other rewards of worshipping the one and only mother of demons, she has to fornicate with the witches and participate in the sacrifices!!!

this is, uh, well. it’s p much a porno, dude, sorry. 😅

this is just an excuse for susan to have sex with lilith, zelda, marie, hilda, big witch orgies + susan. witches bathing in the blood of their sacrifices, susan so nervous and timid but unable to deny her desire. the witch’s dressing her in their gothic garb.

how does the rest of the fam get it on this?

max joins the church too. she has more age-appropriate conduct with sabrina and the weird sisters, and what have you. just smooches and over-the-clothes groping, and whatnot, even tho the weird sisters, at least, would be interested in going further if given the opportunity.

billy dies in starcourt again, so he gets revived in the cain pit! hilda is the one who goes to him after bc she’s been in the cain pit many a time (i am still BIG side-eyeing zelda for repeatedly murdering her sister since childhood). hilda understands how jarring it can be to come back. suddenly alive!billy is freaking tf out but she brings him inside the mortuary, wraps him up in a big blanket burrito and they have a talk. hilda explains that he’s going to be okay and rubs his back while he tentatively sips the hot chocolate she made.

after billy’s calmed down, she brings max and susan in. max and susan can’t do as much magic as the caos witches— they’re mortals, after all, it’s not in their nature —but they’ve gained some abilities thru being in the church, following the rituals, and being carnally involved with the immortal witches. max happily shows him some of her new magic tricks.

horror movie #4: another crossover with caos. heavily inspired by creepshow episode s2e1, model kid (which i already v blatantly referenced in the last axe snafu update and i’m not ashamed, bc it’s a good series i love v much).

billy picks max up from the byers’ place rly late one night. it’s dark and the weather is bad and okay, yeh, he might be a little high. and a little concussed. he pissed neil off pretty bad the other day and okay, actually he’s defo concussed bc he doesn’t even remember what he did wrong!

needless to say, they take a wrong turn somewhere. they end up in greendale. at first max is pissed. she yells at him a lot! yells so loud hilda can hear them thru the walls of dr. cerberus’s comic shop/diner. she goes outside to see what all the fuss is abt, hilda never rly ignores youth in need. we love hilda, she deserved so much better…i’m getting distracted, okay, back to the story.

hilda ushers them inside. max is like, “ooh, comics? horror junk and comics? nvm, i’m not mad anymore.” she pats billy’s arm and wanders away to go check stuff out! hilda makes billy sit down. caos canon established that she’s psychic, at least when she wants to be. she smells the weed but she also sees his life, his trauma. billy doesn’t remember what he did to piss neil off or the abuse that followed, but hilda sees it clear as day.

he’s rude and cranky w her when she probes a little too much for his liking. hilda gently but firmly reprimands him and gets him a milkshake on this house. then she goes to check on max. she steers max to a v particular section of the shop, the one that sells model kits. now, max isn’t *huge* into model kits BUT they are p neat and she enjoys them well enough. more so when the weather is nasty and she can’t go outside. or when she needs smth to do with her hands (a trait she shares w susan) to distract herself and ease some of the anxiety when she hears her brother being beaten or her mother being shouted at.

max is actually rly impressed by the array of models. vintage ones and newer ones. monsters, slashers, final girls, tiny accessories like knives and bloodied heads. but when she gets to the paint-your-own shelf, her jaw drops to the floor.

there’s one that looks just like neil. unpainted, plain gray vinyl, but undoubtedly her stepdad. the expression on the five inch figurine is one frozen in fear.

“i think that one’s calling to you,” hilda prompts her, with the softest smile.

max blinks away her bewilderment altho she still can’t speak. she turns to hilda and turns her empty pockets inside out. hilda just waves her hand. she tells her it’s on the house. that it wouldn’t be fair if she gave billy smth on the house, but not max.

speaking of billy, when he finishes his milkshake, he’s suddenly totally sober and healed!! no more high buzzing in his blood. no more pounding headache or concussion fogging his mind. he doesn’t feel his bruises anymore, rolls his sleeve up, and realizes they simply aren’t there anymore. like they dissolved off his skin.

albeit it’s muttered under his breath, but billy does thank hilda. then he and max are on their way. max shows him the suspiciously familiar figurine in the box. this night cannot get weirder.

max knows what to do with the model kit. she does. she isn’t sure how she knows, but she does. she grapples with it for a long time. neil’s the closest thing she has to a dad these days. and things aren’t bad all the time, ofc.

sometimes neil gives max a ride when mom and billy aren’t available. sometimes he brings her ice cream entirely unprompted. neil’s the one who picks max up off the sidewalk when she wipes out super bad on her skateboard, carries her inside and then later to the car when her cut doesn’t stop bleeding and she ends up needing stitches.

but most of the time he sucks. she can’t rly be herself around him. he's indifferent to her interest at best, scornful at worst. he would hate all her friends. he scares the shit out of her when he’s angry. he doesn’t have a problem belittling her mother in front of her, tearing susan to shreds and making her out like she’s lower than dirt, the most worthless person on the planet. doesn’t have a problem beating billy in front of her or glaring at her with the promise that she’ll be next if she dares to voice her dissent.

max doesn’t always want to do what she knows she’s meant to do with the model. bc she's kind at heart and bc on the good days, she genuinely does have mixed feelings toward neil. never enough to hope he'll be better, he's proven he won't...but maybe enough to hope he won't get worse, either.

then comes the night neil breaks ribs. bad, like we’re talking, a-sharp-spear-of-broken-rib-punctures-billy’s-lung-and-he’s-coughing-up-blood-bad. that’s a trip to the emergency room. in the days that follow, at her next dnd meeting w the party, max places the fully and attentively painted model of her stepdad on the table. normally her pals would protest her derailing the intended game, but they can sense it, yk, that smth is different.

max takes over as dungeon master to the protest of no one, all other mouths sealed as if bewitched and spellbound. she narrators a scene where the demogorgon devours neil and uses the demogorgon piece and the model for demonstration.

when max returns home, neil is strewn across the house in gory chunks and torn wallpaper curls around massive claw marks.

#writerwhowritesao3 #susan hargrove #max mayfield #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #crossover #hilda spellman #my scenario tag #i may have gotten carried away #my bad #it's october!#i'm in big horror mode

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

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For the comfortober!!!! If you'd like to do some of them, might I request "Back to school/work"??? Picturing Jon, after being v sick, or recovering from an injury finally coming back to work, maybe recovered, maybe not?? And the crew just totally fussing over him ??

Here you are! Just in time for day 25.

The situation at hand is not ideal.

He’d been carrying boxes, heavy, cumbersome things that blocked his field of vision as he made his way to Document Storage. Tim had cast a disapproving eye; Jon’s not the most coordinated, he knows that. But the least he could do was carry a few boxes of statements to their proper filing place.

But he managed to, in Tim’s retelling, ‘completely eat shit’ as his leg came in contact with an errant box, causing the one he was carrying to go flying and Jon to fall unceremoniously on the ground with an audible crack.

Everything’s a bit blurry after that.

He remembers an intense pain in his ankle- he’s been here before, his bones are not the most stable structures (it’s a shame they’re tasked with holding his body together). But that didn’t make the pain any less. Surprisingly, it was Martin who took charge, showing a competence Jon had never seen applied to his research or his Latin translations. He picked him up, managing to avoid putting any pressure on his ankle and summarily put him in a cab, despite Jon’s many refutations that he was fine.

He stopped that after Martin shot him a very unimpressed look.

He paid the cab driver and Jon let him- the pain was starting to make his brain foggy and his stomach nauseous. Martin waited the full two hours it took to get him admitted, even letting him fall asleep on his shoulder in one very embarrassing instance that he hopes will never see the light of day. The result of his clumsiness- a broken ankle, a cast, and a set of crutches that he threw into the closet as soon as he got home. He had a cane, that should be fine.

Martin followed him to the door, making sure he was settled on the couch and fixing him a cup of tea as if Jon were an invalid. Sure, the painkillers he was on did not allow for much thinking, but he could manage to take care of himself. When Martin suggested staying a while, just to make sure he was fine, Jon found himself snapping a “No!” and breaking Martin out of his competent stupor. He shook his head a bit, turning red and letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ll uh, leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything.” On his way out, he turned to him, face serious. “And don’t even think about coming in tomorrow.” He wasn’t- he’s not a complete idiot.

Okay, maybe he did briefly consider it the next morning. But the soreness had intensified, and he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to make it without breaking another bone.

Getting around was...difficult, to say the least. He spent most of the day on the couch, dry swallowing ibuprofen as the painkillers the hospital prescribed were a bit too strong, despite the ease they provided. God, it was so boring. He wished he had the foresight to bring work home. But his assistants’ texts ignored any query about work, only focusing on well wishes and asking if he ‘needed anything.’ What he needed was to do his job. If he was going to be motionless, he might as well be motionless behind a desk.

The next day, the train ride nearly kills him.

Jon manages to find a seat; people are generally sympathetic when they see a cane and a cast. He should’ve taken a cab, of course, but that seemed a little extravagant. He can manage a few steps.

Probably should’ve brought the crutches as well, but they seemed too unwieldy. When he tried them in his flat they’d put too much pressure under his arms, and he wasn’t sure how to go about adjusting them; he quickly got frustrated and threw them to the side. Patience was never one of his strong suits.

But the pain is unimaginable. By the time he gets into work, he’s huffing and puffing, on the verge of passing out. He’d taken ibuprofen again that morning, but it’s doing very little to help him out. As soon as Rosie catches sight of him, she makes sympathetic cooing noises and attempts to take his bag from him.

“Poor thing,” she says after he refuses for the third time. “Are you sure you don’t need help downstairs?”

Quite sure.

The stairs intensify the aching in his joints and he’s sure every one of his assistants hears the tell-tale thump of his cast landing awkwardly on each step. He’s met with three concerned stares, all tinged with exasperation and disappointment. He’s been eliciting those reactions a lot these days.

“Didn’t Elias approve a week of paid leave?” Sasha asks, immediately attempting to take his bag, just like Rosie. And just like with Rosie, he dodges her arms, letting out an involuntary hiss as he puts pressure on his injury. “Honestly Jon, you should’ve stayed home.”

“And where are your crutches, mister?” Tim’s leaning against the wall, looking for all the world like a disappointed parent. “I happen to know that a cane’s not sufficient when you’re in a cast like that. Not to mention uncomfortable, dragging it all around London. What were you doing, hopping down the street?”

“I had a seat on the train, thank you very much,” he says, attempting to hobble away as fast as he can to take refuge in his office. This was all very overbearing.

“You took the train-?” Martin’s incredulous voice is cut short by a slammed door.

Peace and quiet. His office has always been a nice place to suffer in private.

Not that it remains so for long.

Martin comes in not minutes later, bearing a cup of tea accompanied by a few biscuits. “You don’t seem like much of a breakfast-type,” Martin surmises correctly, “And you’ll need to eat something with the medication they’ve got you on.” Jon does not mention he’s not currently on said medication. It sits in his pocket, heavy and accusing. Instead, he just grunts, barely deigning to raise his eyes from the work in front of him. The door shuts and Jon nibbles at the food before his stomach tells him this is a bad idea.

He does eventually (and very reluctantly) call one of them in- he still wants to go through the files from two days prior, but he’s going to need a bit of help to get there. Tim doesn’t help him walk, however, instead pushing his office chair into Document Storage with surprising care, and helps him prop his leg up on a box to keep it elevated. Tim hands him the files one by one, sorting by date- it’s an easy, companionable task. Tim always was one of his favorite researchers to work with; there’s a reason he asked him to join his team. He’s wearing a jumper in a nice, deep blue shade. Jon is not immune to Tim’s charm or looks, but he’s mostly preoccupied with how warm it looks. His own button down and sweater vest are barely doing the job.

After about thirty minutes of this, his leg starts to ache- the stretch is no longer pleasant, and he attempts very gingerly to place his ankle on the ground. Needless to say, it does not work out very well. If the chair had about two more inches, his foot could dangle without putting undue pressure on his joints. Alas, the chair is already at its highest.

Tim notices his fidgeting, zeroing in on the pain in his face. “Need a break?”

Jon sighs. “I’d rather get this box done, at the very least.”

Tim looks thoughtful at this. “Hold on- give me a sec.” He leaves the room but returns rather quickly, two pillows from the break room couch in tow. “Here- lean on me for a mo’, will you?” Jon manages to get to his feet relatively painlessly, leaning most of his weight on Tim’s shoulders as he puts the pillows down as a cushion, lifting him the desired inches he needs. “Better?” Tim smirks, clearly proud of his achievement.

“Much, thank you,” he admits, just happy to continue working. The throbbing is getting worse with each passing minute. They’re eventually interrupted by Sasha, who announces that she’s gotten takeout for everyone- Indian, Jon’s favorite. Elaborate and unnecessary, but appreciated.

Ten minutes later and he’s sitting in the break room with the rest of them, picking at his curry. He knows he should eat; his mind registers the hunger, but it's hard to feel through all of the pain. Ibuprofen’s just not going to cut it. With great reluctance, he pulls the bottle of pills out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap. Martin notices.

“About time for your next dosage, I reckon?” he questions innocently. Martin doesn’t know he never took the first one, and Jon would like to keep it that way. He can’t handle any more thoughtfulness and care from the man. So he just nods, swallowing two pills and chasing them with water. If he can manage a few more bites of curry, it should be fine.

What he didn’t keep in mind is his original reaction to the medication- that strange, loopy feeling that had him leaning on Martin the entire cab ride home. About thirty minutes later, it starts to hit. And all he can think about is Tim’s jumper.

It just looked so warm. Jon wants a jumper like that. Maybe he has a jumper like that? He’ll have to check when he’s home. There’s a lot of stuff in his closet- dumb things, remnants from his college days. Probably a few of Georgie’s jumpers. Maybe Georgie’s jumpers are that warm? But none of them are that nice shade of blue. Jon wants a jumper like that, yeah. In a nice shade of blue. He’s going to ask Tim where he got it from. But he’s got to be discreet. What if Martin overhears? And then Martin gets the jumper? They can’t all wear the same jumper, that’s ridiculous. He’s already going to have to coordinate with Tim, make sure they don’t wear it on the same day. Jon’s a grown man, he can’t go around matching his employees.

He lifts the phone, dialing Tim’s extension. It only rings once before Tim’s cheerful voice answers. “What’s up, bossman? Everything alright?”

“Tim,” he whispers, just in case anyone’s listening. “Tim, I need you to come to my office...immediately.” No, he has to give a reason or he’ll be suspicious. Why would he call Tim into his office? “Reports, Tim. Research. Bring...your research. Yes. Goodbye.” That seemed natural enough.

For some reason, all three of his assistants are at the door. No, that’s not what he wants. Not what he wants at all. “I only need Tim.” He’s still whispering for some reason. “The rest of you go away.”

They don’t, pesky things they are. Tim moves closer, face both concerned and amused. “What’s going on, Jon?” He beckons him closer- he’s so blurry, it’s hard to focus. When he gets within grabbing distance he tugs at his sleeve, forcing him close to his face. “Er, boss-”

“Tim,” Jon’s eyes are wide with urgency. “Tim, I need to know where- where you got your jumper.”

Tim makes a face, somewhere between amused and confused. Jon does not understand what’s difficult about this question. It’s very straightforward. “Um, sorry? My jumper?”

“Yes!” His voice gets louder, though he doesn’t mean it to. “It’s just- it looks so warm. And it’s so soft.” His voice starts to wobble and his eyes water as he runs his thumb across the fabric. It’s a very good jumper. “Such a nice shade of blue.”

“Okay, did you take one too many of those pills? You weren’t like this earlier.” Tim’s got one arm on Jon’s chest, attempting to stop his wandering hands as his eyes search the desk. “I swear to god, if you’ve overdosed-”

“Don’t be stupid, Tim.” Why won’t he let him touch the jumper? Does Tim not want him to be warm? Rather rude. “I only took two today.”

“Wait, seriously?” It’s Martin’s voice he hears next. “Oh, Jon. You must have been in so much pain.”

“Obviously, Martin!” The snap comes as naturally as breathing- Jon’s an old hand at that, after all. “But that’s not the point-”

“Whoa there, buddy. No need to get tetchy.” Tim’s got both of his hands on his shoulders, his eyes now patient and kind. “You’re high as hell, aren’t you? Think you should probably have a rest right about now, yeah?”

Jon can’t help the whine that comes out of his throat. Rest? No, he wants-

“I swear I’ll tell you where I got the jumper. Hell, I’ll even get one for you if I can. But only if you sleep.”

Jon sighs wearily. If I must. “That sounds reasonable. Thank you, Tim.” He allows himself to be led to a couch, limping all the way. Oh, that’s quite nice. Yes, that’ll do. Tim arranges a pillow beneath his head, and Jon hopes it's not the one he sat on before. His stomach growls, and a thought occurs to him; he grabs at Tim’s arm again, forcing him down to his level.

“Jon, I told you I’d-”

“No, that’s not it. I-I threw out some biscuits earlier. Please send my apologies to Martin.”

Tim’s face is fond. “Will do, boss.”

“And perhaps you could secure me a few more for later.”

A soft snort. “I’m sure I can.”

“Tim, you are invaluable to me.”

“God I wish I had this on tape-”

A soft click sounds from somewhere in the room as if in response. Tim blinks. “Did you hear that?”

Jon doesn’t answer, already halfway towards sleep.

“Huh. Alright, then.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715163

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #prompts #comfortember #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #jontim #a lil bit but its there #hurt/comfort #ft. a very loopy jon #plz excuse the self-indulgence of this fic #kaiserkorresponds

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kotsuvi · 4 years

Text

WHAT THE HQ BOYS ARE LIKE DURING THANKSGIVING/FRIENDSGIVING

a/n: okay this is kinda a take on canadian/american thanksgiving—yanno with all the pumpkin pie and the turkeys and the fall colours? i just thought it would be kind of cute.

warnings: swearing, underage drinking for some

KARASUNO

daichi: told-no, COMMANDED asahi and suga to wear fall colours. like seriously wore the brown khakis with the orange sweater and little socks with turkeys on them. it’s at his house, so he insisted that suga and asahi arrive early and sit at the table together, just to make the other guests feel bad about not being dressed up. yells at the guests to stop touching his family’s ornaments and paintings. gets kita to help babysit.

suga: was actually going to dress up anyway, so he took it as the perfect chance to wear his turkey knit sweater. it has tiny little turkeys all over it like it’s so fuckin cute. lowwwwkeyyyy makes daichi blush when he sees him but like we’re not gonna talk about it. brings a delicious fruit salad that’s eaten almost singlehandedly by lev and hinata.

asahi: panics because he doesn’t have a lot of nice things to wear. like FREAKS OUT in front of his closet, close to tears. legit settles on a tan shirt, brown pants and black boots with a slight heel. definitely gets teased by tendou about keeping the beard. “keeping it intact,” he replies. brings cabbage rolls. also brings brownies, and has to fight the urge to eat them all on the way over.

nishinoya: arrives slightly late, but worth the wait. busts through the door screaming about how hungry he is. doesn’t take of his shoes in the house so he trails mud EVERYWHERE. also sneaks in a couple bottles of cider. he’s been thinking about this feast for days, and he just can’t wait. talks with his mouth full of food. probably spits mashed potatos on akaashi at some point. gets drunk off of his secret cider and asks iwa if he likes being second best to oikawa.

tanaka: arrives shortly after noya, despite saeko speeding to get there. you can literally hear him talking from ten houses away. argues with bokuto over stupid things; ends up nearly starting a food fight. eats with his fingers, literally no utensils, and doesn’t use a napkin. secretly grossing everyone out. thinks that he can win a turkey eating contest, but daichi shuts him down before he can get started. is DEDICATED to the kareoke. even sings a song for kiyoko.

hinata: so incredibly excited to eat. this kid could not SLEEP he was so excited. gets cursed with sitting next to ushiwaka and tendou, who bully him about his hair being thanksgiving colours year-round. budges everyone in line for the food. of course daichi then makes him go last. yells at kageyama for getting the best part of the turkey: the skin. atsumu tells him that ginger beer is a new type of “delicious juice” and he drinks it all, nearly throwing up afterwards. lowkey got flustered when tanaka was singing britney spears.

kageyama: tells everyone that he doesn’t want to go, but is actually extremely excited as well. for some reason he snoops through daichi’s house while everyone is eating? he just wants to take a look around, and then suddenly he’s in daichi’s parents’ bathroom, inspecting shampoo labels. literally doesn’t eat sitting still either. he just stands behind his chair? oikawa starts a rumour that he can’t sit because he has hemorrhoids, and kags responds by throwing his drink in oiks’ face. that really starts a riot. really he just wants to be standing so he can run to the kitchen and get more food in an emergency.

tsukishima: brings his headphones just in case he’s stuck next to bokuto or someone really loud and obnoxious. of course he is. bokuto AND tanaka. everyone tries to coax him into kareoke after the meal, and he declines, but really wants to prove to kuroo that he is the most angelic singer there. “accidentally” tips his drink into bokuto’s lap, but the guy is so busy yelling at tanaka that he doesn’t even notice, so tsukki tips another. goes on his phone at the table. tells tadashi to get all his meals for him because he doesn’t want to stand in line.

tadashi: goes through one (1) mental breakdown when he’s seated beside aone instead of tsukki. pours WAAAAAAY too much gravy on his meal because he’s just so nervous. like literally SWAMPS his turkey and vegetables. his mom forced him to bring a green bean casserole. he doesn’t even like casserole. sits across from oikawa and this mans won’t stop asking for photos of him and iwa, so tadashi is tasked with that for the night. offers to help daichi with the dishes afterwards. gets awarded with an extra slice of pumpkin pie.

saeko: handed her cider to noya beforehand because she just knew that daichi would check her at the door. she gets drunk halfway through anyway. challenges iwa to an arm wrestling competition. winner gets the losers pumpkin pie with EXTRA whipped cream. the sexual tension skyrockets. she wins but accidentally shoves iwa’s fist into akaashi’s cranberry sauce. gets scolded by daichi MULTIPLE times. too drunk to care.

kiyoko: also came over early. made butternut squash that is to die for. helps set up even though she knows that it’s just going to become a mess. keeps track of the points for kareoke. may or may not have given tanaka extra points for singing “i’m a slave 4 u” by britney spears.

yachi: of COURSE this girl has to sit between aone and ushiwaka. of course it works like that. and chicky is terrified. spills her drink on the nice tablecloth and pleads for kiyoko and daichi to spare her life. thinks that the kareoke is too loud. nearly craps her pants when bokuto jumps up on the table. brings glazed donuts for dessert.

coach ukai: daichi invited him just to be polite but then he??? ended up??? coming??? literally shocked everyone into the sixth dimension. says he isnt going to stay for long, but mans is there the WHOLE night. busts out with some MR. WORLDWIDE;)))!!

AOBAJOHSAI

oikawa: his one mission was to be best dressed, and judging by the appalled look on daichi’s face when he first entered, he succeeded. this mans wont shut up either, and even tho everyone yells at him, they’re actually invested in his stories. he tells a whole bunch from middle school and his earliest volleyball memories, and everyone??? likes it??? they’re intrigued the whole time. goshiki and lev listen extra hard. mans wants pictures as well. he needs to show his fans that he does actually have friends. of course he gets the photos before kags dumps the drink on his head, and then he goes feral. teases iwa about the second best comment, but apologizes to him after, assuring that iwa is an amazing ace.

iwa: only went there for oiks. the mans had plans with his family, but he knew that it meant a lot to oikawa, so he showed up. literally goes into a FIT of rage when he loses the armwrestling match, then further infuriated with noya’s comment. chases the kid around the table. nearly knocks out his teeth by tripping into a cabinet. leaves early after throwing a temper tantrum, then receives a formal apology from both oikawa and daichi later on.

matsukawa: i just know this mans smokes at family functions, so what’s stopping him from getting high at friendsgiving? of course he only smokes a lil, just enough to get a good buzz, because he wants to still be respectful. offers to refill drinks when he gets his own. helps pack up the leftovers. tries desperately to catch iwa as he chases noya around, but doesn’t succeed. he can’t really feel his fingers or his face, so he doesn’t smile or laugh like... the whole night.

hanamaki: maybe sneaks out to join mattsun. maybe. no, definitely. and he’s not used to it, so you BET this man is trippin. he tries his best to hide it, but of course suga can tell. he confuses cranberry sauce with champagne, so he literally drinks the damn sauce from a wine glass the whole night. oikawa certainly has pictures for the next morning to prove it too.

kyoutani: doesnt get invited to a ton of things, but he decided to go to this. brings a pumpkin, which is nice, but daichi is like wtf am i meant to do with this??? but it’s a nice gesture. tries to engage in the conversation between the twins, but only gets frustrated when he can’t hear. threatens to flip the table once. cant find the bathroom and ends up taking a piss in the yard.

NEKOMA

kuroo: the one with the kareoke machine. absolutely did not tell daichi he was bringing it, but then pulls it inside. “get a load of this bad boy!!!” “kuroo what the hell is this???” i just know that everyone wants to sit beside this man at the table. he’s cracking jokes and people are straining to hear. it’s a match between him and oiks: who’s telling the better story? also won’t leave. like it’s 2am and he’s still there, swaying alongside bokuto and coach, singing early 2000’s nelly furtado.

kenma: KUROO AND HINATA CONVINCED HIM TO DYE THE TIPS OF HIS HAIR ORANGE. he HATES it. buttttt he’s keeping it even though people tell him he’s a hinata wannabe. “but why would i want to be like shoyo?” “hey kenma that’s not very nice!!” definitely plays games at the table. doesn’t even try to hide it. gets gravy on his switch and uses lev’s shirt as a napkin.

lev: this man has enough food on his plate to feed a small village. like deadass, he doesn’t slow his eating for a BREATH. he didn’t eat the whole day just so he could be extra hungry. like 3/4 of the spread is on his plate. also like cant fit his legs under the table, so he has to eat with his chair super far away. of course this man is going to be dropping food on the floor. literally has a hole in his chin because the gravy keeps dripping out whenever he speaks.

yaku: brings champagne because it’s “an exciting night”. lowkey freaks people out with how quickly he can down a bottle. has a small amount of chicken and turkey, LARGE amount of potatos, but then as many slices of pie as he can. like legit the pieces stack up on his plate. he scolds lev for making a mess, but literally litters crumbs all over the table.

FUKURODANI

bokuto: thinks that lev and him are participating in an eating contest, even tho lev has no idea what’s going on. of course this man brought his own liquor. he knows it’s time to party. legit as soon as he’s finished eating he’s busting open the bottle. towards the end of the night he’s actually dancing on the table, narrowly missing the forks and knives. daichi, suga and kita try their very best to control him, but he’s in his element. legit was throwing it back to kuroo singing “uptown girl”.

akaashi: also brought champagne but drinks it in a fancy glass. legit with the pinky up like royalty. comes in the cutest little fall knit sweater. does NOT participate in kareoke but hums along to the songs he knows. quietly makes bets with kenma on who is going to win, and he gets a couple of victories off of goshiki. also offers to do the dishes, but unlike tadashi, he doesn’t get another slice of pie because yaku ate it all. also brings daichi a card signed by him and bokuto. he’s very thankful. (sweet bb)

SHIRITORIZAWA

ushiwaka: there is no way this man isn’t excited. tbh he didn’t even think he’d get invited, and he actually ALMOST smiled when daichi offered. mans shows up in a turtleneck. TURTLENECK. legit wearing a rolex. why does he have drip? he’s got drip. for a big dude he doesn’t eat very much. threatens atsumu with his life if he ever DARES to shake salt in his champagne again. cracks a plate from gripping it too hard while waiting in line for the dessert. he’s excited, okay?

tendou: wears something weird. like a headbands with a candelabra on it or a giant turkey broach. brings a whole jug of orange juice for himself, and you bet that he finishes it within the first fifteen minutes. honestly, he probably dips his cabbage roll into the drink. also starts a conga line around the table while goshiki is singing. semi dares him to taste some of daichi’s dish soap, and of course he does it.

goshiki: NEVER HAS ANYONE EVER SEEN THIS MAN SO EXCITED. practically bouncing off the walls. eats way too fast. slips in the kitchen trying to get to the sink because he started choking on a green bean. becomes mesmerized by saeko and insists that he’s going to become the world’s best kareoke singer. picks every song about love. okay sam smith. tries to get suna to participate but receives a look that could kill. gets scared after that, but it motivates him to sing even better.

semi: practically skips the meal and goes straight for dessert. gets a harsh scolding from daichi but he doesn’t care. “accidentally” brings up the fact that ushiwaka cuts his food weirdly because he’s left handed. the whole table goes silent. semi passes away.

INARIZAKI

atsumu: literally just went to cause trouble. was he even invited? nobody knows. osamu was, but him? well. gets drunk within the first hour. tricks hinata into trying a bunch of kita’s disgusting ginger beers. constantly kicks samu under the table. throws a shoe across the room when daichi doesn’t let him have another drink. he’s loud. VERY loud. swears far too much and violently compliments daichi on the food. “this food is so fuckin good like hella delicious, i fuckin love thanksgiving! this is the shit!!”, “atsumu your brother made all the food”, “what”

osamu: just there for the food. literally made 3/4 of the dishes, including the turkey. makes fun of daichi for being the host and literally not making any of the food. “that’s embarrassing”, but really he offered to do it waaaaay before. constantly tells atsumu he has food in his teeth. over-salts suna’s turkey just because he feels like it. he’s the dude that encourages makki to drink the cranberry sauce. offers to help vacuum the floor clean of noya’s mess, but daichi is SO done with atsumu that samu just leaves early, dragging his brother with him.

suna: catches tendou drinking the dish soap. he’s not surprised. doesn’t say anything, just nods and walks away. legit doesn’t say anything to anyone tho. like mans shows up, eats and dips. has a one two conversation with ukai about court shoes, and then he’s gone. texts daichi later and thanks him, which is extremely shocking but daichi thinks it’s really nice.

kita: hates gatherings. i know this man just despises the loud and rowdy behaviour. puts mad dog in a headlock when the dude tries to fight kageyama over the turkey skin. eats and leaves zero mess. dabs at the corners of his mouth with napkin. washes his hands before and after everything. i just KNOW he’s polite too, but really gives it to semi when he mentions ushiwaka’s left handed eating. other:

OTHERS

aone: dresses cute. gets complimented by hinata and cant stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. like lev, he eats enough to feed a small town but makes sure everyone else goes before him at dessert time. tells yachi that he loves the donuts.

terushima: definitely wasn’t invited but heard through the grapevine. shows up with one plate of cookies and a violent growling stomach. immediately takes to the kareoke, even before dinner is over. randomly bursts into song halfway through his second plate of green bean casserole. thinks that singing louder = singing better.

sakusa: clearly doesn’t want to be there. brings his own food and his own drink, but doesn’t hesitate to down a bottle of noya’s cider. complains about how close hinata is sitting is sitting to him, and then pulls out a ruler for emphasis. “whoa! where did that come from??” “get away from me.”

#this was fun #i always love writing/reading these for tendou #haikyuu #haikyuu hc #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu!!#hq #hq hc #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfiction #headcanon #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu headcanons #vee's mediocre writing

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lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

⁂

virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun.

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds.

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day.

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy.

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy!

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.”

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball.

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies.

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle.

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted.

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.”

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

#my post #text #my fic #my fanfiction #the sideshire files #sideshire files #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moxiety

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

Text

Strangers ch. 45

Your fun night with BTS is interrupted by some familiar faces.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: fluff, angst, idk

Warnings: Strong language, bit o’ trauma

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You knock at the door, your heart hammering in your chest. You were extra careful getting here – the paparazzi can’t know you’re still going back to the group’s apartment after the ‘breakup.’

Hoseok opens the door and lets you in, his usually wide grin somewhat muted. “Y/n-ie! We’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too, Hos-oof!” You half-laugh, half-wheeze when Jungkook comes barreling out of nowhere and crushes you in a bear hug. “Hey, Kookie!”

“Guys!” Jungkook calls elatedly, his long bangs falling in his eyes. “Y/n’s here!”

Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jimin join you in the hallway. Looking around, you notice someone’s missing.

“Where’s…” You blink, snapping your mouth shut. You won’t ask. You don’t care.

“Seokjin hyung is in the kitchen,” Jimin supplies helpfully.

“Ah, okay.” You check the time– 8:30. “Is dinner ready? Can I help?”

There’s a chorus of protests, with the boys insisting you settle in the living room. You’re about to race for Yoongi’s favorite chair, but – argh. Why would you, when he’s not there for you to annoy?

“I’m sorry. You don’t understand. I can’t.”

You snort. Hasn’t he always asked you to be honest? Hypocrite.

“Y/n-ie?” Hoseok sits next to you on the couch, speaking quietly enough that the others can’t hear him. “Do you want to take your coat off?”

“No, I’m–” cold. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Look, Y/n…” Hoseok reaches out and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry about Yoongi hyung.”

You muster up a smile. “It’s fine, dude. Like I said, it wasn’t real.”

“Nah, just because you weren’t really dating doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. I don’t know exactly who this new girl of his is – seriously, all of us woke up surprised, including PD-nim. But something’s up with hyung. He never comes out of his studio anymore and doesn’t say anything during rehearsals.”

You stay silent. You don’t want to talk about Yoongi.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you were okay? With… you know.” Hoseok gestures down at your left leg, and you flinch automatically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hyung told me about that night you got hurt by some sasaeng.” Hobi looks deep into your eyes, his brows knit together. “We all care about you, Y/n. You got hurt because of us, and that’s not okay. I know Yoongi hurt you too, but I hope you remember the rest of us are still your friends. And we’re all here if you need us.”

You smile, knowing it won’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods seriously before scooting back. “By the way, is that what you’re wearing?”

You look down at your jeans and sweater. “Yeah…?”

“Girl, didn’t I tell you we were going out tonight? Taehyung!”

Tae pops out from the kitchen. “Wassup?”

Hoseok waves at you and your outfit. “Fix our girl, please.”

Taehyung’s eyes alight. “Ooh, yes.”

“I- what- but I’m cold!” You protest as Taehyung drags you down the hall.

“We can accommodate that. Come on, Y/n, it’s been ages since I’ve styled anyone!”

But what if I get cold? Seoyeon could hurt me. Lisa could disappear. Next time it could be my head, not my leg. I could die. I can’t be cold. I can’t. I can’t.

“Y/n-ie?” You snap to attention, realizing Taehyung is staring at you with concern etched in his pretty eyes.

“I– yeah, sorry. Go ahead.”

Taehyung leads you into his and Namjoon’s room. You realize with a start you’ve never seen it. The walls are covered in posters, photos, and scribbled notes. Unsurprisingly, Taehyung’s closet is gigantic, and you see him rummage through it with intense focus.

“Okay, so. You’re cold all the time. No dresses, then? No shorts or skirts?”

You shiver, remembering the outfits you wore for the commercial with Wonho and for the lipstick photoshoot. “No, thanks.”

“Hm… We could try…” You hear Taehyung’s voice change. “It would be good publicity… I’d have to ask producer-nim.”

“What?”

“Ah,” Tae withdraws from the closet, his cheeks blooming red. “Well… the public isn’t supposed to know yet. But I’m, er…” He scratches his head sheepishly. “I’m releasing a fashion line. We created a lot of demo outfits to pitch investors. And there’s something I want you to wear.”

You muffle a laugh. “Tae! Really? That’s so cool!” For a moment, your worries are numbed in support of your friend. “Let me see!”

“I don’t know if it’ll fit you, but…” Taehyung pulls out a box printed with KTH in cursive font. “And, for some heat…” he hands you a cropped black fur coat. “Try them on.”

You take a deep breath as you walk into the hall bathroom, nervous to peel off your layers of warmth. You open the box, and- “Woah.”

As you reach to try on the outfit, your phone buzzes.

Wonho: Hey, the commercial aired! Was wondering if u wanted to do smth to celebrate? Hope you’re doing ok. W.

You quickly text back saying you have plans with friends and place your phone facedown on the counter.

Ten minutes later, you can’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror. You feel… “Y/n?” Taehyung knocks at the door, his voice nervous. “Does it fit?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Come out, let me see! I want-”

You unlock the door and step into the hall. Taehyung stops mid sentence, his jaw falling slack. “Holy… I don’t care what PD-nim says, you’re wearing this to the club tonight! Guys!” He pulls you into the living room. “Check her out!”

The other five members file in, Jin pulling off an apron. When he catches sight of you, he laughs in surprise. “Our Y/n-ie, all grown up!”

And you look grown up – Taehyung has dressed you in a black leather bodysuit to go perfectly with your black boots. It’s tight, but not suffocating, and most importantly, it’s warm. The long sleeves and legs feel protective. The only skin you’re showing is the adventurously deep neckline. The fur coat goes perfectly with the outfit, and you feel yourself standing up straighter as the guys express their admiration.

“Shut up,” you smile as Hoseok pretends to faint. “It’s Tae’s handiwork.”

“You look gorgeous, Y/n darling,” Jin hums. “Now, if the rest of you could start drooling over the soup instead of Y/n, that would be great.”

~~~

“D, remember how you said these fangirls have like, backup accounts? Shit under a different name?”

“Yeah, why?”

Yoongi chews on his fingernail. It’s a habit his managers always scolded him for when he was still a trainee. “What about Lisa? Does she have any?”

D clicks his tongue. It’s the first time Yoongi’s seen him in person for years, but he couldn’t be at the apartment knowing that Y/n would be there with the others. “Shit, man, maybe. I’ll find out.”

“Thanks.”

“Yo, did you see that commercial with your girl?”

Yoongi rubs his temples. Thinking about Y/n hurts. “No. What?”

“Nah, I’m asking cause she looks fire. She’s all over this guy. What are they even selling, right?” D slides over his laptop, Fierce’s new commercial already pulled up. It shows Yoongi’s old friend Wonho, shirtless, muscles bulging. When it cuts to a new scene, Yoongi nearly chokes. It’s Y/n as he’s never seen her; terrifyingly perfect and irresistibly seductive. He can’t tear his eyes away as she strides past Wonho. In the commercial, Wonho lifts the bottle of cologne and raises his eyebrows at Y/n, who stops with interest.

The next scene leaves something hot burning in Yoongi’s chest: Y/n sits on Wonho’s lap, pressed against his shirtless chest, and the camera zooms in on her mouth as she leans in to brush her red lips against Wonho’s cheek. Almost unconsciously, Yoongi clenches his fist, nails digging into his palm. It’s just a commercial, just a job. He wonders if guys like Wonho are Y/n’s type. Not like it matters anymore, Yoongi thinks. Fucking Lisa. Fucking Seoyeon. “Fuck!”

D jumps. “Gloss! What was that?”

“I forgot – Seoyeon. I’m late.”

“Who cares, man? She’s insane.”

“I care. She wants to go to a club, maybe she’ll tell me where Lisa is if her guard is down. Or give me the names of anyone else she’s working with.”

“Ooh, sneaky. Okay, I’ll be online all night if you wanna text. Let me know if you find out anything.”

“I will,” Yoongi replies, throwing on his suit jacket. “And D, keep an eye on my location. She’s dangerous. I’ll keep a bodyguard with me, but just in case…”

“I gotchu, man.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. His driver is waiting outside. Y/n is having dinner with the guys. And the image of her draped over Wonho is seared into his memory.

Back into the fray.

~~~

“I’m surprised we’re not driving in a van or something,” You say, peering around the limousine’s interior in awe.

“Some perks of being celebrities,” Namjoon says with a grin. The guys all look amazing, decked out in dressy but effortless outfits. Back in your ARMY days, you would have been swooning. Even now, their good looks are a welcome distraction.

“It’s been so long since we’ve gone out,” Jimin bounces excitedly. He’s wearing a purple silk shirt that flutters with the movement. “Since Yoongi-hyung started filming and doing his new mixtape, and with Tae-ssi’s clothing line, our schedule has been lenient.”

“Speaking of schedules…” Jungkook turns to you. “I heard yours is gonna be busier lately! You’ve signed with FYP, right?”

You smile, shoving down your guilt. You need to move on. “Yep, they said they’d email me the contract today.” Now that you think about it, it’s past ten. When are they going to send it to you? You’re sure you haven’t received any work-related emails since coming out of your meeting with Mr. Park.

“Ah, almost there!” Hoseok hands out glasses from a minibar. “Soju bombs, everyone!”

You swallow determinedly. You’re moving past Lisa; Yoongi can’t hurt you anymore; Seoyeon… well, she may have won. But that doesn’t mean I’ve lost.

You’re going clubbing with BTS, wearing an outfit designed by Kim Taehyung. Nothing can go wrong tonight. “Cheers!”

And together with the members, you gulp down your drink as the limo slows to a stop in front of Club Xyon.

Immediately, you’re ushered by stoic men and women in black suits to the front of a line of people who look more famous than you can ever imagine. “Oh my gosh,” you hiss to Hoseok, “I think I recognize her from that movie! And why are we skipping the line?”

Hoseok laughs. “Y/n, I know to you we’re just friends, but to everyone else, we are global superstars.”

You swallow. Right. In a place like this… “Should I be seen with you guys?”

“C’mon, we pay good money for security to keep paparazzi away from this place. You’re safe.”

The seven of you file in: music is blaring, people are dancing, and you’re absolutely starstruck. You’re quickly led to a private room stocked with alcohol. Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok stay on their feet while Seokjin and Namjoon rush for the liquor. Taehyung sprawls on the luxurious couch.

“We’re gonna go dancing. Y/n, wanna come?”

You nod, blinking through the sensory overload. So much is going on, so much to think about.

“Wait, wait.” Namjoon pours you a shot. “To Y/n, well and truly on her way to stardom!”

You laugh, accepting the shot. Thank goodness for your friends, thank goodness you didn’t lose them as well as Yoongi. The liquor burns your throat, and you relish in the feeling.

“Come on, Y/n-ie!” Hoseok tugs on your hand. You toss your coat onto the couch next to Taehyung and follow the dancers out, listening to their excited chatter. The dance floor is big, and multicolored lights flash everywhere. You swear you’ve seen the DJ featured in some magazine. Every person in Club Xyon is almost inhumanely beautiful, and you suddenly feel a nervous shiver making its way down your back. Almost as if they can sense it, the three men flank you.

“Hey, you belong here as much as anyone, okay?” Hoseok whispers.

You look down at the bodysuit, and think of how much power you felt when you tried it on. “Yeah. Let’s dance.”

Jungkook whoops, and Jimin bounces on his heels. Hoseok merely winks and leads you into the mass of flawless bodies; so many of them have clearly been trained in dance, moving with such fluidity that you do endless double takes.

“Exactly what you need, I think,” Hoseok murmurs into your ear as you begin to move to the music.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shoot back playfully.

Jimin and Jungkook appear to be having a dance battle. Their fame and the intensity of their movement has created a hubbub among the stars present, and they form a circle around the two. The crowd’s movement jostles you, and you lose track of Hoseok.

“Hobi! Hob- ah, sorry!” You say quickly, having bumped into someone as you’re pushed to the edge of the dance floor. “My b- wait, Wonho?”

Wonho grins. “I thought it was you! Funny, I texted earlier because I wanted to invite you here. Who beat me to it?”

“I’m here with BTS,” you reply. Then, seeing Wonho’s confusion, you correct yourself. “Some of the members of BTS. As friends.”

“I see. I’m sorry about Yoongi, I didn’t know he had it in him to act like that.”

You clench your jaw. You don’t know the half of it. “It’s in the past.”

“Well, if you don’t have plans for the next song, want to dance?”

“Sure.” Wonho is cute, and he was kind to you when you worked together. The black mesh shirt he’s wearing certainly helps.

“Did you see the commercial?” He yells over the heavy bass as you dance. Over his shoulder, you see Taehyung talking to the DJ.

“No, I’ve been busy,” You shout in reply.

“My agent sent it to me. It turned out well – you looked great!”

Your cheeks flush. Wonho is one of those men who just looks physically perfect, and muscles like his don’t usually come with such a thoughtful demeanor. To receive praise from someone like him gives your ego a boost. “Thanks, I’m sure you did too.”

The song ends, but you still find yourself full of adrenaline. Wonho is an amazing dancer, and you’re finally beginning to relax.

“I’m gonna get a drink, want anything?” Wonho shouts as another song comes on. With their popularity, you’re surprised you haven’t heard any BTS songs yet.

“I’ll come with you.” You do want something to drink, but you know better than to let someone you barely know bring you something. Wonho nods and leads you to the sleek bar, staffed by skilled mixologists – they add bottle tricks to every order.

“Whiskey, please,” Wonho says when a mixologist turns to him. “And whatever she wants.”

You raise a brow. “You don’t have to pay.”

“C’mon, let me be nice!”

You laugh. “Fine. A raspberry cosmopolitan.” You keep your eye on the mixologist as they make your drink. “Thanks, Wonho.”

“Hey, I’m just glad I got to run into you. You were definitely one of the more human actresses I’ve worked with.”

“How so?”

Wonho shrugs. “You guys pretend to be other people for a living. It’s nice to meet someone who feels so genuine.”

You nearly choke on the drink the mixologist has just handed to you. “Oh my god,” you say, shaking with laughter. “That’s… thanks, man.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nah, just – first time in a while I’ve been called genuine.” It’s a nice change.

“I can’t believe that. You seem really cool, Y/n–?” You’re taking a long draw of your drink, so all you hear is his voice suddenly changing your name into a question. When you lower your glass, you see him staring in surprise behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you, Lee.” His voice is hard and cool, so uncharacteristic that it takes you a sentence to register. When you do, you swing around, almost unconsciously backing closer to Wonho. “Y-Yoongi?”

“Oh my gosh, look who it is!” Your blood suddenly turns to ice and you grip Wonho’s sleeve like a lifeline. No. No. No.

“Y/n, sweetie!” Kang Seoyeon says, blood-red lipstick matching her hair. Her hand rests lightly on Yoongi’s shoulder. “It’s been so long!”

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tintind · 3 years

Text

One night in 2018

Esme wasn't used to feeling like a guest: although it was rare for her to have a party of her own, she was usually the hostess. Last Sunday, she met Sally who was the head of their school's parent Council at the store while they were both shopping for a week for the whole family. Her husband's birthday fell on Christmas day, and Sally made it a tradition for the whole city -- at least for a fairly large circle of her acquaintances, and every year they had a party. Mrs. Cullen couldn't refuse the invitation.

They were already a little settled in their new place, and Esme didn't like their habit of not getting close to people at all: their unsociability gave rise to a lot of suspicions.

So tonight they surprised the guests by showing up on the doorstep of the house where they were invited, with a box of sweets and flowers. Fortunately for them, they were a drop in the bucket of guests flooding the house, so after a while the Cullens stopped attracting attention. Sally made sure they had a drink in hand, knew where the bathroom was, and felt completely comfortable. They kept their distance from the crowd, holding hands, Carlisle whispering in Esme's ear, and she smiled as she looked at the people. In the end, her husband told her he was leaving her to her own, kissed her on the top of the head, and swam off somewhere in the direction of his friends from the hospital. Esme was left standing alone at the high kitchen table. After making her solemn rounds, the hostess returned to Mrs. Cullen.

“How do you like the party?”

“Everything's fine, thank you”. Esme smiled as she cheered up the glass of golden, sizzling liquid. Of course, she didn't try it.

“I'm glad you enjoy it. And I'm glad Peggy lost me a ten. We had a bet on whether you would come at all.”

“Happy to contribute to your well-being.”

“No offense, it's just that you're so rare in the city that sometimes you look like a cult.”

“I see,” Esme said. “Carlisle works hard, we try to devote all the time to each other and the children. It's great to know that someone else believes in our ability to socialize.”

Sally laughed, wrinkling her pretty nose.

“You’re welcome!”

They talked about family and everyday life, and Esme was lucky that Sally was happy to take the lead. This made it possible to avoid situations where Esme didn't know what to say to sound believable. The vampire was lost in her own thoughts, searching the crowd for Carlisle's blue sweater. Somehow, as if he sensed her concern, he turned to her and waved his hand. She held up hers. They exchanged smiles.

"So, Carlisle...” Sally said pointedly.

Esme nodded, still watching her husband. He returned to his conversation and openly laughed at some joke, and, throwing up his head, patted the other on the elbow.

"How did you manage to snatch such a handsome man? How long have you been married?” Sally was also staring at the young doctor.

"Fourteen years," Esme lied very confidently.

"It’s impossible!" Sally really didn't seem to believe it. “It turns out that you were-”

She wasn't good at arithmetic, and few people remembered the exact age of the Cullens.

"Not enough," Esme said. "We met when Carlisle was a sixteen-year-old child Prodigy and I was a slightly clueless eighteen-year-old schoolgirl.

"That sounds very intriguing," Sally said, and cast another glance in Carlisle's direction, as if to confirm his existence.

After a few moments of silence, Esme realized that Sally was waiting for a story. Well, it will be a story for her...

"We met in high school, went to biology class together in our senior year. He already knew that he would devote himself to medicine, and I just liked to draw our skeleton and stuffed animals in the closet at the end of the class. I think the skeleton's name was Heinrich. The teacher decorated it for Christmas instead of a Christmas tree, you know, hung it with a garland and put a cap on the skull.”

"Sixteen years! Unbelievable!” Sally exclaimed, not even trying to hide her gossip side. Then she caught herself, touching Esme's arm: "Sorry, go on."

Esme chuckled. People are curious. She changed the hand that held the glass.

"We sat next to each other for a semester, trying in vain not to talk, so as not to distract each other, and I was probably the first and only person he thought of inviting to the new year's dance. I agreed, and then I found myself kissing him at the prom in the darkest corner. We’ve finished school, I was thinking of taking a year off, he was looking for a College ready to take such a young student, and suddenly... You know how hasty and stupid things are with teenagers.

Esme noticed that Sally made an almost physical effort to keep the tactless question from escaping her mouth.

"I got pregnant after he had asked me to marry him and I had refused. Or rather, I didn't mind, but our parents wanted us to wait.

Esme set the champagne aside, knowing that Sally still had questions, and wanting to prolong the theatrical pause.

“He reacted strangely. I mean- Everyone knows that such stories don't end well. And his first words when he found out were, " If you want to keep him, I'll find a job to provide for us. If not, marry me anyway, so you can always change your mind." He was almost a child himself, but with him I thought I was ready. Maybe I was, I don't know. He said "we" and "us" in such a way that it was impossible to resist. I was head over heels in love and young, and my future didn't seem like a sacrifice. His father gave in to our persuasions, and by the end of my eighteen years, I was a happy wife and future mother...”

Mrs. Cullen sighed.

"I'm sorry if my question hurt you," Sally said quietly, realizing how far Esme's story had gone. "I didn't mean to.”

"You're interested in the end, aren't you?" she asked, deliberately calm.

"Sure, but if you’re-”

"I'll tell you.

I don't remember exactly, I think it was Tuesday. Carlisle went to night school, and I went to pick him up in dad's old car. The weather was terrible, you know, a typical Northern autumn evening. Dank and foggy. So I could barely drive. And then some idiot tried to pass me, and I tried to gave way in my turn and slid into a ditch. When I woke up in the hospital, he was there. He was there all the time I was under anesthesia after the operation. He kissed my forehead, stroked my hair, and cried. Such a child! When he told me what the doctors had to tell me, we cried together, and he held my head in his hands, because it was impossible to hug me, all in plaster and tubes. We lost our boy. I lost the possibility to have children. But, contrary to all the assumptions of others, we did not lose our family. Sometimes the loss breaks, but sometimes it binds. Our case was the second one. In the end, everything worked out the way it should: I graduated from College, Carlisle -- from medical school, and a few of years ago we started thinking about children again.

It might not be healthy, but I couldn't imagine us adopting a baby. It’s still hurt. Besides, it's not just babies who need love. There are so many children in the system who can't find a family because they are too old or because they don't want to be separated from siblings. Our first two, Jasper and Rosalie, are a little older than the baby Carlisle and I would have been. This comforts me.

Esme was so engrossed in her story that she didn't notice Sally fumbling in her pockets for a napkin to wipe away her unwanted tears.

“I wish everyone had such a strong family...”

~~~~~~~~

As the party drew to a close, Carlisle finally found a good moment to slip away through the garden with Esme.

They walked down the street, breathing in the winter chill. The sky cleared, and the transparent air made the brilliant stars brighter. After all these people's gatherings, it was so nice to be quiet for a while.

Carlisle suddenly chuckled: “Biology class?”

Esme snorted: “So everything else in the story suits you?”

"It sounds very touching and romantic, just my type," the doctor explained. He raised a pale brow skeptically: “But the biology class?”

Esme stopped and looked at her husband for a long, long time, as if annoyed she had to explain everything to him:

"They’ve stolen our island, Carlisle.”

The doctor laughed loudly:

"So this is the revenge.”

#accidental esmelisle sketch #twilight #carlesme #au?#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #longread

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eddiekkasp · 3 years

Text

-ˋˏ 𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐒 ˎˊ-

theme warnings : uhh running away,mentions of death,and cursing.crossposted on a03)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

'ⁱ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ʸᵒᵘ,

ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐮,𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮 ; 𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙖 𝙤 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙣

“NO NEED TO WORRY,” HEADMASTER Leto boomed from where the mix of students and teachers were forming around him.

No need to worry? Thought Tam.Linh's gone.Disappeared.Almost like when that girl,Stina ran away to who knows where but Linh's going to get found.

Unfortuantly,Tam had said this out loud and the majority of the people who had survived were staring at him.Headmaster Leto adjusted his tie.”I was unaware someone was missing but,no reason to worry!Ms.Oralie was just saying she knows someplace to be safe.You kid’s will be fine!”

“No reason to worry,” mutter Biana beside him.”God,someone would think you were Ald- Wait.” Her teal eyes narrowed at Headmaster Leto.”Aren’t we going home?Honestly i thought this was a prank.”

Headmaster Leto laughed nervously.”Well,I was thinking- until we get word that whatever is in the school is safe,we would stay in groups in different places.I have decided to make captains,for them even.”

Biana’s eyebrows rose.

Maybe it would be helpful,Tam thought.What's the point of finding Linh if she doesn't have a real bed to sleep in?But then again what type of idiots are the runners of this school to send a bunch of teens into a house by themselves?

START OF FLASHBACK.

Tam creeped down the hall of Exillium,the boarding school him and Linh had been sent to by their parents.As he reached Linh’s room in the girls’ dormitory,he slowly creaked open the door.Tam walked over and

Shook his twin from where she was sleeping.Linh groggily opened her eyes and asked,’is it time?’

Tam nodded.Sure enough,they both were dressed in a matter of minutes and Linh grabbed two large duffel bags out of her closet.

Tam cautiously opened the window and slipped out,his soft brown shoes plopping onto the concrete by Linh’s window.

He helped Linh out,and yanked the duffel bags through the window,and the two started down the path until it became grassy and the

Black car the twins had worked for shone in the dark,as it was deliberately placed at the end of the path.

Tam opened one of the duffel bags and grabbed a key.Linh took it from him and slipped into the drivers seat as he stuffed the duffel bag into the backseat and sat down in the passengers.Linh turned her head to Tam and gave him a look.It mean,we're really doing this,aren't we?

Tam nodded at her,which meant,we are.

Linh inhaled and exhaled,before slamming her foot on the pedal and driving on grass until they hit the road.

Linh drove until they came up on a place that said ; Free camping grounds.She drove into it,and parked the car expertly.Thy clambered out of it and set up a tent on top of a short hill,but they still had a amazing view of the stars.

There,they slept- because one would do that after they ran away from their old home,but the twin’s didn’t really sleep that night,only thought the other did.

The next day,The duo ate at a homeless shelter.

Again,again,and again until days turned into weeks and months turned into days.They mostly really only worked so they could pay for school,and ate at the homeless shelter.

At night,Linh would tell him the tale of Orion,one of her favorite greek villians.Other times,they would just sit in comfortable silence.

They never talked about what their parents did to them.They didn’t practice their strange powers,Tam certainly hoped Linh didn’t.

There was nothing really remarkable with what they did.

Until one night at the homeless shelter,they came and saw someone new.She had blonde hair and big,brown doe eyes and was wearing a buttery-yellow sweater with brown stripes.The girl looked vaguely familiar; but looked particuarly sad,picking at her starkflower stew,until Calla,the owner of the homeless shelter, the Song twins were quite fond fond of,asked her what was wrong with it.

The girl just smiled at her and said nothing.

The next day,when they went back,there was nothing.No sign,no lights on,just empty and abandoned. They asked around,nobody knew what they were talking about.Nobody remembered Calla’s Tree,even though it was popular around town because it wasn’t just a homeless shelter,it was a resturaunt that fed people who didn’t have enough money for food,had amazing pancakes,and then some.But nobody understood what they were talking about.

It was as if Calla’s tree...Had been never seen.

END OF FLASHBACK.

No.He decided.I'll find Linh,and whatever happens next,happens next.

Tam cleared his throat.”Excuse me,but I’m not going anywhere without Linh.”

Magnate Leto gave him a nervous look.”Perhaps we can-”

Marella,a girl in Biana’s friend’s homeroom raised her hand.Magnate Leto turned to her,greatful for eyes not being on him anymore.

The tiny girl looked even smaller than usual,like she had been thrown into the washing machine,and her clothing into the dryer,which would probably explain why it looked baggy and crumpled.

She looked at Tam.”Linh went missing around 3:08,right?”

He nodded.

Marella inhaled.”Well,that’s about the time Jensi died.”

Tam blinked.Jensi had died?He hadn’t known the curly-haired,talkative boy that much,so Jensi’s death felt more like a faraway island to him.But..What was the connection between him and Linh-

No.

Marella managed to meet his burning stare.”I’m sorry,Tam,but Linh’s probably dea-”

“What’s this about me being dead?” Asked Linh,apparently coming from nowhere,and frowning at the idea that she was dead.

_______________________________

LINH WAS SCREWED,AND SHE KNEW THAT.

Everyone gathered in the courtyard looked at her with that surprised look that reminded her of that one pikachu meme.

Tam rushed towards her.By the time he reached her,people were already in tiny groups to figure out what the fuck was going on,and trying to see if Buzzfeed Unsolved had anything like this happen.

He wrapped her in a hug.”Where the hell have you been?”

Linh blinked.”I was...in the bathroom!”She cringed inwardly at the makeshift lie.She hated lying ; especially to her twin.Tam frowned,but gave her the highlight of everything that was going on.They were put in Biana’s group,with Marella from another class,and Maruca from Marella's class.Keefe and Dex from homeroom were also put in Biana’s group.So was Fitz,Biana’s brother.

Magnate Leto sent them to go to Biana’s house,and they got to the house in a ten minutes.

“Well,” said Biana.”Welcome to Everglen.”

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(a/n: this is short n dumb,but chapter six should go up soon also.i love my puns shhh.also i know the idea of shoving teens into a house is dumb and why didn't they just send them home??but thats going to get touched on later so,,)

#kotlc #kotlc 2021 collab #kotlc fic #keeper of the lost cities #keefe sencen #biana vacker #dex dizznee #linh song #tam song #stina heks #fitz vacker #marella redek #exillium #exillium kotlc #jensi babblos #maruca chebota #maruca kotlc #jensi kotlc #raiin's crappy writing

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et-lesailes · 4 years

Text

knit sweaters

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1560

summary: you have a special announcement for your husband on christmas morning, and what better way to do it than with white cable knit sweaters?

themes: FLUFFFFFF

taglist:@evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @mizariomi, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @marvelouspottering, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @danathewitchywoman, @denisemarieangelina, @mango--mango, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb

notes: saw THOSE ADORABLE PICTURES OF DODGER IN A CABLE KNIT SWEATER SO U KNOW I HAD TO

It’s Christmas morning and you’ve woken up about an hour earlier than Chris normally does, all to set up your cute surprise. You know it’s going to have him in tears, what with how emotional he is, but you’re excited nonetheless. You know you’re about to make your husband the happiest man on the planet, and it feels like everything’s aligned perfectly just for this moment to happen.

You tiptoe out of the bedroom, though flinch as Dodger leaps off the bed to follow you. Thankfully, his nails clacking on the hardwood floor do not wake the man up. “Good boy, bubba, come on-- we gotta get you ready,” you whisper, leading him out of the room and going into the storage closet in the hallway, getting out an opened package you’ve been hiding way in the back. The dog wags his tail as he tilts his head hopefully, probably expecting some type of toy inside. You laugh, reaching down to pat his butt playfully. “All your gifts are under the tree, silly boy. This is a surprise for Daddy.”

You go into the living room together and you sit down on the floor, taking out the dog sized white cable knit sweater. “For you,” you murmur with a smile, putting it on him and giggling as he prances around with it happily. “For me,” you continue in a hushed tone, pulling out a matching one for yourself, “and for Chris.” You take out the last one, the biggest and probably comfiest of them all.

However, it is what is embroidered on all three sweaters in red print that will be the biggest surprise for your husband, and probably the best one yet.

“Honey? You’re already up?” Chris calls sleepily from the bedroom about forty minutes later, and you immediately perk up from your place in front of the stove in the kitchen. Thank God you started making the hot chocolate already. “Uh-huh! Hold on babe, stay there. Working on a little last minute surprise for you.” You pour out the warm liquid into two mugs- one blue and decorated with snowmen, and the other red with a cute, cartoon reindeer face on the front. You quickly go into the living room and place the mugs on the table before picking up Chris’ sweater from the couch, going to stand in front of the tree and beckoning for Dodger to come over. “C’mere, bubba! Sit, sit! Over here!” The obedient dog complies, trotting over with his tail wagging- you can’t help but giggle simply from how cute he is in his sweater.

“Alright, Chris! You can come out now!”

It takes a few minutes, probably because he’s putting his robe on, but when he finally comes out and looks at the sight in front of him, he stares for a good ten seconds before his mouth slowly drops open.

There you are, holding up a large, white cable knit sweater to your side that reads “DADDY” in red. Your own says “MOMMY”, and as he looks down to his lovable canine companion, his tiny sweater reads “BIG BROTHER”.

“Baby-- are we-- are you-- I-- are you trying to say…”

“Merry Christmas, babe!” you squeal, coming over and throwing your arms around him in a warm embrace before pulling back slightly to look up at him with sparkling eyes. “I’m pregnant!”

He stares down at you for a few more moments, registering all of this as his sleepiness slowly fades away. The corner of his lips are spreading further and further until he’s practically beaming, suddenly scooping you up as he roars with delight, “We’re having a baby?! A real life baby? Holy fucking shit!” You laugh loudly, holding onto him tight as he spins you around. “Yes, yes, you’re going to be a dad! My due date’s in September!”

He hugs you tighter and you hear him start to sniff-- there it is, the waterworks. He finally sets you down and looks at you with teary eyes, though he’s still smiling widely. “Fuck, baby girl. I can’t believe it. It feels like we’ve been trying for so long.” He leans down and kisses you passionately, holding you close. “This is the best Christmas gift ever,” he murmurs against your lips, “I don’t even need to open the other presents under the tree.”

“You sure? Because there might be a certain customized Pats jersey you’ve been wanting for a while now…”

He blinks and scoffs in disbelief as he looks at you, shaking his head to himself. “Honestly, what the hell did I do to deserve a wife as perfect as you? Can you please tell me?”

You giggle but turn your head upon hearing Dodger whining, pawing at one of the presents under the tree. “Alright, you can shower me in compliments later, babe-- our first child is waiting for his gifts.” He laughs and nods his head, gently pulling you down with him to sit on the floor. “Okay, okay bubba. Let’s open these babies up.”

ONE YEAR LATER

You smile as you sit on the armrest of the couch in Chris’ family’s living room, absentmindedly running your fingers through your husband’s hair as he holds your almost three-month-old daughter on his lap. “Whatchya got there, Miles?” he asks his nephew who’s tearing apart the wrapping paper on his gift from Santa. “Oh my God! It’s an iPad!” he yells in excitement. Chris chuckles in amusement, glancing towards his sister with a raised brow before looking up to you mumbling playfully, “Just for the record, we’re not getting Hadley an iPad until she’s like, eighteen.”

“Mm, you say that now, sweetie, but technology’s taking over. You’ll have to accept it eventually.” You tease, smiling as your baby starts giggling from Chris bouncing her on his lap. She’s a total daddy’s girl, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You can tell she already has Chris wrapped around her finger, and it’s absolutely adorable.

“I want Hadley to open her gift from her uncle!” Scott says excitedly, and Chris grins. “You wanna get down on the floor, baby girl?” he says to his daughter, carefully getting down and setting her on her tummy. Scott places a bag in front of her, lying it down so that the opening is facing her. She blinks and touches the colorful tissue paper curiously, clenching it tightly in her little hands and clearly amused by the noise. You and the rest of the family laugh and coo fondly. “I hope she’s this easy to please when she’s in her teens,” Chris remarks playfully, watching in amusement as the baby simply continues playing with the paper. “We can only hope.” You laugh, getting down beside them. “Here, sweetheart, let me help you.”

You hold her hand and help her to pull the paper out, smiling upon seeing a little stuffed panda bear inside. You slide out some of it so the head is sticking out. “Can you get it now, Hadleykins?” She blinks and looks to your hand where you have the paper, and Scott scoffs in playful offense. “Hey, missy, I spent money on that gift for you- can’t you at least look at it?” You and Chris laugh, and Chris takes the colored paper and hides it behind his back. She almost immediately forgets about it, looking back towards the bag in front of her. You watch happily as she slowly reaches out to touch the panda’s head in curiosity. You finally take it all the way out to show her, a wide smile on your face. “Look how cute it is, Hads! Can you say thank you to Uncle Scott?”

She makes a series of short noises and babbles, incredibly focused on touching the fluffy toy in front of her. Scott chuckles, reaching down to stroke the very few wisps of hair she has. “You’re very welcome, cutie.” Chris suddenly stands up, retrieving a little bag from under the tree. “I also have a gift for Hadley, but I want her mama to open it.” He says with a grin, coming over and handing it to you. You blink but smile in curiosity, taking the bag from him. “Should I be worried?” you joke, taking out the tissue paper and reaching inside, only to pull out a tiny, adorable white cable knit onesie. “Oh my God.” You instantly smile wider, looking up at him with pure delight as you hold the onesie up. “Is this for her? I didn’t even know they made this for babies! This is too precious, we can all match now!”

“Oh, God, you’re going to be one of those families?” Scott teases, and Chris’ sisters laugh as they nudge him. “Hey! You know you would be the exact same way. I think it’s adorable.” Carly comments, and you giggle happily as you hold it out to Hadley. “Look, baby girl! Doesn’t it look cozy? You want to change into it?”

Little Hadley looks at it and smiles, her shiny blue eyes twinkling with intrigue. Everyone coos yet again, Chris unable to help but scoop her up in his arms again. “Come on, baby,” he pats your back, looking down at you with a smile. “Let’s get our daughter in that adorable little sweater-- I think she’s going to look just as pretty as her Mama does.”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans fic #pls lmk if i fucked up w the taglist lmao

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