#probably gonna clean up and eat and then register for my classes :~)

[degenrcy]

deeper than love (3) ao3 link <-

he can only be so successful, you know

kinda short, not a lot of action sorry !!

warnings: incest, noncon, yeah...

you were a brave freshman, taking on high school by yourself- shig graduated a few years back. he was... supposed to be in college by now, but that's okay. everyone goes at their own pace. it was your first day!

"c-come on, shig-nii, i'm gonna be late again!" you whined, holding desperately onto the edge of the bed. you threw your head back when your brother's dick slid inside you quite forcefully- ah when was it not?

"shut the fuck uuuup, dude." he slapped a hand over your mouth, slowly thrusting in and out. god he loved the feeling, nothing topped it. no other girl felt as good as you ever did. he can't believe he's been getting away with it for so long, all the credit has to go to your parents. they shelter you enough as is, they didn't want you to end up like your failure fuck-up older brother, so they force you to bedtime and the only place you can be by yourself is at school after your loving brother drops you off everyday.

the same loving, caring, amazing brother who has been training you to be his personal free-use toy for... hm, a long, long time. he cums in your mouth before school, calls it your energy boost. he convinced you breakfast wasn't that important- just like food in general. he wanted you small and frail forever. might as well engrain an eating disorder into you too while he was at it.

he slapped your cute little butt after he shoved you out his rank, dirty car. you watched him speed off, hearing the bass from his music trail off when he got to the end of the street. you sighed, limping up the steps to class.

"today my presentation is about sexual assault." your peer stood in front of the class nervously, what a mature topic!!

"sexual assault is non-consensual sexual acts..." cue giggling from your class and a shush from your teacher. "sexual assault is usually done by someone you know- a friend, a family member, or another adult you may know."

wow, what kind of friend or family member would do something against your will?

"the sibling incest rape rates in the country are as follows,"

you furrowed your eyebrows.

you raised your hand, perfectly clipped and manicured nails, because your brother wanted you cute and clean at all times, especially if your hand was gonna be around his dick a lot.

"y/n, question?" your teacher smiled. she was glad someone was being respectful.

"so, this is bad to you?" you quirked your head. the whole class fell silent. your teacher looked bewildered. "my brother rapes me all the time, he told me it's completely normal and good!"

your teacher scrambled to the phone, the whole class still quiet.

ever since that day, you've been stuck in therapy sessions three times a week and constantly monitored. shigaraki no longer lived with the family anymore. you had to move schools, no one could forget that day and cruel students liked to make sure no one else did.

"you could fuck y/n, she let her brother hit." boys would bet on it, others were disgusted at the thought.

"i feel bad, but how could you not know that it was wrong! i was there when she told the class- she was all like-" girls avoided you.

at this point, you were more depressed about all the bullying and assumptions than the trauma you actually endured. a few years went by- it was a lonely few years. your brother surely wasn't that bad the whole time, right?

you knocked at his door- you spent very little time finding where he lived. thank god they posted the addresses of registered sex offenders online. your parents were probably getting ready to tear apart the entire neighborhood looking for you, then kill themselves when they realized where you really were.

the door creaked open, revealing an arm, and shoulder, neck, half body- hair- face.

bags under his eyes, stubble, platinum blue dyed hair. the dark eyes, piercing through you.

"y/n?" his voice was so much deeper.

"hi, big brother."

you pushed open the door, pressing the taser mom bought you into his stomach. he fell over without a sound, spazzing a bit on the floor. you jabbed it in his side for good measure, watching his body writhe.

you got to work tying up his wrists behind his back. he was still super skinny, and his place was filthy. his computer was still on, the fans of the pc whirring loudly, blue illuminating the dark corner of his room, tempting you. as a kid, you always wanted to know what he was typing so furiously away at.

he groaned, looking up at you through his bangs. his eyes flicked to the computer, then back to you.

your mouth went dry, heart heavy. he was even more disgusting than you ever perceived. this was who he was? "you're sick, shigaraki."

you crouched down to his level, his eyes quickly darted between your legs, looking at your panties through your dark tights. you smacked him hard, making him gasp out.

"you really can't help yourself, huh?" you wanted to cry.

"you really shouldn't be here, y/n. go home. mom and dad'll kill you."

you frowned, standing up again. your fingers shook, delicate. you lifted your school skirt up by the hems, his lips quivering open and eyes trailing back down to your bottom half. you revealed yourself to him, like old times.

"do you really want me to leave so soon, shig-nii?"

#shigaraki tomura dark fic #shigaraki tomura/reader #shigaraki/reader #tw.abuse #shigaraki noncon

[golden-barnes]

Plum tarts and red carnations

Pairing: Florist! Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Bucky is enamored with one of the employees of the bakery in front of his store.

Category: Fluff

Warning:s some self-doubting thoughts and cursing .

Word count: 2.5k

Author’s note: I have been thinking about this since that one anon and thank you @buckycuddlebuddy because you helped to inspire me further with this. Also think of Bucky as Beefy because I'm a softy for a gentle giant. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

“Damn Jerry. You’ve been growing nicely. A little bit more, and you will be ready to find a new home, bud.” Bucky whispered to the little sprout he was watering. Bucky loved his morning routine.

Before opening up his shop, he would check on his nursery. Water the plants in his greenhouse, checking them to see how they have grown. He liked talking to them; they never judged him or ignored him. He even named them. Sam would help, too, though he treated it more as a joke.

After checking on the nursery, he would focus on making bouquets and arrangements for the store. Nobody knew he was the one who made those beautiful arrangements, and he liked it.

It was like therapy for him. Matching the flowers and creating bouquets with meaning was a talent Bucky didn’t know he had. By this point, the shop was opened and ready for business.

While preparing a rose bouquet, he saw a woman in an apron running out of the new coffee shop from the table next to the cash register. Oh shit, she’s pretty. He thought. He kept staring at her and forgot the fresh roses next to him, grabbed one carelessly.

“Fuck.” He accidentally pricked his finger with a thorn. He applied pressure to his wounded finger.

“Oh, are you okay, sir?” The pretty woman from the bakery asked. Bucky didn’t notice her entering the shop, and now she was here. Looking disheveled but incredibly beautiful.

“Yeah, happens all the time. What can I help you with?” He said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He could hear Sam’s voice in his head. “Play it cool, Buck.”The woman let out a sigh.

“I’m co-owner of the coffee shop, and it’s our opening day. I was encharged of the decorations, and I ordered some flowers from this other place, but when they got here, they were horrible. Like really bad. And oh god, I’m rambling, but I need a brand new arrangement.” She said all in one breath. Bucky had to fight a smile from appearing. Adorable.

“It’s okay. What colors did you want?” Bucky asked. The woman smiled at him.

“We wanted white and purples. Something simple. But honestly, I know nothing of flowers. I don’t understand why Wanda put me up with this? Now we are late, and I still have to finish decorating the cupcakes.” She explained while Bucky started to search for the flowers in his shop.

“Lilacs, with white peonies and lavender roses, would make a nice bouquet. How does that sound?” Bucky showed her the flowers he was referring to. The woman gasped.

“Oh, they are so pretty! You, sir, are a genius.” She gushed, still looking at the flowers. Bucky felt his cheeks getting red from receiving praise.

“I can bring it to you,” Buckywhispered, afraid that she might not like that idea. “You know, because you still have some stuff to finish, so you can do it, and I’ll bring it to you in less than 10 minutes.” She looked at him and went to hug him. Bucky tensed, not expecting the hug, but soon relaxed.

“You are literally my hero. Just ask for Y/N,” She said, walking towards the exit. “Wait, what’s your name?” She added, opening the door to leave.

“Bucky.” Y/N smiled at him. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky has never worked on an arrangement as hard as this one. He was already meticulous, but he really wanted to impress Y/N. Can you blame him? The pretty girl needed his help, and he wanted her to be happy. He even added some baby’s breath and this new white ribbon that had come in for weddings. He was very proud of it but also very nervous.

With a deep breath, Bucky entered the coffee shop. A brunette was at the door, cleaning the tables.

“Sorry, Sir. We are still aren’t open.” She said. Bucky gulped.

“Uhm. I’m looking for Y/N.” He told her; she looked at the flowers in his hands and understood. She yelled for Y/N, who came out of the kitchen with icing on her check, giving him the brightest smile.

“Hey, Bucky! That’s beautiful! How did you make such a pretty arrangement in less than 20 minutes?” She grabbed the vase out of his hands and set it on the counter. Bucky blushed and scratched his neck, shying away.

“It’s nothing.. I’m just happy you liked it.”

“How much do I owe you?” She asked. Bucky put his hands up.

“Oh, it’s on the house. Don’t worry. Call it a welcome gift.” He explained; Y/N jumped and gave him another hug. This time Bucky wrapped his arms around her.

“You are the nicest person on this fucking planet. I have to make it up to you. What’s your favorite fruit?” She pulled away from him and looked at Bucky in the eye. Bucky felt his breath hitch, and his palms get sweaty.

“I-I like plums.” He stuttered. She gave him a big smile and handed him a cookie.

“Hmm, I can make something with that.” She winked at him.

-

“I still haven’t named you, but honestly, I don’t know. You look like a Janelle, but also, I feel like that doesn’t fit.” Bucky said to the new cactus that arrived yesterday, in the afternoon.

“I think she looks like a Lucille.” Bucky turned around and saw Y/N with a box in hand.

“Oh, hi.” He felt embarrassed. She had heard him talk to his plants. Not even Steve had seen that. It was his private thing.

“She’s cute. What type of cactus is it?” She looked at it, not looking weirded out or anything.

“It’s called a Bishop’s cap. They grow to be very pretty and sprout a yellow flower. Not very popular in the shop, but there’s this new cactus crazy going on, and I thought to stock up.” Bucky explained, putting the cactus down next to the others.

“Do you name all your plants?” Bucky gulped and turned around to face her.

“Yeah, and talk to them too.” Bucky fought the urge to punch himself. Why would he say that? Fuck, now she is gonna think he is a fucking weirdo.

Much to his surprise, she smiled at him. She suddenly remembered the box she brought and opened it.

“For saving me yesterday, I made you a plum tart.” She opened it and pulled out the tart. Bucky felt his heart beating faster, and his hands get clammy.

“You didn’t have to.” “Ah! I beg to differ. Everyone that walked into our shop loved the flowers. They were really something. Like I couldn’t stop looking at them. So I had to show you my gratitude the only way I know how. With treats.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat that all alone. Want to share?” Bucky asked, giving her puppy eyes so she wouldn’t say no.

“You drive a hard bargain, Bucky. Has anyone ever told you can get away with murder with those eyes?” Y/N joked.

“I think my grandma’ probably said it. I have some silverware in the shop’s kitchen. When you have to be at your shop?” Bucky said, signaling her to follow him.

“I’m on break—perks of being the boss.” She explained while Bucky grabbed a few paper plates, forks, and a knife. She grabbed the knife and cut a big piece, and gave it to Bucky. Then she cut a piece for herself.

Bucky took a bite and accidentally let out a moan.

“I take it; you like it.” She winked at Bucky. He diverted his gaze from her. Why the fuck did I do that? Bucky screamed internally.

“It’s delicious. I can see why your shop has been packed since yesterday. Reminds me of my ma’s.” Bucky admitted.

“I’m glad, but I can’t take all the credit. You should see the coffee mixes Wanda came up with. They are the real star.” Bucky smiled at her. Nice and pretty… She let out a cough.

“How did you get really good with plants? Like sorry for the personal question, but you have a talent.” She inquired.

“Well, uhm. After getting discharged, my friend Sam suggested that I take classes to handle stress and PTSD. One of the classes was gardening, and I just found it so calming. So I started taking more courses and learning ‘till I decided to start my own business. I don’t think I could ever work anywhere else.” Bucky noticed her staring at him. “What?” He said, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how you are the nicest man I’ve ever meet.” She said nonchalantly. Bucky chuckled.

“It’s nothing major. I just found my calling.” Bucky stated.

“I feel the same. I baked a lot in college, and then suddenly I was like fuck, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She recalled. Her eyes glowed under the light of the kitchen.

“I felt the same way when I started this shop.” Bucky admitted, she bit back a smile.

“By the way, I like the name—Howling’s flowers. Oh, and how pretty this store is, it looks like I walked in a magical forest.” She complimented.

“I- thanks. I named my store after my squad and the decor well; that’s kind of an embarrassing story.” Bucky chuckled nervously. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. I own a coffee shop named Magic café, and all of our items are named after magical things. I am the last person to judge.” Bucky bit his lip nervously while listening to her.

“I based it on The Hobbit. It was my favorite book when I was younger, and I just couldn’t imagine decoring this store anyway else.” Y/N looked at him with an open mouth.

“Okay, are you government android? Because you are friendly, great with plants and well-read. You are too good to be true.” She laughed. Bucky needs to find a way to blush less in her presence because this is like the fourth or fifth time it has happened.

They finished eating their pieces of tart and talking for a while. Y/N decided to go back to the shop, not realizing how much time she spent there. Before leaving, Bucky gave her some more lavender roses.

“Oh, Bucky, you don’t have to.” She protested.

“It’s just to add to the arrangement. I feel like it was missing a few more roses. You’ll be doing me a favor.” He assured. She grabbed the flowers and smelt them before smiling and giving him a small thanks.

Little did she know that lavender Roses mean love at first sight.

They played that little game for weeks, almost 2 months. Y/N would take her lunch break at Bucky’s shop. Feed him some food and pastries that she was experimenting with, and he would give her flowers.

“To put on the counter. Your store deserves fresh flowers every day.” Bucky claimed. But in actuality, all the flowers meant something. The white camellias? He was telling her that he admired her. The amaryllis? That he found you beautiful. The white and purple stocks? A silent plea for bonds of affection from your part. But he couldn’t bring himself to say these things out loud.

Speaking to Y/N in flowers was much easier. Maybe because she didn’t know and couldn’t reject him.

“Bucky, you gotta tell her, man.” Steve would try to reason with him. “She likes you; you like her. Just tell her that you like her or ask her out on a date.”

“You don’t get it, Steve.” Bucky would argue, which led to an entire discussion on how Bucky is being a coward that ended with him telling Steve and Sam to fuck off.

But they were right; it was simple. She has been an absolute doll with him. She doesn’t mind hearing his rants about the new book he read and helped him water his plants. She even bought waterproof labels to put their names on their planters. She even asked (more like demanded) Bucky to send her the pictures of every bouquet and arrangement he made. She loved seen his creations.

And he loved being her test subject. She would bring him new pastries to try. He was her official taste tester. Anything new in the store, Bucky had already tried it in every one of its variations. Y/N would speak to him of all of her special interests and all of her new hobbies. He had even met all her friends, and they loved him.

So why was this so difficult? Bucky groaned while arranging the flowers at the front of the shop.

“What’s got you all groaning and gloomy, Bucky-bear?” Y/N asked him. She looked radiant in her work clothes. Ugh, Bucky had it bad.

“Nothing, j-just thinking.” He nervously replied.

“Don’t overthink. You might over-heat your brain, bubs.” She joked, entering Bucky’s shop. And like the hopeless romantic he is, he followed.

“Soooooooo I have been trying out this new pasta recipe, and you are the only one I trust to give me the truth.” She said, opening the Tupperware she brought. Bucky’s heart fluttered at her words. He felt light-headed; maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“I like you.” He blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Y/N turned to him, widen eyes, and mouth gaped.

“Bucky, do you mean that? Because if you are playing with me, I will fight you with this.” She warned Bucky, threatening with a spoon.

“I like you a lot. Actually love you. I- that’s what those flowers meant.” Bucky explained. Y/N put down the spoon.

“What flowers?” She asked, in the softest tone he has ever heard her speak in. Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed that this was his confession.

“All of them. They all meant love in one form or the other.” He admitted. Y/N stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. He felt his heart do backflips.

“What flower means I’m in love with you, Bucky?” She asked, caressing his cheek.

“Maybe red carnations.” He joked, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll ask this handsome florist with a heart of gold to make me a bouquet to give you.” Bucky chuckled while she let out a little giggle.

“I would love a bouquet, but I would much rather have a plum tart from the sexy baker on the store out front.” Y/N hummed.

“I think I can make that happen.” She said, pulling him closer. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?” She asked; Bucky could only nod.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, molding her body against him. Their lips gliding over each other smoothly, as if they were made for each other.

They pulled away to take a breath, and they both had the same dopey smile. Tarts and carnations. Who knew they mixed so well?

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

[twilightfansofcolor]

Black!Bella (New Moon edition)

wc: 1.7k

So the summer is here and Bella is on cloud 9

Without a doubt one of the best summers ever

When her leg healed up, Charlie took her hiking just like when she was little, or they’d go to La Push to look at the tidepools or they’d just go to Seattle to visit the aquarium

Sleepovers with Jessica and Angela where they’d stay up watching Studio Ghibli movies, binge watching the Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar YouTube channels, giving each other makeovers and giving each other recommendations about skin care products

Long conversations with Renee about college

Renee thinks Bella should try a school in New York

Charlie wants her to go an HBCU

She never told Charlie that she filled out applications for NYU and a school in Louisiana that she liked, and that she was expecting to hear back from them soon

Bella and Edward would spend hours at their favorite bookstore chain in Port Angeles looking through the summer releases

They went there so much they were offered membership cards where they’d get 15% off every purchase

Sleepovers with Alice where Bella would constantly ask her what she saw in that C*nfederate 

Bella’s first few weeks of school fall around the same time as her birthday

She doesn’t have that many classes with Edward or Alice which she finds odd since Forks High is a small school

 Bella’s birthday is pretty much canon

Renee gave her a gift box of her favorite Godiva chocolate, makeup and skincare products while Charlie got her a Nintendo Switch with a few games so they could play against each other on Mario Kart.

The birthday party is still the same and ends in disaster 

Edward starts distancing himself from her, and so does Alice

Alice doesn’t wait for her outside her art class so they could walk to physics 

Something is wrong, Bella can feel it in her bones even though Angela and Jessica tell her that it’s probably nothing

Bella is bracing for whatever is coming. Could it be Victoria seeking revenge and Edward doesn’t know how to tell her?

Something worse, much worse

Bella listens to him tell her that they have to leave Forks and it takes her a minute to realize that the Cullens have to leave town without her

“In the hospital, you said you’d stay!”

“As long as it was safe for you, and after what happened at the party, it’s clearly not safe for me to be around you, Bella.”

Edward kisses her on the forehead one last time before he leaves, probably forever 

Charlie isn’t home from work so she just works on dinner in a daze with the television volume up as loud as she can stand it, NCIS blaring from the living room

Charlie confronts her when he finds out that the Cullens left town and that’s when she just cries, acknowledging it for the first time in hours

The following weeks after his departure are touch and go. 

She goes weeks without getting her hair braided, and just keeps it in a bun/poof 

Bella doesn’t wear makeup no matter how many times Charlie tries to entice her with the Vogue YouTube channel

“C’mon Bella, you love Saweetie,” Charlie said as if she were a toddler again, trying to get her to eat Cauliflower 

It isn’t until Charlie calls her mom that she snaps out of it and Renee tells her what she needs to know

“Bella, I know you’re going through a hard time, but you have other things you need to be worrying about. It hurts, I know, but moping around ain’t gonna bring him back, and you’re not the first person to be dumped. You’re getting ready to graduate high school in less than a year, and you need to start thinking about your future.”

Renee had never spoken to her like that before but she realized her mom was right, she did need to start thinking about her plans for the future

After giving herself two more days to cry it out, Bella gets right back to business

She’s blasting Flo Milli while she gets ready for school, gets a new wardrobe and is now tutoring kids in school and La Push for some extra cash

Which is how she runs into Jacob again

She helps him with biology which turns into Charlie coming home and finding the two of them watching Guy's Grocery Games and arguing about which contestant they think is getting the boot next

Not that he’s complaining. He’s secretly hoping they’d get together

One Friday night in February, Bella invites him to the movies with a few friends from school

And it starts to go downhill when Jacob threatens Mike, who got sick halfway through the movie

Jacob reveals his feelings for Bella but she has to reject his advances

She loves Jacob, he’s been so sweet to her, but she cannot handle another relationship when she’s barely over the first one

When Bella calls him on Saturday morning to apologize, he doesn’t pick up the phone or answer any of her texts but she thinks nothing of it, chalking it up to him being sick

The next time she calls, she calls the house and Billy tells her Jacob is feeling better but that he’s not up for visitors, so she takes matters into her own hands

She spends the entire morning parked outside his house waiting for him

Bella doesn’t recognize him, he’s a lot bigger, his hair is shorter and his usually warm brown eyes look cold

Jacob tells her to go home and not to come back and Bella knows that Sam finally got him like he did Embry and he proceeds to tell her how he’s not good enough for her like the Cullens and alludes to the fact that he knows the Cullens’ secret

“You’ve been lying to everyone. Charlie… but you can’t lie to me, Bella. Go home. Or you’re gonna get hurt.”

She just stands there in the cold rain, getting soaked from head to toe, and she can’t tell if she’s crying or if it’s just the rain hitting her face

She has a strange dream involving a brown wolf the size of a horse, Jacob, and surprisingly, Edward

Bella confronts Jacob again, this time almost getting into it with Paul who turns into a wolf right in front her

Embry and Jared take her back to Sam’s house where she meets Emily

Bella and Emily get along well, and she finds out Emily is from the Makah tribe in Neah Bay, but she’s an elementary school math teacher’s assistant at the tribal school

She’s relieved when Jacob comes back to the house, safe and free of scratches and they walk along the beach and catch up

Bella is just happy that her friend is back and she vents about what’s really been bothering her: the encounter with Laurent, saying that Victoria is still looking for him

“You don’t have to worry about them. We took down the one with the locs easy enough.”

It doesn’t register for a minute so she just stands there, trying to make sense of it. “Y-you… killed Laurent?”

At this point, Bella is crying with tears of joy, her mascara smearing with tears and Jacob just holding her

Their friendship is back to normal in no time and pick up right where they left off

Bella has to remind Charlie, Angela and Jessica several times that she’s not dating Jacob 

Not that she hasn’t thought about it

It would be so easy, and both of their dads would be happy, and she wouldn’t have to lie like she does with Charlie and any of her friends

One day they’re just driving around, goofing off when she sees a group of kids jumping from the cliff

She’s getting her phone out to dial 911 before Jake stops her and tells her that they’re just cliff diving

Jacob offers to take her sometime, maybe when it’s warmer out, promising they’ll start at the lower level

It’s dark when they pull up to her house and Bella starts to invite him in for dinner when she notices a familiar car parked down the street

Bella remembers everything about that car, the quiet engine as she sat in the back seat while his C*nfederate brother drove them to Phoenix, the feel of the leather seats as she slept.

They go in anyway, and Bella is surprised to see Alice sitting on the couch reading a magazine, but she needs Bella’s help because Edward is in trouble

The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity

“I haven’t heard from you in almost a year. You avoided me in the halls, you blocked my number and my email, but now when you reappear from thin air I’m supposed to help you? What do I get out of this?”

Alice insists that Edward needs Bella’s help, that she can’t do this without her

At this point Bella knows that Charlie put a tracking device on her phone, and she’s not going to risk it

Jacob begging her not to go, and she really doesn’t want to go either

Instead she writes a quick letter telling Edward not to do what he’s thinking of doing just because they’re not together, saying that she’s happy with how her life is and she gives it to Alice to pass along

Despite EVERYTHING that happened, she wants him to be safe, so Bella gives Alice the letter

“What does this mean? Would they come back?” Jacob asked after Alice had left.

Bella knows what would happen if all of the Cullens came back: more young Quileute kids turning into wolves, and she doesn’t want that to happen, but she can’t stop it from happening either

“I really have no clue, but that’s their decision, and I have no hand in that game.”

It takes three days before the Cullens return to Forks, and she’s facing Edward again one day in the woods behind her house

Bella just tells him everything she’s been feeling since he left and more

“There isn’t any hope for us, there probably never was, and we can’t pretend any of this never happened, Edward. You know that. We can’t go back to normal, because it wasn’t normal in the first place. You were right the first time, and I should’ve listened.”

It goes without saying that Bella is going to keep the secret, but she’s also going to move on with her life, and wants Edward to do the same

Alexa, play “Clean” by Taylor Swift

#bella swan #twilight fans of color #god i hope this doesn't suck

[imagine-docx]

the cute barista and his crisis.

Summary: You spent the night at home, while your roommates were out partying. Suddenly, a random number called you ranting to you about how much he hates life. [college!barista!]

Warnings: hella sexual jokes and references, swearing, and hating post-secondary, as per usual.

A/N:  hope you guys are still doing well and i hope you guys are staying safe! 💛 - Amanda

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday consisted of either early morning classes, midday classes, and the occasional class that ran past 8 pm. Fridays were the only day you can claim as yours, but of course, you had to work.

It was Thursday and the cool New York air was engulfing you and your roommates as the three of you made your way to the usual coffee shop that was a little bit off campus. “Gonna ogle the cute barista again?” Wanda nudged.

“Ah yes, young love,” Nat snickered. 

“Shut up,” you felt the heat rise up to your cheeks, “I think he’s cute, but he probably has so many girls fawning over him.”

“Remember, we are the one cute girls in the coffee shop,” Nat said, opening the door, “After you, m’lady.”

That resulted in you and Wanda letting out a laugh, “Okay incel,” Wanda responded. The three of you glanced up at the menu, “I’m feeling tea today, but what kind?” Wanda said.

“After that comment, poison flavoured,” Nat muttered.

You let out a laugh, “You’re quite spicy today, go for a spiced tea.”

Wanda stuck her tongue out at Nat, “That’s why she’s my favourite roommate,” Glancing back at the menu, “Is Russian spiced tea good?” 

“I don’t know, ask your favourite roommate,” Nat said.

“Bitch.” 

The cute blond barista came up to the register, “You ready? Or do you need another minute?”

You felt Nat pinch your left ass cheek, and you nudge your elbow into her ribcage, “Yeah. Can I get a caramel iced coffee?” 

“Of course, what else?” He asked.

“Can I get a cinnamon dolce latte?” Nat spoke keeping her hand near your ass cheeks.

“Of course, and for you?” He indirectly asked Wanda.

“Russian spiced tea please.” She spoke.

“That’s $17.60, here or to go?” He asked.

“Here,” Wanda said, while digging in her backpack for her wallet, “Credit please?”

“Aww, we love it when our sugar daddy treats us,” You snickered, resulting in a laugh from Nat and the barista.

“It’s only because she bought dinner and you bought dessert last night,” she grumbled.

“Go take a seat, and I’ll bring the drinks over when they’re done.” He spoke, which resulted in a hums of thank you from the three of you and you guys walked over to the usual booth you guys inhabited when you were here.

“Is there a reason that my poor ass cheek got abused?” You asked.

“He was checking you out,” Nat bluntly stated.

“No he wasn’t, he was doing his job.” You stated. 

“And I am a natural redhead,” she sarcastically said.

“Wait, it's dye?” Wanda practically cried out.

The three of you laughed, and went over your plans for the next weekend. Nat had work and was doing rehearsal for the Russian dance competition that was happening in a few weeks. Wanda had to work and was also seeing her brother Pietro on Sunday. You on the other hand had to work, and had to have a comparative essay done by Monday. 

“You’re so lucky you’re done your midterms,” Wanda said, “I’m still struggling trying to wrap my head around platyhelminths.”

“But see, you watched me and laughed at me for only surviving off of coffee and fruit snacks for three weeks straight. Now I am prospering and living my life and you have a midterm on Monday,” you said.

“You looked like death around the apartment,” Nat laughed, and the cute barista brought over your drinks.

“Russian spiced tea, cinnamon dolce latte, and caramel iced coffee,” he said, passing around the drinks, “And a tiramisu square.”

“Uh, we didn’t order this?” Nat asked. 

“The table over there sent it,” he responded, pointing his head over to where a group of boys were sitting.

“Thank you,” the three of you hummed and there went the barista.

“You know,” Nat leaned into you, “He has a nice ass.”

“Nat,” You hissed.

“America is proud of that ass,” Wanda snickered.

Suddenly the group of boys that sent the dessert got louder, trying to get your attention. You rolled your eyes, “God, I hate men.”

“Except for the pretty blond one with a nice ass,” Nat said, digging into the tiramisu. 

“I second that,” Wanda said, taking a bite of the piece on her spoon.

Suddenly the frat boy cult got even louder, Nat rolled her eyes, and moved your hair from the base of your neck, “What are you-” Then came a long lick from the base of your neck to your jawline. Suddenly the frat boy cult shut up, “Jesus Christ, warn a girl.”

“Why are you acting all shy now? You weren’t this shy last weekend when I was doing body shots off of you at the back of the apartment,” Nat said, nonchalantly.

“You may have shut up the frat boy cult, but the cute barista is so red you can confuse him for a bottle of ketchup.” Wanda stated.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Two weeks have passed, and you would go into the coffee shop whenever you had over an hour worth of a gap, or before work. Today is one of those days. It was Friday, and you were due to start your shift in forty-five minutes. 

Walking into the shop, there was the cute barista working the front. You didn’t catch the way his eyes practically lit up upon seeing you. “Just you today?” He asked.

“Yes sir,” you said, giving him a smile.

“Caramel iced coffee?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said, digging in your bag for your wallet. 

“Don’t worry, it's on the house.” He said, “Here or to go?”

“To go, please.”

“You got it doll,” and with that you stood off to the side and waited for him to make your drink. 

“Caramel iced coffee,” he called out.

“Thank you, have a good day,” you called out before making your way to your shift.

“You know you look like a lovesick puppy,” Bucky said to Steve.

“That obvious?” Steve asked. 

“Yeah. Also, remember, Happy is gonna take that coffee out of your paycheque,” Bucky said patting Steve’s back.

“If it’s for her, Happy can have my entire paycheque.” Steve responded, going to clean up.

“Ugh, teenagers and their hormones,” Bucky spoke.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

You, Wanda, and Nat sat on your shared living room floor eating the steamed dumplings and sushi that you ordered for dinner. “So you saw the cute barista boy today,” Wanda said, “Soy sauce please.”

Nat handed her the sauce before taking a california roll for herself, “His ass still thick?”

You nearly choked on the dumpling you were eating, “Fucking Christ, Nat.”

“You can’t miss that ass!” Nat tried justifying, “He walks in, and his ass walks in five minutes later.”

Wanda choked on her iced tea, “He wore this white shirt that was way too tight for him, God that left nothing to the imagination,” you said recalling the way his muscles moved when making your coffee.

“Someone’s having a wet dream tonight,” Wanda said.

You threw a soy sauce packet at her head, “No! I don’t even know his name.”

“See that’s a problem, she can’t moan his name if she doesn’t know his name.” Nat laughed.

You threw a soy sauce packet at her head, “The both of you need to get laid.”

“So do you sweetheart, and by the big muscular blond with the thick ass who works at The Petite Bean.” Wanda said, nearly dodging another soy sauce packet.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The next Friday night you were at home by yourself eating a sandwich from the bodega that was next to your building. Wanda and Nat went to this party, you wanted to go, but after your shift, you were exhausted and just decided to call it a night. 

Taking the last bite of your turkey sandwich, you got up and threw everything out, and decided to go and take a long hot shower. You stood at the tv debating whether or not you should turn off the documentary on whales, but you decided not to as it helps serve as background noise.

You showered and threw on a massive NYU hoodie and some pyjama shorts. Getting out of the shower, you headed back to the kitchen, dug around in the cabinets for a snack of a sort, and headed back to your position on the couch. 

You were scrolling through your Instagram, when a random number called you. You answered because you never know it could be Nat or Wanda in trouble. “Hello?”

You heard a shaky breath from the other side, “Oh sorry, I have the wrong number.”

“Hey, before you hang up, are you okay?” You asked.

“Not really-”

You cut him off, “Did you want to talk about it? I have the time.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna bother you,” the man from the other side of the line said.

“Of course, shoot,” you said.

“Midterms got the worst of me. I’m practically failing chemistry, why did I take chem? Like I’m an art major, the fuck am I doing in science? Then the girl I dated for a little keeps coming by the place I work at with the man she cheated on me with, and that shit still stings. Then, there’s this cute girl who keeps coming by the place I work, and I can’t seem to talk to her. She’s like this ball of sunshine, and I don’t think I can talk to her. Do you have anything fucked up happening in your life? Or is the lord hating on me?” 

You laughed, “Unfortunately, no. With the chem thing, don’t be so hard on yourself. Courses get to the best of us, we are so reliant on a GPA, when it doesn’t even guarantee a job after practically killing ourselves for this degree. Failing one course isn’t so bad, just don’t fail more than three, that might result in academic probation. Honestly, if she cheated on you, fuck her. She doesn’t deserve any of your attention, if she was the one who gave you up. And with the other girl, just slowly ease her into it, ask her how her day has been, ask her about the weather, if she’s holding a book or something, try to bond with her about that.”

“You sound like a psych major,” he joked.

“Psych minor,” you corrected, “Socio major. From what I know you can’t be a science major. So what do you major in?” 

“Art history, and minor in regular history.”

“Oh, we got a huge history fan don’t we?” You joked.

“Biggest nerd in Brooklyn.”

That same night the two of you stayed talking until 4:30 am, before he heard you yawning and telling you to get some sleep. You both bidded your goodnights and the moment your head hit the pillow, you knocked out.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The following morning, or afternoon at that point. You stumbled into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, and heard Wanda and Nat groaning about how they need Advil. You opened the door to Nat’s room and saw the two of them practically cuddling. You threw two bottles of water, and the bottle of Advil at them before heading to the washroom to brush your teeth. 

Once you were done, you sat on the counter of the kitchen drinking your coffee, you heard stumbling from the hallway. Suddenly, a disheveled Nat appeared, she was sporting bedhead, smeared makeup, a black lace bra and some random sleeping shorts that looked like they belonged to Wanda. “Good morning sweetheart,” you cooed.

She flipped you off before making herself a cup of coffee, “Never drinking again.”

“Nat,” Wanda whined, “Please I need a cuddle buddy.”

“You have another roommate,” Nat reminded her.

Wanda nudged your legs open and curled up into your frame, “My favourite.”

You laughed while patting her head, “What happened?”

“So much booze, free booze.” Nat stated.

Free booze to university kids was like feeding candy to a toddler. “Alright cuddlebug. I have errands to do, I gotta go shower.” You said trying to push away Wanda.

“No, please don’t.” Wanda latching onto you harder.

“She’s gonna make her way down to Manhattan to see the cute barista,” Nat joked.

“Harhar, I’m going to the bank and I need to mail out this return. The green dress was too big, had to order a size down.” You said, finishing off your coffee, finally pushing off Wanda, “Also why the fuck would I go to Manhattan to see the barista.”

“Dick makes you do crazy things baby girl.” Nat said.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

While you were getting dressed your mind ran onto the man who called you last night and ranted to you about his life. You decided to call him back and check up on him. After three rings he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey, you called me last night and we talked for an hour and a half about some super deep stuff, you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for checking up on me.” He spoke.

“Not a problem, if you ever need to rant, you can always text me.” You said shoving your wallet into your bag.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna burden.” He asked.

“If you need a friend, I am here for you.” You said.

You two exchanged names, before both of you had to go. And that started your texting relationship with a man named Steve Rogers.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

You came back home from your errands trip and brought bagels for the two hungover disasters you call your roommates. You walked back in and saw Wanda and Nat under the pink fur blanket watching the whale documentary you were watching last night. “My baby is back,” Wanda said excitedly.

“I bring bagels, because bagels make us happy when we are hungover.” You said placing the bag on the table, “Two rainbow bagels with strawberry cream cheese. Two poppy seed bagels with tuna salad on both.” You said handing each of them their own bagels. 

You grabbed your own two before plopping next to them, “If barista boy doesn’t domesticate you, I will.” Nat said.

You laughed before you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you got a message from Steve asking about the bagel place you usually get your stuff from. “Who’s Steve?” Wanda asked.

“New mans?” Nat exclaimed.

“You’re replacing barista boy before you could even dick him down?” Wanda cried out.

“No, Jesus. I haven’t even met Steve-” Wrong phrasing you used there.

“You’re back on tinder?” Wanda asked, “I thought we were doing it together.”

“No, he accidentally called me last night and we talked for an hour.” You said nonchalantly taking a bite out of your bagel.

“A threesome with barista boy and Steve? Wow someone’s getting some,” Nat said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ Nat.”

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

As per usual, you made your way into the cafe getting coffee before your shift. Noticing the barista, you again missed the gleam in his eyes when he saw you. He mustered up the courage, “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m doing good,” You smiled.

Steve felt his knees weaken at your smile, “The usual?”

“The usual,” you said, paying and going to message the roommate group chat about the tight light blue shirt barista boy was wearing today.

“Alright, here you go.” He said sliding you the coffee and a straw.

“Thank you, have a good day,” you said before slipping out of the shop and heading to work.

“So you took the girls advice and asked her about her day, look at you making big moves.” Bucky nudged Steve.

“One step at a time Buck,” he said, going to clean up his station.

“Hey, you better have not given her another free coffee,” Bucky called out.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

After several weeks of messaging Steve, you learned he also attended NYU and both of you worked around your schedules, trying to meet up. The two of you finally decided to meet on campus. You picked a morning where you, Nat and Wanda had a two hour gap just in case something happened and he was in fact a 50 year old pervert with a thing for third year students.

You: hey i’m in the student centre

Steve: Hey, I’m sitting, I’m wearing a black jacket and a white t-shirt

You looked up and almost screamed, as if the gods were playing a joke on you. It was your cute barista boy. Okay, being rational, he could happen to be here at the same time, wearing the same out- nope, no way. “Steve?” You asked, approaching the table.

Looking up from his phone, he was shocked as well, “H-hi,” he stuttered out.

“Can I sit?” You asked.

“Of course.”

“So I guess you were helping me, try and talk to you,” he finally spoke out.

“Wait, what?” You asked, confused.

“The girl I was messaging you about, was you,” he sheepishly said.

You didn’t know how to respond, “Really?”

“Yeah, if you don’t feel the same that’s okay.” Steve said looking down at his fingers.

You took his hand in yours, “No, I like you too.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, Nat keeps trying to get me to ask you out. But I kept talking myself out of it.” You said.

“How about I treat you to the finest thing this campus has to offer and we can talk about how we both are idiots,” he offered.

“It better be the Wendy’s,” you joked.

“Only the finest for the finest,” he winked at you, resulting in the blush staining your cheeks. He stood up and put his hand out, upon standing up you took his hand and was about to exit the student centre. 

You heard Nat speak loudly to Wanda, “She’s getting dick, I’m so proud of her.” You wanted the ground to create a blackhole and swallow you whole. 

Until you heard another voice, “BuckBuck! Our baby Steve is all grown up and getting pussy.”

You looked to see Steve blushing, turning back and flipping him off, “Fuck off Sam.”

Of course, both of your roommates were the worst.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #marvel #Marvel Comics #marvel cinematic universe #MARVEL FANDOM #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic x reader #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #college!steve #college!steve rogers #college!au #college fanfic captain america #marvel au #marvel x reader au

[hold-me-sickfics]

Taehyung x Yoongi “Experience is the best Teacher”

Hi guys! Sooooo I was in the mood to write and thanks to @thatoneemokpop-02 I got inspired 😁 here’s an mpreg fic based on a prompt Alex gave me last night! Hope y’all enjoy!

TW: food, mpreg, birth scene, anxiety, emeto (if there are any more please let me know!)

“Taehyungie, baby, I don’t know if we can fit all this in the car…” Yoongi eyed the ENTIRE STORE, watching nervously as Taehyung ran around pointing to various things he wanted. The nursery was Taehyung’s main focus right now, and Yoongi was sure it was because he was nervous about the baby coming soon. However, if it numbed Taehyung’s nerves, Yoongi was all in for it.

“Yoongi it’s not like I’m gonna buy the whole thing. Just a couple things if we really need them.”

Taehyung smiled as he looked through all the bottles that the store had to offer.

“Can we get these? They’re so cute!” Taehyung giggled, causing his tummy to bounce up and down. Yoongi swore it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Babe we bought those last week, didn’t we?” Yoongi put them back on the shelf.

Taehyung picked them back up.

“No, those were the blue ones. These are yellow.”

Yoongi had to admit, he had a point.

“Alright, we can get them. But these are the last bottles okay? If we get any more, I’m gonna have to build another cabinet.” Yoongi chuckled, Taehyung’s beaming smile making him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“Deal.” Taehyung reached over into the buggy, keeping one hand on his tummy so it wouldn’t be pressed into by the metal siding.

“Ready to go? I’ll get you your favorite.” Yoongi couldn’t help himself, spoiling Taehyung was his guilty pleasure. It had been ever since he’d started dating him.

“Ugh Yoongi I’m already fat.” Taehyung looked down at his tummy, palming it just a bit. His mood swings were no problem for Yoongi, being as he knew exactly how to handle them.

Yoongi and Taehyung were behind a shelf, giving Yoongi a perfect shot (Taehyung hated physical affection with other people watching, so Yoongi was always mindful of it.)

Yoongi took Taehyung’s hand and gently kissed it.

“You’re beautiful, and I don’t care if your scale says that you’ve gained a little. Honestly, I can’t get my mind off of you when you’re doing your little waddle. It’s kinda sexy.” Yoongi winked at him. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh.

“Min Yoongi you have lost it.”

“Mhmmm,” he kissed his head. “Now, don't fight me on this. Baby wants chicken strips. Does daddy want chicken strips?”

Taehyung felt his face turn completely red.

“... maybe a little…”

“I thought so.” Yoongi winked at him, and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go pay for these and then we’ll go get supper.”

“Ahhhagghhhh!” Taehyung’s smile quickly changed into a pained grimace as he rubbed his back. Yoongi was holding him in less than a second.

“What happened? Are you okay?” The worry in Yoongi’s voice couldn’t be clearer.

“I- I’m okay. He kicked and punched me at the same time. It hit my back. Agh it hurts…” Taehyung had tears in his eyes, but used his breathing techniques from his classes to calm himself down.

Yoongi’s eyes were filled with sympathy, wishing he could take Taehyung’s pain away. All he could do was to hold him, and copy his breathing pattern to keep him focused. Soon enough, Taehyung was back able to walk, and they bought the bottles and went out to the car.

Unfortunately, the kick managed to knock Taehyung’s appetite off. Yoongi begged him to eat, but the mere thought of food made him consider asking Yoongi to pull over so he could throw up.

When they got home, Yoongi helped Taehyung change clothes, and then assisted him in getting into bed. (It used to be easy, but with all the extra tummy weight, he had trouble balancing to raise his leg up.)

“I’ll be right back okay angel? I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” Yoongi kissed Taehyung’s cheek, and then swept his hair back.

Yoongi went and did his business, but the whole time he was thinking of how he could help Taehyung get through these last few weeks before the baby came. He hated it, but Taehyung was going to be nervous and feel bad no matter what he said. All he could do was support him. Still, he did feel like if he could experience what Taehyung was going through… maybe he could help more.

By the time he got back to the bedroom, Taehyung was already fast asleep. Yoongi took his usual position, big spoon for his beautiful boyfriend. His arm was wrapped around his midsection, right above his stomach. He felt the baby kick a bit, and smiled knowing the little one would be here soon.

Little did he know, he was in for a heck of an awakening…

----

Yoongi woke up to a sickening feeling in the back of his throat. He tossed the covers aside as he felt a stream of vomit coming up his throat. He was out of time. Next thing he knew, he was spilling the remnants of his dinner into the floor below him. Taehyung was awake almost instantly.

“You’re okay baby. Just get it up, I’ll clean it up in a minute.” Yoongi felt Taehyung’s hand rub up and down his back. Goodness he was so sore. It was like he’d been thrown up against a wall and beaten up. Everything hurt, and his stomach being so big and bloated didn’t help either. It made it hard to move. Why on earth was it so heavy? WAIT-

Yoongi looked at his stomach, and puked again. Taehyung actually had to catch him to keep him from falling off the side of the bed.

“T-Tae-Taehyung my stomach-”

Taehyung was behind him, eyes wider than saucers.

“Yoongi… Mine…” He looked down at his sculpted stomach, abs just as firm as they were before pregnancy.

“Oh heck-” Yoongi leaned over, puking again. Every heave wrecked his frame, and strained his insides. Now that he registered what was happening, he could feel the baby moving. Each kick and punch and stretch just made him feel worse.

After a couple minutes, Yoongi was left coughing and dry heaving. Taehyung kissed his crown, smoothing his hair down.

“I’m gonna come around to the other side and get you okay? Keep your eyes closed. It’ll help you not feel as sick.”

Yoongi nodded, one hand on his now, very large stomach. He clenched his eyes shut, wishing he could do the same for his nose.

He heard Taehyung putting a towel down on the floor to cover the puke. Then he felt Taehyung’s hands around him, helping him up gently.

“It’s gonna be harder to get up, just put your weight on me alright?”

“T-Taehyung I’m gonna puke again-” Yoongi dry heaved, the sound even causing Taehyung to wince. He knew that had to hurt Yoongi’s throat.

“You’re empty baby. It’s just the smell. Trust me, I would know. I was the pregnant one like four hours ago.”

Yoongi gagged again, feeling his knees go weak and nearly collapsing under him.

“Help me” Yoongi cried, tears rushing down his face.

“I’ve got you Yoongi I promise I won’t let you fall. Just keep your arms around me alright?”

Yoongi nodded, but kept shaking, knowing at any moment something else could happen. He had no idea being pregnant was this terrifying.

“Breathe Yoongi. Hey, focus on my voice. What do you hear me saying?”

“T-To b-bre-breathe.”

“That’s right. Now we’re gonna go take a bath and get you clean. The water will help with the cramping I promise you.”

“Mmmmmmnnnnn” Yoongi shuddered.

“What did I tell you just then baby?”

“W-water h-helps…”

“That’s good. Now sit down right here for me okay?”

Yoongi opened his eyes, shocked to realize that Taehyung had actually distracted him and helped him walk to the bathroom.

Taehyung leaned him down, feeling his own heart break at how pitiful Yoongi looked. He turned on the faucet, and added in some of his own lavender bubble bath soap.

“Taehy-hyung?”

“What’s happening baby?”

“B-baby’s moving-g. H-hurts…”

“I know it does. Here…” Taehyung ran a washcloth under the water. He started to wipe the sweat from Yoongi’s face and neck.

Yoongi moaned in comfort.

“There you go. That’s good baby.” Taehyung continued until the bath had filled up midway.

“Alright…” Taehyung kissed Yoongi’s rounded cheek, adoring the extra bit of baby-weight that pregnancy had added to him. “I’m gonna help you get undressed. Can you lift your arms for me?”

“Y-yeah.” Yoongi couldn’t think of anything except how scared he felt.

Taehyung slid his shirt off, slightly palming Yoongi’s stomach in the places that he could see the baby moving.

“Ahhhahhh,” Yoongi let out a half moan, half cry.

“I know baby. Believe me, I know.”

Taehyung got ready to take his husband’s pants off, helping him up off of the toilet slowly. Yoongi wrapped his arms around Taehyung’s neck, and just held onto him. Nonverbally begging for some of his strength.

“Taehyung… I- I-”

“It’s alright baby. I promise it’s not this bad all the time. Some nights are worse than others.” Taehyung lightly kissed the boy’s ear, holding him close.

“Ahhhhhhhahhhgggggh Taehyung I gotta lay down… S-something’s w-wrong…”

Taehyung’s eyes widened in shock… for some reason… a splatter of water had just hit the floor.

“Ahhhhaggghhhh hmmmmm…” Yoongi’s legs were trembling. Taehyung laid Yoongi down on the rug, thankfully they’d chosen a soft one when they’d decorated.

“Okay baby let me see-”

“N-no- no no, I can’t… I don’t w-want to…”

Taehyung felt his blood run cold. He had a really bad feeling about this.

“Just let me look. I won’t touch anything. I promise.”

Yoongi’s legs opened on their own, so it didn’t really matter whether Yoongi wanted him to see or not. What Taehyung saw was probably the worst thing he could have seen, or at least close.

“Alright baby I don’t know how but, you’re fully dilated…”

Yoongi cried, screaming in pain. Suddenly, it felt like everything had just crashed down on him.

“I- I c-can’t- p-lease…” Yoongi pushed involuntarily, feeling pressure and more pain than he’d ever experienced.

Taehyung saw Yoongi’s stomach tense up as he pushed down.

“Okay hey, look at me, look at me baby.” Taehyung’s voice was calming. The only bit of comfort he had in the whole situation.

Yoongi opened his eyes, and looked straight into Taehyung’s.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. Just push when you feel ready, okay?” Taehyung used his fingers to stretch Yoongi’s opening a bit, already able to see the baby’s head inside.

“Ugggggghhhhhhh” Yoongi threw his head back, his back arching in pain.

“You’re doing great. Yoongi I can see him already!” Taehyung smiled, tears filling his eyes.

Yoongi felt the urge to push, but wouldn’t.

“Baby I know you’re scared. Just do what you need to do. Your body is gonna show you how to. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.”

Yoongi felt a sharp pain erupt in his lower stomach.

“Taehyung hold me!” Yoongi stretched both his arms out to reach for Taehyung.

“I’m here baby. I’m right here. Just wake up.”

Yoongi was beyond confused.

“Everything is going to be alright. I’m right here with you. Open your eyes.”

Yoongi felt another intense pain inside of him, and he pushed.

“Yoongi you gotta wake up!”

Yoongi woke up, gasping. His entire body covered with sweat.

“T-Taehyung?”

Yoongi’s heartbeat was so loud he could barely hear Taehyung trying to soothe him.

“I’m here baby. I’m here.” Taehyung kissed his shoulder, unable to hold him due to the size of his stomach.

Yoongi immediately reached down and felt his stomach, then down to his privates. He was back to normal. He wasn’t pregnant, and moreover, he wasn’t giving birth.

“What happened?” Taehyung rubbed Yoongi’s arm.

“I-” Yoongi decided there was only one way for him to explain it.

“Taehyung, I’ll be right back okay? I’ve gotta run and get something from the store.”

“You are not telling me you had a nightmare because we’re out of milk.”

“I’m not, but there’s something I gotta do. I’ll be back in 30 I promise okay?”

Taehyung reluctantly said yes, and Yoongi threw on some clothes.

He made a quick job of his mission. Fluffy socks, 3 dozen roses, a bath bomb, as much candy as he could grab in one go, and Taehyung’s favorite from McDonald’s since they were the only ones open. Oh, and the milk. He couldn’t forget the milk.

He got home to see Taehyung waddling around the kitchen, making a mental list of things he had to do today since it wasn’t likely he was going back to sleep. He heard the door close, and turned around to see Yoongi crying.

Yoongi dropped everything and rushed to him, hugging him and half blubbering into his neck.

“You are beautiful and I love you so much and everything is going to be okay I promise. I’m gonna make sure you have the best doctors and the best of everything in the nursery, and I’m gonna build you that other cabinet for the bottles. I’ll start at 6:00, because Lowe’s doesn’t open until then but I’ll be there when the door opens. Anything you want, you just tell me. Anything. I don’t care what time it is or what else I’ve been doing that day or whatever. Anything you need is yours. And on top of that, I’m giving you a massage right now so don’t try and stop me.”

He swept Taehyung off his feet, barely able to see his path due to the size of Taehyung’s stomach. He got him to the bedroom and immediately turned the lights down and grabbed the lotion.

“You rest and let me do this. Want me to turn on the music?”

“Babe… are you okay?”

“Just work with me. Pregnancy makes you emotional.”

Taehyung didn’t question it, and just smiled at how cute his husband was being. He knew there were things he could say to thank Yoongi, but it seemed that right now the biggest thank you would be to go back to sleep and show him that his massage helped comfort him. He did promise himself to get more into detail about that dream in the morning though.

The end

#rpf #emeto #btssickfics #tw food #pregnant Taehyung #pregnant Yoongi #Taegi mpreg #mpreg #birth scene #slight anxiety

[whumphoarder]

Who Needs Disney When You Have Russell Crowe?

Summary: When Peter’s ear infection gets a little out of hand, Tony and Morgan have slightly different ideas of how to help.

Word count: 1,874

Genre: Sickfic, domestic fluff, Whump Lite™

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx for beta-reading and ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

Peter wakes to the sound of quiet whimpering.

It takes a few seconds for his groggy brain to register where he is, but the warm glow of the bunny-shaped night light on the opposite wall illuminating the Arendelle toy castle and the pile of stuffed animals on the floor gives it away. He’s in Morgan’s room. Morgan, who insisted on getting a bunk bed for her sixth birthday so that she and Peter could have sleepovers whenever he came to visit.

Morgan, who is clearly in the midst of a nightmare.

“Mo...” Peter whispers hoarsely. There are a few more quiet, pained whimpers. “Mo,” he tries again, louder. His left ear is throbbing and it’s ridiculously stuffy in this room—he’s actually sweating. Kicking the tangled bed covers off of himself, he lifts a hand to tap the wooden bed frame over his head. She stirs. “Morgan, wake u-up.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Morgan sits up in her bunk. “Yeah?” she asks drowsily. She leans over the edge of bed to look at him, strands of her long hair falling in her face. “What is it?”

She doesn’t seem particularly upset, which Peter finds strange. “Did… did you have a b-bad dream?” he asks.

In the dim light of the room, he can just make out her curious expression. “I don’t think so.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and shimmies backwards down the ladder. “Did you?”

“Wh-What?” His ear is ringing, the pain feeling almost bone-deep. There’s another whimper, barely audible.

“You’re crying,” she says simply, perching herself on the edge of his bed. Her brow knits together. “Are you sad?”

Peter wipes the back of his hand roughly across his face and finds it’s wet with tears. It takes a second for his addled brain to realize that she’s right, and then an instant wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he looks into the eyes of the frowning six-year-old. “No, sorry, ‘m fine.” He pushes himself up on his elbows, hurriedly brushing the tears away.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “You’re bleeding!” she gasps.

“Huh?” Peter follows her horrified gaze down to the pillow he’s been using. It’s covered in something dark and sticky. Alarmed, he lifts a shaky hand to his throbbing ear and feels more liquid trickling down. “Oh – um – wow, uh...”

“I’m getting Daddy!” Morgan declares, jumping up from the mattress and spinning on her heel. “Hang on!”

“Wait, no, don’t freak him—”

But she’s already out of the room.

“...out.” With a small groan, Peter carefully sits the rest of the way up and flips the lamp on. The pastel lilac pillowcase is stained with a mixture of blood and yellowish fluid. Grimacing, he grabs some tissues from the box on Morgan’s dresser and dabs them carefully at his dripping ear, hissing sharply at the stabbing pain it causes.

Within a minute, Morgan is back, dragging the hand of a disheveled but surprisingly alert-looking Tony in after her. “See? He’s crying and bleeding out of his ears!” she blurts.

“Just one ear,” Peter corrects, lowering the tissue down to look at the fresh blood and pus on it. “Gross...”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, well in that case I’ll just go back to bed—you’re perfectly fine.” He moves over to the bed, Morgan following close behind. “Anything you wanna share with the class? You take any good hits to the noggin’ recently? Blow something up?”

Peter shakes his head as much as he dares, which only increases the ringing sensation. “No, nothing like that,” he mutters. He wishes this was something cool and Spider-Man related, but he’s pretty sure it’s just his patented Parker Luck™. “Ear started hurting a couple days ago,” he admits. “Thought it would go away.”

Tony pulls out his phone and flips on the flashlight. “Can I see it?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, wincing. He bites his lower lip and does his best to keep as still as possible as Tony peers into his ear with the light.

“What does it look like?” Morgan asks curiously.

“Ugly as hell...” Tony mutters. He flicks the light off and turns to Peter. “Pretty sure you ruptured your eardrum, kiddo.”

“Ah.” The pain seems to ramp up with the confirmation. That checks out. Certainly feels like someone just bored a hole through his ear. He can feel the fluid dripping out down his cheek.

Tony must notice it too because he grimaces and pulls a couple more tissues out of the box to hand him. “You know, if you weren’t feeling well, you could have told us that when you got here,” he points out. “Instead of waiting until”—he glances at his lock screen—“3:37 in the morning.”

Peter manages a small smirk. “Gotta keep you on your toes. You know, now that you’re retired and all...”

Looking very unamused, Tony extends a hand and helps pull Peter up to standing. The movement only increases the throbbing in his ear and Peter squeezes his eyes shut tightly against a wave of dizziness.

“Alright?” Tony checks, still gripping his arm tightly.

“Yeah,” Peter breathes, the ringing growing louder. “Sorry. Just... really hurts.”

“He can have some of my medicine,” Morgan offers in a slightly hushed voice. “The one Mommy gives me when my ears hurt.”

Tony lets out a short laugh. “That’s nice of you, sweetie, but I don’t think grape-flavored Children’s Motrin is gonna cut it here.” He gestures up to the top bunk. “Why don’t you hop back up there and try to sleep some more while I go get Peter fixed up?”

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout. “But I’m not tired now.”

Instant guilt comes over Peter at having woken her up, but Tony doesn’t miss a beat.

“Nope, you are, you just forgot,” he says knowingly. He lets go of Peter’s arm for a second to scoop the now quietly giggling six-year-old up and deposit her on the top bunk. “Count some sheep, kid,” he advises, flipping off the lamp and snagging Peter’s ruined pillow to toss in the laundry.

With Morgan situated, Tony guides Peter out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He leaves Peter to clean up in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen in search of some kind of painkiller that might work on an enhanced metabolism.

Eventually, Tony returns with a bottle of Tylenol-Codeine, a glass of water, and an apologetic look. “It’s the strongest stuff we’ve got here. Might take the edge off at least.”

Peter murmurs his thanks and takes the pills, mostly to humor him. They both know it’s a lost cause. He can burn through a dose of morphine in less than ten minutes; there’s no way over-the-counter meds are going to do anything.

“First thing in the morning, I’ll take you to see Bruce,” Tony promises. “We’ll get you on some antibiotics and something better for the pain.”

Peter just hums in response.

Tony sighs. “We can try a heating pad,” he suggests. “That helps Morgan sometimes.”

“Sure.” Peter shrugs, listless. He’ll do anything at this point to make his ear stop aching.

Tony locates the heating pad and gets Peter set up on the chaise section of the couch under a blanket with the heating pad resting on the pillow under his ear. It helps marginally, which is slightly more than Peter can say for the pills.

“Sorry, kiddo. If only you’d known me in the nineties,” Tony says with a sad chuckle. “Could’ve tried all kinds of stuff on you.”

Peter lets out a short, empty laugh. “Yeah, too bad. Sure May would’ve loved that…”

Tony settles down onto the other end of the couch and flips on the TV for distraction. After a bit of channel flipping, he picks a period war drama about a badass sea captain fighting during the Napoleonic Wars, starring Russell Crowe.

(It was that or “My Strange Addiction” on TLC, and neither of them felt like watching a woman eat a couch).

Peter doesn’t exactly sleep, but he closes his eyes and drifts in and out while the movie plays low in the background. He’s kind of queasy—probably a combination of the otherwise useless drugs and the low grade fever he’s pretty sure he’s got going—but it’s nothing too awful. At least the sounds of cannons firing and battles being waged on screen drown out the incessant ringing in his head.

He isn’t sure how much time passes before a new voice joins the mix in a stage-whisper:

“Are they gonna cut his arm off?”

Peter’s eyes snap open. He sees Tony dozing on the other end of the sofa, so he sits up a little straighter and turns around to look at the staircase behind him. Sure enough, Morgan is sitting on the fourth step from the bottom, just high enough to see over the couch to the TV.

“I thought you went back to bed,” Peter whispers.

Morgan shrugs. “Counting sheep is boring.” She stands up and tiptoes down the rest of the stairs and into the living room. “Are they gonna cut his arm off?” she repeats.

Peter looks back at the movie. The ship’s doctor is in the midst of a rather intense amputation scene on a young boy’s infected arm. “Yeah, looks like it,” he says through a wince. He should probably change the channel to something more child-friendly, but Tony’s got the remote balanced on his knee and he’s all the way on the other end of the sofa. Oh well.

Morgan nods at the screen, looking impressed. Then she looks back to Peter. “Does your ear still hurt a lot?”

“Nah, it’s not so bad,” Peter lies. “No need to cut it off or anything.” He scoots over on the cushion a bit. “You wanna sit here with me?”

“Yeah.” She nods and hops up onto the couch beside him, snuggling against his right side. “Did Daddy give you medicine?” she inquires.

“Yeah, he did,” Peter assures.

She nods approvingly. “And did he give you the heater thingy?”

Peter lifts the heating pad up slightly for her to see. “Yep.”

“Good.” She nods again. “And cuddles?”

“Eh…” His gaze drifting to his quietly snoring mentor, Peter smirks a bit. “I think I’m getting too old for those.”

“Everybody needs cuddles,” she says knowingly. Scooting a little closer to him, she wraps her arms around his waist. “See?”

A small smile creeps across Peter’s lips. “Yeah, I see.”

They sit there for a moment, Peter doing his best to focus on the steady pressure of the six-year-old’s gentle squeeze rather than the thumping in his head. It’s almost peaceful.

“Either that, or you need a stick,” Morgan pipes up, breaking the spell.

Peter’s brow furrows. “A stick?”

“To bite down on,” she explains, pointing at the TV. “Like the boy in the movie.”

Peter blinks, then shifts his gaze sideways to the little girl watching nineteenth-century field surgery technique with genuine interest.

“It’s so he doesn’t scream,” she informs.

Peter holds out his hand. “Just give me the remote, Mo.”

X

Link to all my fics

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: Adventures at the Stark Lake House

#peter parker whump #sick peter parker #irondad fic #morgan stark #peter parker #tony stark #earache #ear infection #ruptured eardrum #fluff #domestic fluff #stark lake house #flump #my fic

[dahbeez]

MIRROR CONFESSION

Paring: peter parker x reader

Summary: You’re in love with your best friend, and with the help of his awkward rehearsing, you find out the truth.

Warnings: fluff, language

Word Count: 2.6K

Author Note: English isn’t my first language and this is my first fic here on tumblr! Reader is female unless specified otherwise.

Lately, your friendship with Peter Parker has been the most confusing thing in the world. Well, Peter alone was a mystery most of the time. Sneaking out in the middle of sleepovers, skipping classes and then coming back with bruises that took only a few hours to heal; that was all Spider-Man’s signature, you knew that. Plus, Peter constantly looked around him like he could hear every single conversation in the hallway, every sound and whispers. But you got used to all of it, and you had put two and two together quickly after finding out that he was the infamous web-slinger.

Recently, the way he acted around you had your eyebrows knot together in a frown most of the time, especially since you couldn’t attached his weird behaviour to his alter ego. He would be his normal, nerdy self, rambling about the next Star Wars movie, a Lego puzzle he had yet to build or, the most frequent topic of discussion, the 'Stark Internship'. You would smile up at him, beaming at the constant happiness that seemed to radiate from Peter. Then, as his eyes would meet yours, he would immediately blush and stutter. Of course, Peter was a shy person, which actually made him look even cuter than he already was. But every time he would caught you smiling at him, it’s like he forgot to breathe. And in the next seconds, he would find a reason to escape his feelings and run towards the next class, or whatever else excuse he had in mind in those moments. It left you eyes wide and jaw dropping every times, you being completely obvious to the real meaning behind Peter’s actions.

It didn’t help that you had fallen head over heels in love with your best friend. You were a living cliche teenage girl who was infatuated with her closest friend, and you couldn’t help but feel sad that Peter was avoiding you. Part of it was because you missed your best friend, but the other part was because you couldn’t bare to lose this unique connection you had with your first crush.

Any third party, let’s say Ned, would hit their head against a wall repeatedly at the sight of you two. You were obviously in love with each other’s but also completely obvious to one another’s feelings. Ned had given up long ago on the two of you confessing their feelings, and he simply resumed on looking desperately at his two clueless best friends suppressing their feelings like it was some kind of disease.

"Y/N," Ned’s muffled voice brought you out of your thoughts, his mouth half-full with whatever was on the cafeteria menu today. "You with us?"

"Yeah," you nodded, brushing away a strand of hair that fell from your ponytail, "sorry, I was just thinking."

You then noticed how Peter seemed to have been stuck in a daze just like you, letting his fork mix the food on his plate without taking a bite, and furrowing his eyebrows in deep thought. It also often happened around you, but not when he was just with Ned. It made you rethink about the previous events of the week, trying to find out what you could have possibly done to either make him so flustered or lost in his mind. Had he found one of your tampons at his place? Your cheeks flushed at the possibility, thinking that most guys would be uncomfortable at the discovery of a bloody pad in their bathroom’s trash can.

"I can’t make it tonight, for movie night," Ned continued, not letting Peter’s lack of words and attention affect him. "My mom wants to spend some 'family quality time' or whatever that means."

He groaned and you chuckled, not registering quite yet that Ned’s absence meant that your sleepover at Peter’s would be awkward if the boy kept acting like a stammering mess in front of you.

"That’s a bummer," you sighed, actually a bit disappointed that Ned couldn’t make it. "Guess it’s just you and me, Peter. Peter?"

Ned waved a hand in front of his friend’s face, breaking whatever trance Peter was stuck in. He flinched, eyes peeking up to meet yours and immediately his cheeks flushed pink.

"Earth to Peter, Peter do you copy?," Ned joked, and a hint of a smile ghosted on Peter’s lips before he suddenly grabbed his barely touched tray of food and stood up. You frowned.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m gonna go, I- I have homework to do, uh," he looked around a bit, which gave away his lie as he seemed to pounder what he should say next, "at the library! Yeah, studies you know, big exams coming. Okay, bye."

Both you and Ned were left mouth agape, eyeing the escaping form of your best friend exiting the cafeteria.

"That was weird," you murmured, eyes squinting in the direction Peter had taken after getting rid of his plate. "The library’s literally the opposite way."

Ned shrugged. "Peter’s just weird."

But you couldn’t possibly compare Peter’s usual weird antics to the scene that had just unfolded in front of your eyes. Holding back a huff, you brought your attention back on your other friend, and resumed your lunch break.

***

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

That seemed to be the only word swirling around Peter’s mind, which would’ve probably made Aunt May and Captain America scold at him if they could hear his thoughts right now.

He groaned internally, gripping the pole tightly as he waited for the subway to bring him closer to his apartment. The rest of the day after lunch break had been filled with his not so subtle attempts to avoid you. And the look of hurt that you sent towards him every time your eyes met in the hallway had his heart beating faster than ever and guilt eating away at his soul.

He had undeniably, harshly, strongly, irrevocably, fallen in love with you.

And he realized quickly that loving you platonically, was not the same as being in love with you. You were gorgeous, one of the smartest person he had met (and his mentor was Tony Stark), kind and generous, and gosh your smile.

His grip tightened on his backpack strap as he exited the subway, walking the few blocks that kept him from his apartment.

Ever since he had realized the true feelings he arbored for you, he had tried to hide them. Which, when you were Peter Parker the open book, wasn’t easy. At all.

He just couldn’t act normal around you anymore, knowing that all he wanted to do was confess his feelings. He wanted to hug you, hold your hands, kiss your cheeks, your nose, your temple, your lips, your jaw, your neck, the valley between your—

Peter’s eyes widened at the filthy thoughts, and he bit his lower lip. All day, and all week, he had been trying to figure out how to confess his feelings for you. Unknowingly, he had shut you out, too deep in thoughts or too embarrassed to keep up the best friend act.

The boy sighed as he walked in his apartment, barely acknowledging May who was making cookies. He was ready to jump on his bed and fall asleep for the rest of his miserable existence. But first, he needed to figure out what to do. And with the nerve wracking idea of finally telling you how he truly felt, Peter looked at his disheveled hair and pink tinted cheeks in the mirror. With a deep breath, he started rehearsing.

***

Unbeknownst to him, you were not so far from his place. You had dropped your schoolbag at your house and gathered your things, determined to go at Peter’s place and find some answers. Plus, he hadn’t called or texted to tell you that your night at his apartment was canceled, which gave you a little bit of hope.

You kept replaying every second spent in his presence in the last few weeks and you couldn’t find a clue on what could have gone wrong between you two. The tampon theory was actually the best explanation at the moment.

Your mom dropped you at his place, noticing how you had filled your backpack to the brim with numerous movies, snacks and clothes for the night and the next day. Grateful, you kissed her cheek before escaping the comfort of the car. For the first time in forever, you were nervous at the perspective of spending the night at Peter’s. Part of it was because of his behaviour, and the other main reason was because of the butterflies and fireworks that erupted in your stomach whenever you got lost in his doe eyes.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow, honey. Just call me if you need anything!"

Your replied a simple 'see ya' and made your way inside the building.

Knocking at the Parker’s door, you were greeted by one of your favourite human being and the smell of burnt cookies.

"Hey, Y/N," May opened the door and smiled, bringing you into a small hug which you returned immediately.

"Hey, May," you smiled. She led you inside, and you got rid of your shoes, leaving them next to the front door.

"I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever," she deplored, going back to the kitchen and grimacing. You held back a laugh, noticing how the smell of ruined cookies lingered in the air.

"Yeah, uh," you went and grabbed a cookie on the counter, eyeing the black burning snack with doubt, "I missed your cooking."

She raised an eyebrow, amused at your words. You smiled sheepishly and put the cookie back in its plate, knowing that it will probably end up in the trash anyway.

"You don’t know how to lie, honey," she chuckled and grabbed the nearest bowl to clean. "Peter’s in his room."

You gulped and nodded, remembering what you came here for in the first place.

You walked down the small hallway towards your best friend’s room, fist raising in order to knock on its door and announce your presence.

It was already cracked open, you noticed, and you heard your friend’s mumbling through the tin walls. Ned probably made it after all, you thought, pushing the door softly as to not startle them.

The sight in front of you could’ve been either amusing, extremely weird or embarrassing.

Because in the middle of the room, facing the small mirror not so far from his bed, stood your best friend and first ever crush. Fidgeting with his fingers and slightly swaying on his feet, he was talking to himself. No, rehearsing.

"... that doesn’t work," he let out a deep breath, and you stood there, witnessing his nervous rambling. He surprisingly didn’t noticed you despite having his sharp spidey senses. He cleared his throat.

"Okay, uh. Right. So, Y/N," your eyes widened at the mention of your name, but the boy still hadn’t picked on your presence yet, "you are the prettiest— no no, that’s not enough. Uh, you’re gorgeous and funny and super kind, and uh, yeah!— your smile is like, so fucking bright. Erm, you— you’re my favourite person and I love how you ramble about your favourite books and how you always look out for others and put them first, even before yourself. And uh, you’ve always been there for me, always accepted and understood what Spider-Man means to me, and, well, what I’m trying to say is that— that I’m in love with you—"

"What!?"

"AHH!" Peter spun on his heals, turning towards you and tripping over a forgotten pile of clothes on the floor. With another yelp, he fell to the ground, eyes wide with shock and cheeks reddened by surprise and embarrassment. His blush reached his ears, and he sat there, looking in horror at your beet coloured face.

"I, uh, was rehearsing for the— the thing with... well it’s more of a— a presentation kinda thing, you know?"

"You’re in love with me?" you whispered, finally walking past the doorstep and closing the door behind you, trying to keep this conversation private.

Peter couldn’t believe what had just happened. He’d never felt so embarrassed in his life, and fear was eating away at him. What if you rejected him? What if your friendship was ruined because of this? Oh gosh, this was a mistake...

"I, uh, well no?— I mean, yeah," he kept stuttering, pushing himself from the floor and looking around his room, trying to avoid your stare, "but wait, what are you doing here?"

"Sleepover," you answered simply. You let your backpack fall next to his things and started fiddling with your fingers.

"Oh... OH! Fuck, I completely forgot."

You smiled faintly at the teenager who had just unintentionally confessed his feelings for you. You took a few steps towards him, noticing how he let out a shaky breath. Peter gulped. He didn’t know what else to tell you, so he stood frozen, eyes widening some more as you approached him and stopped only when you were a step away from him. You looked up at him, eyes soft and confused. You brushed away the giddy fireworks that danced in your belly with a shuddering sigh.

"Do you really feel that way about me, Peter?" you asked, your voice low and gentle. Both of your hearts were beating fast, and Peter could actually hear yours due to your close proximity and his super powers.

"Yes," he whispered, his warm chocolatey eyes still avoiding your surprised ones. "But, uh, I know you probably don’t feel the same way... fuck, forget I said anything. Gosh, I’m so sorry, I ruined—"

The thought of how cliche the situation may looked like from a third point of vue crossed your mind, but you didn’t care. You leaned forward, stopping Peter’s rambling with your lips on his own soft ones. He let out a gasp, his sentence dying in his throat as he fluttered his eyelids shut. Without a doubt, he started kissing you back, head tilting so your noses would stop bumping against each other’s.

You hummed appreciatively as his lips glided over yours, moving in sync. You raised your hands and intertwined them at the back of his neck, fiddling with the small curls of hair that rested there. He let out a moan at the feeling, blushing at the sound that escaped his lips and hit yours. You smiled, and in that moment, Peter decided that kissing you, feeling you smile against him and tasting your apple flavoured chapstick was the best thing in the world. His hands rested on your hips, and the distance between you was inexistant, yet still filled with the innocence of a couple’s first kiss.

"You love me back," he mumbled against your lips in bewilderment, pulling back slightly to take a few gulps of air. You did the same, eyes gazing into his as he finally got the courage to look into yours.

"I do," you answered breathlessly, eyes sparkling at the sight of your best friend, well, hopefully not a friend anymore. Peter blushed at the meaning behind those two words, and you giggled. "Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?"

He looked sheepishly at the ground, removing his hands from your hips so he could wash the nervous sweat away by brushing his palms over his jeans.

"Yeah... I— I didn’t know how to tell you."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking at the shy boy that you hoped you could call yours.

"So, you decided to confess to your mirror?" you teased him, and he winced at the cringe situation he put himself into.

"It’s— it’s not like that, I was rehearsing..." he tried to explain, a cute pout showing on his lips. You let out another giggle.

"Well," you brought a hand back up to his hair, going through the wild curls gently. Peter could feel himself melt under your touch, "I’m glad you did, because I’m in love with you too, Peter Parker."

#peter #peter parker #peter benjamin parker #peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #reader #female reader #spiderman #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #fluff #language #cute #love #best friend #mcu #marvel #tom holland #tom #homecoming #ned #ned leeds

[myforeverforlife]

the way to your heart.

For another anon! Chanyeol and 62. "You're not as quiet as you think you are." + 103. "Sharing is caring." (I hope you like it! 💕)

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Word Count: 3,374

Masterlist

You watched with bated breath as your coworker, Minkyung, finished filling the newest batch of cream puffs. The bakery kitchen was warm from the ovens, but you didn't mind — not when fresh desserts were close by. 

"Oh my god, you're so good at this," you praised. Just as you tried to pick up one of the round puffs, Minkyung reached out to swat your hand away.

"Don't even think about it. You want one, you have to pay. Being part of the staff doesn't mean you get to eat everything." 

"Auntie won't mind," you wheedled. "And it's just one teeny, tiny cream puff." 

Minkyung sighed, eyes roaming over each bit of pastry as she tried to figure out which was the least fit to be sold. "Here," she finally said, picking up a slightly-lopsided puff and holding it out to you. 

You popped it into your mouth eagerly, humming blissfully as a burst of strawberry-flavored cream exploded in your mouth. "These are amazing!" 

"Good." Minkyung sent you an appreciative smile. "I'm going to finish decorating, then you can take these out to the front." 

At that moment, you heard the sound of the bakery door opening. The customer went the extra lengths to ring the bell on the counter, two sharp dings echoing in the air. 

Sneaking a quick look at the clock, you rolled your eyes with a smile. "Coming!"

You pushed the kitchen door open, wiping your hands on your apron. "You know, you don't have to ring the bell every time." 

The man at the counter grinned, leaning forward on his arms. "Sorry, was I too loud? I tried to do it gently, I swear."

"You're not as quiet as you think you are, Chanyeol. Sehun didn't come with you today?"

Chanyeol frowned at this. "Hey, what about me?"

"You always come here after your last class, Yeol. Plus, your mom owns the place, why wouldn't you come here? I rarely see Sehun, though." You copied Chanyeol, leaning on the counter as well. "How is he doing?"

"He's okay. How have your classes been?" he asked, eager to shift the conversation away from his best friend.

You shrugged. "The usual. I still hate the fact that I have to take Stats."

Chanyeol smiled sympathetically. "That sucks, sorry about that." He hadn't taken a math class since high school, which brought him no end of relief. As a student at K-ARTS, Chanyeol only had to worry about music. "What about your history class?" 

You perked up at this, a glimmer coming to your eyes. "Oh my god, it's amazing. We started learning about Japanese feudalism this week, and there's so much to cover." 

As you launched into what you had learned, Chanyeol couldn't help but chuckle at your enthusiasm. He wondered if this was what he looked like whenever he was talking about music, or writing and composing songs with Sehun. You and Chanyeol were in two completely different majors, and at different colleges, nonetheless. If it wasn't for this bakery, you probably would have never met. 

"Sorry," Chanyeol heard you say. "Am I boring you?" He glanced up to see you rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment. 

"No!" he shouted, cringing when you flinched. "No," he tried again, at a normal volume this time. "Sorry, I think I'm just tired from classes." 

Thankfully, you bought the lie, eyes softening in sympathy. "Stop staying up late and gaming online. Sehun always tells me you guys play League for hours when you should be sleeping instead!" 

Sehun, again? Every time you mentioned his best friend, the envious green-eyed monster hiding deep inside Chanyeol tried to climb out. It was a juvenile emotion, yet like with every other emotion, Chanyeol felt it strongly. You didn't even think of Sehun in a romantic way, and Chanyeol knew that Sehun fet the same way. 

His mind knew better, but why wouldn't his heart listen? 

The front door opened, a familiar permed figure entering the bakery. "What are you doing here?" the woman asked, addressing Chanyeol as she kissed him on the cheek. 

"Hi, Mom. Just keeping Y/N company." 

"Hi, Auntie." You waved at Chanyeol's mother. "I didn't know you were coming in today?" 

"Yoonha called out sick, and I know that the neighborhood kids usually come here after school. I didn't want to leave you here by yourself," Chanyeol's mom said. She let herself in behind the register, searching for a clean apron. 

"You didn't have to," you said. "I can stay longer, if you need me to." 

She waved this off, tying the laces of her apron around her waist. "Don't trouble yourself. You're a college student, you need all the rest you can get. Dowon will be coming in half an hour earlier anyways, so we'll be okay." Chanyeol's mom left for the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind her.

"What time do you finish today?" Chanyeol asked.

You glanced down at your watch. "I'm off in an hour, but I have to run by the store for some more pens." A few wrinkles appeared on your forehead as you frowned. "I've used up almost all of my favorite pens with note-taking, and the others just aren't the same." 

Chanyeol grinned, amused by how particular you were with your stationary. "You wanna grab something to eat with me after? There's a really good pizza place that I've been hearing about." 

"Do they have chicken wings, too?"

"And cheeseballs," Chanyeol added.

"Count me in! You don't mind stopping by the stationary store with me, though?" 

"Of course not, I love hanging out with you." Chanyeol froze, surprised by his own boldness. But you didn't seem to notice, beaming brightly.

"You're sweet, Yeol. Now I can't wait for my shift to end! Are you gonna wait here?"

"Yeah, I'll get some homework done. I brought my guitar too, I was gonna see if Mom could take it home for me." Chanyeol reached down, picking up his guitar case from where it had been hiding out of sight on the other side of the counter.  

"I'll make sure to bring you some snacks while you're waiting then." 

At the mention of snacks, Chanyeol began looking over all of the pastries and cakes in the display cases, round eyes wide as he looked for the perfect, sugary after-school sweet.

The students in the neighborhood began to flock over to the bakery as school let out, children of all ages coming in to make the most of their free time. Most of the customers were high school students, groups of friends giggling over inside jokes, and the occasional couple out on a date. Other students came with their parents, as a special treat for a good grade on a test, or just to spend some time bonding together. It always warmed your heart to see how happy the bakery made these customers. Some of them came often, and you easily greeted them by name whenever they stopped by. The customers were just as happy to see you, always glad to see a familiar face. 

As much as they loved you, there was no denying that the neighborhood had a special spot for Chanyeol's mother. She was a social butterfly, much like her son, and was able to recall even the most specific of details about her customers. She came out to the front to help you as things got busier, seamlessly taking on tasks at the counter with you or going to help Minkyung behind the scenes. 

Every so often, your gaze wandered over to where Chanyeol sat in his corner, guitar propped up on his knees as he worked. Although there was music playing in the bakery, you could still hear the strumming of his guitar as he played with ease. Soon enough, you weren't the only one who was paying attention to him. 

Chanyeol strummed away at his guitar, pick in his mouth as his foot tapped against the floor. You recognized the chords of a Crush song, something he often played whenever he was in a good mood. As he finished playing, a few of the customers began clapping. Chanyeol's head shot up in surprise, almost identical to a meerkat. 

You joined in the applause, smiling proudly when Chanyeol looked over to you. 

His large ears started to turn red at the tips, a bashful grin appearing on his face. "Thank you," he said shyly.

"Do you take requests?" one boy asked, moving around in his chair to face Chanyeol.

"I can try." 

You watched in awe from the counter as Chanyeol took on song requests from a variety of genres. Most of them were pop songs, others more R&B or alternative. But with each request, Chanyeol managed to play them almost perfectly, only hitting a few snags a couple of times. You knew that Chanyeol was musically talented, but not to this extent. The customers were just as transfixed, many of them staying longer than they usually did. No one was able to resist being drawn in by Chanyeol's aura, by his friendliness and cheerful attitude. 

Before you knew it, your other coworker came in. You couldn't believe how much time had passed, but you were also glad that your shift was over. 

Chanyeol noticed how you took your apron off, heading to the back as you got your things ready to leave. He finished the song he was playing with a flourish, smiling at the student who had requested it. 

"It's time for me to head out," he said, much to the disappointment of some of the students. 

"Will you come play for us again?" one of them asked. 

"Definitely! I'll keep practicing until then." Chanyeol winked, packing up his things and going to the kitchen. He ran into his mother as he opened the door, barely avoiding bumping into her. 

"Are you leaving? Y/N's about to head out too," she said with a knowing look.  

"I know. We're gonna go shopping and grab some food together."

Chanyeol's mom held up a finger, turning around and going into the small room reserved for her office space. Chanyeol dutifully followed along, placing his backpack and guitar case on a chair. "Mom, can you take my things home for me?"

"Of course." His mother took out a few bills from her wallet, giving them to her son. "Make sure you pay for Y/N's food too. Oh, here's some extra!" She pulled out another bill. "And grab some more dog food for Toben on your way home."

"Mom," Chanyeol whined.

"He's your dog. After all the begging you did to get a dog, you won't take care of him?" 

Chanyeol knew it was wiser in the long run to just suck it up if he wanted to avoid a long lecture from his mother. "Fine." He accepted the money, smooching a grateful kiss to his mother's cheek. "I'll text you when I'm on the way home," he said over his shoulder as he left.

You were just saying your goodbyes to Minkyung, already changed out of your work clothes and back into your regular clothing. Chanyeol couldn't help but notice that you were wearing the hoodie he gifted you for your birthday a few years ago, the same year you came to work at the bakery. 

"Ready to go?" you asked him, moving the strap of your bag onto your shoulder. 

Chanyeol could hardly believe it — this was an outing for just the two of you. It wasn't a date, but Chanyeol still felt the exhilarating rush of butterflies in his stomach. 

He nodded, moving past you to hold the door open. "Let's go!" 

One subway ride and a few minutes of walking later, the two of you found yourselves in one of your favorite shops. Chanyeol felt out of place, a giant among the colorful pens and rolls of washi tape. It was easy to get distracted when everything was so pretty, and you were no different.

"Look at this bookmark," you exclaimed holding one up for Chanyeol to see. It was mostly translucent, covered in delicate drawings of flowers. 

Chanyeol came over to stand by you, picking up a similar floral bookmark and sticking it behind his ear. "What do you think? Do I look pretty?" 

You burst into laughter, the perfect reaction that Chanyeol had been hoping for. "Yes, very pretty," you agreed. Reaching up, you placed your bookmark behind his other ear. "Now you're twice as pretty." 

Placing his hands underneath his chin, Chanyeol blinked innocently.

"Wait, I need to take a picture of this," you said between giggles. 

Chanyeol gave you various poses, both of you finding the impromptu photoshoot more hilarious with each passing second. You hurried to find your pens before the shop employees could get annoyed with you for being too noisy, leaving with a paper bag of goods. 

"So where's this famous pizza place?" you asked, putting your purchases into your shoulder bag.

"It's not too far away. I didn't realize that store was so close to it until we were on the subway." Chanyeol switched places with you on the sidewalk, taking the spot closest to the street so that you were walking on the inside. It was a simple gesture, but it still warmed your heart nonetheless. 

Had Chanyeol always been this considerate? You had known him for a couple of years, but you only ever saw him as your goofy friend. It was strange to realize that Chanyeol could be such a gentleman as well, your thoughts drifting back to the way he had taken song requests without a complaint back at the bakery. 

"Y/N?"

You looked up, eyes wide. Sometime during your reverie, the two of you had come to a crosswalk. The light was still red, people on both sides waiting to cross. "Sorry, what?"

"Do you want to sit inside, or outside?" Chanyeol pointed across the street at a restaurant. You could see groups of people eating inside or out on the patio, each caught up in their own conversations. 

"How about outside? It's such a nice day today, it'd be a waste not to enjoy it."  

Chanyeol grinned from ear to ear, pulling the beanie off of his head as he ran a hand through his silver hair. "You're right." He nodded towards the street as the light turned green, stepping off of the curb once it was safe to cross. 

Ordering was simple, and even considering how busy the restaurant was, your food still came out fairly quickly. Your mouth watered as you looked at all the food, spicy chicken wings piled up on a plate, a large pizza taking up most of the table. Chanyeol was already biting into a cheeseball, stretching out the stringy mozzarella cheese inside. 

You soon found that the restaurant really did live up to its praise, falling in love with the pizza as soon as you took a bite. "This is so good," you gushed.

Chanyeol smiled, reaching for a slice himself. "I'm glad you like it. I figured we could deserve a treat, you know, with the new semester starting and all." 

"Don't remind me," you groaned. "I rarely have time for myself, nowadays."

"Same here." Chanyeol took a long sip from his soda before speaking again. "School just gets harder as we get older, huh? I miss the times when we were young and we just had to turn in a packet at the end of the week." 

"Now it's just endless amounts of assigned readings and papers. And making music, in your case. What's it like this semester?"

"I did a lot of acoustic music last semester, but someone I worked with let me try out his electric guitar and god, it was awesome. The way it feels just to hold one of those, Y/N, it's insane. We've been trying to write a few songs together." Chanyeol grabbed a piece chicken, taking a huge bite out of the small wing. 

"With your senior, right? The lizard guy, Gecko?"

Chanyeol choked on his food, coughing as he reached for his water bottle. He gulped down half the bottle in a flash, eyes still sparkling with mirth. "Gaeko," he corrected with a laugh. 

"I was close!"

Chanyeol nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "I gotta call him that next time — Lizard Guy." 

"No," you pleaded, shoulders slumping. "You know what I meant. Anyways, didn't you work with him before too?" 

To your relief, Chanyeol went along with your attempt to brush off your misunderstanding. "Yeah, Sehun and I worked with him before. He's really — he lives, breathes, eats music. I've never seen anyone as passionate about music as him."

"Wow." You lifted your eyebrows, clearly impressed. "I already thought you were like that. No wonder you two get along together." 

The rest of your meal passed by as you and Chanyeol talked about other things on your mind. From talking about Chanyeol's latest compositions and favorite songs, to your anthropology class and latest drama you were binge-watching, there wasn’t a dull moment in between. There was never a boring moment with both of you, even in lazy, restful times like this.

"Ugh, I don't think I can eat any more." You leaned back in your seat, both hands on your stomach.

"We have one slice still. Someone's gotta finish it." Chanyeol wiggled his eyebrows, pushing the slice closer to you.

"Fine, but only if you help me out — sharing is caring." You ripped the slice in half, leaving the other piece for Chanyeol.

"Does this mean you care about me?"

You paused, the pizza slice halfway to your mouth. "Of course I do, Yeol." 

Chanyeol brought his elbows up onto the table, thumbs fiddling with each other as he mustered up the courage for his next words. "Uh, I have a performance coming up in a few months. Sehun and I are gonna perform some songs that we've been working on since summer. Do you want to come?" 

"Yeol, I'd love to! I'll be there, no matter what." 

Your friend cleared his throat, suddenly finding it hard to look you in the eye. "I mean as a date. But it doesn't have to be," he tacked on, worried that you'd be scared off. He took a brave peek at your face, noticing how you were shocked into silence. 

"A date?" you repeated. Your breath started to quicken as it finally started to make sense — Chanyeol had been acting weird around you because he liked you. The revelation made your heart race.

Chanyeol nodded, chewing on his lips as he waited for your answer. 

"Okay," you replied, completely taking him off guard. 

"Really?!" Chanyeol's voice boomed, garnering the attention of a few customers close by.

"Yes," you said with a laugh. "It's a date, Yeol." 

He stretched his hands out high into the air, a relieved smile on his face. "Oh my god," he breathed out. "This is great." 

"Chanyeol, people are starting to look." You trued to hide your face with your hands, unable to stop yourself from giggling.

"Let them look! I'm going on a date with Y/N!" His happiness was infectious, quickly taking over you as well and leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

Chanyeol gobbled up the last piece of pizza left for him, and paid for the bill without letting you pay for a single cent. It was still light out, but the streetlights were just beginning to turn on. 

"I'll walk you home," Chanyeol announced, proud to have the honor of doing so.

"Are you sure? Your mom will worry if you're home too late." 

"I'll let her know, don't worry." Chanyeol started walking, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

You hurried to catch up to him, your bag bumping into your hip. Once you were by his side, you wrapped an arm around his. 

Chanyeol jumped slightly at the sudden contact, smiling shyly as he realized it was you. One of his closest friends, his longtime crush, and now the possibility of something more. 

Somewhere, after years of getting to know you, he had found the way to your heart.

A/N: this was very loosely inspired by exo-sc’s “rodeo station”! It’s definitely one of my favorite tracks off the album! I figured a couple of college kids would probably hang out around smaller, more casual places than a luxury department store like the apgujeong galleria haha, but I really love getting to write college chanyeol who’s loved by his neighborhood. also, I was eventually going to write sehun in during his performance with chanyeol, but the fic was already at 3k+ words, so I had to stop myself 😂

#exo #chanyeol #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

.

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

.

Continued in part 6!

#youtuber au #text #klance

[fingerguneds]

Stozier + going to the movies

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure you’re not hungry?”

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

“McDonalds?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

Um, rude.

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

But.

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

“Richie!”

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

“Ye.”

Someone starts laughing.

“He sounds like that vine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, Richie, we gotta go.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I really fall asleep on him?”

Bill chuckles and rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

12, 11, 10, 9…here it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Motherfucker.

“Oh wow, that would actually—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh God, oh fuck, what the—“

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

“Stan! Jesus, what happened!?”

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

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

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

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

“God, yes, sorry, yes.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, I’m just—“

“Did anyone break their collarbone?”

“Well it looks like this, yeah.”

“Did you call—“

“Yeah, but—“

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

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

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

“Yes, I think we do.”

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

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

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

Even upside down, he looks pretty.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“What are you going to do?”

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

“You’re absolutely correct, Edward.”

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

“Trust me, I was ten times worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stan graciously arches his dark eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?” he’s smiling now. Legit.

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

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

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

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

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

[ohwhatamessiam]

Self Control - Chapter 11

Summary: Thanksgiving break comes and goes. And it leaves you angry, wondering how much Chris really cares about you. Will he prove that he wants this, or will he let your spark burn out?

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans X TA!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Language, angst, lots of pain (the tweets from Brandon outlined this turn of events), I’m really sorry but y’all are gonna hate me for this one.

A/N: Hi everyone! I made it back for an update under 9 months this time (barely lol). There’s only 2 more chapters left in Self Control, and you guys will probably hate me for them, but this is the path we’re on together! Thank you all for your patience, and thank you to @fangirlisms-22. I have started on the next chapter but knowing me, it’ll be a while before it’s done. I’m going to ask y’all to be patient again. I tried to tag everyone, but some blogs have deactivated, changed urls, or won’t let me tag them. Let me know if you need me to change your url on my list. Here’s the Spotify playlist for the entire fic.

I love feedback, so send me your thoughts, feelings, wishes, etc!

Tags are still barely open for this story, so send me an ask here to be added to it or my permanent list!

Self Control | Masterlist

A week of radio silence goes by and you’re left alone with your thoughts. And lonely, desperate thoughts are not your friends. 

You try to stay in for the weekend, telling yourself that the distance is for the best. It’s giving you time to work on your story. You tear that piece to shreds and stitch it back together 10 times over. Your heart is starting to feel that same way.

Wednesday afternoon you realize you’ve run completely out of your grad student food staples: mac and cheese, tortillas, shredded cheese, peanut butter, and milk. And there’s only one box of cereal left on top of your fridge. Corn flakes. The bland cereal Chris loved so much. 

You can’t bring yourself to touch it. 

Forcing your body into a pair of sweatpants and shoes, you leave the apartment. The sun feels too bright for your sensitized eyes, and the temperature is much colder than you planned for, but you know better than to turn back. If you go back, you won’t come out until you have to see him after break.

As you pull into the grocery store it finally hits you. It’s already Thanksgiving eve. That much time had slipped away from you.

You trudge through the throngs of people scrambling for last minute items. No one pays any attention to your state of disarray.

Luckily, your basic needs are in stock and you’re able to get what you need without too much difficulty. You’re about to head to the registers when you stop at the liquor aisle. The thought only has to enter your mind before your feet immediately pivot toward the wine section.

You find 3 of the cheapest, most tolerable bottles and are stuffing them in your cart when you hear glass clanking behind you. You turn to find two of the last people you wanted to see.

Sebastian and Dr. Mackie.

“Oh shit,” Sebastian yelps as he tries to balance three separate bottles of liquor in one arm. Dr. Mackie snickers at him as he adds another bottle to their collection. 

You shift quickly, trying to keep your back to them. There’s no need for a conversation on a day like today.

“(Y/N),” Sebastian calls out. 

Your whole body tenses, fingers clenching the cart handle. How did he even know it was you in your chaotic state?

Footsteps approach you and you try to muster the strength to face them. At your best, you gather a forced smile.

“Hi (Y/N),” he grins as he slides up to your cart, Dr. Mackie in tow. 

“Hi guys,” you manage. You catch how Dr. Mackie’s eyes flash to your hair, and then your clothes. You try not to get caught up on how that makes you want to crawl home, with or without groceries. 

“What are you doing in town? It’s Thanksgiving,” Sebastian asks as he tries to pay more attention to his assortment of alcohol instead of your appearance.

“I’m staying here for break. My family’s a little spread out, so it’s hard to pick a side.” You glance over at Dr. Mackie, hoping that answer seems somewhat believable. 

He seems to buy it as he nods, “I get that.”

You’d never seen these men outside of an academic environment, and when you finally notice their current clothing, you feel the tiniest bit better about running into them. Dr. Mackie’s wearing a navy polo and a pair of gray chinos, while Sebastian’s in a pair of black jeans and a red henley.  

Something about seeing even your colleagues out of business casual, made you feel a little special. Like you were welcomed into Chris’s friend group with open arms. Like the relationship you and Chris have could exist both inside and outside of school safely.

Or had.

“If you’re staying in town, why didn’t you answer our email?” Sebastian asks.

“What email?” Your mind is already trying to remember the last time you glanced at your school account. It must have been nearly a week. But why would you check it when clearly staring at your text messages and voicemails from Chris had been filling your weaker moments?

“The one where we reached out to every grad student and faculty member whom had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, and invited them to a potluck in the Webster hall student lounge?”

Your eyes shift between the men nervously, “Oh, uh, I must have missed that one.”

“That’s okay,” Dr. Mackie answers.

“Well look,” Sebastian continues, “we’re going to have a lot of food, and just need people to eat it now.”

“You could absolutely just bring a bottle of wine and load up a plate.” Dr. Mackie adds as he notices the bottles in your cart. Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize you already have plans to finish those bottles by yourself, and maybe even before Thanksgiving.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” More like you really hope you never have to leave your apartment again.

“Ah, you already have plans.”

You don’t, but you nod like you do in hopes they’ll back off. 

“Well I’m sure we’ll have leftovers,” Sebastian’s eyes become too sharp as the words leave his mouth, “so if you wanna stop by after you’re done doing whatever you have to do, you’re welcome to.” His tone of voice leaves you surprised he didn’t just outright wink at you.

But apparently he didn’t know yet. Chris hadn’t told him about your “distance.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to, but I’ll try.”

“Good,” Dr. Mackie nods, his eyes cutting to Sebastian, clearly trying to get his friend to leave you alone. You know the only time you’ve spent with him was at the faculty dinner, but inside you quietly thank him.

“Yeah, great. And you can bring anyone if you want. Thanksgiving is about sharing.” Sebastian’s eyes stay on yours, still unsubtly trying to communicate that Chris is welcome. Under his gaze, you feel a bubble of tension build in your chest, the precursor to more tears. 

“I won’t bring anyone, but thank you for offering.” You need to get out of here. You will not cry in front of Chris’s friends and colleagues. You drop your focus back onto your grocery cart, trying to stave off the warmth behind your eyes.

“You are very welcome. Seb, we should probably get going now,” Dr. Mackie swoops in for the save. “Whether we see you or not, have a good Thanksgiving (Y/N).” And he’s already guiding Sebastian away from you.

“Thanks, you too,” you call out. They don’t answer, and fortunately they round the corner before the first tear drops.

_______________________________________________________________________

You finish your last bottle of wine late on Thanksgiving. You pick up your phone and nearly dial his number, but just as you reach his name in your contact list, you picture it in your mind.

Him, sitting at a large table covered in all the traditional Thanksgiving dishes. On his right is Jennifer, and she’s beaming. This is her in her element. She’s getting what she wants because Chris won’t tell his family yet that they’re getting divorced. But your mind focuses on the space between them, their joined hands sitting on the table.

You can’t help but throw your phone across the room.

You don’t need confirmation that you’re right, that your fear isn’t imaginary. But you also don’t need to sit around calling him, embarrassing yourself with desperate voice messages that ultimately won’t help your relationship.

You know there has to be something else to fill this void.

And then pull out your laptop and start writing. And it’s a very different story than the one you’ve been working on.

_______________________________________________________________________

The rest of break comes and goes, and somehow you manage to honor the “distance.” Maybe it’s that your sadness has started becoming little pockets of anger, or maybe it’s that you’ve already cried and moped enough. 

But the first day back to classes, you go in with your head held high.

You made it this long without caving and calling, or going to see him. It’ll hurt, but you’ll make it through a class together. You end up being one of the first people in a seat, the students seem to have gotten slower since Thanksgiving break. Lethargic and ready for winter break already.

Winter break was supposed to be when you and Chris could end your distance, your weird work power dynamics would be over and neither of you could lose their job. But what used to feel like a hopeful promise felt like a drawn out execution now. If Thanksgiving had gone even vaguely how you imagined it had for him, you were sure the end was coming. 

Part of what made you love Chris was his heart, his empathy, his willingness to try to see the best in people. And while those traits hadn’t been applied to Jennifer in a while, you were nearly positive they could be again.

Tom comes in at his usual time, but sits at the end of the row behind you. You find that odd, but barely have a moment to dwell on it before Chris arrives. And his face is clean shaven.

A piece of your heart sinks, and you slip further into your chair. 

He avoids eye contact with you until after he has the presentation pulled up on the projector and the rest of the class has filed in. He takes a deep breath, his hands gripping the sides of the podium, and he looks out at the room. But his eyes seem to gloss over the break-hungover students and fall on you.

You feel yourself gulp, but you don’t look away. Not yet. His clothes are nicer, less rumpled than before break. His hair is shorter and slicked back, like it had been at the beginning of the semester. And his wedding ring seems to just catch the fluorescent lights perfectly. 

Everything but his gaze feels foreign. Almost too different than your Chris.

And that’s when you drop your gaze back to your laptop. Of course he’d been home long enough to do laundry and look like his old self again. Maybe it was for his family over break, but maybe it was for Jennifer. 

He watches you for one more moment, and then focuses back on the students. “Good afternoon, class. I hope everyone had a good break.”

Hearing his voice hurts worse than seeing him, but you straighten your spine and get through class. He does not hang his attention on you again, and the only one who seems to notice besides you, is Tom.

_______________________________________________________________________

Your office hours feel like slow torture since you’re left alone with your thoughts about Chris again. And how he looked. And how he barely looked at you.

You wish for a distraction. A student, Robert to come in, or even Tom to show up even though he’d been icy towards you recently. But you get nothing.

So instead, you work on the new piece you started over break. That piece about cycles, and circumstances. About love given, and love lost. About power dynamics and the risks you take when you ignore them. 

Office hours nearly end before you look up. 

And Chris is standing on the other side of your open door, not knocking, but not walking away. You’re not sure what to make of that. 

Is he stopping himself from rushing up to you? Or is he forcing himself to stay there until you say something, until you force him to admit what’s really happening here?

He finally meets your eyes and your heart drops. Just like it had during that awful phone call. And you knew what that meant then, and what that says now.

But you try to fight it. You tell yourself it is just paranoia.

“Hi,” you say, your voice coming out short, trying to hide its shakiness.

“Hi.” Just one word from his lips and your very marrow wants to crawl to him, pleading to forget Thanksgiving break. Forget whatever transpired then. Remember what you had before. What you could have next.

But you stay in your seat and watch him step into your office gingerly. His eyes take in the room, either looking for new evidence in support of your relationship, or looking for a distraction so he doesn’t have to say it. Or at least that’s what it looks like. 

His hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. And it makes this feel even sadder.  He’s resigned to this. Whatever’s coming, he doesn’t really want it. Not fully. 

You can’t take it anymore, you have to end this pointless staring. His at your office, yours waiting for him.

“So, what do you need?”

His face changes, the slightest furrow of his brows, the gentlest sigh. As if you wounded him, rushing him through this moment. A moment you were starting to want over.

He closes your office door, leaving you two alone in a room with so many memories. A room that just a couple weeks ago held what you hoped was the promise of a future.

“We need to talk,” he says, sitting on the edge of the seat across from you. You nod, but don’t say anything. Not until you know what kind of talk this is.

He stares at you for a moment, watching your face, waiting for it to change, shift into something else. But you keep your emotions away from the surface. You’ve had enough time to think about this during your distance.

He finally continues, “This Thanksgiving was tense. A lot happened. A lot was said. But the time apart helped me figure somethings out.”

“Like what?” You watch as his fingers twitch, his eyes roaming you for clues on what you want to hear.

“Like, I’m not the only one who’s been seeing someone else. She wouldn’t tell me who, but I can’t help but feel like it was her way of throwing us in my face.” He pauses, but you don’t break, don’t reach for his hand or tell him he’s right. You wait for the rest.

“And I learned that our families aren’t ready for a divorce yet.” His eyes focus on the edge of your desk. He still won’t stand up to them yet. 

He knows this isn’t fair to you. And he won’t even look you in the eye as he admits it.

“So, where does that leave me?” A fire fuels in your belly, you want to scream at him. You can’t keep living in this state of distance. That he needs to figure out whether he wants you more than he wants to avoid conflict with her and his family.

“As someone I want a future with.” He’s watching your chest now, the way your breath fills your lungs, and you hold it in, praying that he’ll just drop the other shoe. “As someone I could see myself growing old with, living a full, creative life together.”

“But?” 

He hesitates and you try to keep the air moving in and out of your body. You do not have any new breath-held wishes, everything you could ever hope for from this moment has already found a home in your mind. And it is accompanied by all your fears about this relationship, and its end. 

But the way his shoulders slump, and his elbows dig into his knees as he leans on them. The way his head now hangs in his hands. You feel that your fears are unfortunately, closer to this reality.

“But not someone I can have a now with.” 

Your heart felt it coming, and it hurts worse than you ever would have expected.

That fire is in your chest now, beating your lungs, eating the oxygen from them. Like a hit to the gut. There’s no more breath to hold. 

Was this relationship always going to be a waiting game? Or just a dalliance to fill the time?

“This time apart, this distance has already been painful enough, Chris. But I was doing it to protect both of us.”

He raises his head, and his watery eyes catch on your own, “It’s been terrible not seeing you, not talking to you. It’s been painful for me too. But it’s been for the best.”

“Best as in it protects us for our future? Or best as in it allows you to give your marriage another shot?” Will he stop trying to dance his way around this, stop softening this? You need a clear answer on where you stand, and where you are going to be moving forward.

“I- I’m afraid to say both.”

And that hits you with an overwhelming force. Your heart has sunk so far, you are not even sure you have one anymore. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But instead, you let that fire from before crawl its way into your mouth. “So do you want me to wait around for you? Let you test the waters with Jennifer again until you're sure you want to be with me? Because that’s not what I signed up for with us.”

“I know that, and that’s not what I wanted for us either.” 

“And if I wait any longer, I’m not protecting us anymore. I’m protecting you, and your life, while mine gets boxed away. But what I want should matter too.”

“Y/N, it does,” he whispers, but it doesn’t slow you down.

“Should we still even try to be together? If you’re not sure that this is it, that I am who you should be with, what’s the point? What are we holding out for?”

All the air from the room feels like it has been sucked out. Chris is staring at you like you’ve wrecked his whole world. And inside, it absolutely feels like you’ve just ripped apart your own. But you know it had to be said. 

“Because I love you. And you love me.”

“Is that enough Chris? Because it’s starting to seem like it isn’t anymore.”

He looks at you, eyes wide as his lower lip trembles softly, but you remind yourself to hold your ground. He was the one who’d come in there to tell you he might go back to his wife. He was the one who had already planned on doing this.

“It was, it is. We just need to wait it out. See if Jennifer and Robert will leave us alone.”

“They already know, and so does probably half of the department.” You hope your words aren’t actually true, but between all the conversations you had before break, it sure as hell feels like it. “I’m not staying your secret affair. I’m not your office hours hook up because you can’t tolerate your wife. You either tell me right now that you will fully work on what we have, or you tell me it’s over.”

His eyes are searching your office again, looking for courage, or maybe an excuse. He doesn’t seem to find it, and his focus settles on your joined hands. You clench them together, a silent prayer for the truth. 

“I can’t do either of those things.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You just want a straight goddamn answer. “Chris…”

“I can’t. Because I don’t want to lose you, it hurts so much to be apart from you. But I can’t gamble with the rest of my life, my job, my family. I can’t just ignore them and run away again. It’s not working out for any of us that way.”

You want to snap that it was working out fine for you, but you try not to be more selfish than you already feel. And as well as you were making out, he is right, these last few months hadn’t been perfect. Except you don’t want perfect, you just want a promise to try. A whole-hearted attempt. 

Instead, you stay quiet for a moment, watching him, taking him in. His clearly upset features, his body perched on the edge of his seat. His words are telling you that the one fear you had grown so very close to this entire break, is real. His already established, semi-comfortable life is more important than you, or your happiness. And you had really wanted to be wrong.

“That is my answer.” Your mouth finally moves, saying what you were thinking all along. “Your inability to make a decision is everything I need to know.”

“I didn’t want this to happen (Y/N). I don’t want this to be over.” His hands reach out for yours, searching for a physical connection, a spark. Something that will help him soften this, or make you change your mind.

But it won’t. And you pull your fingers from your desk.

“Then you should have thought about that earlier, Chris. You should have considered whether kissing me in this hallway could ruin your life. That sleeping with me in your office could demolish everything. You should have decided then, if this last 3 months was worth it, to risk it all? Because I decided that then. I decided I wanted you, and this, but I knew I might regret it one day. And you’ve probably proven me right.”

Chris’s eyes latch onto your own, shock lifting his brows so gently. Like you’ve landed the final blow, you knocked him out. But this wasn’t a match for you to win. No, this was a mercy kill. You know now this relationship had to end before it sacrificed what was left of your control, and your sanity.

“I always wanted this. There’s not a single second I’ve regretted it.” His tone comes out rough, as if the anger you’ve let out finally reaches his own gut. And you hope it burns as much for him as it does for you.

“Good for you. But if you really wanted this, why didn’t you tell me about Jennifer’s sudden interest in getting back together earlier? Why didn’t you tell your family that you guys are over? That there’s no hope for your marriage, and that you’re ready to move on? Would you rather have a second chance with her instead of a first, real chance with me?”

You look down at your own hands in your lap, your fingers twisted together. And for a moment you second guess this whole conversation. Is this really how this has to go? “Or at least that’s what I asked myself over and over again during break.”

He stays quiet, his eyes shifting down, settling on his knees. They bounce as his heels tap the floor. His nerves are so raw, that he might just be finally admitting to himself, that this has reached its conclusion. That maybe this was never going to end any differently.

The words leave his mouth so quietly, you almost miss them. “So this is the end then?” 

As much as this already feels like slicing a part of yourself off, you were staying strong. But his tone, its soft resignation, it builds a heat behind your eyes. And your tears threaten to let loose.

“I’ll finish the semester as your TA, but yes. I-” the crack in your voice gives away more than you’ve shown this entire conversation. And his baby blues latch on to it, to you. A final, silent pleading. But you gulp, “I think it is.” 

Inside you are begging for him to say no, it’s not. That he won’t let this be the end. That you are more important than Jennifer, than his family, than anyone’s opinion.

He nods to himself, his eyes squeezing shut. He takes a moment to make himself accept it, and then he pushes himself up.

“I’m sorry this is how we’re ending, (Y/N). I never meant to compromise your feelings or your wants. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I understand how my intentions have gotten lost in our situation.” He moves to your door, turning his back to you. 

You feel your bottom lip quiver as the tears in your eyes start to bleed out.

“I’m sorry too, Chris.” He hesitates, looking back at you as his hand reaches the door knob. “Goodbye.”

One more quick nod as his gaze drops, attempting to ignore your quiet sob. His fingers push open the door and he whispers, “Goodbye.”

And then he’s gone, and your office hours are over, and you want to be anywhere but here. But as you try to stand, you can’t move yet. This loss feels paralyzing. Your limbs lock in denial, your mind wants to bargain now. But you know it’s too late.

So you sit there, and cry every tear out you can, waiting for the pain to subside. Waiting for your breath to stop shaking. Waiting for you to feel confident in your choices.

And eventually, it does. And you do.

_______________________________________________________________________

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[reading-hub]

BATMAN VILLIANS - Calling them Daddy/Mommy in a non-sexual situation:

Ft. Bane, Poison Ivy, Mad Hatter, Two Face, & Killer Croc

BANE

It was during your private self defense classes with Bane. You thought it’d be piece of cake. There’s plenty of women taking classes in order to defend themselves walking alone during such dark nights. Banes’ idea of self defense classes was that, cranked up to 100.10%.

You were sweating bullets, body feeling numb, and all you wanted was the sweet release of death.

Bane, seeing you face planted on training mat, he lifted you to sit up with those big hands of his like you barely weigh anything.

Your face got droopy from exhaustion, your shoulders could barely hold you to sit up straight, making your upper body rock back in forth.

“Can you stand?” His deep accent brought you back from semi day dreaming. Your head lolled back dramatically and responded in the most childish-pouty way, “No...!” His eyes scanned your state of body at that moment. Was he judging you??

Before you could figure out what he was doing eyeing you like that, he stood tall and was about to walk off. Until you pushed your body back on the mat, both hands barely grasped his ankles but he stopped moving. Good.

“Wait—! Daddy help me up!” Pause. What just slipped from your mouth just now?

You froze, making it easier for Bane to lift his foot up, then again, he could’ve done anytime he wanted. His knees bent down to your ground level, his finger pushes away a strand of hair from your face. You could barely register what was going on. You suddenly yelped in surprise as Bane lifted your whole body close to him, walking out the training room with him.

POISON IVY

You felt embarrassed afterwards. It was like that one time when you accidentally called your teacher ‘Mom’; everyone had a good laugh, it was overall embarrassing for one whole day, and it rests in the back of your mind for the rest of your adult life.

You and Ivy were very good friends. You honestly don’t know how this weird friendship came to be. You told her about some of the small plants you have at in apartment, shyly admitting that you’ve even given said plants cute nicknames.

The next thing you know, you’re visiting her tropical lair once a week, heck, sometimes you just spend the night there during weekends.

You felt like you can talk about anything with her. There was something about the way she spoke to you, like you mattered. It flattered you really. Insecurities that you’re afraid to tell to your own parents, you’ve told her. Deep repressed thoughts and feelings you have that you would never say openly, she’s listened to.

It was getting late, you rambled on to her once again and you didn’t even notice how dark it was outside. You shifted awkwardly, wanting to say something. Before Ivy could notice, you blurted out,

“Mommy, is it okay if sleep here tonight?” Ivy looked at you at that moment with a fluttering gaze. The best thing you could do to make this less awkward was laugh nervously, in the hopes of her laughing too. But she didn’t, she just stared at you. She gave the most faint smile she could make to you, “It is late, if you’re lucky, you might end up sleeping next to me tonight.”

Heart just sank. Exe.has stopped working.

MAD HATTER

It was quiet, too quiet. Even being in the back of Mad Hatter’s hat shop, it was getting too boring. Jervis was preparing another tea party for tomorrow night. Said it will be a night to remember, especially with you by his side.

You offered to help in anyway you could. Perhaps you could score some extra scones for going to such lengths, and besides, Jervis just looked the cutest when he was concentrated on a certain task.

While people like Gothem citizens always poked fun on how short he was, you found him to be unique and partnership material all the more. Even if he gets small tantrums when things aren’t going his way, or that one time when he bitch slapped you after refusing to put on that itchy blonde wig and small blue dress for him. Looking back you’ve should’ve known better.

You helped him organize any tea cups and utensils that would be needed during the tea party. Then, something caught your eye, “Should I wash these tea cups for the guests, Daddy?” you coughed with embarrassment and cringe. “They...look pretty dirty..”

Jervis came to your side immediately after, his hand placed onto your own gently. “No, no, my dear, use the cloth I gave you instead.” He suggested. Did he not hear what you just addressed him as???

Before you could sigh in relief from that embarrassing stunt you pulled, he spoke soon after. “While I am not your father, the thought of you addressing me in such a manner has got me all fluttering.” While his back was turned from you, you felt as though he was smiling gleefully as you continued cleaning the tea cups.

TWO FACE

Harvey wasn’t exactly ‘husband material’. His mood swings were as unpredictable as they came. He’d hold onto you tenderly, rubbing your back late at night, the next morning you’d wake up to harsh yelling and a slap in the face.

A relationship like that came with a lot of things, angry sex, tender loving, fear. And yet, you chose to stick around all the more.

It was midnight, he was lashing out once again. You couldn’t even sleep though that noise, no one could. You got up from your queen bed, go up to Harvey to see what got him so angry this time. You scoffed at yourself, what could you do if you went to his study? Calm him down?You really didn’t think this plan through.

His study was open, a small crack was left to peek inside without disturbance. Without thinking, you opened the door, the sound of creaking could be heard. You cringed at the sound, hoping to not have Harv hear, he heard.

In response, he threw a book at the door, to get you to leave him alone. The book was close to hitting you in the face, only to miss by a few inches, but the surprise caused you to yelp in fear.

“Get out, bitch! We don’t need you.” His harsh and blood curdling tone almost made you cry whenever he directed it towards you, it was hard to get use to for the most part. “This is the only way I can lash out without harming you, leave us.” His soft tone also made you cry because of how rare he spoke to you in such a way. It showed he was still sane in your eyes. No matter how many doctors in Arkham say to you otherwise...

Before you could respond back. He threw another book as a warning. “What part of leaving don’t you understand?!” His burnt hand clenched in anger. And all you could do was sit there, frozen in fear. He stormed towards you, you had a bad feeling where this was going.

Before you could process the situation you put yourself in, you flinched before him, arms covering your face so he couldn’t hit there. “Please don’t hurt me, Daddy!!” You cried out. Not even realizing what you said to him, you still braced yourself for any pain that came to a part of your body.

It was silent. You open your eyes, cautiously. “What the hell did you just say?” He was confused, trying to wrap around his head of what made you say that. You looked shocked too. Why wasn’t he hitting you? Oh no..

You opened your mouth to try to explain yourself, but Harvey beat you to it. “Don’t answer...” His still harsh tone was still present but deemed down for some reason..

“I need a drink...” His soft voice came afterwards, grabbing whatever available alcohol was lying around in his study right now. You just sat there, eyes wide like a deer in front of headlights. You should probably sleep now.

KILLER CROC

You honestly thought that Arkham was basically sending you to your death whenever they decided to send you to bring his meals.

If only they knew that sending a decently attractive human to his lair, would cause some disturbances. Especially a giant crocodile man who hasn’t experience intimacy in quite a long time.

“Waylon! I’ve come to bring your meal for tonight!” You shouted. “Don’t try and eat the hand that feeds you.” You said under your breath.

“Bring it here and I won’t!” The sudden jumpscare from him, shook you to your very core. Shook was an understatement, though. “Waylon, that isn’t funny. It really scared me.” You held onto your chest, trying to compose yourself.

You gave him his scraps food through a small hole that was similar to a dog door, making easier for anyone to transfer Croc’s food without the fear your hand getting chewed up.

Croc smelled and inspected the food for a while, similar to a wild animal, making sure there wasn’t any sedatives mixed in his food this time. Before he could make the decision of eating, “Don’t worry, no medicine was put in it.” You just had to open your mouth, now he’s really not gonna eat it!! Damn it.

“I don’t want it anyway. Take it back!” He commanded you. No, you weren’t gonna take this. “No Waylon, I can’t do that.” You rejected him. Maybe you were too harsh sounding...No! He needs to learn that using fear to bully someone into submission is not gonna work this time!

“Gett’n too confident with me being behind this cell.” Cheeky. He’s trying to break you when your trying to stand up for yourself.

“Don’t get me wrong, Waylon, you terrify me to my very core. But I’m not gonna stand here and be walked all over.” Wow, you’re really proud of yourself right now.

He was silent, time to hook him in! “Come on, Daddy, eat your scraps, pleeease...” Except for that. You were not proud of yourself anymore. Oh shi—

He chuckled loudly, you swore his whole cell and where you were standing, was vibrating from his loud excessive laughing. It was embarrassing.

“Shut up!” Your voice was too meek compared to his loud chuckles escaping him. “Now that was funny, lunch lady.”

You stormed off, not taking the food with you. Oh well, hopefully all that laughing got him to eat his food. Spoiler: it did :)

#batman x reader #bane #poison ivy #harvey dent #two face #mad hatter #killer croc #jervis tetch x reader #batman villains #hubbywritings #batman/reader

[every1studio]

“UNIVERSITY OF KQ” [ateez]

genre: reverse harem + fluff + fem reader

ficstyle: bullepoints + oneshot + long

prompt: You just moved back to Korea to enroll in the University of KQ.. Little did you know, that you attracted some attention from some of the most popular guys on campus.. (YOU ARE V OBLIVIOUS/CLUMSY)

note: did a high school one for SKZ so I thought I would draw inspiration and do a college one for ATEEZ

You got into the most hard-to-get-in art university in South Korea and since it was your first choice; you gladly took the offer and moved there. You wanted to find some sort of hobby or interest since you’ve been so focused on school up until now. You wondered how was your life going to be here at University of KQ when....

WOOYOUNG

“you’re blocking the stairway..”

you turned to see a well-built guy wearing a black tank top, gray sweatpants and a duffel, leaning on the railings waiting for you to move

he looked like he just came from the gym or something

not gonna lie, you took a while to register that he was talking to you

he smirked at you by your flustered actions as you moved out of the way

he walked up to you so that he was standing in front of you 

“checking me out?” he asked as he leaned in closer to you

“n-no, I was just-”

you were taken back by his actions, you stumbled back; almost falling down the stairs

but he swooped his arm in around your waist in time and pulled you in close to his sweaty body

“you’re the cute and clumsy type huh..” he chuckled as he detaches himself from you

he points to the door next to yours, “that’s my place”

then he points to himself, “and I’m Wooyoung”

Wooyoung pinches your cheeks then waves to you as he makes his way to his apartment

“see you around, Y/N~”

you furrowed your brows, “how do you know my name?”

Wooyoung was known to be a playboy; a heartthrob

but he seemed to have broken his character after seeing how innocent and oblivious you were

he snorts as he looks at the ground for a bit, “it’s on your school ID that you’re wearing on your lanyard..”

before you could open your mouth to say something, your alarm went off

you were late for class

“oops sorry! see ya, Wooyoung!!” you dashed down the stairs as he watched you crossing the street

he liked how his named rolled off your tongue

(she’s interesting... and cute) Wooyoung would think as he ruffles his hair 

MINGI

you were trying to make it to your first class of the term; philosophy 

Mingi was munching on his burger as he saw you running

he saw the whole incident

it was like a scene out of a movie

you had tripped on flat ground and fell quite comically

he never put down his burger so fast; he ran to you

“you good??”

as you looked up, his heart skipped a beat

the sun was shining on your face and you brushed off the pain 

“oh yeah, this is no big deal” you jumped up and straightened yourself up

“I gotta go, I’m late. thank you!”

but he felt an urge to make a move and he did

he held you back by your wrist

“what class are you going to? how are you gonna go to class all bloodied up?”

you looked down to see both of your knees covered in bloody skid marks 

“I can’t walk into philosophy like this...”

his eyes lit up, “you have it with Dr. C. Williams?”

you nodded as you found a classmate, “yeah! I’m Y/N!”

“I’m Mingi”

“...aren’t we going to be late?”

he realized that he was holding onto your wrist a little too long so he embarrassingly shook his hand off of you 

he seemed like a cold person, but if he, a stranger, helped you out.. that would mean he wasn’t a bad person, right?

you looked at your phone 

“class is in 1 minute and I still don’t know where it is..” you sulked, you didn’t want late to your first class on your first day

“didn’t you check the email last night? class is cancelled..”

you frantically checked your email and he was right

you slapped yourself on your forehead, “are you fricking kidding me??”

he gave a small smile as he led you back to his table “at least you have time to clean yourself up”

you watched him take out some Hello Kitty band-aids; they were the opposite from his tough-boy exterior so you chuckled under your breath

he notices it and tries to clarify with you as he cleaned your wounds and patched you up, “I needed some band-aids the other day and these were the only ones they had left okay!”

“HEY MINGI, CAN I GET A BAND-AID TOO!!”

both you and Mingi turned to see..

SAN

you both saw a smiley-eyed boy dashing towards the table

but was stopped by a couple of what seemed like high schoolers visiting the campus

you heard them asking him for directions and squealed as he helped them out with a smile

they thanked him and loudly whispered some things on the line of “omg I cannot believed we talked to him”

San was known in the area for busking by himself on Friday nights

when he looked back at you and Mingi, he became a little shy

“oh I didn’t know you were with sucha pretty friend, Mingi.. sorry for intruding” 

he was about to walk away until you spoke up, “didn’t you say you needed a band-aid?”

you reached out for his visibly-cut hand, “what happened?”

“I was trying to pet a cat but it obviously didn’t like me..”

he watched as you were cleaning his cuts; he hissed in pain

you looked up at him and back down at his cuts as you whispered, “sorry..”

you continued as you blew on the area as you wiped it over with sanitizing wipes so that it wouldn’t hurt as much

he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you put band-aids on him so lovingly and with care

he felt the jealous glares from Mingi and he spoke up

“so how do you know Mingi?”

you looked at him after you finished tending his wounds, “I just met him, didn’t know I had philosophy with him.. oh! I’m Y/N!” 

“oh yeah?”

you reached out your hand for him to shake

but to your surprised, he looped his arms through yours

“I’m San, guess we’ll all be best friends since I have that class with him too~”

he was excited to be friends with someone as pretty and loving as you

maybe.. you could be even more than a friend to him one day...

SEONGHWA

you had to split ways with Mingi and San since they had another class to head to 

with nothing else to do that day, you decided to go onto your online classes for the term to see what you can work on so that you won’t have to worry about them later

you are the type of person to get things done as early as possible; which got you ahead of classes so that you can have more time for other things

the grumbling of your stomach made it hard to focus on anything than your hunger so you went over to the campus map to find out where was the closest eatery was

you sighed as you scratched your head; your stomach grumbled again but this time, it was louder than the first one

there was a little chuckle as you closed your eyes in embarrassment before turning around

you saw the literal statue of a Greek God

“I assume you’re hungry.. this cafe has a stacked menu and it has good wifi too..”

you thanked him and bowed as you went back to the maps to take a picture of the cafe so that you won’t get lost

you missed a couple of turns and blocks but you finally arrived at the cafe

it was pretty big; there were 2 stories and it had a veranda seating area

you walked in to the comforting smell of roasted coffee beans

there was a long line; with females taking up 89% of the cafe

(I wonder why there were so many girls here at this cafe..)

that was when you got to the counter and you finally understood

that Greek God guy was behind the counter giving you a smiled widely as he saw you; you felt the glares of the other girls on you since he only gave them a retail-worker smile

but you didn’t know that

“oh! I was wondering what was taking you so long to get here..” he continued to smile at you as you were trying to fiddle with your phone case

“I got lost...”

he bursts out in a kind laugh, “at least you’re here now, what can I get you?”

you bit your lips as you scanned the menu, “honestly I don’t know what to get, I’m not picky and I’m indecisive...”

“you look like you’d be into something simple... how about a taro latte and a hearty chicken avocado sandwich?”

you laughed, “that’s a simple order? I’ll take it”

that was when Seonghwa wanted to see more of that smile

“can I get a name with that order?”

you looked down at his nametag before answering, “Y/N”

you went to go get your wallet from your bag but he spoke up, “my treat!”

“Seonghwa, you don’t have t-”

but he slid his employee’s card already

“I’ll get your order ready for you,” he winks at you

YEOSANG

after you got your order from Seonghwa

you walked up to the veranda seating area

there were outlet on the tables so you didn’t have to worry about sitting near a wall or anything

you sat down and saw a boy sitting on the table across from you

he was munching down on a big slice of chocolate cake 

he looked so cute and happy to be eating 

but then he looked up to you smiling at him; he quickly looked down in embarrassment

but so did you

(I probably looked like a lunatic eating such a big piece like that)

(I probably looked like a creep watching him eat like that)

for some reason you both looked up at each other and nodded at one another in acknowledgement

you went back to working from your laptop and eating

Yeosang looked up at you again; you were focus on your work as you used your electric pen to scribble across your screen 

he too took out his art materials; the typical sketchbook, #2 pencil and a trusty eraser 

you both were in the moment; enjoying the sunshine on your skins and the refreshing breeze tingle through your hair

after a while, Yeosang had to get up to leave

he was contemplating on giving you a drawing of you; was it creepy or was it romantic?

he signed his name and number after he finished but he didn’t want to actually give it to you because he wasn’t that confident in himself yet

so he purposely left it on his table and packed up

he nodded at you once again before dashing downstairs

you noticed there was a piece of paper on the table

“wait! you left this!” but he was long gone

you flipped the paper and saw a stunning sketch of yourself

you didn’t think you were pretty or anything special but the drawing gave you a sense of confidence

“Yeosang..” you read out loud as you smiled at his artwork 

JONGHO

you packed up a while after that

you were planning to explore the campus even more

to find out where your other classes were so that you didn’t have to struggle trying to find them later on

you went to the closest bus stop

when you walked around to find a seating area, you saw a young lad wearing headphones

he was totally in his own world; jamming out to his music

seeing how he was into his music made you want to listen to music too

you sat down next to him and opened your bag to try to find your headphones

but OF COURSE, you probably left them at home

around that time was when another guy appeared; it seemed like he was a music major or something because he was trying his best to woo you or something 

you smiled at the ground with wide eyes because you were overwhelmed by his “swag”

the guy sitting next to you finally realized that you were sitting next to him and you looked super uncomfortable by this obnoxious rapper

you were probably one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen and he wanted to do anything to help you out

he took of one of his earbuds out and nudged it to you

he nods at you for to you take it and you do

BLESS HIM; you rather block one ear off than to have both of your ears bleed from bad rapping

you listened to the music a little bit more before turning to the guy sitting next to you, “hey I listen to this artist too!! I’m obsessed with them!”

he smiled at you as he tried to keep eye contact; the way you just looked at him without blinking much made his heart flutter

“they give me inspiration..” he comments

the bus catches his attention but he doesn’t want this conversation to go to waste

“OH THE BUS IS HERE!” you got up, forgetting that you were sharing earbuds with him; causing his phone to drop out of his hands

“OH GOSH I’M SO SORRY!”

“it’s oka-”

you both reached down for his phone as your smooth fingers grazed his guitar-calloused fingers; he pulled away first

“here ya go~” 

you both saw the rapper get on the bus first and you quickly grabbed the guy’s hand 

“let’s find a good spot on the bus.. uh..” you weren’t sure if you guys introduced yourselves yet and you had already forgotten

“Jongho..” he beamed at your contact

“Y/N~”

YUNHO

you and Jongho separated ways after getting off the bus

he was headed to the studios and you were heading over to the performance arts building

you’ve always been interested in dancing and you had intro to hip hop the next day so you wanted to prepare yourself 

maybe even bust some moves to be hyped for the next day

you heard the muffled sounds of music playing in one of the dancing studios

the sounds of footsteps and floor scuffings became prominent

you found yourself became immersed with the dancer in the room

he had strong movements yet they were fluid?

he probably had one of the best facial expressions ever

right when he was done, you quietly clapped as your jaws were still on the floor

he looked through into the mirror at you standing at the doorway in awe

you probably couldn’t tell but he was getting even more red from blushing

“you’re probably the BEST dancer I’ve ever seen!!”

he ruffled the back of his sweaty hair, “no way.. I definitely have room to improve..”

you blinked furiously at him, “room to improve? if that’s the case, I need one whole building to improve. you’re seriously amazing, I was totally captivated”

captivated is what Yunho felt when he saw you for the first time 

“wait, you dance too??” he felt a light surge of excitement knowing that you dance as well

you scrunched your face as you shrugged, “I like to dance but I’m not good or anything.. just a little hobby..”

“if you’d like, I have a class tomorrow here in this room if you wanna swoop in and dance!”

you cocked your head in confusion, “wait, you have a class here tomorrow? are you Jung Yunho?”

he broke out into a smile as he nodded, “yeah, that’s me!”

“I didn’t think they would have young and good-looking teachers here..” you mumbled as you looked over your classes again; double-checking what time you were going to be in his class tomorrow

but Yunho was caught up with the fact that you called him good-looking

“what’s your name?” he manages to ask

“Y/N-”

“excuse me~ we’re gonna clean this room soon so if you could pack your things, I would be grateful~” the tired custodian announced

you looked back at Yunho, “I’ll see you tomorrow.. teacher~”

he smiles into his fist as he picks up his duffel, “well, you can say your goodbyes after I walk you out..”

HONGJOONG

Yunho only walked you out to the entrance of the building

“where are you heading off to now?” Yunho wanted to walk you back to your apartment but he had work to do 

“I wanna check out the campus a bit more...”

“alright I’ll see you tomorrow~”

“see ya, teacher~”

you both waved until you swiveled around to make your way to the recording studios

it was golden hour; the sun shined against the windows making it look like mirrors

the performance arts building was sitting on top of the slope; giving you full access to the whole campus

you were admiring the view as Hongjoong was also on his way to the recording studio

he was frustrated

he had no inspirations; no muse

and that was when he was walking behind you; he didn’t notice you until you turned around and ran into him

you were literally so sick of how many times your clumsiness caused problems for other people, “I”M SO SORRY!! I’m the clumsiest person ever...”

“it’s okay, it was my fault too..”

you bent down to collect the guy’s notebook and mp3 player

“I haven’t seen these bad boys in a long time,” held up the mp3 player to him

you were just squatting there, basking in the golden sunlight

Hongjoong finally found a muse and it wasn’t just any muse; it was you

“o-oh yeah... if I record songs, I rather not have distractions like games and social media..” 

you got up and you nodded in agreement, “that’s pretty smart”

he smiles as he walks over to the doors to the recording studios and waits for you, “are you coming to the studios too?”

you nodded as you waddled on over

he couldn’t help but smile at your cute little actions

“what brings you over here?” he asks as he sees your backside looking around the building

you look back at him as you answered, “I’m just exploring. seeing if anything sparks my interest.. wondering if I should pick up a new hobby.. finding a new routine for myself here at the University of KQ.. you know?”

he was already so in love with you

was this what it was like to fall in love at first sight?

“I’m Hongjoong, by the way..”

“I’m-”

“HEY Y/N!!” you heard a group say in unison

You looked over to see Wooyoung, Mingi, San, Seonghwa, Yeosang, Jongho and Yunho walk over to you and Hongjoong. You thought it was weird that everyone who you ever interacted with today was all gathered here in one area. They were all confused, “wait how do you know Y/N?” 

You furrowed your brows, “y-you all know each other?” 

Hongjoong nodded, “yeah, we’re called the KQ Fellaz. Just a little group we made for ourselves.”

Yunho chimed in, “we make our own songs and choreography.”

“Would you like to be our manager? Since you already know all of us, we don’t even have to do an interview to look for one!” San asked as he looped his arms around yours. You looked around the group and they all had puppy eyes, “guess I know what to do on my free time now..” 

~end

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez wooyoung #ateez writing #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez reactions #ateez fic #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez hongjoong #ateez drabbles #ateez blurb #ateez jongho #ateez kpop #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez ot8 #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #kpop fluff #kpop reactions

[underoossss]

Cappuccinos - H.O

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader

Coffee Shop AU

Summary: 3 times Harrison tries to ask you out and one time you ask him.

AN: Hello everyone! Guess who’s back with a one shot! ME! This is for @hollandsosterfield​ ‘s writing challenge with the prompt “Can you give me a knife for my birthday? So I can stab you with it?

---

1

The sound of the coffee grinder and the chatter of distant conversations from some customers sitting by the window surround Harrison as he takes his 15thorder of the day. “So you have a large iced coffee with three shots of caramel, a croissant and an apple. Is that everything for you today?” He asks the woman standing in front of him who nods as she fishes out her wallet from her purse. “That’d be $7.25. Can I have your name for the order?”

“Dorothy.” She says, showing him her debit card so that Harrison can prompt the purchase on the machine in front of her. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles, handing her a receipt and moving to take a croissant from the pastries display for her. He puts it in a baking tray and places it on the toaster oven for a bit to warm it up. “There’s a croissant in the oven, Will.”

“Okay.” His friend nods as he finishes two orders and proceeds to call the person’s name over the counter. “Two mocca’s for Lilly?”

Harrison lets out a deep breath, looking around the shop. The 7am rush hour had come to an end, leaving only Dorothy who waits for her iced latte and a group of three sitting by the window. They look like they’re finishing up a presentation, all their laptops propped on the antique cream coffee table in front of them. After his brief scan of the room, he glances up at the clock propped on the wall. 8:05, the next rush of students going to their 8:30 class will come by soon enough. The thought makes Harrison’s hands sweat so he focuses on the smell of freshly baked blueberry scones coming from the kitchen. Y/N, comes by at 8:10am every day, orders a coffee and sometimes grabs a fruit from the display basket before rushing to class. She’s from the Art Institute a few blocks away and Harrison’s been crushing on her from the moment she stepped into the coffee shop on a Monday 4 months ago. He believes she’s an architect, always carrying plans and drawing buildings on the coffee table by the turquoise sofa next to the chimney.

The sound of the bell hanging over the door makes him look up to see you enter the coffee shop. A strong wind had blown your scarf out of place and you fix it while walking to the register. “Hey, Haz. How’s it going.” You set a large binder on the counter for a second, shaking your arms when they get some rest.

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

“A medium cappuccino with some cinnamon on top, please. Oh, and a banana muffin.” Your eyes light up when you spot the freshly baked muffins on the pastry display on your right.

Harrison smiles, your smile almost lighting up the whole shop. After a few seconds, he shakes himself out of his daze and puts one of the muffins in a paper bag that he hands to you. “That’s gonna be $5.”

You place the paper bag on top of your binder before reaching inside your tote bag for your wallet. After you pay, Harrison smiles and moves over to the expresso machine ignoring Will’s knowing look when he starts to make your drink. Shot of expresso, steam the milk, and foam. Harrison hums as he prepares the drink, the delicious smell of coffee flooding his senses. When the drink is ready he puts the white lid on top where he writes your name with a flower next to it, the way he’s always done it from day one. It’s been months, ask her out already! “So, um, I was wondering.” Harrison places the coffee on the counter but stops talking when he sees you’re on the phone. Your forehead is creased, confused, as someone speaks on the other end.

“What do you mean he’s picking up the assignment already? It’s not 8:30 yet!” You look up and smile at Harrison, getting your coffee and mouthing a quick thank you to him.

Damnit.

2

“Harrison, it’s been months of you pining over her.” Will rolls his eyes when he spots Harrison staring at the door expectantly the next day. A large batch of customers had just left a couple of minutes ago, so him and Will were enjoying a little peace before the 8:30am rush arrives. “Just ask for her number, you should see the way she looks at you.”

Harrison lets out a laugh, “There’s no way that she looks at me. I’m just the part time barista that makes her coffee and she’s nice.” His fingers fiddle with the pocket of his turquoise apron as he waits for you to walk through that door.

“The arts university is blocks away and she can easily go to the Starbucks next to it, and yet she chooses to come here every day.” Will insists as he cleans the countertops and puts some of the espresso cups in the dishwasher.

“It’s probably more crowded over there, that’s all.” Harrison shrugs, moving the gaze to the clock on his right. 8:10.

The doorbell dings as another group of people enter the coffee shop, you among them. This time though, there’s a guy next to you, his arm around your shoulder; he’s laughing at something you said. “There’s no way the dean said that Y/N.” Tom shakes his head.

Harrison feels his shoulders sag but he puts on a fake smile for the customers standing in front of him. He should’ve known, he probably wasn’t the only one crushing on you, you’re funny and kind and so hardworking. There’s been days you’ve stayed at the coffee shop studying until closing time, losing track of time as you go through your schoolwork. Harrison has the proof he needs now, to support the already known fact that his own nerves prevented him from even getting your number on time.

“I’m telling you Tom, you’re 100% suspended for traveling to England in the middle of the semester.” You chuckle as you step up to the cashier, your turn to order. “Hey, Haz! Good morning.” Your smile is bright but the one Harrison gives you in return doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His heart is still in the process of breaking but he clears his throat, ignoring the way you tilt your head in confusion.

“Hi Y/N, a cappuccino today?” He grabs a sharpie so he can write your usual order on the paper cup before looking up again.

“Yes please, and a-”

“And a large caramel latte for me, please.” The guy next to her, Tom, smiles. “You getting something to eat, love?”

Love.

“No I’m good. Just those two drinks Haz, thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles, but it feels forced. His chest feels heavy and he chastises himself again for taking so long.

“I hope you’re having a nice day so far.” You comment, a little weary, and you take out a $20 bill from your back pocket. Your eyes are darting across his face, like you can tell something’s off with his mood.

“I am, thanks. You?” He hands Tom’s cup to Will in a silent request that his friend doesn’t question. He then proceeds to make yours after he gives you your change back.

“Yeah, me too.” You nod, moving to the pickup area and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You’re wearing a rust color sweater today, your hands hidden inside the sleeves and Harrison thinks it’s the most endearing thing in the world.

“Of course you are, I’m back.” Tom says making you roll your eyes and Harrison has to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid giving away how awfully awkward he feels. Stop crushing on this guy’s girlfriend, idiot. He writes your name on the lid before drawing a small smiley face on it, instead of the usual flower. She probably won’t notice anyway.

“Here you go.” He says, placing your cup on the counter and regretting not drawing the flower on it when he sees you frown for a brief second.

“Thanks, Haz.” You mumble, averting your gaze from him and heading to the door.

“See ya!” Tom says as he follows you.

“See you…”

3

“EVERYONE! IT’S THIS BEAUTIFUL LADY’S, WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE MY BEST FRIEND, BIRTHDAY TODAY!” Tom all but yells when he enters the coffee shop with you by his side at 8:10am the next day. You cover your face in embarrassment.

“Can you get me a knife for my birthday, so I can stab you with it?” You say rolling your eyes at him but smiling anyway.

Harrison is frozen in place for a second, was he really that lucky and that stupid? Best friend. Not girlfriend. He had been so wrong! He drew a stupid smiley face on your coffee for a stupid assumption he had made. “God I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.” Will chuckles to his right, holding his hands up when Harrison glares at him. “Wait, I wasn’t supposed to comment on that?”

Harrison shakes his head, getting a chocolate cake pop from the glass display and handing it to you when you reach the cashier. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiles, because he’s ecstatic, he hasn’t lost his chance.

Giving you a cake pop brings back the memory of his failed attempt at flirting about a month back. You had been studying until late on a Thursday night, the same day he was covering for Andrea who had an important exam to study for. Harrison had thought it was fate that you two had seen each other on the same day twice; something that never happens. So as they started to clean up the counters and packing leftover pastries up, he put a single double chocolate chip cookie on a plate and walked over to where you sat. You smiled and tried to pay for it; he argued that since they were closing, it was no problem at all.

“Is this your way of kicking me out?” You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on your face that makes Harrison scramble for words.

“N-no, no! That’s not what I meant! You just order them often and-” He held his hands up, the last thing he wanted was for you to think he was kicking you out. Why did he mention the shop closing?

“Hey, it’s okay I’m only teasing you.” You chuckled, stopping his rambling.

You smile in surprise again at the sight of the cake pop. “Harrison, thank you.” The look in your eyes is soft and Harrison’s stomach does a backflip.

“It’s your birthday, it’s on the house!” He smiles back, the smile is so wide his cheeks start to hurt. The relief of knowing he still has a chance and the fact that it’s your birthday, fills him with happiness. In his opinion birthdays are always special, no matter whose birthday it is, without birthdays you wouldn’t be standing in front of him making his morning better every day.

You take the cake pop and thank him again before ordering yours and Tom’s coffee. They go through the usual conversation: Cappuccino? Yes, please. And a large iced coffee? Yup. When you pay and he gives you your change, he decides to keep the conversation going. “Any plans for you birthday?” He asks, writing the orders on their respective cups. Maybe if you’re free he can ask you to hang out.

“Yes. Actually I-”

“Would you mind? You’re holding up the line!” An old lady behind you makes you and Tom jump, giving Harrison an apologetic look. He had been so caught up on his feelings and staring at you that he didn’t realize the second rush of customers had arrived and were waiting in line.

“A bit moody…” Tom mutters under his breath and Harrison couldn’t agree more.

“Sorry ma’am.” Harrison says, trying to go for an innocent smile to ease her mood. The last thing he needed was a rude customer ruining his morning. “Have a nice day, Y/N.”

You smile at him again, moving over to the pick up counter. “You too, Haz.” You give him one last look over your shoulder before going back to talking to Tom.

Another chance missed. He couldn’t even make her coffee for you, he’s so stupid for taking so long. “What can I get for you ma’am?”

4

It’s 3:47pm when Harrison hears the bell over the door ring, signaling someone entering the coffee shop. Het sets down the expresso cups he was rearranging and looks up to see who it is. Y/N. Since breakfast and lunch time had already passed, the shop was mostly quiet and Harrison was the only one working outside. He fixes his apron as he walks to the cashier and clear his throat before he smiling. Why are my hands so sweaty? If they could stop sweating, that’d be great.

“Hello, you’re still here.” You say as you approach him, fixing the tote bag on your shoulder. You’re wearing a blue sweater today. It has a couple of flowers embroidered on the cuffs and Harrison thinks it’s really nice.

“Hey, Y/N. A second coffee?” Harrison leans his hands on the counter next to the register. It’s only the two of us, don’t screw it up.

“I have a long night at the university’s library. I work today of all days.” You nod your head and sigh. “But it’s okay, it’ll give me time to get some assignments done.”

Harrison gives you a sympathetic smile, working late on your birthday doesn’t sound like fun at all. “Well, at least you’re looking at the bright side of it.” He shrugs and picks up a sharpie and a medium paper cup. “Your usual?”

“Yes please, but let’s spice it up. Normal coffee for work feels a bit too boring.” You smile at him before looking at the drink menu.

“Pumpkin spice?” Harrison suggests.

You chuckle and shake your head then make up your mind a second later.  “Let’s go with salted caramel.”

“You got it.” Harrison winks. He actually winks. That was probably so lame…He feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment and he gives you a shy smile as you hand him the money to pay for your drink. A few moments later both of you move to the pick up area; you lean against the counter watching Harrison work on the coffee.

This is it. There’s no one else ordering coffee. Ask her! Now!

“So I was wondering if you’d like to hang out sometime? Maybe go for a picnic?” Harrison says at the same time you speak up as well.

“I’m having a small gathering tomorrow for my birthday. I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

Both of you look up at the same time, and it’s not awkward at all; it’s only funny. What are the odds that you two choose to ask the other out at the same time? So Harrison chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “You go first.”

“I’m having a small gathering with a couple of friends tomorrow for my birthday. Would you like to come?” Your hands tap the counter, probably out of nerves, and Harrison finds it comforting. He’s not the only one that’s nervous.

“I’d love to.” He beams, his heart drumming incessantly on his chest. She asked me out! And to her birthday!

“Really? Awesome!” You smile, biting your lip to tone down your excitement. “And I’m free on Saturday, for that picnic?” Your head tilts to the right in question. As if Harrison would pass up any opportunity to get to know you better.

“I-I’m free too, yeah that’d be really nice.” Harrison nods, he remembers the cup of coffee in his hand and quickly puts a lid on it before it gets cold. This time though, he draws a little heart on it instead of a flower and he can’t help but feel incredibly happy when you smile at the sight of it.

“I, um, I need your phone number.” You say smiling at him, suddenly looking shy once again.

“Oh! Right!” Harrison’s cheeks turn pink once again as he looks around for somewhere to write. He spots the cookies on the display and smiles; he places a double chocolate one on a paper bag and writes his phone number on it along with his name. “Here you go.”

“Awesome.” You smile, taking it. “You didn’t have to  give me a cookie, though.”

“I know but I wanted to, it’s your birthday.” Harrison shrugs. “And I know you love them so.”

“Fine.” You chuckle, putting the bag inside your tote and getting ready to leave. “I’ll text you then. Have a nice afternoon, Haz.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Harrison waves. YES!

If any of the clients saw Harrison celebrate by the espresso machine, they didn’t comment on it. There were usual customers anyways, they knew how badly those two have been crushing on each other.

Tagging: @parrkerspeters @parkerpuffwrites @hollandharrison @lovestrucktom @sincerelymlg @fairydustparker 💕

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #haz x reader #coffee shop au #pauwrites

[arsonforcharlie]

Get to know me uncomfortably well: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100

jesus christ

put under a cut because i want to make absolutely sure nobody reads this massive amount of information and also did you ask for EVERY NUMBER EXCEPT 69

1. What is you middle name?

marie

2. How old are you?

28

3. When is your birthday?

november 9 and i bet you didn’t even get me a present, you absolute monster

4. What is your zodiac sign?

scorpio

5. What is your favorite color?

i like jewel tones in general, my fave right now is dark green

6. What’s your lucky number?

i don’t really have one, tbh

7. Do you have any pets?

i do not, unfortunately. i hope to at some point soonish but a lot of that is gonna depend on how my situation shakes out

8. Where are you from?

st. john’s, newfoundland

9. How tall are you?

5′4″

10. What shoe size are you?

9

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

i’m not getting up but like 7? i need to get a new pair for working in and i will be getting rid of the ones i don’t wear so that number is in flux

already answered 12

13. What talents do you have?

none, really. but i’m alright at knitting and generally, like, figuring out how physical objects work and go together. my friends also tens to enjoy the games i run so that’s nice.

14. Are you psychic in any way?

bitch read my mind and find out

15. Favorite song?

i cannot express how impossible it is for me to pick ONE FUCKING SONG that’s my favorite. here’s 5 i always go back to, though!

my tyrant- felix hagan and the family

northbound- grace petrie

staring at the sun- mika

too much- carly rae jepsen

vampire money- my chemical romance

already answered 16

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

well there’s the mushy option in which i name names, but i resolutely refuse to do that since i’ve been informed nobody cares about how queer i am. but generally, i tend towards people i can feel comfortable around. despite me being a huge slut for interacting with people, there’s very few that project the kind of atmosphere that lets me really just chill and start thinking about trusting them.

18. Do you want children?

jesus no don’t put me in charge of a child

19. Do you want a church wedding?

jesus no, even the wedding part of that sounds less than ideal

20. Are you religious?

lmao nah

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

yeah, a few times

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

well i have a background check going through right now that’ll answer that for me but i think i have not ever been caught for my many crimes

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

a few- i met russell crowe on a set once, and there’s a good few smaller time canadians i’ve met just, like, around

24. Baths or showers?

i usually go for showers because i am living in a place with an insufficient bathtub setup, but i have been known to enjoy a nice bath now and again

25. What color socks are you wearing?

bold of you to assume i put on socks when i’m not going out

26. Have you ever been famous?

bitch i’m famous now everyone else just doesn’t know it yet

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

probably not, i like the act of grocery shopping and going to shitty bars and disappearing, and i couldn’t do that if i was a proper celebrity

28. What type of music do you like?

loud and i can imagine myself being in a cool music video when i walk places listening to it

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

well yeah obv

already answered 30

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

usually on my side curled up around something, either a person if i’m lucky or a pillow

32. How big is your house?

the apartment is not big enough atm

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

i don’t usually eat breakfast at all tbh

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

no but i have held one once

35. Have you ever tried archery?

once in high school gym class. i did...... bad

36. Favorite clean word?

i like words that describe the way dragonfly wings look. diaphenous and iridescent and things.

37. Favorite swear word?

i’ve always been a fan of a good solid fuck, and you can quote me on that

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

two days, i think?

39. Do you have any scars?

yep

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

yeah but they were prolly goofing

41. Are you a good liar?

not under most circumstances

42. Are you a good judge of character?

no, but not in the usual way. i tend to assume people have a lot more hidden motives than they do. like, obviously you don’t want to be FRIENDS with me, you just are PRETENDING for SOME REASON

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

yeah, as a matter of fact, i can do them ALL AT ONCE

44. Do you have a strong accent?

most of the time no, but when i’m talking to people with a strong accent from back home mine slips back

already answered 45

46. What is your personality type?

while i rarely get consistent answers, i just took the myers-briggs again and got enfp so there’s something

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

i don’t own much that’s super expensive tbh, i’m broke as shit. my boots cost like 60 bucks and i stressed about that for ages

48. Can you curl your tongue?

yeah, i can do a lot with it

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

innie

50. Left or right handed?

right

51. Are you scared of spiders?

nah

52. Favorite food?

there’s so much food i love! i do have dumplings i am excited to eat tho

53. Favorite foreign food?

again, there’s so much! i am really craving a good currry today i guess?

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

a bit messy, especially with stuff that isn’t, like, a hygenic risk. if things are just out of place i don’t tend to register that as the same level of unclean as, like, food messes

55. Most used phrased?56. Most used word?

these two are ones my friends could probably answer more reliably than me. i do say i’m not a doctor tho

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

not long, unless i’ve decided it’s a makeup day and i want to do something dumb and fancy

58. Do you have much of an ego?

i talk a big game, but not really, i’m pretty down on myself a lot

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

succ

60. Do you talk to yourself?

mmhmm- specifically, rehearsing conversations that will never happen

61. Do you sing to yourself?

sometimes, when i’m in a good mood

62. Are you a good singer?

absolutely not

63. Biggest Fear?

there’s a few, but i’d say the biggest one i’ve had the longest is a loss of identity of some sort. like, just not recognizing the people around me, that sort of thing. it’s gotten a bit intense recently due to events but yeah

64. Are you a gossip?

not really- like, i will gladly listen to your drama but i only really talk about it to other people if it actually affects me

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

oof jesus, i tend to watch more shitty horror movies than anything else bc i’m hot trash

66. Do you like long or short hair?

both are fine on other people, but short hair is way better for me

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

just did a quiz and only got 40. i didn’t even remember all the ones i had been to so that’s cool. you guys have too many states anyway

68. Favorite school subject?

i was your standard weird queer kid who imprinted on my english teachers

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

nah

71. What makes you nervous?

so many things tbh

72. Are you scared of the dark?

nope

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

depends on the person and the mistake, really.

74. Are you ticklish?

fuck off

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

i don’t think so?

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

i’m a dungeon master, does that counts

77. Have you ever drank underage?

yeop

78. Have you ever done drugs?

yeop

79. Who was your first real crush?

my best friend in elementary school. i wanted her and i to get married to brothers so that we could live next door to each other and have sleepovers every night because i really liked sleeping next to her and doing her hair

hoo boy baby bobbie (i even knew lesbians as a kid! i grew up in such an accepting family! i have no excuse for being so repressed)

80. How many piercings do you have?

just one ear

81. Can you roll your Rs?“

not competently

82. How fast can you type?

pretty fast- i did take a test recently that came back at 68 wpm so my goal is now to get one word faster

83. How fast can you run?

fuck running

84. What color is your hair?

black with green bits, i post a lot of selfies, you know that

85. What color is your eyes?

grayish blue

86. What are you allergic to?

nothing that i know of. undefeated

87. Do you keep a journal?

i post on tumblr a lot

88. What do your parents do?

my mom works in communications- she used to work in politics but now she works for a non-profit because the staff of the party she worked for was, in her words, a “sack of vipers”

my dad was a journalist and a photographer. he was the editor for the paper back home for a long time, and then after that he did a lot of advocacy work for MS. he ran for office a few times. you know, like you do.

89. Do you like your age?

it’s alright. like, i got troubles but i accept that none of that is because i’m 28 and mostly just because i got myself into a dumb situation

90. What makes you angry?

mostly when people don’t seem to care about how their actions affect others. like, i can almost accept malice easier than a profit motive

91. Do you like your own name?

it’s not bad, and i haven’t really hit on any that i like more than bobbie

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

lmao nope

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

i want the child to be born to someone who is not me

94. What are you strengths?

not very many tbh i kinda suck as a human person. i am pretty good at compartmentalizing and staying kinda functional when shit goes down

95. What are your weaknesses?

all of them. specifically, i’m hard to motivate and i got depression

96. How did you get your name?

i was named after my grandmother

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

i know at least one was a criminal. i do have a kickass family crest and tartan tho

98. Do you have any scars?

they haven’t faded since i answered question 39

99. Color of your bedspread?

there’s a gray one and i have a blue weighted blanket i use sometimes

100. Color of your room?

the whole apartment is beige

#Anonymous