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luveline · 1 year

Note

Hi Jade, I love your writing, I’d love to request more of Steve with his twins x the reader who’s looking for the cat, if you’re interested in writing that! I gotta know if Evangeline is okay

hey babe, thank you for reading! here’s a part two for this | single dad!steve x fem!reader, 3.5k

Despite their very best efforts, Steve's twins can't find Evangeline the lost cat. Sarah, the loudest of the pair, is passionately displeased for a while.

"Dad," she grumbles, hand in his as they walk back home, "I wanted a party."

You promised via a written message on a flyer you'd given Steve that you'd celebrate with him if he found the lost cat. Steve's obviously no stranger to flirting, it's how he ended up with a kid on either side of him at all times, but he figures it was an offhanded sort of thing, some throwaway sweetness. He wouldn't have given much more thought to it, but when Sarah asked him to explain what she'd written he phrased it wrong, giving Sarah the idea that finding the cat would result in a popcorn party with soda pop and karaoke.

"I can throw you a party," Steve says. It's not especially difficult. He doesn't mind expending the extra effort. "We can have a snack party even if we don't find Evangeline. How does that sound, Charlie?"

Charlie's the quiet one. "It sounds fun," he says.

Steve ruffles his dirty blonde hair. The older he gets, the darker it grows. Sarah's hair is already way darker.

"Do you think Evangeline will be okay?" Sarah asks.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Sar-bear. It's normal for kitty cats to run away when they're gonna have babies, they want to be alone."

"Why?" Charlie asks.

"Uh, well," Steve says, not really sure himself, "I think they're trying to keep the babies safe."

"Did you want to be alone?" Sarah asks.

Steve laughs out loud. He's relieved when they reach their front door, grabbing his keys from his coat pocket to unlock it. He doesn't know what to tell Sarah. Where to start? He didn't have the babies, and does she know that? He kind of thought she thought babies came from pumpkins and butternut squash like he told her a year ago. Lucky for him, Sarah forgets her question because she needs to pee, running up the stairs to the bathroom still in her shoes.

He'd rather her trek mud in than pee her pants, but he calls, "Take your shoes off, Sarah! And wash your hands after, please!"

"Yeah!" she shouts back.

Steve slings his backpack over the bannister and looks down at Charlie, who looks up with a similar expression. Rubbing his hands over his face, Steve drags his cheeks down and asks Charlie, "What are we going to do with her?"

"We could put her back in the pumpkin," Charlie says.

Steve beams. At least one of them still believes it. "We could," he says, kneeling down to help Charlie out of his shoes. "But I don't think she'd fit anymore."

Charlie puts his hands on Steve's shoulders and lifts his feet one at a time so Steve can take them off. He probably doesn't need Steve's help anymore, but Steve is genuinely horrified at the idea of his kids growing up, and he doesn't mind doing it a little longer anyhow. Shoes off, Charlie unzips his coat. Steve peels it off of his shoulders and hangs it up.

"Drink?" Steve asks.

"Yes, please."

He takes Charlie's hand where it's insisting at his hip and together they walk into the kitchen. There's no need for hand holding, but if Charlie wants it then Steve doesn't mind. Only thing is, it makes it difficult to pour juice into cups.

"Are you hungry, buddy?" Steve asks, lowering the cup to Charlie's level.

"Yeah. Dad, it's–"

"What do you want for dinner? Are you hungry enough for a big helping? Maybe I'll make lasagna."

"Dad, it's cold."

Steve frowns at Charlie where the little boy's curling in on himself. Steve picks him up, hands quick to cover his back but careful not to knock his drink over.

"Is it cold?" Steve hasn't taken his coat off yet. "I'm sorry, bud, let's turn up the thermostat."

"It's really cold."

Steve's feeling it now, a chill on his face that hints to an ajar window, or…

Steve carries Charlie the short distance to the dining room that leads off from the kitchen and opens the door. His suspicions are confirmed; the patio doors are wide open, letting the chill of a coming fall pervade the room.

"Woah," Charlie says.

"Woah," Steve repeats. He sits Charlie on top of the table and closes the doors, locking the leftmost with a concerned sigh. Open doors invite creepy crawlies that Charlie can't abide by, or worse, rats.

"Sorry, buddy, let's go find your blanket," Steve says, turning away from the doors. "And your sister."

He forgets about the open doors after a busy night. Sarah and Charlie make lasagna with him, and then they help him wash up. Sarah gets dish soap all over her and decides that she doesn't need a bath anymore because that's what dish soap is for, dad, she's clean now. He haggles with her, and they strike a deal that she will in fact be bathing tonight as long as they can have a party (sans Evangeline the cat) tomorrow.

She was going to get the party anyway. It's a sneaky dad win.

When they've both been bathed and dressed in clean pyjamas, Steve ushers the twins into their bedrooms and bids them both goodnight. Charlie falls asleep before Steve's even left the room, but Sarah takes a little more persuasion.

Steve sits on the side of her bed, his thumb stroking a line up and down the bridge of her nose to the spot between her eyebrows. Her lashes flutter with every crest.

"Do you think Evangeline will be okay?" she mumbles sleepily.

"Yeah, baby, I do. I think she'll be just fine. Don't worry about her, okay?"

"She must be lonely," Sarah says.

Steve leans in, speaking warmly. "What makes you think that? Because she's not home?" Sarah nods. Steve takes a big breath. "Well, think of it this way… She might be away from home, but she has her kittens with her, so she's not alone."

"Does she have a husband cat?"

"I bet she does. He might even be with her," Steve says.

"Maybe we can get a pet cat," she says.

Steve kisses the tip of her nose. "Nice try, Sar-bear."

She smiles, either from his joke or his affection, and touches his arm. "Maybe I can sleep in the big bed with you tonight?"

Steve would let her if he didn't think she was close to falling asleep already. "Tomorrow," he says, letting her down gently. He sits up, his hand on her forehead, stroking back her freshly clean hair. "I love you. Have good dreams, okay?"

"Okay, daddy. You too."

Her eyes shutter closed. He strokes her hair for a few minutes more to make sure she's asleep, before kissing her head, turning off her light, and closing the door.

He stands in the hallway for a second, checking his watch. It's later than they'd usually go to bed but still relatively early, nearing 10PM. He has enough time to swap the load of laundry from the washer to the dryer before he has his own shower, and he could probably squeeze some TV in if he doesn't mind falling asleep on the couch.

Steve does the laundry. He showers. He checks on the twins, peeking his head into their rooms. Sarah's asleep as he left her like a princess, and Charlie's curled up, a pill bug under three blankets.

Steve's scrubbing his hair dry with a towel on the way downstairs and wondering if there's any good ice cream in the freezer when he hears a weird sound. He knows what he thinks it is immediately, but the reality of it being said thing is too weird, too coincidental, and he really actually doesn't want to have to deal with it. His pulse quickens at a wooden knocking sound.

"No way," he says, ditching his towel on the kitchen counter top. He approaches the dining room door, resting his forehead against cold wood. "No fucking way."

The sound grows louder. Steve considers leaving the door closed and dealing with it tomorrow, but he can't. He has kids in the house. And if there's an animal in need of assistance, he doesn't wanna be the kind of person who doesn't help. Even if he's so, so tired.

—

"So you found her there?" you ask, eyebrows raised high.

Steve —Harrington, apparently, from your graduating class— rubs the back of his neck. "Would you believe me if I said the patio door was open?"

"I believe you, Steve, I'm just surprised at the coincidence."

Your neighbour, Serena, looks up from where she's poking at Evangeline the cat and her rabidly meowing brethren to grin. "It's a great coincidence. I'm so happy she's okay. And so sorry she decided to do this here."

Turns out you and the pretty dad from the park are almost neighbours, living one street away. He lives on Cherry Avenue. You live on Cherry Avenue West, as does Evangeline the cat.

"I can, uh, pay for the cleaning," Serena offers.

Evangeline has given cat-birth in the bottom of Steve's hutch, a solid oak piece with a glass front. It's the kind of furniture you'd expect in such a nice home, but the glass-fronted cabinet isn't lined with dishes. It's full of kids' arts and crafts.

Steve crosses his arms across his chest. "Don't worry about it. I've cleaned up worse stuff than that."

"Oh, no, please, let me pay for it. Or at least let me clean it myself."

"It's really no trouble," Steve says.

"It's definitely some trouble," you butt in mildly. "Me and Serena'll clean it, just as soon as we get these cats into crates."

You hadn't been expecting Steve to call you for a while. You'd hoped he'd find the cat, obviously, and hoped even if he didn't he'd try his luck with you. He's a handsome guy with big hands, lean arms, and a smile so gentle it tips into searing; you can't help smiling at him to get him to smile back. It makes your chest feel insanely tight.

There's nothing so thrilling as having a good-looking guy flirt with you. It doesn't happen often.

"If you think I'm gonna let you clean up in my house you've got another thing coming," he says with a bravado that's clearly self-aware. "You guys don't want a cup of coffee, do you? I need one."

"Sure," you say, "I'll help."

Steve's kitchen is the same as the rest of his house, cluttered and clean, lived in and proud of it. There's drawings on the fridge, homemade magnets, poorly painted mugs on a rack by the coffee pot. Kids live here, and they're loved here, evidenced by their artwork in pride of place, and the sheer amount of Goldfish you see in his cabinet when he retrieves a jar of coffee.

"The kids are in bed?" you ask.

"Yep. Though I doubt Charlie's sleeping, he can't sleep through the front door closing. The creaking scares him sometimes."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," you say.

Steve shoots you a smile from over his shoulder. "Don't be sorry," he says, unscrewing the coffee jar. "It's not your fault the cat wanted to have her kittens here. It's not even the cat's fault. Charlie will come down in a minute."

Steve's eerily right. The quiet thump of footsteps patter down the stairs, and the blonde little boy you'd met that afternoon appears at the end of the hall with a mess of cotton candy hair sticking up and a blanket around his shoulders. Steve pours you some freshly brewed coffee and offers you the mug.

"Milk is in the fridge," he says, his arm held out as he approaches his son. "Hey, Charlie. Sorry, we were being too loud, huh?"

Charlie slides behind Steve's legs. "It's not morning."

"No, sorry."

"Who's the lady?" he whispers.

"That's Y/N, we met her at the playground earlier, remember? Because of her friend's lost cat?"

Charlie leans around Steve's legs to sneak a glance at you. You smile and raise a hand to wave at him. He hides.

You bend at the waist. "Hi, Charlie. Sorry to make so much noise while you're sleeping, but we had to come over and see Evangeline. You can tell me off for being loud, I don't mind."

"It's okay," Charlie says.

You beam at him. "Really? Thank you. I promise we'll be much quieter and you can go back to sleep soon."

Steve brushes Charlie's hair back out of his eyes and down flat. "Want to sit on the counter?" he asks.

Charlie nods.

Steve picks Charlie up and puts him on the countertop next to his cooling coffee. Things are quiet and slightly awkward for a minute. You fill the silence with sips of coffee, while Steve's too preoccupied with his kid to touch his own. He rubs Charlie's back, a chubby cheek pulled into his chest, offering up treats in a murmur, "How about something warm? I can make you hot cocoa, you can have marshmallows, too. Would that make you feel better?"

"Are you having it too?" Charlie asks.

"No, I'm having coffee."

"Can I have some coffee?"

"You can have a little sip to see if you like it," Steve says.

You're surprised by his willingness to let Charlie try it, but it's not like he's force feeding him caffeine by the spoonful. Steve blows on the coffee for a few seconds and then holds Charlie's back. "Just a little bit, baby, it's hot and I don't think you'll like it. Just a little sip."

Oh, no, you think. He's so nice.

He's a very tender father. Gentle and patient. He helps Charlie take a little sip and he doesn't so much as blink when Charlie spits it back out into his mug. Steve fills a new mug with water and helps him wash away the taste, laughing without malice.

"I didn't think you'd like it," Steve says. "But good job for trying."

"It tasted sour," Charlie says.

"Are you sure?" Steve laughs again. He looks up at you and lowers his voice. "Would it be a problem for him to see the cats?"

"Are you kidding? Of course he can." You put your coffee down. "Do you like cats, Charlie?"

Charlie loves cats. When Serena's sure that Evangeline won't go into a defensive mom rage, she beckons Charlie forward to watch the kittens wriggling. They're not very active, having just been born, but they're cute, and alien in a way that's boggling. You fawn at his fawning.

"Don't touch," Steve says softly.

"Where's the pumpkin?" Charlie whispers.

"What?" you ask. You can't help yourself.

"Um." Steve trips over his words, "Um– he wants to know where the pumpkin is, where the kittens came out of. Because… that's where babies come from?"

Your lips part. Serena nudges you before you can say something idiotic, and you thank her in your head. "Oh, of course! Well, we had to put the pumpkin outside so the kittens had room to lay down."

It's not smoothly done, but Steve nods appreciatively. Charlie hums and sits back in Steve's lap. "Does Sarah get to have two parties now?" he asks.

You'd thought yourself fine at understanding children, but you never realised they spoke in code.

Steve's voice is almost melodical in its cadence, and his hands do a sort of waltz, a slow, practised manoeuvre as they settle around Charlie's front. "I don't know, buddy. I think one party is enough."

"What was her party for?" you ask.

"Well," Steve begins, "your flyer, she wanted to know what celebrating means. So I told her it meant like when you have a party, and she really likes parties, so she thought if we could find Evangeline, we'd get to have one. But when we couldn't find her, I said we'd have one anyways."

So he's a sweetheart, you think. Good to know.

"It's too bad she's still sleeping," you say. While she might not have found Evangeline, and Steve may not have found her purposefully, she deserves a treat just for looking. You're about to suggest it when Steve tilts his head to the side.

"It shouldn't be too long, now. She always knows when Charlie's not where she left him."

"What, like a sixth sense?" you ask, charmed.

"Exactly like a sixth sense. He was in the hospital for a few days a year ago and she didn't sleep for two whole days. Which is weird 'cos they have separate bedrooms," —you bite back a huge smile at the impassioned tone of his retelling— "and she hasn't slept in the same bed as him in two or three years, but it didn't matter."

"That's sweet, though," you say.

"She loves him more than anyone in the world," Steve says easily. He dips his voice down into a playful grumbling, "But Charlie loves me most. Don't you Charlie?"

They must have had this teasing before, as Charlie knows exactly what to say, giggling and affectionately fond as he protests, "No, dad."

"What?" Steve asks incredulously.

"I love Sarah most."

"Sarah's not here to hear you, buddy."

"I love Sarah the most, and then you, and then Aunt Robin and Aunt Cory, and then grandma." He's apparently been coached on it.

Steve meets your eyes over Charlie's head. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

Sarah appears not long after, clearly surprised by strangers in her house and her dad on the dining room floor. She walks forward, bunny ears on her slippers wagging with each step, eyes blinking sluggishly.

"Daddy?"

"Sarah," he greets. "Guess what? I found Evangeline."

Sarah realises what she's seeing, and nothing can prepare you for how high-pitched she squeals. "Are those kittens?" she asks, stepping over Steve's knee. You stabilise her when she pitches forward and prevent a disaster. "Oh my god, dad! Can we pet them?"

"No, we can't, I'm sorry," he says, "they're still shiny brand new. And sticky."

Sarah's disappointed but doesn't whine. She sits politely beside you and watches the kittens climbing blindly atop one another, her pyjamas warm against your crossed leg.

"As soon as I take them to the vets, you guys can be the first to pet them," Serena says, finally tearing her attention away from her darling Evangeline. "How's that sound?"

"Really?" Sarah asks.

"If it's okay with your dad, absolutely."

You reckon Steve couldn't say no if he wanted to. You all stay there like that for a while, talking in quiet tones until Charlie's falling asleep in Steve's lap and Serena decides it's now or never, attempting to usher Evangeline and the kittens into the huge cat carrier she'd procured. Thank yous and no problems are exchanged at the door, Steve with Charlie in his arms as though the boy, who looks to be five or older, weighs nothing. Sarah waves her hand at the kittens as Serena takes them to the car.

"Dad, we really need a cat," she says.

Steve pats her shoulder momentarily. "Maybe one day."

You hover at the porch step, because there's something you want to ask. It might be odd, but getting this little sneak peek into their life, seeing Steve in action, you can admit to both having a small crush on him as well as wanting to see him again. Even if it turned out to be nothing, you'd want to see him. He seems interesting, charming, and so ridiculously loving; you could use a little love in your life.

"Listen," you say, twirling your car keys around your finger nervously, "about that celebration…"

Steve hikes Charlie further up his chest. "The party?"

"I mean, you did find her. And I'd like to keep my end of the bargain, so maybe… we could celebrate sometime? Together?"

Steve's hand covers the back of Charlie's head. "Are you asking me out?"

You look away from him, accidentally locking eyes with Sarah, who's smiling at his hip like you're the best thing since sliced bread.

"Only if you want to," you say.

"We would love to!" Sarah says.

You can see the moment that Steve bites back a smile. "What she said. We'd love to." He hikes Charlie up again. He must be heavier than he looks. "I really have to put them to bed, but– I'll call you," he says. "Cool?"

"Cool," you say. He generously ignores how breathless you sound, and you say goodnight.

Serena's telling Evangeline off in the car as though she's a reckless teenager when you climb in, but it isn't without love. "What's so unsafe about your own home, Eva? We had that wardrobe all decked out for you, and you chose some random guy's dining room. Some random hot guy," she says pointedly. "Tell me you asked him out."

"What?" you ask, laughing nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She stares at you.

"Okay, fine! Yeah, I asked him out," you admit.

She cheers, "Woo! Good thing. He deserves a nice date with a pretty girl like you after that. We never cleaned out his hutch, you realise?"

You flush all over. "Oh, fuck."

"That might put a dampener on the appetisers."

—-

hello, thank you for reading! if you’d like to request more for this au please go ahead, I’d love to see some<3<3

#steve and the twins #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

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astroboots · 1 year

Note

Idk if you've answered this before, but how boa and frankie met? Was it love at first sight?

At First Sight

Content: Your best friend Santiago introduces you to his other best friend: Frankie Morales

Word Count: 2,000

Homesick Masterlist | Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It is probably not the most romantic thing to say about the man who would one day be your future husband. But the first time you met Frankie, you’d barely noticed he was in the room.

Frankie is one of those men that has a quiet energy about him. Not imposing. Not a braggart. He’s perfectly happy to sit, tucked away into a comfortable corner of the room, sipping on a shitty beer, and almost be forgotten about while the others in the room carry the conversation.

So no, you hadn’t paid much attention to the man with soft curls, and a sleepy smile, when you were screaming your lungs out in the private karaoke booth to the screeching horror of your friends.

In your defense, you're more than a little bit tipsy. Fresh off a six hour exam with wrecked nerves, and Santiago has decided to spend more than his paltry salary with the army should be able to afford on tequila and Aguila that never seems to run out.

Santiago is faring much better than you on your duette rendition of the Celine Dion song you're supposed to be singing together. Because not only can the bastard sing, but he also seems to know the lyrics to the song, instead of whatever you're doing, which is singing the song title over and over again even as the song has moved on. But Santiago saves it, grinning happily as he pulls you in and continues to sing into the creaky microphone.

His sturdy arm, warm and clammy, in the confined small room, hangs over your shoulder. The weight of it is like coming home, and you treasure that contact.

With every chorus, his heat-flushed cheeks inch closer and you try to ignore it, in a room filled with your friends, but you end up leaning into the warmth of him all the same.

When you finally wind down and the song ends, your throat is scratching at the lining. You know that your vocal chords are going to be rendered useless for the rest of that week as you sit back down on the squeaky vinyl sofa with Santiago who is already pouring you another tequila shot and shoving the wedge of lime between your teeth.

Your roommate, Greta, tries to offer Santiago's friend the mic when a Michael Jackson song comes on, but he immediately shakes his head, shyly pulling the cap over his forehead like an ostrich trying to hide its head in the sand, mumbling a a quiet excuse that he’s a much bigger Prince fan.

Throughout the evening, the poor man doesn’t sing, and despite the polite smile on his face, you are convinced that he is probably having the worst time of his life.

Not that Santiago seems to pay any attention. He's having the best time of his life, showing off how much better of a singer he is than the rest of you (the show-off) as he downs one Tequila shot after another like it's goddamned tap water.

Santiago doesn't seem to have any care in the world that he's wrangled this poor man into a post-exam party filled with rowdy strangers drunk off their asses. Which is typical Santiago really.

Shaking your head with a sigh, you tap Santiago on the shoulder, and he leans into you allowing you to cup your hand over his ear so he can hear you over the chaotic wailing in the background.

“Is your friend alright? I don’t know his name—”

“Who? Catfish?” Santiago shouts in your face.

You grimace at that stupid army moniker. “Not calling him that.”

From the corner of your eye, you see the said Catfish look over in your direction at his army nickname being called.

You can't really make much sense of the guy. The only thing you know about him is that he is Santiago's army buddy that's staying with him for a few week while they're on leave.

But there's nothing about the man that screams army about him.

He's soft spoken and polite, and despite the muscular build he's positively skinny. Not the brawny, loudmouthed guys you'd often imagined an army guy would be like. But then again it's not like you've seen or been around many of them. Santiago never brings any of his army friends around you or around his family.

It's a separation he clings onto, two different worlds that should never clash, and he's stubbornly steadfast about his refusal to mix the two.

The only exception he's ever made is for this man named Catfish-- and you can't help but wonder what's so special about this man that would have the most stubborn man in the universe go back on his principles.

"You never bring people from the army around, why him?" you ask.

Santiago, doesn't look up from his tequila shot or at you as he downs it before answering. “His family are some rich hot shots, deals with oil or something in New York, doesn’t get along with them. So I told him to come here before we’re deployed again. Better to be among friends right?”

With a tilt of the head, you can’t help but observe the man across the room, making little effort in hiding your scrutiny.

White faded t-shirt, a worn hat embossed with the company logo ‘Standard Heat Oil’, and overgrown hair underneath, the color of deep mud, weren’t exactly the markings of a trust fund kid.

“He doesn’t look it.”

“That’s a mean thing to say," Santiago says as if he's scolding you, but he's smiling at you as he says it.

He leans back in, even closer to you, until his lips are close to your ear so that you can hear him perfectly clear over the mayhem in the background. "He's my best friend over there. It's only right he gets to meet my best friend over here. Be nice to him."

The first time Frankie meets you, he's nervous.

It feels momentous somehow. Like the sighting of the mythical Chupacabra in the wild. A legendary creature told only in hushed whispers around bonfires, but no one has ever seen.

He knows who you are, seen your name on the military packets you send Santiago. Caught snippets of the letters written in your neat handwriting. On the very rare odd occasion, he's even managed to convince Santiago to share some of the chocolate and snacks you send him (for a hefty price).

Santiago doesn't talk about you much. But he doesn't have to say it in words for Frankie to understand that you're important to him.

It's clear from the way his smile goes soft when he reads your letters in his bunkbed. The way he'll unfailingly waste his time on leave to argue with local vendors over the price of ugly postcards to send to you. The way he hoards you like a secret, far out of bounds, like he doesn't want his life and world in the army to taint you.

So when Santiago invites him over tonight, knowing you'll be there. Frankie knows it's important.

He feels like a fiance about to meet his potential in law for the first time. The desperation to make a good impression. That nervous fluttering in his stomach where he's not sure if it's because he has food poisoning or if the beer here in Florida is just that bad. Except, of course, Santiago is not his boyfriend and you're definitely not Santiago's mother.

So far he's probably not doing a very good job at making a first impression.

Santiago being Santiago, had foregone introductions, and so Frankie never even really got to say hi or tell you his name. In the midst of the crowd, he'd somehow ended up being seated in the far end of the room. Away from you. Away from Santiago, sitting next to a couple he doesn't know who have been trying to jam their tongues into each other's throat like there'll be oil if they drill down deep enough.

Out of nowhere, he hears Santiago calls for him, but when he looks up, Santiago is in deep conversation with you.

He sees you observing him from across the room. Sharp eyes pinned on his form like you're trying to figure out what his deal is. The kind of look a shopkeeper of a bodega around the corner would have on a potential shoplifter.

And shit, that means the two of you are talking about him, doesn't it?

His skin prickles and stings under his t-shirt, and he grips hard around the neck of the beer bottle, trying to force himself to take another sip to look busy.

"Oi Fish!" Santiago shouts from the other end of the room, and this time Frankie's sure of it, Santiago is actually talking to him and not just about him.

Frankie looks up to see Santiago gesture at the door, signalling it's time to leave as he stands up and grabs your jacket. Frankie gets up in a haste with a murmured bye on his way out, but he doesn't think it makes much of a difference, the couple next to him is still busy playing whack-a-mole into each other's throats.

He joins the two of you in the cramped hallway. It's dark and smells musty of beer and sweat.

You're a little bit worse for wear at this point, swaying on your step and you're only three steps in when your shoe catches on the lump of the carpet and jolt forward seconds from landing on your face.

His reflexes react before his mind does. Arm flying out to catch you by the waist. Even through the cotton of your shirt, your skin feels warm against his palm.

You're looking up at him with wide eyes, face inches from his. Sharp and piercing, they're intimidating somehow, like if he looks long enough into them you'll find out everything there is about him and yet he can't look away.

"Oh, thanks," you say.

You're still staring up at him, and shit, he's been standing still all this time, not moving... still holding onto you hasn't he?

"You can let go Fish, I got her," Santiago says next to you. Hand already placed on the small of your back and Frankie can feel his arm brush up against him.

The small touch from Santiago is all it takes to send a shock through his spine, and his hand flinches away like it scalds him.

In that brief second, his eyes catches yours again, your head tips to the side, eyes curious. He follows your gaze, to see you observing his hand, before your eyes flicker towards Santiago's arm looped around your waist.

Maybe he's just paranoid. Maybe it's all the nervous energy in him. But something in your eyes seems to change. Recognition, and Frankie feels a cold grip around his spine, like he's burning in a firepit and freezing to death on a snow covered mountain all at once.

"Everything okay, Fish?" Santiago asks.

All Frankie can do is nod dumbly, as he forces himself to take a step forward to keep up with you two. "Where we going?"

"Grabbing food. There's an amazing Cubano place nearby." Santiago answers as he pushes open the door to the outside. "They also serve Yuca fries that this one is obsessed with", he continues as he nods towards you. "You love that stuff too right Frank?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Frankie takes in the cooling air of the outside trying to calm down his nerves and the sudden spike of adrenaline that seems to refuse to leave his system.

"See! You two have things in common already, you'll be best friends in no time," Santiago chimes.

You laugh brightly at that.

"Yes," you say, and your head tips towards Frankie, eyes observant. But there's a warm and knowing smile on your face that makes the anxious knot gnawing in his stomach ease somehow. "I think Frankie and I have a lot in common."

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#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales #santiago garcia #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #💌 asks

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lukeywritesstuff · 7 months

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Whiskey glasses

Cowboy!LukeXOC

(Part 2 of my ‘Everything I Loved’ series)

Word count: 724

Warnings: excessive drinking, swearing, slut shaming, corny usage of lyrics

Gif by: jonasiegenthaler on here (I’m not sure how to properly credit gif makers on here)

Luke’s POV

It’s been a day since Isabella left me in the hotel and I can’t stop thinking about her, so I do what every other pathetic heartbroken man does. Drink whiskey. Lots of it.

‘Yo tendie, pour me another drink’ I sighed, ‘I don’t wanna feel a thing. No more. Hell nah. I just wanna sip till the pain wears off.’

A few moments later I finish and I look at the bartender and pull on the best fake smile I can, ‘pour me another round, line em up so I can knock em down. Two more let’s go, cuz I ain’t never hurt like this before.’

‘Honestly I don’t wanna think about her, wear a ring without her, don’t wanna karaoke with anyone but her. Please make my drink strong, cuz buddy she’s gone.’ I rant.

A few more drinks I’m mumbling again, ‘she’s probably making out on the couch with someone new. Fucking another guy. Fuck why am I so hung up on a bloody one night stand.’

#Everything I Loved AU #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes angst #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes fanfic

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mayzie-grobe · 9 months

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right before i started generation 3 of my family dynamics legacy, i realized i wanted to make some changes to the original challenge !!

so i divided my changes into two sections; partial reworks (4-7) and full reworks (8-10). some of these updates are to take advantage of new packs we've gotten since, or to play with aspects i've personally never touched. — all edits to the OG challenge in partial reworks will be in red — there's a repeated trait in gen9 (outgoing trait from gen1) so there's an option to use an alternative trait but it will make the challenge harder — reworks with a ⭐ next to them mean they're liable to change either because i'm not fully satisfied with them or because i want to see how the legacy plays out as i get to that point !

if anyone else wants to play with these reworks, go ahead ! but please tag me so i can see if you do !!

Partial Reworks

Generation Four: “Laugh away the pain”

Let’s be honest: you had a pretty good upbringing. Even though there were some rough patches, you know that your parent did the best they could to raise you alone. But, deep down, being alone is the very thing you fear more than anything. So, you cover it up with laughter,…both the laughter which bubbles from inside you and that which you try to create in others. You marry young in a desperate attempt to fill the emptiness that drives you, only to find later that your spouse has chosen another. Eventually, you have to face the fact that your family and the laughter are enough to hold you up.

Traits: Goofball, Loyal, Active

Aspiration: Joke Star

Career: Entertainer (Comedian branch)

Rules:

Master Music Production, Comedy and one instrument skill of your choice

Meet with a group of gym buddies once a week

Marry first significant other as a YA

Become a five star celebrity

Turn blind eye to spouse’s cheating

Eventually divorce spouse; never remarry

Generation Five: “Struggling in the city”

You come from a broken home. Growing up, you witnessed first-hand the havoc that infidelity can bring on a family. You determine from a young age that you will pour your soul into forging close relationships with your spouse and children. The city draws you, and it is there that you decide to make your home. However, despite your best efforts as a doctor later in life, tragedy claims one of your children long before their time. You wear a shroud of sadness from then on, but find that the love of your remaining child(ren) and your ability to express yourself through song might just pull you through in the end.

Traits: Gloomy, Genius, Music Lover

Aspiration: Super Parent

Career: Doctor

Rules:

Master singing and parenting skills

Reach level 5 of the logic skill

Have more than one child

Win at karaoke night at least once

Lose one child to death

Visit child’s grave at least once per week; leave their bedroom untouched

Generation Six: “Living with a broken heart”

You lost a sibling at a very young age and witnessed your parents’ grief while still trying to process it yourself. Rather than trying to pick up the pieces, you let the sadness consume you. You give into your darkest thoughts. Theft and criminal activity appeal to you, and eventually you give yourself over to that lifestyle. Even though you’re more at home in your contemplative solitude, you take comfort once in a one-night-stand. But there’s a surprising side to you; the raging in your heart is only calmed by the time you spend making things with your own hands.

Traits: Kleptomaniac, Loner, Maker

Aspiration: Public Enemy

Career: Criminal

Rules:

Run away from home as a teen & never speak to parents again

Do not “inherit” any money from parents

Make candles and juices as a coping method

Master mischief, fabrication, and juice fizzing skills

Steal at least 10 items over the course of generation

Have a one-night-stand with a coworker that results in pregnancy

⭐Generation Seven: “Here to make a difference”

There is only one word to describe your childhood: lonely. You knew from a young age that the parent you lived with took no pleasure in your company, and you’ve always felt that you were the “mistake” that resulted from a careless decision. As a result, you pour effort into building relationships with those who truly care about you, and even attempt to mend relationships with those who don’t. You have a core group of people who mean the world to you, and you spend as much time with them as you can. Becoming a teacher was an obvious choice, as it provides you with the tools you need to reach others. And while you’re a social creature by nature, you never turn down the opportunity to curl up with a good book.

Traits: Good, Insider, Bookworm

Aspiration: Friend of the World

Career: Education career (Professor branch)

Rules:

Attempt to mend relationships with estranged grandparents and parent

Maintain a club of 2-3 close friends from YA onwards

Move in with your club and live with them until death

Master the charisma, wellness, and writing skills

Marry a club member

Have at least two biological children and adopt at least one child

Volunteer with family once a week

Full Reworks

⭐Generation Eight: "Safe in my bubble"

You were born and raised in a really close-knit environment, always having someone to turn to when things got rough. Unfortunately, because of this you struggle to connect with people outside of your family. But that’s okay! You’re more interested in your job anyways. Wait, what do you mean you have to talk to people to work?

Traits: Socially Awkward, Ambitious, Creative

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Career: Painter (either branch) OR Freelance (Artist)

Rules:

Have only one (non-familial) close friend

Visit and paint from reference in 5 different worlds

Master the painting and logic skills

Gain the Workaholic lifestyle

Marry and have one child as an Adult

Generation Nine: "Lonely doesn't mean alone"

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself an orphan, but with your parents dying sooner than anyone else’s that you know, it feels a lot like you’ve been thrown into open waters to drown. But you have decided to take it in a stride and build your own bridges, and burn them as you see fit. Life is fleeting! It’s time to have some fun.

Traits: Non-committal, Outgoing OR Mean, Party Animal

Aspiration: Villainous Valentine

Career: Style influencer career (Stylist branch)

Rules:

Throw three gold house parties

Have a pristine reputation

Make over 10 sims

Have 5 million followers on social media

Have five children each with a different sim

Get married and divorced twice

Generation Ten: "Break the world for you"

Despite your unstable upbringing, you’re surprisingly well-adjusted! You dream of true love and, fortunately for you, you find it! But life is cruel and it's stolen away from you too soon. So, what else can you do besides find someone willing to teach you the ancient and unholy art of necromancy to bring them back! And if they come back wrong, that's okay with you. Because true love never stays dead.

Traits: Hot-Headed, Erratic, Romantic

Aspiration: Soulmate AND Spellcraft & Sorcery

Career: Unemployed

Rules:

Find true love at a young age, significant other dies prematurely

Befriend each Magic Sage, a werewolf, a vampire, and a ghost

Complete the spellcaster spellbook and make every potion

Successfully resurrect significant other and live together in immortality forever

#family dynamics legacy challenge #ts4 challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #family dynamics legacy #ts4 legacy #mayzie-speaks

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moonsharky · 23 days

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woke up in agony and severe nausea. had to rush to the bathroom. in the middle of finding out buddie karaoke was cut *pours one out*

#today is gonna suck #sad fishy hours #moonsharky talks shit #chronic illness tag

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cookdust95 · 2 years

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Discover more about women-only host bars in Gangnam, Korea

South Korea's fast financial development has meant some startling adjustments within its conservative social framework, including the surge of supposed host bars, where wealthy ladies pay the equivalent of countless bucks for male company. In the dim light of a below ground space, a lots perfectly brushed young males stoop in rows, calling out their names. Muscular, with shiny boy-band hairdos, they stuff side-by-side right into the slim space, awaiting us to make our choice. Outdoors in the passage, even more of their associates are getting here for one more night at job. It is 2am, and also we are their very first consumers. Covert underneath the pavements of Seoul's ritziest postal code, Gangnam, the males at Bar 123 become part of a growing market, which outgrew the lengthy customs of Japanese geisha and Korea's kisaeng residences yet with one important difference - the customers right here are all females. Called "host bars", these all-night alcohol consumption areas offer women customers the possibility to pay as well as select for male companions, in some cases at a cost of thousands of pounds a night. 강남호빠 Among the females I fulfill at Bar 123 is Minkyoung, a waitressing manager for a five-star hotel. She claims she involves host bars one or two times a month. Minkyoung is really pretty as well as her garments are immaculate. She does not look like someone that would need to spend for male firm. The attraction of host bars can be subtle. Right here, she claims, she has more interest from her male buddies, more option and also, crucially, even more control. ADVERTISEMENT " In routine bars the men that drink with me have just one objective - to have a casual sex. I don't want that, so that's why I come below, I desire to have fun," she claims. Hosts are hired by bars such as this one to provide companionship as well as home entertainment. Officially that means pouring beverages for their consumers, talking as well as dancing with them, and singing karaoke. Host bar in Seoul Sex is not officially on deal in a lot of host bars. That would certainly be unlawful but also Minkyoung seems delighted to tease as well as touch with her host, and the guys here estimate that around half the consumers wish to spend for sex, either on or off the premises. James has been working at Bar 123 for a number of years. In Korean society, he says, there is a lot of satisfaction and working out a price for sex is never done clearly. Rather, he tells me, it is all down to the host's very own evaluation. " The people here are pros - we understand what we're doing," he states. " After speaking with a lady for an hour we primarily recognize just how much money she makes as well as what she provides for a living. We've currently evaluated her personality and also what she's eager to give." James and other hosts claim their consumers include several of South Korea's elite, which the money as well as rewards on offer boggle the mind. One client James met, during his initial week in the job, asked him to sign himself over to her for two years. " She said 'allow's make an agreement. I've got this paper and I've numbered it 1-5. Whatever you list following to those numbers, I'll get you.'". James claims at the time he took it as a joke however given that learnt the exact same lady invested ₤ 60,000 ($ 97,000) on one more host. " If it happened now, I would certainly do it - I 'd be thinking straight.". Ironically maybe, host bars expanded out of among Korea's most entrenched and also, some state, misogynist service traditions - the area beauty salon. These are exclusive drinking spaces where teams of guys pick, and are served by, appealing female hostesses. It was the hostesses' requirement to allow off vapor after job, says expert host Kim Dong-hee, that created the preliminary need for host bars, with all-male personnel. " What these hostesses desire is to [make us] do the very same point they needed to do in their very own workplace. These women are compelled to do things they do not want to do for cash. " I assume a great deal of them are in pain, and a lot feel lonesome. Basically, they intend to purchase our time and our bodies.".

Hostesses still make up a huge percentage of the customers at host bars here, but at Bar 123, for instance, up to 40% of the consumers on a provided evening are now from various other strolls of life. The factors for that expanding allure are bound in South Korea's rapid economic surge. Within 50 years, the country moved from post-war destruction to OECD participant. According to Jasper Kim, head of the Asia-Pacific Global Research Group in Seoul, something essential was shed along the means. " I assume that with all this fast growth comes quick change, as well as Koreans simply do not recognize how to deal with it. Significantly, commercialism is overtaking fundamental societal standards that you would certainly expect a pair of decades back.". Jasper Kim claims South Korea's notoriously lengthy working hrs have left lots of Korean females really feeling lonely, while the country's technical breakthrough has left lots of people really feeling removed. " The human element of Korean society that existed before merely does not exist today. People are concentrated on technology, individuals are concentrated on their tasks, they aren't concentrated on human relations any longer. " In several methods, Korean culture today sort of reminds me of 1960s culture in the United States, where it's on the verge of some kind of social transformation.". The grandfather of Seoul's host bar scene, Kim Dong-hee, agrees that a lot of the ladies that come to host bars are not paying for sex yet for friendship, which is why he opened a new chain of freshly-marketed electrical outlets focused on the mainstream market - called Red Model Bars. Red Model Bar hosts. Image subtitle,. Hosts at Red Model Bars can not touch customers. " Men wish to have aesthetic enjoyment and wish to feel things, they're tactile. Females like to talk and also to pay attention. And also that's why I believed of opening a bar such as this - a kind of discussion bar.". Red Model Bars are different to traditional host bars in one vital regard - there is a no-touching regulation. Hosts rest on one side of the table, consumers on the other, as well as no physical call is allowed, and also absolutely no sex. Maybe consequently there is a lack of furtiveness among the people that function or consume alcohol here - the lights are reduced, the decoration mostly dark red as well as the area is separated right into very discreet cubicles, yet it is an open-plan area and also hosts and clients are split in each booth by a large table. This brand-new business version depends totally on women paying the matching of hundreds and even countless bucks to speak with fine-looking boys over a drink. Still, it seems to be functioning - three brand-new branches are due to open this year. Resting at a table at one end of the bar was one of their normal customers, a flower designer called Kim Nayu. She tells me she comes here each day to fulfill her preferred host as well as discuss issues she is contending work. The cost for this slice of male interest is $487-650 (₤ 300-400) a day. " Talking to pals would certainly be more affordable" she admits, "yet they don't listen as much. They're busy, and in a hurry to speak about themselves. Below, individuals will take notice of me as well as they'll listen to me.". " I spend a great deal of cash however it deserves it wherefore I obtain emotionally. Individuals pay to head to see a psychologist or psychoanalyst, so it's comparable however less stressful.". Nayu's favorite host Sung-il states it can be tough to maintain his personal as well as specialist life different. " Honestly I 'd be lying if I state I haven't been tempted to take points additionally with some consumers, due to the fact that we're human, we're males, yet there are regulations.". One of his customers talked a lot to her spouse about him and when the 3 of them met, Sung-il and the husband came to be friends. " No one conceals - the workers don't conceal that they function below, as well as consumers can be open as well.". This openness is positioning a new sort of obstacle to South Korean society, various from the sometimes sleazy abyss of standard host bars as well as their hinterland of male hooking. By providing females a "reputable" method to test conventional sex duties and also bend their financial power, these brand-new bars ask inquiries of Korean society that are ending up being harder to neglect. Listen to the full record on BBC Radio 4's Crossing Continents. You can pay attention by means of the Radio 4 site or through the Crossing Continents podcast. The allure of host bars can be refined. Here, she says, she has more focus from her male friends, even more option as well as, most importantly, even more control. James has actually been working at Bar 123 for a pair of years. Instead, he informs me, it is all down to the host's very own evaluation. As well as that's why I assumed of opening a bar like this - a kind of dialogue bar.".

#강남호빠

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homoose · 4 years

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Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Note

"You should sing the other person's part, this is a duet after all"

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart-

Rowan cringed as the karaoke music blared over the speakers of the bar.

It was 70’s night at The Sea Dragon, and Aelin begged him to come out with their friends. Initially, he’d declined- but the promise of a free drink and watching Elide force Lorcan to sing Celine Dione was tempting.

It didn’t hurt that his fiancé looked great in a gold jumpsuit.

What he hadn’t expected was for their normal, dingy haunt to be so crowded. Their group was stuffed into a round booth right next to the stage. His head was three feet from the speaker and the base was rapidly giving him a headache.

Aelin kept up on her promise, and an ample supply of alcohol was in front of him at all times. It was so far the most enjoyable part of the evening.

Fenrys, Lorcan, Aelin and Lysandra all put their names on the list, but their last slot wasn’t until midnight. By 11:00 Rowan was already several shots and a couple of beers down.

That was his first mistake.

Aelin and Lysandra’s spot was up first. They were much further down the rabbit hole than he was, and halfway through their rendition of “Dancing Queen” the girls were laughing too hard to actually make out words.

Rowan pulled an intoxicated Aelin into his lap and she nuzzled into his neck. “Another round,” he flagged the waiter passing their table.

Lorcan scowled as Elide forced his hulking body onto the stage. There wasn’t enough vodka in the world to make Lorcan Salvaterre happy about karaoke night, but there was little he wouldn’t do for Elide.

“He’s so whipped,” Fenrys chuckled next to him as the music for My Heart Will Go On started playing.

“This isn’t even a 70’s song?” Aelin mumbled against his chest while he filmed.

Elide giggles, “I tipped the MC to make an exception.”

Lorcan made it through the song, half mumbling the lyrics. When he finished, their whole table stood up to clap for him.

He slunk into his seat and scowled at Rowan, “If that video pops up anywhere I’m burning the present Elide got for your wedding shower.”

Aelin pats Rowan’s thigh. “It’s worth it, babe.”

By the time midnight finally rolled around, Rowan was so drunk that the base of the speakers no longer bothered him and some of the singers actually sounded good. Every time the glass or bottle in front of him emptied, Aelin waved for someone to refill their drinks.

He complained about the money she was burning, but Aelin assured him she made more than enough to cover the cost. Rowan still wasn’t entirely used to having a rich fiancée, but on nights like this it could be incredibly fun.

“Okay all you babes,” Fenrys slurred into the microphone, tugging open a button on his shirt. “I’m going to sing a song for you tonight. A good song, but first,” he holds up a swaying finger. “I need someone to join me.”

A familiar tune starts to pour into the room, he’d heard it before but couldn’t quite remember the name. Why couldn’t he remember the name?

“Rowan!” Aelin smacks a hand against his chest. “I love this song!”

“Anyone?” Fenrys smiles awkwardly.

Glancing down where Aelin was still gripping his shirt, he saw something glint in her eyes but he was distracted by her face. His fiancée was so damn pretty.

“You should sing the other part of this song.” Aelin lays her head against his chest and bites her lip. “It is a duet after all.”

“I don’t know babe,” he mumbled, but Aelin looked up at him with those eyes. They were so blue.

Lorcan clasped a hand on his shoulder, “You wouldn’t say no to your future wife would you?”

“Please, babe. I’ll make it worth your while?” Aelin traces a finger along her name on his arm.

He relented.

Fenrys looks relieved that someone finally decided to join him. “Hey! It’s my buddy, Rowan. Come sing with me?”

Rowan stumbles up onto the stage. A mic was pressed into his hand and he looked at it a little baffled. Why was the round part so large?

“Don't go breaking my heart,” Fenrys croons off-key into the mic.

The song was slowly coming back to him. He’d definitely heard it before. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

He sung the words, uncertain if they were the correct ones. Rowan looks into the crowd and when he sees Aelin’s smile, decides he didn’t care so long as she kept smiling like that.

Him and Fenrys dance around the stage, really getting into the groove of the music. At some point, Fen loses his tie, and Rowan undoes a few buttons himself not to be out done. People are cheering them on and it feels good.

That’s his second mistake. He just won’t realize it until morning.

Woo hoo

Nobody knows it

But when I was down

I was your clown

Fenrys bends at the knees, rotating his hips completely out of time with the music. Someone in the crowd whoops, but even slightly intoxicated Rowan knows he isn’t going to do that.

But he really can’t have his best friend out perform him when his fiancée is sitting right there.

So Rowan does the first thing that comes to mind.

Tugging at his shirt, the buttons yield to the force and a few even pop off. People go nuts, he even hears a few whistles come from the back row.

Aelin’s eyes are wide as he tosses the black material at her.

They belt out the rest of the lyrics together. The two of them never stop moving, sweat beads against their brows but they press on.

Don’t go breakin’ my

I won’t go breakin’ your

“Don’t go breakin’ my heart,” Rowan and Fenrys finish at the same time. Everyone goes absolutely wild, a couple people even throw dollar bills their way.

Rowan stumbles off back into the crowd and sinks into the chair next to Aelin. “Did I do good, babe?”

Aelin discretely tucks her phone into her bag. “You did great.”

“No,” Fenrys slams his hand on the table. “We did amazing. They loved us.”

Lysandra snorts. “They loved your abs. You two sounded like donkeys.”

Rowan leans his head against Aelin’s hair. “I’m not feeling great, babe. Do you care if we head home early?”

“Not at all,” Aelin stands up from the table, and he has to lean against her heavily. “I think tonight is unforgettable enough.”

#prompts #kareoke #rowaelin au #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #shyvioletcat

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dirtycccat · 4 years

Text

special (soft) moments with the demon bros

edit: the undateables version here

lucifer

one time you told him in passing you like the kind of music he listens to

at first he was surprised, but afterwards he invited you to join him in “listening to some fine tunes” whenever you desire

...so now you have weekly meetings in his study where you both sit in silence listening to records; him, working at his desk, you, reading or doing homework by the fireplace

when you get closer you recommend him new records you think he would like and he gets them for both of you to listen to

...this is how you got him into 20th century jazz

he lowkey loves it (especially chet baker because they’re both melancholic romantic fools)

bonus: sometimes you convince him to slow dance with you. this works especially well when you’re both in the mood and maybe a bit tipsy...after a while though, he’s the one that stand up and offers you his hand, inviting you to dance with him wink

mammon

after taking you partying with him and seeing that you actually like it as much as he does, you become his party buddy

asmo joins you as well sometimes, but by 2 am it’s always only the two of you left

...which is fine since mammon always gets into the funniest drunk party situations

joining random party games? stumbling into heated debates about who has the biggest boobs between beel and diavolo? comforting drunk crying demons in bathrooms?

he’s done it all and he just keeps getting into crazier and crazier situations

but this also means you have the greatest party stories to share after a night out in town with mammon

(also he always keeps you safe when you’re with him and makes sure you drink enough water and get into bed ok)

leviathan

of course when he found out you both like similar stuff, he asked you to watch shows together with him

this is how your weekly movie/anime marathon began

those nights are all about you, levi, henry 2.0, and watching 2 seasons of anime in one sitting just because you can

(you totally live off soda and snacks said days)

at one point you convince him that you just have to make pillow forts and put his mood lights inside for the *aesthetic* and that yes that would make this experience even more amazing

when you get closer he makes you a mixtape with all the anime openings, endings and other songs from the shows you watched together, so you can think about the time you shared with him when you listen to it

he dies when you surprise him, making one in return too

satan

he likes books. you like books. this is already a match made in heaven. or hell.

you hold weekly book clubs where you discuss your latest reads and give each other book recs

...while enjoying some tea by candlelight of course

somehow you always end up looking at cat videos online after you finish?

during warm days you turn your book club into a picnic outside with the local cats

it’s just you, satan, some books, snacks and tea, and his immortal army of cats

after being in the devildom for a while you totally adopt a cat in secret

...until it escapes your room and goes exploring the house of lamentation

which means at one point they meet lucifer. and he’s not happy.

you make satan behave and give his best puppy eyes together with you until lucifer agrees to let you keep it, but only if you both take care of it

congrats nerds you’re now the parents of a furry baby

asmodeus

we know asmo is the queen of self-care

and that he asked you to join him several times

but what if you both share another passion: wine and gossip in sexy lingerie

it’s not even sexual; you just get together (post self-care session), put on your best silky lacey lingerie, pour some wine and bitch about stuff with soft music in the background and scented candles lit for the atmosphere

you do this weekly now and honestly you have never felt so calm and relaxed in your life

needless to say, this turned into one of your favorite past times, and his too

it’s just so relaxing?? and great? and you get to feel cute and sexy and confident and just?? free and chill

(sometimes you both get too tipsy and either have ugly crying karaoke or sexy lap dance competitions. there’s no in between.)

beelzebub

when beel asked for a workout partner he didn’t expect that you’d actually want to work out with him

but he isn’t complaining

you both motivate each other to do your best!! and give 100% during your workouts!!!

also sharing those moments after your workout where you feel super energized and giddy?? priceless.

after doing this for a while you convince him to try doing stuff together with you

so now instead of normal cardio you learn how to dance together

because dancing is great cardio

you’re both get to have fun and have a great workout so it’s a win win situation

bonus: at one point you convince belphie to join you so now you do dances in 3. which ends up in either some dances with crazy changes of partners or you three holding hands and moving around in a circle, boomer party dance style

belphegor

he has two passions: sleeping and stargazing

but spoiler alert: so do you

you get together in the planetarium with a book of astrology and try to name all the stars you can see

and learn their meanings

...and by you it really means only you, because he already knows all of this (but he enjoys seeing you being excited about something he likes as well)

he tells you all the stories he knows about the stars, sometimes comparing them to the stars from the celestial realm

he looks so happy and alive when he talks about the sky, you can’t help but smile at him

when you both get too tired to keep your eyes open, you snuggle together and go to sleep there, underneath the night sky

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mochii0park · 3 years

Text

meraki; 02 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, i had fun writing this chapter tbh

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< chapter 01 | next chapter >

You absentmindedly twirl in your chair, chewing on the pencil in your hand. The ticking of the clock was inaudible from the loud sound of keys smashing against the keyboard. Your mind raced in different directions and to say you were anxious was an understatement. A black polished oxford shoe lands harshly on the surface of your chair halting your twirl. The stain is starkly visible, inhabiting your mind and annoying you endlessly.

Min Yoongi pulls his foot back; the action makes your chair stroll backwards the back hitting your desk. “I am not paying you to slack off during work hours.”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll your eyes. He exhales, leans forward, and takes the sheet of paper from your lap. You could feel the level of disappointment rise with each sigh as he reads the lines of the text.

“I understand inspiration has to come to you, but it’s been months.” He scraps the paper throwing it into the bin, the action itself telling you what he thought of your work.

To be honest your thoughts on it didn’t differ much.

“I am sorry. It hasn’t been my month.” Or your year. You cower further into the chair. It was embarrassing enough to fall behind because of your private issues but having your higher up pity you was by far worse.

Yoongi shakes his head taking a seat on the sofa. He unbuttons his sleeve pulling them until they reached his elbows. Working for him for over two years made you know that whatever matter he was about to discuss was serious.

“The single didn’t do well,” you nod as you recall seeing it flop dramatically,” We need to produce an album that will reach the top ten charts. That won’t happen if you sit here twirling for hours with nothing to show me.”

“I understand.” He clicks his tongue, a ding from his phone gaining his attention as he signals for you to hold your thought.

You mumble hypocrite under your breath relieved when he gives no reaction to the word as he locks his phone looking straight at you. He crosses his legs, hands intervened on his knee as he rocks back and forward.

He glances up at the ceiling whistling an unfamiliar tune. After a few seconds, he stops rocking, taps his knees enthusiastically and walks towards the guitar. He whistles the tune over and over until he manages to perfectly string it through guitar chords. You stare at him watching closely as he scribbles a few notes and tosses the paper to you.

“Try to write something that would go well with this tune.” -was the last thing he said before he put the guitar back in its stand and left the room.

You let the frustration out through a scream, the soundproof plates securing it between the four walls. Ignoring the papers laying in front of you, you dig through the content of your purse. You extract pack of cigarettes. The clock on the desk flashes 10 pm and you know a long night was ahead of you.

The lobby was empty, the patter of your shoes cutting the silence. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for the lift to take you to the rooftop. Smoking was forbidden in the KT entertainment building so your only options either the roof or the yard in front of the company.

“Graveyard shift?” A voice to your right says.

You scoff placing a cigarette in the mouth. “Yeah, you too?”

Baekhyun nods following you inside the lift. “I wish trouble wouldn’t follow Jungkook everywhere he went.”

“He got into a scandal?” Baekhyun catches the doubt in your voice and smiles.

He closes his eyes, resting his head against the mirror. You watch with pity as he breathes out in defeat. “It wasn’t him per se. A friend of his caused ruckus in a karaoke bar in Busan. Somebody sent an image of him leaving the bar. He was drunk and accompanied by a girl.”

You whistle at the last part. Idols getting caught with a female was almost like a death sentence for their career, no matter if the female was just a friend. Jungkook was the star of KT Entertainment, the one who brought the revenue. The idol has had a clean image so far. He did drink and lit a cigarette with his friends but, who didn’t? Although he wasn’t problematic, he had a knacker for attracting trouble.

The lift stops at your designated floor and Baekhyun jumps already halfway through the door. You follow behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself for some warmth. The cold night leaves traces over your cheeks, reddening them. You inhale the air, the scent reminding you of last year’s autumn. The image of Seokjin smiling at you as he crunches leaves is shattered by Baekhyun. He stops in front of you a spark flashing from his lighter casting different shades over his face.

You lean in, inhaling the nicotine as the tip of the cigarette burns. You observe him as he inhales a smoke before exhaling it and making a circle out of it. You often forgot he was six years your senior. His youthful face and the lively person often misled people believing he was far younger.

He leans against the rail, a hand in the pocket of his jeans. The scenery in front of you looked like a young adult novel. The light of the city flashed behind Baekhyun, his figure coming out as a blur because of the smoke. His newly dyed red hair catching your attention.

The silence between you wasn’t an awkward one, on the contrary, it was comforting. Finding a smoke-buddy like him was a blessing. He wasn’t very talkative despite his upbeat personality; he somehow distinguished your emotions well and knew when to speak and when to be silent.

“Did Yoongi punish you again?” He breaks your train of thoughts, choosing the spot closest to you to stand.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it punishment,” you throw the bud on the floor stepping over it lightly before you throw it in the bin, “but I do have to write some lyrics to a beat of his choosing.”

“Sounds like a punishment to me.” He chuckles as he lits another cigarette.

You shrug your shoulders. Working with Yoongi hadn’t been at all difficult as how people told you it would be. When you applied for the position, you read various posts on forums about Yoongi’s wrath and the difficulty of the tasks he gave. Many people criticised him for his mentorship, but you had found it refreshing. He never sugar-coated his opinion; he was straight to the point kind of a guy, and you liked it. Well, not every single time but you can’t have the best of both worlds in this industry.

“I can handle it. He’s right, I am behind deadlines, and I should focus on work instead of my personal life.”

Baekhyun looks like he wants to say something but quickly changes his mind. Throwing the bud over the rail he presses the down button. You punch him on his shoulder, hating the way he never cared much about the environment and the disposal of his trash.

“I’ll see you around. Maybe for a coffee next time?” Baekhyun smiles as you exit the lift, and you hum a quiet yes before going in the direction of your studio.

A part of you always felt bad for turning down Baekhyun’s invites for a coffee. You knew his motives were nothing but friendly seeing as you’ve met his long-term girlfriend Dayhun. The two were a match made in heaven having the same humour and playful personality. Sometimes it came to the point where they morphed into one person which gave you the creeps.

You laid on the couch, legs looking at the ceiling, back twisted and the head narrowed to the floor. It was half-past midnight, and inspiration was lacking in every sense. You scrunched the papers with words you thought were bad and aimed for the bin in the corner. You have yet to hit the bin, the papers lying next to it.

You were about to throw the next paper when your phone buzzed. Deeming the notification oh so important you fish it out of your back pocket staring at the screen. Yoongi’s name appears under the official e-mail inviting all the employers of the KT Entertainment tomorrow for a celebration of Jeon Jungkook winning an award for the Male Musician of the Year Netizen Vote and his single Still with You winning the Best Pop Song.

You sit up straight preparing yourself to decline the invite when a message pops up.

Min the Boss Yoongi

The invitation isn’t optional for you. You are required to come.

Y/N

You didn’t even ask if I was busy tomorrow night?

Min the BOSS Yoongi

Are you busy tomorrow night?

Y/N

No, but that’s beside the po-

Min the BOSS Yoongi

Great, see you at 8 pm tomorrow.

You massage your temples trying not to sink further into the frustration you felt for this man.

Y/N

Fine.

Min the BOSS Yoongi

I wrote that everyone could bring a plus one if they desire, seeing as the two of us and Jeon’s manager will be working tomorrow night, I highly advise you not to bring a plus one. I won’t mind if you do, but they might since you will be by my side most of the time.

You type a quick reply and toss the phone into your bag. Sehun wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a plus one knowing he wanted to infiltrate himself into the upper society. Meeting people of such status equalled cases with greater stakes and greater stakes meant higher pay. You were gathering your belonging when a soft knock on the door caught your attention.

Baekhyun’s head pops behind the doors. “I was about to leave do you need a ride?”

You smile at him and nod. Baekhyun gives you a thumbs up, happy knowing he won’t be driving home alone at this hour. Luckily for you, he lived nearby and had given you plenty of times a ride. You get up from the couch and throw your purse over your shoulder, locking the studio.

As you walk to the car you discuss tomorrow’s party in Jungkook’s honour. You chuckle as Baekhyun grabs his head already imagining scandalous scenes pernicious for Jungkook’s career.

______

At the sight of the guests’ attire, you felt severely underdressed. The sleeveless v cut dress tightened by a small knot on each side of your shoulders fell a little bit above your knees. Combat boots were your go-to footwear on such occasions, unlike the rest of the women at the party you needed to feel comfortable in order to finish tasks. You had to run around from one place to the other, obeying each order your boss gave. Sometimes you felt more like a secretary than a songwriter. Under such circumstances, high heels weren’t an option unless you wanted blisters.

The metal rings on your fingers clanged against the glass deconcentrating you. The room swarm of people of different ages and statuses. You fell back blending well with the rest of the staff you tolerated. Baekhyun stood next to Jungkook, the younger if closely examined looked exhausted. Yoongi stood a few feet away talking to a group of men, some that you recognized.

A hand taps your shoulder, a familiar lavender scented perfume reaches your nose. Momo lays her head on your shoulder. “I thought this was a party. It feels more like a business gathering.”

Momo had been the main choreographer at the KT Entertainment. She was the type of person whom you couldn’t hate even if you wanted to. Kind natured and a bit naïve, she was the heart of the company always ready to help you or brighten your day.

You chuckle as you pat her head while she twists the straw in her cocktail. “Well, Min Yoongi organized it. He wouldn’t know what fun was even if it hit him straight in the face.”

Momo chuckles. “But he sure knew what handsome meant. Look at those men at his side.”

Something you noticed while working for him was the pallet of handsome men he knew which he called close friends. The first you met was Park Jimin, a highly respected dancer that occasionally stepped in to fill for Momo when she was absent. He was very charming and well equipped with words that bared red shade to the cheeks of female employers.

After Jimin, you’ve met Kim Namjoon, a literary professor who frequently reviewed your work. He was shy which often came off as reserved but overall, he was a pleasant company to have when going through your lyrics. He gave them the spark that was much needed to make the song into a hit.

Next to Namjoon stood Kim Taehyung. You’ve met him on one occasion when you barged into Yoongi’s office after he sent a rather rude message. Out of all Yoongi��s friends, he was the one you knew the least. Unlike Namjoon’s unintentional cold behaviour Taehyung’s was deliberate. He didn’t even introduce himself as he left the office making you feel like shit for interrupting what seemed an important meeting.

Another person who was part of Yoongi's close circle is Kim Seokjin, who recommended you to Yoongi. The two were childhood friends and somehow, you’ve never heard of the name Yoongi until two years ago. As much as you hated Jin now, you were still grateful for his help.

The last person in the circle was unfamiliar to you. He fitted well with the others, his handsome face wearing a smile that never flattened through the conversation as he jumped into Yoongi’s words a few times causing the gang to laugh. He had to be very close to Yoongi for your boss not to bash him for interjecting but rather send him a smile.

Momo lifts her head from your shoulder and stands in front of you. “Did you notice one of Yoongi’s friends absent from parties?”

You swallow a lump at the thought of your best friend before you quickly shake your head. “No, not really.”

“Call me crazy but I’m sure I saw Kim Seokjin at these parties before.”

“Can’t recall. Why do you care about him when Park Jimin is over there?” You try to change the subject hoping Momo would take the bait.

She huffs rolling her eyes. “You know I am not a big fan of him. Sure, his work is splendid but him? His personality? It needs a major rework.”

You chuckle at her disgusted expression as she jabs the olive pretending it was Jimin’s face. “Well, then you have Jeon Jungkook.”

“What am I? The company’s serial dater? Can I be honest with you?”, Momo says you follow her line-of-sight landing on Jungkook.

“Sure.” You say as you watch him push past people before he stands next to Jimin, engulfing the older one in a hug.

“I am sorry I know you work with his team, but I hate his songs. They feel like all the washed pop songs you hear on the radio. The whole night I’ve been lying to people saying his latest one is amazing.” You laugh loudly at her confession partly sympathising with her. It was ironic how much you both loved the songs you wrote for him and hated.

“No need to apologize just because I work for him.” You shrug off her apologetic smile, her lips fall into a straight line after she swallows a big sip of her drink.

“It’s still kind of awkward. We work together Y/N, I make all of his choreographies.”

“So? Just because you work together doesn’t mean you have to be a fan.” She nods soaking up your words. She goes to take a sip of her drink, but she groans in surprise at the empty glass.

“I’m going to get another cocktail. You want some?”

You shake your head, and she shrugs her shoulder starting to walk away. Before she can disappear from your sight you call out for her. She turns around tilting her head slightly. “Who’s the fifth guy in Yoongi’s circle?”

You watch as she searches for Yoongi and the rest of the gang. The man in question seemingly sensing you spoke of him looks up at you offering you a smile. He was by far the most handsome one in the group by your standards. Dressed from head to toe in red he, stood out in the mass, the waisted suit hugging his body showing off his well-built figure.

Doubting the smile was for you, you look around searching for the real receiver not wanting to look like an idiot if you return it. Seeing your action, the man laughs which catches the attention of the group.

When Yoongi turns around motioning for you to join them you flush. As you pass Momo her touch lingers for a while on your elbow. She darts close whispering in your ear.

“That’s Jung Hoseok.”

The information left you out of breath, the e-mails he kept sending replaying themselves in your mind. You stumble a bit when Momo’s light touch disappears. Feelings a set of eyes on you, you regain your footing and walk towards your boss. Each step feeling heavier.

There was no one else to blame for the situation you found yourself in but yourself. You knew who Hoseok was in theory, he published many bestseller books and everyone who was even remotely into writing had some knowledge of him and his famous company. Although in the last couple of months your newsfeed lacked information about Hoseok’s whereabouts, you brushed it off as him working on a new book.

You knew about him all, but what he looked like. Jung Hoseok managed to avoid the press like his life depended on it. You saw articles of his assistant Yuta standing in his place at promotions and any other public event. If you only dug deeper or asked for the guest list, you could’ve avoided this.

Yoongi places the palm of his hand on your lower back guiding you into the circle. Jeon Jungkook waves giving you a soft but tired smile, Kim Namjoon nods in your direction slowly sipping the wine, Park Jimin gives you a polite greeting while Kim Taehyung acts as if you never existed. You saw Jimin elbow him lightly, but the man never wavered.

Your eyes stop at Hoseok who beams at you stretching his hand. Yoongi leans and whispers into your ear, the loud beating of your heart making it hard to differentiate his words. “Y/N this is Jung Hoseok.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? What did he mean by that?

You muster up what you thought was a smile albeit a weak one but there. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Different questions race through your mind. Was he here because he found out it was you behind the username? Was he even Yoongi’s friend? Had this all been a plot to finally meet you?

“He hasn’t shut up about the Jungkook’s single. Something about it speaking out to him. He’s very excited to meet the writer behind it.” Yoongi tells you making your head snap in his direction.

There was a silent argument going on between you. It took you months before you accepted Namjoon into the small circle of people who knew that behind another pseudonym of yours stood your name. The songs you wrote for Jungkook mostly spoke of unrequited love and heartbreaks and it would mortify you if people knew it was you who wrote it. The pity looks you might get sent a shudder through your body.

“I can’t wait to hear the future songs you will write.” He says clapping enthusiastically unlike you who couldn’t even utter a word besides thanks. You felt like you kept were being rude. You tried your best not to let the events get to you, but it was hard with him bombarding your inbox constantly.

To your side, Yoongi smiles as if silently answering your question. Hoseok didn’t know you wrote the other songs, nobody knew except Namjoon and Yoongi. You exhale in relief, but the tension remains as you look up at Hoseok. He seemed like the mood maker of the group his smile permanently resting on his face.

“We’re currently working on a new song,” Yoongi announces, and you feel like you want the floor to swallow you up.

You notice Jungkook now paying attention to the conversation as Hoseok leans in. Yoongi turns to you putting you on the spot probably knowing you hadn’t written anything. Trying to calm your nerves you imagine Momo or Sehun standing in front of you instead.

The tension in your body slowly shimmers down, and you can feel yourself take control of the anxiety that was the result of the shock you felt from seeing Jung Hoseok.

“Something with a happier note I hope,” Taehyung says, and you wince at his stoic voice.

Hoseok tsks at him. “Whatever Y/N and Yoongi write will be a hit no doubt.”

“Whipped.” Jungkook coughs under his breath and Jimin giggles slapping him softly on the back of his head.

“We’ll see.” Yoongi smiles, and you follow his suit ignoring your burning cheeks.

Whenever you glanced at Hoseok he was already looking back at you. The attention he gave you every time you spoke offered you a feeling of importance that contributed to you speaking more freely in their presence.

“Did you manage to find anyone interesting to publish their work?” Namjoon’s sentence tickles your curiosity shifting your gaze to Hoseok whose smile for the first time tonight drops.

He plays with the drink in his hands prolonging his answer. “I did find someone, but I am not sure if we’ll sign a deal.”

You stiffen at his answer, the e-mails in your phone suddenly felling heavy.

Namjoon’s brow quirks up. “Not satisfied with the writing?”

Hoseok shakes his head, a weak smile on his lips. He bites his tongue before plopping it to the corner of his mouth. “On the contrary,” this seemed to confuse Namjoon,” they haven’t been responding to any of my e-mails.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Jimin joins the conversation, your attention changing between them as they speak.

"Did you offer them a bad contract?" Namjoon buts in jokingly once he finishes his drink.

Hoseok puckers his lips, slowly looking at Namjoon. "There was no contract to begin with."

"Your conversation gives me a headache. Can you finish the story in one go?" Taehyung speaks up and you silently agree with him.

Hoseok places the glass on the table in front of them, pushing his wavy hair to the sides. His eyes seemed even more mesmerising as they looked over the edge of his glasses.

"I've seen their work on a site and tried to contact them via e-mail. I’ve tried searching for them on other sites but with no results.”

"Why don't you call them or text them? It's the 21st century most people don't use emails as a form of communication." Jungkook adds his two cents, and you see the rest of the table roll their eyes.

"Just because you use messenger and kakaotalk as communication doesn't mean others do. This isn't a chat between two friends, it's between possible business partners." Jimin scolds the younger and you stifle a laugh.

Namjoon pats Jungkook's back affectionately. "It's unprofessional to contact people through apps especially if you're someone of Hoseok’s status.”

"Anyway," Hoseok coughs straightening his posture," I don't know their name or number. All I have is the user under which they write and well the e-mail."

"Are you sure they are worth all the fuss?" Yoongi adds and you look at Hoseok who immediately nods.

"You should read their poems, Yoongi. They are magical, raw. You can feel each emotion slowly seeping into you. Just like with Y/N’s and yours song. It's powerful."

You tense up at the mention of your name which goes unnoticed by the rest as they engage in a lyrical discussion. You can see Taehyung backing away from the table with Jungkook following behind. Jimin occasionally nods to Hoseok's interpretation of your poems not interested but not wanting to be rude either. Yoongi and Hoseok go back and forward for a while before Namjoon excuses himself leaving the four of you.

"Anyway, I don't want to bore you with my work," Hoseok finishes the discussion turning towards you, " it was lovely meeting you Y/N. I hope to see you soon."

Highly unlikely you wanted to say. "Likewise."

He disappears in the crowd as Yoongi turns to you. "Jimin and I should talk to the other producers some more before we call it a night."

Soon enough they are out of your reach, and you feel like you could breathe for the first time tonight. Pulling your phone from your purse you head straight for the exit. You tap the familiar number, one you’ve dailed many times.

"Hello?" Sehun's voice cuts through your hectic thoughts.

"You will never know who I just fucking met."

"Seokjin?"

"What? No. It’s Jung Hoseok."

You say as you watch the said man lean into the wall of the lift before he notices you standing not far away. The last thing you see before the doors close was his smile turning into a smirk.

"Jung fucking Hoseok."

Miss/Mister Meraki,

I am writing you this mail in hopes of getting a response from you. Wishing the previous mail had landed in a spam box (rather than you not answering), I am writing you another one filled with more hope. After reading your poems I couldn’t help but notice the sad tone most of them carried.

In the light of the discovery, I am going with my hunch and will say freely that you are probably wary of me. Therefore, I’ve decided to take the time and let you get to know me. I’ll start by writing you little facts about me after I read one of your poems. Hopefully, by the end of the journey, you will choose me.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok.

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years

Note

Klaine it up! 2, 7, 12, 21, 50

Okay...I got this. PROMPTS FOUND HERE

2 - you accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you open the lid the wrong way.

This was not Kurt Hummel’s first time opening yogurt but it might’ve well have been. He was sitting at a picnic table in Central Park on his lunch break from Vogue.com having just picked up a BLT, sweeten iced tea, and strawberry yogurt from his newfound favorite sandwich shop. It just happened to be two blocks down from the Vogue offices too.

After eating half a sandwich, he found himself watching three young girls practicing their hula-hooping skills. Of course, while entranced by the colorful swirls of plastic, Kurt grabbed his low-fat yogurt and pulled at the lid, and the minute he did another man was being dragged by his golden retriever over to Kurt’s table.

Before he could stop it, a splash of light pink yogurt was splattered across the front of a bright blue polo.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” they both said.

Kurt had a lap full of puppy and the man covered in yogurt.

“She’s really friendly and has a fondness for bacon,” the man said, gesturing to the sandwich. “And who can blame her.”

With that comment, Kurt pushed his meal away slightly. Out of reach of the dog’s mouth.

“I usually am way more careful with my food,” Kurt said.

The handsome man only laughed, “it’s no big deal, do you happen to have a napkin?”

“Oh yes!” Kurt reached into his bag to grab one.

“Thanks,” he said, “come here, Lacey.”

The puppy sat right at his side and waited. Kurt stood up to wipe the yogurt away while the man kept Lacey still.

“I can...” he started to say but Kurt was already pulling away having cleaned it up the best he could.

“Lacey and I also share a fondness for cute boys but I don’t suppose...” he trailed off, blushing.

Kurt still wasn’t used to being flirted with but this wasn’t small town, Ohio.

“And who can blame you,” Kurt replied, already grabbing a pen and paper from his bag to write on.

THE REST OF THE PROMPTS CAN BE FOUND BELOW THE CUT

7 - you both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle

Kurt told his dad to pick up an extra heavy whipping cream three days ago when Burt asked if Kurt needed any other ingredients for Thanksgiving dessert. He told him.

“I only need 3 things: dark chocolate, heavy whipping cream, and almond extract.”

Burt had gotten everything but Kurt needed whipping cream for both the chocolate mousse itself and the whipped topping he planned to make. Now he was at the crowded grocery store one day prior to Thanksgiving. Exactly where he didn’t want to be.

Of course, every grocery store made you walk all the way to the back of the store for dairy products. I’ll just grab milk and eggs real quick, you think, then suddenly you have a cart full of snacks you didn’t need.

Kurt found the red and white carton fairly quick. He backed up and started to make his way to the self-checkout. Before he could think about the temptation of potato chips, he was stopped by another body.

They both stopped and shifted their feet to make way for the other. From right to left and back again for several seconds before both falling into pits of laughter. Kurt looked into deep hazel eyes that twinkled at him. He wondered how long he could do this dance just to stare at them some more.

“That’s my fault, I came around the corner too quick,” he said.

Not quick enough, Kurt thought, we could’ve fallen to the floor. You on top of me would be quite nice.

“No, it’s all me,” Kurt replied, “I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

He fumbles into his pocket for a business card. Isabel’s one-month anniversary gift.

“If you’re in town longer than tomorrow, I’d love to buy you some coffee as an apology,” Kurt said, handing the card over.

“Oh.” Kurt watched him scan the card, flipping it over in his hands. “I’d love to, Kurt.”

A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe he should thank his dad for forgetting the cream.

12 - you kick a ball and your shoe flies off, hitting them in the back of your head

Blaine used to hate having an older brother. Growing up, he felt constantly in competition with Cooper’s larger-than-life personality. Now that Cooper had settled down in LA with Lisa, his wife, and had two wonderful kids, having an older sibling didn’t seem too bad.

It was summer break, Blaine was free to leave the confines of his NYU dorm room. He was trying to get lost in the sunshine of California to forget he was about to start his final year of college. Time with his niece and nephew was sure to put any nervousness out of his head.

They were playing soccer in the park when it happened. It was bound to. Everyone in LA was hot. It was like the law.

Cute boys and Blaine’s non-existence coordination weren’t a good mix.

Blaine went to kick the ball and caught sight of a bicep. An unusually pale bicep. A rare sight in sunny Los Angles. Arms, Blaine fantasized, he’d love to see wrapped around him or possibly pushing his legs apart.

He was sure he tighten his laces. This is why Blaine Anderson didn’t wear sneakers. Missed the ball by an inch but the force of his kick sent something flying through the air directly towards the cute guy: a sneaker.

It happened so fast, Blaine heard the yell of surprise before realizing his sock was exposed. Once he realized what happened, he rushed over to the man.

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Blaine said. “Can I do anything?”

“Well, an aspirin would be great,” the man teased.

Blaine sat in the grass and chuckled. Still extremely embarrassed.

“Not exactly the fairytale I always dreamed of.”

“Fairytale?” Blaine asked, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

“Cinderella,” he said, like it was obvious, “a lost shoe as it were.”

“I’m not Cinderella,” Blaine told him, “sorry to say. I’m more of a Blaine.”

“Kurt.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I do believe this is yours,” Kurt said, handing over the shoe.

21 - Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are.

His dad always said pour your drinks yourself. Blaine became that friend who grabbed drinks for everyone for this reason exactly. He wasn’t sure what the occasion was exactly but his study buddy from his songwriting workshop invited him. It was at some loft in Bushwick but Blaine didn’t mind the adventure.

Until tonight he had no reason to venture to this part of the city.

“Blaine!” Elliott exclaimed, pushing a solo cup into his hand, “Drink up, karaoke at eleven!”

Then he disappeared into the crowd. Blaine headed straight for the kitchen and poured the toxic mixture down the sink. He found a new cup and started reading the labels of the bottles spread out across the counter. Mixers and any alcohol of your choice seemed to be available.

Rum and coke sounded good. He went into the fridge for a cold soda first. Blaine was happy the kitchen was empty he wasn’t quite ready to start making friends. As far as he knew, Elliott was the only friendly face here tonight.

He poured the rum in for some semblance of tracking his alcohol intake. The last time he got drunk, he dialed the professor he TA-ed for, who thankfully overlooked that incident. Blaine cracked open the coke and while he poured surveying the living room.

People were dancing to an upbeat pop song that Blaine strangely didn’t recognize and others were mingling in doorways or sat on scattered sofas and chairs chatting. He caught a pair of blue eyes in the crowd.

The man they were attached to was stunning. If he hadn’t blinked, Blaine could’ve mistaken him for a marble statue carved by the gods. They didn’t lose eye contact as he walked towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until the man stood on the other side of the counter that Blaine noticed his hand was covered in soda.

“Papers towels are behind you,” the man offers.

Blaine set the now empty can down and spun around for paper towels to clean up his mess.

Just great, he thought, make a fool out of yourself. That’ll score you some points.

He cleans up his hand before wiping down the puddle of bubbling coke on the counter.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he continues, “and this is my party so I like to know all my guests.”

“Your party?” Blaine stutters.

“It’s my birthday.”

“I’m Blaine,” he introduces. “Elliott invited me. We have a class together.”

“Oh, you’re Blaine. From songwriting workshop.”

“That’s me.”

Elliott’s obviously talked about him before to this man. This gorgeous, completely out of Blaine’s league man.

“God, he’s relentless,” he says. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Um, might I ask why? I can leave if there’s an issue.” Blaine knows when he isn’t welcome.

“No, no,” he replies, “don’t go. It’s just he’s been trying to set us up for months now.”

It all clicks.

“Oh god, you’re Kurt.”

“That’s me, the birthday boy. and you are Elliott’s idea of the best gift ever.”

Blaine blushes. “I don’t know if I can I've up to that but if I can have the next dance I can try.”

Kurt nods. “I’d like that, Blaine. A lot.”

50 - getting paired up on an amusement park ride that requires even-numbered riders

All of Kurt’s friends hated rollercoasters. Rachel didn’t like heights, Elliott refused to do anything with loops, and Santana, well, she was too caught up in her new girlfriend to be bothered.

“I only wanna hear screaming tonight,” she told him.

So, Kurt waited in line himself. Some fun day at Coney Island this was turning out to be. He was so glad he was spending the day with friends. Kurt rolled his eyes.

The woman directing the ride gave Kurt his row number and moved down the line. Behind him someone tapped on his shoulder, Kurt turned around and found himself looking at a curly-haired man around his age.

“Guess we’re both odd men out then, I’m the single rider in my group today.”

“Oh, um, no, my friends were too chicken to even ride,” Kurt said.

“I’m really surprised Wes and David are good to go. They both hate being upside-down.”

Kurt smiled.

“I'm Blaine, by the way.”

“Kurt.”

The ride emptied out and Kurt crawled over to the far seat. They buckled themselves in and listened to the instructions to keep all body parts inside at all times. Then, the bar came down and the ride launched.

After the ride ended, Blaine and Kurt were chatting all the way down. Wes and David trailing behind them.

“That second loop really threw me,” Blaine was saying.

“I saw,” Kurt exclaimed, “I thought you were going to fall out of your seat.”

“Downfalls of being short and compact.”

When three more people joined their day at the park, no one questioned it.

#this was a lot at once but SO FUN #monica's inbox #my fics #klaine drabbles #meet cutes

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keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.2 (BAON)

Summary: Jeff has a lot to think about and what better place to do it than at the bar with his best buddy, Stretch?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The night wasn’t as young as it used to be, but to be fair, neither was Jeff. After a few hours of sitting on a bar stool, his tailbone would be more than willing to testify on that.

He leaned back against the bar in an effort to take some of his weight off of it, grimacing as he watched the dance floor. Colored lights flashed to the thrumming bass beat over the gyrating dancers and out in the thrashing sea of sweaty human bodies there was a head that was above almost all of them. Stretch towered over most humans and never was it more obvious than right then. The lights reflected off his smooth skull, a living disco ball, and around him other humans were laughing and cheering as they danced.

Edge would be having a conniption right about now and Jeff was a little bemused to find his anxiety having an internal dance competition of its own. Currently it was at ‘chachacha’ levels, watching all those Humans grinding up on Stretch. He didn’t want to think anyone here would hurt Stretch, intentionally or otherwise, but the threat of low HP always loomed. His trust in humanity took a pretty big dip a few months ago outside a Chinese restaurant and he had the scars to prove it.

Jeff took another sip of his drink. His straw crackled against the bottom of the glass as he finished it off, leaving only lonely ice cubes behind and he set it back on the bar as he settled back in for a little spare contemplation.

If he were honest, wasn’t a huge fan of the club scene even before he started dating Antwan. Not that he didn’t like going out but his problems with it were twofold. One, bars sucked to go to alone and back then he didn’t have a lot of real estate in the friend territory and two, it cost money. His disposable cash in those days was a lot like a pink unicorn: nonexistent.

Being friends with Stretch took care of both of those problems but a third loomed up to take their place like an unwanted acquaintance. Put bluntly, Jeff could not dance and until Kevin Bacon showed up to give him a few lessons, he probably wasn’t gonna learn how.

Not that he really minded that much. Guarding their drinks and listening to the music wasn’t a bad way to spend the night.

Besides, Stretch didn’t seem to care if he wasn’t up to evacuating the dance floor. He mostly let Jeff sit at the bar where he tried to look like someone with deep and mysterious thoughts to process instead of the person he actually was, far more likely to accidently spill his drink into his lap than anything else. On either side of him were other people doing the same, a row of wallflowers watching the dance floor with wistful envy.

Mostly Stretch left him to it but sometimes he’d bounce his way back and haul Jeff out for a song, any song, fast, slow, techno-bop, dubstep, didn’t matter to Stretch, he was an equal opportunist when it came to friendly torment and if Jeff felt a lot like Frankenstein’s monster tromping around next to Stretch’s lithe booty shake, eh, that was okay. Sacrificing a little dignity for a friend’s fun times was part of the package.

As far as he knew, Stretch didn’t go out to the clubs often either, but if there was one thing Jeff had learned when it came to Stretch, it was there were no half-measures. If he was in, he was all in, and that included drinking, dancing, and on the weekends, the occasional explosion caused by a thermal reaction. Truly a wide variety of hobbies came into play when hanging out with Stretch and going out to the bars pretty much guaranteed something interesting would happen.

Like the time they met those guys who’d come into town for the last beat poetry night. One of them mentioned liking Stretch’s Intergalactic Beastie Boys t-shirt so Stretch convinced them all to swap shirts and then swapped them around again, until they were all three shirts removed from the one they’d arrived in. Pants were a harder sell and if Stretch were ever hard up for money, he might take up selling ice to penguins because in no time they were all out on the sidewalk, firmly dismissed from Grillby’s over their rampant laughter drowning out the poet’s rambling about the burden of solitude. The Waffle House they ended up at had a less stringent dress code and all of them crammed into a booth to eat greasy breakfast food at two am in their boxer shorts. At least those were all their own and his plain cotton boxer briefs were no match against Stretch’s ‘wanna tickle my pickle’ pair.

He was pretty sure all those guys still followed Stretch on twitter.

He wondered what Edge had thought of Stretch wandering home in an entirely new wardrobe, minus pants. There was no way he didn’t notice, Edge was very intent on fashion, even Stretch’s version of it. Knowing him, he probably made Stretch strip right in the living room and soaked both him and his clothes in Lysol before burning his boxer shorts. The old-new t-shirt Jeff ended up with was hanging in closet even though it was two sizes too big for him. Antwan stole it sometimes for lounging around the house purposes and seeing him in it was always a cheap thrill.

Huh, now that he was thinking about it, he’d gone to the bar more this past year than in his whole life before. Not just with Stretch either, Blue and Papyrus had brought him along for karaoke a few times and that was an experience right there. Their singing was like a vocal interpretation of his dancing and just as painful for witnesses.

He’d even had a drink a couple of times with Red. Well, he’d been a tag along with Antwan but still. Red was still vaguely terrifying, but Jeff had gotten the occasional glimpse under his onion layers. He knew a little of what Edge and Red went through before they came here. His knowledge pretty much barely skimmed the surface, they’d both been soldiers and they might’ve gotten out alive, but not entirely unscathed. Knowing Red’s HP was similar to Stretch’s and he’d still survived? Perspective was a hell of a thing and it paid to look at Red from a slant.

Speaking of perspective, he was definitely liking the music. They were a local band and this place was close to the college, a good spot to hopefully get noticed and work their way up. The bar itself had probably been here for fifty years, the bartop pitted with scratches and scars from college students of yore, the stools definitely up for reupholstering.

It was really no surprise to find out that Stretch knew the current owner. He knew loads of people, wriggled his way into their lives a lot like he’d wriggled into Jeff’s. Only difference was, he didn’t usually let the other person wriggle back and yeah, okay, that metaphor was going in weird places, but the meaning stood. Stretch was good with shortcuts and he knew a lot of people, but he wasn’t necessarily friends with a lot. Jeff was pretty happy to be on the short list.

Knowing people came in handy, too, and bringing Stretch along always came with added perks. Catty only asked him to listen to the bands on the list to get a feel for their sound, but he’d be able to bring her a better report than that since they were going to go meet the band after their set was done. It would give him a chance feel them out, see if they were even interested in participating in the Midnight Monster Jamboree, as Catty had slyly dubbed it. After everything went down in California, they needed some serious good will.

The Monster community had been found not at fault for what happened right away, but Antwan told him court cases would be dragging on for a while yet. When Humans died, other Humans wanted someone to pay, and Monsters were easy scapegoats for unreasonable anger. His team was working their butts off on it, Antwan coming home at night so very tired, mostly falling into Jeff’s arms to sleep and yet still so grimly determined. Jeff couldn’t do much about all that, but he could try his damnedest to get their big public relations event off the ground.

The idea was to have a huge event for Humans and Monsters together and for it to be held in New New Home. Asgore thought that some of the problems with Humans might be a result of them thinking Monsters had something to hide, so what better way to show them who Monsters really were than a chance to see into their supposedly secret lives.

Jeff was on the lowest rung for planning and even from his view, it looked like a nightmare. Security details made up of both Human and Monsters, background checks, food, entertainment. Access was going to be extremely limited and the guest list was daunting; there were going to be some big names in politics and entertainment. That circled back to his job, getting some local bands together for the opening shows. Partly good public relations, but also an earnest desire to help out a few struggling locals with the kind of exposure most groups could only dream about. That was so like Monsters, trying to help others in the midst of helping themselves, but it sure was a lot of damn pegs getting shoved into so many slots.

He didn’t even want to know what Edge’s current schedule looked like.

There was a soft thud behind him and Jeff turned to see the bartender was bringing him another drink. The guy was probably somewhere around his age, unless you were gauging it by his world-weary expression, which probably put him at about right around three hundred.

He must’ve known Stretch, too. When they saw each other, he youthened to a spry two hundred and seventy after a complicated series of fist bumps. As an added bonus, he’d been keeping their drinks topped up and as someone who usually couldn’t even get a bartender to see him much less pour him a drink, Jeff sure did appreciate the VIP service.

He started reaching for his drink, but a sudden tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned around. A guy he didn’t recognize was standing there, not too bad on the eyes and weirdly nervous, enough that Jeff thought he might actually be trying to pick him up before he noticed the guy was holding something out.

“Did you drop this?” the guy said, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. It was a wallet and Jeff automatically checked his back pocket even as his eyes told him it wasn’t his.

He shook his head and the guy nodded, but instead of asking anyone else or handing it to the bartender, he wandered off towards the entrance.

Okay, that was odd. Jeff shrugged mentally, lots of weird people at the bar, maybe he was going to give it to the guy at the door in case whoever lost it noticed when they left.

He forgot about it as Stretch came back from the dance floor, sweat gleaming on his skull and face. That always gave Jeff a little pause, what exact purpose did sweating serve for a skeleton? Maybe he’d ask sometime when he was less busy with work. If Stretch didn’t know the answer to something, the journey to find out tended to be entertaining, and possibly less explosive this time around, although he wouldn’t put the chances at zero.

Stretch grinned at him, still panting, and picked up his own drink, gulping down half of it in one swallow. Jeff couldn’t remember was it was. Stretch tended to order more for the name than the taste, so it was probably something like a slippery nipple or a total screaming orgasm. Whatever it was, a skewer of fruit was floating in it and Stretch fished it out, pulling the cherry off the end with his teeth.

“so what do you think of the band?” Stretch asked, perfectly audible even over the loud music. There was another point of interest; when your voice was produced by magic, it didn’t always obey the rules of sound. “gonna give catty the thumbs up?

“I like it,” Jeff shrugged. He could barely hear his own voice, trusting that magical hearing worked the same way as speaking, “but I’m not the greatest judge of music. That’s why I bring you along.”

Stretch chuckled and propped his elbows on the bar, slouching back. It put him almost at head level with Jeff and the shirt he’d almost certainly borrowed from Edge pulled tight across his ribcage. “think i’m a better simon cowell than you?”

“No, you’re more Paula Abdul, and anyway, two heads are better than one.” Jeff played with the straw in his own drink. “Jokes aside, this is important, I don’t want to mess it up.”

“you’re not gonna mess it up.” Stretch scoffed. He bit a chunk of pineapple in half before polishing off the rest of his drink. “how even? you’re doing double-duty as it is. henry said once they’re finished, we can meet them backstage. i’ll have a chat with them, we’ll see if they’re assholes, and good to go! besides, it’s not like security isn’t gonna give ‘em a good, hard rundown, anyway.”

It was the truth and he knew it, but there was always that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind, that somehow he’d find a way to mess it up, and that would be it. This was so important to the Monster community and his chance to finally payback some of what’d they’d given him. He could do this, Jeff told himself, and he’d do it right.

The band started a new set, something with a low, growling bassline and Jeff turned back to watch, only to freeze as Stretch suddenly spoke again, the single word clear as a bell in church.

“jeff.”

The name caught his attention as much as the tone, Stretch never called him Jeff, it was always Andy or kiddo or whatever nickname was currently floating his proverbial boat. The last time he’d called Jeff by his actual name, he’d been lying in a parking lot in a pool of his own blood. The taste of hot metal was strong on the back of his tongue as he turned back to Stretch, his heart pounding, and some cringing part of him expected to see that friendly face instead as the one that appeared sometimes in his worst dreams, a deathmask with one socket dark and blank, the other strobing orange with grim intensity.

But Stretch only looked like his normal self and when he spoke again, each word was calmly measured and deliberate. "i don't feel right. i think we should go."

Somehow, that was even more alarming, and his worry quickly overshadowed any lingering bad memories that were vying for his attention.

“Sure,” Jeff said, “right now.” He hopped down from the stool. Stretch pushed off from the bar and staggered, leaning hard against Jeff and thank fuck he was light because his height already made it awkward to hold him up. He started to call for the bartender, maybe there was someplace they could sit down in the back while he called Edge, when another guy came up next to them, helping hold Stretch up. Then another on Jeff’s side and he started to protest that he didn’t need help when a voice growled close to his ear.

"Don’t look at me. Keep your mouth shut or I'll kill you."

It was followed by the sensation of something hard butting into his ribs and this could not be happening. This did not happen in the real world, this wasn’t a Jason Bourne movie, there could not be a gun pressed to his side right now. Even his own fear was sitting on the sidelines, pushed out by disbelief as Jeff stumblingly followed the guiding arm around him leading towards the door. The crowd reluctantly parted and next to them, Stretch was shuffling along, his eye lights blown wide and fuzzily diffused. He started sagging, his skull lolling back on his shoulders and around them were murmurs, people starting to notice.

“Hey, what’s going on? Stretch?” From the direction of the bar, and Jeff glanced back wildly to catch the bartender watching with dawning concern. There was no time to say a word, to even mouth a desperate ‘help’ before he was forcibly swung back around and pushed through the door.

The cold night air was like a slap in the face, sobering, and fear was starting to sink its teeth in past his disbelief. The guy next to him was keeping back out of his line of sight and he could only barely see the one on Stretch, dark hair, taller, burly, did he have a gun, too, who were they and why—?

By the entrance, the bouncer looked up in surprise as they walked past. “Hey, Stretch, you guys, okay?”

“Fuck off!” The man holding onto Jeff barked and the gun swung towards the bouncer. There was a beat of incongruous silence broken by the strains of music coming from inside the bar, then a girl screamed, the waiting crowd scattering.

“Fuck! Get them in the car!” A different voice, loud and panicky and he caught another glimpse of dark hair before he was shoved forward again. He stumbled, almost falling to his knees among the cigarette butts that scattered the asphalt, and the memory of another parking lot was strong, the swell of panic gagging him.

He didn’t resist as he was pushed towards a van, the side door sliding open and then he was inside it, collapsing across the backseat.

Weight dropped directly on top of him with a clatter of bones and Jeff grunted, trying to push Stretch off of him enough to sit up. Only to lose his balance again as the van squealed away from the curb, the tangle of his own limbs catching with Stretch’s limp ones.

A new voice barked from the direction of the driver’s seat. “Get their phones, hurry up!”

Rough hands grabbing at them, and Jeff instinctively tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. His phone was yanked from his pocket and Stretch didn’t say a word, only breathing with a slurry snore into Jeff’s ear. There was the sound of a power window going down, of tires squealing against asphalt and the inside of the van was too dark to see.

Not that it mattered. Rough hands hauled Jeff upright and the person they belonged to was wearing a ski mask like a fucking heist cliché. Jeff choked back a hysterical laugh, but even panicked amusement took a backseat when ski mask demanded, “Okay, both of you need to strip.”

Jeff only stared in mute horror, barely comprehending as a duffle bag was suddenly thrust at them.

“Change into these,” Ski Mask ordered, “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

There was a pun there, Stretch would have been able to think of one. Would have if he wasn’t lying slumped across the seat. His sockets were still open, but his eye lights were dim and unseeing, the lights were on and no one was home, not quite a pun but it’d have to do.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Jeff said. He tried not to look at the guy with the gun as he carefully opened the duffle and pulled out the clothes inside, choosing his words with the same care. “He’s…he’s fragile, just a punch and you could kill him. Please.”

“Then don’t make us do anything that’ll get him hurt.”

Good advice from a shitty source.

Jeff scrambled into the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants in the bag, then helped the other…what, kidnapper? Asshole was the strongest contender in his head and that was what Jeff went with. Helped Asshole #2 get Stretch change into his. The guy was brusque but not ungentle, at least, and the second they were finished, the van pulled up next to a dumpster. A fourth asshole sitting in the front seat hopped out, tossing all their clothes plus the bag into it. Four against two, not including guns, not the best odds. Like Jeff would have been much help even if it were mano a mano. He sure as hell wasn’t a fighter past panicked desperation and he wasn’t about to hinge Stretch’s life on that.

“Now, sit back and relax,” said Asshole With A Gun. “You two behave and no one gets hurt, okay?”

Jeff knew a lie when he heard one. He nodded anyway and huddled into the seat, one arm looped around Stretch to offer what feeble protection he could. His skull resting in Jeff’s lap was a familiar weight from movie nights and Netflix marathons. His unconsciousness was not, but he was alive, they both were. It was a place to start.

Jeff kept silent, petting the smooth curve of Stretch’s skull as he watched the streetlights flash by and waited to see what came next.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #original undertale characters #by any other name

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ressyfaerie · 3 years

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Last suggestion! (I've only saw the dub & not read the manga so pls forgive if I'm wrong with this and they all know) Random headcanon that somehow Kai is the last to know about Tyson's mom passing. Idk but I feel like Kai makes a tasteless comment and the team are like dude we know this? And he's just generally ??? what? He misunderstands and thinks it's recent and speaks to Tyson but he tells him it's been years and years and he's at peace with it. Bonus if awkward hug/attempt at one from Kai 😂 (I also headcanon he's never had a hug so has no idea how to)

AWWW this sounds so cute im doin it. Oh alcohol mentions! It wrote itself but its v cute im proud of this one for sure!!!

Just teenagers being teenagers.

A night in the dojo without adult supervision and nothing to do meant stealing alcohol from the liquor cabinet and singing karaoke.

Ray and Max’s harmonies shattered eardrums.

Tyson laughed, “how can they be high and low pitched at the same time?”

Acting silly and opening up was what tonight was all about.

Even Kai got talkative after a few drinks, you could even say he was acting—

“Irresponsible! Kai get down from there!” Tyson held his sides laughing so hard he thought his lungs would collapse.

Kai hung off the edge of the couch, lounging like a rich prince.

Max hopped up beside him, “what are you doing buddy?”

“I’m a cat.”

The room fell into an uproar of laughs and giggles. Kai fell to the cushions laughing as well.

Tyson took every opportunity to jab questions into Kai.

“Favourite animal?”

“Cats.”

“Favourite food?”

“That ramen you made for us that one time.”

“Favourite dance?”

“Never done it, but I’m a fan of swing.”

“Favourite childhood toy?”

Now he got hung up on that one.

They both laid on the floor, everyone slowly joined. Music from karaoke turned on low escaped the TV surrounding the room in a comforting atmosphere.

“I never really had one.”

“Everyone had one!”

“My parents gave me a stuffed tiger.” Ray grinned while holding a pillow close to his chest, “I lost it though. Man, I loved that thing.”

Max started to talk, then stopped giggling, “I had a piece of silk.”

They laughed, Tyson was the first to respond, “a piece of silk?”

“I called it silky. I was from one of my mom’s old skirts. I would sleep with it every night when she was gone.” He chuckled, “I actually still have it.”

“Where is it?” Ray asked.

“At my dads. I keep it on my nightstand.”

Hilary was sleeping on the couch with her head on Kenny’s lap, Kenny joined the conversation with a hushed voice. “Was it hard? Having a mom that was only half there all the time?”

“Yeah. I always told myself… At least I have a mom. There’s lots of people who aren’t as lucky as me.”

“Yeah…” Kenny trailed off, knowing he had two parents that loved him, and he probably wasn’t welcome in the conversation about to ensue.

“Your Dad’s nice though.” Ray pointed out.

“I love my Dad. My Mom can be a handful…”

“Other way around for me.” Tyson had his arms folded behind his head, “at least you don’t have any crazy siblings.”

“Dude, fuck Hiro.” Kai hiccuped.

“Guess we learned Kai has a low alcohol tolerance.” Max threw a pillow at Kai to catch him off guard.

He caught it in midair.

“Ooohhhh!!” Tyson cooed in awe.

Kai grumbled,” I’m fine. I just hate that guy.”

“Well I never knew my parents thanks for asking.” Ray changed the subject delicately, Kai had a habit of getting aggressive when he talked about Hiro, he didn’t want the conversation to turn sour.

“Why not?” Tyson asked with a drunken lack of compassion.

Ray shrugged, “ it takes a village to raise a child, I guess that’s what happened.”

“Makes sense.” Tyson sat up lazily, “wanna know what my favourite toy was?”

“Hell yeah!” Max somehow had another pillow and was throwing it in the air and catching it over and over again.

“Other than Dragoon, it was this old kendo sword my mom gave me. It was an heirloom. I still have it, but I played with it so much I wore it out, I’m afraid to use it again.”

Surprisingly, it was Kai who responded.

“Wow, your Mom must have put a lot of trust in her kid to give them something like that. She must have loved you a lot.”

The room grew quiet and cold.

Kai turned to look at Tyson, who was just staring back with a blank expression.

“I’m going to go get some water.” Tyson sat up making his way to the kitchen.

As soon as they heard the door slide shut, Max shoved a fist into Kai’s chest.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!”

“Idiot! Tyson’s Mom died when he was just born! He never even met her! He never talks about it because it's a bit of a touchy subject!”

Max frowned and glared at Kai.

“Sorry.” Kai started, “I never really clued in. I thought she died when he was older.”

Ray slapped a hand to his forehead, “dude, we know this.”

Kai sighed, “I’ll go apologize.”

“Yeah you better!” Max threw the pillow at him, this time Kai let it hit him, accepting his punishment weakly.

“Tyson?”

The kitchen was dimly lit, Tyson was making something at the counter.

“You want some tea Kai?”

“What kind?”

“Just green tea. Nothing special.”

Kai watched him pour the water, unsure how to start, he could still feel the effects of alcohol bouncing around his brain. He waited a moment, hoping to articulate his thoughts appropriately.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay, Kai. It’s been a long time, almost two decades, I mean—you’d think I’d be over it?”

Kai saw his eyes, slightly damp with tears.

“This is a tough subject for you. I’m sorry.”

Tyson rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, letting out a sniffle.

“I’ve always been okay with it. I guess… I’ve never known anything different. I do wish my father and brother were more present though.”

Tyson stared out the window into the darkness of night. He couldn’t see anything, but he still looked, for a long while.

Kai licked his lips before continuing, “I never knew my parents well either. They abandoned me, I have some memories of them, but not much.”

Tyson gave him his attention, and tried to change the subject, “so you would have had a favourite toy then?”

Kai suppressed a laugh, knowing what he was trying to do,” like I said, my memories of that time are fuzzy. I actually remember more of the abbey—surprisingly enough.”

“Oh.” Now Tyson was worried he had overstepped.

“Do you remember what your Mom looked like?” Kai wasn’t sure why he was pressing the subject, he normally wouldn’t.

Tyson blinked a few times, surprised by Kai’s sudden curiosity. “Um, apparently I have her hair, and her eyes. Her face was soft too, so I guess I got all my Mom’s features.”

Tyson rubbed the back of his head grinning.

Kai agreed, “thank god.”

Tyson let out a fast laugh, “ha! Did you just call my Dad ugly?”

Kai squinted his eyes, “I guess I did?”

They fell into probably the hundredth laugh attack of that night, Tyson placed his hand on Kai’s shoulder stabilizing himself.

Their laughs drifted away, Kai glanced at Tyson’s hand, then at his best friend.

“I’m sorry you never knew your mother.”

Tyson was caught off guard at Kai’s soft voice.

“I’m sorry you never really knew yours…” Tyson returned the sympathy.

Kai grinned, and bit his lip, “I’m sorry your Dad’s so ugly.”

“Ha!”

The uncontrollable giggles had Tyson holding his side, and Kai hunched over. They were so close to each other now. Tyson’s hand had drifted to Kai’s neck, he could feel his warm skin and heartbeat. Kai had gone completely against his character, and was holding Tyson’s stomach trying to prevent him from keeling over.

Then Tyson fell forward, letting his chin prop on Kai’s shoulder.

Kai was halfway to hugging him.

When he realized this, he stopped giggling, and Tyson’s irregular breathing was the only remnant of laughter left in the room.

Kai’s voice barely reached Tyson’s ear, “I’ve never hugged anyone before.”

“First.” Tyson wrapped his arms around Kai’s shoulders.

Kai held his arms out loosely, “what are you, a youtube comment?”

Short laughs, Kai felt Tyson’s chest rumble with each chuckle, he let his hands fall into Tyson’s body.

He had his arms wrapped around Tyson’ abdomen, then curled them along his back, completely unsure if what he was doing was right.

Tyson’s voice reverberated through Kai’s ears, “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“What does it sound like?”

“Fast.”

They didn’t say anything.

Kai felt Tyson’s long hair against his cheek, he had never felt such soft hair, let alone so close… He breathed in.

“You smell like cedarwood and cherry blossom.”

“It’s my shampoo.”

Neither one of them had the confidence to break apart, or maybe... they didn’t want to.

Kai found his hand gliding up Tyson's spine, he felt Tyson shiver slightly at the touch. He gently played with the ends of Tyson’s blue hair, feeling it twirl through his fingers like silk.

“Are you… are you playing with my hair?” Tyson’s voice rang in disbelief.

Kai’s eyes grew wide when he noticed what he was doing. He pushed himself away, keeping one hand on Tyson’s side, he didn’t want to let go completely, out of fear he could never go back.

Tyson was in a mirror position with one hand on his shoulder.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Tyson smirked.

“You better not.”

“You can play with my hair whenever you want.”

“Can I!?” Kai took a step back after he realized how excited his voice was.

“Learn how to tie a braid and then we can talk.” Tyson pushed the envelope with his teasing.

“I’ll google it right now.”

#Ressyfaerie #ressyfaerie fic #request #fic #tyka #GOOD STUFF YALL #THIS IS CUTE #my personal favourite lines are #sorry ur dad is ugly #and what are you a youtube comment

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lettrespromises · 4 years

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> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

💌.anon sent a letter:

❝hi there!:) do you think that i can request a headcannon with nishinoya and akaashi(separated) and how they would react when they find out the reader can sing? i’m sorry if i requested incorrectly!❞

💌.the author’s letter:

❝dear anon,

thank you for both requesting correctly and for trusting me with that wonderful idea of yours— i hope these letter will meet your expectations. take care of yourself!

sealed with a kiss,

nikki.❞

> Akaashi Keiji sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

I do believe that Akaashi has some sense of connection to arts whether it’s literature, music or paintings. He just appreciates various forms of arts as it matches his calm nature and he seeks comfort in art whenever he wants to take a mental break from school and relax.

So, naturally, Akaashi entertains a certain liking for music in particular. He also likes to create links between the emotions weighing on his heart and the musics he’s bound to choose. For instance, his musical genre of predilection when he’s studying is either classical music or lofi music. He just believes that studying whilst listening to music with lyrics will distract him from the dull alignements of sentences inked in his textbook.

It’s one of these moments— when Akaashi is at your place studying with you because you’re a firm believer that group studying motivates you as you’re under Akaashi’s watch. On the other one hand, Keiji doesn’t miss this chance to spend time with you, even if you’re studying.

You just can’t seem to concentrate, Akaashi does regularly use music to focus as his memory offers him the ability to remember things better when he associates informations to sounds but you unfortunately don’t share that.

So you’re just staring at the ceiling, hoping that in a way or another, you will miraculously be able to retain all the information at once.

Spoiler : it never works.

Akaashi, on the other one hand, is living his best life— the lofi music is echoing in the room, he can feel your presence, he has the sentiment that he’s actually remembering what’s on his notes, he even smiles at himself for doing so.

So eventually, you just decide to leave your bedroom with the excuse of saying that you’re going to take a break and have a snack but truthfully, you know you can’t stay in there any longer and need a distraction from this.

As soon as you reach the kitchen and take a mug whilst the water is boiling, you hum to yourself the lyrics of a song you heard on the radio while your fingers tap the surface of the counter to set a tempo.

You don’t know why this song in particular, it probably has the ideal rhythm to be stuck in your head subconsciously.

But soon enough, as the boiling machine rivals the level of sound of your hums, you take it a bit further and apply more pressure on your vocal cords and find yourself actually singing in the middle of your kitchen.

The words leave your lips in a magical manner, as if they were dripping in honey, and the soft sounds of your fingers tapping against the counter and the spoon hitting your mug give you the perfect musical set to continue.

Eventually, you become lost in harmony and continue doing so as you pour the scorching hot water in your mug as the bag of tea infuse and colors the transparent liquid.

And you reach the extent where you become so lost that you don’t even hear the steps hitting the steps of the stairs, one must admit that your voice is covering the noise.

Akaashi stops for a moment, truthfully, he wanted to come down to check on you and perhaps to give himself a little break as well as a form of guilty pleasure. But his orbs grow a gleam in their irises which reflects all the love he has for you and he’s wondering if you can feel how much he loves you just from that stare alone.

He doesn’t dare to interrupt you, he just wants to bask in your glory and soak in the beauty of this instant as he finds his eardrums being blessed by your voice sent from heaven. He finds himself using his palm to rest is head on whilst his forelimb is laying on the ramp of the stairs to enjoy even further the moment.

But oh, as you turn around to put the assortment of teas right where it belonged, your eyes widen in surprise and the melody leaving your lips fades to allow the appearance of a sound of surprise instead. The grip. on the assortment tightens, the tip of your fingers turn white due to the pressure, it’s the sole way you found to evacuate how shameful you were.

“Why did you stop singing all of a sudden, love? I thought you sang beautifully.” Akaashi states and you could tell truth predominated his tone, he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side to emphasize his interrogation.

“Keiji, um-... You weren’t exactly supposed to hear all of this.” You stutter and the words almost die on your lips due to how embarrassed you’re feeling and the rosy tone coloring your cheeks emphasizes that.

“I don’t see anything to feel ashamed of.” He continues as he’s reducing the space between the two of you ever so calmly not to startle you because you look like a deer caught in the headlights. “You have the sound of an angel, has anyone ever told you that?” Akaashi concludes his sentence with a smile, but you don’t fail to miss the genuine love showing through the corner of his smile.

You mirror the same smile in return but felt obligated to hide your face, now burnt by the compliments, in Akaashi’s chest. He considers each time he manages to successfully fluster you as a secret victory.

Akaashi lets his fingertips run through the roots of your hair and delivers a soft peck upon the crown of your hair, it was so light, you thought you had missed it for a second.

“Will you sing for me more often, love? Call me selfish, but I just can’t get enough of your voice.” He asks as he is kissing his interrogation into your skin, and you just hum against his chest in response.

And ever since that day, Akaashi stopped listening to classical or lofi music, he only swears by your voice to study.

> Nishinoya Yuu sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Now, now, this one is... Less calm than Akaashi.

Out of the two of you, he’s always the one who’s singing his lungs out until reaching the limits of his vocals cords: you can’t count the days where you had to nurse him by showering him in honey and warm milk to soothe his martyr of a throat.

Nishinoya will and can sing anywhere : training, in the hallways of school, at Tanaka’s place, in the shower. His... singing talents know no limit and he feels like he has the duty to share his “talents” with the rest of the world to make this world a better place.

You, on the other one hand, feel a bit more reserved to sing in front of him and always find the excuse that you don’t want to outshine his vocal abilities, something Noya will first pout at then grin in satisfaction.

(He knows he’s a star, it’s just a matter of time until he sells out concert venues.)

So picture this— you’re coming back from practice with Noya, and like every Friday nights, the tradition states that the both of you spend the night together and watch movies while snacking and cuddling, a dreamy program, right?

And like every Friday night, you always take your shower before the movie starts because, deep down, you know you’re bound to pass out as you reach the first half of the movie (and Noya has to carry you back to your room, every, single, time.)

Anyone can agree on the fact that taking a shower equals being alone in the world and pure serenity enveloping you. In other words, the shower is the best stage you could have asked for to reveal your talents in singing.

Your fingertips brush the tip of the shampoo bottle before firmly grasping it, and magically, the plain shampoo bottle turnt into the most sophisticate of microphones.

And thus the concert begins, it’s a medley of all your favorite songs and the purity of your voice embraces perfectly the lyrics as they flow freely out of your mouth, as if you had written the songs yourself.

Your grip tightens on the shampoo bottle until your fingertips turn white, but the passion running through this pseudo microphone echoes to the passion coursing through your vocal cords as you apply specific attention to match the higher tones of certain notes.

However, high notes, especially when they come from a room where the sound is muffled by the sound of the water hitting the tiles, may or may not sound like a scream of distress to a certain someone...

... And by a certain someone, I mean none other than Nishinoya.

The latter slams the door open, the fantasy of being the brave knight in shiny armor and help his significant other is vivid in his head and truthfully, it added more fuel to the motivation of his deeds.

“Babe? I heard you screaming! Are you alr-...!” Noya trails off before being mesmerized by the sound of your voice enveloping his eardrums in pure bliss.

But, that’s when you scream in surprise.

So Nishinoya also screams back in surprise.

“Noya?! What are you doing here? I’m clearly taking a shower!”

“You were screaming and I thought you hurt yourself or something so I came to check up on you, my beautiful significant other for whom I worship the floor you walk on!”

“I was not screaming, I was singing!” And that’s how you threw yourself to the wolves, you secretly thanked the presence of the shower curtain to hide your embarrassment and the growing blush on your cheeks which was certainly not due to the heat of the water.

“Alright then! You take your shower and I’ll sit here while listening to the voices of the angels.”

“Noya, you’re too much...”

And that’s how you spent the rest of your evening by organizing karaokes in the living room, and throwing aside the usual movie night, singing your lungs out until you both reached exhaustion.

Needless to say, Noya was upset you hid this from him, but now he’s so glad he has a singing buddy.

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thatringboy · 4 years

Text

All of my other TWST HCs

Because my Twisted Wonderland Headcanons have been my most popular posts, here I am giving the mob what they want! An almost complete list of Headcanons I have about every character and house!

This is by far my longest post and it took me three days to type, so I hope you guys get a laugh out of it!

WARNING: THESE ARE MY PERSONAL OPINIONS ABOUT EACH CHARACTER. IF YOU DON’T AGREE WITH ONE, PLEASE DON’T ATTACK ME OR OTHERS WHO SUPPORT MY HCS. JUST DON’T BE A DICK.

Heartslabyul

The word “Queen” is gender neutral

Frequently allows students from other houses to study with them

Recently expanded into two buildings dedicated just for dorms to house all of the students

Actually lots of words are gender neutral

Riddle

Does rebellious things with Trey sometimes

Actually struggled with gender for a while because of his mother and responds to all pronouns (he/she/they), but identifies as male

Sometimes uses the label “Androgynous Male”

Is attracted to Trey, but he can’t tell if it’s because of his childhood or because he genuinely likes his Vice DH

Has Tea Time TM with Vil

Abolished gender roles in NRC despite it being an all guys school

During Summer Vacation he wears jean shorts and mint green tank tops with red flip flops

Has a pet crab that is red and named “Queen” despite Riddle not knowing Queen’s gender

Queen is the mascot for Heartslabyul despite being a sea creature

We stan Queen the Crab in this house.

Trey

Enjoys breaking the rules with Riddle, even if it’s not very often

He dyed his hair green as a joke with Cater during his first year, but decided to keep it

Has fallen for Riddle. Hard.

But between his dignity, his position and him not knowing if Riddle likes men, he won’t say anything that could ruin the friendship

Rook found out by accident and actually helps Trey try to work up the courage to ask Riddle out, but Trey always backs down

Invented a type of Tea that soaks clover leaves and it tastes like vanilla mixed with mint

Cater

#SELFIE

Not really a drama queen, but will egg on fights for views

Sometimes his clones will develop different accents and that’s how you tell them apart

Has a pansexual flag in his room

Spends more time partying in Scarabia than in Heartslabyul

Is close friends with Kalim and actually crushed on him for a bit, but got over it once he noticed the way he looks at Jamil

Actually gives good relationship advice

Deuce

Was Bi-Curious during his Pre-NRC days and actually tried to put it behind him like everything else

However, like, everyone at NRC is some flavor of gay

So he gave up on his internalized homophobia and now lives his full authentic life!

Still uses the labels Bi-Curious and Questioning and often goes to Cater for advice

But his buddies love and support him no matter what

Is a huge feminist

Cater fully believes that Deuce likes Ace, but he actually doesn’t

Deuce admits when men are attractive, no matter if it makes them uncomfortable or not

Didn’t go over well with Jack

But the two are cool now

Ace

Probably one of the straightest guys you’ll ever meet besides Rook

Actually learned what the different teas smell like so that he never messed up again

Enjoys his fights with Grim, even if Grim is a little shit

Like seriously Grim is a little flying rat shit turd fuck but that’s just my opinion

Almost never learns from his mistakes and always pays the price

Chaotic Good.

Loves going on adventures with the Prefect and Grim!

Has never gone back to the Mostro Lounge without Jack or the Prefect

Also got really into Mermaid culture and regularly goes back to the Atlantica Memorial Museum to talk with that one guard

Has memorized the script from the Little Mermaid

Can sing You Pour, Unfortunate Soul in a perfect baritone vibrato despite his high voice

Also takes singing lessons from Azul, but only if someone else is in the room with them

Savanaclaw

Throws pool parties regularly

Octavinelle is almost always invited

Magift between the two houses is insane

Leona

Raging Bisexual, need I say more?

Goes to great lengths to find loopholes and just be lazy

Also goes to great lengths to help Ruggie

Hates his brother, but loves Cheka and his sister-in-law

Can’t properly digest seafood, but eats in in front of Azul and the Leech twins just to be a bitch

Is kinda clingy

Even if he doesn’t want to, he goes to all of the Savanaclaw vs Octavinelle vs Pomfiore karaoke battles

Can’t sing for shit, but likes to watch Ruggie and Jack duet and destroy everyone

Constantly reminds Malleus about the time they swapped robes

Actually swaps clothing with Malleus quite often on purpose to see how they feel

Ruggie

A good singer

But kinda self conscious about it??

Also a Raging Bisexual

Play flirts a lot with Leona, even though they don’t like one another like that

Is FtM Transgender, fully transitioned, and wears his scarf to cover the fact that he doesn’t have much chest hair and his scars

Only Leona and Crowley know

Gets a little dysphoria because his voice is still so high and because he’s shorter than everyone in Savanaclaw, but takes one look at Riddle, Lila and Ace and forgets about it

Jack suspects, but the two make a killer duo during karaoke!

Jack

Is straight, but won’t get in your face about it

Actually learned how to become a fast swimmer just to flex on Jade and Floyd

Has memorized almost all of Heartslabyul’s rules just because he didn’t want to be disrespectful

Arm wrestles with Floyd often

Helps out in the Mostro Lounge pretty often when he’s bored

His karaoke skills are out of this world!

Also has memorized the layout for Ramshackle Dorm just so he wouldn’t get lost in there

Tsundere? Maybe.....

Knows something’s different about Ruggie, but can’t figure it out

Respects privacy like crazy

Just a cool guy to be around

Octavinelle

Hosts the karaoke battles

Now pays their employees in the Mostro Lounge

Gives free singing lessons

Azul

Choir Gay TM

Aromantic Homosexual

Constantly has Boss Bitch by Doja Cat in his head

Actually has shit handwriting and it made his Golden Contracts all the much more powerful

His handwriting is beautiful underwater, though

When he’s feeling lazy, Azul transforms into his Merman form and uses his 8 extra arms to do things for him

Has a single picture from his childhood that he has not edited (or tried to edit)

It’s of him, Jade and Floyd graduating Junior High

All three of them are linking arms and smiling brightly

It sits on his nightstand in a golden frame

Gives most of the singing lessons

But doesn’t participate in the karaoke battles

“I’ll join if Leona joins.”

Petty about the karaoke

Jade

Once swapped clothing styles with Floyd for an entire day and was just chaotic towards everyone

Does this more often now just to relieve stress

Only the Prefect could ever tell them apart

Not even Azul knew they had swapped

Is Pansexual and liked Azul during Junior High, but got over it once they started at NRC

Can scare someone so badly that they tell the truth regardless of Jade using his magic

50 students were asked who they’d rather have to fight, 42 of them said “Floyd all the way! No way am I fighting Jade!”

Was actually popular in Junior High, but turned down opportunities to be more popular to spend time with Floyd and Azul

Can cuss in 8 languages

Floyd

When he swapped clothing with Jade, he actually enjoyed being calm and responsible

Loves to do things like that for Jade

Raging Homosexual, need I say more?

His Bakugou impression is on point

There are several videos of him just standing at the end of a dark hallway laughing and whispering “Die, Deku!”

Also really likes Volleyball despite being on the Basketball team

Takes Bean Day a lot farther than it needs to be

Flirts with Riddle a lot, knowing it upsets Trey

But doesn’t know that Trey actually likes Riddle

Has sea related nicknames for everyone

Scarabia

Everyone has to help take care of Snake

Monthly competitions where Kalim hands out free vacations

The competitions involve taking care of Snake

Who is Snake? You’ll see.

Kalim

When he learned what Pansexual was, he went around Scarabia clapping pans together to come out

Cater was the one who explained it to him

Loves to party and flirt with Jamil, but can be serious if needed

Sometimes holds group therapy for his dorm residents

But also PARTY 24/7 IF IT HAS ALCOHOL WE CHUGGIN’ TONIGHT!

PARTY ROCKERS IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT

Named his magic carpet “Jamil Jr.”

Flexes on Azul with Jamil Jr.

Is open about his attraction to Jamil, but also respects Jamil’s personal space

He and Lila sneak out at night to mess with people

Jamil

Has a pet snake that he never named

Just calls the snake “Snake”.

When Jamil’s busy, other residents take turns taking care of Snake

There is an entire chore chart and half of the chores involve Snake

Snake isn’t even the dorm mascot, he’s just Jamil’s pet

Tsundere TM

The only reason he doesn’t accept Kalim’s professions of love is because of his family obligations to serve the Al-Asim family

Takes family and traditions very seriously

Internalized homophobia? Maybe....

Petty as well

Has poured sand into people’s shoes and hidden scorpions in beds

Pomfiore

Usually wins the karaoke battles

Unless Ruggie + Jack join

Make up tips

Vil

I’ve said most of my HCs about him

But I’ll retype them

Wine Mom TM

Musical Theatre Gay TM

Tea Time TM

Fashion Police TM

NRC James Charles

But also respective of people’s sexualities

Has poured water into people’s makeup

Has attempted to give Rook a make over, but Rook is more acrobatic then he looks

Has never actually sung in public

Likes to keep people guessing over his singing voice

Has a cherry apple tree in the school garden that he spends time every day taking care of

Runs NRC’s GSA

Rook

Heterosexual TM

Wears Doc Martens sandals with beige cargo shorts and white polo shirts when not in uniform

Can be seen back-flipping away in this outfit while Vil chases him around the dorm

Is allergic to strawberries

Epel’s bodyguard

Throws rotten fruit at people and calls it a prank

His bangs were by accident

But decided to keep them

Pretends to hunt, but can’t shoot for shit

However does go on fishing trips

Has to have some Heterosexual Hobbies TM

Epel

Is an actual Prince

Like owns land

Everyone in the dorm protects him

Is actually like Honey Senpai

Will put you in your place.

Like fr is a top.

Despite being so small

I don’t know what his sexuality would be

Probably Bisexual

Can lower is voice a lot if needed

Ignihyde

There’s magic inside of the dorm that turns all fire blue, but the fire turns back to normal once outside the dorm

Doesn’t apply to Ortho’s hair, though

Has the most LGBT residents - even more than Pomfiore surprisingly

Actually, not surprising - have you seen Disney’s Hades????

Iida

Cat-sits for Professer Trein

Everyone believes he can set his hair on fire, but he actually can’t

His hair is naturally that fire-y color

Loves to prank people, but never in person

Social Anxiety? Personified.

Before he rebuilt Ortho, Iida had a robot he controlled from his room that went to class for him

The robot was named “Meg”

Now he just uses his screens

Owns a crop top that has a cat face on it that Ortho made for him

Actually wears it a lot, but nobody ever sees below his shoulders on his screens

Oh yeah, also constantly questioning his sexuality

Currently likes guys, but that might just be because he goes to an all-guys school

Ortho

Has tons of cat plushies in his room despite not needing to sleep

Also has a mini library in his room, but he memorized all of the books

Burns things with his hair

Also sews a lot

Spills tea about the dorm residents with Trey, Jamil and Lilia

Has a couple pictures from before he became a robot, but doesn’t remember taking them

Has a bulletin board where he hangs pictures of his friends and family

Actually takes photography classes from Cater

Doesn’t focus on sexuality, so he just goes with “Queer”

People assume he’s scared of water because of his fire hair, but he loves playing in pools

Once cosplayed as Alphonse Elric and Iida was Edward from FML

Has pictures of that as well

Diasomnia

Basically one big family

Even more-so than other dorms like Ignihyde

Has a vault of hard liquor that has been sitting there for centuries

Malleus

Responds to Tsunotaro

Smuggles hard liquor into Scarabia despite not being a drinker

Has a YouTube account where he visits old buildings

Floyd ruined his Ramshackle Dorm video by standing at the end of a hallway and laughing

Can turn into a Dragon

His horns aren’t sensitive

Lilia once hung Christmas lights from them and Malleus didn’t notice for the entire day

Sometimes Lilia jumps and pulls on Malleus’ horns when he’s being dumb

Polysexual, but leans towards men

When he looks surprised by something - he genuinely is surprised, not faking it for someone else

Doesn’t believe in hiding emotions

Is actually like 300 years old, but was frozen for a good amount of it

Also immortal and is stuck at being physically 18

Damn Fairy magic

Oh and he didn’t mind wearing Leona’s ceremonial robes that one time

They were comfy

Enjoys swapping clothes with Leona a lot

Also had a crown made of thorns that is uncomfortable to wear

He burned it, but hasn’t told anyone yet

Takes the term “mom friend” to another level

Just ask Silver

Lilia

Only calls Malleus “old man” to be a prick

Is like 500 years old

Has gone through high school many times

Can undo stitches in people’s clothing without them knowing until their clothing falls apart

Asexual Homoromantic

“Who needs sex when you can be a bitch?” - Lilia Vanrouge, 2020

Is Malleus’ royal advisor

Spills tea like crazy

Has catfished people

Is the cool dad

Sebek

Is a Malleus fanboy???

He named his horse Draco

I don’t have many Headcanons about Sebek actually

Probably drinks tea with Riddle sometimes

Oh and definitely a bottom

Is he Bi? Poly? Pan? No one knows

But he’s a power bottom

Silver

Doesn’t have a last name because he was raised by Lilia and Malleus

Is indebted to Malleus because of this

and Lilia too, but like I said, Lilia is the cool dad

(he is actually indebted to Malleus in canon, but idk if it’s for this reason or not)

just let him have two platonically gay dads that go to school with him

Once in a Diasomnia/Savanaclaw sleepover, he and Leona passed out on each other’s shoulders while Ruggie and Lilia took photos

The photos haven’t been seen in a while, but are still around somewhere

Actually has several photos of him falling asleep with his head in Lilia’s lap

His bed stretches across his entire wall, forming a bench almost

Owns a suit of armor

It has a sword

He can use the sword if needed

Can he just get a nap????

Because of his relationship with Malleus, seeing fireflies calms him down

Is this guy wholesome? Yes.

Is he a Bisexual top? Also yes.

Can’t make everything wholesome

Holy fuck my fingers hate me. If you managed to read this far, I hope you enjoyed my headcanons for Twisted Wonderland students and houses! I don’t know enough about the teachers to make headcanons for each them, but I do have one for the staff:

Sam and Dire Crowley

Married

This is the only reason Sam runs the school store

Sam is not qualified for anything else

But Dire loves him too much to fire him

Forget the wholesomeness between the Dorm heads and their Vices

This is the most wholesome pair

Okay seriously - I need to stop making these headcanons it’s midnight at my house. I’ve spent probably close to 13 hours (give or take with a lot of breaks) writing these down and doing research on characters just so that my headcanons don’t seem completely out of the blue. Also, don’t be afraid to post your own headcanons, even if canon doesn’t always support them. That’s the thing about fictional characters - they’re open to interpretation!

And now to the long list of tags....

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