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shoichee · 2 years

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How Their Crush Flusters Them

PLSSS I NEED SOME HEADCANONS FOR AKASHI, AOMINE, AND MOMOI ON HOW THEIR CRUSH FLUSTERS THEM;;; like she could be eating like a chipmunk and smile, and their just whipped😭😭 separate headcanons pls <3

MI, MY BESTIE, MY EMOJI DICTIONARY… I’VE COME BACK FROM THE DEAD TO DELIVER YOU MY HEADCANON CRUMBS… PLEASE ACCEPT THEM 👩‍🦯

[Headcanons]

Akashi Seijuro

I’m always gonna start nearly every Akashi headcanon with how this is not applicable to boku-Akashi 😭 anyways,,,, moving on…

ore-Akashi is equally hard to fluster though, let’s get that out of the way, but the soft side of him he has now would make him more inclined to feel that it’s okay to be flustered with you—a.k.a. let down his guard more around you

one way to fluster him is by using the element of surprise on your side

if you’re intentionally trying make him flustered, he easily sees through it, so usually, your schemes of making him lose his cool will not work because your facial expressions and giddy body movements make you way too obvious (even if you were careful to be subtle, he already knows)

he’d be amused and give you those knowing teasing smiles (that may or may not end up flustering you instead, let’s be honest… who can stay calm after seeing a smile from THE Akashi?)

it’s the unintentional things you do, any endearing quirks or habits you may have, that short-circuits him sometimes, because those are something he can’t expect and predict all the time

exhibit A:

“Akashi, congratulations on winning! I know you probably win all the time, and you don’t think of it as anything, but…” you would avert your own gaze and look at him again… maybe do a nervous action (twiddling your thumb? rubbing your neck? rubbing your arm? twirling a strand and playing with your hair? fiddling with your clothes?) before finishing your thought. “But I think it’s something worth celebrating!”

it’s the fact that you have no idea the things you’re doing is affecting his heart that gets him outwardly flustered; the idea that he’s the only one between the two of you who knows these details about you gets him a bit flushed

he lives to have that exclusive knowledge about you

exhibit B:

you smile at him whenever he comes to you, or if you weren’t one to smile much, your aura would immediately lighten up upon seeing him and such

it really gets his gears moving because that just shows that someone out there actually sees him as a good person, who doesn’t look at him with fear or awe… but to be fair, he wouldn’t blame you if you did, considering his entire period of time when he was exhibiting his “boku” side

so when you smiled at him with no reservations the first time, he REALLY got flustered in a sense where his eyes widened, his lips parted, and his eyes drank in the sight of your face for a second before he regained his usual composure… still, he can’t exactly control the color of his slight flush on his face

but even though you’ve smiled at him without fail every single time, part of him is still surprised and caught a bit off guard that you’re that happy to have him around

result? he actually becomes someone who gets flustered quite often with you in the beginnings of the crush phase (unfortunately though, unless you have your own set of Emperor Eyes, you wouldn’t be able to notice)

when he’s having his “mini-flusters,” a usual tell-tale sign is that he’d stay still from where he is and stare at you silently before you even notice

so if you’re just chatting away and notice silence on your end, you probably don’t even have to look at him to have a general idea that he’s having a frazzled moment of his own… don’t try to look at his face though, because then he’ll catch on what you’re trying to do and continue on the conversation like nothing happened

he’ll know pretty quickly that you also have a crush on him, and when he realizes that moment, he nearly damn short-circuits into the next zone dimension to the point where you even had to wave a hand aggressively in front of his face

“Akashiiiiiiii… helloooooooo? Earth to the emperor?”

“Ah,” he would blink back into reality. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to space out.”

“What were you thinking about anyways?”

and he would give that smile before he would say, “Nothing much.”

when you do things for him out of the goodness of your own heart (and not expecting anything back), that also throws him off a little

when you dote on him even as friends, he feels like he’s truly loved and cared for (this poor guy really got neglected in his childhood, could you blame him?)

and usually, he’s the one who needs to take care of everyone else, always being in a position of leadership

“Sheesh, you needa take care of yourself too!”

“Pardon?”

“You’re always doing way too much to make sure everything runs smoothly, and everyone isn’t having any issues, but have you ever thought to take care of your own needs?”

“Of course, adequate nutrition and rest are essential in playing optimal games.”

“No, no!” you insist. “Your mental needs! Your emotional needs—like, I can’t put it into words… erm… someone’s also gotta look out for you too, in case you’re struggling and need help sometimes… uh, maybe I can be that person for you? If you want that is—I don’t mean to intrude…”

that is when he knew… you were the one for him

he merely looks at you like you’re the brightest thing in the room before he softly agrees, “Yes… I suppose you’re right.”

if you also managed to figure out he has a crush on you (you must have some SERIOUS instincts and keen eyes to figure that out… or have Kuroko tell you something to know) and confessed to him out of the blue before he did

you’re going to see him visibly stiffen up and have that widened eyes and parted lips on his face while watching your every move… were you joking? did he misinterpret your words when you actually meant something as close friends?

bonus: if you happen to be the cheeky, sly person, smile wider at him after you confessed to shut the poor man’s brain down into oblivion

AKASHI.EXE is starting to reboot

he’ll take a few seconds longer to break out of his stupor, but when he does, he’ll simply straighten himself before replying, “I’m glad you like me, (l/n)-san. It’s relieving to hear that you also reciprocate these feelings for me, to say the least.”

YOU.EXE shut down when he gently takes your hand into his

but after you guys get together, he won’t be as flustered as often, because 1.) he’s confident about how you and he feel about each other now and 2.) he’d come to know you so well that he would probably expect 90% of the things you throw at him

Momoi Satsuki

compliment her

no, really

Momoi’s hard work was never appreciated enough even back in Teiko

but she never really minded/cared(?) because her mindset has always been about doing something for the sake of the team and doing what she’s good at to help out

she’s been sorting out her feelings with Kuroko, finally realizing that she wasn’t truly in love with him, but more so in love with the idea of someone who saw her more than just for her body—in love with the idea of someone with unconventional priorities and mannerisms rather than the predictable, surface-level things she’s seen in most people

but with you? something else tickled differently in her heart when you’re near

she thought she knew what love was, but it turns out, you gave her a whole new mystery to solve all over again—what was this funny feeling she always gets with you? is it “real” this time? what if you were just another Kuroko—a good friend with a perspective on life that differed a bit from hers?

but when you told her one day how much you admire and appreciate the amount of work she puts into basketball and the irreplaceable skillset she had that was essential to Touou’s victories

she flushed the brightest cherry red

“Oh… that’s…” she would easily stammer in your presence, not knowing how to take your praise gracefully. “Eh? Well—that’s—”

she would recollect herself before she would jump and tackle you for a hug in true Momoi-fashion before squealing out your name:

“(y/nnnnnnnnnn)!”

“M-Momoi—I can’t… breathe…”

honestly, she probably wouldn’t be calm if she heard it from any other person to begin with

but with you??? she’s malfunctioning—not even Aomine’s rude comments snaps her out of her daze for the rest of the day

“Oi, Satsuki, get outta my sight if you’re just gonna be in the way. Sheesh…”

“(y/n)… (y/n)…” she would sound like a broken record for a bit, holding her flushed cheeks with two hands even after Aomine gives her a tired glare out of the corner of his eyes. “(y/n) complim—… complimented me?! Ehhhhhh???”

“Shut up already—”

*unfortunately, her pink lovey-dovey aura around her only intensifies*

compliment any part of her body that no one usually does: her eyes and her hair especially

“Um… (y/n)-chan?! You’re… staring. What is it?”

“Ah, sorry,” you chuckle out a sigh with a chagrined smile. “I just find your eyes really pretty. Your lashes especially frame them so well, too. I guess I never noticed until now?”

“??!?!?!?!?!??!?!” She’s staring at you with the widest eyes (that you just complimented, by the way!) before she hesitates

“O-Oh!… Do you… really think so…?”

“Of course! Why would I say it otherwise?”

Momoi has ascended into heaven

“Momoi, how long have you had your hair like this?”

“Huh?” she stops whatever she was doing to look at you before continuing, “I’ve had long hair for as long as I remember.”

she hesitates before asking a daring question: “Does it look bad…?”

“I love your hair,” you reply candidly. “You pull this type of hair the best out of everyone I’ve met, in my opinion.”

at your words, she would unconsciously tuck some stray strands behind her hair as she (predictably) turns as pink as her hair, making the effort to looking down at her shoes or her clipboard if she had it with her

(you’re a little smug at how easily you can make her flustered… it’s a personal hobby of yours)

bonus points if you’re close to her already and you’re carding your fingers through her hair strands so casually, as if it’s second nature to you

“JFUERIG///2/½,3OR34T!!!?!?1/1” is what her mind is thinking right now

play with her hair and do loose braids with it too, and you’ll be amused to find her as stiff as a backboard, completely silent for the first time in forever

the entire GoM group and the Touou team are completely stunned when they see this shy, demure (and very quiet) side of Momoi with you for the first time

when you do anything that’s anything romantic/cheesy/tropey to her or for her sake, she’s going to paradise for a week straight, replaying everything in her mind constantly

like holding her shoulder to guide her away from people in the crowd… buying her something to eat/drink when you also go to the convenience store/vending machine to get something for yourself… buy her a hair clip or two, maybe earrings… invite her to go to places that could potentially be considered date locations (Momoi would eat this up to no end and potentially overthink and overheat)…

say a pickup line on her (genuine or to tease her, it’s up to you), and she’ll faint on the spot (refer to her fainting on Kise after meeting the adorable Nigou for the first time)

bonus: Kuroko plays wingman to get you two together… Aomine might reluctantly help after a while seeing you two “hanging out way too much”

Aomine Daiki

Aomine and Momoi are two peas in a pod, whether he’d like to admit it or not

and that would include having one similar way of being flustered

compliment his basketball skills in any way or form but sound super earnest about it

he normally wouldn’t care about the admiration and praises… because he’s always been in the spotlight as the ace of Teiko and ace of Touou

but you’re his crush, and he’s still a regular teen who wants to be noticed (!!)

he wouldn’t be obvious in being flustered, but it’ll definitely catch him off guard

“Tch, it’s nothing… really,” he would sigh while averting his gaze

wanna take flustering him a step further? start learning basketball because you want to also come to love the sport like he does (but don’t tell him this! have him accidentally discover you trying to learn how to shoot before you explain why you got inspired to start)

already know how to play basketball? even better—when he sees you adopting a playing style like his while he passed by a court one day, his jaw drops and his face feels an unfamiliar flush on his cheeks

“Huh? Ain’t that…” he stops in his tracks to squint a bit at your familiar figure. “(y/n)? What’re they doing here?”

he stares at you unabashedly before you notice an intense gaze and turn towards him, holding the ball under one arm

“Aomine-kun!” you would always call out to him, waving your arm enthusiastically to get him to come by

when he lazily walks by and asks what you were even doing, you look at him like he was the dumbest person in the world

“Um… basketball? What else would I be doing?”

you further explained yourself why you were on the courts today, and all the while, Aomine would bring a hand to his neck, turning his neck and face to the side

how could he look at you when he could feel his face getting so warm and his neck sweaty?

you were grinning at his uncharacteristically boyish side, no question about that

he would probably demand in a roundabout way to teach you because “it hurts my eyes to see you suck this much,” but we all know his eyes are getting a real treat outta seeing you playing the sport he loves to death

the third type of fluster he has is the MORTIFIED type, a rare one that would probably never happen under normal circumstances

emphasis on normal, btw

but him having a crush on anyone isn’t normal to begin with, so to be honest, anything’s fair game…

imagine that he’s coming to the gym for practice, yet once again, peeved that one of the Touou members had something to do with his missing “dirty magazines”

until he notices you. holding one of his magazines. in your hands. TURNING EVERY PAGE TO CURIOUSLY LOOK…

he has never run faster in his entire life to snatch that flimsy booklet out of your hands

his speed right then and there really puts his agility on the courts in official matches to shame (Wakamatsu is probably pissing his pants trying not to laugh as we speak)

does he care if any other normal person saw his collection? No

in fact, he even shamelessly flaunts that fact

but with you… he wants to look good in front of you, make that good “first impression” so to speak, but his hopes are as good as dashed as soon as he sees you staring at “Horikita Mai-chan’s”—

“Wha—What the hell are you doing?!!” he yells quite unceremoniously at no one in particular, snatching the magazine and hiding it behind his back. “And you!!” he turns to you, clearly not his usual collected self. “Why the hell are you here?!”

“Oh,” you merely blink. “I was just here because your teammates told me you’d be more willing to practice if I was here, so I came. That was yours?”

Aomine has no chance to either deny or confirm, because Imayoshi—right on cue—hauls out a portable basketball locker (y’know, those metal baskets with wheels) FILLED with what Aomine recognizes as his entire collection

and Imayoshi casually hands you another volume like he’s giving you his homework—

Imayoshi may probably need to sleep with his eyes actually open from then on if he ever had the balls to try this on the ace of Touou, but if you reassure Aomine… maybe the captain can survive—maybe

who’s gonna tell Aomine that Wakamatsu and Momoi also played a huge part in getting their hands on his entire collection?

if it was just one magazine, Aomine can recover rather quickly, but if Imayoshi pulled up the latter situation, I don’t think he would ever have the courage to face you alone again unless you somehow reassure him that his… interesting collection didn’t deter you from seeing him in a “lesser light” at all

“Aomine, I don’t think your porn collection is something to be ashamed of, although… I’m a bit concerned how easily your teammates got a hold on them. You oughtta learn how to store them properly.”

he’s comically gaping at you, his face terribly red and he has NO IDEA how to begin

yeah, he had imagined dozens of ways that he can talk to you privately and be cool and suave

NONE OF THEM were close to the actual scenario currently at hand

he’d probably try to pass off like the entire incident wasn’t a big deal, scoffing and clicking his tongue while turning his face away, hands in his pockets

but you knew better, and it was obvious that this man before you had his tongue twisted, becoming putty in your presence

if you laugh/chuckle with that sparkle in your eyes at him right there and then, he’s also going to malfunction and potentially never recover

how can you be this cute??

not like he’d admit that out loud

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

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Bakugou reacting to his S/O or crush going up to him and saying “Hey, can your hold this for a moment?” Their hand clenched so he can’t see what they are holding. He like “okay?” And they just, hold his hand.

omg this is so cute for bakugou with an s/o ahaha,, ooo n i literally couldn’t help myself so here’s a lil fic !!! hope u enjoy @annepamgkrth !! :))))

-//-

Bakugou was prickly.

He was prickly and difficult, a coiled mess of nerves wound up tighter than anyone you’d ever met. Trying to get him to relent was like playing mind games, and, if he wanted to play, then you’d play.

That day he had been even more petulant than usual- brushing you off at every turn and then huffing and puffing until you'd try again. You knew he missed you, could see it in his eyes, but you also knew full well that he’d never let himself admit that. He was stubborn to a fault. A very large fault.

“C’mon, aren’t you tired of being grumpy yet?” You huff in frustration, once more trying to grab his hand. He brushes you off- again. “Really, I already said I’m sorry! So can’t you just forgive me already?”

“No. Fuck no. Deal with the consequences, nerd.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

He stares back at you blankly, flexing his arm where it's stretched across the back of the couch. He'd been taunting you for the better part of ten minutes now, teasing you with a warm spot next to him that looked so incredibly inviting. Then, because he was apparently hell bent on being a dick, Bakugou would quickly trap his arm to his side. He'd clamp up and shut down when you so much as even moved to get closer. He was being difficult. Unnecessarily difficult- and he knew it too. You could see that clear as day from the self-satisfied smirk across his face.

"Bakugou, it's a show!"

"A fuckin' good show. Our show." He grumbles right back at you. "Don't get all pissy at me- you're the one who decided to be a bitch about this."

"What was I supposed to do? Turn it off just because you fell asleep?"

"Yes."

"No! No, I actually wasn't gonna do that! We said we'd watch one episode a night, and I kept up my end! It's not my fault that you fall asleep at 8:30 PM like a grandpa!" You huff, mild exasperation coloring your voice. "Chill out, it's only 45 minutes, grumpy. It won't take long to catch up. C'mon, I'll even sit with you right now while you watch it."

"No thanks."

"You're impossible."

"You're a traitor."

He spits the insult with too much satisfaction. It's suspicious and suddenly you know exactly what this is. He, historically, spent all his time looking for any and all reasons to go ahead and be an asshole. Apparently this is one of those times, and he's not really upset, he's just bored and acting on a convenient excuse.

"Fine. Guess I'll leave then-" You say, standing up and backing away from the couch. "Since you're obviously so incredibly cut up about it."

You see the same fight you always do then- that weird expression flicker when he just barely stops himself from asking you to come back. You can see it in the twitching of his fingers, the way the muscles in his arm flex. He's so close to folding- to bending to your will. He just needs a little push. Luckily, you've been saving a certain card up your sleeve for a while.

You fall back into the kitchen, scheming while you make a glass of water. Stalling for a few minutes, you bide your time, twiddling your thumbs until you hear Bakugou loudly huff in the living room. Peaking around the corner, you watch him grab for the remote, switching on the TV with a glare in your direction. You give it another few minutes more, and then you make your way out, glass of water in hand.

Upon entering, you find Bakugou finally watching the episode he was so upset about- albeit, with a very childish scowl across his face. He hardly even acknowledges you as you walk in, doesn't even glance away from the TV when you stand next to him.

"Hold this for me?" You ask, intentionally clinking the ice cubes in your glass. "Please? I gotta look for my phone."

He looks over at you, suspicion clouding his features. "Set it on the table, dumbass. 'm not your servant."

"No- but you are my very capable boyfriend who is an expert at holding things for me."

"Laying it on thick isn't gonna make it any fuckin' better." He grumbles, eyes still trained on the TV. But he rolls his eyes anyway, that same blind trust overtaking him, as he opens his palm. "Whatever. I'll hold it. Find it quick."

You nod, something sly and conniving crossing your face. You switch the glass into your other hand quickly, snatching his palm up with your cold one before he can recoil back. You're lacing your fingers into his, and Bakugou nearly breaks his neck with the speed he turns to look at you.

"What the fuck- the hell are you doing?" His shoulders go ridgid in mock disgust, lips curled up into a sneer. "Knock it off with the cute shit. It's not gonna fuckin' work."

"Really? But I'm not doing anything."

"You know exactly what you're doing, evil fuckin' witch."

"I'm not doing anything you didn't explicitly consent to. You did say you'd hold it for me."

"I thought you meant your goddamn drink! Not your shitty hand."

"Mhm. That misunderstanding was part of the plan. Pretty smart, right?"

You smile brightly at him, all bright whites and crinkling eyes. He folds then, just like he always does, and can't help himself as he tugs on your hand. You crash against his chest, stumbling, but Bakugou rights you with another scoff and that funny little sneer still firmly in place.

"I hate you." He says.

"No you don't."

"I fuckin' do. You're annoying as hell."

"Fine- guess I should leave then, huh?"

Bakugou just drops his other hand to your waist, gripping slightly in warning. That fire in his eyes is back, bright red flickers just daring you to defy him. That moment once again proves that petulance has always been an especially good look for him.

"No." He says, sly smile just barely curling his lip. "What you should fuckin' do is hand me the goddamn remote. Gotta fuckin' rewind now since you wanted to make such a scene."

"Nah, don't bother. You didn't miss anything important just now- trust me."

That elicits a playful growl from him, and he tugs on the end of your hair lightly in warning. "Don't fuckin' remind me. Now hand me the remote, maybe try making yourself useful for once."

"Mean!"

"Shut up, 'm just kidding, idiot." He mumbles, shyly dropping a kiss to your hair. It's stuttered, a little stiff, much like all the affection he ever showed you, but you begin to think that maybe he missed you more than you even realized. "Say you're sorry again."

"Why?"

"Because I fuckin' said so."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Fine." You roll your eyes, taking his face softly into your hands. "I am so incredibly sorry I stabbed you in the back. I will never do it again, you absolute baby."

Bakugou curls his lip at that, but you just smile something fond, leaning in for a kiss. He finally lets you, meeting in the middle with the same kind of bruising pressure you'd come to enjoy. You pull back before he's satisfied, and he nearly yanks you back into him. Bracing a hand on his chest for space, fingers splaying over the muscle beneath, you speak.

"You know- if you weren't so difficult earlier, maybe I would've let this continue."

He groans. Loudly. Slumps back into the couch with dramatic flair and practically throws you off his lap into the spot next to him.

"Fuck you. Fuck you." He seethes.

"Hey, don't get upset at me." You say simply. "Just trying to make sure we have enough time to watch that episode you missed."

Then you press the remote into his hand with a smile, and he snatches it from you with an unrivaled flair for the dramatics. Casting his arm over the back of the couch once more, he huffs, tucking you solidly against his side as he rewinds the episode.

You'd won this round- and from the blush on his face, Bakugou knows it too.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x self insert #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugou fic #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou fanfiction

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babiemingoo · 4 years

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lollipop boy || jeon wonwoo

summary: greaser!wonwoo is only kind of your friend when he comes up with a stupid (but brilliant) plan to piss off your ex boyfriend and test just what person you claim to have become

genre: greaser!wonwoo, suggestive? || wc: 2.6k

a/n: this is actually a snippet of my next series I have planned, so I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

This was awkward.

As you sat there, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in an attempt of a distraction from the tension, you couldn’t escape how awkward of a situation you were in. When your friend Sien had texted that she was running late but someone should already be there waiting, you had hoped with every cell of your being that the someone wasn’t Wonwoo. But when you opened the front door of the diner nestled in the middle of your hometown, the only member of your newfound “friend group” that had arrived on time was, of course, Wonwoo.

The diner was classic, with a neon sign hanging above the milkshake bar and a worn down jukebox near the corner window looking like it had survived every teenager in your town since the 1940s. The color scheme of red, white and gray made the boy wrapped in a shiny black leather jacket look even more so out of place than he already was. He never seemed to care, though, always sat in the exact same spot on a Wednesday afternoon, flipping through his auto vehicle magazine with a lollipop between his lips while his friends bustled about excitedly. Except, his friends were late, and now it was just the two of you together despite the fact that you had spoken more less 20 words to him since you met.

If silently sitting across the said boy wasn’t awkward enough, the diner was pretty dead for a Wednesday when most people your age tended to trickle in - except for, with your luck, your ex boyfriend. Him and your old friend group were huddled about in the opposite end of the diner, next to the jukebox that you knew they liked to hang around to play their favorite 70s songs while they loitered. None of them seemed to have noticed your arrival apart from the boy that you used to spend every Wednesday holding hands with. Now you two side glance at each other, looking away in the split millisecond when your eyes meet and pretend like it didn’t happen. You repeat the action probably five times before a deep voice pulls you out of the routine, “So much for hating his guts, huh?”

Wonwoo’s still skimming his eyes through the words printed next to a picture of a motorcycle in the magazine, but you know he was the one that had just spoken to you. “What are you talking about?” You question him, feigning ignorance. His deep chuckle cuts through the air as you observe the candy he has wrapped in his fingers, just an inch away from his mouth so he’s able to voice out his thoughts. One thing you had noticed about Wonwoo was that he always had a lollipop with him. Sometimes it was green, or purple, or even blue; but today it was his classic red shade. His usual soda was always red, all the candy he bought at the liquor store was red, and the chapstick that he would pull out every now and then was that of the same color and flavor; the one you have realized to be his favorite. Cherry.

“You tell everyone how much you hate him for what he did to you, but you keep making love eyes at him,” The boy across from you states in a tone that you’re sure is dripping with arrogance. “Not surprised though. I told Sien that you would run back to rich boy the first chance you got.”

You scoff at the audacity he had. The two of you may have been in the same friend group, and you’ve come to have a soft spot for a few of them - like Sien and Jun - but Wonwoo speaks as if he has a right to judge you or any of your past. Wonwoo was the only one out of the group of greasers that you felt hadn’t really taken to you and you’re certain it’s because of your old friends and boyfriend that he hated so much. Every part of you itched to prove him wrong about every assumption he had made about your life. “I’m not going to run back to him!” You say to him with determination, in a low voice.

For the first time since you’ve met him, Wonwoo closes the magazine. He quickly folds the corner of the page he was on to not lose his spot, shuts it, and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth again before saying, “Everytime we meet up at a spot and he’s around, you both make puppy eyes at each other like you’ll run into each other’s arms in a flower field and sing love songs. Even I can’t ignore it and I make it a point to half ignore everyone. Just admit you want to make your boy toy miss you, get your job done and go back to your perfect little life. Don’t drag my friends into this.” The way his voice comes out is laced with venom and you feel it. You always had a hunch that Wonwoo held dislike for you rather than indifference, but this is the first you’re hearing of his theory that you’re just using your new friend group to prove something to your ex.

“I’m sorry if the guy I was with for three years and had to break up with a few weeks ago still holds a little part of my heart,” You retort with sass. “But I’m not going to go back to him. What he did was so completely fucked up and even if I’ve been with him for that long I have more self worth, I know that I deserve more-”

Ding.

It was a bad habit of yours to leave your ringer on. A habit that had got you written up in class more times than you can count, one that got you caught during friend gatherings when you and Seungkwan were trying to sneakily talk behind the other boys’ backs. And now, it was a habit that had you caught up with Wonwoo. The brightness of your phone screen was almost mocking in the way that it illuminated the notification you had just gotten from your ex boyfriend standing across the room, letters sewed together in a text that said, ‘hey can we talk?’

You catch the text message in the corner of your eye and Wonwoo does, too. He laughs; a deep chuckle of satisfaction that matches his tone when he says, “Preppy boy is calling. Shouldn’t you go kiss and make up?”

It’s silent for a beat. Wonwoo is infuriating in the way that he’s never gone easy on you, even the first day you had met, Sien bringing you to their table with tears streaming down your face and his first sentence to you had been a tease. He’s infuriating in the way now that he’s fully expecting you to turn around and head in your ex’s direction to talk. He’s infuriating in the way that you consider actually doing it.

“Well?” He questions, head nodding towards the man who used to occupy all your time and all your thoughts. Instinctively you turn around and make eye contact with him for the sixth time that day and his eyes are pleading, waiting. Waiting. Just like you had been sitting, waiting for him all those days and weeks while he had been running around, betraying you, lying to you-

“Aren’t you going to go talk to your lover boy?”

“No.”

The answer leaves your lips before he can even finish his question. Truthfully you were hoping Wonwoo would look impressed, or a little surprised in the least. He doesn’t. All he offers you is a smug grin as his tongue peaks out of lips, lapping at the red lollipop a few times before he speaks, “Bullshit.”

You want to counter his cockiness but he beats you to it, adding, “Don’t string it on, sweetheart. The others will get here and then you’ll have to explain just how weak you are for your ex in front of all of them. I won’t say anything to them; you can do that yourself later. Just go back to your preppies where you’d rather be.”

Sweetheart? Weak? Where you’d rather be? Gosh, the nerve Wonwoo always had with you. You roll your eyes before crossing your arms at him, vision narrowing, “I’m not going to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to him. He fucked me over and now we’re done.”

“Really?” He questions with his eyebrows raised, but you know he’s mocking you. The boy wants to test you because he still thinks he knows you and that all his assumptions of you are right.

You want to prove him wrong. “Yup! I hate him and I don’t want anything to do with him. If I could make him see that him and I are completely done, I would.” The tone of your voice made every word come out with conviction. You wanted to make it a point that you think - no - you knew that you were done with your ex. Whatever the two of you had was completely finished after how he had mistreated you and your heart, and you needed to show that to Wonwoo. You need to show that to yourself. You wanted to prove him and everyone else who doubted you, wrong.

Ding.

Another notification. Another text message. Another attempt of your ex trying to crawl back into your life, your heart, the letters on your phone screen now fitting together to create your name in question. From the corner of your eye you can see his gaze; no longer pleading but begging. He wants to talk. The deepest, darkest depths of your heart will you to get up and listen. Your brain says to stay put. Another chuckle from Wonwoo.

“You sure you’re done with him?”

With gritted teeth, you harshly grab your phone and flip it upside down so the screen can’t mock you anymore. “I’m sure.”

Wonwoo finally looks just the slightest impressed by your reaction. But not convinced - not at all. Strangely, he gets up, says nothing as he walks around the table and sits next to you before facing you with a glint in his eye. His lollipop is wrapped around his mouth until he pulls it out again to say, “Prove it.”

This day is a bunch of firsts. The first time you’ve had a conversation with Wonwoo (albeit a negative one, but still), the first time you’ve gotten heated since you found out what your ex had done, and the first time you’ve ever seen Wonwoo so up close. Your eyes follow the creases of his lips, across his laugh lines which are - surprisingly - fairly prominent, past his nose and cheekbones and to his eyes, small but fierce and shaped in a way that has you wondering if you would’ve enjoyed looking at them under different circumstances. You try not to get yourself too caught up in the intricacies of his features and distract yourself by countering, “Prove what?”

“Put your money where your mouth is. You said that if you were able to make him see that you two were done, you’d do it. You said you don’t want to go back to him, then prove it.” The leather of his jacket squeaks a little when he shrugs.

“Wha- How am I supposed to-”

“Kiss me,” His tone is so casual in the way he says it, like every other word that he’s ever targeted at you hasn’t been spoken with condescending undertones and haughty implications. You want to keep your sassy facade but you begin to gape at him like a fish out of water, gasping for some sort of clarity on the situation. There is no way he could be seriously asking this of you when the two of you had barely established a frenemies relationship. In fact, it was more of the enemies than it is friends.

He smirks at the way you’re caught off guard (because he’s a little shit) and repeats himself while scooting closer, “You don’t have to, but as a guy I’ll tell you - if I saw the girl who used to be my everything kissing another guy after I had texted her asking to talk to her? I think I’d get the hint.”

You can’t help the way the cogs in your head turn together to make sense of what he says, even if it’s a bit out of left field. Technically, you did say that you would show your ex he no longer had a chance with you, if you were able to do so. You wonder if doing such a thing like kissing Wonwoo would give the boy across the room a big old fuck you like he deserved. Your gaze travels to the said boy, who’s eyes have changed to hold something of confusion and wonder. Was he confused at why Wonwoo had come to sit next to you? In an attempt to support or debunk your hypothesis, you scoot closer to Wonwoo, your hand finding it’s way against his jean clad knee where the frayed rips let you two meet skin to skin.

The emotions behind your ex’s eyes shift. They’re shocked now; angry. Hurt. Those were the same feelings you felt all those weeks ago when the world came crashing down at your shoulders and your relationship went with it.

You take your attention and put it back on Wonwoo, who’s breath you can feel against your face with how impossibly close you two have gotten. He’s smirking again. Similar to moments ago when your eyes scanned over his face, his gaze begins to do the same to you; memorizing the dip of your cupid’s bow and the tip of your nose.

The boy lets out a breath when his eyes find their way up, meeting yours. Hand on your waist. Head tilting, “Kiss me,” He repeats.

You lean forward. Your lips touch. He might have just meant a peck, just to get your ex riled up. But the way your lips fit together implied so, so much more than a peck. They move together, slotting against each other in a way that would’ve convinced anyone in the room that you two have been captivated by each other with adoration and nothing but. The thought of how mad your ex probably is begins to get buried in the back of your mind when you start to focus on him, Wonwoo, and the way that he feels. The way his right hand pulls you just the slightest bit closer even if there’s no more room. The way his left hand reaches behind your neck to cradle you in place like he wants the two of you to keep kissing for hours.

All thoughts of everything else that had been going on in your life begins to dissipate in your head as you get caught up in him. In this moment you only think one thing: Wonwoo. Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. Wonwoo in his leather jacket, Wonwoo on his motorcycle, Wonwoo holding his magazine, Wonwoo looking at you, Wonwoo holding you- It’s funny, because earlier today you were dreading Wonwoo. Now it seems like your subconscious craves him, head leaning forward as if he was going anywhere. You want to remember this; even if the future version of yourself is going to pretend like you didn’t enjoy it. So your tunnel vision goes completely there to his lips, his kiss. You make sure to note the way he tastes just so you can brand him and this kiss with it for the rest of your life. You’ll make sure to associate this taste with him forever so that every time you have another lick of it you’re reminded of this day that Jeon Wonwoo stole your breath straight out of your mouth. You memorize what your taste buds feel when you kiss him. Cherry.

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #caratwritersclub #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen one shot #kpop #kpop fics #seventeen x reader #svt #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop au #seventeen au #seventeen wonwoo

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foursideharmony · 4 years

Text

Collateral Damage (Part 1)

Summary: Roman gets into trouble while questing in the Imagination. Rescue arrives, but will the rescuer be all right? A gift of sorts for @today-only-happens-once

Word Count: 1,829

Relationship(s): Platonic LAMP, with some extra Prinxiety focus

Warnings: It's a whump/hurt/comfort fic, sooooo... Plant-monster, violence, nausea, injury, villain!Remus, torture, blood, gross eye stuff, fainting

Roman often said the Imagination was dangerous. The vast majority of the time, this was flagrant exaggeration. The truth was that the Creative Side had an excellent handle on his realm and had learned to build in all kinds of fail-safes, in case a quest or other adventure started to turn sour in an unplanned way. One of his favorites was a staple of the “game” he called Wandering Monsters, wherein he would hat up, venture into the wilderness of the kingdom, guided by his intuition, and face whatever it threw at him. He kept the far reaches of his realm stocked with not just all manner of fantastic creatures, but conceptual fragments of them—traits that could combine unpredictably to generate new monsters, so that he never knew just what to expect.

Once he had battled a fire-breathing winged toad that exploded into thousands of regular toads upon its defeat. That had been rather disgustingly memorable. Then there had been the lamia-sphinx, who forced Roman to solve the riddle of her beauty or be devoured. On yet another occasion, instead of generating a monster, the landscape itself became more hazardous as he traveled, producing sinkholes and avalanches. It was always fresh, always exciting...and always escapable if Roman found himself in over his head, thanks to the fail-safe.

For this particular episode of Wandering Monsters, he found himself descending into a fetid marsh. (That should have been his first clue that something was amiss.) He kept to higher ground as much as possible, avoiding the standing water, but every footstep squelched in slimy mud and he was constantly harassed by clouds of gnats. He was weighing the merits of just calling off the adventure altogether when a patch of scummy water several paces ahead of him erupted in khaki spray and the monster appeared.

It was...a blob. Well, a wad—a shapeless mass of tangled plant matter about the size of an elephant, with no discernible aesthetic or grace. “I ruined my boots for this?” Roman complained aloud. “I have half a mind to just—aah!”

He trailed off in a startled scream as two vines lanced out of the mass toward him. He brought his shield up in time, but the impact still tipped him over, and he slid headfirst down a muddy embankment and into the water. For a panicked moment, Roman was trapped that way, head submerged, lacking the leverage to right himself, until he got the presence of mind to jam his sword into the mud and use it as a handhold to haul himself up. He sputtered, spitting out foul water—

—and suddenly found himself swinging wildly in the air, upside-down. The monster had extended another vine and hoisted him into the air by one ankle. Roman slashed at the ropy tendril only to realize that he didn't have his sword because, duh, it was still stuck in the bank and he had lost his grip on it when the creature yanked him away. But his shield was still there, strapped to his arm, and it was good steel, and a dull edge was still an edge.

The monster thrashed back and forth, making Roman helicopter in the air and robbing him of any chance to bring his shield within reach of the vine that held him, as well as making him faintly motion-sick. It let go on an upswing, sending him tumbling upward, and then snatched him with more vines, these lined with thorns that dug through his clothing and pricked his flesh. Roman gasped with the sudden shock of pain, only to find his breathing constricted as the vines coiled thickly around his torso, squeezing the air from his lungs.

Enough was enough: time for the fail-safe! Roman banged his feet together three times and wheezed “There's no place like home!” (because he respected the classics). The scene sloshed around him, there was a rushing sensation, and he landed on his butt on smooth tile. His sword clattered beside him.

It had worked. He was back in the hall of his castle, safe and able to assess the damage at his leisure while he waited for Phase Two of the fail-safe to kick in. The thorn-wounds stung and itched, but they didn't seem too deep; Roman figured—

The sense of something shifting behind him dragged the prince out of his train of thought. Roman whirled around to see something that should have been impossible—the marsh monster was there, in the hall with him! It had followed him, through the retrieval spell, and that could mean only one thing.

He should have realized.

“Oh, Rooooomaaaaaannnnnnn!” squealed the voice he detested. “What's wrong, brother dear? Don't you like your new friend? I made him just for you! Say hello and PLAY NICE!” Remus's voice dropped to a growl on the last two words, and the plant creature extended a heavy vine and slapped Roman, sending him tumbling over the marble and adding a multitude of bruises to the pinprick cuts he had already sustained. His whole body twinged in protest.

Roman staggered to his feet. He hadn't managed to grab his sword, and could only watch as the monster galumphed toward him, vines lashing. It moved something like a gigantic amoeba—bulging irregularly toward the front and then flowing into the bulge, its movements erratic but averaging out to forward motion. Remus was perched atop it, sitting cross-legged, his morningstar laid across his knees, grinning like he always did when serious violence was in the offing. Roman juked to the side just as they arrived, so that the mass of stinking plant matter shambled past him. It was leaving a disgusting trail of mud and scum all over his floor, and that made him angrier than the injuries. How dare—

“Whoopsie-daisy!” Remus screeched, realizing that Roman had evaded him. “None of that, now!” He swiveled atop the monster and it reversed course without even turning, shooting its vines out what had been the back and was now, apparently, the new front. If such terms even meant anything in relation to such a shapeless thing.

“Remus, go home!” Roman snarled. “You're not welcome here!”

“Oh, so you can invade my side of the Imagination, but not vice-versa? That's hardly fair!”

“I didn't invade—look, I don't have to justify myself to you!” The scratches were really starting to sting, as if the monster were made of nettles. Roman could barely manage to dodge the new strikes—he needed his sword! He turned and darted back the way he had come, and promptly slipped on the sludge left by the creature's passage. Roman's chin met the marble hard enough to fill his vision with black sparks, and he tasted blood.

“Ooh, Roman, I like the way you think!” Remus said, and before Roman could wonder what the hell he was talking about, the plant-monster had him by the ankle again—both ankles this time. Roman's stomach roiled, made more sensitive by his near-concussion, but before he got a chance to see whether he was actually going to be sick, the creature whipped him across the room.

In the next instant, he slammed into a pillar, the impact sending savage pain exploding all up and down his body. In the instant after that, the pain came again as he dropped to the floor. He could scarcely breathe, it was so excruciating, and he definitely couldn't move, even to desperately crawl away when Remus and his “pet” approached again.

“Poor little Princey,” Remus said, sing-song. “He's all black and blue! Not a very balanced color scheme—too cool, too somber. I know! We'll brighten it up with some RED!” On the last word, a thorny vine raked at Roman's back, tearing right through his sash and jacket and leaving burning scratches in his flesh. The assault continued, Remus cackling as his minion tore Roman's clothes to shreds and his skin to something not much better. Where the HELL is Phase Two? the prince wondered frantically.

“Enough!” he gasped out, prompting a pause in the torture. “P-please! What do you want, Remus?”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard that they literally popped out of his head and bounced on the floor, adding revulsion to Roman's catalog of horrible sensations. “What, you never heard of family bonding time?” he said, ichor dripping from his empty sockets.

Roman closed his eyes against the hideous sight and began to hum softly, trying to dull the pain to something manageable. He didn't get very far before Remus's voice cut in, rasping like sandpaper against his battered awareness.

“Hey! Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you! Where are your manners?”

Back in the swamp, Roman thought sourly, but he didn't bother responding out loud.

“I asked you a question!” Remus roared. Then, suddenly as mild as if they'd been discussing recent movies, he said: “You know...there's something I've always wondered. Why does the prince always get to be so handsome?”

Roman's eyes snapped open with alarm. Remus, in possession of his own eyes once again, had shifted position atop the monster, lying on his stomach, head propped up on one hand while the other twirled the morningstar almost negligently. “And whatever would he do,” the Intrusive Side continued, “if that were taken away from him?”

He made a sharp gesture, and several vines zipped out and coiled around Roman's sprawled limbs, pinning him in place. Remus twiddled his fingers in the air, and another vine, this one dotted with barbed thorns, emerged and hovered, poised over Roman's face, quivering with what seemed like monstrous anticipation.

Just as the vine struck, there was a soft explosion of ultraviolet and a smell of ozone, and someone was there, intervening. Roman's vision was becoming hopelessly blurred; all he could make out was a mass of black and purple. Virgil...?

Virgil had blocked the vine with his forearm, his baggy hoodie sleeve bunching up and cushioning him from the damage as its momentum whipped it around his wrist. “GET OUT!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating with the Tempest Tongue. The force of his shout struck Remus like a physical blow, sending him tumbling backward along the top of the marsh monster. “OUT!!” Virgil repeated, wrenching at the vine wrapped around his arm.

The stress of the situation lent him power, and the monster...unraveled, like a ball of yarn. Remus made an extremely undignified noise as he fell amid the collapsing vines, and in a puff of acrid smoke, he was gone. The remains of the plant creature...remained, strung out in slimy, noisome piles in what was supposed to be a luxurious and fashionable palace hall.

Near-silence fell over the space, punctuated only by Virgil's panting breaths as he came down from the peak of his fight-or-flight state, and by Roman's own ragged breaths. His wounds throbbed hotly, seeming to expand, and he realized why, just as the room started to spin away into blackness...

To Be Continued...

#sanders sides #fanfiction #ts remus #collateral damage

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twilighteve-writes · 4 years

Text

Charm a Braid of Threads

Summary: Webby didn’t have magic, not like Huey, Dewey, and Louie did. But she had also seen how Magica’s magic seemed to only stem from the wand she used, how Lena’s magic seemed to stem from her amulet, and she was willing to learn magic of her own.

Webby may not have magic, but it didn’t stop her from getting to protect her family and friends anyway.

(Also available in AO3.)

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Webby didn’t have magic. She knew that from the start – she wasn’t like Huey, whose body temperature was always slightly higher than the average person, or Dewey, who buzzed with static electricity even when he wasn’t actively calling for lightning, or Louie, who seemed to already had a nose for gold and riches even before his ability to control them awoke.

But she had also seen how Magica’s magic seemed to only stem from the wand she used, how Lena’s magic seemed to stem from her amulet. She had noticed the numerous books of spells and magic in Scrooge’s library that he collected – just because he didn’t like magic, didn’t mean he didn’t see the benefits of learning about it.

So, the next time they had a girl’s nights, Webby asked Lena point blank about it. “Can you learn magic?”

Lena blinked, clearly surprised. “Gee, Webby, what brought this on?”

“Well, pretty much everyone in the manor have magic,” Webby said. “Well, not everyone. Granny doesn’t have it, I don’t think Scrooge has it either, and neither does Launchpad, I think. But the boys have it and I want to know if I can learn to use it even if I don’t have it.”

Violet, who was with them, tilted her head and nodded. “It would be beneficial if you could learn it. I would also like to learn how to use it, if possible.”

Lena hummed.

“Is it possible at all? I noticed Magica using her staff but Uncle Donald doesn’t seem to need anything as long as he’s near the sea and Huey and Dewey can just make their own things and – “

“Wait, no, shut up,” Lena stopped Webby’s rambles. “I need to think about this, I never had to explain magic to other people before. It’s all instinctual for me.” She frowned, hands wringing, clenching and unclenching her fingers. “Okay. Okay, I think I got it.”

“Do tell,” Webby prodded. Next to her, Violet stared with rapt attention.

“So. Magic.” Lena took a deep breath and paused. “Ugh, this is so hard to explain. Uh, so, with magic… you have people like Huey, and Dewey, and Louie? And also Della and Donald, I guess. Well these people are ones that are born with magical affinities to elements. So their magic is something that’s, like… innate, you can’t take it away from them. It’s part of them.”

“People born with magical affinities that you can’t take away. Got it,” Webby summed up.

“And then you have people who get magic from using magical objects, like Magica’s staff that Webby broke,” Lena continued, and Webby clamped down on a squeal – she finally stopped calling Magica her aunt. That was good, Lena deserved a much better, more awesome aunt that Magica could ever be.

“You also have people who can learn spells.” Lena leaned back, looking up to the ceiling. “So tomes, potions, spellbooks; those are their things. And there are also people who don’t have magic and can’t really use it, but the thing is, what’s most important in magic is intention. So as long as they put strong enough intention to something, it could function more or less like magic.”

“Are these kinds mutually exclusive?” Violet asked. “Or can you be some of them at the same time?”

“You can be some of them,” Lena said. “In fact, people like the Ducks are rare. Usually people’s magic isn’t so powerful they don’t need to get additional training. Meanwhile, the Ducks are just there, running around and oozing enough magic to make weak but sensitive people get a headache.” She rested her chin on a hand. “Sheesh. No wonder Magica was obsessed with Scrooge. Everyone in this family’s a freak of magical nature.”

“Wait, what are you then? I’ve seen you control shadows before,” Webby asked.

“Well, I have super strong affinity with shadows because I used to be one.” Lena wiggled her fingers, and the shadows around them wavered and darkened for a moment. “I can turn into shadow or hide in your shadow again, too, if I want. I just don’t like doing it. But that’s basically all I can do, so if I want to get offensive I have to use this.” She pointed at the amulet around her neck. “That’s what Magica’s wand was for; active magic that you can you offensively. I mean, she had affinity to shadows too, but I think I pretty much stole it from her when I separated.”

“Wait, so, you can learn magic, right?” Webby asked again.

Lena tilted her head, studying her, then grimaced. “I mean, yeah, but no offense, Webby. You don’t feel like the sort of person who can learn to use spells. That’s more Violet’s vibe.”

“Oh, I can learn to use spells?” Violet blinked. “Perhaps I could ask Mr. McDuck if he has some books I can learn from.”

“I’m sure he has something, but, but Lena, are you sure I can’t learn magic?” Webby turned back to Lena, tone pleading.

“Yeah, sorry… I seriously don’t think you can learn,” Lena grimaced. “And using magical objects can be dangerous. You’ve seen what Scrooge has in his arsenal. There’s a reason why he keeps them out of public’s eye.” She leaned forward. “But… you’re definitely the type who can put intention into things.”

“Oh, like the friendship bracelet,” Violet said with a smile, holding up her hand to show off the bracelet Webby wove. “It created a sort of energy that helped us defend against Magica, didn’t it?”

“Oh, that,” Webby laughed weakly, twiddling her thumbs together. “It was nothing, I was just so happy I could have you guys as my friends. The bracelet’s just there so show you guys how much I love you.”

“I’m sure that’s precisely why it was so effective in warding Magica off,” Violet pointed out.

“What? No, no, no, that was nothing! It couldn’t be because of the bracelets!”

“Webby, your bracelet made a shield for you when Magica tried to attack you, back in the Money Bin,” Lena said.

“Wasn’t that you trying to get out of her shadow?”

“The friendship bracelet glowed first. It’s on your intentions warding off her attack, it wasn’t on me.”

“I mean, yeah, but – “

“Oh, for duck’s sake. Webby, you can weave intention into your bracelets and it’s strong enough to ward off magic. You have talent to be a charm weaver!” Lena snapped. “They don’t need to be born with magic or be able to use spells or get artefacts. They can’t use active magic. But they can make impenetrable wards and protections if they can put enough intention into what they make, and I don’t know if you were half asleep when you made us our bracelets, but this,” she shook off her hand that wore Webby’s woven bracelet, “is a charm if I know one. And I know plenty!”

The weight of Lena’s words crashed into Webby’s mind, and she sat unmoving for a moment. “…oh,” was all she said when she found her voice again.

Then the meaning actually hit, which triggered a fifteen minutes long freakout which was equal parts her being extremely excited, grappling with her disbelief, and what does this mean, what do I do next. Because she had figured she’d be spending at least a few months ahead trying to get abracadabra right, not to have Lena told her she could actually do something by wanting it enough.

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The next day, she dragged both Violet and Lena to the craft store, and they bought threads of all colors that Webby could use to make more bracelets. She grabbed every color she could think of, ready to make bracelets for everyone in the family and new ones for the ones who already had friendship bracelets.

“Webby, don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?” Lena asked.

“Absolutely not!” Webby answered without missing a beat. “If me knowing nothing can make something like that, just imagine what I can do when I actually know what I’m doing! I’m gonna make sure nobody gets hurt in adventures.”

“Hey, Webby, what do you think about this material?” Violet called over from a row of embroidery threads. Webby bounded over to her, talking excitedly about the colors and how the thread felt in their fingers. Lena followed over, sighing, but Webby was pretty sure she was smiling.

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She brought the threads to her bed and cuddled them to sleep, feeling each strand brushing against her feathers as she tried to infuse as much of her love into them as possible. She focused on each thought when she weaved them into bracelets, wishing safety and happiness and protection for whoever the bracelet was gifted to later.

She picked an ocean blue spool specifically and nuzzled it to her cheek. “Luck will come to you,” she said, taking extra care to mean it.

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Huey’s new woven bracelet was blazing red and warm orange with slivers of white.

He went camping with other Junior Woodchuck kids, and a shield of sorts manifested itself and kept him safe when Boyd went haywire even though the forest around him fell.

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Dewey’s was electric blue and silver brought together by a single white strand.

When he and Launchpad played their game of spies, a mirror-like sheen keep appearing around him. He never found out why – the game must have had some unresolved bugs.

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Louie’s was emerald green interwoven by pale gold with white peeking in between.

When it seemed like his scheme was falling apart, something kept him on his toes, whispering encouragement that allowed him to take back control and trusted Dewey to do what he did best.

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Lena’s was a soft mauve that matched her fringes paired with metallic black.

She was still restless at night. Magica kept sending her dreams that she couldn’t fully ward off, and no matter how much confidence and reassurance she had gained, the dreams were still bothering her.

The night she forgot to take off the bracelet before sleep was one of the few nights she had without nightmares. She never took the bracelet off anymore.

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Violet’s was a shade of iris purple that complimented the color of her feathers well, paired with dark gray, woven into the same pattern as Lena’s – a matching set, for the sisters.

The day Violet competed with Huey for the Senior Woodchuck position, she nearly lost her footing while climbing up a massive tree. The bracelet seemed to gleam as she miraculously found a footing that allowed her to get back to her feet. She let her fingers brush against the strands of threads and marched on.

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Donald’s bracelet was sea blue with a single bright white thread making wave-like patterns along its length. He wore it with a smile, and found himself stumbling less on land, noticing the usual scrapes and cuts had slowly started to diminish the longer he wore the bracelet.

Della’s bracelet was bright white with a single sky blue thread making cloud-like patterns along its length. She wore it proudly, and found herself finding encouragement when she needed it most.

Scrooge’s bracelet was perhaps the most elaborate Webby had made. It was strong maroon interwoven with gold that created a pattern of gold coins, bordered with a sliver of white. He wore it, always, even though it was hidden beneath his sleeves, and found himself feeling more secure than ever.

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Granny’s was a matching set with hers. They both wore pink-and-turquoise bracelets, Webby’s a little smaller than Granny’s, made in simple stripes pattern. Granny never took it off since she received it from Webby, and it warmed her heart every time she saw it around Granny’s wrist.

“It’s lovely, Webbigail,” Granny had said when she received the bracelet, voice so much warmer than usual. “Thank you so much for making this.”

“It won’t disturb you when you work, right?” Webby asked. “I don’t know how to make it so it won’t catch if you were fighting. Sorry.”

“Oh, Webbigail, that’s not an issue,” Granny said. “You’ve made it well enough to withstand a beating. Don’t worry about it.”

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The kids’ new bracelets hung side by side with the old one Webby made for them. The adults wore theirs alone, and somehow none of them looked odd with a woven bracelet, not even Scrooge, when the bracelet peeked from under his sleeves. None of them ever took the bracelet off again, and to Webby’s surprise, even after months of their crazy adventures they never seemed to even fray a little.

“I did tell you that you have a talent to be a charm weaver,” Lena said. “You’re great at putting your well-wishes into objects.”

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

Webby had just given the bracelets to the Ducks and Scrooge when she realized she hadn’t made Launchpad one.

She wove another simple one, ivory white and green brought together by the Sunchaser’s bold red, wishing precaution and safety to it. Launchpad practically cried when she gave it to him, so touched by the gesture. He scooped her up and hugged her, and she hugged back, happy to gift him with any protection she could give.

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

She ended up making Boyd one, too, after Huey introduced them to him; soft yellow and red with a thin stripe of deep blue. He smiled wide, wide, wide when he received it, and if everything about him hadn’t convinced Webby that he was a real boy, that smile certainly did.

“Uhhh, don’t magic usually mix badly with tech?” Donald piped up in uncertainty.

“Webby’s charms isn’t like your magic,” Lena said. “Yours is harsh to tech. Webby’s charms are a lot more subtle and she recognizes Boyd as a friend. It’ll be fine.”

“I sure hope so,” Donald muttered, watching as Boyd bounded over excitedly to Gyro to show off the bracelet.

“Look, look, Dr. Gearloose! A friend gave me a gift!”

“That’s nice, Boyd. Did you say thank you?”

“Yes, I did!”

“You know, for someone who kept insisting Boyd was evil at first he’s being a really good father figure right now,” Fenton commented lowly to Donald, who nodded in agreement. Webby glanced at them, thinking.

“Would you like a bracelet too, Mr. Crackshell-Cabrera?” she offered. She had pieced together that he was Gizmoduck, and he would probably do with some warding, as well. Gizmoduck was still new at the whole superhero stuff and still got a lot of injuries, after all.

“Please, call me Fenton!” he said. “And I’ll be fine! I wouldn’t want to take your adventuring time for me.”

She made him a bracelet anyway, purple like his tie and red like Gizmoduck’s G. He grew more confident as Duckburg’s resident hero and the injuries he sustained was reduced in number, little by little. She noticed Gyro glancing at the bracelets Fenton and Boyd both wore, and she made him one, too, green with a splash of red, like his clothes. He fumbled when he received it, clearly not expecting to get one, but like the others, he was never seen without it ever since.

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She considered making Manny a bracelet, too.

Manny declined because he didn’t have hands to wear bracelets on.

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

Launchpad came to her, asking if she could make his friend a bracelet, as well. As scatterbrained as he could be, Launchpad had noticed the effects of the bracelets she made on people who wore it. He requested dark purple with gold accents, and Webby had no reason to refuse, so she agreed. She wove an eggplant purple bracelet, a gold thread running through it to make a zig-zag pattern. She wished protection upon it like the other bracelets she made.

The next time she watched the news, she saw Darkwing Duck, St. Canard’s resident hero, take down the notorious Taurus Bulba. Even from the TV’s grainy footage – the camera was too far away to get a good footage, it seemed – Webby could see the purple and gold around the hero’s wrist, peeking through his sleeve.

She spent that night quietly freaking out to herself when she realized that 1) Launchpad was friends with an actual hero, and 2) She had apparently made bracelets for two heroes.

(Later on, she found out Donald was actually Paperinik, though he had hung the cape when he decided to raise the triplets on his own. She pretty much combusted internally.)

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She met Gosalyn Mallard and found herself a fast friend immediately. She made her a bracelet the color of her eyes interwoven with the same red as her hair, weaving it into the same pattern as the one that she apparently made for Darkwing Duck because it felt appropriate, somehow.

Then she saw Gosalyn’s dad wearing the very same bracelet she wove for Darkwing Duck, had a Realization™. That was why it felt appropriate.

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When Webby told the triplets that she made Gosalyn a bracelet, Louie laughed and shrugged. “Classic Webby. There our local charms dealer goes, making bracelets for everyone.”

“Charms dealer? But I’m not selling anything,” Webby protested.

“Sure you are. You just don’t have them pay you in money, you have them pay you with friendship,” Louie said. Dewey’s eyes widened when he heard it, mouthing oh my god, you’re right as he stared at nothing in particular, looking as if his mind had been blown.

“Then that’s not a transaction in the first place!”

“It sure is, everything is basically transaction. It’s just that people don’t usually consider it transaction unless you get money involved,” Louie said.

“But I didn’t give you the bracelets because I want your friendship,” Webby argued.

“Oh, wow, Webby, that’s cold,” Louie commented. His tone was teasing though, so he was probably just joking.

“The friendship economy is in shambles. We are all facing bankruptcy,” Huey added solemnly.

“No, I made them because you guys are like family to me and I want you to be safe!” Webby blurted, and felt heat rising in her cheeks.

“Awww, Webby,” Dewey cooed, scooting over to sling his arm around her shoulders. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“I take that back, we’re not facing friendship bankruptcy. We’re all rich,” Huey said, wiping a stray tear out of his eye.

“We shall prosper for all eternity in our Webby-based familial love currency,” Louie added.

“Oh, hey, should we make bracelets for Webby too?” Huey suggested. “I need a craft badge anyway, and it seems like it will be fun.”

“Nooo, that’s boring,” Dewey booed. “Why bother making bracelets when you can have an adventure?”

“You’re only saying that because you know yours won’t look good,” Louie taunted.

Dewey took the bait immediately. “Oh, no you don’t! Just look, I’m going to make a bracelet so amazing everything else in the market looks like they’re garbage!”

“Wait, actually, won’t there be too many bracelets for Webby to wear if we all make her bracelets?” Louie asked, getting a sudden realization.

“That’s okay, I can rotate them!” Webby grinned. “I’ll be happy to wear what you made!”

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Webby continued to weave and give bracelets to whoever she felt needed it, and slowly branched out, learning to knit scarves and mittens and making enamel pins of her own.

Her own collection of woven bracelets grew as the people who she gave bracelets to gave her bracelets of their own, woven or braided or bead. She rotated them every day, and reveled in the smiles her friends and family gave her when they saw the bracelets around her wrists.

#ducktales #ducktales 17 #webby vanderquack #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #lena de spell #violet sabrewing #donald duck #della duck #bentina beakley #fenton crackshell-cabrera #boyd #gyro gearloose #darkwing duck #dt launchpad #magic au #dt17 magic au

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talkfastromance4 · 5 years

Text

Cross Her (C.H) Part I

Yeah, so. I haven’t posted anything in a HOT minute. But this little Calum-and-Grace-world I’ve created is very near and dear to my heart. I’m not sure how many parts this will be, they’re kind of lengthy but I hope you like it.

Please let me know what you think so I can post more.

Summary: With a new album and tour soon to be on the rise, 5SOS’s management has decided to put Calum into a public relationship.

Warnings: none except cute fluff from Calum

Words: 5.5k

Masterlist

With the promise of a new album on the horizon, and with Luke and Sierra now engaged the band’s management and PR have come up with an idea for Calum to get a girlfriend. The four young men are sitting in a conference room listening intently to their management’s pitch.

In theory, it sounds great. The first single to be released is a love song and with three of the four members being married, engaged and happily committed, it will be seen as kind of tired. But if the song is tied to Calum and his new ‘love’ the sales will increase tenfold and will skyrocket on the charts.

Calum nods along but at the same time he doesn’t like the matters of his heart to be discussed like a business deal. His three best friends keep looking at him during the whole meeting, waiting for him to throw a tirade or silently walk out in a brooding cloud. Calum walks the line on both discreet and outlandish very easily, so who knew what he was going to do?

“We’ve got some ideas thrown around for who you should be paired up with—“

Calum snorts. ‘Paired up with’ sounds like he’s back in school being assigned a lab partner. In this case, there’s really no difference is there?

“Who’d you have in mind?” Ashton asks twiddling his thumbs together on the table.

“Taylor Swift, she’s been in the business for a long time. She knows the ropes, she can handle press and the fans really well—“

“No, she is great, musically and otherwise,” Calum says shaking his head, “but no. Not her.”

“All right,” Francesca huffs then looks at the next name on her list. “Then there’s Selena Gomez, she’s been out of the limelight since that whole Justin Bieber fiasco. She’s also been in the—“

“Why does it have to be someone so famous?” Michael asks, his glass green eyes darting from Calum to their team.

“It will draw the crowd and other people’s attention,” Dewey states.

“Who else?” Calum murmurs in defeat. He rests his chin in his palm, his voice muffled by his fingers in front of his lips.

“Uh, Sofia Carson, Camila Cabello. . . there’s also a young woman who has become famous over Instagram recently. She’s a uh. . .” Francesca peers at her tablet, “she’s an aspiring poet but her fanbase is huge. Almost 7 million followers, she posts a lot of content on all platforms.”

“What’s her name?” Calum asks suddenly intrigued.

“Grace Fallows, she’s 24, cute little thing,” Francesca nods.

On the outside Calum stays stoic, but on the inside he’s beaming. He already follows her on his own Instagram. He loves the poems she creates, they’re clever and beyond impactful with just a few choice words.

“Can we see if she’ll do it?” he asks. “She seems more up our style than the others, more genuine.”

“I’ll get in contact with her and see what happens,” Francesca nods.

Calum glances at his friends who grin encouragingly back.

»»»

The first time Calum and Grace meet is three weeks later in the same conference room where the discussion was first established. Francesca and Dewey had her flown in from Southern Wisconsin a few days ago with the promise of landing her a manager, a publisher and an editor all in one meeting. The three subjects were sitting alongside Francesca and Dewey while Calum and Grace were across from each other at the other end.

He smiles at her immediately when he walks in, which she returns happily but nervously. He’s never seen what she looks like because her Instagram page is all of her poems, she never posts a selfie.

But he knew he wouldn’t be disappointed. She has dark brown hair that waves around her round face, and has the biggest, dark blue eyes he’s ever seen. He notices her playing with the rings on her fingers, a habit he and the guys have been known to do when they’re feeling anxious.

“We’re so glad you could join us on such short notice Miss Fallows,” Francesca smiles warmly.

“Thank you for arranging everything,” Grace nods. Her voice is quiet and full of kindness, it piques Calum’s interest even more. He notices her eyes dart about the room and at the other five faces down the table, she inhales a shaky breath.

“Joining us today are Cordelia Fox, Gwen Gilbert and Alonso Lopez,” Francesca introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” Grace says politely.

“And I’m sure you know Calum Hood,” Dewey laughs heartily pointing to Calum.

Grace’s dark ocean eyes slide down to Calum who gives her a slight wave, she smiles impishly. A little flush of pink colors her cheeks and she fiddles with her rings a bit more quickly.

The meeting lasts for almost two hours, Cordelia, Gwen and Alonso chat with Grace about their plans for her to get a book published within the next 9 months. Grace listens intently, her eyes wide and appearing glossy a few times because her dreams are just within reach of coming true.

“So, what are your thoughts, Miss Fallows?” Cordelia smiles kindly.

“I mean . . . this is amazing. I’ve been wanting to be published since I started my Instagram page,” Grace begins. “I would love to work with all of you, but I’m just slightly confused with why C-Calum is here.”

She stutters over his name because she has been a fan of the band for yearss She’s amongst the other fans waiting aptly for the new album to drop. She wanted to come into this meeting being calm, cool and collected with a twinge of professionalism added in. But she’s never had a meeting with a probable manager or whole writing team before and to throw in a member of one of the biggest bands in the world?

Her stomach is doing cartwheels.

“Uh, that’s another matter we need to discuss,” Dewey says a bit uncomfortably in his chair.

Calum feels a bit smug at that, he was uncomfortable at the meeting about this three weeks ago. He doesn’t want to come off as smug because Grace is present. He doesn’t want her to think this was all his idea, a fake relationship and all the PR.

“With the band’s new album coming out, we thought to help up the ante would be if Calum had a girlfriend to help promote the single. It’s a love song. And with Michael already being married, Luke is newly engaged and Ashton’s relationship is stable, we thought a fresh, new relationship would reflect the song perfectly,” Francesca smiles.

“So . . . all of this—“Grace motions the table generally”—is just so I can be used as a fake girlfriend?”

Francesca and Dewey open and close their mouths like fish staring out of a fishbowl. Calum shakes his head, silently cursing his team. This was a fucking dumb idea and he hates the expression on Grace’s face, like she’s being used, like she’s just a small pawn in this big scheme.

“Grace,” Cordelia leans forward on the lacquered maple table, her blond hair falling in front of her face. “Whether you say yes or no to the fake relationship, Gwen, Alonso and I still want to be a part of your team. We aren’t the strings attached to this deal, you are the puppeteer. You call the shots, and I’m sure Mr. Hood agrees.” Cordelia’s powder blue eyes meet Calum’s.

He nods immediately looking to Grace. “Absolutely. I follow you on Instagram and love your poems. There’s absolutely no pressure for you to do this.”

Grace chews on her lower lip then sits up a bit straighter in her chair.

“Can I have a day or two to think about it? The relationship part.”

“Of course,” Cordelia smiles. “Right, Francesca?”

“Uh, y-yes, of course,” Francesca smiles tightly “The first single release isn’t for another three weeks, but if we could know by Friday that’d be wonderful. I’ll send over all of our contact information, including Cordelia—“

“Actually I’d like to talk to Cordelia on my own,” Grace states.

Calum grins. He likes her spunk and hopes she’ll agree to the deal. Even if it’s not real, he has a feeling she’d make it fun.

»»»

“So, how’d it go?” Ashton asks Calum while they’re out for iced coffee after a cardio workout.

“All right. Cordelia really liked her. I did, too,” Calum smiles. “She made Francesca and Dewey sweat in their seats though, she called them right out on the bullshit of it all.”

“Wish I could’ve seen that,” Ashton laughs. “So, did she agree to it?”

“She agreed to the book deal but wants a few days to think the fake relationship bit over,” Calum shrugs swirling his ice in his cup. “Which I respect. I don’t want her thinking it was my idea.”

“You crushin’ on her already, bro?” Ashton giggles taking his straw in his mouth.

“No, it’s just a big fuckin’ deal to be put in a relationship with someone for PR,” Calum’s voice comes out a little clipped.

“Right. Sorry,” Ashton apologizes quickly. “I’m sorry they’re forcing you into this as well.”

Calum shrugs. “Comes with the job I s’pose.”

“Do you think she’ll agree?”

“I—“ Calum’s cut off with his phone buzzing in his hand. He smiles when he sees the name on his phone. “That’s her now, she wants to meet for coffee tomorrow.”

“That’s a good sign,” Ashton raises his eyebrows.

»»»

Calum was actually really nervous to meet with Grace for coffee because the meeting could go either way. She’ll either yell at him for agreeing to this or she’ll tell him she’ll do it and they’ll set up their own boundaries outside of his team.

He taps his fingers waiting for her at a table in the back of the store, some fans came and said hello but otherwise he was left alone. He hoped no one would come up to him when Grace is with him, he didn’t want to freak her out too much.

The bells above the door jingle and he sees her small frame enter, the gust from the door causes her brown hair to fly in her face. She tucks the stray strands behind her ear as her eyes scour the place for the tall Maori-Australian man.

Calum stands from his chair waving to her and she catches sight of him easily; it’s a small shop and he’s a tall guy. She smiles then weaves her way through the tables and other patrons to him but accidentally bumps into one of the baristas.

He’s a young teen with a face full of acne and a lanky build. He apologizes profusely, his cheeks turning even redder when he sees he bumped into a pretty girl.

Grace smiles kindly and touches his shoulder in comfort. “You’re totally fine! Don’t worry about it.” She flashes him one more smile before continuing her way to Calum who is as much enamored by her as the teenage boy.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says briskly. “I totally forgot I could order an Uber instead of catching a bus which terrified me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Calum smiles easily. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Um a vanilla cappuccino please,” she smiles.

“Be right back,” he touches her shoulder gently then heads to the counter.

Calum watches her from his vantage point. Her brown hair is pulled back halfway behind her head and she’s got on a white t-shirt with dark denim overalls. She has white converse on her feet and he really likes that considering he’s wearing his black pair.

Grace crosses her legs then begins to play with her rings while waiting for him to return. It makes him feel a little better she’s as nervous as he is. This actually feels like a first date but it’s so far from it it’s ridiculous. He sort of wishes it was a first date.

The same teenage boy hands Calum their drink order and Calum gives him a ten dollar tip hoping that will ease his embarrassment.

“One vanilla cappuccino,” Calum says sliding the mug in front of Grace then he sits across from her.

“Mmm, thank you,” she grins giddily holding the mug in both of her hands. “So, this whole relationship thing wasn’t your idea, right?”

Calum pauses his motions of bringing his own mug to his lips. “Wow, right to it, huh?” he half jokes setting his mug down but she doesn’t laugh. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “No, it was not. I’d never ask someone to fake date me, but apparently that’s what our team thinks is best for this album.”

She eyes him for a moment, Calum’s heart is beating hard in his chest. She stares at him as if analyzing him then lets out a breath.

“Okay, you’re telling the truth.”

Calum chuckles. “You got a super power of spotting lies?”

“Sort of,” she purses her lips and Calum is hypnotized at the pinkness of them for the moment. “My intuition is super strong, I can read people really well.”

“That’s good to know. What’d you pick up on about Francesca and Dewey?”

She purses her lips again forcing Calum not to stare at them again, she taps her chin for good measure and dramatics.

“They’re very analytical, they do want you guys to succeed but they think you do that with more of the public eye on you rather than your music. Their intent means well,” she shrugs taking a tentative sip of her drink.

“This might be a weird question,” Calum leans forward on the table lowering his head a little. He notices her eyebrows twitch in the cutest way. “Do you like our music?”

She visibly relaxes then giggles. “Oh thank God, I had no idea where you were going with that. But yeah, I do like your music. I got into you guys a little bit during the One Direction era but then I really got hooked when Youngblood came out.”

“You mean you weren’t around for our awkward Twitcams and YouTube lives?” he’s silently praying that she says no, those videos are so cringey now. They were ridiculous teenagers who thought they were badasses and clearly weren’t.

“Oh no, I definitely saw those,” she giggles again. “You were pretty raunchy back then.”

She’s teasing with him and it makes him smile and blush slightly. He groans at the memories of those videos, he’d always smack the guys’ asses for no reason and try to get naked on camera. Again for no reason.

“That’s embarrassing,” he shakes his head then looks up at her through his lashes.

“It was funny. My little nineteen year old heart swooned,” she presses her hand to her heart.

“I guess that counts for something. So, what are your thoughts on all this?” he asks. “Francesca and Dewey won’t have a say on how exactly we do this, we can set our own boundaries. I don’t want you to feel pressured at all and, if you do decide to do it, we’ll get to help you promote your book.”

“It’s a little crazy,” she laughs. “Twenty-four hours ago I was back home bingeing Pretty Little Liars and now I’m here with a book in the making and a fake rock star boyfriend.”

“Yeah, things move fast in LA—wait, are you saying you’ll do it?” he’s astounded.

“I was actually on the fence but when you said we could set our own boundaries . . . that made up my mind. I feel like I’ll be here for a while talking with Cordelia and I need friends so . . .”

“Wow, that’s amazing. You’re amazing. Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I promise you, I’ll be the best fake boyfriend ever.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she giggles.

»»»

After the meeting with the team and the guys about Grace agreeing to the fake relationship, a contract is set for the relationship to last until her book is released. Calum wants to help her out as well even if it is in this weird, twisted way. Nine months of fake dating, hopefully he won’t actually catch feelings.

Grace was a little nervous meeting the rest of the band, especially Luke because he’s so tall and towered over her.

“You make me feel like an ant,” she giggles and the guys laughed. Calum really enjoyed when she giggled, it caused her nose to scrunch up and her cheeks got really round.

“Would you want to catch dinner with us tonight?” Ashton asks. “We can all get to know each other better

“Yeah, that sounds great,” she smiles. “Text me the address—“

“No, no. I’ll pick you up,” Calum shakes his head. “I won’t have you spending money on an Uber all the time.”

“Okay,” she blushes.

»»»

Calum knocks on her hotel room door at promptly 6:45 p.m, the exact time he said he’d be there. When Grace opens the door he’s welcomed with her perfume, lilies and ocean water. She’s wearing a pretty black dress with a silver belt and her hair is straightened.

“Hi! Wow, you’re right on time. Um, I just need to get my purse.” She disappears and Calum catches the door before it slams in his face.

He peers in her room, it already smells like her and he notices a big gray fuzzy blanket on the hotel bed. Clearly it makes her think of home, he notices the curtains are shut and her suitcase is zipped shut on the opposite bed.

“Okay, ready,” she beams in front of him.

»»»

The first five minutes of the car ride are silent but it’s comfortable. Calum doesn’t know what to say first, his mouth goes dry every time he tries but when he looks over at her he sees her bare legs.

“Does everyone in LA eat dinner this late?” she asks.

“Uh . . . this is late?”

“I had to order myself an appetizer at 5 in my room cause I was so hungry,” she snickers, “but I’m always hungry anyway.”

Calum frowns. Not only is she far from home in a hotel by herself, but her habits and lifestyle have completely changed. And she’ll be here for nine months being viewed as his ‘new girlfriend’ while also having a deadline for her first book.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve asked when you normally—“

“Oh, no! It’s fine! I was just curious, it’ll probably help me in the long run anyway, and it’ll help me lose a few pounds,” she shrugs nonchalantly and stares out the window.

Calum gives her an exasperated look which makes her laugh.

“What?”

“You don’t need to lose a few pounds, you look fantastic, Grace,” he tells her and turns smoothly into a large parking lot.

When he looks at her he’s pleased to see she’s blushing and he’s not lying. She’s petite but her curves are out of this world, and her legs. Her legs! He never knew he had a thing for calves but hers seem muscular and he wonders if she danced when she was younger.

“Well, thank you,” she says quietly and he notices her playing with her fingers.

Calum pulls into a parking spot near the front and thankfully there aren’t any photographers or fans waiting outside. He doesn’t want her to get freaked out by the chaos of his life with flashes and screams from fans quite yet. He wants to make sure she’s comfortable with him so she can trust that he’ll keep her safe.

“Ooh, is this Italian?” she asks peering up at the sign out of her window.

“Yep, best Italian restaurant in LA.”

“I love Italian.”

She snatches her purse and practically leaps from the car and Calum hurries to her side so he can walk alongside her. He locks the car then shoves his hands in his pockets. The doorman opens the door for them and Grace thanks him kindly with her warm smile and Calum lets her walk ahead of him.

Once inside she tucks against his side while he weaves to the back of the restaurant where he knows their table is. The guys asked if their significant others could join them but Calum thought that would be a bit overwhelming for her in one night. They all exchanged a knowing look but Calum had no idea what it meant.

“The guest of honor has arrived!” Ashton shouts raising his beer glass, his eyes are already a little glazed over and Grace giggles.

She hugs them all quickly before sitting at the head of the table where Ashton told her to sit. Calum sat next to her silently wishing he was a bit closer.

When the waiter came by to ask for her and Calum’s drink order, she denied the house wine and ordered a mint mojito instead. Calum ordered a beer and asked for a rush order on the breadsticks throwing a wink at Grace as he did.

“Thank you,” she murmurs quietly then takes a sip of her water.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl deny wine,” Luke says incredulously.

Calum shoots him a glare and smacks his best friend in the chest.

“OW! What was that for?”

“Don’t be rude,” Calum shakes his head disapprovingly.

Grace laughs into her water at the altercation. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t really like wine. Whenever I drink it I get a headache and I forget what I’m trying to say. I’m more of a rum girl.”

“Ah, there we go!” Ashton hollers. “Rum’s a good choice.”

“What’s your signature drink?” Calum asks.

“Malibu and pineapple juice,” she smiles with her tongue between her teeth.

Calum has the desirable need to kiss her smile but he refrains. None of this is real as them being in a relationship, he has to get that in his head.

Throughout the dinner they ask her questions about her home and how she got into writing but that was a fleeting topic. Calum made a mental note to ask about that later when it’s just them, he loves talking creativity. Grace gushes about the food and asks them all questions about themselves.

Soon their table is filled with laughter and more drinks as funny stories come about. Many of them are about Calum because his best friends want to embarrass him in front of his ‘girlfriend.’ She enjoys herself, she truly does.

She really feels like she belongs and that they’re all slowly moving towards friendship. Throughout the evening, Grace notices Calum looking at her a lot, it makes her face feel warm. She’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or his deep brown eyes gazing at her.

The guys order another bottle of wine, Calum is all about having another glass when he notices Grace has gone quiet and she’s playing with her fingers again. He knows the sign of anxiety and she’s doing it right now, whether it’s from the amount of alcohol or just the night in general, he’s not sure.

“You guys enjoy that last bottle, I’ve had enough,” Calum says throwing his napkin on the table and he looks at Grace. “How about you, Grace? Ready to go?” he figures he’d give her an out and if she refuses then he’ll stay.

“Yeah, I’m ready if you are,” she sighs and the twiddling stops.

“Oh sure, leave us with the bill!” Michael hollers and Luke barks out a laugh.

“Oh, get off. I caught the bill at Poison,” Calum shakes his head standing up. He pulls out his wallet anyway and tosses a few twenties on the table. “That should cover me and Grace.”

“Oh, I can put in some—“Grace says reaching for her purse but Calum’s large hands stop her.

“My treat,” he grins rubbing his thumb over her knuckle gently.

“At least let me pay for my drinks—“she shakes her head trying to unzip her purse under his long fingers.

“Man, you’re sweet,” Ashton smiles then glances to Calum. “but it isn’t necessary, don’t worry sweetheart. We’ve got it covered.”

Grace slumps in her seat but finally gave up. “Okay,” she sighs. Calum removes his fingers and helps her out of her chair. “Thank you guys, so much. I really appreciate it.”

“Our pleasure,” Michael smiles. “You kids get home safe now.”

She waves goodbye and Calum nods at them ignoring their eyebrow waggles and winks and follows Grace to the front of the restaurant. The tables are still packed with people and Grace gasps stopping in her tracks causing Calum to nearly knock her over.

“What is it?” he asks in alarm.

“That’s Leonardo Di Caprio!” she whispers excitedly.

Calum looks in the direction she’s subtly pointing in and sure enough, he’s there with a glass of wine and a table full of models and other friends.

“Want to go say hi?” Calum asks enjoying the size of her star struck eyes.

“What?” she squeaks, “are you crazy? I would literally die! Let’s go.”She grabs his wrist pulling him out of the restaurant.

He’s laughing at her as she has her actual freak out in the parking lot. He notices her fingers are still latched around his wrist, he likes the feeling.

“I’m guessing he’s a crush?” he asks once they’re in his car again. It’s nearing midnight and he really doesn’t want to say goodbye yet, even if the drive is fifteen minutes to her hotel.

“Ugh, yes,” she rubs her temples. “He’s so much older than me but I’d marry him in a heartbeat.”

Calum chortles as he peels out of the parking spot and gets onto the main road to go on the highway.

“I’m sorry, that’s really weird to say,” she shakes her head staring at him.

“No it’s not. This is all new to you, I kind of like seeing you experience it all. It’s adorable,” he admits. He inhales through his nose, was that the wrong thing to say?

“You think I’m adorable?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles looking her way to see she’s pointing to herself, “is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s just . . . have you seen you? You’re the most adorable thing on the planet.”

“I think that’s the mojito in you talking.”

“No, it’s the me in me talking.”

Calum laughs at her verbiage.

“Okay, that made you ten times more adorable now.”

“Your smile makes you fifteen times more adorable,” she insists and it causes him to smile once more. “So you’re in the lead by five, you win. That’s math.”

“Your brain earns you another fifteen.”

“My brain?!” she shrieks in laughter.

“And your laugh, so that’s another ten and your giggle is pretty damn cute so that’s another . . . fifty, I’d say. So no you’re 65 points ahead, you win.”

She huffs in her seat.

“That earned you another five, make it 70 points,” Calum adds smugly.

“You can’t just keep adding! A person can’t be that adorable.”

“You are,” he grins.

“Okay, so I’m at 70 and you’re only at . . .” she thinks back on the numbers they’ve been throwing about “twenty-five?! That’s not fair. Can I give you some of my points?”

“Nope, you keep the points I give you, those are the rules, sorry.”

“Okay then bucko,” she folds her arms angling her body to him in her seat, “you get another twenty because of your laugh, and you get fifteen more for the cute faces you make.”

“What cute faces?”

“There! That’s one of them! You’re doing one right now, ha! So now you’re at 60 and I’m at 70.”

“Can’t even give me an extra ten so we’re tied? Wow, Grace, I thought you were nicer than that,” he shakes his head in mock sadness.

“Okay fine, you get a solid ten for your hair. It’s very Disney-Prince-like.”

“What does that mean?” he laughs making another face.

“It’s so curly and perfectly styled, like a Disney Prince.”

At the stoplight he gives her a sidelong glance. “That earned you another five points.”

“Are you kidding me?!” she throws her hands up in defeat.

“You’re more adorable than me, Grace, just accept the facts. That’s math remember?” he’s leaning across the console giving her a smug look.

“Using my own words against me,” she grumbles and pushes on his forehead lightly so he’s looking at the lights.

He knows it’s an innocent gesture, but his skin is on fire from her touch and it was only on his goddamned forehead.

“Okay Mr. Math Wiz, let’s test your skills.”

“How?”

“Have you ever played War?”

»»»

They’re sitting in the middle of her bed with a deck of cards playing War. High card wins and you keep going until one person has all of the cards. Grace changed into leggings and a large long sleeved shirt as soon as they were in her room, Calum was comfortable enough in his black slacks and black t-shirt.

“Y’know, this isn’t really a math skills game,” he says as they flip their cards. He’s got a 9 and she has 10 so she takes the cards.

“It is a skills game,” she retorts.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you come up with your poems?”

“Um, different things give me inspiration. Usually it’s a word or phrase and it just sparks something in me. Sometimes a song will give me a feeling and I’ll go off on that. I love when word vomit happens, it just keeps coming out, it’s not always good but it’s better than writer’s block,” she explains.

“What do you do when you have writer’s block?”

“Listen to music, read other poetry and go crazy,” she laughs. She snatches two more cards. “I hate writer’s block, especially when I really want to write something good but nothing is flowing. It’s the worst.”

“Do you write them all on your phone?” Calum takes the two cards this time.

“Sometimes,” she nods biting her lip. “but I prefer writing them in a notebook. If you saw my process you’d laugh, it’s so crazy. There’s so many scribbles and circled words, question marks, you name it. It doesn’t look like it makes sense but it makes sense to me.”

“That’s not crazy, that’s your writing process. Mine is pretty similar actually.”

“Really? How so?”

“I like writing songs down in a notebook, too. Makes them more real, I think. I like to know I can physically change it instead of deleting it, cause then I can go back to the first idea if I wanted to,” he explains taking another set.

“That’s how I think, too,” she smiles then abruptly shouts, “I DECLARE WAR!”

“What the hell does that even mean?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

“We both have the same card, so we draw until one of us has the higher card. Go, go, go!”

Their three cards deep until she has an ace and he has a 5. She laughs a ‘mwahahaha’ as she takes the cards. Calum can’t even be mad.

“That laugh earned you another ten,” he comments putting his card down.

“You’re ridiculous,” she shakes her head.

They stay up playing War until 2:30 in the morning when Grace finally wins it all. She yawns as she pulls together all the cards.

“I should get going so you can get some sleep,” he says rolling off the bed.

“You can’t drive in your condition.”

“My condition?”

“You’re sleepy! That’s just as dangerous as drunk driving, Calum,” she says sternly.

“I promise, I’m fine. I live five minutes away, Grace.”

She stares at him for a beat then gives in, her eyes are heavy. “Fine, but text me when you’re home safe?”

“I promise. Did you have fun tonight?” he asks by the door.

“I did have a lot of fun, thanks for it all.”

“You’re welcome.”

“When um, when exactly does this whole thing . . . start, exactly?” she motions between them.

“Uhh, I think Francesca said on Monday they want us to be seen out in public together. We’ll be releasing the new single in two weeks, so.”

“Right, right,” she nods looking at her toes in the carpet.

“Hey,” Calum says softly so she’ll look up at him. “it’ll be okay, yeah? We’ll come up with our own rules, remember?” he smiles tiredly.

“Yeah, okay,” she sighs bouncing one foot on the floor. “It’s just so weird, you know?”

“I know, but we’ll make it work. We’ll make it be like how tonight was, easy and fun.”

“Easy and fun,” she mutters, “I can handle that.”

“Good. I’m gonna go cause you’re about to fall asleep standing up,” he chuckles. “Sleep well, Grace.”

“I will when you text me you’re home.”

They bid goodbye and he walks down the hallway to the elevator. In the time it takes for Grace to brush her teeth, wipe off her make-up and change into her pajamas, Calum is already home and has texted her.

She shuts the lights off and snuggles into her bed smiling at her phone.

Grace: ‘I’m glad you got home safe (:’

Calum:‘thanks for being concerned. Another ten points ;)’

Grace: ‘calum. I’m almost at 100 points! That’s insane’

Calum: ‘that’s accurate. Now go to sleep and dream sweet dreams.’

Grace:‘I’ll try. You have good dreams, too’

Calum: ‘doubtful, I don’t remember any of my dreams’

Grace: ‘really? That’s sad. I once had a dream I was best friends with Ariana Grande and we were just walking around saying hi to fans. It was so cool’

Calum: ‘Grace.’

Grace: ‘yes?’

Calum: ‘go to sleep lol’

Grace: ‘okay fine’

Calum: ‘goodnight, grace (:’

Grace: ‘goodnight calum, goodnight moon . . .’

#calum hood #calum 5sos #calum hood fanfiction #calum fluff #5sos #5sos imagines #5sos writings #calum imagines #calum hood writings

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twinfoxtails · 3 years

Text

A little good can mean the world.

Did they ever interact extensively? No. Did they ever do much together? No. Did they ever connect past him taking some shine to him? No.

Was there a reason to give him a present? Yes.

And that was being nice to who also was nice. There never was a reason to just be excellent to someone else nor a win or loss in being, and that was the example being applied here.

His visit was most likely nothing short of surprising for sure as it was, but there was nothing more to say then bring out a long present box, matching red as his main color scheme with a dark, black ribbon adorning it as well to keep it wrapped together.

“This might seem… Egocentrical? I dunno. But the thought that passed my head was… ’How would someone look wearing one their actual size? Would they also like this kind of thing?’ …And this was the result, it wasn’t easy creating a replica, since full blown tailoring ‘tricks’ to this caliber aren’t my forte, so I went out of my way to ask someone to do it for me.” Such an extensive explanation, but what was it? Well… None other than…

His jacket, but smaller. Reduced in size to fit him perfectly, it was a perfect reproduction and with better fabric and more that isn’t made for more wear and tear like his, but still durable enough.

“It’s good for any weather you want, it might clash with your color scheme, but… I think you’ll look cool now that I see it in your hands alone.” Nodding, ultimately, he was unable to know if Eri truly liked it until he said something about it.

So there he stood, twiddling thumbs and waiting for any sort of response, whether it was positive or negative.

But at the end of the day… Why do this? The question still lingered, but the answer was simple.

He was nice to him every other time and he was good, and he deserved good in return as well as any happiness. It was that simple.

And his good meant the world to him… It gave hope. And hope is something nearly lost anywhere nowadays. He is way more worth and beyond than he believes he might be no matter the case.

“...?”

Eri was.... surprised to see Ragna in front of his door, actually! The boy knows he’s always on the run and all, but seeing him right there is surprising! Not wasting any time, he decides to put it on and... it’s really warm!

“Whoever did this jacket is a really good tailor, without a doubt! Thank you so much for the present, this will definitely keep me warm! Not to mention it looks so nice too!But I really should give something back to you... Let’s see... Where did I put it...”

He’s just going to go back to his room to look for that one present he’s preparing for people... Ragna... Ragna...

... Ah! There it is!

Eri comes back with a backpack with a red and black theme, and a mini-portable for food heater inside!

“Well, I always noticed you’re traveling around alot, and maybe sometimes you’re avoiding people, so I think this is good! I know you might want to travel light at times, which is why the bag’s a bit small, but if you have anything you want to carry with ease, I think this is good?-”

#ragnaofazure #:DDDDDDD #submission

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emotionalsupportfiction · 4 years

Text

Stages of Love Lukas

Wow this is long. Most people would say Python is hard to write but in my experience Lukas is where I struggle. I hope I stayed as in character as possible and did him justice

Attraction:

• Lukas falling in love with you was a long process as his priorities were elsewhere • You came from a noble family but had abandoned them. Now a priestess from the Novis Priory, you enlisted into the Deliverance. Your family had aligned with Desaix, bled the common folk in your area dry with cruel taxes, and hired brigands to harass the nearby towns so the common folk would seek help from the nobility. Your family, in their greed, crippled the people they should’ve been protecting, so you left them for the Priory. • You and Lukas would often strategize together, your family had a sizeable personal army and if you came to blows, it would be disastrous for your side. You were Lukas’ assistant in terms of managing the army. Spending so much time with each other brought you closer together and he mentioned in passing that he’d met you before at some celebration, you apologized for not remembering as you hated going to those parties and often your mind was elsewhere. • A friendship developed as both of you had roughly the same background. Coming from noble families but ultimately leaving them. Both of you didn’t care much for social status but wanting to find their place in the grander scheme of things. You had an uncanny ability to peel back some of Lukas’ defensive layers and pick up on what was happening with him internally. • You shared one of your observations of him, how his eyes have this different look to them out on the battlefield. “Quite the observation, I admit, it’s one of the few times I feel… something.” He folded his arms behind him and twiddled his thumbs “Does that frighten you?” he quirked his head to the side trying to read your expression. “More saddened than afraid really… Lukas, I wonder what could’ve happened in your past that caused you to be this way. To only come alive when your life is in danger.” He closed his eyes, purveying his thoughts “I can’t say with certainty if it's my upbringing or if something in me is broken. Perhaps I’m not normal.” There was resignation in his voice, you reached and presented your hand to comfort him. He looked at it perplexed “You don’t need to hold it if you aren’t comfortable Lukas. But if its any consolation, I don’t think you’re broken and I’m here for you if you need a companion as you try to figure out life.” He gave your hand a tentative touch then pulled away, folding his arms behind him once more. • He picked up the conversation about not being normal, it was freeing to talk to you so openly. He confided about his insecurities regarding his personality, his coldness, inability to express emotions freely, his desire to feel something intense for once, all of which he deemed imperfections in his personality. You assured him they weren’t defects, that these “flaws” are what makes each of us a unique human being. That feelings aren’t to be forcefully felt, they just happen in varying intensities depending on the person. • Lukas was drawn to how understanding you are and how you didn’t color his kindness towards you. As the friendship deepened you were slowly able to gauge what his boundaries were and the little tics in his personality. As he opened up more to you you never met him with comments like “See you can express emotion?” but you responded with gratitude he was opening up more to you and assurance he can take things at his own pace. • After the war and Duma’s defeat, you and Lukas started teaching new recruits basic education (reading, writing, arithmetic, and history.) Most of your pupils were commoners but you both enjoyed spreading education to every social class. • Lukas began noticing very unfamiliar feelings within him, catching himself staring at you, little things would remind him of you, and the sound of your voice and your smile was always on his mind. He’d feel “something” whenever your hand would brush against his or when you’d give him a pat on the shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to share the same space with you and he knew he had feelings for you but he wanted to make sure if it was romantic or leaned more on platonic.

Confession:

• It took time for Lukas to fully process his feelings for you, never had he anticipated he’d develop any form of romantic attraction/affection towards another person. So he gave himself ample time to let the feelings sink in, to accept and be sure that his feelings were romantic. Lukas did not want a repeat of pursuing someone only to find out he was not emotionally invested whatsoever. • He began courting you by spending more and more time with you ( just the two of you ), doing small favors, or giving you tokens of appreciation. You’d have tea together while going over lesson plans, spar, he’d gladly accompany you if you wanted to visit the priory at Novis from time to time, or you’d find gifts of either flowers or food you like on your desk with a note from him “You’re always on my mind.” “I thought of you when I saw these.” “Have you eaten yet? I hope you like these.” Are some examples of his notes. • Lukas had never outright asked you if he could court you and this had been going on for a few months. You opted to confront him, he dropped by your desk with his usual care package then you asked “Lukas, be honest, are you courting me?” he folded his arms behind him and began to twiddle his thumbs, finding the right words to say “I am.” A succinct response but you wanted more out of him “Well this is unexpected. You never mentioned being attracted to me or wanting to court me before… I’m just surprised.” He cleared his throat and looked at you sincerely, there was anxiety in his eyes “Perhaps I wasn’t being honest with myself in the past or I kept denying my affections for you. Granted everyone had described me as cold and emotionally subdued, I thought that was who I am, unfeeling. “ he reached out to hold your hand, you didn’t pull away. He intertwined his fingers with yours, the warmth of your hand giving him confidence. “I’ve stared a crazed dragon god in the eyes and felt little to no fear, yet when I look at you I feel so many emotions all at once. Happiness, longing, fear, and so many others. I am certain my feelings for you are romantic and I’d like to explore this side of me, hopefully, with you by my side.” You squeezed his hand “Of course Lukas.” This was the first time you ever saw Lukas smile up to his eyes. Layers of repression crumbling away, he finally found someone he could be wholly open to.

First Date

• Lukas isn’t one for grand gestures and overly fancy dates. He prefers very intimate and private ones. Having a dinner date where both of you cook it together is very much his speed. He admits he prefers making desserts but doesn’t mind helping and learning how to cook your favorite meal and you don’t mind learning how to make his favorite desserts. • He has his own brand of playfulness, you’ll ask for an onion to chop and he’ll roll it slowly towards you. Or if you ask him for a utensil (that’s not sharp or pointed) he won’t let go of it immediately, initiating a light tug-of-war with the faintest playful smile on his face. • Dinner is enjoyed with deep conversation and warm banter. At this point, Lukas is comfortable with holding hands to the point he doesn’t let go of yours. After the meal, he’ll offer to do the dishes, pressing a soft kiss on your head. It warms your heart so much that Lukas is more giving and accepting of physical touch, it shows how secure he feels. • He walks you back to your room in the barracks, hand in hand enjoying the moment. Walking about while holding hands would’ve been scandalous for Lukas’ past standards, now he isn’t so conscious about that trivial things, he’d rather enjoy every moment with you at his own pace. Right before you reach your room, he gets this sudden impulse. He quickens his pace, leading in front of you and in one fluid motion twirls you as if you were dancing. The gesture is sudden but romantic, your face is flush but with a wide smile on your lips “Well… what’s that all about Mr. Romantic?” you giggled, he cups your cheeks and slowly presses a kiss on your forehead then resting his against yours. “I’m not too sure myself… But I’d do it again,” Lukas gave you face a light squeeze before pulling you into an embrace.

First Kiss

• Your first kiss was an accident. You were hesitant to push Lukas and make him uncomfortable while he was surprisingly bashful about asking you for more physically intimate interactions. • Although at this point Lukas was comfortable with hand-holding, embraces, and kisses (on the cheek, forehead, hair, and hands) minimally in public. He was very forward when asking for cuddles during your one-on-ones • Both of you were cuddling in bed, he had one arm wrapped around you as he read a book while you nuzzled into his shoulder. Maybe he was too engrossed in reading his book he didn’t notice you staring at him lovingly, thinking about how far he’s come opening up and being more comfortable with intimacy. You whisper his name and go in to kiss him on the cheek or jaw, whichever comes first except that doesn’t feel like his cheek. Then it clicks what had just happened, he heard his name and turned his attention towards you, your lips clumsily catching half of his. You quickly pull away, you feel like you overstepped his boundaries “Gods! Lukas, I’m so sorry, I only wanted to kiss your chee-“ he’d went ahead and kissed you right then and there, parting just enough to get some words in “You don’t have to be so hesitant with me love. I appreciate you being so considerate but we’re well past that.” He molded his lips onto yours with more passion “You’re the only one who’ll see this side of me, you’re the only one who can bring it out…” he locked you into a deep passionate kiss, pining you onto the bed…

First Time

• Your first time together was also your first kiss, this intimate moment was many months (or up to a year) in the making. There was much build-up and one kiss was all it took for the dam to break, perhaps a little spontaneity was required to things going. • Lukas is a simple guy, not one for tricks or adventurous positions for your first night together but that did not diminish the fervor and passion. You won’t hear him talk dirty but his kisses on every inch of your body spoke volumes of how much he adored and “needed” you. • His gaze was intense as he hovered over you, one hand keeping his balance while the other was clasped tightly around yours, your grips growing tighter with every thrust. You couldn’t decide what to do with your free hand, it alternated between covering your mouth or entangling it in his hair. The way he looked at you and his focused silence melted your insides, you just knew “that” look was reserved for you and you alone. His breathing grew more and more labored, a moment later you heard his breath catch in his throat as he stopped abruptly. You felt him pull out of you and you whined in response to the sudden emptiness. Lukas spread your legs wider and went down on you, lapping at you with his tongue. He put his neck into, nuzzling deeper in between you sending shivers down your spine making squeeze his head with your thighs. He grunted then gripped your thighs to keep you steady, his hold was tight and you knew it would leave a mark. You felt your core tighten more and more then you just felt yourself melt into his mouth, Lukas gladly drank you in. Though spent from your orgasm, you’d gladly return the favor but Lukas said he’s in a giving mood that night. The sight of him looking at you, framed between your thighs stirred you once more. Lukas was certainly very generous that night and you’d repay that generosity once he was in a receiving mood.

Proposal

• Another year into the relationship and Lukas brought up the topic of marriage. He’d become more forward with things he wanted to do, happen, or try out in your relationship. While you were open to getting married, both of you were preoccupied with serving the One Kingdom as knights. The thought of having your knightly responsibilities conflicting with wedding planning or married life wasn’t something you looked forward to. Lukas agreed on that point, he didn’t see himself staying a knight for the rest of his life and he had another long term goal in mind aside from marrying you. • He asked what you’d do after retiring from knighthood. You enjoyed teaching recruits and wanted to do that full-time once you retired. It made Lukas very happy that your long-term goals were exactly like his, he suggested opening a school together. The way his face lit up made you ecstatic, you wanted nothing more than to do this together. • Both of you filed your retirement, while Clive and Alm were slightly saddened with your departure they both respected both your decision. Clive went ahead and found a building that could be used for the school, both of you were grateful for the investment. You inspected the building on your last day of service, it had 2 floors, the first floor spacious enough for two classrooms. The second floor, as per Lukas’ suggestion, could be modified to be your shared living space. That word “shared” caught your attention, perhaps it would’ve been more convenient and cost-effective to co-habit than find separate housing. • He had one more place he wanted to take you that day and to your surprise, it was the goldsmith. “Lukas…” he turned to face you “Not the most romantic and this is a round-about method.” You interrupted him “It doesn’t have to be fancy, we both made sizeable down payments for the building because we didn’t want Clive to pay for it all.” He inched closer to you and placed something in your hands, it was a ring. “That’s my family’s signet ring, that’s the only token I have proving my lineage. As you know I hold no familial connection with them since my enlistment to the Deliverance, that ring, in its current form, has no sentimental value.” You enclosed the ring tightly in your hands as he cupped your face and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re my family now, I’d gladly melt that ring and forge a new, much more meaningful one with you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead “I hope I’m not being too presumptuous in thinking we both want to spend the rest o our days together?” you couldn’t help yourself, you wrapped your arms around him “YES! YES! I’d be more than happy to Lukas! You know what? I have a family heirloom as well, we can melt that down too!”

Marriage

• The ceremony was simple and private, only your closest friends were in attendance and Lukas was stern about not inviting anyone else much to Clive’s dismay. You both requested that you’d both take a new surname, both of you had cut ties with your families. • Married life was absolute bliss, both of you were pursuing your passions together. Your students were very appreciative and felt part of your family. Later on, the school had taken in a few orphans, you and Lukas made for excellent foster parents. • Something about Lukas changed, he seemed more alive now that he had settled down and taught full-time. There was a certain “fire” in him now, not raging but akin to a well-kept flame in a fireplace, cozy and peaceful. No one would ever describe him as “cold” anymore. He was animated when he taught, a few hand gestures here and there, moving around the classroom, and more inflections in his voice. A stark contrast to the way he was in the Deliverance, hands always folded behind him and speech almost monotonous. This was Lukas’ “water”, this was his element, this is where he meant to be. • His eyes lit up when students would ask him questions or he’d see improvements. Your students adored the both of you to bits, some wanted to board and stay in school forever, which caused a few problems but it was just a sign of how great you two were as instructors. • Some students even slipped and called either of you “mother” or “father”. Neither of you complained though. “Dear, I heard little Timothy call you ‘father’ in class. Did you really have to tease him so?” you poked your dear husband’s side “I can jest every now and then. It isn’t the first time he’s called me that either.” Lukas smiled as he put away some books, as you laughed “But you said ‘excellent answer my son’ I swear Timothy went beet red!” you playfully tapped a roll of parchment on Lukas’ head. He turned his attention to you and squeezed both your cheeks “I only tease those I’m very fond of. You’d know this because you receive the brunt of it.” He pressed a kiss on your lips he then smooshed your face. You swear he’s been getting pointers from or being influenced by Python. • Now married, Lukas is more comfortable with physical touch. There was never a morning or night he didn’t greet you with a kiss. If you were in separate rooms doing your separate thing, he’d come in at least once and kiss your hair. If he’d run into you between classes, he’ll give your hand or shoulder a squeeze. These were new ways he’d show his love for you but there were the standard little affectionate notes on your desk or treats he’d find time to get you that he’d been doing before. • While you weren’t the overly lovey-dovey kind of married couple it did not diminish the depth of your bond. Both of you felt loved and most importantly, understood. You couldn’t have asked for a better half and Lukas felt the same way about you.

#fire emblem echoes #fire emblem echoes: shadows of valentia #Fire Emblem Lukas #FE Lukas #Lukas Fire Emblem #Reader x lukas #fe lukas fiction #fe lukas x reader #Fire Emblem Echoes fiction #reader x lukas fe #fire emblem echoes reader insert #fire emblem fiction #DUDE this was 3K words #I said I wouldn’t indulge to hard but I still did #writing lukas sexy times is damn hard

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dualwieldingrollingpins · 5 years

Text

I haven’t written fic in years, but mp100 and its fandom have inspired me to pick it back up. This was inspired by a post by @mikuhats and I hope you all enjoy!!

——————————————————————————

Looking back, Shou realizes he only had himself to blame, but he couldn’t have expected the outcome of his actions. Not in a million years.

He was, after all, the one who had broken the silence and occasional clicking of buttons. It was too quiet, and although he knew Ritsu valued the peacefulness if he didn’t speak he was probably going to explode.

“Hey Ritsu, I got a proposition for ya.”

The boy in question kept his eyes on screen, the only hint that he had even heard the redhead was the small hum of acknowledgement he made.

“Five races in Mario Kart. Whoever wins gets to draw whatever they want on the loser’s face.”

Not his best plan, but the thought of drawing something hilarious (and probably inappropriate) on the Golden Boy of Salt Middle School amused him more than he cared to admit. He practically vibrated in his spot on the floor, though this wasn’t out of the ordinary considering he could barely sit still in the first place.

However, he clearly wasn’t the only one scheming, as the illuminated screen let him see the corner of Ritsu’s mouth turn up ever so slightly.

“You’re on.”

They choose their characters (Shou chooses Toad, Ritsu picks Luigi) and their karts (something both boys are very serious about, maximizing their potential to work with their characters’ strengths). Shou grins, hunching forward towards the television. He’s ready to kick Ritsu’s ass and have bragging rights for at least the next week, as well as maybe have a photo for him to snicker at whenever he needed it.

Then the races start, and Ritsu annihilates him. Absolutely destroys him. With every green shell that hits Shou at the worst moment, every boost that Ritsu somehow manages to get perfectly, and every time the redhead’s kart flies off the track, Shou’s dreams of embarrassing Ritsu with his epic racing skills fly further and further away from him. He’s astonished really, Mario Kart is HIS game, and while he’s struggling Ritsu still has that calm smirk that Shou can’t wipe off his face despite all his efforts.

At the end, his pride is so battered that he almost forgets his fate, until Ritsu grins triumphantly and turns toward him.

“Alright,” he turns off the game, leaving the home screen as the only light in the room. “Where’s my marker?”

Shit shit shit shit shit and He’s going to draw a dick or something like that and I’m gonna look like an idiot were the two most prominent alarm bells clanging in his head. But he’s not gonna back out, he’s no coward and he’ll take his punishment like a man.

Ritsu stood, silently walking towards his desk as to not wake his parents. Rifling through his drawers, he picks up a brown marker, not as noticeable as black would be, but good enough.

He knelt back down in front of his friend, marker uncapped, twirling it between his fingers.

“What are you gonna draw?”

Ritsu rolled his eyes, flicking Shou on the forehead. “Like I’d tell you. Now close your eyes.”

Although this was normally when Shou would make a snarky comment or a half-hearted protest, this time he did it without hesitation. Bright blue eyes closed, leaving Ritsu free reign to unleash whatever chaos his artistic side was feeling that moment, which was truthfully nothing. He had no clue what he wanted to draw on Shou’s face, because he wasn’t going to do something basic like draw dicks, there was way too much potential to waste it on something like that.

He inspected his canvas, trying to gain some idea of what to do. Then he spotted them. Shou’s freckles.

The young boy has always been fascinated by them, if he was honest. Shou’s heritage made him look completely different than most people in Seasoning City, a physical representation of his out-of-the-box and fiery personality.

He was struck with an idea, and while it wasn’t anything embarrassing or funny, he was gonna have a good time doing it. Leaning in and ignoring the flip flop of his stomach, he pressed the tip of the marker to a freckle on Shou’s left cheek, connecting it to others around, even some on the side of his nose.

Normally, Shou’s mind was running at around 60 miles an hour, chasing and capturing thoughts while some slipped through his fingertips like sand. This time though, it was moving double time, speeding and racing, revolving around one thing.

Ritsu was so close. He can practically feel the boy’s breath on his face. It’s the only thing he could think about, and his mind took the possibilities and made them into a one hundred meter sprint.

He couldn’t stand it, the outside world was so quiet while his mind was buzzing and panicky and loud-

His thoughts, once floating and soaring, plummeted to the ground from the gravity of a hand on his cheek. His eyes snapped open.

“Dude wha-“

“I couldn’t control the marker calm down,” Ritsu deadpanned, oblivious to the other’s crisis due to trying to mask his own. “Now close your eyes, you staring at me while I’m drawing is weird as hell.”

Shou nodded dumbly, for the first time in his life he was completely speechless. His face was rapidly heating to levels he had only felt when his curiosity had led him to touching a candle’s flame when he was young. His heart was thumping so loudly that he was positive Ritsu could hear it and his mind was screaming and Ritsu’s hand was so warm.

He tried to focus on anything other than that stupid hand. The coolness of the floor underneath him, the hushed ticking of the clock in the hallway, the reminder that it’s 1:53 in the morning and he’s never felt more awake in his life, the pins and needles feeling in his legs from kneeling for so long. But nothing worked, because as soon as Ritsu did anything his thoughts focused on him like a moth to light.

Ritsu had moved on from his friend’s cheeks to his nose to just idly doodling on forehead, though his points of reference were quickly disappearing due to Shou’s face and hair becoming the same color. But it didn’t matter, he was almost done, and he didn’t know why that thought disappointed him. As he finished the final line, he tilted his work from side to side, inspecting his art.

It was cute. He’s cute, his inner voice corrected.

“Okay, I’m done.” It came out a whisper, as if he was too nervous to be any louder.

One eye cracked open, then another, and as soon as he saw blue, his breath trapped itself in his throat. Because he realized how close he truly was, inches away from the other’s face, and his cheeks began to burn.

For a moment, neither spoke or move, daring the other to do something. The challenge hung in the air, mingling with the nervousness and excitement that had been there previously.

As if bored of their game, the earth decided to continue its rotation. The clock sounded. It was 2 am, and the trance was broken.

Both boys backed away from each other. The tension was palpable.

“So, uh,” Shou started, very interested in his socked feet. “I guess I need to see what you drew. Hopefully something funny or cool, like a creeper.”

He chuckled in an attempt to dispel some of the awkwardness that permeated the room, and he silently thanked Ritsu for playing along.

“Yeah. It’s nothing crazy but it’s better than dicks.” The black haired boy shrugged, trying to maintain his calm facade when really his stomach was turning cartwheels.

Shou headed towards the bathroom, with Ritsu a few steps behind, making sure to avoid waking anyone up.

As soon as he flicked the light switch, the brightness smacked him in the face with an unforgiving relentlessness, and he groaned. He took a moment, blinking rapidly in order for his eyes to readjust to the stark change.

Once he could finally stand to open his eyes, he took in his reflection. There were no dicks, no creepers, and no words. He leaned in closer, inspecting.

His freckles were connected by brown lines to form various little shapes. Constellations. The Big Dipper on his left cheek, the Little beyond that, going up the side of his nose. Cancer dipped from his forehead to a spot above his eyebrow, and Sagittarius stretched from his right cheek to his ear to above his lip. So many constellations littered his skin, and the spaces not connected by brown were covered with planets, as if Ritsu was determined to leave no part of his face untouched. He was transformed into a miniature universe with something as simple as a marker.

He pulled and tugged at his skin, obsessively checking so he doesn’t miss a single drawing Ritsu had made. Ritsu observed him from the door frame, bouncing from one leg to another and twiddling his thumbs to suppress his nerves.

Ritsu waited. And waited. The seconds seemed to pass like molasses, idly dripping with no intent on gaining speed. Finally, it was too much. He coughed awkwardly, which brought the redhead back to earth.

“What do you think?” His voice cracked on the last word, buzzing with anxiousness.

The redhead looked at him through the mirror, grinning, cheeks a pretty shade of rosy pink.

“‘S cute Ritsu. Didn’t realize my freckles were such an inspiration.” His teasing was lighthearted, poking his cheek.

Ritsu scoffed, crossing his arms. “Well I figured it would be more fun than just writing ‘Fornite sucks’ or something like that.” His aloof attitude was betrayed by his refusal to look Shou in the eye and a blush that was overtaking his face and ears.

A laugh rang out, genuine and pure and happy. Shou was grasping the counter, shoulders shaking. It was contagious, and just like a lot of his actions, his best friend couldn’t resist joining him.

There they stood until their laughs turned to giggles and faded away. Their faces were alight, having laughed more in that moment than either have in a long time.

“We should probably go to bed. It’s late,” Ritsu pointed out. Shou nodded, turning back to his reflection, looking at his galaxy.

“I wanna take a picture of it. It’s really cool,” Shou reached into his pocket, gesturing for Ritsu to get closer.

Opening up his camera, the two grinned for a picture, their cheeks pressed together and Ritsu’s right hand brought up in a peace sign, with Shou’s arm thrown around his shouldner. After taking a few, Shou seemed satisfied, lowering his phone and inspecting the pictures.

Ritsu saw this as a cue to start walking back to his room, reaching to open the bathroom door.

“Wait!” Shou grabbed his sleeve, stopping him. They both looked down his grip, Shou dropping his hand quickly and muttering an apology.

“I want to take another picture. None of them turned out quite right,” his voice was uncharacteristically small, and he was stumbling over his words.

Ritsu raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of mood, but obliged. They returned to their previous pose, Shou opening his phone camera once more.

Shou gulped, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to do next. As he continued taking photos, he stood on his tiptoes (Ritsu still had a good two inches on him, a fact he never lets Shou forget) and pressed his lips to his friend’s cheek. He felt the other boy stiffen, and he quickly pulled away.

“Thanks for the pictures Ritsu I’m gonna go to bed now sorry if I made things weird just don’t mention it haha,” Shou made a quick exit, willing himself not to kick a wall or scream because he was positive he had messed it up and his first real friend had fallen through.

A calloused hand grabbed his own, and now the tables had turned. He stared down at their clasped hands, then back up at Ritsu, and the fact that Ritsu had yet to speak was killing him inside.

Ritsu silently inched closer, not taking his eyes off Shou, clearly focused.

“Dude please don’t beat me up I’m sorry,” Shou stammered, his eyes squeezed shut.

He was prepared for anything really: yelling, shoving, silent animosity, and he was suddenly reminded of his time at Claw in the worst way possible. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was the soft pressure on his forehead.

For the second time that night, his eyes shot open to stare at the esper. He was in complete disbelief.

“If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve asked,” Ritsu muttered, embarrassed but still sporting a small smile.

The redhead’s jaw opened and closed, trying to form words but only succeeding in staring. He simply nodded, as his vocal cords were obviously betraying him.

“Let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” Ritsu yawned, tugging their intertwined hands and leading them down the hall. And through his embarrassment and happiness, Shou realized that, as corny as it sounded, their fingers slotted together perfectly.

As they climbed into Ritsu’s bed on opposite sides, allowing sleep to wash over them, Shou realized that this all stemmed from his stupid challenge. He reached up, idly tracing the stars that dotted his face.

Something had changed between the two of them, something they could talk about when the sun was shining. But for right now, each other’s company was enough.

And if they woke up with their fingers intertwined and their bodies much closer than before, they didn’t have to mention it.

#mp100 #ritshou #shouritsu #mp100 ritsu #mp100 shou #mob psycho 100 #two awkward boys with awkward crushes

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spoponeshots · 5 years

Note

1 or 20 with catradora please for the love of god

Doing #1! Beware, the duo is awkward. Sexual tension. Less planning for the party, more.. Touchy touching. (Sorry for the wait, holidays kept me busy!)Pairing: CatradoraWord Count: 1007

—

“Alright, I’m going to pick some names out of the hat now..” Angella sighed, peering at the mess of young adults that sat in a large circle. Glimmer and Bow bounced up and down in their office chairs, and Scorpia and Entrapta were chatting about what they got the others for Christmas.

Adora and Catra on the other hand.. Looked as if they were fighting against each other during a war. They grew apart due to Adora moving to a better company, Bright Moon Inc. thus leaving Catra behind at the Horde Inc. they were inseparable until Adora realized that the Horde, albeit one of the most powerful companies in the world, was scamming and destroying small businesses.

Adora set off to find Bright Moon Inc. which was another huge company that “coincidentally” owned a building next to the Horde’s main office.

Why are the Horde and Bright Moon collaborating, you asked? Well. Catra and Scorpia, two chief officers, suggested destroying Bright Moon from the inside out, by collaborating together and finding out some juicy secrets that could potentially form a scandal, or something like that.

Okay, the plan wasn’t completely mapped out, but Catra has a small grudge.

Angella shoved her hand in the hat, twiddling around to shuffle and grab 2 names out of it. She curiously stared at the small notes, and then looked towards the young adults in the circle.

“Catra and Adora, you both will be preparing the Christmas Party!” Angella cheered, excited that it wasn’t her that was chosen. Angella worked way too hard to be chosen for planning a party, specifically between her company and her rival. With a screech and a whine, one of the chosen party planners glared at the other before begging for another pick.

“I’m sorry Catra, what’s done is done!” Angella showed apathy, walking away before Catra could scratch her with some (absolutely beautiful btw.) acrylic nails. Catra huffed and puffed. How could she even talk with that blonde woman? That beautiful, charming, intelligent traitor! Catra bet Adora couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Catra pounded the wall with her fist, disturbing no one because everyone ran to get their lunches after the names were announced.

“I am so—“

—

“Excited to plan this party out!” Adora squealed, grabbing the laptop that Glimmer held out.

“You sure ‘bout that Adora? She IS your archenemy.” Bow quirked one of his eyebrows up with confusion. Weren’t they supposed to.. Hate each other? Mutually? Catra seemed to hate Adora’s guts, but that was just about it.

“Of course, but we WERE best friends. I can read her like a book! She’s probably waiting outside being all excited and st-“

“Paging weird ponytailed blondie to Conference Room 69, come quick before I scratch your face off.” The office intercom beeped in, with Catra calling (most likely) Adora to a conference room that was never really used. I mean, who needs 69 conference rooms with a well formed and organized schedule?

Adora stood from her seat, wedging her laptop into her armpit. She mumbled an “I guess that’s me.” before running to the specified conference room. Adora knew about how impatient Catra was, and how she really could scratch Adora’s face off.

She knocked twice out of courtesy before twisting the door knob and walking into the nearly plain conference room, besides Catra sitting in a powerful looking chair that faced the door. A large plethora of decorations was placed neatly and organized in boxes, which was surprising. Catra wasn’t really the neat type of worker. What changed?

“Uh.. Hey, Catra?” Adora began, clearing her throat to expel the nervousness from her system. It was weird how they were almost attached to the hip just a few months ago. Now, Catra tried her best to exert dominance and power, as if Adora would try to attack her predator-prey style. It wasn’t arrogance, more like.. Defensiveness. As if Adora just poked fun at something OR threw away something Catra took pride in. Like.. A relationship of some sorts.

“Hey Adora.” Catra scratched at the cardboard boxes, filling in the awkward silence with an annoying noise. Adora watched her movements suspiciously, pulling the laptop from her under arm and setting it down on the conference table. She typed in her password and clicked on a document that held all of Adora’s ideas and some color schemes that they could maybe follow.

Catra fiddled with her tie in boredom. Why was this so awkward? She thought that more hating would ensue, and they would be bickering much more. To be honest, Catra would rather be angry at Adora than be sad that she was gone.

“So.. How’s work?” Adora started with a stupid question, sliding her laptop to Catra for some feedback.

“Don’t ask that question, blondie.”

“Why’re you so mean?”

“Why’re you so stupid?” Catra shot back to Adora’s surprise. She wasn’t stupid! Slow, maybe, but not stupid!

“You’re the stupid one! You’re still working in the Horde!”

Catra stood up and rushed to Adora, pushing her against the office chair. She straddled Adora’s waist before pulling on her hair and tugging on it roughly, causing Adora to whine under Catra. The girl on top sent a glare straight (or gay) to the other, asserting more dominance as the seconds passed.

“Say that again!” Catra growled, tugging on Adora’s ponytail again.

“You’re stupid. You didn’t leave with me to go to Bright Moon.” Adora said again, irking Catra further.

Well, that started a small slap fight. Not the painful slaps, imagine the kindergarten fights that sparked because of a stolen crayon. That’s how strong their fighting was. After a few minutes, Catra laid her head on Adora’s shoulder, huffing to catch her breath. Adora’s arms were around Catra’s waist in an attempt to keep their balance.

Catra raised her head to stare into Adora’s eyes, sighing before lightly slapping the blonde girl’s cheek.

“Stupid dork. This doesn’t mean I miss or like you.”

“I mean I didn’t— I didn’t say anything.”

#catradora #lmao they’re so awkward #spop #request #spop oneshot #fanfic requests #shera princesses of power #catra #adora #adora x catra

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keepseaveyweird · 5 years

Note

Seeing one of the boys as part of your daily routine bc LA is truly a small town in the grand scheme of things

I changed it from LA to NYC. Only because I figured it’s more routine in NY than LA, cause like... Idk it makes more sense in my head this way I’m sorry!! I hope you like it though!

“See you tomorrow!” y/n laughed as she parted ways with her friends walking out of her last lecture of the day. The busy streets of New York were loud with sirens and the sounds of taxis honking all around. She waited at the corner for the walking light to indicate it was safe to cross the road alongside a dozen other individuals. Soon, she was on the move and spun around the railing to make her way down to the Canal Street subway station to go back to her apartment.

The time she was let out of class was the perfect time to hitch a subway ride, the stations weren’t crowded and there was breathing room and open seats in every train. Compared to other times of the day, it was truly the only peaceful time in NYC, the only time everything seemed to just slow down a bit.

As y/n descended down the steps to the platform, she saw the usual people she tended to see. Men in suits on the phone, ladies in heels with a big pile of papers in her hand, students reading their book for english class. It was usually the same people, as the city lifestyle forces one into a daily routine, but every now and then, someone would miss work or they’d bring a friend along. But the one constant she never missed and was never different was the boy with curly hair who sat on the second bench to the right. It was never the first or the third or any on the left, but always the second and always on the right. He sat with a journal on his lap as well as a blue pen in his hand, thinking and writing.

As she waited the five minutes it took for the train to make its way back to the station (never anymore or any less), y/n would casually stand behind him and to the side a bit and glance between her phone and the boy on the bench. She couldn’t help but be intrigued by him, the way he would jot down whatever it was he was writing. Or the way every couple minutes he’d look up from the pages and glance around, look back down, and tap the end of his pen to his temple as he thought, only to begin the routine over again. Or when he would write something good down (one could only assume it was good) he’d try and fight the smile that tried to overtake his face, but fail and his toothy grin would expose itself to everyone at the station.

That day, the curly haired boy was extra smiley, and his pen was writing at lightning speed, and y/n couldn’t help but smile anytime he tried his best to fight the shit-eating grin that would overcome him. She couldn’t help but think he was cute, his floppy hair framing his face and his arms slightly flexing with the movements from his wrist. She loved his style, t-shirts slightly oversized along with pants or jeans that were baggier than they probably should be (but he made them look much cooler than anyone else could) and his Jordans, which were definitely new. Every now and then he would have a fanny pack draped across his body, which looked quite weird on other people, but he made it a look and worked it well. His brightly colored beanies sometimes hiding his beautiful curls, but making appearances as they tried to escape the hat but he’d push them back in almost every five seconds.

Soon the train rushed to a halt and the doors opened, letting the few people off, and y/n made her way to her usual spot; a seat towards the back of train and the back of cart. The boy would usually sit across from her as well, and he’d put his journal in his backpack and play on his phone as he played with his nose ring. Truly, y/n and him had the same routine, getting on and off at the same stop at the same time every day, walking three blocks east before parting way at the corner of 63rd and Madison.

As she walked on, she realized a new man who she had never seen had stolen her spot. She looked around, seeing that the usually empty cart was fuller than usual. Feeling off, as her routine was almost never broken, she stood with her hand wrapped around the cool metal pole.

“There’s an empty seat here, if you’d like it.” Someone said from behind her. Y/n spun around to find the cute boy pulling his back pack from it’s honorary seat beside him, a smile on his face.

“Oh, thank you,” y/n smiled as she took her own bag from her back and held it in her lap. The boy went back to listening to whatever music he had on, shuffling through his phone and y/n began to do the same, pulling her airpods from her bag pocket. After opening Spotify and deciding between playlists, she finally pressed shuffle on her throwback one, and hearing the opening notes of Northern Boy by the Academic.

Before she had a chance to put in her other ear bud, the boy lightly tapped her shoulder.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but see that you were listening to The Academic,” he said, before showing her his phone screen with the same song playing.

“Oh my gosh,” y/n cried, her eyebrows raised with excitement, “you like them too?”

“Oh for sure! They’re one of my favorites,” he told her, before showing her all the songs by them on his playlist, “I’m Jack, by the way,” he smiled reaching his hand out for hers.

“I’m y/n.”

The rest of the subway ride continued as such; them sharing new music, as y/n handed him one of her ear buds to share. Soon they were at their stop, where they walked back up to the sidewalk and continued to talk about music and their life. About how y/n was currently at New York University studying global studies, and Jack was at The New School studying musical performance with an emphasis on voice, and how him and his best friends were thinking of starting a band.

“I think you should do it, you never know what could happen,” she told him as they approached 63rd and Madison, their usual parting place.

“That’s what my friend Zach keeps saying,” Jack laughed, “everyday all we hear is, “why don’t we, what’s the worst that could happen,”” he said, mocking his friend with a smile.

“Well he’s definitely not wrong,” y/n giggled as they reached the corner, “well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. It was great talking to you!” muttered y/n, as she turned to head home.

Before she could take a step, Jack gently turned her around by the shoulder, meeting his beautiful brown eyes, “wait, would there be any chance you could possibly, maybe want to grab a smoothie or coffee or something with me?” He said, a small blush taking over his cheeks, “if not, or if you have things to do I totally understand, it’s just th-”

Y/n interrupted, “I’d love to,” she smiled.

The two made their way to the closest coffee shop, and sitting down with paper cups in their hands at a small table by the window.

The two continued to talk until the sun started to set.

“It’s crazy it took us so long to start talking, I’ve seen you everyday for the last five months,” Jack laughed, taking a sip of his smoothie.

“I know! What were we doing?” chuckled y/n.

“Well to be honest, I kind of always wanted to say something, but I was kind of nervous,” Jack admitted, his eyes glued to the table as he twiddled his thumbs.

Y/n blushed as a grin formed on her face, “why would you be nervous?” She asked, a boost of confidence surging through her, causing her to take his hand into hers. They met eyes from across the small table between them, and the two felt something that couldn’t be explained. They weren’t sure what it was, but they weren’t scared, they were the opposite in fact. In that moment, Jack and y/n had truly never felt more comfortable with anyone, even if they were strangers.

“I’m not sure, you just have this thing about you. You walk around with confidence and it’s intimidating, but sexy and…. I’m sorry,” he began.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she told him, giving his hand a squeeze, “thank you, for thinking I’m sexy I mean. I think growing up in the city is what taught me the whole ‘walk with confidence thing though. If you don’t you get run over trying to get out of everyone’s way,” she laughed.

“I mean while we’re being honest here, I thought you were really cute as well. I’d watch you a lot just sit there and write in your journal and play with your nose ring.” Y/n’s cheeks grew rosy with her confession.

“Oh really?” He smirked with a smile on his face, “Is that why you’d always stand behind me? So I wouldn’t catch you?”

“Okay maybe..” Y/n dragged on, “what do you write in that journal anyways? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Jack reached into the bag lying by his feet and grabbed the tragedy book, holding it up by his face, “This is my song journal,” he proclaimed.

“Oh, I see,” y/n said, mostly to herself, “so can you sing me something?”

“No,” Jack said, “absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because one, there’s like maybe one good one in here, and two, a lot of them aren’t even done.”

“Oh please, I’m sure that’s not true, you write in there everyday, there’s got to be at least a whole Grammy- winning album in there,” she said, reaching for it. Jack pulled away, putting his hand higher in the air, out of reach.

“Maybe some other time,” he proposed with suggestive eyes.

“Another time? Like as,” y/n started, “in a date?”

Jack’s eyes went wide, worried he had ruined it and suddenly began looking at the table again.

“What? I mean, only if you want it to be,” Jack mumbled as he shrugged and raised his brows.

“Calm down,” she laughed, “I would love to go on a date with you.” y/n said with that giant, adoring, shit eating grin on her face again.

Jack relaxed once again and his own confidence began to rise, “Great, what about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow sound perfect!”

They both began to get up and walk back to 63rd and Madison where they part ways.

“So?” Jack questioned, “Where should I meet you at?” he joked, laughing as y/n just rolled her eyes.

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eclecticlion · 6 years

Text

Quiet Rebellion

@ainekou happy holidays and a happy new year! I'm your secret santa! I wanted to get this to you a lot earlier so I'm sorry for my personal delay ^^

I saw we both like the ship tododeku and i couldn’t resist writing a soft piece of them being best friends, in a modern au where todoroki is just a young teen trying to get by in his father’s household and midoriya is as supportive as ever

anyway, i hope you like my gift! if you have an AO3 account you can dm it to me and i can gift this to you on that site as well :)

Word Count: 1640

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Todoroki/Midoriya

Sleep wasn’t coming easily to Midoriya, just as he predicted. Though there were a few moments where he would get so lost in his own mind that everything blurred into a clustered cloud. But then he would snap back from whatever haze he was in and all his overwhelming worries would come rushing back like a flood breaking through a dam.

Todoroki had said he would call him whenever he got the chance but that was a few hours ago. Hearing nothing for all that time only let his concerns fester into something worse with each passing minute. Could he not get to his phone for some reason? Was he hurt? What if he was kicked out of the house right then and there and freezing out in the snow? He could be a human icicle right then and Midoriya would be none the wiser.

The thoughts ran faster and faster until he fell into another trance, staring up at his bedroom ceiling and twiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Although this time it was the sound of knocking on his window that brought him back to reality.

He sat up in his bed, glancing cautiously over at the window, thinking maybe he was just hearing things—and then he heard it again, louder and with more emphasis on each knock.

“What in the world…” he muttered, tossing his blanket to the side hastily.

His socked feet thumped on the ground as he got out of bed, squinting and trying to make out what kind of bird could make such strong taps. And then through the frosted glass he was greeted with a familiar face and a casual wave.

“Todoroki?” he whispered harshly before fumbling to unlatch the window and yank it open, cold air washing in.

There were millions of questions he wanted—no, needed—to ask his best friend. But now with that very boy right in front of him, he could only wonder one thing.

“How on earth are you here right now?”

“Fire escape,” Todoroki explained calmly, throwing a brief look down and over his shoulder.

“Well, yes, okay. But I meant more like—hold on, come in, it’s freezing outside.” Motioning for him to step back, Midoriya wedged his window open as wide as it could go, helping Todoroki into his bedroom before shutting it again. “I meant more like… how are you here in general? ”

Todoroki shrugged. “I snuck out and rode my bike.”

“In the middle of the night? In weather like this?”

“I didn’t say it was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Midoriya stared wide-eyed both in awe and bafflement. He knew that Todoroki wasn’t ever really bothered by the cold (or even the heat during the worst days of summer) but this was just crazy. Whatever Todoroki had to tell him about what happened back at his house had to wait just a little longer, he had a seemingly-unaffected-but-still-probably-really-cold boy to warm up.

Firstly he maneuvered Todoroki to his bed, all the while fawning over him; muttering that it was ‘dangerous for him to not wear anything thicker’ and that ‘his hands were cold as ice’ and ‘how are your fingers still attached to your body?’ as he wrapped him up in his all of his blankets. Todoroki opened his mouth to try and reassure him he was fine—but then Midoriya smothered him with a comforter from the closet.

After dragging a space heater up from the living room and whipping up a hot drink in the kitchen (as quietly as he could so he didn’t wake his mom) Midoriya stood beside the bed. He looked over his handiwork, a nest of fabric with Todoroki at its center.

“Warm enough? My mom keeps another blanket on the couch if you want that, too.”

Todoroki eyed the blanket cocoon surrounding him and brought the mug of hot chocolate slowly up to his face. “I think I’m set.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I can—”

“Really, I’m fine.” He motioned with his head to the open space beside him. “Sit down. You’re going to work yourself into a fever trying to keep me warm.”

“Its no trouble, I can just—”

He grabbed for Midoriya’s hand, tugging gently as he said, “I just want you to sit with me.”

Midoriya couldn’t help the heat that rose to his face. “O-okay.” He sat down beside him, glancing at Todoroki’s hand as he let go to continue sipping his drink.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to be so blunt with his words and honestly Midoriya was getting better with containing his reactions whenever something unintentionally embarrassing was said. It wasn’t as if Todoroki meant for his words to carry anything heavier than what it could be taken for a face value, even if Midoriya couldn’t help but read just a little between the lines sometimes. But Todoroki had said on many occasions that he was his best friend and Midoriya definitely felt the same so why ruin something like that by getting his own messier, deeper feelings involved?

“Midoriya?”

For the second time that night, Todoroki pulled him from his thoughts. “I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to hear about what happened.”

Suddenly Midoriya remembered the situation they were in and sat up straight in attention. “Oh, of course! Sorry, I’m listening.”

Apparently Midoriya didn’t have much to be worrying about because where he was expecting to hear about how Todoroki just escaped the clutches of a furious father, Enji had little reaction to the spectacle that was Todoroki’s new hair style, the resulting hard work from one of Midoriya’s close friends, Uraraka.

“He didn’t…” he trailed off when Todoroki finished, letting the implication hang in the air. Todoroki shook his head, understanding what he was trying to ask.

“No, don’t worry. He hasn’t laid a hand on me or my siblings in years.”

“Good.”

They sat in an easy silence, Midoriya finding at least some comfort in knowing things were actually going to be okay for Todoroki after tonight. For someone like him who would expect the worst no matter how he tried to help it, he was beyond relieved. It wasn’t ever going to be the most ideal situation for Todoroki in his opinion, he knew that, at least not until the day he was old enough to move out.

That sparked a thought for Midoriya and he turned to Todoroki, voice softer than before.

“How’s your mom doing?”

Todoroki smiled softly at the mention of his mother. “She’s doing okay. I visited her last week and she told me—” he chuckled, a rare but lovely occurrence that Midoriya reveled in each time he witnessed it “—she told me this story about her two neighbors. A couple of old …”

And they carried on like that for what felt like hours; talking about their days, funny stories about their classmates and family, and everything in between. It was a school day for both of them tomorrow, but neither of them could care.

Eventually Todoroki unraveled the blankets around himself to share with Midoriya and soon enough after that they were lying side by side, shoulders just touching beneath he many folds of the blankets strewn over them.

Maybe it was the atmosphere of a late winter night with the snowing making the streetlights soft and maybe it was also in knowing hardly anyone would be awake at this hour but Midoriya felt like it was just the two of them in the world. He would later say that was the reason he felt so bold to reach his hand out halfway into the air between the two of them, locking eyes with Todoroki and silently asking for permission. When he got a small nod in response he raised his hand the rest of the way, heart thumping a bit faster, to briefly feel a few strands of bright red hair between his fingertips.

“So, is there a reason you went with these colors?” he asked, his hand falling back into his lap, tingling with a sensation he couldn’t put into words.

“I was just thinking anything obnoxious, really.”

Midoriya chuckled at that. “If that’s the case maybe you should’ve just done a full blown rainbow.”

Todoroki smiled fondly. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Tilting his head this way and that, Midoriya considered Todoroki from all angles. “But you know, this color scheme is actually really fitting.”

With a raised brow Todoroki looked up at his bangs falling just into his line of sight. “You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s cool. I wish I could pull of such a drastic color.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

Midoriya laughed but it lacked the brightness it usually carried. “Yeah, right.”

He glanced at Todoroki and was surprised to see the intense look Todoroki was giving him.

“You’re doing that self-deprecating thing again. Don’t. You could die your hair an electric blue and it’d look great.”

He snorted disbelievingly. “Electric blue, really?”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki pressed, in a voice that was firm but not unkind.

After a moment Midoriya sighed. “Okay, yeah, I would look great with dyed hair.”

Todoroki continued to stare him down and after another moment Midoriya couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, I would look great with electric blue hair.” There was a beat of silence before Midoriya added; “Personally though, I think I would go for like a forest green.”

Todoroki snorted at that and Midoriya beamed knowing he was the one to do that, laughing along quietly with his best friend like they might’ve if they had ever had the chance to have childhood sleepovers. And in that moment, in the confines of that small bedroom in the dead of a wintery night, everything was perfect. If only just for a moment.

#dailybnha #dailybnhasecretsanta #tododeku #boku no hero academia #ainekou #modern as of this show is so funny cuz they're all so Not Normal its interesting trying to place such unique designs and hair styles/colors #in a modern setting where None Of That Exists Normally #so this was kinda inspired by me trying to figure our Why todo has the hair color he does lmao

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