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keilemlucent · 4 years

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lavender latte: i

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You serve Hawks a lavender, oat milk latte. Not only is he hooked on your drinks, but he's also hooked on you as well.

a fluffy multi-chaptered piece i’ll release when i’m feeling it :’^) enjoy y’all. coffee shop au hell

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You and Keigo met each other on the coldest, snowiest day of the year.

The temperature was near glacial. The air stung and bit like hell, wind kicking and spitting powdery snow as it fell in sheets from the grey sky.

The weather, horribly, prevented two of your coworkers from working the morning shift at the tea shop. Half of the trains were shut down across the city in addition to power outages. But, your cheap ass owner forced you to open. Alone. In a blizzard.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn’t be getting many customers.

Opening at the tea shop on a normal day was a hellish amount of work. As you unlocked the door and walked into your humble establishment of employment, you grimaced at the thought of all of the work you were to do.

After disrobing from your thick winter jacket, scarf, and mittens and throwing on your apron, it was time to begin. You made yourself a simple, oat milk latte and then started to get to work setting up for the day.

It was hardly dawn.

Keigo was on early morning patrol. It wasn’t his favorite shift, oh, hardly, but he did enjoy watching the sunrise. And, while his wings were powerful, the snowstorm did force him to fly much lower in the grey haze of the day than he normally would. Stepping out of his apartment around just before 5:30 AM, Keigo almost moaned in anguish at the cold. He was infinitely glad he had worn a thermal bodysuit under his uniform.

His quirk afforded him much in terms of battle prowess, in addition to a few avian mutations. Most notably at that moment was his difficulty conserving heat. As Keigo stood on his balcony, frowning at the can of coffee in his hand, he made the prompt decision to fly to his area of patrol and grab a hot drink. The thought of downing something cold made his stomach turn.

Gracefully, Keigo turned and flew, letting himself be carried across town. The area he was patrolling was relatively quiet, mostly small businesses and lower-middle-class apartments. As he touched down, shivering and sleepy, he padded through the empty streets with his wings folded to his back.

The wind was wild, wiping between buildings, making snowdrifts that blocked some of the doors of shops nearby. Part of you cursed, shaking your head. You desperately wanted to be warm, curled in bed with your cats, and watching cartoons.

You set up the shop, moving chairs and turning on machines. Though you were a tea shop, you sold more coffee than any sort. On a normal, fully-staffed day, you’d be in the back, crafting tea blends. But, that day was, in fact, a very abnormal day and it was about to get weirder.

Keigo meandered around the streets, strangely at genuine ease. There were no civilians and very few stores open allowing him to walk freely, albeit coldly. Part of him wondered if he would even find a coffee shop.

But lo and behold, he did.

Keigo opened the door, a cute bell ringing. The shop was themed warmly with yellow-toned wood counters and furnishings. There was a smattering of local art on the walls and jewel-toned accents. All in all, it was a cozy reprieve from the icy nature of outside. Keigo relished the heat.

It seemed only one person was working, you.

When you heard the bell sounding at the entrance of a customer, you piped up from behind the counter, “Just one sec!”

A kind laugh, “Take your time.”

You were struggling to reach a tea blend. It was high on the many shelves behind the counter. You clamored on top of the counter, rising on your knees to try and reach it. Your hands stretched to grip it with an arch of your back. You grinned in victory as you managed to grab it. You pulled back, miscalculating in your pride—

And then you were losing balance.

And then you were falling.

(How fucking cliche).

You would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for some unknown force, pushing you back onto the counter, steadying you. The sensation, new, perked you up, causing you to let out a high noise of surprise. You turned, your eyes going wide.

Several beautiful, scarlet feathers caught your fall.

Your eyes flickered up to your patron savior.

Number two hero, Hawks, smiling at you and giving you a bit of cheshire grin, stifling a laugh.

You slowly descended from the counter, turning to face him at the register, “Well, I really have to say thank you. I nearly ate shit there.”

“All in a day's work,” Hawks winked at you. You beamed easily. Local heroes came and drank at the shop fairly regularly, but never anyone particularly famous, let alone the top ten. Never the incredibly stunning, wind-whipped bachelor hero that was Hawks.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, going for a notepad.

Hawks eyes scanned the menu behind you. He hummed, pretty, amber eyes settling back on you, “Surprise me.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Alright, let me ask a few questions, just to make your drink the best it can.” You told him. “First off, hot or iced?”

“Oh, definitely hot,” Hawks almost wiggled a feathered eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

“Okay, how much caffeine? Any allergies?” You asked, scribbling an idea down on the notepad. “Milk preference?”

“As much as you can legally supply me with, no preferred milk, and no allergies. Though, I do like things sweet,” Hawks was removing his gloves as he spoke. “Go crazy, give me the best thing you got, angel. Something that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

Oh, that was a move.

Hawks was notoriously (in the media) shamelessly flirtatious with fans and other heroes. It was always painted as something that was in good fun, never sexual, and just part of his brand. This was just common knowledge, but god you never expected it to be directed at you with a cute pet name.

“On it,” You smiled back at him, face hot. You smoothed yourself down before beginning to craft his drink.

It wasn’t often that you worked the front counter, and there was a good reason for it. Most of the time, you got too into making drinks, customizing them frivolously (often due to your quirk). Though you were skilled, it took a lot of time that people didn’t have for a coffee run.

But, on the day of a momentous snowstorm, you and Hawks had all the time in the world.

Keigo was a bit stunned by you.

You were cute, one.

You were wearing a soft-looking turtleneck sweater, and high-waisted, wide-leg pants. They were fashionable but obviously aged. But it worked. A cute, embroidered apron was tied over you snuggly around your waist. It was adorned with buttons and pins, brightly colored.

You spoke so frankly to him. You didn’t gawk at him for even a second, even when his feathers propped you up from falling. You blushed at his pet name but didn’t seem any more fazed than a bit of embarrassment. He liked it. It felt normal.

Keigo rested his hands on the counter, watching you flit about behind the counter.

“I gotta ask, why are you open in this blizzard??” Keigo tilted his head as your gaze flickered to him. You were still smiling, just a bit, even hard at work.

You snorted, “Cheap boss who won’t close, and my coworkers are stranded without the trains running. I live close by and work hourly, so I might as well come in, ya’ know?”

Hawks laughed, something warm and full, so juxtaposed to the storm of flurries outside.

It was odd, talking to the number two fucking hero so casually, but it felt good. There was a sense of awe and idleness, but it dimmed. There were no flashy heroics, just one person wanting a drink and the other making it.

Your quirk activated on its own as you stared at the syrups. Your quirk’s tell was so small and normal, no one ever caught it. A heavy dilation of the eyes was not something most people were tuned into. Yet there you were, submerged in sensation. Touch, sight, smell, taste, even sound, all blending together. They elicited something deeper in you, creating something abstract you could make tangible.

To make a feeling into a physical reality was a gift, but it came with drawbacks of course.

You poured a few syrups into the bottom of the cup, carefully selecting them.

“I can’t imagine how cold it is up in the sky,” You mused to yourself just before steaming some oat milk.

“Oh, you have no idea, ” Hawks lamented to you with a groan. “I feel like I’m gonna lose a few toes whenever I work in this weather.”

“Just toes? I’d be worried about a whole foot,” You grinned back at him as you poured more things into the cup, stirring every few moments.

The feeling in your mind was so tangible to you, and you could perfectly translate it to reality. Something warm, to beat away the frost of the world beyond the tea shop.

You sprinkled the top with a few dashes of cinnamon, setting it on the counter in front of him.

Keigo looked down at the drink you made him, raising an eyebrow. He went to take a sip, but you stopped him, “I’d give that a few minutes if you don’t want to burn your tongue, tailfeathers.”

Hawks nearly fucking squawked as he set down the drink, giving you a look of false anger, “ Tailfeathers? That’s not a kind name to call me. I don’t even have those.”

Keigo huffed, pouting at you.

“You call me, a stranger barista, angel, I call you tailfeathers. Easy trade.” You shrugged at him, tapping into the register system. “I’m not charging you until you try it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to upcharge if I don’t like it?” Hawks continued to pout, jokingly so, pulling out a wad of bills that was undoubtedly much more than any drink would cost.

Your eyes widened, leaving you sputtering, “Oh, never— it’s on the house if it bangs as much as I think it will.”

Hawks laughed, out loud, bending back a bit. You watched his pretty red wings shudder and reflect the warm light of the coffee house. Keigo collected himself, over-dramatically straightening himself.

You watched with anticipation as he took his sip.

Keigo was a man of poor taste. Sure, dropping an unholy amount of money on frivolities was one of his small pleasures, after so much of the ascetic bullshit that the Commission put him through, it only seemed fair. But, caffeine was a necessity with his fucked up schedule and he’d be damned waiting in a line or making it at home. Canned coffee was saccharine and speedy and that’s all he fucking wanted.

But, when the first drops of that stupid oat milk latte hit his tongue, Keigo was beyond enamored.

Yeah, he wanted coffee to feel warm in this storm, but he didn’t expect to feel warm. With just one gulp, he could feel the heat, like the flames of a steady hearth, drift around his body.

He brought the cup down from his lips, looking at you with awe.

You had the smuggest grin spread across your face, arms crossed over your chest.

“Thoughts?” God, you were so cheeky. He loved it. You were so subtly bold.

“This,” Keigo took another greedy swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand, “is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my damn life.”

Your smile just got wider.

“Glad I could meet your tastes, tailfeathers. No charge,” You gave him a cheeky little wink. You swore you saw his face get redder, but you dismissed it a moment later.

“Oh no, nu-uh,” Keigo pushed the bills towards you. “Take it as a tip then. Seriously. How did you make this?”

You stared down at the bills and Hawks’s hand. His hands weren’t particularly large, but they were scarred plenty. Veins and bone were accented by the dryness of his skin.

You looked back up at him, still not taking the money, “Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one, especially considering you’re a hero.”

Hawks tilted his head, “If you say you used your quirk to mess with this drink, I don’t know if I’m legally able to keep it a secret.”

“Nah, nah. I didn’t ‘mess with your drink’,” You shook your head, nodding down to it. “Do you know what synesthesia is?”

(He did, surely. But he just wanted to listen to you talk more.)

“Enlighten me?” Hawks ask, stooping to rest his elbows on the counter, chin cradled in his hands.

For being a man who could kill you in a split second, Hawks was remarkably cute. You understood his sex appeal long before he entered the shop. His hair looked unnaturally fluffy, wind-ruffled, and honey blonde. His eyes had a few cute bird-like markings ringing the sweet, amber irises. He had a delicate but defined jaw.

He raised a sculpted, feathered eyebrow at you.

(He’d caught you staring).

You cleared your throat, laughing it off easily (though you were mentally kicking yourself), “Synesthesia, broadly, is like senses overlapping in your brain. Like... The common example is seeing colors when you hear a month of the year.”

“Now, what does this have to do with my lovely drink?” Hawks batted his eyelashes at you. You could tell he was definitely flirting with you, but you brushed it off the best you could.

He’s a hot guy you made coffee for. Happens all the time.

“Well, you had me a little bit, I did use my quirk, but it doesn’t mess with your drink physically at all. Not even close,” You laugh. “My quirk allows me to conceptualize abstract ideas into tangible ideas.”

“That really makes it sound like you used your quirk to make my drink,” Keigo watched your eyes dilate as he spoke.

You blinked, and they went back to normal.

“No, no. It’s like for your drink,” Both of your eyes looked towards the steaming cup. “I took your request for ‘warm and fuzzies’ to heart.”

Keigo blinked at you.

Your pupils expanded again, “I figured ‘ you know, this guy has to fly around in the cold all day, right? Probably is freezing and far away from home ’— and there was my inspiration.

“I used my quirk to conceptualize... the idea of being warm and safe into a tangible concept. A nice, easy coffee drink. Four shots of espresso, oat milk, homemade lavender honey syrup, two of my own, specially made tea extracts, and a bit of cinnamon for good measure.”

Hawks blinked at you, “Your quirk gives you the... blueprints, to turn ideas, literal feelings, into reality and these blueprints just work?”

You nodded and shrugged, “Most of the time. The less I’m focused on it, the more likely it is that the feeling won’t be able to manifest. I just get more exact with my construction with the fewer stimuli.”

“Drawback?” Hawks quirked an eyebrow, already having a good idea as to it.

You gestured lazily to the empty coffee shop, “I get overstimulated easily, quirk activated or not. Makes a lot of shit hard, but I like my quirk. I mean, it’s nothing like having a crazy strong pair of wings, but it services me well.”

“Did you really ‘manifest’ ‘warm and fuzzies’ into a drink, or did you make it a bit deeper than that?” Keigo sipped again, relishing how it warmed him all over once more. The taste that was dancing over his palette seemed a little more complex than what they were saying.

“To be frank and to have a bit of an ego, yeah, I went for my go-to feeling when making drinks for myself,” You averted your eyes from him. “A good drink should feel like you’re getting hugged from the inside out, you know? Comforted. It’s hard enough to get that tangibly without a quirk. I just try to help where I can.”

Keigo blinked at you.

You had turned suddenly, shy, eyes anxiously darting and a hand tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. A cute flush was spreading over your cheekbones when you finally looked at him again, “Kinda corny, right?”

Despite the fact that Keigo’s heart was fucking pounding, he shook his head, voice steady and sure, “Nah, I think it’s cool. You’re doing a lot more than just making coffee for folks.”

Your face got even redder as you rubbed the back of your head,

“I usually work in the back, so I don’t tend to make a lot of coffee for people. I make the tea blends that we sell. I don’t always use my quirk, but sometimes I do.”

Keigo watched you nervously pull at your apron, giving him an oddly desperate deadpan, “Please don’t turn me in.”

That made Keigo bust out laughing again.

You couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, and then join him. You covered your mouth at first, but finally, just let yourself laugh with him. All it seemed like that there was in the world was you, Keigo, the lavender latte, and the snowdrifts outside.

Hawks’s pager beeped, almost instantly pulling him from his laughing fit. He glanced at it, giving a dull grimace, “Duty calls, it seems.”

“You’d think villains would take snow days?” You told him as he re-gloved his hands.

“It would really make my job easier,” He chuckled. Hawks pushed the forgotten money on the counter. “That’s all for you, ya hear me? Keep it or I will actually turn you in.”

Oh, you were feeling bold.

Before Hawks could pull his hand away, you placed your own on his, stopping his movement.

“Only,” You somehow, one-handed, managed to pull a bit of receipt paper from its machine. Still one-handed you grabbed a pen and scribbled onto the paper. You pushed it towards Keigo. “If you take this very conveniently small piece of paper that totally doesn’t have my name and number on it. Just in case you’d like another lavender latte like that.”

Oh, Keigo was floored.

He had rapid fucking fans. They were feral. He’d had fans drop their entire life stories on him, gush to him, stalk him— one time, a fan dropped to their knees and licked his boots. And he’d certainly received many phone numbers in his day, so many, but never like this.

This felt a little different.

“Well, I was gonna say, I might need some contact to know when you work next. Just so I can grab one of your lovely drinks,” Hawks winked at you, all smitten. He walked backwards towards the door, still meeting your eyes

“Feel free to.” You were just as starry-eyed as he was. “I have a lot to show you!”

And with that, Hawks whisked himself out of the door, fast as ever.

And you both simmered, full of intangible feelings.

#salem writes #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #reader insert #mha x reader #my hero x reader #mha smut #hawks reader insert #my hero academia #bnha x reader #takami x reader #mha lemon

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the-thot-clown · 3 years

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May I ask that you talk about the character designs you love, please? 👀

(inhales)

‘aight, this is going to be long so

ok the first one and my favorite one is Bubba.

Among all the slashers Bubba is the one with the lightest colors, including his main mask which is a faded yellow that fits very well with the pale pink of his shirt and bright yellow apron. Even his tie complements well by cutting out warm colors with a three-tone blue. Along with his dark blue jeans and black cowboy boots. They are soft colors and shapes and he himself is very neat (my boy is really there working with a shirt and tie, what a gentleman) which is a reflection of his personality in general. He is very distinctive and appealing to the eye, even in dark scenes you can fully distinguish him.

I don't talk much about his clothing when he uses the old woman's mask since, apart from the change of face, only another apron is added. But with the pretty woman mask it is something else. I can't express how much I love that they decided to put him in a dark suit, other than that it's because Bubba wanted to look good for dinner, it's also a nice change of tones that goes with how the dinner scene is the darkest part of the movie thematically speaking. Also that the mask with makeup serves as a focal point following the neckline, and of course using the blue tie to add color to the whole outfit but still being a cool color making the red and pink makeup of the mask stand out more. I love it 10/10

Another one is Jason from part 3, 4 and 6. I love the shirt in that shade of green along with the light pants, it is thematically coherent, simple, the colors go well with the place where the film takes place, it helps the mask stand out more and is recognizable to the naked eye. While Jason from part 2 is also one of my favorites with all the blue tones and the white bag on his head he isn’t as iconic (since he looks a lot like the murderer of The Town That Dreaded Sundown). 9/10 for mama’s boy.

Michael and Ghostface are in the same place for me, both outfits are minimalist, dark and with a white mask as a focal point, Ghostface has one more point for me because it adds texture to his suit since the fabric is shiny and it shows that it is rough. Both masks despite having the same intention of being the focal point, both are in the two opposites if we talk about expressions, one being exaggerated and the other that does not express anything. 9/10

And now that I’m talking about them, something that bothers me a bit about the remake/reboot and secuels versions of the 2000 movies is how they decided to remove all the colors from the clothes of some slashers, I love Thomas and FvJ Jason as well as RZ Michael but it is very sad how they decided to go for outfits that are practically unrecognizable on screen, adding that the movies themselves are very dark and you can hardly tell anything from what is happening. Even the masks, the’ve become more dirty and almost irreconocible.

Everything looks washed out, brown and dirty.

Ok back to the favorites.

Another one, Babyface (The Hills Run Red) Good neutral colors, gray shirt and beige pants but cut by the red color that helps to connect everything in general, it also makes the attention focus on him and the decorations on his neck, great mask design, it's scary, It is grotesque but without becoming deformed, you can differentiate the parts of the mask and more than once they make closeups to show it even in the light. Very good work 8/10.

Ok at first I wasn't a big fan of Brahms clothes (mostly because you can barely see it) but it's a nice outfit, the gray-blue cardigan really complements the brown pants, the white shirt also helps to be a point focal and separate it from the dark in conjunction with the mask (the mask being surrounded by dark hair and the beard also helps it stand out more) it is simple, just a doll face but it is a nice addition. It is comfortable and it is in character and according to the situation. I love the suspenders, you classy fucker. 6/10

One of my favorite of all time, Tiffany, MAN I LOVE THIS the puffy hair, the eye color, the makeup, the leather jacket over the wedding dress oh my god i love her. Is simple yet iconic 10/10

Is sad what they did to her hair later tho.

Now the bitch himself, The shape and colors are instantly recognizable, the brown hat goes well with the colors of the sweater, this being the focal point of the whole outfit, I like the idea of the glove and since its entire face is burned separates it from the others slashers who always wear masks. bitch/10

The cenobites, over all iconic, love the goth bitches 10/10

Vincent Sinclair (since it is the one that stands out the most in the wardrobe part of the three brothers) I can’t see shit. Man that movie sure doesn’t want us to see him but for I can see he’s nice, love the sweater, I like the idea of his mask being made of wax, love the hair. 6/10

The two Pennywises: Both are good. Stop making these queens fight eachother. While 2017 Pennywise has his face as the focal point and his hair the other IS the focal point, both suits are useful for attracting or hunting prey in their own way, both are good and both have things of the Pennywise from the book. 8/10

Candyman. The man, the legend.The presence, the coat, the color palette, the pants, the tie, the fluffy details. Everything, I absolutely love everything about the design. 10/10

Honorable mentions:

Lucille Sharpe: I love the red dress but this dress holy shit

Chop Top: Yeah I’ve said it. Man has style and I love that you can say a lot just by looking at him. That’s nice.

Billy Lenz: I know we can only see little things about his clothes, just his light blue oxford pants and his black turtleneck shirt (yeah it’s black but i like the green sweater too) but I just can imagine him with the 70′s clothes and I just loose my shit.

so that’s it, I have some more but this is already too long.

#about the clown #Anonymous

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joheun-saram · 3 years

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Whenever, Wherever (jhs)

Summary- Hoseok is a time traveller but that’s not the strangest thing that has happened to him. The strangest thing is when he meets a girl he’s never seen and she tells him he’s her best friend.

word count- 6.7k

pairing- timetraveler!Hoseok x Reader

rating- R

genre- angst, fluff, smut

warnings- car accident, mention of parental death, mention of miscarriage, major character death, description of gun shot wound (but not gory), explicit smut (unprotected lovey dovey sex), hoseok pukes a lot (soz babe ily)

a.n- Ahhh I finally finished my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub! I’m so excited to reveal that I’m indeed @baepsaetan‘s secret santa 🎅🏼Day did you guess I was your ss? Did you like me subtly asking you questions about this during our sprints? hehehe! Happy new year, love! 💕

For people who can guess, this was inspired by the Doctor, River relationship and is loosely based on the Time Traveller’s Wife (eventhough I straight up have never seen the movie and literally only read the wiki page 🥴)

A huge thank you to Bella @hobisbeautifulass for beta reading for me! I’m sorry I made you cry at work!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

The day his mother passed away was when Hoseok discovered his gift.

Stranded by himself in a large suburban park in the middle of the night, there was an eeriness surrounding the dark expanse of road. There were no cars, no streetlights, and no solace to be found on the edge of the wooded trail he stood before. His heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he remembered seeing the blinding lights of the trailer in front of him just moments ago, his mother’s voice ricocheting through his head. He didn’t understand how he got here, and how the loud honks and screeches of tires had fallen to give way to this deafening silence.In the distance, he hears footsteps. The crackle of crushed leaves echoing in the air as he sees a man with dark hair, dressed in a large black sweater and a pair of blue ripped jeans, step forward. In the eight years he had lived thus far he had never been as terrified. The man lifted his arm as if to reach out towards him, and Hoseok closed his eyes tight, wishing he could run away.

Before he knew what happened, he was lying in his bed under his warm, colorful duvet. He rubbed his eyes, his heart still pounding and feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit. He thought it was a dream till his father entered with a tear-streaked face to let him know about his mother’s fatal accident.

That was the first time he time traveled, but it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t know why he could do it. He didn’t know how he could control it. All he knew was that he was drawn to certain places, certain times. It was never when he wanted, like the first time when he wished he could go back to a few hours and not be greedy for ice cream so his mother would not have to drive him. Or the time he wished he could go back to tell his grandmother he loved her. Or the time in university where he wished he had never got caught cheating and lost his scholarship.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her.

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For most people time is linear. There is the past, the present, and the future. But for Hoseok, time is a tangled mess, a convoluted web of events that he can only watch unfold. Never having the power to control where he ends up, Hoseok felt helpless, like his life was a punchline for the universe. All through his life, he would wind up at weird places at weird times. He would never know how long he would be there before being zapped back to whenever he came from.

Hoseok was twenty-five, he was single, he was a music producer, but most of all, he was tired. Lately, his time jumps were too frequent, going from happening once a year or so to once every few weeks. He would find himself in odd places at odd times, sometimes it was a quaint suburban street at dawn, other times a posh private school at midnight. All to stay there for seconds before zapping in his bed, as usual, his entire day lost, nausea bitting at his throat.

“Hoseok? Oh my god! It’s really you!” The new barista at his favorite coffee shop squealed when he made it to the front of the line, jarring him from his thoughts as he aimlessly scrolled through his Instagram, trying to decipher if he missed out on anything important. He looked at her, dressed cutely in a yellow sundress with the establishment's blue and gold apron on her waist. Her hair was loose around her face, her smile brilliant, as she looked at him with excitement. She was beautiful and it took Hoseok a few moments to stop himself from his shameless ogling.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” he asked, confused. He would have remembered if he ever saw her. She looked pretty unforgettable. Maybe she was one of Yoongi's friends, although something tells him Yoongi would find her sunshine persona offputting.

“Yeah! You’re my best friend!” She pointed at him, as his mouth dropped. Okay, so she was crazy. Great...

“Uh…” Hoseok didn't really know how to answer that, so he decided to follow his gut and just ignore her comment. “I’m sorry. Can I just order?”

“Vanilla latte, no whip, half sugar coming right up!” She beamed as she wrote on the cup, leaving him dumbfounded.

“How did you…?”

“Told you! You’re my best friend!” She pranced away to make his drink, as he stood there confused. When she returned, she handed him a drink and Hoseok could do nothing more than smile half-heartedly as he walked away. Did he have a stalker?

He decided not to visit that coffee shop again. Better not give this crazy person any more ideas.

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

Hoseok stood in someone's home, someone's living room, dark other than the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was a modest room, resembling one of those he would see on television. In the center of the room, there was a bright yellow rug flanked on three sides by a couch set facing a television hooked to the wall above a fireplace. It seemed cozy, somewhere he would have liked to live.

He had no idea where he was and he cursed his gift once again. This was getting ridiculous. This was the first time he had appeared inside someone's home. He shook his head as he looked at the clock placed on one of the small tables next to the big couch.

3 am. Great. He was trespassing in the middle of the night.

He decided to escape before the owners caught wind of him. As he made his way towards the door, a family portrait caught his eye. It hung right next to the front door, framed by a beautiful gold frame.

His mouth dropped. It was him. He looked a little older, the lines next to his eyes a little deeper as he sat smiling on a grassy field, his arms around a beautiful woman in a yellow sundress holding a small infant wrapped in green blankets.

He felt his heartbeat pick up. He knew her. It was the random barista girl. The one who insisted she knew him. What the fuck?

Before Hoseok could spiral any further he heard a noise behind him. Turning he saw her, dressed in flannel pajamas, walking down the stairs. She looked around her mid-thirties, nothing like the chipper twenty-something he'd seen last week.

He stood there blinking at her as she came closer, awe on her features that quickly morphed into sorrow. She touched his face gently as if in disbelief that he was there as her eyes glistened in the moonlight.

"Hobi?" She spoke, her voice was hoarse as a tear slipped down her cheek. Hoseok didn't know why but he felt his heart lurch at her tears. He had no idea who she was but he felt this innate pull towards her. He wanted to hold her, wipe her tears, and most fucked up of all, he wanted to kiss her.

"I- who are you?" He asked softly, his hand coming to hold hers as if he couldn't help himself, leaning slightly into her touch.

"We haven't met yet?" Her voice was wet with tears as she sniffled, moving closer to him. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as if to feel if he was really there. He stood silently as she squeezed him close, and wrapped his arms around her when she started sobbing into his chest. He held her tight as she cried, his eyes brimming with sympathetic tears.

"I missed you so much Hoseok," she said as she looked up at him. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Before he could think, he was leaning down to capture her lips with his own, his heart in his throat. She tasted like strawberries and mint, and he felt his head turn into a haze. Before he could deepen the kiss, he felt the familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled apart as he saw her fade slowly, trying his hardest to hold on to her as she did the same.

All too soon, the familiar sight of his bedroom materialized as he stood there alone, her last words ringing in his head.

"No! Please! It's too soon!"

He didn't know when he started crying, but soon he was kneeling on his floor sobbing for a girl he didn't even know the name of.

-----------

Hoseok didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on the floor of his bedroom, his face puffy and back sore. Without a second thought, he rose from his position, grabbed his keys, and bolted out of his apartment. He had to find her.

It took him six days to meet her again. Six days of anxiety, amped up from the coffees he chugged as he visited the coffee shop at different hours. He couldn't even describe her properly, every time he went to the cashier to tell them how she looked they gave him an odd look. Maybe it was because by the third day he looked like a deranged stalker, describing her height and her build to anyone who worked there. He was surprised they hadn't banned him yet.

On the sixth day, she waltzed in and sat across from him, not a care in the world. Her smile was wide, a juxtaposition to the sad, older version of her he was fixated on. She wore a polka-dotted dress which hitched up a little as she crossed her legs. Hoseok was speechless as he almost choked on his coffee.

"You told me to meet you earlier but honestly, I just wanted to annoy you a little." She giggled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her eyes lit with mirth, and the stress of finding her hit him like a ton of bricks. Hoseok jumped out of his seat, his arms around her shaking as he tried to control his breathing. His mind was fuzzy, he had no reason to react this way, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know her but he missed her. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he held her tighter.

"What took you so long?" He asked his voice a little hoarse from not speaking all day, his breath coming out in puffs against her neck. She hummed a little apology as her hand reached his hair, stroking his scalp in a way that made him instantly relax. He melted into her, her sweet floral scent a balm to his anxious nerves.

"Do you even know my name yet?" She spoke, her voice light and airy, as he finally let go of her. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning as red as the beanie atop his head. He settled back in his chair awkwardly staring at her, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants that laid on his thigh. He looked up at her smiling face, as she put her hand on top of his. "It's Y/N. It's nice to finally meet you, Hoseok."

Her words were simple but their effect was anything but. Hoseok felt like everything in his world made sense, that all those times he had puked after a shitty trip down the stitch of time was worth it. Her hand was so soft, skin so perfectly smooth as her thumb stroked his hand, that Hoseok had a hard time finding words to express how he was feeling.

He looked at her shyly, not knowing where his nerves were coming from, as he smiled, meeting her warm eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you too, Y/N."

----------

Hoseok sighed in annoyance as he walked down the path of the familiar suburban neighborhood. The sun shone brightly, and all he wanted to do was to be zapped out of here so he could end up in bed next to his girlfriend. It had been barely thirty seconds since he saw her, her soft skin molded against his as she slept next to him, her hair tickling his nose as he spooned her. He missed her already. This wasn't fair. Why did he have to walk around this stupid cul-de-sac when he could be wrapped in her warmth?

Ever since the coffee shop, things with her had progressed extremely fast. He couldn't help himself. He never felt as close to someone as instantly before. Granted, he knew they were going to get married and have a beautiful child together, but that didn't mean he knew how fast he was going to fall for her.

The day he first learned her name, he couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face. She was different than any other woman he had met. She was outgoing and optimistic, and brave. Much braver than him. While he stuttered to ask her for her number, she leaned across the table grabbed his phone, unlocking it as if by magic, and added her phone number in. While he wrote and rewrote eighteen different texts, pacing in his living room, she beat him to it with a casual "Stop overthinking, dummy. It's only me!"

How could he stop overthinking? It was her. His dream girl gift-wrapped and sent to him by fate. He never thought his gift would be good for anything, but she was here and all his previous suffering finally made sense.

As he walked along the sidewalk, biding his time, he approached a bus stop. It was cute, and definitely not from his decade. A janky blue bus stopped, and out she walked, making Hoseok miss his step and almost trip. She was dressed in a school uniform, a crisp white shirt with a plaid skirt, a cute flower-shaped backpack on her shoulders, and her hands full of college pamphlets. Hoseok couldn't help the smile that overtook his features. He wanted to run up to her but he realized even if she was his girlfriend now, it was still a crime to approach a minor. His gift was so stupid.

He stood there, averting his stare and looking at his shoes instead, as she walked closer to him. He promised himself not to be a creep and try to talk to her but her voice makes him break his resolve.

"Ew. Can you not get a hint? Get away from me, you creep!" she yelled and Hoseok's head snapped up. He felt his face flare with rage as he watched a kid around her age try to put his arm around her as she tried to shove him off. The kid was relentless, throwing cheesy pickup lines her way as she continuously rejected him. He wanted to beat that little shit to a pulp.

Clearing his throat, he approached the two. "Dude, she said no. Get off her," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"What's it to you, old man?" The boy rolled his eyes, his hand still wrapped around her as she pleaded at Hoseok with her eyes. Hoseok wasn't old! He wasn't even thirty yet! He hated this kid.

"It's not nice to forego consent, kid," he sneered, schooling his face into the coldest expression he could muster. It seemed to have worked because one look at Hoseok's face and the future sex offender had his hand to himself before he walked off with a huff. Hoseok glared at him as he disappeared in the opposite direction. Good riddance.

"Thank you so much!" Her voice was higher than it was now, a little spring to it that only comes from innocence as she looked at him with round eyes. "You're like my own personal superhero!"

Hoseok felt awkward. He never wanted to talk to her here. Running his hands through his hair, he smiled at her, throwing an awkward "Any time!" as he rushed away. The feeling in his gut was back and he had never been happier to want to throw up. The afternoon sun faded as he stood in his own room, blinded and running to where he knew his trash can was.

As he vomited into the plastic can, he felt a hand rub soothingly down his back. She handed him a water bottle when he sat up next to the bin, his head aching.

"Welcome back, babe. When did you go this time?" She giggled at her own joke. God, Hoseok loved that laugh.

----------

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous in a really long time. Surrounded by all his friends dressed in custom tuxedos, he fidgeted with his bowtie, and scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror he fixed the lapels of the blood-red jacket he was wearing. Who convinced him this gaudy suit was perfect for the occasion? Oh yeah, his bride.

Jung Hoseok thought he'd accomplish a lot of things by the time he was thirty-one. He thought he would have signed to a major label as an in-house producer (he did), he thought he would be living in a beautifully decorated apartment downtown (he does), he thought he would have a cute little dog to welcome him home (Mickey is adorable, in case you were wondering), but he never thought he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for someone who would want to share their life with him.

Ever since she came into his life, Hoseok felt like it was filled with sunshine. She brightened every aspect of it. The first time he kissed her, really kissed her, it felt like happiness was resonating through his entire skeleton - like she was the one thing missing in his world. The first time he told her he loved her he almost threw up from the nerves knotting in his stomach.

He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he couldn't help himself as she walked in. She had foregone the usual white gown, quoting something about the patriarchy, as she walked towards him in a dress, equally as red as his suit.

Her smile was wide and he was in awe of her beauty. He sniffled through his vows and she winked at him through hers, a simple gesture that made him chuckle and relaxed the emotions brewing in him. She could always do that with the simplest of things, be it a touch or a look. He kissed her with passion as their friends and family cheered. He hoped she didn't mind how much he was blubbering. He promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Their wedding was one of the best moments of his entire life. Dancing to cheesy music, cheek to cheek, the couple in red stood out amongst others in black. Hoseok was so in love that he didn't even mind when at the end of the night he felt the familiar buzz in his ears. He was slightly upset that he abandoned his new wife on his wedding night, but is it abandonment when the hotel lobby fades into what he knows now is his future home?

He saw her there, sitting on the couch, a frown on her face as she seemingly stared into space, dressed in a set of comfy pajamas and he couldn't control himself. Whispering her name so as not to startle her, he moved towards her when she smiled up at him. Sitting next to her on the couch, he pulled her to him with a grin. She giggled as she settles herself on his lap, running her hands over his jacket, before soothingly scratching his scalp. Hoseok couldn't help but lean into her touch, a goofy grin on his face. He was sickeningly in love.

"If it isn't my handsome new husband. I've been waiting for my wedding night for years." She joked as she pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply. Hoseok's heart lurched in his chest as a little whine escaped him. She isn't surprised in the least to see him there, and why would she be? In the past five years, Hoseok has visited so many different versions of her. In a way, it's part of how he fell in love with her. She may only be thirty-one to him, but he'd seen her at every stage of her life.

As she deepened their kiss, his hands went around her waist squeezing her tight as she ground on him gently. He remembers the different versions of her as he feels his blood rush through his body, each touch sparking electricity under his skin. He remembered when he first laid eyes on her in that small cafe, his nerves on their first date, her tears when he proposed, the first time he had her under him after she invited him for a movie. But he also remembered her at six playing in the sandbox in the park, sixteen and humming to pop songs while she walked home, thirty-six as she cried in his arms, seventy when she looked frayed and weak but still beautiful. He had seen all of her life, moments that he was lucky enough to be brought to more often as he fell more in love with her. He had visited her hundreds of times, and he couldn't wait to do that for the rest of his life.

He kissed down her neck, leaving little bites that he soothed with his tongue as she undressed him, his jacket somewhere on the floor, his shirt mostly buttoned. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, a beautifully airy noise that set his heart on fire.

Soon the two were breathless and naked as he hovered above her on the couch. She arched into him as he entered her, her little whines encouraging him. He latched his lips on her hard nipples, nipping them how he knows she loves. She fit him so perfectly, always so perfect for him. His wife, his soulmate, his Y/N.

"I love you, wife," he whispered and placed his forehead on hers, his hips thrusting into her heat, as he relished the connection between them. He kissed her deep, almost overwhelmed by how perfectly their lips slotted together. He could kiss her forever.

"I love you, husband," she whispered into his mouth, and his pace increased, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. She writhed under him as he pushes her off the edge. Her legs shaking around him, her heels poking into his back, as he savored the way her walls pulled him in. He was panting when he came, filling her up and babbling a chant of her name.

He pecked her face about a thousand times as they both laid on the couch boneless and giggling. When he, inevitably, ends up back on his bedroom floor, he saw her smirking at his naked body on the floor, dressed in his t-shirt, her hair still wet from her shower. She squatted next to him.

"And where is your suit?" she chided, her lips lifting, even when she tries to pretend she's mad.

"We'll get it back in a few years." Hoseok shrugged as he pulled her into a kiss, missing her body next to him already.

----------

The bar Hoseok sat at is loud, too loud for the conversation Yoongi keeps trying to have with him, and that's precisely why he chose it. Next to their table is a bachelorette party, a gaggle of women dressed in feather boas and plastic tiaras, sloshing drinks on themselves as they excitedly laugh. It's an odd contrast to the way he's feeling, the atmosphere on his own table somber.

"So what? You're going to leave your wife at home and get wasted here? Is that what you do now, Hobi?" Yoongi scolded his friend but Hoseok was already too far gone, having had a few bottles of beers before even inviting Yoongi out. He knew he was an asshole, he didn't need Yoongi to remind him, but he needed to escape.

His once happy marriage was becoming tumultuous, and, no it wasn't because they didn't love each other anymore, but quite the opposite. The past two years had really shown him that even if they were fighting and yelling, they still loved each other. Even when they were mad they crawled into bed together at the end of the day and held each other, not being able to sleep otherwise.

Their marriage started off great. There were cuddles in the kitchen, dance parties in the living room, vacations in Rome, and a night where they both sat next to each other on the floor by the bathroom holding hands as they waited with a little blue stick. They made love on that floor when it showed two lines, but that wasn't a surprise - Hoseok had seen his child in that photo the first time he kissed her.

The surprise was when she woke him up in the middle of the night, thirteen weeks into the pregnancy clutching her stomach, tears running down her face. He had never felt as scared as he did at that moment, breaking all the traffic laws he could get away with to get her to the emergency room. He held her hand through the ultrasound, through the exam where she winced, and through the doctor solemnly telling them they had had a miscarriage. He didn't let himself cry in front of her, always wanting to be brave, but he sobbed when she slept, knowing that he had a child but gaining little solace from the fact as he mourned.

The second time the two lines showed up, they were careful. He waited on her hand and foot, working from home, ensuring she got the proper nutrients. The result was another trip to the emergency room and another night of tears holding each other. By the fourth time, they stopped being surprised, just two zombies driving calmly to the hospital, before returning home. She went to the bedroom, while Hoseok drank himself into a stupor, before asking Yoongi to meet him here.

Hoseok knew he had a child, but he felt hopeless, drowning in the undercurrent of hurt and apathy. He loved his wife, loved her more than anything in the world but he couldn't bear to look at her tonight, couldn't bear to convince her once again that he had seen their child. Maybe they adopted he thought bitterly as he switched from beer to shots.

He walked home in a drunken haze despite Yoongi's worried insistence that he take a cab. Somewhere during his walk, he had started crying, tears painting his face and sending shivers down his body as they cooled in the evening chill. He wished he could fix it for her, she was always so brave, always so supportive of his stupid ideas and moods. Every time they had a fight, she was the first to apologize, a smile on her face as she cracked a joke and tickled him till all his worries were forgotten.

Drowning in self-pity, he barely noticed the buzz in his ears as he entered his house. Stumbling into the living room he saw her sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. He stared at her as he realized he was in the future, her hair greying, and her skin wrinkled. He didn't know how to react, but the tears returned as he rushed to her falling on his knees as he held onto her legs.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He apologized again and again. He didn't care that this version of her wasn't the one that needed to hear him, but he felt like a terrible husband, a terrible partner, as he kissed her knees. She stroked his hair and shushed him with a soft smile.

"What happened, Hobi?" she asked, her voice gentle, and he felt all his walls come down as he told her things he was sure already knew. He felt exhausted, every cell in his body aching. He laid on the couch, head in her lap as she listened to him, consoling him with the wisdom of a life lived.

After he had fallen silent, sober, and unable to convey any more emotions, she spoke.

"Hobi. You have to be nicer to yourself. You were the perfect husband. The perfect soulmate." Her words were meant to be soothing, but as soon as he heard them he felt like ice was running through his veins. He sat up immediately, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Were?"

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She looked guilty, hurt crossing across her features, as she ran her hands up and down his arms.

"No! Y/N... I die?" His voice was small, almost timid towards the end of the sentence, as he held her hands to ground himself.

"I'm sorry, baby." Her eyes glistened as she cupped one of his cheeks, looking at him sadly.

"When?"

"I'm not telling you. You'll go insane." She was firm in her resolution, her tone taking cadence that she always used with him when declaring the end of a conversation. But Hoseok couldn't help himself. He was going to die, he was going to leave her. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"I'm already going insane! You have to tell me. What if I can stop it? We can be together. I don't want to leave you!" He pleaded, his eyes wide in panic.

"Hobi... You've never left me. You visit so often." She spoke with a small smile, seemingly reminiscing.

"Please! Please or else I'll go every day knowing it's my last with you. I - I can't do that. Please." He was almost whining at his point and he didn't care how desperate he sounded. He just wanted to know how much time he had with her. He was so stupid, how could he leave to get drunk while she waited for him at home. He didn't deserve the way this version of her was looking at him with such love.

"I barely even remember when it happened." He knew she was lying, could see it from the way her gaze averted his. Hesitantly she continued. "I'll... I'll just tell you. It's the day after you see yourself for the first time."

"See myself?" He repeated, his brain running through his memories. He would have remembered if he saw himself. It would be hard to forget, but he came up empty, tears of frustration lining his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

"I won't ever leave you. I promise. I'll come back. As much as I can." He kissed her at that, repeatedly, her lips soft under his. She knew he couldn't control his ability, but she smiled at him anyway, agreeing with his promise, telling him she'll see him soon, even if she had no idea if that was true.

When he was transported back to his room, he couldn't help himself from heaving on the floor, the contents of his stomach painting the hardwood. As always, she rushed to him, wiping his tears and walking him to the bathroom. She helped him change, before cleaning up after him, despite his protests, as she glared at him every time he tried to sit up from the bed.

When she returned from putting the cleaning supplies away, she shut the door to their bedroom, and there, on the hook behind it, hung his wedding suit, the crimson a bright splash of color amongst the white. She followed his eyes, giggling a little.

"You already made up for being an ass, don't worry," she joked, fingers poking at his side to tickle him gently.

Hoseok had missed her laugh. Missed it so much. He cut her off before she could say anything else, whispering apologies against her lips. He was never going to leave her.

---------

He was in a park, the trees throwing looming shadows under the moonlight as he walked around. He recognized this park, it was the one near her childhood home. She had taken him there during their first Christmas together, and he still remembered the silly grin on her face as she showed him the sandbox where she used to spend all her days as a kid, making sandcastles. He smiled at the memory. It was the first time in a while that his time travels hadn't taken him straight to her and he missed not being able to see which part of her life he was visiting.

He walked about reminiscing about his day. It was his daughter's third birthday and he felt a little bad leaving his wife to clean up the mess. He couldn't believe Soojin was three already. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through photographs as he waltzed down memory lane. He smiled softly at the photo from the day she was born. She was so tiny then, her little, pink heart-shaped lips in a pout as she stretched, her eyes almost disappearing beneath her chubby cheeks.

He kept his eyes glued to his phone, looking at photo after photo. There was one of her covered in mushed peas and he remembered how long it took him to get the mess out of the living room rug. There was one of her dressed as spiderman who she had declared her favorite recently after watching the cartoon on Netflix, doing the signature web-shooting pose. There was one of holding on to her mom as she walked for the first time. Hoseok's heart felt full, and he couldn't wait to get back home.

He decided to keep up with the tradition of seeing his wife every time he skipped through time and started walking towards her house, deciding to take the shortcut she had shown him. Humming a little, he placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, thinking about the delicious cake he had custom ordered for the party. He could probably eat the whole thing. Would it taste as good after it's been in the fridge?

His musings came to a quick stop however as he looked into the distance, just at the exit of the wooded path. There, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt with a giant dog on the front and jeans that didn't quite reach the ankles, was an eight-year-old boy. He walked closer and his heart stopped as he saw himself for the first time. He was crying, sniffling in the air, and as Hoseok approached his younger self, he vanished into the air.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he stumbled in his steps, falling on to the ground.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

No. It's too soon. He couldn't collect his thoughts as they rushed through his head barely leaving a trace. When he had that conversation four years ago he thought he had more time. Soojin was just three years old. He thought he would have years, that he would see graduations and intimidate boyfriends, and walk her down the aisle. It's too soon.

He could feel himself hyperventilating, his breaths short and his ears echoing with his heartbeat, as he tried to collect himself. He looked at his hands shaking in his lap and his eyes focused on his outfit. How could he have forgotten what the man in his memory was wearing? He put on these ripped jeans this morning, the same jeans that haunted him for the first sixteen years of his life. How could he have not realized that he was the creepy old man he had nightmares about as a kid?

Trying to control his breathing, he started to formulate a plan. He didn't want Y/N to know, he didn't want her to go through the emotions he was going through right now, because she would go through so much worse when he was gone. He sat in the park and let himself cry, hoping that he wouldn't have to leave soon because leaving meant saying goodbye and he was not ready yet. It's too soon.

---------

Hoseok awoke with a sinking feeling in his heart and a lump in his throat. It was the day he had been dreading since before he learned her name. He hated that he didn't have enough time. Enough time to hold her, enough time to watch his daughter grow up, enough time to build a bigger family.

He found the other side of the bed empty and standing up with a groan, he moved to the room next door. He stroked his daughter's cheek a tear spilling out his eye that he quickly wiped. Bending down, he kissed her little cheek, sniffing her calming scent.

"Daddy loves you, baby. Daddy will always love you. Please be good for your mommy okay?"

She only moved a little at his words, sighing before continuing to snooze. Hoseok ran his hands over his face, his heartbeat accelerating. He looked at the mirror in the corner and practiced his smile a few times. He had to be brave. He had to be brave for her, for both of them.

He walked into the kitchen, schooling his expression into one of bliss, as he saw her standing in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, and his heart felt hollow. He loved her so much. He hated that he had to leave this way, but that was his fate from the beginning, wasn't it? Their whole relationship, everything, started from and led to this moment. Padding over to her, he put his arms around her squeezing her tight, his chest molding perfectly to her back as it always did.

She giggled as she leaned into him, softly caressing his arms and making him nuzzle further into her neck. He took in her delicate scent and tried to control his breathing. He could not break.

"Someone's cuddly this morning," she commented, turning around with a grin.

"I just love you, that's all."

She cooed as he brought his lips to hers. What he intended to be a gently good morning kiss, turned into so much more as he lost control of his emotions. He kissed her like he would forget her taste, but it wasn't him who would be dwelling on this moment for years to come.

When the two broke apart, he cupped her cheek as he felt the familiar buzz in his ears.

"You know I love you more than anything in the world right?" He whispered before he started to see his kitchen fade away.

Her voice echoed as he was teleported into a dark room, momentarily blinded.

"Aww, I love you too, my Hobi!"

He fumbled around a little and then he heard it - a loud gunshot, shattering his eardrums. The sound hurt more than the sudden sharp pain in his chest, he thought, as he gasped for air, stumbling to the ground. The lights in the room turned on then and he saw the younger version of his father in law, demanding something, his voice inaudible.

She never told him details about this moment, but kind of fitting that it was in the hands of her father. He never did like Hoseok much anyway. His breaths felt shallow as he chuckled at the irony. Or was it justice? Karma? He didn't know. Nevermind, his chest hurt far more than his eardrums. Fuck, being shot is a bitch.

He felt the nauseous pull for the last time as he dropped into his bedroom. The last thing he saw was his wife rushing over to him. Oh, she was so beautiful, he was so lucky she chose him.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her, even if that was the reason he lost her.

—

I hope you liked this super sad angst piece, for more fics of mine check out my masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #jhope angst #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #hoseok fluff #jhope fluff #jhope imagines #jhope smut #jhope x reader #bts fic #bts fanfiction #btsnoonanet #purplearmynet #hoseok x reader

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red-doll-face · 4 years

Note

That last one about Michael was perfect!! I loved the new idea of the reader stumbling into the killer campground! Could I request an expanded idea on that scenario, but more so just a reader interacting with Anna, Michael, Danny, Evan, etc.? If that makes sense

I had to say, this was fun to write but I suck at characterization, I made everyone a little too nice but what else do we need in these trying times? I wasn’t sure if you meant like altogether, I might save something like that for a special event so I made little drabbles for each one I hope you like them!! Thanks @prophxtslash for the food fight idea 😂🥣

Warnings: nothing really bad. Just some food fights and palling around with the killers.

Dead by Daylight Killers x gn Reader

Anna ‘The Huntress’

In the rare instances that survivors came across killers, sometimes, the killers couldn't break old habits. Mostly, the killers like The clown or even Freddy liked to bully survivors, only doing what felt natural, they claimed. But Doctor or Dr. Carter took a liking to tormenting survivors in and out of trials. Though, what he did could be classified as annoying rather than life-threatening, thus staying within the entity’s rule of being unable to harm survivors outside of the trial.

“Stop it!” You slapped at the man’s hand, touching along your arm and sending tingles that made it feel like your arm fell asleep. The little slap caused more pain than anything, accidentally brushing one of the live wires embedded in his skin. He giggles and grins around the mouthpiece that gaped his lips showing bloodied teeth. You were surprised he didn't drool all over everything.

“Leave me alone.” You whined, trying to walk away from him. You only came to see the Huntress, as she requested you make her a doll after seeing your interest in her mother's old craft supplies when you were in a trial against her. You observed the little balls of yarn and the needles tucked against a cabinet as she came in toting her ax. You turned, as she tilted her head at your curiosity. Afterward, she approached you with the items, handing them to you. Watching with glee as you began to weave the old fading yarn together.

Now, the Doctor, seeing the little doll in your hands, tried to take it from you. Unfortunately, for you, there was no else at the campfire today besides The Doctor who was here to see Evan who was not here, much like Anna. As the fog cleared up ahead, revealing the person you were waiting for, Dr. Carter took advantage of your distraction. He made for the doll sitting in your palms. A hatchet whizzed by and nearly clipped him, causing him to look up at her. She pushed him back with her mere presence, The Doctor unhappily leaving you alone, disappearing into the trees. She turned to you and you handed her her gift. Her lips pulled into a smile, squeezing at your hand and the present alike.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers

The only reason you liked him, he rationalized, was because you liked everyone. Perhaps, not everyone, but you could tolerate killers. When they acted decent enough. You liked the killers enough to come to visit him at this campsite, to catch anytime he lingered around with the rest of the killers. He didn’t like them but he couldn’t chance any of the killers becoming fascinated with you as he had. He sat rigidly on the log, breathing evenly, facing the fire. If you didn’t come, he’d recede into the fog again more than eager to leave the rest of the killers behind.

Like he had invoked you himself, you drifted in from the darkness, eyes settling on him. You shared a strange intrigue with each other, content to sit in silence with one another. You knew others thought it creepy or weird but no one had the courage to say it to Michael's face.

He should have known your friendliness exceeded just him. The man wearing the face of someone else approached you and you recognized him, letting him hold your hands and shake you around in something resembling a dance. You laughed and tried to calm him down, lest Michael become angered. He tilted his head as other killers gravitated around you, watching as you become uncomfortable around the burnt small one. He came close, unnoticed, listening as he uttered vulgar words to frighten you. You looked more uncomfortable than afraid.

The cannibal tugged you away from the pest in the sweater. Michael, having had enough of seeing you get tugged around like a coveted toy, shoved the burnt one out of his way, pulling you from the grip of the man with the yellow apron. You wrapped your arms around him, finding comfort in the midnight blue of his coveralls and the smell of autumn that clung to him. Michael took the key to his house from his pocket and threw it in the campfire, burning in the cold flames. The mist swallowed you both. He’d have you to himself. Michael was never the type to share.

Danny ‘The Ghostface’ Johnson

“Eat it!” You shoved a spoon at Danny, maskless today so you could try the fabled survivor pudding. You heard it was salty and gross. You didn’t really know who exactly made it and what it was for. Well, there was only one way to find out. Make Danny eat it. He refused, obviously. Keeping his mouth closed would not deter you.

“No way! Get that shit out of here.” He pushed it out of your hands and you choked on your own laughter watching half spill out of the bowl. You put some on the spoon and bent the weak plastic thing back. It sailed in the air only to splatter all over Danny’s face. He closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows as you covered your mouth in shock.

“I meant to miss that, I swear.” You tried to stop the laughter from coming out but it wasn't working. Your snickers turned into full-blown bellyaching guffaws as it dripped down his face. He spit out whatever made it into his mouth. He gagged and you shook and cried at his expression. He glared and threw some at you, watching as it oozed down the side of your cheek. You gasped and it was his turn to laugh in your face.

“So, you can dish it but you can’t handle a little pudding?” He mocked, taking a finger and scraping some off your cheek. He motioned to put it in your mouth and you slapped his hand away. You wiped it off and caught him by the sleeve, forcing him to stay still. You smeared it across his forehead, his hands trying to grab your wrists. He dumped some onto your lap and in retaliation you dumped the rest over his head, trickling onto the black leather of his Ghostface outfit.

“Oh my fucking god.” You said, your head hurting from the sheer hysterics you were in. Tears leaked from your eyes as the yellowish paste seeped into his hair. He got up and tried to catch you, slipping out of his arms and into the trees, giggling as the paste shook out of his hair.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan

A man his age and size shouldn’t be doing this. He could almost hear his father’s condescending voice. It was a feminine pursuit, at best for emasculated men who were afraid of work. But here, no one cared what the methodical Trapper did in his spare time. Especially not the entity who only concerned itself with his ability to sacrifice the survivors. In his offtime, he liked to draw on the thin, brittle paper that was left on the estate and charcoal. He’d smudge lines this way and that until it looked at least a little like what was in his head. And if it didn't then he'd try again.

Currently, his favorite muse was sat on a rock, whispering to the Pig. Friends it seemed, talking quietly between themselves. You tilted your head and cracked a smile as she made a motion with her hand. He tried his best to capture the gleam of the fire in your eyes. The slope of your neck. The position of your legs. He went back to his drawing, unaware of Amanda's words in your ear.

“Yup. Look at him. He’s staring at you.” You smiled and leaned to hear her words, “Evan’s had his eye on you for what has it been? Is time a thing anymore?” You looked at him, his huge form hunched over a flat surface, fingers tinged black. “I think he’s drawing you. Let’s go see.” She hopped off the rock, dropping into a crouch. She motioned for you to follow and you both crept, following her lead. Amanda's specialty being her ambush, she was much quieter. When you both arrived unnoticed behind him, she pointed down at his drawing and nodded excitedly. It was you. Sitting on the rock you and Amanda were conversing on.

“Hey, that’s really good!” You said without thinking and Amanda facepalmed as you observed the drawing. The thin charcoal in Evans' hand snapped in two at the disruption. He turned slowly to see your warm face, eyes wide with admiration for his talent. He wished he had drawn that expression instead.

“Thanks.”

Sorry if u can’t actually crotchet or knit. If it makes u feel better, I can’t either. Thanks for reading and I hope u enjoyed it! 😳

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd x reader #evan macmillan #the trapper #the huntress x reader #michael myers x reader #dbd michael myers #dbd the shape #dbd the ghostface #danny jed olsen johnson #ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #slasher #slashers #red writes

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bug13underscore · 3 years

Note

Bookstore!au with trope exes and prompt “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.” For Alex/Wille

Not sure if you wanted them to get a happy ending, but that’s what I went with.

Did I want to push my own bookstore-cafe-barista experience into this? Absolutely. Did I know how I wanted to go about that at first? Absolutely not, but I managed it. <3 I hope you enjoy this Anon!! <3

“Hi! Welcome to Narne and Bobles, is there anything we can help you find today?” Willie’s voice drifted to the café from where he stood greeting people from his position in the front of the store, and Alex resisted everything in him that urged him to look across the floor, instead focusing on pressing the right buttons on the espresso machine.

Forcing himself to focus on the three drinks to make in front of him, rather than relying on his muscle memory as usual, was harder today. It also didn’t help that he knew he was due for a break soon and would have to leave the sanctity of his café counter. He passed the three vanilla lattes over the counter to their recipients, just as his café counterpart came back from her break.

“Hey, Jules.” He smiled as she pulled open the door to their kitchen. “Hair looks a little out of place, wanna pull it back again?” He teased, watching as she pulled her black apron over her head and yellow sweater.

“Oh my god.” The girl groaned, quickly pulling her scrunchie out of her hair and adjusting it. “Remind me to kill Luke later, yeah?”

“Tsk, tsk, Molina, kissing and murder on the job?” He gave a sharp laugh, beginning to make a drink for himself.

“Shut up!” Julie bristled, picking up the nearest sharpie and tossing it at him. “Go on your break and leave me to complain.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He huffed, dipping over to their bake case and grabbing a croissant, drink already in hand. “I’ll pay for this after my shift, promise.”

“Sure, sure.” She gave him a wink as he finally pulled off his apron, giving her a final wave before making his way through the store to clock out before heading to their break room.

After entering the code to get into the back, he gave his (favorite but don’t tell the others) manager, Ray, a slight wave before he went back to their cluster of fold-out tables. Alex usually spent his breaks zoned out, allowing himself to process his day up to that point and he was beginning to do just that, when he’s sadly interrupted by another person coming onto break.

The last person he wanted to see, to be honest.

“Hey, Alex.” The other boy offered him a nervous smile, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.

“Hey, Willie.” He replied with an awkward smile, quickly taking a bite of his croissant.

They say in the silent room for a while, he thinks, though when Alex checks the time on his phone it’s barely been five minutes. He has to hold back a groan, knowing that the next twenty-so minutes would be worse.

Alex uses the knowledge that Ray is within earshot to comfort him. He wouldn’t know why he’d need Ray if anything did happen, but just knowing he was there was a comfort.

Until he hears the telltale sound of the door to their employees-only area slams shut and no one new comes back here. Meaning that Ray left and it truly was just Alex and Willie back here.

Fuck.

“Can I be honest?” Willie’s voice is quiet, which almost feels like a punch in Alex’s gut, as he’d only known the boy to be so loud, volume wise and by personality.

“About what?” Alex’s voice came out just as quiet, it felt like they were sharing secrets or talking after lights-out at that weird summer camp he used to go to.

“Everything,” He paused, only continuing when Alex gave a curt nod. “Sometimes, I just sit in bed and wonder, y’know, what would happen if things were different.”

Alex sits for a moment, processing the words that Willie said. ‘What would happen if things were different.’

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought those same words, some nights not sleeping because his brain was too busy coming up with alternate outcomes.

“Me too.” He swallows, lunch long forgotten. “But things aren’t different, so we have to deal with them how they are now.”

“What if we made them different?” Willie offered, his stare earnest and solid, voice more confident than it had been since this conversation started.

Alex felt like he’d been thrown into a completely different world, with the option to change things being placed in front of him. He blinked a couple times, mind reeling. The feeling of anxiety in his stomach wasn’t new, it had been living with him near constantly his whole life, but with it came a sense of warmth, of excitement.

“Yeah.” He heard himself say, although his voice sounded foreign in his ears. “How do we start?”

“You’re off tonight?” Willie’s grin is blinding, his question is empty though. Alex knows that he knows he’s off tonight, neither of them usually worked Thursday evenings, but he nods anyway. “I’ll meet you here after your shift then, yeah?” Alex gives another nod before checking his phone.

“Well, I better clock back in. I’ll see you later?” Alex feels giddy all of a sudden as he collects his stuff and cleans up.

“I’ll see you later.” Willie looks as giddy as he feels, which comforts him a bit. He gives a wave and goes to clock back in before rejoining Julie in the cafe.

“Hey, Jules.” Alex smiles, pulling his apron over his head.

“Someone seems happy.” She walks past him with a couple dirty plates, hip-bumping him as she heads to their dish-pit.

“I am.” He laughs, occupying himself with checking their ice station. “We talked.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her voice was higher and Alex knew without looking at her that her eyebrows were cinched together and full of her usual sisterly concern.

“Yeah.” He grinned, angling his body towards her. “I think we’re gonna be okay.”

“That's good.” Julie laughed, coming to draw him into a hug. “I won’t have to have my dad fire him now.”

“Jules, we talked about this, you can’t have him fire people just because they upset one of us.”

“Okay, but to be fair, Mikey totally deserved it.”

“Amendment, you can’t have Ray fire people for upsetting me or Luke. If they upset Reggie, it’s fair game.”

“I think I like this amendment, this amendment is good. Speaking of which, I think Rodney from receiving is giving him shit again.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, that guy again?”

As they raddled into their usual work gossip for the next couple hours, Alex felt more at ease than he had in awhile. If he happens to grin across the store at Willie anytime they lock eyes and Julie notices, she doesn’t mention it. She certainly doesn’t mention it when Willie comes up and joins in their gossip for the first time in weeks and Alex can’t be more overjoyed at how the day had turned out.

#willex #my writing tag #writing tag #jatp #julie and the phantoms #willie jatp #alex mercer #sorry if any of the other prompts take a little while to finish i fly home tomorrow #ill be editing and posting some of the older ones today though #to clear out my askbox a bit #Anonymous

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Have Yourself a Super Merry Christmas 2/3--Christmas Present: No Other Version of Me I Would Rather Be Tonight (Branjie)--athena2

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone that read and commented on part 1, I really appreciate it! I’m so happy to be back in this universe and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please leave some feedback if you’d like! Thank you so much to Writ for beta-ing and brainstorming and also sorting all the girls into Hogwarts houses with me. You’re the best. Chapter title from Jackie and Wilson by Hozier.

*This chapter does have a fire, implied PTSD/anxiety, and some mild religious content.*

Read on AO3

—

Christmas Eve has always been Vanessa’s favorite day.

It was the day she couldn’t move through the house without bumping into a cousin or aunt or person she was supposedly related to but had never seen in her life. The day she ate so much food she didn’t think she could eat dessert, but always did. The day when everyone laughed and screamed and six different conversations were shouted at one table.

Now, it’s Christmas Eve morning and Brooke is in the kitchen and Vanessa is in bed, her body wanting to get up but her mind commanding her to stay because she shouldn’t be allowed to have fun without her family.

It’s gotten easier over the years, the sense of loss. The feeling of wanting her mother to hug her while she cries, of wanting to call her brother and listen to him roast annoying family members, have lessened since the fire. Now, she has Brooke to hold her, A’keria to laugh with, and she tries not to feel like she’s replacing her family. She thinks of what Nina told her at her last appointment. Nina said she could still honor her family’s memories while making her own, that she doesn’t have to feel guilty for having a good time without them, that she isn’t a bad person for being alive when they aren’t.

She’s going to do her best to listen to Nina, to let herself have fun without beating herself up for it. She jumps out of bed and crisps up French toast and Brooke piles hand-whipped cream on top, super-strength making short work of it. She can’t stop smiling, climbing into Brooke’s lap instead of her perfectly good chair, the morning dusted with the Christmas magic she always felt as a kid.

“Is it lasagna time now?” Vanessa asks.

“Yes.” Brooke grins.

Vanessa ties on her apron, quickly spattered with butter and parsley and other unknown substances.

Brooke is layering the lasagna and Vanessa is wiping away sauce that she somehow managed to fling on the wall before Brooke notices. Brooke has that tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows she gets when she’s focused, her tongue sticking out a little, and it’s adorable, but also kind of sexy, and Vanessa thinks with a jolt of excitement that she might have another present for Brooke after everyone leaves tonight.

Vanessa throws cheese at Brooke that sticks to her forehead, and Brooke splashes sauce at Vanessa’s apron, the food fight reaching its peak when Vanessa tries to throw flour but it backfires into her hair, and Brooke laughs so hard she falls on the kitchen floor, Vanessa retreating to the shower.

“How did you get cheese in the bathtub?” Brooke demands when she enters the bathroom for her shower later.

—

“You doin’ okay after the breakup, Nessie?” Her brother pulls her to a quiet corner of the house near the bathroom, though it won’t stay quiet very long considering the amount of cheese their lactose intolerant uncle consumed.

“Yeah.” She punches his arm. “And don’t call me Nessie.”

“Real shitty of her to dump you before Christmas with no reason. And she planned that beach vacation for you next week. That’s just cold.”

“Do you really need to remind me?” she retorts, pulling out the napkin-wrapped cookie she’d stored in her pocket that morning. Her mother would yell if she caught her, but Vanessa needs cookies to forget how the woman in her bed last week suddenly decided she didn’t want to be there anymore, how the first and only real relationship she’s had went up in smoke for no reason.

“This girl that started at my job is cute.” He gives her a knowing look. “I’ve been dropping hints about you.”

“I don’t–”

“She’s tall,” he tempts.

“How tall?” Vanessa shoots back, unable to help herself, swatting her brother when he smirks.

He shrugs. “Maybe five-seven? Taller than you, that’s for sure.” He pats the top of her head. Vanessa considers the day he outgrew her an injustice of the world.

“Come down here and I’ll fight you like when we were kids,” she threatens, and she’s sure he’s remembering the time she clobbered him with her Nikes.

“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up, then pulls her against his side. “Seriously, you don’t need her ass anyway. Anyone that dumped you is an idiot. The right girl is out there for you somewhere, and she’ll get you that beach vacation you always wanted for Christmas.”

She hugs him tightly. Even though she was planning on having a girlfriend with her and dodging all her aunts’ questions about why she was single, things feel right. Maybe it’s because things have always felt right to her on Christmas, like all the world’s problems could be solved with a snowflake sugar cookie and a sparkly bow. She’s not a kid anymore, but it still feels like the ribbons and wrapping paper and shouting relatives are patching the hole in her heart, making her forget all about the asshole that dumped her.

Can she feel her body hurtling toward that night, less than a year away? Can she feel the ash clinging to her skin as her world comes down around her? The emptiness when she looks around for someone to help her, to tell her where her family is, only to meet silence and smoky air? The loneliness of having no one, no mom or dad or brother or nosy aunt to talk to or hug her?

She can’t, and Vanessa Mateo eats cookies a happy woman.

—

“Brooke?” Vanessa asks nervously after breakfast.

“Yeah?”

“My f–we always went to church on Christmas Eve, and I haven’t been since…you know, and I kinda want to, but I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

It’s okay to ask for help, Nina always says, and maybe she couldn’t ask directly, but this is close enough, and from Brooke’s kind eyes, she gets the hint.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Brooke says. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

They slide into the pew later that afternoon, sunset throwing bright colors from the stained glass windows all over the church. Vanessa is restless, hand flying to the snowflake necklace Brooke got her, hoping to steady herself. Church had been boring as a kid, and she and her brother had secret thumb wars in the pew. Now, she clamps her hand on Brooke’s knee to gain control of the emotions whirling inside her like a winter wind, moving too fast to settle on one.

In a perfect world, her family would be here, and they’d all love Brooke. But it also occurs to her that if her parents were here, Brooke wouldn’t be, because Vanessa wouldn’t have her powers without the fire. She’d just be normal Vanessa, joking with her family, not knowing Brooke existed, unaware she was missing the happiness Brooke brings her. She wouldn’t change her life with Brooke for anything, but did she have to suffer so much to get it? She’s grateful for Brooke always, but is she supposed to be grateful for all she went through? She knows from Nina that she doesn’t need to justify her trauma, and she isn’t going to.

Vanessa cranes her neck up at the painted ceiling, angels dancing in a soft blue sky. I found her, Miguel, she thinks. The right girl. I found her, and I love her. And she’s tall, too, you jerk. She manages a smile through her thin line of tears. Brooke’s thumb wipes them gently, and then her arm nestles around Vanessa’s shoulders, pulling her close and whispering soft comforts.

Vanessa sings the songs in her head, and she knows her family is singing with her.

—

They set up the dining room with their fancy plates decorated with reindeer and polar bears. Vanessa pulls on her blue Frosty the Snowman sweater with snowflakes on the sleeves and Brooke wears her green one with a sloth eating cookies on the front.

“Why are we wearing scarves in the house?” Brooke questions as Vanessa wraps the bright yellow Hufflepuff scarf around Brooke’s neck.

“Because Yvie wanted to do it and I’m not about to argue with the bitch,” Vanessa answers, grabbing her own Gryffindor scarf.

“Fair enough. I feel like Yvie is the one of us actually capable of murder.” Brooke shrugs.

“True, but Silk is out for blood in bingo this year. She’s still pissed Scarlet beat her last time.”

“Merry Christmas.” Brooke bends down to kiss her, and Vanessa doesn’t have to remind herself to be happy, because she already is.

—

Brooke doesn’t have many memories to go on, but she’s positive Christmas Eve is one of her favorite days.

She replays that memory of herself at six years old constantly, speechless with joy that she has it to look back on. It makes her feel cozy, like she does wrapped in her blankets at night, and that feeling stays with her all day.

The church is nice, but unfamiliar. Brooke assumes her parents must have taken her at some point, but she doesn’t get any flickers of memory in the pew, and she’s almost grateful that her mind is clear to take in the scene: the bright red and white poinsettias on the altar, the stained glass windows come alive with sunset, the smiling paintings on the ceiling.

Brooke knows this is a big deal for Vanessa, and she’s so proud of her for asking for help and doing this when it can’t possibly be easy for her. Vanessa is always praising Brooke but reluctant to praise herself, and Brooke vows to make sure Vanessa knows how strong she is. Brooke doesn’t mind Vanessa’s nails digging into her knee; she just wraps her arm around her in safety and relishes in the sturdy warmth of Vanessa against her side.

Brooke doesn’t know what to do, what the rules are here. Is she supposed to pray? If there is some higher power that let her become a lab experiment, that let Vanessa lose her family, does she want to pray to it? She can’t remember any prayers, if she ever knew them to begin with, but she tells her parents that she’s happy and that she found someone she loves more than anything, just in case they’re listening.

—

They set the table and Brooke finishes the whipped cream for her peanut butter-swirl cheesecake, and her and Vanessa are getting the food laid out and giggling over what sweaters everyone will wear when the guilt breaks through, like a wind wailing at the windows that finally shatters the glass.

It hits her hard at holidays, when everyone is over and they’re a big happy family. When everything she has, all the love shared toward her is on display, filling her senses. That’s when it gets hard to look around at it all and think she deserves it. Killing wasn’t part of her missions, but she didn’t need to kill to ruin lives. And she had ruined so many. She stole formulas and medicines that people spent years on, that could have helped countless people who were sick or suffering. She wounded heroes that could have saved more people if she didn’t force them to retreat. She destroyed buildings and laboratories and homes, stripped the people inside of their safety. She shed blood and broke bones and sent people to the hospital with injuries that would plague them the rest of their lives.

And she knows. She knows it wasn’t her fault, that she wasn’t in control of herself. She knows she can’t blame herself, and after so many sessions with Nina, she doesn’t. But she still did those things, and someone who did those things didn’t deserve someone like Vanessa, snatching a steaming roll off the tray. Someone that did those things didn’t deserve the friends on their way over, or the cats at her feet, or the safety and happiness she’s been given–

A hand on her shoulder silences the thoughts. “I could hear you thinkin’ a mile away,” Vanessa says softly. “You okay?”

Nina says she doesn’t always have to be okay, and she knows Vanessa would see through the lie anyway, so she shakes her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just–you and A’keria and everyone, everything we have…sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it, because of what I did.” Brooke sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I just talked about this with Nina, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, you know you don’t have to be sorry,” Vanessa soothes, rubbing circles on Brooke’s back. “If it helps, I just talked about basically the same thing with her. But you do deserve it, Brooke. I know your brain tells you you don’t, but you do. We both do, okay? We deserve to be happy.”

“But–”

“No buts. You listen to me, Brooke Lynn Hytes-Mateo. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You love me, and you take care of me, and you always help people that need it. And I love you, and I’ll always take care of you, and I’ll always help you when you need it.”

Brooke turns around and pulls Vanessa to her chest, hearts pulsing together. She knows how hard it is for Vanessa to talk about her feelings, but she’s let herself be vulnerable twice today, and Brooke knows how much Vanessa loves her. She knows that tomorrow she’ll take her medication, and next week she’ll go to Nina, and she’ll keep fighting.

“I love you,” Brooke breathes.

“I love you too. Always.”

A fist pounds on the door. “Let us in, hoes!” Silky booms.

Silky barges in first, thrusting the pork roast she made at Brooke to parade up and down the kitchen in her green sweater with working Christmas lights, clashing with her red Gryffindor scarf. Everyone else trails behind, arms loaded with dishes and presents that get tossed on the table to resume the fashion show.

A’keria flaunts her sparkly red reindeer sweater, griping that the Hufflepuff scarf she was forced to wear doesn’t match. Scarlet is decked out like a Christmas tree, bright green sweater dripping with tinsel that reflects the light so harshly Brooke’s eyes water if she stares too long, Gryffindor scarf blending into her red hair. Finally Yvie strolls in, in a black sweater with a Santa hat-wearing T-Rex on the front, scarf half-blue and half-green.

“This is my hand-sewn Slytherclaw scarf, because I defy categorization,” Yvie announces proudly.

“You defy somethin’, all right,” Silky mutters.

Yvie walks over to Brooke and Vanessa, smirk spreading on her face at Vanessa’s sweater.

“Tell me you picked that sweater on purpose,” Yvie begs.

“What do you mean? Don’t you be saying anything about my sweater. Frosty is cute–oh, damn,” Vanessa mutters, and Brooke realizes for the first time, unable to hold back her smile.

Yvie roars with laughter and clutches at her side. “I can’t believe you got a Frosty the fucking Snowman sweater and neither of you realized Brooke literally is Frosty. That’s tragic.”

“What’s really tragic is them not being Snow Miser and Heat Miser from Year Without a Santa Claus,” A’keria insists. “I would’ve made costumes just to see that.”

“Don’t you all have something to do?” Vanessa demands.

—

Dinner has been devoured, Silky demanding that A’keria produce a recipe for her cheesy potatoes to ensure she wasn’t being ‘poisoned by rabbit food’, when Yvie gets the look.

Vanessa always refers to it as the That’s So Raven look, prompting Yvie to lecture on the differences between them despite the undeniable accuracy of Vanessa’s comparison.

Yvie stares blankly at the wall, and Brooke herds everyone but Scarlet to the kitchen to give her some privacy. Brooke hates when people are there when she has a flashback, skin prickling with their stares when she returns from wherever her mind was trapped, and she assumes Yvie would feel the same.

They stand around impatiently, and Brooke can’t fight the tension creeping into her shoulders, the sense that something is about to happen, and it intensifies when Scarlet calls them all back in.

“There’s gonna be a fire,” Yvie explains, hand wrapped around Scarlet’s. “At a townhouse down the street–73’s the number–and the fire department can’t get there.”

“When?” Vanessa asks, urgency radiating off her.

“Soon,” Yvie says vaguely. “Right after Silk spills her drink.”

“I’m not spilling anything, Momma’s too smooth for that!” Silky swings her arm around to prove her point and her glass flies off the table, the fragments floating in a pool of orange soda on the floor.

“Damn it, Silk, this is why we can’t have nice things,” Vanessa whines.

“So I guess this is happening,” Scarlet mutters.

“Suit up?” Brooke suggests.

Vanessa nods. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

—

Bright orange flames sear through Vanjie’s vision, smoke billowing around the people assembled on the street. If this goes too far it will be a pile of ash, just like the one–You’re not there, she reminds herself.

“You’re sure about this?” Frost asks seriously, like she’s read her mind.

“I’m sure. Silk said there’s a car accident at some intersection, fire trucks are held up. We have to do this,” Vanjie responds.

“Okay.”

“Silk and A’keria, you’re on crowd control,” Vanjie commands. “Frost”–she has to think of her as Frost now, can’t let the fact that it’s Brooke behind that mask, that she might get hurt, enter her mind– “Frost, you gotta tame that fire. Me, Scarlet, and Yvie are gonna see who needs help.”

Everyone nods and assumes their positions.

“Be careful, okay?” Frost says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Vanjie replies, trying not to think that the last time they had a farewell like this, it ended with her in the snow in a churchyard.

Vanjie talks to the crowd as Frost fights the flames, trying to determine who got out and who is stuck inside. For all the times she resisted going to Nina, she knows that those sessions and the breathing techniques Nina taught her are the only things keeping her from plummeting into her memories, the only things keeping her alert and on her feet.

You’re not there. You’re not there. She breathes and takes in her surroundings, counting the people on the street, windows on the house. She’s okay.

“There’s a kid on the second floor balcony,” Yvie says. “The fire’s almost gone, but the building isn’t safe. We can’t go in and he can’t come down.”

“Firetruck’s still five minutes out,” Silk informs them. “I don’t know how long the balcony’s gonna hold…”

“I got the kid,” Vanjie declares. The back of the townhouse opens into a tiny, snow-covered patio, the kind she hopes she and Brooke can have some day.

Wailing rings out in the night, a kid standing on the charred balcony, railing melted and gnarled like broken teeth, base warped downward from the heat. A piece of it crashes onto the lawn, and Vanjie knows they don’t have five minutes to wait. The kid’s gonna have to jump.

“Hey!” she calls up. “It’s gonna be okay. You gotta jump, okay? I’ll catch you.”

“I-I can’t,” the kid cries.

“Sure you can. Be really brave and jump, okay?” Another piece of metal breaks off, sinking into the snow. She needs to get this kid out now.

“I can’t! I’m not brave like you,” he sniffles.

The idea pops into her head on a wave of desperation. “You wanna be brave like me?” She peels off her mask—she can just hear Silk scolding her for making mask removal a habit—and sends it soaring over the balcony. “Put my mask on. Pretend you’re a superhero, okay?”

The kid smooths it over his eyes, and Vanjie counts. “On three, okay? One, two…” The kid inches toward the ledge and jumps, slamming into her arms with a loud cry.

“You good, kid?” she asks, lowering him gently to the ground.

“Y-yeah.” His arms close around her in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Just my job.” She plays it casual to hide the tears leaking from her eyes. The kid is tiny and warm, like a puppy, against her, and it’s nice. She and Brooke have chatted idly about having a kid one day and damn if this doesn’t make her want one.

He steps back, holding her mask out. “Here.”

Vanjie hesitates. She’s about to tell the kid to keep it, but Silk’s lecture on secrecy runs through her mind. She wouldn’t have cared who saw her and had a mask with her DNA on it before, because she had nothing to lose. But now she has more than she could have dreamed of, a life she wants to protect forever, and she puts the mask back on before taking the kid back to his parents.

Their happy reunion springs more tears in Vanjie’s eyes, and her head spins around frantically for Frost. Vanjie spots her and runs, colliding into her and hugging her to make sure she’s really okay, heart slowing from its pounding. They’re both okay, and she breathes for the first time since they got outside.

It’s only when she pulls away that she sees the red painting the side of Frost’s neck.

“You’re bleeding,” Vanjie says.

“One of the windows exploded and a piece of glass got me. I’m fine, it’s nothing,” Frost insists, but Yvie emerges and shakes her head lightly.

“She’s gonna need a couple stitches. It’s a small cut but it’s too deep to heal without them,” Yvie explains.

“Please? I’m fine, really,” Frost begs, and her voice is so small that Vanjie almost tells Yvie to forget it. It pains her to do this, but Frost will be worse off if she doesn’t.

“I’m sorry, baby, but you need them,” Vanjie says.

“It’s okay.” Frost sighs in acceptance, taking Vanjie’s hand. Vanjie grips back, sharing some of her strength with Frost.

“I can do it for you,” Yvie offers. “I had Ra’jah teach me. Then we can just go to your place, no doctors.”

Everyone agrees, and ten minutes later the masks are off as A’keria gets Brooke set up on the couch, helping calm her, and Vanessa follows after Yvie to get her med kit.

“Yvie?”

“Yeah?”

She grabs Yvie’s arm to make sure she listens. “When you do the stitches, tell Brooke what you’re doing before you do it,” Vanessa instructs. “They never told her what they were doing at the lab. She gets scared when she doesn’t know.”

Vanessa had almost punched a wall when Brooke admitted that the lab would do their procedures without warning or explanations, and Vanessa had told Ra’jah to go slow and explain everything she did so Brooke wouldn’t be so scared and expect pain every time she saw a doctor.

“I understand.”

Vanessa gets Brooke some Tylenol, knowing not to push her into taking something stronger. Brooke refused anything that made her mind cloudy, anything that made her feel like she wasn’t in control. She swallows the pill and Vanessa drops next to her on the couch, hand wrapping around Brooke’s sweaty one.

“I’m gonna disinfect it now, okay? It’ll sting a little,” Yvie checks with Brooke, who nods.

“Chicks dig scars, you know,” Silky says.

“They do?” Brooke asks, cringing as the disinfectant meets her skin.

Yvie explains that she’s going to start stitching it up. Brooke winces as Yvie pulls her skin together and Vanessa holds on tighter, lifting her other hand to stroke Brooke’s back with a whispered ‘you’re okay’ before turning to Silky.

“First of all, don’t be calling me a chick. I’m a tiger or some shit.” Vanessa glares at Silky. “And you know the scars don’t matter to me, baby,” she soothes, knowing how self-conscious Brooke could get.

“It’ll be a small one,” Yvie adds in reassurance. “Plus it’s behind your ear, so it’s barely noticeable.”

Scarlet talks about how she’s started online education classes and might become a teacher, and A’keria exudes her calm and has them all in tears over the time she moved Silky’s desk chair little by little until Silky completely missed it and fell on the floor, and Brooke is relaxed as Yvie tapes a gauze pad over the wound.

“All done,” Yvie says.

“It’s present time, bitches!” Scarlet yells.

—

Brooke slips her arm around Plastique as they pose for the camera. The air is alive with conversation around her, the ballet studio Christmas party in eager discussion over the upcoming tour.

“You nervous, Brooke?” Plastique asks, once they’re away from all the phone flashes.

“Maybe a little. It’s my first tour as co-director, you know?” She sighs. “I can’t believe this is really happening.” Some small part of her wishes her parents could have been here to see it. Next May marks 12 years since she lost them. Most days she’s fine, the absence just a dull ache in the back of her mind, like a missing tooth you only noticed when your tongue brushed the empty space. But sometimes, when she’s around lots of people, people that could feel like family if Brooke would just let them, the absence burns like a raw wound.

“You’re gonna kill it. I’ve only been your assistant a year, but I know you got this.”

“Thanks.”

“Soooo…” Plastique begins, the word drawn out until she runs out of breath.

“So?”

“I think 2018 should be the year we get you a girlfriend.”

Brooke sighs. “Look, I appreciate the thought, but we’ve got the tour coming up. I don’t have time.”

“I just want to see you happy, B,” Plastique says softly.

“I am happy,” Brooke insists. She is. She has her dream job, friends, a tour set out in front of her in just three months. So why does it feel like she’s lying?

“I know you are,” Plastique deflects. “It’s just sometimes I feel like a part of you isn’t. Like a part of you is lonely. You deserve someone that loves you.”

Brooke doesn’t say anything. Plastique knows about her parents but she’s never brought them up, if dancing around the topic counts as bringing them up.

Brooke plasters a smile on her face. “After the tour wraps up, maybe I’ll go on one of those dating apps.” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone to share things with, someone who would love her even when she got quiet sometimes, lost in her own thoughts.

Plastique claps her hands and then pulls Brooke on to the dance floor. Brooke goes with it, letting her body take over and clear her mind, the night blurring by as she twirls around with Plastique.

Can she feel her body hurtling toward that night, just three months away? Can she feel the pain as the bones in her arm and leg shatter, as her ribs puncture her insides? The emptiness in her mind when she tries to speak her name and remember who she is? The loneliness crushing her when she goes over a year with no friends to laugh with, no one to talk to at all?

She can’t, and Brooke Lynn Hytes dances a happy woman.

—

Brooke forgets all about the cut behind her ear as the living room fills with shouts, Yvie shrieking that the dinosaur succulent holder she got will look great in her and Scarlet’s apartment and A’keria demanding everyone look at her new jewelry.

Brooke unwraps new cookbooks she can’t wait to read, plus new boots and clothes and more blankets, so she can roll herself up into what Vanessa calls a blanket burrito at night.

Vanessa loves the new cooling pajamas Brooke got her, and the stuffed lion she got just because it was cute. Vanessa opens the red dress she would drool at in the window of her favorite store, along with sneakers and a fancy purse, and everything is better than Brooke could have dreamed.

She’s surrounded by family, and she doesn’t fight it. She lets herself smile and laugh and feel loved.

Brooke fiddles with a bow as Vanessa opens her last two presents.

Vanessa’s eyes widen as she sees the flowers neatly arranged in a shadow box.

“Wait. Brooke, are these…”

Brooke nods.

When they first moved in together, after Brooke got shot and was recovering mentally and physically from what she’d been through, Vanessa would bring home flowers every Friday. Soft lilacs one week, sunny orange tulips another, deep irises the next. Vanessa had said she knew they couldn’t magically heal Brooke, but she thought they might cheer her up a little. Even on her bad days, when the worries and anxiety preyed on her and told her she was worthless, the flowers could bring a smile to Brooke’s face, give her hope that she would be okay.

Vanessa didn’t know, but Brooke had taken a flower from each bouquet and watched tutorials on how to preserve them, keeping them in her dresser so they would always be near.

She decided to give them to Vanessa, so they can both have the memory of those days, bodies becoming accustomed to each other, peeking over the vase of flowers and smiling during breakfast, hopeful of their future.

“Brooke, they’re beautiful,” Vanessa breathes. “I love them so much.” She reaches for Brooke’s hand, and Brooke gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to her present.

She rips the paper and lifts the lid and gasps.

Three framed photos lay in the box.

Photos of herself.

Brooke’s jaw hangs open but nothing comes out.

She’s maybe nine years old in the first one, dressed as Clara in the Nutcracker, smiling between people she recognizes as her parents. Another of her in a black graduation robe, parents on either side of her. The third is her alone, maybe 20, in a light blue ballerina dress with matching pointe shoes.

Brooke’s fingertips brush over the glass, grasping out for these versions of her from years ago, for a life and family she can now look at whenever she wants and not have to force their images in her mind.

She turns to Vanessa, eyes asking the question she can’t speak.

“Plastique called me a few weeks ago,” Vanessa begins. “She’s moving apartments and found those. She took them from your office at the studio after the crash. She wanted you to have them.”

Vanessa reaches for her, and Brooke knows then she’s sobbing. Vanessa just holds her as her body quakes, tears soaking Vanessa’s collar. Brooke will never have the words to thank her for this, but from the way Vanessa strokes her hair, Brooke thinks she knows.

“Shit, you got me crying like a Hallmark movie up in here,” A’keria mutters.

Brooke pulls away with a laugh, holding out her last box to Vanessa.

Vanessa pulls out the train tickets with a look of confusion. “South Carolina?” she asks.

Brooke grins. “I know how much you like the beach, and A’keria said some girl did you wrong with a beach vacation before, and I wanted to do it right. The ride is kind of long, I hope that’s okay. I—a plane, I just can’t.” Brooke knows she’s made a lot of progress, but all she has to do is think of flying and her ears fill with screams and her whole body plummets.

Vanessa silences her with a squeal, pulling her in for a hug.

“At least you can put your thousand swimsuits to use, Vanj,” Silky proclaims, and Vanessa whips wrapping paper at her.

Brooke unwraps her second present, and her eyes aren’t even dry before more tears fall. It’s the pink music box she’d seen in the mall, almost like the one she’d seen in her dreams. Vanessa must have figured it was important to her. Another stolen piece of her past reclaimed.

“You gotta open it,” Vanessa explains. A smirk wins out on Vanessa’s face as Brooke lifts the lid, and she can’t figure out why until she sees…train tickets?

“Not again,” Silky moans. “Y’all need to get your asses together on the matching presents.”

“I thought maybe you’d want to see Toronto again,” Vanessa explains. “I’ve never been, and we can see it together.”

Fresh tears well up and Brooke’s warmth intensifies. She can’t remember much about where she used to live, and now she’ll get to experience it all with Vanessa. Visiting her old life with her new life at her side.

“I literally can’t right now,” Scarlet snorts as they embrace.

“I think this brings new meaning to ‘make the Yuletide gay.’” Yvie observes.

Scarlet pins a bow on Yvie’s head and A’keria amasses a boulder of wrapping paper that gets kicked around, and Brooke grins with a joy she knows she deserves.

—

“Bingo, bitch! That’s three in a row!” Silky booms, hoarding her candy prizes like a dragon.

“This isn’t even statistically possible,” Yvie whines.

“I don’t bow to the laws of statistics!” Silky declares. “How dare you think you could beat me!”

Vanessa rests her feet on Brooke’s lap under the table, shaking her head with a smile at the chaos around them, Silky climbing on a chair for a victory dance.

Everyone is stuffed with cheesecake and cookies when they finally leave. Vanessa pulls Brooke to their room and teases that she has one last present while taking off her sweater, and Brooke lets Vanessa’s touch fill her with enough love to split the room apart.

“Can we cuddle?” Brooke asks after, both of them breathless and tingling.

“Of course, baby.”

Vanessa wraps her arm around Brooke’s waist, and Vanessa Mateo and Brooke Lynn Hytes fall asleep happy women.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #silky nutmeg ganache #akeria davenport #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #branjie #lesbian au #superhero au #angst #have yourself a super merry christmas #athena2 #s11 #tw ptsd #tw fire #tw mild religious content #concrit welcome #submission

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lettercastauthor · 4 years

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Spider-Barista: Part One, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Extra Whip

AU Summary and Warnings: Tony Stark survived the snap that killed Thanos and only lost his arm, Steve Rogers has returned from his brief time travel escapades after realizing he’s not as straight as he thought he was, and his feelings for Tony went far beyond friendship. Tony, Steve, Peter, Rhodey, Pepper, and Nebula are in a polyship and were living at Stark’s private New York residence located somewhere in the city “near all the action,” also close to Peter’s school. Peter, 18, is finishing senior year. Recently, Pepper and Morgan Stark have left for upstate New York to begin Morgan’s private school. Overprotective “auntie” Nebula joined them due to her own safety concerns, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. Unknown to everyone, Tony is having a secret sciencey-fling with Bruce Banner, kept private for shy Bruce’s sake. Aunt May is on a cruise in the Bahamas.

Tony has offered to pay for Peter’s college, but Peter is being stubborn and wants to earn it for himself, so he gets a job at the local coffee shop and quickly finds a love for the job. In fact, he loves it so much that he begins to neglect his Super-Hero duties. At first Tony is supportive of a break from the dangerous life of saving New York on the daily, despite Cap’s urging Peter to take on bigger baddies and hone his skills. But they both soon realize Peter’s interest in coffee is mainly tied to a cute customer who comes in on Peter’s every shift. Unbeknownst to Peter, this customer lives a double life. This will be a serial story, updated when I have time. There will be NSFW content, each section that includes NSFW content will be marked accordingly so the reader can choose to enjoy the story while skipping the lewd parts should the desire.

Everyone in this story is 18 or older.

Tl;Dr: Adult Tom Holland Spider-Man is working as a barista post-blip. He’s in a polyship with Tony, Steve, Rhodey, Pepper, and Nebula. He has a crush on one of his patrons and is neglecting his heroic duty. There’s NSFW stuff in here.

Part One: “Pumpkin Spice Latte, Extra Whip”

Warm yellow sun pierced through the sepia tinted windows of the coffee shop. It was a nice clear day. The taxi cabs sat bumper-to-bumper, the people hurriedly walked the sidewalks like a fashion-show runway, carrying their coats over their shoulders on this uncharacteristically warm November afternoon. A flash of green dashed through the crowd of customers as Peter Parker raced round the back entrance of the counter to clock in. His apron whooshed around him as he stopped at the register, punched in his employee ID number, and jumped into the flow of things, watching the front door intensely as he worked the hot bar with lightning speed.

Customers loved Peter. He was quick, he never messed up a drink, and he always served with a smile. Pete’s co-workers loved him because whenever he worked, everyone got higher tips. The manager liked him because he always showed up for every shift, but she felt he could be better at the cleaning part of the job; she made sure to mention that in his quarterly review. Right on time, five minutes after 2:00 p.m., Peter’s favorite customer walked in. He told all the customers they were his favorite, but this one in particular was actually his favorite.

The bell chimed and a man walked in, brown coat draped over his arm, gray knit sweater hugging his broad shoulders and chest just tight enough to portray a hint of modelesque musculature. This was Jamie. Jamie always wore a steel-blue tie, pulled tight around his white collared button-up shirt. Today, he sported a pair of well-fitting khaki slacks, brown oxfords, argyle socks. Clothing tells you everything about a person in New York City. Jamie’s clothes told Peter this: that Jamie had a job in the city, a real job, the kind you do in an office that looks over the hustle and bustle of the commoner’s everyday lives. Or so Peter imagined. He looked like most New York businessmen, but to Peter he was the definition of heaven. He was also unattainable. Peter rarely worked the register, due to being what the manager called “too friendly.” All his chatting with the customers slowed up the line. Unfortunately, Pete’s normal position at the bar fixing drinks kept him behind a wall of glass and noisy machines. The barrier made it near impossible to communicate effectively with customers.

His only chance was at the passthrough area, where he would set each hand-crafted beverage and call out the name of the customer it belonged to. Jamie changed up his drink often, which both frustrated and intrigued Peter. He wanted to be able to make Jamie’s drink quick enough that he could have a second to drop him his number on a napkin, but by the time Peter learned Jamie’s drink (usually three or four shifts), it was usually too late. He’d switched it up again. But Peter liked that about him, too. Jamie clearly liked to try new things. It was a good sign.

So, as Jamie placed his order, Peter rushed to fill it before the payment was even processed. Today, Jamie ordered a pumpkin spice latte with extra whipped cream. Pete lucked out. He could make that drink in his sleep! Since the seasonal drink made its yearly debut in September, he was making hundreds of these each day. As he steamed the milk, Jamie looked over and gave him an easy smile. The light danced off his brown skin, his eyes twinkled. Peter felt his cheeks tingle with blush as he returned the grin. Milk frothed and mixed with the pumpkin spice flavor, the drink was almost complete. The payment processor beeped its approval to Jamie, and Peter raced to put the extra whip and autumn seasonings on the drink, meeting Jamie at the passthrough counter and carefully putting the lid on the cup.

As Jamie reached for the drink, Peter slipped a napkin toward him. “Don’t forget your napkins, Mr. Jamie, sir.” He’d written his number on it this morning, in preparation for this very moment.

Jamie smiled again, “Thank you, Peter. I’d hate to get coffee all over my suit.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Jamie took the napkin and left without showing signs of having seen the number written on it. All Peter could do now was wait. Waiting was hard. The time ticked by slower than usual today, but finally it was closing time. Peter helped clean up the floor, sweeping, mopping, and wiping frantically. His co-workers joked about him having a hot date, but when Peter blushed they realized he might actually have a hot date! So they pushed him for answers as to who the mystery guy or girl could possibly be.

“I don’t have a date, guys. It’s just that I - uh - I have school in the morning. You know, senior year and all. Gotta finish strong,” he said.

At this, Tammy the night shift manager, bursted out with her typical hyena-cackle laughter. “Okay, sure Pete, you have school on a Saturday. Dumbass, it’s Friday night. If you didn’t have a date tonight I would be worried. You need to loosen up, Peter. You can’t just stay single forever!”

Peter’s co-workers had no idea he was actually dating, like, five people, so he just grinned and laughed, “I guess you’re right! Well I have to go now, goodbye!” He clocked out and dashed out of the store as quickly as he came in. As he walked home, green apron hanging over his shoulder, visor flipped backwards, he turned on his phone and waited impatiently for the messages to load. One-by-one they came in.

Aunt May: “Just arrived at the port in Jamaica, having a lovely time on the cruise!”

Cap: “Peter, please remember to do your laundry tonight. Your room smells like feet.”

Mr. Stark: [sent you a picture message]

Ned: “LEGO building party tonight at Josh’s, are you coming? 10pm.”

Pepper: “Morgan says hi!”

MJ: “LOL You look so funny in that coffee uniform.”

But nothing from a mystery number that could possibly be Jamie’s. He responded to the messages somewhat halfheartedly, then descended the subway stairs to take the train home. Headphones in, he thought about Jamie’s smile as he was ordering. His chest felt tight again, blood pumping, music blasting. He daydreamed until his stop, then took the headphones out for his walk home. He entered the tall apartment building and took the elevator up to the top. Nothing but the best for Tony Stark and his family! The penthouse smelled of a home-cooked meal. It was Cap’s turn to cook, so they were bound to have a feast. Rhodey was setting the table and greeted him first.

“Peter! How was work?” He laid down the last fork at the big oval dining table.

“It was good, I made some tips today!” Peter put on an extra layer of cheer to compensate for the disappointment of not hearing from Jamie.

“That’s great, Pete.” Rhodey was Peter’s metamour, Tony being their shared partner. Occasionally there was tension between them. It wasn’t jealousy, but they were known for calling each other out on their bullshit, and Peter could tell Rhodey’s bullshit detector was going off.

But before Rhodes could say anything, Steve Rogers walked in carrying a turkey pot pie. His kiss-the-cook apron, denim cut-off booty-shorts, and crab-claw oven mitts really made for a unique kind of vibe far and away from the Captain America the rest of the world saw. The daisy dukes certainly showed off America’s Ass in the least wholesome of ways. Peter and Rhodey both gulped, eyeballing that thicc snack as Cap bent over the kitchen table and set it at the center. The pot-pie didn’t look too bad either. Both had been interested in Steve for quite some time, but were not sure how to approach that, since he was so newly out of the closet.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asked, pulling the oven mitts off and reaching back to untie his apron.

“I don’t know, I just got home,” Peter shrugged, heading up the loft stairs.

Steve turned to Rhodey and asked, “What’s up with the kid? He seems off.”

Rhodey wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him close, “Don’t you ever take that apron off.” He grinned, then released Steve and headed to the kitchen to grab the green beans and bread rolls. Steve stayed stuck there for a moment, trying to control the blush that spread across his face before going upstairs to check on Peter and find Tony.

Since Peter’s room was down the hall from Tony’s workshop, Steve decided to stop there first. He poked his head in and spotted Pete sulking at his desk, staring listlessly at his phone. Pete didn’t notice him, so he observed and admired for a minute before knocking and entering. “Hey Pete, don’t you have laundry to do?”

Startled, Peter jumped up and threw his phone under his bed. “Yes, that’s exactly what I came in here to do, laundry.” Frantically, he searched for the laundry basket. Unable to find it, he quickly picked up some of his dirty clothes and balled them up in a pile in his arms. Once his hands were full, he used his toes to pick up the boxers and socks that littered the floor.

“Pete…” Steve tried to get his attention.

“I know, Mr. Rogers it smells like feet in here…”

“Pete… well, I mean yes it does but Peter—” he stepped in front of the teen. “Peter, stop.”

“What?” Peter was clearly upset, though his face wasn’t visible behind the pile of clothing that filled his arms.

“Put the laundry down.”

“But my room smells like feet…”

“Peter.”

“Fine,” he dropped the laundry on the floor, then plopped defiantly on the bed. “What.”

Steve sat gently beside Peter. “Pete, you’re upset.”

“I am not upset, I’m fine.”

“Did you have a rough day at work?” Steve scooted closer, leaning into Peter. He smelled sweetly of coffee. Peter said nothing. “You can tell me, I’ll keep a secret.” He wrapped a reassuring arm around Peter’s shoulders.

The young man looked up at him, eyes red from both tiredness and emotions. “There’s a guy.”

“A guy?” Steve had only come out of the closet three months ago. He could feel the blush coming back to his cheeks. He glanced toward the door, secretly hoping Tony would come in and fix everything. Tony could always fix anything, especially Peter’s broken heart.

Pete sniffed. “He’s a customer. His name is Jamie.”

Suddenly suspicious, Steve perked up. “Is he the reason you turned off your police scanner and keep picking up extra shifts at the shop?”

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed. “You have no idea. How hot. He is. Like, he walks in the room and I can’t breathe. And he doesn’t even know I exist beyond that I am some guy in a green apron who works at a coffee shop.”

“I know what you mean, sport, but you so many of us here who adore you, you know?”

“I know, but…” Peter stopped and suddenly realized what Cap was insinuating, “Wait a second… Mr. Rogers are you saying you’re—?”

Just then Tony knocked on the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Steve stiffened up and suddenly there was a whole 12 inches between him and Peter. “Hey Tony! Peter had a rough day at work. I told him he needs to do his laundry… ah… dinner is ready, bye!” Steve bolted out of the kid’s room and down the stairs before Tony or Peter had a chance to respond.

“What’s his deal?” Tony asked, sitting down in the warm spot where Steve’s butt just was.

“I think… actually I really don’t know, Mr. Stark.” Peter stood to pick up his clothes.

“Hey, kid, come here for a second.” Tony pulled Peter back onto the bed and pinned him down, his mechanical hand caressing Peter’s cheek. Peter had a momentary flashback to that day but shook it out of his head. He focused on Tony’s piercing eyes.

“You are clearly not okay. And from what I heard, because you know I hear everything that goes on in this house, it has to do with some boy at work?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing…”

“Yes, that’s absolutely right, it is nothing. Hey. Look at me, kid.” He waited until Peter turned his head and made eye contact. “Whoever this guy is, maybe he’s cute. Maybe you even gave him your number on that little napkin from breakfast, but in the end when you’re like us, like you and me and Cap and Bruce, you just can’t date civilians. It never works out. They don’t understand the pressures of the job... or worse: they get killed. Ask any super hero you’ve ever met.”

“But you and Pepper—”

“Yes, Pepper is a special lady who also does the super hero things from time to time. Pep and I have a kid together, but there were years of turmoil before Morgan was born. Stick with what you have, dating outside our kind will only make it hard for you in the end.”

Peter sighed. “I guess… you’re probably right. He’s just so handsome, I… there’s something about him.”

“Pete, I’m not saying don’t go knocking on that door, I’m just saying… be safe about it.”

***NSFW INCOMING. Look for the 3 asterisks at the end of this passage if you wish to skip the naughty stuff.***

Peter glanced up at Tony, feeling flush. Thinking about Jamie, feeling the weight of Tony pressing down against him, it had all started to become a little too much. His hard-on strained against the fabric of his black work pants. “Tony, I…”

“I know, kid,” Tony went in for a kiss. They were still eager and new, Peter only having turned 18 less than three months ago, but the kiss was so familiar and comforting. Tony pulled back and smiled, unbuttoning Peter’s pants. “I don’t want you thinking about that guy anymore. It’s just you and me in here, alright?” He pulled out Pete’s member and rubbed a finger at the base of the head.

“Yes, Mr. Stark, sir…”

“It’s Tony.” He palmed Peter’s cock, then slowly stroked.

Peter could only whimper in response.

“Good boy.” He released Peter. “Get naked for me, I have something I want you to try on.” Tony left the room to grab the skimpy maid outfit from his bedroom closet while Peter disrobed and hastily threw his dirty laundry in a pile in the closet.

As Peter cleaned, he muttered to himself, “I really should have listened to Cap and done this last week… Where’s that fabreeze?”

Meanwhile, Tony bumped into Steve on his way to their shared bedroom at the other corner of the massive loft. “Steve, what’s up with you today?”

“What are you talking about?” Steve feigned coolness.

“Do you have a thing for Pete?”

“Who? Pete? The kid? Nah. Not me.” Steve sped up, walking quicker toward the bedroom, but Tony caught up with him easily.

At the doorframe, he stopped him, cornered him, pushed him back against the wall. “Steve, I want you to join us.” His lips were so close to Steve’s. Steve quivered.

“Join you?” Steve chuckled nervously, turning red again. “Tony, even if I liked him, how could I handle both of you at once?”

“Yep, that’s it you’re coming with me.” Tony gripped Steve’s forearm tight with his bionic hand and pulled the protesting Captain back toward Peter’s room. The maid outfit could wait for another day, but breaking Steve in with another young buck had to happen someday... and today was as good as any!

By the time they entered the room, Peter had made it spotless. Not a single smell of feet to be found. Tony and Steve both knew he had probably just shoved everything in his closet, but the bed was made and the desk was cleared and the room smelled nicely of linen fabreeze. Peter was nude, sitting on the bed, waiting patiently for Tony to return with some outfit or other. He was shocked to see Steve Rogers standing in the doorway beside Tony, looking shyly down, cheeks frosted rose.

“Mr. Stark… you said you wanted me to try something on… D-do you want me to try on Mr. Rogers?” His voice broke a bit.

Stark sighed. “Kid, how many times do we have to tell you? it’s Tony. And Steve. And... there was a change of plans. Remember how I said it would be only you and me in here?” Pete nodded, swallowing hard as he saw Steve’s growing erection through the tight daisy dukes he’d donned to prepare dinner. “Well, now it’s you and me. And Steve.”

“S-steve, sir, I would love that... it’s just…” Pete had never seen Captain America be so shy. “I think your dick might ruin me…”

Steve glanced at Peter. Tony glared at Steve. “Say it, Cap. Go on! Tell him.”

“Peter.” Steve was looking at him lustfully, passionately now. “I want you. I want you to take me. I need you... I need you inside of me.”

Peter gave a breathy sigh. Partly from the way Cap’s words made his own dick throb, and partly from relief that he wouldn’t have to try to take the horse-sized dong that seemed to be endlessly growing in Steve’s shorts. He stood, approached Steve, and smiled. “I would like that very much.” He glanced over at Tony, unable to hide his surprise and apparent elatedness that Steve was in fact a bottom, and also that his dick really was that huge.

*** End NSFW Section***

So, that’s it for now! What do you think of part one? Do you like the partition for the SFW vs. NSFW content? What do you think will happen next? Part 2 takes place the next day. It will be coming soon! Probably tomorrow, or next week, depending on when I find time between work and school.

#spideybarista #spidey-barista #starker #polyship #MCU AU #mcu poly #stony #fanfic #fanlore #AO3 #super husbands #ironshield #stark and stripes #i ship everyone with everyone

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sunflowerstache · 5 years

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Lovebug

A/N: This one shot is in honor of the iconic Jonas Brothers reunion that’s currently happening...something I’ve waited a 6 long years for. I’ve always loved the song, and was listening to it last night and just started writing this? lol so here's a lil bit (and I do mean lil.... its very short) of fluff I wrote for y’all when I should have been writing AW04(: ps thanks @emotionally-imbruised @theasstour

Growing up in the limelight, Harry always knew that things would be much different for him than other young adults. He couldn’t just waltz into the grocery store and have a regular shop, couldn’t post dumb shit on social media for his friends to have a laugh without any reprocussions, and wouldn’t be attending crazy fraternity parties where someone drunkinly smashes the beer pong table. He knew that, and was okay with that, because he loves his job. But what he didn't realize was how hard finding love was going to be. How everyone in the world would be watching as he went through the awkward stages of beginning a new relationship, the settled down middle parts, and the end when it inevitably became too much for his partner. How the paparazzi and constant intrusion into his personal life would drive away the people his heart had opened up to.

Until her.

He had met her whilst standing in the of the cafe down the street from the studio, waiting to pick up the order his assistant had placed for the entire team. The gloomy skies and pending rain forecasted for the next week in LA had kept most everyone in their homes, giving Harry the chance to enjoy the leisurely stroll he’d taken to get the food. As soon as he walked through the doors, it was like something straight out of one of the romcoms he had saved; the golden lights that were hung above the register danced around her, almost making it seem like she was under a spotlight for him. Small flecks of glitter sat on her cheeks, the sparkle catching his eye anytime she moved her head, and the pocket of the apron around her waist held a multitude of colored pens - in order from lightest to darkest. But it was her smile that really captivated him. It wasn’t perfect like you see in magazines and on television, but watching as it lit up her entire face Brough butterflies to Harry’s stomach, and he was sure the small smile lines on either side of her mouth were the cutest thing to ever grace the streets of Los Angeles.

“Hi!” her grin widened ear to ear as she looked at him, “Your total is $57.29.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, have’ta pay.” he was sure the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears were a bright red as he dug for his wallet.

“As much as I wish I could just give you the food, I do have to pay rent for this place, so...” someone from the back called out an order and the bell on the countertop was rung, but Harry’s focus was still on her.

“You own this place? I’ve never seen you before.”

“It’s my dad’s, but he mostly works in the office, so I occasionally come in to help run the-” the bell was rung again a few more times and he watched as she turned around to face the kitchen, “Steve! Quit ringing the bell, yeah? Taylor will get to you in a minute.” she turned back to look at Harry, “Run the ship out here.”

“Well it’s a great ship. Has great food.” holding up the two plastic bags in either hand, Harry chuckled, “Order from here probably more than I should.”

“Again, I do have the pay rent, so I’d say you aren’t ordering enough.” what he’s assuming is her name was called from the back and yellow painted fingernails tapped down on the countertop, gave Harry a large smile before making her way towards the other side of the restaurant, and called over her shoulder, “It was nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll run into you again, seeing as you order so often.”

After that first meeting, Harry couldn’t get enough. He thought about how her eyes held a kind of warmth he’d never felt before. He thought about how her eyes twinkled under the houselights, and how anytime he closed his eyes, her smile was at the forefront of his thoughts. So, he went back. And went back again. And again. Until he had been visiting her at the cafe, between studio sessions, consistently for almost three weeks. He would sit on one of the empty bar stools and just chat with her until he figured he looked borderline obsessive and decided to leave. The two talked about anything imaginable while she worked; everything from favorite sports to watch during the Olympics to embarrassing school memories, and Harry had never felt more comfortable around someone in all 25 years he’d been on the planet. And one night, after a particularly brutal day at the studio and his assistant insisting to pick up lunch so he didn’t have to leave, Harry laid in bed with his thumb hovering over the brand new contact. They’d only been friends for 21 days, that was nothing. Was it too early to hit dial? And in his moment of weakness and need to hear her voice, Harry’s finger hit the small green button and a dial tone echoed through the dark room.

“Hello?”

“Hey love.”

Which is how the pair ended up sitting across from one another at a local Italian Restaurant on the outskirts of Los Angeles. There were many times that Harry would say he was nervous; X factor auditions, first performance at MSG, putting out a solo album, getting the chance to sing with his idol Stevie Nicks, but none of it compared to how he felt as he watched her walk into the restaurant. He had insisted to pick her up, claiming it was the gentlemanly thing to do and his mother had raised him right, but much to Harry’s dismay, she informed him that she lived just down the block and would meet him there after work. Seeing her walking towards him, clad in a burgundy sweater and dark jeans had taken his breathe away.

“I’m so sorry! I know I’m like 10 minutes late, and underdressed but there was the oddest rush of take out orders right before we closed and then my cat puked on the dress I was going to wear. But I’m here.” she exasperated, plopped down on the chair he had pulled out for you when he stood up to great you.

“It’s alright, don’t worry. I wasn’t here too long.” False. Harry had arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes before their reservation, having him now seated there for a total of a half an hour. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, for looking across at her, pulling a few pieces of fuzz from the sleeve to her sweater, took his breathe away. How could someone look so completely and utterly beautiful without even trying? “And you look wonderful.”

“Not to shabby yourself, Mr. Styles. But,I expected nothing less.” beautiful gleaming eyes glanced at Harry over the menu and she settled herself.

At that, Harry didn’t know what to say. He had been routinely talking with her for almost a month; indulging in information he hadn’t told anyone in years, yet he had never fully told her his name. Anytime he was about to, it was like all of the bad parts of his past relationships came flooding back and pulled him away from that edge. His name brought many things; opportunities of a lifetime, beautiful designer clothing, fans he loved more than anything, and a decent amount of money so he could support his family. But it also brought the bad things that generally made people run in the other direction; rumors, endless hours spent away from home, and countless news articles picking apart his friends, and because of that, Harry decided not to tell her his name.

“Styles huh? So, you - you know -”

“I don’t live under a rock, you loser.” her head slightly tilted back in laughter, accentuating her neck, “And at the risk of sounding like a massive years long fan, you always put your orders under the name Hershel, so I didn’t really have to wonder too much.”

Hearing those words fall from between her lips made Harry feel hopeless. Hopeless for the spell she was casting on him, with her effortless beauty and remarkable smile. Never before had he met someone, who vey clearly knew who he was, and made it obviously noted that they didn't care. And he loved it. Being able to be Harry Styles from Holmes Chapel and not Harry Styles from One Direction was like a breathe of fresh air and yet somehow his brain was in overdrive and left him speechless. How would the conversations go now that he knew she knew? Harry’s bustling mind was set to ease as she change the topic and opened the conversation with someone exploding a bottle of tomato sauce all over her at work that morning. And just just like, every doubt he had, for those few seconds, about if she would treat him differently, flew out the window. The two had taken residence in the restaurant for nearly 4 hours, watching as the employees switched shifts and a new group came in, pretending to be countless couples within the establishment and create mock scenarios for each, and talk about their respective careers.

It had been a long time since Harry felt a bite from a love bug, but he still knew the feeling. In fact, he welcomed it with open arms, but this bite felt different, this bite was uncharted territory, for he had never felt so strongly for someone so soon after meeting. So, he made sure to do everything by the book; help her put on her jacket, open doors for her, walk her home, albeit it was just down the street, and made sure she got safely inside. But as the pair stood under the bright porch light, the butterflies from the first day Harry met her had returned. Her skin was sparkling again, creating small specks of greens and reds and pinks to dance on her cheeks and a contagious smile was spread on her mouth as she pulled down the sleeves of her light cardigan.

“Thank you for tonight. I haven’t gone out in God only knows how long, and I really needed it.”

“Absolutely, anytime. Thank you for agreeing to come with me.” Harry by no means was unaware of how this part of a date was supposed to go. For all intents and purposes, he’s a smooth guy. But no one would pick up on that from the painful silence between the two. His hands were digging into his pockets, seemingly trying to get as deep as possible, and he slowly swayed back and forth. A small smile still played on her lips as she cleared her throat.

“You know, this is generally the part where you kiss me goodnight and then go home and text me.” Harry didn’t have to wonder if the embarrassment was evident on his cheeks, for he could feel the blood rushing his face’s high points. How was it that he was so unbelievably bad at this, even after having so much practice. “Or not, ya know. I’m not trying to for-”

Finally, his brain and his body met in the middle and closed the distance between them, gently covering her mouth with his own. The crisp Los Angeles air floated around the two, but that wasn’t the only reason for the growing goosebumps. His hands quickly made their way to cup her cheeks while hers wound around Harry’s waist, making his body shiver at the contact. It was like they were molding by the same artist, their bodies fitting perfectly together and neither wanted to break apart. But needing a breath, she moved her head to the side, resting it on his shoulder as he kissed the side of her head, moving away.

If he thought he was speechless when she walked into the restaurant earlier that night, he didn't have words to describe how he felt after their kiss. It was as if suddenly he forgot how to speak. Like nothing else in the world mattered more than given her a soft smile and kissing her forehead one more time. Nothing in the world mattered more than how he felt for her in that moment. Nothing in the world mattered more than her.

“Goodnight.” Harry grinned, running and quick hand through his hair, and turning to walk back to his car, “I’ll text you.”

Yeah, he definitely got bitten by the love bug again.

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imagitory · 5 years

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Hey, y’all! Today I went to the Parks Bounding as my favorite Disney princess, Tiana from The Princess and the Frog!

I decided to go with her waitress dress not only because I had the pieces needed but because Tia baby’s theme, “Almost There,” has special meaning for me. When I started my first job as a Hostess at the Coral Reef Restaurant in EPCOT in summer 2011 (two years after PatF was released), I would often sing Tia's song whenever I was having a rough day or even just while I was setting tables at work. Even now, when the day gets slow, I love singing “Almost There” to myself...so it felt so nice to be able to channel Tiana and that scene through my clothes. Plus I figured there would be no better person to emulate while I tried some of the new foods around the Resort that I’d yet to try, my favorite being the new orange and pineapple Dole Whip and lime chicken and herb bao from the Tangaroa Terrace in Adventureland!

I also stopped by the Lunar New Year pavilion to hang a wish on their wall and see the Procession featuring Mulan, Mushu, and the Three Little Pigs -- it was really very pretty! Then I stopped by the Animation Academy to draw Pua in honor of the Year of the Pig: it was fun to draw Pua after Tiana compared my curls to Moana’s (she thought the color was more like Merida’s but the curls themselves made her think of Moana, which made me grin so big! Hee! ^.^). I got some very nice compliments on my dress, including from Tiana, but my personal favorite reaction was from a very tiny 13-month-year old girl in a stroller who kept pointing out my dress to her mom with this starstruck look on her face!! I guess she must have liked the bright color, LOL! I actually don’t wear yellow that often, as my aesthetic is much more on the blue/green/gray/black/white spectrum, but it was a fun change of pace.

This look is comprised of a yellow sweater under a yellow skater dress, oxfords that I spray-painted gold myself a long while back, a white necklace that belonged to my grandmother (the pattern sort of reminded of the sort of railings you see in New Orleans Square and on the Mark Twain), star earrings (to represent Evangeline and Ray!!), a silver bow belt (sort of to stand in for the apron she wears over this dress), a dark green hair tie, and a Tiana Soundsational Parade pin!

Make a wish and hold on tight...and if you liked this, don’t forget to like and reblog! xoxo

#my disneybound #tiana #tia baby!#the princess and the frog #disneybound #fashion #disney #disneyland #disney california adventure #disney parks #lunar new year

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the-amazing-spider-bi · 5 years

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the college au nobody asked for I leta lestrange/newt scamander I 4k I ao3

The roommate AU in which otters hold paws while they sleep, Leta didn’t think she would ever fall in love with someone who can’t even handle his coffee without milk, Credence collects crushes on all of his male teachers like they’re Pokemons, and Dumbledore finds endless amusement in his students’ antics.

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

“Hi,” Leta says. “I heard your group was still missing a member for the Sociology of Fashion project, so I was wondering if I could join you?”

The gaggle of girls in front of her startles, but when Leta smiles, they smile back. She tries to be as friendly as she can - which is difficult since she is more used to projecting a bitch resting face than acting innocent - until they end up exchanging numbers and agreeing to meet at the library on Monday to write their outline.

They go their separate ways when the other girls, who are obviously a group of friends, go see a movie, and Leta pretexts a previous engagement so they don’t have to invite her out of pity. They still wave goodbye, and Leta smiles one last time before she turns around. She tightens her grey and green scarf around her neck and walks away in a flurry of fallen leaves. She is going to get coffee, by herself, and then barricade herself in the coffee shop until she finishes her Power and Privilege essay - for a seminar, it sure involved an enormous amount of work.

Leta isn’t the type of girl people like. According to her classmates, she is posh and weird and standoffish, all of which are true. She doesn’t talk or smile or try enough to please people. She knows she could, really - she just doesn’t care to. It is alright with her, though. She would rather be alone most of the time than go back to the endless string of dinners and playdates her parents used to make her attend back when she was a girl.

So she is surprised when her phone lights up with a notification, thinking these girls are really fast to text.

Newt Dorkmander: did you know otters hold paws when they sleep?

Newt Dorkmander: actually it is to avoid drifting off of course but still

Newt Dorkmander: the thought is lovely

She tries not to smile at her phone as she types, you do know just because it’s a text doesn’t mean this won’t be deduced from your daily animal facts quota, don’t you? - she has to take off her gloves to type, and then when she comes into the shop the sting from the cold metal handle surprises her.

Newt Dorkmander: i do my best to lighten a cold november day and this is how you thank me

Newt Dorkmander: i cannot believe it

“Well someone is uncharacteristically perky today.”

She pockets her phone and does her best impression of her grandmother’s dignified stare. In front of her, Credence the coffeehouse guy is grinning in his green apron, already preparing her cup. Credence the coffeehouse guy is exactly Leta’s type of man, by which she means he is quiet, doesn’t bother her any more than he has to, and brings her coffee.

“I’m not perky,” Leta states. “Take it back.”

“Nah, it’s too late, your reputation is ruined forever,” Nagini, who is almost always to be found wherever Credence is, says from that seat in front of the counter she claimed as hers at the beginning of the year.

Leta rolls her eyes at them. “You freshmen are growing more annoying every year.”

“You’re barely one year older than us,” Nagini points out.

“College years are like dog years,” Leta informs them. “As such, I am fifteen years wiser than you.”

Credence the coffeehouse guy smiles and says, “Americano?”

“Americano,” Leta confirms, and if she refrains from making a terrible The Fault in our Starsjoke, then she will carry this secret to the grave. But still. A genuine John Green reference. She spends way too much time with Newt.

Of course, this isn’t like it’s a recent development - they have known each other since they were thirteen and Newt quite literally stumbled in her life with freckled cheeks and messy hair, then through their teens when he tiptoed around awkwardly with a lanky, ridiculously tall figure and she rushed through everything with the dedicated anger of a rebellious posh girl.

Then Newt had been expelled, and everything in her life went bonkers, but this is the part she tries not to think about.

Credence hands her her coffee and doesn’t make any more comments about who she was texting or how happy she looked, because he doesn’t make it a habit to comment on people - or talk to them - and he really is one of her favorite persons on campus.

She spends the rest of the afternoon hunched over getting five thousands more words done, and when she leaves, Credence the coffeehouse guy has been replaced by Rita the coffeehouse girl, who she likes a lot less. She takes care to avoid eye contact and pulls out her phone, scrolling through social media feed without really reading anything until a headline catches her eye. She reopens her conversation with Newt, whose last message was an apocalyptic string of texts about being out of tea.

Leta Lestrange: you know netflix just uploaded the new planet earth season

“I know,” he says.

She looks up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

Newt is standing up in his usual blue overcoat and a faded yellow Hufflepuff scarf she gave him for Christmas when they were sixteen. (They had a price limit that time, so she had to knit him the scarf and ended up buying one anyway after a few unsuccessful hours. It’s not like he noticed anyway.) He is so outrageously tall she has to tilt her head to see his face, just so that he can avoid her gaze.

He shrugs and smiles at the ground. “I was on my way from the library, and it’s nicer to go home together.”

She frowns. “And how did you know I was there? Mister Scamander, are you stalking me? Should I check for hidden cameras? Do you keep pictures of me under your pillows?”

“Don’t be silly,” Newt says placidly. “I sleep in the next room. I can just come over to watch you sleep the normal way.”

She laughs. “Always good to know you have a lot of opinions on the best way to stalk me.”

“Well, one can never be too prepared, can they? I could always end up as a handsome brooding vampire if my zoologist plan doesn’t work out. I think I have the smoulder.”

“You certainly dress like you’re from 1910,” she says.

“You’re just jealous you can’t pull off the trench coat detective aesthetic as well as I do.”

She opens her mouth to tell him he has never pulled off anything, ever, in his life, but feels a shiver crawling up the back of her spine and changes her mind. “Just a second,” she says as she whips around to glare at Rita the coffeehouse girl who watching them raptly from behind the class. She scrambles to pretend she is not.

“Being noisy is an understandable flaw, but there is nothing worse than being noisy and bad at it,” she says conversationally.

“If you’ve sufficiently scarred her, can we go now?” Newt asks. “I’m freezing.”

“Bossy,” she complains under her breath.

They walk home together.

Around them, the atmosphere is wet and chilly, and not quite snowy either, which is the worst type of weather, according to her. It feels like the cold slips into her clothes in between the threads to stick to her skin in a damp layer that feels like sweat, only much worse. She doesn’t think twice about leaning close to Newt to protect herself from it, and he doesn’t think twice about wrapping his scarf around her shoulders, still talking about the cool things he learned in Introduction to Zoology module. For the entirety of the trip home she drifts in and out of focus, sometimes picking a specific topic he brought up and asking for more details or an explanation, sometimes daydreaming when he explains some technical part of Neurology he doesn’t quite understand yet himself. By the time they get to their flat, he has moved on to complaining about his Introduction to Physiology, Pharmacology and Neuroscience course, by which he is clearly bored to tears and that he still wants to attend anyway. She doesn’t press him about it but she is pretty sure his scholarship involves perfect attendance.

They walk up three sets of stairs - the place is right outside campus in this tiny brick building, rent as cheap as any flat with three rooms can be, which means no elevators, to Leta’s great despair. Without having to ask she gets in front of him to open the door herself, because Newt always loses his keys inside the holes in his ancient coat pockets, so it is just faster this way.

Immediately as she opens the door a dash of brown fur bounces into the hallway, climbs the sleeve of Newt’s coat, settles his shoulder where its nibbles at his ears.

“Hello you,” she hears Newt coo at Pickett. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she goes to take off her coat inside. There is a hot shower she has been dreaming of ever since she woke up this morning waiting for her, and then undercooked pasta in front of an animal documentary.

Whoever said college students weren’t living the dream?

When she wakes up the next morning, Newt is hunched over on their couch, copper hair messed up beyond repair, eyes half closed. She takes in the sight of his plaid pajamas and the squirrel burrowed in his hair, because he keeps spoiling Pickett then being surprised when he doesn’t want to join his siblings in the great wild outdoors, the moron. He looks utterly miserable.

He started up the coffee maker, though, so she can work with this.

“We’re buying tea this afternoon,” she says, before adding, more gently: “Hey, do you want me to do that hot chocolatey coffee you like to survive your morning classes?”

“Yes, please,” Newt says in a tiny voice.

She presses her hand against his shoulder as she goes behind the counter to make him a mocha and make herself an entire Thermos of black coffee. He gets dressed while she pours them their drinks, by which she means puts on the first wool sweater he found and jeans. She does the same while he sips his cup and checks on all his rescued animals of the moment - Niffler the magpie with the broken wing who keeps escaping his hen coop to steal their shiny cutlery or her silver earrings, Pickett who resolutely doesn’t want to leave, and an enormous Maine coon Newt insists on calling Zouwu despite how ridiculous it sounds. When she leaves in a hurry of perfume and long trench coat with her Thermos in hand, Newt looks considerably perkier.

A few hours later, she is considering the pros and cons of the infamous Veggie Salad versus Caesarean Salad case. Since Newt’s class finishes in one hour when her afternoon ones begin, and, well, she doesn’t really have any other friend nor a lunch break long enough to go home, she is planning to get some food from the cafeteria before she goes to her classroom and eats in front of her book. It sounds sad, but it’s actually a very good book, Jane Austen’s Emma, which she had somehow never read before, her high school curriculum consisting only of Pride and Prejudice again and again and again. She is usually more of a gothic, Byronic hero kind of gal, with a bit of sci-fi thrown in when Newt recommends one of his nerdy books to her, but well, it’s Jane Austen.

She looks forward to that lunch alone watching Emma and Mr. Knightly fall in love. The universe doesn’t care about that.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Nagini says behind her.

She turns around slowly. The younger girl isn’t quite smiling, as she rarely ever does, but she looks as friendly as she can be with eyes surrounded by eyeliner and black lipstick, black clothes, black boots, black eye, black everything.

“Freshmen have lunch breaks now? Back in my time-” Leta starts teasing.

“You ate on the floor some gruel right out of the bowl before your Latin class started?” Nagini guesses.

Leta chuckles. “Close enough.”

“Wanna sit with us, or will it ruin your street cred?” Nagini asks, eyes shining with curiosity, or maybe just hunger.

Leta shrugs and pays for her salad at the counter. “If you promise never to use the words street cred ever again, sure.”

At Nagini’s left, Credence smiles shyly. She has never seen him out of his coffee shop uniform, and he is definitely not what she imagined, with a tiny silver cross hanging from a chain on his neck, a rainbow lapel pin on his jean jacket and an undercut. They move from the cafeteria’s blinding artificial lights to the tables outside - they are already in winter and it is cold out, but Leta is used to avoiding loud, busy rooms, what with Newt’s condition, so it doesn’t bother her all that much. As for the two kids, tables are almost empty by this time of the year, so it doesn’t take a genius to get what their appeal can represent.

Nagini kicks up her feet on the table and leans sideways on Credence’s side while Leta has a wooden bench all to herself.

“So, about your ruined reputation,” Nagini starts. “What was up with you yesterday?”

“Did you see Professor Grindelwald falling down in the street?” Credence asks and takes a tiny bite of his apple.

“I wish,” Leta says, because if there is one thing that unites Nagini and her it is their mutual hatred for Grindelwald. He still teaches one of her classes today and she had him twice last year, once in her Introduction to Political Science class and another time in an Advanced Rhetorics option she picked up and gave up on soon afterward. The university is divided into two camps, really. There are those who think Grindelwald is like a white-haired, mole-rat-looking reincarnation of Jesus Christ or Martin Luther King or whoever teens idolize these days. Then there are people with common sense who see him for what he is, like Leta.

“The other day he took Credence’s phone in class and when he gave it back he changed his lock screen to a picture of him,” Nagini recalls. “Not even a funny picture, just this close up on his face, staring at the camera, Big Brother style. Credence still hasn’t changed it either.”

“What do you want?” Credence says with a self-aware smile. “I have terrible taste in men and daddy issues.”

“Gross,” Nagini whines.

“That’s not the problem,” Leta says. “The problem is out of all the silver fox material in this college - we have Dumbledore and Graves teaching - you went ahead and got a crush on him.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t also have a crush on Dumbledore and Graves,” Credence says.

They laugh about it. Before an awkward pause can settle, Leta says, picking at her plate with suspicion, “Anyway, no, my roommate just sent me something funny.”

“What was it?”

Leta knows about retelling past jokes and that only waste, you just really had to be there, you know? and fake laughs this way come, so she says, allusively, “Just a fun fact about otters. He’s really into animals. He’s a bit of a dork about it, eats vegan, picks up every stray cat that crosses his path, the whole deal. Zoology students and all that.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Nagini says. “This school has one of the best programmes in the country, don’t they?”

“Yes, that’s why we chose to come here,” Leta shrugs off, scrunching her nose at her salad, poking it around. It even smells weird. “This is way more disgusting than I remember it to be, isn’t it?”

There’s a silence. When she looks up, the two freaky twins are both raising their eyebrows the exact same way. It’s uncanny.

“That’s nice,” Credence drawls out.

“That my salad tastes like rotten grass?” Leta asks, raising an eyebrow as she grins at him.

“No, though it always tastes like cold garbage, so you only have yourself to blame,” Credence says. “You chose your college depending on your friend?”

Leta is uncomfortable. “He was - is my best friend. We met in boarding school when we were kids, with all the rich posh kids running around. It was hell, so, that makes friendship very intense.” They still look at her weirdly, and she is good with words, but even she doesn’t know how to convey the harshness of boarding schools when you are a bit different, a bit weird , so she adds: “Anyway, he was expelled in the middle of high school, and it was even worse without him here, so we decided we would stick together through college at least.”

She doesn’t talk about being the only black girl in her year, or Newt being diagnosed at thirteen, or how cruel children can be. Sometimes when she thought about it too long she felt so angry, almost as angry as she used to be in these years where she would talk back to the other kids when they mocked her and end up in detentions more weekends than not. She is quieter now, almost free of all of that teenage angst, better, but sometimes she feels like she is only pretending to be tamed, to be something she is not, like Pickett the domesticated squirrel.

“That’s actually very cool,” Credence says. “I can’t imagine living with my old middle school friends. Well, I didn’t have friends in middle school, probably because they were scared by my raw coolness, but even if I did, I guess I just changed a lot since then.”

“I don’t know. I never really thought about that,” Leta surprises herself by saying.

In the end, they move on from the subject to discuss Credence’s thing for every forty-something male teacher he meets, the revelations about a Moscow Trump tower, and salad that tastes like cardboard. When she gets to class, though, she keeps thinking over and over about growing up. She has always prided herself on being more perceptive than others - not even considering that Newt might be a different person as an adult than as a freckled thirteen-year-old is blindsiding her in a way she doesn’t care for.

She tries to forget about it and focuses on getting her degree.

But the thought planted by Credence sticks in the back of her mind, feeling so very foreign to her. It is relentless and invading and points its ugly, alien head at the most inappropriate moments throughout the week, and she can’t help but wonder.

She is the one who picks her roommate up at the end of his classes on Fridays, waiting with a coffee in hand for her and a chai for him. It is part of their routine. She watches the first wave of bouncing, impatient Bio students leave the building, then a second one, even bigger and noisier somehow, until Newt emerges from the lot and walks towards her. For the first time since they were fifteen, she appraises him. He looks like, well, Newt. So ridiculously tall he has to hunch over a little to pass doorsteps, shy smile, hands in his pockets. Then her gaze stays on him just a second too long, and he has the same wiry, messy-haired, freckled figure than when he was a kid, but maybe it looks less lanky now, somewhat. He doesn’t stare at the ground quite as much when he is out, his eyes darting from one point to the other in wonder, and suddenly she wishes she could know about the patterns he sees when he stares at the world like that.

She still smiles in the same way she always does when she offers him his cup and his fingers brush against her gloved hand.

“Thank you so much,” he says, smiling. “Not to be dramatic, but I think if I have to listen to one more Neurology class, I might gouge out my own brain.”

“Lovely,” she comments. “You talk to Professor Dumbledore with that mouth?”

“Indeed, Mister Scamander,” an older man butts in with an amused expression and sparkling eyes behind half-moon glasses. “If you feel that strongly about my classes, I am always pleased to hear my students’ feedback during office hours.”

He trips over his own feet and stammers his excuses as Albus Dumbledore laughs at him in polite silences, and Leta tries not to be too amused by his misfortunes. If warmth oozes in her stomach, it must be either laughter or the hot coffee she is gulping down. It burns her tongue and her throat and keeps her hands busy not fixing Newt’s half-bent collar.

Newt is still talking with his hands to Dumbledore about his Zoology project when they leave campus. She has never had him in class, and never will, but even if she had never met him before, she would like him for the encouraging way he smiles as Newt talks to him about slugs’ brains or whatever he is explaining right now. Despite teaching one of Newt’s least liked courses - too many human examples, not enough slugs - he is still by far his favourite professor. It is enough for her.

Dumbledore goes home on a scooter, of all things, a Vespa, and Newt doesn’t get how funny it is when she tries to explain.

“I’m sure it’s very practical,” he tells her as they climb up the stairs.

“This is clearly not my point,” Leta says. “You’re just willfully blind because you have a crush on him.”

“What? I-I do not. He’s my teacher .”

Leta raises her eyebrows. Oh, really now. “And?”

“This is- wrong, and ridiculous, is what it is, and I will not talk to you about it any further.”

She stays silent as she opens the door. He gets even more flustered. His entire face is blushing all over, his skin like a sunset from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he fidgets with his sleeves, and it is sort of adorable, really.

“I don’t have a crush on Dumbledore!” he says, too loudly.

Then they go in and Niffler has gotten loose somehow and all of their spoons are in his cage, so he has reasons to get busy, but as soon as they’re sitting on their old couch again with a cup of hot cocoa, she raises her eyebrows again and he almost throws his cup at her. She breaks out laughing.

When she opens her eyes again, he is looking pointedly at his computer screen. This is when it happens. She can only witness in horror Newt’s profile rearrange itself in her head, move away from chubby cheeks and bitten lips, and this is when, as if she has never seen him before, she realizes he is handsome.

In some abstract way, she knew this before. She had noticed defined cheekbones, jawline, eyes with ever-changing colors, pushed him towards a girl or a boy or anyone and told him to just try his luck. It was only theoretical, though. It is like - she knows gravity exists, knows Earth rotates around the sun drawn by its sheer weight, but she also doesn’t know it, doesn’t understand it or feel the push of the sun’s attraction. This is like being in the reach of a supernova.

“Why are you still looking at me,” Newt complains, frowning at his screen.

Shit.

“No reason,” she says, not averting her eyes.

“Alright, so maybe I have a tiny crush on him. Just a smidge. It’s just- I- he’s so nice,” Newt says, turning around to look at her with wide, earnest eyes that look green today. “And a role model. Sort of.”

This is not the crush she is worried about.

#leta lestrange #leta x newt #newt scamander #fbawtft #fbawtft fic #fbcog #fbcog fic #my fics #my edits #fbtcog #fbtcog fic #nagini #credence #albus dumbledore #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts crimes of grindelwald #harry potter fic

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dammn-dean · 5 years

Text

Chances

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Reader

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Lil’ fluffy, cute, slight talk of past break-up, Bucky’s nightmares, not from readers perspective

I got this idea while listening to Chances by Backstreet Boys (I know right, how old are we?) Either way, hope you all enjoy it. Feedback is much appreciated, my tags are open, send a message letting me know if you want to be tagged in anything. As usual it’s unbeta’d, so all mistakes are on me.

The first time he saw her she was staring down at her phone as she sat at a bench to the side of Central Park, and as cliche as it sounded she took his breath away. The leaves had started to change, the weather started cooling off and he couldn’t help himself from the almost daily walks that he had started up. Bucky made sure to keep a ball cap on to cover his face mostly, long sleeve shirts and jackets to cover his arm, the leather gloves on his hands didn’t seem too obvious since the weather started to cool. She was in a light sweater, sitting all alone on a bench with a somber look on her face as she stared down at her phone, like she was reading something she didn’t want to. Her hair cascaded around her face and the light was hitting it in a way that made it seem like she had an aura floating around her. He had to force himself look away and keep walking.

Bucky had a particularly bad night, the nightmares were too much for him. He had gotten up, dressed and heading out to the park before he even really thought of doing anything else. The idea of a brisk walk to help calm his mind fueled his body. It was late or night, or technically early in the morning. It was 12:30 when he’d woke up from a particularly unpleasant nightmare, not sparing another glance at the clock before he left. He was so set on making it to the park he hadn’t been paying attention. He felt a smaller frame bump into him,hard. It barely affected him but the other person hadn’t been so lucky. She was jarred and her purse had fallen off her arm onto the ground.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry miss,” Bucky began, leaning to pick up her purse. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Bucky tried explaining, he felt like a total jerk.

Her eyes were downcast, hair blocking him from seeing her face. She mumbled a quiet, “It’s okay..” Before pulling her eyes up to meet his. Bucky felt the wind knocked out of him, it was her, and her eyes were filled with tears that had yet to fall.

Bucky handed over her purse quickly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so sorry..” He felt himself starting to panic at being the cause for her unhappiness. It didn’t matter that technically he didn’t know her, he hated himself for causing you any discomfort.

“Not ‘cause of you, I wasn’t looking where I was going either. I’m fine, promise.” She gave him a tight lipped smile, and before another word could be said she kept on her previous path.

He didn’t like the fact she was walking alone, this late in the middle of New York, especially while something was clearly bothering her. He kept an eye on her as long as he could before he felt like he was being a stalker. Shoving his hands into his pockets after tugging his hat down more, he continued to the park, needing the walk more now to get her out of his mind than anything.

The next time he saw her he was almost done with his circle around the park when he noticed it was her. Most of the leaves had fallen off of the tree but there were still hues of red, yellow and orange, low and high. She sat in a big pile of leaves, holding some in her hand while her eyes were closed. Head leaned back, like she was just enjoying being here. Bucky took a step towards her before mentally berating himself, why would he approach her and ruin her moment? Even if he did speak, what could he possibly say to her? So instead he said nothing and kept walking past.

A week had went by and Bucky kept going on his almost daily walks, he hadn’t seen her again since the time under the tree. His chance at speaking to her again probably long gone, she was ever present in his thoughts though. On the way back from his walk he decided to stop for baklava at a small bakery he had passed on more than one occasion, finally talking himself into entering. The smell of fresh breads, pies and sweet desserts overtaking his senses. He took in the small place, it was decorated well and had a homey feel to it, definitely owned by someone who loved this place. There were a few tables for people to sit and enjoy their baked goods, as well as a display area filled with the most delicious pastries Bucky had ever seen.

It was a bit rainy that day and there weren’t as many people out and about, so besides him there was only a couple over in the corner. Bucky made his way to the register after taking in the place and reminding himself he came in to order something. He instantly felt his heart starting to race, it was her. Hands covered in flour as she was dusting some on top of some raw dough, that’s when she noticed him and sent a big smile. She quickly dusted the flour off of her hands onto her apron and made her way over to him. Bucky had to give himself an internal pep talk about the fact he was about to have a conversation with her. What were the chances of him coming passing this bakery so many times, just for her to the one inside?

“Hi there, how’re you today?” Her voice was like his favorite music to his ears, something he’d been waiting to hear again.

“Oh uh-,” Bucky tried to gather himself. “I’m well. How are you?” His words held a double meaning. He wanted to ask how she was since that night he had ran into her, but that would be weird.. Wouldn’t it?

“I’m great, thank you for asking.” She smiled, and it was breathtaking. “What can I get for you? Today’s special is brown butter bourbon spice cookies, with a pinch of sea salt on top. I thought they suited the gloomy weather, and I think they turned out really well.” She pointed to the left towards the cookies.

“Wow they look and sound delicious.” He was telling the truth, they did seem remarkable. His eyes went back to her and couldn’t help the grin that overtook his features, like her joy was contagious.

She blushed, “Thank you. Wanna try a bit?” Before waiting for his response she reached over and snagged a cookie, breaking a piece off for him.

He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to do that, but she obviously wanted him to taste it, so he did. Bucky unceremoniously tossed the small piece of cookie into his mouth, moaning at the taste. It honestly was the best cookie he’d ever had, so many different tastes all mingling together to create one cohesive taste.

“It’s incredible,” he gushed. “I came in for a baklava, but I think I’ll have to get these cookies now.” The look that overtook her features was more than enough reason for him to buy the cookies, he figured he could get some for everyone. “How many do you have? I’ll get two dozen if you have enough.”

“I have enough!” She chimed in happily. “I just pulled some out of the oven in the back to cool, probably need a couple more minutes. I’ll get you a baklava while you wait, on the house.” She offered with a smile.

“You don’t need to do that doll,” Bucky beamed. Although his heart was still hammering in his chest, she was so beautiful.”I’ll pay for it, of course.”

“Don’t think anything of it, I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before-” She stopped and he didn’t miss the small flit in her eye, like she was finally taking him in, Bucky felt panic rising into his chest. She recognized him, knew he was The Winter Soldier, and she was about to be terrified of him like everyone else.

“I’ll be right back with that baklava, any preference?” The smile was back on her face and Bucky tried to calm himself.

“Whatever is fine with me, I’m sure it’ll be great.” He gave a small reassuring smile, and she was off.

He tugged his hat down more on his head, like a defensive mechanism as he waited for her. After a minute or two she returned with a plate, baklava on top and a fork beside it, and in her other hand she held a cup of hot coffee.

“I don’t know how you take it, or if you do but,” she contemplated aloud. “I got you some coffee too.”

“You this generous with all your customers?” Bucky teased.

Her eyes crinkled as she let out a laugh, making her way around the corner to set the coffee and pastry down on a nearby table for him. “I recognize you,” she explained.

Bucky’s smile fell as he made his way over the table, “Oh..”

“Yeah, we ran into each other, literally,” She let out another laugh. “About a week ago? In the middle of the night?”

Bucky wasn’t expecting that, the look of surprise on his face making that apparent. She didn’t know who he was, just recognized him from the other night.

“Oh yes, of course I remember.” Bucky acted like he hadn’t noticed her many times before then or that he recognized her the moment he saw her, no way to really bring that up.

“I’m sorry about that, had a rough night and I wasn’t paying attention.” She sat down at the chair across from the one Bucky was beside, gesturing for him to sit as well.

Bucky sat, picking up the fork slowly before cutting a piece of the pastry and stabbing it as he spoke. “Believe me, you have nothing to be sorry for. The fault was mine.” Bucky reassured her.

“Either way,” her hands flailed around. “Baklava and coffee on me,” she insisted.

“Only if you let me take you for coffee, to repay you?” Bucky felt like he was going to puke, but he saw his chance and he took it. He thought he’d never see her again and yet here he was, in her bakery. Eating a baklava she had made, sitting across from her.

Her cheeks tinged pink, hands nervously rubbing together. “Like a date?” She hesitated.

“Unless you don’t want to?” He felt like he had made a mistake. “I didn’t mean to assume, I’m sure you have a boyfriend or you’re probably not interested in a date with a stranger.” Bucky’s voice faltering at the end.

“No!” She called out loudly. “No, it isn’t that. I-uh I don’t have a boyfriend. Anymore. That’s what the other night was about.” She explained.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Bucky trailed off. Unsure what else to say, so he took a sip of the coffee in front of him.

“It’s fine, long time coming really,” She smiled thought it didn’t reach her eyes. “Let me go gather up those cookies for you, ‘kay?”

Bucky only nodded, he understood the rejection but it didn’t make him feel any better about it. He finished both the dessert and the coffee by the time she reappeared at the counter. Box of cookies in hand. He made his way over to the counter, tugged the glove off of his flesh band before pulling his wallet out as he went. Bucky sent a kind smile, but he ready to handle his rejection somewhere away from here. She said the total, Bucky handed over a card not really hearing or caring about the price of the cookies, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he waited.

“Okay,” She said to him. “I’ll go out to coffee with you.”

Bucky’s gaze pulled from the counter to her eyes so fast it almost made him dizzy. She stood there, grin on her face as she held his card out to him. He gripped the card, slowly shoving it back into his wallet and placing it into his back pocket.

“Really?” He couldn’t help but match her smile.

“Sure, why not? Not every day a cute stranger that I bumped into while crying in the middle of the night comes into my bakery and asks me out to coffee.” She shrugged as she grabbed a marker, writing her number on the top of the cookie box. “Just call or text me?”

Bucky let out a laugh at that, “I’m Bucky by the way. What’s your name?”

“Nice to meet you Bucky, I’m Y/N.”

Forever Tags: @mannls @msruchita @ashdownbloodline @his-paradox

Marvel Tags: @wishingforahome @josiejosie0 @gabby913 @sonotalice @bexboo616 @gigistorm @just-trying-to-survive-marvel

Bucky Tags: @hiddles-rose @givemethatgold

(If you’re in my Eye Contact taglist and want to be tagged in everything else or be added to another tag, PLEASE let me know)

#bucky barnes #bucky #james barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #soft bucky

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pillowfluffs · 6 years

Text

Caretaker!Minhyuk

Pairing: Minhyuk X Reader ft. other members (Gender Neutral)

Genre: Caretaker!AU, fluffffff, slightest angst?

Summary: You love the rain but you hate the thunder that comes with it, but it's okay, you have your loving, sunshine boyfriend Minhyuk to take care of you!

Author’s Note: I don’t have any ideas on what their dorm looks like so if there ever was a dorm tour video, I never saw it. This story was inspired by Monsta Xray season 1 episode 5 where you can watch here! Well only for the first half; how you two met is based on that episode. And it’s the cutest thing in the world omg if you’re not dead after it, are you human?? Anyways, here is another addition to the Caretaker! series which leaves Hyungwon as the last one, coming out next week. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and please look forward to more works in the future!

Other Caretakers! Hyunwoo // Wonho // Minhyuk // Kihyun // Hyungwon // Jooheon // Changkyun

Suggestion: Read with rain and thunder audio!

The sky was clear with blue skies, light traffic flowed through the streets as you walked wearing jeans and a black shirt and sneakers. Music from your earbuds filled your ears, the bass boosted music with the upbeat rhythm of your boyfriend and his group’s music. The deep impactful lyrics resonated with your soul as they sang the main chorus “I can be your hero!” This entire song has you having an entire rave in your head as you internally bellowed the lyrics, walking with a light bounce. You slowly began approaching the familiar building where your boyfriend along with the other members of his group lived. The two of you have been happily together about a month, meeting him at a little daycare center, picking up your baby sister after your dad had dropped her off from work.

You entered the colorful daycare that you went to when you were her age, about a year and a half old, when you noticed how much fuller it was with camera crews and men in the light green and orange vests, going around and playing with children. You were so soft seeing your little sister running to a man sitting on the ground with his arms out, catching her as she practically flung herself against him with his coconut esque dark brown almost black hair, her small arms barely reaching all the way around him. It was so adorable making your heart flutter and warm up at the sight since your sister was shy, especially with new people yet here she was after just a few hours hugging a stranger so fondly. It took you about a week or two until she got used to you, as she used to crawl and follow you around and want you to hold her as your parents rushed to work most of the time. He smiled at her as if a father would to his own daughter, stroking her head with her short hair and face, how small her head was compared to his one hand. You could see her smiling and laughing into his face as she sat on his lap, bringing her small hands to cover her eyes as his hand supported her back as she leaned in them.

“Ah, you’re so adorable~” he used a baby voice, teasing her making her giggle. You could feel your heart melting at the scene before you. You practically froze there, feeling your heart racing from how kind he was and gentle as if he was already a father but you were able to tell he and the other teachers weren’t from the cameras recording them.

“Hello, Y/N, are you here to pick up L/S/N?” The sweet sound of the kind voice of the woman who was your teacher when you went here approached you, taking your attention from the man to her.

“Oh, yes, my parents are working late so they sent me.” You nodded as you glanced from the older teacher back to your sister, still seeing her in the man’s arms as they played peek-a-boo with each other.

“Ah, I see, I’ll go fetch her then.” The elderly teacher gave you a warm smile before turning around and head towards the carpeted bookshelf area where he sat. You watched him as his eyes quickly glanced up towards the teacher, his eyes full of light as your sister clung on to him. It wasn’t long before your sister had heard your name and looked towards the door where all the shoes and coats were. She crawled out of the man’s lap as he stood afterward, watching your baby sister run with a small bounce and waddle as she made her way over to you, smiling a gummy, her arms out reaching out for her as you did the same, ready to catch her if she fell. You knelt down on the small step that went from the entrance and coat area to the classroom, seeing the man’s figure follow behind.

“Hi~ L/S/N,” cooed as she did a tiny jump into your arms, nuzzling her face against the crook of your neck as you gave her a tight but gently squeeze around her little body. “Ah, you’re the best little sister!” You thought to yourself and looked up to see the man.

“Ah, you must be L/S/N’s sibling?” His voice was friendly, along with his features, how his smile made you feel warm as if he was radiating the warmest aura, warmer than the sun. He bowed politely as you stood up, holding your sister as she clung her small arms around your neck but looked out towards the teacher with a smile and reached out her small right hand towards him. He smiled and gave his hand to her, letting her hold his fingers.

You nodded and smiled as you shifted your body as well so she could be closer to him. “And you are?” You were a bit shy, but just by being around this man made you feel like as if you already knew him, which was a first for you since he was a stranger.

“Ah, she’s so cute~” He clenched his heart with his other hand, making your sister laugh. “I’m Minhyuk of Monsta X. We were filming a segment for our show, Monsta X-Ray.” He stood back up, looking into your eyes as you stared, your eyes had a shine which enraptured him.

You felt as if you were in a trance and all you wanted to do around this man was smile. “Oo, that’s really cool, I hope you guys had fun, it looks like you did.” You looked past him into the classrooms smiling, seeing and hearing the happiness of many young children, running around chasing or being chased by the teachers.

Minhyuk looked at you, he could feel his heart racing a bit quicker than normal and his face and ears burning up just a bit as he observed your features, which was strange since he wasn’t a shy member or person at all; he was always bubbly and never shied away, until meeting and speaking with you. “What’s going on?..” He couldn’t quite wrap his head around his personal issue at the moment, but he was sort of excited to be feeling this way. “Yeah, uh we did.” He coughed a bit, looking down at his fingers as they constantly moved, fidgeting with each other until he stopped. “Ah, I’ll go fetch her coat,” his voice was gentle as he looked back to you, kneeling on the ground on one leg as your other leg was stuck out for your sister to sit in it, your little sister holding your face with her small hands, reaching forward to press a kiss against your lips. He left back toward the coat rack, scanning for L/S/N’s coat.

“Is someone being picked up?” The familiar voice of the main vocalist of the group and mom of the group, Yoo Kihyun. He glanced up from his search, seeing the familiar light pink hair as he wore a yellow sweater with the green and orange apron over it. He stepped in carrying a one-year-old, sleeping in his arms after being tired out from running/ crawling around with his tiny arms wrapped around his neck and Kihyun supporting him with one arm below his bottom and his other hand resting on the small boy’s back.

“Yeah, L/S/N is.” He concentrated finally finding the jacket, buried deep hidden between two coats. His voice was monotone as he spoke, removing the hanger off the small coat, about to return it when Kihyun stood in the way.

“What’s up?” Kihyun stood in his way, one eyebrow raised higher as he looked at his member with a curious expression. “You don’t sound like.. You and it’s a bit offsetting.”

Minhyuk sighed, glancing back towards the entrance way where you were, hearing your voice and your little sister’s voice, as you two had a mini conversation which just made his heart melt; how you were so kind and he didn’t know anything about you yet he was intrigued by you, wanting to know you more. “I don’t even know, I have this feeling and it makes me feel.. Shy I guess when I talk to her.” He gestured to you in the room as he talked to Kihyun.

Kihyun carefully peeped over to the entrance, seeing you and your little sister, seeing how you gently smiled into her face, brushing small strands out of her eyes, making cute faces at her. He looked back to Minhyuk, seeing him peeking over to you too, an expression plastered on his face as if he was in class, learning more about his favorite subject. “You like her~” Kihyun’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, trying to contain a smile, for the first time, seeing Minhyuk act this way.

“Do I? Ah, I don’t know what to do,” Minhyuk’s voice dripped anxiety, feeling nervous on what to neck and how he should talk to you. “I want to know her more..” Minhyuk didn’t have an idea on what to do, he hadn’t really felt this way nor acted this way.

“Ask her out.” The next thing Minhyuk knew, he was being pushed out towards you by Kihyun, but it was too late to react, as he stumbled into the room into your arms. He felt the heat rising to his face even more as he was much closer to you now, able to see details in your face.

“A-are you okay?” You felt shy yourself, feeling happy, however, that you had your sister sit in one of the waiting chairs on the side. You looked into his dark brown eyes, seeing his hair, how soft it looked, wondering if it was natural or not, considering you saw a teacher earlier with blondish white hair with blue tips. You could feel his body heat as your hands were placed around his waist.

“Oh, I’m fine, uh thank you,” his voice was flustered, hoping you wouldn't notice. Minhyuk felt heat slowly rising as he stood in your arms, being so close to you.

You soon realized you were staring at him for a bit too long, seeing another teacher with pink hair looking out to the two of you. “Uh, I’m sorry.” You move your arms off him, taking a step back. “Ugh, why am I like this?” you internally cringed at yourself.

He smiled as he now saw you flustered. “Oh, right. Here’s her jacket.” He handed you her jacket. He looked into your eyes, enraptured by them and how bright and how soft they were.

“Ah, thank you.” You took her jacket from his hands and turned towards your little sister who watched everything, but she was still too young to understand so she just sat there playing with her shoes. You lifted her off the seat, making her stand and had her spread out her arms so you could help her put on the jacket as you knelt before her. Normally, she would let you with ease, but this time, she walked towards you, reaching up for her coat. “Are you gonna do it by yourself?” You handed her the jacket, speaking with a slight baby voice. She took her jacket and began to walk behind you towards Minhyuk who watched everything making his heart a puddle for you and your sister.

He knelt down as she walked towards him, a smile on her face with her arms out holding her jacket. “Do you want me to help you?” He spoke playfully to her with a big smile on his face, taking the jacket nicely from her. She nodded her head and giggled in response, sticking her arms out as she usually would when you asked. “Okay~” He carefully helped her with his attention fully on her, making sure he didn’t hurt her in any way, shape, or form. “There you go. Ah, you’re so cute!” He placed his fingertips on her chubby cheeks, making her giggle. She ran forward with her arms open toward him, throwing herself at him and wrapping her short arms as much as she could around him.

“Aw, she likes you so much.” Your heart raced at the scene before you. You had never seen your shy sister down anything like this other than to you or your parents. You sat there on your knees, smiling.

Minhyuk glanced back at you, flashing a smile. “Not as cute as you,” his voice was quiet but he knew you heard what he said when he looked up to you, seeing your cheeks blushing. “Oh my gosh, I just did that.” He realized he had spoken his thoughts out, now making him cringe internally.

“Ah um, thank you.” You smiled at him. You could feel second-hand embarrassment but you figured you might as well make him feel better since you thought the same thing. “Would you want to get some coffee sometime?” You braved yourself internally for rejection. “Of course he’s gonna say no, dummy. You two just met and he’s an idol,” you mentally scolded yourself.

“You can say n-“

“I’d love to,” Minhyuk smiled, his heart racing in his ears. “I can’t believe I did it... Omgomg.” Minhyuk’s mind raced with the possible day. “Uh, what day?” Minhyuk could feel a warm fuzziness bloom in his stomach, feeling nervous, but excited at the same time.

“Mm, when are you free? I’m free on weekends and I know you’re an idol so you must be busy with your schedule and all.” The music industry was tough; idols trained for years to debut, some unfortunately either never to debut or they fail, making them quit or be cut by their company.

From there on, the two of you met again a few days later at a coffee shop a few blocks away from your home. He arrived wearing a gray sweater with a black jacket and ripped jeans and a black snapback with a mask covering his face while you wore a white shirt with light blue jeans with your shirt tucked in the front with vans.

He sat at a table towards the back corner of the cafe, fidgeting with his hands waiting for your arrival but stood up immediately as soon as you approached him. He pulled your seat out and ordered coffee, and from there, sparks were ignited between you two. You two sat there for probably hours making conversation as if you two had known each other from a past life and just catching up with each other.

Now here you were, approaching their dorm as you listened to music. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. “The weather channel lied... It’s not even gonna rain,” you thought to yourself as you looked up at the clear sunny sky as you approached their building. You entered with a key badge Minhyuk had given you so he wouldn’t have to come down every time. You felt the cool breeze of the air conditioning blowing against your face as you entered pass the double doors. You made your way up the stairs, continuing to listen to music. You couldn’t help but smile as you thought of your surprise date and how it would go. You approached the dorm, hearing music and the light clanging noise of what you assumed were dishes through the door.

Minhyuk scanned around the kitchen and to the living room, seeing everything was perfect. After a few days, he was finally able to make the guys leave the dorm so he could have you all to himself without worrying about hearing any laughing or whispers of how cringey he was being with you. The sound of the microwave went off, signaling the end of the popcorn being popped. He had popped two bags since you guys were going to be watching movies throughout the entirety of the day. He opened the microwave, pulling out two bags of popcorn and pouring them into the large bowl he put to the side on the counter. The warm aroma of butter and popcorn spread through the kitchen as the popcorn filled the bowl. He tossed the bag into the trashcan before he heard the knock of you at the door.

You put away your earbuds as Minhyuk opened the door, the savory smell of popcorn which you could almost taste as you entered. He smiled at you, literally being brighter than the sun itself. “Hey~” You wrapped your arms around his body as he did the same, swaying gently as the two of you embraced each other warmly. “Are you ready?” He slowed down the swaying, looking downwards at you.

“Always.” You smiled, stepping up onto your tippy toes to press a kiss on his cheek. You slipped off your shoes, following Minhyuk, noticing how empty and quiet was without the other members around as you stepped in. They usually would lounge about the dorm, not all of them though, but those around would say hi and tease Minhyuk playfully. “Where is everyone?” You stood leaning against the kitchen entranceway, watching Minhyuk as he grabbed the large bowl of hot popcorn.

“I had them go out, so tonight, there won’t be any teasing or any disruptions during our movie marathon!” Minhyuk smiled, pulling you towards the living room where he had got out extra pillows and blankets. “I compiled a bunch of movies from the times you told me you wanted to watch when they came out but never got the chance to due to our own schedules, so.” He placed down the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table which was moved to the side. “Ta-da!”

“Aw, I love it.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around Minhyuk’s torso as you saw the curtains drawn shut as fairy lights were strung from the ceiling, lighting the room ever so gently as they slowly twinkled. He had moved the small table out of the way, placing down blankets along with pillows allowing the two of you to learn your heads on the couch while sitting on the ground. You slowly stepped into the blankets as he followed suit, tucking you in as he brought the popcorn, placing it between the two you. His arm was wrapped around you as he grabbed the remote, playing the movie you had recently been dying to see.

The two of you had sat there for hours upon hours, movie after movie of various genres. There had been moments during movies where the two of you would go from laughing to crying to even screaming. You guys had moved up from your place on the ground to the couch since your bottoms were getting a bit too sore on the hardwood floors, now maying it even warmer and softer for you two to nuzzle up even closer. A romance movie now played on the screen, as it neared the end, even making you tear up a bit, which was unlike you to cry until a sudden boom had caught your attention, making you jump a bit.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Minhyuk felt you jump in your arms as if someone had scared you or something/ He scanned your body seeing no harm done.

“I think, it was just thunder..” You got up from your spot, walking over to the closed curtain on your left, pulling it open to see darkened clouds from above, rolling fast, seeming endless. A bright flash of lightning followed by another crack of thunder filled your ears and sight, sounding as if it were about to crack the sky open. You jumped back, suddenly feeling a warm brace wrapping around from behind you.

“Woah, the sky’s so dark,” Minhyuk’s voice was astonished at the sight before him. Just as the words fell from his lips, heavy rain began to pour with a roar. He looked down to see pedestrians on the streets scurrying into nearby convenience stores for shelter from the rain. The sound of the rain drowned out the light, sweet music of the movie credits from the tv, disrupted by the loud gregarious boom of thunder once again, making the dorm ground vibrate. The wind blew, making the branches of trees whip back and forth, their leaves being turned so their pale colored underside was seen.

You flinched, sucking in a breath of air. You grasped onto Minhyuk’s arms, your body stiffening on its own as your eyes were glued outside.

“Are you scared, sunshine?” He playfully nudged you, his smile disappearing, however when he realized you were not smiling in return, instead, you grew paler. “Sunshine?”

You hated to admit you were scared of thunder, especially for your age since you were almost two years younger than Minhyuk. But you knew you would have to tell him sooner or later to avoid moments like these. “Thunder... Isn’t my.. Particular favorite thing in the world..” Memories of your childhood flashed into your mind, recalling nights where you spent crying silently to yourself as thunder and rain concealed the night sky filled with stars. Your parents were always working hard, always coming home late while you were already sleeping, leaving for work before you woke. You and your parents hadn’t seen much of each other but the love never wavered between you three.

“Oh, I’m sorry... Let’s want another movie? Hm?” He could feel how uneasy you were to the thunder, similar to how uneasy Jooheon felt whenever they made him do something he was scared of. He began ushering you away from the window, closing the curtain though it barely changed the sound of the chaos of nature outside.

You turned away, following Minhyuk as he guided you, sitting you on the couch gently, tucking you in with the blanket before he made his way over to the tv, choosing another movie to watch. You couldn’t help but tense up a bit every time thunder rumbled outside. It was completely harmless, especially since you were inside, yet it was just something you couldn’t control. You took deep breaths, trying to put a brave face on since you didn’t want to seem like a scaredy cat in front of your boyfriend.

“Gotta choose a movie to help soothe Y/N,” Minhyuk thought to himself, contemplating on which movie to put in. The light began flickering as the howling of the wind outside had grew harder. All sounds in the room grew silent, except for the rain as it continued to pound against the glass. “I, uh, hope the members are okay.” He changed the subject, looking back at you with a warm smile with which you returned with the same.

You caught on, continuing it. You just wanted your mind off of the rumbling outside. “Where did they go?” Your voice was light. “Did they tell you where they were going? Or-” The words were caught in your throat as the power went out, darkness filled the room. A slight pang of panic filled you before Minhyuk appeared before you.

“Hey, shh, I got you.” You didn’t realize you had frozen, beginning to feel nervous even though you were completely safe. There was nothing to be worried about, but it had been a while since you had heard a storm. Every time a storm came on, you had just listened to music instead, reading a book as classical or any genre of music played on your phone. You didn’t even care what genre, as long as you didn’t hear any of the low booms from the sky. Minhyuk pulled your head into the space between his head and shoulders, petting your hair.

You snaked your arms around him, holding him firmly within your grasp as if it would make the storm disappear, but it was worth the shot since he was your sunshine.

“Here, it’ll be quieter in my room since the window’s smaller.” He pulled you up gently, leading you down their dorm hallway which leads to their shared bedrooms. Minhyuk slept on the lower bunk so the two of you laid down on his bed as he sat on the outer side of the bed, letting you be on the inside next to the wall. A hold for his ipad allowed him to watch shows or movies, allowing him to be comfortable as he laid in bed. He laid down next to you, putting on one of the movies you wanted to watch, fortunately on metflicks.

You naturally nuzzled yourself around him, breathing in his natural scent. The room was cold from the air conditioning, but you were warmed up against him, his blanket over your bodies. “Sorry..” You felt guilty, feeling as if you ruined your date.

“Y/N, never say sorry for something like this, please,” his voice was firm, yet caring. He turned his head so he made direct eye contact with you, staring into your soul. “I will always take care of you.” He smiled, pressing a long kiss against your forehead before peppering your face, making you laugh a little.

“Thank you.” A warm feeling filled you as the two of you laid there, continuing to watch movies in bed, no longer hearing the storm outside.

~~~~~

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waywardnerd67 · 6 years

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The Prom

Summary: The Winchesters hear of mysterious deaths that were classmates from Truman High School. Sam and Dean go back to Fairfax, Indiana to investigate what is going on. When they get there, it is filled with alumni for the Class of 1998’s twenty-year reunion and Dean gets to experience one high school event he never thought he would. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Peyton Harris (OFC) Pairing: Dean x Peyton (OFC) Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1980 (With Lyrics) Louden Swain Song: “Prom” – Able-Legged Heroes A/N: My second entry for @mrswhozeewhatsis 2018 Louden Swain Fan Project. This time I went with my favorite Swain song, “Prom”. I love how upbeat it is and can’t help but bounce along to it whenever I hear it. Lyrics are bold. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Dean Winchester sighed heavily as he had east out of Lebanon, Kansas. “Sam, are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure that this is our kind of thing?” He asked as Sam was looking over the few articles he had found online. “Two mysterious deaths in Fairfax, Indiana. Oh, and get this, demon omens for the last two weeks. So yeah, I would say this is our kind of thing. I know the last time we were here was no cake walk but we should at least check this out.” Dean nodded, “Alright. At least we’re not going back to that god-awful school again.” Dean shivered as Sam chuckled. Dean stopped in Jefferson City, Missouri to grab some food and stretch his legs. While they were sitting in the little roadside diner, Sam’s phone buzzed on the table. “What is it?” Dean asked as Sam looked down at his phone his worried look on his face.

“There’s been another death in Fairfax.” Sam looked up at his face going from worried to sympathetic. “Okay, so who is this victim?” Sam handed over his phone as Dean looked down to a woman who looked familiar to him. As he read her name his eyes snapped back up to Sam, “You’re kidding? Once again this has to deal with Truman High School?” Dean began reading the article on the death of Amanda Heckerling, one of the many girls Dean had a fling with during their month stay at Truman High. Dean looked up seeing Sam pulling out his laptop and he glanced back down to Amanda’s picture. She was beautiful and she had the perfect family with a husband, kids and even a dog. Dean was once again reminded of what he could not give any one, the perfect life.

“Why didn’t I catch this before?” Sam muttered looking at his computer screen. He turned the screen towards Dean showing a connection between victims. “You’re kidding?” He asked in disbelief as Sam shook his head, “They all graduated the same year you were supposed to. It’s almost like something is…” Dean looked up, “Trying to call me out, let I’m getting that message loud and clear.” He sighed turning the computer back around looking down at his food suddenly not feeling hungry. Quickly, they got back on the road driving six hours to Fairfax. After arriving, they changed into the Fed suits so they could interview Amanda’s family. Dean was sitting outside in the Impala waiting for Sam to finish talking with her husband. People were coming and going from their house that all looked familiar to him making his stomach churning.

He watched as Sam walked out with a girl that took Dean’s breath away. She had long light brown hair, fair skin and hourglass figure. Sam laughed at something she said and then gave her his card as they parted ways. “Who was that?” Dean asked as soon as Sam was in the car. “The woman I was talking too?” Dean gave him a pointed look, “No the tree that was next to you and the woman. Yes, the woman!” Sam chuckled as Dean started to drive towards their motel. “Of course, you wouldn’t remember the nerds from school. That was Peyton Harris. She wore thick glasses, had braces, on the heavier side and always wore a mustard yellow sweater.”

Flashes of her came to Dean’s mind as he remembered that ugly sweater, “Right. Some of Amanda’s friends would make fun of her because she looked weird. I guess it was just a phase.” He glanced over to Sam who rolled his eyes. “Peyton told me that everyone who has died was involved in the twenty-year reunion that is happening this weekend. Amanda was organizing it all so I figured it would be a good idea for us to go. Peyton said she would put us down to be there so we could talk to more classmates.” Dean groaned, “Great. Exactly what I don’t want to do.” Sam snickered holding up a flyer he got from Amanda’s husband, “It gets better. The theme is Prom Night, so we’ll have to dress accordingly. Suits or tuxes are a must.” Sam started laughing as Dean growl. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.”

Jenny said she don't wanna be depressed 'Cause she looks so good in her satin dress And we're playin' the prom

Trevor's sad, he don't wanna be mad But his tux got dirty that he borrowed from his dad, And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin the prom

Dean grumbled as he and Sam walked into the school gymnasium that was decorated with balloons in the Truman High colors and pictures from the senior class. “Dean, is that you? Wearing an apron?” Sam asked trying not to laugh as Dean felt his cheeks burning. “Dude, I hate this.” He said ripping down the picture and placing it in his coat jacket. “I’d appreciate it if you gave me my picture back.” Dean slowly turned towards the lovely voice behind him seeing Peyton in a gorgeous royal blue dress that matched her eyes. “Th-This is your picture?” He asked as he handed it back to her. She pinned it back up on the board and then Dean saw that right next to him she stood with an apron on as well. “Yes, I remembered I had this picture of you from Home Ec class. Our pie one first place our of all the classes mainly because you were an expert on how pies should taste.” He chuckled nervously shrugging, “I do love pie.” She giggled and someone called out her name as she excused herself.

The jock's all cleaned up, we're all impressed But who's that girl, and why's she wearing my dress? And we're playing the prom

The gymnasium never looked so good We're the best fuckin' school in the neighborhood And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom

Sam walked away to talk with some of the alumni there about Amanda and the other victims. After listening to a girl complain about someone wearing the same dress she was and one guy admitting he had to borrow a suit from his dad he decided he needed a drink. Dean walked over seeing a guy spiking the punch who was wearing his old football letterman jacket. “Smart man.” He mumbled as he grabbed a glass for himself. “Trust me, you don’t want to drink that.” He glanced over to Peyton who was walking up to talk with the caterer. “Could you please empty this bowl and refill it with the hurricane mix.” Dean looked surprised at her, “You already pre-spiked the punch.” She smiled at him making him weak in the knees, “No one should have to suffer a high school reunion without alcohol.” Dean nodded smiling back at her, “My kind of girl.” Peyton scoffed and then started laughing, “Not really. I mean I was the loser freak of our class. What was it everyone called me, Mustard Ball because of my sweater and weight.” Dean looked down at his glass knowing he had probably called her that back then.

So grab a girl or grab a guy You better be drunk, 'cause we're already high And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom

“I’m sorry, kids are jerks and I certainly know I was.” A slow song came on and Peyton set down her drink. “Well, you can make it up to me by dancing with me.” She said grabbing his drink and setting it next to hers then pulling him onto the dance floor. “Peyton, I’m not really… I mean I’ve never…” She giggled placing his hands on her hips as she wrapped hers around his neck. “You just sway back and forth. Just try not to step on my feet.” He chuckled, “I make no promises.” He looked down to Peyton who was looking around to the other couples dancing.

For the first time, in a long time, he felt like a normal guy dancing with a beautiful girl. “It’s funny, most of our classmates haven’t changed. The popular girls are still snotty and tow-faced. The jocks are still dumb. I’m still the social outcast who finally got the courage to dance with her high school crush.” Peyton looked up at him through her thick lashes as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Me? Trust me, I’m not worthy of having any feelings for. I’m much more of an outcast than you realize.”

She was about to say something when Sam ran up to them. “Sorry, Dean I need to speak with you. Now.” Peyton let go of him, “It’s fine. Thanks for the dance Dean.” As she walked away, Dean groaned following Sam out to the hallway. “What is it?” He asked and then saw a woman walking into the girls’ bathroom coughing violently. “I spiked the punch with holy water and she just ran out with smoke coming from her.” They ran into the bathroom seeing the woman whose black eyes were shining in the mirror. “Winchesters, don’t drink the punch it’s got a nasty afterburn.” Dean pulled out his angel blade as Sam had out the demon knife. Dean then recognized the woman the demon was possessing.

“The woman you’re possessing is one of Amanda’s friends, why? Why do all of this to draw me out?” She started laughing, “Our new leader wanted to show you what is to come for you and Sam. We are going to take out everyone you love, everyone you met, everyone who has ever spoken to you Winchesters. This is personal boys and my leader isn’t the forgiving type for messing with hell so much. Next on my list is loser turned hottie, Peyton. I don’t know when, but I will get to her don’t you worry. For now, I’ll let you have your fun with her at the Prom.”

Black smoke came from the woman’s mouth as her body dropped to the floor. Sam rushed to her making sure she had no wounds, “She’s just unconscious. He picked her up and carried her out just as Peyton was coming out of the gym. “Rosalie?! What happened?” she asked frantically. “She’s okay, just a little too much to drink is all. Sam is going to take her into the nurse’s office so she can rest.” Peyton took a deep breath as Dean gently rubbed her back. “Are you sure she’s okay?” He nodded as he led her back into the gym.

Someone was up on stage talking about their class, remembering Amanda as their prom queen and the other alumni that had died. “Now, we are going to crown our reunion prom king and queen who are…” Dean looked down to Peyton thinking she would look great with a crown on her head. “Dean Winchester and Peyton Harris!” A spotlight shined down on them as they both stood their shocked. “Come on up guys!” Someone behind them pushed them towards the stage and once they walked up crowns were placed on their heads.

“Congratulations! Dean we all remember what kind of music you loved so this one is for you.” The beginning of AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ started to play as people filled the dance floor again. Dean and Peyton walked back down where Sam was waiting for them. “Wow, king of the prom.” Dean pointed a finger at him, “Not a word.” Peyton started laughing as she grabbed Dean’s hand. “Come on, Dean.” She tilted his crown slightly pulling him onto the dance floor. Dean looked back panicked as Sam started laughing.

We're gonna play all the songs from your favorite groups Rush, AC/DC, Motley Crue! And we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom Yeah we're playin' the prom

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @dwgrl1903 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @weirdoblogger69

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