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blueberry-beanie · 2 years

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Foals at E-Werk Köln | 21 June 2022

A very long tale about the day I ended up in Köln instead of Berlin, met the boys at the record shop, got front row spots again and had a quite surreal experience overall.

It's half past six in the morning and I'm sitting on the sofa in an apartment somewhere in the east of Köln. It's a weird feeling to be here all by myself after what has happened in the past 24 hours. But wait, how did I end up in Köln? Shouldn't I have been in Berlin right because of the Aurora concert? Yeah well... about that...

I was supposed to go to Aurora's concert and had booked everything already. The catch was, I had to choose between Aurora and Foals, who somehow managed to be in Germany at the exact same time. I really love Aurora and I'm sad I didn't get to experience her live yesterday.

Rachel (whom I met in Berlin at the Foals concert) has asked me if I'll be in Köln. I told her no, I had other plans. Last weekend there was the Hurricane festival, which I was supposed to attend with Charlotte, but decided against it. Last Friday Foals released their new album and did a small livestream on Instagram – while sitting in Hamburg.

That was the first time I realised I was somehow quite sad, because I ended up crying at the kitchen table after returning from my riding lesson. On top of that, I somehow managed to miss out on both livestreams from Hurricane and Southside. But that alone wouldn't have been enough to change my mind.

A few days ago, a record shop announced there would be a signing session in Köln. Still, I had just met them a few weeks ago. On Sunday noon, I received a message from Mickey, whom I met in Amsterdam. He asked me if I was going to Köln because he has been thinking about going there last minute.

I told him, no, I'm not going, please give the boys my greetings. Then started crying. Now I was unhappy about the prospect of going to Berlin all alone instead of seeing some people again who are actually asking about me

Enter insanity. I told him that I was looking to change my plan. And we started planning out our trip. I don't know which part of this is more insane, maybe you can decide for me:

- Berlin tickets and accommodation are non-refundable, and I am not a millionaire - We have two days until the concert - for some reason (Billie Eilish and Lorde probably) the entirety of Köln is completely booked out, with prices starting from 110 € upwards for any kind of accommodation - this makes it way too expensive for getting a single room, so Mickey and I decided to share - I don’t know him other than having spent a few hours at a concert with him

But of course, why not, right?

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two days later, at home

Mickey said on Sunday evening, “Yes, let’s go” and I did not know whether to grin like an idiot or panic. So, I first grinned and then spent Monday and Tuesday morning with panicking. Seems fair. I don’t know why anxiety kicked in as much as it did, but it nearly made it impossible to prepare because I was shaking with fear.

I booked my trains and Mickey booked an Airbnb half an hour from the city centre and about the same time from the venue E-Werk. It was the only remotely affordable flat anywhere near we needed to be that did not just have one bed, but also a sofa. Oh well…

On Tuesday morning I was too nervous to eat anything and left the house with a bag of food and fear. In the train I tried to distract myself with Life Is Yours and Everything Everything, hoping that the uplifting music would relax me. That did not really happen.

At least both the train to and from Hannover were fairly punctual, and so were his trains. Finally in Köln, I discovered that the station in fact has two entrances on the same side. I told Mickey I’d wait in front of Kamps bakery and started scanning the crowd. And what a crowd it was. It seemed like the entire town was up and about.

Then finally, when I already thought we won’t find each other and maybe I don’t remember anymore how he looks like, Mickey suddenly materialised in front of me. I asked myself how I ever thought I won’t recognise him. We both said hi in a rather awkward way and had a moment of doubting whether we should hug but decided to go for it. It was already about 12:40 and we decided to go and look for the Underdog Record Store which was only a few minutes’ walk from the station.

I happily let Mickey navigate (although we made a few wrong turns) and we tried to somehow become more familiar with each other. I remembered him as a very nice person who was pleasant to talk to and this impression was only confirmed. He told me about his university courses and about how exactly he happened to somehow be based in three countries at once. We talked a bit about Foals, but also about how this entire situation is a bit funny.

At some point I joked that my best friend was kind of shocked I was about to just go ahead on a trip with a “friend” I had only known for a few hours, and he laughed about that and said he’ll try to be a good companion.

We arrived at the tiny record shop way ahead of time and discovered they only sell vinyl. There was already a small queue, but we wanted to check out a bakery for food (not tasty enough) and a nearby Saturn for the LIY album. Just as I predicted the CD cost insane 18 €, but I gulped my guilt down and bought one, because it felt odd to arrive without any of their music.

[x]

The previous day I had already printed out some photos of the band members for Mickey and bought a strong white cardboard for myself for Yannis to write the lyrics of Mountain at My Gates. I was unsure whether that wouldn’t be too much work, but when we arrived back at the shop and saw Rachel and her friends Lea and Maggie, I saw it was not more work than they had brought.

Lea had a whole assortment of CDs and a big print from ENSWBL 1 deluxe she wanted to get signed. She wore a Pidge t-shirt and turned out to be quite the superfan, despite this being her first Foals concert. That was a good thing, because she craved to be at the barrier, and I knew we would be really late that day. So we were lucky I knew Rachel and could just come and join them later.

Rachel showed us the papaya and lemon she brought for Yannis, and we all burst out laughing, because it was a reference to his tweets about favourite fruit the previous day.

Speaking of the devil – suddenly a black car with tinted windows pulled up at the store. The door opened – and a very smol and tired Yannis emerged. We stared at him and awkwardly greeted him, and he also said hi to us and proceeded to vanish inside the shop.

Yannis wore his red shirt with flowers that day, together with obligatory black jeans and white shoes. At some point he sat down in the little adjacent café and some woman, who seemed to be part of their team, brought a pile of cards and pencils. It was a bit odd because not only could we see him, but he was also watching us.

The awkwardness was alleviated by Jack suddenly appearing around the corner with his foldable bicycle, stylishly sporting one of Yannis old t-shirts, the grey-white-orange one with circle and spot patterns. He folded the bike and carried it in, greeting us in a good mood. By now it was already 2pm, but Jimmy was not here yet. He came a few minutes later with a woman and we were like “Hi Jimmy! You are late!” and he replied “Yes, I know I know”.

I was starting to get quite nervous because we were one of the first in line, right after Rachel, Lea and Maggie. We caught a glimpse of Yannis with his papaya and giggled about it, but then it was suddenly our turn. I had joked that Mickey had to go first in case they will eat him alive, but they were in contrary incredibly sweet.

[x]

Mickey put the photos on the table to sign and they said the photos look really cool and wanted to know where they are from. I said, these are my photos and pointed out which are from Amsterdam and which from Berlin and they complimented me about them. He asked Yannis if they can play his favourite song Exits, but he politely denied, saying that they may play it at a later point. Mickey also asked them to record a small birthday message for his friend Sasha. Jack was the one talking, and the others just chimed in with Happy Birthday.

Now this was all taking quite a bit of time and their assistant woman (or whoever she was) wanted us to take a photo and move along but I said I still had some things to sign, sorry. The boys were very patient, but this woman clearly was not. Understandably so because there was quite a queue.

I started telling Yannis “Umm, hi I don’t know if you remember me, but we met in Berlin, I was the one who gave you the letter from Nikol.” And he was like “oh, yes, sure, I remember!” and proceeded to thank her for the letter and the Chili. He said he liked it very much and “it is made of ceramics, right? I wore it a few times, it’s great” and the others also seemed to know what he was talking about. Then he said, without me mentioning it, “and thanks also for the soap, it is really good”. By that time my heart had already melted, to be honest.

I asked them if they could sign the CD for Nikol and they all proceeded to do so, but then Yannis wanted to write her name and asked me “How do you spell that?” and my brain sort of short-circuited and I forgot the alphabet and helpfully said “err, with K”. Thankfully Mickey had not lost his brain and spelled it out for him.

To the dismay of the woman timekeeper I also asked Yannis very messily with compromised grammar whether he could write the chorus of Mountain at My Gates down for me “because it’s my favourite song and um err I always listen to it when err I- I think I can’t go on anymore and and I would hang it up on my wall and look at it” *facepalm*. Yannis said “yeah sure I’ll do that” but then he realised he did not know the lyrics and was like “umm oh I need to look that up” and I think even had the audacity to say “oh you should know your own lyrics” (while being too star struck to know them myself, mind you) and he apologetically told me about how it was difficult to remember them but how about I just leave the paper here with him and he’ll do it in between and hand it out to me later?

Of course, I agreed with that and was so happy and then we had to take one awkward photo in which I stood next to Jimmy and didn’t know where to turn myself… and then it was over and we went out.

I immediately sent out a voice message to N telling her about the Chili and then took a photo of the signed things. N first did not realise it is a signed CD and thought it is a card, but she was really happy about the news.

Mickey and I waited around for a bit to get the written lyrics. When the woman gave them out to me along with a little card, I couldn’t believe the precious gift I was holding in my hands. That song had really guided me through some heavy things and given me a lot of energy. To have it handwritten by the person who came up with the song in the first place is an invaluable gift.

We also sent everything to Charlotte, and she started screenshotting it and was excited for us. She did not know we’d be in Köln and so it was a surprise for her. Meanwhile she was already on her way to Glastonbury. Rachel and the girls departed after exchanging approving glances at each other’s signed things.

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Mickey and I turned to go back to the main station to get some food and get the train to our accommodation. On our way I asked him about his family and about his friend Sasha. Since he is Ukrainian, he had quite some things to tell about how he and his family experience the war. Thankfully they are all alright, although the situation is of course less than ideal.

At the main station Mickey got himself some sandwich and was kind enough to sponsor my vegan couscous. We sat on the steps leading up to the Kölner Dom and talked about work and university, before going in for a quick glance at the Dom. We then took the train with the number eighteen and made our way to the accommodation, which is in a part of the city that reminded us more of a village than a big city.

I was a bit nervous because he was so spontaneous with determining when we had to get out, but he just laughed and told me to relax. Granted, my sixth sense saved us from missing our stop. Still, he was good at navigating, and we made it to the house with the number twelve, located in a quiet street.

After ringing the doorbell once or twice a nice woman opened the door and told us to come in. She asked why we are in the city and we tried to explain in English and German that we were here for Foals and the city is packed because of Billie Eilish and Lorde. She was very nice and showed us to our flat upstairs and explained how the key worked. After introducing us to her sweet black curly dog, we were left on our own.

The flat was quite big, with a corridor, a bathroom to the left, a kitchen straight ahead and a huge living and sleeping room with a wooden balcony. The living room had a huge double bed and a foldable sofa, as well as a dinner table and a TV. The balcony led out into the garden with a view on an idyllic pond. To be honest, if it had not been for the price, I’d stayed in this flat for much longer than one night.

We freshened up a bit, re-packed our bags and headed out to catch the train to E-Werk. It was around 4:30 pm by now and I was nervous about the state of the queue waiting for us, although I knew Lea was already there. The train took its sweet time to arrive and we had to catch a bus after.

By now all nervousness had disappeared and I was just happy to have a companion with me. He told really funny stories, like the one about his colleague telling the waiter in the restaurant “Ich warte!” in an attempt to practice his German. Mickey himself has quite impressive German skills although he claimed that Dutch has ruined his pronunciation (which was nearly perfect the whole time).

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We finally arrived at the venue with the bus, together with another dude wearing a Black Bull t-shirt. Apparently the bus stop is just in front of E-Werk. Me wanting to be at E-Werk for Coldplay in 2014 made me think it’d be a beautiful venue, but it really was quite small and shabby-looking with huge windows.

Said windows were almost shattering from the sound of Egyptian Blue soundchecking. Thankfully Rachel and the others were already there and I also saw the guy from Berlin with the Inhaler t-shirt (and again I managed to not ask his name, goddamn me, I am hopeless). He was wearing a Foals t-shirt today though and sat next to us all on the steps.

We had to admit Egyptian Blue sounded better from the outside than the inside of the venue and joked we’d just stay out here until they were done. Suddenly we noticed Jack behind the bushes next to the tour bus inconveniently parked in plain sight. He was talking to the guy in the Black Bull t-shirt, who had told us earlier that he missed the signing session. I guess he wanted a private signing session now, but security dared to disagree and sent him out.

We did not remain seated quietly for long, though, because N sent me a tweet with the coordinates of a hidden vinyl. Mickey and I got up and running down the street in an attempt to get there first – too late! Only minutes after the tweet the vinyl had already found a new owner. It was great fun though running down the street and giggling, not caring what people thought about us.

By now it was almost half past six, nearly time for doors to open. Security took care to make rows and more and more people appeared, making us glad that we had a good spot. Mickey still needed to send me my ticket which he had gotten from Ticketswap.

And then it was time. Thankfully nothing happened, the tickets were valid, no questions about my bag… and Rachel did not even have to lie down on the floor like Charlotte to secure our spot. Again a perfect spot, right where Yannis would be!

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The only thing was that this time I was sandwiched between Mickey and the huge Berlin guy (I swear next time I’ll ask his name). But I tried to see the positive sides: with such strong guys next to me it was certain Yannis would come here for What Went Down. If only security had been this strong too… but more of that in time.

Now it was waiting time again. When Mickey went to the bathroom, some drunk guy from the back already wanted to steal his place, claiming he “just had to touch the barrier once to see how it feels”. Like dude… no. Touch it after the concert is over. We met Paula, who brought a bouquet of pink roses to the concert.

We were all very “enthusiastic” about Egyptian Blue who played as bashingly loud and bad as usually. But thank God that was over soon. And then they started to build up the Foals stage! Yannis microphone was set up right in front of my nose, a bit too much in front of me for my taste because I knew it’d be in the way all the time.

Mickey noticed that there appeared to be no screen this time – just a black huge banner that reminded us of something we could not point our finger at. We engaged N as a detective and found out it resembled the pattern on the black LIY vinyl. I prayed that the light would be good enough for photos.

And suddenly, shockingly on time, Foals appeared onstage with the known intro music and Wake Me Up. Yannis was really right in front of me again and had made the effort to change into another shirt (actually one of my faves). I felt like I overdosed with Foals in the last month, because not only was this the third concert but I also spoke to him twice. This all felt too unreal to be true.

He was in a good vocal shape, but somehow the vibe was different from Berlin and Amsterdam. They seemed to be a bit tired, although they tried to play a good energetic show. I remembered my purpose of a photographer and started testing out my new prism, to the surprise of and displeasure of the security guy in front of me. Well, I know it looks weird, but the results are worth it, man… and if even Foals say the photos are good…

At first the setlist had no surprises, only when they got to Looking High, we all got excited because that was a rare one. They had last played it in the UK, and only four times. Mickey was already sad because he thought they scrapped Life Is Yours, but to his surprise they played it right after.

I found the crowd to be more drunk but less enthusisastic than in Berlin and I missed Camille and Charlotte for the In Degrees jumping marathon and “Brighton Rock!” yelling. I think they should play Spanish Sahara right after in Degrees so we can all have a rest on the Floor, to be honest.

Yannis was a bit forgetful that day (although not with the Mountain at My Gates chorus, bless). He messed up the beginning of Looking High, and I have heard better performances of Inhaler. However he said “Dankeschön” in a very sweet way even twice, so my heart melted anyway. I will miss him a lot, because that was definitely the last concert of the year. I hope I can memorise how wonderful it is to have a whole concert (or three) to just see all with my own eyes and even speak to him on multiple occasions.

He came down to the crowd for Providence, but I did not catch his hand this time, only his shoulder on the way back (green shirt still leads in terms of softness, but this dotted one is a close second!). During the Encore break I told Mickey that we really need to go and get some food and drink after, because I felt really weak. No surprise in that.

They came back to play Black Bull and then – What Went Down. Now was the chance. We gave everything and hoped he would come to us. He gave away his guitar, climbed down and got up right to us. I thought this is too good to be true, and truly, it was: he decided not to climb up on the barrier today. I suspect, maybe he was being tired but also security stood there like it was their first day on the job and showed no signs of wanting to help him get up.

I can’t blame him for not doing it, but I was a bit sad still. He briefly went to the spot where Rachel and Lea stood, but then he climbed back up on stage. During Two Steps I already noticed just how exhausted I was. And then, suddenly it was over, and they disappeared.

We had no luck with setlists, drumsticks or plecs and they closed the stage area really quickly. I noticed that the entire right side of my T-Shirt was completely soaked in sweat, and it was not my own. My jacket, meanwhile, was safely waiting for me at home… We briefly said goodbye to our friends and then Mickey and I quickly got out to catch the bus.

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Somehow the rest of the evening added to the sense of all of this being completely unreal, like a glimpse of stolen life. I am well aware that many people do things like this on a regular basis and it is no big deal to go to a concert last minute in another city and meet new people and hang out with them.

However, for a home-sitting lonely introvert like me this is really far away from my usual life and still causes me to have some feeling as if everything is just another story I made up in my mind.

At the train station all food shops except one lonely Rewe were closed, so we went to get some shockingly healthy food (“let’s get Papaya with lemon”) and ended up with yoghurt, cereal, apples, wraps, a big bottle of sparkling apple juice (sadly no Sprite, sorry). We somehow forgot how thirsty we were and did not think of buying two bottles, so we shared ours while waiting for the train.

In the train we reviewed the setlist (Mickey was actually the one who created the concert date on setlist.fm) and realised they left out Late Night and Black Gold in favour of new songs. Then we arrived in our “village”. It was dark and I had no idea where we were going. Normally I’d be in panic in this situation, but oddly I felt very safe and incredibly happy in that moment.

We quietly snuck into the flat to not wake the owners downstairs. After eating and washing we talked for a while and it was sad he had to wake up so early next morning to go back, because late night talks are the most interesting. But it was already late, and we had to sleep.

I fell asleep and woke up startled by something when it was already morning. I turned around to find Mickey standing right next to me. I managed to say “oh my god”, and probably scared the hell out of him with my reaction because he asked “Are you ok?”. We had an awkward moment and finally managed to say “…good morning?”.

The goodbye was just as awkward as our greeting less than 24 hours earlier. We first stood a few metres apart and he was not sure about going for a hug or not. He told me to write to him when I was safe at home and suddenly I was all alone.

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I needed an hour to somehow get myself together enough to function again. I ate up, packed and dressed and left the flat after 7:45 to get a train to the botanical garden.

I think it is almost a tradition for me to visit the botanical garden in each city after a concert. There is something meditative and soothing about them, I thought, wandering through the Flora next to Köln Zoo.

Nobody was here yet except for some runners. I had all the time in the world to take as many photos as I wanted and calm down my hopeless brain. Amongst the roses and pink flowers I thought that this would be something Yannis enjoys: first a crazy concert and then the garden.

Afterwards I headed back to the main station in hope of visiting some museums. But the city center is not a welcoming place early in the morning. Most shops are closed and all the construction sites did not help with navigation.

The museums started scaring me, so I thought, “screw this2 and wanted to go to another park. But first I had a whole odyssey trying to find affordable vegan food (which turned out to be disgusting, sadly). In the park I sat down on a bench near the big pond to eat and write to N. By that time it was really hot already. I managed to get lost with google maps and eventually settled under the shade of a big tree.

There I found a four leafed clover which I showed to N and to Mickey, who did not know the concept of them as lucky charms. A mail reached me: my green patterned shirt had arrived, and I would be able to pick it up soon.

Then it was already time to go back to the station and catch the ICE to Hannover. The train was very full, and the air was thick. I originally wanted to write down my adventures but found myself almost sleeping instead. Even worse, we were significantly delayed, and I missed my second ICE by a minute. That meant I had an odyssey with two Metronom trains until I finally arrived in my home town, exhausted and ready to just eat and sleep.

It has been two days now and I still feel like it was all a fever dream, even as I sit on the sofa and look at the photos I took. Not entirely sure how any of this qualifies as a travel or concert diary still, but it sure as hell is a lot of reading material to remember.

#my concerts #foals köln #foals #yannis #jack #jimmy #my photo #liy

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rafecameron · 4 years

Text

Request: Can you do one where Diego has a voyeurism kink please!! (sorry anon I lost the inbox)

Summary: Diego finds you in bed pleasing yourself and finds himself a nice seat to watch from

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x reader

Warnings: smut, choking, oral(male receiving)

Word count: 1.6K

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I didn’t expect my first diego request to be smut but here we are! My first time writing for him so I hope it’s okay! This is also not proof read sorry

You had been thinking about the steamy weekend you had just shared with your boyfriend for the entirety of the day. The knowledge that you wouldn’t be seeing your boyfriend due to his family dinner tonight only slightly dampening your spirits - you had other ways to keep yourself entertained when you were alone.

The day seemed to drag on, the wetness between your legs pooling when you thought about how your boyfriend had pinned you down to the bed with a strong hand around the back of your neck, his other holding onto your hips as he pounded into you. You’d spent the whole weekend wrapped up in bed together and you never wanted it to end, but unfortunately life reared its head in the form of Monday morning.

You were sure your work colleagues could read your thoughts by the look on your face but you didn’t care, if they’d had the weekend you’d had then you were sure they would be just the same. Finally the end of the day rolled around and you got to go home to your apartment.

Abandoning the idea of food you headed straight to the bedroom, stripping out of your work clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor. Usually you would get changed into something comfy to lounge around in but today you jumped straight onto the bed clad in nothing but your underwear.

Your head full of images of your boyfriend, topless hovering over you, you slid your hand down your chest eager to get on with your plans for the evening. You were already soaking when your hands reached between your legs over your underwear, rubbing yourself gently through the fabric - just how Diego always liked to do. He loved to tease you and although you complained about it, it was secretly one of your favourite things. You loved being completely at his mercy.

But you couldn’t tease yourself, after thinking about this all day you were too desperate to get on with it so you shimmied out of your underwear, kicking them off to the floor. Your hand went straight back between your legs, your fingers instantly coated in your slick as you rubbed at your clit with one finger. A soft mew left your lips at the sensation - nowhere near as good as when your boyfriend did it but still damn enjoyable.

You slowly slip a finger into yourself, finding a steady pace, your eyes closed as you imagine it being Diego’s hand instead of your own. You bring your free hand down to play with your clit, hips lifting from the bed slightly as you toy with yourself.

“Didn’t realise you’d be putting on a show.” You let out a gasp at the sudden interruption, your hands flying away from your body as you scramble to bring the covers over yourself.

“Oh my god.” You squeak, cheeks heating up to a violent shade of red as you hug the covers to your body.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Diego smirks as he enters the room.

You had been so caught up in your actions you hadn’t even heard the front door closing let alone heard him coming up to the room. You were too embarrassed to look into his eyes so instead you focused on your feet poking out from the covers.

“I thought you had a dinner.” You mumble.

“Cancelled.” Diego says simply, his hands reach for your hands, prying them off the covers so he could reveal your body once again, “You look so sexy taking care of yourself. Show me.”

“D,” You shake your head, the redness never leaving your cheeks, “I can’t!”

“Sure you can.” Diego leans down, placing a kiss to the top of your head before disappearing again.

He grabs the chair from in front of your desk, positioning it at the end of the bed. He drops down into it, a grin on his face as he nods at you once.

“C’mon, give me a show babygirl.” He encourages.

You bite your lip lightly, eyeing your boyfriend for a few moments before settling back down, a sudden boost of confidence that you don’t usually possess washing over you. You slowly let your fingers trail back down your stomach to your core, sliding two between your folds to gather the wetness again. You part your legs, sliding the two fingers into yourself and pumping them steadily, determined to give him a good show.

Diego sits upright, his gaze intense as it lingers on where your fingers meet your entrance. He’s entranced by your movements, he didn’t think you could get any sexier but you were always here to prove him wrong. The man could feel himself hardening beneath his pants and he places a hand atop himself, palming his member gently through the fabric. He lets his eyes wander up your body. Across your stomach to your breasts still clad in your black bra, then to your face, lips parted slightly as soft pants fall from them. Your eyes were closed as you focussed on the feeling of your fingers stroking your walls.

You let your other hand resume it’s place on your clit, rubbing the nub between two fingers as you speed up the pace of your fingers inside of you. A moan falls from your lips at the change of pace, your hips bucking up to meet your movements.

“Look at me.” Diego demands and you do. Your eyes open, landing on the man sat in front of you. You moan at the sight, your boyfriend watching you pleasure yourself, his hard cock showing through his pants as his hand massages it.

“Diego.” You whine out, pulling your lip between your teeth as you speed up your movements.

You could already feel your stomach tightening, your orgasm getting ready to course through your body. A few more pumps into yourself and a little more pressure on your clit sent you over the edge. Your hips lift off the bed into your hand as your juices slide down your fingers, moans and whimpers leaving your mouth as your high washes over you.

You’re left panting on the bed when your body finally relaxes, your eyes lidded as you look over to your boyfriend who was now undoing his zipper as he stood up. He moves his pants and boxers down enough to pulls length from the confinements, pumping himself slowly as he moves to hover over you.

“We gotta do that more often babygirl, you look so pretty touching yourself like that.” He murmurs out, his free hand brushing stray hairs from your face.

“Never knew you were into that, D.” You giggle out.

“I’m into anything if it's with you.” he comments.

He helps maneuver you on the bed so you were on your hands and knees, he hovered in front of you, his cock firmly in his hand as he brushed your hair back out of your face into a makeshift ponytail. He rubs the wet tip of his cock against your lips, tapping your lower lip lightly. You part your lips, your tongue licking the precum from his tip with a smirk.

“I think you’ve teased me enough with that little show.” He yanks your hair back causing you to gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his cock between your lips.

You moan around his length, tongue swirling around it as he pushes himself further into your mouth. Diego pumps into your mouth slowly a couple times before pushing himself down your throat, your nose touching his chest as you gag around him. He lets out a groan before pulling your head back by your hair then slamming into you again.

You hollow out your cheeks, allowing him to fuck into your mouth as hard and fast as he liked. You gagged each time he hit the back of your throat, tears starting to pool in your eyes but you loved the feeling of your mouth being full of him.

“That’s it babygirl, take it so well.” He grunts out as he thrusts into you.

His first twists in your hair, pulling your head to meet his thrusts. His free hand moves to your throat, squeezing it he could feel himself sliding down your throat with each movement. You moan around him, the vibrations making the man moan out louder. He continues at a fast pace, the tears now falling freely down your face as he fucked your throat.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He groans out, head tilting back as he closed his eyes, “I’m close.”

You hum around his cock, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as the force from his movements rocks you back and forth. A few more pumps and he reaches his high, a loud moan falling from his lips as he coats the inside of your mouth with his cum. Some of it leaks out of your mouth and down your chin as he rides his orgasm out between your lips.

Slowly he pulls himself out, falling back to sit on the bed as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. He looks up at you, hair a mess falling into his eyes, a smile forming on his lips as you crawl across the bed to him.

“That was better than a family dinner.” He mumbles, allowing you to press a soft kiss to his lips.

You brush his hair away from his eyes as your other hand comes to rest against his cheek, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” You mumble, brushing your thumb across his lips.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “That why you were so eager to please yourself?”

You nod your head, a shy smile across your lips, “It’s what you do to me.”

“I can do a lot more to you.” He smirks quickly pushing you down onto the bed and moving over you to attack your neck with his teeth.

@rudyypankow @sunwardsss @popeheywards

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves fic #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves smut #my writing #this will probably not show up in the tags like usual so yay

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reinersbb · 3 years

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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔] Chapter Two- Coffee Girl

Chapter Two of ‘Forget’

You could still recall the ringing sensation you felt vibrate through your ears when those words left Floch's mouth. Those horrid series of words tormented you for the rest of the evening, and through the morning of the next day.

You had spent the rest of your Friday night in bed, alone, in your dark dorm room by yourself.

A Friday night that'd gone to waste.

You were slightly thankful that your dorm mate never came back last night. Not that you didn't like your roommate, because you did, it's just you knew how awkward it would be to sob your heart out in front of someone. Your roommate was a good person, but when it came to emotions and people-stuff, she was very blunt and confrontational.

At this point during the day, you had no more tears left to give. You've run dry. The mid-morning sun that broke through the window to your immediate right caused a stream of light to cascade across you and your bed and into the rest of the blackened room.

Your fingertips curled over the edge of the comforter, pulling the blanket up against your neck as you rolled over onto your left side, facing away from the window and to the openness of the room. Your eyes were locked on the floor, or specifically, the light that snuck in from underneath the door. You held your gaze at that particular spot until the sounds of familiar voices approached the door, along with shadows that rippled in the light from under the door that peered in.

The door handle jiggled until eventually you were exposed to the people behind it in all of your post-breakup glory.

"Shit, (Y/N), you're still in bed? Are you hungover or something?" Your roommate asked, standing in the middle of the doorway with her girlfriend, "it's almost noon."

Almost noon?

By this point, you've already accepted the fact that you were going to have to face the music and spill what happened between you and Floch. Because she was going to get it out of you anyway.

Ymir was very perceptive like that.

"No, I'm awake," you admitted.

As soon as the reply left your lips, she went for the light switch and turned the light on. At the initial contact, the light burned your eyes and you tightly clamped your eyelids shut. You battled with yourself with a series of blinks until you were able to keep your eyes open completely.

"Hey guys," you finally greeted.

"Hi, (Y/N)," the small blonde greeted with a bright smile on her face, but once she got a good look at you, the smile faded away, "are you alright?"

"I'm not okay, actually," you knew for a fact that it wasn't best for you to lie.

Ymir got a better look at you, "what the hell happened to you then? You look like you've been crying," her intimidating eyes stared you down like she was doing a full-blown analysis.

"Floch broke up with me," you said, finally sitting up straight in your bed, the comforter rippling down from your chest.

Historia looked at you, eyes wide, "I don't understand, you guys seemed so perfect together, why would he do that?"

You sighed, "I don't know."

In all honesty, you asked yourself that question over too many times last night.

'Why would he do this? Why would he break up with me? Just because he wanted to go separate ways? What kind of excuse is that? I thought we were on the same page.'

"He must be out of his mind to break up with you," Historia approached your bedside, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress with you.

Historia was basically your third roommate even though she didn't live in the same dorm with you and Ymir. You thought it a little odd the few times Ymir would show up without Historia by her side. That just goes to show how often the two were with one another.

You and Floch weren't like that though. There were days you'd go without seeing each other but would make up on missed time on the days the two of you would hang out. Which was supposed to be last night.

"Men, such assholes," Ymir scoffed, the weight shifting in the bed when Ymir sat near the foot of the bed to the right of Historia, "I can't stand them," she wrapped an arm around the petite blonde's shoulders.

"Floch didn't even deserve you anyways," Historia spoke with a comforting smile, you could tell that she was trying her best to make you feel better.

You were thankful for both Historia and Ymir, especially in times like this. The two of them made up the majority of the small handful of friends you had.

"Thanks," your eyes fell, staring at the comforter as your fingernails fiddled with the material. "Looks like I'm going to be third-wheeling a lot more now," you chuckled dryly.

Occasionally, you, Floch, Ymir, and Historia would go on double dates together. You guessed that was an end to that tradition.

"Doesn't sound like a problem to me," Ymir said. "Speaking of being a third-wheel, you should come out with us tonight, (y/n), it'll be fun."

"Wha-"

"This frat party, we were invited last night," Historia said, her big blue eyes staring at you sympathetically.

A party? While the thought of going out did tempt you, you still weren't sure if getting shit-faced and having to deal with a hangover the next day would be worth it if you still had to study for a test you had on Monday.

"I don't know you guys, I have this test on Monday and..."

But at the same time, how could you even focus on studying when Floch was constantly stuck on your mind? Sitting in your room pining over a guy who probably wasn't even thinking about you for the second day in a row would be worthless.

"Come on, (Y/N), please come out with us tonight so you can get your mind off of everything," Historia pleaded with a cheerful tone, "there's no use sitting inside crying over some jerk."

Ymir pinched Historia's right cheek, "how could you possibly say no to this cute face?"

They were right. You knew they were right. You were just broken up with, you needed to go out and have a good time tonight.

Historia placed a gentle, comforting hand on top of your knee, "look, we can't force you to go with us, but just know you deserve to have fun and happiness."

At this point, you'd practically made up your decision in your mind.

"Fine, I'll go with you guys," your chest dropped with a light sigh and Historia gathered you into her arms with a small hug.

"Great!" Historia exclaimed before letting go of you to hop off of the bed.

Ymir followed Historia off of the bed, only stopping to turn and look at you, "be ready by ten, okay? Or sometime around then, it doesn't really matter."

After the conversation you had with both of them, you were invited to go out with them for lunch, which you accepted because you had skipped out on dinner yesterday. After lunch, you genuinely needed some time to yourself to get a short study session in, along with a post-breakup social media cleanse, erasing every single trace you had connected with Floch.

*****************

Your freshly shaved legs were crossed as you were sitting on the floor, your posture was anything less than angelic as you leaned hunched forward staring at yourself in your body mirror. You were wrapped in a damp cotton towel, getting ready for the awaited party. Music from your favorite playlist steadily playing in the background from your laptop that was positioned on top of your bed as you applied your makeup.

Historia sat down on the ground next to you, her petite frame wrapped in one of Ymir's robes as she applied makeup onto her face. While Ymir sat on top of her bed, one arm propped behind her head as she was absorbed into her phone absentmindedly, just waiting for both you and Historia to finish getting ready for the party.

When you finished applying your makeup, you packed up all of your items you had strewn about on the floor before zipping your makeup bag shut. You negligently tossed the bag of cosmetics onto your unmade bed before closing your laptop, cutting off the music with it.

Effortlessly scooping up the black satin spaghetti-strapped dress you had laid flat out onto your bed. Your fingertips needing over the cool satin material as you examined the dress in its entirety. While neither Ymir nor Historia was paying attention, you threw on matching black laced underwear before putting the dress, making sure to be careful not to mess up your hair and makeup.

"Ooh, you're wearing that number?" The sound of a sing-song expression from Historia made you forward your attention to her.

Historia ran a hand along with the material of her dress, adjusting the light pink halter dress she wore. A smile appeared on your face as you playfully stuck a pose.

"What do you think, Historia," you said, breaking from your pose, "am I doing too much?"

"I think you look like someone who is going to have lots of fun tonight," she winked at you knowingly.

After throwing on some black heels to match with the outfit, you examined yourself in the mirror. Turning around to stare at yourself from behind, examining the exposed portion of your back.

Just as all three of you were about to leave for the party, you spritzed yourself with a vanilla-scented perfume before grabbing your phone and handbag. After the three of you left the dorm room, you checked to see the time on your phone. The clock read half-past ten.

Only then did you notice the red battery icon in the upper right-hand corner on your screen. Somehow, you forgot to charge your phone this whole time.

"Dammit," you hissed under your breath, slapping yourself mentally.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" Ymir turned to look at you.

"I forgot to charge my phone," you groaned inwardly before locking the device and shoving it into your handbag, wanting to persevere any battery life you had left.

"It'll be alright, you shouldn't be needing your phone much tonight anyways," Historia shrugged, wrapping her arm around Ymir's.

**********

"Do I know anyone here?" You asked, following up the tall set of steps behind Ymir and Historia.

"You might, I know some of mine and Historia's friends will be here tonight," Ymir turned to look over her shoulder back at you momentarily.

Some of our friends. Though Ymir and Historia were your friends, you never brought it upon yourself to get to know anyone inside of their inner friend circle. It's not that you didn't want or care to, but most of the time when you went out it would've been with Floch or all four of you.

Most of the other times, Floch never seemed to be too much into parties, so you never indulged in those events either. Limiting your friend-making experiences.

Pushing through the already opened front door of the large frat house, the three of you entered into the overly-packed foyer. There were people already drunk out of their minds, even though it was hardly eleven.

The smell of different mixtures of smoke clouded your senses, and the volume of music thumped through your ears and all of your senses combined.

Historia held a grip onto your hand, along with Ymir's as the three of you formed a chain, pushing through the overly-dense crowd. The three of you stayed attached as a human chain until all of you made it across the scene where the majority of people were dancing.

Ymir informed both of you that she was going to run off and find some drinks for all of you before disappearing into the sea of people. Historia urged you to dance with her, complying with her demand, the both of you began dancing together along with the music that was bumping heavily in the background.

During mid-dance, you felt a hand firmly cup your ass, causing you to jump and lose your rhythm with the beat of the music. Immediately, you turned around to see who it was, only to realize it was just some drunk douchebag wearing sunglasses that was leaning in too close for your liking.

"Dude, fuck off," you snatched his hand away from your rear.

Historia bitched at the guy over the music as you regained your composure. Eventually, he retreated to somewhere else in the crowd.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry that jerk did that to you," Historia held onto your shoulders.

"I'll be okay, let's not worry about it," you tried reassuring Historia that you'd be fine.

"Okay, well we should probably go find Ymir," Historia called out, nodding her head into the direction Ymir left in.

Following along in agreement, you were only mildly upset that a drunk idiot had to ruin your mood this early on in the night. Almost making you wish that you stayed back home in the dorm.

"Ymir!" Historia called out, searching for her girlfriend as both of you pushed into the kitchen.

Skimming through all the random faces floating about in the kitchen, both of you realized that Ymir was nowhere in the vicinity.

Historia let out a sigh and turned to face you, "I'm going to go find Ymir, you can stay right here if you want to."

"I'll just stay around here and keep an eye out for Ymir, probably search for some snacks to eat on or something," you shrugged.

Historia smiled and made her departure from the kitchen. After the blonde-haired girl was out of sight, you forwarded your attention to the array of snacks and other food items laying across the large kitchen island.

Popping a few grapes into your mouth from the platter of different fruits and cheeses, you glanced around at the coolers placed against the base of the island. Flicking the top to one of the coolers open, you dove your hand into the ice and retrieved a wine cooler. You examined the flavor, mixed berry, and decided that would be good enough.

Pushing the lid on the cooler shut, you stood up straight and took a step back, twisting the cap off of the bottle. You lifted the bottle to your mouth, tasking a swig of the alcoholic beverage as you turned around.

The alcoholic liquid almost sloshed out of your mouth as you partially came into contact with someone. Large hands delicately caught along your waist to stabilize you, along with distancing yourself from said person.

'Seriously? Not this shit again.' You couldn't help but mentally scold yourself from the re-enactments of yesterday's events.

Your eyes flicked upwards, staring intently through your false lashes at the man who was currently holding onto you.

Familiar intense light brown eyes bored into you, taking in your appearance, "we seriously need to stop running into each other like this, coffee girl."

#attack on titan #aot #aot smut #jean #jean kirchstein #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein smut #snk #snk x reader #fanfic #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction

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violet-knox · 3 years

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A Day to Remember

Year 7 - Chapter 65

Summary: Despite the end of the holidays, you’re determined to make the most of Severus’ birthday and even offer him a chance to redo one of his childhood regrets.

Word count: 3881

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

The morning breeze bit at your skin as you opened your eyes. Stretching your arm, you searched for the warmth you knew the other side of the bed offered. A smile crept onto your face as you nudged yourself into Severus’ side. You gently placed a kiss over the little skin exposed at the crook of his neck, your leg slipping between his. You moved your lips up to his jaw, the faint smell of lavender enticing your urges, your hand over his waist, pulling him closer. The cold left your body rather quickly as you propped yourself on your elbow and attached your lips to the other side of his neck. Severus woke up to the familiar sensation of your lips desperately marking him, his hand immediately searching to place themselves all over your figure.

You detached from your position and slowly moved to ghost your lips over his, teasing him with the forbidden kiss of a needed lover. Pulling the covers over your body, you moved your leg to his other side, straddling him as you continued to deny him the pleasure of your lips moving against his. You felt the cold of his long slim fingers travelling up your thigh, resting over your hips, his thumbs threateningly pressed into your hip bone. Your grin grew as you placed your hands over his clothed chest, keeping your gaze on his dark orbs, your chest heaving with need as it left his.

“Morning love,” you whispered so lightly with the hopes no one else had woken as early as you. Severus had been in such a bad mood yesterday when all the students had arrived back from holiday break and even though you’d agreed sneaking into the dorm after the holidays were over was too risky, you couldn’t let him spend the night alone after the mood he was in. You didn’t want him to wake up grumpy and ruin the remainder of such a special day.

Leaning down, you finally connected your lips and kissed him passionately. He felt himself melt into you, his hands shifting to grip your waist. A breath caught in his throat as you parted, his eyes following your movement before you slowly began to trail your lips along his jaw and neck. He smiled as he felt you pour your love all over him, his sour mood from last night slipping his mind until he remembered what day it was.

January 9th had never been a day worth waking up for. A day filled with nothing but disappointment and dread was never anything to be excited for. He’d only ever let himself fall for the expectations of a happy birthday a year after he’d met Lily, after she’d told him they’d celebrate together even if his parents had nothing planned. But of course, nothing had gone as she’d claimed that day, and instead, he’d found himself exactly where he’d always end up at the end of the day on his birthday; in his bed, under the covers, muffling his tears with his pillow. Despite the day’s history, he felt a small spark of optimism this year, if only because nothing had gone wrong since the official beginning of 1978. He still had you, Potter had elected to keep his distance whenever he was with you, knowing full well you’d break the news to Lily that her boyfriend wasn’t as reformed as she’d thought. His life seemed to have finally been settled, yet he was cautious to believe it would all last. After all these years, he was rather convinced the day was cursed, that he truly was destined to die alone and after what happened last year, he was sure this year would be no different.

“Sev?” You parted from him when you felt his grip on you loosen only to see his smile had faded away, a longing present in his eyes as he stared off into the distance. Gently, you placed a hand on his jaw, your thumb slowly running over his cheek like you knew he liked. His eyes closed as his attention was brought back to you, his smile slowly returning, old memories fading away to be replaced with nothing but thoughts of you. “Are you alright?”

Severus opened his eyes to see yours reflecting concern for him. He was beyond lucky to have you in his life, the sliver of happiness he felt today only present because of you. The longing in his eyes disappeared, but you could still see disappointment as you looked into them. You watched him nod his head before pushing himself up slithering out from under you.

“Let’s get dressed,” he said casually as he removed himself from the sheets and pulled back the curtains enough to fetch your clothing without giving you the chance to protest. You did as he requested however, and got dressed before turning into your animagus form and jumping off the bed, waiting for Severus to open the door and head out of the Slytherin common room.

It saddened you to see him like this, wondering what had brought on this mood when you were sure that if you were the first thing he saw this morning, he would wake up happy and ready to celebrate. The day had only just begun and whatever it was bringing down his mood, there was plenty of time to bring up his spirit. Transforming back after leaving the common room, you happily took his hand in yours and began to lead him down the hall towards the basement. You made your way to the kitchens and just as you’d requested, there were two cupcakes on the table in the corner where the fireplace lay, surrounded by an array of assorted breakfast foods.

“I requested the house elves to set it up last night,” you explained as you walked over and picked up the cupcake with the singular candle stuck in the middle of the green and white frosting. You held it up to Severus as you took a seat across from him. “Make a wish.”

Severus’ smile grew as he settled into his seat, the day already better than any other year before it and perhaps this would be the year he finally celebrated his birthday. Perhaps you were going to help him break free of the curse and as he leaned in and blew out the candle, that was exactly what he wished for. His eyes followed the cupcake as you placed it in front of him, the widest smile he’d ever seen present on your face complimenting the joyful aura you brought to his day. You picked up your goblet and rose it, waiting for him to do the same before toasting to him and his special day.

“Happy birthday my dear Prince,” you said softly, clinking your goblet with his and sipping your pumpkin juice before indulging in a happy birthday breakfast. Severus felt his cheeks flush pink, your smile so contagious, he couldn’t rid himself of his own. But it wasn’t embarrassment that he felt fill his chest, nor was it disappointment. He felt nothing but pride and gratitude. He felt special and worthy of happiness with every bite he took into his cupcake, every glance you gave him, every word you spoke to him. He cherished this moment and hoped the day would end now before the curse came after him and ruined it, but of course, as all things had an end, so did the beautiful breakfast you’d prepared for him.

“Meet me at the Quidditch pitch after class?” You asked him, holding him tightly with your arms around his neck. This was going to be the worst part of the day, your anxiety rising with every second that passed in the classes you didn’t share with him, hating that Monday was your busiest day.

“Are you sure?” Severus hesitantly asked, his brows furrowed as he wondered if spectating your first Quidditch practice of the year was really such a good idea. He loved you and he was proud of all your achievements, but with the history he had with your Quidditch team, he would have rather spent the afternoon in the astronomy tower alone, waiting to spend the evening with you then be thrown hateful looks and whispers of disgust.

“Of course I’m sure,” you said so obviously like there was no need to ask such a question. Severus scoffed at your clear delight for whatever it was you had planned. He hadn’t seen you this excited since the day you’d arrived at Diagon Alley and shared a room together. It was odd to see someone act like his birthday was a day worth celebrating, that you were grateful for his existence. He’d grown so used to the contrary, he wasn’t sure how to react and could only hope you understood how honoured and thankful he was for everything you’d already done.

The day couldn’t pass fast enough, the classes he had without you passing twice as long as the ones he’d spend exchanging glances with you. Every smile you gave him was a gift he couldn’t get enough of, his own reflected on his face for the entirety of the class until he was forced to part ways from you once again. Half the day had disappeared, and it hadn’t been a complete disaster. It had in fact gone rather well, professors less inclined to assign homework on the first day back, class demonstrations passing by smoothly for him and he’d managed to avoid Potter between classes until finally his last class ended.

As he walked out of the Entrance Hall on his way to the Quidditch pitch, he looked up and saw the sun shining happily down on him, unable to remember the last time the sun was visible on his birthday. Clutching the potions book you’d given him last year, he smiled and began to wonder if this was yet another sign he was finally free to enjoy his birthday in its entirety for once. He could only hope that Merlin would gift him one final miracle and give Potter the flu today so he wouldn’t be joining your Quidditch practice and he’d enjoy reading his book in peace.

The closer he got to the entrance of the Quidditch pitch, the more anxious he became. He stopped in front of the door leading to the stadium and began to wonder if he should even risk being within ten feet of Potter after the lovely day he’d had. He thought of you and how disappointed you’d be if he’d broken his promise to watch your practice and decided to try and catch you in the changing room instead of bolting away without a word. Making his way to the Gryffindor girls changing room, he knocked on the door three times and waited. No one answered which he thought was rather odd. Even if you weren’t in there, surly one of the other girls on your team would have answered. He walked back around to the entrance of the pitch and peaked his head around the corner to find you alone, standing in the middle of the field.

“Sev! You’re late,” you exclaimed as you jogged over to him wearing what he assumed were a pair of Muggle joggers. He cautiously approached you as he rose a brow, his mouth gaped open as he was unsure of what to say. There was no one around, every door but the entrance way closed with no one in sight.

“What-what are you wearing? And where is everyone?” he asked curiously.

“Everyone? What do you mean?” You seemed just as confused as him and he was beginning to wonder which one of you was being pranked, if someone had somehow managed to brew a batch of polyjuice potion and trick you both into showing up here all for some sick joke.

“Don’t-don’t you have practice?” Severus asked hesitantly, praying to Merlin this situation would figure itself out, his heart raged with anticipation as his gut told him something horrible was about to happen.

“Sev, it’s your birthday! I cancelled practice and told the team to enjoy the day before we got back into the session on Wednesday.”

“Then why did you want to meet here?” Despite your explanation, he felt even more confused than before. Surly you’d both enjoy the evening alone better inside in the astronomy tower, or anywhere else for that matter. Why have him meet you out in this chilly weather?

“I wanted to give you your present,” you said as you took his hand and walked him over to the middle of the field where Severus saw your current broom as well as your old broom, the one you’d used to fly them to Diagon Alley laying next to each other. Picking up both brooms, you offered him his old one. “I know it’s not much and I know it’s second hand, but this broom got me through so much and I just couldn’t let it go so I want you to have it. I thought we could fly together, and I could teach you a few things if you like.”

You’d pondered for so long over whether this was a good idea or not. You didn’t want to insult him by giving him something used when he’d worked so hard over the summer to replace all his second hand belongings, picking up extra shifts and even searching for sales on his free time. But you just felt as if it was only fitting for him to have a broom, and it would take him forever to buy a new one. The one you had was an old model yes, but it also wasn’t cheap and beyond that, it had sentimental value. It had helped you through so much and though Quidditch wasn’t something that interested Severus now, you thought at the very least it could help keep him inspired and connected to you no matter where either of you went after Hogwarts.

“(Y/N), I-I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Severus took a step back and frowned, his eyes locked on the broom like it was the most horrendous thing he’d ever seen. Your heart dropped as you saw the disappointment in his eyes. You’d so badly wanted this to work out. You’d even prepared what you’d say to him, how you’d convince him to at least give it a try and enjoy the afternoon flying together for a bit.

“Why not? Sev, if this is about your fear of flying, I can help-”

“I had a bit of an incident in first year.” Severus blurted out, his eyes shut. He’d never wanted to tell you this story, to admit to the embarrassment, but he didn’t want to lie to you. He was touched by your proposal and knew how much that broom meant to you, but he didn’t want to relive such a horrible memory and taint how you saw him. “Potter jinxed the broom I was assigned so that it would buck away every time I tried to mount it. I-I nearly failed that class.”

You paused and stared at him in awe, frowning as your eyes watered. Your face reflected nothing but horror at the story he told, your chest heavy with sorrow and despair. Dropping the broom, you rushed to hug him, taking him by surprise as you flung your arms over his shoulders and held him as tightly as you could. “That was you?! Oh Sev! I’m so sorry!”

“For what?” he asked in surprise, thrown off by your sudden leap, his free hand pressed to your back as you held onto him like your life depended on it.

“I-I should have done something, I-I should have stopped him or-”

“(Y/N), you didn’t know me back then, I wouldn’t expect you to do such a thing.” He tried to comfort you as your words turned into inaudible muffles, touched by your own dread for something he knew you couldn’t have stopped. Potter was to blame for his humiliation, not you.

“I should have anyway,” you whispered as you loosened your grip on him, your head hung low with shame. You could hardly believe the agony Severus had gone through all those years alone without you and to make matters worse, you’d just stood there behind the rest of the bystanders, doing absolutely nothing as James tormented your now boyfriend. “Sev, I’m so sorry,”

Tears trickled your eyes as Severus hooked his finger under your chin, bringing your line of sight up to meet his. You were met with such a soft smile, a look of compassion you didn’t deserve. A tear fell down your cheek as the thought of you failing him overtook you, Severus quickly wiping it away with his thumb. You felt like a complete failure, like a horrible girlfriend who wasn’t worthy of the title, and you had no idea how to make it right when the incident happened so long ago.

Severus felt his heartbreak at the look you gave him now, one which he’d never seen before. He was bewildered by your reaction, confused as to why you felt obligated to blame yourself for something you had no part in, nor would he expect you to have stepped in in any way. He smiled and pressed his lips to yours, hoping the kiss would show you he truly did not blame you for what had happened. As he parted, he was happy to see the smile return to your lips, wondering if this was all the curse had in store for him today.

“Let me make it up to you Sev,” you said to him as you stepped away and picked up the brooms you’d previously abandoned. “Let me teach you to fly properly.”

Severus hesitated, staring at your old broom before taking it in his hand. He’d always wanted to fly like you, to play the sport of the Wizarding World and enjoy the freedom the sky had to offer. Potter had taken that from him, something he thought he’d never regain until now. He smiled and took a step towards you in agreement, watching your face brighten with joy. He was so thankful for you, knowing he wouldn’t want anyone else teaching him to fly.

You happily mounted your broom and pushed off the ground, hovering as you waited for him to put down his belongings and do the same. There were no words to explain how you felt in this moment, the moment Severus trusted you so fully and completely. He was willing to push aside the trauma from first year just to appease your need to help him develop what you considered a crucial skill for Wizards. You couldn’t change the past, but you could ensure he had a much happier future.

“Keep your legs shoulder width apart and don’t push off too hard,” you said as you watched him throw his legs over the broom. Severus took his time, checking his stance first and doing as he was told, wanting for this to go as he’d originally planned in first year. With a light kick, he found himself hovering off the ground just as you had done. He looked up at you with a smile, already overjoyed at how well things were going.

You smiled back and slowly began to fly off, instructing him to follow your movements, always checking he was alright before you sped up or gained altitude. Once he’d conquered his nerves and let go of his past failures, you found that he was quite the natural flyer, sure he would have made a splendid addition to the Slytherin Quidditch team if only he’d been given the chance. But that didn’t matter now, you were only happy to see him smiling as he flew with the wind in his hair, a joyful look on his face you never thought you’d see as he soared through the air.

Neither of you had a clue how long you’d been in the air for, enjoy your time as you chased one another. When you finally landed on the ground, your chest in pain from laughing as hard as you had, Severus immediately walked over to you and pulled you in for the most genuine hug you’d ever felt. You happily hugged him back, staying in his arms for as long as he liked.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he held you tight, his face buried in the crock of your neck. The broom was a touching present, but the real gift you’d given him today, something he’d thought was impossible to achieve even with magic was what really solidified his belief that the curse of January 9th had finally been lifted. You’d given him back a small part of his childhood, something that had tormented him for seven years and you just gave it to him like it was nothing. For the first time, he’d flown a broom without feeling like he was about to be thrown off, without memories of Potter swarming his mind. He’d gotten the opportunity to enjoy something that was a common rite of passage for Wizards and finally he began to feel like he belonged somewhere.

Your gift had gone so much better than you could have ever imagined, sure you’d made the wrong choice in presents when you first explained your plans, thinking he would have been happier with just another book. But right now, having him in your arms like this, you know you’d done right by him and made this a birthday a day he’d never forget. After several long moments of silence had passed, you were beginning to think he was happy to stand here like statues for the rest of the day, until he finally loosened his grip enough to find your lips and thank you with a long passionate kiss. You wore a smile on your face when you parted, both of you picking up your brooms and making your way out of the pitch.

“Did your wish come true?” You asked as you walked back towards the castle for dinner. Severus turned to you and rose a brow looking confused like he was unsure of what you meant. You rolled your eyes and smiled, not believing his expression for a second. “The wish you made this morning. Your birthday wish. Don’t tell me you didn’t make one because I saw you pausing before you blew out the candle.”

Severus scoffed as he looked down, smiling as he remembered the morning and how well the day had started off. He had you to thank for it all, for his wish coming true, for breaking the curse that lingered over his life, for giving him a birthday he didn’t resent. “Yes. Yes, it came true.”

“Good,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours and walking as close as you could to him, making a wish of your own. You wanted him to enjoy every single last one of his birthdays, for them to be as memorable as this one, for each year to be better than the last and so long as you were there beside him, you were sure you’d get your wish.

A/N: I’ve always loved the idea of Severus struggling to fly after being humiliated during flying class. I found it interesting how we are lead to believe that Severus wanted to be good at Quidditch and while this is very much influenced by character bias in the books, I think it makes for an interesting storyline. Either way, I’ve always wondered, if he really didn’t like flying after first year, then how did he become confident enough in flying that he’d referee a Quidditch match, fly after the seven Potters and even learn to fly without a broom. I’d love to hear other people’s opinion’s on this topic, I don’t think it’s one that is brought up too often.

Next Chapter

(As mentioned in a post a few days ago, I’ll be disbanding my taglist, so this will be the last time I tag anyone in this story. Fee free to check out my posting schedule, subscribe to the series on AO3 or turn on notification here on tumblr as an alternative. Thank you to everyone who’s ever asked to be tagged, it is really such a compliment and meant the world to me 💜)

@sleepysnapesnake @wanderingtrails @bush-viper-cutie @fluffymadamina @dracos-mudblood @ravenhopeflyte54 @cuddlebunny0330

#Severus Snape #Severus x reader #Severus Snape x reader #Snape x reader #young Severus Snape #young Snape x reader #my fanfic #my writing #pro Snape #snapedom #female reader

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junetuesday · 4 years

Text

sweetener - [thirteen]

Good Vibes and Good Times

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader - uni AU

Word Count: 5338

Warnings: alcohol, smut (fun stuff that i dont want to spoil by putting a warning for lmao), more alcohol, food, cuteness, fluff

A/N: not to toot my own horn but another update within a month???? who is she??? lemme know what you think of this chapter there’s some stuff in here i’ve never written before (and i kinda went off on a tangent oops) so im interested to hear your thoughts! as always thank you for the love on the last chapter and this series in general, it really means the world to me!

Add yourself to my taglist(s)

Updates: stay tuned....tentatively scheduled for march 1st?

As far as you were concerned, Refreshers Week was off to a great start. Though it was supposed to be a repeat of the first week of the academic year (aka Freshers Week), filled with nights out, drinking, and yet more nights out, you were taking a slightly different route this time.

You’d woken up from your post-Nandos nap on Friday to Liv knocking on your door telling you to get up and start getting ready after she’d gotten no reply to her text messages. You and Tom had slept a little longer than you’d intended, but you supposed that was your own fault for not setting an alarm. After speedily getting ready, you both joined the girls and Jack and a few of Liv’s friends downstairs for predrinks and a few rounds of Ring of Fire. The night got a bit blurry after the dirty pint you had to down hit you in the taxi on the way to the SU, but from what you did remember you had a good night, and the rest of the weekend was spent hungover, snoozing, eating junk food, and just generally enjoying your new found freedom.

Come Monday night, you and Tom were curled up together on the sofa in your living room. There was a “special guest” at the union, which meant they were charging £25 a ticket for some DJ you had never heard of, so both of you had decided to stay in and have some drinks at home instead. Madison and Liv had gone out and gone to predrinks elsewhere, so you had the house to yourselves - which meant you could watch a movie downstairs on the TV instead of in your room on your laptop. It also meant that instead of being squished together on your bed you were lounging on the sofa (not that you minded being squished, but still). You had your back to the arm of the sofa, your legs laying across Tom’s lap while he sat with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a blanket covering your both your legs.

“Can I ask you something?” he said after taking a sip of his drink, lowering his glass to rest on your blanket-covered thigh as you nodded. “What’s going on in this film?”

A valid question - one you weren’t sure anyone really knew the answer to.

“To be honest,” you chuckled, “I don’t really know? I’ve seen it like six times and I still don’t really get it but I still enjoy it.”

“Right...okay.”

“Plus,” you raised your glass, gesturing at the TV. “Look at baby Jake Gyllenhaal - in’t he cute?”

Tom laughed at that, shrugging. “I guess?”

“It’s nearly over anyway.”

That was a lie, it wasn’t nearly over, but you had a feeling you probably weren’t going to make it through the entirety of Donnie Darko this evening. On several occasions you’d felt Tom’s eyes on you, but each time you’d looked over at him out of the corner of your eye he’d been staring straight ahead at the TV, or looking down at his glass as he took a drink, or otherwise not looking at you.

After one such occasion, you set your now empty glass down on the table, licking your lips as you swallowed the last of your wine. You were feeling a little tipsy by then, the tips of your fingers and the depths of your belly starting to feel tingly. Lower parts of your body were also feeling a little something too, and while the wine probably did have something to do with it, it was also because of the boy beside you.

Your right arm rested across the back of the sofa behind his head, your fingers beginning to card through his hair. You kept your vision fixed straight ahead, eyes on the TV screen as your fingertips brushed his skin, rubbing gentle circles at the edge of his hairline behind his ear. Sat so close together, you practically on top of him, you could hear his breathing shift as he took a deep breath in. You looked over at him again as he exhaled, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed harshly. This time he met your gaze, his eyes flicking down to your lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own before tilting his head to kiss you.

You sat up more as the kiss quickly deepened, though the positioning of your bodies on the sofa made the angle a little awkward. You hardly noticed, though, and before long Tom’s glass was sat beside yours on the coffee table, the blanket was discarded on the floor, and you were climbing into his lap, your knees either side of his thighs on the sofa. Your hands cupped his face as your lips reconnected, his holding your waist - though they didn’t stay there for very long, roaming your body as you kissed deeply, messily, all probing tongues and panted breaths. Grinding down onto him, you could feel him growing harder through his sweatpants, pressing against you through the soft material.

“We should, um” you swallowed, trying to focus as Tom’s hand in your hair tilted your head to the side so he could kiss along your jaw. “Should go upstairs...”

He hummed against your skin like he agreed, but then he started sucking on your neck, so it was all a little contradictory. Still, you reasoned, you might as well let him finish what he started, so you closed your eyes, leaning into his hand and rolling your hips against his as his teeth nipped at your skin.

Once he was done there though, you knew you really should move things up to your room - partly because it’s just common courtesy not to have sex on communal areas of the house, and partly because these sofas were here when you moved in and you dreaded to even think what horrors they had seen, let alone get naked on them. So, you placed your hands on Tom’s shoulders to steady yourself and pulled back, feeling a little wobbly as you got to your feet - for various reasons, from the wine, to him kissing your neck, to your legs starting to go numb from being folded up underneath you. Once you were upright you held out your hands, tugging Tom up off the sofa and towards the stairs.

You parted ways halfway up, sending him on up to your room while you made a pittstop at the bathroom. You checked your reflection in the mirror as you dried your hands - a little dishevelled, sure, your hair ruffled and swollen, but you were pretty sure that was mostly Tom’s doing so you weren’t too concerned about fixing it. Alcohol and lust were at just such a point in your system that you were, shall we say, feeling yourself more than you would have been on an average Monday night, a little pep in your step as you made your way up to your bedroom.

Opening your door, you saw Tom sitting on the edge of your bed, and it was only as you reached behind you to shut the door that you noticed what he was actually doing.

“What are you doing?”

You were frozen, your hand still clasped around your door handle as your eyes flicked back and forth between the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet and Tom, who was sitting staring into it.

“Nothing!” He blurted, looking up at you with an innocent smile on his face before turning back to the open drawer. “What’s that?”

What’s that?? He knew full well what it was, and you both knew it.

“It’s - I-”

“I wasn’t like, going through your stuff or anything,” Tom’s eyes went wide as he turned his attention back to you, shaking his head hurriedly. “I mean I guess I was but not like that, I was just going to get a thing- a condom- ‘cause, I dunno I thought-”

“It’s okay,” you said as you finally moved further into your room, beginning to try and gather your thoughts into something besides ahhhh!!!!! and oh???. You really hadn’t expected to come upstairs to find Tom discovering your vibrator, but sometimes life’s like that, you supposed - full of surprises.

“...sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said again as you approached him, managing an awkward chuckle this time.

“...can I look at it?”

An odd mixture of embarrassed and exhilarated and turned on and just plain uhhhh???? filled your mind and body as you considered Tom’s question. Quite honestly, you’d forgotten it was even in there, seeing as you hadn’t used it in a while. You’d had no need to, your sexual pleasure quite literally out of your hands as of late - and when you were using it, it was hardly something you advertised. The girls didn’t even know you had it - it was like your little secret. But maybe it didn’t have to be..?

“I guess?”

You sat down beside him as he reached into the drawer, into the little box where you kept the condoms you’d gotten from Liv, and plucked your vibrator from its hiding place. The little purple bullet fit neatly in the palm of his hand, about three inches long and tapered into a point at one end. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling as Tom held his hand out flat, lifting it up to get a closer look as though he was holding some sort of rare lizard.

“How does it work?”

“There’s a button on the-”

“-oh right, okay.” Tom cut you off as you gestured to the end closest to his wrist, turning the bullet in his hand.

Holding it like you would a pen, he clicked the button on top, his eyes widening as it began to vibrate.

“You can click it again,” you chuckled quietly. “It’s got like different settings.”

“Oh...OH. Jesus Christ-”

You giggled as Tom cycled through the varying patterns and intensities, watching his reactions.

“Yeah, to be honest I think there’s too many like, it’s not really necessary.”

“Oh yeah? Which ones don’t you like, then? Or, I guess, which ones do you like?”

“Ahhhh,” you covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks hot beneath your palms as you groaned. “I dunno, this is weird…”

Tom laughed at that, and when you peeked out from between your fingers at him you could see he had a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“Why’s it weird?”

“I dunno…”

To be fair to him, you didn’t really have an answer to that. Perhaps it was because you’d felt uncomfortable about buying a sex toy in the first place, like by purchasing something purely for your own sexual pleasure as as single girl you were somehow committing to being alone, as though it were some sort of symbol that you didn’t have someone else to give you orgasms, or something like that. Which you knew was ridiculous when you really thought about it, something that was likely rooted in the notion that women shouldn’t really enjoy sex or watch porn or that they don’t (or rather shouldn’t) masturbate - and they certainly shouldn’t be buying things with which to pleasure themselves. You hadn’t thought about it as explicitly as that at the time, of course, it was only after a drunken heart-to-heart with a random girl in the toilets of the SU about feminism and the patriarchy that you linked your embarrassment about ordering a vibrator online with internalised misogyny. In any case, all that internal toing and froing had quickly dissipated once you used it for the first time and you came so quickly and so hard you had to have a little lie down afterwards. But even still, having Tom see it, talking to him about it, maybe even using it with him, was entirely different. Somehow. Despite the fact that you’d been extremely intimate with him on several occasions already...he’d literally seen your arsehole, for Christ’s sake. Okay, so maybe it’s not that weird…if anything this is less intimate than like, oral, right?

Tom leaned back on the bed while you were trying to decide whether or not you felt “weird”, propping himself up on his elbows and passing your vibrator to his left hand so that it was on his other side - meaning that if you wanted to take it from him, you’d have to lean over him. Little shit.

Twisting to face him, you held out your hand and fixed what you hoped was a stern expression to your face.

“Give it to me.”

Tom glanced between you and your vibrator, securely clutched in his hand, narrowing his eyes when he looked at you.

“Why?”

“...Because.”

You reached across him to try and grab it, but he was faster, stretching his arm up out of your reach as he laughed.

“That’s not an answer!”

Your arm stretched out too, but you couldn’t quite reach. Your body draped over his as you leant over him, trying to reach his hand. Flat on his back on the bed, Tom pushed his feet against the floor to scramble further back onto the bed. You clambered on top of him, both of you giggling drunkenly as you clawed at his wrist - until his right hand was pulling your face down to meet his, and you felt him laugh against your lips before he kissed you.

Your hand fell away from his like you’d forgotten what you were reaching for, your fingers weaving into the curls at the back of his neck instead. Your hands in his hair kept him close as the two of you rolled over, his body a pleasant weight on top of your own. You were vaguely aware of the dull sound of the bullet vibrating low and steady in his fist somewhere beside you as you kissed, but you became rather more attuned to it when he started to trail it slowly down your side. Tom shifted off you slightly, and you let your leg fall to the side as he traced a line with the tip of the bullet, across your hip and down towards your inner thighs, following the seam of your knickers through the thin material of your leggings.

You sighed as he started kissing your neck again, picking up where he left off downstairs. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.

Reaching down, you placed your hand over his, clicking the button on the vibrator until it was vibrating in waves, steadily growing stronger with each turn before fading away again. You guided Tom’s hand to slowly tease your pussy through your clothes, rubbing the length of the bullet up and down between your folds.

He pulled back from kissing your neck then, watching your face as he copied your movements. Satisfied he would keep going unassisted, you soon let go of his hand. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, hear the sound of your own breathing, shaky and heavy as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax fully. You could feel it building already, the knot deep inside your abdomen beginning to tighten as the ebb and flow of the vibrations brought you closer and closer each time.

You tensed, sucking in a breath when Tom pulled his hand away, but relaxed again once he tucked his hand inside your underwear - until he clicked the button again, changing the settings abruptly.

“Oh shit, sorry- ”

“S’okay,” you breathed, a small smile on your face as you opened your eyes. “Press it again though, I don’t like that one.”

He chuckled and shook his head, but did as you asked.

“Thanks.”

You reached up to clasp the back of his neck, angling your face up to his as you pulled him into a kiss, feeling him smirking against your lips before they connected. Though he’d changed it by accident, you usually switched to this setting for a while anyway. The vibrations were stronger now, short bursts that grew longer and closer together until it was one long, powerful vibration, before reverting back and cycling through again and again.

The hand that wasn’t tangled in Tom’s hair moved back between your thighs, covering his through your clothes to press the bullet more firmly against your clit. Your mouth fell open against his as you felt yourself hurtling closer and closer to release.

“P-press it four times,” you managed to mutter, and he seemed to hear you though it came out strained and muffled against his lips because his hand shifted under yours and the vibrations shifted to a continuous, powerful blast.

“Oh fuck-”

Your back arching and thighs tensing, your hips lifted off the bed. Your hand over his keeping the bullet pressed firmly to your clit, your head dropped back against the pillows and you moaned loudly as you came hard. Grinding against the vibrator and Tom’s hand, your hips rocked back and forth until your orgasm had finally finished washing over you and you let your hand fall onto the bed beside you.

Taking the hint, Tom pulled the toy away and out of your leggings - though he pressed it against your clit again over your clothes, just for a second until you squeaked, your body twitching at the overstimulation.

“Sorry, just wanted to see what would happen.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed breathlessly - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t done the same yourself. You watched as Tom clicked the button on the bullet to cycle through the settings until it was turned off, a curious expression on his face as he did so.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he shook his head, finally tearing his eyes away from the bullet in his hand to look at you. “So you don’t actually need me like, at all, really?”

You scoffed at that, sitting up a bit and propping yourself up on your elbows.

“It’s not the same. Like, that doesn’t bring me coffee in the library or take me to McDonald’s at half ten at night.”

“Ohh,” Tom smirked, “so it’s mainly just food and beverages that you want from me?”

“Shut up, you know that’s not what I meant.”

You shook your head with a laugh as you pushed at his chest until he fell onto his back, climbing on top of him and reaching for the hem of your t shirt to pull it off over your head before you leant down and kissed him.

“So is it like a ‘friends with benefits’ type thing?”

It felt like you’d been having this conversation for days. Maybe it was because after Tom left on Tuesday afternoon you’d found yourself thinking about what exactly it was that you wanted from him if it wasn’t food and beverages, and now it was Wednesday evening and you were being interrogated while getting ready to go out.

“Er, no not really,” you shook your head distractedly, focusing on curling the back of your friend Ruby’s hair without burning her or yourself.

Ruby, one of your best friends from high school, had texted you the day before asking if you were free for an last minute visit as her lectures had gotten cancelled and she, quite rightly, felt it was time for you to catch up, seeing as you hadn’t seen each other properly over Christmas. You immediately accepted, of course, briefing her on the fancy dress theme for Wednesday night - Angels v Devils. You were going as an angel, mostly because you had a new white dress you wanted to wear, while Liv and Madison were going as devils. Ruby’s costume was to be decided by whichever accessory she could find in Claire’s Accessories on her way to the train station - which turned out to be a white fluffy halo, so you ended up with another angel on your side.

The timing of her impromptu visit actually worked out quite well anyway, because it being a Wednesday meant that Tom was off doing AU stuff with the rest of the rugby boys. They hadn’t actually played a match yet this term, but as far as you could work out being part of the Athletics Union was as much about socials and going out as it was about actual sports. Someone on the team had had the foresight to order a huge pack of devil horns online, so they were all going as devils. They’d also started drinking around 3pm, so by the time you started getting ready at 7 you’d already seen a slew of ‘horny devil’ jokes and stories on social media.

And anyway, as much as you’d enjoyed getting ready and predrinking with Tom on Friday, you were happy to be having some good old fashioned girl time, all getting ready together in Madison’s room and having a few drinks as you got ready - plus, it gave you time to bring Ruby up to speed with your love life. In all honesty, if she hadn’t been there you probably wouldn’t have brought it up at all, but you figured you should give her a heads up because it was highly likely you’d see Tom at some point during the night, and you didn’t want to have to awkwardly try and define the nature of your relationship in front of him.

“So he’s not your boyfriend?” Ruby looked up at you through her hair as you curled the last few sections.

“No,” you shook your head more decisively this time.

“But you’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”

“Nope.”

“And neither is he?”

“No - well,” you paused, considering for a moment. “I presume so, I haven’t asked.”

“Why not ask?” Madison interjected from her spot on the bed where she sat, already dressed and ready, drinking vodka lemonade through a straw.

“Because…” you shrugged, returning your attention to doing your makeup now that Ruby’s hair was done. “I dunno. I don’t feel like I need to? Like it’s just...it’s fine.”

“Right…” Madison didn’t sound 100% convinced, but she moved on anyway and directed her next question at Liv, who was currently doing her eyebrows. “What about you and Harrison, is that the same?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she shrugged, tilting her head to see her brows from all angles in the mirror she had propped up against a stack of textbooks on Mads’ desk. “Like, we’re not a thing, but like, it’s a thing, you know?”

You didn’t know, but you also felt the same way about you and Tom, so you just nodded and went back to applying liberal amounts of highlighter to your cheekbones (and your brow bone, and your nose, and basically your entire face, because if you can’t glow when you’re an angel, when can you?)

By the time all four of you were ready to officially start predrinking you were already a couple of drinks deep (or more than a couple in Madison’s case), so by the time you got to the union you were all more than ready for a dance. Wednesday nights were typically the cheesy pop night, which suited you just fine, and though your friends claimed not to really be that into it you knew they’d be singing along as loud as anyone when What Makes You Beautiful came on. First port of call had to be the ladies’, however, as you had all well and truly broken the seal.

The second stop was the shot bar, which was probably an ill-advised choice seeing as none of you needed to be doing shots at that point in time, but you had a guest, so you had to give her the full SU experience, and that included the shot bar - which was where you bumped into Harrison. You weren’t sure whether he just happened to be passing or whether Liv had summoned him, but either way he was there with his arm around her shoulders and clinking shot glasses with you, Mads, and Ruby too just for good measure.

He pointed over to the dancefloor, and though you couldn’t really hear what he was saying you followed where he was pointing to and spotted a group of boys in the middle of the floor, and you guessed that Tom was amongst them. You nodded to show you understood, but you were torn - you were supposed to be spending time with Ruby, so you didn’t want to seem like you were ditching her for Tom. Luckily for you, she seemed to have witnessed your exchange with Harrison and gathered what was going on, because she just downed her shot, gestured over to the boys, and yelled ‘wanna go over?’ in your ear, so your decision was kind of made for you.

Weaving your way through the crowd, you made your way over to the group, Harrison leading the way. Tom saw him first, nodded in acknowledgement, and went to turn back to whoever he was talking to before he spotted you behind him. You could feel the grin spreading across your face as you squeezed past Harrison, wrapping your arms around Tom’s shoulders as his wrapped around your waist in a bone-crushing hug. He swayed slightly as he squeezed you, so you guessed he was about as intoxicated as you were.

“This is my friend Ruby,” you shouted in his ear as you separated, gesturing over your shoulder to her.

You turned to her and pointed to Tom with your right hand, the fingers of your left hand slotting between Tom’s as his hand slipped into yours. “This is um… this is Tom.”

You laughed to yourself as you introduced him - you’d discussed him at length at pres, so he hardly needed an introduction, but it felt like the proper thing to do. You were pretty sure neither of them heard a word you said over the music anyway, but both Tom and Ruby raised a hand and waved politely at one another, which only made you laugh more - which did make Tom look at you questioningly, but you just shook your head and shouted ‘nothing!’ at him.

Laughing turned out to be a running theme for the night, and you ended up spending the majority of the night as one giant group - which was very fun for you, if a little annoying for everyone else around you. As it was though, you were all too drunk to care about other students, so it didn’t bother you at all that you took up most of the dancefloor and were by far the loudest group when it came to singing along to some pop classics. By the time the lights came on and you all got herded downstairs by security, your camera roll was full of new memories - selfies with Ruby, selfies with Tom, plenty of group photos taken by random people who were unfortunate enough to get accosted by Liv - all of which you swore would be nice (spoiler alert: most of them were not nice, though there were some fun ones from predrinks as well as a cute one of you and Tom that you set as your contact photo for him as you lay in bed hungover waiting for Ruby to wake up the next morning).

Pushing tables and chairs together, you all sat together trying to eat enough greasy food to soak up all the alcohol in your bodies while you waited for your taxis (much to the annoyance of the union staff, not that any of you noticed). You and Tom sat a little way away from the rest of the group, picking at a large portion of cheesy chips with one hand each, your other hands clasped together on your knee under the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you something.”

“‘kay,” you glanced up at Tom, but mostly focusing on the chips in front of you. “Actually, I need to tell you something first.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded, popping another chip into his mouth.

“Did you know…” You paused, possibly for a little longer than was necessary, but you got distracted pulling off another chip from the lump of potato and cheese in the tray.

“Did I know what?” Tom probed, nudging your knee with his.

“I’m getting to it!” you rolled your eyes, finally breaking the exceptionally long string of cheese that was preventing you from eating your chip and shoving it into your mouth. “Did you know that I fancied you for ages?”

“Oh?”

You didn’t really know what prompted you to say it - truth be told you weren’t really thinking too clearly, but now you’d started you couldn’t stop.

“Mmhmm, like in first year I hardly ever bought coffee on campus, and then- ” you paused again to eat another chip “-then I started buying it all the time from you, so really it’s your fault.”

“What’s my fault?” Tom laughed, his knee bouncing against yours as he shifted in his seat.

His laugh made you look up from your food, and then you started looking at the devil horns poking out from in between his curls and you sort of lost your train of thought (not that you even really had one to begin with).

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “just is.”

“Well...sorry?” he tilted his head and furrowed his brow, framing it as more of a question than an apology.

“S’okay,” you shrugged, squeezing his hand as you smiled. “What were you gonna ask me anyway?”

“Oh yeah,” Tom squeezed your hand back as he spoke. “Would you, I was gonna say- do you wanna come and watch me play in like, two weeks? I mean, it won’t just be me it’ll be like, the whole team - obviously - and another team-”

You’d been nodding the whole time he was rambling, your answer decided almost as soon as he’d said ‘do you wanna come’, but you realised you were probably going to have to say something verbal to interrupt him.

“Yeah, sure.”

“-oh okay, cool.”

“You better win though,” you raised your eyebrows at him, kicking his foot under the table.

“Obviously,” he scoffed, grabbing a handful of chips as he bumped his knee against yours.

You weren’t even halfway through your chips when your taxis finally arrived, but thankfully Tom let you take the box home with you - a gesture which earned him a kiss on the cheek from you and a hug from Madison, who had eagerly tucked in as soon as she came over to tell you your cab was outside. As might have been expected, Liv went back with Harrison (and Tom, who very astutely opted to sit in the front seat rather than squeeze in the back beside them) so you, Ruby, and Madison shared a taxi home, and by the time you eventually climbed into bed it was sometime after four am. It would have been earlier, only you were determined to take your makeup off before you fell asleep because you’d put on fresh sheets for Ruby staying over and you didn’t want to stain the pillow case. Which was admirable, really, only your fine motor skills weren’t too hot just then, so you spent a lot of time just rubbing mascara around your face with a make up wipe before eventually just giving up, flipping your pillow over and getting into bed.

“Your friends are nice,” Ruby yawned as she snuggled in beside you. “I approve.”

You just hummed back happily - you were already falling asleep, but you were glad to hear your home and uni friends got along. You were just thinking about how nice it is when different parts of your life overlap and it works out nicely, when your phone buzzed with a text.

“Tom’s nice too,” you heard Ruby murmur sleepily as you pulled your phone out from under your pillow. “I like him.”

“Yeah,” you muttered back as you read the message on your screen. “Me too.”

Tom Holland Glad u got home ok Goodnight angel x

⋘TWELVE | FOURTEEN⋙

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland headcanon #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff

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redspeedy · 3 years

Text

A/N: Hello everyone. This work is part of @brucemas .

Monday: Bruce/Tony

Prompt: lab

Special thanks to @muffinmiri my best friend/ encourager and proof reader.

A curious gift

On a foggy December morning Bruce Banner walked out of the lab he and Tony were currently working in. After the Avengers, apparently that was what they called themselves now, had saved New York he accompanied Tony back to his house in Malibu, where the two geniuses went to work. Bruce had to admit that he was happy here.

He enjoyed working in the basement garage where Tony had set up a laboratory just for him so the scientist could continue his research regarding his condition. Pepper spent a lot of time trying to get the brunet out of his shell and they discovered a mutual love for cooking and art. Sometimes they would abandon Tony to his work and drive to a museum, much to the dislike of Peppers boyfriend who mockingly called them husband and wife and wouldn't stop complaining about being abandoned by the love of his life. Bruce and Pepper never managed to find out who exactly Tony was talking about.

“Merry Christmas, Bruce!” Tony's voice greeted him cheerily as the scientist climbed the stairs leading to the living room. “Christmas? What?” he asked and stifled a yawn. “You've been working late again or did you get an early start, Buddy?” Bruce rubbed his eyes and stretched, trying to loosen his stiff muscles. “Late.” he grumbled.

Tony got up from his place on the couch and poured a cup of coffee for his housemate while gesturing for the scientist to sit down. Bruce complied, eager to get of off his feet. He had been standing in an awkward position for a long time while he worked and it was nice to not stand for a while.

Now that he had the chance to catch his breath he looked around and nearly fell off the couch in shock. The house looked like Santa Clause himself had come by, tossed decoration around for an hour and then left without cleaning up.

A humongous tree was set up in the middle of the living room and took up nearly all of the living space, christmas baubles with little Ironman heads printed on them hung from every branch and gold and crimson lametta covered the treetop in it's entirety.

“Don't you think this is a bit much, Tony? Even for you.” Bruce raised an eyebrow as Tony looked at him with an expression of hurt on his face. “Where is your christmas spirit? I even have a few hulk baubles on there... somewhere.” The mechanic gestured to the giant tree and started looking for the different decorations he had put up for Bruce, but they had been swallowed up by the Iron man designs.

Bruce put his head in his hands and groaned. “That isn't helping. I hadn't even realized that it's Christmas already.” He took the cup of coffee and drank a sip before he continued. “I'm going to bed. Christmas can wait.”

“Woah, I didn't know you were such a Grinch. Come on, Gummibear. Pepper won't be home until dinner. It's just you and I and there are gifts!” Tony walked over and plopped down next to the tree. He held up a couple of wrapped packages while grinning like a ten year old.

“For me?” Bruce asked carefully. He hadn't received any holiday gifts in quite some time so the thought of these differently wrapped packages were a bit surreal to him. He walked over to Tony and sat down.

Tony rolled his eyes at Bruce and tossed him a package. “Here, this one is from Natasha. Maybe you want to start with that one before I give you mine, which is the best of them all, of course.”

The mechanic waved another package through the air. That one was wrapped in red paper with golden Iron man heads printed on it. The same design as the baubles.

Bruce was a little overwhelmed when he caught the gift Natasha had apparently gotten for him.

He opened the package gingerly and revealed a black fountain pen with silvered edges. It was a beautiful writing utensil and he had to smile. Bruce didn't document his findings online. He wrote everything down by hand first and the fact that the redhead had remembered that silly fact let a warmth spread through his chest area.

“Now open mine!” Tony looked like a ten year old on a sugar rush. He was bouncing up and down as Bruce reached over and took the gift. Bruce shook his head.

“Tony stop staring at me.” A reasonable request as the mechanic had been watching Bruce like a hawk while he peeled back the paper. The Scientist was really hoping that Tony hadn't wrapped anything that would blow up in his face.

When he finished unwrapping he held a soft fabric in his hand and Bruce made a face. “It's great isn't it?” Tony was grinning like a maniac by now and Bruce looked taken back.

“Well, yes... I guess. Tony, what is this?” The Scientist held up the fabric. It was crimson and gold with Iron man silhouette printed all over. When he held it up the fabric unfurled and formed a pair of pants. Bruce was thoroughly confused.

“They're pants!” Tony answered, excitement plastered on his face. “Yes, I can see that Tony, but why do they have an Iron man design on them... like everything else around here.” Tony shook his head. “No you don't get it. They are special pants. I call them hulk-pants. You always tear your clothes when you hulk out. So I thought a pair of pants that stretch with you when you turn would be appreciated. Just so people don't have to see a naked hulk running around anymore.”

Bruce stood there dumbfounded. “You want the hulk to wear Iron man pants when he gets loose...” he summarized what Tony had just told him. “Well we could change the colour, but that's the plan. This is going to be awesome, buddy!”

As Tony started explaining the benefits of having hulk-pants while standing in front of a tree that was a love declaration to his ego, Bruce started laughing. He was glad he wasn't alone anymore, even though his best friend got him egocentric pants for Christmas.

#Brucemas2020 #bruce banner #the avengers #tony stark #iron man #mcu #natasha romanoff #hulk

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thran-duils · 4 years

Text

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 14)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 14) Summary: Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,967 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Author’s Note: I know it’s typically Mondays but I couldn’t wait. lmao ~~FINAL PART~~ please note MUCH ANGST and DEATH

Chap 13 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost

The radio silence was more unbearable than Castiel trying to reach out and connect with you. No texts. No calls. No letters. No gifts. It is what you had wanted, but now that it had come to pass, you were more on edge than ever before. Too afraid to reach out yourself – not that you wanted to really do that… to give him any indication you were not serious. You spent the days fretting about what he was planning. Or if he was planning anything at all. You may have angered him enough that he never wanted to see you again. There was no way to be sure where he was at mentally now.

You refused to leave the bunker once more. After you had told them the extent of Castiel’s frustration at your rejection, Sam and Dean were afraid to leave too. But still, they had to leave. You all agreed two was better than going alone, so they went together. Holing up in the bunker alone set your anxiety off every time until they came back through the door.

And one night, they did not come back.

After the first hour, you texted them asking what the hold up was. After the second hour, you texted again, pacing nervously. Immediately, you pressed call when they did not respond within a few minutes. Both calls went to voicemail and you left messages for both, demanding that they call you back as soon as they got the message.

A couple more hours passed, more texts and calls going unanswered. When you noticed your stomach growling, you made a sandwich, all the while obsessively checking your phone. You could not distract yourself. You knew what was wrong. You felt it like a rock in the pit of your stomach. You just could not bring yourself to make the call.

He did it for you and you answered after the first ring.

“Castiel?” you rasped.

“Hello, love. It is wonderful to hear your voice. I have missed it something fierce.”

Shakily, you asked, “Castiel, did you…”

You could not bring yourself to ask him outright.

“I have a game for you,” Castiel said lightly. “A tough one, my sweet, I admit. But it has to be done. For us. Come home, Y/N. I am still here. Contrary to your belief, the cops did not come looking. I wish you had trusted me on that. I would not willingly put you in danger.”

“Castiel, what did you do?”

He ignored your question, “You are expected by our guests. It will be a housewarming party to remember, you can count on that. I will see you soon, kitten.”

With a click, the line was disconnected.

You were out the door in a flash, fearing the worst for Dean and Sam.

<> <> <>

You were armed with your pistol you kept in the lockbox underneath your seat in the car. In your rush, you had not been able to arm yourself with concealed knives, but this would have to do. Castiel would probably be unhappy you had come with it but frankly, you did not care. He had your family held hostage. At least that is what you had to keep telling yourself to prevent you from going to deep down the rabbit hole. If he had already done something worse…

The hours it took to get to your destination dragged despite how fast you were driving. When you finally arrived, you found the front door was unlocked. Gun raised, held tight in both hands, you moved through the large house, checking corners as you entered rooms.

Your foot on the first step towards the second floor caused a loud creak and you swore quietly to yourself. Gun raised again, you moved up the staircase, keeping your breath even. Opening each door was a rush, not knowing what to expect on the other side. The house was quiet, each room empty that you had come across so far.

You came to a stop in front of a set of double doors at the end of the hall. You took in a careful, deep breath and exhaled before opening the door.

Stepping into the master bedroom, you saw Dean and Sam handcuffed, gagged, and tied to two strong chairs before the open patio doors. The soft wind was moving the translucent white curtains, the fresh air circulating the room.

The guys reacted seeing you, yelling behind their gags, trying to break their bonds.

Looking to your sides, you made sure Castiel was not behind you before moving further into the room towards them.

“Are you alright?” you whispered.

“I am so happy you are here,” Castiel’s voice sounded as you simultaneously saw his movement from behind Sam and Dean. Aiming your gun up over their heads quickly, you were faced with him pointing a gun at you in return. He had stepped from the patio – which you had so stupidly neglected to make a priority to check before attempting to help Dean and Sam. And now you were paying for it.

Swallowing sharply, you kept your eyes and gun trained on him, waiting for him to act.

His lips broke into that all too familiar, charming smirk. “Well, this is quite arousing. Really gets the blood pumping, does it not, kitten?”

“Let them go.”

“No,” Castiel said, before adding with a chuckle. “Well, that certainly felt odd. Denying you something. First time for everything I suppose. No, they are staying where they are, and you are going to participate in this little exercise. But first… how do you like the room? We could redecorate if it is not to your liking.”

“I don’t give a damn about the room, Castiel.”

Cocking his head slightly, he sighed, “Still not keen on the settling down, I see. Fine, we can sell the house and figure out something else. Johnny did tell me I was being foolish when I told him I intended to stay here with you and passed the reins of the group to him yesterday. Apparently, he was correct. Perhaps he sensed you were a free spirit, which I can appreciate, obviously, me being me.”

“But of course,” Castiel exhaled loudly. “We can discuss that later. What we are here for is your liberation.”

Narrowing your eyes, you demanded, “What do you mean?”

Pointing between the boys, Castiel declared, “Liberation from them. I figured it out, kitten. How we can be together. You clearly do deep down –” you began to shake your head, but he pressed firmly. “No, do not do that. You do not have to lie anymore. To me or yourself. They are the whole problem. The thing that is holding you back from being with me. And more importantly, holding you back from becoming the pinnacle of the best version of yourself. You would be free without them.”

“They have to go,” Castiel shrugged, as if he was merely suggesting something as simple as choosing what to have for dinner. “You choose one to kill with your gun and I will utilize your bone knife gift in the best possible way I could imagine, and I will do away with the other.”

Shaking your head once more, tears pricked your eyes. You were terrified, trying to figure out how to get the three of you out of this situation. If you did not do what he asked, he might just kill you all. Or worse, he would kill Dean and Sam and leave you alive.

“Castiel, I cannot. You cannot ask me to do that. It is unfair.”

“What is unfair is you allowing yourself to be chained down and stifled because of your sense of obligation to stay with them. You do not owe them anything. You were the one who was smartest, saved them, probably more times than you can count. You are constantly dragged down by them and I wish to only help you find salvation.”

“Think of it, Y/N. We could have this place or wherever you want, just for us.” Castiel emphasized the last, his eyes flashing in excitement. He truly imagined a life with you, the two of you happy. “I am free now of my thugs – although we can always call on them if need be, if you want a somewhat misfit family – and you could be free of these two. We can have that and so much more because of it. With my skills and your wit, we can be unstoppable.”

He pleaded, “Do it. For us, kitten. It will be an easy cleanup on the hardwood and then we can move past this.”

There was intense fear in Sam and Dean’s eyes as you locked eyes with them. It was hard to speak, it felt like there was a lump the size of a golf ball in your throat. But you thought you had a plan, albeit a risky one, to try to get you out of here.

“Just one? I only have to choose one to die?”

Sam and Dean protested against their gags and you forced yourself to look away from them to stare Castiel down, ignoring their angered yells.

Castiel looked elated that you seemed to be agreeing to play along. “Yes. You only have to choose one to die.”

In a swift motion, you placed the barrel of the gun against your temple.

Castiel’s face immediately fell, shock painted on his features, while Dean and Sam only yelled louder, their protests muffled.

Lowering his own gun slightly, Castiel put his free hand out gingerly towards you. “Now… kitten… that is not –”

“You just said I had to choose one to die,” you stated firmly.

“I –”

“You said one.”

He shook his head, looking unnerved. “I meant them. You know this is not what I meant.”

“I asked you for clarification and you didn’t mention them this time. Am I wrong?”

Grinding his teeth, Castiel’s gaze was piercing. He stepped closer and you pressed the gun deeper into your skin. He stopped and let out a nervous chuckle, “Y/N, my sweet, let us not be rash here…”

You had caught him off guard, outsmarted him and his game.

“Please, Y/N. We should talk about this,” Castiel told you, looking as if he was breaking out into a cold sweat. You had never seen him lose his composure, but he clearly was now and was desperately trying to keep it under wraps. “I admit that you won that round. You found a loophole – you always, always impress me. But this is not…”

Not how he wanted it to go, you thought as he trailed off.

He took another step towards you timidly and you took one back. Clenching his jaw, he stilled again. “Y/N. We do not have to play anymore. This… it is not important. We can do something else. You and me. We do not have to play if you do not want to anymore.”

“I do want to, Castiel.” His chest was rising and falling quickly, watching you intently. “And you said one and I am ending this now.”

Suddenly, Castiel lunged at you and you reacted instantaneously, pulling your gun away from your head, and shooting him directly in the chest.

Time slowed, a gasp leaving your mouth, seeing him stumble to a stop. He was staring at you in disbelief, eyes squinted in confusion. Sluggishly, he turned his chin down, looking down at the blood that was beginning to trickle out of the hole in his chest. He brought his hand up, fingers brushing the blood, staring at it staining his gloves.

“One,” you whispered, tears stinging as one escaped down your cheek.

He met your gaze again, tears in his own eyes, and you ached at the sight. Blood was beginning to seep now, staining his white dress shirt in a stream.

Choking, he got out, “Well played… kitten.”

Collapsing to the hardwood, Castiel choked on the blood now trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

You were at his side, your own gun tossed aside, and you knocked his away from his hand far out of his reach. Staring down at him, you brushed his hair out of his face and whispered hoarsely, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Castiel reached up, his hand coming to rest on your face. Your chest tightened, seeing the pain etched in his features. Despite it, he was drinking you in as the life melted away in his eyes.

“One… just once…” he breathed raggedly. His fingers brushed your lips, squeezing slightly, and you understood.

Leaning forward, your lips met his gently, deepening the gesture as a tear fell from your face, landing on his cheek. You could not believe you were kissing him but how could you deny him? You knew monsters were made and your heart ached about what he could have been if he had had a different path.

Breathing shakily, you pulled away, finding him smiling up at you before coughing in pain. He forced another smile, his eyes glistening.

“Even better… better than I dreamed.”

It was your turn to choke, a small sob leaving your throat. His eyelids fluttered, as he struggled to keep his eyes on you as he slipped away. When his head tipped to the side, you shuddered, touching his shoulders gently. You had killed him. He was gone. Blood surrounded you on the floor, and you stared down at your hands that were covered.

Unsteadily, you rose from the floor, hands shaking. More sobs erupted as the shock overtook you and you stumbled back away from him, staring at him lying in a pool of his own blood.

The muffled cries coming from Sam and Dean drew your attention away from him. You were snapped back to the present, remembering that they were there. Wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your jacket, you ducked back down, searching through Castiel’s pockets as you cried, gasping for air. Bile rose in your throat at the act of searching his corpse, but you found the keys quickly.

Freeing Sam and Dean, you felt in a haze, having zeroed in on Castiel again. You could not believe he was dead. He had not given you any other choice. One deep breath after another you swallowed down, trying to calm yourself.

Sam’s hand was at your back, startling you, and he said gently, “Come on, Y/N. We have to go.”

You shook your head in response. “We should bury him,” you said quietly, wiping at your tears again.

“We can’t just bury him on the property, Y/N.”

You shook your head again more forcibly this time, turning your attention back. “Not here. Somewhere else.” You met their eyes and told them, “It is the smart thing to do. Clean up the mess and take the body. You know it. Without a body or a crime scene, they won’t go looking for him. His men I mean if they ever come back looking for him. They’ll think we eloped. And then there won’t be a crime scene for the cops to worry about. The house is far enough off the road that there won’t be any neighbors snooping. Plus, it’s dark outside.”

After a few moments, Dean exhaled sharply, “Fuck.” He knew you were right. “Fine. Let’s get to it. But we are wrapping him in so many sheets that blood won’t ever touch Baby.”

You had the urge to slap Dean across the face for speaking ill of the dead.

<> <> <>

Exhausted, you collapsed to the ground next to the freshly dug grave. Staring down at the wet soil, you sniffled, tears pricking again. Sam and Dean were standing nearby, as tired as you were, and you tried to hide your face from them.

Sorry, it’s not the landscape you were born into, you thought, thinking of Castiel. You had buried him beneath a large tree in a forested area, a sharp contrast to the desert.

You sighed heavily, wiping at your eyes again.

It had to be done.

He was going to kill them.

So why did you feel so bad?

You touched the dirt softly at the edge of the mound, thinking of the lake.

Movement to your right caught your attention and Sam was sitting on the ground next to you. He reached out, grasping your hand that was touching the dirt, and pulled you back from the edge. His hand was warm, his grasp firm. He did not say anything, just sat there with you in silence.

Dean sat down on the other side and he pulled you to him, letting you lay your head on his shoulder. Birds chirped softly as the sun began to rise, a soft morning emerging after a hard night.

Dirty, bloody, and exhausted, the three of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity as the sun crept across the earth, illuminating the grave.

“Monsters are made,” you whispered.

Sighing softly, Dean told you gently, “Monsters all the same.”

It was the truth, but this was one monster you knew you would always regret killing because he had bared his human side to you. Some small part of you thought you could have helped him, as foolish as that was. Pulled him towards some semblance of normalcy and fix him. But he had no intention of changing, he wanted you to just accept him the way he was and you could not.

Hopefully, you would eventually be able to find a way to live with yourself. Until then, those cerulean eyes would haunt your dreams.

Eventually, Dean asked, “We ready?”

Burying your feelings for the time being, you answered calmly, “Always.”

This hurt was going to be your burden to bear.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

#castiel x reader #psycho!cas #psycho!castiel #spn fic #castiel fic #castiel au #spn au #my shit

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mertronus · 3 years

Text

Secret Mission

Chapter 4

Read it on AO3 or FFN

Monday morning Ron reluctantly left Hermione asleep in their room at the Leaky Cauldron to head into the Ministry early with Harry, who met him downstairs for breakfast so they could floo directly from there. Before he left, he discreetly ordered breakfast to be sent up to room 14 as well.

He briefly considered telling Harry then and there. It would have been the moment, after all, as they were 'alone'. But then the guilt of even Harry knowing before his mum ate away at him and he decided against it.

He knew he needed to tell his mum today. This secret was getting to him and made him feel as if he was hiding her because he was ashamed. When, truth be told, he was dying to show Hermione off as his wife and introduce him to his family - to the entire wizarding world if he was being frank! He wanted to stand on top of Gringotts on a dragon and scream it to the entirety of Wizarding London. No, sod that...the entire world! Wizards and muggles alike!

The brilliant, beautiful, albeit completely insufferable and stubborn at times, Hermione Jean Granger was his wife. Off the market. His only from now until forever.

There are times he still can't believe it. Over the course of the year, every moment he was with her he thought she actually wants me. Sodding redheaded, gangly, freckled-faced Ronald Weasley. He admittedly thought she was way out of his league when he first laid eyes on her. He still wasn't sure what spurred the courage to kiss her - during a row of all moments, too. But he was so glad he did.

She fancied him. She fell in love with him. She agreed to marry him. And he still couldn't wrap his mind around it all.

Mum will love her. Bill will be surprised. Charlie and the twins will take the mickey but will eye her appreciatively. Percy will be impressed by her brilliant mind. And I'll be able to say to them, "she's all mine."

Ron also knew that Ginny would love her - and had no doubt Harry would too. But something told him that once Ginny got her hands on her newest sister-in-law, it would be hard to separate them.

It was during one of Ron and Hermione's late night strolls in the back gardens of the castle in France when she told Ron that she almost went to Hogwarts. Ron couldn't help but imagine that they all - Harry, Hermione and himself and maybe Ginny, too - likely would have been the closest friends. He momentarily wondered if she would have fancied Harry better though, if given the choice, but quickly shook that thought out of his mind. As much as he acted like it bothered him, Harry and Ginny were made for each other, even back then. And Hermione was made for Ron alone.

But he really couldn't wait to introduce her to his family and best mate. He was determined to tell his mum that very day. Everyone will know by tomorrow.

Ron spent most of the morning in the Auror Department. His team met with Ledwig and Robards (Hermione was excused from the meeting, but Ledwig knew Ron would give her any pertinent information) and as there were three wizards still at large, the ring leader included, Robards let them know that Besson implied the team may be requested to return after all...as early as next week.

Ron groaned. He wasn't looking forward to leaving his family again so soon, but the bright side was that Hermione, being a part of the team, would go with him. So at least he wouldn't have to leave her. This time.

Admittedly, however, having Hermione so close to the action unnerved him greatly. It led to many more rows over the fifteen months they spent at the castle in South France. And even though, thankfully, the team had an easy time apprehending those they were able to, she still showed that she could hold her own at any moment. During one surprise ambush, she expertly disarmed one of the suspects before anyone on the team even noticed he was there - which led to his capture and arrest. Ron almost forgot that the woman with short blonde hair and wearing glasses was his Hermione in disguise.

In a nutshell, his wife was a ruddy brilliant bad arse.

But it was still dangerous, even for him. He would still much rather the mission be over and done with so she could move on to her next, less dangerous - and hopefully in London - assignment.

In the meantime, a Belgium auror team took over the current mission and were working on finding the final three, but Besson reckoned they needed a bit of help. Robards said they would know more later on in the week.

Bloody brilliant.

Ron hung around the office for a bit after the meeting, catching up with colleagues, then went back to the Leaky and ordered lunch for two, taking it up to the room where he found Hermione reading. They tucked in to their sandwiches and chips as he updated her on the outcome of the meeting, enjoyed a lazy afternoon shag, then Ron head off to the Burrow with promises to put things in motion to bring her along to meet the family.

His plan was to get there early enough that anyone else besides his mum would still be at work. His plan, however, was foiled.

Ron walked into the kitchen to find Mum, Ginny, Fleur and Audrey at the kitchen table, parchment and magazines spread out in front of them talking loudly and animatedly. Bill and Harry were in the sitting room keeping Victoire and Dominique occupied.

"What's going on?" Ron asked as he walked into the sitting room and cocked his head towards the loud kitchen.

Harry stood up and beamed. "I didn't want to say anything this morning mate, because I wasn't sure, but the decision has been made." He paused and Ron rolled his eyes to say 'get on with it then'. "Ginny and I are getting married on Saturday!"

"What?! You serious mate?"

"No, I'm not Sirius, I'm Harry. But yes, we're getting married on Saturday." Bill laughed at Harry's quip and Ron picked up a throw pillow and threw it at him.

"Cheeky git!"

"Cheeky git!" Victoire repeated. Ron's eyes bulged as Bill tried to distract Victoire before -

"RONALD!! YOU WILL WATCH YOUR MOUTH IN FRONT OF MY GRANDCHILDREN!"

Ron's ears turned bright red. "Sorry Mum."

Blimey, not even being a bad arse auror and taking down the darkest wizards can keep me from a bollocking from mum.

Molly continued to fuss over Ron as she padded around the kitchen, going back and forth between making dinner and pouring over Ginny's notes.

"We need all hands on deck this week. Ron, Harry, I know you'll be busy with work during the day, but I expect you both here when you're not on the clock to get things done. We'll also need to get you two and the rest of the boys to Madam Malkin's to be fitted for your dress robes." Ron groaned, Molly ignored him and continued. "Lily and I will handle the food - I'll discuss that with her tonight - and Fleur, Audrey, you'll work with Katie and Angelina on the decorations and set up. You'll petition the men for the heavy lifting, of course - chairs, table and whatnot. You ladies will focus most on the flower arrangements."

She continued to rattle off instructions as she laid out the food on the table. Then, to Ron's surprise, she started to put on her traveling cloak.

"Mum, where're you -"

"Dinner's all ready for you lot! Ginny and I are heading over to the Potter's to meet with Lily. Harry, dear, if your father shows up and brings Sirius along, please mind them and be sure they behave." She shook her head as she headed for the door with Ginny on her tail, both their arms laden with parchments and magazines. "Clean up after yourselves!"

"How long will you be?" Ron called after them...but they were both gone with matching pops. Damnit to hell! What just happened?

"Did you catch any of that, mate?" Harry asked laughing.

"Not in the least," Ron mumbled, feeling defeated. Hermione is going to hex my bollocks for this.

Ron hung around the Burrow for a few more hours, hoping he could catch his mum when she returned, but it was getting late and it was obvious she wouldn't be back anytime soon. He finally returned to Hermione to explain. She was understanding. Disappointed, but understanding.

As the next couple of days passed, however, it was obvious that her patience was faltering. Tuesday and Wednesday were much the same - after work Ron would go straight to the Burrow and find Molly absent. She would be either at the Potters planning with Lily, or out on errands for the wedding. In her wake she left tasks for all to do.

Thursday evening Ron thought he finally had his chance. Molly was there when he arrived and completely frazzled.

"Mum," Ron said after watching her tut around from the kitchen to the sitting room, fussing over floral arrangements and menus and seating plans. He grabbed her by her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "Mum, you need to take a breath."

To his surprise, it actually worked. Molly stopped, leaned into her boy's embrace, and took a deep breath. "There's just so much to do."

"Well, it's a good thing there are so many of us to do it, yeah?" He felt his mum chuckle and nod. "Why don't I take you on a walk? Get some air, step away form this a bit? I'd really like to have a chat with you anyway."

Molly looked around ready to protest, then looked at her son. She must have seen the sincerity in his eyes because she immediately melted. "You're leaving me again aren't you?"

Ron shrugged. "I honestly don't know for sure yet. That's why I was really hoping to get just a few moments with you, you know? We haven't been able to just talk since I've been back."

"Oh, Ronnie you're right! I'm so sorry! A walk sounds just lovely, dear. Let's go now before something demands my attention, shall we?" She allowed Ron to steer her towards the door and Ron sighed in relief.

Finally!

His elation quickly subsided once he realized he didn't actually think about what he was going to say once he finally got the chance. But, he had to get on with it. This had gone on long enough.

They started through the garden, Molly holding Ron's arm, and he took a deep breath.

"There's just...a lot's happened this year while I was away that I've been dying to tell you all week." He paused thinking through exactly how to phrase what he wanted to say and decided to start by telling her about meeting Hermione.

"You see - "

A loud crack was heard from behind them followed by a squeal from Ginny. "CHARLIE!!!"

Molly dropped Ron's arm and turned on her heel. "Charlie? Here?" She took off back to the house as Ron stood abandoned in the garden.

"Merlin's saggy right - aaarrrrggghhh!" He pushed his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. "Charlie has got to have the worst timing EVER!" Ron blew out a loud huff and rolled his eyes.

I love my brother. I missed my brother. I'm so happy my brother is here. But did he have to choose this moment???

He plastered a smile on his face and set off at a jog back to the house, admitting to himself that of course he was actually excited to see Charlie.

#Ron Weasley #auror ron weasley #ron and hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #hermione granger #au harry potter #side hinny

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peraltasames · 4 years

Text

that would be enough

It’s an amazing opportunity and, frankly, one that he would take with no hesitation if it weren’t for his incredible, beautiful wife and the baby she has been growing inside her for three months. That’s a pretty big ‘if’.

(in which jake gets offered another fbi job and he has a seemingly impossible decision to make - which maybe isn't really so difficult after all.)

read on ao3

After working a double, during which he arrested a major drug kingpin and helped Rosa and Charles find a suspect in their homicide case, Jake is: A) feeling pretty pleased with himself, and B) more than ready to get home to his wife and bring her some Polish comfort food (they’ve ordered from them so much lately that they’re on a first name basis with their delivery guy).

It’s super unlike him that he even stops to check his email on his way out of the precinct, but he’s so used to waiting for Amy to do it that it’s become a habit at this point. Aside from an exciting announcement about an upcoming sneaker sale at an outlet mall upstate, there’s only one unopened item in his inbox. It’s an encrypted message from Captain Kim, whom he hasn’t spoken to since she finally accepted his long series of apology emails (accompanied by a fruit basket, Amy’s suggestion) and the subject line simply reads Job Opportunity.

It’s brief, but the gist is simple: there’s an undercover operation in the works, they think he’s the right person for the job, it would be a great opportunity and an excellent way for him to get his foot in the door for a potential higher-up position in the FBI. The rest is a little more murky - it’s potentially very dangerous (she can’t go into detail in an email, obviously, but he’s willing to bet it’s got something to do with one of the crime families that have been gradually moving their operations from Manhattan into Brooklyn). It could also take months. She urges him to take time to seriously consider the position, and to contact her as soon as he comes to a decision.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts for the entirety of his commute home that he actually forgets to pick up dinner, which he realizes the moment he opens the door and sees Amy reclined on the couch reading her third pregnancy book of the week, all four of their designated “living room blankets” draped over her.

“Oh my god, I forgot the food,” he blurts out, startling Amy and making her drop the book on her lap. “I’ll just run back out and grab it, sorry, I-”

“Babe, wait-” She jumps up from her perch on the couch and carefully places the book on the coffee table. As she crosses the room to meet him in the doorway, his eyes flit to her barely noticeable but steadily growing baby bump. Their baby. Their baby that needs him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he mutters, avoiding her gaze as he shifts back and forth. “I just forgot the food so I’m just gonna head out real quick-”

“We can just order, Jake, I can wait,” she assures him with a warm smile. Pregnant Amy is usually - to put it in the most favourable term possible - less than patient when it comes to food, so he can tell right away that she either really missed him or can tell something’s bothering him.

She wraps her arms around his neck and leans up onto her tiptoes to kiss him hello, and judging by the intensity of her kiss and how tightly she’s squeezing him he figures it was the first one and he’s in the clear of having to talk about all that for at least a few minutes.

“Did something happen at work, babe?”

Damn it, so close.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re super tense,” she frowns, rubbing his shoulders as she shifts back down to her normal height. “And you won’t look me in the eye.”

She places her hand on his cheek and gently guides his gaze to hers, forcing him to make eye contact with her, and some combination of her touch and the impossibly tender, concerned look she’s giving him causes him to cave instantly.

“Um, can we talk?” He gestures to the couch, where her mountain of blankets have been abandoned, and she nods quickly.

They settle in on the comfortable sofa, the first purchase they made together when her apartment became theirs. They’ve had god-knows-how-many important conversations and lazy Sunday afternoon cuddles and heated post-date makeout sessions when they just couldn’t make it all the way to the bedroom on this couch. He’s willing to bet that they conceived their child on this couch three months ago, though an argument could be made for the shower that morning or their bed later that evening as well.

Amy tucks her legs behind her and turns to face him, reaching out to rest a hand on his thigh and waiting for him to speak.

“Remember how Captain Kim mentioned a potential FBI liaison position for me?”

Amy nods and sits up straighter, her eyes brightening. “Did the FBI offer you a job?”

“Not exactly.” He scratches his head, searching for the right words. “Captain Kim recommended me for an undercover mission with the FBI. She made it seem like - uh, if it went well I could be offered something more permanent with them.”

Amy pauses for a moment, clearly deep in thought. “That could be life-changing.”

“I know, but Ames, it, um-” He sighs. “The job sounds a lot like last time I went undercover.”

Her grip on his thigh seems to tighten, perhaps subconsciously, as she stares fixedly at the book left forgotten on the coffee table. He can imagine her train of thoughts; last time he went undercover it was six months with an incredibly dangerous crime family and he could’ve died a bunch of times. They may not have been together at the time, but their mutual yearning was only amplified by the painfully long separation. They’ve been no strangers to painfully long separations since - god, he would do anything to have every night he spent in the Florida heat or a chilly jail cell back and get to relive each one of them in her arms instead.

He reaches out to grab her hand with both of his. “Ames-”

Before he can get any further, she shrugs him off and walks purposefully towards their bedroom. He’s terrified he’s going to hear the sound of a slamming door that he associates so strongly with being a helpless kid watching his parents’ relationship fall apart and never connects to his own marriage, but it never comes.

She returns moments later with her trusty notebook and a pen in hand, sitting back down next to him and beginning to write.

“What are you doing?”

She doesn’t look up at him. “It’s an important decision. We need a pro/con list.”

Jake sighs. “Honey, can we just talk about it?”

“We are talking about it,” she deadpans. “We’ll start with the easy stuff. Pro: you could get your dream job.”

As soon as she’s done writing, Amy looks over to him, which he takes to mean that it’s now his turn.

“Okay. Con: I could be gone for three to six months, a.k.a. when you could literally be giving birth to our child.”

“But you could do it in three,” she counters. “Pro: you could make more money at a new job, which we obviously need more than ever.”

“Con: I could mess up the job somehow and not be recommended for the new position.”

Amy doesn’t write that one down, and he raises an eyebrow.

“It wouldn’t happen, you’re too good at your job.”

His heart swells at her quiet but reverent tone, and she doesn’t pull away when he reaches to grab her hand again.

“Okay, your turn, then,” he prompts.

She stares at the paper intently, and her hand holding the pen begins to tremble as her gaze shifts over to the con column. He almost knows what she’s going to say before she says it, because it’s only natural for the mind to go to the worst-case scenario in situations like these. Still, it’s hard for him to stomach the mere thought of leaving her all alone, especially now.

“You could get hurt,” she mumbles shakily under her breath. Her watering eyes begin to shed fully-formed tears, falling steadily on her grey t-shirt. “I-I could lose-I could lose you-”

She’s cut off by a small sob, her fists clenching around the material of the blanket as her entire body starts to shake. Amy crying isn’t rare, and pregnant Amy crying is an even more frequent occurrence, but seeing her cry over anything more than a spilled yogurt cup is too much for him to take. Jake’s heart feels like it’s cracking in two, but his instincts overpower his own sadness and he reaches for her immediately. She falls into his chest the moment his hands reach her and her sobs increase in volume as she clutches at his shirt.

“That’s never gonna happen, baby,” he whispers against her hair in-between quick, healing kisses everywhere his lips can reach. “Shh, you’re not gonna lose me.”

“You - you can’t promise that.”

“I am promising you that. I’m gonna call Captain Kim first thing Monday morning and respectfully decline the offer. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

She pulls away from him, shaking her head quickly.

“I can’t ask you to do that. It’s too good of an opportunity, being a detective won’t be enough for you forever and this job is your dream-”

“You didn’t ask me to, Ames, and it’s not. You and our little lemon-sized-as-of-this-morning baby are my dream, okay? You’re not just enough, you’re everything - more than everything I could have ever dreamed of. Okay?”

Amy wipes her tears away, but there are already new ones forming in her eyes. She looks at him with so much trust, and he knows now, even more than he did five seconds ago, that he could never put himself in harm’s way again unless absolutely necessary.

She finally cracks a small smile, nodding slowly.

“More than everything of which you could ever have dreamt.”

Jake frowns. “Huh?”

“You ended a sentence with a proposition. It should be ‘more than everything of which you could ever have dreamt.’”

He laughs softly, cupping her face and wiping the remaining tears away. “That’s my girl.”

She tucks herself back into his embrace and squeezes his arm tightly as the other one wraps around her waist.

“Are you sure about this?”

Jake nods against her head, his free hand stroking her hair.

“I think I kind of knew what my answer was as soon as I read the email. I used to get so excited about these crazy life-or-death missions, but now…”

“No more ’eyes closed, head first, can’t lose?’” she supplies, smiling up at him.

The memory of walking away from her in a parking lot, the weight of his confession hanging in the air as he left knowing he might never see her again, stings a bit. He wishes he could tell that version of himself that had never really experienced true love and happiness how much he would have to live for someday.

“Who woulda thought that guy would be a dad?” Jake laughs.

Amy snuggles further into him, kissing the spot on his hoodie that rests over his heart. “You’re gonna be the best dad. I love you so much.”

He’s filled with a surge of warmth, both from her embrace and words of love, and the knowledge that he will do everything in his power to be the best dad. He will stick around and he will do everything in his power to make their child as happy as they can be and he will give every ounce of unconditional love and support in his body. He will be better than his father, better than his past self, better every day than he was the day before.

“I love you,” he kisses her cheek, “and you”, his hand grazes her belly (he’s been eagerly anticipating a kick, though she reminds him it could be weeks or even months before they feel anything), “so much.”

She shifts to properly kiss him, and he gladly welcomes it with a hand on her back pulling her closer and the other still tangled in her hair. When she pulls away and smiles at him, he feels like all the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Can we order dinner now?” she pleads, breaking the tranquility of the moment, but with good reason. “I’m actually starving.”

“Good idea, Tomak is going to get super worried if he doesn’t hear from us soon.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and goes straight to his recent calls, ordering enough pierogis to feed a small army (or one pregnant Amy) and a couple of hot chocolates, and they seamlessly fall into their routine of selecting whatever they’re currently binging on Netflix (right now it’s The Crown), getting cozy, and waiting for Tomak’s arrival.

This, forever, will always be more than enough for him.

#we BACK ladies #💕💕#i'm sry my first fic of the season is a lil angsty but it's really not that bad #jake x amy #b99 spoilers #maybe ??#anyways hope u like it <3

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decayedflower · 4 years

Text

Stranger I

⋆ gif is mine

Pairing: Yang Hongwon x Reader

Genre: Underground rapper!Hongwon, Barista!Reader | angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Don’t get attached. This was his number one rule. Attachment means getting hurt. Attachment means vulnerability. You are the only person you can trust. So how could she so easily sneak past and break the walls he had worked so hard to build around his heart when all she is, is a stranger?

Warnings: some cussing, underage drinking, mentions of sex

A/N: Please note that there will probably be more mentions of mature content in the future. Do also keep in mind that this is all fictional, and Hongwon is a grown ass man so if you cannot come to terms with that then this fic is not for you!

You stood at the foot of the apartment; your hand still in its grip on the knob. A pair of glossy red high heels sit prettily at the entrance; right next to your boyfriend’s white Nike Air Jordan 1’s.

There was no way right? Surely this wasn’t what you thought it was.

You hesitantly walk into the apartment, careful not to make any noise. There is no one in the kitchen or in the living room. Your heart booms loudly in your chest. It’s 6pm. Why is he even home? He’s usually out of work by 8pm so it’s a bit early for him to be home…Maybe his sister came over?

Relax, Y/N. Stop overreacting.

Oh but wrong you are and overreacting you are not. As you draw closer, you notice the bedroom door has been left ajar. His naked back is to you, his body caging a girl beneath him, her long curly hair sticking to her face. The bedsheets cover them, but you don’t need to imagine what is going on underneath them. His back muscles flex as he pounds into her. For a moment you’re frozen, all you can see and hear is the way she screams out in pleasure, her nails clawing into his back. You back away, not wanting to see anymore than you have, but finding yourself unable to look away. And then, because the universe hates you, the floorboards creak underneath you.

The girl snaps her eyes open to you and gasps, holding onto your boyfriend to cover herself, “oh my god!”

“What?” Jaewon eyes widen when he turns back and sees you standing through the crack of the door. Your legs hit the back of the couch before you snap out of it and decide to make a run for it.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You hastily grab your bag off the floor, tripping over your own feet, wanting nothing more than to get the fuck out of there. You hear a voice ask faintly in the background, “you know her?” You squeeze your eyes and try to block them out, not wanting to hear his answer. You’re about to leave when you turn to see Jaewon shirtless and buckling his pants in a hurry to get to you. “Y/N, wait—”

And then you’re gone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were upset.” Hoon says, filling your glass for the fourth time now. You chuckle humorlessly, “Oh yeah? No shit?” You chug half of your drink, Hoon’s stare piercing through the side of your head. “Alright easy now, tiger. What’s got you getting all shitfaced within 10 minutes of you getting here? I’m on the clock you know, I can’t exactly babysit right now.”

“I’m not a baby,” you huff. “And I’m not even drunk yet you asshole.”

“Uh huh,” he rests his cheek on his hand, staring at you expectantly. “You can’t fool me kid, I’ve known you since you were just a little brat. No one goes and gets drunk all alone at this time of night for the shits and giggles.”

You’re huff quietly, stubbornly trying to pretend nothing is wrong but alas, you were never a good liar. “He cheated on me,” you say, your grip on the glass tightening. “What?”

“He cheated on me, Hoon. Jaewon cheated on me,” you finally look at him, tears starting to prick your eyes. Honestly, you were shocked you had lasted this long without crying your eyes out. When you left the apartment you still hadn’t fully processed what you had seen. But now that you sat here in front of Hoon, reality was sitting heavy on your heart.

You have plenty more drinks after that, drunkenly relaying all the details to your friend, coming to terms for the first time that night that your boyfriend of 2 years cheated on you. Eventually, after trying to soothe and calm you down but to no avail, Hoon decides to call your roommate. He loves you and really wishes he could comfort you, but he had already spent quite some time talking to you and his boss was starting to give him stank faces. Also, he was pretty sure anyone within a 5 mile radius had overheard your emotional breakdown with how loud you were being. You’d thank him later.

“Please come get her. My boss will chew my ass out if I don’t get back to work soon. Plus I’ve got her snot all over my shirt and it’s kind of fuckin’ disgusting.”

“Shit, it’s that bad? I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“A-A-And then h-he—aghhhhhhunghh,” you bawl into Hyeri’s coat as she struggles to help you out of the passenger seat of her car. Hyeri loves you. She really does. But she was two seconds away from leaving your ass on the sidewalk with how difficult you were being. “HE SAID HE LUHEED MEE!! HE’S UH LIAR!!!”

“Okay okay, I know honey. He’s a fucking asshole but you need to stop yelling before someone calls the cops on us for a kidnapping, okay?”

You sniff loudly and nod your head at her. “I swear I’m going fucking kill him. Don’t you worry, sweetie he’s not going to get away with this.”

After much tripping and fumbling she manages to haul you to your shared apartment. She sits you on the couch and hands you a water bottle. “I need you to drink this okay? All of it.”

You pout, “don’t wanna.”

“Y/N,” she warns.

“…”

She glares at you, her stare unwavering.

“Fine,” you grab the bottle from her and chug it.

“Thank you,” she smiles at you. “Let’s get you to bed. We can talk about it tomorrow when you’re feeling better okay?”

And you do. The following day you tell her in detail how you walked in on his two timing. You’re embarrassed, to say the least. Embarrassed that you didn’t notice anything was wrong. Embarrassed that you allowed yourself to be made a fool out of. In truth, if someone had asked if you thought Jaewon would ever cheat on you, you would have wholeheartedly said no. Your relationship with Jaewon was perfect. Or at least you had thought it was. He was such a loving boyfriend, a guy who never failed to make sure you felt treasured. He worshipped you body, took you out on nice dates, always told you how pretty you are. You thought he was the perfect guy, but had you just been so blind to the attention he gave you that you didn’t notice when his eyes strayed?

How skilled was he at this game that you had not even dared to think he would cheat on you? For two years he had you wrapped around his finger. You were an idiot for letting him play you like that.

The weekend drags on with you cooped up in your bedroom for the entirety of it. Luckily you had the weekend off to cry to your heart’s content with a tub of ice cream in your lap. You were thankful for Hyeri, always there to comfort you and feed you your favorite foods. Of course she had her own colorful words to say about your ex boyfriend, swearing she’d cut his balls off herself the next time they crossed paths.

Speaking of balls, he sure had a pair on him. (figuratively, not literally, he wasn’t that impressive) He was actually trying to apologize through text.

Jae ♥♥♥: can we talk please? [7:58 PM]

Jae ♥♥♥: i wasn’t in my right mind please believe me [9:58 PM]

Jae ♥♥♥: just let me explain [8:02 PM]

Jae ♥♥♥: baby please [8:17 PM]

You leave his ass on read.

Jae ♥♥♥: Talk to me [11:37 PM]

Jae ♥♥♥: I know you’re reading these [11:45 PM]

Jae ♥♥♥: Y/N? Baby please. [11:57 PM]

Hyeri sits at the foot of your bed, painting her toenails. “He won’t stop texting me.” You watch your phone as texts come in one after another, tears long dried on your cheeks. She snaps her head up, nail polish brush between her fingers in the air, “don’t you fucking dare.”

You sigh, “what if—”

“Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re even considering forgiving him.”

“Oh god no! I just…it’s hard. He’s a fucking pig for cheating on me…but my heart can’t help it. I spent two years of my life with him, Hyeri. He’s the longest relationship I’ve had. This probably sounds stupid, but I really thought he was the one.” You sniff and roll over on your bed, sinking deep into your pillows.

“It’s not stupid, honey. Anyone else in your shoes would feel the same way. But you don’t deserve that shit. Any guy stupid enough to even stray their eyes from someone as goregous and smart as you for their girlfriend, has some real fuckin’ issues. But he did what he did, and let me tell you sweetheart, that shit will not be flying with me. He’d better hope we don’t even get within a 10 mile radius of each other cause so help me those will be his last living moments.”

You grunt a response.

“Stop pouting. If I didn’t have wet toes right now, I’d be engulfing you in a koala hug but just wait til these bad boys dry.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The beginning of your shift at the cafe goes by quickly. It’s a monday so the early morning rush keeps you busy for a while. After the rush of people in need of their daily dose of caffeine before work and school, only a couple of patrons remain in the shop. The small break allows you to clear up tables and replace empty bottles and containers on the shelves while it’s slow.

Jaewon continued to bombard your phone with texts over the weekend in hopes that you would give in and talk things over with him. You wanted to block him, but a small part of you also enjoyed the little power you had over him when you read his desperate messages only to leave him with silence. You have seen plenty of shitty relationships where people stay even when they get cheated on but you’re smart enough to recognize a toxic relationship when you see one. Forgiving someone after they are unfaithful just seems impossible to you. If they cheat once, they could certainly do it again. Call you a dumb bitch for not seeing the signs earlier but you’re not stupid enough to do that to yourself.

You chastise yourself for letting your thoughts wander to him again and finish wiping down the last table. The ding of the bell at the front entrance signals the entrance of a new customer, and you call out instinctively, “Welcome! I’ll be there in just a moment!” Let me catch my breath for a second, will you universe? You grumble inwardly. You quickly grab the rag you were using and make your way to the kitchen. You toss it into a bin in the back and greet them at the front counter.

“Good morning,” you say in your best work voice, only briefly acknowledging the customer’s presence, “What can I get for you today?”

To be honest you only half-assedly spoke, contrary to the sickly sweet voice you were using. You were hoping to quickly get through this order so you could go back to moping quietly at the back of the cafe. You keep your gaze on the register’s screen, ready to punch in whatever drink this guy wanted.

“Mornin.”

The deep timbre of his voice slightly startles you and you try to not make it obvious in the way you snap your eyes up to get a peek at him. You instantly regret it. His dark hair hides beneath a black beanie, small curls peeking out from the back of it. He’s dressed casually in a dark gray hoodie and loose black cargo pants, but he somehow makes it look like it belongs on a magazine cover. Fuck. He’s the epitome of grunge emo boy hottie. You cover up your gawking with a nervous smile.

He returns your smile with a boyish smile of his own that you find quite endearing.

“Can I get two medium iced americanos, please.” Two drinks, huh. Maybe he has a girlfriend he’s meeting here. Fuck. You really don’t need cute emo boy here to get all lovey dovey with his (probably) really pretty girlfriend in front of you to remind you of just how broken and unmendable your own relationship is.

“Of course,” you punch in the order (perhaps a bit too aggressively). “Can I get a name for the order?”

“Hongwon.”

Fuck this guy. Even his name is cute. How’s that even possible? “Hongwon,” you repeat, grabbing two medium sized cups and writing it down. “Alright, your total is going to be $6.50.”

He hands you his card, your fingers brushing slightly as he does so. You ignore the way your cheeks start to heat up and quickly ring him up before you hand him his receipt. “Your drinks will be ready soon.”

“Thanks.”

Okay, get a hold of yourself, Y/N. It’s not his fault you’re single because your boyfriend turned out to be a douche. You sigh and make a grab for the coffee beans when your coworker emerges from the back of the kitchen.

“Hey Jungkook, back from break?”

He yawns and nods, “Yeah. I should have taken a damn nap though.” You chuckle, “what, you stay up playing Resident Evil all night again?”

He gasps dramatically and stops what he is doing to look at you, “Rude of you to assume I wasn’t up studying!” You fill two cups with ice and water. “We both know your ass wasn’t studying, you big goof.”

“Okay, I wasn’t. But that shit still hurted bro.”

You laugh again and shake your head. Jungkook tops the two cups with espresso and places the lids on them.

“Hongwon?” He calls out, reading your handwriting. You try to not look when you hear his footsteps draw closer and instead busy yourself with replacing an empty bottle of vanilla syrup.

“Thanks man.”

“No problem dude.”

As you go to toss out the empty syrup bottle, you note that the chocolate syrup is nearly gone as well as the caramel. Who the hell closed the shop last night? You swear it was probably that new guy Namjoon. He was really sweet and funny, but he was also incredibly clumsy and forgetful. You groan to yourself, remembering that both boxes of chocolate and caramel syrup are placed at the highest rack on the shelves where you can’t reach.

The bell rings again and a tall boy enters the cafe; one you recognize as Choi Hamin, one of your regular customers who you had befriended not too long ago. He smiles and waves at you. You return the gesture and blink confusedly when he doesn’t come to the register to order himself a drink.

“So how have you been, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, bringing your attention back to him.

“Huh?”

“It’s been a while since we worked a shift together.” You internally groan when he asks the one question you’ve been dreading all day. Jungkook tosses out the syrup bottles you left on the counter and heads towards the storage room in the kitchen, probably having watched your inner mental breakdown. You follow him into the room, opting to joke around with him to avoid voicing how you actually feel. “That’s because you keep giving your shifts away, headass. Maybe if you actually came into work…” you tease.

He laughs loudly and raises his hands in defense, “Whoa whoa whoa, I did not ask to be called out like that! You’re full of sass today aren’t you? Besides, you didn’t answer my question.” he immediately finds the boxes he’s looking for and reaches for them. “What’re you up to these days?”

Your fingers play with an open box of coffee creamers on a nearby shelf absentmindedly. “Oh uhm nothing much. I’m good. Just, you know, school. Art projects and stuff.” You internally cringe at the way you are unable to form a lie on the spot. “Nothing too crazy. How about you?” you ask quickly, hoping to pass the attention back onto him.

Jungkook looks over his shoulder and studies your face for a while before he decides to speak. “I’m good but…is everything really okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not too stressful. Besides, you know me, always keeping my head buried in those—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His expression is unreadable, but the concern that laces his voice is clear. You stare at him blankly for a while, unable to find your voice. You both look at each other for a moment before a voice breaks the silence.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Ah, uh—coming!” you call out. You head back to the register quickly, eager to avoid Jungkook’s little interrogation.

“I’m really sorry if it’s any trouble…” Hamin starts, “I was just wondering if you guys changed the wifi password… It’s been a while since I was last here. Sorry.” He stands there hesitantly, obviously sensing the tension between you and Jungkook who takes to replacing the bottles of syrup behind you.

“Oh! No, it’s no trouble at all,” you say quickly and move to grab a sticky note so you can write down the server and password. “Actually, I forgot to make a new poster for the wifi since we changed our service provider last week. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, thank you Y/N,” he smiles meekly and turns on his feet. “No worries.” You’re still watching after him when you see him sit down across from Hongwon.

Ahhhhh …so he was meeting Hamin. Hamin is friends with cute emo boy.

Jungkook’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Did something happen?” He asks you tentatively. You sigh. “Why would you think that?” You avoid his gaze and start wiping down the counter.

“You’re not looking at me.” He points out.

You halt your movements and look at him. “What do you want me to say, Jungkook?”

“I don’t know! The truth! It just…it feels like something is bothering you.” He says quietly.

“I’m fine. Honestly, Jungkook. Nothing is bothering me. I’m fine.” You continue wiping down the counter. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice he flinches slightly when you say it a little too aggressively.

The front entrance bell dings once again and for a second you thank the heavens for yet another momentary distraction from Jungkook’s prying until you lift your head up to greet them.

“Hell—” your voice dies in your throat along with every ounce of confidence you thought you had in yourself should this encounter occur. You freeze for a moment, unsure of how to react to his unannounced visit.

Ah, so that’s what it is, Jungkook realizes. He decides to let the scene unfold a bit before he intervenes.

“What are you doing here?” You demand immediately.

“Y/N…When are you taking a break? Can we talk?…Please?”

“I’ve had my break. I can’t talk. I’m working.”

“Just five minutes, please bab—”

“Don’t call me that.” You mentally scold yourself for the way your voice cracks slightly when you say it.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just…when are you off? I’ll wait for y—”

“I’m not talking to you!” You yell, unconsciously taking a few steps back every time he takes one forward, even though there’s a counter that separates you both. The volume of your outburst startles Jungkook beside you, realizing how the exchange is slowly gathering the attention of everyone in the cafe.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” You repeat softly “Please respect that, Jaewon. You should leave.” You refuse to look at him, instead opting for the dirty tiles on the floor. He doesn’t say anything as he takes his leave. Your only sign he’s gone is the sound of the bell as the door closes after him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Half of your lunch break has passed when you finish relaying all of the details to Jungkook, who has finished his shift but stayed back to talk to you.

“He’s a fucking piece of shit! He doesn’t deserve you, Y/N.” Jungkook paces around the break room with his hands on his hips. When he saw you tense at the arrival of Jaewon, he figured that you two had probably just gotten into a heated argument, at best. But he was less than ecstatic to hear otherwise when you revealed to him that he had actually cheated on you.

You sigh and shove your face into your arms on the table. “I’ll stay here and walk you home when you finish your shift.” You quickly pick your head back up. “What? No, Jungkook you don’t have to do that.”

“What if he starts harassing you when you’re walking home? He seemed adamant on getting a chance to talk to you.”

“I really don’t think he cares that much, Jungkook. Plus, even if he wants to talk to me, it’s not like I plan on giving him another chance. I’m not that dumb.”

“You’re not dumb. This isn’t your fault okay?” He remains quiet for a second before he grabs a chair and scoots it close to you, sitting on it backwards. “Listen. He doesn’t deserve you. Anyone who is stupid enough to throw you away like that is a fucking idiot. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen.”

You chuckle lightly but say nothing, keeping your gaze cast on the floor. “If you won’t let me walk you home,” he continues “at least text me when you leave work and let me know right when you get home. Okay?”

“Jungkook,” you laugh, “you do know it’ll still be light out when I’m off right?.”

“That doesn’t matter. People do bad shit at any time of the day Y/N, they don’t care.”

“Alright, alright. Yes, dad.” you joke.

“I think I like daddy better.”

“Ew, Jungkook.”

“I’m just kidding! But on a serious note, please be careful, alright? If he gives you any trouble, call me. I’ll have you know I’ve been taking boxing lessons recently.” He says proudly.

“Are you actually concerned or is your ego really that big?” you deadpan.

He whines and grabs your hands. “Y/N. Hyeri will kill me if anything happens to you. You do know that right?” You push his hands away.

“You asshole! So you just want to get on Hyeri’s good side!”

“Noooo, I do care! Hyeri is just a plus! I swear!”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Yeah, yeah whatever. Go home, Junglebook.”

“Fine,” he pouts, grabbing his backpack and putting his bucket hat on his head. “Don’t forget to text me and call me if anything okay?”

“I will, I will.”

“Okay. Bye Y/N, get home safe.”

“You too Jungkookie.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Me: the one across from the Chinese restaurant right? [7:50 AM]

Hamin: yea the Grind [7:52 AM]

Hamin: I’ll be there in 10 [7:53 AM]

Hongwon stuffs his phone in his back pocket and shivers slightly. Hamin sure had some nerve making him wait. Especially when it was this damn cold. So goddamn early too.

The pair were in the middle of working on a song together and their deadline was steadily approaching. To be honest, they had been pushing it off so much because it just wasn’t coming together. Something wasn’t clicking. With just two weeks left, they figured they had to try to conjure up some lyrics that at least sounded decent.

Hey, I have an idea! Let’s wake up at the ass crack of dawn when our brain juices are hardly flowing! Surely we’ll make a masterpiece this way! He has no idea what the hell was Hamin thinking, because he sure as hell wouldn’t do this to himself intentionally.

He parks his motorcycle on the side of the curb and kicks the kickstand to keep it in place. He squints at the sign of the coffee shop, making sure he’s at the right place. He sighs, finding that unfortunately he is, and his ass will indeed have to get into work mode. He drags himself to the door, pulling on it and immediately noticing the lack of people upon entering. He silently thanks his friend for making at least one smart decision in this dumb plan of his. Looking around for free tables, he mentally picks out an empty table to claim by the window.

“Welcome! I’ll be there in just a moment!”

Hongwon nods at you silently, sweeping his eyes around the coffee shop. He notes that the decor is quite minimalistic, which he appreciates. He hates it when coffee shops try to do the most with overly expensive and fragile looking tea cups and such adorning the walls.

“Good morning. What can I get for you today?”

“Mornin’,” he smiles at you, the sullen look you had before you plastered a smile on your face, not escaping him.

He briefly looks down at the menu, even though he already knows what he’s going to order. Hamin likes americanos right? Who doesn’t? Even if he doesn’t, it serves him right for making him get up so early. “Can I get two medium iced americanos, please?”

“Of course.” He watches you punch in his order, your teeth biting into your lip in concentration. Your hair is neatly plaited into a braid, some strands falling loosely around the frame of your face.

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Hongwon,” he says, watching you write his name on two cups.

“Your drinks will be ready soon.”

“Thanks,” Hangwon takes his receipt and finds the table he had picked near the window. He fishes out his phone and opens up his conversation with Hamin.

Me: I ordered drinks [8:12 AM]

Me: why is ur noodle looking ass taking so damn long??? [8:13 AM]

Chamin: fuck you I had to take my sister to school dingus [8:15 AM]

Chamin: i’m almost there chill i’ll buy u lunch or smth [8:15 AM]

Me: hell yeah [8:16 AM]

Me: screenshotting this [8:16 AM]

Hamin: why do i already regret that [8:19]

Hongwon chuckles and puts his phone down on the table. The inside of the coffee shop is warm, baked goods and coffee beans wafting through the air with dark mahogany bookshelves gracing the walls. If he’s being truthful, he would never step into a place like this on his own even. Although now that he’s sitting here he finds himself enjoying it. He guesses he’s thankful for the quiet seeing as though he actually has shit to get done. Usually though, his scene is more a rowdy one.

Hongwon watches you as work, joking around with your coworker, whose name he catches is Jungkook. He notices again how your smiles seem halfhearted, always keeping your gaze on the floor. He stops himself there. He’s over analyzing everything about you when he doesn’t even know you.

“Hongwon?” your coworker calls out.

He stands to receive his drinks, mentally cursing Hamin for making him look like a loner with two drinks. He sighs and glances outside the window to people watch. He taps his fingers along the wood of the table. I guess I can work in this atmosphere. Hamin’s lucky he had his morning cigarette.

Ding!

Speak of the devil. Hongwon glares at his friend as he makes his way towards him. Hamin smiles sheepishly, “Hey man sorry, Samantha couldn’t find her pink sparkly sweater and she ‘just had to wear it!’” He mocks his younger sibling’s voice in what he considers the whine of a 6 year old girl.

He cringes at his taller friend, “Eww, you’re forgiven just please never make that repulsive sound ever again.” Hamin punches his shoulder playfully, taking a seat across from him and reaching for the laptop in his bag. He fiddles around with for a bit before he sighs. “Shit, I can’t get a connection.” He squints at his laptop and then rises from his seat. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure,” Hongwon dismisses half heartedly; too busy going over lyrics he has written in an old notebook, trying to pick something they could potentially use for the track they had been agonizing over for weeks.

“Hey Y/N?” Hongwon watches as you meet him at the counter, smiling at him apologetically. He wonders how well you two know each other. He shakes his head and continues to bury himself in lyrics. He should be focused on this and not on things that don’t concern him. What was wrong with him? Must be the lack of sleep, he thinks. He sighs out loud thinking he could use another cigarette.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Undress the pants like Young B,” Hamin slaps his hand on his thigh and laughs like he just said the funniest joke on the planet. “That would be fucking hilarious! God, I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Oh my god, dude! That would be sooo fucking funny!” he says, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Fuck you! I was drunk, alright. And just for that, I will add that in so suck my dick.” Hongwon smirks and types it out on the lyrics file. The taller boy puts his hands up in mock apology, “Sorry, I don’t swing that way.”

“Go to hell.”

“Are you really putting that in there?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Hamin peeks at the laptop. “Damn, didn’t think you’d actually do it. Gimme creds though.”

“You’re really fuckin’ shameless you know that?”

Hamin is about to reply when your voice raises an octave. “What are you doing here?”

They both turn to look at the scene where you stand behind the counter, backing away slightly from the man in front of you.

“Y/N…When are you taking a break? Can we talk? Please?”

“I’ve had my break. I can’t talk. I’m working.” You reply curtly.

“Just five minutes, please bab—”

You flinch slightly at the word, “Don’t call me that.” It’s clear that you don’t seem too keen on talking to him. He puts two and two together and decides that this guy is probably your boyfriend. “I’m not talking to you!” You yell at him. You’re obviously upset with something he did to you, and much to his surprise, he leaves without too much of a fuss.

The patrons of the cafe had all been watching the whole thing, the shop deathly quiet until he takes his leave.

“Poor Y/N…” Hamin says before turning back to the work in front of him.

“Yeah,” he agrees “sounded rough.” He watches as your manager comes out upon hearing the commotion, your coworker explaining the situation before you’re ushered to what he assumes is probably the breakroom. “You know her?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I met her when I first started coming here a few months back. She’s really sweet, she’s our age actually. I guess something happened with her boyfriend...”

“Huh,” he responds, taking this information quietly, trying not to appear too interested.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Work after Jungkook went home became increasingly boring. Your other coworker Yoongi replaced him, but the cafe only became more quiet as time passed. It wasn’t that Yoongi was boring, he was just more of an introvert. On the contrary, you often preferred Yoongi’s presence because the silence with him was never uncomfortable. Of course today, however, the silence is your enemy, leaving you alone with your thoughts and nothing to block them out.

There is one good thing that was left though. You glance at his table for what feels like the millionth time that day. The cute emo boy had remained in the cafe, writing away in his notebook, his taller friend long since gone. They had spent a good six hours chattering away with each other and hovering over that laptop ever since they came in this morning. It strangely brought some peace to you, seeing him so committed to whatever he was writing in his notebook. You felt embarrassed that he and Hamin had been witnesses to the whole fiasco with your ex boyfriend in front of everyone. You wish the earth would just swallow you whole already.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, popping his head out from behind the kitchen door frame “Boss says you’re good to go home, Seokjin just came in.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks Yoongi.” You go to move past him before he stops you.

“Hey,” he starts “…it’s getting pretty cold outside, so make sure you’re bundled up alright?”

Neither of you has to say it, but you both know his words carry a double meaning. He knows what happened. But Yoongi is not the type of guy to feed you bullshit just to comfort you. You smile at his small way of taking care of you, “I will.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The time on your phone reads 2:23 when you finally clock off and find yourself outside the shop staring up at the granite sky, the cold air biting at your skin. Although the gloomy weather does nothing to lift your spirits, it’s still your favorite type of weather.

“Looks like it’ll probably start raining, huh?” The deep voice behind you startles you, and it’s not until you turn to look at him that you realize who it is. He stands there looking at the rapidly increasing clouds, with his lips turned down and his hands shoved in his pockets.

It’s cute emo boy. “Huh?” he looks at you, tilting his head in confusion. Shit, did you say that out loud? “A-ah-uh…you’re Hamin’s friend, right?” you blurt out. “Saw you guys sitting together.”

“Oh, uh yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck and looking out into the street, “he suggested we meet for a project since he really likes the coffee here.”

“I think he likes more the fact that I give him free drinks sometimes rather than the coffee itself,” you giggle to yourself. Your nose crinkles slightly when you do, shaking your head to yourself in amusement. Cute, he thinks. Wait, what the hell? Did he just think that about a random girl he just met? Damn he really needed to get laid.

“Well,” you say, pushing your bag up higher on your shoulder. “I should probably get going before it starts to rain.” You begin to walk in the direction of your apartment when he internally begins to panic.

“Oh—uh, I’m actually walking this way too,” he blurts. Why the hell did he say that???

“Oh really? Guess we can walk together then,” you laugh.

“Uh yeah, sure,” he shrugs casually.

You both begin your trek “home” in silence. Neither of you speak, not quite knowing what to say but wanting to say something. Hongwon mentally chastises himself for being such a fool and irrationally lying to you just so he could talk to you for a bit more. He doesn’t even know why he said that but he reasons that it’s just because you’re Hamin’s friend and he probably wouldn’t want you walking alone. Even if it was still day time.

“I’m Hongwon by the way,” he blurts.

You stifle a laugh with your hand, “I know, I took your order this morning remember?” Fucking idiot. “I’m Y/N,” you say.

“Er well, I didn’t really think you’d remember,” he says lamely.

“Of course, I did! Oh, right!” you say suddenly, “you mentioned you were working on a project with Hamin. What kind of project is it? If you don’t mind me asking” you add.

Hongwon watches you from the corner of his eye; your eyes trained on your feet, fingers playing with the fringes of the scarf around your neck. He looks away and smiles slightly at your politeness. “I don’t mind,” he shoves his hands into the warmth of his hoodie pockets, suddenly shy. “We’re working on a song. I uh—we write music.” He feels nervous somehow, saying that to you. He avoids saying the words “SoundCloud” and “rapper” in fear that you’d laugh at him. He knows there isn’t the best of reputations associated with soundcloud rappers. Not that he’s embarrassed of being one himself. He just inexplicably wants to make a good impression on you.

Your lips form into a little ‘o’ at his admission. “Really,” you breathe, a puff of air coming from your mouth when you do. “That’s so cool!” Hongwon shoots his head towards you at your reaction. “Huh, I always wondered what Hamin was up to working on that laptop of his for so many hours! So, you guys in a band or something?” you ask him, your eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Um no, not really…” he replies, still taken aback at your reaction. “You must be pretty good then. Since you guys were working in there for so long,” you tease. Hongwon flushes, remembering how Hamin had left hours before him since they had surprisingly been able to power out some good lyrics. He only stayed behind to work on some of his own stuff though, he argues to himself.

“Ah well, we have a deadline to meet so we kind of had to,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck. “A deadline? Wow, I guess it’s really serious then. That’s really cool,” you smile. “Might have to ask you to play me something of yours one day.” You flush at your own words when you realize what they imply and backtrack immediately. “If you ever plan on coming back to the Grind that is,” you bring your hands up in front of you, coming to a stop. “If not, maybe I can convince you and Hamin with a drink on the house,” you laugh nervously.

“Of course I’ll be back! I-I mean, we…err, I really liked your coffee,” he stutters. Hongwon internally slaps himself. You had an iced americano, you idiot! Just how exotic and delicious is that?! And quit acting like a 5 year old girl!

“Awesome! I basically live there so you’re bound to see me sometime,” you laugh softly. “Well, this is me,” you say pointing to a street behind you. “Thanks for walking with me, Hongwon. I know it’s probably only because I’m friends with Hamin, but I still really appreciate it.”

“Hey, I enjoyed the walk just as much as you did. Besides, I was going this way anyways,” he looks away, scratching his cheek.

“I guess I’ll see you around then?” you ask, walking backwards.

“Sure,” he calls out, putting a hand up in farewell.

Okay so, in hindsight this was probably not his best idea. Hongwon looks up at the stormy sky as small raindrops begin to fall from the sky. He sighs dejectedly and begins his walk back to his motorcycle. Oh yes, let me walk with you! I’m going this way anyway! Tell that to the Venom X-22 GT you left parked on the side of the curb, moron.

part II

#young b #yang hongwon #khiphop #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #yang hongwon x reader #indigo music

68 notes · View notes

captcas · 4 years

Text

Worth Fighting For (6/?)

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5

[CHAPTER 6/?]

“Humbert, huh? Didn’t peg him as your type, Swan.” When Emma called to move today’s check-in meeting with Regina to tomorrow afternoon, he pried as to why. He was foolish to assume it had something to do with him.

Why would it? It’s not like she kissed the living daylights out of him on Friday.

One day he’ll stop chasing this woman.

“Yeah, well he asked if I wanted dinner and I figured why not.” She’s deflecting, and he can sense she didn’t plan on telling him this. “That’s none of your business anyway. Can you move the meeting or not?”

“As you wish, Swan.” He hangs up after agreeing to her new meeting. Not wanting to hear anymore about her date.

He had hoped the kiss meant something, that he meant something.

Seems like foolish is the word of the day.

He calls up Will and Robin and they agree to meet him at the pub for a drink. He doesn’t care if it’s a Monday, the radio silence after their kiss followed by this phone call warrants at least one glass of rum. Killian spent the entirety of the weekend trying to run into her again. He worked out more than he has in months, feigning the need to train but really just hoping to catch a glimpse of her at the gym. She never showed. He sits at the bar waiting for his friends and replays Friday night in his head for what must be the hundredth time.

He knew nothing good would come from challenging her, or kissing her, but he couldn’t help himself. It’s like he loses all sense of balance around her, his entire world tilting on its already unstable axis. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to numb the migraine that’s been pounding in his head since she kissed him.

He thought his life may actually be looking up for a change. Foolish.

Robin and Will walk through the door as he polishes off his second glass. The looks on their faces mirror one another and he knows they’re going to make him talk. “Not tonight, mates. Just drink.”

He waves for the bartender to bring over their drinks as Robin speaks up, “We are not playing that game, Killian. You don’t call us on a Monday for ‘just drinks’ if there’s nothing to talk about.”

Sometimes Killian forgets Robin isn’t really his father.

“Aye, out wit’ it, mate. Who’s the lass?” Will wiggles his eyebrows clearly amused by whatever Robin told him. “I haven’t seen ya like this since–” Robin elbows him in the side. “Oi, mate what was that for?”

Robin shoots Will an icy glare before turning back to Killian, “Come on, what happened?”

Killian sighs, knowing there's no way around this, “Emma and I shared a kiss.”

Robin chokes on his whiskey (again) and Will whoops and slaps his back. “Aye, mate! Thatta boy! What ya looking so down in th’ dumps fer then?”

Robin rolls his eyes before turning to Killian warily, “What happened after?”

Killian shakes Will’s hand off his shoulder, and finishes his glass of rum. He responds through the burn of the liquid coating his throat, “She moved our meeting with Regina because she has a date,” he holds a finger up to Will who looks ready to order a round of celebratory shots, “with Humbert.”

Robin hisses and Will lets out a low whistle, “Aye, that’s rough, mate. Next round on Rob.” Robin goes to argue but it falls short to Will shouting their order. In an unspoken agreement, they spend the rest of the night talking about anything but Emma Swan.

This is why he called them, enough humor and good sense to help him ignore everything that’s weighed him down for the past three days. It works until he finds himself alone in his room wide awake at 2am. Finding the events of Friday night flooding his thoughts once again.

Where’d he go wrong?

He couldn’t have “gone wrong”; she kissed him.

He grabs his phone, accepting his fate of yet another sleepless night. He mindlessly scrolls through Twitter begging for anything to take his mind off the woman who won’t leave his thoughts. Before he knows it, the glow of the clock threatens 3am and he feels his body gives in where his mind would not. The last thing he hears is the slight ding of what is probably a Facebook notification before drifting off to sleep.

. . .

This date is probably the worst idea Emma’s ever had— besides maybe kissing Killian Jones— jury’s still out on that one.

It’s not that the date is bad, it’s actually damn good . The food is fantastic, Graham is a complete gentleman, and the conversation is easy. It feels like she’s known him her whole life.

So why does it all feel so wrong?

She has no idea until they’re standing on the sidewalk and Graham is chatting about some ancient bottle of whiskey he has back at his place and she tries to smile at him in that specific way she wants to reserve for Killian.

Killian.

She suddenly understands why this entire night has felt off. That kiss with Killian meant more to her than she ever wanted it to– she had really hoped it would get him out of her system, not engrain him deeper into it. She knows it’ll more than likely take some time, and they should really know more about each other than their fight records, but she finds herself oddly willing to put in some work.

Dammit, Killian Jones.

She smiles politely before thanking Graham for the food and feigning exhaustion despite the fact that she’ll be lucky to catch even a wink of sleep tonight. She’s positive he expected their night to continue, but she’s not in the business of leading men on. Graham isn’t stupid and can probably tell this is their last date, but he’s nice all the same and ends the night with a chaste kiss to her cheek and helping her into the cab.

She gets home and thanks Ruby for watching Henry, before checking to make sure he’s actually sleeping. Ruby tries to ask about the date but gives her a knowing look when Emma practically shoves her out the door. “That’s ‘cause it was with the wrong hottie.”

Emma rolls her eyes when she hears her friend through the door and decides pretending like she never heard that is probably for the best. She jumps in the shower, her mind racing with all the realizations she had after one night with a man who was not Killian Jones. She isn’t sure if it's the buzz of the wine from dinner or the electricity that is still lingering in every single nerve from their kiss on Friday night, but as she lays in bed she finds herself grabbing her phone before she even realizes what for. She scrolls to his name and types out a ridiculous amount of text messages before landing on something decidedly simple:

Emma: Tomorrow? Same time. Same place. I’ll buy.

She fully expects to regret it in the morning, so she’s surprised at the anticipation which she feels stirring in her gut. Emma’s not usually one to kick things off– she doesn’t usually kiss men like that either– but with Killian Jones she finds that fear dissipating leaving behind only excitement and maybe the smallest trace of hope.

Emma wakes to find an abundance of texts– mostly from Graham who apparently didn’t get the hint– but is disappointed to see her text to Killian left unanswered. She tells herself he’s probably not up at the ass crack of dawn like she is– kids will do that to you and she’s pretty sure he doesn’t have kids. She makes a mental note to ask– subtly of course– he doesn’t even know about Henry.

Shit.

She somehow makes Henry breakfast and wonders the best way to tell her client/guy-you-kissed that she has a son. She’s truly shocked when she gets said son to the bus on time, and walks into the office around 8:15 giving her enough time to prepare before her meeting with Killian. As she’s settling in at her desk, she sees Regina call her over. Emma sighs, nerves fluttering in her gut for more reason than one, and walks into Regina’s office.

“It comes to my attention you’ve never attended a Fight Night?” Regina asks while stirring creamer into her coffee. She’s not sure how Regina knows that; she mentioned it to Sidney in onboarding, but— well, that’s how she knows. There’s no judgment in Regina’s voice, but Emma can’t help suddenly feeling inadequate for the position she’s been given.

Emma sighs before rambling a bit, a habit she’s consciously trying to kick, “Well... obviously I’ve fought in them... but that was when UFC was still on Fox... and since they’ve moved to ESPN I haven’t–”

Regina cuts her off, “Alright then, we will set up a time for you and Jones to attend one. I will book the hotel rooms and secure tickets. It will be good PR for him and a good way for you to get a lay of the land before his first official fight.” Regina is scrolling through her calendar now, Emma assumes looking for the next time there’s a fight relatively close. “Ah, yes, Miss Swan, they are in Maine this weekend. Can you make yourself available Friday and Saturday night?”

“Of course, Mrs. Mills. Thank you, Mrs. Mills.” Emma stands up to leave her office as Regina speaks again.

“Oh and Miss Swan, I trust you can tell Mr. Jones of his new obligations for this Friday and Saturday.”

Emma’s excitement at the prospect of attending a Fight Night without actually having to work seems to have overshadowed the realization that Killian would be attending as well. She sighs, “Of course Mrs. Mills, I have a meeting with him now. Thank you again.”

Emma leaves Regina’s office and immediately pulls out her phone to see if Killian got her message. There’s still no reply but she supposes she deserves that– she did ghost him after kissing the holy hell out of him. She shoots off a message to Mary Margaret asking if they’re available to take Henry this weekend, and grabs her laptop. Taking a leap of faith, Emma grabs walks to the coffee shop with only a sliver of hope that he’ll be waiting for her at all.

She can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when she sees Killian sitting at their usual table– with two drinks. He’s scrolling through his phone and doesn’t notice her walk in. She takes a deep breath— and a selfish moment to really drink in every piece of him— before approaching him. As she enters his space, he looks up politely, meeting her eyes. She can’t help but notice they are almost navy, a stark difference from the normal sea blue she usually finds there. She realizes that she’s staring when he clears his throat and chuckles, “Good morning, Swan.”

. . .

He didn’t expect the notification he heard just before shutting his eyes for the night to be from her– definitely not after the way he acted during their last phone call– but Killian would be a bloody liar if he said his heart didn’t do something absolutely stupid when he saw her name on his phone. He didn’t answer– a slight jab, sure– but he’s allowed to be petty.

It killed him.

Killian had hoped she’d still come –had thought it daft but had hoped all the same– so when he caught the flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye, it took every ounce of his willpower to not look up. As she approached the table he scrolled through his email inbox (as though he didn’t clean it out every morning), not reading a single word.

She steps awfully close to him and he can no longer play ignorant to her presence. He looks up and meets her emerald eyes. They’re almost hesitant in their gaze, but she’s staring. He smirks at that thought and decides to put her out of her misery with a slight grunt and a greeting. He uses her nickname despite himself, more out of habit than endearment today.

The smile she responds with is radiant.

He’s never going to be able to stay away from this woman, how could he when her dimples– whoa, Jones .

She sits down next to him. “I said I would buy.” She seems happy and he can’t help the flare of envy which runs up his spine.

He turns back to his phone, hoping to filter her ability to read him by averting eye contact and the words slip out before he can stop them, “How’s Humbert?”

He regrets it immediately, but she doesn’t even flinch. “Well, based on the 23 text messages I received today, I’d imagine much more interested than I am.”

Killian’s head snaps up and he has to physically put his hand under his chin in order to stop his jaw from dropping. She smirks - almost knowingly- as he answers, “That bad, huh?”

She shrugs, but it’s everything but nonchalant, “Not bad, just not interested.” She pauses, presumably for him to say something, but he’s already made up his mind. This is her race, he’ll follow her to the end of the earth or time or wherever the fuck she wants to go, but she’s driving. He just nods with a smile and she seems to take that as a hint to keep talking. “Anyway, I have some news.” His breath hitches entirely involuntarily— don’t be ridiculous, Jones, Humbert wouldn’t have proposed after one date — she rolls her eyes. “Not bad news. At least I don’t think it–”

“Come on, Swan, out with it.”

She relaxes as he cuts off her nervous babble, “Mills is sending us to the Fight Night this weekend... in Maine. I’ve never gone as anything but a fighter -and not since the network switch- so she said it’d be a good idea for me to go and learn the ropes. She wants you to come for a PR stunt promoting your match, which is in four weeks by the way...”

Her voice trails off in his head as he wraps his mind around spending a weekend with her. He’s not sure it’s a good idea– he’s hovering awfully close to the line of professionalism Emma seems determined not to cross– but he doesn’t care. This is his chance to really get to know her and he’d be a damn idiot not to take it.

“...Killian are you even listening to me?”

She’s giving him one of her token annoyed looks that he knows means she’s not really annoyed and he can’t help the smirk that forms as he answers, “Aye, love. This weekend is Maine with you, and four weeks until my next fight. Do we know who I’m fighting yet?” He takes a sip of coffee to hide his obvious nerves at the last question.

She rolls her eyes, but he can tell it’s all in jest, “I literally just said that, Jones. They emailed me today. It’s some newcomer, Phillip “Sleeper” Rose. They’ll officially announce it after the fights this weekend. He was on the Contender Series last season and has only fought twice– seems reckless to put him up against you and his lack of fights will probably make training tough...”

Killian nods his head in agreement. It is a stupid stunt and will definitely throw off his usual training which includes researching his opponent’s past fights– usually theres more than two. “Aye, it will.”

Bloody hell.

He sighs, scrubbing his left hand across his face. He’s not usually nervous for fights but somehow he feels like he owes Emma a win, like her career depends on him– it sort of does. She must notice his worry and she reaches across the table. Killian flinches at the unexpected contact but she holds a bit tighter. He should love this, but honestly confusion washes over him first. He can’t read what she wants and it’s driving him insane.

He needs a break.

Killian pulls his hand from hers and he internally winces at the wave of disappointment that crosses her face, but he can't do this. He doesn’t want to sway her opinion of him and he’s worried he won’t be able to take it slow. “Anyway, love,” he winces again– habit betraying him once more, “is there anything else for today?”

She looks confused and he feels his own heart breaking, but it's for the best. He wants this decision to be her own. “Uh, no I don’t think so. Just remember we have the check in meeting with Regina this afternoon.”

“Of course, Swan. I’ll see you there, aye?” He gives her a soft smile and basks in the one she gives back for as long as possible before standing up and heading towards the door.

. . .

Emma isn’t really sure what just happened. The Killian she’s been working with for almost two weeks now was not the one sitting across from her right now. She could read the conflict all over his face.

She did this.

Fuck.

“Killian. Killian! Wait!” What is she doing?

He turns around at her voice, seemingly stunned by the fact she followed him– she doesn’t blame him. “Did I forget something, Swan?” He smiles warily and scratches nervously behind his ear– she’s not saying it’s adorable, but it’s adorable.

“Uh,” wow, she does not do this, “Can we talk… not about UFC?”

His smile reaches his eyes. “Of course, love.” He leads them back to their table– they have a table– calm down, Emma.

“So, this is weird now, right?”

Killian chuckles at her bluntness and she can’t help but relax a little bit. “A bit, love. I’m just not entirely sure where we stand.”

She sighs, “Me either. I sorta fucked this all up. I want to be a team– friends even? Can we... start over?” She gives him a hesitant smile.

“I’d like that.” She doesn’t think she’s ever heard a more genuine string of words… or seen more genuine eyes… and that smile. God damn, Emma. “Killian Jones.” He reaches out his hand and looks at her expectantly.

She chuckles to herself and grabs his hand, desperately pretending she doesn’t remember the way it felt tangled in her hair, “Emma Swan.”

He smiles that smile, “Pleasure, love.” She can’t help but smile back. “I’ll see you later, hm?”

She nods, “Friends?” He winks and suddenly life feels back on track.

“Friends.” He’s still smiling and she’s pretty sure it could power the entire city of Boston. “Later, Swan.”

She smiles back and it’s real and she realizes she’s happy. “Friends.”

Really happy. They’re going to Maine this weekend free from awkwardness and the kiss she’s pretending she regrets and they’re friends— they can definitely do friends.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs modern au #killian jones #emma swan #worth fighting for #capthamm

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thegirlwiththeglasses-3 · 5 years

Text

Marisol Fuentes Definitely Does Not Have a Crush on Mikey Gutierrez: A Case Study

By Marisol Fuentes (Negatory), Grace Aung (Affirmative), Mr. Gabriel Iglesias (Affirmative), Walt Smit (Affirmative), Lorenzo [REDACTED] (Affirmative)

Additional assistance to Ms. Fuentes by Gabriel Iglesias and Abigail Spencer

Purpose of Case Study: To determine whether or not Ms. Marisol Fuentes is crushing on Mr. Mikey Gutierrez.

Procedures: Structure examples by writing down specific dates, then an honest, impartial account of the events that have transpired. No opinions permitted.

Working Hypothesis for the Negatory: Ms. Fuentes does not and has never had a “thing” for Mr. Gutierrez because she is far too busy to consider getting into a relationship, so she has never allowed herself to look at anyone in that manner, and even if she did, Mr. Gutierrez is almost comically ignorant of the most basic facts and possesses little to no desirable qualities one would look for in a significant other.

Working Hypothesis for the Affirmative: Ms. Fuentes has been into Mr. Gutierrez literally since the first day of freshman year, as says everyone who lays eyes on them. The only reason she doesn’t know about it is because she’s so focused and driven regarding everything in her own life, as it is highly stressful, so she hasn’t had time to think about her own feelings.

Important Dates:

Beginning of Study: Wednesday, February 1st- 7:35 am

End of Study: Monday, March 4th- 2:35 pm

Final Meeting Between Affirmative and Negatory (Presentations): Wednesday, March 6th- 2:36 pm

Formal voting procedures and a conclusional committee will be held three weeks from the completed report date, to be determined after the complete case study is typed, proofread, and submitted by an independent source, also to be determined. The committee is as follows:

Member One (Chair): Principal Paula Madison

Member Two: Mr. Tony Ochoa

Member Three: Ms. Abigail Spencer

Faculty Supervisor: Mr. Gabriel Iglesias

Evidence (Impartial)

Wednesday, February 1st- The Classroom Incident

Submitted by Marisol Fuentes, Negatory

It’s a simple, normal Wednesday. Marisol’s made calls for only five hours instead of six before school starts because it’s not every day she aces a math test like the one she aced yesterday. She got an extra one percent, so she can sleep a little more than usual. She steps into class with a little spring in her step, tossing her backpack next to her chair and giving Mr. Iglesias a wave, which he returns without looking up.

Mikey’s not next to her yet, which is fairly normal considering his penchant for being late, although Marisol strongly suspects it’s not completely his fault. She stretches out in her seat, flipping Walt off after he teasingly pretends to hike up his shirt into a crop top. Yeah. Today is a good day. Grace tosses her the extra apple she pretends she packs on accident, and she leans back and closes her eyes lazily for a couple extra minutes.

The bell rings in what feels like ten seconds, and Mr. Iglesias sweeps around the room in his normal dramatic ways until he gets to the door and closes it. “Good morning, settle down!,” he shouts over the vague buzz. “Let the undercurrent cease!”

Marisol combs her fingers through her hair as he starts attendance. She does her usual hand raise when she hears her name.

Something feels-odd in a way. It’s just a little different from her productive little spot of morning bliss. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but it is extremely disconcerting.

“Mikey?,” Mr. Iglesias calls. Marisol instinctively turns to watch Mikey crash and burn like he does every day during attendance because he always answers with some weird Fortnite taunt or something-but she stops cold. Mikey’s seat is completely empty.

In reality, things proceed as usual, but Marisol is stuck on Mikey’s empty spot. He’s never been this late before. It’s usually a few minutes before or a few minutes after the bell. She can’t remember a day where he’d been absent, either, and she never is because she wills herself into having perfect attendance at least for this class, so she would definitely know if he’d ever been out before.

It takes Mr. Iglesias starting to perform the character of Mary-Todd Lincoln to snap her out of her weird dissociation. She shakes her head like a dog shaking off water and starts to take notes about the importance of the role of first ladies within the presidency. But she keeps having these thoughts, harkening back to things Mikey had said the last time they’d discussed Lincoln, or his complete flame out during the infamous oral reports last summer. It’s not only memories, too, it’s stuff that she could say to him to make him laugh, or maybe a new mnemonic device they could use to study for the next test.

The bell rings, and Marisol blinks to find most of the other kids filing out and Mr. Iglesias standing over her desk.

“Are you okay?,” he asks suspiciously. “That was an awful lot of daydreaming for one class, especially for you. Are you sleeping?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answers, starting to gather up her things. “I’m okay. Just an off day, you know? Thanks for not calling me out on it.” “Sure thing,” he nods. “And Marisol?”

She turns on her way out. “Yep?”

“Word of advice,” Mr. Iglesias says, smirking. “If you really don’t want the entire class knowing that you somehow reciprocate that thing Mikey has for you, I’d suggest making sure you can function when he’s not here.”

Marisol can feel her cheeks redden. “I was fine,” she protests. “I was a little groggy.”

“Sure, fine, okay,” he agrees. “If you’re denying that, maybe next time you shouldn’t write notes with his name all over your notebook. Mikey’s out sick today. His mom called. He’s fine. Text him and tell him that joke you wrote down at the top of page 3. Stir the pot a little. See what happens.”

Her face is now tomato red. “I don’t like him!,” she yells as she throws the door open. “I can miss my friend!”

His laughter follows her down the hall, all the way to her next class.

(The next day, Mikey is back in his desk, and early for once, with a smile and about three large oranges to play catch with Lorenzo when Mr. Iglesias isn’t looking. When his name is called on roll, Marisol elbows him when he almost falls out of his desk trying to deep dab. He leans over and doodles a small flower on her paper, but if you look closely, he’s really just drawn a penis. Marisol calmly writes ‘Oscar for principal’ on his worksheet in retaliation. They are now even. At least until English next period.)

Friday, February 15- The Sleep Out Incident

Submitted by Marisol Fuentes, Negatory

In Marisol’s very humble opinion, the annual ‘sleep out’ is a way to punish all of the students in the school. It’s always a complete mess organizationally, nobody ever has exactly what they actually need to function normally, and the teachers mostly just sit there and watch as the students destroy the environment and do the exact opposite of appreciate being with their schoolmates.

Marisol has spent the last two sleep outs sitting alone in her tiny tent, selling solar panels and doing her work in peace as her classmates push each other to the brink. But this year, she will not be doing that. She will not have her little slice of alone time before the stupid sing-along and the stupid friendship circle and the waste of time that is the scary story session. She also won’t be sleeping alone this time.

Because Mr. Iglesias’s class came in last in the fund-raiser, they have been forced to sleep on the roof without tents. Marisol will be subjected to all the nonsense for a solid thirteen hours.

Case in point, she thinks to herself as she watches Walt chase Lorenzo around, using his sleeping bag as a giant butterfly net. She does enjoy her group of weirdos immensely, but this is a lot for one day.

“Mr. Iglesias,” she calls. “Can I just sit up here and not go to the campfire?”

“No, because if I’m suffering, so are you,” he yells back. “Stop running on the roof, idiots! You’re gonna fall off and die!”

Great. An evening watching Mr. Ochoa make a fool of himself in front of Ms. Spencer and Principal Madison host an event to the nines, which she usually enjoys, but she’s already so annoyed and keyed up, she doesn’t know how she’ll enjoy it. “Stepford!,” Marisol hollers across the roof at him, because she knows nobody will understand how truly gorgeous that insult is but the two of them.

Mr. Iglesias whirls on her. “You take that back this instant!” There’s an announcement from the field that Capture the Flag is about to begin.

He takes a deep breath and snags Mikey’s bedsheet, which Rakeem seems to be using as a cape. “Never mind. This isn’t over. We’re finishing this after we kick the honors students’ collective asses. Also, everyone quit stealing stuff just to annoy me!”

Walt halfheartedly returns Mr. Iglesias’ wallet to his pocket, just as Lorenzo returns his vape. Marisol sends both of them a look that says she won’t tell, and reluctantly descends the stairs to go spend two hours pretending to care about some random scrap of fabric.

^^^

Following the gratuitous game, the entirety of the stupid campfire (although she enjoyed Mikey’s little yelp when she grabs his shoulders during the story about the man with a hook for a hand they tell every year), and the group discussion that’s supposed to make them see each other in a ‘different light’ that never does, Marisol relishes the chance for quiet. She crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep.

For around an hour.

It turns out the roof is deceivingly cold. And full of gravel. Both of these are highly counterproductive to getting any restful sleep and true to form, Marisol can’t fall asleep anymore. She reaches for her phone. 2 am, reads the ruthless display. She flops over in her sleeping bag, onto her stomach, and notices someone else sitting a few feet away, looking up at the stars.

She shoots a look to her right-Walt and Lorenzo sharing a blanket. On her left, Grace sleeping with her glasses on and Rakeem twitching his feet in his sleep. And one empty pile of blankets and twisted sleeping bag belonging to a certain someone belonging to the Fortnite club.

Marisol grins to herself. She wraps her blanket around her and pads over to where Mikey is sitting.

“You can’t sleep?,” she asks, easing herself down into the pile of gravel next to him.

He oddly doesn’t lose it, which she chalks up to how late it is. “No,” he says, turning his gaze to her. “It’s stupid we have to do this. Did anyone actually come up here and consider the fact that this is uninhabitable because it’s the roof?”

“That’s a big word,” Marisol teases. “Did you read the dictionary for summer reading again?”

He snorts and sifts some of the gravel through his hands. “No, that’s the one thing I picked up from Mrs. Ortiz yelling at me about my desk yesterday because she made me look it up.”

She laughs. “That’s easily the loudest I’ve heard her yell since Walt tried to start the vape train in third period. It was an achievement.”

“Thanks,” Mikey jokingly bows to her. “It’s my pleasure to entertain you as we fuck Shakespeare over.”

“That’s a complete understatement. Lorenzo pronounced ‘Juliet’ as ‘Jules’ today. It was ridiculous.”

They both break into giggles. Marisol bumps shoulders with him and smiles.

“So why can’t you sleep besides, you know, everything?”

Mikey sucks in his cheeks. “You’re gonna laugh.” “No, I won’t laugh,” Marisol says stubbornly. “I promise, if I didn’t laugh at you when Ortiz dumped your desk on the floor, I won’t laugh at you now.”

He stares at the ground for a second. “Okay. So I share a room with two of my younger brothers, and I kind of find it hard to sleep without the noise. One of them snores a little and the other one breathes loud, and it’s just-comforting, I guess. Go ahead, make fun of me.”

“That’s kind of sweet, Mikey,” she grins. “Uh-I can’t sleep either. I’m cold because I sleep with my sister and without her, it feels freezing.”

“Hey,” he says after a beat of silence. “Uh-you can totally slap me in the face if you want, and I’ll never speak of this again, but lots of people are accidentally, like-sleeping really close together, like look at Rakeem and Grace-” “Oh, no”, she interjects. “That is clearly on purpose.”

“But-like, you’re cold, and I need noise, and-well-”

That’s when it occurs to Marisol exactly what he’s talking about. There’s a little rush of heat through her core that she pushes aside for the time being. The offer seems almost kind, and Mikey is very seriously blushing.

She makes her decision quickly.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” she says, trying her best to act nonchalant and rising to her fee. “Are you coming?”

(Marisol settles her head firmly on Mikey’s chest. They both sleep just fine, and nobody says anything to them in the morning because they’re way too busy teasing Walt for his morning wood. Just as they’d sworn to do, they never speak of this again, but she can feel that something has changed. Mikey calms down a little around her, and touching shoulders becomes their weird little thing. It’s almost disturbingly comforting, but true to form, Marisol doesn’t decide to figure her shit out. She just chooses to not think about it.)

Sunday, February 24th- The Science Fair Incident

Submitted by Mr. Gabriel Iglesias, Affirmative

The first thing Marisol says when she walks into the gym on the morning of the science fair is, “Is this room spinning?”

The second thing is “It’s really hot-no, it’s really cold in here.”

And by the time the entire class is looking at her with extreme concern, the third and final thing is, “I’m gonna throw up.”

With that single warning, she pukes directly onto Mikey’s shoes, swaying on her feet for a second before successfully losing consciousness against him.

Predictably, as in Gabe’s experiences, high schoolers tend not to be incredibly mature when it comes to someone getting sick in class. He elects to follow the traditional ‘teacher vomit checklist’. First, check for sympathy pukers. A quick scan reveals no immediate signs. Grace quickly volunteers to notify Jim the janitor, leaving him available to check in on Marisol, and make sure that Mikey is surviving as well.

He turns to find Mikey rather maturely removing his shoes and gently helping Marisol over to the bleachers, where he props her up, sitting next to her so she can lean on him. Gabe is very surprised by this sequence of events, but he gets less concerned when she wakes up slightly, still really sleepy.

Mikey looks to see him approaching. “Hey,” he says. “She’s really of out of it. I don’t know what we should do.”

“What about your sneakers?”

He shrugs. “I have a lot of siblings, so it’s not like that hasn’t happened before. I’ll just hose them down on the way home.”

Marisol stirs again, then sits upright and makes a very very bad face. Thanks to Walt putting a trash can next to his project so he can destroy it as soon as possible, she doesn’t throw up on anyone. Gabe thinks about helping, but Mikey is already holding her hair back and telling her that it’s okay. She finishes and slumps backwards, leaning into nothing. When she realizes Mikey isn’t sitting next to her anymore, she makes a highly affronted noise and hauls him back in by the sleeve of his shirt. He looks like he’s made the honor roll.

“Head hurts,” she groans. “Too bright.”

Gabe sits next to her. “What hurts?”

“Head,” she whispers again. “Shaky. Cold. Stomach hurts, too.”

Without being asked, Mikey drapes his sweatshirt around her shoulders. There has to be something going on that Gabe doesn’t know about, because he is acting incredibly mature and not freaking out because Marisol is touching him.

“What about the science fair?,” she breathes, reaching out a quavering hand. “I worked so hard on that project, it would have beat Whitney’s-”

“You can’t go up there like this,” Gabe tells her openly. “You’re sick.”

“Am not,” she argues. “I can do this. I don’t want to let anybody down.”

“I know you don’t want to miss it, but you need to rest! You definitely have a fever and chills, and you’re shaking.” Marisol throws off the hoodie and stands up defiantly. “I have to present today! It’s make or break for my grade!”

“I know you want to do this really badly,” Gabe says carefully, “but I really think you need to go home.”

“Great,” she says frostily. “Thank you for your opinion. I’m going to go give my presentation-oh, oh, dizzy, oh my god.” She sways dangerously once again and he’s easily able to guide her down onto the bleachers once again.

“Let me try,” Mikey offers. “Just gimme a sec, okay?”

What the hell, Gabe figures. He walks a few paces away, giving Lorenzo a very annoyed look when he tries to hotwire whatever kind of villainous supercomputer Grace has constructed, let him give it a shot. He already knows how it’s going to turn out, so there isn’t any real risk involved before he’ll have to step-

“We figured it out.”

Surprised, Gabe turns to see Mikey standing there. “You did?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go on with her. I’ll do most of it, because then we can show how easy it is to follow, and if she needs to take a break she can. Carlson’ll probably say it’s innovative or something.” “You got it that fast?”

Mikey shrugs. “Well, yeah. Duh. It’s not that hard.”

And with that, he goes back to sit with Marisol, bumping her shoulder once, which makes her smile a little for some reason. “If it gets too much, just tap on my hand,” he’s gently telling her. “You can take a break, or be done. It’s gonna be fine.”

She murmurs something quietly, which makes him laugh. “He tries, you know that.”

Gabe doesn’t know whether to feel completely insulted that he apparently doesn’t know how to talk to Marisol, dumbfounded that Mikey somehow does, or impressed at his handling of the situation. He goes with somewhere in the middle of all three.

Pride is added to the mix when Marisol and Mikey finish first. Ms. Carlson calls it ‘incredibly creative’.

(Directly after the ceremony, she collapses again, and because Gabe is done being scared for her safety, he calls an ambulance. It turns out she has appendicitis. Her surgery is scheduled for one day later. Mikey is in class that day, and he looks sicker than she had. Everybody leaves him alone for most of the day, and the second someone calls Gabe to let him know it was successful, he knows exactly who to forward the news to. Mikey instantaneously relaxes. His signature hoodie is still missing. It can be found in the picture of Marisol post-surgery, hanging over her hospital gown.)

Tuesday, February 26- The Druggie Incident

Submitted by Grace Aung, Affirmative

Grace had figured that it would have been easy to convince everyone else they should visit Mari in the hospital after school, but she had been so very wrong.

“Hospitals depress me,” said Walt.

“Those places have too many cameras,” said Lorenzo.

“ImalreadygoingtomorrowandItalkedtoherlastnightbye,” mumbled Mikey, blushing crimson.

“No,” said Rakeem. “Not even for you, Gracie.” (Only Rakeem and her mom are allowed to call her Gracie, just like how only she calls Marisol ‘Mari’.)

So Grace goes alone to the hospital after she finishes taking the short answer part of her English midterm. She checks in to get her visitor badge and heads to the second floor ICU, room nineteen.

A nurse stops her outside Mari’s room. “Are you here to see Ms. Fuentes?”

Grace nods.

The nurse winks at her. “Before you go in there, you might want to get your camera ready. She is still processing the anesthesia.”

Grace gets out her phone and turns it to video. Mari is sleeping when she gets in. The TV is on and turned to the Smithsonian channel, which is showing a space marathon. She looks really peaceful, and considering that the last time she saw her, she was burning up and puking in a high school gymnasium, it’s an immense improvement. Marisol snuffles a little and turns her legs over to the left. Grace digs her laptop out of her bag and hacks YouTube algorithms for awhile.

Some quiet giggles erupt from the bed about a half hour later. Grace eagerly scrambles for her phone, setting her computer safely inside her bag. “Hey, Mari, it’s Grace. How are you?”

Marisol turns over to her other side to face her visitor. Her eyes are glassy, and to use Walt’s favorite phrase in a sentence, she is “tripping balls”.

“My face feels weird,” she slurs. Grace immediately starts recording, because something in her head clearly knows this is gonna be good.

“Hey, girl,” she says, gently touching her wrist. “How you doing?”

“Tired. Doesn’t hurt anymore. Doctor said I don’t have an apple anymore, but I want an apple.”

“They gave you the really good drugs, huh,” Grace observes idly.

“You’re Grace,” Marisol realizes. “I really like you and I don’t think I tell you enough. You’re, like, the least annoying person in that classroom.”

“Thanks, sweetie, I like you a lot too. How’s the scar down there?”

“Good,” she mumbles, twisting her fingers in her hospital gown. “They cut me open and put me back together. Like in SpongeBob that one time. I wanna be SpongeBob when I grow up.”

“Oh, honey, I do too,” Grace says, finding it very hard to stifle her giggles behind her hand anymore, so she decides it’s time to switch the subject. She digs in her bag and finds the card and the other crap people sent to Mari.

“Here,” she says, handing her the piece of paper they spent an entire class period on. “That’s from everybody. We drew Mr. Iglesias’ favorite poster for you, and then we signed it. Nobody else could come though.”

Marisol nods slowly, looking over what she’s been given. Grace gets the distinct feeling she has absolutely no idea what she’s looking at and a little bit of a scary idea that she can’t read it.

“Walt sent this...thing he made out of Juul pods and hot glue, and if you don’t mind I think I’m just going to throw that away. No one would want that. Rakeem sent this note that says he misses you and your help during class, which is great, except he wrote it on notebook paper that he also doodled a basketball on, and Lorenzo apparently just signed his name on that as well. Great. Even in times of crisis, they’re minimal effort.”

Mari wriggles a little in her blankets as her blood pressure cuff activates. Grace suddenly notices a beautiful vase of flowers next to her bed.

“Who sent those?,” she asks.

“Rita,” Grace hears faintly from the other side of the bed. “She’s realllly pretty and sweet.”

“I got you one of those ugly stuffed animals,” she sets it on Mari’s chest. “I just thought you’d like a little something to hold onto in here.”

She doesn’t get a huge response, but she does see her hug it close to her chest as the cuff releases.

“Oh, and Mikey said he was coming sometime tomorrow, okay? He had Fortnite club after school today. He said you’d understand.” Marisol gets a big grin on her face. “I know. He’s the best. I like him a lot too, but you can’t tell him.” She leans closer. “Do you wanna know a really big secret? I like like him.”

Grace stops. “You like him? Like boyfriend like him?”

“Yeah. You can’t tell him. He can’t know that I wanna kiss him all over his stupid face and hold his hand and cry on him during movies.”

“Why can’t he know? I think he’d definitely feel that way too.”

“He just can’t. It’s stupid. Feelings are dumb,” she pouts. “I can’t make me not like him and I don’t like that.”

(The nurse pokes her head in and signals to Grace that she needs to do some work on Mari, so she says her goodbyes and leaves in a hurry. Late that night she texts her, do u remember what u told me today? Mari’s reply is instantaneous. No. Then, right after that, yes.

Please promise that you won’t say anything. I shouldn’t have told you that.

i won’t, Grace texts back. but maybe u should.)

Wednesday, February 27- The Hospital Incident

Submitted by Marisol Fuentes, Negatory

Marisol turns over onto her side and lets out a big sigh of annoyance.

The hospital is the worst, most boring place imaginable. It is incredibly dull. Literally nothing is happening because the ‘gastrology’ wing is not exactly a hub of activity. The nurses and doctors have been nice and everything, but she is chomping at the bit to get out as fast as she can.

The anesthesia finally has stopped affecting her, so she’s been allowed to brush her own teeth and hair and shower on her own for the first time in three days. Nothing has ever felt that good. She’s expecting the rehab specialist in about an hour so she can start to walk.

Marisol has spent the majority of her stay alone. It’s not that her family hasn’t visited, they just can’t stay long because jobs are a thing and her sister needs to be taken care of too. A surprising amount of school people have come; Grace came after school yesterday and brought her a card and a cute stuffed animal, Ms. Spencer and Principal Madison gave her a nice bar of soap and a cup of hot chocolate from the shop right by her house and joked about how desperate Mr. Ochoa looked on Monday, and of course Mr. Iglesias has been there as much as he can and secretly Skyped her in class today so she could at least hear what the lecture is about. She’s lucky to have so many people who care that much.

Speaking of people who care quite a bit about her, she looks up to see Mikey standing there looking incredibly awkward and like he’s about to jump out of his own skin.

“Hey,” he says, walking in and putting his stuff down next to her bed. “How-how are you doing?”

“Decent,” she answers. “Hard not to poke at the stitches, I can’t walk, and the food sucks.”

“Sounds pretty standard.” He eases himself into one of the chairs lining the walls and scoots it a little closer to the bedside. “We miss you in class.”

“I miss you guys too,” she admits grudgingly. “Even Walt. It’s sort of lonely in here. And kind of unnervingly beige.”

“I thought about bringing you flowers but I decided that would probably be weird,” Mikey blurts, “so I got you some soup and this weird mint chocolate thing that Grace swore up and down you liked. I-I hope that’s right. I got the soup recipe off the internet so I wouldn’t, like, kill you with my mom’s idea of food.”

Marisol eagerly sits up at the mention of food that’s not medicated or ‘healthy’ in any way. She makes grabby hands at the chocolates and to a lesser degree the soup.

“Oh, real food,” she practically sings out as he carefully hands her the containers. “You are the literal best. Thank you.”

Mikey blushes a little at the compliment and slumps back on the chair. “You’re welcome. I just figured you could use something that wasn’t Jello, you know?”

She gratefully takes off the top of the soup, because she hasn’t had lunch yet anyway, and to her surprise, it actually smells good. She rummages through the ever-present pile of plastic utensils on her bedside table to find a spoon and takes a taste.

“Dude,” she says with her mouth full, “Whoa. This is really good! I didn’t know you could cook!”

Mikey’s grin of omg-she-likes-it is slightly overshadowed by his mumbles of “neither did I.”

“Well, the internet is truly an amazing place,” Marisol observes between sips of soup, careful to not spill any on her incredibly fashionable hospital gown. “You ‘used your resources’. Mr. Iglesias would be so proud of you. He’s been trying to get you to do that all year.”

Mikey laughs and starts to make another joke about the things he says to the class constantly, but her IV drip chooses that exact moment to officially run out and starts to beep loudly. Her nurse comes streaming into the room, and she quickly realizes they are slightly but clearly leaning towards each other.

“We can get that drip out of there now! You finished all the meds.” Cheryl, who couldn’t have been nicer in any way, tactfully chooses to ignore or just straight up doesn’t notice the weird as hell vibe in the room. She calmly disconnects the IV line and wraps the area in gauze. Marisol manages to suppress her yelp of pain as the needle comes out.

“And who’s this? I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” she asks on her way out. The awkwardness ratchets up several notches instantly..

“Hi, I’m Mikey. I’m a friend. Nice to meet you.” They shake hands.

“Wait. Mikey? Like, the Mikey?”

“As far as I know, there’s only one,” he answers, a very strange look on his face. Marisol can feel her face going very red very fast, and frantically gestures to Cheryl to stop talking. Thankfully, she seems to get the message and backs off the subject, but still smiles at her teasingly behind Mikey’s back. Mikey in question is positively cherry red, and is clearly trying to move on and pretend that never happened.

With the IV disconnected, the nurse disappears, and leaves behind a silence that’s even more awkward than it was earlier.

“So,” he scuffs part of his sneaker on the ground, “When are they letting you out of here? I kinda miss you annoying me every day and telling me my study habits are trash.”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she says, sitting up again. “I’ll be back at school on Monday if I have my way, and those days off work weren’t easy to get.”

There’s yet another pause. Mikey is staring at the ground still, and things just feel...off.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Marisol cuts in. She picks up the box of mints from the table, scooting to one side to give some space. “Come up here and pretend to like these with me while we watch the same NCIS reruns I’ve been watching for three days. This isn’t normal, but we can act like it is, just like movie Fridays at Walt’s house, minus the weed soaked into the couch. Cool?”

His signature grin instantly appears on his face. “Cool.” He toes off his shoes and climbs onto the bed with her, bumping their shoulders together once again. The memories of the science fair and the sleepout flood back.

“Sorry I puked all over your shoes, by the way,” she adds in as she picks the wrapping off the box of mints. “That totally sucked.”

“Nah, I just hosed them off,” he says casually, stretching. “Good as new.”

Marisol realizes during that interaction they’ve somehow shifted even closer. She quickly snatches the remote and turns the channel to the never ending NCIS loop, pretending that it hasn’t happened. It works well enough.

(“You know what does totally suck?,” Mikey says after a few minutes. “These mints. These suck.” She jokingly pokes him in the ribs, acting affronted that he doesn’t appreciate her great taste in candy, and starts to laugh when he puts an arm around her shoulders and drags her in. Then he leaves his arm there. Then Marisol puts her head on his shoulder. Then she falls asleep. Again, they don’t talk about it.)

Monday, March 5th-The Cherry Pepsi Incident

Submitted by Mr. Gabriel Iglesias, Affirmative

Mondays during finals are the worst, Gabe thinks to himself as he sits at his desk, quietly watching the shenanigans that conspire before first bell. Sleep deprivation and all of the weekend issues catching up with his students always hit them like a ton of bricks, leading to some of the strangest behavior one could see in a high school.

Case in point, Rakeem picking up Lorenzo’s backpack and chucking it towards a poster of Teddy Roosevelt because he thought Teddy was looking at him weird. It lands directly on Grace’s head. She doesn’t even acknowledge it as she simultaneously drinks from two extra-large coffee cups. Walt has his head on his desk and is deliriously whispering the chorus from that stupid baby shark song.

Gabe figures that Mikey will be at least thirty-five minutes late, given that his track record with all things final or midterm have not been ideal, but Marisol isn’t in her seat waiting for the test to begin. Just as he starts to get up for the traditional ‘hallway check’, Marisol strolls in late, and right behind her, Mikey strolls in early.

Hell hath frozen over. Holy crap.

Neither one of them seem to be any kind of tired. Mikey actually has his backpack. Marisol is smiling.

Who are these space aliens and where are Gabe’s usual students?

“Morning, Mr. Iglesias,” Marisol calls cheerfully over the relentless noise of the room. “Happy finals week!”

“What’s got you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Ms. “No, I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead, My Grades Are More Important Than My Emotional Well-Being”?”

“I just feel confident about the test, that’s all,” she continues, crossing to put her stuff down at her usual spot. “Mikey helped me figure out this thing where I can prop up my notebook while I work cashier at the drive through. And I actually slept last night. So there’s that.”

Gabe sees the impending accident in slow motion. He suddenly realizes that an empty bottle fo cherry Pepsi has fallen out of Rakeem’s bag following the impromptu game of catch earlier. And that Marisol is walking directly towards it. Carrying a travel mug of coffee. And a large stack of papers.

“Watch out, Mari!,” Grace shouts suddenly. “You’re gonna slip!”

It’s too late. Her foot lands directly onto the bottle, which spins and slides across the floor. Marisol looks down in shock as one of her legs slides out from under her and she pitches backward, falling towards the carpet as Gabe watches helplessly.

Her stack of papers lands on the carpet with a slight flump, and she tries desperately to keep a grip on her coffee. He averts his eyes, not wanting to witness the inevitable injury-but it doesn’t come.

She hasn’t hit the floor because Mikey Gutierrez, knight in teenage armor, has caught her just in time. Between the relationship dynamic discussion between Walt, Lorenzo, and Rita last week and Rakeem’s rather dramatic dance proposal to Grace, why in the hell has his classroom become some kind of a romantic comedy?

They’re now making incredibly intense eye contact, so Gabe coughs loudly. They spring apart almost instantly and freeze like that.

He comes close to saying something stupid about it, but literally no one has noticed anything happening because of the small fight happening in the corner between Lorenzo and his shoelaces. Walt is no longer in his desk. Mikey and Marisol are blushing and making weird eye contact alternately.

God, Gabe hates Monday finals.

(Marisol aces the final. Mikey gets a B. After the test, Gabe visits Marisol at her locker. He doesn’t even say anything, he just stands there. Marisol turns the color of her high-tops, slams her locker door instantly, and shouts, “shut up!” before stomping away. When he asks Mikey about it, he just turns white and stares at the floor. Gabe has forgotten that high schoolers are all pretty much puddles. Whoops.)

Tuesday, March 6th- The Intervention Incident

Submitted by Rakeem Rozier

Rakeem admits that he isn’t super good at expressing his feelings. That’s just sort of a weakness that he needs to work more on. It’s why he and Grace work so well together, because she didn’t talk for a long time, and now that she does, it can get a little harder for her to say what she feels. Sometimes they can say stuff without saying stuff, and that’s why Rakeem likes to be with her. It makes more sense.

They made sense right away, and it was fairly easy for both of them to figure out they wanted to be together.

This is why Rakeem does not understand whatever is going on with Marisol and Mikey. The two smartest people he knows, and yet they can’t figure out that they’re completely gone for each other. And to make matters worse, Marisol is so deep in denial that she’s been making them participate in this stupid study to prove that she doesn’t have any feelings when she really does.

To sum it up, Rakeem is only here because Grace asked him and she said please. He’ll do anything for her, except set foot in a hospital or talk to a clown.

‘INTERVENTION’ is written in large block letters on the board. Everyone in class has been arranged in a circle, and now they’re just sitting there. Waiting.

Like he said, Rakeem will do anything for Gracie.

Marisol walks through the door about fifteen minutes of absolute silence later, holding her phone. “Hey, where’s the emergency? Did someone fall on the tacks Lorenzo glued to the floor?”

“Mari,” Grace intones quietly. “Have a seat. We need to talk.”

Confused, she sits right across from Rakeem-and sees the intervention declaration.

“It’s gone too far,” Walt says solemnly. “You have to end it.” “She doesn’t even know what you’re talking about yet, dude!,” Lorenzo hisses out of the corner of his mouth. “Let Gabe do the intro, and then you can get all emotional and do your thing, okay?”

Mr. Iglesias, who is sitting in a high school sized chair, turns to Marisol. “Okay. So when you proposed the idea of having the entire class participate in a study behind Mikey’s back so you could prove once and for all that you operate above having feelings and that you don’t like him, it seemed like it would peter out in a few days because, well, it is a terrible idea and a really good way to hurt Mikey’s feelings. But it didn’t, and you were serious, and now we have to end it. Now, Walt.”

“You have to end it. It’s gone too far,” Walt pipes up, looking way too proud of himself.

Grace pipes up next. “You need to stop obsessively researching and just talk to Mikey, all right? He likes you, and you clearly like him, and you told me you did when you were high as hell on that anesthesia, so I know you know it.”

“The whole thing is unnecessarily complicated and you gotta just kiss ya boy, girl,” Lorenzo chips in. “Also, Rita couldn’t make it, but she said to tell you to get yourself some of that.”

Marisol looks shell-shocked. “I-I can’t,” she says quietly. “I can’t tell him how I feel. You’re right. The study is over. I’m sorry. It was a dumb idea. But I can’t tell him.”

She gets up and walks out of the room, leaving her backpack and her phone on the chair.

Rakeem’s time has come. “I got this one, y’all. Gracie, you man things here.” He finds her sitting directly outside the door against the wall. “Hey, lady. Why are you being such a downer? Your boy likes you, and he couldn’t be more obvious about it.”

Marisol laughs shakily and rests her head against the wall. “It’s so stupid.”

“Pretty sure it couldn’t be any more stupid than what they tried to do in there. You can tell me, because who am I going to tell?”

“I’m just no good with this stuff,” she confesses after a second. “Math, no problem. Working three jobs, no problem. Dealing with all of my crazy family, I’ve got this. But the second I even think about this, I get scared out of my mind. That probably sounds weirder than anything you’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not good with this stuff either. It’s real scary whenever you open up to someone like that. But if it’s the right person, you can trust them with it. Gracie’s the first person I’ve talked to about stuff like that, and it gets easier. You just have to be as brave as you can, and you’re pretty much the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Marisol thinks about it for a second. “So I should just-try? Even if it’s really stupid and incoherent?”

“Nah, Gutierrez’ll understand, even if it’s not really understandable. He gets you, ya know?”

When he looks at her again, she has a comically large smile on her face. “You know what to do, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, standing up. “I know exactly what to do.”

(Grace gives Rakeem the nicest hug when he goes back in and whispers, ‘nice job’. He can see Marisol power walking in the exact direction of the computer lab. Huh. Maybe he’s better at this feelings stuff than he thought.)

Friday, March 9th- The Rain Drop Dance

The Rain Drop Dance is stupid. But Marisol has so much riding on tonight she doesn’t have time to worry about being sprayed with a stupid hose by the Student Council during the stupidly inevitable “rain dance” or being forced to pose for stupid pictures with a stupid umbrella.

Currently, she’s pacing the floor in Mr. Iglesias’s room, waiting for Mikey to get there. She hasn’t heard from him since she texted him an hour ago and told him where to meet her. The thick stack of paper in her hands is getting stiff with sweat.

Mikey steps through the door. “Hey, what’s up? You wanted to show me something?”

Okay. Go time. She can do this.

“Yeah. Here.”

He takes the report and starts to flip through it with a highly bemused expression on his face.

“Marisol Fuentes most definitely does not have a crush on Mikey Gutierrez: a case study,” he reads aloud. “What? What is this?”

Time to come clean. “So a few months ago everyone was teasing me about liking you, and I swore that I didn’t. And to prove it I made them all do this, where I tried to prove that I didn’t like you, and they tried to prove that I did. It was dumb and really wrong of me to do it without telling you, and a dick move to be this anal about being right all the time while I was that deep in denial. So, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s all fine,” he assures her, the tiny hint of disappointment in his voice clear. “This is in depth, you really go all out-wait, in denial?”

“Um, look at the last page,” she says quietly. “The conclusion.”

Mikey takes a couple of seconds to read it to himself, and a gigantic smile spreads across his face. “Seriously? Are you for real?’

She nods. He gives her a high five. “Dude, you like me? That’s...whoa. That’s a lot. Oh, obviously, I like you too, duh. You like me. Holy shit, you like me. The most amazing girl in the world likes me!”

“Okay, I’m not amazing.”

“You wrote a whole report about me! I’m gonna read the whole thing later. After we dance to Umbrella with umbrellas.” “I’ll do it, but only for you. And there’s absolutely no chance you’re reading that.”

(Conclusion: Marisol Fuentes most definitely has a big, fat, stupid crush on Mikey Gutierrez, and she is not at all afraid to admit it.)

This report has been saved on Marisol Fuentes’ desktop and will never be shown to anyone again. The original hard copy given to Mikey Gutierrez during the Rain Drop Dance has disappeared, and although he denies it, it is most definitely hidden somewhere undetermined in his basement.

There it is! Deadlines are my enemy, so it took awhile. I hope you enjoyed this awful sweetness. Also, STREAM MR IGLESIAS ON NETFLIX!!! It’s funny and comforting and diverse and talks about real world issues.

Something based on Stranger Things 3 is hopefully up next. Find me on AO3 as TheGirlWithTheGlasses. There may be some crossposting happening soon as well.

Thanks for making it all the way through the intensely sugary hellscape! See yall next time :)

#Mr Iglesias #marisol x mikey #rakeem x grace #rita x lorenzo x walt #welp this took forever #i am definitely projecting onto marisol #enjoy this stupid rom com feelings soaked drivel #mari and mikey remind me of me and my person and it shows #i regret nothing #send help #must stop tagging

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kwantified · 4 years

Text

tokyo - namjoon (bts)

genre: angst, slight fluff, inspired by rm’s “tokyo” word count: 2.5k synopsis: two strangers slow down in their fast-paced lives. lower case intended.

disclaimer! cursing + i know nothing about where everything is tokyo, so don't bash me if i get some places wrong :')

kim namjoon woke up to the sound of car horns and cold air.

it was november, and these days, he was never certain where he'd wake up every morning. usually, he'd have to get up and check where he was, as he flew so much that he could never keep track.

but this place, this city, he was certain. it was tokyo.

tokyo was similar to seoul, but there was just something about the place that drew him back. he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

namjoon sat up straight to get a hold of his surroundings. last time he checked, he was rooming with taehyung for the entirety of their stay in tokyo, and that their hotel room didn't contain a spotless kitchen or dining corner. the sun's morning rays shone brightly on the thick, white bedding through the large window pane placed right next to the queen-sized bed.

namjoon looked down at himself. he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday's concert. sweaty. he then got out of the bed after realizing that the sheets were too clean to even stand one more second of his presence.

looking around, everything was white. the only sources of colour in the room were the succulent plants kept in white pots on the shelf by the television and the fluffy grey rug underneath the bed. but is grey even a colour?

namjoon searched for his belongings, careful not to touch anything in the room. anything. he checked on tabletops, chairs, shelves, drawers (he may or may not have opened an underwear drawer by accident), and cupboards, but nothing. he could only find his phone in his pockets, which stood strong at five percent battery. still, he continued to search.

while looking under the fluffy grey rug, a door opened behind him, a female voice following in japanese.

"good morning."

namjoon froze, turning towards you. you were dressed in a robe, looking like you had just taken a shower. your hair fell down to your shoulders, semi-wet.

"i'm Y/N," you greeted briefly.

namjoon hesitated, "i'm namjoon. where am i?"

"shibuya," you answered. you then opened your clothes drawers, looking for something to wear for today. you noticed some of your t-shirts were unfolded, but you decided to shrug it off.

"where can i get the train to my hotel?" he asked you in surprisingly smooth japanese. at this point, it was obvious that he wasn't japanese.

"where is your hotel?" you replied in fluent english, momentarily shocking the man. he then began to recite his hotel's address, already having it memorized.

"alright. i'll get changed first, and then we'll take the subway to your hotel."

"you're just getting changed here?" namjoon's face was painted with worry, yet his voice completely countered any emotions at all. it was quite amusing.

"hell no! i'm just picking up my clothes here to change in the bathroom," you reassured, making your way to the bathroom.

you came back, dressed in a pair of wide-leg trousers and oversized blazer, to find namjoon looking under the coffee table.

"what are you doing?" you asked. your words caused his body to automatically move away, startled.

"i was searching for my stuff, sorry," he apologized.

you proceeded to open the drawer underneath your nightstand, taking out his wallet and handing it to him, "here's your stuff."

he thanked you warmly, then asking you after looking you up and down, "are you going somewhere after this?"

"i have work at nine," you answered politely.

"what's your job?"

"i'm a magazine editor."

he looked through his wallet while you opened the fridge, fetching your orange juice and one breakfast burrito. you tossed it to namjoon.

"eat your burrito, we're going after my glass of orange juice."

"you're not eating?"

"i had my burrito an hour ago."

the weather outside was cool and covered with fog. the wind brushed on your legs, giving you a chill. you looked to namjoon next to you, now sporting his black mask and beanie. even the hood of his jacket was pulled over his head.

"so," namjoon began, "how did i... end up at your place?"

"i saw you half-asleep by the stairs," you continued, "i was going to ignore you, but you insisted to get inside. i declined, but then you started to give this long speech about being tired and then clung onto my leg."

"i was drunk, huh..."

"yeah."

"you still let me in?"

"namjoon, i've seen your face on posters in subway stations. bangtan, right?"

namjoon only nodded. you both knew how the media worked, and if you had turned namjoon to the police, the story that of one of the members of the biggest boy group was found drunk alone in tokyo would've reached headline news.

"y-you won't do anything about this, right?"

"i work for a fashion magazine, not a celeb magazine," you smiled.

soon the both of you were on the platform, waiting for the next subway train to arrive. the station was starting to become packed with dozens of individuals - people going to work, going to school, going home. you turned to namjoon, "what are you doing today?"

"what day is today again?"

"monday,"

"i think today's a free day for me," he nodded, "our flight is at midnight."

"where are you going?"

"europe, either paris or berlin," namjoon answered calmly despite the hard wind the subway blew towards his direction. as the two of you got in the subway, you told him, "alright. your hotel is three stops from here."

the train started to leave, both of you stood in the middle, holding onto the handles. in a short amount of time, you'd already arrived at the third stop. the doors opened, and you jerked your head towards the open doors.

"namjoon? this is your stop," you whispered. still, he didn't move. instead, you found his eyes fixed on something behind you. you turned around to see a map of the subway line. you read: ginza.

"i think i'm going down on the next stop instead."

both of you resumed into silence until the next stop. you couldn't argue with him; he was a grown man who could make his own decisions. also, you're almost certain he's been to tokyo (or japan in general) multiple times before this, so you didn't feel the need to worry.

as the train halted at the next stop, you watched namjoon smile at you after a short goodbye. you smiled back, unknowingly taking a few steps towards the door before stopping yourself. perhaps you wanted to follow him. the doors kept open. it seemed like they always kept open. they would never close, and you saw namjoon walk away. the image played so slowly in your vision, and all you wanted to do was run out. the door was right there.

one day off of work wouldn't hurt, right?

people stopped entering the train, and at that moment, the doors started to close. it was too late.

but still, fuck it.

you could hear the people both on the train and the platform gasp as your blazer's bottom hem got stuck on the door. immediately, you rid yourself of it, and you (regretfully) watched how it flew in the air when the subway left the station.

namjoon looked back after the gasps. he didn't mind it at first, just a random person - then he recognized you, now only in your turtleneck and pants. he stood still as you approached him.

"hey," you panted a little bit, "going shopping?"

"don't you have work?" he asked instead.

"i thought about going, but i haven't been to ginza in a while," you smiled, earning a light laugh from him.

"let's go, then."

the streets, despite it being only late november, were almost fully decked with christmas decorations. you walked with him without any destination; just conversation in your minds. different topics would come up as you got to know him. you talked about anything: travelling, jobs, love lives, music, movies. from time to time, he'd stop by at some shops for small (or expensive) goodies. at one point the two of you spotted an ad featuring namjoon and his bandmates on the street - that gave you a good laugh.

it seemed like the two of you just clicked in a way you would have never thought. when conversation flowed, another followed; even silence was nowhere near awkward.

by the time lunch came around, you realized almost every single restaurant and cafe was filled with long lines of citizens and tourists alike, so the two of you decided to go to an art museum nearby. the more time you spent with namjoon, the more time flew. hours felt like minutes, and minutes were mere seconds.

soon, the sun started to set and the lights started to appear. they looked like sprinkles, spread generously around the district. the large buildings and wide markets were so busy, and you had to love them. everything went fast, and as much as you were used to that, you needed to slow down from time to time. you needed to take a breather - look around for a short while.

although ginza was stunning, you were freezing.

"namjoon, can i stop by somewhere? i might need to buy a jacket or something," you tried your best to not seem like your hands were falling off your arms, regrets of letting your blazer go earlier popping up in your head.

namjoon looked around for a shop nearby. then he looked down to himself. "you can have mine?"

you shook your head slightly, declining.

"why not?"

"you're going to be cold, too."

"but i'm wearing a few layers already. you're only wearing one," he insisted.

"we'll just- keep walking until there's a store." the two of you walked, as you silently contemplated whether or not to spend another few thousand yen on a jacket you'd only wear once or to just borrow namjoon's. at first, you really hoped for a store to appear within your sight that happened to sell affordable jackets, but the more you thought about it, you started to freeze even more and you could barely hold it.

you stopped in your tracks, "uh, namjoon...?"

he looked back at you, giving you a hum in response.

"are you sure you'll be okay with just your hoodie and shirt underneath?"

the man chuckled lightly as he took your arm in his to move to the side of the street. he took his thickest coat off and hung it across your narrower shoulders before replying, "yes."

you put his coat on properly. you could see how much bigger it was on you and how fluffy and warm it made you feel. your hands barely made it out of the sleeves, and it reached your mid-thighs, making you feel like a human-sized pillow.

without notice, namjoon lightly took your hand from inside his fluffy sleeve and held it, intertwining his fingers with yours. and so, he and you continued to walk. namjoon smiled at the sight of your comfort. it warmed him up as it did to you, making him feel some kind of fluffy on the inside.

it slipped his mind that he'd been walking for so many hours, just strolling around the district. not to mention you, the (adorable) stranger he had just met that day. namjoon had always liked to walk around foreign places by himself, and for a while he thought it was best to be alone, but walking with you made him think otherwise.

the two of you explored the busy streets, the food courts, the boutiques, the alleyways, and the small bars. it was almost every place one could go to in ginza, yet you and namjoon didn't want to stop.

sadly, good things must come to an end. it was nearing seven, and you knew he had to get back to his hotel - for real now.

when he checked the time, you could feel his grip on your hand become slightly tighter. it was time to go. it was a silent mutual understanding; he was on tour, and there would be no tolerance for delays or absences unless it was health. he had hundreds of thousands of fans waiting for him in other countries and six bandmates who needed him to perform with them.

any conversation died down the closer he and you got to the station. and when both of you did get to the station, the only thing you could say was nothing. this time, you felt stuffy.

when you two got into the train to your stops, the stuffy silence stayed, and you hated how you had so much to say yet couldn't say it at all. at his stop, you walked out into the station with him, taking him to the escalators. he pulled you into a secluded corner, probably for the same reason that you would - to finally tell you what he couldn't earlier.

"Y/N, i-" his speech was interrupted by a warm hug. if you couldn't express it in words, you'd express it another way, and for him, all you wanted to say to him was in the gentle hug; full of longing, sadness, and thanks.

"i'll miss you," he said, still in your arms, "find me if you're ever in seoul or wherever i'm at these days."

"maybe i'll have to buy a ticket to one of your concerts overseas," you giggled.

"oh!" you pulled back from the hug, "your coat-"

"just keep it," he said calmly.

"it feels too expensive for me to keep."

"keep it!" he continued, "you know, for keepsake."

"fine..." you said. though you can't lie, his coat was the warmest thing you've ever worn.

"i'll get going, then." he walked away, getting on the escalator. you stood there, accepting the goodbye. you began to walk back to the platform of your train. you decided that you'd mope over him at home with takeout, so you made sure not to think about anything yet - not even the fact that you actually really liked him after spending so much time with him but will probably never see or talk to him again because you forgot to ask for his number.

it was too late now.

then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

namjoon.

this time, it was he who was panting, resembling your rushed actions at the subway earlier today.

"i wanted," he began, "to give you my number?"

you let him take your phone to type his contact in, naming it "joon".

as he does, he looks into your eyes for a bit, leaning in just enough so you could have kissed him then and there.

but you didn’t, and for the last time that day, you felt his cold hand brush against yours as he handed you back your phone.

with a quick goodbye, he sauntered off into the city, ready to continue the next leg of his world tour - in another continent.

you stood still, quiet, pursing your lips as you stare at the tiles of the floor, trying to process everything that’s happened today. then your phone started vibrating.

it was a call from "joon". you picked up.

"my flight’s actually at twelve pm tomorrow. meet me at my stop?“

you laugh. out of relief, glee, and excitement, you laugh.

“i’m still at your stop, joon.”

#bts #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #kpop #oneshot #fanfic #tokyo #mono #japan #ginza #romance #angst #bangtan #bangtan boys #bighit #big hit entertainment

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forever-rogue · 5 years

Text

The Edge of Thirty - Part 9

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.

A/N: Hiya! Thanks for reading and supporting this story. I hope you enjoy! Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: None...plot twist?

MASTERLIST

The next few weeks were spent in an isolated haze, where days blurred into nights and time became a thing that was completely irrelevant. Nothing seemed to matter anymore; she was basically out of a job, and Gwilym was out of her life, for good this time. What was the point to getting up and pretending things were okay when they were anything but?

After their altercation at Lucy and Rami’s wedding, Y/N had made a swift getaway, as Ben went and told everyone she had become overcome with sickness. No one needed to know that Y/N and Gwilym had left separately in moods that were a mixture of anger and hurt. She wanted nothing more than to feel sorry for herself and to be angry with Ben for letting her secret slip, and to be angry with Gwilym for how he reacted.

But she couldn’t. She only blamed herself. So she spent the next several weeks wallowing in misery and self pity, refusing to leave the house unless absolutely necessary. The only company she kept besides misery was Deacon, who seemed to understand her sorrow, barely leaving her side as he smothered her in extra kisses and cuddles. It was just the two of them against the world, as it had always been.

Stretching her arms over head and relishing in the popping and cracking of her joints, Y/N slowly got up from her spot on the couch, in search of something to eat. She’d spent the last several hours in front of the television, giving in to hype and finally watching Lucifer. It had been fairly captivating, at least enough to where her mind was occupied and not every thought was consumed by Gwil.

Deacon huffed in annoyance from the couch, where he was currently wrapped up in a bundle of blankets, as her phone started to vibrate, sliding around on the soft cloth of the sofa. Sighing lightly, she trudged back into the living room, swiping up and seeing that it was Ben, calling for his usual daily chat. He’d made it a habit and a point to call and check in on her everyday, even if she wasn’t the most over joyous about it. Sometimes she’d just put it on speaker and let him carry on, not giving much input except for a few words here and there.

“Hello my good man,” she answered, putting the phone on speaker as she rummaged through the cabinets, in search of anything of sustenance, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your call today?”

“Very funny, love,” Ben’s voice was between a chuckle and a sigh, “just calling to see how you were. Do anything interesting today? How’s my favorite pup?”

“Your favorite pup is okay, he’s a little annoyed that his afternoon nap has been disturbed,” she glanced over at Deacon who gave her a dismal look before tucking his nose back under the cover, “Deacs, Ben loves you! And he’s going to come and see you soon.”

“Oooh, when can I come over?” he asked eagerly, and Y/N wondered for a moment if he was more excited to see her or the dog. After a few little more searching, she gave up on her crusade, giving into the fact that there was nothing decent to eat in the entirety of kitchen, “I miss you both.”

“I miss you too Benny, but it’s only been like two weeks,” she sighed, leaning against the counter, “besides I’m coming back to work on Monday, so like two more days. I’d wager you could survive without me until then, but unfortunately it appears I need you.”

“What’s wrong, what’s happened?” she could tell he was on the edge of his seat at her words and decided that she probably could have chosen a better set of words, “are you okay?”

“Calm down, love, calm down,” she reassured him, snickering a little bit, “I’m out of food and I need to go to the store. I don’t want to go by myself, and I could use the company.”

“I’ll be over in ten,” he said, hanging up the call without another word. Y/N chuckled, her heart feeling a little lighter than it had the last two weeks at the prospect of seeing her best friend. She had missed him much more than she had thought, secluding herself in exile while she tried to straighten her own head out. It was lonely at times, and after a while it seemed like even Deacon grew tired of her moping.

“See, you get what you always get what you want,” she told him and he just wagged his little tail at her, “be lucky everyone adores you so Deacon, just like your reclusive namesake.”

“Just how on earth have you been surviving?” Ben’s eyes were wide with questioning and amusement as he looked through the cabinets and fridge. Y/N gave him innocent eyes and shrugged, “when’s the last time you even left the apartment?”

“This-”

“And I don’t mean to take Deacon for a walk,” he cocked at eyebrow at her as he and Deacon exchanged glances, “like to do something, anything besides wallowing in self pity and rewatching the Office...again.”

“How long have Luce and Rami been married now?” she giggled nervously, rubbing her hand up and down her arm nervously. Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed dramatically.

“Oh, Y/N, you can’t just mope about forever,” he teased, nudging her side gently, “I know it’s hard right now, but it’s going to get better, I swear it. I know words are wind but trust me, you’re strong and you’ve gotten through so much. Oh, and text Becca and Tessa back, they’re tired of your one word answers - don’t shoot the messenger!”

“I know, Benny, I know,” she agreed, hanging her and nodding slightly, “I just wanted some time alone to get my head together and get all the sadness out of my system. I want to be ready to go back to work and have a clear head. And I’ll call them both back, okay? I don’t plan on shutting you out again.”

“H-have you heard from him at all?” he opted to tread lightly around the question, desperately wanting to know the answer, but not wanting her to retreat deeply into herself and shut him out. He did blame himself to an extent, having honestly believed that Gwilym was fully aware of everything regarding James.

“No,” she replied, letting the answer linger in the air for a few tense moments. Ben wondered if she was about to start an argument or go off on him, but she just leaned against the counter, folding her arms across her chest. A part of her had clung onto the hope that Gwil would soften and he’d give in eventually, but there had been nothing but radio silence from his end, “I’ve texted and called him a few times, but I haven’t heard anything back from him. I’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s not coming back.”

“There’s always hope, Y/N,” he put his large, strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. She nodded, giving it only a moment before wrapping her arms around him and clinging onto him for dear life. No matter what happened between them, at least she always knew she could turn to him. She closed her eyes and held back her tears as best as she could, a few small sniffles escaping regardless, “it’s alright, love, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

“I just really am kicking myself over this one,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, “he was a good one, maybe the one. And I lost him, but it’ll be okay. Life goes on, and I will be okay. Besides, my focus is going to be on getting back into work and making sure I present the picture of perfection to Crickle. And Becca, she’s going to need us more the further along she gets. That’s plenty to occupy my mind and throw myself into.”

“You’ll be alright,” he promised her, kissing the side of her head gently, “you’re so strong, and wonderful, and you deserve the world.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as he pulled back from her, putting his hands on her shoulders, “what?”

“As much as I love sap and cheese,” he grinned at her, “I think it’s time we went to the store and got you some food. You’re living like a frat boy at this point.”

“I’d get mad at the assertion, but you present a fair point,” she agreed, “let’s go and get this over with before I change my mind and slink back into bed.”

“Ben, the cart’s more loaded with vegetables than anything else,” Y/N groaned as she looked at the colorful rainbow of fruits and vegetables that stared back at her. He looked at her pointedly and tilted his head to the side as if to ask so what, “you’ve gotta give me some leeway and let me have some junk food!”

“You’ve got a bag of crisps and cookies,” he pointed to the snacks at the very bottom of the cart, “and don’t even argue, that’s plenty of snacks! Besides, it’ll be good for you to get into cooking, and it’ll keep you busy in the evenings. You used to love cooking.”

“When I was young and carefree,” she rolled her eyes in fashion dramatic enough to make Freddie Mercury jealous before pouting at him and steering the cart towards the ice cream, “please let me have my microwave meals for one that I can eat in front of the television with a glass, or perhaps bottle of wine.”

“Why are you the way that you are?” he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as he shook his head at her, “you’re almost thirty-”

“Don’t remind me please-”

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m stating facts!” he chided her, “you’re almost thirty and you can do a little more than just putting a meal in the microwave.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, as she started to look around at the various cartoons of ice cream, trying to narrow it down. She opened one of the cases and grabbed a couple of containers out, comparing them thoughtfully. Eventually selecting one, she added it to the cart before turning back to him, “I’m going to be annoyed about it the whole time, but fine. I’ll try your recommendation.”

“You’re so dramatic, acting like I’m making you do something so horrible,” he stuck his tongue at her as he steered the cart, casting glances down the remaining aisles. He paused by the end, noting that it was hygiene products, “do you need anything else?”

“Actually,” she mused as she walked down the aisle, tapping her chin as she looked at the various shampoos and conditioners and body washes, “I do need a few things.”

“Aye, well, get on with it then,” he watched as she walking up and down, trying to narrow down her options. Making a quick selection wasn’t her strong suit, and he knew if he didn’t her a little bit, he’d be stuck there for another hour.

“Calm down there, Benny Boy,” she grabbed her usual items off of the shelf before turning around and coming face to face with the long row of tampons and pads. She put the shampoo and body wash into the cart, before deciding to stock up on some tampons since her period was due soon. Reaching over to grab her normal supply, she stopped, hand halfway raised as she realized she hadn’t needed any tampons in quite a while. A suspiciously long time...

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Ben noticed her hesitation, as she put her arm back down, an unreadable expression on her face, “Y/N?”

“I-I can’t remember the last time I got my period,” she whispered quietly, finally realizing what the words could mean. Ben’s eyes widened as he looked at her nervously, “oh fuck.”

“Y/N,” Ben’s voice barely reach her ears as she paced anxiously around the kitchen, tears of frustration running down her face. He reached out a hand to stop her, gripping onto her wrist tightly, “I know you’re nervous and anxious, but pacing won’t help.”

“How did this happen? How could I let this happen? We were always so careful,” she ran a hand through her messy hair feeling more exasperated than anything else. Why, why, why? Was the only thing running through her head. Why her? Why now?

“Whatever method of safe sex you practice is never completely fail-proof,” he hoped giving her the facts would help, but the glare he received in return suggested otherwise, “it happens to good people all the time. It’s just unfortunate that it happened to you. Which we’re still not positive it did.”

“In a few minutes we will be,” she took a peek at her watch, and noticed that it there just a few minutes left until she could check the multitude of tests that were sitting on the bathroom counter, “Ben, I was drinking during all of this! I could have already done so much damage because my dumb ass had no clue. What am I going to do? I-I don’t know if I could ever live with myself knowing I-I’d done something to this...maybe baby.”

“Right now all you can do is relax,” he suggested softly, “what’s done is done, you can’t go back and change anything now. I know that sounds harsh, but it is what it is.”

“I know,” she huffed as she started to walk to the bathroom, dragging him closely behind her, a trembling starting in her core, “this is just a bit of a huge surprise. But how did I not know? How could I have missed all the signs? I mean, my period’s normally like clockwork and I should have been more aware. I guess I just got so caught up with everything I wasn’t aware...”

“Whatever happens, just know that it will be okay, love. I’ll be here for you, we all will,” he ducked into the quiet, still bathroom before she could and swooped up all the tests before she could examine a single one of them. She threw her hands up and glared at him, “I’ll tell you what they say. You’re too worked up to be dealing with this right now.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agreed, flopping down the edge of the tub and holding her head in hers, letting out a long, drawn out breath, one that she hadn’t realized she had been holding in, “tell me, Dr. Jones, have I completely fucked up my life?”

“I think that’s a bit of a dramatic overstatement, don’t you think?” he tried to tease, but a smile hadn’t worked it’s way back onto her face. His own heart was thumping about wildly in his chest, as he realized the implication of the knowledge that currently only he held, “ready Freddie?”

“I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said nodded quietly, trying to keep what little composure she had left. Almost as if he knew she needed some comfort, Deacon made his way into the bathroom, his paws making soft sounds on the cool tile of the floor. He nudged her with his soft, pointed nose before sitting at her feet and leaning against her legs, “what a support system, my two favorites.”

“Well,” Ben said quietly, leaning against the bathroom counter, “this confirms what you already knew, or thought you knew. I think you’re going to have a call to make.”

“Oh no,” tears almost immediately started to run her face as Ben handed over one of the tests. She took a look at the plastic stick which clearly spelled out the word pregnant and ran a thumb over it, taking in a shaky breath, “what I am going to do?”

“I’d start by calling Gwilym,” he suggested quietly, and he could see her shoulders tense, “and then going to the doctor, and make a plan. I-I know it’s hard, but it’s important to be rational about all of this. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

“You’re right, you’re completely right,” she set the test down and wiped the salty tears off of her cheeks, “there’s no time to lost in my head and feelings.”

“You’ll be okay,” he promised her, “you’ve been able to get through so much, you can get through this. There are other options you know, if you don’t want to have this baby.”

“I know, I just...don’t know how to feel or think about this right now,” she admitted, still trying to process the gravitas of the situation. It was hard enough for her to believe that there was a little person coexisting inside of her, a baby that would soon grow strong and large, “it’s just so surprising. How am I even going to tell Gwil? Hey, I know we ended things on a very bad note, but by the way I am actually pregnant. Remember when we joked about it, haha, turns out it wasn’t actually a joke. Not sure how well that’s going to go over. Do I text it to him or call him?”

“Y/N, I think we both know the answer to that one,” they exchanged a knowing look and the two of them laughed in spite of the grim situation. He raised an eyebrow at her and she gave him a small nod, “I know it’ll be hard to face him and tell him, but it’s what’s right.”

“Oooh, boy,” she sighed as she subconsciously placed a hand on her stomach, “this is going to be interesting. You know, I avoided this situation for years and yet here I am, almost thirty and going through it.”

“At least it was with someone you love,” he said as if it suddenly made everything better, “and not a stranger. Besides, Gwilym is a good man, I’m sure he’ll support you no matter what.”

“I hope you’re right,” she stood up and gripped the stick tightly, gnawing on her bottom lip so harshly she was sue the skin would break and blood bubble to the surface, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous before.I hate this, but it’s the reality of the situation.”

“Hey, we’re a team,” he said as he pulled her into a hug, “it’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, it will be okay, I promise you.”

“Pinky?” she asked quietly, putting her pinky finger out and waiting for him to twist his with hers.

“Pinky,” he concluded, wrapping her own finger around hers. It had become a tradition of theirs, and one neither of them would ever break. A pinky promise was basically an unbreakable vow, and these best friends never did that.

Monday morning had rolled around much faster than she had anticipated and she found herself more reluctant than anything else to go back to work. She thought she’d feel relieved, excited to see the young, bright faces of her students, but she felt almost none of these emotions, just a deep pit in the bottom of her stomach.

She didn’t know what the day would hold, but she wasn’t necessarily eager to find out. There was a nagging sensation that wouldn’t leave her alone, and she wished she could just crawl back into bed and watch Netflix with Deacon. But her three weeks were up, and she had to go back and face the music, and she if she still had a job. After a hazy three weeks, caught in between blissful moments and the heartbreaking situation that was her reality now.

As soon as she got into her classroom, she spied a cup of tea and a bagel sitting on her desk. There was no note, no indication of who it was from, but she immediately knew Ben had taken the time out to do this for her. A small smile worked its way onto her face and walked over, setting her bag down and gratefully grabbing the steaming cup, and taking a long swig of the piping liquid.

A knock came at her door, and she was ready to greet Ben with open arms, but her heart dropped when she saw that it wasn’t him, but Crickle instead. His expression was unreadable as he stepped into the room and regarded her curiously, taking in her appearance - she was glad she had put in the extra effort to present the picture of perfection.

“Good morning, Headmaster,” she plastered on a smile as the knot in her stomach seemed to tighten even more. He gave her a curt nod as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his broad chest as his gaze never wavered.

“Miss L/N,” he parroted quietly, “welcome back. I hope the last several weeks have treated you well. I hear congratulations are in order-”

“What?!” she blurted out as her heart started to race. How could he have found out so quickly? She hadn’t told anyone but Ben, and she knew he wouldn’t have told anyone.

“I believer your close friends just got married? Benjamin took a few days off for the festivities,” a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she realized her secret was safe for now.

“Oh, of course. It was a wonderful wedding indeed,” except for getting dumped by the love of life, “Lucy’s been our best friend since we were just children.”

“I’m sure it must have been just lovely,” he gave her a small smile, and it was the closest thing to a real expression of emotion she had ever seen from him, “I will let you get back to you, Miss L/N. You don’t have to worry about your position being in jeopardy - I spoke to your good friend and we’ve come to conclusion that you are a great fit here. I know your students are very eager to have you back. Especially young Ms. Lee, she’s been very excited for your return.”

“Thank you, sir,” she didn’t know if it was all the emotions, or perhaps her pregnancy was starting to hit her, but she felt a wash of feelings as she grabbed the back of her chair, “I’m...happy to be back. I’ve missed the lot of them as well.”

“Good luck,” he said quietly, giving her a small nod before making a quick exit from the room. If she didn’t know any better, she’d wager it was almost an attempt from him to be nice to her. She didn’t know where any of it was coming from, but she wasn’t about to complain or argue - she was willing to take whatever she could get at this point.

Reaching into the desk drawer, she pulled out her planner, hoping the substitute had left her some notes to go off of. If not, she’d have to wing and hope everything turned out well, but she had a sneaking suspicion that her kids wouldn’t mind easing back into a normal curriculum.

Looking at her notes, she heard a set of small footsteps echo through the room, and looked up to find Jenny standing there, wringing her hands nervously. Her heart melted at the sight of shy, sweet girl with the smile on her face. She stood up and leaned down, stretching out her arms to the young girl, “hi Jenny! I’ve missed you so much.”

Jenny almost fellow into her arms, wrapping them around Y/N as tightly as possible. Y/N felt more comforted than she had in a long from the hug, glad to see the smiling face of her favorite student.

“Miss L/N! I’m so happy you’re back,” she beamed at her, “the substitute has been no fun, and she didn’t have a cute dog either. You’re the best and we’ve been waiting for you to get back! Did you enjoy your vacation?”

“Vacation,” she let the word roll off of her tongue and didn’t like the bitter taste it left. She knew they wouldn’t tell a group of young kids that she was suspended, but to play it off like it was just a vacation seemed a little silly. But who was she to argue with them? She was finally back in Crickle’s good graces and she wasn’t about to slide back, “it was okay, my love bug. I missed you guys though, especially you, but don’t tell your classmates. It’ll be our little secret! Deacon missed you all, maybe on Friday I can bring him to class, how does that sound?”

“Deacon!” she shouted excitedly, pulling back as she clapped her little hands with excitement, “I can’t wait to see him again! I’ve been trying to convince my mum and dad to get a doggy now. Uncle Gwil’s helping too!”

“That’s lovely, Jenny,” her insides jolted at the sound of Gwil’s name. She had yet to go to him, but she knew she had to do it sooner rather than later. Sometime that week, she had determined would be the best. She just needed to gather up a little bit of courage, and hoped a little bit of bravado would accompany that, “I hope you’re able to get a doggy that you like.”

“Me too!” she giggled as she bounced to her set, while her classmates started to file into the classroom, smiles on their faces as they realized Y/N was back.

“Miss Y/N!” the sound of their cheerful voices was enough to bring her back to reality, as she looked at her bright eyes little faces.

“Hello my little loves,” she exclaimed as they all rushed up to give her hugs, throwing their little arms around her, as they welcomed her back. She had missed them terribly, more so than she had ever thought - that was enough to tell her that she had made the right decision to come back and not just give up on everything.

They all toddled to their seats, pulling out their notebooks and various writing instruments. Glancing down at her lesson plans for the day, she tapped it thoughtfully a few times before deciding to show it all out the window.

“I know it’s my first day back, and we really should be focusing on working hard,” she took the papers and ripped them in half, causing them to ooh and ahh, “remember what we learned a while back? That life rarely goes according to plan? That’s what we’re doing, we’re taking the plan and getting rid of it. We’re going to have fun instead.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well,” she moved to the front of her desk and hopped onto it, “as far as I see it, we’ve got a couple of options. We can start the next Harry Potter book and take turns reading, or we can watch some movies, or we can go outside and work on the school garden. It’s such a nice day outside, maybe we can do a little bit of everything and end the day outside. What do you guys think?”

“I think that sounds like the best class ever,” little Brian’s curls bobbed up and eagerly as a smile spread across his face, “it’s nice to be able to get a little bit of everything!”

“I think that is a very wise way of looking at it, Bri,” she smiled at the shy boy, “maybe we’ll even find our little hedgehog friend!”

“I hope so,” his eyes widened at the prospect of getting to see the little hedgehog he had so lovingly named Freddie. He was always on the lookout for them, and often spent his recess periods looking for the little creatures, Roger usually trailing after him.

“Alright then, that settles that, unless anyway has another idea?” they shook their heads at her and turned to get the Goblet of Fire out of her bag, “now then, chapter one. Who would like to start?”

The rest of the day passed in relative quiet - as much quiet was possible with a classroom of six and seven year olds anyway. They had eagerly read several chapters, enthralled and easily captivated by getting a glimpse into Harry’s world. Making good on her promise, she’d let them pick a movie, after much debate they settled on the Princess and the Frog.

During her lunch break, she had bypassed Ben and told him she was on a mission and went to pick out some new flowers and plants so all the kids could have their own to add to the school’s garden. It wasn’t much, but she knew that they’d enjoy it and that’s all that mattered to her at that point.

“I like sunflowers so much,” Jenny smiled as she dug her hole and making sure to make it plenty deep so the roots could take hold and grow strong.

“And why’s that?” Y/N asked as she sat next to her, not caring that she was in the middle of a dirt patch. She clutched the flowers and as she observed her work. Jenny was the last of her students that was still there, waiting for her dad to come and pick her up.

“Because they’re yellow and pretty,” she smiled, looking at her hole with apparent satisfaction, “and yellow is a happy color, it makes me happy. Do you like it?”

“I do like it,” she smiled at the young girl, reaching out and gently touching one of the soft petals of the tiny plant. She hoped it would grow large and strong so that it would always serve as a reader of the sweet girl that hand planted it, “happiness is important, don’t you think?”

“I think so too,” she placed the little flower that Y/N handed her into the dirt, packing it tightly to make sure it would root properly, “my uncle’s been really sad lately. Maybe I should get him some sunflowers, I want him to be happy.”

“O-oh,” the lump that rose in her throat was almost immediate and hard, and she struggled to keep her composure. Knowing Gwil hadn’t been happy struck a deep nerve within her for some reason, “I’m sorry your uncle is sad. He’s very lovely, and deserves all the happiness in the world.”

“I know,” she nodded in unequivocal agreement as she leaned back to observer her handiwork, “I hope he gets better soon.”

“I hope so you too, Jenny, I hope so too,” she reached out and tucked one of the small, loose curls behind the girl’s ear, giving her a fond look. She hoped if she ever ended up with a daughter, which seemed to be about a fifty-fifty chance at the moment, she prayed the little girl would end up like Jenny - sweet, kind, generous. Whatever child she was carrying had some of the same genes as Jenny, so she hoped that gentle personality would transfer over.

“Jenny? There you are, lovey,” the sound of Gwil’s voice was almost enough to bring her to tears. She gnawed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should make her appearance known or just duck away and pretend she was never there. She decided against that option - she was no longer going to run from all her problems, but face them head on, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry Uncle Gwil,” she gave him an innocent smile before gesturing to the freshly planted blossoms, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze, “I was finishing planting my sunflowers! Miss L/N got us all flowers to plant today! It’s her first day back!”

She swore she could hear a sharp intake of breath as Gwil took a step closer and his eyes flicked over to her. She looked away, her cheeks heating up, but refused to feel like a small child under his gaze.

Y/N looked back to him, and took in his pseudo disheveled appearance. He was dressed like he had just gotten off of work, slacks with a nice button down, but the bags under his eyes were dark, his hair messier than usual, a large amount of stubble covered his face, that somehow had taken on a more gaunt look. He looked worn out and tired, like he’d seen better days and hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as her name rolled off of his dry, chapped lips. Feeling the prickle in her eyes start to sting, she nodded gently before standing up, and starting to gather the small shovels and trowels that were left behind from her students.

“Sorry to worry you about Jenny,” she whispered quietly, “she just wanted to finish and I couldn’t say no to her.”

“’s okay,” he croaked out as Jenny pulled on her sweater and grabbed his hand, ready to head home for the day. She tugged softly, trying to get his attention, but he was too captivated by Y/N, who was trying to keep herself occupied.

“Uncle Gwil!” she pouted at him, wanting his attention on her, “can we go and get a treat? Mummy doesn’t have to know!”

“Sure Jenny,” he agreed, wishing Y/N would face him, “thanks for taking care of her.”

“No problem,” she squeaked out, her heart thumping wildly, and she was almost sure that he could hear it, “have a good night Jenny, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye Gwil.”

“G-goodbye, Y/N,” he said quietly, letting Jenny lead the way.

“Gwil,” she suddenly blurted out, unable to contain herself any longer. It was now or never, completely imperfect, but completely in character for her. He turned around to face her with a curious, unreadable expression on his face. Giving her a nod to go on and she closed her eyes for a moment before just confessing.

“I’m pregnant.”

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 16

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Saturday (the Gala)

“You know, I find it a little funny you’re doing more pampering in anticipation of tonight than you did before the wedding last week,” Clara noted out of nowhere.

Rose’s brow furrowed for only a moment, quickly relaxing before the makeup artist working on her could comment. “Are you joking? I’ve spent the last year of my life planning the Gala. This is a big deal. Of course I’ve got to be at my best.”

“More than your wedding?”

Keeping her eyes closed, Rose reached out an arm and swatted in Clara’s general direction. “Yes. I’ve got 300 guests tonight, including the Mayor- Malcolm implied on the way home the Prime Minister might even show up. Last week was thirty people.” It was hard to believe she’d already been married for a week; eight days, technically, but who was counting? Eight down, one thousand eight hundred eighteen to go. The thought was nauseating.

“I’m sure it will all go perfectly, you’re a natural at all this hosting. Every year is better than the one before.”

“Gee, thanks, no pressure.”

“You’re done, ma’am,” the hairstylist murmured, touching her shoulder briefly; Rose opened her eyes to see an entirely different woman from the one who had sat down two hours earlier. Hair and makeup done, jewelry in place, nails freshly varnished, she felt like a million bucks. How could anyone resist me looking like this?

After a week of thinking about it, going back and forth a dozen times, she’d decided this was the night to take her shot – if everything went well, and the mood was right when they returned to the townhouse, Rose was going to do everything in her power to seduce Malcolm.

If she didn’t lose her nerve.

“Thank you, Moira,” she said belatedly, standing carefully and moving towards the privacy screen where one of Moira’s army of assistants waited to help her into her dress. Undoing her robe, Rose only felt mildly uncomfortable standing in just her knickers as the woman helped her into the dress, one forearm across her breasts for privacy as long as she could – given the dress’s back, a bra was out of the question.

Or rather, the lack of back to the dress. Crimson red, it covered her entire front to compensate for being entirely backless. Clinging to her like a second skin, it was red lace over a nude-tone background, almost sheer in the right lighting. Starting at her shoulders and going straight across her clavicles, it went down to her wrists and ankles, leaving nary an inch of skin bare. A thin white belt at her hips gave her some definition. In contrast, the entirety of her back was uncovered, and she could already almost feel the warmth of Malcolm’s palm on her skin. It made her feel sexy and confident, and capable of seducing anyone – but she had eyes for only one man.

“Wow,” Clara breathed when she stepped out, ready to go. “You look incredible, like you’re straight off a runway or red carpet.”

“Thanks, so do you,” Rose grinned, taking in her friend’s equally elegant gown. Hers was a blue and white floral pattern, with a crisp white bateau neckline that showed off her shoulders. Full sleeves buttoned at her wrist, and it had a split in the middle from the hemline to the knee, letting her knees peek out when she moved. “I love that shade of blue.”

“Thanks,” Clara shifted, turning her back to the mirror and glancing over her shoulder for inspection. “Remember that sapphire necklace Dad gave me for my thirtieth? I’ve been saving it just to wear tonight, and I wanted to make sure the dress went with it.”

“It does, you look lovely,” Rose promised. “And, I think we’re ready- just in time,” she said, as the clock struck six. “It’s a minor miracle.”

“Rose! Clara! Time to go!” Malcolm shouted from somewhere in the distance, likely the entryway, and the two women shared a knowing grin.

Gathering their accessories, and with profuse thanks to the Glam Squad, as Malcolm called them, they hurried off to meet their carriage – they had a Ball to attend.

Rose let Clara go down the stairs first, waiting a good thirty seconds to let her friend have her chance to shine before following. In the deepest, darkest, still-sixteen corners of her heart, she wanted that Hollywood moment, where she came down the stairs in a beautiful dress and the boy she liked was so moved by her appearance he confessed his undying love.

A girl could dream.

She’d be willing to accept making Malcolm pause; she could hear him speaking, chattering away to Clara and Danny, who had also gotten ready at the townhouse.

Taking a deep breath she stepped carefully, making her way down and into the hallway. His back was to her, gesturing wildly as he spoke, and she caught Danny’s eye first. His gaze widened, and he sharply elbowed Malcolm, who turned to look.

And froze.

Eyes going wide his jaw dropped slightly, words drying up mid-sentence as if they’d never existed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just looked at her, wonder and surprise in his eye.

It was everything she’d hoped for.

“Do I look okay?” she teased softly, walking up to him and touching his arm gently, seemingly sparking him back to life.

“You look… spectacular,” he murmured, voice dropping as if the words were only for her. “Incredible, unbelievable, goddess-like… Would you like me to go on?”

Rose smiled, blushing slightly. “Only if it’s genuine.”

He tentatively wrapped an arm around her waist, stepping closer into her personal space and lowering his voice further. “How about… sensational? Breathtaking? Stunning?”

“Well, if you say so,” she laughed softly, leaning into him. His cologne was strong, and it was doing delicious things to her insides. “Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself.” Unable to not touch him any longer she smoothed one finger along his bowtie, tweaking it. “Like James Bond.”

“Connery, I hope.”

“The accent certainly implies it.”

A cough from the doorway broke the spell, and Rose glanced over to find Clara and Danny waiting there, ready to leave. “Ready?” Clara’s amused expression faded, face flashing through several expressions before settling on curious. “Limo’s here.”

“Let’s go,” Malcolm agreed, a reluctant tone in his voice that Rose wished meant he’d rather sweep her into his arms and carry her off to bed. “The Gala awaits.” He kept his arm around Rose’s waist, guiding her out to the waiting limo that way, and her heart fluttered, unable to keep from hoping.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only one with expectations of how the evening would end.

Clara and Danny climbed into the limo first, Rose and Malcolm waiting patiently as they maneuvered getting her inside.

“You do look wonderful,” Malcolm murmured, sliding his hand back to center and then up. His eyebrows ticked upward when he hit flesh, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as his eyebrows and hand rose in unison. “What-”

Letting her grin fly free, she took a step away and turned, so he could see the back. “What do you think?”

“Oh fuck me.”

She laughed, turning back to his gobsmacked expression. Oh, I will, mate. “Mhmm, tempting, but I’ve got this event to go to,” she teased, jerking one thumb in the direction of the limo, while smoothing down one of his lapels with the other hand. “Raincheck?”

“Oi!” came from the limo, ending the moment.

Malcolm’s slightly glassy expression faded into an annoyed eye roll at his daughter’s timing. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

She let him help her into the limo, all the while smirking to herself.

Game, set, match.

As soon as they arrived at the Cutty Sark and made their way along the short red carpet inside, Malcolm grabbed the first drink he could from the passing butlers. Downing the champagne in one go, he watched as Rose headed across the room to the site’s event planner to check in.

He’d never seen so much of her back on display before, except in a bathing suit – and always surrounded by family. But this was a professional, formal event, a week after their wedding, and she was… heart-stopping. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, could still feel the soft, smooth skin beneath his palm. Never in his life, at least to his memory, had he ever been so attracted to someone, so easily set on fire. It had been a long time since he’d been so distracted, having thrown his life into his work.

And, impossibly, it almost seemed as if Rose wanted him as well. ‘Tempting’? ‘Raincheck’? And what’s with the fuck-me dress?! Never mind her comment on Monday about her ‘talented mouth’! That alone had been responsible for half of his insomnia over the last week.

“Malcolm?”

Head jerking up as he realized he’d been staring at the floor lost in his thoughts, he barely kept back a groan. Why does her father only appear when I’m thinking about her naked? It was like the man had a sixth sense. Distantly, he realized his own daughter would be laughing her ass off if she knew his thoughts. “Pete, Jackie, thank you for coming.”

“Everything looks lovely, Malcolm,” Jackie gushed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Over there,” he pointed, spotting her standing with the Jacksons near the bar. “You look wonderful, Jackie.”

“Thank you, dear.” Her brow furrowed as she stared at her daughter. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Sorry?”

“Her dress? There’s no back.” Narrowed blue eyes focused on him, and he gulped.

“I dunno, I had nothing to do with her dress,” he said, truthfully enough. “I only saw it for the first time getting in the limo.”

Jackie’s knowing gaze said she didn’t believe him, and Malcolm bit back a sigh. She still didn’t know about the arrangement, and was probably thinking it was something to do with their relationship.

Sure enough- “We all know you’re newlyweds, she doesn’t need to advertise via her dress what’s happening after this is over,” Jackie huffed, making Pete choke on his whisky. “I’ll be having a word with her.”

“I think she looks lovely, dear, and she’s a grown- and married- woman. She can choose her own fashion,” Pete said patiently, catching Malcolm’s eye and jerking his head slightly. “Isn’t that Barbara what’s-her-name over there?”

“Oooh, it is, and isn’t that a horrible dress? I ought to go say hello.”

Malcolm slipped away while she was distracted, making his way over to Rose.

It would be an interesting night, to say the least.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

Rose yelped, startled, and turned to face Clara. “What?”

Thankfully, her friend waited until the Jacksons were out of earshot to continue. “Da- Antonio. You’re going to take my advice, aren’t you?”

“I’m thinking about,” Rose demurred, scanning the space and pinpointing Malcolm’s location – he was on the other side of the room, talking to guests. “Why?”

“I can tell – you’ve got that predatory look on your face every time you look at him. That, and that dress. Look at you! I didn’t see the back earlier, but… holy fuck, Rose, if that doesn’t scream ‘seductress’ I dunno what does!”

Rose blushed, but didn’t flinch. “Good. I don’t want him to have any question about if it’s a result of too much champagne – if it happens, I mean. It may not.”

“You’re afraid,” Clara understood, nodding. “You’re worried about taking the chance.”

“What if he rejects me?” She dropped her voice, stepping closer, worried about being overheard. She double checked that Malcolm hadn’t moved; she didn’t want him sneaking up on them in the midst of such a conversation. “We’re going to be living and working together for the next five years… That’s an awfully long time to spend in close proximity with someone who doesn’t want you the way you do them, and has turned you down. If I did. Not saying I do.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Stop being coy, at least with me – I know that you do. And, trust me, he does too – I promise.”

“Even if that’s true, that doesn’t mean he’d say yes.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Rose gave her an exasperated glance. “He’s a friend of my father’s, I’m a friend of yours. If it didn’t work… the consequences are…” She drifted off, trying to picture it. “It would ruin everything. I can’t do this, it’s not worth the risk.”

“What? No! I mean, yes! You can! You have to. I can’t sit around any longer and watch you make goo-goo eyes at each other,” Clara said firmly, grabbing Rose’s elbow. “Don’t overthink it, just feel. Look, if nothing else, maybe you can Stockholm-Syndrome him into loving you? Though I’m pretty sure he’s… pretty much there.”

She was too upset at how many ways it could go wrong to bear that a second’s thought. “I have to go play hostess. Um… thanks.”

Lower lip trembling she walked away, ignoring Clara’s hissed calling of her name behind her.

What on Earth made me think this could actually work?

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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