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nicolewoo · 8 months

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Super Earth Part 6: PARTY!!!

Pairing: Roman Reigns X Reader

Warnings: None

I called Carmello “Mello….” I said sweetly to our chef. “Can I call in one of my favors?”

“Yea Cap. What can I do for you?” Carmello wiped his hands before leaning close to his communication pad.

I hesitated for a second, but Mello owed me a few. “I need your discretion.”

Mello laughed. “Cap you ain’t gotta use a favor for that. I always got your back.”

“Thank you. Now could you cook up a nice dinner for two for me to eat in my room tonight?”

“Ehhhh” he started. “I can’t do that tonight. I’ll be happy to do that tomorrow. I’ll even deliver, but it’s gonna have to be tomorrow.”

I hadn’t expected this. “Umm Why?”

When he spoke again, it was in a whisper. “Cause I got a bunch of people in here decorating. They gonna throw a party for you tonight, so you gotta eat in the mess.”

I held in my disappointment. “Got ya. Ok. I’ll be there. Thanks Mello.” I clicked the com off.

“I’m sorry babe.” Roman said from his place on the bed. He motioned for me to come back to bed.

“There’s still some time before your surprise party. Let’s just relax.”

I curled into his arms. “It’s ridiculous.”

“What is?” Roman asked.

Looking up at him I explained. “I was just doing my job.”

Roman chuckled, “You were a badass today, baby girl. Everyone was scared shitless, and you were calm and cool through the whole thing.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Are you kidding? I was just as scared as everyone else.”

He brushed his hand over my back, “You didn’t sound like it, and that really helped keep everyone calm.”

“It was all an act. No seriously, I was just doing my job.” I protested.

“Well, your job is being a hero.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Can we just….. talk about something else? Anything else? How are your plants?”

The mess hall looked ridiculous. It was decorated with clothes, and pieces of lab equipment with a string of popcorn. Despite that, I truly appreciated it. Today had been exhausting, which was why I wanted to eat in my room with Roman tonight, but seeing all the trouble everyone had gone to, I appreciated it so much.

The room erupted when they saw me. I motioned for everyone to quiet down. “Ok. OK. Enough. I was just doing my job. I couldn’t have done it without my crew, so how about we celebrate survival rather than me?”

There were boos and nos everywhere, but a sharp, shrill whistle cut through the noise. “Cap, Orange, Jamie, We’ve got a special table for you.” Carmello motioned us over to him.

The crazy decorations extended to our table, a communications pad with a flickering candle on the screen, towels for a tablecloth, one of Dr. Tozawa’s plants as a center piece.…. It was silly, and crazy, and I loved it. Jamie sat to my right and Orange sat to my left. I saw Roman slip into the room. Dr. Lee approached him right away and started talking, presumably about work. I would have preferred to sit with him, but Jamie and Orange always made me laugh.

Mello had cooked up a fine meal…. Chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. We all loved it. Now that dinner was over, tables and chairs had been pushed out of the way to form a dance floor, and music blared out of a speaker on the wall. People started dancing and laughing and having a great time.

“What the hell?” Commander Ciampa, our third pilot who worked the night shift, came striding into the Mess Hall. “Y’all throwing a party without me?” He snaked his way between dancers to me. “Morning Captain! What are we celebrating?

I started to answer when Dr. Zayne interrupted. “Our Captain here is a bad ass!” As soon as he’d said it, he turned back to the party and danced with Dr. Xion.

I motioned Ciampa to sit. “It’s nothing. We passed through a debris field… a planet or star……”

“You shoulda seen her go!” Orange said. “Impressive flying!”

Carmello came to our table with a full plate of food. “Thanks!” Ciampa ogled the plate hungrily. He took a couple bites before turning to me. “We went through a debris field?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t hear it. We hit a few big rocks. Shook the ship pretty bad.” I answered.

Ciampa smiled wide. “No, but my cabin is in the middle of the ship… almost dead center. I bet the sound just didn’t get there. We have any damage?” He picked up a chicken leg and devoured it in an impressive time.

Ciampa’s best friend and chief night engineer Lt. Gargano came in. Ciampa and I waved him to our table.

“This is quite a party” he said as he took his seat. Carmello brought him a plate of food.

Gesturing with a fork full of mashed potatoes, Ciampa answered, “Cap flew us through a debris field while we slept. Did you hear anything?”

“Yeah, of course. There were some pretty loud bangs. Not surprised you slept through it.” Gargano said. “You can sleep through anything. Mello” he turned to the chef “This is money!” He complimented the man.

The party was getting progressively louder as the night went on and more alcohol was consumed. Meanwhile, Orange and I were updating Ciampa and Gargano on the ships systems. Jamie had excused herself right after dinner, because she was scheduled to fly the ship. She’d gotten someone else to sit in the cockpit while she ate.

“Commander Cassidy, Come dance with me.” Dr. Ripley asked, and he followed her to the dance floor, sticking his hands in his pocket and swaying casually to the song.

“Captain!” Dr. Zayne approached me. The obviously drunk doctor offered me his hand, and I took it.

I had expected a calm unexciting dance. Instead, Dr. Zayne spun me around and around and around until I was dizzy. When he stopped, it took a second to gather my wits, and I found myself in front of Roman. The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips.

With the most melodramatic acting I’d seen in years, Dr. Zayne stopped dancing, grabbing his calf as if in pain. “Oh! Oh! I think I just pulled…. An old hockey injury.” He started hobbling to a nearby table. I took one side of him, and Roman took the other. We successfully put him in a chair. “I’m sorry, Captain. Maybe…..” He faked another pain. “Maybe Dr. Reigns should take my place. Grabbing one of my hands and one of Roman’s, Dr. Zayne put Roman’s hand on mine. “Please Dr. Reigns. Can you finish,” He faked another pain “Finish the Captain’s dance? Please?”

I was about ready to bust out laughing at this performance and just how not-subtle this ploy was. Roman was smiling too. “Captain?” he offered me his hand.

We danced for a minute, moving away from the performance Dr. Zayne was putting on. “That was subtle” Roman joked.

I laughed, but I couldn’t help wondering, “Do you think he knows about us?” I felt Roman’s hand twitch around my waist.

He paused a moment. “I don’t think so. I think he is trying to get something going between us.” I quickly scanned the room. More than one set of eyes was trained on us.

“He may not be the only one.” I laughed. Roman looked around too.

“Looks like quite a few people think we should be together. Maybe we can stop hiding.” He cooed down to me.

I shook my head no. “No. Not yet. I want it to look like we are just interested in each other. When we get to the planet, we can ‘start’ dating then.”

“I honestly don’t think anyone would be upset.” Roman didn’t understand how hard it was to get this assignment. He didn’t know all of the internal politics; everything I’d had to go through. I’d been training for this my whole life, studying everything I could get my hands on about space, ships and their systems. Hell! I knew my way around 5 coolant systems by the time I was 12.

I inhaled deeply, “Please trust me. We can’t come out yet.”

He nodded his agreement before spinning me around once. “If you say so.” He dipped me, and I laughed. When he raised me up again, we were closer than before…. Almost pressed against each other, which I wanted so bad. He licked his lips slowly. “I think maybe I better get back to my lab.” He meant he was ready to be alone with me. “Give me about 20 minutes to water the plants?”

I nodded and he ended our dance, leaving me alone on the dance floor for about a few seconds before Dr. Zayne jumped in. “Feeling better, Dr. Zayne?” I asked.

“Wha….” He started to ask before quickly adding. “Yeah yeah. That’s the darndest thing. Just poof it hurts and poof it’s gone!”

“Amazing” I mused.

Dr. Owens was dancing nearby, “You having fun Captain?”

I nodded, “Yeah, but I’m getting tired. I’ll probably turn in soon.” I said casually.

“I bet you will.” Owens said as he steered his partner away.

These guys were onto us. There was no doubt about it now. I needed to steer them a different direction, so I stayed another ½ hour…. Thinking that giving it more time between my departure and Roman’s would help.

@mindofasagitarius @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire @starwithaheart @spookys-girl @pitlissa22 @snowpanda18 @thesamoanqueen @sassginaswanmills

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction

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ptergwen · 3 years

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call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

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a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

#did i read this before posting it???? nope #this is so silly but was also living RENT FREE in my brain #also this is temporally separated from the last ep lol bc i do not have it in me to write anything heavy this week #drunk happy husbands only !!!!#🙅🏻‍♂️‼️#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction

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ellewriteswrongs · 3 years

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picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y’all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night.

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing.

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway.

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news.

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it.

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night.

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win.

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus.

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin.

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face.

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless.

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless.

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value.

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it.

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever.

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them.

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old.

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair.

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face.

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all.

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related.

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat.

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!”

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose.

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out.

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment.

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out.

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign.

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green.

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?”

Remus choked on his own spit.

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids.

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off.

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm.

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house.

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile.

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip.

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them.

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him.

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn’t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face.

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot.

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries.

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head.

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him.

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk.

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face.

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,�� Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle.

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense.

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth.

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night.

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate.

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within.

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing.

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him.

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe.

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way.

#anyway.......i would die for them #my writing #tsbandau #sanders sides #ts remus #ts janus

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rymndsmth · 3 years

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querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy!

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling.

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive.

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend.

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about.

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed.

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung and his girlfriend).

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller.

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores.

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place.

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion.

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned.

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea.

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot.

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing.

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition.

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later.

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood.

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived.

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history.

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide.

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen.

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter.

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons.

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag.

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush.

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it.

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest.

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all.

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued.

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though.

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips.

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush.

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her?

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him.

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors.

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table.

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you.

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down.

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished.

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his.

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow.

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did.

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin.

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers.

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes.

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.

#*throws this and runs to take my dog for a walk*#jang han seo #vincenzo #fics.n

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merlinfic · 3 years

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group ask for lost fics #30

Hi y’all! Below are a few lost fics that us mods just can’t seem to find. That being said, we’re hoping that you lovely followers are able to help! If anyone knows any of the fics below please reply below or send in an ask with which anon/user and group ask that the fic corresponds when the ask is back open!

Note: previous group asks and all lost fics!

Anon 1 asked:

Hey, I was wondering if you guys could help find a fic! I remember that Arthur and co were captured by bandits or something like that and they had to put that berry stuff on them. But later on in the fic Merlin tricks them into using the wrong ones and a couple of the bandits get eaten. Also Arthur was like super protective of Merlin which surprised the bandits and everyone else

Anon 2 asked:

helloooo! so, i read this merlin x hp crossover quite a while ago, and i can't seem to find it. i only remember small details, but i think merlin accidentally nds up as harry, and loses his memories? so he goes to hogwarts and both arthur and merlin are immortal, though they haven't spoken in a long time. arthur joins m in their second year under an anagram. they at some point build a place called the snake pit under the castle? i think it had about 60 chapters, and was pretty wrong. so sorry about this lol

@luforlucy asked:

Hi I want to thank you all for you hard work! I'm looking for a fic that mentions that Merlin always attracts animals. The only detail I remember is that when he was little he camped in the forest and other kids got scared when a bear was attracted. If I don't got it wrong he also don't want Arthur to find out about his magic. Other fics where Merlin is friendly with animals or can talk to them are also welcome.

For the other part of your request you can check out these asks: 1, 2, 3

Anon 3 asked:

Firstly, you guys are amazing and I'm constantly impressed with how knowledgeable you are! I recently read a fic where basically Arthur likes to give Merlin indulgent foods when he realized he realized he never got to eat like that before. I specifically remember a part where they were roasting some sort of fruit in sugar over a fire.

Thanks to @fractalinferno for sending in All is Sweet that Ends Sweet by TyalanganD!

@jellyfishinc asked:

I'm looking for a Merthur fic on ao3. Don't know the author or the title.

It's about how Arthur has a talk with someone about Merlin, and how he's the one most worthy of a spot at the round table for being as devoted as he is. I almost wanna swear he has this conversation with Gwen, but I can't say for certain. Arthur also makes Merlin's own set of armor, and it's blue to make him stand out, because for Arthur the distinction is important.

Anon 4 asked:

Hello again, dear mods! I'm so sorry to be taking your time, but could you please help me? I've been looking for a fanfic, modern au, where Merlin works at his uncle shop and Arthur comes every day and they talk and become friends, but only they only talk in the shop, they study together at the same school and in there Arthur doesn't even look at Merlin and I believe it was to protect him from bullying (?)

Also Merlin snaps at Arthur one day in the shop, I think it was because he didn't acknowledge his existence at school, and Arthur is really sad because he wants talk to Merlin again, but can't.

Please help me, I can't find this fanfic anywhere

Thanks to @kardolsher for sending in in nobody's eyes but mine (hey shut up) by jatersade!

Anon 5 asked:

Hi! I was wondering if you knew the fic where Leon decided to bow to Merlin even though he’s not a lord or anything and Merlin is laughs it off and is like why? And Leon says something like you’re my king because of how Arthur feels? I can’t remember anything else. Thanks!! I come here for all my fic recs :)

Thanks to @aeonthedimensionalgirl for suggesting The King's Circle by JessicaMDawn!

Anon 6 asked:

You guys are amazing, I spend so much time on your tags page. It’s a bit ridiculous. Anyway, I’m looking for a fic... Merlin is Arthur’s PA, there’s a New Year’s Eve party (I think) and Merlin sends out emails saying goodbye. Arthur and Gwen are together and it turns out the Gwen had been telling Merlin he wasn’t important or something like that leading him to kill himself. Endgame Merthur.

Also not too long ago you guys answered an ask about Arthur not being able to have sex with Gwen so she invites Merlin into their bed. I’ve searched the tags I could think of and scrolled through the posts and was unable to find it. I think there was only 2 fics.

Thanks a billion!!

Thanks to @statistical-nightmare for sending in A Means to an End by Icelandichairdresser!

The post you’re looking for I think is this one!

Anon 7 asked:

hiiii! I'm looking for a fic where Arthur sends Lance gifts as a secret admirer but Merlin thinks they are for him, since he and Lance are flatmates? Endgame Merthur <3 I cannot seem to find it anywhere :(

Thanks to @statistical-nightmare and @heartsocold for sending in Fools Who Dream by destroyerofhearts!

And as always this post will be updated if any fics are found!

#other: group asks for lost fics #other: lost fics #other: fic find #mod danielle #when i say the struggle is Real when trying to find fics lately

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luxekook · 4 years

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trivia love | knj

⇥ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, terrible trivia team names, namjoon being devastating, low-key exhibitionism, smut in a bar bathroom, oral (f receiving), sub!joon, switch!reader, everyone being nerdy af

Weekly trivia used to be so fun. Your team - The Multiple Scoregasms - used to demolish the competition with ease. You used to be able to think so clearly and answer so correctly. You used to revel in the free drinks earned with your $20 bar credit winnings.

Keywords: used to

For the last two Thursdays, not only had your team lost miserably, you seemed to have lost all recollection past your own name.

The reason? Team Text Us, We're Single.

First of all, their team name was highly deceptive. There was no way that all seven of those beautiful team members were single. It was absolutely ludicrous.

Second of all, only one member of the group seemed to even take trivia seriously. And they still won. Twice.

And last of all, you were high-key attracted to said member. You sighed, thinking back to simpler times before you first saw him two Thursdays ago…

The first thing you saw when you walked into Queenie’s Bar was a squad of middle-aged men debating the merits of Draco Malfoy’s redemption arc.

And the second? Just the cutest smiling boy you’d ever seen in the entirety of your existence. He was tall and deliciously tan, with cute dimples that surfaced suddenly when he smiled at the bartender in thanks.

As you stood in the archway of the bar gaping at this dimpled god, you got jostled from behind by your friend Olivia. “What’s the hold up? Go claim our usual table, (y/n)! I’ll get the drinks.”

You snapped out of your reverie. Cute boy or not, he was likely to be part of tonight’s competition; and, therefore, you needed to annihilate him accordingly.

Nodding inwardly, you stalked past the men who now had moved on from Draco to a heated argument surrounding house-elves and their rights.  “Hermione just dropped her whole campaign! S.P.E.W. was never mentioned again!” One man thrust his hand through his thinning hair in exasperation, “God, did the campaign buttons mean nothing?”

You cracked a smile as you settled into your usual table in the middle of the crowded bar. You loved Thursday night trivia with everything you had.

Thursdays brought in an eclectic sort of crowd to Queenie’s. The groups scattered throughout the bar represented everyone from middle aged Potterheads to skulking e-boys to nerdy young adults (READ: you) and - apparently - to models (READ: Dimples).

You spotted your roommate Jordan and your friend Marlene hurrying through the door and raised a hand to wave them down. Marlene noticed you first and yelled, “Yo, (y/n)!”

Typically, you would have been embarrassed by this behavior, but it happened each week without fail. So, you just gave a half-assed salute.

The only thing that Marlene, the only extrovert in your circle of friends, loved more than being the center of attention was forcing the rest of you into the spotlight with her.

Her reasoning? Something about comfort zones and shit. Your reasoning? Pure evil.

Jordan rolled his eyes at you and grabbed Marlene, dragging her over to your table. “She needs to be stopped,” Jordan said in lieu of a greeting, “She’s a menace to introverts everywhere.”

“Puh-lease,” Marlene plopped into her seat dramatically, “Y’all love me. Besides, if you got rid of me, who would do speed trivia rounds for you?”

You and Jordan exchanged a panicked look at the mere thought of being put on the spot in front of a large crowd. “You make a convincing argument,” you sighed, “I guess we’ll keep you.”

“Well,” Marlene concentrated on something over your shoulder, “I might leave voluntarily if other teams are out here looking like that.”

You turned, seeking out the team in question, and locked eyes with Dimples. He blushed furiously and ducked his head, blonde hair falling to cover his eyes. His friend to his left, equally as attractive, gave Dimples a weird look and shoved his shoulder. You whipped back around before you got caught staring - again.

“What the fuck?” Jordan whispers-yelled across the table to you, “Do you know that boy, (y/n)?”

“No,” you choked out, already halfway to whipped over someone you’d never even met.

“Well, damn,” Olivia finally arrived, somehow successfully holding four drinks, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Marlene smirked, “Just a cute boy thirsting over (y/n) from afar.”

“He is not thirsting!” Your disclaimer went by unacknowledged.

“Oooh, we love a thirsty boy,” Olivia slid into her seat next to you and turned around to assess the crowd, “Shit. Which one is he? All the boys at that table are hot.”

“The one with the dimples,” you automatically answered, your mind replaying his squinty-eyed smile in full HD.

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Marlene whipped out her pen and notepad like she was about to take notes, “Now, how do you know he has dimples?”

“Uh,” you sank low in your seat, “A good guess?”

“Nope, try again,” Jordan cackled, “You twirl your hair when you’re lying, bitch.”

Goddamnit. You released your traitorous hand from your hair immediately. “Fine, because I saw him smiling when I arrived, okay?”

“Interesting,” Marlene scribbled gibberish on her notepad, “And how do you feel about that?”

Now, two long weeks later, you still had no idea how to answer that question. However, you did know that you longed to talk with him for hours and absorb the knowledge he seemed to hold in every crevice of his brain. You did know that a darker part of you wanted to see him kneeling before you, completely at your mercy. You did know that his thighs were distracting, to the point where you accidentally dumped your entire beer down your shirt because you were too gaping at the way he leaned over the bar to order drinks.

And, unfortunately, you did know that he seemed to be equally distracted by you. This bit of knowledge came via your friends; and, therefore, you were in full denial.

“Question nine,” the bartender-turned-announcer cleared her throat, jolting you from your inner thoughts. “Who wrote 1818’s Frankenstein?”

“Mary Shelley!” You whispered across the table to Jordan, who then scrawled the name onto your team’s answer sheet. Satisfied, you shot a furtive glance around the bar and frowned as the surrounding teams all seemed to be confident in their answers as well. Your gaze strategically skipped past the table in the back section of the bar before returning to face your teammates.

From her seat next to Jordan, Marlene spotted something in the very direction you had been avoiding and giggled, “Dimples is staring. Bottoms up, fam.”

“Again?” Olivia rolled her eyes and drank from her dwindling gin and tonic. “He just looked at her, like, thirty seconds ago!”

Your eyes swung to Jordan as he attempted to covertly take a sip of his vodka cranberry.

“Please tell me you all aren’t drinking every time he looks over here,” you groaned, crossing your arms, “How are you even sure that he's looking at me?”

“Maybe because his eyes were glued to your ass when you walked by his table earlier on the way to the bathroom,” Olivia cackled, “I mean, I can’t blame the guy. Those jeans really do make you look thick.”

“And that’s ‘thick’ with at least three C’s and possibly a Q,” Marlene added, shooting you a thumbs up and nod of approval.

Jordan arched an eyebrow slyly, sipped his mixed drink, and drawled,“Well, why do you think she wore them?”

That snake!

“Top ten anime betrayals,” you whispered, eyes wide in the wake of being exposed.

Marlene and Olivia gasped in unison and turned towards you. Olivia hissed, “You bitch. Have you been holding out on us? Have you been seducing him?”

“Question ten,” the announcement blared from the bar’s speakers, saving you briefly from the brewing interrogation you felt was headed your way. “What novel begins with the words 'Call me Ishmael’?”

“Moby Dick,” Marlene answered, “Now, back to the matter at hand. I cannot believe you didn’t tell us this crucial information. We could have been scheming together if we knew you liked him.”

“Like him?!” Your shriek drew the attention of the neighboring table, and you shot them a sheepish smile. When they finally looked away, you immediately reverted back to your murderous state, “I don’t even know his name! And when have you been scheming?”

“Fine,” Jordan acquiesced, stirring his paper straw around his drink, “Maybe you don’t like him yet, but you definitely want to sit on his dick. Am I right or am I right?”

Gleefully, Marlene and Olivia faced you with fierce looks of anticipation.

“Fine,” you sniffed, trying to scrape your shredded dignity off the floor, “Yes, I want to sit on his dick. Is that so wrong?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Olivia rubbed her palms together, grinning deviously, "I mean, we already know he's into you. Why can't you just say something to him?"

You looked at her like she had just spoken Latin backwards, "Have you seen him? He’s so sweet. I could ruin him.”

“I don’t think he’d even mind though,” Marlene sighed, gazing over at the boy in question.

Jordan snorted as you buried your head in your hands and audibly prayed for anyone out there to take pity on you.

"We're moving on to our next category, folks," the bar's sound system crackled to life, answering your prayers, "Harry Potter."

"Oh, fuck yeah," You and Marlene - resident Harry Potter dweebs - exchanged high fives. Finally, a category you could probably win with your mind functioning on minimal capacity.

"Question eleven: In the Goblet of Fire, who poses as Mad-Eye Moody, Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Barty Crouch," you and Marlene said, pausing for dramatic effect, "Junior."

You cracked up as Jordan and Olivia shook their heads. "I question our friendship every damn day," Olivia joked, gazing off into the metaphorical distance - aka at the wall.

"You love us, bitch-ass," Marlene aimed a kick in Olivia’s direction under the table.

You grinned at their antics and went to take a sip from your beer, only to discover it empty. "Another round?" You ask your friends, standing to head over to the bar.

"Yes, please," Jordan groaned, "Anything to make it through these next four questions."

"Anyone - besides Jordan - want another round?" You revised your original statement aloud.

"Wow, have I mentioned I love Harry Potter lately? Like, yes, ten points to Hogwarts, bitch," Olivia thrust her empty glass in the air.

"That's not even how House Points work, Liv," Marlene sighed, "Solid B- for effort."

You turned to leave. "Wait!" Jordan drew your attention back to your group, "Stick your ass out when you order. He'll be watching." He shot a quick glance in He Who Shall Not Be Named (Because You Don't Know It)'s direction. "Oh, wait. He already is. Go get 'em, Hedwig."

You inwardly screamed at the knowledge that you were being watched by the current focus of your attraction and decided not to comment before leaving.

"Hedwig?" You heard Marlene addressing Jordan as you walked away, "Did you mean Hermione? Hedwig is Harry’s fucking owl. RIP, by the way."

God, you loved your friends.

Arriving at the large wooden bar running the length of the room, you flagged down one of the bartenders and circled a finger in the air to indicate another round. You and your friends came often enough for most of the staff to know your orders by heart. It was awesome.

"Question twelve!" The sound jolted you upright. You hadn't noticed you were standing right next to one of the extra speakers the bar used for trivia. Idiot, you cursed yourself, why must you be like this?

"Why was the Whomping Willow planted?" Cringing again at the volume, you craned your neck and located Marlene, who gave you an affirmative nod of 'I got this, fam.'

"Here you go!" The bartender placed your drinks in front of you, "Same tab?"

"Yes, please," You nodded, attempting to smoothly grab all four drinks, "Thank you!"

"Need some help?" The sweetest voice you had ever heard in your life sounded from your left side. You slowly turned your head to face its source and was equally as stunned by the beautiful boy in front of you.

This was one of Dimples’ teammates - one of the Team Text Us, We're Single boys.

"Um," your brain resembled the scene from Spongebob where he forgot his name. Your eyes darted over the boy's shoulder in a deliberate attempt to avoid his cute scrunched eyes and wide smile. But, you were only faced with something even more devastating.

Six boys openly gaped at you from the back table. When you caught their eyes, three looked away, two grinned shamelessly, and one blushed right to the tips of his ears.

Cute. Your insides turned to mush over how adorable your Dimples was.

"They're the worst, right?” The boy in front of you commanded your attention once more, "So nosy. Now, let me help you. I'm Jimin, by the way, from Team Text--"

"Us, We're Single," you finished, "Yeah, you guys beat us the last two Thursdays. We had such a nice winning streak going, too."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Jimin smiled wide, "Most of us don't even care about trivia."

"That makes it even worse," you groaned, sliding two drinks his way, "I'm (y/n), from The Multiple--"

"Scoregasms," Jimin laughed, "Awesome name."

"Thanks!" Your confidence soared at his praise and you smiled genuinely, "It's some of my best work."

"Question thirteen!"

"Oh shit," Jimin muttered, "Let's go before I miss any more questions. Joon will have my ass on a platter."

You nodded, mind whirring to try to determine which team member this 'Joon' was. Maybe the intimidating-looking boy with the bleached blonde hair pushed back in a headband? Or the really muscular one in all black with the doe eyes and long brown hair?

"When Dumbledore and Harry first visit Horace Slughorn, what is he disguised as?"

At the question, you grabbed the two remaining drinks and head back to your table with Jimin following close behind. As soon as you began your journey, you rolled your eyes at the completely obvious way your friends were pretending they hadn’t been watching you and Jimin interact this entire time.

You had never seen them having such an animated conversation about... "Bagels are so good! I love how you can choose from so many different types, like cinnamon raisin, sesame, blueberry, honey wheat--"

"Hi," you forcefully placed the drinks down in front of your friends and succeeded in interrupting Marlene's riveting tirade about bagels, "This is Jimin. He was kind enough to help me."

"Hey, Jimin," Jordan eyed the boy appreciatively, "Decided to scope out the competition, huh?"

"Honestly, sort of," Jimin chuckled. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, not liking the sly edge his grin took on in the slightest.

"Well, hopefully (y/n) didn't give much away," Olivia giggled, staring up at Jimin with heart eyes, "She's our team leader."

"Damn straight." You plopped back down in your chair, "Want to sit with us? We can grab an extra chair from a nearby table."

"Nah," Jimin glanced over his shoulder at where his teammates were probably still staring, "I should get back. Want to hang out after trivia though? We can merge tables!"

Before you could even answer, Marlene enthused, "Yes! That would be so fun. Don't you think, (y/n)?"

You gave her your most lethal side-eye, catching onto what seemed to be happening here, "Yes... so fun."

"Great!" Jimin ignored your dry tone, "Talk to you later then!"

You all watched as he sauntered away.

"Damn," Olivia sighed, "That boy is fine." You nodded sagely as your eyes stayed glued to Jimin's firm ass as he walked away in those tight jeans.

"So, what's the plan, team?" Jordan clapped, "We have T minus twenty minutes to get 'Operation Get (y/n) Dicked Down' up and running. Let's do this."

God, you hated your friends.

Twenty minutes later, your team had solidly lost. However, unlike the last two weeks, your loss did not come as a surprise or alongside any hard feelings. You four were too busy prepping to hang out with seven intimidatingly hot boys.

You were the only one not excited.

“And that concludes trivia for tonight, folks,” the bartender announced, “Team Text Us, We’re Single wins once again. Please come to the bar to collect your bar credits, lads.”

“Oh my god, okay, it’s happening,” Jordan bounced up and down in his seat as you all watched the bar start to clear out, “Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.”

“I don’t know how you have any room to call (y/n) and I nerds while you straight up quote The Office, Jord,” Marlene laughed.

“The Office is an Emmy award-winning show,” Jordan sniffed, “Come at me when Harry Potter wins a Pulitzer.”

“The Pulitzer is only for American authors,” Marlene cried.

“I rest my case,” Jordan lifted his glass.

“What?” Marlene yelped, “That makes literally no sense.”

“As much as I hate to interrupt this fascinating argument,” Olivia drawled, “We’re being summoned.”

You gulped, glancing behind you. Sure enough, Jimin was flagging you all down from across the bar, while a few of his teammates dragged over an empty table towards their own.

“Shit, I guess this is it,” you sighed.

“Jesus, you’re not going off to war, (y/n),” Jordan rolled his eyes, “You’re literally about to meet the your trivia daddy.”

“Please— and I cannot stress this enough,” you paused, “Never say that again.” With that, you stood, grabbing your drink and sauntering over towards Jimin with all the confidence you could possibly summon.

You heard your friends’ laughter behind you, and you discreetly flashed them the middle finger behind you back.

“Hey, Jimin,” you smiled at the boy as he greeted you and your friends.

“Hi, welcome!” His eyes were completely encompassed by his cheeks, and you internally screeched at his cuteness.

“This is Taehyung,” Jimin gestured to the curly-haired boy to his right. Taehyung greeted you all with a deep ‘Hi’ and a peace sign.

“Yoongi,” Jimin pointed towards the intimidating boy you noticed earlier with the bleached hair and the headband. Yoongi only nodded in your general vicinity as greeting.

“Hi, I’m Jin!” The stunningly handsome boy at the end of the table burst out, evidently unable to wait until he was introduced. Jin blew you all a kiss as his friends groaned.

“Please ignore him,” Jimin rolled his eyes before moving on, “Those two are Hoseok and Jungkook.” Jimin gestures towards the bar where two boys were collecting two pitchers of beer.

“And, last but not least, our trivia leader Namjoon,” Jimin’s grin turned devious as the boy in question raised his hand in greeting and ducked his head back down.

“Please sit,” Jimin gestured towards the scattered empty chairs amongst his group.

“(Y/n)!” Jin called suddenly, his arm flopping frantically in the air, “Come sit next to me!”

Your eyebrows shot all the way up as your heartbeat accelerated. Sitting next to Jin meant sitting next to Namjoon - your Dimples.

Nodding, you made your way over. It would be rude to refuse his request, and you could not help but wonder if Namjoon’s friends were also schemers.

You rounded the corner of the table and plopped down between the two boys. “H-hi,” you offered, eloquent as ever. You sipped your beer to cover up your burning embarrassment.

“Hi,” Jin grinned at you, “Thanks for joining us at the handsome end of the table.”

You choked on your beer, before cracking up, “The handsome end?” You loved this boy already and couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, “Oh, you meant Namjoon.” You shot the boy you just mentioned a sly smile as Jin spluttered.

Namjoon cocked his head slightly as he slowly broke into a shy smile, “Yeah, he definitely did, (y/n).”

Lord Almighty, the way he said your named almost sounded like a confession.

“Oh, this is insane, you fools!” Jin shook with incredulity, “I am worldwide handsome. Not Namjoon. Ugh, I need new friends.”

Jin stood and skulked over to the other side of the table as you all laughed. He was so extra, you could already tell. However, his antics had done wonders for your nerves.

Turning back to Namjoon, you leaned in closer, “Did he just make an Always Sunny reference? Or was that just me?”

Namjoon nodded, eyes glinting in amusement, “He did. You watch that show, too?”

Your conversation delved into your favorite shows, your favorite movies, your favorite meals. You felt like you had known Namjoon forever with how comfortable you already were with each other. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes strayed to your lips every so often or how his hands crept closer to your thigh with every parting word.

The boy was into you. You were almost 85% sure of it. So, you decided to test him.

In the middle of Namjoon’s story about the time Jungkook almost burned down his apartment complex, you slid your hand over his. Namjoon paused, and you looked up innocently. He gulped and continued.

You smiled viciously on the inside. Your fingers played with his, intertwining with them, playing with his rings, brushing over his palm.

As Namjoon’s story drew to a close, you tugged his hand onto your thigh and released it. Nonchalantly, you picked up your beer and took a sip.

Shooting the boy a quick glance in your periphery, you found him staring openmouthed at his own hand encompassing your thigh. He gave your thigh a tentative squeeze, and you hummed in content. His eyes shot to yours.

“W-what are you doing?” Namjoon’s pupils were dilated as he blinked at you.

“I just wanted your hand on me, Joon,” you pouted, “You can take it off if you want.”

You moved to shift his hand off you, but his grip tightened. “I like having my hands on you, (y/n),” he said, his voice deeper than ever, “I also like you calling me ‘Joon’.”

“Two more things we can agree on,” you smiled at him, stomach full of butterflies and anticipation. Glancing around you, you realized that your friends were dispersed throughout the bar.

Marlene, Jordan, Hoseok, and Jungkook were dancing wildly in the middle of the bar’s tiny dance-floor. Jimin and Taehyung were bothering the DJ to presumably keep playing an assortment of random songs from the early 2000s.

Olivia, Yoongi, and Jin sat at the bar, watching the others and laughing as Jungkook kept hitting the whoa no matter what song played. Currently, he was hitting the whoa to Baby Got Back.

Turning back to Namjoon, you find him looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you questioned, eyes searching his inquisitively.

He shoved a hand through his messy hair. “You’re so intimidating, (y/n). You’re so smart and beautiful, and it messes with my brain.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” You arched an eyebrow before smiling sweetly, “I promise I don’t bite… Unless you want me to.”

“I do,” he answered automatically. You both paused. His eyes widened comically, “F-forget I said that.”

“You want me to bite you, Joonie?” You sighed into his ear, relishing in his shiver, “You want me to mark your pretty skin?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Okay,” your mouth descended to his neck, searching for a weak spot. His breath hitched as your mouth neared his thrumming pulse point. Bingo.

You placed an open-mouthed kiss onto his warm skin before sucking lightly. Namjoon moaned, shifting in his seat.

You bit down, and his hips bucked instinctively. Pulling back slightly, you licked over the mark that was slowly blooming on his neck.

The clear imprint of your teeth on his neck had you grinning like a fool. You really wanted to own this cute, shy, intelligent boy.

You looked up at Namjoon. He was watching you with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, eyes focused on his. He nodded frantically, and your lips tugged up in a small smile.

Slowly, you inched your mouth closer towards his. Your breaths mingled. You pressed your lips to his gently and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You kept kissing Namjoon until you finally had to come up for air. Leaning your forehead against his, you locked eyes, breathing each other in.

“Can I sit on your lap, Joon?” You asked in between peppering kisses on his reddened cheeks.

After getting a nod in confirmation, you straddled his lap and returned your lips to his. The small part of your brain still thinking rationally reminded you that you were in a very public bar. The much larger and irrational part of your brain urged you on as your hips shamelessly grind onto Namjoon’s. The hardened cock that you felt through his jeans was too tempting. And, besides, exhibitionism was fun, right?

You bit down on Namjoon’s bottom lip, and he thrust against you.

You broke away and turned your head to the side, needing another moment to breathe. Namjoon began to kiss your neck, and you let out a small laugh as he nipped at your skin. He was marking you right back.

Namjoon lifted his head again as your lips parted. His face was inches away from yours. He stared at you like a starving man.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon said lowly, “I’m beginning to think you might be the devil, because you just snatched my soul.”

You stared at him. “That was so goddamned cheesy.” Your giggles made him turn an interesting shade of maroon.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jin-hyung,” you heard him mutter before you captured his lips once more.

As you kissed, his fingers slowly inched downwards, caressing you. You decided then and there that you would have this boy.

“Undo my jeans,” you commanded after pulling away from his mouth. His eager fingers dropped to your zipper, fumbling in their haste. Once your jeans were undone, you felt him hesitate. You instructed him, ��I need your fingers.”

He thrust a finger into you. “Mm, Joon,” you dropped your head into the crevice of his neck as he pumped another one in, stretching you. His fingers curled inside you, as you shifted your hips.

“Rub my clit,” You demanded, and he pulled his fingers out and circled it immediately. You moaned at both the new sensation and at the loss of his fingers inside you. “Keep your fingers in me, use your thumb.” You gripped onto the back of his head, pulling on his hair in punishment.

His fingers thrust back into you without warning as his thumb circled your clit. You felt yourself clenching around him, so close to coming just from his hands. Still, you needed more. You were definitely a greedy bitch.

You pulled his hand from your pants, and he stared at his fingers, which were sticky with you. You watched enraptured as he lifted his wet fingers to his lips and sucked.

His eyes widened, “Fuck, (y/n), you taste so good. You have to let me eat you out. You need to let me put my head between your thighs. Please.”

“Bathroom,” you gasped out, “Now.” You shimmied off of Namjoon’s lap and onto shaky legs.

“Follow me in one minute,” you kissed his cheek and tried your best to casually make your way to the bathroom. However, you were pretty sure you had already blown all efforts to be casual as soon as you sat on Namjoon.

Finally, you entered the empty single-stall bathroom and let out a sigh of relief.

Two seconds later, a knock sounded. You barely opened the door wide enough before Namjoon was all over you. His hands gripped your ass as he backed you against the wall next to the sink.

He gazed down at you with hooded eyes, “You still want this, right?”

“Yes, Joon,” you leaned up to kiss him one more time.

Namjoon sank to his knees before you.

You audibly moaned at the sight. Quickly, you tugged your jeans down your legs and kicked them to the side. Your underwear followed suit.

Namjoon cursed lowly as you lifted a leg onto the ledge of the sink, baring everything to him. “Well,” you smirked, “You wanted to put that smart mouth on me.”

“You are going to kill me,” he muttered. His hot mouth closed over your clit. Parting your lips, he caressed you as he sucked and licked. His fingers thrust into you once more, pulling out slowly then pummeling back in.

“Harder,” you moaned. He fucked you faster, adding another finger, stretching you.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his lips swollen and pink. “How the fuck can you taste this good?” He panted as he carried on fucking you with his fingers, grabbing at your ass with his free hand.

His mouth returned to your pussy, circling your clit with his tongue and moaning against it. His fingers continued to push into you relentlessly.

You felt your toes curl as your orgasm approached at a maddening rate. “J-Joon,” you cried his name, your back arching as the pleasure built up with each stroke of his tongue and movement of his fingers.

Without warning, he sucked on your clit harshly, and you came, clenching around his fingers. Namjoon continued to pump them in and out of you, carrying you through your orgasm. He licked your pussy, lapping up everything you gave him with his tongue. After a bit, your fingers wound into his hair and pulled. “Stop,” you begged, legs shaking with overstimulation.

He pulled back immediately and lifted his head, looking thoroughly fucked-out. His lips were more swollen than ever. His hair was a tangled mess. You had never seen anything better. “God, you look so sexy right now,” you mused, reaching a hand to stroke at his cheek.

“Are you guys finally done in there?” You cringed as Jordan’s amused voice shouted at you through the bathroom door, “You have work tomorrow, (y/n).”

“Jesus H. Christ, Jordan! Go away!” You screamed back at your infuriating roommate.

“…I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’,” he replied, laughing, “See you out there, champ.”

“I’m going to murder him,” you seethed, accepting your jeans from Namjoon who held them silently out to you.

You scanned the floor of the bathroom, “Wait, where’s my underwear?”

Namjoon’s cheeks flooded with color as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I needed some form of reminder of tonight.”

You shrugged, giggling as you tugged on your jeans, “Let’s make a trade.”

“I’m listening,” he grinned, goddamned dimples popping out and making you want to kiss him forever.

“You keep my panties; I keep you,” you grinned back at him.

He blinked rapidly, “Keep me?” You nodded, nerves erupting. Had you misread the situation? Did he just want this to be a one-time thing? Shit, had you royally fucked this up already?

He kissed you suddenly, and you relaxed.

“Please keep me,” he mumbled, “I’m a mess, but I can be your mess if you’d let me.”

“We can be messy together,” you gripped his hand in yours, “Now, come on. We have to go face our friends.”

Namjoon gulped, looking rightfully terrified at that prospect. “Or we could sneak out the back?”

A smirk wound its way onto your face, “I really do like the way you think, Joonie. Let’s go.”

With that, the two of you snuck out of the bathroom and out the backdoor of the bar.

“I knew it!” Marlene and Jimin greeted the two of you with triumphant fists thrust high in the air. Jimin whipped his phone out before you or Namjoon could even say a word. “Hey, hyung? Yeah. They’re out here.”

Ignoring the gloating pair, you turned to Namjoon, “We could still make a run for it?”

He met your eyes; and, without a word, you both took off.

Shouts of your names followed you down the dark alley as you both cracked up. This was definitely not how you had pictured your typical Thursday trivia night to go down, but you were not disappointed. No, you shot the boy running beside you an affectionate look, you weren’t disappointed at all.

#bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btsbookclub #180knet #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon #knj #namjoon x reader #knj x reader #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #namjoon smut #knj smut #kim namjoon

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fantastic-rambles · 3 years

Text

Sk8 Character Thoughts

Yeah, so y’all have to deal with me venting my latest obsession, lol. Sorry to everyone who followed me for other stuff, I will get back to it eventually. ^^;

I was gonna write out individual walls of text for everyone to be fair, but I decided that’s too much work and I’d go crazy before I finished (plus I’m feeling guilty for neglecting my fanfiction writing), so I’m just gonna bullet point some of the random things I think about various skaters (opinions and theories).

The order is the approximate order of which I like characters, though it’s not a strict ranking. I like most of the characters in the show to some extent.

Adam (Shindo Ainosuke)

I’ve already said a lot about him, you can check it out here and here. I’ll probably end up saying more about him before the show ends, too. xD

Yes, he is an absolutely awful person, but that’s what makes him amazing.

I will say that he needs a better costume designer. He looks like a clown. It looks like something that he designed when he was, like, five years old.

The mask is great though. <3

Cherry Blossom (Sakurayashiki Kaoru)

I love the super analytical types, but I also feel like Carla is a crutch for him. He’s a great skater, but if he didn’t have Carla, I don’t think he’d be able to compete at the level of the other top skaters. But all the more props to him for finding a way that he could compete at that level.

He totally had a thing for Adam before. But I think that even then, Adam was too fucked up to be able to have a romantic relationship, so nothing came of it. Because if Adam did actually learn what real love was like rather than confusing abuse for love, I don’t think he would have turned out the way he did.

It’s pretty clear that until he gets smacked by Adam, he’s still looking up to Adam and clinging to what they had before. And it bleeds into his non-skating life as well: when he did his calligraphy demonstration, I think that he hoped Adam would see it, which was why he picked that specific phrase and explained it--to let Adam know that it wasn’t too late to make amends (not that Adam would have given a fuck even if he did see it).

I love his character design as a teen, and I’m sad that he’s become more respectable-looking (though still hot af) as an adult. I’m a sucker for guys with long hair in anime/manga.

He is absolutely a weeb. He’s made an AI assistant who he calls Carla, which creeps out Joe (in a cute, lovable way, not in an Adam way), and he incorporates her into almost all aspects of his life. Like, he just happens to have an AI-augmented wheelchair handy, why?

He also dresses up like a ninja when he’s skating, goes around in a kimono in his daily life, etc. etc. Okay, maybe the kimono can be excused since he’s a calligrapher (though I’m pretty sure that’s not the norm regardless, except for maybe if the artist is at some sort of exhibition?), but people’s costumes seem to show off who they really are beneath the mask they put on for society. So Cherry secretly wants to be a ninja. xD

I’m not on any specific ship, but if I had to pick one to board, it would be Matchablossom.

Can we please have a spinoff that’s just about Adam, Cherry, and Joe when they’re teenagers?

Snow (Hasegawa Langa)

Frankly, Langa’s only up this high because I love his dynamic/rivalry with Adam. If Adam didn’t exist, he’d be below Joe, maybe below Tadashi.

Not that I don’t like Langa, but he’s just an oblivious skating nerd. He’s skilled and passionate, but I don’t really feel that he really stands out as a standalone character. He’s more of a foil for other characters (mostly Adam and Reki).

I guess what stands out the most to me is his ability to improvise when he’s falling behind, since his skill level is understandably lower than most of the other people he skates against. Like finding alternative pathways to the finish line versus Shadow and Miya, or using Joe’s strength to propel him forward. Or just, like, flying off the edge of a cliff to take a shortcut. That too. xD

His snow motif is pretty cool. (No pun intended.)

And I won’t deny that he’s cute. He’s actually the reason I started watching, because I saw some fanart of him and got curious. Came for the Langa, stayed for the Adam. <3

I feel bad for him for having a jealous jerk as basically his only friend though.

Joe (Nanjo Kojiro)

He’s such a teddy bear. <3

Joe’s the heart to Cherry’s brain, and I adore the way they balance each other out. I love Vitriolic Best Buds.

What surprised me, though, is that Joe seems to have a better understanding of Adam’s current character than Cherry does, since Cherry is so precise and analytical. Though the flashback clarified that some since it’s pretty obvious that Cherry is/was biased where Adam is concerned. Sure, Joe was also friends with Adam back then, but it seems that Cherry was the one most star-struck by Adam.

But Joe obviously knows and accepts that Adam’s changed, unlike Cherry, though he probably doesn’t know the reason why. He seemed to be expecting something to happen during the race, so it didn’t surprise him when it did, though he was sad/disappointed by it. It seemed like he was concerned and wanted to warn Cherry before his race (which is super cute), and when everyone else was flinching from seeing the assault on Cherry, Joe didn’t look away. I don’t think he knew exactly what Adam was going to do (I don’t think anyone did, lol), but he knew Adam was going to do something.

I don’t think he was serious when he said the reason Adam is avoiding their beefs is because he’s afraid he’ll lose, though. Yeah, he wants to race Adam, and he wants to win, but I think he’s more grounded when it comes to Adam, so he probably knows that Adam would beat him if it came down to it. Whereas Cherry legitimately thought he could win if Adam held back.

Also, his skateboard wheels are ridiculous. How do they even work?

Snake (Kikuchi Tadashi)

He got an ask post, yay, so not going to rehash it here.

I really hope that Adam realizes at some point that Tadashi is the only person who really knows and understands him, and comes to appreciate everything that Tadashi’s done for him.

Miya (Chinen Miya)

Such a brat, omg.

I get that he’s a kid, and kids are brats, and so it’s a fairly realistic depiction. I just hate kids. >.>

Pretty much the only time I’ll really like a child character is when they’re precocious as fuck and not child-like at all, which I get defeats the purpose, but that’s me.

Brattiness aside, he is skilled and appreciates Reki standing up to Adam on his behalf, so much so that he’s willing to spend his time training a “slime” just so Reki doesn’t get completely crushed by Adam. And he’s also willing to work with Langa to teach him the most difficult trick in skating (the Caspar Slide) for the same reason.

Ultimately, he’s a good kid, but he’s had some bad experiences that make it harder for him to trust people since he’s afraid they’ll leave him. He’s still willing to try, though, if people will give him a chance.

Also, the one ep when they go on vacation and Miya pretends Joe is his daddy (and Cherry is his mommy, rofl--hi Matchablossom!) to drive away the women Joe’s hitting on... hilarious.

Kyan Reki

An even bigger brat.

Again, yeah, he’s a teenager and teens are “just like that,” but I hate those kinds of characters.

Just because his friend is a skating genius, he gets all pissy and stops being friends with him? Showing up to cheer Langa on and then completely running away doesn’t redeem him in my eyes. I get that he’s disappointed that he’s not capable of skating at the level of the top skaters and frustrated that Langa surpassed him so easily, but that’s no excuse to take it out on Langa (or anyone else).

And everyone complains about Adam being possessive, but they just gloss over the fact that Reki repeatedly tries to force Langa to promise to not skate against Adam, even roping in their manager, when he knows that Langa likes accepting challenges and has fun doing them. He just wants to keep Langa to himself, and he’s jealous as fuck that Langa is obsessed with skating against Adam.

Langa even explicitly tells him that he’s not racing Adam just because he’s upset about what Adam did to Reki, but because he wants to do it. Which is the exact same fucking reason Reki gives for not listening to Joe and Miya, and Langa supports his decision then. Why can’t Reki do the same?

Yes, he’s traumatized because his friend who introduced him to skating was seriously injured and had to quit skating, and he got hurt skating against Adam, but just like for Adam: YOUR TRAUMA/BACKSTORY DOES NOT JUSTIFY YOUR BEHAVIOR.

Plus, the whole “we’ll never disappear from your sight” that he told Miya? Psych!

Like, seriously. He knows the kid has abandonment issues because people leave him because he’s too good at what he does, and then he just goes ahead and poofs, putting both Miya and Langa through the same exact fucking thing.

Though I’m sure that the power of friendship will give him a miraculous recovery and he’ll build a new board for Langa so Langa can beat Adam before Adam gets hauled off to jail. It’ll probably be a cheesy make-up where Langa says something about how he can only use Reki’s boards, so it’s like they’re skating together when he races or whatever.

I do respect his ability to observe other skaters and make boards that are perfectly suited to them, though. And he knows that he’d be good in that support role. But he wants to be the hero, so he’s suffering from eighth grader syndrome and lashing out because reality doesn’t conform to his wishes.

Shadow (Higa Hiromi)

Just fucking die already, ‘kay?

I don’t even know what to say. He’s all caught up in his “antihero” complex or whatever (I don’t even remember if that’s the right term, and I don’t give a fuck), and he’s got a nasty personality. Like burning Reki’s board or threatening to have a guy tattoo “Dumpster Slut” above his girlfriend’s name.

You really expect me to believe that he’d treat his manager respectfully if they started dating when he does something like that? His polite florist persona is such a sham.

And he’s a shit skater. How the hell is he in the top 8? If they can throw in a random guy we’ve never seen before (Harry), then they could have just as well put in some other trash mob instead of Shadow, who only didn’t get knocked out in the quarterfinal round because he was racing a nobody.

Imo, all of his “cute” little tricks like throwing fireworks at his opponent or shining a laser into their eyes is worse than what Adam does. Once he does that, he relinquishes all control over the situation, so anything could happen, such as his opponent crashing into a wall or falling off a cliff, which could result in serious injuries or even death. On the other hand, Adam always remains in control when he’s trying to throw off his opponent by forcing them to dance with him and freaking them the fuck out by pushing their limits. Even when he’s holding Reki’s head about an inch above the ground, he won’t let Reki brain himself on a rock or something. And even when he smacks Cherry with his skateboard, his attack leaves Cherry conscious and so lightly injured (relative to what could have been) that he doesn’t even need to stay in the hospital. (I don’t think he actually needs a wheelchair, other than probably being a bit woozy from a concussion, maybe. And maybe not even that if Joe isn’t concerned enough to wake him up/keep him from being unconscious.) Yeah, Adam fucks with his opponents, but if they can get over it, they can get back on a board. There’s a good chance that won’t happen if they get in an accident caused by Shadow, other than for anime logic.

“What about Adam’s Love Hugs??” What about them? Yes, he’s not holding on to his opponents to control their falls, but the point of it is to make them flinch and fall backwards, against the line of motion. That naturally will decrease the severity of their physical injuries, unlike when Reki and Harry fall off the course at full speed versus Shadow.

The only reason he doesn’t have a higher body count than Adam (or even a literal body count) is plot convenience, since he’s not the villain.

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

Note

15 Anxceit?

Y’all really out here asking for that angst, aren’t you. Do you guys know the last time I wrote Hurt/Comfort? It’s been Eons. I’m rusty.

Summary: Virgil gets kidnapped.

Words: 2604

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist || Prompt page

Keep Breathing

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but you have to trust me, Okay?” The voice says over the phone. “You hear me, Love? Virgil?”

Virgil can hear him. He can hear him so clearly it hurts worse than the throbbing in the back of his head, or the bruising on his ribs, or the knife wound in his shoulder. Virgil can’t remember the last time words had cut so cleanly through the crackling air like a blade all on their own.

He shouldn’t have been surprised though. Given who was speaking. Dee always did have that way with languages, slipping his tongue around foreign syllables and phrases and lulling Virgil to sleep on restless nights with just his voice, a book, and fingers treading through his hair.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” Dee tells him, in perfect English. “I promise.”

Virgil exhales shakily, just one breath away from sobbing. There so many things he wants to say, but they all get caught up in the lump in his throat.

He wants to scream, but he knows where that will get him, knows what that would do to Dee. He wants to cry and beg and curl up in a ball where nothing can touch him, but the first two haven’t done anything in the past endless hours, and the last one has been made impossible by the way his arms were zip tied behind his back and around the pole. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to pretend like the voice of Dee over the phone is him really just sitting next to Virgil on the bed talking him out of a panic induced spiral.

“Just breathe for me, Liebing,” Dee says. “Just breathe. I’ll get you out of there.”

Virgil inhales sharply. “I-- I know,” He manages with a wet laugh. “I kn-now you will. And I-- I’ll kill you m-myself for this.”

He thinks Dee nearly laughs, one of those wet, terrible laughs of his that only came out when he was nearing his breaking point, but the phone is pulled away from his ear at that moment. He strains after it in a panic, but his captor give him a sharp kick to the side and Virgil falls back against the pole, with his shoulder screaming in pain.

“There,” The criminal says, “Proof of Life, Mr. Ekans. Your lovely fiancee is still breathing, although if you don’t follow my orders exactly, he won’t be for much longer.”

Virgil thinks if he wasn’t so terrified out of his mind, he might have found that funny. Dee? Following someone else’s orders? Ever since Virgil had met him in Third grade Dee had avoided rules like the plague. When he had disappeared after highschool, Virgil had thought that Dee had gone off and died somewhere in a ditch, but he had returned just seven years later, with that same smirk and that spark in his eyes like he knew everything Virgil was thinking in any moment.

They hadn’t been friends, but they had been acquaintances. Once or twice they had been lab partners in Chemistry, and they had nodded to each other in the halls.

It was ridiculous that Virgil hadn’t even noticed how much he missed that normalcy, that routine, that quiet interaction, until the day before Graduation when Dee had invoked a Senior Skip Day and Virgil had ghosted between classes without seeing him at all. It was even more ridiculous that Virgil had turned that sad feeling over in his chest a billion times and realized somewhere north of 3:24 A.M. that he had had a crush on Dante Ethan Ekans for three years based just on nods in the hallways and that one time Dee had offered him part of a sandwich when the school lunch had looked particularly terrible.

Then Dee hadn’t shown up to Graduation. Or the last day of school.

Virgil had found out the week after from gossip in a friend group that Dee had packed up his bags and gone for a journey to find himself with no returning ETA.

And again, Virgil hadn’t been friends with him so it hadn’t made sense that he felt angry not to have been told this directly. But the weight of that realization had crushed his tentative heart where it was in his chest.

There had been other boys, because seven years is a long time and boys were pretty, but they had never worked out. They had asked too much of him, or expected something different, or loved too brashly. At the end of each relationship Virgil had found himself lying on his bed wondering what had happened to the brunette boy with the nearly yellow eyes who once helped him light a Bunsen Burner.

Virgil had gone to college. He had gotten a BA in Culinary Arts, with an emphasis on Baking and Pastries, which literally no one had seen coming, including himself. He had gotten a lease and opened up a bakery three counties from where he grew up and sent his mother danishes on the weekends when he couldn’t visit.

Then two months later, Dee had walked right into his bakery like he had never left. Virgil had nearly dropped a pan of muffins at the sight of him. That smile was the same, and those eyes, and habit of picking at his nails when he was nervous. But he had yellow highlights in his hair and a tattoo of a snake on his back and three scars over his knuckles.

“You might not remember me,” Dee had said as if Virgil had ever been able to forget him, “But we went to high school together and I...I’ve traveled all over the world and still think you are the most amazing thing in it.”

And Virgil had remembered why he had fallen for Dee in the first place all over again.

When Dee had asked Virgil to marry him four years later, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes.

Because it had been Dee, and Dee had chosen to stay in that town with Virgil, had chosen to pick up a business job, had chosen to to go on several dates with Virgil, had chosen to stay through every fit and fight and argument, had chosen to get down on one knee and offer Virgil that ring that was on a necklace around his neck right now.

Dee had also casually forgotten to mention that he was freaking loaded until the moment that Virgil had been walking out of his bakery nearly dead on his feet last night and someone had swung a crowbar directly into the back of his head.

“And I’m not sure I need to remind you what will happen if you call the police,” Virgil’s captor says airily, “But I will anyway--”

Without warning the man turns back to Virgil and swings his heel directly into Virgil’s wounded shoulder. Agony rips through Virgil’s entire being, drowning out all of his thoughts until all there was left was a burning, blazing pain and his own screams. Tears streamed down his face, choking him as he wrestled against the bindings in an attempt to curl around the injury. His vision turns white and black like TV static and his sobs echo throughout the empty warehouse like they were mocking him.

Faintly, he thinks he can hear Dee’s voice.

Faintly, he registers the captor over him, is delighting in Virgil’s pain.

Faintly, he recalls the price the man just put on Virgil’s life, and that Dee didn’t hesitate to agree to it.

The criminal over him ends the call with a click of a button, and Virgil whimpers. His shoulder feels like someone was holding an open flame to it, his wrists burn where the zip tie are latched far too tightly to his skin.

“Hmm,” the man says softly, “I can’t say I see what he sees in you.” He reaches down and holds Virgil by the jaw, turning his head from side to side to examine him, as if he’s a piece of meat for sale. Virgil’s skin burns coldly at the touch, like its frostbite threatening to take over his whole body and kill him on the spot.

“Liebing,” His captor says, teasingly. His free hand shifts to his pocket and he brings out that switchblade again-- Virgil tenses to get away from it, even with his shoulder weeping lava. With a shri-ckk the metallic knife slips out, still streaked with crimson where it had been lodged in Virgil’s shoulder earlier when he had talked back too much.

The man uses the blade to lift a piece of Virgil’s sweat matted hair from his face. It’s close, too close, and Virgil’s lungs beg for air he doesn’t dare give them.

“P-please,” He chokes.

“P-please,” The man mimics, with a cruel smile. “Your future husband seemed to be in an awful hurry to get you back. He has twenty hours; I wonder how much fun the two of us can have while we wait.”

Virgil squeezes his eyes closed, trying not to shake. The knife tip boops his nose and the man laughs releasing him easily. In another moment Virgil hears the sound of tape ripping and feels the sudden force of his mouth being covered.

“Shhhh,” The man says, using his thumb to rub away a stream of Virgil’s tears.

Virgil doesn’t dare open his eyes until he hears those footsteps retreat all the way across the warehouse and the door opens and closes as the man leaves him alone.

Virgil twists his wrists again, but it only succeeds in turning his hands into a sticky sweltering mess and his shoulder whines in pain again. He grunts through the duct tape hanging his head to his chest.

Dee promised him he’d be okay. Dee didn’t make empty promises. He lied sometimes, like he lied when he called in sick to work that time that Virgil took off and they spent the entire day cuddling and watching conspiracy theories on TV, or that time that Virgil’s baby cousin Ed’s hamster died and Dee had told him it had gone on a perilous journey to defeat a dragon that was too dangerous to take Ed with him, or that time that they had gone for dinner at Virgil’s parents and Dee had told his mother that the potatoes were the best that he had ever had while shoveling it into a napkin under the table.

Dee lied, but he did not make empty promises.

He promised Virgil he wasn’t going to leave again and then he got a job in office building; he promised Virgil to find that one brand of chocolate Virgil liked even though he had to go to eleven different stores to find it; he promised him that they would leave that business dinner party the second that Virgil got uncomfortable, even if that was only twenty three minutes in; he promised him that one day they were gonna get married on a beach with the sea salt dusting their tuxes as they said “I do”.

So if he said that Virgil is going to be okay, Virgil is going to be okay.

Virgil doesn’t know what to do if he doesn’t cling to that pathetic hope.

A flicker of shadow draws Virgil’s attention, and his head snaps up, preparing to...to...protect himself from whatever he could. Instead his breath stutters to a halt.

The shadow is a figure on the roof, someone who is slim but fit and easily opens the glass pane to lower themselves inside. The shadow is a figure who manages to slip from the catwalks to the warehouse floor in barely a minute.

The shadow is a man who kneels beside Virgil and peered at him behind square glasses, “My name is Logan Ackroyd. I’m here to escort you out of this situation, but first I must know where your captor went.” The shadow is a very real person and Virgil can’t tear his eyes from the yellow bold letters F.B.I. on his jacket.

“Mr. Storm,” Logan says sternly, like Virgil is back in school and one snarky comment away from getting detention again. “Please quietly look in the direction where your captor went.”

Virgil’s eyes flicker to the far door, his breath noticeably short and reckless and violent. With every inhale he feels like he’s getting less and less oxygen in his body.

“Prince,” The FBI agent says into a comm, “He’s at the North Entrance.” Then he swiftly moves around Virgil to his hands. Virgil can’t help but flinch at the motion, drawing a nauseating screech of pain from himself.

“Apologies,” Logan says, “I am going to cut you loose. Please refrain from moving unnecessarily. There’s a medical team on standby. I can see your shoulder wound, but are there any other locations that will require immediate attention?”

Virgil lets out another sob, a relieved sob as he shakes his head. Or possibly doesn’t. He doesn’t know if its even noticeable from how the rest of his body is vibrating like all his atoms are slowly pulling him apart.

“I’m going to do a breathing exercise, Mr. Storm. Can you please breathe with me while I count?” Logan says calmly again. Virgil’s head spins at how calm he is when there’s nothing calming about this situation. Still the counting is even and steady, flowing over Virgil like the sound of a timer while he’s working in the kitchen. When he closes his eyes, he can even pretend its Dee counting for him, whispering praises when he manages to hold his breath for that endless seven seconds.

“It’s going to be okay.” Logan says, as he cuts through the zip tie and picks his way under Virgil’s uninjured arm. He peels off the duct tap to make it easier to breathe and Virgil falls against him without meaning to.

He’s breathing. Like Dee told him to do. Just keep breathing.

The next thing he knows there are police and FBI all over the place. There’s a several medics that come rushing to them, who help guide Logan and him outside to a standing ambulance. The noise is loud and quiet at the same time: like a screaming match drowned out by the buzzing in Virgil’s head.

He tries to focus on Dee, what Dee said to him, what Dee has said before: all those times he asked Virgil what new language he should try on Duolingo , all those times Dee tried teaching Virgil new phrases over romantic TV dinners and store bought wine, all those times that Dee idly said how much he loved him in the middle of a conversation with no prompting.

Just keep breathing. Dee had said.

“Virgil!”

The voice is a strike of lightning in the swirling madness around him. Virgil hiccups a sob and suddenly Dee is right there in front of him, pushing Logan out of the way to get closer to him.

“Virgil,” Dee says again gently taking his face in both his hands. There are tears in his eyes and his mouth spouts out words like a waterfall, “Virgil, Liebing, Love, Angel, Darling, my Sun, my Soul,--”

Virgil lets out a wail and flings himself into Dee’s arms, completely ignoring the medics and the burning of his shoulder, because this was Dee and Dee was...

Dee was safety. He was everything.

“Its okay,” Dee sobs with one hand in Virgil’s hair and the other warped around his waist holding him as close as they can get.

And Virgil believes him.

#greengabs #sanders sides #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #logan sanders #kidnapping #being held for ransom #tumblr prompts #anxceit #god I am so weak polyglots #this was too much fun to write what the heck

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

Text

It’s Just PR - Harry Styles/Shawn Mendes (Part Eight)

SERIES LIST

Unfortunately, Harry and I couldn’t live in our little bubble anymore. If anything Shawn was a wakeup call for reality. The next day we hopped on a plane and went back to Los Angeles. It was weird when Harry dropped me off to be alone in my house. I had so quickly grown used to having someone else nearby. I miss that.

“I swear, you are more hassle than you’re worth.” Joan complains, lecturing me for the tenth time about how I can’t go ‘off the grid’ ever again.

“Whatever, I know you love me.” I grin while she rolls her eyes.

“Anyway, you’re back with perfect timing! You start the CK shoot tomorrow?”

“The what?” I ask.

“The Calvin campaign? We started that months ago! We’ve had this day on our calendar since March.”

“The one with Shawn?” I sit forward coming to a realizating to the one she’s talking about, “You’re fucking with me right?”

“I wish I could say that I was ‘fucking with you’” She says with obvious distate for my wording.

“I can’t do anything about it and you know that. You signed a pretty major contract. Even if you could, the fans are wondering why you are never with your best friend Shawn Mendes. You did the first test shots with him. They know that this collab is coming. Do this one campaign and all will be good for awhile. No more questions about him.”

“This is insane.” I scoff, “I can’t believe this.”

I leave once I get the rest of the details, even though they now make me sick. Shawn and I signed up to do this Calvin Klein campaign months ago. We were still happy. We were still together for that matter.

I decide to call Harry so I can vent and explain what’s going on. See if he has any brilliant ideas for me to get out of this.

“ello, love.” He answers.

“We never should’ve left New York.” I huff, trying not to cry even though it’s like my nightmare is coming to life.

“Why? What’s going on?”

It takes me a few minutes to explain the whole thing to him and why I can’t just back out now.

“Wow, you’re fucked then.”

“Thanks for that.” I laugh, I’m just sitting in my driveway, not going inside. I just stay in my car on the phone.

“Well you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. You can be very professional, Y/n. I have faith in you, this won’t be the worst thing.”

“You seem oddly calm for the boyfriend of someone who has to a photoshoot with her ex boyfriend in her underwear tomorrow.” I tease, finally taking my keys out of the ignition.

“I trust you.”

“Yeah, I- what are you doing here?” As soon as I round the corner to my front door I see a familiar face sitting on my doorstep.

“I had a bad day too, not as bad as yours, but I wanted to see you.” Harry grins and stands up from his spot. We both hang up and I take a few more steps to pull him down into a hug.

“Thank you.” I mutter, not relinquishing my grip.

“I’ve missed you. It’s weird not having you around all the time to annoy me.”

“Shut up.” I finally let go and smack his shoulder. I take a step around him so I can unlock my door and let us both in. Harry shuts the door behind him and pulls me back against his chest. His head peeking around my shoulder.

“But really, I’ve missed you.” He presses a kiss behind my ear.

“We just got back yesterday.” I tease.

“I know, I know. It’s just been weird. For three whole days it was just us, alone.” His kisses start to drift farther down my neck. “I’ve missed touching you.”

I bit my bottom lip smiling at the boy who has completely captivated me.

“Well what’s stopping you?”

That’s the only cue that Harry needs to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder.

“Harry!” I shout, no expecting such sudden action and excitement.

He runs up my stairs and throws my bedroom door open. We’re both laughing when he throws me down on my bed. All of our clothes have been ditched on the floor.

“Your such a dork.” I press my lips to his.

“My girlfriend has an underwear shoot tomorrow with her ex boyfriend. I think he could stand to see what we’ve been up to.” Harry sucks down on the spot on the outside of my hip.

“Mmm, you’re a horrible tease.”

Harry wasn’t kidding when he said that people would be able to see what we’ve been up to. Small bruises litter my hips and neck.

“You’re ridiculous.” I shake my head. It’s the morning of the shoot and they’ve only darkened since last night.

“Hmm, I feel like you might be proud of me.”

“Shut up.” I roll my eyes, “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Definitely!” Harry tugs on me and I fall back on the bed on top of him.

“I mean, I’m not mad, but this isn’t what I meant when I said breakfast.”

“It’s what I meant.”

It took even more effort for Harry and I to get out of bed this morning than it did last night. I knew I had to leave early so I would be on time for the shoot. Harry dropped me off at set, claiming that the studio he was recording at wasn’t far and promising to pick me up when I’m done. It’s the perfect day for a shoot, the sun in Malibu is out and shining.

“Y/n, you’re here!” Anne grins, a woman who I have worked with several times to do my hair and makeup. She follows me on tour, and I’m lucky enough that for this shoot they let me have her.

“I’m here!” I smile back. Just because today is going to be miserable for me, doesn’t mean that it has to be for the whole crew.

“Okay, you can just go sit in the chair, I’ll be right over to start!” She points over her shoulder where a few chairs and lighting is set up.

I wander over and discover that one of the seats are occupied.

“Hi, Shawn.” I say with a soft voice as I take a seat in the other chair.

“Uh, hey, Y/n.” He smiles with tight lips, not even bothering to look up. A woman who seems somewhat familiar is working on his hair, trying to get his curls perfect.

“So, are you guys excited?” Anne asks loudly, talking to both Shawn and I.

“Thrilled.” I mumble with sarcasm laced in it.

“What’s going on? You guys are never this quiet! Did you get in a fight this morning or something?” She asks looking between the two of us. Knowing Anne she’s not going to drop it.

“Shawn and I broke up.” I look over to her unwavering.

“What?” She practically shouts.

“If you guys broke up, who did that number on your neck?” Anne asks. She really can’t take a hint.

“Let’s not get into it, yeah? Let’s just try and make it through today.”

No one says a word after that. Anne just starts working on my makeup. It’s all natural themed, thankfully. Once Anne is done she sends me over to get dressed where they’ve set up a booth of clothes.

They pick the first look, one for us on the beach. It’s a classic Calvin set that looks cute. I really hope they let me take this stuff home.

“Okay, down to the beach for you.”

“Thank you.”

I make my way down to where they’ve set up for the first round of pictures. I’m so thankful for the sun today, because without it the wind would’ve been unbearable. Shawn is wearing jeans with the Calvin logo pulled high so it’s visible.

“Y/n!” The director greets.

“Hi.” I smile, not bothering to look at Shawn. I can feel his eyes scanning my body, surely he’s taking in the work that Harry did.

“Don’t you think that the hickies should be covered up?” Shawn asks the director, he has a smug attitude about him. My jaw almost drops, so much for us being mature today. All of that’s been thrown out the window. “It’s not very classy.”

I roll my eyes at Shawn’s attempted ‘dig’ at me.

“Actually.” The director pauses to think for a few seconds, “I kind of like it, we’re trying to sell sex. Y/n, you’ve got that going for you right now.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I roll my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest. I’ve never been one for modesty necessarily, but his comment makes me feel dirty.

They position us on the beach and we officially start the shoot. The day is more draining than I ever thought it could be. It wouldn’t be half as bad if it weren’t for Shawn. The poses were awkward and uncomfortable. Having his hands on me felt wrong now. We’ve hardly said two words to each other the rest of the day.

“That’s a wrap!” The director cheers, successfully capturing the last of the day.

“Thank god.” I mutter, snaking my way out of Shawn’s grip. I’m not quick enough though to not notice just how hurt Shawn looks. I find my stuff and text Harry letting him know that I’ve finished.

They pack up a bag of things for me to take home, thank god! A lot of this stuff was cute!

“Hello, love.” Harry makes an appearance.

“Hi!” I smile, my heart warming at the sight of him.

“How was your day?” He asks, watching my get dressed in my clothes so we can leave.

“Let’s talk about it in the car.” I roll my eyes.

“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

Harry takes my bag for me, I say a quick goodbye to Anne and thank the people who had to deal with Shawn and I for the whole day.

“Hey, Y/n.” A voice calls from behind me. I turn to see Shawn, standing there, his phone in his hands.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll just go the car.” Harry pecks a kiss on my check and leaves to give Shawn and I some space.

“Are we ever going to be friends again?” He asks, focusing on the floor rather than me.

“I don’t know, Shawn. If today was any sign, we both still need more time.”

He nods agreeing, still barely looking up to see me.

“Today was hard.” He states.

“I know, things will get easier. At least I hope.” I smile.

“Yeah, me too.” He smiles, finally looking up, “I mean, we were friends before anything else.”

“Have a good night, Shawn.” I start to back away and walk towards Harry’s car.

“You too, Y/n.”

give me feedback y’all!!!!

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes x reader #Harry Styles #shawn mendes #It's just PR

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green-writes-sanderssides · 4 years

Text

You know the loving Virgil hcs? Well I'm awake at 4 am you know what that means??

Roman stans it's YOUR TURN let's get some LOVE UP IN THIS PRINCE

Once again can be interpreted as romantic platonic queerplatonic whatever but we all know Roman’s a gay disaster so LET’S GO

Thomas

Once he finally realizes how fucking INSECURE roman is he's like

Alright. Time to get this man some self care

So. Many. Improv sessions.

They'll have the other sides as an audience and sometimes they'll give prompts

Every time by the end of it Thomas and Roman are just laughing their asses off

They'll have brainstorming sessions together and get each other super hyped up the energy is RIDICULOUS

Then Thomas will be like "Roman you're a GENIUS!"

And god Roman just. Beams. Just that one compliment got him as happy as he was when Thomas was in a Disney show

Whenever Thomas suddenly feels insecure he immediately checks in on Roman

Sometimes this leads to face masks and relaxation and other times they just collapse on the couch together and try to get through it with a nap

But no matter what, they have each other to get through it with

Patton

Patton ends up the one praising him the most he just wants his boy to be HAPPY okay

But it doesn't really take cause Roman doesn't quite believe it

He thinks that's just Patton being a Dad(TM) and pitying him and Patton's gotta be like. No. I mean all of it.

They have to have a talk and Roman does not enjoy addressing all of his insecurities so directly, but by the end of it he's openly weeping in Patton's arms

Roman has always loved Patton’s room

He goes there when he needs a reminder of everything they’ve accomplished

Patton didn’t realize why Roman was doing it before, but now every time he finds Roman in there he reminds him that the future is just as bright

They reminisce together AND talk about everything to come

They both love to cuddle but they’re also both big spoons so they fight about who gets to hold the other

Patton usually wins because Roman secretly loves to be held as well

Patton likes to make flower crowns and he makes them for Roman the most

“A flower crown for a flowering prince!”

From then on Roman makes Patton so many damn flowers it’s ridiculous

There’s blue and pink flowers all over the house because there’s no more space for them in Patton’s room

#flowerboys

Logan

Their arguments turn into Logan aggressively praising Roman

“YOUR WORK IS AMAZING YOU GODDAMN IDIOT”

Despite this Roman still tries so hard to impress him

At some point Logan slips and says Roman already impresses him plenty and Roman’s like

What.

“I said you already impress me, Roman. Your creative ideas and dedication to your work is impeccable.”

Roman.exe has stopped responding

No but seriously Roman starts crying and Logan has no idea what to do

They have an awkward but nice hug

After that Logan does his best to throw in casual compliments on any of Ro’s work

Neither of them realized how much Roman needed specifically Logan to praise him

Look I’m not TRYING to make this gay this is just CANON

Roman starts actively coming to Logan to show off his work, always beaming with pride and a little nervous energy

Logan learns to only critique him if he asks for it, and they work together to make wonderful things

Virgil

He was the first to pick up on how insecure Roman was back before he was accepted

He never did anything about it because he assumed Ro wouldn’t care about his opinion

Lol yeah no he was very wrong and he didn’t realize that until the 12 Days of Christmas fiasco

The first time Virgil compliments him it’s just like “hey that’s a cool drawing” and Ro just freezes

“...You think so?”

Virgil realizes he has a lot of work to do but Roman deSERVES IT

Hey remember in the loving Virgil hcs I said Virge is just as protective over Roman?

Yeah when he hears about what happened in POF he’s ready to kill a snake

Of course that doesn’t happen and things turn out fine but the point is Virgil. will. kill. for. Roman.

Even Remus learns to fear Virgil’s wraith when it comes to Ro

When Roman realizes this he’s like okay but why?

“I don’t know. You just... deserve it?”

Truth is Virgil knows all the dark sides (including himself) have unfairly targeted him over the years and he wants to make sure that never happens again

All Roman can do is smile, thank him, and promise Virgil that he will always protect him, too

I’m sorry y’all I’m too soft for these two

Janus

Out of everyone, Janus has the most work to do

He screwed up the moment he used Roman’s insecurities against him

When he’s accepted fully, Roman admits that he may never fully trust him, but he can at least value his input

While that would be enough for Janus, he doesn’t give up that easily

He first asks Virgil for advice and he’s like “Have you considered HAVING AN HONEST CONVERSATION WITH HIM?”

“Yeah but he won’t trust my word”

Virgil, the master of seeing through Janus’s bullshit, comes with a genius idea

So they go to Roman and teach him how to tell when Janus lies

It goes surprisingly well

Janus: “I’ve always admired you, Roman.”

Roman: “I don’t get it. He didn’t show any tells that time.”

Virgil: “That’s because he’s tELLING THE TRUTH YOU IDIOT”

Roman.exe has stopped responding pt.2

Now every time Janus lies Roman goes “That’s a lie~” in a sing-song voice

Janus would be annoyed but he can’t help finding it endearing

“You’re absolutely hideous. I find your work just appalling. I don’t love you-”

“JANUS PLEASE-”

Okay this is getting too long Janus and Roman are just too powerful rijvnrfv

Remus (do not tag as ship)

This is where I start crying

It’s Roman who reaches out to Remus. It’s the hardest thing he has ever had to do.

He apologizes for abandoning him, for not understanding him, for being a bad brother

Remus doesn’t take it seriously. He doesn’t know how to take anything seriously, but Roman is insistent

“But that’s just our dynamic! The good and evil twins!”

“It doesn’t have to be, Reem”

The nickname brings him back to their childhood, and Remus gets angry

Roman listens and takes the yelling, and by the end of it Remus is crying and collapsing into Roman’s arms

It takes work on both sides. Remus has forgotten how to treat Roman like a brother, and Roman has forgotten how to interact with Remus in general

But this is about loving Roman so let’s get back to that

Remus loves to tackle hug Roman

He calls it “glomping” just to annoy him and Ro nearly murders him every time

“THIS ISN’T THE EARLY 2000′s ANYMORE PLEASE STOP”

Half of their dynamic is trying to kill each other but in a loving way

The pranks. Oh gods poor Janus cause you know they target him

Who else are they gonna prank? Virgil is flight or fight, Logan doesn’t have fun reactions, and Patton is too sweet. Sorry Janus get PRANK’D

Remus used to be so good at comforting him and the day Roman comes to him again for that same comfort it’s so hard for Remus not to just break down crying

Roman has a nightmare and he’s like “The only nightmare in your life should be me!”

Just... brothers, man. Let them be brothers.

Roman

He’s always been prideful, but they all see the difference.

Thomas sees it in the laughter of their practice performances

Patton sees it in the way he bounces about, always ready to take on something new

Logan sees it in their work sessions, taking criticism like a champ and striving to improve

Virgil sees it in the statements of confidence he always spoke, now with something much more true in his expression

Janus and Remus see it in his smile, the one they haven’t seen since they were children

And with his new - but not new - energy, he brings everyone up

Roman’s their hero once again, but not in the same way as before: Roman saves them every time he creates,

Every time he smiles,

And every time he gets to be unapologetically himself.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #ts fic #prinxiety #logince #royality #roceit #creativitwins #are yall crying cause i am #thoman #romas #loving hcs series #someday i will make one for each side

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spockandawe · 4 years

Text

The Disabled Tyrant’s Pet Palm Fish

Okay, legit book pitch time, because I’m doing a terrible job of coherently typing out the premise every time I try to tell a person about this book, and I cannot stop telling people about this book. Bottom line up front: The Disabled Tyrant’s Pet Palm Fish started off a little rough (a combination of everything happens so much in the story itself, and, I think, the translator finding their footing), but I’ve been having such a good time that I am deep, deep in the mtl pit, because I can’t stop reading it.

The premise! This is a transmigration novel, where our hero Li Yu (his name literally translates to ‘carp’, for the record) enters the universe of a novel he just finished. He does not enter the body of a character from the novel, he enters as... a fish. A tiny little ingredient-for-fish-soup tier fish. Before he’s totally figured out what is going on, there’s an attempt to turn him into soup, and even when he flails his way out of the person’s hands, he’s.... stolen by a cat. And then, at the very last moment, he’s saved, and placed into a bowl of water to recover. This is the part of the book where So Much Is Happening and I was genuinely stressed by fish suffering.

But once he’s safe in a bowl, he finally gets to really talk to a System, and gets given some actual instructions. Surprise, sucker! You’re in a book! And he’s tasked with changing the path of that book’s protagonist, who goes from being the fifth imperial prince to eventually being the emperor. He’s like ‘oh my god, are you serious, i’m literally a fucking fish’ and the System is like *shrug* and says that well, he can either do the mission or he can die? So he’s like ‘OKAY, COOL, LET’S CHANGE THIS PRINCE’S LIFE.’ He’s also told that if he completes enough tasks, he’ll regain the ability to become human again, which is where I was like okay, this book is maybe not going to be quite so ridiculously batshit as the summary implied. The initial mission doesn’t say anything about romance, but I was still reading it like ohohohohoho, romance!

And the original book! At first, the fifth imperial prince, Jing-wang, was nominally out of the running to take the throne, because he was born with natural mutism and the emperor was told that this might be passed down to his children. He was his mother’s only surviving child, and she died soon after his birth, so he grew up very... isolated and disconnected, which makes sense given his temperament, even before all the other factors come into play. He’s a very cold, distant man, and in the book, eventually won out over his brothers to become the emperor. A cruel, rigid tyrant of an emperor. But! He did have a husband who he loved a lot. Unfortunately, that husband was planted by his brother and sure didn’t love him. The text calls him a black lotus, and describes that relationship as ‘sadomasochistic’, which I’m not sure is quite the right word, but it sure seems... melancholy, and the relationship seems to make Li Yu sad when he thinks about it.

Now, Li Yu is very worried about how the hecc he’s going to impact this imperial prince’s life in any meaningful way, but from the very start, the people around Jing-wang see him going soft for his new pet fish. His father especially is very moved to see his son finally attached to something that way. And I want to say that even the very early bits are... unexpectedly sweet?? Jing-wang doesn’t angst about not being able to speak, which I’d been worried about (I do hear that the mutism gets fixed eventually, which i’m not wild about, but i don’t feel like he’ll ever be a super verbal person tbh), but it’s really cute seeing him figuring out to interact with a pet where not being able to speak shouldn’t even really be a factor. And especially early on, Li Yu makes an effort to be as cute as possible, and way he pets and plays with his fish is the cutest, CUTEST thing.

(li yu is given an escalating series of unbelievably lavish aquariums, but even one of his earliest ones, jing-wang notices he’s interested in a pearl and just quietly fills the aquarium with priceless gemstones for his fish to play with)

There’s something that’s very hard to articulate about this, but in an early scene, Jing-wang brings the fish with him to a stressful meeting and gets angry, and starts holding the fish in a self-soothing way, and Li Yu is like AGH, TOO TIGHT and wriggles out, but before Jing-wang can even get properly upset at being rejected by his fish, Li Yu circles back around and starts winding through his fingers. Even before romance is a factor, the physical contact and comfort were absolutely precious.

When I’d started reading this, my initial mindset was basically ‘okay, so i can see Jing-wang getting attached to his fish, but love? seriously???’, but honestly, the story handled it in a REALLY nice way. There are around 160 chapters total, and by the mid-twenties, Li Yu gains the ability to occasionally/briefly transform into a human, and by the mid-thirties, Li Yu and Jing-wang have had an extended interaction where they’re both human-shaped. And Li Yu acquires other special powers with time, including interdimensional storage space and Super Jumping Powers, and he is seriously, seriously, the most sketchy-ass fish you’ve ever seen, and Jing-wang is a smart cookie.

At first, it’s little things like ‘okay, while Jing-wang is out, I’mmmm going to explore this room!’ And he does the fish equivalent of holding his breath and hops around for a while before returning to his tank like a good little fish, but Jing-wang comes back and there’s water all over the floor and he’s like ‘..............’ So what does he do? He starts leaving teacups of water all over the floor so that his fish can stop and take a breather without worrying about getting back to his tank. And when his fish seems interested in the work he’s doing at his desk, he sets up a teacup next to where he works so that his fish can watch what he’s doing. And initially, he’s kind of like ‘this is normal fish behavior, probably’, but. Li Yu is so focking sketchy. And it really, really doesn’t take long for Jing-wang to start connecting the dots between the strange young man who periodically materializes in/near his quarters and steals his clothes and his fish.

But this story is so funny. When Jing-wang starts getting suspicious, what he eventually concludes is that oh, this is like that fairy tale about the white snake spirit who seduced a human man to steal his spiritual essence. Or the fairy tale about the fox spirit who seduced a human man to steal his essence. Okay. Awright. And he spends considerable time waiting very impatiently, wondering why isn’t my fish seducing me yet??? He even sets things up so that while Li Yu is on his desk watching him work, he starts pointedly reading erotica about the snake spirit and fox spirit, and I can tell that he’s embarrassing himself, while meanwhile, Li Yu is a modern human trying to read ancient Chinese writing, and he’s like ‘haha, lmao, he reads way faster than me, I have no idea what’s happening.’

(later on, when they’ve managed to do a little bit of communication and work things out, Jing-wang proudly tells someone (writes for someone) that the food he’s eating was made for him by his boyfriend. and when the person is like ‘ah, okay. uh. what... is a boyfriend?’ and Jing-wang is like ‘I’ve got no goddamn idea.’)

Also, you may note. That one of the tags on this story is mpreg. And that was honestly why I dove into it, I was like ‘haha, there’s no way a story like this could sell me on a plot point like THAT, go ahead, try, I double dog dare you’. Well. Last night I reached that plot point. Y’all....... it.... worked. It was still silly, but the character himself was like ‘oh my god, you can’t be serious.’ It was silly and cute. At a slightly earlier point, the emperor sends Jing-wang to take a military force and go fight bandits, so Jing-wang was planning to leave Li Yu safely at home, and Li Yu wasn’t happy and non-seriously said, ‘no, your highness, you can’t leave me behind, I’m... CARRYING YOUR CHILD.’ And he didn’t mean it, but Jing-wang wanted to believe it at first, and was really happy, and was :( when Li Yu clarified that no, physically, he’s... not capable of doing that.

Smash cut to not long later, when the System gives Li Yu his next task in the main mission line and it’s.......... babies. Li Yu tries to plead with the System that no, oh my god, I am not physically equipped for this, but also at this point? The System has straight-up modified his fish body several times. He doubled all his attributes once, not realizing this included size, and got stuck in his aquarium cave. And later on, he upgraded from minnow(?) to koi and promptly... got stuck in his aquarium cave. So they’ve already coaxed me along through believing body modifications. And then the actual fish pregnancy process was very understated and low-key, and then once the fish babies hatched, after nine months, they got the ability to turn into human babies. The story even plays around with the idea of fish babies being capable of much more independence than human babies, and the babies being Displeased with the situation. Guys, they sold me on the mpreg. How did they do that?????

And something I genuinely hadn’t expected is that the relationship takes negotiation and growth. The earliest courting scenes are very... high-handed. Which I was into! I can dig a romance novel like that, where the love interest pins the protagonist to a wall and kisses him so good he sweeps him off his feet. But Li Yu gets to be upset, and push Jing-wang away, and be angry when Jing-wang tries to wiggle around the boundaries he’s trying to establish. He gets to tell Jing-wang he feels disrespected and taken advantage of, and Jing-wang learns to back off. And when he decides that he does want to give this thing a try, he lays out a couple base rules for Jing-wang, and Jing-wang takes it so seriously that he legit hangs them on his bedroom wall.

And everyone who loves Jing-wang is so happy for him. They’re so happy for every positive development in his life. They’re happy when Jing-wang starts caring for his pet fish, and they’re even happier when he falls in love with an actual human. The main barrier to formalizing their relationship isn’t that Li Yu is a man, it’s that Jing-wang needs heirs, and well, that gets worked out. Even the emperor casually mentions that he used to have a male concubine back in the day.

You guys, I’ve been genuinely Moved by this silly novel about a fictional prince falling in love with his pet fish.

I’m not done yet, I’m almost exactly halfway through, and I’ve got no idea what’s coming next. I assume it will be political maneuvering, because Li Yu’s System told him that it’s guaranteed that Jing-wang will eventually become emperor, but the rest is up to him, and there are still a few other princes floating around who opposed him in the original book. And that black lotus husband from the original book is still around too. But Jing-wang has other allies who would have died in the original novel by now, who Li Yu managed to help save. And I’m so invested! I want to know what happens! Li Yu is periodically unlocking Jing-wang backstory reveals as rewards for completing missions, and some of these things give him a better understanding of Jing-wang in the present, but some open up brand new mysteries about Jing-wang’s past. I have to go do my actual job now, and I’m really unhappy about that, because I want! To read more!!! I’m reading the mtl right now, and if you’ve tried mtl, you know the prose can be barely comprehensible at times (i spent like ten chapters thinking jing-wang had two cousins when he has... one....) but still!!! I’m so, so invested, and I can’t stop recommending this book to everyone who has the misfortune to exist in the same space as me :’)

#the disabled tyrant's pet palm fish #long post/#cnovel rec

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

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Mischief Managed: Riddikulus

Across the United Kingdom, millions of children attend school every day, studying Maths, English and Science, but deep in the Scottish Highlands, a lucky thousand schoolkids get to study Potions, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Whilst the rest of us learn names like Shakespeare, Avogadro and Fibonacci, they learn names like Goshawk, Bagshot and Scamander. Whilst we learn how to do algebra, how to analyse poems and how photosynthesis works, they learn how correctly use a Conjuring Spell, how to brew a Draught of Living Death and how to fly a Nimbus 2000. And naturally, school children will always find a way to misbehave, to get up to no good, to make mischief, but when you add spells, potions and magic into the mix? Let’s just say... they get up to more than just mischief. Welcome to Hogwarts.

hogwarts!au, ot7 x y/n - comedy

Rating: PG15 (brief mention of sex and genitalia, profanity)

Word Count: 3k+

a/n: check the masterlist before you read!! here is the first instalment of my new hogwarts drabble series called Mischief Managed! I really hope y’all enjoy this, lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

silverlightqueen masterlist

Riddikulus (Boggart Banishing Spell)

Type: Charm

Pronunciation: rih-dih-KUL-lus

Description: A spell used when fighting a Boggart, "Riddikulus" forces the Boggart to take the appearance of an object the caster is focusing on. Best results can be achieved if the caster is focusing on something humorous, with the desire that laughter will weaken the Boggart

Etymology: Latin word ridiculus, "laughable" (but perhaps "absurd" or "silly" in this context)

Notes: The effect of the spell seems to rely primarily on the state of mind of the caster. It doesn't actually change the shape of a boggart into something humorous, but rather whatever the caster is concentrating on at the moment of the casting, as when Neville was thinking of his grandmother's dress. Presumably, Mrs Weasley couldn't take her mind off of her fears for her family, so the Boggart was changed into other members of the family rather than something humorous

‘Good morning, students,’ Professor Lupin’s clear and calm voice echoes through the classroom, cutting all conversation short as we look up at the newest teacher to take on the ill-fated role of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. ‘Good morning, Professor,’ we chorus back, watching as he walks down the steps, his dark brown robes billowing out behind him.

The second his foot touches the floor, the wardrobe in the centre of the room shakes, all of us jumping at the sudden noise. We watch as it continues shaking sporadically, its short wooden legs colliding with the worn floor, the noise echoing around the room.

‘Intriguing, isn’t it?’ Professor Lupin asks into the silence, all of us still and watching, waiting for the wardrobe to move again. ‘Would anybody like to venture a guess… as to what is inside?’ Lupin drawls, his words met with a few moments of silence before Kim Namjoon raises a hand. ‘Is it a boggart, Sir?’ he asks, a smile breaking across Lupin’s tired face. ‘Very good, Mr Kim. Can anybody tell me what a boggart looks like?’ ‘No one knows. Boggarts are shapeshifters. They take the shape of whatever a person fears most. That’s what makes them so…’ Jeon Jungkook trails off, face serious as he looks to Professor Lupin who nods and finishes the sentence for him; ‘so terrifying, yes, Mr Jeon.’

I feel a pair of hands land heavily on my shoulders, making me jump in shock, and I turn to give Park Jimin a dirty look for taking advantage of the tension in the air, the boy giving me a mischievous grin in return. ‘Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let’s practice it now – without wands, please,’ Lupin says, everyone freezing with their hands halfway into their robes, hands falling back to our sides. ‘After me. Riddikulus!’ he says with his chin jutted out, enunciation clear and loud. Everybody repeats after him, a loud chorus of ‘Riddikulus’ ringing out into the air, but I feel a little stupid to do so, and so do the other Slytherins around me, it seems – there is silence from our corner of the group.

‘Very good. A little louder and clearer this time, please, and can we have our dear Slytherins joining in too?’ Lupin says with an amused glance over at us, the rest of the class turning to look too, and promptly looking away when Min Yoongi pushes himself away from the wall, daring them to say something. ‘Listen. Riddikulus!’ Lupin says, and I push down my pride to join the others in repeating after him, ‘Riddikulus!’ ‘This class is ridiculous,’ I hear Jimin muttering behind me, our friendship group stifling our laughs with the sleeves of our robes.

‘Very good. So much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing,’ Lupin explains, and despite myself, I’m intrigued to see one of these boggarts in action. ‘Let me show you an example. Hoseok, would you join me, please?’ he says, turning his kind smile to one of my (only) friends in Hufflepuff house. The Hufflepuffs generally aren’t that bad, definitely more bearable than the know-it-all Ravenclaws, though even they’re easy to deal with than the Gryffindors, with their stupid bravery and lack of self-preservation.

Jung Hoseok looks like he might wet himself, his usual sunny persona disappearing and replaced by a pale face and scared wide eyes. ‘Come on, don’t be shy,’ Lupin prompts, and Hoseok’s friends push him forward, the boy stumbling towards the wardrobe. ‘Now, don’t tell us aloud, but just have a think about some of the things that frighten you the most, so you can prepare yourself for the boggart,’ Lupin says kindly, Hoseok nodding nervously as another Hufflepuff, Kim Taehyung, whispers, ‘we’ll be stood here all day; he’s scared of everything.’ Giggles ripple around the room as Lupin leaves Hoseok to think over his fears and comes to stand in front of us.

‘The thing you must remember about boggarts is that they will transform into your worst fear. Some of you may not even know what that is – we’re all scared of bugs and heights and things like that, but what about the things we don’t think about or encounter regularly? There is no way of knowing what your boggart will turn into, because we all have more than one fear, so make sure you are thoroughly prepared to use the incantation as soon as you face the boggart. Understood?’ Lupin says seriously, a shiver running through me as we all nod – no one’s laughing anymore.

‘Right, Hoseok. Are you ready? Have you had a think?’ Lupin calls to the Hufflepuff boy, who nods reluctantly, gulping. ‘Here we go then, wand at the ready. One… two… three!’ Lupin says, waving his wand at the wardrobe, which creaks opens slowly. We all crane our necks to see what’s in there, but it’s dark and there’s nothing to be seen. Hoseok looks like he might faint, the hand holding his wand shaking. And then we hear it; a little hiss.

Before anyone can register it, a snake is slithering out of the darkness of the wardrobe, thick, green and black, leaving a trail of slime behind it as it glides across the floor towards Hoseok, who’s frozen in terror, watching its forked tongue poke out from its mouth, letting out loud and threatening hisses. ‘Think, Hoseok, think,’ Lupin prompts, and the boy seems to wake up, nodding as he lets out a meek, ‘Riddikulus!’ It works, though, and suddenly the snake is transforming into a balloon, the kind that entertainers make at children’s parties, Lupin swiftly grabbing onto the string it’s attached to before it can float up to the ceiling.

‘Are you trying to send us a message, Hobi?’ Yoongi calls to the Hufflepuff, the boy looking considerably less scared as he turns to us with a smile. ‘Yeah. Anyone’d think you’re just as scared of us,’ I grin, the boy laughing. ‘You guys aren’t anywhere near as scary as real snakes.’ ‘Yeah? I’ll show you scary,’ Jimin says threateningly, a small smile on his face, and Hobi rolls his eyes amusedly, grinning as Lupin watches our exchange with interest.

‘Wonderful, Hoseok, fantastic job. Now, can we form a line?’ he says, our classmates sprinting to the front of the line before he can even finish speaking, and I roll my eyes at their eagerness. ‘Come on,’ Jimin says, hooking his arms through mine and Yoongi’s, dragging us towards the middle of the line. Our classmates move out of the way for us, and I thank them with a smile, Yoongi and Jimin exchanging an amused glance; they always tease me for being nice to people, saying it’s unlike a Slytherin, but I beg to differ – I’d say it’s very Slytherin to be nice to people, knowing that being nice gets people to like you, do things for you. The typical Slytherin way is to get people to fear you, but I’d prefer them to love me – it’s better to have people willing to do things for you, though I guess a little bit of fear doesn’t hurt every now and then. I think I’ve found a good balance between the two.

‘You Slytherins. Think too much of yourselves to rush into the queue, and then push in front of everyone else,’ Kim Seokjin says from where he’s stood in front of us with Hobi and Namjoon, the three of them turning to us with big grins. ‘Shut it, Kim,’ Yoongi says with a grin, holding out a fist for the three of them to bump theirs’ against. Jin’s a Gryffindor, one of the very few of them that I can stand to be around for longer than ten seconds, and Jungkook is another, simply because I’ve never laughed more at anyone than I have at those two when they’re together. They’re like a slapstick comedy duo, and I guess they can be nice, sometimes. Considering we’re in different houses, we actually spend a fair bit of time together – maybe too much time. We share nearly all our classes, and Jungkook’s on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team so I see him at practices and at matches, and we all sit together in the Great Hall from time to time, with Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon too.

Namjoon’s a Ravenclaw, and it shows in lessons. Outside of lessons, though? It’s a wonder he's still alive, if I’m being completely honest. The boy is clumsier than anyone I’ve ever met. But he’s kind, and you can actually have an intellectual conversation with him – intellect is something they have in common with us Slytherins. The school’s all about ‘interhouse relationships’ and ‘Hogwarts unity’, and they’re always pushing that stupid agenda onto us, so we’ve got a few friends from other houses – not many though. We Slytherins are an exclusive people.

‘God, Taehyung must have run to get to the front,’ Jimin says, all of us turning to look where he stands in front of Professor Lupin, wand at the ready, face determined. Lupin releases the balloon, the room falling silent as we all watch with interest, wondering what Taehyung’s worst fear is going to be. The boggart turns and spins in the air, a big blur before him, and we all wait with bated breath. And then it turns into Taehyung. ‘He’s scared of himself?’ Hobi asks, all of us looking at each other in confusion. Before we notice that the boggart Taehyung is… morphing before our eyes. His back becomes hunched, his skin sagging and taking on a leathery texture, his healthy dark curls greying and thinning, strands of it actually falling to the floor, his broad and strong body becoming shrivelled and small, and when he smiles, his sparkling perfect white teeth yellow completely and some of them fall out, leaving atrocious gaps. He’s aging.

‘Oh, my God,’ Taehyung whispers, face covered with horror, and we all burst out laughing. His worst fear is aging. As though he can’t bear to look at himself like that again, he calls out the incantation, waving his wand, and the old (ugly) boggart Taehyung becomes a younger, more handsome Taehyung, not like the one we know now – more like a Taehyung in his mid-20s. He’s so handsome I feel myself swooning a little, Yoongi side-eyeing me amusedly as I rub at my nose, trying to cover how much my face has heated up. All of the girls and some of the boys are just as flustered as me, and now Taehyung looks pretty impressed with the effect that handsome boggart Taehyung is having on us all.

He makes his way over to us with a grin, and I instantly shake off my flustered state, rolling my eyes at his smug face. ‘D’you see how handsome he was? I’m betting I’ll look like that in ten years’ time,’ he says proudly, the boys all exchanging amused glances. ‘y/n’ll happy then,’ Jin says with a grin to me, and I nudge him with a scowl, Tae raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Don’t, Tae, I swear, I’ll hex you,’ I say warningly, brandishing my wand at him, and he just holds his hands up, grinning smugly. ‘You’re scared of aging?’ Namjoon asks the question we’re all wondering, and Tae sighs with a roll of his eyes. ‘I’m scared of aging badly. I want to still be handsome and… use my body properly when I’m old,’ he says with a smirk, the double entendre plain, and I can’t help but scowl at him when he turns his amused eyes to me. ‘Please never talk about wanting to still be able to have sex when you’re old. I don’t want to ever picture old you with your dick out,’ I say bitingly, everyone laughing, including Tae, as we picture the boggart we just saw attempting to have sex. I shudder, shaking away the thought.

‘Look, look, it’s Jeon’s turn,’ Namjoon says, our attention turning to the front where Jungkook’s stood in front of Lupin, who holds Jennie’s boggart in his hands – it was a load of bugs before, but she turned them into dumplings. ‘Ready, Jungkook?’ Lupin asks, the boy nodding, before Professor Lupin throws the dumplings up in the air, and they stay up there, slowly transforming into Jungkook’s boggart. It drops to the floor once it’s transformed, and I crane my neck to see what it is, only able to see flashes of metal here and there, my peers all in the way. ‘What the fuck is that?’ Jimin demands, and when I catch sight of it, I burst out laughing, Tae, Jimin and Hobi not understanding why me, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi are practically wetting ourselves with laughter.

‘What is it?’ Tae demands, but none of us are in any state to answer him, Jin rolling on the floor as Namjoon clutches at his stomach, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking as tears run down my face, our laughter echoing around the room. By the time I’ve managed to compose myself, Jungkook’s turned his boggart into a small bonfire, which Professor Lupin is attempting to contain so that it doesn’t set fire to the entire classroom, which is all made out of wood, by the way (I know the school’s old, but it really wouldn’t kill them to do a little refurbishment).

Jungkook makes his way over to us, looking sheepish when he sees the way we’re laughing at him. ‘Don’t laugh – I’m genuinely terrified of them,’ he says embarrassedly, setting us off again, and the three purebloods in our friendship group don’t look too impressed at being left out of the joke. ‘What was it?’ Hobi asks, and Jungkook sighs. ‘A microwave,’ he says quietly, the four of us being hit with another wave of laughter. ‘Why… the fuck… are you scared… of microwaves?’ Jin demands between laughs, and Jungkook looks at his feet, face red. ‘I always have been. They could just blow up at any moment,’ he says in a small voice, and as much as I do feel for him, I cannot stop laughing.

‘Sorry, hold on, I hate to interrupt you muggles and your little inside joke, but what the fuck is a… microwave?’ Jimin demands, and we all shoot him dirty looks. ‘We’re not muggles, Jimin, don’t say that again. We’re just as much wizards as you are,’ I say coldly, and he holds his hands up apologetically. ‘I know, sorry, you know I don’t mean it,’ he says honestly, and I nod, biting back my annoyance. Jimin was raised in a pureblood household, as were Tae and Hobi, but neither of them had quite the upbringing that Jimin did. Slytherin pureblood families are… maybe the worst you can ever encounter – they’re proud, rich, privileged and thrive off their supposed ‘supremacy’. Jimin was always taught that purebloods were the only wizards that deserved to be wizards, that half-bloods were dirty half-breeds and that muggle-borns were an abomination to the wizarding race. Joining Hogwarts, he was exposed to more ‘dirty half-breeds’ and ‘abominations to the wizarding race’ than ever before, and he even became best friends with two half-bloods – myself, and Yoongi. He’s trying to eradicate the views that were instilled in him all his life, and I understand that he can’t help it sometimes, that the words come out before he can correct himself, but that doesn’t stop the way I get annoyed with him. The others control their anger better, and it surprises me sometimes, considering Jin and Namjoon are both muggle-born – I would think they’d get more annoyed than anyone, but they handle Jimin’s stupid comments well.

‘A microwave is an electronic kitchen appliance,’ Jungkook says, the three purebloods looking at him blankly, and he sighs. ‘It’s a machine that cooks food,’ he says simply, the four of us stifling our laughter. ‘So you’re not scared of… I don’t know, getting injured in a Quidditch match, or dementors, or even You-Know-Who, but you are scared of… a machine that cooks food?’ Tae asks, and Jungkook lets out an irritated noise. ‘They can blow up at any moment!’ he repeats, all seven of us bursting into laughter now, and Jungkook sulks for a few moments, his scowl quickly becoming a grin as he joins in with our laughter.

‘Right, students, I’m sorry but that is all we have time for today! Class dismissed! Lupin calls out amongst complaints and grumbles, but I’m secretly relieved; I’d rather not have everyone find out my deepest, darkest fear. We all head towards the door, Professor Lupin bidding us goodbye as we leave. ‘I wanted to find out your guys’ fears too,’ Jungkook says as we step into the corridor. ‘Why? Wondering one of us might be scared of an electrical appliance too? Maybe a fridge? Or an oven?’ Jin teases, the boy shoving him. ‘You’re all teasing me, but Tae’s scared of getting old!’ ‘That’s nowhere near as bad as being scared of microwaves. What is scary about microwaves?’ ‘They can blow up at any moment!’

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