#When we were taking the class to the auditorium another little boy that was visiting the school (probably 5 years old?) tried going with us

[rostovs-lover]

roy rogers

brian may x reader | cursing, some suggestive language, a little bit of anxiety, alcohol consumption | she/her pronouns | fluffy? slow-burn?? | wc.3667

i’m low key tempted to make a part two,, 

anon : Can I request a super cute fic where Bri needs more money for uni, so he starts offering guitar lessons and the reader has a little brother who really wants to learn how to play, so she signs him up. Maybe her brother is extremely good with a guitar and he has a lot of lessons with Bri. He also sees the reader a lot and he catches feelings HARD. Maybe the reader’s little brother spills something to both of them with the help of the rest of the band and they end of together. I just need major FLUFF

your younger brother thinks his guitar teacher is perfect for you and he’s adamant about getting you together. requests open!!

     A Roy Roger’s is a nonalcoholic drink made of cola and cherry grenadine and topped with a maraschino cherry.

     Your younger brother, David, practically lived in your apartment. For a fourteen year old he was brilliant and very, very sneaky. Sneaky enough to creep out of your mother’s house in the dead of night and crawl up to the fire escape of your second story apartment.

    When you’d stumbled to the kitchen, half asleep, he’d been at the table thumbing through a cookbook. He’d also had the audacity to laugh when you screamed, thinking he was an intruder. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it most definitely wouldn’t be the last either.

    “One of these days something is going to be thrown at your head,” You hissed, setting a bowl of cereal in front of David, who looked at it with the utmost disgust.

    “What is this?”

    “Quisp, either eat it or starve.”

    He glowered at you, “I like Waffelos,”

    “That's so sad, I have no money, its Quisp or nothing.” It was quiet for a while as you both ate, David still looking through your cookbook.

    He closed the book, examining the cover as he spoke, “Mum said you have to sign me up for guitar lessons,”

    “Mum said what?”

    “You have to sign me up for guitar lessons, she’ll pay. I have a well of untapped potential in the musical realm. That's according to her coworker, Deirdre.” He sighed, exasperated, “Mum trusts Deirdre apparently because now I have to learn guitar.”

    “Where on earth does mum expect me to sign you up, I mean did she give you any specifics, like a price range? Do you even have a guitar?”

    “First, I have mum’s old guitar. Second, she just said lessons. I think she trusts your judgment.”

    Despite how much you appreciated your mother trusting your judgment, finding reasonably priced guitar lessons with someone who wasn’t a creep was harder than anticipated. You had collected a handful of flyers and business cards, all offering said lessons. The first call you placed was to a nice old lady looking to take up some spare time by providing lessons but she lived too far away for your mother to drive every week. The next was almost promising until you told Robert MacIntere that the lesson was for your brother, not you and he hung up the phone. One woman had too many cats, another man asked for your shoe size, someone else cursed you out when you said you couldn’t do their outlandish prices. The only promising thing you had gotten was a History professor, a very nice man too. You were thrilled when the lessons had finally been scheduled until he bowed out at the last minute and you were back at square one. 

    You had almost given up when, one rainy Thursday evening, you found an advert pinned outside of the auditorium. Guitar lessons, not too far away, open every Tuesday and Wednesday after three o’clock. The document was typed, all except a phone number scrawled on the bottom, almost as if an afterthought. You scratched the number on the palm of your hand and called straight away when you got home.

    The line wrung for several seconds, “Yo?”

    “Hi. Hi, yes I’m calling about a flyer I saw posted at Imperial College? It was an advert for bi-weekly guitar lessons, and your number was on the paper. I was wondering about booking a couple of weeks?”

    The person on the line snorted, “Sorry dear, that’s not me. I assume you’re looking for my mate, just one moment and I’ll gather him-” You heard his hand cover the receiver as she called for someone, “Just one sec’ lovie,”

    The phone was audibly handed off, “Hello?”

    “Hi, um I’m calling about the guitar lessons?”

    “Oh!” His voice, “Yes, of course! That's me, are you looking to schedule one?”

    You had scheduled for the following Tuesday at four, to meet at his apartment. In the car on the way there, David rambled on about everything he wanted to learn and exactly how ecstatic he was for this. He had named his guitar George, after George Harison, who he admired. On the elevator ride up to Brian’s apartment, David was practically vibrating and he bounced on the balls of his feet as you waited at the door.

    The door was opened by a blond, clad in a bathrobe and flannel pyjama pants who puffed at his cigarette as he stared at you, “What brings you here?”

    Before you could speak David, who the blond hadn’t noticed until just then, piped up, “The guitar lessons. I’m the one being taught, [Name] is just sitting in.”

    “Oh, well come in then, I’ll go and get Brian.” He tucked his cigarette behind him and lead you inside, “Um, make yourselves at home, couch is all yours.” He howled Brian’s name and ducked into the kitchen, snuffing out the smoke in an ashtray.

    David got settled on the couch, tugging out his guitar, and you set into a chair. From around the corner rushed a very frantic body, clutching his own guitar. He was very tall, and the black pants he wore made his legs seem unproportionate to his body. What caught your eye the most though was his hair, he had a thick mane of tightly wound black curls, which also added to his height.

    “Hi, I’m very sorry about this, I got a touch caught up in a bit of school work.” He settled onto the couch next to your brother, “You must be David, I’m Brian.” He gestured a hand to your brother.

    David, ever the charmer, shook firmly as he spoke, “Its pleasure meeting you. I wasn’t quite sure that lessons were even going to happen, no one seemed right, according to mum, but you seem nice! Your guitar is neat. Oh! That's my sister, [Name], I believe you spoke on the phone.”

    “We did,” Brian leaned forwards to shake your hand as well, “Its nice to meet you,”

    A better teacher would have been hard to come by. Brian was patient and soft spoken, he worked at your brother’s pace, never rushing past anything he didn’t fully understand. The lesson was only an hour long but it seemed much shorter, with a book in tow you didn’t pay much mind to anything else. That was until you caught yourself glancing over the cover to watch the lesson. Brian was attractive and he had very nice hands. You were somewhat aghast you’d never seen him on campus, he seemed hard to miss.

    The lessons became weekly, and despite trusting Brian and his roommate, Roger, you still opted to stay for every one. It was always pleasant, the apartment was nice, Brian was nice, and you had begun to get acquainted with his friends. During the third week, Roger had let it slip that they were in a band. Brian’s face had flushed scarlet and he’d played with his fingers as he explained that it wasn’t anything serious. On that same visit, you’d had a conversation with Roger in the kitchen while he got you a glass of water. He was nice, only half awake at the time, but you’d realized you had an evolution class together at school. He had also given you his number, and David would absolutely not let you hear the end of it.

    “Please-” Your brother cried as he threw himself onto your sofa, “You haven’t had a boyfriend in ages. The last one was, what was his name?”

    You rolled your eyes, “Chet?”

    “Chet Robbins! Chet the safe bet!”

    “Chet the safe bet? Did you make that up?”

    David smiled, very proudly, “I did! Just now actually, because it's true! Chet, the business student, trust fund child, frat boy. Why not date a drummer?”

    “Because I like stability David,”

    “[Name] date the drummer. I beg, I plead. He was so into you, he gave you his number!”

    “If you will recall, I have his number. Because his number is the apartment number and that's what I called for the lessons. I also refuse to date your teacher’s best friend. How would I approach that, ‘Hi Brian! You’re teaching my brother an instrument, I did your friend last night. How have you been?’”

    David gasped in mock disgust, “I never said a word about doing him. You foul wench, I simply implied dinner. Maybe seeing one of his shows.”

    “Oh my dear, when you date a drummer it's never just dinner.” You snorted.

    “Well, when I date a drummer it will be. Only dinner, no foul play.”

    “Please, please keep that attitude for the rest of your life.”

    It was quiet as he mulled over your words. You started off, putting away your bag and coat when he abruptly sat up, “You don’t dislike the drummer, in fact, it has nothing to do with him. You don’t like my teacher’s best friend, you like my teacher.” He grinned when your face lit up, “Oh you do, you absolutely do! I’ve never seen you blush that hard.”

    “You little twit,” You hissed, “If you say a word about this I will have your head. This stays between us and us only.”

    David was sneaky, very sneaky. Your conversation had planted an idea in his head like a seed and every brief glance and soft smile you shared with his teacher was water. He was growing a downright devious plan, with you directly at the center of it.

    David, after quietly looking over the house and picking up on Brian’s affinity for science fiction, had been the one to recommend you start reading George Orwell’s 1984. He had also purposely disappeared to the restroom when he caught sight of Brian eyeing the cover.

    Brian carefully cleared his throat, “Do you read much Orwell?”

    “Oh, Orwell? No, not really. I, um- I read The Road to Wigan Pier for a book club a while ago. Are you a fan?”

    “Oh yes,” He smiled, leaning forwards, “I’ve read that, actually. I was in a band a few years back by the same name,”

    You cocked your head, closing the book against your finger, “1984?”

    “Yes, quite silly, I know. Never was much good at naming.”

    “Roger said you’re in a band now, what's that called?”

    His cheeks were beginning to pick up a soft pink again, “Um, Queen. Our singer named it-”

    David sat back down, “Did I miss anything important?”

    Brian looked away and you went back to your book. The only noise became the guitar residing between the two boys on the couch. David had learned enough to start on a song, I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash. It was recognizable enough to draw your attention, and it was lovely at first until it was all David played. When you returned home, when you visited your mother, he played it so much you had memorized the fingering to it.

    It was at another lesson, several weeks later, when you had been left by your lonesome. David had gone to get a drink and Brian had run to retrieve something from his room. All alone and with nothing to tell you not to you settled into the couch with the guitar and tried at the song. It was choppy, a bit off-key, but mostly there.

    “I didn’t know you played?” Brian’s voice was soft but you still jumped, shooting around to find him. Leaned against the back of the sofa he twirled a coin between his fingers, grinning down at you.

    You swallowed, “I don’t, no, not really. Dave’s just played this so much I remembered how it looked.” 

    He propped his chin in his hand, “I think you could be quite good. Just, here-” He slipped the coin between his teeth to reach down, softly grasping your wrist, adjusting your placement on the neck. His hands were warm and it sent a shiver up your spine as he carefully moved your fingers, “That should do nicely, I trust you’ll do well with the right placement.” He was quiet for a moment, silently pondering something, “Friday night we have a show at about ten o’clock, say you come and maybe I could show you something on the guitar afterwards.”

    You considered, “Where is it?”

    “The Cameo, downtown London.”

    “It sounds lovely, very, but I have to admit I’m not big on the downtown London clubs. I actually don’t know where that is. Although I do have a friend whos well versed with the scene, I could ask her to show me there?”

    “Wonderful,” He grinned, “It's a date!” Something else David wouldn’t let go of. Usually, all he talked about was the music he learned but now he was enthralled with the prospect of a new romantic venture. You had been informed on exactly how to dress, what makeup to wear, what drink to order. He also picked the exact shade of blue for you to paint your nails.

    You called Marilla after your mother picked David up and she had agreed, enthusiastically, to show you to the club. When she arrived you had been called ‘prudish’ and were forbidden to dress yourself. In the very back of your closet was a floral dress you’d bought for a wedding reception that never happened. It was supposed to be returned but you just hadn’t gotten around to it.

    “It doesn’t scream rock n’ roll,” She inspected the green fabric under the kitchen light, “But anyone can look like Twiggy with enough eyeshadow so it’ll have to do. You should invest in club clothes, you might have to if anything goes with this guitar player.” Her eyebrows wagged.

    You rolled your eyes, taking the dress from her, “Hush, you’re just as bad as David.”

    “Your brother?” Marilla snorted, “What's he got to do with this?”

    “He's an insufferable little shit, that's what-” You pushed off your top, “At first he tried to get me with the guitar player’s flatmate but when that didn’t work he really pushed Brian and I,”

    Marilla was amused, far more amused than you, “He's a cunning thing, I’ve always liked him. Oh boy, now I really want to see your guitarist, Brian was it?”

    The club pulsed, dull lights glaring down against everything. It was smokey and smelled of weed and whiskey. The band onstage was far too loud and you clung to Marilla’s hand as she pulled you up to the bar.

    “What do you want?” She practically had to yell for you to hear but it went through you, you couldn’t think with all the noise and lights. She sighed and patted your hand, “A Moscow mule and a Roy Roger’s please.” She shouted at the bartender, “It's alright babes, no alcohol, just fancy cherry coke.” You nodded and accepted the drink, taking a tentative sip as you scanned the crowd. The band onstage had seemed to conclude their set but it didn’t make things any quieter. It was overwhelming really, moreso as Marilla started to pull you up to the front.

    “Come on, it's almost ten. Your boy’ll be up next!” She settled in front of the stage, rooting you to the spot next to her.

    Brian’s flatmate came out, twirling a drumstick between his fingers and he was met with loud cheers. Marilla whooped, waving big up at him. He was followed by the bass player, Brian, and the singer. They were all enthralling, and you were enraptured. The boys on stage looked ethereal, in flowy tops and sparkly makeup. The frontman was clad in glittery jewelry and the bass player wore platform boots. Their music drew you in and eased your nerves about how crowded the club was. The last song had a guitar solo and as he played Brian’s eyes met yours. A rose of warmth bloomed into your cheeks and he grinned, fingering at the chords.

    Marilla, immune to none, elbowed you in the ribs, “That's him?!”

    You nodded, “It is,”

    “Damn girlie! Good for you! But for the record, I think I like the drummer,”

    “His name is Roger. If you come backstage with me you can meet him.”

    She grinned, “I’m so proud of you, getting connections!” As they finished Roger flung one of his drumsticks into the crowd. You flinched as Marilla’s hand shot out. She squawked as she caught it, quickly tucking it into her pants and taking your hand, pulling you towards the back lounge. She pushed at the thin curtain to the side, slipping in.

    It was quieter and you watched people in glamorous outfits dally about. A redhead in hot pants dropped onto the shabby leather sofa, passing glass bottles of something to both the drummer and bassist. The singer was swirling what you could only assume to be a cosmopolitan. He looked up, catching sight of you and Marilla, both looking a bit lost.

    “Hello, come come!” The singer waved you over and Marilla practically dragged you.

    “You are spectacular!” She raved, “All of you, magical!” She tugged the stick out of her waistband and made her way to the drummer.

    You cleared your throat, “You really are amazing, you have a lovely voice.”

    The brunette smiled, “Thank you! I’m Freddie by the way, our charming drummer is Roger. The lovely John plays bass and Brian should be around here somewhere, he plays the guitar.”

    “It's nice to meet you, Freddie, I’m [Name]. I was actually looking for Brian,” You twiddled with your fingers, looking down, “He asked to meet here tonight. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is would you?”

    “You know, he may have popped to the kitchen. I’ll show you,” Freddie stood up. He seemed to catch your hesitation, glancing back to Marilla, “I’ll keep an eye on her. Roggie really is no harm, he plays much bigger than he actually is, I don’t think he could hurt a soul. Not an undeserving one at least.” He started towards the kitchen with you in tow.

    Aforementioned kitchen was small and shockingly clean. Your guitarist sat on the counter with a glass of water.

    Brian seemed to be in his own world until Freddie caught his attention, “Someone’s been looking for you, my dear,”

    Brian looked up, “[Name]! Hello, I’m so glad you came!” He slid off the counter setting his drink down, “Did you bring your friend?”

    “I did, she’s become infatuated with Roger though.”

    He grinned, “Oh Rog seems to do that to some people.”

    “Well, I'll leave you to it!” Freddie called, waving and walking back to the lounge.

    When the door shut Brian began to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, “I left my guitar in the other room, I could go and grab it if you’d still like to learn that song.” He studied your face, “But you don’t look comfortable, are you alright?”

    “Yes, this just isn’t really my scene. I’m not used to the noise and everything, there's a lot of people here.”

    He smiled sympathetically, “I know, it's crowded. There's a nice little diner just down the road, we could walk there and talk if you’d like.”

    You nodded, “Sure, that would be lovely.”

    The air was crisp and it brought you back to reality from the club. Brian had lent you an extra sweater he had brought, it was warm but you had to roll the sleeves a few times. It was quiet as you walked, the occasional car rushing past. The sidewalk narrowed as you got closer to the strip of restaurants and you felt the back of Brian’s hand brush yours. You caught his fingers, lacing yours into them and nervously looking up. His expression mimicked yours, jittery and shy and totally taken.

    “You look very pretty,” He murmured, thumbing over your knuckles, “That green looks very nice on you.”

    You smiled, “Thank you, you look lovely as well.”

    “Oh pish posh, this is just stage wear. But I’m glad you think it looks okay, Rog said I looked frumpy.”

    You giggled, “Marilla, the one who brought me, called me prudish earlier.”

    His laugh was soft, “Well, we can be fashion disappointments to our friends together,” He pulled open the door to MaryAnne’s Diner, holding it for you.

    You were settled in a booth waiting for your order when Brian spoke, “David really has potential,”

    “With the guitar? I’m not surprised, he's always been good at everything he tries. It's really quite annoying, how brilliant he is.”

    “He seems so, a very nice kid. Does he live with you?”

    “No no,” You smiled, “No he lives with our mum, he just sneaks out to see me more than he should. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for letting me sit in, I know it's not common practice. I just worry about him, he seems so much older than he actually is and I’m worried it’ll get him in trouble one day.”

    Brian patted your hand, “Oh darling, I understand. I really don’t mind at all, I’m glad I met you.”

    “I’m glad I’ve met you as well.”

    He had walked you home, contently explaining the story behind one of the constellations he saw.

    He stalled at the door, keeping your hand in his, “So I suppose I’ll see you next week?”

    “Absolutely,”

    He moved one hand to push a piece of hair out of your face, “Well until then I suppose,”

    You leaned up, closing in on him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks, “Is this okay?”

    He nodded, “More than,” And pulled you into him. 

     He was as gentle in kissing you as he was in everything else, carefully nudging his nose against yours. His mouth was warm and he stroked your mandible, easing deeper into the kiss. He relished in the taste of maraschino cherry from the Roy Roger’s you’d had earlier. You gasped softly as he nipped at your bottom lip, pulling away. The lipgloss he had been wearing was smeared against the corner of your mouth and he carefully wiped at it with his thumb.

    David would never let you hear the end of this either.

#Brian May #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagines #queen #lennie writes

[chilling-seavey]

ABM Daniel taking the girls (or any of them) to their school play and just being the most supportive dad ever known ++ 🥺 making sure he gets front row and cheering the loudest to let them know he’s there 🥺

I can just imagine him being the parent all the other parents gush over & complimenting his daughter’s performance and he’s so proud

Stop I actually love this because it’s so true to him!! Here’s him being a supportive dad for all three girls!!

Clementine

The audience watched the stage like a tennis match, the points going from side to side between the teams from the two different elementary schools. It wasn’t terribly thrilling to watch eight twelve-year-olds discuss if zoos are unfair to the animals held captive, but the city-wide semi-finals were not to be taken lightly. Being only seventh-graders, the teams worked together to form their arguments to either prove or disprove the topic depending on what side the judges assigned them, but Clementine always liked to take charge and her fellow team members didn’t seem to mind.

Sitting in the front row – of course – was her family; parents and two sisters, and they watched as she stood up to say her part, spewing out facts a mile a minute to the opposing team. Florence fed six-year-old Lucy slices of melon to keep her somewhat entertained while Daniel was leaning forward in the plastic gymnasium chair with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, eyebrows furrowed up to the stage as his eldest finished her tangent.

“In conclusion, although zoos must improve their kindness to the animals to keep them safe, these exhibits are perfect ways for students and kids and families to learn more about biology and the world and should be kept around for next generations to visit.”

The audience applauded and Clementine sent a proud smile to the direction of her family behind the bright lights of the stage and she sat herself back down, folding her hands together on the tabletop in front of her. The judges took a moment to assess both sides of the argument and the room fell into silence as they waited for the results.

“If she doesn’t win, this thing is rigged.” Daniel muttered to his wife. Florence only smiled at him and ran her hand down his back.

The judges took to the centre of the stage with the microphone in hand, a second judge holding the debate team trophy for the winning school with four others for the winnings students to take home.

“The winner of the Toronto District School Board Elementary Debate Team Competition is; Market Lane Elementary.”

You best bet Daniel was the first one out of his seat to applaud, cheering the loudest over the rest of the parents and Clementine just beamed as she and the rest of her team went up to collect their trophies.

“That’s my girl!” Daniel shouted over the applause, “Show ‘em how it’s done, Clemmie!”

The teams shook hands and then the lights in the gymnasium rose again and Clementine bounded right down the steps of the stage with the trophy in hand. She was beaming and jumped right into Daniel’s waiting arms and he lifted her right up off the ground.

“Oh my gosh, you did great, angel!” he praised, “We’re so proud of you!”

“So proud of you! You sounded so grown up on that stage!” Florence gushed, petting Clementine’s neat blonde hair that was tied in two identical braids over her shoulders.

Clementine only grinned wider, pressing her cheek right up to Daniel’s from her place in his arms, her arms wrapped around his shoulders snugly, “Just gotta throw their facts back at them.”

“And you certainly did.” Daniel smiled, pressing a kiss to her head before setting her back on her feet. “Go thank your teacher, okay?”

“Kay!” Clementine skipped off to her teammates and coach.

Florence and Daniel got the youngest two ready to head out while they waited and another family from the opposing school approached them.

“Pardon me, but I must say that your daughter is an incredible debater.” the mother said kindly, “I didn’t mind our boy losing out to such a quick-fired little girl…she really knew her stuff.”

“Oh, thank you.” Florence smiled politely, cracking a bit of a joke, “We have no clue where she gets it from honestly.”

“I speak from experience; she could be an incredible lawyer one day. You must be so proud.”

“We are. She’s our treasure, that’s for sure.” Daniel beamed with nothing but pride, his smile only growing as Clementine rushed back over to them.

She wrapped her arm around his back and glanced up at him, “Can we go to McDonald’s for dinner, Daddy? To celebrate?”

Daniel tugged gently at one of her braids, “Anything for you, baby.”

Penelope

The kindergarten classroom was packed with parents along the back wall, the children sitting on the colourful carpet in preparation for their show-and-tell day where they had a chance to stand up and talk about one of their little projects. Daniel took the morning off work and everything, dressed up in a nice little button-up for the important occasion and let his five-year-old daughter direct him to her chair in the classroom. Florence sat next to him, giggling softly at how he looked with all 6’1” of him crammed into a tiny kindergarten chair with his knees almost by his ears.

Penelope sat amongst her peers, legs criss-cross-applesauce and her hands folded sweetly in her lap. She kept glancing back at her parents as the other kids went up for their turns in alphabetical order by last name, her blue eyes nearly full of worry as if she was expecting them to not be there when she turned around again. But Daniel sent her a smile every time she looked back at them just to reassure her.

Soon, her name was called by her teacher to come up to the front of the classroom and talk about her painting she had done. Penelope sat frozen in place as everyone looked at her and she nearly tried to fold in on herself.

“Come on up, Penelope, it’s your turn!” the teacher encouraged.

Without a look back, Penelope scrambled up from the carpet and made a beeline right to her father, throwing herself at him and hiding her face in his chest. The other parents’ ‘awe’d out loud as Daniel scooped up his daughter onto his lap and held her close, her little hands clinging onto the front of his button-up shirt. Daniel’s heart could have completely burst right then and there.

He pet a hand over her brown hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before whispering down to her, “Want Daddy to come up there with you?”

Penelope sniffled and nodded, peering up at him with tears in her light blue eyes.

“Okay, bug.” Daniel carefully got up from the tiny chair, set his daughter on her feet again, and took her hand. They walked up to the front of the classroom together and the teacher handed Penelope her artwork. Daniel crouched down beside her and Penelope stayed right close to him as she turned her paper around to show the crowded room.

She blinked, not saying a word.

“What’s your picture about, Penelope?” the teacher encouraged.

Daniel set a soft hand on his daughter’s back and simply his presence was enough to calm her nerves.

“I…I painted mountains.” Penelope said as strongly as she could, glancing down at her artwork in her hands. “And the sky. And…and trees.”

“What colours did you use for your painting, Penelope?” the teacher asked.

Penelope took a small shaky inhale, “Green…blue…and grey. And white. And…and yellow.”

“Very good! It’s a beautiful painting!” the teacher started the applause and the class and the group of parents joined in.

Penelope smiled bashfully, her chubby cheeks dusted in a shy pink blush, and Daniel pressed a kiss right there.

“That’s my girl.” Daniel praised sweetly from beside her. He stood up and led her back to their seat and Penelope bounded over proudly to her mother, shoving her painting into Florence’s hands.

“Wow, Penny, this is so good.” Florence beamed, reaching to caress her daughter’s pink cheek as she admired the messy painting. “So proud of you, my brave little girl.”

Daniel sat back down and pulled Penelope onto his lap, draping his arms around her to cuddle her close to his chest and he peppered kisses to the top of her head, “Our perfect little artist.”

Her very first art show, going without fault thanks to the presence of her father. And he went to every single one thereafter.

Lucy

“Excuse me…Pardon me…Sorry.” Daniel shuffled down the auditorium row, a bouquet of flowers in one arm and Penelope’s hand in his other. He was determined to get to the seats front and centre, rushing to snag the last few available before the auditorium filled up, squeezing past a few families that had already claimed their seats.

Penelope and Clementine followed behind him, the eldest with her nose in the programme to find her youngest sister’s name among the lists. Daniel sat the girls down before taking a seat himself, making sure to claim the fourth with the bouquet of flowers to save a spot for Florence who was helping Lucy get ready backstage.

“Found her!” Clementine grinned, thrusting over the small booklet to show her father and her sister the thin printed line, ‘Lucy Seavey’ under the list of seven-year-old tap dancers and again under the ballerinas.

Daniel grinned at the formality of it just as the lights started to dim.

“Mommy’s gonna miss it.” Penelope whispered.

“She’ll be out in time to see Lucy.” Daniel assured her softly as the toddler groups started their dances up on the stage.

Sure enough, after a few songs, Florence was shuffling down the row in the darkened auditorium to her seat beside Daniel and he moved the flowers for her.

“She’s up next.” Florence whispered excitedly. “She looks so cute in her costume.”

Finally, the current song ended and the younger dancers rushed off the stage in exchange for the seven-year-old group. As the lights rose again, Lucy could be seen front and centre in her purple leotard and purple sequin skirt that matched her friends’, her hands on her hips and toe pointed in perfect position as the song started.

Daniel’s smile seemed to rise with the music volume and soon the group of seven-year-olds were click-clacking across the wooden stage, Lucy’s wide performing grin and sparkle sprayed tied blonde hair standing out amongst the almost clumsier girls with her. Her big move that she had been practicing was her splits and – as expected – nailed them with excellent precision and Daniel couldn’t help but let out a cheer and a little clap, making Florence giggle and lean into him adoringly.

“Daddy, shh.” Penelope scolded softly from his other side.

The dance concluded and the girls on stage hit their final poses with wide grins and the crowd applauded, Daniel standing right up in a single standing ovation as the lights dropped again. Florence pulled him back down into his seat as the girls rushed backstage again.

“Gotta go for costume change.” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

Daniel grabbed her wrist before she could slink off, “Tell her she was so good. And I love her. And she was incredible.”

“You’re going to see her in twenty minutes.” Florence giggled, kissing his cheek before shuffling back down the aisle.

Daniel watched the other dance groups impatiently, waiting for Florence to return which would mean Lucy’s second performance would be starting. She returned within ten minutes and fell back into her seat with a sigh. Daniel slipped his fingers into his wife’s and pulled their intertwined hands up to kiss her soft skin just as the lights dimmed again and it was time for the second performance.

Honestly, as much as Lucy rocked her fast paced routines, Daniel loved her dancing ballet the most. She always looked so graceful and pretty and happy and Daniel’s heart could just soar with pride over his youngest.

By the time the soft song came to a conclusion and Lucy fell into her final pose ever so gently, Daniel nearly felt tears in his eyes as he applauded the loudest out of the entire audience and he was sure he caught a small smile tugging at the corner of Lucy’s serious expression as the lights dimmed again.

The girls were allowed to go find their families after their last performance and Lucy shuffled her way down the row at intermission, still in her blue ballet leotard and white tutu with her bag slung over her shoulder and a huge grin plastered on her face.

“There’s our girl.” Florence smiled.

“Oh, Princess, you were incredible.” Daniel gushed, bending right down to engulf her in a hug before passing over her congratulatory flowers.

“Thank you!” Lucy beamed, taking a sniff of her fresh cut flowers as she sat herself down on his lap, hugging the bouquet to her chest.

“The best out of the whole troupe.” Daniel boasted softly for only their little group to hear.

Lucy giggled bashfully, “I know…a few of the other girls kept messing up their steps.”

“Not our tiny dancer.” Daniel pressed a kiss to her head, getting a bit of her layers of sparkly hairspray on his lips in the process.

“You cheered so loud, Daddy.” Lucy said, taking her packed intermission snack of cheese and crackers from Florence.

“Too loud.” Penelope added.

“Get used to it.” Clementine finished sassily, reaching over Penelope to steal a cracker from her youngest sister. 

#anything but mine #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we fanfic #why dont we imagines

[bakubabes-tatakae]

The Demon’s Keeper (Part Six)

Author’s Note: If anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this feel free to let me know ! Happy to add anyone !

(Rin Okumura x Reader)

Summary: Rin Okumura is a hot headed demon who is hard to keep under control, only one person seems to be able to do it better than anyone, Y/N. For that, she’ll be known at the Demon’s Keeper, but what exactly does that entail for them?

AO3 Link

Part One, Part Two: *NSFW Ahead!*, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Part Six:

Word Count: 2219

As morning broke light it made its way through the cracks in the curtains and the sound of our alarm filled the room. Each beep from the alarm was like a jackhammer pounding in my head. This constant stress headache was going to be the death of me. Rin slowly started to stir, today was the day we left for True Cross University. He was nervous to say the least, but that was to be expected. I would have been worried if he wasn’t nervous. I felt Rin’s soft hand touch my arm. “Y/n, we have to get up. We’ve only got an hour before we have to leave. Mephesto will be here soon to get us.”

I grumbled and rolled over, grabbing the bottle of pain medicine off the nightstand along with the nearest water bottle. They went down with ease and Rin threw the blanket off of us. I cringed as the cold air hit my skin, almost hissing at him. 

He ignored me and got up, throwing on the clothes that he had left out for himself before taking mine off the dresser and throwing them at me. As my clothes hit me he laughed, the look on my face anything but amused, making him laugh even more. 

I grabbed the clothes from my lap and started dressing. I didn’t know what our new life would entail for us, but if I didn’t say I was as nervous as Rin was I would have been lying. “Rin,” He looked back at me with a goofy grin. “You should go check on Yukio and make sure he’s ready to go as well.”

“Yea.” He started for the door. “I’ll go see.”

He shut the door quietly behind him and I was left to my own devices. The sheer amount of emotions that I had been holding in lately wasn’t good for me, but my body didn’t want to seem weak. We had been through so much in such a short amount of time…

* * * * * * 

I made my way downstairs and into the living room, the only light in the room came from the half open curtains in all the windows. Shiro had always been the one to make sure everything was bright and sunny when we had all woken up. Now that he was gone the darkness loomed over us. No one wanted to take on the roles that Shiro once held. Rin was standing in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of orange juice, leaning against the counter. 

“Did you find Yukio?” I walked sluggishly over to the same counter, hopping up onto it. “We only have fifteen minutes before Mephesto is going to be here.”

Rin placed his empty glass into the sink and walked in front of me, placing his hands on my thighs. “From what the monks told me, they haven’t seen him all morning.”

“I bet he’s visiting Shiro. We’re talking about Yukio here, where else would he be?”

Rin placed his head on my collarbone and I placed my hands on his head, intertwining my fingers into his raven colored hair. “You’re right.” He looked up at me. “Want to just go wait outside? It’s pretty nice out”

I smiled. “Sure.” He helped me off the counter and grabbed our bags, following me out the front door. 

The sunlight hit my face and the feeling was almost refreshing. It had been so long since Rin and I had just sat outside and taken in our surroundings. As we took in all the familiar sounds and sights we were interrupted by the sound of a car speeding our way. When we looked up we both thought our eyes had been deceiving us. A pink limo stood in front of the walkway and when the door opened and a person stepped out we realized we should have known who it was. 

With the tip of his hate Mephesto Pheles stood before us, his white shoot shining brightly in the sun. “Well, well, well.” He smiled a tooth grin at the two of us sitting on the porch. “I see the sun's out. It’s a glorious say for new beginnings, wouldn’t you say?”

Rin stood up from the porch and took my hand, helping me up as well. He walked leisurely over to Mephesto. “You got a freaky car.”

I hooked my arm behind Rin’s back and glared at Mephesto. “How did you get us into True Cross University. I feel like we have a right to know what your connections are since we’re using them.”

He pointed his finger at us and spoke matter-of-factly. “I’m the director at True Cross University. That’s the official title anyway.”

Rin’s jaw dropped. “Huh?” 

I took my hand under his chin and helped him shut it. Yukio’s voice jumped the both of us. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He had a giant grin across his fast as he approached us. “I’m so glad this all worked out. Now the three of us can stay together.”

Mephesto turned away from the three of us and raised his voice, scaring some people walking by. “Come now my friends, True Cross University awaits!”

We all piled into the limo, the three of us keeping our distance from Mephesto. Yukio looked over to Rin. “What’s wrong?” If Rin thought he was hiding his annoyance it wasn’t working. Neither of us knew what could possibly have been wrong with him.  

“Nothing.” Rin ignored the question and changed the subject. His favorite defense tactis. ‘Where were you this morning?”

“Visiting dad’s grave. Did you go?” 

An upsetting noise came from Rin’s mouth as the realization hit him, it would probably be a while before he was able to visit him again. “No… I didn’t” He hung his head.

Mephesto broke the awkward silence now looming over the car. “Just a few minutes more and we’ll be in the center of True Cross University town.” We all stared out the window at the blossoming town before us. “Every learning facility under the sun can be found right here in University Town. Enjoy, dig in, and study until your heart’s content.”

We approached a giant building a couple minutes later and Mephesto looked at Rin and I. “Now then, we’ll step out, you two need to change into your uniforms.”

I could feel my face change to annoyance before I was able to stop it. “You couldn’t have told us to make sure we were in our uniforms before we got here?” 

Mephesto ignored the question and Yukio and him stepped out, leaving us to change. As we stepped out of the limo the two of them waiting patiently on the sidewalk. Mephesto motioned toward him and spoke. “Come now, you have orientation to get to.” He led us to an auditorium full of students. “Find a seat, they’ll give you further instructions from there.”

As the speech from one of the teachers started the two of us zoned out. There was nothing worse than listening to someone talk at you about something you didn’t have any care for. The only thing that pulled our attention back was the words “And now, let’s hear from your freshman representation, Yukio Okumura.”

Rin’s jaw dropped once again, a look that wasn’t befitting for him. “Yukio?!” 

I pushed his jaw up. “That shouldn’t surprise you Rin, Yukio’s always been a smart guy.”

Yukio stood from a couple rows in front of us. “Yes sir,” Girls around us were swooning over Yukio as he made his way to the podium on the stage below. “To be able to join you all here at True Cross, a school I’ve long admired, is something that is both thrilling and sobering.”

Rin placed his hand on my thigh. “The little crybaby that always got bullied,”

“I hope that I can live up to the standards of this place. I’m your freshman class rep, Yukio Okumura.”

Tours of the campus were starting so everyone from the auditorium made their way to the courtyard outside the building. The three of us stood together and more girls made their way to Yukio, still overcome with him, I had never seen so many girls throw themselves at him. Yukio’s face turned bright red as they all spoke to him. Rin watched him with concerned eyes. We both knew how little it took to embarrass Yukio.

As our tour began Rin couldn’t hold back his excitement. Every different area we saw he was dumbfounded. The entrance hall was the first stop, escalators that took you up to the next floor pushed Rin over the edge. “This is a school?!” That goofy grin spread from ear to ear and I couldn’t help but giggle as I watched him. The dining hall was stop two and it made his shock even more clear than the first stop. “Woah,” He grabbed my waist and squeezed me, pointing up. “Would you get a load of those chandeliers, it’s like a fancy shmancy restaurant.”

Students around us were watching, but the little raven haired boy didn’t seem to care. The tour took us to classrooms, Rin walked around, admiring every knock and cranny. “Damn, do you think they could have made this room any bigger?” He sat at a desk and his wide eyes expression made more people watch him. “Even these desks are bigger than the ones at the monastery.”

A group of girls off in the distance were speaking about him. “What’s with that guy over there, he’s freaking out.” Another girl spoke back. “I know, what’s a weirdo like that doing here?”

I started to step toward them, ready to give them a piece of mind when my jacket of my uniform was grabbed by Rin’s strong hands. “Leave it alone Y/n, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

As we left the classroom and the tour concluded a man’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “That’s all for today, classes start next week so you should go back to your dorms and get settled in.” We made our way down the stairs and as we got to the bottom we realized that we didn’t even know where we were going. Rin threw his hands in the air. “Where the hell is the dorm, no one told us jack about that.”

I grabbed his arms and pulled them back down. “Relax Rin, we’ll figure it out. Let’s find Yukio, maybe he knows.” A strange sound, almost like a whimpering came from our feet and we looked down to see a small white dog with a pink bandanna around it’s neck. “Who let you in?”

The dog grabbed the ankle of Rin’s pants and started tugging at him, causing Rin to holler out and spin to try to get it off him. The dog let go and stared at us, slowly moving forward, clearly wanting us to follow. We followed as it ran further and further, when it was completely away from everyone at the school it climbed up onto a light pole and in a poof it was no longer a dog. Rin and I both threw ourselves backwards, basically tripping over each other. Mephesto sat before us. “Pardon me, but it would unseamly for the director of the university to be caught prowling around the halls during the day.”

Rin’s confusion was about to overtake him. “You shape shifted! Does that mean that exorcists can shape shift?!”

“God no.” Mephesto almost looked offended. “Although I am an exception.” He held up two keys, tossing them at Rin and I. We each caught one and stared between Mephesto and it. “That key grants you access to the cram school through any door at any time.”

“Cram school?”

“It’s where the two of you will train to become exorcists. Each day you’ll attend normal high school classes, but afterwards you’ll train at the cram school to become a page. While you study exorcism you’ll be considered an exorcist in training. Your high school classes don’t begin until next week, but cram school…” he stepped toward us. “That starts today.” He put his face inches from Rin’s. “I trust you’re ready to begin?” 

“Never been more ready.” The corner of Rin’s mouth curled upwards as a smirk pulled at it. 

“I have to warn you tho. It would be best if you kept the whole son of Satan thing confidential. Say what you want about your ear, fangs, and tail, but the flames are a no no.” Rin tensed. “Control yourself.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Fabulous.” Mephesto jumped on the concrete wall beside us. “Let’s get to it.” He jumped off the edge of the wall on the opposite side and we both ran for the edge, afraid that there was nothing there. Mephesto stood on the ground in front of a door on the opposite side. “Try using one of your keys I just gave you on this door.” We both hopped over the ledge and stood in front of the door. As Rin placed his key in the lock and the doors open we both stood with our mouth gaping open.

Even just the hallway was immaculate. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Mephesto started to corral the two of us. “Come on, your class is this way.” 

Taglist 💕 @thebookwormfairy @psycho-emi @pnkcts @chenosaurr​

Updated: 5/13/2020

#rin #okumura #rin okumura #rin okumura x reader #rin okumura imagines #rin okumura fanfic #rin okumura fanfiction #rin x reader #rin imagines #rin fanfic #rin fanfiction #okumura x reader #okumura imagines #okumura fanfic #okumura fanfiction #the demons keeper #blue exorcist #blue exorcist imagines #blue exorcist fanfic #blue exorcist fanfiction #ao no exorcist imagines #ao no exorcist fanfic #ao no exorcist fanfiction #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist x reader #ao no exorcist x reader

[jennbabeyy]

Stepmom Material (Pt. 8)

A/n: Sorry for the long wait ! Part 8 is finally here. We get to see a little glimpse of what was behind Coco’s decision. Thank you guys for loving Stepmom Material. Let me know what y’all think!

Coco leaned against the wall, his eyes moving around the crowd. The murmurs and conversation carried around him without any distractions or any glances at him. It was a bit of a reflex, something he found himself trying not to do when he went somewhere. Though this time, it wasn’t a reflex, he was looking for the face he now only sees in his dreams.That certain face he was looking for was no longer in his life and he didn’t really have anything or anyone to blame but himself.  

The crowd around him seemed to get bigger by the minute and Coco tried to not let the noises get to him. He’s not a huge fan of big crowds but something in him wanted to be here. There wasn’t a personal invitation from any of them and he knew he had no right trying to be here after all the shit he has pulled. 

But he was proud. 

Johnny Coco Cruz was proud of his daughter when he heard first from Angel that she was getting the highest achievement award from her high school. His daughter was doing big things and he wasn’t there next to her side to be able to enjoy it. But someone else was. 

Y/n had taken Letty in during one of the most difficult times ever for everyone. Coco didn’t remember much except from finally waking up in a room at the small clinic that the Mayans used when someone got hurt. The only thing that came to mind was his entire body screaming in pain.The days after that were a bit hazy. 

Shit was tough for a while, Coco was tied down in a bed recovering from two gunshots, one in the shoulder, another in the chest. His recovery took twice as much as expected and there was nothing he could do. He was alone most of the time, only company besides his brothers was the nice older nurse with the motherly touch he never had. 

She took care of him, encouraged him to get better. He was in pain most of the time but he deserved it. The pain reminded him of the shit he’s done in the past and he took that shit in with no complaints. According to Angel he almost died during surgery and having Creeper and Tranq in the operating room wasn’t helping the doctor.  His brothers thought he was some type of badass, a legend going down in Mayan history for surviving the worst of the worst. 

Though he didn’t feel like it. 

They never visited him those 6 months he was recovering. 

That was everything he needed to stay away. He was the poison in their lives and he didn’t want to bring any of them down. 

A small cough next to him brought him out of his daydream and he knew who it was without turning his head.

“Thought I would find you here.” Angel spoke, his eyes wandering the crowd before stopping on the familiar head sitting in the front row. 

Coco starred in the same direction, his eyes never leaving Y/n. Her hair was longer than he has last seen before and his fingers twitch at his side. His favorite thing was to run his fingers through her hair while cuddling on the couch. He still remembers the softness of her hair, especially when he misses her the most. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to miss this , even if they don’t want me here.” 

From the corner of his eye, Coco saw Angel nod his head in agreement. There wasn’t much he could say to him about everything that’s happened. He already had to deal with Bishop lecturing him the moment he woke up in the clinic. 

News had already broke that Johnny was giving up his rights as a father and leaving Letty in Y/n’s guardianship. And Bishop made sure to use every second he had to let him know how much of a good one he had lost because of selfish reasons. But little do they know what he was doing was the most selfless thing he’s done in years. 

“Ez said she’s doing good. No more sneaking out late and shit.” Angel nodded his head towards the former prospect, who was sitting in the front row seat next to Y/n. Both of them were currently laughing at something one of them said.

She looked carefree, and glowing. Ez had made an impact on both girls' lives, keeping his promises to not only Letty but Y/n. Making sure Letty could understand her homework or even challenged her with new books everytime he came to visit. 

“She happy?” Coco turned to finally face Angel, eying his best friend since they were teenagers. He was the only one during these couple of months to completely take Coco under his care.

“Leticia? I mean yeah, but she’s a teenager and she’s got all these hormones raging up. Ez said there were a couple of times she lost her temper at the teacher and Y/n had to take over to make sure she wouldn’t get a full month of detention. Something about challenging the teacher over some sexist shit he said in class.”

Coco chuckled, and shook his head. Yeah she was all him all right. There was nothing that Leticia took after her birth mother and he was fucking thankful for that. She has been a one night thing and ended up back at his place pregnant. 

He thought his life was over at the thought of having a child. And when Leticia was born, a part of him warmed up to the idea of being a father. He was on the right track and he was going to be the best dad he could even if he never had one to begin with. 

And he thought he was going to make it. 

Until she left them, stating he wasn’t good enough to be a father with the type of lifestyle he had going. Her words played on replay that entire night, and it got to him. He couldn’t be a single dad to a four month old baby. 

Leticia wasn’t going to have a better future if she stayed here with him. He didn’t know shit about being a parent, his own mother was a shitty parent. 

Angel found them a day later with Letty screaming her lungs out and Coco being sleep deprived.   

While Angel took care of Letty, Coco took a shower where he finally made a decision. 

Letty’s mother was right, one night and he couldn’t even get through it without Letty crying the entire time. The best thing to do was putting her up for adoption with a family that would be able to give her anything, and everything she wanted and deserved. 

Because she deserved more than him. She definitely deserved more than his shitty ass mom. 

And that’s what he did. Until his mom found out and took her in. 

Then shit really went bad. There’s never a day where he beats himself up about the way his mom treated Letty or about the way Leticia spent almost her entire life thinking he was her older brother. 

He couldn’t take those years back, no matter how much he tried to make sure she was good. To have a family she deserved. Something always came to ruin everything. 

Coco cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the front row. Leticia had now joined Y/n and Ez talking to them excitedly, her eyes lit up as she explained something to Ez. And he laughed at her explanation. 

She deserved that. 

Looking at both of them took him back to the night. Noone knew about it. He kept it to himself. Not even Angel who at this point knew his darkest and sinful secrets and he wanted to keep it that way. 

That night at the clubhouse when it was boy’s night playing poker with his brothers. Noone knew that before that he had been riding through town when he ran into her. 

It had been 16 years since he last saw her. The last thing he remembers of her was Letty screaming in the background and her walking out the door with bags in each hand. 

In all honesty, he thought she would’ve overdosed by now. Letty’s mom was no saint, never really had a permanent home. Always hanging with the wrong crowd and doing favors in exchange for some sort of drugs.

But there she was, hanging off some random dude without a care in the world. He wanted to leave before she saw him, but the second his eyes met hers. He knew shit was going to come crashing down. 

A smirk appeared on her face, and when he heard Letty’s name come out of her mouth. It was like a rage of anger overcame his body and he saw red. 

How dare she say his daughter’s name just like nothing. The same one she left behind so she could still be the street hoe who gives daily blowjobs for some drugs. 

The same words she once yelled at him 16 years earlier, were the same ones he heard as he walked out of the place and hopped on his motorcycle. 

The words he tried to keep out of his mind were finally set free and she fucking did it. 

16 years later she fucking broke him again. And she knew what she was doing. 

Angel’s voice brought him back to reality and he followed Angel's eyes toward the front of the auditorium where the principal finally started the ceremony. 

Coco tried to stand still while the ceremony continued and saw as other kids were honored. He heard Angel chuckled beside him as Coco shifted once again. He couldn’t really be in one place for a long time, his nerves were getting the best of him. 

Angel nodded his head towards Letty’s direction where she was acting the same way. Shifting in her seat and constantly fixing her hair. She was nervous as well. Y/n had given up at telling her to stop, it was no use. Leticia always fidgeted in her seat, it was their thing.

A smile made its way towards his face, even at times like these they were in sync. It was like they have always been in each other's lives. And he wished it was like that. 

“And for our next award, I would like to take the time to list the many accomplishments this young lady has achieved. She has managed to become our only student to reach the highest GPA in our school. We had a bit of a troubled start when Leticia first started out with us. Lunch detention became a constant thing with Letty. I like to joke that maybe she just wanted to eat lunch with me.”

The crowd laughed, while Letty covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. 

“But after getting to know Letty, I realized that she is a passionate student. She is intelligent and she is not afraid to give the boys on the debate team a piece of her mind. Which let me tell you, I have never seen a group of boys constantly being challenged like that. She stands up to defend others and she is kind to those around her. This past year I have seen an amazing change with Leticia, not only were her grades going up but actually attending every class. She has truly made a difference not only within herself but here at this school. All she needed was a push and people to believe in her.”

Coco watched as Letty leaned on Y/n, and his heart soared at the sight in front of him. 

“So on behalf of the school and myself, we like to honor Leticia Cruz with this academic achievement award.” 

The room roared with applause as Letty stood up giving both Y/n and Ez a hug before making her way towards the stage. A folded piece of paper in her hands and from where Coco was standing he could see her hand slightly shaking of nerves. 

Next to him, Angel had his phone out taking pictures as Letty received her award and shook hands with the faculty staff. Coco never took his eye of his daughter, taking in the pride he felt in that moment. He’ll just have Angel send him those photos later, he didn’t want to miss anything.

And watching his daughter march up on stage with a sense of confidence, this was it. This is what he wants for her and no one around him saw that Letty wouldn’t be able to achieve this with him in her life. She was meant to be out of his life for the better. Like it was planned 16 years ago.

The room became quiet when Letty reached the podium. Placing her piece of paper in front of her, she let out a deep breath. 

“Uh, when Mrs. Rivera approached me a couple weeks ago about writing a speech, I instantly said no. I’m not a big fan of crowds even if she threaten lunch detention.” Letty looked around, feeling every eye on her as the crowd chuckled. 

“But my guardian made me realize that I should be proud of my accomplishments, to be able to take this moment in and she also threatened to ground me. And she is kinda scary so-” Letty smiled at Y/n, who shook her head.  

Letty continued her speech, not sounding as nervous, “I want to thank Mrs. Rivera, for not only taking the time to push me but to be able to give me a second chance. Most people take a look at me and instantly decide that I shouldn’t be able to achieve certain dreams or be even be given a second chance. I was given a second chance, not only in school but at home too. I want to thank Y/n, ever since I’ve met her she's been the rock I never had but needed.”

Coco watched as Ez wrapped his arm around Y/n and shook her gently to congratulate her. 

“She’s been the mom I’ve never had and I know we go at it sometimes but I’m thankful to have you and be able to just talk to you. You’re my mom and thank you for taking that role and taking care of me.” 

Letty looked up from her paper as she searched the audience in front of her. Coco leaned against the wall, and held his breath knowing what was coming next. Angel cleared his throat, as he looked at anything besides the teenage girl in front of him. 

His eyes met hers, and he saw the shock go through her body. She gasped quietly but the microphone in front of her picked it up and even from where he was standing he could hear it clearly. He could feel her eyes searching his body, and he knew she was making sure his injury wasn’t as bad as everyone made it seem. He was covered up though, his scars were there but no one will be able to see them. And he wanted it that way. 

Letty stood still, her eyes never leaving his. It was a few seconds but Y/n managed to notice that Letty’s attention was taken away and turned around to see what Letty was looking at. 

When he finally took his eyes away from Letty, he immediately met Y/n and he could see the tears gather up in her eyes. They weren’t expecting to see him anytime soon or if he even was healed enough to walk around town.

Shallowing the lump in his throat, Coco managed to take away his eyes from the beautiful face he had missed all these months and when he saw the tears stream down her face, he knew he couldn’t take it anymore. So he painfully broke eye contact and turned to Angel as they walked out of the auditorium. 

A smile reached his face when he heard Letty continue her speech as if nothing happened and continued to thank Ez for helping her with her homework, along with other teachers. 

That’s my girl.

Tagged: 

@carlaangel86​ @xnarca​ @bellamyblech @royale-trash-slytherin @hgs2018 @imagines-and-preferences1216 @i-just-feel-gr3at @sweet-bumble-bee @plentyoffandoms @technicallyvirtualmilkshake​ @poetsheart @onelovesr @docsangel​ @may114​ @glimmerglittergirl​ @whovianayesha​ @trulysucuubus @laricebabe

#mayans mc imagine #coco cruz imagine #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc

[remusmainhoe]

boggart

a little something I thought of and want to put in my Wattpad story 🌙galaxies✨| marauders era fanfic, I have another post explaining the character if you are confused. its a rough draft so dont be too cruel to it.

"today we will be facing a boggart" the professor said in our D.A.D.A class that Monday morning. "bogarts themselves are generally not harmful, although they do obtain the powers, as well as the shape of the worst fear that you have. the incantation to use for them is Riddikulus" he waved his wand to demonstrate the incantation. "each one of you are to face a boggart next class, and use the incantation, when you use it, you have to imagine your fear taking a shape of something that you find funny about it. a boggart is defeated with laughter and humiliation" the bell rang and we all packed our things to leave. "practice for next class" he managed to say before we all flooded out.

"we have to face our worst fear?" Peter said horrified that evening in the common room while we were all studying.

"you just have to find something funny about it" I said in a hopeful voice. flashbacks coming to me from nights spent in the basement when aunt Janet was upset and wanted to teach me a lesson, the boggart in the dim windowless basement making me scream and shout banging at the door begging for her to let me out or to get my wand.

"I dont find anything funny about it" Peter complained "do you guys know what you're going to do?" he asked remus, James, Sirius, and I.

"well I think my boggart might be the full moon, I could turn it to cheese" remus said grinning at his idea.

"come on Pete, stop stressing, its fine" I tried to comfort him. "anything can be funny if you think about it hard enough"

"I doubt it" he sighed discouraged.

in efforts to convince him I said "my boggart is my mum laying almost dead on the floor a bloody mess telling me that its my fault she's dead, that I wasn't a good enough daughter to help her" I stated simply, used to the image after nights spent staring at that boggart in the basement. "and I've managed to perform the spell in the past, its no biggie" they all stared at me in shock for saying It in such a casual manner.

"I want to hug you" James said half joking, standing up tackling me in a bear hug, I struggled to breath, "James!" I managed to say a grin playing at my mouth.

"let me love you benny!"

"its fine, im just worried how everyone else is going to take it"

we all stood in front of a wardrobe ready to face our greatest fears.

a Ravenclaw girl with brown hair and shaky legs went first, turning a big snake into a plate of noodles. remus turning a bright moon into a big ball of cheese with only slight hesitation, a Ravenclaw boy and another Gryffindor girl went.

"Eleanor" the professor called out, I walked up to the wardrobe, I knew what the boggart would turn into, didn't hurt any less but I was prepared. the boggart growing from a rubber duck to a woman with long dark brown hair and light brown eyes. she looked down at her abdomen, blood started to bleed through her clothes, her hands stained scarlet red as she collapsed to her knees.

"Ellie, help me" shse cried "why did you let me die? you didn't help me!" her bloody hand reaching out staining my robes bloody. "you killed your mum, you failed me, why, you are no better than her" she cried out in pain. the momentary fear that had held on to me faded away, gripping on to my wand I said loud and clearly "Riddikulu-" but she began to morph once more, changing fears, I was frozen in place. a cloaked figure stood in front of me, a dementor, I stared at it confused.

"Ellie?" his voice gripping my hand "Ellie why did you let it happen?" my dad spoke once more, making the blood drain from my face, "you let your mum die, and now you're letting them take me" his raspy voice called from the dark wardrobe. the dementor turned to him "no!" was all I could say, thoughts running wild.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM" I yelled raising my wand directed to the dementor. the memory of his smile in my mind, him hugging me in those visits, eager to hear about my day, the day before my mum died, I was laying in bed next to him as he read to me gently. light flickered at the end of my wand, shining brighter and brighter at every detail I recalled from that night, a basset hound appearing from the tip of my wand, the boggart dementor hid in one of the drawers. the light stopped, exhausted, I looked around embarrassed, they all knew now. feeling like my diary was read out loud in an auditorium, everyone stared at me surprised at what had just happened.

"im going to go to the bathroom" I said rushing out of the class, footsteps following me.

#sirius #sirius black #marauders fanfiction #marauder #remus #james potter #peter pettigrew #oc character

[notexactlyrocketscience]

NASA's Johnson Space Centre in Houston: A Miniature Sneak Peak

✔️Off the bucket list: 7/2/2020

My ten-year-old self’s dream comes true! While I was a tiny bit underwhelmed (to be fair, not a lot can beat the magic of the Exploratorium in San Francisco), this trip still absolutely made my birthday. Almost everyone in Texas owns some form of NASA merch, and so the overall hype about visiting the Space Center is a little muted. Like everywhere else, a good percentage of the people I've met here are enchanted by anything to do with astronomy (both my tentative research paper on extraterrestrial life and my tentative research poster/presentation/paper on turbulence in star formation last semester were extremely popular amongst the other students)—but there’s also a good number of students here who are like, “Oh, NASA? Yeah, I visited when I was younger ... Don't remember anything about it, though,” devoid of any explicit interest towards science or space or honestly anything (even their own major), as far as I can tell. It’s a little depressing, but it’s also a quiet reminder that not everyone has the same interests, and that people have layers.

On the bright side: Here are some 100% adorable ISS exibits. (I learned a lot about recycling urine to drink as water again and again but that's a story for another day.) There was this mini presentation about it that blew mind, but I kinda deliberately chose not to film it because I wanted to fully be in the moment. (I always manage to regret those decisions every time but what can you do).

⠀

My personal favourite part

What made the entire trip 10/10 as worth it as the Exploratorium, despite not being nearly as interactive: They took us on this little train-ride tour around the facility, and guided us up to these auditorium-like spaces overlooking actual control rooms and astronaut training rooms, divided only with thick, soundproof glass so that we could actually look down and see scientists and astronauts working together there in real time.

Can there be anything cooler than that? Go ahead. Try. The ten-year-old me would've fainted. All throughout I was missing my little sister SO MUCH. She's twelve and also very into space. :") Also my couple of fellow Physics/Astrophysics majors that I used to go to school in Bangladesh with. (We're now scattered all over the world for our undergrad.) WE MUST VISIT TOGETHER and fangirl/boy like little tourists that know nothing about science.

⠀

Rockets and miscellaneous

They have so many used and unused ones from old successful/canceled missions. I lost entire interest in anything to do with being an astronaut after I watched the film "Gravity", but stories like that of the Challenger disaster still take my breath away. ("The future doesn’t belong to the faint-hearted, it belongs to the brave.") In class the other day we were discussing social/political events in our lifetime that impacted us personally, and an older student mentioned watching the crash happen, live on TV. She was not a STEM person by any means, she said, but one of her first tattoos, years later, had been a spacecraft. Something about the hallway full of old spacecraft looming overhead made the tourists‘ voice hush, automatically.

I wish I'd had more time to look around the entire place, read what the signs said. (I'm that person who reads the entire instruction manual no one else wants to.) But I'm happy having gotten away with what I could. (I touched that thumbnail-sized piece of Mars on display that's already been touched smooth.) And of course I sprinted towards the HUGE gift shop ten minutes before closing time because how could I not? (A window-shopping maniac like me? A merch maniac like me? A space maniac like me?) I missed taking a quirky Instagram-y photo of myself pointing sassily to one of those t-shirts that said rocket science (y'all get it) but I'll leave that for my next trip (I AM coming back, period.) (I promise that to the Exploratorium every time as well.) (S c i e n c e, nicely displayed, has my whole entire heart.) After speed-browsing through almost every product in under five minutes, I picked out a very pretty holographic notebook for Janan and a very, very beautiful postcard for myself, which is now one of my favourite things I own. Anything lunar-themed catches my eye immediately. Every time.

⠀

As prettily made up the exhibit was ...

I was surprised the beauty of the location itself. The sudden graffiti on the building walls, the rows of tall, tall trees, flashes of shy woodland creatures here and there. It was a gorgeous day too, less chilly. Spring to a T. Serene.

#nasa johnson space center #astronaut #iss #international space station #spaceship #rocket launch #rocket science #ecopark #conservation #science #scientist #physics #astrophotography #astronomy #astrophysics #space #spaaace #starship #houston #tourist #travel #san antonio texas #bangladeshi #bangladesh #southeast asian #my writing #writeblr #college freshman #exploratorium #california

[fingerguneds]

Stozier + going to the movies

im like one hundred percent sure this is not what you wanted and it turns out i dont know what a drabble is so it’s 4.4k long but um..yeah hope you like it 

Richie is tired. Okay, “tired” is actually a litotes — he’s fucking exhausted. Two weeks of pre-holiday classes — two weeks of deadlines, exams and final test, two weeks of nervous breakdowns and panic attacks for all students, and for him, probably the biggest procrastinator in their year, it was a hell ride. Sugar-high, coffee-flavoured satanic ritual.

But in the end, he finished up good, of course he did, because not only he’s a phenomenal fuckup of a person with a pathological time-management crisis, he’s also a smart fucking guy. And now, after his last French exam, it’s only fair that he goes home and tries to recover from his two weeks long sleep deficit, but…no.

The problem is, he promised Bill to accompany him to the new Star Wars film premiere, they got the tickets days ago, and even though Richie feels like throwing up and lying in his puke for a month and crying helplessly about of it, he promised. And it’s not just someone, it’s Bill, his best friend, and the newest part of Star Wars! And maybe, if three Red Bulls and two strawberry-flavoured Fantas didn’t make his heart stop, another large-sized slushie won’t either. His heart’s a strong one, it’s been to hell and back and he can show you vouchers — his student’s record book, thank you very much.

“You’re gonna have diabetes,” Eddie, Bill’s boyfriend, intones, when Richie arrives to their apartment to pick up Bill with a venti gingerbread latte in his right hand. “Feed him something or come up with a good eulogy,” he tells Bill, standing on tiptoe to leave a quick peck on his cheek.

“But your mom told me I shouldn’t ever force myself to eat—” Richie tries, but Bill pushes him out of the apartment with a sigh and closes the door, leaving Eddie’s pink-cheeked and ready-to-fight face behind it.

“Sure you’re not hungry?”

“It’s always like that when you miss a night of your beauty sleep,” Richie grimaces as they get into the elevator. “But we still can grab something to go.”

“McDonalds?”

Richie chuckles. As kids, they always went to McDonalds before films, hiding burgers and fries in their little hats in winter or bringing a special backpack “for illegal purposes only” in summer so the cinema boys wouldn’t kick them out, or worse — make them throw everything away. Now, no one cares whether you bring your own snacks or not, and they actually finish their food while driving, but there’s still a lingering touch of nostalgia to the whole process.

They’re barely on time, because Richie insisted on buying a goddamn slushie, although the line was fucking enormous, and yet they take their seats exactly one minute before upcoming film trailers begin. They’re both excited as hell, the slushie tastes amazing after the first proper meal he’s had since yesterday’s evening (yes, fries, nuggets and a Big Mac is a meal, unlike two Kit Kats and a bag of Doritos), and yet…nothing goes as planned.

After fifteen minutes of the film, Richie starts to zone the fuck out. The food is still warm in his belly, his winter scarf he didn’t pull off is soft and comfortable under his crooked neck, his eyelids feel like the only thing heavier than them is his head. He tries, he really does, he clears his glasses twice, he finishes his slushie with the largest gulps to wake up, he bites the insides of his cheeks, but it’s all pointless.

Thirty minutes into the film, and Richie’s gone.

***

“Richie! Richie, wuw-wake up! Oh my guh-god, I’m so suh-sorry, he—Richie!“

Bill sounds nervous. His childhood stutter comes back when he is. There’s a tug at Richie’s hand he barely registers.

“It’s okay,” someone chuckles curtly right above Richie’s ear. “At least his hair is clean.”

Um, rude.

Well, maybe in a different situation, Richie wouldn’t have thought that it’s rude. Like, it’s always nice when people have clean hair. Yes.

But.

He’s diabolically tired. His nerves are nothing but a strained, stiff line that is in an alarming danger to snap and slap you in the face, his mind is dangerously aggressive, meeting every single thing with feverish hostility, and Richie doesn’t even wonder if it’s him the voice is talking about. Even if it’s not, it’s still rude. He tries to remember when he last washed his hair — this morning, to not die before emerging from his flat. And his shampoo is nice too, it’s his mom’s shampoo, because he has her curls and—

“Richie!”

He straightens up abruptly, as if someone just kicked him in the balls, eyes still blurry, like a newborn bird’s.

“Ye.”

Someone starts laughing.

“He sounds like that vine.”

Richie blinks and turns to his left, still not quite conscious of the situation, yet quite aware that this someone’s laughing at him.

The first boy he sees sits one seat away from Richie, but he’s leaning forward, elbows on knees, face on the palms of his hands. He’s the one who said about the vine (Richie’s almost one hundred percent sure he knows which vine), and although Richie feels very attacked, he has to admit, the boy’s cute. He has dark skin, dark eyes, jawline to kill (and to die) for, and his smile is so wide and genuinely nice that it would be a shame to get mad at the owner.

Fuck this guy, he’s educated on vines and he’s hot. If it wasn’t for the “basically a ray of sunshine” part, Richie would fall.

And then there’s the asshole. He opens his mouth again.

“The peanut baby vine?” Richie looks at the mop of curly dark-blond hair, currently hiding the said asshole’s face as he turns to look at the first guy, and Richie’s offended diva is back. He may be a fuckup, but no one has a right to say anything about his hair with a voice like this. Even if it’s greasy as fuck, knotty and smells like used oil, like everyone’s hair smells after visiting places where kitchens are inside the main room and they just keep frying the shit out of food right in front of you; even then, no one can say shit about his hair, even—

“Yeah, that one,” the dark-skinned guy laughs again, and the curly asshole turns to face Richie.

No one can say shit about Richie’s hair, even if they own Cupid’s face. No joke, the guy—pardon, the motherfucker looks like an epitome of Cupid from the Psyche myth (not the fat winged baby). Richie quickly gets mad at himself for paying this much attention to the guy, but know your enemy, right? Know your enemy — their hair dark blond hair, like fields of rye in November, their plump pale lips and pale, although with a warm undertone, skin with an almost invisible constellation of freckles on the wings of his nose, their eyes and their dark, muddy colour Richie can’t really identify in the poor lighting of the auditorium. They’re bright with joy and fox-like curiosity, yet insolent and a little arrogant; daring.

Seriously, do people have to be this pretty? One is hot, like an Abercrombie model you see once and think of for days, the second one is not hot but really, really attractive, like someone who would make a fortune with this intense stare, peeling you off right there, where you’ve had a misfortune to capitulate.

“Rich,” he feels Bill’s large hand on his shoulder, still participating in this ugly staring competition with the curly one. “Guys, we’re sorry ag-again, huh-he’s really tired and doesn’t cuh-control himself.”

Richie blinks and frowns, ready to explode right into Bill’s face, but he cuts him off.

“Come on, Richie, we gotta go.”

They stand up, Richie taking his empty slurpie glass in one hand and looking at the guys again. Everything feels like a dream, his brain is too heavy, his legs disobey, his hands don’t feel like they belong to him.

“ ‘s alright, no big deal,” the first boy says again with the gentlest glimmer to his eyes and the loveliest smile, but Richie…Richie’s tired and bitter and…stupid.

“Yeah, you’re probably used to people leaving after waking up with you,” he says, looking directly into the curly one’s eyes. “Not you, you’re cool,” he winks quickly at his friend, as Bill starts swearing quietly and pulling Richie towards the door.

“Dude,” he says, when they both emerge from the cinema doors, a cig already in his fingers. He offers his pack to Richie without a word.

They smoke in silence, walking towards Richie’s car, and Richie is the one to break it.

“Did I really fall asleep on him?”

Bill chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Yes you did. I didn’t notice until the lights were on.”

“Surprised he didn’t say anything,” Richie mutters, turning the car key.

“You’re too hard on the guy,” Bill huffs out, lips still wearing a lopsided grin. “He didn’t say anything—“

“Yes he did, I heard what he said about my hair, it’s—“

“Rich,” Bill sighs, but he’s not in the least bit mad or disapproving. Bill has always been a keeper of the wonderful gift of understanding. “He said you weren’t a bother and that he’s glad your hair’s not greasy. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, you’re just tired and tensed, and take things too personally. You just need a rest. C’mon, want me to drive you home? I’ll catch a bus to mine, no problem.”

***

The next four days Richie spends at home, sleeping and eating. Sleeping, eating, watching Netflix, thinking about the curly boy, sometimes. Actually, the memory of that day quickly turns into something embarrassing for Richie, something he knows that will make his cheeks grow hot and pink even years later. He was really, really rude to the guy, rude for nothing, and the worst part of the situation is — he can’t apologize. And! The worst-worst part is that the second-to-worst part is — the boy was absolutely gorg dot com. What an unfortunate turn of events: Richie can’t even suck his dick as an apology. Or just suck his dick. Whatever, he’d find a way to make it up to the boy, he’s talented with all parts of his body.

But it’s like falling in love with someone you saw on a train or in line at grocery store. Or maybe slightly worse, because Richie manage to fall fucking asleep on the guy, but still — a crush, doomed to picturesque longing and a quiet little death. It’s all about the masochistic nature of humankind — Richie concludes bitterly to himself, because although he’s a certificated Trashmouth, there’s a pathologically romanticistic heart under all these layers of shit.

No, seriously. He’s too much for everyone, even for himself. Especially for himself.

But enough with this shit, Richie decides the moment next, because his mood swings are the only thing wilder than his imagination. C’est la vie, you fuck up and you keep going until you fuck up again. Maybe there is a lesson he can learn, like to keep his mouth shut when he’s tired or, um, to do his homework in time and not traumatize himself…but it’s Richie. He never learns.

He falls asleep on his couch again, trying to decide what he wants to eat after waking up. God only knows why his actual last thought is so, what the curly boy smelled like?

***

Richie doesn’t remember the last time he’s been to a library. He’s always felt that a book should belong to him for being able to read it comfortably, but when you’re assigned to write a research on Andrei Tarkovskiy’s connection with slavic symbolism…not many books you can find in a regular American bookshop down the street.

The library is huge. The entrance is decorated with ionic columns and the door is so massive Richie barely manages to open it. Inside, it’s just as impressive, with the highest ceilings he’s ever seen and beautiful bookcases and tables of dark wood, situated under big thick windows. Richie undoes his scarf and immediately walks towards the service desk, knowing for sure there’s no way he’ll manage to find anything without help. His steps are loud in the monumental silence of this place.

“Uh, hi?” he says, as quietly as he can, and the boy behind the desk looks up at him and smiles politely.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

“Well,” Richie chuckles, trying to hope for the best. “Do you happen to know any books related to slavic symbolism in Soviet cinematography, Andrei Tarkovskiy’s specifically?”

The boy arches his eyebrows. Richie smiles unsurely and gets ready to shrug it off and maybe convince his lecturer to change his topic of research.

“I’ll have to be honest, I have no idea how to help you, sir, but my colleague, who is currently in the section number eight is probably more educated on this matter.”

“Oh, okay,” Richie nods, considering to leave the place right now, but the boy’s softest, a little apologetic smile decide for him.

“It’s to the left, straight up until you see the number.”

“Thank you very much,” Richie tells him and turns towards the rows of bookcases.

12, 11, 10, 9…here it is.

The amount of books is almost frightening. The bookshelves are no less than two and a half meters tall, and Richie immediately imagines one of these things crashing epically right on his head. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, then turns behind the number Eight.

Five or more bookcases, forming some kind of a wall. In a couple of steps from where Richie’s standing, leaning on one of them, there’s a ladder, and on the ladder, one and a half meters above the floor, there’s a boy with a couple of books in his hands. Richie, even in glasses, can’t really see his face, because the light doesn’t reach it.

“Hi,” the boy speaks up first, although Richie decides to wait until he’s finished. It’s like, dangerous. The whole construction looks…unsafe. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hello, uh, the boy at the desk told me you could help me to find some resources on slavic symbolism in Andrei Tarkovskiy’s films?”

Richie doesn’t notice that he’s holding his breath. The boy’s hands don’t stop, they don’t even flinch, he surely keeps placing the books one by one to where they belong. They’re both silent for a long minute.

“I’m not sure I can help you to find something with both Andrei Tarkovskiy and slavic symbolism, but you could look through slavic symbolism analysis in Russian art in general and the language of Andrei Tarkovskiy’s separately.”

Motherfucker.

“Oh wow, that would actually—“

“Also on the Internet there are a lot of articles on what inspired Tarkovskiy’s methods, if I were you I’d check them out as well.”

The last two books stay tucked under his arm, and that is when he begins to climb down.

“God, lemme help you,” Richie’s heart trembles and starts beating faster at the sight of how tremendously dangerous the boy’s position looks, and he rushes towards the ladder.

“I’m alri—“ the boy turns his head to look at Richie, and when their eyes meet and the spark of recognition explodes between them, two things happen at once: first, Richie’s heart stops, and second, the boy falls down the ladder.

“Bloody fuck,” Richie breathes out, already on his knees beside the boy’s sprawled body. It’s him, of course it’s him, his curly hair, pale freckles on heart-shaped face, but now it’s all red, wearing a grimace of breathless pain. Richie’s so shocked he doesn’t know what to do. The boy turns to lay on his back and a hard moan escapes his lips.

“Oh God, oh fuck, what the—“

“Shut up,” the boy manages to say, chest trembling from the efforts to control his breath. “Shut up and call the—“

“Stan! Jesus, what happened!?”

The other boy is now here too, Richie sees him with the corner of his eye. He looks back though, quickly inspecting the boy’s—Stan’s body.

“What does it look like,” he mocks, cheeks darker than a pomegranate. If Richie wasn’t so terrified, he would appreciate this. Like, a lot. “Call an ambulance, quick, I think my collarbone is broken.”

“Oh my God,” Richie and the other boy mutter in unison, and Stan rolls his eyes.

“Well unfortunately, it’s not my fucking neck, so I’m kind of in pain right now and would really appreciate—“

“God, yes, sorry, yes.”

Richie too pulls out his phone, hands shaking, while Stan closes his eyes and tries to remain unmoving. There’s not much Richie can do, but it’s still something. The other boy’s panicked voice is explaining something in the background. Every ring lasts forever, and when Eddie finally picks the phone, Richie’s sure he almost had a heart attack. Twice.

“Eds? Hi, listen, what do I do if someone breaks their collarbone?”

He accidentally catches Stan’s unreadable stare and looks away, heart already on fire.

“What? Richie, what the fuck, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m just—“

“Did anyone break their collarbone?”

“Well it looks like this, yeah.”

“Did you call—“

“Yeah, but—“

“Okay, fuck, okay, most importantly, do not try to move the body until they arrive, it’s really fucking important, got it? Let them stay where they are, immobilize the shoulders completely, also—do you have ice there?”

“Do you—“ Richie turns to the other boy, but he’s still on the phone, so he has to ask Stan. “Do you have ice?”

Stan blinks, and for the first time, Richie notices that he’s balancing his head above the floor. It’s clear lowering it hurts him. Oh, and his pride is too hard-to-swallow to ask for help. It’s hot.

“Yes, I think we do.”

“Yeah, we do,” Richie repeats and moves awkwardly on his knees to help Stan keep his head up. Stan freezes for a second, but then blinks and relaxes into Richie’s hands.

“Use it for pain, you can give them an ibuprofen too, but don’t let them move, Richie, okay!? Now tell me what the fuck—“

“Later, Eds, thanks a lot, bye,” Richie breaths out as fast as he can and focuses on Stan.

Even upside down, he looks pretty.

Fuck.

Richie, shut the hell up, you’ll think about this later, you sick fuck.

Stan looks him in the eye, and Richie sees that those irises are brown. They’re bright with accidental tears, framed with dark thick lashes, and the colour is not exactly brown, more like greenish-brown, like pine tree needles three weeks after Christmas.

“You shouldn’t move,” Richie says, back to reality. “You shouldn’t move, we need ice and you’re allowed to take an ibuprofen.”

“They’re gonna be here in ten minutes,” the other boy finally joins them, face as red as Stan’s. Actually, even worse: red is his neck and probably his shoulders are too.

“Could you bring me some ice? And a glass of water with an ibuprofen?” Stan asks him, and Richie’s finally calmed down enough to notice how calm Stan is, although the situation is…literally the craziest he’s ever been in. He moves his leg to support his arm holding Stan’s head. Fuck, those curls are soft. Not like Richie’s, Richie’s are soft too, but Stan’s are in thicker rings, curling tenderly around Richie’s pale fingers, licking the boy’s unhealthily pale sweaty forehead.

“Like what you see?” Richie hears Stan’s voice and meets his intense gaze again. There is this daring glimmer to his eyes again, and Richie willingly accepts it.

“Dude, stop,” he chuckles weakly, licking his lips. “ You know I’m already in love.”

Despite their position, Stan huffs, but then his face skews of pain.

“Shh,” Richie winces and moves his fingers in an instinctive soothing motion. “You’re gonna be fine soon.”

“It’s not that bad, just a collarbone. Happens to people all the time.”

“At least it didn’t break through your skin,” Richie blurts out and regrets it immediately, cheeks flaming up.

But then, Stan chuckles. There’s a dimple in one of his cheeks, the left one. Richie’s almost sure his eyes are fully heart-shaped by now.

“Here,” the other librarian boy rushes up to them with what looks like a towel, stuffed with ice cubes, and a glass of water.

He puts a pill in Stan’s lips and lets him drink carefully, then passes Richie the towel.

“Tell me where,” Richie murmurs, and despite how fucked up the situation actually is, this feels oddly intimate. He lowers the towel and feels how more tensed Stan grows.

“A bit—yeah,” he breathes out, and Richie presses down a little.

“Told you you should’ve taken a lunch break,” the librarian guy mumbles softly, and for a moment Richie thinks he’s gonna cry.

Stan rolls his eyes. Richie keeps holding. Somewhere near the door bursts open.

***

“This shit’s surreal,” Bill says after a long pause, when Richie calls him from the hospital an hour later. “I don’t believe this.”

“Fair enough,” Richie nods to himself, inspecting his shoes. “And yet.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Probably something stupid,” Richie hears Eddie’s voice and grins.

“You’re absolutely correct, Edward.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” comes an answer, and Richie thanks him once again for helping out.

“Trust me, I was ten times worse.”

“It’s actually unbelievable,” Bill says again, and Richie knows the face he’s probably wearing at the moment: blue eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest bit, one corner of his lips crooked a little. “If it’s not fate, I don’t know what it is.”

“Ooooow,” Richie and Eddie fondly mock him in unison, and Richie knows for sure someone’s gonna get some when he hangs up. “Don’t get too emotional, Big Bill, Edster likes it rough, just like his mom.”

“Oh for fuck’s—“ Eddie’s scandalized howl is the last thing he hears before the line goes silent, and he’s alone again, with the most shit-eating smirk on his face.

The other librarian boy — Ben, he learned when the ambulance arrived — stayed at the library, and Richie was secretly happy to accompany Stan to the hospital alone, although he insisted a couple of times that Richie doesn’t need to.

Richie’s stomach growls and he needs a fag asap, but there’s no way he’s missing Stan. God only knows when he’s at the library again, and Richie needs…Richie needs to talk.

And when Stan, with a sling supporting his hand, walks out of the emergency room, Richie stands up, not being able to help a smile forming on his face.

“Don’t you have other things to do?” Stan asks him, but he’s not annoyed. He looks tired and disheveled, but still calm, and Richie notices that they’re both the same height. Stan’s all legs though, all legs and curls.

“You’re the most important one on the list,” Richie answers automatically, and Stan purses his lips, clearly unimpressed. His eyes glimmer brighter, though. “Hungry?”

Stan graciously arches his dark eyebrow.

“Are you—“ he cuts himself off, clearly thinking it’s a bad idea, but when Richie keeps waiting (politely, although he’s nervous as fuck, because hello to today’s third heart attack), he licks his lips and starts again. “Are you trying to ask me out?”

“Maybe?” thank God his voice sounds much, much more confident than he, in fact, is.

Richie probably needs to get comfortable with Stan needing a moment of silence to think good. Unlike other people that start…to ramble.

“Sorry, I’m just used to people leaving after waking up with me.”

Richie’s jaw hits the floor harder than that meteor hit the Earth and fucked up the dinosaurs. Go off, Stan the Man, go the fuck off.

And he doesn’t even look proud of himself. It’s as casual for him as it is for Richie to tell your dad a mom joke. For Heaven’s sake, who is this guy?

“Well,” Richie squeaks, feeling that his body is on again, as if something blew his fuse for a moment. “It’s not happening any time soon, pretty boy,” he points at Stan’s sling, “so I thought maybe I could try something different.”

“Like what?” he’s smiling now. Legit.

“A dinner? A couple of them? Maybe films? Although I’ll have to be careful with this one, your shoulders are fragile now.”

Stan’s smile becomes even wider as Richie continues to ramble, and although it’s not the brightest and sunniest smile he’s ever seen, it sure feels like the most precious one. It feels like a reward.

It still feels like the most precious reward, weeks later, when they finally wake up together and Richie only leaves to pee and to make them a coffee. Months later, when Richie lets his hand slide down Stan’s shoulder and feels the slightest crook to his collarbone with the tips of his fingers. Years later, after some shitty horror film about some monster clown who eats kids, when he proposes in that empty cinema auditorium, in those exact seats.

Stan still needs a minute to think good, but his burning, incandescent smile says everything Richie needs to know.

#i hope this is believably unbelievable though #stozier #kaspbrough #drabble #okay we concluded its not a drabble #ficlet #...i guess? #stanley uris #richie tozier #mine

[1kook]

milestone

Jeon Jungkook x (F) Reader

summary→ Part of you is touched that Jungkook really has been there for every milestone in your life. The other part wishes he hadn’t shown up looking so ridiculously sexy. tags→ American highschool/college universe, brother’s best friend au, grinding, first time, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (pls use condoms tho), dirty talk, confessions, um graduation sex??? idk lol wc→ 8.2k

did i proofread? hell no lmao. this is my first time writing for bts tho!! enjoy!!

To say Jungkook had changed was an understatement.  

You could safely say this because you knew Jungkook, despite the times you wished you didn’t. You knew him, because he’d been attached to your older brother’s hip for as long as you could remember, present at nearly every milestone event of your childhood. He and Taehyung had become inseparable since the moment you’d first moved next door to Jungkook, their days spent playing video games after school, running around the backyard, and begging your parents to let them build a conjoined ‘Boys Only’ tree house. 

Yours, on the other hand, were spent inside, too shy to go outside and talk to your brother’s friend, even if he was only two years older than you. You were, in every aspect, the shy baby sister who played inside and hid behind her mom’s leg whenever the boys’ tummies called them back inside for snacks. 

It wasn’t that Jungkook was mean or anything. No, he was at least two times better than your own brother. On days your mother had urged you to go out and play, he’d let you play with his scooter around the driveway, because he knew you hated playing football with him and Tae, the both of them too rough. He was a sweet kid, from what you could remember, and you’d never once came to dislike him during those warm, honeyed days of your childhood. 

The bulk of what you knew of Jungkook came mostly from your teenage years, when you’d finally grown out of your shyness. Though he’d had an awkward growth spurt that led him to be the tallest freshman in his class for a short while, he was still the polite boy who everyone’s mother loved. His after school visits were not as often, both him and Tae consumed by their love for football. Their practices were grueling, and sometimes, they wouldn’t return home until well into the evening, their clothes soiled and smelly from all the hours they put in on the field. 

Jungkook was a junior by the time you started your freshman year, his prepubescent body finally working in his favor. He’d suddenly become more firm and defined, and you remembered the way his mother had scolded him when he’d pierced his right ear without permission. He’d become undeniably cute, but you always had kept that thought to yourself, lest you want the wrath of Taehyung’s overprotectiveness brought down on you. 

But he was still as supportive as he’d always been, wishing you good luck when both he and Taehyung had dropped you off for freshman orientation, a sweet smile adorning his face. It was Jungkook who had initially encouraged you to join the dance team, to which Taehyung had then insisted upon. (You’re pretty sure he just wanted you to join so he wouldn’t have to drive you home before the start of his practice everyday.)

You remembered so vividly how he’d driven you and your brother to and from school every day of the first semester, his hands veiny as they’d gripped the wheel of his dad’s car; you’ve never been able to look at a steering wheel the same way again. While your brother had preferred to scroll through his phone, Jungkook had liked conversing with you, head occasionally turning so you could catch glances of his side profile. During winter break, Taehyung finally got a license of his own, and those quiet mornings with Jungkook came to a stop. 

You saw him less after the first semester as you became consumed in your own school life, because, though the football season had ended, the dance team performed all throughout the winter basketball season as well. You came home late, often hitching rides from your older friends back home. They’d always been eager to drop you off, always desperate to catch sight of Jungkook or your brother coming out to receive you. The one day Jungkook did let you into the house, your cheeks had been tainted red from the cold. It masked your own adoration as he’d pulled open the door, his hair fluffy and soft, his usually broad body snuggly enveloped by a soft sweater. 

By the beginning of Taehyung’s senior year, both he and Jungkook had become transfixed with teaching you how to drive. At night, you’d run a few circles in the grocery’s empty parking lot, their instructions overwhelming as they shouted to be heard over each other. It was ultimately Jungkook who’d taken up the sole duty of instructing you, his voice soft and calm against your ear as he leaned in from the backseat, arm occasionally coming into your line of vision.

His and Taehyung’s senior night had been ridiculously teary, both of them grasping onto each other as the final whistle of their last high school football game rang through the crisp October air. Your parents had been preoccupied with taking pictures of Tae to upload onto Facebook, and you’d almost wandered back to the car in boredom, had Jungkook not swept you into a hug and gushed profusely, the adrenaline from the game and his happiness making him stumble over his words. He’d been smelly and sticky, his shoulder pads pressing into you in a mildly uncomfortable way, but you’d be an idiot to pull out of his embrace. 

It was during their graduation that you finally came to terms with your crush on Jungkook, your brother’s best friend in the entire universe. 

As they’d filed out of the auditorium, your eyes had been locked on Jungkook’s broad shoulders, nicely fitted by the gown they all wore, a sharp pang striking your chest. He was eighteen then, so bright and excited for college, and you knew you could never tell him how much he meant to you. You couldn’t tell him, not because it’d make things weird, but because Jungkook was so caring and generous that he would spend all his time worrying about little sixteen year-old you. 

He was such a genuine person, that you knew bestowing such news on him would only hinder his success as he moved onto the next stage of his life; so worried he’d be about you that he might even reconsider going to dorm out of state. You never wanted anything more than for Jungkook to be happy, and if it meant suppressing the feelings you’d felt for more than ten years, so be it. 

They would go away, you were sure, but Jungkook’s troubles for you would not. So you’d brushed them aside in favor of watching him blossom into the professional gentleman you knew he was destined to become. 

Which is what leaves you undoubtedly confused by his appearance at your graduation. 

“I- thanks?” You say, taking the sopping wet bouquet out of his grasp, holding it  as far as possible from your crisp graduation gown. The tassel you’d just turned brushes against your cheek as you level Jungkook with a confused once-over. He’s out of breath, for some reason, the strands of hair he’d brushed backwards slowly curling forwards to brush the tip of his eyebrows. 

He draws to his full height, leveling you with an unusual smirk. “Don’t mention it, kid,” he brushes off, playfully punching your arm. You guess he isn’t aware of his own brutish strength, hiding beneath that tight button-down, because you end up flinching after the hit, not that he notices. You push the flowers off onto your mom, who seems pretty preoccupied making sure the pictures she’d taken of you came out okay. Your dad is nowhere to be found, probably back in the cafeteria scarfing down the snacks that had been set out for people wishing to mingle after the ceremony. 

You’re thrown for another loop when Taehyung’s arm is thrown around your shoulders, knocking your cap off your head. He very narrowly catches it, twirling it in his palm as he beams in your face. “I can’t believe it,” he cries, “my baby sister, finally being released from prison!” He wipes an imaginary tear off his face, and you would have been more invested in his dramatics had you not been so enthralled by the sight of Jungkook. 

Admittedly, it’s been a while since you last saw him. He and Taehyung rarely visited, only on the mandatory holidays, before driving the five hours back to their college to never be seen or heard from until the next holiday. The last time you’d even seen Taehyung was during winter break, because he and Jungkook had decided to travel out of the country for spring break instead of coming home. 

The extended absence is probably why you’re so confused as you stare at Jungkook now, his appearance nothing like the young man that had worn this exact same cap and gown two years ago. You’re not sure if his life has genuinely transformed into a mess, or if he’d just been rushed to come to your graduation. Either way, his appearance is getting quite the attention from those around you. He’d forgone an under shirt, despite the translucence of his formal button-down, and when you squint hard enough, there’s definitely a tattoo on his clavicle, and another one nestled beneath the swell of his pecto–you quickly look away. 

“When did you guys get here?” You ask, scanning over the sea of gowns in an attempt to distract yourself from Jungkook’s godly appearance. Part of you is touched that Jungkook really has been there for every milestone in your life. The other part wishes he hadn’t shown up looking so ridiculously sexy. 

“Tae wanted to get here earlier so we could take pictures, but we had to stop by and get some flowers, and the only ones you liked were in the middle of getting water,” Jungkook supplies, unaware of your attempts to push him to the back of your mind. “And then we got stuck in traffic, and ended up getting dressed in the car,” he sighs, hands shoved into the depths of his wrinkled slacks. 

“Must’ve been quite the show,” you offhandedly reply, and have to will your face to remain as stoic as possible when he raises an eyebrow at you, a teasing smirk adorning his features. “Look, we’re gonna go eat at the nice Italian place downtown,” you say instead, turning your gaze back to Taehyung. “You guys are welcome to come, but I don’t know if we reserved enough seats.”

Taehyung snorts, and you’d pull away had he not currently held a vice grip on your shoulders. “Fuck that plan,” he scoffs, and your mom whacks his arm. “So here’s what we’re really going to do,” he says, pulling Jungkook in so the three of you are awkwardly huddled in the midst of the all graduates and their families. At the sudden movement, Jungkook’s arm brushes up your own, your heads nearly knocking into each other. “Dad said I can take you out to celebrate you finally being an adult, and since it’s officially the beginning of summer, there’s a huge party on the south side of town.” He says, and the fact he knows what’s going on in his hometown, despite only being home for all of two hours, lets you know this was premeditated. 

“I’m sorry, we’re doing what?” You finally gather the balls to look Jungkook in the eye again, and by the shrug he gives you (still with that stupid grin on his face), you at least know this was a Taehyung original scheme. You’re grateful he hadn’t roped Jungkook in yet, because if he’d proposed this idea, you’d agree in a second. 

You forget Jungkook and Taehyung work through a telepathically connected system, and one shared glance between the two has Jungkook immediately taking your brother’s side. “C’mon, that’d be fun wouldn’t it?” His voice is deep and raspy in all the right places, and you purse your lips together as you grapple for some excuse. You can’t say your parents are against it, because, according to Tae, your dad had approved of this plan–sort of. 

“Think of it this way,” Jungkook pulls you out of your thoughts, “it’d be better to go to your first real party with your brother!” You groan, and Taehyung beams at Jungkook’s terrible point. 

“This is a horrible idea,” you whine, snapping out of your childish antics when one of your friends brushes by you, throwing a soft goodbye over your shoulder. Briefly, Taehyung lets a low whistle leave his lips, to which you shove an elbow into his ribs. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I really just want to eat some food and go to sleep,” you calmly state. 

Taehyung groans so hard and loud, it nearly sounds like a scream. Your huddle breaks at that, and you readjust your gown. You wonder if you’d imagined the way Jungkook’s eyes flickered towards your exposed neck, the off the shoulder dress you’re wearing making it seem as if the graduation gown was the only thing you had on. “You’re so boring, ___!” Taehyung complains. You refrain from rubbing your temples, because the makeup you’d worn tonight had taken quite some time. 

The only thing that calms you down is the way Jungkook slowly wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling your diploma from your hand. “Oh, right,” he says, eyes glinting, “forgot you were a goody-two-shoes.” 

You can’t really say no then. Not only was your pride at stake now, but the way Jungkook’s eyes had traced around the dainty necklace resting between your collarbones had been too inviting. 

“Have you seen my brother?” You screech into Jungkook’s ear, your voice drowned out by the loud thump of the bass. Jungkook squints, as if that somehow helps him hear better, and motions for you to repeat it. You groan, and try again. You’re not sure if Jungkook shrugs because he hasn’t seen Taehyung, or because he didn’t hear for the second time. 

You’re a real idiot for letting some pretty brown eyes rope you into the craziest night of your life. Through the course of the evening, you’ve managed to see your brother–your own brother, the one who’d cried when Simba’s dad died–jump off the balcony of someone’s house and into a trampoline on the yard below, someone snort a line of crack off a guy’s dick, someone else completely wipe out while dancing on the bar, and Jungkook successfully swindle four hundred dollars out of some drunk billiards players. Suffice to say, you were ready to go home and knock out in the comfort of your bed. 

It didn’t help that Taehyung had been adamant that you drink as much alcohol as you could, occasionally brushing by to thrust another mysterious liquid into your palms. You shouldn’t be as cautious of the drinks considering your brother made them, but then again, your brother made them. 

The fact you’d had to watch Jungkook grind with multiple women on the dance floor for a solid fifteen minutes while Taehyung made you play beer pong with him, was another matter for another day. 

You sighed, glancing around to see if you could catch sight of Taehyung’s ridiculously bright head of hair. Probably the biggest mistake you’d made that night was putting Tae in charge of the car keys. 

You’re pulled out of your worries when Jungkook taps your arm. You raise your brows at him, and he motions for you to lean closer, which you hesitate to.

Truthfully, he looks absolutely godly sitting on that bar stool, legs deliciously spread out for you to slot yourself in between. Somewhere along the line, he’d began unbuttoning his shirt to relieve some of his body’s heat; he was three buttons down now, and the flat part of his chest, right between where his pecs met, glistened with sweat. 

As if sensing your hesitation, he hits you with another one of those sweet smiles he’d been dropping all night, though with the more alcohol he consumes, the more they start to look like those devious little smirks now. You acquiesce, leaning forward so that his lips hover dangerously close to your ear. 

What you’re not expecting is the palm that spreads itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer between his legs. Your breath catches in your throat, your arms automatically shooting out to rest on his shoulders. “You okay?” He huffs, hot breath fanning over your ear and neck. He pulls away, brown eyes wide as he inspects your appearance. You nod, distantly aware of the trembling of your hands. Jungkook smiles. 

“Don’t be so scared,” he laughs, and all you can do is nod again. His hand shifts, gliding around until it rests on your waist. “Don’t be so uptight,” he teases, fingers gently pressing into your skin in an effort to loosen you up. If anything, it makes you even more tense. 

He leans away, ducking down to catch your gaze as you struggle to contain the warmth on your face. When you finally meet his eyes, he seems almost devilish as his eyes trace over your face, briefly flickering somewhere behind you. “Don’t be such a fucking prude,” he cackles, and points over your shoulder. 

You turn your body, only to catch sight of girls falling over each other on the dance floor as they shake every body part possible. Truthfully, you wish you had the balls to move like that, be as open as them. In another life, you’re as fun and as wild as them, but in this one you’re still a reserved little girl, a trait you’re certain Jungkook has picked up on by now. 

“I don’t know how to dance like that,” you awkwardly admit, looking away from him the second the words leave your mouth. You don’t let this vulnerable moment last long, quickly screwing your lips up to spit out another excuse that will somehow redeem your image. “And, Taehyung gets too overprotective if I dance with guys anyway!”

It’s only a half lie. Though Taehyung is in every sense the protective older brother, he knows you’re smart enough to make your own decisions. 

Jungkook knows this as well as you do.

“Bullshit,” he smirks, and sets his cup somewhere behind him. You bite your lip, brain racking for any other lie you can throw at him to protect your ego. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you dwell on it for long, abruptly standing up. You don’t move away fast enough, and end up pressed against the hard plains of his body. “C’mon,” he says, gesturing towards the dance floor with a nod of his head. “I’ll teach you.”

You don’t get your protest in on time before Jungkook’s tugging you towards where the majority of the party is concentrated. You stumble between dancing friends and couples, and for a moment you think you’ve spotted Taehyung to save you, but it’s just another person with annoyingly bright red hair. Your options are cut short when you bump into Jungkook’s shoulder, and he turns to face you. 

He looks disgustingly handsome here, the obnoxious strobe lights casting colorful shapes across his features. “Follow my lead,” he mouths (or you presume he does), moving to knot your arms around his neck. 

His hips move, and for a moment, your feet become ice blocks, struggling to move with him. You’re too entranced by the roll of his hips, the way his narrow waist moves back and forth. His hands find their home on your hips, gently encouraging you to move with the beat. 

After you’ve regained your wits, you begin following Jungkook’s lead, letting your hips swing from side to side until they’ve synced with his. You chance a glance up at his face, before snapping it back to his body. It’s a thousand times easier to watch the rolls of his body than meet the heated gaze he’s leveling you with. 

A few songs pass, your bodies moving in the same beat, until suddenly, the DJ hits you with the annoying air horns, transitioning into an even raunchier, slow song, if that’s possible. Immediately, everyone around you changes their pace, and you struggle to do the same, body awkwardly knocking into the people around you. 

Somehow, Jungkook both saves and endangers you. 

The easiest way to get you to sync up with him while also pulling you out of harm’s way is, apparently, whirling you around to press your back against his chest. A gasp catches in your throat at the sudden physical contact, the hair at the nape of your neck sticking to your skin. 

“Relax,” he laughs against your ear, hips slowly rocking back and forth, encouraging you to pick up the same pace. You do, your face finally taking on all the emotions you couldn’t when you were facing him. His hands rest on your hips still, though this time they pull you closer with each beat of the music. 

His hand slowly curls around your body, resting over your belly button, his pinky dangerously brushing lower to where an unusual ball of heat has begun to form inside of you. You jolt, pushing back onto him. A soft puff of air brushes against your ear at the movement, Jungkook’s hands twitching on your body. 

You’re suddenly aware of a particular nudge against the curve of your ass. 

“Oh,” you breathe, your voice too loud for the soft RnB tune drifting through the speakers. 

“Oh?” Jungkook repeats, voice husky, and you can imagine the smirk that tugs at his lips. He pulls you closer, and you feel it again: the soft brush of his dick, slowly hardening because of you. He nudges your head aside, pressing his mouth to your ear. “You like that?”

You’re paralyzed, hips unconsciously swaying with the music as the intense heat begins curling between your legs. You must’ve nodded, because Jungkook chuckles as he continues the motions, slowly grinding into you the same way you’d watched him do to other girls that same night. 

After a particularly nice move, your hand grapples for his hair, tugging him closer as your head lolls backwards to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to your neck, and you nearly ascend into another plane, the sensation so heavenly. 

“Look at you,” Jungkook purrs, rocking you back and forth between all the other grinding bodies. “Miss Goody-Two-Shoes does know how to dance,” he teases, pressing kisses along your jawline, a gasp escaping your throat. Your legs wobble, and you would have fallen if Jungkook’s arms hadn’t been wrapped around you. 

“K-Kookie,” you whine, quivering with every press of his lips against your hot skin. 

He quietly scoffs at the name, shushing you with more kisses. “Fuck,” he groans when you rock back into him again. “Tae always said you were off limits but,” he pauses, his hands briefly sliding over your pelvis, relishing in the moan that slips past your lips. “He didn’t tell me you’d gotten so pretty.”

Your cheeks burn even hotter at the compliment, head hanging in a sudden stroke of embarrassment. Jungkook presses a smile against the side of your neck. “Don’t get shy on me now, angel,” he croons as he stops swaying the two of you back and forth. 

His hands glide off your body to enclose your palms with his, raising them up to catch your attention. You’re met with that playboy smirk of his as he leans down to kiss your cheek. He raises an eyebrow, gesturing towards the stairs you’d seen countless couples go up throughout the night. 

You’ve barely stumbled off the dancing area when you’re suddenly attacked by a fiery drunkard, who immediately nestles his way between the two of you. “I was looking all over for you guys!” Taehyung slurs, hanging off your side. 

“That’s nice, Tae,” Jungkook grunts, trying to peel him away from the two of you in the subtlest way possible. Despite his obvious tipsy state, his hawk-like instincts kick in anyway, eyeing the way Jungkook tries to move towards you. 

There’s a heavy pause then, the both of them staring each other down. They’re probably having another one of those telepathic conversations right now, and you’re static between the two of them. Eventually, Taehyung backs down, though his jaw twitches as he spares you one last glance, before sauntering off to enjoy himself once more. 

You can more or less guess what it’s about. 

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, tugging you up the stairs and into a dark hallway with doors on both sides. You vaguely recognize the door Taehyung had stumbled through earlier in the night before he’d performed his balcony stunt, but you don't dwell on in too much before Jungkook’s pushing you through another open door. 

It’s someone’s bedroom, obviously, and you feel some sort of guilt for all the people that have probably run through this person’s belongings during the course of the night. Apparently, Jungkook’s hidden talent is distracting you in a moment’s notice, his mouth suddenly sealed to yours, not even bothering to flick the lights on. The stranger’s bedroom slips to the back of your mind.

In all the fantasies you’ve had of Jungkook, none of them went quite like this. They were always more romantic, filled with tearful confessions and lingering gazes, the Jungkook in your head so soft and shy, too hesitant to touch you, let alone kiss you. 

You’re not sure where the younger you got these ideas from, because the real Jungkook is nothing alike. His mouth is hot when he slots it against yours, harshly biting down on your lip until you’re crying out. He doesn’t feel (or at least show) an ounce of sympathy before he’s shoving his tongue down your throat. 

You choke, momentarily flinching away in surprise. You catch sight of the hungry glare of his gaze, before he’s diving in again. You’re more prepared the second time around, fingers hesitantly wrapping around his neck as he licks into your mouth. He’s cornered you against the desk in the room, your ass pressing against the edge, and he uses it to his advantage, lifting you to rest on top. 

He glances at your swollen lips, beaming at the sight. “Gonna fuck you so good, angel,” he says, nudging your legs open to squeeze between them. You tremble at his words. 

He’s kissing down your neck, tongue laving over the skin only to bite you, when things take a turn. “You clean?” He murmurs, a little preoccupied with his work on your neck. 

You pause. “I- Yes?”

Jungkook stills immediately, pressing one final chaste kiss to your skin before leveling you with a confused furrow of his brows. “You sure?” You flounder, totally unsure. Jungkook’s lips twist into a frown. His hands are still wrapped around the sides of your thighs, but you don’t miss the way he subtly shifts away from you. You nod, but you suspect Jungkook doesn’t believe you. 

He sighs. “Look, I didn't bring a condom, and if you’re not clean, then I don’t really want to...” he trails off, awkwardly glancing out the window to his left, people crowding the backyard. You’re not entirely sure why, but the mood feels wrong all of a sudden. 

“I-” you start, and cut off when he levels you with that intense stare of his. “I’m not sure... what you mean,” you admit, so incredibly nervous as you watch him work his lower lip between his teeth. 

“What?” He says in disbelief, and your eyes widen at the disappointment in his voice. “You clean or not?” Your mouth opens and closes for a few minutes, before you ultimately settle on a one-shouldered shrug. 

Jungkook’s eyes roll into the back of his head, his jaw twitching. “How do you not know?” He interrogates, and your cheeks flush in shame. “Have you fucked someone that might’ve been,” he waves a hand around, gesturing about something, “y’know?”

You shake your head. “I... I’ve never had sex,” you admit.

The air seems to be sucked out of the room at your confession, Jungkook’s annoyed expression slowly melting away. Stuck in a vacuum, you can hear the hard thumps your heart gives from its position lodged inside your throat.

You hear the party downstairs and outside continue in full swing, and, when you focus your ears enough, can hear the muffled moans coming from the room next door. Your ears burn, and you hastily begin apologizing to Jungkook, ready to brush him away, when he surges forward to connect your mouths for the third time that night. 

He bites your lower lip hard, your cry swallowed by his lips as he begins kissing you with a passion you’ve never felt from any other kisses before. When he pulls away with a lewd smack of your lips, you’re panting for breath, chest rising and falling with every movement. His eyes momentarily flicker to the swell of your breasts. 

He ducks down, one hand gliding up the center of your body to urge you to lean back, your arms barely catching the edge of the desk in time. “Holy fuck,” he breathes against your chest, pressing one brief kiss to the top of your breast. “You really are a little angel, aren’t you?”

You gasp when a hand tugs your legs open as much as your dress allows, slipping between your spread thighs to run a finger up your throbbing core. Your thighs tremble at the sudden touch, a moan ripping itself out of your throat. “So pretty,” Jungkook praises, slowly sinking to the floor between your legs. 

The sight of his black tuft of hair between your legs makes your toes curl. 

“What’s a good girl like you wearing these panties for?” Jungkook murmurs, his hands pushing the hem of your dress as far up as it’ll go to expose the little number you’d pulled out of your closet that day. It was the only seamless underwear you could wear with this dress, and had picked it carelessly because you’d been planning on going home right after your graduation anyway. But, y’know. 

“I needed it for the dress,” you answer, your voice uncharacteristically dainty as you stare him down. 

Jungkook loops his fingers around the sides, eyes meeting yours as he slowly pulls it down your legs, fingers trailing over your calf muscles. Once he’s tugged your feet out of it, he doesn’t hesitate to bring it up to where you can both see it, inspecting the crotch area. You’re mortified to see the way it glistens. 

You hadn’t been aware how wet you’d become until then, Jungkook’s head tilting to the side as he stared down the offending article. Your humiliation only increases when he brings it to his nose, and takes one long whiff of it. 

His eyes flutter shut, and he moans on the exhale. “You smell delicious,” he sighs, and takes one more glance at your panties before carelessly tossing the pair over his shoulder. Your mouth is agape, unsure of how to feel at such an action. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, turning his attention back to your exposed pussy. “I bet you taste even better.”

You don’t get to properly process his statement before he’s burying his mouth between your thighs, sucking your clit between his lips. You cry out in pleasure right away, back arching as he swirls your bud around his tongue, eyes watching your every expression. Your hands wildly search for something to hold onto, before settling on the edge of the desk and his hair. 

“J-Jungkook,” you moan, biting your bottom lip as you try to suppress any more embarrassing sounds. He hums, the sound sending vibrations through your clit and up your spine. 

While you’re distracted by the ministrations of his tongue, he trails his fingers down your slit, grinning when you finally register the touch with a sharp gasp. He pulls off your bud with a pop, leaning back to stare at your virgin hole as he swirls his fingers around it. 

“You touch yourself, angel?” He questions, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh, finger gently probing against your opening. When you don’t answer, he bites the soft inside of your thigh, the way you tremble a sight for his eyes. “Answer me.”

Your eyes feel heavy, lips quivering as you watch him become entranced with your cunt. “Sometimes,” you admit, shame building in your chest at the wicked grin he sends your way. 

Jungkook pushes the tip of his finger in, pausing as your body spasms to adjust. “You’ve touched this pretty little pussy?” He asks, accepting the hurried nod you give him as an answer. “What do you think about, angel?”

He pushes his finger in halfway, and you moan, your body clenching around the unusual feeling. While you might’ve had your own fingers stuffed inside of you before, they were nothing like Jungkook’s thick and long digit, testing out how much he could curl it so far. “Y-You,” you confess, raising your fist to your mouth to bite down on it. 

“Oh?” Jungkook murmurs, eyebrows raising at the confession. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your clit again. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show. “Do you think of me fucking you? Bending you over your bed while our parents are talking in the driveway outside?” He proposes, tongue slipping out to tease at your clit as he slowly pushes his finger the rest of the way in. “Or do you think of sitting on my cock during one of my and Tae’s sleepovers, angel? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Getting yourself off while everyone else is asleep,” he croons, and you yelp when he shoves the second finger in, not even bothering to go slowly. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it, angel?”

You whimper, mind clouded by all the possibilities he’d stuffed into your head. Until then, they’d all been fantasies, little snippets that would drift into your consciousness every now and then, ones you’d push away in a haste, never letting them rile you up for too long. 

It seemed impossible to apply that same mentality now, with Jungkook’s tongue flicking over your clit lazily, mocha irises drifting up to meet yours. You nibble your bottom lip, nails digging into the grainy underside of the desk as you watch that disgustingly arrogant smirk cross his features again. 

His fingers twist and bend inside of you. Immediately, your mouth drops open, whole body tingling as his shoves his two fingers deeper inside, until his knuckles are brushing the delicate lips of your pussy. Instinctively, your legs try to clamp around him, to which he halts you by pressing his hand down on your hip. 

You cry out after a particularly brutal scissor of his fingers, which Jungkook apparently deems as a sign of you being fully prepared, slipping his fingers out of you. He presses one final kiss to your hip bone and rises to his feet again. His ares are fixed on your exposed pussy for a second, before he glances back at you. 

“So you really are a virgin, huh?” He murmurs, rubbing one palm soothingly over your hip. He brings the hand that had been buried inside of you up to his mouth, sucking your juices off his fingers with a pleasured groan. “Fuck, you taste good,” he sighs, cheeks hollowed around his fingers. 

You seem to be caught in a trance as you watch him, plush pink lips wrapped around the long expanse of his fingers. They’re glistening, both from your own wetness and his saliva. He pulls his fingers out, the sound lewd in every sense of the word, and brings them up to your mouth instead. “Taste,” he urges, leaning in close, “you’re so sweet, angel,” he purrs, pushing his digits into your mouth until your tongue is forced to lick around them. 

It’s an odd feeling to taste yourself, but you can’t really complain, not when Jungkook seems hypnotized by the sight of you. So you make the best out of it, twirling your tongue around his fingers until he’s deemed it enough, and yanks them out of your mouth with a ragged breath. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he tells you, unbuckling his belt. You’ve been vaguely aware of the erection straining inside his pants since you first walked into the room, but it’d honestly slipped to the back of your mind, overshadowed by other matters. 

Now, you’ve seen your fair share of dicks, the majority, if not all, in the form of unsolicited snapchats from fuckboys at your school. But Jungkook was older than them, and thus probably had more experience and expertise with how to present his dick in a way that didn’t make girls go ewww. 

He doesn’t make it much of a show, doesn’t even bother taking his pants or briefs off. Instead, he tugs his hard cock out of its confines, and a moan catches in your throat despite the simplicity of the big reveal. His dick is thick, and long, longer than your entire hand at least. After giving it a few harsh pulls, he gets impossibly bigger. 

He must’ve sensed your fascination with it, because he doesn’t hesitate to bring your significantly smaller palm closer to him. “C’mon,” he teases, closing your fingers with his own, “don’t be scared.”

You play with him a little bit, shaky fingers tracing over the vein that decorates the side of his cock. You run the tip of your index finger down the slit at the head of his cock, and watch as a little white pearl of pre-cum slowly dribbles out onto your fingers, Jungkook groaning softly into your ear. He watches you spread his own self-made lube around his member, and groans, “I’m gonna fucking ruin you, my little angel.”

After you’re done examining your first ever dick, Jungkook wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Your legs dangle off the side of the desk still, the blood flow barely reaching your toes now. Jungkook grasps the base of his cock in one hand, tracing the rosy head around the tight ring of muscle leading into your soaking cunt. 

You cry out, wrapping one hand around him. The positioning feels all wrong; you feel too far away, the desk stiff underneath you. You whine, trying to tug him closer but your entire body still feels weak from the way his tongue had caressed you earlier, and you end up a huffy, pouty mess in his arms. 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. He slides his hands beneath your thighs, before fully sheathing himself inside of you. You scream, your back arching in pain that slowly melts away into the beginnings of pleasure. “J-Jungk-”

“Shh,” he says, pressing kisses all along your jawline. In an ultimate display of strength, he hauls you off the desk, cock still fully inside of you, as he walks you over to the window, satisfying the part of you that was desperate to be closer to him. You feel the cold press of the glass against your shoulders before you can protest, and for a moment, the idea of everyone below you watching Jungkook defile you sparks a growing sense of shame in your chest, even though the room is dark and there’s no way they could possibly see you–right?

Jungkook doesn’t let you dwell in these dark thoughts for long, before he’s slowly moving his hips, pulling his cock out and slamming back into you. “All these people,” he huffs, setting the pace for the fucking you’re about to get right then and there. His hips slowly gain speed, transitioning from slow and shallow thrusts to rapid ones that almost hurt, had his dick not been rubbing against your swollen clit with each movement. “They’re all gonna watch you, angel,” he purrs, laving his tongue over the side of your neck, before biting down. 

“P-Please,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulders as your body becomes used to the feeling of Jungkook inside of you. You’re still embarrassed, but the more Jungkook talks, the more excited you get about someone actually seeing you. It’s a kink you never thought you’d have, getting off on others watching you, yet here you are. “Faster, Kookie,” you beg, his childhood nickname absentmindedly rolling off your lips. 

Jungkook jolts at the name, his hips stilling mid thrust. For a moment, you’re scared he came to his senses, realizing how absolutely wrong it was for him to be fucking you, his best friend’s little sister, against a window where everyone could see. But the thought seems to be only in your mind, as Jungkook suddenly resumes his actions. 

“Fuck, angel,” he grunts, snapping his hips with even more fervor. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he laughs, though it’s choked and raspy, unlike the laughter that you’d been hearing all night. His hands, which had both been firmly clamped onto your hips to hold you against the window sill, leave. One slams down on the glass beside your head, while the other moves to grab the back of your thigh, hitching your leg up higher. 

The adjustment has him hitting an entirely new angle within you, and you nearly sob when the tip of his dick brushes your cervix. “K-Kookie!” you cry, every nerve in your body tingling. 

Jungkook presses a bruising kiss to your lips, swallowing every little noise you make. “You’re still gonna–fuck,” he curses, after a particularly harsh thrust that leaves him slowly grinding his hips against you for a second. “Still gonna call me that– stupid fucking name?” He chokes out, rutting into you with an inhumane pace, teeth clenching as he watches his own cock plunge into the depths of your achingly warm hole. 

You moan, fingers digging into his shoulders as he continues his thrusts, never stopping to let you watch your breath. The heat building inside your core is brimming, so close to exploding already that you become desperate for more. “More,” you beg, “pl-please.”

“Say it,” he spits, letting go of the window to grasp your hip again, his grip so tight it’ll probably leave bruises tomorrow morning. “Say it again,” he taunts, finally bottoming out inside of you, holding your hips as he slowly grinds his hips into you. 

“I-I don’t underst–”

“Bullshit,” he growls, pressing his forehead against yours. Your chest heaves, desperate for air as he continues slamming into you with a ridiculous strength. “Just do it, ___,” he demands. “Call me that childish name while my cock’s stuffed so deep inside you, you can barely breathe,” he huffs, and the strings of your arousal slowly begin pulling undone, your body so close to it’s breaking point as he continues thrusting. “Does that get you going? Thinking about all the times we could’ve done this before.”

You whine, your body beginning to feel like gelatin, as you shake your head. “Did you think about me fucking you when I was your math tutor? Or how I could’ve bent you over the backseat of my dad’s old car? Or maybe you fantasized about how it’d feel after one of my games?” You wail, and a cocky smirk crosses his features. “Ohhh, so you got off on that one, huh? Did you imagine riding me inside the locker rooms while poor Taehyung waited for us in the parking lot? I always knew you weren’t really a good little girl, ___. Maybe you aren’t an angel after all, hm?” You shake your head no, tears and moans escaping your lips, your body finally giving out on you, your thighs quivering around him as your body spasms, overcome with your orgasm. 

You feel your own cum slowly drip down the back of your thighs, body slumping back against the window as Jungkook continues fucking into you like an animal in heat. Dazedly, you trace a hand over the side of his face, murmuring a soft, “Kookie.”

Jungkook moans as your sensitive pussy throbs around him, unintentionally clenching around him. The drag must feel nice, because his thrusts become wild and off tempo, until he’s ramming into you sporadically, desperate for his own release. 

It comes a few moments later, with a few soft caresses to his face, and sweet pecks to lips. He busts inside of you, his hips meeting yours one last time, before his mouth goes slack against yours, and you feel his semen paint your walls. You whine at the feeling, body jolting. 

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to haul you off the window sill, carefully dropping you down the perfectly untouched mattress, before falling down after you. All is calm for a few moments, the only sounds registering in your brain the harsh breathing of both you and Jungkook, and the slowing beat of your heart. 

After a while, everything else begins filtering in; the loud thumping of the bass downstairs, the hoots and hollers of the partygoers (Taehyung’s are probably mixed in), and the general ruckus that comes from having so many youths gathered in one place. 

It hits you then, and you’re quick to tug your dress back down over your ass, despite the cum dripping out of your pussy. Jungkook startles at your sudden movement, moving at the pace of a literal sloth as he tries to calm your nerves and persuade you to lay back down. His dick is limp and shiny with cum now, which not only makes it less sexy, but also is a stark reminder of what you just did with your older brother’s best friend. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he soothes, tucking his penis back into his pants as if sensing your growing anxiety. He seems nothing like the Jungkook who’d just fucked your brains out, but more like the Jungkook from your childhood. You’re not sure which one is worse. 

“Taehyung’s gonna hate us,” you cry, hopelessly trying to reign in the tears that threaten to spill over your waterline. Jungkook pulls you into his chest, your hands immediately flying to ball his shirt beneath your palms. 

Jungkook presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and you’re not sure if your heart skips because of that or because you’re crying. “Calm down, angel,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your spine. Before you can get in a protest about how you can’t possibly be calm in this situation, Jungkook beats you to it. “Tae already knew I was gonna make a move on you tonight, there’s nothing to worry about,” he hums, and your body stills. 

You pull out of his embrace to fix him with a confused, wide-eyed stare. “What do you mean Taehyung already knew?!” He’d been trying to ease your nerves, but if anything, made them worse. 

Jungkook sighs, “for a smart girl, you’re pretty stupid sometimes.”

Your watery eyes narrow dangerously at him, and Jungkook is quick to come to his own defense. “I’m sorry! It’s just,” he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and even though the room is still shrouded in darkness, you get the feeling he’s blushing. When he finally glances back, his eyes are big and innocent, and you have a hard time connecting this Jungkook to the one from ten minutes ago who folded you like a chair against the window. 

“You were right about what you said downstairs, Taehyung has always been overprotective about you being with guys,” he mumbles. “He was mad when I told him I liked you during my senior year, but he knew I would never go after you, because I was becoming an adult or whatever, and then I guess he thought I was gonna get over it when we went to college. But then, like, I never did, so that’s why he was mad when he saw me bringing you upstairs, but you just looked so good tonight when you were dancing, and I’ve been sort of in love with you since we were kids, that I couldn’t help myself, and I just– Are you crying?!” His rambling is cut short.

“No!” You shout, except you definitely are. You sniffle, wiping away the makeup that has long since been ruined as you try to hide your face from Jungkook. Said boy is staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, unsure if he should console you or let you cry it out. He settles on the former, ducking his head down until you’re forced to meet his imploring gaze. 

You whine, pushing his head away as you scramble to gather your thoughts. “You’re so annoying,” you huff, getting the last of the tears wiped away as you level him with an irritated glare. “Instead of telling me you liked me, you basically stole my virginity, which you apparently asked my brother for–my brother! Of all people,” you scold, tweaking his nipple between your fingers, before trying to ignore the heated gaze he gives you from such an action. 

You let one irritated groan tear its way out of your throat before you’re burying your way back into Jungkook’s arms. “You’re not mad, right?” He murmurs, soft and caring, and you’re totally mad, because it feels like you’ve somehow been conned out of your own virginity. 

Except you tell him, “no, I’m not, because I’m kind of in love with you too,” and get to hear the giddy whoop that leaves Jungkook’s lips. 

#thekpopnetwork #kpopwonderlandtag #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #jjk #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts smut #mine #y'all i write those before my finals.... my precalc exam...whew....rip in pieces girl!!!

[cherry-shoto]

The Girl On Ice

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Warnings - some violence closer to the end

Type - mostly fluff🤔

Summary - Shoto found himself unable to look away from the girl who skated beautifully across the stage. Her movement, how she seemed to fly on the ice, everything captivated him and for once the boy with red and white hair found himself not knowing how to act.

~~

“We’re going to the theater today?!” Half the class ask/yelled towards their teacher, mr. Aizawa. The man rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Yes, now hurry and follow me. The buss is already waiting for us.” Everyone made their way down to the back of the school where the busses waited and climbed in. The ride will filled with idle chitchat and talk as they drew closer and closer to the theater they were visiting.

“Does anyone know why we’re going to watch a play?” Midoriya asked.

“No, we haven’t even learned about any plays in English lately.” Uraraka said.

“Maybe Mr. Aizawa just wanted a break from teaching.” Tsu added. Todoroki looked out the window, only half listening to what his friends and classmates said. It didn’t take long till they were all pushed into the auditorium with pamphlets in their hands. The white and red haired boy looked over what they would watch, noticing it was a bunch of dance numbers. His confusion grew but he showed no sign of it.

Soon enough the lights dimmed and everyone was told to put their phones on silent. Then the show started. Like Todoroki saw before, it was a dance performance. People of all sorts danced to every type of music. For the most part it was uneventful for him.

That it, till it came to one girl.

She walked out on stage wearing a white figure skating outfit. It looked as if two feathers came down from her shoulders, hugging her chest and waist tightly before loosening up a little only to stop a just past her hips. The girls hair was pulled into two Dutch braids that laid beautifully on her shoulders. She didn’t wear shoes, only a pair of skin tone socks.

‘What is she doing?’ The boy couldn’t help but ask himself as she moved to the center of the stage.

Music started and the girl brought her leg up and arms in, doing three pirouettes. As she did this, the stage under her began to freeze. Not only did the floor freeze though, so did her feet and hands. The ice climbed about half way up her limbs before stopping like longe gloves and socks. Her feet now had literal ice skates as she began to move. It started out slow but began to pick up speed and emotions. As she moved around the stage, Todoroki noticed that some thing like a cape began to flow from her back. He could only assume it was her quirk that had frozen the stage and gave her the ice cape.

The boy held his breath as the girl did a triple lutz into a triple toe, though he didn’t know that’s what they’re called. The performance continued on for three to four minutes before it came to an end. Todoroki had found himself completely captivated by this ice princess as she took a bow. After she left the stage, it felt like everything kinda just flew by him. The rest of the performances didn’t leave any impressions at all.

“Wow, that was amazing!”

“That one girl who used her quirk was amazing.”

“Which one? The fire or ice one?” All of his friends talked around him, but he didn’t listen. Instead he began to wonder if he would ever see that girl again. He really hoped he would.

Months had passed and the girl was just a distant memory in Todoroki’s mind. That is, till he heard cheering from a few feet away. His eyes turned to look at where the noise came from as his walk to the store was interrupted.

There, a few feet away from him, was the girl. The same one from the theater. Only this time, she was dancing on the street. It was still the same graceful dance moves from before, but something was different. She looked happier, more carefree with her moves.

Todoroki walked closer. The closer he got, the more he began to notice. Not only was she dancing on the ice she made, so were multiple other little kids. He watched as she giggled and helped the ones who needed it, grabbing their flailing hands and keeping them on their feet. He could hear her soft voice encouraging them to keep trying and telling them they would get the hang of it. The boy could feel his cheeks heat up.

Parents of the children as well as people passing by dropped money into a hat that she had left out. He couldn’t help but wonder why she was doing street performances. Just before he could get any closer, a loud explosion was heard a few feet away. It had came from the bank across the street. Three guys, all holding bags of stolen money, came out of the smoke. Almost instantly Todoroki was running towards them to stop the three and get the money back. They must have seen this because they grabbed the girl who was just performing, using her as a hostage. She let out a scream of fear as her back hit one guys chest, instantly freezing up as a gun was placed to her head.

“Let her go!” Shoto yelled, using his ice to freeze the three. In their shock, he managed to get the girl from them and got her a little away. But he didn’t account for one of them being strong enough to break free from his ice. Another explosions could be heard, making Shoto turn to look. His eyes meet with one of the men’s. He was in the air, aiming an explosion towards the crowd. Just before it hit, Todoroki managed to make a wall of ice to block it.

The fight continued for a while before pro’s showed up and caught the three men. Almost instantly, Shoto was by the girl’s side.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked. Her eyes widened before she nodded and looked down a little.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, you were really brave.” The boy could feel his cheeks heat up ever so slightly as she looked to the ground bashfully.

“It’s nothing much for a hero.” He saw her look up with sparkles in her eyes. “I’m Shoto Todoroki.”

“I’m (Y/f/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

Your P.O.V ~

“I’m (Y/f/n). It’s nice to meet you”

“Same here.” There was an awkward pause before Shoto spoke up again. “So I saw your performance in the theater a few months back.” My face instantly heated up. It was hard for me to believe that this was actually happening. I’ve heard so much about the new number 1’s son, but it’s another thing to have him save me.

“Oh, really? Did you like it?”

“Yeah, I actually did.”

“I’m glad, I worked really hard on that one.” Of course I knew the performance he was talking about. I didn’t get very many chances to be on a big stage like that one. Since that performance, I haven’t gotten another offering and there was almost a year long gap in between that one and the one before.

“It showed, but - if you don’t mind me asking - why are you performing on the streets?” We began to walk after I picked up my hat with all the money in it.

“Oh, I go to a really strict performing arts school. One of the rules is that we can’t have a job while attending but I need to be able to pay for food some how, so I just perform on the streets. A lot of people will pay good money to see a person perform from my school, so being able to see it for free generally earns me some money from the generous people who watch. That and I don’t really get that many chances to perform so I take what I can get.” I smiled up at the boy who looked down at me. We were headed towards a small farmers market that was going on today. It held goods like food, snacks, clothes, and little toys for the children who were forced to go along with their parents.

“You don’t get that many chances to perform?” I nodded my head at his question. “That seems ridiculous. You were great.” His blunt words hit me across the face, turning my cheeks pink.

“Thank you but not that many people like it when people use their quirk during dance numbers, and I can’t really help mine.”

“What do you mean?” I then explained that my quirk activated only when I danced. Because of that, I decided to turn it into something beautiful instead of pursuing the hero path like I had wanted when I was a kid and didn’t have my quirk.

For the next few hours, we walked around the farmers market and grabbed things we needed while talking about anything and everything. The boy was very funny unintentionally, which I found cute. Despite being attacked so many times by villains both in and out of school, he still managed to be a nice person. I found his whole persona and personality calming and nice to be around.

“Hey, can I get your number? You know, in case I need a hero to save me again.” I joked around while holding up my phone just before we split ways. I could feel that my cheeks were warm and probably pink, but I tried to ignore it.

“Yeah, sure.” He said softly while grabbing my phone from my hands. “Just text me when ever and I’ll be there to save you.” He smiled while handing my phone back. I couldn’t help but smiled back and nod my head. He began to walk away after saying a short ‘bye’, waving his hand over his head as he went. I waved back, the smile still on my face even after he left. My eyes went down to my phone screen, widening slightly when I saw what he put his name as

‘Your Hero’ With a little heart at the end. My cheeks turned bright red as a stupid smile took over my whole face. I texted him a small ‘Hey hero’ before putting my phone back in my pocket and starting my walk back to the dorms.

Today had ended up being a really good day.

#todoroki shoto x reader #bnha shoto #shoto x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki imagine #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha todoroki #todoroki reactions #bnha scenarios #bnha reactions #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia x reader #my hero fanfic

[bluehhj]

(don't) love me ˀˀ - one

(DON’T) LOVE ME  [“LISTEN TO ME” SPIN-OFF]

CHAPTER 01  ||  M.LIST

WORDS: 1.1K

a/n: just for you guys not to forget; the narrations will be made from Chaerin's point of view

It started in July, on a Thursday that should have been normal like every other so far.

End of semester is always a mess.

There are people who finish their exams and disappear from college, carrying with them the certainty that their grades were so excellent that they no longer have to worry about anything until the beginning of next semester, as well as there are people who go into despair and, in cases more seriously, they drop out of courses because they are no longer willing to shell out the significant amount that the facilities imposed as a condition.

Fortunately, I fit into the first group, because I struggled to keep the averages in the assessments and devoted myself to all the work, aware that they were always worth more.

Still, at that end of the semester, however, the mess — not necessarily related to academia — was finally present in my day and, unlike the others, it had a first and last name.

I don't know if it was the idea of the dean or any of the institution's coordinators, but scheduling a lecture in the auditorium, when the rooms were not even forty percent full, could have been too frustrating. I myself was only there to deliver a work that was accidentally lost from the portfolio and my courage to endure three massive hours of content that we would have to review in the next period was less than zero, although neurolinguistics was a subject that interested me greatly.

Given my almost tangible indisposition, I really would have gone home without even thinking twice, yet, there was an obstacle: Kim Taeyeon, our favorite professor.

Taeyeon was one of those people who you can't say no. She knew how to convince anyone without even saying much, so much that five minutes of conversation was enough for the fifteen people in the class to give in. In my case, I was sorry to say no to her little eyes and was seduced by the promise of several additional hours we would earn at the end of the course. Besides, I didn't have much to do outside, because, even though Jisung was in our house, we would do nothing but waste our time watching old movies.

So I went.

We were not alone in the auditorium, the medical and physiotherapy classes gathered there as well as the latest sound and image details were organized by the team responsible for structuring the lecture.

My class has never been an example of friendship and collective companionship. From the beginning of the course, the room was divided into a dozen cliques that rarely mingled with the rest any longer than group work required.

Personally speaking, I had nothing against anyone, but I felt more comfortable around three specific people: Lee Minho, Ha Sooyoung  and Jeon Jungkook.

Because of fate, none of the three came to class that day, so I sat in any chair, not paying attention to my company until the end of the lecture, and perhaps that was my first slip.

I could have stood by San, Mingi, and Wooyoung, even though they had an annoying craze of laughing too loudly in inappropriate places, or maybe I could have ignored how Jinah looked in love at Im Jaebum and sat next to her and Jade, but no. I preferred to be alone and kept going for the next few minutes until he asked if he could sit in the empty chair next to mine and what must have meant nothing turned out to be everything.

My movements were limited to a shake of the head. If he found me rude, he didn't show it. But the truth was, I couldn't express any kind of more energetic reaction, and that should not have happened.

Kim Seungmin was a boy as normal as anyone there, with his frayed jeans and brown hair. There was nothing different about him, nothing that made him stand out from the rest.

So, why did he look so unique right away?

— "There are more people here than I thought," — he said suddenly, looking around. I believe that he also wasn't putting faith that someone would really be interested in neurolinguistics at this point in the championship. His in-depth analysis ended when he rested his eyes on my face. — "Physiotherapy?" — he suggested with a slight smile. It took me about four full seconds to realize that he was referring to my supposed course.

— "Psychology," — I said, returning the smile without even realizing it.

— "I would have been a psychologist if all my vocational tests had not pointed to medicine." — his voice was kind of nasal and soft as a feather, the kind you want to hear when you need to relax. It was sweet. — "By the way, I'm Kim Seungmin."

— "Kwon Chaerin."

— "You're not from here, are you?"

Another fact that I discovered about Seungmin that day was that he loved to talk, which should have repelled me a little. I was never the kind of person who talked a lot, especially to those who had just met, but, the ease with which our subject unfolded for the next few minutes surprised me.

I told him that my mother's whole family lived in Canada, so I was born there, and he told me that his dream was to visit the United States. Then, we started talking about what we thought about South Korea, from my foreign perspective and from his native perspective. Luckily, the place we were in was one of the most empty of the auditorium, so our whispers didn't disturb the lecture, which had begun at some point that went unnoticed by both of us.

— "What surprises me is that our rooms are in the same building and we had never seen each other until today," — he commented between conversations.

— "Yeah," — the low laugh tore from my lips effortlessly and, pleasantly comfortable at his presence, I leaned my arms against the back of the chair and added: —  "But I think we can change that now."

Seungmin opened his lips, but gave up saying anything when his eyes met the thin golden band on my ring finger, and I was ashamed to say that only then did I remember the existence of that detail.

I had a fiance at home and would marry him very soon.

It wasn't as if Jisung and I couldn't develop new friendships. Our relationship was healthy, just as our trust in each other was mutual. However, I needed to be honest with myself and admit that my glances on Seungmin and his glances on me were not as unpretentious as recommended for a committed woman.

And I cannot blame him at all, for, as soon as he became aware of the weight of my wedding ring, Seungmin wilted, forced a small smile, and replied lightly: — "Of course."

And even if his statement showed everything but the certainty that we would actually see each other from now on, I knew this was far from our last conversation.

                                                       「❀」

a/n:  >so far< we can begin to conclude that Seungmin is a misunderstood little angel and the fool of the story is Chaerin

anyway, I ask you guys to try to understand their side. I'm not saying they're completely right, far from it, but this love thing sucks *lies, love is beautiful, it just depends* and pointing out the mistakes of others is very easy when you don't know what it's like to live a situation like this

could Chaerin have broken up with Jisung before getting involved with Seungmin? yeah, she could. could Seungmin have been irreversible in refusing to get involved with Chaerin? he could too, but they got it wrong and everyone makes mistakes, so keep an open mind to it

changing the subject, I don't know if you guys noticed, but "listen to me" starts at the beginning of the year (like, 2019) and here is July, so, is about a few months earlier (like, 2018). it's just a detail that I found interesting to point out in case someone didn't notice

finally, the chapters in this au are shorter and a thousand times easier to write, so I'm likely to update more often, okay?

ily and take care bbys <3

#skz #stray kids #stray kids au #skz au #listen to me #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids fics #skz fics #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz reactions #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids smut #multifandom #ltm spin-off #bang chan #woojin #minho #changbin #hyunjin #han #jisung #felix #seungmin #jeongin #kpop #kpop au

[xantchaslegacy]

MtG Month of the Ship Day 24 - College AU

(This one’s a bit rambling. I meant to focus on Ashnod/ Tawnos as a follow-up to the coffee shop AU, but some dinobots slipped in~

Also, as with the other AUs, Aminatou is here for continuity, NOT as part of a ship)

“Psssst, Duck!”

Tawnos turned just in time for a crumpled piece of paper to bounce off of his nose. A few of the other students laughed at his nonplussed reaction. Ashnod winced internally. She’d meant to hit him on the shoulder, but he was sitting six rows ahead of her…

Professor Pashiri cleared her throat. “If the lovebirds among us could possibly spare their attention for another few minutes, I would just love to finish this lesson.”

Ashnod blushed. Why did that Tawnos have to sit so close to the front of the class? And why hadn’t that nerd picked up her note?

He at least waited by his desk once Pashiri ended the lecture. Ashnod had fully collected herself by then, and plopped down in the seat behind him, doing her very best cool-girl sprawl.

“Are you free Saturday?”

“I’m helping Urza at the shop.” Tawnos turned around in his chair to talk to her directly. The auditorium seats were definitely not designed for that, and he looked adorably awkward trying to fit his leg along the back of the chair. “He wants to test out delivery drones for the Café, so I’ll be pretty busy.”

“Busy cleaning coffee off of your customers?”

“Probably.”

Ashnod leaned back and put her boots up on the back of Tawnos’ chair. “Drones, huh? Does that mean you aren’t coming to visit me at my internship anymore, Duck?”

“I, uh…I doubt Kayla will actually want to use them outside the store itself.” Tawnos was trying to meet her eyes, but kept glancing at the soles of Ashnod’s shoes. “But Xantcha is taking over deliveries for the weekends, so…yeah. I won’t be free most of the day.”

“So you’re free that night. Perfect.” Ashnod unfolded the piece of paper to reveal a rough design for a dragon construct. “I need your help for a robotics club project.”

“What sort of project?”

Ashnod grinned. “We just got a new budget approved by Dean Tocasia. She wants us to build an animatronic of the school mascot for commencement.”

“Oh, cool!” Tawnos frowned. “Wait, how are you going to do that in time? Isn’t that half a month away?”

“Yeah, that’s why I need help.” She nudged his shoulder with her boot. “Are you in?”

“What about your roommate? Doesn’t she do that professionally?”

“Saheeli? I already asked her.” Ashnod crossed her arms. “She’s said she was busy. Had to go to a poetry reading or something like that.”

“For half a month?”

Ashnod shrugged. “She’s got it bad for one of the English majors. Probably won’t be free until May.” Ashnod held up her fingers and started counting off. “Jhoira can only help until May, and then she’s going on a study trip. Teferi inexplicably has the time to help but doesn’t have nearly enough technical expertise. Professor Karn said he can provide us with any equipment we need, but that it’s supposed to be a student-work project only.”

“Ah.”

“I mean, everyone can help out a little though! If we pull this off she’ll double the club budget for next year and we can buy all sorts of cool stuff for our next project!”

Tawnos pursed his lips. “That does sound fun…but I need to study for Professor Mairsil’s test after work on Saturday. Need to get my grade up or I’ll lose my scholarship.” He shrugged. “Sorry Ash. Maybe the week after?”

“Yeah, sure.” Ashnod managed a smile. “Uh, good luck with the drones.”

“Thanks. I’ll stop by the club workshop after my shift with some coffee.” He hopped over the edge of his seat and pecked Ashnod on the forehead. “Text me if you want any pastries or anything.”

She poked Tawnos in the side. “All the pastries. Say high to Xantcha for me, Duck.”

** ** **

 Ashnod threw herself on the bed as soon as she got back to her dorm, burying her face in a loose pile of blankets, sweaters, and disarrayed sheets. She let out a muffled groan into the pile.

"Rough day?" Saheeli called from the closet.

Ashnod turned her face to look at her roommate. "Frustrating." She frowned. "I thought your poetry thing wasn't until tomorrow.

"I-I want to have something nice picked out!" Saheeli flushed. "Besides, this might be for something else."

"Naaaaah." Ashnod grinned and sat up on the bed. "This is definitely preparation for preening. What are you gonna wear?"

Saheeli stepped sheepishly out of the closet and gave a small spin. She was wearing uncharacteristically dark colors: an olive button-up, black jeans, and a designer hoodie that zipped up in the front. The bohemian-ness of it all was loudly offset by the gold filigree up the front of her boots.

"Huh, well I don't actually know how poets dress but I guess that's close to what I would have imagined."

"Do I look good though?"

"You always look good, this is just...off-brand for you.” Ashnod's eyebrows shot up and a gleeful smile split her face. "Should I be asking who you're going to see?"

Saheeli mumbled something under her breath.

"Sorry, who now?"

Huatli!"

Ashmod blinked. "Waaaiiit, the girl who's always wearing those vaguely suggestive dinosaur t-shirts?"

"N-no!" Saheeli waved her hands in front of her chest. “I mean….well, maybe.” 

Ashnod rubbed her chin. "Yeah...the one who came to your tech talk on the quad last week, right? She's definitely got her eye on you."

"Um…what?" Saheeli was turning redder and redder shades of brown.

"Please, she was all over you, and the talk clearly wasn't her thing."

"She's...she's just really friendly."

"Hmmm, let's see if we can make her even friendlier." Ashnod rolled off the bed and peeked into the closet. "Here." She grabbed another hoodie, this one a crisp white, and cinched it around Saheeli's waist, letting it drape down over her backside.

"Great, now I look like my mother," Saheeli muttered.

"No, this is good, you look cool." Ashnod stepped back to admire her work. Well, more of a her and Saheeli's mother collaboration. "Huatli seems like a rugged type. I'm sure she'll appreciate your, uh...toughness."

Saheeli turned, considering the look in the mirror. “You’re being very helpful. What’s troubling you?”

Ashnod frowned. “Well, it sure feels stupid to say, but boy stuff.” She leaned up against her bad and sank to her knees “I want to spend more time with Tawnos but he’s been super busy since Kayla hired him. Now I only ever see him in class or whenever he’s delivering donuts or coffee to the Brotherhood Labs.”

“Did you ask him about the mascot thing?”

“Yeah; there’s just not any time between the shop and studying.”

Saheeli closed the closet door and squatted down next to Ashnod. “You could do go do your studying at the shop? Maybe just make googly eyes at him? I don’t know exactly what someone would want to do with a boy.”

“Nah, the job is important to him. I don’t want to distract him.”

“Well, that just leaves studying then.”

Ashnod tilted her head up to appraise her roommate. Huatli would definitely be stuck on Saheeli after tomorrow night.

“You know, you might be on to something.”

** ** **

 Ashnod arrived at the workshop the next afternoon with a sketch pad and a new set of charcoal to start schematics for the animatronic. She had settled herself at a desk and was halfway through designing the wing-joints when she heard a clatter from the storage closet.

“Tezzeret?” She stomped over to the door and pulled it open. “You better not be skulking around here again after last ti – oh….”

A small girl has sitting cross-legged in the middle of the storage space, playing with a glowing Powerstonetm battery. She was leaning up against a strange machine Ashnod did not recognize.

“Hey there, kiddo.” Ashnod loomed over the girl, hands, on her knees. “How’d you get in here?”

The girl smiled up at Ashnod. Her face was painted with several golden-brown butterflies. “I’m waiting for my friend. Are you waiting for someone?”

“Um…yeah, I guess so.” What is…Ashnod’s eyes went wide as she realized what the girl was sitting up against: a tall humanoid construct with several gun turrets where its head and shoulders should have been.

“Why…why don’t you come with me, kiddo.” Ashnod offered her hand. You can sit and draw with me until your friend gets here.”

The girl shrugged and took Ashnod’s hand. Ashnod gave her some spare sheets of paper and they sat together making drawings until late in the afternoon. The girl wouldn’t give Ashnod her name, but was otherwise very well behaved.

“What’s that you’re drawing?”

The girl held up a sheet of paper. She’d scrawled a surprisingly detailed figure of a tall, dark-skinned man in blue robes on it. “My friend Teferi! I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“Oh…he said he’d be here before it got too late.” Ashnod looked at the clock. “I’ll call him.”

“That’s okay.” The girl went back to her drawing. “I’m having fun!”

** ** **

  “Ashnod?”

Her head popped up off the desk, trailing a thin string of drool. Luckily she’d moved her completed sketches out of the way before passing out on the work table.

“Hnnn…Duck?”

Tawnos was there, smiling down at her, and smelling like the most wonderful thing in the world. Ashnod reached her hands out, and he placed a tall cup of coffee in it.

“Hmmmm, boyfriend and caffeine delivery. What a time to be alive.” She looked around the rest of the room with a frown. Where was the girl? Had she imagined her? Had Teferi come by to pick her up?

“Hello to you too.” He kissed her hair. “Those sketches look great…I might have some spare drone pieces that you could use for the struts.”

“Sounds like Urza’s project went well.”

“Yeah…” Tawnos lifted another sheet to inspect it and caught sight of the other papers underneath, with class numbers written across the top. “What, um…what’s this?”

“I…thought we could study a bit together.” Ashnod patted the spot next to her on the workbench. “I put together my notes for the etherium and watersilver unit and I thought…if you needed to spend the night studying…maybe you could use some company?’

Tawnos smiled, and slid his backpack off onto the ground.

“Sounds perfect. And I brought us some study fuel as well.” He set a huge sack of donuts, eclairs, and muffins down on the table between them. “Will that be enough, you think?”

Ashnod pulled him down into her lap and pecked his cheek.

“For now.”

 The above is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.

#mtgship #mtg #MTG Flash Fan Fic #Ashnod #Tawnos #Aminatou #Xantcha #Saheeli #Huatli #dinobots

[iloveyouthree-thousand]

five(ish) times Peter Parker didn’t call Tony Stark ‘dad’

an: TW for mention of panic attacks. This was a hard one for me to write, as sometimes talking about panic attacks triggers a panic attack, so I did my best to give y’all a glimpse of what I think it would feel like for Peter—and for those of you that already know what it feels like, I love you.

chapter 1

chapters: [2 / 9]

2. / The Hayden Planetarium

“Within the last few hundred years, we humans, inhabitants of a small planet orbiting this unexceptional star, have learned where the galaxies are, what they’re made of, and how they got to be that way,” the voice of Neil deGrasse Tyson filled the theater, as students stretched their necks to the ceiling, eyes-wide, the universe spinning around them.

Peter’s class was on a trip to the Hayden Planetarium Space Theater, a trip that, last year, Peter would have been over the moon about, bad pun aside.

It was his thing, planets and stars and all the nerdy science to go along with it.

So why was it taking everything in him not to hurl all over the kid one row ahead?

His hands were sweating, running themselves up and down the plastic armrests before scratching across his chest involuntarily. He took a look at the kids around him again, still staring at the universe in wonder, but then the world was literally spinning around him, and it would only be a matter of seconds before he actually vomited.  

Peter quickly excused himself, brushing off a slightly worried look from Ned with a half-smile and a motion that said he had to pee. He gave the same look to his teacher and got a silent nod of approval before he nearly ran out of the auditorium.

He only made it a few steps out of the double doors before he was on the ground, hands clutched to his now-heaving chest.

“Hey, love, are you alright?” A uniformed employee strode over to him, placing her hand on his back. The alarmingly empty look that Peter gave her instead of a reply was answer enough.

“N-no... ma’am... I don’t—I don’t feel so good.”

And those words, those words, were enough to send him spinning again. His sweaty fingers gripped at his shirt, threatening to rip it to shreds, because he just needed to feel it, to know that it was still there, that he was still there.

“Is there someone I can call for you?”

Aunt May was out of town, he remembered, which only made the horrible palpitations in his heart surge again.

“Here, honey, let’s get your over into the bathroom,” she said, as Peter lifted a hand to cover his mouth, his body shivering and convulsions sending him forward every couple of seconds.

He was barely conscious of her lifting him to his feet and basically carrying him to a family restroom off to the side of the building.

“What’s your name, hon?” She gently asked, arms still wrapped around his shoulder’s.

“P-Peter,” he managed, his voice a broken whisper.

“Okay Peter, we’re going to get you feeling better, okay? Are your mom or dad at work, should I get one of them to come down here—breathe, love, just breathe for me—can I have your cell phone?”

Peter clumsily fished the phone out of his pocket, typing his password incorrectly several times because his fingers were trembling.

“Okay, who should I call?” She opened up the contacts list, holding the phone out in front of Peter. The name was right there, second from the top. He pressed the screen quickly and went back to dry-heaving.

Tony Stark picked up on the second ring.

“Pete, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Tony’s voice rang out from the other end of the phone, easily audible with Peter’s heightened senses. The woman had the phone pressed to her ear with one hand, the other rubbing gently on Peter’s back.

“Hello, this is Angie at the Hayden Planetarium. Is this Peter’s father?”

“N--.. no—h- he’s,” Peter started, but Tony was already talking.

“Something like that,” Tony replied without skipping a beat, “what’s going on?”

“Sir, Peter isn’t feeling very well. I think it would be best if you could come down here and take him home.”

“Is he okay?” Tony asked, fear creeping into his voice.

“Yes, he’s in one piece, but sometimes the exhibit can leave people feeling nauseous. I’ve got him here in the bathroom, but if you could come down here I think that would really help him.”  

“Okay, stay there with him, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Angie called back four minutes later.

“Sir, Peter’s breathing is really erratic and he says he’s having chest pains. I called an ambulance to be safe, it should be here—“ Tony didn’t hear the rest, because he was already sprinting through the doors of the planetarium.

He could vaguely hear sirens down the street as he spotted Peter and Angie. She’d lifted him toward the front doors, preparing for the EMTs.

“You must be Tony,” she said to the frantic looking man standing in front of her, “the ambulance should be pulling up any second.”

He wasn’t listening to her, because his eyes were trained on Peter, whose face was drained to a ghastly white, chest rising and falling at a rate that was way too fast.

“I don’t wanna go, Tony, I don’t wanna go... please, please I don’t wanna go.”

It took everything in Tony to not drop to his knees at the sounds of the Peter’s cries, but he needed to be here, fully present, if he was going to make sure the kid was going to be okay.

Peter could feel the blood pumping from his heart, could feel it in his ears and head and toes. His forehead was slick with sweat, brown hair matted down, as damp patches were beginning to show through his gray NASA T-shirt.  

The EMTs arrived thirty seconds later, carefully placing Peter on a stretcher and hooking him up to a heart monitor.

One of the paramedics stepped aside to speak with Tony.

“Sir, are you this child’s father?”

“Yes,” he said, unblinking, knowing it was the only way to get into the back of that ambulance with Peter, and the boy was too dazed to object.

“Okay, we’ll have you ride along with us then.”

They got the young boy situated and then in a little under two minutes they were racing toward the nearest hospital.

Several nurses pulled the stretcher away as soon as they entered the building, and Tony tried to follow but was held back by a scrubs-clad man who calmly explained, “We’re just going to run a few tests, sir, and then you’ll be able to see him again.”

Peter was only partially conscious as the doctors ran an CT scan to check for internal bleeding and then an EKG to monitor his heart.

About thirty minutes later, Peter’s breathing had returned to a normal rate, and the pain in his chest had mostly subsided. He was no longer painfully aware of the pounding of his heart and for the most part, he felt normal again.

He glanced around the room, finally aware of his surroundings.

“Mr. Parker, how are you feeling?” He asked, placing a reassuring hand on the boy’s arm.

“Better, I think,” he paused, “what happened?”

The nurse sat down next to the bed Peter was lying in and explained, “we believe you suffered a panic attack Peter. Do you know if you have any history of panic disorder or anxiety?”

Peter shook his head.

“Well, the causes for a panic attack can range from nothing specific at all to a particular trigger, as in the case of some forms of post-traumatic stress disorder. And while they are harmless in and of themselves, if you’ve never experienced one before, it can easily be mistaken for symptoms of a heart attack or a clot in the lungs. We ran all of the routine diagnostic tests, and everything seems to be working properly.”

The man seemed to pick up on the embarrassment in Peter’s eyes, because he continued, “panic attacks are very traumatic, Peter. And we’re always happy to err on the side of safety, so it’s really good you came in. We’d like to monitor you for another hour or so, just as a precaution, and then we’ll set up an appointment with a psychiatrist before you leave to determine the best course of action from here on out. Does that sound okay?”

Peter just nodded, still a bit overwhelmed at the blood pressure machine attached to his arm and the oxygen monitor on his finger and the bright white walls surrounding him.

“Do you feel up to having your father come in here?”

He looked confused for a moment before he realized the man meant Tony.

“Oh, he’s not... he’s not my dad.” The nurse looked a bit surprised but quickly masked it.

“But um, yea, he can come in. He’s probably freaking out out there.”

When the doctors explained that Peter had had a panic attack, all Tony could think was, God, not the kid.

After three years of nightmares and near constant anxiety, the last thing Tony wanted was one more thing standing between Peter Parker being a stress-free teenager.

He had just gotten off the phone with May when one of the nurses gave him the green light to visit Peter.

“Hey kid,” he said, stepping into the doorframe, closing the door gently behind himself.

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied sheepishly. “I’m sorry for getting everyone so worked up over nothing.”

“No, Pete,” he shook his head, “not nothing.”  

Peter looked nervously to the ceiling.

“It really felt like I was dying,” his said, his voice so incredibly small, and Tony moved to sit on the end of the bed.

“I know. They’re a tricky beast.”

It took a second, but then a look of understanding flashed across Peter’s face.

“I’m not going to lie to you and tell you they’ll make them go away, but we can get you in to see some people, and it will help you cope. I can work with you, show you some of the things that help me,” he says, and his voice is so gentle and so reassuring that it almost feels foreign, and Peter swallows thickly.

“But for right now, let’s get you home, okay? If you’re alright with it, you can stay with me. I already talked to your terrifying Aunt and told her that the situation is under control, but we can call her back if you’d rather have her come home early.”

Peter shook his head vigorously.

“No, she’s been looking forward to this trip for months. Besides, I heard you lied and told the doctors you’re my dad now.”

Tony rolled his eyes and said, “Yea, well, desperate times kid.”

Peter laughed a genuine laugh—a far cry from the ghost of Peter that Tony had seen at the museum—and says, “Oh, God, can you even imagine?”

Tony snorts. “Yea, not really my type. I’d like to thank my old man for that. I think I’ll stick with being like the aloof, distantly related rich-uncle.”

Tony set Peter up with one of the best psychiatrists in the state—the same one he visited himself—before they leave the hospital, and they spent the rest of the night watching Peter’s practically vintage Star Wars VHS tapes and tinkering with the collection of Legos he kept at Tony’s.

And while he sat and helped Peter learn to cope, Tony didn’t mention the fact that he could imagine it. That the thought of being a father figure for Peter didn’t make him break out in hives like he thought it would. Because it certainly should be making him break out in hives.

When he looked over, Peter’s head was resting in his hands at the table, and Tony gently nudged him awake.

“Alright, kid, bed time. I’ll see you in the morning.”

No, definitely not the father type.

#peter parker #tony stark #avengers #spiderman #ironman #marvel

[toniwilder]

The Melody of Memory

           They say that our sense of smell is what we link closest to our memory. Who is they? They means a collective whose opinion I need to serve my monologue. Don’t worry, we won’t sit on them long.

           I’d say that’s fair. People enter rooms when the first rainfall of April hits, when the clouds are hanging heavy over the city, and say, “Smells like spring.” They know that because it smells like all of their other springs, I’d assume. I can only assume since I didn’t have a sense of smell growing up.

           I broke my nose as a young girl with a penchant for falling into things. I hadn’t become familiar with the phrase “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” so the broken nose didn’t get fixed. I grew up with a gag of bone spurs forming in my nostrils until my nose went crooked. I entered all my milestones with one sense missing, the one we overlook that we’re supposed to use as the anchor for our memories.

           The wise and convenient They say that your senses compensate for the ones that need a little help. You focus in on the senses you have instead of those you don’t in order to paint a brighter picture; like Van Gogh working with blues and yellows so brilliantly with an obvious distaste for the reds. My brain saw that missing deck of cards and said, “Well, okay, I suppose music will have to do.”

           My dad had a penchant for old country on long road trips—a mixed tape that played the same dozen tunes over and over until my mom and brother were hitting their foreheads against the car window and contemplating jumping off onto the shoulder of the I-75 in search of quiet. The car ride probably smelled like cigarette smoke, but I only remember mono crooning by dead men. If I hear “North to Alaska” the chills picket along my arms until I roll my shoulders back, and it sends me deep into memories like I’m eleven all over again.

           Songs of the summer are different. Which summer? Do we mean the summer where I used little pink cassette tapes to record my favorite Hilary Duff song off the radio and screamed when the DJ talked over the first word nearly every single time? Or do we mean the summer where I decided I never needed to see the sun again, so my mom shoved me outside and locked the door behind me with only my MP3 player and a bottle of water to keep me entertained so I didn’t get sick from a vitamin D deficiency? We probably don’t mean the summer where I decided I was really into poetry and wrote a lot of prose in my Hello Kitty notebook about how nobody understood my angst to the sound of My Chemical Romance in my bright yellow, Pikachu decorated bedroom.

           When I was twelve years old I became obsessed with Antonio Banderas over my school’s Christmas break. It hit me suddenly and without warning, after dad recorded Desperado on the DVR. In the first scene, Antonio appears on screen playing a melancholy guitar while the opening credits roll. He then proceeds to sing—a song I didn’t understand a lick of because it was in Spanish—hit a guy over the head with a guitar, and walk across a bar top. You know, normal stuff.

           As prone as I am to exaggeration, I need to stress how I am not fibbing any numbers when I say I rewatched Desperado over Christmas break at least three times a day. Of those three times, I would rewatch that credits scene five times during each watching.

           If you aren’t a fan of math, and I can’t blame you, I watched the opening credits scene during these rewatches at least fifteen times every day. Remembering that Christmas break is two weeks, approximately fourteen days, and that I watched it for the first time on my second day of break, that means I watched the opening credits scene of Desperado, directed by Robert Rodriguez, Starring Antonio Banderas, Salma Hayek, and Steve Buscemi, directed in 1995, at least one hundred and ninety-five times over that break alone. That’s nearly nine hours of me listening to Cancion del Mariachi. I didn’t have a lot of hobbies.

           Why am I specifying this? I’m specifying this because when I say, “this is the sound of Christmas,” and I take the auxiliary cord away to play a mariachi ballad from a movie released in 1995, that you understand what that means. Christmas doesn’t smell like cold, dry air. Christmas sounds like Antonio Banderas. It also sounds like my parents saying, “I’m going to delete that movie off the DVR if you don’t go out with your friends in the next three days.” They never deleted it. I now own five copies of Desperado in every available format.

           When I turned sixteen, I got a nose job. I look about the same, minus the bump in my profile. I got it because I guess the summation of moments of me telling my parents, “I can’t smell,” had totaled up to a level that warranted a doctor’s visit. The doctor took one look at my nasal passages, said, “oh yeah, this sniffer is broken,” and then there I was: A sixteen-year-old with a nose job. Admittedly, I think he could have done a better job, but I didn’t say anything. I can’t do anything about it now, because his license was revoked after killing a patient in surgery. I also can’t tell you what that memory sounds like, because it’s not a song and it’s just a long list of curse words, but I digress.

           I went to college shortly after. The beginning of college sounds like the fight song, which just thinking about gets it stuck in my head. It sounds like a cacophony of white noise in an auditorium where I’m another face in the crowd. It sounds like my first roommate crying herself to sleep. There was something prophetic in us having the same first name.

           I think the scariest part is when college doesn’t sound like anything anymore. I can tell you what it felt like: it felt like eating five hundred calories a day out of the recommended twelve hundred, going weeks without talking, and watching the same episode of Kitchen Nightmares over and over because my depression was so heavy I couldn’t remember what I’d just watched. It felt like there was some kind of creature in my chest trying to crawl out from my sternum.

           I don’t remember what I listened to towards the end. I just remember feeling alone.

           The kicker is that I have never listened to music more than during my undergraduate experience. I listened to it on every walk to class from my dorm or my apartment. I listened to it when I got home, until I went to bed, and then immediately when I woke up the next morning.

           I remember none of those songs. Not even the ones I listened to when a classmate followed me to the bus every day and waited for me to get on. Not even when he shoved other men aside to sit next to me so he could put his hand on my thigh. I remember blasting my music like a Bose speaker for a theater’s grand auditorium, yes, but nothing sunk in. I was a quicksand of stimulation, where my brain absorbed and disintegrated everything around me until the entire experience became a fog.

            That’s four years of silence in my brain that I can’t account for. It rocks me more than knowing I had sixteen years of no smell. I hadn’t known what wasn’t there before, and retrieving my sense of smell before going to college hadn’t exactly been the best timing. A girl’s dorm isn’t much better than the boys. People need to be chased with Lysol in nearly every context, especially when their parents aren’t there to do it for them.

           I graduated in four years somehow, with a psych degree that hadn’t helped me self-diagnose my own massive depression. I came home with a piece of paper with my name on it, drove with the radio on high while it rained. I remember it rained, I remember thinking it was poetic. I remember the tornado sirens and thinking, “Not yet. Not after I just got done.” I’m motivated solely by spite.

           Coming out of my depression is marked by a lot of songs in minor key sang by guys with surly attitudes. Songs about long ways down and acid rain and being dead inside. The kind of playlist that got my friends asking, “Hey, you okay?”

           I remember them, so I guess I was.

           I used to sing all the time. I went to contests, I tried to start a band. It hadn’t been any good, but I had drive and naivety to back me up. I stopped for a long time during the fog. I hadn’t realized I’d come back up for air until I was in the car on my way to class trying to rap to a Broadway musical about Alexander Hamilton. It sounded like winter again, with me taking long drives to early morning work shifts. I didn’t like my job, but I remember it. I remember listening to classic rock while I did data entry, with Alice Cooper in the background of my keystrokes. I remember the trees were dead outside, my coat was green and littered with dog hair. I remember laughing more. I remember eating again.

           I remember music.

#toni writes original #memoir writing #contest entry

[classic-rock-roller]

1. Your band is performing at an indoor auditorium, and you’ve got the pit open to set everything up. Bonham looks over the edge to see the layout, and Rhett thinks it’d be funny to push her over the edge. He does, and she falls into the pit. How do you respond?

“RHETT! Why do you have to be such a dick! I really don’t want to be babysitting you today!” I then help Bonham out of the pit. 

2. You come home one day and Kevin and Randy are in the kitchen with a weird purple box. They’re half laughing and half groaning with disgust. You go upstairs to set your bag down and find Bonham. “They’re doing the bean boozled challenge, and I am not cleaning it when they throw up. That shit’s nasty.” How do you respond?

“It can’t be as bad as when I give my sister a vomit flavored Bertie Bott’s bean and she immediately spit it out onto the sidewalk and proceeded to chase me down the street.” (true story) 

3. You’re in Kevin’s hometown doing a show. After the show, he envelops you in a very tight and unexpected hug. “Glad you didn’t die back there.” he says. “What?” “Didn’t you see it?” What didn’t you see, and how do you respond?

I didn’t see the death threat that someone had pasted to my door because he had taken it down thinking that I had. “Why the fuck did you not tell me? I would’ve worn a bulletproof vest or something.”

4. After Randy’s left for Ozzy Osbourne, Kevin’s been in a funk, and he’s been drinking heavily. You come home one night and Bonham’s there trying to help. You hear her say, “You’ll kill yourself, you know. You shouldn’t be doing this. And if you won’t quit for yourself do it for your girlfriend…or for me.” How do you respond, and how do the others react when they see you?

Me: “Yes, I wholeheartedly agree with Bonham. I don’t want you drinking to death, please?”

Bonham: “See, BabyCarrot is on board.” 

Kevin: “Fine, I’ll try...maybe.” 

5. You’re backstage with Randy before a show with a lot of other bands one night. Randy is hauling in his amp, and he accidentally bumps into event staff. “Oops, sorry.” he apologizes. The event staff shoves Randy, hard. “How do you like that, pretty boy?” he says. Just then, Bonham comes in from outside and says, “What the hell!?” and starts laying into the security. How do you respond?

“Bonham, calm down, what the guy did was totally uncalled for and it was very unprofessional of him but it's not securities fault. If anything I’d lay into the guy who just booked it out of here after he saw you.”

6. Bonham’s been complaining that she needs a haircut for a while, and the day of the next show you find her in the bathroom with scissors. “Why pay for it when you can do it yourself? Besides, I don’t know where to find a good one here.” How do you respond?

“I don’t think it’s a good idea but if you want to do it by yourself let me help you so you don’t mess up the back.”

7. Bonham went to visit Randy while he was on tour with Ozzy, and she was very excited to get to see Florida with Randy. You and Kevin see a news segment that Randy was killed, and you’re both devastated. You see an article with details of what happened, and you learn that he was killed in a plane crash, and that the pilot and ‘a young woman believed to be famed saxophonist Bonham Geissler’ were killed as well. How do you two react to the news?

We both grieve. We’ve lost two best friends and bandmates in the span of one day. I can barely keep it together and Kevin isn’t much better. I hold out hope that it wasn’t Bonham because it was only believed to be. But I’m not sure and anxiously wait for more news.  

8. You, Kevin, Randy and Bonham are staying at Kevin’s parent’s vacation house, and you get up to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. When you go to the fridge you hear Randy say, “Whoa, I…I never knew that.” Bonham says, “Yeah, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. No one can know that I killed my stepdad.” You know you weren’t supposed to hear that. What do you do?

I try my best t be quiet but am heard and fess up to hearing what I wasn’t expecting to. I expect to get yelled at but she grabs my face and says, “You much promise never to say anything. Not even to Kevin, ok?” I nod my head and say, “I’ll take it to the grave.” 

9. You’ve just put your two sons down for a nap when Kevin pops in next to you. He wraps his arms around your waist and says, “You’re a great mother. Looks like you saved one life, and made two others.” “What?” “You saved me.” How do you respond?

“While that’s super nice of you to say Kevin, and while this may be cheesy, you saved me in a way too and also brought our two wonderful boys into this world. So you have just as much credit as I do.” He smiles at me before saying, “Wanna make a third?” “Maybe...”

10. You’re looking for Bonham one night after a show backstage, and she’s nowhere to be found. Eventually, you head back to the hotel, and find her lying on the floor of her room, curled around a bottle of Jack. “What are you doing?” you ask. She giggles a little and slurs, “Gotta drink the pain away.” How do you respond?

“Ok, that’s enough Jack for you. Come on, let's get you to bed.” I’d put her in bed and then since I’m really worried about her, I’d stay until she fell asleep to make sure she was ok. 

11. Your band is reuniting in the studio after a break from touring. When you get there, you all exchange greetings, and Daryl greets Bonham by slapping her in the arm. She whimpers with pain, and Daryl asks what happened. She pulls up her sleeve to reveal a bullet wound. “Yeah, I took Randy shooting and there was a kid there who didn’t know what he was doing and…yeah.” How does everyone respond?

Daryl: Jeez man, I’m so sorry I hurt you. 

Jess: Oh my god! Was anyone else hurt?

Rhett: Heh, serves you right. 

Me: RHETT! I’m so sorry Bonham, are you ok? Was Randy ok?  

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

1) Your singer has taken you to a gym she used to work at. They have a huge foam pit and the moment you get there, Kevin screams, “Catch me if you can!” Before sprinting through the classes and diving into the pit. You, Randy, and your singer soon follow him to the edge and the next thing you know Randy has pushed the both of you in. Kevin screams, “Foam battle to the death. Losers pay for dinner!” Who wins the foam battle and where do you go for dinner? And how does the staff of the gym respond to your little foam battle? 

2) You, your singer, and Kevin are driving when you get a flat. Kevin insists he can change it on his own but you and your singer have been sitting in the car for the past twenty minutes watching him try to loosen the lug nuts. You and your singer have finally had enough and get out to help him. He insists he’s fine but after another five minutes your singer goes to the back of the car and gets a pipe. “Move,” and within three minutes she has all the lug nuts loosened. How do you and Kevin respond?

3) You, your singer, and Kevin are in line at Starbucks and Kevin is complaining about the prices. You singer says, “With how many five dollar coffees I used to buy my sister from here, I should have stock in this place.” How do you and Kevin respond?

4) Your singer has talked about how much her sister has gotten on her nerves and pissed her off. One day, she brings her along to the studio and you give her a questioning look. “She refused to get out of my car when I was about to leave my parents so I had no other choice but to bring her with.” What do you say to her sister? 

5) A few days after your singers outburst to you, Kevin, and Randy about her sister, she brings her sister around. What do you, Randy, and Kevin say to her sister?

6) Your singer's car is still in the shop, so she’s driving her dads truck. She comes to pick you and Kevin up and the thing has a rust hole in the bumper and generally looks like a rust bucket. “Welcome to the tank. This thing has been going for almost twenty years.” As you pull out of the driveway the thing roars and when Kevin asks she goes, “Oh there’s a rust hole in the muffler.” You can also barely sit in the back because of all her dad's tools. What do you and Kevin say about the truck?

7) You and your singer have told Kevin about the Rhett incident with their son. Kevin sits there for a moment before getting up and saying, “I’m going to kill him.” and stalking to the door. What do you and your singer do to keep him from doing something stupid?

8) Your band is in Milwaukee about to do a concert, when Rhett gets a death threat. You and your singer want to cancel the concert but Rhett says he’ll be ok as long as he wears a bulletproof vest and has extra security. Do you let him still play or do you cancel for his safety?

9)  You have just gotten home from work and find the house to be too quiet. You look into your son's room to find him napping and when you look into your daughter’s you find her doing Randy’s hair. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” “Playing salon with daddy and doing his hair. Doesn’t he look pretty?” How do you respond and what does Randy say?

10) You, Kevin, Randy, and your singer are sitting on her parents' couch when he sister runs over laughing, backs her butt into your singer's face, and farts. She then falls to the floor laughing. “What the fuck?” your singer asks her. How do you, Randy, and Kevin respond?

11) You’re at the stove making dinner when Randy comes up behind you and starts kissing your neck. You giggle a bit and go, “Randy, what’s all this about?” He pauses and whispers in your ear, “I want to make a baby. Tonight.” How do you respond?    

@osbournebemydaddy , your move, Bonham, love        

#tag game #tag war

[captainsbabysitter-blog]

I Couldn’t Leave Him Ch1

Characters/Pairings: Chris Pike/Phil Boyce, James T Kirk

Rating: G

Length: 2248 words

Summary: Set about 4 years after Christmas Cheer. Chris is a professor of astrophysics visiting Drake University and Phil has finished his internship and is getting ready for the medical board exam. Of all the things Chris expected to find in Iowa, a kid named Jim who pulls at his heart strings wasn’t one of them.

~*~*~*~

“Do you really have to go now?” Phil anchored Chris in place with arms wrapped tightly around his fiancé’s waist. “I study better when you’re here.”

“No you don’t.” There was only amusement in Chris’ voice as he tried to wriggle himself loose. “I’m fairly certain you told me I breathe too loudly yesterday. You study, I’ll be in Iowa.”

Phil buried his face into Chris’ stomach and grumbled a little. Chris just ran his fingers through the soft strands with a small smile until the doctor-to-be peeked up at him, sighed, and finally let go. This would be the longest they’d been apart in the last four years, but Chris had agreed to speak at this conference months ago and Phil’s board exam was mere weeks away. Chris wished he could be around just to make sure Phil actually ate and slept a little between his study binges, but he stocked up the cupboards with veggie-friendly protein bars and snack mixes, so he figured it wouldn’t be all bad.

“You be safe while you’re out there, alright?” His voice was muffled by Chris’ shirt.

“I’m going to Iowa, not a war zone Phil.”

“Still.”

Chris gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be safe. I’ll give my talks and I’ll hang out in my hotel room ordering room service and working on that article. Maybe call you occasionally to make sure you eat something.”

“What day will you be back again?”

“Next Sunday. My flight comes in at noon. I’m guessing you’ll be there with the welcome wagon?”

“Yeah.” Phil finally pulled back so he could set an alert on his phone for the right day. “Alright. Let’s get going.”

They said their goodbyes outside the security checkpoint at Logan. Both men were reluctant to let go, but Chris finally pressed one last kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth before turning to head through the metal detectors.

Iowa was about as exciting as he expected. There didn’t appear to be a whole hell of a lot going on, so once he was checked into his room, Chris just went up and fell onto the bed. He shot off a quick text to Phil letting him know he got there okay and settled in with his presentation and accompanying notes to run through the whole thing again. It was only basic astronomy stuff, but it was open to the public and not just limited to Drake University students, so who knew who’d walk through those doors.

A quiet ping from his phone drew his attention away from his notes. Phil’s name was glowing on the screen with a message. Glad you made it. Study mode activated talk to you tomorrow. Love you <3

His lips twisted up in a half smile as he shot back a quick love you too don’t fry your brain or we’ll never get the smell out. He chuckled to himself when the only response was one of those little elaborate emojis of a middle finger Chris was never sure how Phil made.

If he fell asleep late into the night surrounded by notes and books with his laptop open to his presentation, well that would just stay his secret.

The wakeup call the next morning was hell. Chris’ back was killing him after he’d spent the night half sitting, half laying across several textbooks and he groaned as the shrill trilling of the room phone dragged him back to consciousness. He fumbled around for the phone and grumbled a, “Hello?” into the receiver.

“Hello, mister Pike! This is Angela at the front desk. You have a gentleman here saying he’s here to pick you up.”

He glanced at the clock and silently cursed himself. He forgot to set an alarm. “Thanks. Let him know I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

After he hung up the phone, he began the process of unfolding himself from the bed. He groaned again at the way his body snapped and popped back into a normal shape. A quick glance in the mirror told him instantly that his hair would be a lost cause without a shower, but he didn’t have time so he just changed and tamed his curls the best he could with running a wet comb through it. There was a momentary debate over whether or not he wanted to add a tie before he just tossed it back into the suitcase; there would be time for ties when he did the in-class guest lectures.

When he made his way downstairs, laptop and notecards packed carefully away in his bag, he offered up his Charming Chris Smile and a hand to shake to the man waiting by the front desk. “Christopher Pike. You must be Andrew?”

“Andrew Michaels, good to meet you,” he smiled back and gave Chris’ hand a firm shake. “Ready to go?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The campus itself sprawling. Instead of building up like the colleges in Boston, Iowa seemed content to build out. Chris let himself be led around and vaguely listened through the miniature tour until they came to the buildings he would be spending his time in for the next few days. He eyed the building that held the classroom he was going to be giving his guest lectures in as he was brought to the auditorium where the open talk would take place.

He thought he’d be nervous by the time he was standing behind the curtain waiting to be introduced, but he just felt a low, simmering excitement bubbling up. His notecards were sitting in his hand and he knew his laptop was set up with the projection system. All he had to do was wait for his cue. A quick peek into the audience showed a decent crowd.

“And here’s our speaker for the day, Professor Christopher Pike!”

Chris walked out into a smattering of applause with a bright smile and a wave. He took is place at the podium and scanned over the audience; mostly college students with the occasional professor or even just people outside the university. His curiosity piqued when he saw a kid who couldn’t be any older than ten, but he launched into the practiced speech, “When you look up into the night sky, assuming light pollution isn’t blocking the view, you see stars of various brightness. Now many of you might have just left it at that, but some of you might have wondered how it is we identify and classify stars.”

As the talk went on, he was pleased to see that he hadn’t lost the whole audience. The kid in the front seemed especially interested and Chris found himself more and more curious about him. Astrophysics lectures weren’t usually the go-to good times adventure of choice for preteens.

When all was said and done, Chris thanked the audience listening and hopped down from the stage to take some one-on-one questions. The boy hung back until the others were gone before stepping forward.

“So what you were saying about the wavelengths of radiation dictating the brightness of a star… What about the ones that look a little red?” He peered up at Chris through blonde lashes, curiosity etched across every inch of his face.

Chris leaned back against the stage and grinned at him. “Well… Those are actually some of the coldest stars. Y’see, when a star is on the colder end of the spectrum, they let out an infrared glow that we can really only register because how the radiation curve falls. We see the red as the brightest.”

“So red hot isn’t as hot as white hot,” the kid finished with a bright smile.

“Exactly right.”

“I’m Jim,” Jim offered, sticking out his hand to shake.

“Well, Jim,” Chris started, brow raised as he accepted Jim’s hand, “what are you doing here at noon on a Monday? Don’t you have classes of your own to get to?”

He gave a dismissive shrug, but looked anywhere except Chris. “I wanted to come see this. Seemed more interesting.”

“I’m sure it did, but do your parents know you’re here and not at school?”

Jim’s entire body tensed a little and he stared resolutely at the floor. “Renee probably doesn’t even know I haven’t been in the house since Thursday. I don’t have to be back until Friday anyway.”

That caught Chris’ attention. He reached out slowly so Jim would see his hand before he placed it on his shoulder and murmured a quiet, “How about we head to the cafeteria and have a chat?”

Suspicious eyes lifted to meet his. After a while of long, searching looks, Jim shrugged again. “Alright.”

Sitting across from the kid, it was obvious he was just on the wrong side of thin. Chris grabbed them both a couple burgers, fries, and a couple other, more Phil-approved, snacks and settled on the bench. Jim waited just a second before digging into the food on his tray. Each second cemented Chris’ suspicions more firmly in his mind.

“So is Renee your mom’s name?” Trying for casual first seemed like it might be a good idea.

Jim shook his head. He finished chewing slowly before giving an answer, “She’s my foster mother. She’ll probably be asking my caseworker to find me someone else on Friday, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cuz my mom’s not getting me back this time and Renee doesn’t actually want me around.” It was obvious he was trying to play it off as though it was nothing, but there was a hint of pain hiding in the way every movement was carefully controlled, in how his face was expertly schooled into a neutral expression.

It broke Chris’ heart a little. A half-formed plan was already taking shape in the back of his mind.

Before he knew it, a few hours had gone by; most of it spent with Jim animatedly chatting about art projects and other topics of interest. Chris couldn’t say he knew much about what the kid was saying- art had never been something he’d been interested in beyond his own sketches- but Jim was infectiously enthusiastic about it. Once the topic was off his foster family, he opened up easily.

“I hate to say it, but it’s time for me to get going, Jim. I have another guest lecture in about half an hour.”

His face fell, but he nodded. “Yeah okay… Well it was good meeting you.”

Before he could stop himself, Chris was saying, “If you go, are you going to actually go back to class?”

Jim scoffed. “Why would I?”

“Then come sit in on the lecture. You might as well learn something if you’re not going to actually go to school.”

This continued the rest of the week. Jim would make his way to the university and pal around campus with Chris until it was time for Chris to teach. He’d sit in on the class, sometimes tooling around on Chris’ laptop when it wasn’t needed for slideshows.

If someone had told Chris even that last Sunday while he was sitting in his hotel room that he’d become attached to an eleven-year-old kid in less than a week, he would have laughed and suggested they get their head examined, but there was something about Jim Kirk. The kid was brilliant and it wasn’t often Chris’ own students kept him on his toes the way Jim did. Chris had invested in a dinky travel chess board so they’d have something to do in between topics of conversation.

Friday came, and with it brought a moody Jim. Between the knowledge that his caseworker would be waiting for him at 4 and knowing that Chris was leaving Sunday, Jim seemed to be followed by a thundercloud when he sat down across from Chris. He just hoped his idea would fix it up.

“So I’ve been doing some thinking…” Instead of starting their daily game of chess, Chris folded his hands on the table. When Jim perked up, curiosity burning in his eyes, Chris continued, “I know it’ll be a bit of a process, but I wanted to know what you’d think about my fiancé and me adopting you.”

He wasn’t sure how Jim would respond, but Chris wasn’t expecting the accusatory, “Is that some kind of joke? Why would you say that?”

“Say what? That I’d like to adopt you? Jim, that wasn’t a joke.”

“Why would you want me? I’m just a pain in the ass no one wants around.” His voice got quiet and he mumbled that last part, but Chris still picked up on it.

Chris raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the board. “Would I be sitting here playing chess with you daily if I didn’t want you around? So what do you say?”

“I… Are you sure?” Jim was ducking his head, but Chris could see the tears pricking at the corners of the kid’s eyes and hear the uncertain wavering of his tone.

“I am.”

There were scant seconds before Chris found himself with an armful of preteen. Jim buried his face against Chris’ chest with that shuddering breath that could almost be called a sob. Chris just stroked his hair and murmured soft nonsense to the boy.

When Jim had settled down enough to just silently latch onto Chris, the professor gave him a slight squeeze. “I was hoping to follow you back home and meet with your case worker. Get the ball rolling on the paperwork.”

“Yeah okay.”

Tagging: @pinkamour1588 @auduna-druitt @gracieminabox @thevalesofanduin @yourtropegirl @southernbellestatues @the-space-goddess-16 @randomlittleimp @thinkwritexpress-official @its-life-jim @insane-sociopath @shroom-boi

#dadmiral on deck #chris pike #christopher pike #phil boyce #philip boyce #jim kirk #james kirk #chril #tia writes

[gukyi]

push your buttons | ksj

⇒ summary: you like dogs, and lucky for you, a cute boy in the park happens to have one that’s taken quite the liking to you.

⇒ high school!au

⇒ pairing: seokjin x female reader

⇒ word count: 2k

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ warnings: dogs!!!!!

⇒ a/n: this is unedited, because i don’t have time to edit these days (and i’m also too lazy). also, i’m a cat person. requested by anon!

You’ve never exactly been the luckiest person, so to speak. Take, for example, when you were five, and the speaker who came to visit your school was giving out magnets and stickers to every kid they saw, and when you all returned to your classrooms from the auditorium, you were the only one without any sort of goodie in your hands. Or, when you were in middle school, in the cafeteria, rushing to finish some math homework you totally forgot about the night before, and the exact second the sheet fell on the floor, the janitor spilt his bucket full of mop water all over the cafeteria, absolutely drenching everything in its wake and rendering you homework-less. Case and point, you’re not particularly lucky, and your love for animals that your parents happen to be incredibly allergic to is no exception.

So you can’t have a dog. Or a cat. Or even, like, a gerbil. Every single one of them makes your parents sneeze like crazy, noses puffy and voices groggy, and you’re not sure if it’s the shedding, or the scent, or maybe just genetics, but there is no mercy for a pet in your household.

Which is exactly where the local adoption center comes into play. If you can’t get the pets to come to you, you’ll just have to go to the pets yourself. Good thing the shelter was looking for volunteers when you Googled their website. Sure, they’re not your pets, but you love and cherish them all the same, and—shh! Don’t say anything—you maybe sometimes hope that they won’t get adopted, just so you can keep seeing them. But you didn’t hear that from me.

It’s especially handy volunteering there, because smack dab in between your residence and the shelter is the local dog park, and if you said you didn’t get distracted every time you strolled past, you’d be a motherfucking liar.

Today is no different, especially because it’s off-leash day (!!!) and there is nothing more beautifully heartwarming than having a casual walk through a park and then suddenly being surprised by a dog, excited to see a new face in its life. You don’t even own a dog, but you’d rather backflip into a volcano than miss off-leash day.

You’ve given yourself an hour maximum to spend in the dog park before you have to go to your volunteering, an hour of puppy licks and frisbee tosses galore. Time well spent, if you’re being honest.

Setting foot in the dog park on off-leash day is like setting foot in the most wonderful alternate universe ever. It’s your dream world, seeing happy dogs bounding around hills with tennis balls in their mouths. Some of the owners even know you as a regular visitor, and their dogs do too, sniffing you like you’re a familiar being in their worlds, a friend.

You’ve taken to lying down in the dog park—mind you, where there is a clear patch and not a doggie bag in sight—and letting the dogs come to you, getting wonderfully surprised by the ones that you recognize, like Pickle, the German Shepherd who acts more like a Corgi, or Lansdale, who only likes being scratched on his lower back, or even Marshmallow, this tiny little brown Dachshund whose name strangely fits its personality, even if it doesn’t fit its physical appearance. Today, it’s none of them, and your eyes are closed as you feel little paws stepping on your chest, settling down on the the squish of your tummy. When you peek your eyes open, it’s a little white dog, dirty brown on the edges like it’s been perpetually rolling in mud.

“Hello,” you say excitedly, reaching out to let it sniff you. The dog presses its wet nose on your pointer finger, though, judging by its position on your stomach, it’s already made its decision.

“Oh God, oh my God,” you hear, and strangely enough, the voice doesn’t belong to a middle-aged mother, or a jogging man in his twenties, or a friendly senior citizen, like most of the regulars here. “I am so sorry.”

When you look up, it’s a boy, and he’s got this awfully apologetic look on his face as his eyes move from your face, to his dog, to where its sitting. He begins to come in focus more, the blood rushing to your brain as you sit up and regretfully force the dog off your chest, and you recognize him.

He goes to your school, and from the look on his face, he recognizes you as well.

“I’m so sorry, Jjanggu really doesn’t know how to control himself,” the boy says, and you know him, you know him, of course you know him, but what’s his name? “I hope he didn’t bother you.”

Might as well not dwell on it now. “No! No, I love dogs, I come here all the time just for them, it’s fine, I promise,” you assure the boy, reaching down and petting his pup right behind the ear, the sweet spot for any and every canine (except Lansdale). “It’s not a problem.”

“Really, though, I’m still sorry he totally just walked all over you like that,” the boy insists.

“He’s cute, I don’t mind,” you promise. “What did you say his name was, again?”

“Jjanggu,” the boy says, beaming as he looks down at his dog, clearly proud of him.

“And what did you say yours was?”

It’s not flirting. You swear, it’s not flirting. For the most part. Alright, so it’s a little bit of flirting, but it’s not like you’re throwing yourself at him. The best way to a man’s heart is through his pet, anyway.

The boy opens his mouth to respond, but it looks like the words get lodged in his throat, not ready to come out. “Uh, I—um,” he stutters. “I didn’t.”

“So, why don’t you tell me?”

“Me?” He asks, seemingly surprised that you’re still talking to him. “I’m Seokjin.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, holding a hand out for him to shake. He does, firmly, like he’s promising you something, an offer you can’t refuse. When you lean down and hold out your hand in front of Jjanggu, he gives you a paw to shake as well. “You come here often, Seokjin?”

“I didn’t used to, but I think I might visit a bit more than normal now,” Seokjin says. Oh, so he will flirt with you back? “If Jjanggu gets to see cute girls, of course.”

You snort a little, amused by his banter. “Oh, yes. Jjanggu deserves that.”

“You go to school around here?” asks Seokjin, even though it’s evident that the both of you have definitely seen each other around the hallways.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you say, checking the time. “I gotta blast, but I’ll see you around?” You ask, smiling.

Seokjin leans down to pick Jjanggu up before shooting you a charming grin. “Make time for me, won’t you?”

---

And make time for him you do. Maybe it’s the mutual appreciation you have for dogs that does it, or the convenient location that the park lies in, or it might even be that sneaking little feeling that sits at the bottom of your heart, the one that gets all disgustingly warm and fuzzy whenever you’re around him, but you can’t seem to get enough.

It’s nice, hanging out with him, walking Jjanggu around the park together when it’s not an off-leash day, keeping a relatively close eye on him as he bounds around the hills when it is. Before this, you didn’t know Seokjin well, only knew him as another boy in some of your classes, rolling with a different crowd. But when you and Seokjin meet in the park to walk his dog around, you don’t talk about that one test you failed or the awful woodworking teacher who doesn’t even know how to remove a splinter. School isn’t a factor in this equation, even if it’s where you see each other most often. Plus, Jjanggu loves you, and if that’s not reason enough for you to spend time with Seokjin, then you don’t know what is.

---

Seokjin’s all cheesy pick-up lines and dramatic gestures when you sit with him on the grass, watching Jjanggu play happily with the other dogs on the last day of school, which just so conveniently happens to be an off-leash day. Seokjin’s a year older than you, which means he’s graduating and you won’t get to have these dog-park-not-a-date-dates much more, so you might as well spend the rest of the day together.

“What’s gonna happen with Jjanggu when you go off to university?” You wonder aloud, fingers plucking the grass from their roots.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably have my parents walk him, or something,” Seokjin replies, shrugging as Jjanggu finds a new friend to tussle with, sniffing the other dog’s ass before determining he is an acceptable pal.

“I can’t believe I won’t get to see him anymore,” you whine, already nostalgic for the first day you saw him, a little white ball with brown edges, an apologetic boy running not far behind. You rest your head in the crook of Seokjin’s neck, and you sit there, swaying back and forth ever so slightly.

“When I come back, we can meet up at the dog park again,” Seokjin promises. “Oh! I forgot, I have something for you.”

You lift your head up, skeptical as Seokjin begins to fish in the pockets of the navy blue blazer he wears, all broad shoulders and crisp lines. “Why? You’re the one graduating, not me.”

“Here, alright,” he says, situating himself so he’s sitting across from you, rather than next to you. “Look at me.”

“I’m looking.”

It’s quite the view.

“What do you notice that’s odd?”

“What is this, Spot The Difference?” You inquire, bewildered at what Seokjin is asking of you. Nonetheless, you begin searching, eyes scanning through his tussles of caramel brown hair, to the little silver hoops in his ears, along the seams of his well-fitting blazer, down to the uneven laces of his shoes. That blazer is really doing a lot of things for Seokjin, and all of them are good. You can’t take your eyes off of it, that itching feeling under your skin that’s telling you that you’re missing something here. “Oh, come on, give me a hint.”

“It’s on my body,” Seokjin supplies, like that’s any help.

“I meant a hint that I can use, Seokjin!” You exclaim, pushing him back slightly, open blazer blowing in the breeze. “Oh no! One of your buttons popped off!”

Seokjin looks down at where you’re pointing, his second button leaving nothing but a loose piece of thread in its wake.

“Maybe if we search the grass, we could find it.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, hands coming to rest on your wrists as they begin to feel through the grass. “It’s alright.”

“It looks awful, Seokjin,” you tell him.

“I’m insulted,” Seokjin says, a hand over his chest as he looks at you, pretending to be offended at your brutally honest comment. The expression is just enough to distract you as his hand darts back to his pocket, fist curled around something. “Hold your hand out.”

“Why?” You ask, following his order without even trying to get a response beforehand.

He gently takes your rest in his one hand, placing his fist in your palm as you feel a small object drop into it, hiding in the crevices of your fingers. When he removes his hand, what’s left is a small navy blue button, akin to the ones stitched onto his blazer.

“Your button?” You ask, puzzled at the endearing but somewhat pointless present in your palm.

“It’s closest to my heart,” Seokjin muses, and if that isn’t the cheesiest, cutest thing you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

“That’s so… sappy,” you declare, rolling the button between your fingers.

“How about this,” Seokjin says, a proposal on his lips. “How about next time we walk Jjanggu in the park, it can be an official date, instead of just an outing.”

“I like that idea,” you say, smiling as you feel yourself leaning into him, eyes focused on his lips. You tilt your head in a little more, lips hardly a centimeter away from each other’s when a bark sounds out and you’re suddenly tackled, falling on your back. Jjanggu’s on top of you, oblivious to the fact that he just totally interrupted a moment between you and Seokjin, giving you this sloppy kiss all over your cheeks.

“I think Jjanggu likes that idea, too,” Seokjin says, chuckling as he stretches a hand over to rub Jjanggu’s stomach.

And lying here, Seokjin’s heart practically resting in between your fingers, you decide that maybe you’re unlucky with most things, but, you suppose, you have a little bit of luck on your side when it comes to cute boys with dogs that walk around missing the second button on their blazer.

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