#HE IS CRUSH STATUS BUT BOY OH BOY---- ACCURATE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ambrossart · 2 years

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DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART NINE

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 7,133 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music, me knowing nothing about d&d, seriously none of the gameplay is accurate, consider yourself warned

Eddie was more than a little caught off guard when you suddenly wanted to join his summer D&D campaign.

You were popular, you were on the volleyball team, and he was just the trailer park kid whose father was constantly in and out of prison. “Eddie Munster”—yeah, that’s what they called him (because he listened to heavy metal, dressed all in black, and had the pasty complexion of someone who hadn’t seen the sun a day in his life). He was confident that ninety percent of the student body had no idea what his actual name was. To them, he was simply Eddie Munster, the kid destined to spend his life behind bars.

Needless to say, Eddie was a little skeptical when Jeff called an emergency meeting in the science lab two weeks before the last day of school. He said he had a friend (“Well, actually she’s my lab partner”) who was interested in joining their summer D&D campaign, an intense and insanely immersive three-month-long crusade that Scott Sloman spent the entire school year working on. It was his pride and joy, his magnum opus, and Scottie would never waste such a masterpiece on a new player.

Unless, of course, that new player was a girl.

Scottie’s wandering hands came to rest on a clumsy stack of ungraded quizzes. He picked it up and tap, tap, tapped the pages neatly into order.

“She cute?” he asked Jeff, with no shame at all.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, Scottie, she’s not cute. She’s just really, really annoying.”

“Oh, so you know her?”

Eddie felt his whole body recoil from that grossly incorrect assumption. “What?” he said. “No, I don’t know her. I just… I just know who she is, that’s all.”

Eddie first saw you at the middle school talent show. Corroded Coffin had just finished their first performance in front of a live audience. They played Judas Priest’s “Rock Forever” because it was the only song the principal didn’t immediately reject for having violent, anarchic, or offensively unchristian messaging.

“Why can’t you boys play something peppy, something snappy… you know, like The Beach Boys or The Beatles?”

“Dude, fuck The Beatles.”

Eddie didn’t care. He just wanted to play some music. Throw himself in it. Lose himself in it. Forget about his shitty, miserable life for just three and a half minutes.

That night, in front of a packed audience of students, faculty, family and friends, Eddie Munson strummed the final power chord and felt the notes clash against each other and crash into a concrete wall of pure silence. The illusion had shattered, and Eddie was back in reality. He was grounded in it. Sinking in it like quicksand. He staggered back and looked out, shielding his eyes from the glaringly bright stage lights, and in the silence he heard a sound that made his stomach drop.

Someone was laughing. Laughing at him.

Eddie tracked the sound, his eyes darting anxiously around the faceless crowd, and he found you giggling in the front row with your fist over your mouth, giggling yourself to tears. Eddie would never forget that sound for as long as he lived.

“Oh, she’s that girl, huh?” Scottie swiveled around in the teacher’s chair like a movie villain. “So Munson’s little heckler has finally come to ruin D&D for him… Now that should make for a very interesting campaign. I like it. She’s in.”

Eddie jumped to his feet. “Hey, you don’t get to decide that!”

“Umm, I’m the Dungeon Master. It’s my campaign, and I’ll decide who plays it. Keep giving me lip, Munson, and you can find something else to do with your summer vacation.”

“Fine,” said Eddie with a defiant shrug. “If she’s in, I’m out.”

Grant gasped. “What? Dude, you can’t be serious!”

And Jeff said, “Awww, come on, man. You can’t just skip the summer campaign. We’ve been looking forward to this all year.”

Scottie called for silence with his hand. “Hey, if Eddie the Craven wants to run away from a twelve-year-old girl, let him. I mean Jesus, Munson, do you even hear yourself right now? So a girl laughed at you… Who cares? She’s not the first and she definitely won’t be the last. We’re freaks, dude. It comes with the territory. Either ignore it or embrace it, like I do. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding from girls.”

“I’m not hiding from girls,” Eddie said. “I just… Look, why do we play D&D?”

Jeff said, “Because it’s fun.”

Eddie pointed at him exuberantly, grinning ear to ear. “You’re damn right, it’s fun. It’s the best fucking game in the world! But even more than that, it’s an escape, right? It’s the one time when we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want, and we don’t have to worry about the cool kids making fun of us, girls laughing at us, being knocked around or thrown into dumpsters…”

Scottie looked over at Grant. “You still smell, by the way.”

Eddie went on: “My point is, D&D is our only safe haven, you guys. And yeah, maybe one day we won’t need it so much. I mean, shit, maybe we’ll get to high school and everything will magically get better. Maybe we won’t be seen as the freaks anymore. I don’t fucking know. But right now, we need it. And I’m telling you, if we let that girl in… if we let her into our safe haven, she’s gonna poison everything, man. She’s gonna make fun of our characters and laugh at us when we narrate their actions, and then we’re all gonna feel self-conscious and we’re gonna start to pull back, and then—shit—then the whole game becomes pointless. Then it’s just middle school all over again, and I don’t wanna deal with that all summer!”

Jeff said, “She’s not joining to make fun of us.”

But Eddie didn’t believe him. “Oh yeah? Then why is she joining? Y/N doesn’t even like fantasy, so why does she suddenly wanna join our campaign? Huh? If not to make fun of us, then why?”

Jeff’s mouth opened and closed helplessly. He turned away. “Hey, you’d have to ask her that, man. I’m just the messenger here.”

Scottie huffed impatiently and spun around in his chair. “Oh my god, this is getting ridiculous now… Look, how ‘bout we just vote, okay? Is that fair enough for everybody? Everyone who wants to hang out with a cute girl all summer—”

“I already told you, she’s not cute.”

“—a girl who Eddie claims is not cute, but honestly he’s probably just saying that because he wants to keep her all to himself. If that sounds at all appealing to you, please raise your hand now.”

Scottie’s hand flew up as soon as he finished speaking. Then, slowly, Jeff’s hand went up, too.

“And all opposed?”

Eddie and Grant raised their hands.

“Well, it looks like we have a tie, gentlemen.” Scottie leaned back and plopped his feet on the teacher’s desk. “And when there’s a tie, the Dungeon Master gets the final say, so…”

“Dude, that’s bullshit!” Eddie said. “Gareth isn’t even here to vote.”

“Well, that’s because Gareth is doing finger paintings in elementary school right now. He’ll get a vote as soon as he hits puberty, okay? Until then, I’m pulling rank here, and I say she’s in. There. It’s decided. It’s happening. Get over it, Munson. Jeff, go tell your cute little female friend she can join our campaign.”

“You can tell her yourself,” Jeff said. “She’s waiting right outside.”

Everyone cried out at once: “WHAT?”

“You brought her here?”

“And you made her wait outside this whole time?” Scottie clawed at his acne-scarred face in frustration, digging deep furrows into his cheeks. “Oh my god, I’m surrounded by Neanderthals! See, this is exactly why we need a girl in our group. None of you know how to function in civilized society! You guys need to stop hanging out with Eddie and learn some damn social skills.”

Scottie got up and started towards the door.

Eddie’s hand shot out. “Hey, don’t—don’t open that!”

And Scottie gave him a baffled look that screamed, Are you fricken kidding me right now, dude?

“Damn, this girl’s really got your panties in a twist, doesn’t she, Munson? Yeah, she’s got you quivering in your boots like she’s the Big Bad Wolf or something.” He shook his head. “I’m tellin’ you, man, you better get your shit together before next year or else those high school girls are gonna eat you alive, bro.”

Scottie opened the door and went out. Eddie reluctantly followed, for no other reason than to prove he wasn’t scared of the Big Bad Wolf.

They found you in the hallway, sitting on the floor with your legs sprawled out in front of you, wearing a pair of embroidered jeans and an oversized sweater that hung on you like a sack. You were humming a wordless tune as you played with one of the paper fortune tellers Chrissy had made during your last period class. She said she had hidden a secret message in one of the folds, and you were determined to find it without cheating.

You worked the fortune teller with your fingers. “B-L-U-E… and… one, two, three…”

The door swung open. Eddie took one step out, saw you, then stepped right back and huddled against the doorframe. Casually, of course, as casually as he could. Then he caught you peeking at him with a mischievous little smile, and he felt his heart race with trepidation, thumping hard against his ribcage.

“So,” you said, “am I in?”

Scottie wore a self-satisfied smirk. This is her? the smirk said. This is the girl that’s got you so scared, Munson?

He approached you with an outstretched hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, m’lady. I’m Scott Sloman, but you can call me Scottie. I’ll be serving as your humble yet undeniably charismatic Dungeon Master this summer. I’m also the co-founder and lead singer of the critically acclaimed heavy metal band Corroded Coffin.”

Your eyes widened in apparent awe. “Critically acclaimed, huh…? Remind me again: didn’t you guys get last place in the talent show? Or am I thinking of another shitty metal band?”

Grant piped up from inside the classroom: “No, you’re thinking of us.”

Eddie shot Grant a sharp, disapproving glare, then turned back to you. “Hey, we didn’t get last place, okay? We got ninth.”

“Yeah, out of like ten acts,” you said with a flippant shrug, “and the last act never even took the stage because Todd had a nervous breakdown and threw up all over himself backstage. We’re talking Campbell’s Chunky Soup. It was everywhere, you guys, like in his shoes and all over his creepy little puppet, and people were like walking in it and slipping in it. It was super gross but also kind of hilarious. Like, I would’ve totally given him first place for that, but I wasn’t on the judging panel, so…”

Eddie made a weak gesture toward you. “See?” he said to Scottie. “This is the kinda shit I’m talking about. You really wanna listen to this all summer?”

Scottie said, “Hey, I don’t mind a girl with some spunk,” and he knelt down in front of you, causing you to draw your legs all the way in and fold them underneath you. Scottie barely noticed. “That’s Eddie, by the way. As you can see, the guy has no sense of humor. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s scared of you.”

“Really?” you said. “I can’t imagine why…”

Then you looked up at Eddie with an impish twinkle in your eyes (how brightly they sparkled beneath the florescent lights), and he felt his whole body tense up with dread. This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? First, you somehow got Jeff under your spell, corrupted his mind and turned him into one of your minions, and now you were slowly working your dark magic on Scottie.

I see what you’re doing, Eddie thought. You’re trying to turn all my allies against me. Well, it won’t work because Grant’s mind is a fortress and Gareth’s as stubborn as a dwarf. They won’t be so easily swayed by your charm.

Meanwhile, Scottie had taken out a pen and was writing his address on your hand. “Our first session will be held on the first Friday of summer vacation. We meet every Friday through Sunday, from 10:00 AM to 8:00 PM. If you can’t commit to that, don’t bother showing up at all because this campaign requires serious dedication from everyone. Okay? Also, if you miss more than two sessions, you’re automatically kicked out of the party. Think you can handle that?”

Scottie posed this question to you with the stern glare of a shrewd businessman. Holy shit, you thought, this is actually happening! And with this realization came a great wave of anxiety. It crashed over you and consumed you, making you bite your lip in hesitation. Then your eyes drifted down to the fortune teller resting on your lap, and you clung to it like a life raft.

Here, I made this one special… just for you.

Oh? Did you write that I’m gonna marry Steve Perry?

That… and something else.

What did you write?

Hey, I’m not telling! You have to find it yourself. And whatever it says, you have to do, okay? No going back. No hesitating. This is my prediction for your summer, and it’s set in stone. Got it?

You picked a number, your lucky number, and carefully unfolded the flap.

Chrissy’s hidden message made you smile.

Then you stole a glance at Eddie and felt your chest swell with a newfound sense of determination. No going back. No hesitating.

“If that’s what it takes, then yeah. Let’s do it.”

Scottie offered you his hand. You gave it a firm, decisive shake.

“Welcome aboard.”

The summer started exactly like Eddie thought it would. You treated the game like it was a joke, spent each session wandering through Scottie’s fictional world like it was one giant amusement park made just for you.

And it was. It truly was.

Scottie had rewritten most of his campaign so that he could indulge your every whim. When he found out your character was a thief who had been betrayed and left for dead by her previous companion (a terribly cliched backstory, but Eddie expected no less from someone as inexperienced as you), Scottie created a brand new adventure out of thin air that forced the entire party into the Forest of No Return in search of your old companion’s secret hideout. Then Scottie inserted himself into the party through an NPC named Balon Blacktree, a “ruggedly handsome” (for some reason, Scottie felt the need to stress this) mercenary who would act as your guide through the dangerous and ever-changing woods.

Scottie sat behind his screen and spoke in a deep, rumbling voice: “You hear a noise overhead—a flutter of wings. Just a bird maybe or, perhaps, something else. You look up but see nothing, only the mangled branches of so many dead trees. The moon, bright and full, hovers just beyond them. It glows with an eerie golden light. It is a witch’s moon.”

You gasped. “A witch’s moon…”

Eddie was sitting across from you, watching you respond to Scottie’s narration like a giddy preschooler at storytime. He smushed his cheek against his fist and huffed. “Jesus Christ, Scottie, can you just skip to the action, please?”

Scottie said, “Hey, I’m painting the scene!”

“Well, paint faster, will ya? It’s been ten minutes already.”

“Shhh!” you hissed, making Eddie’s face turn red with abashment. “You’re ruining my immersion! Go on, Scottie, tell me about the witch’s moon. It means a witch is near, doesn’t it?”

Scottie smirked, all too pleased to have your full attention. “That it does, sweet Elaria, that it does. An old witch, withered and hunched, lives in these woods. She hunts in them, seeking youth and beauty with a ferocious, insatiable hunger. She saw you enter the forest with your companions, and now she means to claim your vitality for her own. You hear her shrieking laughter rolling through the trees: Hee-hee-hee-hee! It’s close. In fact, it’s right behind you. You spin around, stumbling over your own feet, and you see a great crow, the witch’s familiar, perched upon a branch. It looms over you, staring at you with its black eyes, and in them you see your own frightened reflection…”

You collapsed against the backrest of your chair, clutching your chest in distress. “Oh my god, my heart’s beating so fast right now!” Your hands flapped frantically while you considered your next action. “Okay, umm, I back away from the crow slowly, my eyes locked with it in terror, and as I go to take my next step, my foot lands on a twig. It makes a loud snap!”

“The crow takes flight, extending its powerful wings! It lunges at you and slashes at your face with its sharp talons, but it only gets a five to hit.”

You yelped in surprise and threw your hands over your head. Then: “Wait, which dice do I roll again?”

Eddie heaved a frustrated sigh. “D20 for defense rolls. How do you not know this by now?”

Scottie said, “Dude, relax, she’s still learning.” Then he turned to you with a smile. “You roll the D20, sweetie, and don’t forget to add all your modifiers and stat bonuses.”

“Again, she should know this by now.”

“Again, you need to calm the fuck down, Munson. This is her first time playing. Now go ahead, Y/N.”

This went on for days. While the rest of the party was left to fend for themselves with minimal direction from their Dungeon Master, you and Scottie went off on these long and excruciatingly detailed expeditions that ate up chunks and chunks of precious time.

In part, Eddie was glad for this because it kept you distracted and allowed him to focus on the game. He didn’t care that each of your turns took twenty minutes, that you constantly needed the rules explained and re-explained to you before you took any action. He didn’t care that your character never seemed to suffer damage or that she effortlessly avoided every trap she stumbled upon and passed every skill check with ease. He didn’t care that she clung to Balon Blacktree’s side during every battle and acted so impressed when he cut down low-level monsters with one swing of his greatsword. Meanwhile, Eddie’s character was single-handedly bringing down hordes of monsters and summoning demons with his dark magic, but Elaria didn’t bat an eye at that… no, that wasn’t worthy of any kind of recognition.

He didn’t care that you giggled at all of Scottie’s lame jokes, that it was a completely different laugh than the one he always received. It was light and melodic and made your whole face glow with a radiant luster of pure joy.

He didn’t care that it meant Scottie was totally right when he said, Don’t worry, man. One summer with me, and she’ll never look at you again.

No, that didn’t bother Eddie at all.

See, what bothered him, what really got under Eddie’s skin, was that you were always marveling at Scottie and hanging on his every word like he was some master storyteller. Yeah, that did bother him. It bothered him a lot.

One Sunday, while Eddie was packing up his binder and dice and preparing to head home for the night, you surprised him when you came up and said, “Hey, I’m really sorry for… you know, kind of taking over the whole game. I feel like you guys are getting really bored.”

Your smile was deeply apologetic, but also a little shy. It brought an unexpected flush to Eddie’s face.

“Oh, no, that’s… that’s not your fault. Scottie always gets a little carried away when he DMs.”

“Yeah, he really likes the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he?”

You started laughing to yourself—a breathy, beautiful laugh—and Eddie felt the dice pouch slip out of his hand. Plop! It landed somewhere by his feet, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick it back up. Instead, he watched you lean against the table and gaze down at Scottie’s forest map, your face softening with an enchanted expression.

“He’s really talented, though,” you said while tracing your finger over one of Scottie’s hand-painted miniatures. “Like the way he comes up with all these stories and describes every scene so vividly… I feel like I’ve been thrown into a fantasy novel or something.”

Eddie pursed his lips into a hard, thin line. “Yeah, he’s really something, isn’t he?”

You looked up at him, your eyes narrow with skepticism. “You don’t think he’s that good.”

“Huh?” Eddie took a step back, shaking his head. “I - I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I know sarcasm when I hear it.” Then you gasped loudly, as if you had just solved some great mystery. “Oh my god, you think Scottie’s a hack, don’t you?”

“What? No, I don’t think he’s a hack, I just…” Eddie glanced toward the open door at the top of the stairs; then, lowering his voice, he continued: “He just tends to fall back on the same tired storylines, that’s all. Like the witch in the woods, and the crow, and saving the fair maiden from becoming a virgin sacrifice… He’s recycled that same adventure like fifteen times. I practically have it memorized by now. And after a while, it makes all his campaigns pretty stale, especially when you’ve been playing them for as long as I have.” He reached out and knocked over the miniature you had been admiring. The figure landed on its side and wobbled for a second or two before going still. “Trust me, Scottie’s no wordsmith. I mean… shit, from what I’ve seen, you could probably write a better campaign than he could.”

“Oh yeah…?” You tilted your head curiously. “Well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Could you write a better campaign?”

Your question caught Eddie off guard. He closed his mouth and thought about it for a minute. “Well, I… I mean, yeah, I definitely could. It’s funny you mention that, actually, because I started working on a campaign last year, but I never got around to finishing it.”

“Really?” you said. “Why’s that?”

“Uhh… I dunno, honestly. I guess I just lost inspiration.” Eddie could think of no better way to put it. One day, he simply set down his notebook and never touched it again. “Plus, Scottie doesn’t really let anyone else DM, so there’s basically no point.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” you said. “I’m curious to see what kinda campaign you’d come up with.”

Eddie felt his face get warm. What kinda campaign would you like? he almost asked, but the question got stuck in his throat.

You got up and reached for your backpack. “Anyway,” you went on with a nervous flutter, “there’s a second reason I wanted to talk to you. Actually, it’s the main reason I wanted to talk to you, so… here.”

You handed him a piece of paper. Eddie looked it over, front and back.

“It’s a character sheet,” he said. “You working on a new character or something?”

“No, it’s for you. See?” You poked the top of the page with your index finger. “It’s for your demon master—you know, the one that your character made an unholy pact with? The source of all your dark power? I made a character sheet for him… or it. Do demons even have genders?”

Eddie kept staring at the paper, feeling both elated and overwhelmed by its existence. “Uh, I dunno, but… Wait, what is this for, exactly?”

“Well, last night I was reading The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde because I’ve been on this really weird Gothic literature kick lately—you know, like Frankenstein, The Turn of the Screw, Dracula and, naturally, just about anything by Poe. Anyway, so while I was reading, I started thinking about your character”

Eddie’s heart jogged. You were thinking about my character?

“and the demon he made a pact with, and I thought it’d be kinda cool if there was a chance your character could get possessed by that demon for a little while, and he like becomes evil and tries to kill us or something. Then I got weirdly inspired at two in the morning—don’t ask why I was still up at two in the morning—and I made this!” You put your hands on your hips and beamed at him. “So, what do you think?”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I…” He didn’t know what to say. Eddie had never given much thought to the demon featured in his character’s backstory, yet in one night you had managed to produce a fully customized character sheet for the creature. It was absolutely…

“… stupid, isn’t it?”

(You think my story’s stupid?)

Eddie lowered the paper and looked at you. Your once-brilliant smile had collapsed into a dismal, disheartened frown that seemed… strangely familiar. It brought a pang to Eddie’s chest.

“You think it’s really stupid, huh?” you said while playing with the frayed hem of your sweater sleeve. “Right… Well, in my defense, I was really sleep deprived when I wrote that. Also, when I get an idea, I sometimes tend to obsess over it, you know? Like I go deep down that rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland and I do some crazy shit, like writing an extensive and thoroughly researched biography for a character that isn’t even mine.” You opened your mouth to laugh, but nothing came out. “Wow, that sounds even more insane when I say it out loud! You know what, I’ll just take that back and, uh, burn it…”

You reached for the paper. Eddie pulled it away.

“You talk a lot,” he said. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

You shook your head. “No… quite the opposite, actually. Most people think I’m really shy.”

“Really?” said Eddie. “See, I never got that impression from you.”

A flush of modesty tinged your face. You looked down at your sneakers and responded in a quiet, bashful voice: “Well, that’s… because you’re weird.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, smiling at you for the first time in his life. He was surprised by how naturally it came to him. “Yeah, that’s probably why.”

His smile grew. “First of all, don’t ever call your ideas stupid, okay? ‘Cause they aren’t. Second, this is really great. Thank you for taking the time to make this for me. It’s actually very impressive.”

That made you stand a little taller, a little prouder. You pointed at the page. “See, I even drew a little portrait…”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Eddie said, amused. “You’re a terrible artist.”

For that, you gave him a half-hearted shove, giggling as you did. Eddie laughed along with you… until Scott Sloman appeared at the top of the stairs with a VHS tape in his hand.

“Hey,” he said to you, “you wanna watch some Monty Python?”

Your whole face scrunched up with discomfort. “Uh, no… I really should be getting home.” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and turned to leave. To Eddie, you said, “I’ll, umm, see you Friday?”

“Yeah… See ya.” A smile tugged at his mouth as he watched you go. Then, when you were halfway up the stairs, he said, “Get some sleep, okay?” and you gave him a look that made his stomach flip.

“Right,” you said, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. “Yeah, I’ll try…”

Scottie, blissfully unaware, fluttered a flirtatious farewell as you passed. “Bye-bye now,” he drawled, and once you were gone, he leaned against the doorframe and breathed a dreamy sigh. “Such a delicate flower… Don’t you love it when girls play hard to get?”

“Not nearly as much as you do,” Eddie said while studying the character sheet you made him. One section in particular had him chuckling. Favorite food: the souls of his victims? Eddie imagined you lying on your bed, half asleep and drooling, as you scrawled away with your pen, and that made this line even funnier. He pushed his face into the paper and snickered.

“What’s that you got?” Scottie asked, peering over Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pressed the paper flat against his chest. “Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just a character sheet.”

(So why did he feel the need to hide it?)

“Oh?” Scottie said, sounding only mildly interested. “Are you developing a new character for the campaign? Finally retiring that angsty wizard you love so much?”

“He’s not a wizard, he’s a warlock,” Eddie said. “And, uhh… no, this is just something Y/N made.”

“Y/N made it? For you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

And that’s when Scottie took a huge step back, his lips curling into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Oh boy,” he said, as his eyes sparked to life with devilish glee. “Well, there it is.”

“There what is?”

“You were wondering why she suddenly wanted to join our campaign, right?” Scottie motioned toward the paper. “Well, there’s your answer, pal. The kid’s got a little crush on you, Munson. Congrats, man, you finally caught one!”

Laughing, Scottie mashed his palm into Eddie’s short crop of brown hair. Eddie knocked him away.

“Yeah, okay, very funny…”

“You don’t believe me? Okay, let’s recap, shall we? Uhh, she’s always around.”

“Like a harbinger of misfortune.”

“She’s always giggling at you.”

“Snickering. Cackling.”

“She, completely out of nowhere, decides she wants to spend her summer in a stuffy basement with us losers instead of hanging out at the pool with all her friends.”

“I have a theory about that, actually.”

“Yeah, and I bet it’s as dumb as all your other bullshit theories.” Scottie put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and said, “Dude, the girl created a character for you. That means she was thinking about you. In our world, that’s practically a love letter.”

Eddie felt his chest tighten at those words. Scottie frowned and worked up some fake tears. “Awww, she’s gonna be so heartbroken when you leave… Let her down gently, will ya, Munson? They’re so fragile at that age.”

“Dude, shut up!” Eddie said, and pushed Scottie’s hand away. “She doesn’t like me, okay? Can we please drop it now?”

“Hey, I’m just as mystified by this as you are, but facts are facts.”

“I mean, why would she even like me?”

“Well, it’s definitely not because of your dazzling personality,” Scottie quipped, earning a glare from his best friend. “Look, I dunno, maybe she’s got a thing for socially awkward guitarists with daddy issues. Who cares? It’s a fricken twelve-year-old! Stick that tiny feather in your cap and move on. We’re going to high school, man. The big leagues!”

“You’ve seen who she hangs out with, right?”

Scottie’s jaw dropped. “Why are we still talking about this? That’s middle school shit, man. We’re past all that now.”

“All the cheerleaders, all the jocks, Jason Carver…”

“And what, you think she’s a spy or something? You think Jason Carver sent her here to learn all our nerdy secrets? Listen to me, man: the popular kids don’t give a shit how we spend our summer vacation, okay? We’re just a passing amusement to them, dude, a way to kill time while they wait for school to end. As soon as they walk out those doors, we no longer exist to them, so stop giving them so much of your attention.”

Eddie went quiet, letting those words sink in for a minute. Then he took a deep breath through his nose and said with absolute confidence, “She doesn’t like me.”

“Oh my god, again with this…” Scottie put his head between his hands and squeezed. “Okay, fine! You’re right, Munson, she doesn’t like you. In fact, nobody likes you. Why would they? You’re a major downer, a single grey storm cloud in an otherwise sunny sky. There, you happy now?”

“Yes,” Eddie said, “thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Scottie said, and made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Now, do you wanna watch Monty Python with me or not?”

Eddie cracked a smirk. “No, I gotta get home.”

He picked up his dice pouch and tossed it into the open pocket of his backpack. Then he carefully tucked the character sheet into his binder, admiring it for a second before putting it away. On his way out, he said to Scottie, “Oh, by the way, I think I’m gonna try something new with my character at the next session.”

Scottie stood at the bottom of the stairs, blinking in disbelief. “You, Eddie Munson, wanna try something new?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, feeling inspired. “Yeah, I do.”

And that’s when everything changed. Not suddenly, but gradually, naturally, as naturally as the winter snow melts in the spring, as night fades and turns to day.

No longer was Eddie Munson the one who took the game way too seriously, the one who stuck firmly to the rules and shut down anyone’s attempt to deviate from them, the one who never so much as cracked a smile because that would betray the very essence of his dark and brooding character… Yeah, that guy was long gone, lying at the bottom of the trash bin along with Eddie’s old crumpled-up campaign, and Eddie had no intention of ever digging him out again.

For the first time in a long time, Eddie was excited about what the future had in store for him. Every day felt like a brand new adventure, full of twists and turns that had him smiling, laughing, gasping, and (sometimes) screaming.

On Thursday nights, he would barely be able to sleep because he was so eager to wake up the next morning and rush to Scottie’s house…

to that basement…

where you were sitting, waiting for him.

Eddie rested his head on his palm while he watched you update your adventure journal, something you did during every break like it was a homework assignment. The rest of the guys were eating pizza in the kitchen. You and Eddie were supposed to join them a while ago, but neither of you were in a hurry to head upstairs.

Your lips curled into a smile when you caught Eddie staring at you. “What?” you whispered, as if you weren’t the only two in the room.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just wondering what you write about in that thing.”

“In this?”

“Yes, in that. I’ve never seen anyone keep such a detailed log.”

“Oh,” you said. “Is that weird?”

“No, not really. I just never took you for a diary keeper, that’s all.”

Your nose wrinkled adorably. “Yeah, I’m not. Or not usually, anyway. I’m just trying to keep a record of everything: all the quests my character’s completed, all the people she’s met, funny things she’s witnessed…” Your face darkened all of a sudden, and when you spoke again your voice was small and tight, as if you were struggling to hold something in. “I just don’t wanna forget all this once the campaign’s over, you know?”

Eddie smirked, thinking he understood. “Well, at the rate we’re going, I don’t think we’ll ever finish this campaign.”

Honestly, he hoped you never did.

“So,” he went on casually, “have you written anything about me?”

“Eh, a little… maybe like one page.”

“One page?”

“Well, the back of one page.”

“The back of one page? I don’t even get a full page? Wow, I really need to step up my game, huh? Clearly, my performance isn’t cutting it for you.”

“Yeah, it really isn’t.” Your smile was teasing but so, so sweet. “You’re not fully committed to your character, Munson. I just don’t feel it, you know? I need more. I need you to completely let yourself go, okay? I wanna see you jumping on chairs, running around, getting in people’s faces…”

“So, basically, you want me to make an ass of myself.”

“Oh yes. Always.” You tossed your head to the side and giggled. “I wanna see you totally unhinged, Munson. When you get possessed, I need you to go full Linda Blair with that shit. I wanna see some head-spinning, projectile-vomiting… I could do without the crucifix thing, though, because that would be a touch too explicit for your general audience.”

Eddie said, “Yeah, I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Linda Blair? The Exorcist?”

“Never seen it.”

“Seriously, you’ve never seen The Exorcist? The greatest horror movie of all time? Well, you know, apart from Night of the Living Dead, but that’s just my personal preference. I love George A. Romero.”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t really like horror movies.”

“Really?” You sounded genuinely shocked, and a little disappointed. “But you’re so Halloween-themed.”

“Halloween-themed?” Eddie grimaced. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, it’s not an insult or anything… In fact, Halloween just happens to be my favorite holiday.” You nudged Eddie with your elbow, and he pulled away. That made you go quiet for a second, sulking like a child who just got scolded for something they didn’t know was wrong. “It’s just, I dunno, you’ve got this whole Prince of Darkness vibe going on. Naturally, I always assumed—”

“I’m Eddie Munster,” Eddie said with a sneer, “so I must be obsessed with horror movies, right?”

“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth, okay? I didn’t say that. And just for the record, I’ve never bought into the whole ‘Eddie Munster’ thing, anyway. It’s a lazy joke, and it doesn’t even make that much sense. You don’t look a thing like Eddie Munster. He’s got that crazy widow’s peak and he’s a werewolf, which always kinda confused me, if I’m being honest. Like, his mom is Dracula’s daughter and his dad is one of Frankenstein’s monsters… How do genetics even work in that universe? Like, is his mom also part werewolf? Is lycanthropy a recessive gene? These are the kinda questions that keep me up at night.”

You were going off on another tangent. Eddie patiently waited for you to find your way back; and once you did, your eyes went straight to him.

“My point is, Eddie Munster’s a very stupid nickname. Whoever thought that one up is seriously lacking brain cells.”

The corner of your mouth rose into a half-humorous smile, causing Eddie’s stony gaze to soften and glow with adoration. He sat there for a while, spellbound and speechless, and when his voice finally returned, it blurted out a question that startled you both.

“Why are you here?” he asked, and you drew back a little, your brows knitted together in confusion.

“You’re… popular,” he went on, “and you play volleyball and—”

“So because I play volleyball, I’m automatically a jock or something?” You scoffed at that, your mouth hanging open in wry amusement. “I’m on the gold team, Eddie, the worst team. We’re basically a bunch of rejects that would’ve gotten cut if there had been actual tryouts. My parents thought it’d be good for me to join a sport, so I picked volleyball because… why not? And it’s kinda fun, I guess. We almost beat the white team once. It was almost this huge upset.”

“Wow,” Eddie said, “I’m almost impressed,” and that made you laugh for a minute, but only for a minute.

“I’m not popular,” you said, “not even a little. My best friend, Chris, she’s the popular one. She’s the one everyone wants, and I’m just her carry-on luggage. And yeah, I guess that gets me a seat at the lunch table, but that doesn’t exactly make me part of the club. Her friends aren’t my friends. They hardly even talk to me. Chris could drop me tomorrow if she wanted, and then I’d be eating lunch alone.” You winced a little as you said this, then hung your head and sighed. “I’m not popular, Munson, but it’s very flattering you think I am… I mean, at least I have somebody fooled, right?”

You picked up your pencil and flipped to a new page. The resulting silence made Eddie’s chest hurt.

“You wouldn’t have to eat alone,” he said, and saw your hand pause in mid-stroke. “There’s always an open seat for you at our table.”

A faint, melancholy smile touched your lips. “Yeah, but you won’t be there.”

Eddie drew in a quiet breath. As he looked at you now, you seemed so far away.

“Oh, right,” he said. “Yeah, I almost forgot.”

Now all of Scottie’s jokes made a little more sense. (Let her down gently, will ya, Munson?) Now all of your diligent note-taking made a little more sense. For the longest time, Eddie thought you were just being overly sentimental about your first campaign, but that wasn’t it at all, was it? No, you were preparing for the end. Immortalizing your last campaign.

The last campaign you two would ever play together.

“You should go eat,” you said to him in a stuffy voice. “I’ll be up in a little bit.”

It’s amazing, the amount of clarity that comes with heartbreak. This dawned on Eddie Munson now, as he sat alone on the dirty floor of the women’s restroom. Here I am once again, getting ready to move on to the next stage of my life, and all I can think about is how badly I wanna stay with you.

Eddie’s hands closed around the bundled fabric of his jacket. It smelled a little like you now.

I shouldn’t have walked up those stairs. I should’ve stayed down there with you and told you to fuck off when you tried to force me to leave. I should’ve told you that you had nothing to worry about. That I wasn’t gonna forget about you once I went to high school. I should’ve told you a lot of things that day, but I didn’t. You told me to leave, and I left. I walked up those stairs and I ate that cold, shitty pizza while you sat down there all alone… probably crying your eyes out. I was fourteen and an idiot. I’m still an idiot, but at least I have the balls to admit I like you now.

And if you think I’m not about to get up and go running after you… well, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I am.

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #i know nothing about D&D #stranger things 4 #st4 #ambrossart #dancing with myself #dwm #fanfiction

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miracles-and-butterflies · 6 days

Note

Regarding the post about your last Madrigals x OC post - how did the Madrigals meet their SO's and why did they end up in a relationship? What made them stick together?

I noticed that Isabela and Luisa date people from each-others friend groups which sound really funny, I need to know how it happened lol

Oh yeah, Dolores really appreciated Isabela doing that 💀. (Isabela didn’t care as much with Luisa).

This is a long post and I was only doing short summaries.

Most of them met in school. It’s a small town, they probably only had the one school - unless you want to be really historically accurate (in which case girls and boys would be separated), then two - either way, they all knew each other early on. There isn’t more than a couple years between them, so even if they weren’t in the same class, they would have seen each other in the playground. Especially given the status of the Madrigals. But, some of them didn’t form proper connections until much later on.

Alfonso & Bruno:

Alfonso and Bruno (and Félix, but this ain’t about him) had been friends throughout their time at school. By the time they finished school (15/16 ish), Bruno realised his feelings weren’t as platonic as they use to be. Probably had many awkward instances of attempting to flirt with him and failing, partially as Alfonso hadn’t realised he was bi yet. Bruno’s reputation slowly began falling away over the next few years, resulting in him distancing himself from his childhood friend; not wanting him to be treated badly by associating with him. Alfonso never really got why - he never saw Bruno as this villain like the rest of the town slowly came to view him as.

Cut to Bruno’s return, he avoided Alfonso as much as he could at the start of Casita’s rebuild. Eventually, he was setup to talk to him by his sisters or by his older nieces - I haven’t quite decided yet, but I could see both of these scenarios working. Regardless, Bruno and Alfonso got to talking and became friends again. By the end of the rebuild, the two were dating. They both are very open with each other and gain a lot of confidence when they are together, which definitely helps them stay together. They bring out the best in each other!

Isabela & Lili:

Isabela has always been aware of Lili, who was Dolores’ childhood best friend (Mariano being Isa’s). Once free from her engagement and embracing her true self, she was quite open that she was a lesbian. And then slowly had to accept what a girl failure she was when it came to her crushes. So she kept quiet about the crush she had gained for Lili. She was locked into further silence when Dolores mentioned to her that Luisa had a crush on Lili and - not wanting to have to relive the whole Mariano thing - kept clear out of the way.

Even long after Luisa had clearly gotten over said crush and mentioned over a hundred times that she had a new crush, who later became her girlfriend, Isabela didn’t dare go after something she wanted herself. If it wasn’t Luisa, there would potentially be someone else she’d hurt. Mariano began to notice her acting odd and asked her what’s wrong, getting her to open up about everything. He assured her as best as he was able and even offered to help Isabela with some of her flirting skills and getting her a chance to speak with Lili away from the public eye.

It was during some town festival that Mariano managed to pull Lili aside from the rest of her and Dolores’ friend group to “meet” Isabela. Isabela still was her girl failure self and gave Mariano more than enough secondhand embarrassment to last the rest of his life, but Lili took it all really well and was extremely flattered. She asked Isabela to dance and that was that. They were found making out in by Dolores (on accident) several hours later.

Dolores was initially not very thrilled about this. Realising with somewhat over exaggerated horror that it meant Isabela would just be around her 24/7 - not only at home, but now she would just be crashing the friend group to hangout with her girlfriend. Though, as Isabela continues to remind her, she is dating Mariano (who is part of Isabela’s friend group), so she doesn’t really have the high ground here of not mixing friend and family.

Luisa & Marta:

Marta is part of Isabela’s friend group but is a much more recent member, she joined sometime in the middle of Casita’s rebuild. Though she spent a decent part of it admiring Luisa, as a lot of the ladies did. As much as Isabela is a huge girl failure, Luisa is a bit of a flirt, charmer, ladies’ woman, whatever you want to call her! Luisa clearly knows she’s a gorgeous and wonderful woman, okay?

After she got over her crush on Lili, Luisa had noticed Marta among her admirers and focused the attention on her. Mutual pinning. She began seeking her out more often, whether she was on a round of chores or just in her own free time. Isabela, as previously stated, was happy enough for Luisa to date her friend and probably was the cost in of this ship - definitely not as a way of learning how to date girls. What? Why would you say that?

Luisa planned a very romantic first date/picnic for them to get to know each other. They now have one of these every couple of weeks. Definitely one of the most chill and least dramatic relationships in the Madrigal family. Oh and yes, Lili has bragged to the Luisa fan club that they are dating.

Camilo & Marco:

They are in the same class at school. Always have been. Became friends very early on. Their families were also very close beforehand, which definitely helped when planning to spend time together outside of school. Their families probably got together every so often anyways. Camilo has been crushing on Marco for at least a good couple of years before he did anything. Definitely wrote things like “C+M 4 EVER” in his diary or on his schoolwork or whatever. Marco had been crushing on Camilo too, but was infinitely more subtle about it.

It during the end of the rebuild before Camilo’s sixteenth birthday that the pair of them both happened to confess their feelings at the same time. It was a little awkward but overall very sweet for a couple of teenagers newly in love. They are still learning and growing as they go, but it’s a journey they’d rather face together.

Mirabel & Sera:

These two got together three years after the miracle returned, when they were roughly 18 and 19.

But, we need to backtrack a little first. By the time they finished school, Sera had been crushing on Mirabel for a while but had been advised by Camilo that it was going to be a hell of a mission - Mira had never dated anyone nor had even the smallest of crushes. There was no way to gage what would be the best thing to try to get her to go on at least one date with Sera.

Sera settled on writing a short love letter/poem, remembering what an avid reader Mirabel had been in school and assumedly still was. Given how often you could spot her with a book in hand. Mirabel corrected the letter of its spelling and grammar, like the smartass she is, and then returned it to Sera. Sera found it endearing and funny, Mirabel was marvelled that someone hadn’t immediately gotten annoyed with her smartass behaviour. Sera accepted that Mirabel just wasn’t interested and offered to be friends instead, to which Mirabel agreed.

(Just to clarify, Sera had a couple of girlfriends during this time. She wasn’t just pining after Mirabel for years).

At 19, Mirabel realised she’d grown incredibly fond of Sera. Even beyond platonic. She was very attached to her “best friend”. And maybe Isabela overheard her confessing this to Luisa and then told Dolores. And maybe Dolores then went on to spread the gossip to Camilo. And maybe Camilo then told Sera. Now knowing Mirabel a lot better, Sera decided to try again. This time with a basket of wool. Mirabel did say yes but asked they take it slowly, as she still didn’t quite understand these “alien” romantic feelings. Sera was happy enough to do so.

#encanto #ask me anything #alfonso hernandez #lili iglesias #marta carrillo #marco osma #sera velasquez

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shallitickleyournerdbutton · 3 years

Text

After the heartache of the Volume 8 finale, I would like to return to a happier point in the show and suggest some memes/jokes that I like to think the students at Beacon would have had. More closely inline with the RWBY Chibi-verse, than the actual show - where Nothing Bad Ever Happened.

"Who's child is this?" being used to refer to Ruby - the youngest student at Beacon - when she's left unsupervised and/or doing something odd.

"I'd let Glynda punish/whip me for one corn chip."

Every now and again "Missing - Have you seen this person?" posters for Professor Peach will pop up around campus. No one knows who it is that keeps making them.

Vomit Boy candids being taken and shared any time Jaune is Suffering™️ on some form of transport.

The Great One plush of Pyrrha exists in-universe... and becomes the go-to prize for any stupid competition between the students. There's at least a dozen of these dolls on campus now, owned by various people and won as "spoils of war."

There's a dedicated chalkboard in the combat room for tallying how many times Nora has launched someone into the stratosphere. Notable mentions are listed on the board alongside her of other people who have achieved this feat - including Yang, Yatsuhashi, and Glynda.

(She launched both Port and Oobleck one day when they kept annoying her. Sometimes, their screams can still be heard if you listen closely enough.)

"There's that old guy again..." "Oh, shopkeep? Yea, he's everywhere. Don't think too much about it."

This leads to "Don't think too much about it." becoming something of a slogan for every time anything unusual happens.

"Candy canes, kids! One for Sun Wukong, one for Yang Xiao-Long, ooh four for Coco Adel, you go Coco!"

"I--"

"Andnoneforweissschneebye~"

Team STRQ having something akin to legend status at Beacon, whispered in hushed voices for fear and reverence of their names. There's a war between the students regarding team JNPR as their successors vs. the students who insist JNPR are not anywhere near worthy of such a title.

"How many team CRDLs does it take to beat Pyrrha?"

Blurry fancam-style videos of the Qrow vs. Winter fight out in the courtyard being traded around like baseball cards with other students. Some try and manufacture a "rematch" of this with the materials they've got - trying to get Ruby and Weiss to fight each other.

That weird sing-song "HellOooOo~" that Yang sometimes does being mimicked by everyone. And I mean everyone.

Any time there's a significant lull in conversations or classes, someone often asks "Why are we here?" which never fails to make everyone in the vicinity groan.

"Ozpin is compensating for something" jokes about his office chair - including at least one popular response being "it's the war crimes", without them knowing just how accurate they actually are.

"On a scale of Ren-Nora, how excited do you want me to be?"

"Ladies Love Lavender" referring to Lisa Lavender having her own in-universe fandom mostly comprised of women. (Lavender being associated with lesbians irl, and I just think this would be funny.)

The sight of Ren just picking up and carrying Nora away from something is so commonplace that other people start doing it to their friends when they Need To Stop.

"Why is Blake's bow so big?" "Because it's full of secrets."

Blake being a closet faunus being such a poorly hidden secret that by the time she finally takes off the bow no one actually even notices.

The betting pool surrounding exactly what it is in Ozpin's cup - coffee being one of the least popular options, and souls being the top choice.

Using Yatsuhasi as a unit of measurement.

Photoshopping adorable images of Velvet onto various "cute" animal memes.

Everyone wanting to be spanked by Coco Adel.

"I'd let Fox blow me up too."

"Why is Weiss' hair so long?" "To reflect the length of her father's crimes."

Everyone mimicking Pyrrha's memetic "I'm sorry!" anytime they apologise for anything. Even going as far to do it while apologising to things that don't require apologies - like inanimate objects.

"Are Port and Oobleck, you know... 💅?"

In fact, just that 💅 being used to refer to a large number of people at Beacon. Actual LGBT students picking this up and using it towards grimm when they're attacked to question the sexuality/homophobia of the grimm targeting them over their peers.

Threatening Neptune with water anytime he flirts with a girl who is clearly Not Interested in him.

No one knowing who, exactly, the other two members of team SSSN are - with wild theories abounding about who they may be. Popular choices include Shopkeep, Zwei, and Professor Peach.

This persists even after their tournament fights where they're shown. Scarlet and Sage are perfectly content with this, and participate.

"Arslan's/Pyrrha's back must be aching from constantly carrying her entire team."

And the respective responses of, "Reese/Nora are alright."

Similar jokes about Glynda also carrying the entire faculty/academy on her back.

"Salutations!"

The war between the "Irondaddy" fanbase, and his haters - who refer to him with various derogatory versions of his name. "Metalpenis", "Coppercock", "Chromeshaft", etc.

Anytime someone is doing something ~questionable~ donning a pair of glasses and/or imitating Oz or Oobleck pushing them back up their nose with accompanying menacing body language. (Kubrick Stare optional.)

Mercury having a foot fetish, courtesy of the people who caught him sniffing shoes at the festival.

"Did <character> just die?" "You know, it was really unclear." any time someone takes some insane damage in a fight and isn't seen for some time afterwards.

Everyone trying to locate and get a pic of the ~mysterious~ fourth member of team CMSN, who has only ever been spotted once - her tournament fight in the first round. Beacon's version of "Where's Wally?"

The Sympathy Fund for Emerald and her one-sided crush on Cinder. "She could honestly do so much better."

People offering themselves up as tribute to spar with Pyrrha/Yang/Coco/Sun just so they can be beaten up by the hottest people on campus.

"I drink milk!" being used as a defensive argument in wildly inappropriate contexts.

Naming grimm really boring names and attempting to keep them as pets.

The innumerous times Port has allowed a "zoo-break" to happen under his watch and everyone having to assist in recovering his prized subjects.

"Where the fuck are all the fourth years?" "Ozpin's soul collection."

Candid shots of Glynda Suffering™️ being shared similarly to the ones of Vomit Boy.

Ranking people based on their Patience Levels - Pyrrha, Ren, Glynda, Emerald, and Fox being frequent top markers based on the bullshit they put up with from their respective teams.

"Saint Pyrrha" being a common nickname for her, and her neverending niceness towards people who absolutely do not not deserve it.

Weiss' "Hey!" being replicated amongst the student body and slowly growing more and more high-pitched in its replication until it eventually just becomes a shrill noise. Even so, everyone still knows what it means - and Weiss is absolutely unamused by all of this.

In fact, a lot of early!Weiss' comments being mercilessly mocked by everyone - "I'm a victim!" being one of them.

Renowned fear permitting amongst the student body regarding Yang's red eyes meaning Serious Business. Morphs into references of "going full Yang" to mean having rage-fuelled temper tantrums.

"Never miss a beat, never miss a beat" becoming a mantra for focusing on a task. This inspires several remixes of Neon saying it, and again with no one knowing who it is making them.

By all means, feel free to add any more that you all think of! I could use a laugh!

Also, check the notes for additions!

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svchengss · 3 years

Text

king of hearts | d.sc

PAIRING. dong sicheng x reader

GENRE. high school!au, fluff, slight angst, kind of e2l

WARNINGS. none (lmk if i missed any!)

WORD COUNT. 6.7k

SUMMARY. sicheng’s subtle flirts are not working effectively but it only motivates him to try and woo you more. the devil sure works hard but dong sicheng works harder.

PLAYLIST. king of hearts

TAGLIST. @floraljae @clovdless @mashiihearts @ndr1271 @kunrengui (shoutout to mashi for being a major help in the process of writing this <3)

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

music was blaring through the multiple loudspeakers scattered around the school grounds, booths of various interests that were set-up by the clubs being swarmed by visitors and ecstatic oohs and aahs from the ones playing games can be heard intermittently. the annual school festival of redlands high, an event that is looked forward to by every single student there. or maybe not, you’re quite unsure of the self-made data.

you immediately made a beeline to the dance club booth which is managed by yangyang, the president also holding the title of your best friend. a cartoonish grin crept up on his face when he spots you walking towards him.

“so, what do you think? looks legit, huh?” he crossed his arms together, observing the design of the booth with a proud smile. the set-up is definitely eye-catching, not much decorations going on, adding to the simplicity of the white theme with gold touch-ups. you browsed through the plastered posters on the board, inviting people to sign up for their upcoming audition. looking up to the signboard hanging outside, you showed a thumbs up towards him, muttering a quick ‘perfect’.

“so what exactly is your booth doing? there’s not much… activity going on?” you scratched the non-existent itch on your left eyebrow. the boy in front of you gave you an eye roll before explaining that there will be mini dance games - or just dance as he worded. an amused sound left your lips as you bent down, dropping your signature in the guestbook on the wooden table.

“are you coming to the stage shows tonight? i heard there’s a new band performing,” your ears perked up instinctively upon hearing the words. after your sister graduated high school, nobody paid any attention to keep the band going. the zikas, a trio that made the music club strive back then. either the newer batches were too lazy to make an effort or too scared if they weren’t up to the already high standards of the school.

“i’m going if you’re going,” you simply stated, which made yangyang flash you the same grin from before. you said your simple goodbyes when people started lining up to try the just dance game at his booth. after he reminded you to wait for him by the statue, you went off to check out the food sales, eager to fill your growling stomach since this morning.

you can do this, sicheng. you can do this.

he made sure to double check the tuning of his guitar for one last time before joining the rest of his bandmates on the stage. his tall and slim physique surely left an impact, seeing that some of the audience suddenly became more invested in the performance compared to the others. he’s wearing some band’s shirt - probably green day since it’s quite similar to your sister’s posters in her room, black leather jacket and his black hair middle parted. not to miss the silver pendant necklace on his neck, sparkling under the spotlight.

the moment he struck the pick through the strings of his electric guitar, the drummer and bassist followed after, producing a melody that is pleasing to your ears. he held the microphone closer to his mouth, singing the lyrics as you bobbed your head up and down to the covers they sang - american idiot and helena are the ones you recognized since you’ve heard the songs so often. yangyang on the other hand kept on sipping the chocolate milkshake in his hand, vibing with the music as well.

the next song was a sentimental one which you assumed is a self-composed one, since you’ve never heard this song before. before you know it, the performance is over and the audience have started packing up their belongings to hang out somewhere else or go home.

“good job everyone, we did well,” yuta, who played the bass earlier, high-fived the rest of the band with a sly grin on his face. guanheng chugged the mineral water down his throat before stashing his drumsticks into the bag while sicheng was lost in his thoughts. he doesn’t know why but you stood out from the crowd, only able to see you just now. he wouldn’t say it’s a crush, not knowing anything about you but it definitely made him feel something. a trigger in his heart, not knowing where it leads to. but what he does know is that you caught his attention.

“and you know what he said? i’ll come back crawling to him just like his other exes. what the heck is even that?” you took out the binders from your locker while listening to ningning rant about her love life. since you haven’t had any relationships before, you’re not really a professional in this aspect of life so you just kept your mouth shut to avoid giving useless advice.

“that sounds so rude, he’s such a jerk,” you commented, taking the first bite of your sandwich afterwards. the tea-spilling session eventually came to an end when she reached her class first and you kept walking to mrs. walker’s, english being your first period. nothing exciting really happened in that class except someone got their phone confiscated for texting in class - just the usual things. classes later, it’s finally recess when you met up with ningning and yangyang in the cafeteria.

“first of all, cut him off. block him. everywhere,” yangyang emphasized the last word, knowing how much of an idiot the guy can be. you just scrolled through your socials, double tapping on certain posts that caught your eye. owning a cat looks fun, you made a mental note to bring the idea to your parents later. the bell rang which signals that classes are starting back soon and the same cycle of events continues before it’s time to go home.

you observed yangyang’s sharp moves, following to the beat of the song echoing in the dance room. it’s currently half past seven and he’s still here, beads of sweat running through his hair. and why would he stay in school so late, you may ask? obviously, he’s here for a reason and it being an upcoming dance tournament is the most accurate one. while you’re here, sitting on the floor, back against the mirror and legs straightened out with your phone in your hand. it amazes you how the goofy boy transforms 360°, being all serious when he’s in his element.

“let’s go home, i’m tired already,” he panted out breathlessly, using a cloth nearby to wipe his sweaty forehead. you wait for him by the glass door as he packs up his things when the lights in the music studio also switched off. you wondered it must be the band guys so you paid no attention whatsoever. of course, your predictions were right when you saw two lads stepping out.

since yangyang is taking too much time tidying up the dance studio and the music studio seems unoccupied, you decided to check it out for a bit. it’s been a long time since you last entered the room, always accompanying your sister for her extra practice when you were younger. not much has changed, except some additions of instruments can be seen. not seeing anything in the dark condition as the room is only illuminated by the faint lights from the hallway, you pushed the switches down only to be met by a gasp.

“what are you doing here?” the tall boy approached you, a stern look visible on his fine features. your eyes scrambled around the room in an attempt to find any logical excuses for your ‘break-in’ but to no avail. your tongue was dry, not a sound escaping your throat when you heard yangyang’s voice, signalling your cue to exit the room and escape from the tension building between you and the boy. he just shook his head, the black hair bouncing left to right as he finally caught on.

it’s you, you’re the girl from the crowd. and your name is y/n.

the walk home was filled with one-sided conversations where yangyang kept on babbling about how he should improve the choreography he created earlier while you only added small comments. your mind is filled with embarrassment, too much that you feel slightly mad at yourself. why didn’t you say anything earlier? now, you look like a complete idiot with communication issues in front of that boy.

“yeah, and remember that pasta? we should definitely try it again, it’s like, so good,” yangyang said, earning a nod from you when you saw the boy from last night’s music studio tragedy approaching your table. you tried to look away but it was too late.

“dude, just wanna let you know that mr. park is seeing us after school,” your grip on your fork loosens up when you realized he wasn’t talking to you. maybe he forgot about the incident? you really hope so.

“yeah, totally. thanks sicheng,” yangyang playfully winked at the latter, earning a disgusted look from him who started walking away. he glanced back at you with a smug smile on his plump lips, making you freeze up again.

he didn’t.

“are you okay, y/n? feeling sick?” ningning furrowed her eyebrows upon seeing your sudden change of demeanor. you shrugged her off and continued to consume the macaroni placed on the tray in front of you, mentally cursing at yourself for the poor life choice you’d made. well, at least you know that his name is sicheng, right?

oh boy, you’re in for a long ride.

you can’t wait to go home and snuggle under the covers, today has been a long and tiring one for you. you had three pop quizzes as if all the three teachers intended so, your class had to run multiple laps during p.e. and so on. you’re already planning your routine in your head, trudging your way to the lockers when you saw him leaning against yours, scrolling down his phone.

“crap,” you muttered under your breath.

there it is, the smirk on his face returns when he spots your figure approaching. oh, how you wish you could wipe it off his face. he moved a couple steps backwards to give you some space to arrange your things before locking it, turning your head towards him.

“i’m sorry, why are you here again? and if it’s because of last night, then i’m sorry if it bothered you or anything,” you huffed out.

“what? i didn’t really care, it’s not like you were stealing anything, right?” he squinted his eyes, eyeing you up and down suspiciously, laughing shortly after seeing you get riled up.

“damn, you really need to learn how to take a joke. y/n, right? i’m sicheng, nice to meet you.”

“why exactly are we having this meet-and-greet or whatever this introduction is?” you crossed your arms, waiting for his response. but he didn’t, immediately turning on his heels and making his way towards the stairs, probably going to the studio.

“jerk,” you cursed under your breath, walking out the school building.

“what? you got accepted? seriously?” ningning’s voice echoed against the cafeteria walls, earning surprised and annoyed glances from other students who were either satisfying their grumbling stomach or simply having conversations. yangyang softly nudged her elbows using his, asking her to lower her voice down before telling you to go on. you were quite surprised as well, the acceptance email was not what you expected to receive. when you filled in the application form, it was just a mere shoot-your-shot agenda to see if you’d make the cut. although this is just a camp, you’re still unsure of what lies ahead.

“yeah, it starts next week. but i’m so nervous though,” you sipped the iced coffee in your hands. you’ve only watched videos of people producing their own music from scratch which you start to take an interest in. however, you’ve never done it hands-on before, only having basic music theory knowledge thanks to the piano lessons your parents signed you up for when you were young.

“you’ll do awesome, i promise,” yangyang gave you a reassuring smile, making you release some tension from the overthinking you’ve had since you received the email last night.

“thanks yang.”

now, here you are on the first day of attending the internship camp. you stood in front of the tall mirror hanging on the wall, straightening your cardigan and applying some makeup onto your face as touch-ups. it’s currently 7:40 in the morning, the earliest time you’ve ever woken up on a saturday. your siblings are still swallowed in their states of sleep. you double-checked the contents in your tote bag, making sure that no important things are left behind. you totally don’t intend on leaving a bad first impression on your first day.

after bidding a swift goodbye to your parents who just woke up, you drove your mother’s old honda to the completely new destination - mbyte studios. the tall building with light grey and blue painted walls definitely made it stand out, a futuristic look catching the eyes of the passersby. taking a deep breath, you entered the main lobby before being escorted to a room on the second floor. you assume it’s a waiting room for all participants of the camp, scanning that majority of the occupiers might be college students. you thanked god that the camp takes place on weekends so your high school senior life won’t be interrupted that much.

DAY 1

your eyes widened when you spot sicheng with the same white and blue tag you’re wearing, seated on the sofa. what the hell is he doing here? you avoided acknowledging his presence, trying to make yourself as unnoticed as possible heading over to occupy the seat farthest from his. after quite some time staring at the paintings hanging on the wall, a middle-aged lady with a petite figure entered the room, making you sit up straight.

“welcome to mbyte studios! i’m the assistant director, mrs. hwang. first and foremost, congratulations on being accepted. it’ a pleasure to witness the start of your musical journey embarking here. i believe that we should know each other first?” she gestured for any volunteers. sicheng stood up from his seat, charisma evident in his stance which left quite an impression on the others. the strong confidence in the way he speaks made the woman smile amusingly.

some names later, it was your turn to introduce yourself. the moment you stood up, he immediately recognized you and you were sure you caught him making some faces. the ice-breaking session went well thankfully, mrs. hwang elaborating on the social rules and the itinerary throughout the whole six days. one that caught your attention was assisting the producers on making a track from scratch, just like you had dreamed of.

when it was finally time for lunch break, you shot up from your seat to get away from sicheng as fast as possible but to your dismay, he beat you to it, jogging up towards your standing position.

“i didn’t know you were into music, what’s the sudden occasion?”

“it’s none of your business actually,” you sneered back, obviously not favouring his attention.

“woah, relax. you’ve got quite a temper, don’t you? by the way, we’re having lunch together,” he placed his phone onto a nearby table, pulling a chair for you.

“just eat on your own, i don’t have the appetite,” you flash a sarcastic grin before disappearing into the women’s restroom. he just laughed bitterly at your response before walking towards the food counter, joining his newly made friend, jaehyun. being the same age, they’re easy to click.

DAY 2

“today, we’ll be focusing on the recording process. you’ll be assigned into groups that will have a tour of the whole department. our staff will facilitate each group,” the manager said loud and clear. you remembered his name was johnny. the tattoo on his shoulder really stands out, considering the fact that he’s always wearing a sleeveless shirt.

but what are the odds when your groupmate is none other than the guy himself, sicheng. it’s like the universe truly resented you for having to be associated with him at any event. your group was escorted to the farthest recording studio on the floor. to say that this was a great experience is truly an understatement, making you observe the gears used in astonishment. you hate to admit it but sicheng has a handful of knowledge on this particular topic, always correctly answering the questions directed by the staff. maybe it wasn’t quite surprising upon knowing that his career choice is a singer, not that you care anyways.

again, nothing out of the ordinary happened today, except that you and sicheng had lunch on the same table. of course, it’s not that you accepted his offer but he welcomed himself to the spot. being the quickly favoured participant among the rest, obviously they welcomed him with open hands. he placed himself among the two guys sitting at the right corner, eyeing you whose eyes are still not leaving the article you were skimming through. with the last spoon of food shoved into your mouth, you quietly excused yourself from the group. sicheng just watched your movements in subtle signs of annoyance.

with the final task of doing microphone check-ups, day two of the camp ended with a breeze. you can’t wait to go home, get into a warm bath and spend the night watching netflix. it was a tiring one indeed but you’re not one to complain. pushing the car keys into the ignition slot, the sound of the engine starting is still nowhere to be heard even after a couple of retries. you rested your forehead onto the steering wheel, cursing silently in your head, having to get a taxi and call your mother about this incident. you’re sure to be receiving a handful from her, not to mention her soft but stingful remarks.

“hey, are you okay?” a deep voice interrupts your stressful state of mind. looking up, it’s sicheng with a concerned look on display. you hesitantly shared your problem, making him press his lips together probably thinking of a solution.

“you know, i don’t really know how to fix your broken engine or whatever but i know someone who can. let me just ring him for a sec. and you’re coming home with me.”

and that’s how you ended up in the front passenger seat, sicheng steering with one hand and the other rested on the windowsill. the faint music from the radio can be heard, probably a song by jon vinyl. you’d steal quick glances to see his other hand dancing in the air, enjoying the rhythm of the song playing. besides that, it was silent as both of you are preoccupied with your own things - sicheng on the road while you on your phone. he tried to make small talk but you would say it’s unrequited, only replying with short sentences. after a good ten minutes drive, the sight of your brown painted gate becomes a sign for him to stop the moving car.

“your car is safe with my friend so you shouldn’t worry about it or anything. also, what’s your number? it’ll be easier for, you know the car business of course,” he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt, handing over his phone to you after. the close proximity made your breath hitch, the dewy scent of his perfume diffusing into your nose. not too strong, he has a good taste.

“thanks and um, i’ll buy you a drink later. just for today.”

“are you asking me on a date?” there it is, the significant tug on the side of his lips making its presence once again.

“stop being so narcissistic and move along please,” you rolled your eyes before giving him a small wave, stepping into your property. sicheng stared at the numerals on his phone screen, a small, proud grin etched on before driving off the lane.

“how was the camp? met any cute boys?” the first thing you hear in the hue of the blue monday morning is ningning’s chirpy voice. sometimes you wonder how she gets all boosted up at this hour of the day. yangyang is the polar opposite, his appearance as if he just got out of bed, the hood of his denim jacket resting on top of his auburn hair.

“it was good and no, no cute boys. but sicheng was there,” you replied nonchalantly, a mischievous grin crept onto her lips. you can almost predict the words that are going to spill out of her mouth.

“what’s up with her?” yangyang yawned, his eyes lazily gaze at you. you just lifted your shoulders, having no idea whatsoever. a ping sound was heard from your phone, notifying that a new message is received.

unknown: hey sicheng here

unknown: ur car may be ready tmr. want me to drive u there?

listening to your heart, you were about to type ‘no’ but remembering the fact that your parents will be busy the whole day tomorrow and yangyang is coming home late once again, you have no choice but to accept the lad’s help.

now you’re back in his vehicle, the same spot as before. you’ve only noticed now that a musical note charm is hung on the rearview mirror, a semiquaver to be exact. you’d say that it looks authentic, gold specks shining when sun rays hit the surface. observing the interior of his car, there are quite a number of small decorations.

“can we get coffee first? my treat for the car and the ride,” you suggested, looking at him whose eyes are focused onto the road. the traffic is quite pleasing today, nobody honking mindlessly at the other drivers and flipping each other off with the famous middle finger gesture. his side profile does look charming, some type of earrings dangling from his ears. if you’re going to be honest, his appearance does seem to be your type. you’re not one to say about his persona though, always managing to bother you at any time of the day.

“sure, wanna go to the new cafe? i heard it’s good,”. you just nodded while he skillfully steered the steering wheel, moving the car to the new destination. you turned your eyes to look outside from the car window, seeing the one hundred and one manners of the citizens. a mother struggling to take her child who’s having a tantrum out of the toy shop, a young couple having their romantic meal in the french cafe. the motion of the car stopping awakened you who was being distracted by your clouded mind.

from the moment you stepped into the place, the interior caught your attention. the light brown painted walls with black furniture complementing each other perfectly, making a retro-like appearance. the funky song playing faintly in the background surely is a mood-setter, just how you like it. even the barista serving you is being friendly, making a couple of small talk in the midst of operating the machines.

you would say that it was a pleasureful day for you. the exquisite taste of latte washing down your dry throat, getting your car back without too much babbling from your dear mother and the gap between you and sicheng closing in for a little.

the last sentence baffled you for a second.

DAY 3

sicheng’s eyes shot open from the short slumber he was trying to get - failing miserably even, upon spotting you enter through the door. he pulled the chair beside him in hopes for you to get his message and take the seat. a frown made its way onto his face when you just waved at him, making your way to another spot a few chairs to the front. he scoffed, head tilting slightly before approaching you instead. you shot him a puzzled look, roughly translating to ask him what he’s doing here.

“i just want to be close to you. now focus,” he redirected his eyes onto the muscular man who just entered the room. he’s a songwriter - the best one in this company to be exact. you were focused on each point he explained, making small notes on your laptop. it’s not always that you’ll get a chance to be guided by a four-time award winning songwriter, might as well gain some benefits from it.

“another tip i have is to use all types of chords. remember, do not stick to the same ones, you’ll lack creativity. for instance, use major, minor, dominant, diminished, and augmented. i promise you, more ideas will be flowing and better quality songs will be produced. you got me?” the questioned, earning buzzing sounds of positive responses from the hall.

DAY 4

another day of group work, you’re given the task to create a melody according to the themes given - for your group, it’s love. looking at sicheng, he’s already on his electric guitar, strumming mindlessly to find the perfect note to start on. the rest of you are now juicing out some thoughts on this particular sense of human nature.

“love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all,” jaehyun suggests, earning nods of approval from the rest of your groupmates.

“you’re a pro at this, mr. romantic,” you teased him, earning a soft chuckle. a dimpled smile is etched onto his features, rosy cheeks and his eye smile making you fawn. prince-like visual and a sense of humour? a two in one package, totally.

“not really. i guess i’m a sucker for romance movies,” he rubbed the back of his neck. your small conversation came to a halt when you heard a crooked, loud sound coming from the rough strum on the guitar strings. you turned around to see sicheng gazing directly towards the both of you, a sharp one even. jaehyun just blinked his eyes before catching onto the situation unfolding in front of him while you’re still being completely oblivious. you tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what’s gotten into him.

it’s the day that yangyang has been looking forward to since the past few weeks, his dance tournament. you’re seated with ningning on the bleachers, music from the loudspeakers echoing through the walls. with the cheers of the bewatchers whenever someone captivated them with a trick or dance move, usually the risky ones, it truly is a loud atmosphere.

“now, welcoming contestant number 43 to take the stage,” the host announced, you and ningning clapped with all your might, shouting words of encouragement as well. yangyang took a deep breath before lifting his right hand up, cueing for the music to start playing. just then, there’s the sound of someone plopping down on the hard surface next to you - sicheng. he’s looking casual today, a light yellow hoodie replacing his usual dark clothings.

“what are you doing here?” you shout whispered while ningning raised her eyebrows at you.

“didn’t yangyang tell you? i’m here to watch him dance,” he countered your question before darting his eyes back to the boy who’s busy popping on the dance floor, tinashe’s song playing in the background. he ended his routine with a moonwalk, making his way to the end of the stage. you’re confident that he’s going to win the competition, looking at how precise and clean his moves were. all the late night practices he had eventually paid off when he’s announced as the second placer. nonetheless, he’s still proud of himself, not to mention you and ningning who have been with him throughout his whole journey.

“you did well,” sicheng welcomed him with a fist bump which he reciprocated back. you didn’t know that they were this good of friends.

“i’m starving,” he rubbed his hand onto his stomach, making you remember that your stomach has been rumbling since you only ate a cereal bar that morning. you were about to catch up to yangyang and ningning who were walking fast ahead when you felt a tug on your shirt, looking down to see sicheng crouching down to tie your loose shoelaces.

“you might fall,” he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, waiting for you to come along.

“um, thanks,” you muttered out before catching the glances given by your friends, later teasing you about the scene.

roars of students can be heard coherently, filling the basketball court. the basketball captain, a tall one with black charcoal hair is shooting a three-pointer. the players are then called over to their respective sides for whatever strategy their coaches will be implementing in the third-quarter. the home team is currently leading by five points, knowing that the players wearing the significant red and black jersey have been training their asses off for a while now.

but why exactly did you come to the game tonight? besides from the main event happening in the moment, the other reason is now standing in his position, strumming his electric guitar producing a funky sound that vibrates through the walls - a cue for the start of another buzzing stage. sicheng has been bugging you about watching him perform tonight and after quite some time evaluating, why not? when he finally caught you among the crowd, he flashed you a flirtatious wink. right before the band bowed as gratitude to the audience, he gave you a gesture to wait for him at the back of the gym.

“you came! but seriously, thank you,” he rested the sparkly white guitar against the wall, enveloping you into a hug. this is new, you tried to hide the flustered state of yours as you reciprocated his movement. from the corner of your eyes, you can see a black-haired guy approaching the two of you, followed by one with long, white hair and a bandana nicely keeping the fluffy strands in tact.

“ooh, who’s this?” the first one wiggled his eyebrows, later introducing himself as guanheng, the latter named yuta. to your surprise, the bond between you and them are quick to form with guanheng piloting the conversation. not to mention his subtle jokes making you giggle at times.

“well y/n, your little boyfriend here is getting jealous so we’ll excuse ourselves for now. see you whenever,” guanheng banging his drumsticks into the air while yuta gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the store room of the gymnasium. the nickname they gave sicheng surely made you a bit shy.

boyfriend?

DAY 5

you’re seated in front of the computer screen, your chin resting on the palm of your hands and the tabs of different colours left untouched. you redirected your gaze onto the projector screen, the words ‘arrange, mix, edit and master like a pro’ on it. a long sigh leaving your lips, you try to remember what the producer said earlier.

don’t make the song sound too repetitive

a good buildup promises a good melody

you can have a certain instrument playing only on one part for cinematic impact

DAY 6

“i’m hyo and you’re,” she moved the wheels of her chair to the back a bit to take another look at the clipboard resting on the desk, “sicheng, y/n and jaehyun, right?” the three of you nodded in harmony, anticipating for the next order that will be given.

“okay cool, we’ll be brainstorming first,” and she proceeded to explain what the requirements for this project are. you mouthed out the important points she gave, soft rock, heartbreak and drums. you’re on a roll today, contributing your countless ideas during the first few minutes of the discussion. sicheng just looked at you discussing with hyo, your lips pursed slightly. his gaze seems full of adoration, even jaehyun said so.

“any objections?” hyo looked over to the rest.

“i think she made some great ones. i’m sure this project will come out fresh,” jaehyun voiced out his opinions, sicheng nodding after. he went straight to handling the instruments , you and jaehyun collaborating for the mixing process. hyo eventually chimed in on some times, giving small advice whenever you seem stuck in the brain. with the hours ticking by, you’re feeling more satisfied than ever with your earphones in, listening to the final product created.

all of the participants are then assembled in the hall again, waiting for a final speech by the director which formalizes the end of the camp. sure, you’ve earned worthy knowledge throughout the six days. but if you’re being brutally true to the sound of your heart, it would be how you came to learn sicheng’s true antics. he might be the cocky guy who thinks they have the power to do anything but in truth, he’s just some guy with an honest heart, honest intentions to know you better.

summer break, your most anticipated event for the past few weeks. the moment the last bell rang, that scene in high school musical 2 kept replaying in the back of your head, the students doing a parade in front of the lockers picturing how your little heart is doing backflips in your chest right now. all the beach trips ningning planned is making you feel dizzy. you turned around to a voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway, your eyes catching the sight of sicheng jogging towards your spot. he stopped in front of you, hands on his knees catching his breath.

“are you free tomorrow night? there’s a party at guanheng’s and you know, it would be really cool if you join,” his fingers tracing onto each other, waiting patiently for your response.

you didn’t even have the time to process his invitation when ningning crashed her body against yours, yangyang following suit.

“a party? y/n would totally love to come, right?” ningning nudged your arms softly while yangyang tried to stifle a giggle. you were about to mouth out a ‘what?’ before sicheng cut you off.

“cool, you guys should come too. tomorrow at 10,” he and yangyang exchanged finger guns gestures before leaving the three of you. you just stood there in disbelief, eyeing them up and down before ningning dragged you to the parking lot. a stringful of grumbles escaped your lips, making the guy laugh obnoxiously.

“i can’t believe you guys did that,” you extended the seat belt, buckling it to the slot beside you.

“please. but you do want it, right?” you can’t deny, what she said was true. plus, you should have some fun and distress before having to go back to the usual dull routine of yours.

“how do i look?” you turn around, revealing the baby pink crop top and flare pants on your legs. it’s not your best outfit but giving the cliche excuse - you have nothing to wear, the two articles totally complements each other

“you look hot, that’s all i gotta say. right, yang?” ningning lifted her head from the headboard, glancing over at yangyang who’s going over his messages.

“yeah totally,” he lifted his hands, giving you a thumbs up. you threw a jacket onto your shoulders and grabbed the black purse on your dresser, glancing at the wall mirror one last time.

from the moment you stepped into the venue - guanheng’s place, smells of alcohol lingered around your nose, a group of people cheering ever so loudly over a game of beer pong, some already passed out on the couch. not to mention a brownish stain on the carpet - probably from someone throwing up. the mess would take a whole day to get rid off, you note to yourself. your friends are no longer to be found, both of them getting affiliated with god knows what. your eyes scanned the living room for sicheng but his presence is still nowhere to be found.

you decided to step towards the kitchen bar, pouring a drink for yourself. the mixed sweet and sour taste of it remained on your tongue for a couple of seconds. looking over at the snacks served, you grabbed a strawberry flavoured lollipop from the clear bowl. the crowd is cheering loudly for some type of incident happening at the back of the room, the music has been turned up to be a little louder than the volume before and you’re suddenly getting a little bit overwhelmed. you grabbed your purse and stepped out, inhaling some fresh air and looking up to the starry night sky.

“y/n? where have you been?” sicheng approached you from behind, making you a bit startled.

“sorry, hanging out outside can calm me. where did you go?” you popped the lollipop into your mouth.

“some jerk decided to throw up in front of me,” you pinched your nose with a disgusted expression, making him roll his eyes.

“do you want me to accompany you out here?” he offered. you just nod your head, placing yourself on the patio with him following suit. the sweetening flavour empowering your senses. it’s definitely much more calm out here, allowing you to clear up your mind. it’s not that you hate the atmosphere in the house right now, you’re just not in the mood.

“you know, you look pretty,” you turned around to meet his face. his brown eyes brimming with unconfessed love.

“shut up, stop with the jokes,” you lightly land a smack on his arms.

“what if i say i’m not joking?” he looked straight into your eyes, trying to find any emotion inside you. the sudden seriousness is making you feel much more awkward so you forced out a laugh, turning your attention right back upwards. the stars are shining brightly tonight, you can almost spot a constellation.

“i know what you’re doing, dong sicheng. just stop it already, it’s not working on me.” denial, that’s what you’re experiencing in the hot minute.

a gentle tug can be felt on your wrist, his eyes still not leaving yours.

“didn’t anyone tell you before? you’re really pretty. like, i can’t even describe it to you. you’re just,” he leaned over to caress your cheeks, “pretty,”.

what jaehyun said on the other day is true, after all.

love gives us thrill, the feeling of excitement, the feeling when you’re uncertain about something but when you have that special someone with you, you’re sure to wing it all.

your heart is beating so fast, it could fall out of your chest at any moment now. even the faint music blasting through the speakers inside the house can’t flush down the sound of your heartbeat. you’re not used to this, the sudden need of the significant skin to skin contact that symbolizes love between two individuals.

“can i?” his face in a very near proximity from yours, whispering into your right ear with his honey-like voice. you pulled the candy away from your mouth and nod, giving him the approval he needed before he dived in. heat rose from your stomach to your chest. you could only focus on how soft his crimson lips felt on yours, invading your privacy by all senses. you felt the kiss expand beyond your bodies, whirling you round, swirling you into the stars. he pulled away with a soft smile, you thought you could melt right then and there.

“wow,” that was the only word escaping your throat. your jumping heart still hasn’t settled down yet, your very first kiss still feeling surreal. you could see that sicheng is very much mirroring your emotions, his slender fingers grazing over his lips - the one that has come in contact with yours.

“the strawberry lollipop is sweet,” he commented, making the both of you laugh.

a ping from your phone awakened you from the gushy eye contact with him, unlocking it only to find yangyang’s text message. the second part of it made you fluster.

yang: yo r u coming in or what? and congrats for the kiss, we thought we’d have to wait longer for this

204 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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First time submitting prompts, fairly new follower. Love your writing!

NHS and LWJ friendship. Subtle and maybe people other than their big brothers don't see it and it shocks people when they find out. Mostly Canon compliant?

Associates - Part 3 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2

In the end, it was Lan Wangji who went to get Wei Wuxian, rather than wait patiently for him to return of his own free will as he had originally intended.

It had been Nie Huaisang’s idea, after nearly a year of Wei Wuxian travelling – they’d never actually pursued the jealousy idea he’d initially suggested on account of it being a terrible idea, Lan Wangji’s temporary moment of insanity in even considering it aside. It had come up seemingly apropos of nothing, one day when the two of them were working together in Lan Wangji’s study, Lan Wangji filling out the paperwork in his graceful handwriting as Nie Huaisang flittered around solving problems – he preferred pacing as he thought, which perhaps explained his reluctance to work on documents despite his beautiful calligraphy, and all the marching around made him, in some moments, look remarkably like his elder brother, something Lan Wangji deliberately refrained from ever mentioning.

“You need to go pick him up,” Nie Huaisang had suddenly said, in between planning out the next discussion conference and explaining why a seemingly minor dispute regarding shifting the boundary line near the Yuncheng Bao sect by a single li could have catastrophic consequences for the Jin sect’s long-term stability. “I know you’re afraid of giving the impression that you’re trapping him and restraining his freedom, but that’s your problem, not his. He wants to be asked.”

“Does he?” Lan Wangji had asked, finishing the sentence he was on and putting down the brush. Some things took priority above night-fishing rights near a contained Waterborne Abyss, no matter the new head of the Laoling Qin sect might think.

“Mm, yes. He’s been taking a lot of night hunts in the immediate vicinity of Gusu, close but never too close…Lan Zhan, he’s hinting that he wants you to chase him.”

“Pride?”

“A bit, maybe? Mostly I think it was his position in Yunmeng Jiang, where the former Sect Leader Jiang wanted him and Madame Yu didn’t, so his status was always that slightest bit uncertain. Here and now, he wants to know that he’s really welcome…don’t give me that look! He knows he’s welcome, you’ve made that clear, but making you be the one to ask is just another way to ensure that it’s actually true.”

And so Lan Wangji had gone to where he’d heard that Wei Wuxian was night-hunting, flying down on Bichen when he saw him walking with Lil’ Apple along a mountain path – he called his name, and Wei Wuxian had turned and smiled…

Wei Wuxian had come back with him.

More than that – he’d kissed him, he’d said he was staying with him, he’d agreed to marry him, to live their life together from then on.

They were officially engaged now, the auspicious date having been selected, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling having demanded roles on the side of the bride – Wei Wuxian briefly protested being the bride, then realized that he was marrying into the Lan sect and promptly reversed course, announcing that he wanted all the trappings of being a bride, excluding the dress – and life was very, very good.

Unfortunately, a couple of weeks was about as long as the cultivation world could hold off on needing its Chief Cultivator to be more than part time – he’d done a lot of the work in the mornings while Wei Wuxian was still asleep or when he was busy, and of course he had the system of delegation that Nie Huaisang had constructed for him and naturally Nie Huaisang himself helping out through his letters – and regretfully, Lan Wangji had had to return his full focus to his duties.

At first, it didn’t mark that much of a change: Wei Wuxian would bring projects of his own and they would work side by side, Lan Wangji already accustomed to the presence of another through all the work he’d done with Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji insisted that Wei Wuxian go out regularly with the juniors for night-hunts even if he himself could not. It all seemed fine, except only that Lan Wangji had the distinct feeling that he was missing something important.

It was only when the first big issue came up – a serious dispute between two small sects – that Lan Wangji realized what that was.

He sent a message to the Unclean Realm and waited.

Nie Huaisang arrived at the Cloud Recesses at the exact time one might expect if Nie Huaisang had received the message and left at once at top speed, accounting for the relatively slow pace he had when flying as a result of his mediocre cultivation.

Letter still crushed in his hand, he swept into the jingshi in his usual manner, all high drama and flash, wailing, “Lan Zhan! You betrayed me! You, of all people! My oldest friend!”

Lan Wangji, who had been expecting this, rolled his eyes.

Wei Wuxian, sitting in the desk he’d claimed as his own, looked up, startled. “Nie Huaisang?”

“Oh, hi, Wei Wuxian, congratulations on your engagement, has Lan Zhan shown you the present I sent? Probably not, he never does – Lan Zhan! Don’t think I’m letting you distract me with Wei Wuxian! You answer for this right away!”

He waved the crumbled letter at Lan Wangji.

“There is nothing to explain,” Lan Wangji said. “I requested your assistance in my capacity as Chief Cultivator.”

“You called me a spineless, gutless coward!”

Wei Wuxian made a choking sound.

“I sought to accurately characterize your recent behavior,” Lan Wangji said, and noted that Wei Wuxian’s choking noises got worse, although he did not actually appear to be in need of air. “Do you object?”

(There was something about Nie Huaisang’s company that reminded Lan Wangji irresistibly of being a child again, he had found, and it was only recently that he had begun to remember that as a child he had once had a tendency to bite. A pleasant rediscovery, even if the sharpness of his teeth were now expressed via paper and ink rather than through physical attacks.)

“You were the one who took a month off,” Nie Huaisang complained, a blatant lie given that Lan Wangji had been on partial duty for no more than two weeks, but dropped into his usual place at Lan Wangji’s side obediently enough. “Lan Zhaaaaaaan, don’t make me do work –”

Lan Wangji was going to say something about how it wasn’t like Nie Huaisang was doing any less work by doing his part in the Unclean Realm rather than being physically present in Gusu for consultations, he was just doing it less efficiently, but that was when Wei Wuxian coughed into his hand.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said, with too much formality, but Nie Huaisang waved his hands at him querulously, clearly disapproving, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Ah – Nie Huaisang. Since when do you call Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan? I thought you called him Lan-er-gongzi?”

“Oh, no, it’s been Lan Zhan since I was – what, seven or so?” Nie Huaisang said. “I wasn’t joking about him being my oldest friend, you know. We were just fighting back then, when you came for the lectures.”

Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly and turned to look at Lan Wangji, who nodded in confirmation.

They’d failed each other rather thoroughly back then, neither one being there for the other when they could have been. Nie Huaisang had not been wrong to observed that simply because he had always been free and open with his affections, Lan Wangji had assumed they would always be there to be resumed at a later time, without any need for maintenance – playing hot and cold, offering and receiving comfort and support at certain times, totally distant at others…it wasn’t until much later, when Lan Wangji emerged from seclusion, that he had needed Nie Huaisang again, and realized what he’d lost in the blank and disinterested glance of the boy he’d once thought of as his friend, who now seemed to visit the Cloud Recesses only in search of his elder brother.

They’d spoken in those intervening years, but it had always been light, superficial. Lan Wangji could have reached out a hand at that time, sought to resume their relationship, but he was consumed with his own grief, his own troubles, and out of respect for the face of his sect he had refused to share them; perhaps if he had, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have done what he had done, would have relied upon him instead.

Perhaps things would have been very different.

It wasn’t until he’d finally swallowed his pride to ask Nie Huaisang for help with the overwhelming work of being Lan sect leader and Chief Cultivator both that they had broken through that distance once more. It had been difficult at first, readjusting their long-lost patterns to their adult behaviors, but they had slowly but surely fallen into a comfortable dynamic that suited them both.

“I had no idea,” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You spend much time together?”

“Nie-xiong assists me in my duties,” Lan Wangji interjected before Nie Huaisang could spout something stupid about eloping, as he was sometimes wont to do. “He has been critical in ensuring that I am not overwhelmed.”

Wei Wuxian mouthed ‘Nie-xiong’, but what he said was, “You, Lan Zhan? Overwhelmed?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My brother went into seclusion,” he explained. “As sect heir, I became responsible for the duties of sect leader of the Lan sect, and I had also accepted the post of Chief Cultivator.”

“And he didn’t have anyone else to help, so he came to me,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully, ignoring how Wei Wuxian’s eye twitched. “I hope you don’t mind. It was very convenient a trade: I know plenty of things about being a sect leader – more than you’d think, I swear! – and Lan Wangji, as Chief Cultivator, can help me whenever someone tries to make something out of that awful business last year.”

There had been a few unfortunate sequelae to those events. Nie Huaisang’s role had never been officially confirmed, but somehow word had gotten out regardless and sects throughout the cultivation world were looking at Nie Huaisang in suspicion – less out of concern for Jin Guangyao, although there were a few that had especially benefited from his rule that were disappointed, than with an eye towards the future. The wise ones were afraid of his patience and planning, but far more were simply greedy, looking for a chance to finally uproot the notorious Headshaker now that his best protection, his brother’s two sworn brothers, were not there to defend him.

As he had promised, Lan Wangji had defied any attempts by others to do anything of that sort.

As he had promised, he would not change his mind or withdraw his support, no matter what Wei Wuxian said.

His shoulders tensed as Wei Wuxian looked over at him, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to need to talk to Jiang Cheng,” he remarked, seemingly unrelatedly, and then said, “Well, I trust Lan Zhan’s judgment.”

Nie Huaisang had covered his face with his fan and was looking over it at Wei Wuxian. “You do? And here I thought you didn’t associate with evil…”

“Those are from Lan Zhan’s sect rules, not mine,” Wei Wuxian declared. “If he doesn’t judge you to be evil, who am I to say otherwise?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

“We should talk more, sometime,” Wei Wuxian continued. “And hey, Nie-xiong, I don’t know if you still collect those books –”

“Oh, of course, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said enthusiastically. “Though you don’t need to ask for them from me. Lan Zhan’s built up quite a collection over the years.”

Lan Wangji sighed, even as Wei Wuxian spun to look at him with a predatory look in his eyes, not unlike a sighthound that had just fixed on its prey. “You do?”

“Nie-xiong has gifted me with many art pieces over the years,” Lan Wangji admitted. His ears felt as though they were on fire; they were undoubtedly red. “You may peruse them at your leisure.”

“At our leisure,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his eyes deeply intent. “I can’t wait to see what spring books you like best, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji averted his eyes, feeling hot.

Nie Huaisang giggled and snapped his fan shut. “You don’t want to see the art I sent, Wei-xiong, trust me,” he cackled. “You want to see the pieces. Just ask!”

Wei Wuxian grinned and shook his head. “I think that’s a private discussion! Anyway, I’m going to go talk to Jiang Cheng – you two work on your Chief Cultivator stuff.”

“Your insight would be welcome,” Lan Wangji said, but Wei Wuxian waved a casual hand.

“Later, later,” he said breezily. “I don’t know either of those sects, I couldn’t possibly say anything intelligent – maybe next time you have a question. I look forward to working with you, Nie-xiong.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Lan Wangji watched them smile at each other – still a little wary, but both clearly willing to attempt a renewal of their own friendship, even after everything – and his heart felt light.

The only thing, he reflected, that would make this perfect would be if Lan Xichen came out of seclusion.

But with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang on the job, they’d be sure to figure out a way to do that soon enough.

He was sure of it.

#mdzs #lan wangji #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #associates #associates was actually supposed to be a one shot fic but then I saw this prompt after writing the first one and felt the need to continue #and here we are #ivydragon

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Risk It All- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader

Prompt: (Royalty!AU) As the princess, you have to hide your relationship with Tom, the stable hand. When your mother sets up a jousting tournament with the prize of your hand, Tom must risk it all to win your heart.

Word Count: 4100

A/N: This is for @geminiparkers ‘s writing challenge under the AU brother’s best friend and the scenario forbidden love and special thanks to @duskholland for proofreading this and correcting me when i literally made up a word

~ Also a melee is a tournament where two groups of knights reenact a battle, and i’m pretty sure we all can picture a joust… but i’m not historically accurate with any of this so oh well

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Moodboard is mine, pics used are not *

~~~~~~

The castle was quiet that afternoon. Harrison was off attending to some royal duties with your mother, and you found yourself making your way down the familiar path to the stables on the far side of the castle. You smiled to yourself as you crossed the cobblestoned road. You pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, your gown catching the stray pieces of hay that lay on the floor. Your smile grew wider as you saw a familiar figure, reorganizing the hay bales to make room for tomorrow’s import.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Tom said, not even sparing a glance in your direction as you came over to him.

“Are you really going to tell a princess what to do, stable boy?” You asked teasingly, a smile playing on your lips. “No one followed me. We’re safe.”

With a laugh, Tom turned around to face you, dusting the hay from his hands on his raggedy pants. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You leaned into his touch, your hands roaming underneath his old shirt, ghosting over his abs that rivaled those of any knight in the kingdom. He pulled away, regretfully admitting, “We shouldn’t- the other stable hands will be here soon.”

“Right.” You let out a small sigh, but neither of you made any effort to move out of each other’s arms. “I wish that we could be together, really together.”

“I wish that, too, but you know the law.”

It was a risky business, all of this sneaking around to be together. You were the princess, you weren’t allowed to marry anyone less than a knight, and Tom was a stable boy, whose family served yours for generations. Despite his status, you would trade your silk gowns and other luxuries for him in a heartbeat, but he wouldn’t let you. Tom feared you’d be unhappy if you left your family, your status, your life for him. The rendezvouses were your only chance at being happy with Tom, even for a few moments. If anyone found out and turned Tom in, he could face dire consequences, and it would be out of your power to protect him.

“I have a gift for you.” Tom said, his hand left your side to pull the gift from his pocket. You looked in awe of the delicate necklace. With one diamond hanging from the silver chain, it was simple, but beautiful. It was much smaller than any of your necklaces, ones that had been made from the best jewels in the world, but it was by far the best necklace you’d ever received. You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you realized that this necklace must’ve cost a fortune by Tom’s standards. “I know it’s not much, but I had the village jeweler make it special, just for you.”

“Tom, it’s beautiful.” You smiled at him, “How much did this cost you?”

“Don’t worry about it, princess. It’s a gift, I don’t expect or need repayment.” He insisted, holding up the necklace, “May I?”

You nodded, slowly turning around so that he could put it on you. The chain was long enough that you could conceal the diamond underneath your dress because, while you admired it, it would draw attention to the two of you. You turned back around in Tom’s arms and leaned in to kiss him again.

Hearing the handle to the stable door creak, you and Tom stepped away from each other’s embrace. He returned to his work, moving the bales of hay around, while you turned to your horse, acting as if you were simply in the stable to care for her. When Harrison stepped through the door, you knew you were being beckoned away from Tom.

“Mother would like to see us.” Harrison told you, and you nodded, stepping away from your horse. He turned to Tom, who had paused his actions, “I’ll be going on a hunt tomorrow with the knights. You should come.”

“I’ll have the horses ready.” He replied. Although Tom was not a knight, Harrison always treated him better than a regular stable boy. In fact, you’d dare to say that Tom was Harrison’s best friend with how the two often spent time together, whether it be on a hunt or training. Tom was a knight, all but in name.

You followed Harrison out of the stables, not bidding Tom more than a simple goodbye. As Harrison fell into step beside you on the way to the throne room, you spoke up, “Did mother say why she needed us?”

“No, but it sounded important.” Harrison replied, his shoulders shrugging a little. “What were you doing in the stables?” It wasn’t an accusatory question, but it certainly felt like one. “I was tending to my horse.”

“That’s what the stable hands are for.” He stated. A small smirk grew on his face. In a hushed tone, he teased, “Was there a certain stable hand you wanted to tend to?”

You bit back an unladylike scoff, “There most certainly was not.” You insisted, acting as if you weren’t currently wearing a pendant from said stable hand.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Harrison dropped his voice even quieter as you two came to a halt outside of the throne room.

You didn’t have time to question him before the grand doors opened, and you two were greeted with the guards lining the throne room and your mother sitting rather anxiously on her throne. Hesitantly, you and Harrison stepped forward until you were directly before her.

“Mother, you called for us.” You said graciously.

“Us? No, I asked Harrison to find you, so that I may speak with you alone.” She corrected you, and you looked over at your brother skeptically.

“I thought perhaps Y/N would feel more comfortable with my presence.” Harrison explained. When your mother just nodded, you spoke up again.

“Have I done something wrong?” You asked, your eyes trailing back to your mother in confusion.

“No, my dear. It has come to my attention, though, that you have caught the eye of suitors within and outside of our kingdom.”

“Suitors?” You didn’t want to believe that you heard her right. Surely, she couldn’t mean-

“Prospective husbands. Princes and dukes alike have taken notice that you are of age and without a suitor.” Your mother stood from her throne and stepped towards you, taking your hands in hers. “I have made the decision that there will be a tournament for your hand.”

“Do I not get a say in any of this?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, but your racing mind, clammy hands, and aching heart made that difficult. All you could think about was Tom and the beautiful necklace secretly dangling around your neck.

“No, our family has done tournaments with the price of the princess’s hand for centuries. Your father had to win a tournament to earn my hand, remember? It will start in two days' time.” You wanted to say something, wanted to tell her that your heart already belonged to the best suitor, but your tongue was caught in your mouth. You wordlessly nodded, though it broke your heart to do so. Your mother smiled and let go of your hands to return to her seat, “It is settled then. The princes and dukes shall arrive tomorrow. We need more servants in the castle to tend to our guests.”

“Will they not bring their own?” Harrison asked, and she shook her head.

“We cannot expect our guests to bring their servants with them. After tomorrow’s hunt, I want all the stable hands to serve our guests.” She insisted. You spared a glance at Harrison, and you could’ve sworn you saw his nose twitch in disapproval. “That’ll be all.”

You and Harrison silently made your way out of the throne room. As Harrison tried to rush off to his bedroom, you grabbed him by the arm, effectively stalling his plans.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You knew there was going to be a tournament for my hand, and you didn’t say anything. How long has mother been planning this?”

Harrison let out a sigh, “She’s been corresponding with the other princes and dukes for a month, but I promise I only found out today. I wanted to stay because I knew you’d be crushed by the news.”

“Crushed? Harrison, my life is being sold off to the champion of a vicious sport. I’d say I’m well passed crushed.” There was no hiding the bitterness in your voice. You let go of him and turned to leave to your own chambers.

Quietly, Harrison called out to you, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Harrison didn’t even have to say the name because you both clearly knew it was Tom he spoke of. You looked back at your brother and with a sad nod, you answered, “Yes. He is not a prince or a duke, and I love him anyway.”

The corridor was quiet for a moment before Harrison spoke up again, “Your secret’s safe with me, but be careful. You both mean a lot to me.”

That night, you hardly slept. You couldn’t stop thinking about Tom and the fact that, in mere hours, you’d be meeting the men championing for your hand. When the sun rose, you stood from your bed and watched from your window as the night was replaced by morning. From your tower, you could see Harrison and his group of knights walking across the courtyard to the stables with the castle’s best hounds, where Tom was waiting for them. As the men all settled onto their horses, Tom looked up, his eyes catching sight of you from your window. Though he was far away, you could tell there was a smile on his face.

He didn’t know yet. You didn’t have time to sneak off to see him yesterday, and you weren’t sure how to deliver the news. You stayed at your window, watching as they all rode off through the castle gate and into the nearby woods, the hounds close at the horses’ sides. A knock on your door from your own servants told you it was time to get ready for the day.

“Bit slow this morning?” Tom asked Harrison as he rode beside him on the familiar trail. The knights were ahead of them, keeping up with the hounds as they searched for today’s kill.

“Not particularly looking forward to tonight.” Harrison muttered, an unimpressed look on his face.

“My mother said there were guests coming. Who are they?” It was a simple question, but it stirred a regretful feeling in Harrison. Tom’s mother was the queen’s closest servant— she knew exactly who was coming. Why she didn’t tell Tom, Harrison didn’t know, but he had a guess.

“Suitors.” He replied. “There will be a tournament, beginning tomorrow for Y/N’s hand.”

Tom immediately stopped his horse, coming to a standstill in the forest as the rest of the nights rode on. Harrison halted as well and turned his horse so he could face his friend. “Oh, I didn’t realize-“

“Tom, I know about you and Y/N.” When he registered the fear in his friend’s eyes, Harrison quickly spoke up, “I won’t tell. You’ve always been a good friend to me, and you don’t treat me differently as the crown prince. I have no reason to wish you or my sister that kind of misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Tom said, taken aback by the prince’s words. They continued their walk as Harrison continued his explanation of the dire events to come.

“My mother’s put together an entire tournament, and the suitors will come tonight. She also expects the stablehands to act as servants to the guests.”

“You mean I’d have to serve one of the suitors?”

“I’m afraid so.” Harrison let out a sigh, and Tom grimaced at the thought. Not only was he going to have to sit back while you married some noble prince or duke, but now he’d have to humiliatingly serve your future husband. Harrison paused in thought, “When we get back to the castle, remind me to look over the tournament scrolls.”

“What use are the tournament scrolls to you?” Tom asked.

With a small chuckle, Harrison responded, “I think I know a way you and Y/N can be together.”

Tom opened his mouth to question him, but the hounds barking ahead pulled them back to the reality of the hunt. The two hurried to catch up to the other knights, ready to partake in the hunting party.

That afternoon, when Harrison, Tom, and the rest of the hunting party returned, the word had spread around the castle of the coming guests. While Tom and the other stable hands took care of the horses, Harrison made his way to the castle library. He searched through the library until he came across the specific tournament scroll he had been searching for. With a smirk on his face, he took the scroll and hurried to find Tom before the welcoming ceremony.

Meanwhile, you adjusted the tiara on your head as you looked yourself over in the mirror again. As much as you dreaded this moment, you just wanted this ordeal to be over with; you’d never be truly happy if you weren’t with Tom. When your servants left you alone in your room, you slipped the small diamond necklace on, letting it fall underneath the material of your dress.

“Y/N? It’s time, my dear.” Your mother called to you from the other side of the door. You stepped out of your room, smiling at your mother through your discomfort.

“I’m ready.” You told her. You walked with your mother down the halls and stairs to the throne room. Your names were announced, and everyone parted ways for the two of you to walk down the aisle. Your mother took her seat at her throne, right in the middle, while you sat in your own throne beside her. Harrison was already seated at this throne on the other side of your mother, his own crown shining brightly under the candlelight. Beside your throne was a small desk, and the royal advisor was seated there with a quill and scroll, prepared to take down the names of the princes and dukes.

By just your third “it’s a pleasure to meet you”, you were bored with the welcoming event. None of the princes or dukes or even knights caught your eye as potential husband material. Still, you remained polite in your kind smiles and words of faux genuinity.

“Prince Arthur, your highness.” A young, blond prince said, bowing respectfully to you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You had heard many stories about him; he was the best jouster in his kingdom. He was by far the most attractive of the suitors. Your eyes didn’t remain on the prince for long as he moved on, and you immediately recognized the next suitor.

“Tom, your highness.” A nervous, yet determined smile played on Tom’s lips while he looked at you. Before you could speak, there was a call from the crowd.

“He’s a stable boy, not a knight!” The bystander exclaimed. Tom’s eyes shifted anxiously over to Harrison, who calmly stood up.

“If he is a stable boy, he cannot-” Your mother started, but Harrison shook his head.

“By law, a tournament is open to any man of age, not exclusively knights or princes or dukes. Tom may proceed in the challenge.” He announced, definitively.

As your mother went to speak again, you cut her off, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bit back a smile as Tom proudly walked off.

The names went on, and, with each additional suitor, you wondered if Tom could succeed in this tournament. Tournaments were a demonstration of military and combat skills, both of which he had limited experience of in comparison to the others. It was a deadly tournament; you just hoped he knew what he’d gotten himself into.

While Tom was allowed to enter, he still had to act as a servant to the castle guests, which meant that, later that evening, while all of the other suitors were asleep, Tom had to work. He was used to cleaning equestrian tack as a stable hand, but he wasn’t used to cleaning them in the dead of night. He was already tired from the preparation for and cleanup after the hunt, and now he was stressed over this upcoming tournament. At this rate, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to clean his own armor and tack in time.

Meanwhile, you could hardly sleep again. From your window, you could see the candle light illuminating the stables, and you knew Tom was down there. Grabbing a couple blankets, you slipped out of your bedroom quietly. You snuck down to the stables, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Perched on a hay bale as he worked on polishing a helmet, Tom jumped from the sudden noise.

“You scared me.” He said, quietly, bags already forming under his eyes.

“I thought you might need some company.” You replied, sitting beside him on the hay. As you draped a blanket over his shoulders, he smiled gratuitously.

“You should be sleeping.” Tom insisted. He began to polish the helmet some more, making sure it was spotless.

“So should you.” You cuddled into his side, seeking his warmth from the cold night air in the stables. “It’s going to be dangerous, you know that?”

“Yes, but Harrison and I have been training together, so I can work a sword.” He replied. “Plus, how hard can a melee be?”

“Tom, it’s a joust, not a melee. I don’t think I’d let you fight if it was a melee.” You laughed a little, and he paused his polishing.

“You don’t think I can win a melee?” Tom asked, looking down at you on his shoulder. You sat up to face him properly.

“I don’t know. These suitors all have military backgrounds. And I’d rather run away with you and abandon my title than have you die trying to win my hand.” You answered, quietly. “A joust isn’t nearly as dangerous, but please, be safe.”

“I will.” Tom gave you a quick kiss, “And I will win tomorrow.”

“My knight in shining armor.” You smiled as your hand ran through his hair, appreciating the messy curls.

“I’m no knight, and I don’t know about shining, but it’s armor.” He nodded over to the rusted armor in the corner. “I’m borrowing it from the widowed milkmaid.”

“Tom,” You laughed a little, knowing exactly how that milkmaid was widowed, as if the crack in the breastplate wasn’t a give away enough. “You can’t wear that.”

“What do I wear then? It’s a bit late for me to ask the blacksmith to custom make armor.” He joked with a small yawn, and you shook your head at him, cupping his cheek.

“I’ll handle it.” You assured him as you pulled him in for another kiss. Tom dropped the helmet and the polishing rag, the metal clanging on the cobblestone of the stable floor, and his hands found your waist. Though the next few days would determine your future, tonight was all about Tom.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the stable door opening. It took you a moment to figure out why you were in the stables before you realized that you had fallen asleep there in Tom’s arms. Tom woke up startled, just the same. You both thought that this could be it, the end of it all, until you realized who was there.

“Y/N, get up before your servants come looking for you.” Harrison urged. You and Tom hurried to stand up and gather blankets. “I thought I told you both to be careful.”

“It was an accident.” You stated, but he just sighed.

“Come on, I need to sneak you into the castle. We can’t have the suitors seeing you like this.” He gestured to your nightgown, which covered you modestly, but he was right; it was rather unladylike to be out in a nightgown. As you and Harrison went to leave the stables, Tom started to finish his job from last night, cleaning Prince Arthur’s armor. “Oh, and Tom, ride my horse for jousting today. He’s never lost a joust.”

Tom looked at his friend incredulously before looking over at the stallion in the stall. “Thank you.”

“That reminds me,” You spoke up, “Harrison, where’s your old armor?”

In just a few hours, it was time for the joust. You sat in the front row of the arena with your mother seated beside you. The suitors began to emerge from their private tents along the sidelines as the announcer called out each name. Harrison came out of Tom’s tent, bearing your own house sigil, and made his way to his seat beside you. Your brother gave you a playful nudge as Tom’s name was called and he stepped out of the tent. It was odd to see him wearing the same armor Harrison had retired just last year, but you felt a sense of pride overcome you. The armor wasn’t bad, but the royal men got new armor every year; besides, Harrison hadn’t been to war, so it wasn’t used much.

The tournament’s first round began, and each suitor got ready for their respective joust. It was a simple jousting tournament; each suitor would take on one other suitor, and the winner would progress to the next round. The rounds would progress until there was one distinct winner left.

You did your best to conceal your nerves for Tom, though one of your hands played with the small chain around your neck. As Tom mounted his horse (technically Harrison’s horse), he got ready for his joust- the first one of the day. He picked up his wooden lance and adjusted the helmet to cover his face. You watched with bated breath while he and his opponent took off, riding towards each other at full speed. A breath of relief coursed through you as Tom’s opponent was struck, falling to the ground.

He had won, but it was the first of many jousts that he had to win. Removing his helmet, Tom sent you a cheeky wink, one that did not go unspotted by your mother beside you. He dismounted and led the horse away, leaving the arena for the next joust.

“So far, so good.” Harrison mumbled to you. He wanted Tom to pull this off, just as much as you did.

“Let’s hope your horse’s winning streak keeps up.” You whispered back to your brother.

The jousting tournament continued on, and every time it was Tom’s turn, the same hopeful nerves came back. Finally, it was down to the last two suitors- Tom and Prince Arthur. As the two got on their horses and into position at either end of the arena, Harrison’s hand slipped into yours, reassuringly squeezing it.

“Come on, Tom.” You muttered under your breath, eyes fixated on him. You held your breath anxiously as the horses went barreling towards each other. Your heart jumped when Tom’s lance made contact with the prince’s armor, and he went crashing to the ground. Tom took off his helmet, and his eyes immediately found you, smiling victoriously.

“He’s a stable boy.” Your mother breathed out incredulously.

“Mother, if he must be a knight to marry Y/N-” Harrison started, ready to wholeheartedly defend Tom, but she cut him off.

“Please, Harrison.” She shushed him, “Prepare the other knights. We’ll have a knighting ceremony this evening. Now,” She paused, smiling at you, “I do believe Y/N has a victor to go meet.”

You looked at your mother in surprise, a smile of disbelief on your face. Wordlessly, you stood up as Tom made his way over to the three of you. He bowed before you, making you let out a laugh. “You won. You did it. And mother will make you a knight, too.”

“A knight? We can really be together then?” He asked you, and you nodded. Without hesitating, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, happy that now he could kiss you publicly. “I love you, my princess.”

“And I love you, my future prince.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker @miraclesoflove

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

#chloe1kwritingchallenge #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fic

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justcourttee · 4 years

Note

I love your sibling Jasonette so much!! If you don't mind, could you do Marinette's first meeting with the rest of the Batfam? Also, this is probably a stupid question but are the rest of the sibling Jasonette stories connected?

Not a stupid question at all! I wrote them so that if you read all of them, there are parallels so that they could be connected, but if people didn’t want to read all of them, they could also stand on their own :)

I also NEVER mind writing more sibling Jasonette ;) Hope you enjoy! @moonlitjiminie

Family Game Night

“What if they don’t like me?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Is that even a real question that you’re asking me? I’m honestly offended right now that you would even think they had an option to not like you.”

He dramatically placed his hand over his heart as if her words had fatally wounded him earning a small giggle from the girl. Slinging his arm over her shoulder, she managed to breathe a small sigh of relief as they made their way up the long staircase.

Jason didn’t even bother knocking as he threw open the manor doors, effectively dragging her in with him.

“Master Jason, what a pleasure to see you attend family game night and with a guest in tow, how lovely.”

An older man stood in the foyer, his sly smile warming Marinette to the core instantly. Jason narrowed his eyes playfully at the man, a sly smile of his own tugging at his lips.

“Marinette, let me introduce you to the only sane person in this household. Mr. Alfred Pennyworth. He likes to pretend he’s just a humble butler, but we all know that he secretly runs the whole thing around here.”

Alfred bowed deeply to Marinette to which she could only curtsey in return.

“It’s a pleasure, sir. I am sorry for invading your family time. I was under the impression that my presence was a known factor tonight.” Her narrowed eyes shot to Jason who simply shrugged, his smirk as arrogant as ever.

“Nonsense, a friend of Master Jason is a friend to all. You are by far the most pleasant friend he has brought to this event.”

Marinette almost wanted to ask about the context of his remark, but something in her gut told her she really didn’t want to know.

“Please, follow me to the sitting room. The rest of the family has already arrived.”

They walked in a comfortable silence down the hall, Marinette nerves slightly frayed now knowing that nobody expected her appearance. Alfred pushed open two oak doors, revealing a brightly lit room filled with many laughing faces. When Jason said he had a lot of siblings, Marinette thought two or three. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

“Oh my god, Jason brought home a girl!”

Instantly all sounds in the room paused as many heads turned their attention to where Marinette stood in the doorway. Hesitantly, she raised her hand in greeting, a sheepish smile gracing her face.

“Everyone, this is Marinette, the legendary designer MDC, and my sister. She’s flown all the way from Paris to meet you losers for some reason so be nice.”

Marinette mumbled a quiet hello as a few smiles broke through the room welcoming her. Instantly, a blonde girl jumped up to drag her back to where she was previously sitting, ignoring Jason’s protests.

“You just have to play on my team tonight! Are you any good at Pictionary? I mean I’m not great, but I can say with utmost confidence that I can beat most of the people in this room.”

“That’s not true!” Marinette’s attention was split as one of the men started an argument with her as to who was the better pictionary-ist. She didn’t even notice when Jason had sat beside her, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“The rude blonde is Stephanie Brown. She’s Timmy boys girlfriend, who would be the dead zombie looking kid over there.”

Marinette’s gaze followed to where Jason pointed, a small giggle escaping at his accurate description. The poor boy looked like he hasn’t gotten a good night's sleep a single day in his life.

“The rude boy arguing with Stephanie would be Dick. He practically rivals your optimism except his happy go lucky actually disgusts me.”

The man paused from his argument, a horrified expression on his face.

“I like to think my optimism is a blessing.”

That earned a collective groan from the room to which he simply crossed his arms into a pout.

“Anyways, continuing, the redhead is Barbara Gordon-Grayson who unfortunately has trapped herself in the position of Dick’s wife. A tragedy really for such a beautiful woman, I mean she could’ve had me and instead she chose him? The world just isn’t right.”

Another protest came from Dick’s direction as he turned his pout into Barbara’s outstretched arms as her attempt to not laugh failed miserably.

“The one staring you down while trying to pretend he’s not interested at the same time would be your future husband Damian.”

Marinette felt her entire face flush red as she reached back slapping Jason in the stomach as hard as he could.

“Todd, I do not appreciate harassing this young woman. You are beneath her in status and beauty therefore you should not be allowed to get off with this insult to her self so easily.”

Damian stood from his spot, careful not to make eye contact with Marinette as he sped past her toward the room’s only exit. She wanted to call out and ask him to stay, but the pink on his cheeks caused her to pause. He probably was just as embarrassed as her and just needed some time to breathe.

“Jason, that was mean! Look at how flustered you made him!”

Jason simply laughed as he reached over to ruffle her hair.

“Trust me, he never gets ‘flustered’ that was all you.”

For the second time that night, Marinette felt her face flush.

“He’s right you know!” Her eyes turned back to the blonde from earlier who stared her down with a playful expression in her eyes. “Demon spawn definitely has a crush on you.”

The rest of the family took turns picking at her, taking jabs until she was sure there wasn’t one part of her that wasn’t bloodshot red.

“Alright, alright, give the girl some space. We want her to return eventually!”

Marinette smiled gratefully toward the dark-haired man.

“After all, I need to get to know my future daughter-in-law.”

She instantly regretted her friendly gesture as the room exploded once more, smiles and laughter filling the room. Why exactly had she let Jason talk her into this?

“Okay, okay, really though guys. It’s game night! Time to pick team captains.”

Stephanie’s devilish smile sent shivers through Marinette’s spine. It was purely chaotic, reminding her of another blonde that she had left behind.

“I vote Marinette and Jason, the ultimate sibling showdown!” Dick puffed out his chest as his voice mimicked what sounded suspiciously like a wrestling ref that her father loved to watch.

“I’m down, how about you princess?”

Marinette bit her lip as her eyes glanced around the room at their waiting faces. Her eyes caught sight of one brooding face that she couldn’t seem to pass by. He also seemed to be waiting, his eyes nervously glancing from her position to the door as if he might bolt at any moment.

“It’s game on Todd.”

They shook their hands defiantly, both wearing dangerous smirks. Maybe she could salvage her pride tonight; not just hers’ but Damian’s as well. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Ladies first.”

Marinette and Jason stood on opposite sides of the room, both watching each other with an intense look that came from their competitive natures. She scanned the eager faces of his family thoughtfully. She had no idea what any of them were good at, but she wanted to maintain appearance for the psych of it.

“Damian.”

Everybody broke out into smirks as they shared knowing looks. She didn’t bother to pay them any mind as the pink-cheeked boy rose to stand with her.

“Wrong move princess, demon spawn hates game night more than he likes to win. My first choice? Stephanie.”

The girl pumped her fist in the air as she joined Jason on his side. Marinette leaned toward where Damian stood, hiding half her face behind her hand.

“Time to strategize, who is my best bet?”

Damian stared at her with a bewildered expression.

“C’mon beau garçon, I need your help if we’re gonna kick Jason’s ass.”

He nodded slowly as if that were a perfectly reasonable excuse to kick into gear.

“Grayson is the leading contender if you wish to win tonight.”

Marinette nodded as she motioned for Dick to join them as well. Jason raised an eyebrow at her as he called over Tim, challenging her to pick from the remaining two.

“Okay Damian, Barbara or Bruce.”

He didn't bother responding as he pointed at his father, leaving the redhead to Jason’s team.

It was five hours of intense games, Alfred keeping score as an unaffiliated third party,( after all, they had all agreed that he was the fairest way to keep the games moving.) They all sat in anticipation while he tallied the scores. She couldn’t seem to calm her nerves as she stared at Jason’s cocky smirk.

Marinette felt a warmth brush by her kneecap. Instantly her head snapped to where a hand rested before her gaze reached back up to his face, a light red dusting across her cheeks. Immediately his hand retracted.

“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate, your knee was just bouncing anxiously from the corner of my eye and it was a slight bother.”

Marinette muttered out a small sorry before they both broke their gaze, the blush evident on both of their cheeks.

“And with a final score of 5-4, the winning team is… Miss Marinette!”

Her whole team jumped from the couch in excitement. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Damian’s neck. Realization crossed her face as she quickly retracted her hug, her entire face as red as could be. God, she hadn’t been this much of a blushing mess since she was thirteen.

They all chatted idly for a few minutes before Jason finally intercepted, insisting he had to get her back to her apartment before it got too late. The whole family waved her goodbye, minus one red-faced teen who instead handed her a small piece of paper as discreetly as he could, ignoring the taunts from his family behind his back.

As they drove back to her apartment, Marinette couldn’t hold her excitement anymore.

“I don’t know why you were warning me so much, I think I’m in love with your family Jason.”

His familiar smirk sat on his face as he turned into the apartment’s lot.

“I told you they were going to love you, and what do you know? I didn’t even have to give Damian your number, you two worked it out on your own. I truly believe they are planning out your wedding right now.”

Marinette shook her head as she reached over the console to hug Jason tightly before stepping out of the car. She wanted to deny accusations of what happened tonight, but she knew it would just fuel his picking.

Besides, even she couldn’t deny that she was excited for the next family game night and if she saw a certain Wayne there, well, that really wouldn’t be so bad.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava

#daminette #jasonette #maribat

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years

Note

Can you do a headcanon or scenario for reaper,mccree,genji,soldier where their s/o shows them that there is some fanfiction and headcanons about them?

Genji, McCree, Reaper, and Soldier: 76 x gender neutral reader

What’s up with all this 4th wall breaking shit

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Swearing

Gabriel Reyes

The man already has trust issues, so the minute he sees a ‘photo’ of himself, he’s skeptical. He’s not as much of a boomer as people paint him out to be, in fact, he’s not even gen z, so the first thing he does is check the publish date.

He’s silent, but he’s freaking out in his head.

The date is recent. He wouldn’t have pardoned it completely if it were from around the time when he was the Overwatch Strike Commander, but compared to something recent? Talon isn’t one for going public, neither is Blackwatch, so how the hell would people get their hands on a photo of him?

He assumes the post is something either exposing him, news about something he did, a wanted poster, or some rando somewhere that somehow got a picture of him and was asking who he was.

He’s so consumed in creating plausible reasons as to why there’s a picture of him, that he almost forgets to read the title. Almost.

“ ‘Reaper x gender neutral reader’ ” He reads under his breath. He pauses for a second, contemplating. “What the fuck.”

He knows what this means, vaguely remembers it from when he was younger, 40 years ago. Damn that made him feel old, but this isn’t the focus right now.

First of all, how would somebody be attracted to him? No offense to his s/o, but who would fall in love with a masked man? If only you knew, Gabe.

Second, how-- what? The fuck? People shouldn’t even know of his existence, yet here this was.

“Gabe, you good?” He doesn’t look good, but you ask anyway.

“No.” His response is immediate. He’s not good, he’s not good at all. He’s not even going to read this thing, he’s going to go straight to Talon and find out who the fuck told anybody about his entire existence.

“It’s nothing.” You hold him back from standing up, reassure him with one of your caring smiles. But this time, it doesn’t work.

He’s uneasy, creeped out, and a little angry. Imagine how hard it would be as a Talon executive if everybody knew who he was.

Talon and publicity don’t mix.

“Honey, not everybody knows about you.” Your attempts to reassure him are futile.

Anyway, this results in even more trust issues and some dead Talon workers.

Genji Shimada

“Genji.” You called, patting the spot next to you. The fact that your smile was a little eager and you looked excited made him a bit hesitant. What did you have for him today?

The last time you were this excited, you had something weird to show him.

“Look.” You held out your phone in front of him.

The first thing he saw was a picture of himself. It was a little creepy because of how much detail it had, but he brushed it off, seeing as during his last few years of the organization were Overwatch years. If he were still in Blackwatch he would definitely be creeped out.

The second thing he saw was the title, ‘Genji x gender neutral reader’ “What does that mean?” He asked.

“It’s fanfiction.” You replied.

“Fanfiction? What’s-- Oh.” He vaguely remembers what fanfiction is from his younger years. He wasn’t particularly one for reading them, even with his crushes on some fiction characters, but one of his best friends did.

Then it dawned on him. “Wait, Genji x… Oh. Oh! What the fu--”

He nearly yeets your phone away from himself. If you weren’t there to stop him, he would’ve yeeted it.

He’s confused to all hell. “WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?! HOW DO THEY KNOW WHO I AM?! WHY ARE THEY ATTRACTED TO A CYBORG?!”

That’s… quite the insult to you, seeing as you’re dating him…

Anyway, you literally have no idea either, but hey, his reaction was fun. Genji wondered what they would do if they knew you two were dating. Then he remembered, ships are a thing and we’re a literal ship come true. All the explicit, r-rated, angst, fluff, crack that would be written--

He looks like he’s having an existential crisis.

To lighten the situation, you decide to let him read it. Even though that was the cause of all these problems, why did you suggest this--?

He’s so silent throughout the whole thing that you might even think he’s overheated if he didn’t have his mask off.

When he’s done, he looks up and around the room. Unbeknownst to you, he’s trying to find the ‘cameras’ that are surely in here somewhere. How else would they know about him?

Once he accepts that there are no cameras, and in fact, there is no way that anybody could be this accurate, yet they are, he gives up.

“How are they so accurate?” He sighs, sinking into the couch.

“Let’s not think about that.” You try to reassure him, you try to pull the phone away from him but he holds on tight.

He narrows his eyes at you, “How many are there?”

36, counted them myself. 36?!

“A lot.” Your reply was vague… judging by your look, it was on purpose.

“(y/n), what the fuck.”

To sum it up, existential crisis.

Jack Morrison

“What’s this?”

He’s not startled by the picture of him, since he was the commander of Overwatch, they even made a statue of him. But then he realizes this isn’t any old picture of him, this is a picture of him in the present, with his old grey and visor instead of the usual blonde and young look.

He has to hold himself back from cursing up a storm. As much as he wants to, it wouldn’t help the situation.

He moves from the picture to the title, hoping that it’s either just a coincidence, somehow, or some picture of him from street cameras, even if it was in good quality.

“Soldier: 76 x gender neutral reader.” He reads to himself. “What?”

“It’s fanfiction.”

“What’s that?” Oh, he is such an old man. Even though Reaper is older than him, he knows.

You have to explain it all to him. The definition of the word ‘fanfiction’ itself weirds him out, but to learn that it’s both fanfiction and self-shipping of him himself and the reader?

“How do they know who I am?”

“I don’t know, dear.” You reply. This was not a good idea.

He moves on curiously to reading the contents of said fanfiction. The way he talks, the way they describe how much of a private man he is, it feels like they’ve written him just like he is.

It’s eary, and it creeps him out to hell to the point of sending a shiver down his spine.

“Did you make this?” He asks. He knows you wouldn’t do something like this, but he’s only hoping that you made this only to keep himself sane.

“No.”

Without the protection of hope, his mind wanders all places. This isn’t a coincidence. What is this? Who made this? Do I have to smother the source?

Panic settles in.

This is your fault now, you have to make sure he either forgets this or that the author means no harm.

Panik Boy

Jesse McCree

“D-Darling, what is this?” He lets out a nervous laugh at the sight of himself. How the hell did they make it look just like him? Maybe it was a thank you gift, like a painting of gratitude for his vigilante work, that ought to explain it, right?

Then he read the title, ‘Jesse McCree x gender neutral reader’. “What does this mean?”

“It’s a ship,” He nods and hums, he knows what ships are. His cousin had plenty of them from one of their Thursday afternoon cartoons when they were younger. “Of the reader, the one reading the story--”

“It’s a story?” Jesse interrupts, his brow is raised and he looks thoroughly confused.

“Yes, it’s a story,” You continue, stating your sentences like a teacher would a toddler. “The reader, being shipped with you.”

“W-With me?” The fact that he’s stuttering should be giveaway enough for you to tell he’s conflicted. “Wha-- How would that work?”

You explained again, this time slower and with more detail, hoping he’d understand.

He did this time, but of course you’d have questions to answer.

Why did you think this was a good idea?

“Well how do they know about me? I haven’t done any interviews or nothin’.”

God you wish you knew. Maybe if you did it’d be funnier. “No idea, babe.”

He had many questions but he didn’t want to bother you with them, since you probably didn’t know the answers based on that question. So instead, he focused on the fan fiction itself.

The way they described what he said, it was just like how he talked. They nailed the accent. They knew all his habits, his personality… how the hell did they know?

He puts the phone away and reassures you he’s fine, but you’re sure he’s not fine.

He has trust issues after this, he can’t help but think for at least 5 seconds about anybody around him and their ulterior motives.

#reaper x reader #genji x reader #mccree x reader #soldier: 76 x reader #jesse mccree x reader #genji shimada x reader #gabriel reyesx reader #jack morrison x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch scenarios #anonymousrequest

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tweedstoat · 3 years

Note

In a Rhaegar wins au where Dany is tptwp how do you think that affects his relationship with her and with his children? Especially if none of his kids are dragon riders?

so this ask has been sitting in my ask box for a while and I’ve been meaning to get around to it but I just saw a post that really irritated me so I’m kind of going to use your ask as a segue to talk about why I think Rhaenys not being a dragon-rider in an AU is a terrible idea unless handled very, very well.

I’ve been active in this fandom for an average/sort of long time (about 5-6 years), and let me say that it is ONLY ever Rhaenys and Aegon (whether you believe he’s real or fake) who are subjected to this ridiculous level of nit-picking over their ‘powers’. The post I saw was contending that Rhaenys could have her Roynish water magic from her ancestors but that she could never wake dragons (or freed slaves but that’s a whole other can of worms) like Daenerys did but that its fine because she has her special Rhoynish magic to fall back on.

Here’s the thing though. At its core that argument is deeply unsound because there’s already a character who will likely have access to powers from ‘both sides of his family’ - Jon Stark! I get that fandom head-canons aren’t fact yet so we don’t know if Jon will be a dragon rider or not but let me just say I have never ONCE seen anyone try to argue in meta that Jon can’t ride a dragon because he’s already a warg and therefore he should simply be content with his Stark powers.

Furthermore, any argument that Daenerys is somehow more special or integral to waking the dragons than Rhaenys is always going to descend into Valyrian eugenics tm because that’s what the whole idea is predicated on.

You can’t make the point that Rhaenys doesn’t have the personality or drive to make similar decisions to Daenerys like you could in a Jon vs Daenerys argument because Rhaenys was murdered far too young for us to make accurate predictions about her nature.

You can’t make the argument that Rhaenys would never be treated terribly like Daenerys and would be in a better position because of her Dornish connection because:

a) she was treated worse than Daenerys in text. She literally was murdered, and her family couldn’t do anything to seek justice for her. Idk why people think the Martell’s are going to be all-powerful in a situation where the war went down in the exact same way except Rhaenys lived. In fact you could argue that they would be in a far worse position because they’d be more closely monitored and would have to be very very quiet if they were aiding Rhaenys

b) Whether you believe the fake Aegon theory or not the fact is that Illyrio, Varys and Jon Con managed to raise a boy they claimed was Aegon Targaryen for roughly 15 years without the Martells finding out. In a Rhaenys lives AU she could very well end up with Jon Con and Aegon and given the status of women in the story her hand very well could be given away in marriage (Think Calla Blackfyre being married to her half-uncle Aegor Rivers) and it could progress in a similar fashion to what happened to Daenerys and Drogo. Especially since Daenerys didn’t randomly get those eggs – they were given to her by Illyrio.

c) Any statements about how Rhaenys is “too Dornish” to ever wake a dragon are ridiculous given that due to the repeated sibling incest Daenerys herself is ¼ Dornish. According to half these theories Daenerys herself should be too *gasp* non-Valyrian and therefore not special enough herself to wake the dragons.

Everything about a Rhaenys lives AU is purely speculation and I very much hate it when in a series with dragons and magic people draw the line at a brown girl being special in the way their super cool Targaryen faves like Jon and Daenerys are.

And the thing is I hate making arguments like this because they make me sound like a Daenerys anti when I’m not? The core issue in Daenerys’ story is that she’s a strong female character who does make morally questionable choices and therefore is hated by a large chunk of the fandom who are just outright sexist. But also, that Daenerys is a white character in the midst of, let us be frank, mostly flat characters who GRRM didn’t develop further because he decided to lean on racist tropes and this understandably pisses people off. Oh and let’s not forget the ‘Targaryen madness” idea used to argue that Daenerys is doomed to be mentally ill and evil like her father. Daenerys story and her fandom presence is a hodgepodge of sexism, racism, and the stigmatisation of mental illness. Its seriously hard to engage in these debates because it’s hard to untangle the threads.

Anyways back to your original question. I think Rhaegar would be absolutely crushed that Daenerys was TPWWP instead of Aegon who he believed was the one all along. I don’t characterize Rhaegar as actively malicious (more selfish, stupid, and with a messiah complex) so I think the idea that he plunged Westeros into a continent wide-war for nothing would deeply weigh on him. Throw in the personal element of how much hes destroyed his relationships with his children, and with Elia and Lyanna and I don’t see it getting better.In fact I see Rhaegar as harbouring an enormous amount of guilt about his treatment of all three of his children and it never really resolving itself because i head-canon Rhaegar as not the most emotionally intelligent.

Honestly even in a situation where 1 or more of his children end up as dragon riders I don’t see Rhaegar being too happy because he would have still had the wrong idea all along and made terrible decisions based on those wrong ideas.

#Anonymous #asks

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drops-of-moonlights · 3 years

Text

I LOST THE FUCKING ASK FOR THIS BECAUSE THIS IS A FUNCTIONAL WEBSITE, but to the anon that asked me which out of the 6 Winx I don’t like? The answer’s Flora.

Well, that’s not completely accurate. Sometimes I like her. But by and large she’s definitely my least favorite of the main girls, and is the one character that just frustrates me most of the time.

Being fair to my own biases, over the years I’ve grown bored and annoyed with the stock Kind And Shy character archetype, so of course I wouldn’t be as fond of Flora as I was as a kid (tho even as a kid I wasn’t really super into her either), but as the seasons moved on, I found myself getting even more annoyed with her.

Outside of her being the absolute flattest characterization-wise of the entire main cast a good 90% of the time, being reduced to “flower mom”, Flora also ends up as a hypocrite and on accident, constantly giving (often unwanted) relationship and communication advice for the girls when a) she’d rather ask the new girl in the group to stalk her crush, up to and making her commit breaking-and-entering to dig info on the dude instead of ATTEMPTING to initiate a normal human conversation, and b) instead of actually talking with her boyfriend about the jealousy she felt when seeing him with a childhood friend of his or actually talking with said girl to establish some sort of boundaries, she decided to just sit still, hope that everything is sorted out on its own, and when it wasn’t fixed by a miracle she was like “welp we’re over. nothing to do about it”. And this wouldn’t be an issue in other situations! It’s a good character flaw! But it’s not PRESENTED as a character flaw but a virtue of hers, and that’s what bothers me.

On top of that, as much as Flora and Helia are flauntered as the perfect couple, they never actually attempt to show that. For starters, we never see them ACTUALLY spend time as a couple until Season 5, when they started dating at the end of Season 2. Of course it helped that Helia simply Does Not Exist in S3, but even in S4 they didn’t have many moments that aren’t also shared with the other couples, and the few they did have on their own, they weren’t the best, mostly arguing about Musa and Riven’s break-up. And the reason I make this point, despite already hearing people be like “but Drops isn’t that true of all non-Skoom/MuRi couples?” the answer is no! It’s actually not! Brella and Tecmmy get completely separate scenes that are just about them throughout the series, however small. Florelia doesn’t get them as often.

I already pointed out the issues she had relationship-wise in S5, but HOO BOY WERE S6 AND S7 WORSE ON THAT. S6 had her be angry with Helia because he was almost murdered by a plant and thinking he was not reliable to do even the most basic tasks she asked him to do, while Helia was angry with Flora for not bothering to explain said tasks. S7 gave us the epitome of the terrible writing, as during that season Flora is 2 steps away from murdering Helia due to the simply act of existing. Throughout the season she’s constantly bothered by his presence, blames most of the minor mishaps on him even when he wasn’t present, and the less we talk about their clashes regarding how to raise the pure being that is Amarok, the better. THEY MADE SKOOM SEEM A PERFECTLY STABLE COUPLE. S K O O M

I admittedly don’t remember much about S8 (waiting for the Latin Spanish dub to drop to do a full rewatch), but they also made a point of marking them as the perfect couple in the same episode they almost break up because they were angry the other decided to support Musa/Riven instead of Riven/Musa, the other party obviously in the wrong.

Even with this, I do give her a small amount of slack because bad romance writing affects all non-Tecmmy couples, so it’s not something completely unique to her, but the show trying to give Flora/Helia the perfect couple status despite clear evidence to the contrary is why I don’t cut her too much slack.

I also don’t like how Flora’s referred to as the second-strongest Winx after God-Power-Infused Bloom despite how often she’s the first girl to get knocked the fuck out in a fight, and even when she doesn’t get out first, she never does anything meaningful for the fight either, not even act as healer or other forms of meaningful support. Flora tends to simply use one (1) spell, see it fail, and be like “well my job’s done y’all deal with it”. And that’s if she’s not fighting anything nature-related after S2, in that case she will willingly put herself between the thing they’re fighting and the rest of the Winx’s attacks, even when the enemy is actively trying to kill her. And sure, this isn’t unique to her and more of the stock Plant Lover Activist trait, but when it happens every single episode, as with S5 or S7, it gets grating really fast and ends up seeming as an excuse for her to not actually do anything at all.

And even with all this I WOULD be willing to enjoy and even like Flora if she had any significant subplots, but oh, what do we have here? She has absolutely nothing outside of her relationship with Helia and her power over plants. Nothing! Because Flora’s entire personality (what little she has, at least, even with the previous ranting) is entirely about plants, and nothing else. She doesn’t get anything else going on for her, no subplots about overcoming her supposed shyness, no subplots about her relationship with the girls outside of the generic friendship she has with everyone that isn’t Bloom or Aisha, not even any meaningful subplots about ANYTHING ELSE she might like! The girl doesn’t even have hobbies outside of her plants! And sure, Tecna and Musa suffer from the same but at least they get stuff outside of it. The closest thing Flora has to any kind of subplot is her strained relationship with Miele, and that’s only because SHE HERSELF strained it via her sudden distrust for her little sister’s agency.

I feel like I have to reiterate that I don’t hate her, but god, she’s one of the biggest wastes of potential in the franchise, and what bothers me more, with all this I’ve said already, is how everyone in-universe praises her, how she’s the canon’s Golden Child that does no wrong. Flora is the perfect fairy, the perfect friend, the perfect girlfriend, the perfect everything.

Whenever people talk about completely-perfect characters that never get confronted on anything and when they do the other party’s wrong, they shouldn’t herald Bloom as the main example.

The main example is Flora.

#Drops screams into the abyss for Winx #Winx Club #Flora

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ddagent · 3 years

Note

idk what sahd means but jb having only daughters modern au

yes I prompted all 3 of them no I have no regrets

Aaaah thank you so much for prompting! SAHD = stay at home dad. I did intend to write that version but felt it was too much like my Modern Lion Pride. So I decided to do this idea with twist. I hope you enjoy it!

“Do we really have to do this, Uncle?”

“I’m afraid so,” Tyrion said, adjusting Joanna’s collar before lamenting at the state of Catelyn; all grass stains and bloody knees. “Dearest niece, why don’t you go upstairs and get changed? Maybe into a nice—”

It was at that point that Jaime intervened. He was already annoyed with his brother interrupting their carefully cultivated Sunday plans (chocolate crepes, two-aside in the garden, before a seafood barbecue) for this ridiculous video interview. But with the upcoming reboot of Harrenhal High, Tyrion had thought that a little extra press about Jaime and Brienne’s family would give them and the show a boost.

Not that he or Brienne thought they needed more attention. They had received more than their fair share since he and the girls had joined Brienne on the red carpet for her latest feature. “Tyrion, Cat is fine.” He turned to his eldest. “You look great.”

“The crew is here now, anyway.”

Brienne’s hand slipped inside his left and squeezed; Jaime instantly biting back the comment that Tyrion was far too much like their father than he realised. Unlike Tyrion, Jaime was a good brother, which was why he, his wife of twenty years, and their three girls were lined up outside their Tarth home to meet with Melara Hetherspoon and her crew. She was petite and pretty, with curly dark hair and a smile that was as bloodthirsty as most entertainment reporters Jaime had met over the years.

Instantly, the camera was rolling. “Jaime, good to see you.” She pressed her lips to his cheek in a kiss; pink lipstick staining his skin long after she’d moved away. “I don’t know whether you remember, but I had a three-episode guest arc on Harrenhal High.”

“I do!” He said politely. His enthusiasm and blatant fib brought Elinor into stifled laughter; her eldest sister elbowing her in the ribs out of decorum. “You obviously know Brienne, as well.”

No kiss this time. Not for his co-star, best friend, and wife. “Of course, Brienne, so lovely to see you again.”

“And you.”

“Shall we? I am dying to see where you’ve been keeping yourself all these years!”

Together, the medley of Lannisters and press trundled into the large seafront property that Jaime and Brienne had bought shortly after Catelyn’s birth. The lounge area was fitted with panoramic windows that opened out onto the ocean; a stack of board games for their Sunday afternoon laid atop the coffee table. Melara’s camera crew got everything: from the rarely seen photographs of their small wedding to picture after picture of their girls.

A pot of tea and a plate of lemon curd biscuits were already laid out. The five of them sat in shot; ten-year-old Joanna burying herself into Jaime’s side while the other two girls sat with their mother.

“Please, help yourself,” Jaime said, waiting until Melara had poured herself a cup of tea before helping himself to a biscuit. Elinor grabbed one, too; crumbs spraying down the front of her button-down. Behind the camera, Tyrion groaned. “They’re Brienne’s father’s secret recipe. Delicious but crumbly.”

But Melara wasn’t here for biscuits. “So. Jaime Lannister. Star of Harrenhal High. You were well-known for being a heartthrob back then. I can see somethings have not changed.”

Jaime did not miss the amused looks exchanged between Elinor and Catelyn. He did, however, miss whatever look his wife was throwing him, although no doubt he would be informed of it later; teased mercilessly over his hunk status. “I was on the cover of a few teen magazines.”

“The front of Rose Magazine for eleven straight editions! I, uh, I still have eight of them.” Melara fiddled with her collar. “You played Jay Hill, the resident bad boy of Harrenhal High who was always flirting with Jeyne Rivers, the school’s most virtuous student.”

Beside him, Catelyn snorted. “Gods, what a cliché.”

“I mean, seriously!” Elinor scoffed, joining in her sister’s critique. “Who did you play, Mum? The top athlete who suffers from a trope-heavy literacy problem?”

Brienne had, in fact, played Alys Storm: head of the girl’s football team and owner of an unrequited crush on drama geek Petyr Waters. Brienne’s own crush on Waters’ actor, Renly Baratheon, had been well-documented on set, and the writers had quickly moved on to pairing Jay and Alys in school shenanigans. They had played best friends on the show and in real life for four years. Alys had been Jay’s best woman when he had married Jeyne in a college special.

“Talking about the show, do you ever see Catelyn Tully at all?”

“Aunt Cat?” Joanna piped up, answering Melara’s question. “We see her on Dash once a week, and we visit her and Uncle Ned before Sevenmas.”

Jaime grinned. “Cat was a great friend to Brienne and me. We actually named our eldest after her. She’s amazing; both Brienne and I are sad she won’t be joining us for the reboot.”

“The reboot of Harrenhal High; such exciting news! Your return to television after being away for so, so long. Your last project was The Kingsguard, I believe.”

Jaime stiffened. Joanna felt him freeze beside her and wrapped two arms around his middle; her blonde hair brushing his shoulder. Elinor squeezed his hand, although it was the other one that was damaged. A horrible accident, the press had called it. A terrible tragedy. In a split second, he had gone from the paparazzi getting shots of him with dates to them sneaking into his physical therapy sessions. All because of some cunts who didn’t care for being talked down to by the talent.

“I don’t–I don’t really want to talk about The Kingsguard.”

“But it was your last television project. Your last major project; the few screen credits you’ve racked up in the last twenty years have been from bit parts in dramatic movies or voiceover work. I mean, you were Jaime Lannister. And then you just disappeared.”

Catelyn shifted forward; both hands clutching her bare knees. “He still is Jaime Lannister.”

“Oh, Sweetling, I know, but you have to understand he was on top of the world! Any movie, any show, any girl. Then he just ups and disappears. Hells, no one even knew about you three until two moons ago!”

Rather than grow upset, his daughters – lions, each and every one of them – went for the kill.

“And that really upsets you, doesn’t it?”

“I mean, as a journalist—”

“—if you can call yourself a journalist; reporter may have been more accurate—”

“—the whole profession missed that Jaime Lannister not only was married but had not one—”

“—not two—”

“—but three of us!” finished Joanna, raising three fingers to the camera. “You must be really annoyed with yourself.”

Before the lions could circle their prey any further, Brienne took charge of the interview. “We are really excited to be taking part in this reboot. We love the show, and we both felt, now that the girls are older, we could step back into the limelight. It can be so difficult with intrusive press. But not with you.” Brienne bared her teeth. “We welcomed you into our home to show you our family.”

Buoyed by the support of his wife and daughters, Jaime rose to his feet. “Come on, Melara. Why don’t we show you the rest of the house?”

Tyrion, no doubt already on the phone with Melara’s producers, gave Jaime a supportive nod as they showed the camera crew round their home. They told stories of family dinners and baking exploits. Joanna showed Melara her dollhouse (well, doll castle) and all the Age of Dragon-era dresses she had sewn herself. Elinor went through the stack of books on her shelves and even allowed Melara to try out her hammock – and did not laugh when she fell out of it. Cat’s room was wallpapered with Tarth FC posters and a framed strip from the first team to allow women players.

When it aired a week later, the segment about The Kingsguard was cut. There were, however, lots of shots of Jaime and Brienne and their girls looking like the picture-perfect family they really were.

#remuslovestonks #braime #jaime x brienne #ship: braime #mine: paragraph prompts

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

Text

into you

request: 51 w Makar? I love that smiley guy sm !

prompt: “Smile.” - “No.” - “You’re smiling, though!” / number 51 off of this list with Cale Makar.

summary: Cale’s teammates like you, but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to chirp him for how into you he is.

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k

“I don’t know how you managed to trick me into this.” You huffed as you exited your apartment, your ever-smiley best friend waiting patiently for you to lock your door.

“Because you love me?” He offered, just enough teasing in his voice to have you grinning despite the sleepiness that still had its grips on you. Cale, the redheaded boy who occupied most of your thoughts, led the way to the elevator, chuckling softly to himself at your response, which was little more than an annoyed grumble.

See, you couldn't let him know just how accurate his teasing response was. You had been head over heels for the sweet boy the moment you saw him offer to pay for an old lady's coffee at the small cafe you worked for. He was cute, sweet, and the way he stumbled over his words as he ordered endeared him to you almost instantly. After him coming into the cafe a few more times, he was brave enough to ask when your shift ended so you could get a cup of coffee with him. You wasted no time in agreeing to go with him, hoping that it would be an impromptu first date, but he gave no sign that he was interested in being anything other than friends. So, you remained in his life, but as the supportive best friend.

Which was how you found yourself in your current position, waking up early on your day off just to go shopping for a charity event that you weren't even sure you wanted to go to.

The charity part wasn’t the problem, the whole getting up early to shop for a completely new outfit was why you were so annoyed. And since Cale insisted that he paid for you, no matter how vehemently you told him no, he had to come shopping with you.

Cale, bless his heart, was doing his best to find something you liked. You had given him a gist of what you were looking for, and he finding pieces that actually fit your style. Still, he not everything his picked were winners.

“What about this?” Cale asked, brows furrowed as he studied the fabric. You knew he was serious, but the clothing his picked out was so absolutely ridiculous, you couldn't help but giggle.

“Cale, it’s neon yellow.” You explained when he looked to you to explain what was wrong with his choice. The redhead’s cheeks turned even more rosy, and you turned back to the rack to try and distract yourself from intrusive thoughts telling you red was now your favorite color.

He was going to be the death of you.

A few days later found you all dressed up and following Cale into a ballroom packed with people. Your hand was clasped tightly around his wrist as he used his hockey frame to maneuver you through the crowd. A few times you were stopped by someone usually thirty years Cale’s senior to talk to him about hockey statistics and all things related.

You could tell he was just humoring everyone while looking for an escape. His usual smile replaced by a tight-lipped one that told you he wanted to be anywhere but where he was, though he would never admit it.

Just because he had to entertain the old men didn’t mean you had to, and when you spotted three blondes standing off to the side, somehow avoiding attention, you knew it was your one chance to get away. Waiting until it was Cale’s turn to talk, you squeezed his forearm and whispered that you were going to talk to Mel before separating. He shot you a pained look that only you spotted, and you grinned mischievously at him. You both knew what you were doing, but it didn't make you feel bad about leaving the redhead with the men that were asking a thousand and one questions.

As soon as she spotted you, Mel Landeskog was calling your name. Her husband Gabe was standing next to her, arm wrapped securely around her waist. Beside them, Erik Johnson stood, having decided this was an occasion to wear his fake teeth. Shortly after your friendship with Cale developed outside of the cafe you worked at, he introduced you to his team. They were fun to hang out with and you grew close to Mel like she was your older sister, with Gabe and EJ being the annoying brothers.

“You look fantastic.” Mel complimented, pulling you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach. You returned the sentiment, Gabe and EJ both taking turns to embrace you annoyingly tight after. The smug look on both of their faces almost made you want to turn back and rejoin Cale in the stifling conversation about Colorado’s third period goal statistics and how to improve them.

“You two make me nervous.” You chuckled, looking between the boys before raising a brow at Mel for an explanation. You knew you were screwed when you saw she was also grinning at you with a mischievous look on your face.

“So you’re the rookie’s date, huh?” EJ started, wiggling his brows dramatically and in a way that made you cringe.

“We're just friends, Johnson.” You huffed. Your relationship status with their defenseman was always a topic of interest between the two blondes, and it got even worse when the rest of the team jumped in on the joke—Burky could be relentless in his teasing when he wanted to be.

“Mhm.” He hummed, looking thoroughly unconvinced, much to your chagrin. Instead of taking the bait like you knew he wanted you to do, you rolled your eyes and turned to Mel, engaging her in conversation about anything other than hockey and boys, more specifically, hockey boys. To give Gabe and EJ credit, they knew when to draw the line and take a step back. Well, at least you thought they did when they let you and Mel be for all of two minutes before their teasing started up again. Only this time, it wasn't directed at you, though you still were at the center of attention.

“How’d you get such a good-looking date, Cale?” Gabe started, unable to resist the jab and a chance to cause his teammates cheeks to darken. Cale appeared at your side, cheeks just as rosy as you figured they would be but he was taking the chirps in good humor. You, on the other hand, were getting a little annoyed. With the boys constantly making jokes it would only be a matter of time before Cale put together the fact you had a massive crush on him. You were dead set on the idea that of he found out about your feelings, he would be weirded out and you would lose one of your closest friends.

“I asked nicely.” Cale teased, earning a barking laugh from his teammates. You rolled your eyes at his adorable comment, having expected nothing less from him.

“I’m not that good-looking.” You absentmindedly commented, causing Cale’s head to whip around to face you. Your own cheeks started to get rosy, and you could only meet his confused look with one of your own.

“You look amazing, I’m lucky that you came with me.” Even more so, your face flushed at his compliment to the point where you were certain that you matched the color of his hair.

“Oh, my god. I’m just going to tell them.” EJ sounded so exasperated, but there was still traces of his smug grin. You and Cale both looked to him for answers, but he was just looking to Gabe and Mel. Gabe seemed to be on the side of EJ spilling whatever it was but Mel was shooting him a stern look. There was some silent discussion, Mel nudging her husband’s shoulder in reprimand for a fault you weren't sure he had made.

“Remember what we were talking about the other day after practice?” Gabe turned his focus to Cale, who for a moment looked at his captain dumbly. You watched with confusion as Cale registered what Gabe had been talking about, before nodding slightly, his lips set in a firm line. Gabe gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the balcony, and Cale nodded once more.

You tried not to jump out of your own skin as Cale threaded his fingers through yours and tugged you in the direction his captain had just suggested. You shot Mel a look over your shoulder, but the blonde only gave you two thumbs up, and encouraging smile on her face.

The Denver night was cold, but it felt nice against your flushed skin. Once the balcony door was shut, Cale dropped your hand and moved to stand at the railing, his grip tight on the metal. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you moved closer to him, placing a shaky hand on his bicep to try and silently coax an answer of what was going on out of him.

“The guys chirp me a lot.” He leads, and you stay quiet, knowing that was not what he needed you to follow him outside for. “Mostly because I’m the rookie, but also because of you.”

“Me?” The question fell past your lips in little more than a whisper. Cale nodded, turning to face you. You weren’t sure if he meant that his teammates didn't like you, but you felt like that wasn't the reason. At least, you hoped.

“I’m like, so into you, and they give me so much shit for it.” He confessed, and you felt the corner of your lips turn upwards.

“I mean, if you’re being sappy then I don't blame them.” You couldn’t help but tease, and you could tell he knew you felt the same when you noticed you beaming up at him. He groaned at your comment, dropping his head back at your comment as he cheeks turned red. “Smile.”

“No.” He shot back, but despite his comment you could tell he was grinning widely.

“You’re smiling, though!” He chuckled at you comment, tilting his head forward to look at you once more. His smile was soft, gaze flicking from your eyes down to your lips and back up. You leaned forward a bit and that was all the invitation Cale needed to duck down to your level press a gentle kiss to your lips.

The kiss was slow and sweet, just as you expected it to be with Cale. Ever the gentleman, his hands found home on your waist but never explored any further. When you pulled away for air he used his grip on you to anchor you to your spot right in front of him. You weren't sure who was grinning brighter, but you were certain an argument could be made on both of your behalves. Cale was the first to break the silence, you were still too shocked to do speak.

“Yeah, I am smiling.”

#cale makar #Cale Makar imagine #Cale Makar x reader #Cale Makar imagines #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagines #colorado avalanche imagine #Colorado Avalanche x reader #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl #nhl imagine

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Cold Feet

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 2643

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader

Summary: After two months of dating, you’ve come to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers is a perfect man. He simply has no flaw.

Or does he?

Warnings: all the fluff in the world, like one f-bomb and mentions of intercourse

After two months of dating, you came to a conclusion as exciting as well as a bit irritating: Steve Rogers was a perfect man. He simply had no flaw.

It was a little scary, really. Even your meeting was like something from a rom-com.

You had met him by chance when visiting your baby niece who wasn’t a baby anymore to be honest. She was five. But she would always be your baby niece, even when reaching 18, so that was irrelevant.

Your not-so-baby niece Karen had fallen off of monkey bars when playing on the playground and had broken her arm so skilfully that she needed to have surgery, hence staying in hospital for four days; there was no chance you would let her struggle through that without her favourite (read ‘only’) aunt by her side for even of those days.

And on the third day, fate pulled at some of its infamous strings.

As you hummed Karen’s momentarily favourite song under your breath, striding through the hospital halls with three different flavours (or rather colours) of Jell-O, wondering how else you could cheer your pouty cute niece, you rounded the corner.

Walking straight into the most perfect man of all men – as if ‘perfect’ wasn’t already a superlative.

“Whoa!”

The collision was hard, but the landing soft. Crushing into the wall of muscle would have sent you falling on your butt, but a swift hand secured you as it appeared under your shoulder blade, keeping you upright. Two plastic cups slipped from your fingers, landing in his palm covered in fingerless leather glove.

Your eyes snapped up to the face of a man with incredible fast reflexes and your heart jumped to your throat.

Holy shit he’s pretty.

“Sorry. Got it. You alright?”

I just fell in love with a voice. God, his eyes are blue— no, not pure cerulean blue, but holy mother of God, I’m drowning-

“Madam?”

Worry had his brows furrowing and you quickly jumped from his warm grip, gulping. He let you go, those goddamn eyes watching your every move as if he expected you to trip over your own feet, which was a valid concern, actually.

“Sir,” you blurted out in response instinctively at such addressing, your brain finally catching up with your mouth. You scanned him head to toe, realization slapping you in your face. Oh. OH. “Sir. Cap-captain. S-sir.”

You had crushed into Captain freaking America; he even had his shield on his back. You were so going to be deported. Oh boy, you hadn’t even apologized yet.

What the hell was he doing in child’s ward anyway? In a plain boring hospital?

You were proven wrong on your earlier evaluation when the corners of his lips rose, spreading his lips in a brilliant shy smile; he wasn’t pretty. He was prettier.

He wiggled the cups in his hand, holding them out for you. You took them wordlessly, too stunned and embarrassed to talk.

“And just for who these are?” he asked sweetly, genuine curiosity lacing his voice. “Daughter? Son?”

“Karen! I mean— my niece! They are for my niece. Whose name is Karen. I said that already,” you babbled, closing your eyes simultaneously with your mouth.

God, somebody shoot me. Or throw your shield at me, whatever.

Status: still hadn’t apologized to him.

Heavy footsteps had you opening your eyes, only to find the blonde Adonis in uniform still smiling at you, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Cap, you’re supposed to be cheering up kids, not the ladies, no matter how pretty they are,” a man – an Ironman, the Ironman, to be precise, Tony freaking Stark – grunted from behind the soldier, casting a smirk your way.

Now seriously, somebody shoot me, please.

You eyed the Captain, resisting the urge to bite your lip; thank heavens you weren’t the blushing type otherwise you’d be red everywhere. He only looked a bit annoyed with his colleague, his gaze fixed on you. The smile never left his face.

“Why not both?”

And that was it. That was how your life turned upside down, starting with shy smiles, lingering gazes, heart-warming date nights, hesitant hand-holding, tender kisses growing into daring making-out sessions. Comforting hugs, days dedicated to worrying over him coming from god-knew-where in one piece, few nights spent in the medical ward sitting by his bedside, sleep escaping you. Brain mostly on vacation, heart behind the steering wheel.

You were in love. You were so much in love with the amazing man that words didn’t seem like enough to express it. You spent the most amazing two months with him, having nothing – or nearly nothing – to complain about; because even after the rare sleepless night by his bedside, he would wrap you in affection and made you feel like everything was more than okay.

In every conclusion possible, Steve Rogers was perfect. Maybe way too perfect.

And it wasn’t that you felt like less – he showed his adoration for you so clearly you couldn’t but feel special despite being plain ol’ you, because he was perfect like that.

The first time you two made love – there was no calling it differently, because it had nothing to do with fucking and calling it sex might have been anatomically accurate but desperately lacking the sentiment – he nearly worshipped you. You enjoyed it immensely, returning the favour. It was a very long night and perhaps… few times the tender passion did blur the lines and shifted towards the f-word in the best possible way.

It was no wonder that when you woke up on your own after that first night together, checking the time and finding it was only seven a.m. on a Saturday morning, you scooted closer to feel Steve’s sleeping form. Head nestled on his chest (an absent grumble vibrating his ribcage at your disturbance of his dreams), arm sneaking over his waist (causing his own to pull you closer), feet tangling-

You yelped, jerking away from his body so fast you nearly tipped over the edge of your bed. Steve shot up into sitting position, instantly on alert, sharp gaze wiped away of sleepiness in a second, scanning the room for threats.

He clearly found none, settling his confused eyes on you, his shoulders relaxing.

“Whatzit?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes as if examining you would tell him.

You stared right back at him, unable to form words.

Until you could.

“Your feet are freezing!” you accused him, horrified.

What the hell?! Steve was a walking space-heater. He always enveloped you in his arms when your teeth were clattering, because you wore a dress for a romantic walk through the frozen Central Park in attempt to please his sight. Sure, now his feet slipped from under the covers, sticking out of bed really, because he was freaking tall, but… what the hell?!

He blinked in confusion before an adorable blush coloured his cheeks, already red and creased from the pillow.

“Sorry for that.”

“Sorry for-“ you parroted, dumbstruck, your sleepy brain processing the sensory input of his toes fucking freezing against your feet very slowly. “Is that normal? Are you sick? Aren’t you- aren’t you supposed to be immune to all diseases?”

Steve was literally radiating embarrassment at that point, his fingers working on scrunching the sheets, his eyes glued them as if nothing else on this world mattered.

“I am immune. It’s just… I always had it like that.”

“But your hands are always so warm!” you protested. That usually was the combo, right? People had cold hands and feet, circulation shit – not that Steve had any problem with circulation last night--ugh.

Cold hands usually came together in a package deal with cold feet, period – hell, you knew it yourself on occasion. But Steve…?

Steve grimaced.

“I used you have them cold too,” he admitted, oblivious to the amazement that started to replace your surprise. Oh god. Oh boy. A miracle had happened! Steve Rogers actually had a- “The serum fixed it, but not… uh, not my feet. Usually it’s not an issue, when I’m on the move it’s fine, exercising and-“

He trailed off as if not knowing what else to say to his defence (as if he needed any). Teeth worrying over his lower lip, he glanced up at your face. A smile was spreading on your face and he possibly took it wrong way, because he groaned, falling flat on his back to the cushions and stole your pillow – only to hide his face in it and try to smother himself.

You giggled into your palm, delighted, and got up, your bare feet tapping with each step as you made your way to your cabinet. The choking noise coming from the bed at your action sounded suspiciously like Steve screaming into the pillow.

You contained more laughter, hesitating before making the final decision.

Screw it. You manipulated the item you had come for from the very back of your drawer, closing it gently and went to sit at the end of the bed by Steve’s feet which magically disappeared back under the covers. You reached for the hem of the blanket, but stopped, thinking twice.

“Do not kick me,” you warned him, sneaking your hand into the warmth and lifting the blanket, revealing the source of discussion. Steve honest to god whined – in embarrassment, you assumed – when you touched his left ankle.

You carefully lifted it and rolled one sock on. The soft sensation seemed to give Steve a pause and he peeked at you, rolling the pillow just enough to free his surprised eyes. He didn’t protest though, watching you as you put on the other sock as well with a compassionate smile. He hesitantly lost the pillow completely when you scooted over to sit at his waist.

He wiggled his toes in the fluffy colourful socks to examine them. He was adorable, more so wearing them.

“Thank- thank you,” he whispered, still slightly embarrassed, but not saying a word of complaint. “How are these my size?”

You cleared your throat, for the millionth time since you met him grateful you weren’t the blushing type.

"Because they were for you," you admitted sheepishly, earning a raised eyebrow as he once more looked over the striped red-white sock with a plush reindeer on outer side of his ankles. "As a cute and silly Christmas gift until... uhm, until I figured out the perfect one."

“Oh,” he let out intelligently, causing you to leave your nervousness behind. “Thanks.”

You giggled. “You’re welcome, Steve. They look great on you.”

Adorable. And what more, proving the incredible fact that you had been wrong about him. About him being absolutely perfect.

He pouted then, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’re enjoying this too much. Why?”

Of course he would notice. You shrugged and stopped fighting the grin attacking your lips, not feeling like denying it.

"You... you actually have a fault," you announced cheerily, which took him aback greatly.

"I have plenty of those," he said matter-of-factly, propping himself on his elbow to be closer to you. You only shrugged again.

"Possible.” Not quite. “But this... this is just a reminder of you being only human."

Steve tilted his head then, curious about your train of thought. It only proved your previous theory that wasn’t quite right now, not without that one exception; he was curious about you, always listening to what you had to say, patient listener even when you simply rambled.

"You've seen me hurt. That’s pretty human."

You scoffed, chasing the image of him, unconscious, cut, bloody and attached to a heart monitor, away from your mind momentarily.

"Oh, I did. I do not enjoy that despite seeing the wound literally closing in front on my eyes. You're not invincible, apparently,” you noted dryly, causing that little wrinkle to create on his forehead as the guilt for making your worry displayed. You bit your cheek before trying to explain how you felt about this ridiculous discovery about him. “But, you know... that's something... serum-related, Captain America related.”

Judging by the expression on his face, he was still not getting it. You sighed and pointed at the reindeers.

“This? This is personal... intimate somehow? Something I get to know, because I know you, I get to see the tiny flaw-“ you stopped in midsentence, realizing you were babbling more than usual and more importantly, wondering just how uncomfortable this had to make him.“Is it weird? Am I-- I'm being weird, aren't I? Shit. Sorry."

Steve’s nose crinkled at the bad word you used, but he let it pass without comment in favour of a more pressing matter. His face was kind as he opposed you swiftly.

"No! No, it's... I think I understand,” he assured you, something unfamiliar twinkling in his eyes. He smiled then, a soft curve of his lips. “And thank you. It works wonders. It’s… much better."

You only flashed him a brief smile, lowering your gaze. You took a deep breath, only partly comforted by his words. Steve would always let things slide easily, even when you crossed a line you shouldn’t have crossed, said or done something that wasn’t quite appropriate; when you were being your weird self.

It was your turn to fumble with the blanket, self-depreciated, wavering to make one more confession, admitting to your fear, once more oversharing.

"Okay. I’m glad. Uhm… I-- I wouldn't want you to get cold feet," you mumbled, not quite sure if you wanted him to read between the lines and consider cold feet more than bodily reaction to low temperature.

Silence fell on your bedroom, stretching for long enough to wreck your nerves. You clenched your jaw, forcing your fingers to stop moving, which only resulted in you gripping the sheets instead.

Looking down, you only caught a glimpse of Steve straightening, seating himself on his heels. The fingers of his right hand gently threaded into your locks, slipping to cup your cheek, forcing you to lift your chin and meet his gaze.

Steve always seemed too kind to you, appreciating you, cherishing you even, in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend; meeting his eyes now, you saw nothing but pure adoration and a hint of vulnerability, gratitude at your willingness to admit some of your fears.

He had caught the double meaning of your words, there was no doubting that. Seeing none of your timidity resolving, an amused spark twinkled in his eye. He patted his ankle pointedly with his free hand.

"Well, with warm socks like these...” he hummed, his face inching closer to yours as he held his gaze locked with yours. His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek, his lips finally close enough to brush yours for a passing second. Your eyes fluttered shut, revelling at the sensation. God, you were so, so lucky to have this man… “And with such beautiful and caring woman like yourself... how could I?"

You barely had time to sigh in relief when his mouth caught yours in another kiss, this time a proper one, morning breath be damned. His hand on you angled your jaw to deepen the kiss, the other sneaking around your waist and lower to urge you to sit on his lap. You weren’t hesitant to obey, rewarded by a content rumble deep in his chest and a tease of tongue.

Needless to say, the socks came off soon enough. After all, morning exercise would keep you both warm enough. Especially when performed in the bed sheets.

Later and later on, you would find a lot more flaws of Steve’s – involving unbearable stubbornness and recklessness, traits which you sometimes wanted to punch him for –, but this very first you had discovered would always feel special.

Steve never got cold feet ever again. On your wedding day, you were grateful for it more than ever.

#marvel #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #fluff #christmas fluff #close enough anyway #cute and cozy #one shot #fanfiction #anika ann

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chil2de · 3 years

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hihi this is for my 🥰 anonie you may scroll if u are not them :) or read idk it’s up to you haha

whenever i try responding to your ask tumblr just crashes and decides to not exist, so here’s this instead!! i pulled up google docs and read ur ask line by line and responded that way <3

pls stop ur making me blush HSBFFHBSD

i don’t mind either way baby! if you wanna spam my inbox or if you wanna chat in dms, that’s completely up to you (: i’m totally okay with either i promise, so don’t worry ab it. oh, and! i have a tiktok, though i religiously detest tiktok and absolutely purely hate it and wish for it to burn to the ground, the jjk fandom is extremey funny on there. and the cosplays— AHEM. idk if you’d prefer to talk to me on there so that way your url on tumblr is still unknown to me? even if you want it anyway, just gimme a shout and say its you or sumn. if you don’t have it thats okay <3 but incase you want it, it’s @y_uutaswife and i have the same pfp :)

LMFAO PLEASE this is such a summary of me i hate it- it’s so accurate too? i don’t wanna go up to them… want them to go up to me, but i also don’t because, well, then what…? what do i say LMFAO

and i know right? so sad he didn’t get mentioned more / had more animated scenes. i won’t lie i flew to yuuta like a moth, ever since we got those crumbs of him in the anime i sat there respectfully waiting.. seriously, i’m unsure why but i’ve never felt so invested and compelled by a character in such little time. and even now when i rewatched jujutsu kaisen last week to polish up some of my characters, i sat there like an absolute bumbling idiot just replaying his scenes :( he just looks so cute and soft but i can’t wait for his actual design bc that was him before.

i tried making a schedule once but it just didn’t work so i’m glad i broke out of it. but plssss <3 thank you🥺 no honestly this brought me so much relief and pure serotonin. i think i’ve reread your ask ab 5 times already because you’re genuinely such an angel and it makes my heart wanna explode out of my chest <333 we need more people like you i wish everyone was so mindful and kind hearted like you dear anonie

BUT BESTIE WHEN YOU SAID TEENAGE KEVIN FROM BEN 10- STOP. LMFAO i am so so sorry i could not stop the ugly cackle that ripped out from me, the neighbours must think there’s a witch residing next door

i won’t lie i couldn’t stand watching ben 10 whenever it came up on cartoon network orsmth i just switched the channel and said no maams, not today

i love how times were so simpler as you said it was just you know wholesome fluff wanting to hold hands, etc- but now when we got men like yuuta? toji? OOF

i’ve been watching anime for a little over 3 years now so i’d love to give you some recommendations whenever you do have the time but we once again stan the same characters😭 literally down to a t BAHAHA

flaming hot piping ball of angry ginger aka chuuya nakihara is hands down one of the best characters in bsd <3 i like dazai, i guess, but he’s got the same type of personality as gojo and i think i would honestly get fed up being as an intj, it’s just a no from me

todoroki is one of my all time favs <33 he’s the second anime crush i had, first being levi (of course, i mean. why wouldn't he be?)

before tumblr and gintama i actually wrote a whole fic on ao3 for todoroki, which i think was my first public piece anyway? it’s kind of funny how the reason i got into writing was purely because i got fed up of sifting through ao3 and i went “alright. if no one’s gonna do it, i will.”

ALSO MAAMS YOU’RE FROM ENGLAND TOO???? i know this may not be extremely obvious because i tend to keep my works neutral (i tend to write in the standardised american way save for the main words like, ‘favourite’ ‘colour’ etc because i don’t want people reading things in a british accent… even though mine isn’t very noticeable, it’s just very standard, not chavvy or essex etc, it’s honestly a pet peeve. thats why i use pants, mom, grocery store) and we have freaking nothing, as you already know!! there’s a hmv near me and i was SO excited to see their anime collection just to see it was chock full of mainstreams like one piece, naruto, dbz 😐

but i managed to snatch an aot poster for £3!! and it’s really big too! it’s bigger than a1 so it’s a chunky boy

i don’t plan on wearing the merch outside because i’m just self conscious like that, i don’t hate human interaction and i’m not socially inept but i’d rather not answer mundane questions from people who don’t watch anime… also my waterstones is always sold out 😭 they almost never have any good manga and whenever they do it’s in the middle of the series, like book 7 or something..

yeah they totally have a statue of him! they’re doing a jjk exhibit in general. and at the train station they have cutouts of the characters, they might be to size too? ‘m not sure about the height or anything but i do know that they’re there. there’s also a haikyuu store that shows the players hand prints and you can put your hands flat against the displays to see the difference 🥺🥺🥺

going to japan in general is such a bucket list for me, there’s so much i wanna try but i’d love to go when the cherry blossoms are in season!

let’s call it even and we both buy each other merch then we can take some really cool photos :):) i’ve seriously been checking their website every day to snatch a few prints so i hope that you can grab ahold of some as well! u want the window seat on the airplane when we go shibuya?

love you!!! take care of yourself :))

#this image is so funny to me because i hate isabelle she’s so goddamn useless and annoying

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mila-dans · 4 years

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Spells Out Trouble: Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man

This is chapter four of “Spells Out Trouble.” Masterlist Here!

Chapter Three: Roll on Down the Highway

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 4855

Summary: You have been with the Winchesters for several years now going through all the literal trials and tribulations with them. What happens when Dean gets hit by a love spell and becomes head-over-heels for you? Will your pushed down emotions finally rise or will you get in over your head? Find out what happens when your best friend’s hard exterior becomes mush whenever you end up in his eyeline.

Just so you know: This is my first Fanfic so sorry if there are aspects missing. “Spells Out Trouble” is a series with about ten chapters. Sorry that this chapter has taken such a long time to publish! If you have any suggestions or tips, I’d love to hear from you. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it! (Also, not my gif!)

“You do?” You ask as you can tell that something is different about him yet again.

“Yeah,” he looks around the room instead just at you. “I remember getting hit in the head a lot which is making things sort of fuzzy. But I do remember,” he pauses to look at you right in the eyes, “I remember that I love you, Y/N.”

You take a deep breath, wishing that this was some odd Deja vu instead of what it really was: the truth. And the truth is the fact that Dean Winchester is in love with you thanks to some stupid spell. “Great,” you say, tossing your hands up in the air and go to take a seat.

“So, you couldn’t fix him?” Sam asks as he runs his hands through his hair.

“No,” answers Cas. “I wasn’t able to fix him but I think I did help him.”

“See, Y/N?” Dean pipes up. “I still love you and I always will! There’s no need to worry!” Dean starts to stare at you puppy-like again. You sigh in frustration. It has been the longest 24 hours of your life and your only hope was Cas, and that hope has now failed.

“Wait,” Sam says, “Cas, what do you mean by you helping him?” You look up at Cas, hoping to hope again.

Cas walks over to Dean. “The spell essentially supercharged his emotions and by doing so, it caused him to lose control,” Cas explains. “Dean was without any filter to discern his emotions or actions.” Cas uncuffs Dean causing you and Sam to get up and away from the lovey-dovey psycho. “I was unable to cure the emotional status but I did replace the filter.”

“Cas!” Sam says. “What the hell are you uncuffing him for?! He wants to kill me! And you!” He took the words right out of your mouth.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says as he stands up and starts walking towards you and Sam.

“Get back!” Sam yells as he pulls out his gun on Dean, causing him to put his hands in the air and walk back.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Woah, there,” Dean says, trying to ease you and Sam, which he is doing unsuccessfully. “Listen, I don’t wanna kill you, alright? Just put the gun down,” He says with a smile.

“No! You tried to kill me several times today!”

“Fair point. But it’s just that I’m better now and I promise I won’t kill you.”

“He won’t kill you, Sam,” Cas says. “He was without a filter earlier which caused him to react so violently but now, he has a filter so that rage is under control.”

“See?” Dean says. “I’m all good, Sammy. So how about you put the gun away?” Sam looks at Cas for reassurance and Cas nods. Sam puts his gun down. “Good,” Dean says, causing everyone to relax. Everyone except you. You have remained silent and still as you watch the boys discuss amongst themselves.

“So what now?” Sam asks. “Is the spell going to kill him?”

“What?!” Dean says with his voice getting about several octaves higher. “I--I don’t want to die! Am I gonna die?! Please! Oh my god, I’m gonna die. I’m totally gonna die.” Dean starts to pace around the room becoming extremely anxious.

“Dude,” Sam says as he puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Calm down, alright?”

“Dean,” Cas says, “You aren’t going to die. And I would suggest that you calm down but I know that you are unable to in your current state.”

“What?! What does ‘current state’ mean? Am--Am I sick? Is something wrong with me? I think I’m gonna throw up,” Dean says as he puts his hand up towards his mouth.

“No, Dean. You are not sick. You are just struggling to control your emotions due to the spell.”

“So whenever Dean gets scared, or happy, or sad, what? Does he just get really, really, into whatever emotion? Is that what it’s like?” Sam asks.

“Yes. I suppose that is an accurate summary. It will continue like that until he gets used to it,” Cas answers. “I do have to ask, when I felt the spell, I felt a part of Dean in the spell. Did the witch use any of his DNA?”

“Not that I know of. We were there for like a minute. But is that what you think caused him to not die?”

“It is a possibility as to why he didn’t die. Dean?” Cas asks, causing Dean to stop pacing in order to look at him, “Did the witch take any of your DNA?”

“What?! No!” Dean answers defensively.

“So how the hell is he not dead?” Sam asks. “I mean, if the witch was old, powerful, and experimenting, how is he not dead? All the others were.”

“I don’t know,” Cas replies. “I do know that the spell worked on him. I am however still confused on how I felt him in the spell but you all say that she didn’t get any of his DNA.”

“But she did,” You say, turning everyone's attention to you.

“What?” Sam asks.

“She did get his DNA,” you say again as you walk towards Dean and pull his hand out. Dean looks at you with his big eyes as yet another huge smile appears on his face. He stands still as you inspect his hand. “See?” You point out the gnash on his hand.

“What is that from?” Cas asks you.

“While you all were talking, I was trying to think of how she could’ve gotten his DNA. Last night, when she threw Dean across the room, he scraped his hand on her little cauldron, causing his blood to mix in with the spell!” You look at Cas. “That’s got to be it, right?”

“That does explain what I felt, but I still don’t know how he is alive,” Cas replies.

You all look at each other in wonderment. Dean won’t die which should be good but in your line of work, good usually isn’t good.

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

You had headed back to your room after the continuation of questions for Dean. All you had discovered is that Dean was still in love with you, and more emotional than a teenage girl. Still unaware of how he was alive, you all each took a stack of books, trying to find a cure or some answer to the mystery. You tried to read but couldn’t. You’d end up just staring at a page while your mind went other places. This day had already been insane and overwhelming, but no matter the crazy, you still couldn’t help take your mind off what was before you. Something that you could never bury whether it was an apocalypse on your hands or a lovesick Dean. Something that was dark and brutal. It was the da--

Knock. Knock.

“Yeah?” You ask as your attention shifts to the door.

The door opens slightly as Dean's head peaks through. “Hey,” Dean says as he clears his throat. “Hi, can I, uh, can I come in? Do you like, mind? Cause if not I can go or if you want to let me in than I can come in, which I guess you know that with me already asking if I can come i--”

“Dean?” You say, cutting him off.

“Yep. Yeah?” He answers while you try to figure out your own reply. You knew he wouldn’t hurt or harm you. You'd most likely be the one to make him cry on accident. Yes, he was in love with you but it wasn’t really bad. It was just different and really odd. If you had time to process the situation, you might actually enjoy being the center of Dean Winchester’s attention. But now was not the time to crush on your best friend. There was never a time.

“You can come in,” you answer signaling for him to sit on the bed.

“Really?!” Dean asks excitedly as his whole face lightens up. You nod. “Awesome. Awesome,” he stands still in the doorway, proud of his achievement.

“Dean? You wanna come in?” You ask, snapping him out of his happy daze.

“Yes. Yes! Right.” He comes into the room with two plates in his hands and sits over the edge of the bed. “Um. I uh, I made you a sandwich. Well, technically I made two sandwiches because I wasn’t sure which one you wanted. Hey! Which wich you wanted. That’s funny. Which wich? Ha.” He looks at you expecting a reaction but you just stare at him trying to understand how this spell could possibly make him like this. “No, not funny. Right. Um, so here.” He puts the plates in front of you, sitting crisscross on the bed. “This one is Pb&J and the other is grilled cheese. I wasn’t sure which one you liked more, so I made both so you had an option but you know? You could just have both.” He smiles at you again, looking lost in your face.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take the peanut butter.”

“Okay. Awesome.” He hands you the plate and gets up, seeming to struggle to leave the room.

“You can stay,” You say, getting another big grin from Winchester.

“Really?!”

“Yeah. Just, stay and eat the grilled cheese with me. If you want?”

“I’d love to!” Dean rushes back to the bed and sits across from you. You smile and laugh a little.

“What’s funny?” Dean asks, looking concerned.

“Nothing. It’s just, it’s you.” Dean starts to look sad. You put your hand on him stopping his train of thought. “It’s not bad, Dean. It’s just odd to see you like this. It’s funny because you're, you're…” You try to find words.

“I’m what?”

“You're… expressive and open. It’s crazy because you’ve always been so closed off with me and now that you’re not, it’s just funny for one thing.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been open with you.”

“You don’t have to be. Sure I’ve wished that you would let me in more but, being closed off is kind of your thing. Sam, Cas, then me. That’s the order of who you're most open with but by the time it gets to me, you’ve already gone into lockdown mode.” You take another bite of your sandwich and watch as Dean ponders your words.

“I don’t know why I’m like that. I just know that whoever I get close to, tends to get close to dying as well. I think that’s why I’ve never told you I love you before. But now,” Dean looks up at you so intensely that it draws your attention to him. “Now, I can’t help but love you. I love you so much, Y/N."

You laugh a little. "Dean, it's the spell making you love me. Loving me prior is only something you're saying, not meaning. This is all just because of the spell. Nothing more."

"It's not the spell. I love you and I've loved you for years and I'm so happy that I get to tell you. And it’s taking everything in me to not kiss you or touch you or even hold you. You’re gorgeous and I don’t know what could’ve possibly made me hold all this back before.”

You stare into his beautiful emerald eyes and think of how this was what you’ve always wanted. Dean Winchester, to be in love with you. But now that it was here, it wasn’t right. You’ve been telling yourself that this was Dean. It was Dean so you couldn’t let him down or hurt him. But it really wasn't. Even right now, Dean would never talk to you like this. He'd probably be out hooking up with some other 'sweetheart.' This wasn’t fair. If you were under some love spell, which wouldn’t be too far from the truth, Dean would never put you in a situation like this. Dean is sitting here, mesmerized with you, and struggling.

You take a deep breath knowing that the next words to come out will most likely be regretful. "Dean, I don't think we should be spending time together."

It takes a second for Dean to break out of his trance. "Oh," he says as if you crushed his heart. You try to reach for his hand but he moves his further away.

"It's not like I'm saying we shouldn't talk or anything. It's just that I don't want anything to happen in between us like this."

Dean stands up and looks everywhere but at you. "No, no. I get it." He lets out a nervous laugh.

"I think it would just be best if we didn't spend a whole lot of time together unless it's like a case. At least until we find a cure. Alright?"

"Yeah," He clears his throat and heads to the door. “I totally get it. You’re just overwhelmed and it’s a lot. I’m a lot,” he laughs a little again, dodging your eyes. “Um, goodnight Y/N." He shuts the door behind him.

You take a deep breath and set the now empty sandwich plate on the night stand beside you. That was not fun. But it had to be done. You love Dean too much to try anything or let him do anything while he was like this. You love him and as of right now, he thinks he loves you.

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

As much as you needed sleep, you certainly could not get any last night. All your thoughts became painful headaches causing you to toss and turn all night. Nonetheless, it didn't wake you up when you heard another knock on your door. A little part of you wished it was Dean. It felt nice to be admired, especially by someone whom you loved so much.

“Hey,” Sam said as he opened the door and shut it behind him. “Can I?” He asks, signaling to sit down.

“Yeah, sure.” He takes a seat in your desk chair as you sit up in bed, trying to lessen the mess of your hair. “My apologies for not looking like my usually stunning self,” You say smiling.

Sam lets out a little laugh. “I don’t think there could be any time where you are not stunning,” he says, returning the smile. “I hope I didn't wake you though.”

“No, course not. What’s up?”

“Well,” Sam takes a deep breath, “I wanted to see how you were doing.” You look at him confused as to why he would be worrying about you. “I know what time it is, Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘what time it is’?”

“This is the month, right?” You shake your head still confused. “This is the week.”

“What are you saying?” You asked, nervous for his response.

“This is the time that you just back away from everything.” He says sincerely, with a soft tone.

You try to think of what he could possibly be talking about but you become determined to come up blank. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you repeat.

“Hey, listen, I’m not trying to pry or start anything up. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and let you know that I’m here. There is a lot going on with Dean and you right now and I know what time it is, Y/N. This is the month, the week, that you always seem to be out of it. It’s been happening every year since I’ve known you, since we’ve known you. I don’t know why or what it is. All I know is that you run away during this time.”

“Run away?!” You say defensively. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Take it easy!” Sam raises his hands. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Y/N. I love you and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, you don’t know anything,” you say harshly, rolling your eyes.

Sam stands up and shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m just gonna go.” He walks towards the door. “Sorry, Y/N. And good morning,” Sam says, letting out a sigh as he shuts the door behind him.

“Great,” you say to yourself. “Another great start to another great day.” You fall back into bed, begging for this to all be over. What Sam was talking about was the same thing that you have been trying to hide and bury for years. You didn’t want to be rude to him. In fact, you really just wanted to hug him and cry on him. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself deal with the truth that has been haunting you for years. You would however, let yourself brush your teeth in order to get rid of the filthy taste of peanut butter and jelly that had been left in your mouth.

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

As you walked down the hallway, buttoning the last buttons on your flannel, you smelled something amazing. It smelled so good. You navigated the halls trying to find the sweet source of the sensation. You could smell it as you got closer and closer and closer.

“Oh. My. God,” you said, stopping in your tracks.

“Surprise!” Dean said as he put his arms up, showcasing the galore of breakfast before you.

“What the holy hell is all this?” You say in complete shock of the sight before you that is filling the kitchen.

“It’s breakfast. A lot of breakfast,” Dean says as he pulls you and sits you down in a chair. “I wanted you to have a decent meal for breakfast so I made a--”

“All the breakfast food ever?” You cut him off with your jaw hung open.

“No. I wanted to but I don’t have access to it all. So instead I just made: pancakes, waffles, crepes, breakfast burritos, eggs, scrambled and omelet, bacon, chicken and waffles, croissants, donuts, muffins, grits, oatmeal, ham and eggs, hash browns, pop tarts, raisin bread, Texas toast, and a breakfast casserole. Oh! And I got your favorite cereal. I hope you can find something you like. If not I can go run and get it.”

You still try to comprehend the buffet in front of you.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Did I do good? I also have a bunch of different juices too.”

“Yeah,” you say as your voice cracks. “Um,” you clear your throat, “Yeah, you did good. Really, really good.” You break out of your food trance and look at Dean who looks just like a happy little puppy. “When did you have time to do all of this?”

“He did it last night,” Cas says as he walks in the kitchen and takes a seat beside you. “He had me keep warming the food by lightly smiting it.”

“What?” You say, even more in shock.

“What?” Sam says as he walks in the kitchen. “Oh, yeah. All this,” He waves his hand pointing to the galore of dishes. “You know he wouldn’t let me have anything until you had what you wanted.”

“Well, of course,” Dean says defensively. “I made it for her, not you.”

“Thank you, Dean,” you say as you continue to stare at all the food. “But, I think that it would be best if Sam would help me eat this.”

“Oh,” Dean says. “Whatever you want.” He smiles at you.

“Finally,” Sam says as he takes a plate, picking through what he wants then sits across from Cas.

“Have you eaten any of this, Dean?” You ask.

“No! I didn’t want to take any away from you,” he answers.

“Well, sit down and eat something.”

“Really?!” He asks and you nod. Dean fills his plate with waffles and bacon and grits and so many other things. You fill up yours with a small serving from a little of everything. Dean sits down across from you and digs into his plate. This felt right. This felt like home. Castiel on your side, Sam in front on your right, and Dean in front of you. This is your family and they are what keep you together.

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

“So you didn’t get anything either?” Sam asks you about finding a solution to the spell.

“Nope. Cas, what about you? Anything?” You respond.

“No. I did not find anything on how to reverse or even begin to understand the spell,” Cas answers. “What about you, Dean?” He asks as Dean finishes the last of his breakfast.

“What? No. No. I uh, did not find anything. Nada, zilch, nothing, negative, no siree,” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Okay?” You reply suspiciously. “So what now?”

“I uh,” Dean speaks up again, “I found us a case.”

“You did?” Sam asks.

“Yep, and it’s only about two hours away,” Dean answers with a smile. “See?” He looks at you. “Now we can work the case together. If that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer, realizing that he found a loophole to your distancing request. “If it’s a case then I guess It’s okay.”

“What did you find out about the case?” Cas asks.

“Well, It’s a cursed object. A painting to be exact,” Dean answers.

“Like the one that we dealt with a couple years back? With Sarah?” Sam asks.

“No. I don’t think this one comes to life like that one, but I do know that death has followed that thing around everywhere it goes.”

“Fun,” you say.

“How is that fun?” Castiel asks, confused.

“Never mind,” You reply. “Where is it now?”

“It’s being showcased tonight at an art gala,” Dean responds with a smile.

“So what, we crash some art gala? How?” You ask.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ve got an invitation.”

“How did you get an invitation to an art gala?” Sam asks, taking your thoughts.

“I just had some time.” Dean smiles and scrapes the remainder of his food into his mouth. “Tonight, we are going to a gala.”

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

The four of you had taken a trip into town so you could find the right apparel for the evening. The truth is, the boys had plenty of suits and you had plenty of dresses but none of you had anything to wear to a gala. It had been a long time since any of you had to wear something more fancy than a cheap suit. Dresses weren't your favorite but you did like getting dressed up on occasion. Living with three grown men didn’t help but make you feel as if living in a pigsty. Sam was good at keeping clean and Cas didn’t really do anything. Dean was mainly the one who left messes. Actually, it was just Dean who made it seem like a pigsty. It was all Dean.

“So, me and Dean need to get some tuxes. And you need to get a dress,” Sam said as you all got out of the car. “And what about you, Cas?”

“I don’t think I’ll need a tux if I’m just on lookout,” Castiel answers. “I think what I’m wearing should be sufficient enough.”

“Minus the trench coat and lose the tie. Sure,” Sam says, nodding his head.

“So what are you gonna do?” Dean asks Cas. “You wanna wait in the car?”

“He can come with me,” You say. “I’ll probably need help getting in the dress.”

“Well I can help with that!” Dean says eagerly as he walks over to you.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam says as he pulls Dean back towards him. “Meet back here in the diner in an hour or so?”

“Sure,” you reply as you and Cas walk in one direction and the brothers walk in the other. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t forget I love you, Y/N!” Dean yells from across the street.

“Dude!” Sam says as he turns Dean back around.

“So much!”

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

“How about this one?” Castiel points to a wedding dress.

“Cas, that is a wedding dress. And I don't intend on wearing one of those for a while,” you reply.

You had been in the dress shop for about ten minutes trying to find something that fit and didn’t look like it only cost sixty bucks. Not many places in town have high class dress wear. And right now, you and Cas were at a place that was the next best thing.

“What about this one?” He points to a dress that is all straps and holes.

“Okay, how about you just take a seat and I’ll come get you when I need you?” You say smiling at Cas’s taste in dresses.

“Fine.” Cas takes a seat and starts to play with some sequins on a strapless dress.

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

“Psst!” You whisper as Cas turns his head around. “Cas!” He continues to look around. You wave your hand around from behind the dressing room curtain trying to use the other to make sure no one sees anything you don’t want them to. “Castiel!” He looks at you, puts down the sequin dress and walks into the dressing room with you.

“What is it?” He asks, examining you almost to see if you’re hurt.

“I need some help,” you say as you hold up the front of your dress.

“What’s wrong?”

You let out a little laugh. “Nothing, I just need you to zip me up. Please.”

“Oh, I understand.” You pull your hair back and Cas zips up the back of the dress and buttons the top button.

You turn around towards Cas and take a few steps back. “How does it look?”

“Is there supposed to be a chunk missing from the back? Won’t you get cold?” Cas asks so innocently.

You give him a smile. “Yes, it is supposed to be like this. It is a red, backless, mermaid dress with a short train and a low cut in the front. And yes, I will get very cold but beauty is pain.”

You both went up to the register and purchased the dress. You left the shop and had about a half hour until you had to meet back up.

“What would you like to do now?” Cas asks you.

“We need to get some heels.”

“I thought high heels were extremely uncomfortable for women?”

“Yes but like I said before, beauty is pain,” you smile and the two of you walk to a shoe store so you can purchase some foot killers.

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

You and Cas got done with your shopping early and went on ahead back to the diner where you were supposed to meet the boys. Cas had ordered a single glass of water and you ordered some French fries as a little snack before this evening.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did, Cas.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to ask.”

“Just go for it, Cas.”

“How are you feeling, Y/N?”

“I’m pretty good. Shopping makes me hungry though.”

“I mean, how are you doing mentally? Not physically.”

“Like I said, pretty good. Does something make you think otherwise?”

“Yes. I’ve noticed that around this time every year, you seem to be dealing with unresolved issues that you refuse to talk to anyone about.”

“Really, Cas? First Sam now you. I’m fine, alright?” You answer, starting to scold him as Sam and Dean walk in and over to you. “You hear that guys?” You ask the brothers. “I am perfectly fine and the next person to ask me if I’m fine will not be fine by the time I’m done with them. Got it?!” You get up from the booth and storm off to the car, leaving the boys inside.

“Cas, what the hell did you say to her?” Sam asks.

“I asked about the unresolved issues that she refuses to talk about with anyone that she seems to deal with around this time every year. That’s all,” Cas replies.

“That’s all?” Sam laughs. “Dude, Y/N has literally never, ever talked about it before and I already tried this morning. I have a feeling neither one of us is gonna be able to get her to open up.”

“You’re most likely right.”

“Yes, I am. So no one asks her about it, alright?” Sam orders. Cas nods but Dean looks off towards you outside. “Alright, Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. Do not ask her no matter how much she is struggling. Or no matter how much she is hurting. I can totally not do that. Yeah. I can do that.” Dean continues to stare out at you, struggling to even attempt to abide by his own words even in thought.

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Chapter five: Owner of a Lonely Heart

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