#this is one thousand percent true look at his shoes

[pianokantzart]

By The Numbers (Pt. 1)

Luigi hoped to use one of his own special talents to give the Super Mario Bros. Plumbing company the leg-up it needed to succeed. But as usual, for all his good intentions, the younger of The Mario Brothers finds himself in over his head.

Part two: X Part three: X

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52624285

______________

When Luigi heard his brother’s gentle breaths fall away into a low snoring, he slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the closet, where his black vest, collared shirt, pleated pants, and green bow tie were folded together on a low shelf. He was glad he’d the forethought to gather everything beforehand. It was hard enough navigating his room in the dark, clumsy as he was. He hated to think what it’d be like trying to find everything piecemeal without waking anyone.

All the sports equipment and copper pipes left strewn about the floor didn't help in the slightest. By some miracle Luigi stumbled only once, bumping his shoulder painfully against his dresser. He clamped a hand over his mouth and nose to stifle a yelp, and waited with held breath to see if he’d given himself away. The mishap only elicited a small snort from Mario, who – after mumbling something under his breath– rolled over and fell right back to sleep.

Luigi let out a long sigh of relief, and after tucking his bowtie and a hair comb into his pocket he tugged on his striped socks, laced up his shoes, and plopped his bright green cap onto his head. The newsboy cap with the bright green “L” was identical to the one he wore as a child. Mario had a matching one, firetruck red and emblazoned with an “M.” Mario had insisted it be part of the uniform of their budding plumbing business, and their mother was ecstatic to put the hats together. “Budding,” as if their business had even a seed to sprout from. Quitting The Wrecking Crew felt amazing. Stepping back and realizing how much money it took to start a business of their own? That was far less pleasant. Luigi had three hundred dollars in his pocket, two hundred in his checking account, four thousand in savings. It was a fine amount for a man in his early twenties who worked a blue collar job. But even with Mario’s funds added on, plus all the tools and materials he’d gathered from his apprenticeship while working at The Wrecking Crew, there was no way they could get a business off the ground in a place like Brooklyn. If they only had a couple extra thousand… get a proper work van, some more tools, a bit of advertising… then they would stand a chance. Wearing the cap, he felt, would be good luck, and after giving the brim one more self-assuring tug, Luigi carefully opened the bedroom window and slipped out, shakily navigating his way to the fire escape, and creeping along the creaking metal to the pavement below. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He had planned it, researched it, and thought about it constantly, but he couldn’t believe he was actually going through with it. This felt like the kind of crazy scheme Mario would come up with. Anyone else would assume this was something Mario had talked him into, but no, this was all him... one hundred percent Luigi. Maybe his brother was finally rubbing off on him. Luigi hoped so. If their dream was going to be realized, then they both needed to be a little reckless.

On his way to the subway station Luigi stopped once to look in the reflection of a shop window, where he brushed his mustache and put on his bowtie. That was the last moment of true clarity he had during his journey, which quickly descended into an anxious blur of dimly lit tunnels, rumbling trains, and crowded streets as he shifted like a man possessed to the nearest Casino, already echoing with the hustle and bustle of Saturday night.

Luigi paused at the door. He loosened his bowtie to try and swallowed away the lump growing in his throat. He whispered one more quiet “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” then forced himself to step through the glimmering doors into the mayhem.

Walking through the maze of bells, music, muddled conversation, cheers, shouts, and blinking lights, he fully realized just how unaccustomed he was to being without his brother. Mario always entered unfamiliar situations like this with boldness, friendly and confident, as though he had every life experience under his belt. When Mario was around everything came easy to Luigi, there was not a single worry about how he looked, what steps to take, where to go, or what was the right thing to say or do, he simply walked in step with Mario and everything worked out in the end. Every now and then Luigi glanced around for his brother in the half second it took for him to remember that he had come here alone. In these instances he took a deep breath, counted the colors in the room, and rubbed the tops of his hands, putting into practice every little trick he had learned to ground himself when his breath and heartbeat began to outpace him. It was okay. He was okay. He could do this. His eyes were lowered and his hands were curled protectively to his chest when he found the cashier counter. Shakily, he asked to sign up for the next cash game, and exchanged the three hundred in his pocket for plastic chips. He asked where the poker tables were, and was directed to a room adjacent to the main corridor of the casino. It was only when all was in place, and all of his competitors were dealt their hand, that Luigi was at long last able to get comfortable. He didn’t chat, he didn’t drink, he simply stared at his cards, and allowed himself to become completely engrossed in the game.

He didn’t even realize that “counting cards'' was a term when he first learned to play poker. Although, as opposed to blackjack, the method was perfectly legal, and far from uncommon. It was merely deduction and strategy, focused on probability and numbers, and Luigi had always had a head for numbers.

He’d played regularly as a teenager… wiped the floor with the competition to the point that none of his peers would take him on. Recently he brushed up with a few rounds online, and though he was at that time too uncertain of his skills to risk any real money, he discovered he was still good at it. Really, really good at it.

His biggest worry was his poker face. He was never known for his ability to keep his emotions hidden, no matter the stakes, and yet poker proved to be an unexpected outlier. In the thick of the game his mind didn’t register victory and loss, the fine line between financial ruin and easy street, or much of anything at all. It was all just numbers: multiplication, calculation, and probability, completely detached from his heart. No matter what card he drew or discarded, his expression remained unchanging.

Of course, a perfect poker face couldn't change the luck of the draw. At the start the cards weren’t in his favor, and Luigi found himself folding early for a couple of rounds. He narrowly kept himself from going into the negatives, but to his relief his fortune turned around after the first two hours. It was only after the fifth hour of playing that he was finally knocked out of his numeric stupor. His eyes drifted down from the cards in his hands to the mound of chips in front of him. Actually taking the time to register how many there were in total, his heart skipped a beat. He was barely able to keep it together as he closed out the round with a win, making it through with a straight flush, his highest card only barely beating that of his closest competitor. He startled even the dealer as he broke his five hours of perfect silence with an elated laugh, and gathered his mound of chips to himself. “Wowie zowie! Ha ha! I… I can’t believe it!! Look at all this!” His sentiment was genuine, but he only realized how condescending he sounded after the words left his mouth, especially considering where his newfound wealth had come from. His unease worsened when he got a better look at the faces of the other players, their expressions ranging from somber resignation to boiling resentment. From there, Lu kept the brim of his hat tugged anxiously over his eyes while the dealer exchanged his hoard of low-value chips to a handful of high value chips that he could easily transport to the cashier, which Luigi did immediately, handing his dealer a tip before scurrying away.

His heart battered against his ribcage like a tiny bird, light as air and racing with so much excitement it was almost painful. He received the payout, and hurried straight to the Casino ATM, where he put every cent into his checking account.

It took everything in him not to skip when he returned to the subway station, though he couldn’t help but hum a cheerful tune as he descended the stairwell into the underground.

An old analogue clock hanging from the sticky stone walls showed it was half past four in the morning. A few commuters were scattered through the subway, creating a scene that was eerily quiet and dreary compared to flashing opulence of the casino, but the familiarity did Luigi’s heart good. Still humming, he leaned against a pillar, not even minding how unsanitary it probably was in his exhaustion as he drowsily waited for his train. He was confident that he would make it home in time to change into his pajamas and climb into bed before anyone could figure out what had been done. His mother, being a very early riser, was the biggest cause for concern, but she rarely woke before six a.m on Sundays. If his luck continued at this rate, he wouldn’t have to clamor up the fire escape, and could instead get the spare key from the potted plant and slip quietly through the front door. “There you are!” A stranger’s voice pulled Luigi from his thoughts, a shrill squeak leaving his throat as a heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder. Luigi turned to lock eyes with a heavyset man, nearly a foot taller than he, clean shaven and well dressed.

“Hi?” Luigi looked the individual up and down, struggling to put a name to the face. After a long moment of uncomfortable silence between them, he ventured to ask, “...do I know you?” “Forgotten already? We met only a few hours ago.” The voice was gruff. It feigned friendliness, but the malice was unmistakable, especially when paired with the ever-tightening grip on Luigi’s shoulder. “...Oh.” Luigi tried to pull away, but to no avail. “Heh, uh… s-sorry.”

“Are you?”

Luigi shuddered, the stranger’s tone ringing every alarm bell. He took hold of the wrist in an attempt to ease the mounting pressure, and looked around in hopes of spotting someone who could help him. There were some commuters further down the tunnel, faces illuminated by their phones, earbuds in. There was no telling if they’d lend any aid, even if they weren’t distracted. It was the Brooklyn Subway, after all. Everyone knew to mind their own business in New York. Looking back toward the confrontational stranger, Luigi let out another startled cry when he saw he was suddenly joined by three more men, all without an ounce of sympathy in their eyes.

“What’s going on?!” The question was met with silence, causing Luigi's mind to race. At long last, he remembered the man who held him. He recognized a pretty golden lapel pin he had admired in the split second before he was reabsorbed into one of the many poker games he had played that night. The others, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him. Did he forget their faces over the five hours he had played? Or were they uninvolved friends? Before he could ask anything else, he felt himself being dragged away, the offending grip now joined by a second hand clamped over his mouth. 

“Let’s talk.”

Luigi let out muffled protests, struggling in vain as each of the men took hold of him, and began to usher him down a darker, emptier subway tunnel, where they could speak freely without fear of interruption.

#my writing #Luigi #Mario #Super Mario Brothers #Mario Movie #super mario bros #mario fanfic #a little rushed there in the middle but I do NOT comprehend poker and am in no place to pretend I do

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 17

change however necessary.

“Unmitigated seriousness is always out of place in human affairs.  Let not the unwary reader think me flippant for saying so; it was Plato, in his solemn old age, who said it.”

“No man can describe how an idea comes to him.”

“Ideas come from space.”

“If the idea is not at first absurd, then there is no hope for it.”

“There are some ideas so wrong that only a very intelligent person could believe in them.”

“Serious people have few ideas.  People with ideas are never serious.”

“Ideas are like rabbits.  You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen of them.”

“The ideas I stand for are not mine.  I borrowed them from Soctrates.  I swiped them from Chesterfield.  I stole them from Jesus.  And I put them in a book.  If you don’t like their rules, whose would you use?”

“Marx, Darwin, and Freud are the three most crashing bores of the Western World.  Simplistic popularization of their ideas has thrust our world into a mental straitjacket from which we can only escape by the most anarchic violence.”

“Men thought and fought and wept and laughed and even died in despair over the ideas that look so dull on these pages.”

“It is not once nor twice but times without number that the same ideas make their appearance in the world.”

“Why is it I get my best ideas in the morning while I’m shaving?”

“The best ideas come to me when I polish my shoes early in the morning.”

“The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas.”

“Two ideas are always needed: one to kill the other.”

“New ideas don’t win really.  What happens is that the old scientists die and new ones come along with new ideas.”

“It is not easy to convey, unless one has experienced it, the dramatic feeling of sudden enlightenment that floods the mind when the right idea finally clinches into place.”

“If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples then you and I will still each have one apple.  But if you have an idea and I have an idea and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas.”

“Man is ready to die for an idea, provided that the idea is not quite clear to him.”

“Don’t worry about people stealing your ideas.  If your ideas are any good, you’ll have to ram them down people’s throats.”

“An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.”

“I can’t understand why people are frightened of new ideas.  I’m frightened of the old ones.”

“Idleness is not doing nothing.  Idleness is being free to do anything.”

“Far from idleness being the root of all evil, it is rather the only true good.”

“A faculty for idleness implies a catholic appetite and a strong sense of personal identity.”

“It is better to have loafed and lost than never to have loafed at all.”

“You can’t leave footprints in the sands of time if you’re sitting on your but—and who wants to leave butt prints in the sands of time?”

“I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance.”

“Have the courage to be ignorant of a great number of things, in order to avoid the calamity of being ignorant of everything.”

“All ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.”

“By ignorance the truth is known.”

“The little I know, I owe to ignorance.”

“Everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects.”

“The greatest obstacle to discovery is not ignorance—it is the illusion of knowledge.”

“I would rather have my ignorance than another man’s knowledge, because I have got so much more of it.”

“There is nothing new under the sun, but there are lots of old things we don’t know.”

“If ignorance is bliss, there should be more happy people.”

“We don’t know a millionth of one percent about anything.”

“I could paint for a hundred years, a thousand years without stopping and I would still feel as though I knew nothing.”

“My greatest strength as a consultant is to be ignorant and ask a few questions.”

“To be conscious that you are ignorant of the facts is a great step toward knowledge.”

“At the simplest level, only people who know they do not know everything will be curious enough to find things out.”

“Without fear and illness, I could never have accomplished all I have.”

“Refuse to be ill.  Never tell people you are ill; never own it to yourself. Illness is one of those things which a man should resist on principle.”

“I’ve never met a healthy person who worried much about his health or a good person who worried much about his soul.”

“A hospital is no place to be sick.”

“When I have gout, I feel as if I was walking on my eyeballs.”

“Quit worrying about your health.  It’ll go away.”

“Everything you can imagine is real.”

“The real is always way ahead of what we can imagine.”

“Imagination is intelligence with an erection.”

“Imagination is more important than knowledge, for knowledge is limited while imagination embraces the entire world.”

“Imagination acts upon man as really as does gravitation, and may kill him as certainly as a dose of prussic acid.”

“Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.”

“The man who can’t visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot.”

“Impossible is a word to be found only in the dictionary of fools.”

“It is difficult to say what is impossible, for the dream of yesterday is the hope of today and reality of tomorrow.”

“When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.”

“The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.”

“Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.”

“The negligible is important.”

“A tiny fly can choke a big man.”

“It’s almost impossible to overestimate the unimportance of most things.”

“No man thinks there is much ado about nothing when the ado is about himself.”

“Nothing is fine print is ever good news.”

“Only the ephemeral is of lasting value.”

“Inspiration may be a form of superconsciousness, or perhaps of subconsciousness—I wouldn’t know.  But I am sure it is the antithesis of self-consciousness.”

“Inspiration is wonderful when it happens, but the writer must develop an approach for the rest of the time… the wait is simply too long.”

“I sit down to the piano regularly at nine o’clock in the morning and Mesdames les Muses have learned to be on time for that rendezvous.”

“My sole inspiration is a telephone call from a producer.”

“Few men have virtue to withstand the highest bidder.”

“There is no such thing as a minor lapse of integrity.”

“Integrity is the essence of everything successful.”

“Somebody once said that in looking for people to hire, you look for three qualities: integrity, intelligence, and energy.  But if you don’t have the first, the other two could kill you.”

“Integrity has no need of rules.”

“Man is so intelligent that he feels impelled to invent theories to account for what happens in the world. Unfortunately, he is not quite intelligent enough, in most cases, to find correct explanations.  So that, when he acts on his theories, he behaves very often like a lunatic.”

“What a distressing contrast there is between the radiant intelligence of the child and the feeble mentality of the average adult.”

“So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.”

“Intelligence is not all that important in the exercise of power, and is often, in point of face, useless.”

“For any serious purpose, intelligence is a very minor gift.”

“Sharks are tough as those football fans who take their shirts off during games in Chicago in January, only more intelligent.”

“Smartness runs in my family.  When I went to school I was so smart my teacher was in my class for five years.”

“Great novels are always a little more intelligent than their authors.”

“It is no proof of a man’s understanding to be able to confirm whatever he pleases; but to be able to discern that what is true is true, and that what is false is false, this is the mark and character of intelligence.”

“The best human intelligence is still decidedly barbarous; it fights in heavy armor and keeps a fool at court.”

“There are only two forces that unite men—fear and interest.”

“It is more important that a proposition be interesting than it be true…  But of course a true proposition is more apt to be interesting than a false one.”

“I can think of nothing that an audience won’t understand.  The only problem is to interest them; once they are interested, they understand anything in the world.”

“There is an incessant influx of novelty into the world, and yet we tolerate incredible dullness.”

“The thousand mysteries around us would not trouble but interest us, if only we had cheerful, healthy hearts.”

“There never was yet an uninteresting life.  Such a thing is an impossibility.  Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy.”

“The secret of a man who is universally interesting is that he is universally interested.”

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence meme #sentence starters #prompts #rp prompts #writing prompts

[erodasfishtacos]

Curious Gazes

prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.

**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)

notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.

PART ONE

----

RESERVATION RUN-IN

Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.

So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried. 

However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.

Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.

As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.

They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.

He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec. 

Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****

But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes. 

His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.

He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.

The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.

But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be. 

Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s. 

They looked so happy and in love.

She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***

It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.

The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.

Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.

It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.

At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.

Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”

Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.

It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.

The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips. 

By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing. 

But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.

Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.

It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back -  pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.

In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.

Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.

Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”

Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”

They all laugh and finish up their desserts. 

---

MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING

Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.

Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes. 

There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.

Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.

“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.

The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.

“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.

“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?” 

Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.

“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.

The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.

“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.

“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.

Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”

Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.

Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”

Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek. 

“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”

Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.

“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.

“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.

“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.

As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”

“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word. 

“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.

Kasey was dumbfounded. 

This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.

They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.

“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.

Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”

Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”

“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”

“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.

Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it. 

Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.

“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.” 

Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.

“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy. 

Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”

Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.

It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.

After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.

“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s. 

Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”

“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.

“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.

Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”

“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.

“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.

Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.

Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey. 

They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”

“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.

“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store. 

Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger. 

—-

THE PARK

“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench. 

She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.

“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.

Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”

“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”

“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.

“Two!” Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”

Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”

Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.

“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack. 

Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***

Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”

They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.

But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.

“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.

“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”

Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.

“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”

When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.

“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.

Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”

They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”

A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss. 

The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away. 

The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.

It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice. 

But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.

‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.

Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.

Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.

“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.

“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.

“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.

“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.

Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”

Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.” 

Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.

After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.

“It’s ok-“

“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.

Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”

His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.

“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.

“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.

“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath  *** and little sneakers ****.

“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.

Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.

“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.

“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.

But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’

Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest. 

“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.

“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”

The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”

Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.

And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.

Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.

After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.

The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.

Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.

— 

THE GAME

Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.

She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”

Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.

—-

One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.

“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.

Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”

Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?” 

Carole was her manager.

“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.

He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”

Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.

She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.

—

Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.

The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates. 

Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.

Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.

It was just Harry and a woman in there. 

They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.

His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.

When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.

His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.

For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.

They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.

At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.

It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.

As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.

Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.

The End.

Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.

#Harry Styles #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles dad #dad!harry #husband!harry #husband harry styles #ceo!harry #ceo Harry #harry styles fic rec #harry styles request #harry styles writing #harry styles writing request #harry styles masterlist #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #dark harry styles #one direction

[supernovafics]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒, 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: in which you were about to get married to the guy you thought was the one for you, but a conversation with your longtime friend, chris, makes you question everything you thought was right

warnings: angst, angst, angst, explicit language, minor fluff at the end

word count: 3.8k words

author’s note: this started out as a very minor idea and then it turned into something bigger lmao anyway hope you enjoy!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

This day should’ve been perfect, and everything should’ve felt right, but instead, it all was beginning to feel like a nightmare.

Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but how else would you describe locking yourself in the bathroom of the hotel you were staying at, and being on the verge of a breakdown, two hours before your wedding was supposed to happen.

You paced around in the small space and tried your hardest to avoid looking in the mirror, not wanting to see yourself in the stunning white dress that your mom and bridesmaids helped you pick out on a day that now felt like a lifetime ago.

As vain as it may sound, you knew that you looked great in your dress, and the way that your makeup and hair had been styled only aided in your beauty. But, at that moment, you felt the farthest from great.

Your fiancé Tyler was perhaps one of the best people you had ever met, and from the moment he proposed to you, you truly felt like you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. But now you were doubting absolutely everything.

All because of Chris.

An abrupt knock on the bathroom door slightly startled you.

“Y/N, please come out. We have to go take pictures soon.”

The simultaneous worried and confused voice on the other side of the door belonged to your good friend and maid of honor, Maria. She was amazing at reading almost any situation, one of the reasons why you liked her so much, at times it almost felt like she could read you like a book. However, this was one situation that had transpired so quickly, and she had no idea how to read it.

Everything started out fine that morning. You, her, and your other bridesmaids drove to the hotel in Connecticut that your wedding was happening at, you ordered breakfast room service to the room, and then you all started getting ready, laughing and smiling as you did so. You seemed happy, and you definitely seemed okay. But, then all of a sudden, things took a turn, and the next thing Maria knew, you were hiding out in the bathroom. And your wedding was starting in less than two hours.

Even though you knew your friend was waiting for some sort of a response to her previous statement, you stayed completely quiet. You really didn’t want to leave the bathroom anytime soon, especially not to take pictures. You knew that the doubt and uncertainty you were currently feeling would be clearly recognized in all of the photos.

“Y/N?” Maria said, speaking a bit louder to make sure you could hear her through the locked door.

An awkward silence began to linger, and you sighed, taking a seat on the closed toilet.

“Chris,” You finally said, responding in a way that only confused the girl on the other side of the door even more. “I need to see him.”

“Okay,” Maria answered tentatively, a curious tone in her voice. “Okay, I’ll go get him.”

You knew that your friend wanted to question you about what was happening, but she wasn’t going to at that moment. Not when time was of the essence and every minute mattered. Because each minute counted down to the time you would need to walk down the aisle and profess your love for your fiancé. It was something you were unsure if you wanted to do anymore.

If you weren’t about to bawl your eyes out, you think you would’ve laughed at how quickly everything managed to change. Before your conversation with Chris last night, everything was on the right path; it was almost like you could see your life with Tyler laid out in front of you. Marry him, travel for a bit before starting a family, start said family, etc., etc.

Now it was the first step that you were struggling with, and with that struggle, everything else slowly fell apart too.

What did it mean that a five-minute conversation with one of your best friends managed to completely change the trajectory of your entire life?

• • •

You were laughing, and it was a moment that you knew you’d remember forever. Not the exact thing you were laughing about, but instead, you would remember how you felt, which, in your opinion, was what mattered more.

“Glad to know I’m such a comedian,” Chris said, smiling at how happy you looked at that moment. The two of you were sitting on opposite ends of the couch in the living room of his Boston home, sharing a large throw blanket that was draped over you guys’ legs which were entangled in the middle. Chris could feel the blanket move with how much your body shook with happy laughter.  

“I swear I haven’t laughed this hard in forever.” Your statement was only partially a lie because you actually did remember the last time you laughed this hard, and it was with Chris three weeks ago.

It never surprised you how easily you could fall into some sort of happy comfort with Chris. The two of you had been friends since what now felt like forever; you couldn’t remember a time where you weren’t friends with him. In almost all of your fondest memories, he was always right there with you.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You answered Chris’s question after a brief moment of contemplation. Your mouth then turned upward in a smile. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Excited to be a groomsman for a guy I barely know? Not really. But, I’m doing this for you, and that's all that really matters to me.”

Having Chris be one of Tyler’s groomsmen was one of your biggest and most important requests for the wedding. He was your best friend, and you wanted him to play some sort of part in the wedding that wasn’t just being a guest.

“You’re the best; you know that, right?” You were still smiling as you spoke, feeling nothing but honesty drip from your words.

In your mind, that was the wholehearted truth, but to Chris, it was nothing but a lie. Because if he really were “the best,” he would have been completely honest with you a long time ago. Honest about the fact that he didn’t think Tyler was the one for you. And he was unsure if he thought this for selfish reasons or because he knew that it was a thousand percent true.

“I don’t know if I am anymore,” Chris finally responded to your previous words. Your brows furrowed in confusion at what he meant by his statement, and you were quiet, silently signaling him to continue.

In the many years you had known Chris, you’d rarely ever seen him nervous around you; you both had always felt completely comfortable around each other, always.

However, apparently, there was a first time for everything because a look that you could only deem as nervous was taking over his features. He was quiet for what felt like forever, and now you were worried because you genuinely had no idea what he was going to say to you.

“You can’t marry Tyler.”

And there it was. He finally uttered the words that he had wanted to say right when you told him that you and Tyler were engaged. He knew, at that moment, it was the selfish part of him that had wanted to say that to you. However, now after carefully noticing some things about you over the past year as you planned the wedding, and even in some small moments from tonight, he finally realized how right he actually was.

Because if Tyler was the love of your life, the last time you laughed so hard shouldn’t have felt like forever ago; it should have been happening every day with him. And if he was truly the love of your life, when asked if you were excited for your wedding day, you wouldn’t have answered with a passive, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Chris…” Your voice trailed off because you had no idea what to say. You had no idea what to think. Actually, it wasn’t that you didn’t know what to think; it was that you didn’t want to think about what he just said, not at all. “Don’t, please.”

Chris barreled past your soft-spoken words. “I know you, Y/N. I know you so well, and I know that you’re not truly happy with him.”

You shook your head, trying your hardest not to fully think about what he was saying. You were afraid of what can of worms would open up if you did so. Instead, you fully committed to the fact that what Chris was saying was not the truth. So, you said, “You’re wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You said you hadn’t laughed hard in forever. He should be making you laugh hard all the fucking time.” Suddenly, Chris wondered if Tyler had ever made you really laugh because if he had, he would know how beautiful you looked when you did, and he would definitely want to do it all the time.

“Stop, Chris, really,” You mumbled as you pushed the blanket off of you and detangled your legs from his, sitting up straight on the couch.

You needed to leave. The faster you did so, the quicker you could start attempting to make yourself forget everything that happened in the past five minutes. Because fucking hell Chris was right, and you really needed to forget that.

“I have to go. I can’t be here right now,” You stood up from the couch and started making your way toward the front door; you could feel Chris following right behind you.

“I’m sorry that I decided to tell you like this. But, I’m not sorry that I said it. It’s all the truth, and deep down, you know it, Y/N.”

You didn’t respond to him as you put your shoes on because there was nothing you could really say. Yes, he was right, but you were going to convince yourself otherwise. It was the only thing that you could do.

Before opening the door, you finally looked at Chris. He looked worried and confused, and you wondered how you looked in his eyes at that moment. As fucked up as you knew you were? “I hope I’ll still see you tomorrow.”

You closed the door behind you, but you didn’t move for a long moment. You sighed and shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. It was almost as if Chris could sense your presence still lingering outside the door because you could hear him start speaking again, and you knew his words were directed at you.

“I could love you more than he does. I already do love you more. So much more.”

As much as you wanted to say something in response, you didn’t. Instead of acknowledging his confession, you finally walked toward your car. His heartfelt statement was just another thing that you convinced yourself you would need to forget before tomorrow.

You couldn’t stop your tears once you were sitting in the driver’s seat.

• • •

Forgetting everything was actually pretty easy to do. Until it wasn’t.

You buried everything deep down inside and locked it all away in a small box that you knew would never be opened.

Everything was fine, and all morning, you kept convincing yourself of that fact. But then you put on your wedding dress, and suddenly you realized how wrong this all truly was.

The box was opened, and you couldn’t close it.

Chris’s words were true; you couldn’t marry Tyler. And not only was it that you couldn’t marry Tyler, but you also didn’t want to marry him.

It should have felt like a relief, realizing something that you’d eventually come to regret before you did the action. But, what you felt was the opposite of relief. Instead, it was intense dread weighing heavily on your chest, almost making it feel as if you couldn’t breathe.

That was what led you to the bathroom and kept you in there for as long as you had been.

Your family’s opinions and approval had always meant so much to you, and suddenly, you realized that you were doing all of this for them. They were the ones that had pushed you and Tyler together, your two families already having been close for many years. And you were happy with him, but not as happy as you could be. You hated that you were just now recognizing all of this.

And finally, you realized how distant and passive to the whole wedding planning process you had been. Case in point, your wedding was in fucking Connecticut, and you hated Connecticut.

The sounds of voices on the other side of the door pulled you out of your scattered thoughts.

“She’s in here,” Maria’s slightly muffled words were what you heard first, but you knew they weren’t directed at you. “Please try to talk her out of there. The rest of us are gonna go down and start with the pictures. I’ll try to stall the photographer for as long as I can.”

“Okay.” You heard Chris’s voice and your heart sped up a bit. It should not have felt like a surprise hearing him right then because you were the one that told Maria to get him, but you still felt startled. Now you weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him anymore.  

A soft knock was what you heard next, followed by Chris saying, “Y/N, it’s me.”

You didn’t respond. You were completely and utterly silent as fresh tears brimmed in your eyes for reasons you couldn’t even fully decipher anymore.

“Are you okay in there?” Chris asked after waiting a few moments to hear you say something, but you didn’t. There was a hint of worry in his tone.

You let out a small sigh. “No.”

“Do you wanna open the door?”

“Not really,” You told him as you began absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your dress. “I’m kinda spiraling in here, and I think it would be best if I kept it contained.”

“What happened?”

“What happened?” You scoffed out an incredulous laugh and blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Last night is what fucking happened, Chris. You ruined everything, and I can’t stop thinking about it. My mind is a fucking mess because of what you said, and all I wanna do is bawl my eyes out right now. But, I can’t because that would ruin my makeup and I’m supposed to get married in, what is it, an hour now? God, I’m supposed to get married in an hour.”

You were rambling, and your voice was cracking because of the apple-sized lump forming in your throat. But, you had yet to start crying.

This time Chris was silent, and for a moment, you were sure that he had left, but then you heard his voice. “Please unlock the door.”

You were reluctant at first, but ultimately you stood from where you were sat on the closed toilet and went to unlock the door. Chris opened it a second later and entered the small space, a worried look was written across his features.

Seeing his face broke the dam, and all of a sudden, you were crying, no longer able to hold back your tears. Chris almost immediately circled his arms around you, and you accepted the embrace without a second thought.

“You’re right, and I hate it, but you’re right. I can’t marry him,” You spoke as tears streamed down your cheeks and onto Chris’s suit jacket that your face was pressed against. Your makeup was definitely a complete mess at that point, but right then, that became the least of your worries.  

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Chris told you, and that was when that intense dread hit you again like a wave.

“No, I do. I have to marry him,” You said, heart hammering hard in your chest as you realized it all. “Our families; they’re so close, and they’ve been expecting this for years. My family really wants this for me. I can’t ruin everything, not like this.”

“No offense, I know how much you love your family, and they’re great most of the time, but fuck what they want right now,” Chris said, and you were only mildly startled by his bluntness. “This is about you and the rest of your life. Do not do this if you don’t want to.”

You pulled away from the embrace the two of you were still in and then shook your head. “I really don’t want to.”

“Then don’t, please don’t. Your family will understand eventually.”

You considered his words and wondered how true they were. Maybe the first year would be pretty hard, you definitely wouldn’t be able to show face at any family barbeques or other events, but eventually, this would blow over; it had to. At least that was what you sincerely hoped.

You were silent for a beat longer and then finally said, “I won’t do it.”

The small smile that broke out on Chris’s face made your heart squeeze a bit; it let you know that what you were doing was the right thing. You gave him a small smile back.

• • •

“The first thing I wanna say is sorry. I’m really, really sorry, Ty,” Your voice sounded slightly nervous as you spoke into your phone, leaving Tyler a voicemail that you hoped he’d listen to later rather than sooner because you had no idea what his reaction would be.

You anxiously looked around the hotel parking lot, worried that someone you knew would notice you in the hotel parking lot, standing next to Chris’s car, and about to flee your own wedding. You looked normal now since you were changed out of your dress and back into the simple t-shirt and leggings combination you had arrived in at the hotel early that morning, but you were still on high alert. Honestly, that morning now felt like years ago to you.

“This is wrong,” You continued on, your voice still nervous, but at least you knew you were telling the truth. You really didn’t want to leave the voicemail, it all felt so embarrassing, but you knew that you owed Tyler at least some sort of explanation. And since you couldn’t muster up the courage to actually face him, you decided that a voicemail would suffice for now.

“And it took me so long to realize that, but I think deep down you know how wrong this is too. We’re good together, but we’re not great, and now that I really think about it, I realized that we’ve never been great.  And I think we both deserve to find that “great” person. If that makes sense. God, none of this probably makes sense, and I’m sorry for that too. I should probably stop rambling. I know you hate me, and that’s okay, but I do hope that one day you can understand why I had to do this.”

And with that final soft-spoken statement, you hung up the phone. You hesitated for a brief moment before taking a final breath and look at the hotel, and then you opened the passenger door of Chris’s car and sat in the empty seat; Chris was already sitting in the driver’s side.

He reached over and placed his hand atop yours and gave it a light squeeze. “You still okay?”

You took a moment to really think about his question. “I think I’m in that phase between freaking the fuck out and being completely okay with everything.”

Chris looked over at you for a brief moment. “I’m not entirely sure how to respond to that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” You told him honestly. The fact that he was with you at that moment truly said enough.

His hand was still on top of yours, and you shifted your hand so that it was laced with his instead. It was quiet in the car. Quiet, but it also felt like a million things were being said in that silence.

“It should be you.” You muttered out the words that you had never verbalized but they had almost always lingered in the back of your mind. “It always should’ve been you.”

Chris gave your hand another tight squeeze.

You turned to look at him, and he looked right back at you. His eyes were saying something that you couldn’t decipher, but the look made your heartbeat quicken all the same.

“It’ll always be you too,” Chris said softly as he pulled his hand away from yours and rested it on your cheek instead; you easily leaned into his touch. Those five words and his small action managed to melt you from the inside out.

Before you could respond or even fully process what was happening, Chris was leaning in, and you were following suit, and suddenly you were kissing.

It was uncomfortable, the turned position you were in with the center console pressed hard against your torso, but you wouldn’t change anything. Because with the way his lips pressed against yours, you knew exactly how right this all was. There wasn’t a hint of regret beginning to linger.

It was the first time in your long friendship that you two had kissed each other, but for some reason, his lips felt so familiar. They felt like home. You silently wondered if Chris was feeling the same thing, a part of you knew that he did.

“We should’ve done that sooner. We should’ve done that so much sooner,” Chris said when you both pulled back from the kiss. Your faces were still dangerously close to one another because neither of you wanted to part too far from one another.

You smiled at his statement and nodded your head, not verbally saying anything because you couldn’t form any cohesive sentences at that moment. Your brain was only full of thoughts of Chris and the fact that this all had been so obvious, but both of you had been so nervous and scared to pull the trigger.

“I love you.” The words were soft and quiet, barely above a whisper, but Chris heard them.

“I love you too,” He told you and smiled before pressing another kiss on your lips.

After lingering for a few more moments, he then put the car in drive and finally drove out of the hotel parking lot. You didn't know where exactly you were going, but you did know that it would be away from Connecticut.

No longer were you feeling dread, but instead, there was a small inkling of hope and excitement for the future starting to spread within you.

.· .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts<3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans fanfic #christopher evans #chris evans fluff

[iraacundus]

make a wish

resonance series one:

investmentbanker!xiaojun x reader

genre: fluff, smut, tiny weeny angst words: 5.4k warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, mentions of drug use

investment banking was a high stakes game, even for the interns. you and him were in constant competition, living the high life, stressed out of your minds, unwilling to let the other know that. “i could do this all day”.

******************

He looked so smug as your supervisor named him intern of the week for the fourth week running. Once again you were just a few thousand won behind him. You could have beaten him… you just suffered an unlucky loss seconds before closing.

You typed furiously into your computer, nonsensical words appearing one by one in your spreadsheet. If you looked like you were working, you figured he would be less like to disturb you with his gloating.

Yet your bad luck seemed to be continuing as you were so focused on your angry typing, you didn’t notice Xiaojun standing behind you causing you to jump slightly when you heard his voice whisper in your ear,

“It must be hard always losing to me, but if it makes you feel better, no one ever does beat me, at anything,” he boasted.

You swivelled your chair round to face his grin. You wanted to strangle him with that stupid striped tie he wore. You stared into his eyes refusing to drop his gaze, that would be admitting some sort of strange defeat and you couldn’t face to losses in one day.

Xiaojun backed down first by deciding to wink at you, a glimmer of chaos in his eyes.

“Do you get off on being a dick?” you asked him, hastily closing the nonsensical spreadsheet even though you were very sure he had already seen it.

“It’s just friendly competition,” he said with a grin and you rolled your eyes at him. The competition was anything but friendly, it was far too much like bloodthirsty roman gladiatorial games to be considered as such. Every person for themselves.

That’s why you always pushed back your attraction to Xiaojun and replaced it with shallow hate. The only time you would sleep with Xiaojun would be to use it against him, to win. Yet that standpoint was so hard to keep when the breath of his whispered fanned your neck.

“Better luck next time babe.”

You didn’t want to kiss him, you reminded yourself, you wanted to throw him down a flight of stairs.

“Fuck you,” you replied, turning back to your computer, ignoring how you missed the warmth of him standing by you as he walked away, ignoring the irony of your statement.

He had totally interrupted your focus, you wanted to get back to work but instead, you couldn’t help but keep glancing over to look at him. He had aimed to throw you off and he had achieved that goal.

What would be anywhere else be seen as casual flirtation, in this world was a dangerous game.

You pinched yourself slightly under the table, forcing yourself to focus on the stock market and not Xiaojun’s stupid face.

You had so much work to finish before the drinks party that evening, especially now you had come second place again. You had spreadsheets to prepare, articles to read and a plan to set out for the following week. All you wanted to do after completing that was sleep but schmoozing with the higher ups, the investors, the CEOs, it was all part of the job.

You loved your job to a certain extent, the thrill, the high stakes, the money to be made. You hated your job to a certain extent because it made you stressed out of your mind.

One wrong move and you could lose the company ten million dollars in ten seconds. That kind of mistake would put a mark on your name forever and all you had worked would be for nothing.

So, when Xiaojun was winning, his face may have been good looking, but all you wanted to do was smack it.

That evening was the fourth party in as many days and you were tired, you weren’t sure that even the expensive layers of concealer you were wearing could cover that fact.

The lights of the club were bright through the darkness as you smiled at older men, damning sexism that this was the easiest way for you to gain favour. You drank one cocktail after the next, hoping it would dull the sensations of the world, just for a few hours, just so the stress of the job would go away and only the thrills would remain.

You shook the hands of some executives in the VIP section, conversing perfectly about market changes and ideas despite the fact you could barely stand. If investment banking didn’t work out, you were pretty sure you could become a professional actor.

It was half-past midnight when you noticed Xiaojun staring at you. He was sitting alone on a sofa in the VIP section, arm draped lazily over the back of it as he sipped some expensive liquor. His eyes were dilated, and you couldn’t tell whether he was attracted to you or had just taken far too many drugs.

You weren’t sure what possessed you to stumble over to where he was sitting, and half sit, half fall down next to him. Talking to Xiaojun presented no value your job, it wasn’t going to get you a promotion or a favour.

“Are you okay?” he asked, he gaze fixed on yours. You rolled your eyes. You were ninety-percent sure he was looking for you to admit any sign of weakness he could use to take you down; you were his strongest competition after all.

“I’m fucking peachy,” you replied, taking another sip of your drink, the world around you just a blurry collection of lights.

In fairness your aggression towards him was unwarranted, it wasn’t his fault you had a bad week, but you were drunk, and he was easy to project your emotions onto.

Xiaojun sat forward slightly, leaning towards you, his face not close enough yet for to discern his intentions due to your drunken state.

“You seem like you could use some water,” he said, pushing a glass towards you. With this action you could just make out his face through the blurring and the lights, it wasn’t as smug as usual, yet you refused to believe he didn’t have an ulterior motive.

You ignored the water, childishly. Instead you sat back, far enough away to frame his face through your fingers,

“Why are you so perfect?” you asked him out of nowhere but perhaps out of jealously and curiosity. Xiaojun stared at you for a second but never answered your question.

“Just drink the water, y/n, you have to work this weekend to catch up with me, I don’t want my greatest rival to be taken out of the race by a hangover.”

You frowned slightly but took the water and sipped, the cool taste pleasant against your dry throat.

“And for the record, I’m far from perfect,” he added.

You did still make it to work the next morning but with a hangover indeed. You felt like you had been runover by ten buses as you teetered into the lift in your high heeled shoes and tailored dress.

Not everyone worked weekends, just interns with something to prove, the stock market wasn’t open on weekends, so you just did grunt work, hoping to please some executive and climb one rung up the ladder to hell.

You sat down at your desk and began to run the numbers, pushing your headache out of mind. You were so focused you didn’t see who had left some extra strength paracetamol on your desk, but took it anyway, grateful to dull the sensation.

This was your reality, no matter how you felt, you still had to give your top level of performance. Your ability to do this was almost the sole reason for your success to that point.

Every so often, when you stopped to drink water or check the time, you noticed Xiaojun glancing at you. It was both flattering and unnerving, you couldn’t decide which.

His eyes were a deep brown, mesmerising – distracting. He was throwing you off and deep down you hoped that throwing you off wasn’t the reason he was staring.

The next week for the first time in a month you won intern of the week. Xiaojun was no longer smug, on the intern ranking he had dropped to seven. You didn’t see him glance at you that week, you didn’t see him smile.

Xiaojun had never been below five up to that point, he had tainted his record far more than you had ever tainted yours with just one really miscalculated risk.

Winning had spurred you on to work late, to continue what you had achieved. You worked after the market closed on until 2am and when you finished Xiaojun was still there, his eyes bloodshot, his fingers typing away.

He was chewing his lip anxiously as he backspaced about fifty-times, beginning to look slightly unhinged.

You had seen Xiaojun like this before, everyone in the company had weeks like this, but for the first time seeing in him this state somewhat upset you.

You didn’t know why it upset you, Xiaojun wasn’t your friend. Maybe, despite everything you hated that he endured the same struggle you did, perhaps because you fully understood how awful the pressure could be. It was the true embodiment of “you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy”.

The next night you woke up at your desk at four in the morning after drifting off. The keyboard had imprinted into your face and the lights in the office were off. The only light still illuminating the office was one computer, even the night cleaner was long gone. Yet Xiaojun was still there, typing away.

You chucked your shoes off onto the floor, sighing at the comfort of it, before wandering over to his desk, settling down into the chair next to him and spinning to face him.

“You will make yourself sick, you know,” you told him.

Xiaojun looked up in surprise, he hadn’t noticed you sit down. Despite his somnolence he still managed a witty reply,

“From staying up late or the drugs I take to do it?” he said, making a joke but not joking, dangerously nonchalant about the gravity of his remark. You didn’t know what to say back, there wasn’t a lot you could say.

“I don’t want my greatest rival to be taken out of the race by hospitalisation,” you finally decided on, copying his own words.

Hearing this, Xiaojun’s faced curved slightly into what was almost a smile and he stopped typing.

“I’m afraid we face mutual destruction, neither one of us will stop until we win,” he said, his eyes searching your face, his eyebrows contorting into an expression you couldn’t fully understand.  

“Maybe we shouldn’t be so competitive,” you joked, but your face wasn’t smiling. Your face was tired and grey, yet Xiaojun still looked beautiful, his eyes shining in the computer light, even if they were fucked up and red, “sometimes I’m not sure what we are competing for,” you told him.

“We both love the competition though, you can’t deny that, if there was nothing to compete for, we wouldn’t work as hard. We compete for the thrill and the money; we both know that.”

“Maybe you could finish work before the early hours if you stopped staring at me all day,” you pointed out, changing the subject slightly. Xiaojun grinned but his face tinged slightly red.

“So, you caught that? I have to have some bright points in my day, the rush of success and looking at you.”

You laughed softly, pushing him and his chair away slightly and taking control of his computer. You saved his document and logged off.

“Go home Xiaojun, I would prefer if you survived, and for that you need sleep. I can’t win if your dead.” This time it was your turn to joke and yet not be joking.

You stood up together to leave the building, Xiaojun muttering something about this being a tactic for you to be the weeks winner. He didn’t notice that when you were walking along the empty street with him in the cold air, you, for one short moment, really didn’t care if he beat you or not.

That when you got to the subway station that ran all night and parted to get on trains in opposite directions, it took everything in your body not to kiss him.

Xiaojun won that following week and you wanted to throw him out a tenth-floor window. But when you saw his smug smile and his eyes a normal colour, you didn’t quite hate him as much. You would settle for throwing him out a third-floor window.

It wasn’t all bad either, not just because Xiaojun had moved away from the knife edge but because you made a record trade. You through your arms in the air and shrieked with happiness.

Everyone in the office looked at you, some clapped, others glared. Xiaojun settled for a soft smile and a text of congratulations – you never knew he had your number.

Both of you were celebrating at the office ‘party’ that night. Schmoozing CEO’s was off your mind for one night only. You thought you had made enough of an impression that week.

You did more shots than you could remember and hit the dance floor. Numerous guys tried to hit on you, but you weren’t interested. Only one man played on your mind and you wanted him out of there.

You drank more to forget him, but you couldn’t ignore him when he was standing in front of you, face flushed red with alcohol and a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t know what is sexier, your intelligence or your ass,” he said, coming to dance next to you.

You hit his shoulder lightly,

“Oh, you’re such a gentleman, Xiaojun,” you replied sarcastically.

“I stopped taking drugs these last few weeks,” he continued, slipping his arms around your waist as he continued to dance, “you’ve become my natural high.”

You thought he was making a joke, some vague attempt at a pickup line. Yet even though he was smiling, you saw a sense of earnest in his eyes.

“I hope that’s true,” you said, “about the drugs at least.”

“I think I would do about anything to make you happy at this point… except losing to you,” he whispered back, his lips dangerously close you yours.

“As they say in our business, how about you put your money where your mouth is?”

His hand pushed your hair behind your ear gently,

“And just what do you mean by that?” he enquired. Yet before you could reply his arms released from around your waist and he grabbed your hand, leading you off the dance floor and towards the bar.

“A cosmopolitan for the lovely lady and a whiskey for me please,” you heard Xiaojun ask the bartender.

Xiaojun pulled out a barstool for you and sat down on the one next to it.

“We always sit in private rooms, how about a change, mix with everyone else for once,” he said smiling.

“At least there are no creepy CEO’s here,” you conceded, “how did you know my favourite drink?”

“I know you better than you think… and I’m accustomed to taking calculated risks, I seem cooler if I guess right than if I have to ask you, but if I guess wrong, I just wasted some money. Yet I figured money spent on you couldn’t be a waste.”

You decided that he was definitely hitting on you and while you hadn’t expected it, you equally weren’t surprised. You and Xiaojun were close by investment banking competitor standards.

“Why have you decided to start flirting with me?” you asked in a drunk moment of directness.

“Liquid confidence mixed with the fact you’re very beautiful.”

The bartender placed the drink down in front of you and you took a sip as Xiaojun handed him a 50,000 won note,

“Keep the change,” he added, nodding at the waiter before picking up his drink and turning back to face you.

He said something but the music in the club was so loud you couldn’t hear him.

You leaned in and talked somewhat loudly,

“It’s loud in here, I didn’t hear what you said sorry,” you told him.

“I really wish I didn’t have to compete against you,” he said, leaning in to close the distance, his whisky touched breath fanning your face.

“Because you think you’re going to lose?” you joked. Xiaojun shook his head, placing his whisky back down on the bar.

“Because I really don’t want to have to take you down to win.”

In that moment you really just wanted him to kiss you… but he never seemed to make the move. Once he had stopped talking, he leaned away again and sipped his whiskey, something which confused you.

You really thought he had been flirting with you but now you had doubts, what if he only had a friendly concern for your welfare.

You drank your cocktail contemplating this, analysing what he did, trying to calculate which side of the equation his brain was on. He was as unpredictable as the stock market, yet unlike with work, here you didn’t know what to guess.

Even if he was flirting there was the chance that he didn’t actually have an interest with you, but instead he was trying to emotionally fuck with you.

You downed your drink and placed it down on the side. Xiaojun looked like he was thinking himself. You couldn’t guess his emotions, but unlike with work you reckoned you could figure it out.

“It’s nice to talk to you for once, outside of the work setting, well… almost,” you said, casually placing your hand on his thigh as you leaned in. That was your plan. Judge his reaction but Xiaojun just smirked. While you decided that probably got rid of the friendly concern option and confirmed his - romantic intent – it didn’t solve the question of how noble his intentions were.

“You could make a wish, y/n, I would give you anything you wanted,” he whispered, this time his lips physically brushing his ear.

“Except winning the internship competition,” you confirmed.

You laughed without humour. It was like a wall between the both of you.

“Not that I would ever ask you to give that up,” you added, “wishes are for genies and birthdays anyway.”

“Well, I’m not a genie but you could always make a birthday wish.”

“My birthday is in five months, so a bit of a wait. Another drink though, that I can make happen now… What do you want?” you asked him.

“I can buy you one,” he protested. You rolled your eyes.

“Gender equality Xiaojun, I can buy a guy a drink.”

“Then I will except anything you give me,” he relented.

“A sex on the beach and a whiskey please,” you said to the bartender. It was slightly dark, but you almost thought you could see Xiaojun blush slightly when you mentioned sex, even just in the context of a drink.

Then again, it could have just been the whiskey.

You only got halfway through that next drink before you realised simple conversation and suggestive gestures wouldn’t be able to discern what you wished to know.

You didn’t know whether to give up or give in.

“I think I should go home,” you said standing up. Xiaojun’s face fell slightly before he managed to put his smile back in place.

“I’ll call you a cab,” he replied standing up next to you, it was lucky he did as the first step you took almost sent you to the ground. Xiaojun managed to get a hold of you and stop you from falling.

“Aha thank you,” said, unable to stop yourself from grinning at him brightly. Xiaojun put his arm around your waist as you both walked along the side of the crowd dancing and out of the club.

The air outside was cold but Xiaojun was warm. He instinctively took off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders.

“You must have good intentions,” you mused, not realising you had thought aloud.

“Why would I not?” Xiaojun asked, looking slightly confused but unfazed.

“I’ve been trying to work out all night if you are genuinely into me or if this is all some part of a masterplan to take me down,” you answered, no idea why you were suddenly being so truthful.”

“This job really does fuck up one’s mentality,” Xiaojun said, looking ever so slightly forlorn.

“Maybe so… but I think you are a good guy Xiaojun, you have fooled me if you’re not. If this a lie, then I lost to you. I want to make my wish now,” you wrapped your arms around your waist.

“And what would your wish be?” he replied, his eyes gazing at yours. But you didn’t tell him your wish, you simply actualised it as you brought your lips to his.

The warm taste of whiskey against the cold was mesmerising. Now you both had your bloodshot eyes closed you almost seemed like you could be a normal couple.

Xiaojun pulled away slightly, his thumb pressed lightly on your lower lip.

“I just want to remember how beautiful you are,” he explained. You were speechless at the sight off him.

The taxi Xiaojun had called pulled up in front of you. Xiaojun let go of you so you could get in the taxi.

“Goodnight,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek, opening the door for you to get in.

“You can come too, back to my place I mean, if you want to, that is?” you propositioned, feeling oddly nervous, scared you weren’t quite on the same page. You shuffled over to the opposite side of the taxi so that he had the choice.

When he got in beside you and closed the door, you felt your heart begin to race slightly. Your heart leaping – literally. “322 Sinsa-Dong, Gangnam,” you said to the driver and the car started to move. Xiaojun moved his hand so his pinkie was touching yours across the seat between you and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re really cute you know?” you said to him. Xiaojun made a sad face,

“Surely if you invited me back to your apartment you must think I’m attractive, sexy, enthralling…” he said, quietly enough only you could hear him.

“You are all of those things too, but you really are cute Xiaojun, especially when you wear your glasses at work and your face concentrates on something hard.”

“You watch me at work? I never caught you staring at me once and I stare at you pretty often so I thought I would have noticed.”

“Always got to keep an eye on the competition.”

“I never knew you liked me back, that’s why I always kept my feeling hidden until now… I didn’t want to complicate anything, life is already hard enough,” Xiaojun explained.

“I didn’t realise I liked you either, I was too focused on winning, but at some point, I started to realise, I didn’t like winning if it meant you lost… that’s caring about someone I suppose. The passion… we already had that, enemies or lovers, the passion always existed.”

The car ride wasn’t much longer and neither of you said much, you simply paid the taxi driver and got out of the taxi, holding Xiaojun’s hand instinctively when you led him up the staircase to your flat.

It wasn’t an instant thing. You both spent your lives making split second decisions. You knew how important every second was and that’s perhaps why you took it slow.

When Xiaojun came in you hung his jacket up and asked him if he wanted anything to eat, he politely declined.

You settled for watching Netflix together in a drunken haze, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm around your shoulder.

It wasn’t until the two actors kissed, an hour into the movie that you began to refocus on why Xiaojun really was here.

His arm around you, suddenly seemed different to just moments before. Xiaojun’s blush matched yours as you turned to face each other. Unable to ignore the building tension any longer.

Neither of you were exactly pros, you spent far too much of your time working. When you thought back you hadn’t had sex in over a year. Now, sitting so close to Xiaojun, you wondered how it was possible that you had managed that. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Xiaojun began, “we can just continue watching TV and then go to bed, I can even go home if you want me too.”

Once again you didn’t respond with words but by kissing him. You sat up and moved so you were kneeling over his lap and leaned downwards, pushing him into your sofa cushions, until your lips met his.

His lips were slightly chapped from the cold, but you didn’t care, melting into his touch as his hands moved to grab your waist.

He sat up slightly to move closer to you, his hands pushing you down against his hips as he began to press kisses to your jaw and down your neck.

You jolted slightly with pleasure causing the friction between you to increase as your hands messed up his hair.

Beneath your thigh you could already feel Xiaojun starting to harden as your hips rolled back and forth against his.

“How comfortable is your bed?” Xiaojun asked, pressing his forehead against his, his breathing already affected.

You moved off him to stand up, grabbing his hand before you had time to miss his touch.

“You can be the judge,” you told him.

Xiaojun sat on the edge of your bed, taking the time to look at you as you tossed your dress to the floor, revealing your black lingerie.

“Did I tell you, you are beautiful,” he uttered, his gazed fixed on you, mesmerised.

You notice him readjust his trousers slightly, the bulge forming, starting to appear uncomfortable.

You walked over to stand between his legs as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Would you like me to help?” you laughed slightly, getting down onto your knees in front of him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “I can move so you can be more comfortable?” he offered. You shook your head and smiled.

“I assure you, I’m anything but uncomfortable,” you said, reaching to unbuckle his belt, before tossing it away as well. You unzipped his trousers carefully, Xiaojun sighed at the slight relief of pressure.

You pulled his jeans off his legs until he was just left in his boxers. You didn’t remove them immediately, you instead began to touch him through the underwear, causing Xiaojun to bite his lip slightly.

When the precum started to stain, you decided to put him out of his misery, pulling on his waistband until his cock sprung free.

For the first time you didn’t waste any time. You placed your hand carefully around his shaft as you ran your tongue over his tip slightly.

When you finally took him into your mouth it caused Xiaojun to elicit a moan so sweet you felt your core weaken.

Xiaojun’s leaned back as you started to move faster, the salty taste of his precum leaking into your mouth.

“Can you look at me?” he asked, “I want to look into your eyes as you suck me off.”

If that was his wish you were happy to oblige. You gazed up at him as his cock hit the back of your throat. Xiaojun let out a low moan.

“Your so fucking perfect,” he praised as he came, his cum leaking down your cheek as you tried to swallow it, “I’m sorry,” was all he said.

Once again you shook your head, wiping his cum from your face.

“Stop apologising Xiaojun, it’s making you cute again, not sexy,” you joked causing Xiaojun to chuckle.

Once you were on the bed next to him, he pushed you back into the cushions, propping himself over you.

He kissed down your neck and to your collar bone, reaching back to undo your bra clasp. It was his turn to toss your clothes away as he revealed your breasts, his eyes dilating.

He clasped your breast as he kissed you, pinching your nipple slightly causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“I think I am sexy now, am I not?” he said, not waiting for an answer as he continued down your body, kissing your chest, down to your stomach until finally be pressed a kiss at your waistband.

“Are you ready babe?” he asked you, his eyes soft but his grin devious. You nodded, slightly lost for words as Xiaojun moved your panties to the side, not bothering to remove them before he dragged one finger across your wet opening.

You moaned loudly as he slipped his finger in, quickly adding a second as he pumped in and out. It was the best thing you had felt in ages, but it just wasn’t enough, you knew what you wanted.

“Please can you just fuck me already?” you asked him. Xiaojun bit his lip again grinning.

“Your wish is my command baby,” he said, finally dragging your panties down and leaving them to the side. He was already hard again from the sight of you in front of him.

He placed his cock against your wet folds but before he could enter you had another wish,

“Can I ride you?” you asked him. Xiaojun smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

“You can have anything you want y/n,” he said, sitting back so you could get up. You positioned yourself above him, his hands on your hips as you finally started to lower.

Xiaojun hissed softly as his length slowly entered you. You didn’t stop until you had taken all of him inside of you. You placed your arms around his neck and kissed him softly as you started to move, up and down him at a tortuous pace.

You didn’t want the moment to be over too quickly.

Xiaojun had other ideas, after a minute or so he started to push up into you, getting the message you speeded up, fucking him as quickly as you could.

“Fuck y/n,” Xiaojun cried out as he came closer to coming. You grinned slightly before moving off him completely. Xiaojun swore again at the loss,

“Are you punishing me for all the times I teased you?” he asked. You just chuckled.

“No, my legs are just tired, we can have sex whatever way you want to make up for it,” you said, stroking his hair lightly.

“On your hands and knees then babe,” he ordered, and you obliged.

Xiaojun began to fuck you again, but with him in control it much faster, much more needy. You whined his name as he fucked you relentlessly, his grip on your hips now strong enough to leave some sort of bruise.

“Please come in me,” you pleaded as you felt your high coming.

“So many demands baby,” Xiaojun remarked, tutting in mock dissatisfaction but really, he was happy that he was able to make you feel so good.

“Xiaojun!” You called out as you met your high, the feeling of your walls clenching around him causing, Xiaojun to cum too, just seconds later, filling you up until he pulled out.

You collapsed down on the bed beside each other, exhausted, glistening with sweat.

“You’re the best thing that job ever gave me,” Xiaojun said, pulling you in towards him, so your head laid on his chest.

“I think I would even lose the competition for you if you wanted,” he said, his finger tracing your cheekbone.

“I would never ask you to do that,” you replied, “also you really think I need you to lose, I can beat you Xiaojun, mark my words.”

“No chance,” he laughed, “Okay maybe some chance, but still, I will be the winner.”

You hit his chest lightly in jest.

“You’re overconfident.”

“No, I just know I’m already the winner, I have you as my girlfriend?” he half said, half asked with a raised eyebrow. You nodded in agreement.

“I have you as my girlfriend,” he confirmed to himself, “then my wish has come true.”

“You’re cute Xiaojun,” you smiled, kissing his nose, “and very sexy,” you added.

From then on, every time you needed to make a wish; you knew Xiaojun would grant it.

#xiaojun #nct2020 #nct smut #xiaojun smut #wayv smut #xiaojun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct2020smut #wayv #wayv scenarios #xiao dejun #nct resonance #nct #nct imagines

[the-archxr]

Waterloo!

steve harrington x reader

Summary: After witnessing you and a Family Video frequent flirting and connecting over your favourite band, Steve gets jealous and ends up showing you how ABBA should truly be celebrated.

A/N: so hahaha, I have recently been obsessed with Mamma Mia! and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, which led me to this fic, which is ONE THOUSAND PERCENT based off of the Waterloo scene from Here We Go Again, because the more I thought about it the more I realized that Steve is like Harry in that sense, so yeah. Here we are.

Song Inspo: Waterloo - ABBA, Waterloo - Hugh Skinner and Lily James (cause you can’t just pick one, m’kay?)

•••••

“Okay, but speaking in terms of the be-all to end-all of questions...”

The boy with the dirty blonde hair and ragged plaid shirt leans over the counter slowly. His blue eyes meet yours and his teeth are bared in a striking smirk. “And just so you know, your answer will determine the future of our relationship...”

You nod with a laugh. “Okay.”

“What’s your favourite ABBA song?”

You snort and shake your head, picking up his rental to ring it through.

He gives you an expectant look, which you respond with a simple shrug and and, “I don’t know.” 

He scoffs playfully. Gliding over to the register with ease he rests his head on his fist. You roll your eyes at the sight before you. If he wasn’t so cute, then you’d be severely turned off by the excessive forwardness.

“Aw, c’mon. Everyone has a favourite.”

After shutting the register with his exact change in it, you cross your arms with a sigh. “Well, if you were as true of an ABBA fan as you say you are, then you’d know that that’s a trick question. Because every ABBA song is good, therefore, they’re all my favourite.”

“Smartass,” he huffs, earning a laugh from you.

Suddenly you hear a loud “shit” come from behind you which grabs your attention from the flirtatious customer to your coworker and friend.

“You alright, Steve?”

He hops out from behind the back wall, a faint blush gracing his cheeks and neck. “Y-yeah. Just got attacked by these goddamn boxes.”

You laugh and look back to the blonde who still hasn’t left. Quirking an eyebrow, you look him up and down.

“You’re still here?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs with a shit-eating grin. “Was hoping I’d be able to talk to you a little more.”

“...About?”

He opens his mouth to speak before his eyes flit to the clock above you. “Shit, I gotta go. I have to pick up my little brother and his friends up from the pool.”

He grabs the VHS, before shooting you a wink as he waves goodbye.

It isn’t until after he leaves that you hear a scoff come from your coworker. You frown and spin on the heels of your feet.

“Something wrong, Stevie?”

He rolls his eyes and leans over to pick up the empty boxes he tripped on earlier. “No. Yes...? I don’t know. I guess, it’s just...him?”

Picking up the remaining boxes you follow him to the back. “What do you mean ‘him’?”

“Ah, c’mon he was practically eye-fucking you in the middle of the store. It was—it was gross and icky and...bleh.”

You laugh loudly at that and watch your friends hair bounce with the movement of hauling the cardboard into the large bin. “Bleh?”

“Bleh!” You both walk back to the door, which encourages Steve to hold it open for you. “I mean that’s a total Billy move.”

“Oh, so now he’s not just bleh, he’s a Billy.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “Meaning he’s a complete and utter dick.”

“Just cause he was flirty?”

“That’s not being flirty that’s called being horny.”

You groan at his words, regardless of the fact that they don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything they amuse you.

You heave yourself on top of the counter, one leg splayed over the countertop and the other swaying idly. He gestures to the sticker gun beside you, which you grab and wave in his direction. “Oh, and you know something about the difference between flirty and horny?”

“Yeah, because I used to be that horny guy.” He snatches the sticker gun out of your hand and begins to wave it around as he walks to the one end of the store.

“Oh, right. Your whole King Steve faze.” You watch him shake his head at your words with a slight frown. You sigh. “King Steve, ruler of the horndogs.”

He laughs, making your plan in lightening up the mood a success.

The silence in the store pulls on for a few seconds before you reach over and turn on the radio—the hum of the static and muffled voices echoing through the building as you switch through the channels before you set it on the desired station.

You lean back and watch your friend move around the store lazily, putting bright pink stickers on the assortment of rentals haphazardly.

You frown as you think (a curse, cause you never seem to stop thinking), and sit up playing with the many woven bracelets on your wrist. “No, but seriously, Steve. What’s your problem with the guy?”

He stops his motions and turns to you. He looks nervous and his chest heaves up and down with trepidation. He opens his mouth to speak, but he pauses. You can practically see the words stuck on the tip of his tongue, before he sighs, mainly to himself, and shoots you a small (and kind of sad) smile.

“He has a favourite ABBA song. No one trustworthy has one favourite ABBA song.”

You laugh at his words, slapping your knee as you keel back to the wall with laughter. He laughs loudly too and tosses the sticker gun and himself on the countertop. He sits opposite of you with his Nike shoe pressing almost perfectly against the sole of your Converse.

You look at the clock and huff. Steve follows your line of sight and his face falls at the sight of the time. “We got a whole half hour left.”

You hum and close your eyes, resting your head against the wall. You stay like that until the radio announcers voice comes through. You open your eyes instinctively, only to see that Steve is already looking at you.

But maybe he wasn’t because with one blink he’s actually looking at the door.  An awkward cough resonates in the back of your throat as you groan.

That’s when the mans voice comes to a slow and the beginning of the next song plays. It takes you a second, but when you recognize the song your ears prick up and a smile graces your face.

Steve eyes you strangely as you grab the knob to turn up the sound. “What? What song is this?”

Your jaw drops in your friends direction. “Uh, Waterloo?”

“Water what?”

You laugh and hop off the counter, your feet already moving to the beat of the song. “Waterloo. It’s an ABBA song.”

“No I know this is ABBA. I’m slow, not stupid.” You cackle and roll your shoulders to the sound of the guitar. “I’ve just never heard it before.”

You grin before grabbing his hands and pulling him to the middle of the store which surprisingly has the most space. You sway both of your arms back in forth, in an attempt to coax him to start moving. An action that he doesn’t take to immediately.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be a Debbie Downer, Harrington.”

He scoffs. “I am not a Debbie Downer.”

You shake your head and stick your tongue out at him. “Well then, prove it. I mean, didn’t you used to be the funnest man in all of Hawkins?”

“Funnest isn’t a word.”

You gasp. “Wow, look who actually payed attention in English.”

He rolls his eyes and once again runs his hand through his damn hair. He stands there for a second, before a small grin appears on his face. “Also, what do you mean used to be?”

Your jaw drops as he grabs a hold of your arms and spins you around dramatically. You gasp, the breath being knocked out of you suddenly as he holds your arm above you and spins you twice. You laugh as he pulls you back into him, to which he begins to bounce around the space, spinning you every so often—much to your delight.

You gasp after another spin, but by the second verse you’re too caught up into wanting to sing the words then being worried about your lack of oxygen if you do so. “My, my! I tried to hold you back, but you were stronger!”

You spin on your heel away from him, the momentum sending you back into the counter with a laugh. “Oh yeah!” You both sing out.

Then, with a wink and a spin of his body, he uses his hand and slicks his hair back in a Greaser fashion, earning another string of laughter from you. Jumping back to you, your back is pulled into his chest as he holds an arm out and runs forward.

The bun in which you put your hair in is now dangling loosely just below your shoulders, and as he spins you for the nth time, fate would have it that some of your hair gets in his mouth. Steve sputters and makes a face, causing the both of you to erupt in another fit of laughter. Soon, you both are dancing like fools, completely in your own space, yet never too far from the others reach. “Waterloo! Finally facing my Waterloo!”

He takes your hand firmly, spins you and as the song nears the end you almost fall to the ground. However, with Steve’s knee propped up beneath you, he has you dipped and breathless. His eyes are partially closed and as he pulls you up you almost grow dizzy from him dipping you a second time. This time, the dip is more dramatic and your loose hair falls onto the ground in a soft pile, indicating that you’re far lower than the first time. 

“Waterloo!” He sings, finally getting the lyrics to the song.

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.” You finish. The song ends abruptly and both of you are at a loss of breath as you try to tune down the echo of laughter.

It’s at that moment that the sound of a door bell jingling has you both breaking away from each other awkwardly. Still out of breath, you hurriedly rush to the counter and try to smooth down your hair. (Not that you expect that to hide anything with the way your cheeks are so inflamed. If anything, whoever had come in would think that they caught you in Steve in the middle of something else.) 

Your eyes finally focus on the customer, realizing that it’s the same blonde boy from earlier. “Hey, again.” He winks at you, resting his forearm on the countertop.

“Hey,” you say back. Your eyes flit over to Steve, whose back is faced to both of you. He’s already walked to the other side of the store, and the obvious distance he has quickly put between himself and the customer makes you think.

But you don’t have to think too hard as the realization practically hits you over the head. You suddenly grin and look at the counter, the feeling of your cheeks reddening further blooming throughout your upper body.

“So, uh...” the boy in flannel begins, clicking his tongue. “I came back.”

“I see that.” You counter him quickly with a soft smile.

He laughs and runs a hand over his jaw before looking to you. He hesitates. But only for a moment. “I’m tryna’ ask you out, ya know.”

You nod at that. “Yeah, I know.”

He pauses as he bites the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, the air around you two has turned very awkward and you can tell that he knows it.

“So...”

You shrug. “So?”

Shoving his hands in his pockets he moves his shoulders up in question. “So what do you say?”

You look down at your bracelets for a moment before looking back at him with a soft smile. “I’d have to say that I’m flattered. But, uh, no thanks.”

The boys eyes widen, as does Steve’s who’s attention is now on both of you.

The blonde nods and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh...okay then. Thanks for being honest at least.”

You smile at him, which sends the boy back to the door and on his way. You let out the breath you had been holding in and look to Steve who looks just as shocked as the other guy.

“What just happened?”

“I said no to his offer.” You say matter-of-factly as you walk around the counter and closer to your friend. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes telling you that his brain is going a mile a minute.

“W—why? Why would you say no?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Usually you say no to a date when you don’t want to go on a date. At least, I don’t want to go on a date with him anyway...”

Your voice trails off purposely as you look directly at the boy in question. Steve is still stunned and is still very confused, which makes you want to laugh at his obliviousness.

It’s cute though...his obliviousness.

...He’s cute.

“Steve,” you say lowly. He’s biting his lip, and the slightest hint of worry blooms over his features.

“...Yeah?”

You sigh. “Well I’m trying to imply that I want to go on a date with you...”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that Steve had stopped breathing. Eliciting a laugh from you, you glide closer to him and look the boy in the eyes. “Steve...did I break you?”

He almost short circuits in a sense and looks at you with disbelief. “You want to go on a date with me?”

You shrug with a nod. “I think it could be fun.”

The poor boy stands there, still in shock. You shake your head and kiss him on the cheek before walking to the counter and grabbing your bag.

“Pick me up at 8 tomorrow at Dustin’s and we’ll go to Dairy Queen or something.”

His eyes and mouth are wide open as his gaze follows you to the door. The door barely closes behind you before you pop your head back in the store. “Oh, also, Steve since you’re the last one in here you gotta’ lock up.” You smile widely at him and run off before he can protest.

But even with the thought of having to lock up present in his mind, Steve doesn’t feel like protesting. When he comes back to his senses he nods to himself with a smile and runs to the back; excitement coursing through him.

•••••

Steve Harrington Taglist:

@wigofokoye @timeladygallifrey @fairlysuitehearts @loulouloueh @bluegreyme @coltonparayyko @readinthegarden12 @hello-therree @gothackedalready @aphrodites-perfume @fic-cheesecake @bohemiandeakyy @nerd-domland @blueoz @laneygthememequeen @xelaalec @i-justlikewhales @elen-alambil @heykarsyn @yellowhopes @veeshthefrog @justsomeficsilike @cxddlyash @aniya21890 @billyhargrovescigarette @nugturally @daddystevee @asheseiler @enchantedcruelsummer @jxnehxpper

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #joe keery x reader #joe keery #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines #abba references #waterloo #this ia kinda cheesy #but like #who cares #its cute #mamma mia! here we go again #references

[daphne-townsen]

“Should we count her toes again?”

“And her fingers.”

“Look at her hair.”

“I told you. Just like yours.”

There’s a moment; a breath’s pause between Abram and I, where we look at each other in the shadows of the nursery. I’m on his lap and his arms are around me and in my arms is our daughter - Diana - and she is perfect, truly, gloriously, one hundred percent perfect, and I cannot believe my life is so full and that I have a daughter, that my husband and I made this tiny little thing with red hair like his and cheeks like mine. I can’t stop staring at her, or smelling the sweetness of her hair, or lightly tracing my fingertips over her lips and eyebrows and nose. 

“I love her so much, Abram,” I can’t help but to say, and my voice catches on his name. I feel his arms tighten around me, and his mouth presses against my neck. 

“I know,” he murmurs, “I love you both. So much.”

“I know,” I tell him, my lips curving slightly to allow for a little smile, though it’s hard to see in the darkness of the nursery. I curl myself even closer against him, turning my head to find his lips in the dark. At our feet, Harvey sleeps; he does not like to be parted from us and even more so with the birth of our daughter. I can’t help but to think of the future for a moment; Diana up and walking and Harvey chasing after her; of grass-stained chubby baby knees and kisses from Harvey, laughter and barking. Our life will be so wonderful. 

It already is. 

I lean my head back down to kiss Diana’s forehead softly. My love, my dream, my little soulmate. My mind wanders as Abram dozes off, his cheek settling against my shoulder. He snores a little, but I’ve never minded; never minded anything my husband does, and he has given me - us - the greatest gift; though he’d argue and tell me that I did. But it takes two, and I’ll happily take half the credit for the sleeping angel in my arms. 

“My girl,” I murmur gently, fondly, lovingly into her little ear, and she stirs slightly, her nose scrunching before smoothing out, continuing to dream whatever it is that babies dream. 

Selfishly, I hope it’s of me. I hope it’s of Abram and I. 

Lately, she’s all I’ve been dreaming about. Her delivery in particular…

TWO WEEKS AGO

“I still can’t believe how big you are.”

“Ruby.”

“I say it lovingly,” Ruby, my sister, says, holding up her hands in a placating gesture as she laughs. It’s morning. Abram’s working on something in the nursery with Killian and my sister and I are downstairs in the kitchen. I’m currently soaking up the last bit of toast in the beans Ruby had made - I wanted a traditional English breakfast that morning, something I normally can’t get away with if my sister isn’t around. 

Try as I might, there are some things my American husband refuses to touch, and this is one of them. When Ruby and her husband, Killian, arrived a few days ago, that was the first thing out of my mouth. Pregnancy has increased my homesickness tenfold, especially these last few weeks. I know it’s not necessarily for England so much as it’s for the feeling of home I feel when I’m with my sister, who is newly pregnant herself; though you couldn’t tell unless you knew her. Still, she’s newly taken to setting a hand on her bump and doesn’t realize she’s doing it. I’ve caught Killian catching her at it several times over the course of their stay, how he places both of his hands over hers, leans down to whisper something in her ear that makes her laugh and I can’t really describe what it is to see that Ruby and I have found our soulmates in this life, and that our happiness is multiplying. I’m just so goddamn motherfucking happy and knowing that Ruby is as well - 

“Oh my god, are you crying?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say, pressing my hands to my face. Hormones. This is probably the only thing I won’t miss about being pregnant; how nearly anything will make me cry at the drop of a hat. 

“Oh, you,” Ruby says, coming over to where I’m sitting and bringing a tissue with her. She hands it to me and I shake my head as I wipe my eyes, steadying myself with a deep breath. “What is it this time?”

“You,” I say simply, figuring there’s no point in lying or trying to hide it. “Just thinking about how we’ve found our own happiness despite the odds being stacked against us since birth. You know, normal shit.”

She laughs. “My beautiful sister.”

“Ruby,” I say warningly, balling the tissue up loosely in my fist. “Don’t.”

“I won’t,” she replies, though there’s a trace of mirth pulling at her lips and I know she’s working hard to conceal her grin. “In hopes that you won’t do it to me when I’m nine months and crying over a tea cosy.”

“Oh my god, that was one time -”

“So you’ve said.” Ruby pats my shoulder good-naturedly, but I can tell by her expression that she doesn’t believe me. There are worse things, however, so I return to my plate and eat the last bite, pushing it away once I’m done and setting both of my hands on my fully-rounded stomach.

“Where are our husbands to clean up after us?” I say loudly, and Ruby makes a shushing motion with her finger pressed to her lips. But she’s smiling. 

“Bonding over baby stuff and having two pregnant wives, I imagine,” my sister says with a laugh, and begins to clear away the plates. I instinctively move to help her but she whirls around so fast it hurts my neck to watch her and she points to my seat. “Absolutely not,” Ruby tells me firmly. “Not while you’re pregnant with my niece.”

“What is this, 1880? Ruby, I can manage to wash a plate or two. And also, you’re pregnant too,” I say, but I’m already in the process of sitting back down. Okay, and my swollen ankles. I won’t miss that, either. 

“Ow -” I press a hand to my lower back - or what I can reach of it, anyway, and Ruby looks over at me, concern pulling her brows together. 

“I’m fine,” I say, immediately waving her off, and for half a second, it’s completely true, I am fine, and then the next - 

“Ruby?”

“Hm?” She’s focusing on rinsing a pot and doesn’t look at me.

“I think - my water just broke.” 

She pauses for just a moment -

“HUSBANDS!!!!!”

It’s a little blurry after that, really, everything happened so fast and so quickly. My baby bag for the hospital had been packed for two months solid, so it was really just a matter of grabbing that, making sure everyone had shoes on, and then we were out the door, piling up into our Range Rover - Killian driving and Ruby’s up front next to him while Abram and I sit in the back. 

It’s a decently slower day at the hospital and Dr. Zamora greets all of us upon our arrival. 

“Ready to meet your baby girl?” she asks me after I’m wheeled into the delivery room and set up on the bed. 

“After the epidural, yes,” I say between one round of breathing exercises and another, and Abram, who of course has not left my side since the car ride, laughs. Ruby is also here, though Killian had stepped out for a moment to get me a cup of ice chips. 

After that, honestly, things do get blurry and sequentially a little out of order for me. I was given an epidural, which helped, but I ended up being in labor for something like twelve hours, and in that space of time I had told Abram to go to hell, threw a cup at his head and besmirched the good name of my sister and her husband. Allegedly. 

Naturally, I have no memory of any of this.

What I do remember, however, is helping Dr. Zamora pull Diana out. Her little cries, the blueness of her face and fingertips and toes before she took her first real gulp of air, Abram cutting the umbilical cord, how she fit perfectly against my chest. The warm, bright life of her settled right against my heart.

“Diana?” Abram was already crying, kissing my face and Diana’s repeatedly. Our tears mixed on my lips, got into my mouth, dripped down my chin and onto her perfect soft little head. 

“Diana Ruby Townsen,” I corrected him, and that’s when Ruby started to cry. Killian turned away from us and pulled his wife into his arms, muttering something about how bright it was in there and could they do something about that?

I leaned down to kiss my daughter’s head, as I’ve done one thousand times a day since her birth. My concern over not being a good enough mother instantly evaporated the moment she was placed into my arms. All I want to do is ensure her happiness, her well-being. Teach her how to be a good, kind, thoughtful human, how to raise her in love. How not to forget where she came from. 

Looking around me in the delivery room, surrounded by the kind of love I had dreamed about for so long, I know she won’t.

#[ daphne x narrative ] #[ daphne x family ] #dedicated to Liz ofc #WE DID IT

[grimoire-of-seven]

Could I request the demon brothers reactions to MC falling asleep on them and then getting really cuddly in her sleep and nuzling up close to him

PROMPT :: “Hold me close, and hold me tight.”

Rating: SFW

Words: 300-450 per character

Characters: Demon brothers + MC / Gender-Neutral Reader

 Notes: This was so fluffy and I thoroughly enjoyed writing this! I had to scrap some ideas because it ended up with most of the demon brothers bringing MC to bed [the most comfortable cuddle place, tbh]. I had to make adjustments so I hope you like it! Thank you for requesting~

LUCIFER

It was an odd request, Lucifer wouldn’t deny. Well… ‘odd’ is quite harsh.

Perhaps, just bizarre?

You had summoned him to the planetarium, with the order of bringing his comforter and pillow. Being in a pact with you, the Avatar of Pride couldn’t do anything but oblige to the peculiar instruction.

That was a few moments earlier.

Now, he’s lying down beside you, all snuggled up in each other’s arms – all alone in the planetarium. 

He chuckled at this little idea of a ‘dinner date,’ [the pizza has long been forgotten] “If you wanted to sleep, we could’ve very well done that in my room, no?”

“Hmm,” You agreed sleepily, cuddling closer and wrapping him in a tighter embrace, “Luke said there’ll be… there’ll be meteor showers seen… seen from Devildom tonight.”

Admittedly hating the fact that you’ve named another man while you’re in his presence, Lucifer couldn’t help but silently thank the little chihua– angel.

You wouldn’t have this lovely idea if not for the do—angel’s words, anyway.

“You can sleep, dear.” He said in an affectionate tone. Lucifer moved your fringe to the side, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, “You look awfully tired today…”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, he was sure of himself that you had dozed off. 

“Sleep well–”

“Hhhnoooo…” You protested, suddenly barely awake once again. With a smile on your lips, you beamed at the obsidian-haired demon with as much energy as you can, “I wanted to see them with you.”

MAMMON

To hell with Lucifer and his stupid rules.

The white-haired demon spun his pen on his hand in irritation at the list of figures before him. 

He can’t memorize it all by dawn! It’s absolutely impossible!

“This is so damn frustrating!” Mammon complained; he crumpled up the paper you had prepared for him for his History of Devildom and its Nine Circles exam tomorrow.

Mammon felt you stir beside him. You have fallen asleep by his side, one arm draped around him in a loose embrace. 

Both of you were situated by the sofa, a place he deemed where he’s most comfortable to ‘study’ - second only to his bed but you refused to sit there in case he falls asleep on you.

Your peaceful face alone was enough to calm him down from his frustration.

Staring at you for a while, the Avatar of Greed noticed the bags under your eyes, your face visibly tired… Was it because you’ve been up last night trying to make a comprehensive reviewer for him?

At the realization, he feels bad for having to complain when you’ve put so much effort to help.

You were too good to a lazy scumbag like him. His brothers had been telling you to stop hanging around him so you avoid getting ‘infected’ by his scummy-ness.

Yet you still never gave up on him.

Lazily opening the crumpled paper from his hands, he adjusted his position in a more comfortable state for your sleeping form.

He smiled in defeat, kissing the crown of your head with deep fondness, “Alright, I’ll study well… But only because you’re rewarding the Great Mammon too much.”

LEVIATHAN

The night is still young, as Levi announced in the group chat. He had invited the whole House of Lamentation for a late night TSL movie marathon as preparation for the upcoming Vol.9 of the series.

You had asked Mammon and Beel to join you but both excused themselves from today’s screening. Mammon was off being called by his witch friends, and Beel… decided he would come if Levi will provide food.

Levi did not provide food.

“Cause distraction, eating will!” He explained as you and Beel presented yourselves infront of the purple-haired demon’s room. The Avatar of Gluttony left you alone with a sad and hungry expression.

Being the only person to show up for the marathon, Levi saw fit to treat you like the not-normie you are. The two of you sat close together on the floor like ‘true friends’ would.

With his eyes focused on the screen, Levi didn’t notice you nodding off to the movie.

The only time he had realized was when you had draped your arm around him, cuddling close as if to feel more of his warmth.

He couldn’t believe it. It was like both of you are in a shoujo anime.

Like, one of those anime plot where it’s a normal school story where both of you are forced to live together but his brothers were in the way of your love story then he casually asked you for a movie marathon and you two ended up cuddling and then you both fall in love with each other and then Ruri-chan is suddenly alive after hearing that you’re taking Levi away from her and now it’s an action adventure story where the two of you flee from a raging ex-girlfriend in the magical realm of Devildom–

It was safe to assume that Levi could not get himself to focus on the movie marathon with you moving occasionally to embrace him even closer.

SATAN

For the numerous millenia that he has lived under Lucifer’s shadow, Satan was surprised that you’ve taken a liking to him rather than his ‘glorious’ older brother. Of course, he wasn’t going to allow himself to delve too deep in a relationship with you. 

A few dates here and there, indulging in the knowledge coming from a mortal perspective… You were human. He’s a demon. It was a relationship with a gap that is far too distant to cross. 

And he intended to keep it that way. 

Today was a book date. Out of all of your dates, this one was the one Satan was looking most forward to. The blonde loved books and the information that came from it. He had invited you to his humble little nook, his own make-shift library inside his room. 

“It’s not much compared to Lucifer’s library…”

The Avatar of Wrath knew humans were, to a fault, most curious of things unknown to them. You were no different.

“What? Are you kidding? This is amazing!” The way your eyes lit up at the sight of his room, despite seeing it for the second time already, made the butterflies in his stomach flutter. 

You’re not being fair here, you know…

You both settled by the indoor balcony of his room, given that there was no space on his bed, on the floor, and even on the sofa. Everything was riddled with his limitless books, after all.

The two of you discussed everything and anything that intrigued you inside the tomes that were laid out. From astronomy books to history books to anything related to angels, humans and demons. 

The day passed by within a blink of an eye. Satan was happily telling you about how the stars and planets aligned in the year–

He felt your head drop on his shoulder. What?

As if your head wasn’t enough, you had made yourself comfortable beside him, hands embracing him as if he’s a comfortable pillow.

“…” He sighed with a small smile in his visage, closing the book and letting you sleep on his shoulders.

What would he do with you?

ASMODEUS

The Avatar of Lust upholds his beauty to such a high standard. He is a demon of high-class charm, and with such charm comes with great maintenance to his appearance. 

For thousands of years, Asmodeus revels in the enjoyment of seeing his beauty. However, now that he has you, a trip to the spa, or going out shopping, or having his nails manicured, or doing his skincare routine become twice as much enjoyable with you around.

Today was no exception. 

The peach-haired demon barged to your room unannounced with sparkling wide eyes, explaining to you that Majolish is presenting a new line of high-end clothing and shoes today… and that he has to have it. 

Like, right now. 

With a smile that made his heart flutter with a million passionate emotions, you agreed to accompany him. 

Upon your arrival to the monumental department store, the Avatar of Lust was met with a hundred new options to try for himself and your person. You refused to accept anything super expensive but was immediately met with a begging Asmodeus, unable to accept your rejection.

At the end of the day, both of you were at the bus with several dozens of paper bags and boxes on hand. He was completely satisfied, eager to see you wear the beautiful clothes he has chosen. 

The ride was comfortably silent with only a few passengers on the vehicle. Asmo was checking your pictures with a smile. Everything really that caught your eye and deemed comfortable looked amazing on you! 

“Hey, love, which was your favourite–” You shuffled beside him, taking his arm as you cuddled closer to him from your seat.

It took Asmodeus all of his strength and willpower as the Avatar of Lust to not squeal in delight at the sudden movement, his heart jumping at the sight of your peaceful sleeping expression. He was ten billion percent ready to smother you with kisses but fought himself off the moment he thought of it. 

Asleep means you do not consent to kissing or anything else he wanted to do! For now, Asmodeus told himself that a picture would suffice to capture this blissful moment. 

You’re not gonna sleep much later after this, though - not after showing such a rare sight.

BEELZEBUB

Surprisingly enough, RAD’s roof deck was a wonderful place for students to eat their lunch. It was like one of those school scenarios on Levi’s anime. 

For Beelzebub, he loved eating there with you or any one of his brothers. The view was spectacular, showcasing the dim sun that shone over Devildom. 

As of now, it was only you and him. 

The others were busy with their prior schedules and exams. As you were a human exchange student, Diavolo was expecting much of you; hence, your motivation to study well. 

Beel noticed bags under your eyes, your focus on the exam reviewer was lazer sharp even from the exhaustion. 

“You’re going to ace the exams,” The Avatar of Gluttony started, eating his packed lunch contentedly with you beside him.

“Thank you, Beel. I’m sure you’ll do great on yours, too!” You replied, yawning as the fatigue sets in slowly.

“You can sleep on my shoulder for a moment.” He offered, ruffling your hair affectionately, “I’ll wake you up fifteen minutes before the bell rings so you can review more.”

To his surprise and delight, you gave in to the tiredness. 

He’s really worried about you, not sleeping well like that. Beel heard that humans need eight hours of sleep to be healthy, but you don’t do that much. 

If you keep that up, what would happen to your fragile mortal body? 

Before he could continue his thoughts, you snuggled closer to him, making yourself more cozy in your sitting position. He ruffled your hair once again, adjusting himself so you can sleep better. 

Belphie would’ve loved to join you in this hug. 

For a moment, all his worries disappeared. You’re a very strong human, the strongest he’s ever met - both in soul and willpower. There’s no storm you wouldn’t conquer.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie wanted to take you out on a date to Ristorante Six. 

That was all there is to it.

He needed money so, now, you and Belphie are working part-time in Hell’s Kitchen once again. As a rule, the two of you decided that whenever you go out for dates, the bill should be split in half. 

The ravenet refused it at first but then agreed, remembering that both of you would’ve had to work first before actually getting the money to go out. 

And working together meant more time together.

It was a perfect opportunity to be with each other’s presence more!

After a long day from school, then going straight to waiting tables at Hell’s Kitchen, the Avatar of Sloth noticed that you seemed more tired than usual today. 

Was it from the school? From working at Hell’s Kitchen? From the walk home? Or perhaps your human body isn’t accustomed to such heavy workload?

He held your hand and led you to his shared room with Beel. Beel wasn’t in the room when you two arrived, much to Belphie’s relief.

“Do you have anything to show me, Belphie?” You asked innocently, trying your best to stay awake despite the weariness on your voice.

Belphie sat on his bed comfortably and pulled you in, letting you settle on his lap. 

“W-Wh–!” 

He smiled at your reaction, opening his arms for a hug, “If you’re tired, I’ll let you sleep in my arms.” 

“You had me worried, Belphie!” With an amused laugh, you cuddled close to him, making yourself comfortable in his warm embrace. 

In mere minutes, you had fallen asleep, his hands were gently caressing your hair, “Only for you…”

#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me game #obey me #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #anon ask #headcanons

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Bury Me Face Down

A Max Phillips x Reader BTVS AU One-Shot

Summary/Author's Note: You are a Slayer. One girl born into the world for the sole purpose of hunting down the paranormal and keeping people safe. But what happens when the Order you work for sends you a Vampire to be your mentor?

Okay. I caved. An idea that stemmed entirely from my wife @vaxxildan and was pushed upon me by a few of my favorite people. (/Cough/ Stevie, Rachel, & Ash) so, fuck it-- this is part of my Follower Appreciation Week. I love you girls. This is a ONE SHOT for now. I may do drabbles or another part if inspiration strikes but I have a lot going on at the moment. [Title Song]

Pairings: Max Phillips x Slayer!Reader Word Count: Warnings: R--Blood, language, death, violence, stabbing/staking, sassy douchebag vampire Max in all of his glory, sexual tension/themes

[MASTERLIST] 

"And I haven't seen him in five days! He's a good boy--gets straight A's! He's going to be a lawyer, you know?" She blew her nose into the overused tissue in her hands as you slid the entire box across the desk and she mumbled her thanks.

"What was he majoring in?" You said, trying to connect to the crying mess of a woman in front of you.

"Philosophy." She blubbered out and as she blew her nose the man sitting next to you let out an undignified snort.

You glared at him and he tried to turn the laugh into a cough before motioning to the client. "Excuse me," he apologized with a nod. "Please continue, Mrs. Garcia." 

"Ms." She corrected, batting her big, watery, doe-like eyes at him.  "I'm divorced."

Unbelievable. This suburban soccer mom was crying to you to find her missing son, and she still couldn't resist putting the charm on your partner. You knew this was the effect he had on normal women, but it still never ceased to baffle you. He gave a small smile and another nod, correcting himself and addressing her by the title she offered and asking her once again to go on with her story. 

"Like I said," she put her hands in her lap and played with the pleats of her skirt. "I haven't heard from my sweet Jason since last week." 

"Did anything new happen to him the last time you spoke?" You asked, jotting down a few quick notes on your yellow pad of paper. 

"No, I don't think so. Wait--" she said, abruptly making you look back up. "He met a girl."

"Oooh, nooo," your business partner said next to you, his voice sounding full of utter despair, drawn out just enough that the client would think he was sincere while you knew he was mocking her. You kicked his foot under the table and he bit his lip. 

"Do you think that's important?" She asked hopefully and you made another note. 

"It's hard to tell, Ms. Garcia. Anything else?"

"He said he has been feeling really tired all the time. Like no matter how much he sleeps, he is always so drained." 

"Maybe he has mono."

"Max." You hissed, kicking him again as the woman blew her nose loudly. 

The truth was you knew what was wrong with her son. It was the same thing that had been wrong with five other boys at the community college on the other side of town. All of their parents had sat across from you in this office, begging you to find them and bring them home safely. 

Max cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Ms. Garcia, does your son play sports?"

"Why, yes," she nodded. "He plays varsity soccer. He's on a scholarship for it."

"Ah, I thought that might be the case," he nodded and you wrote it down. Max never took notes and it drove you up the fucking wall. 

"Is that a clue?" She asked, hopefully. 

"Just trying to find out as much as we can." You looked at the photo that she had brought, and felt a little saddened. Should you tell her that her son was dead? That he wasn't coming home? As you looked at the smiling yearbook photo of such a handsome young man it really struck you that you were tired. So very tired. "May we keep this for your file?"

"Of course. I brought extra." She said, somewhat proudly as she patted her knock off Michael Kors bag in the chair next to her. 

Max glanced at you and saw that you had retreated back into your thoughts. After six months of working together, he knew when it was time for a breather. He looked back to the client and adjusted his suit coat before standing up. 

"That's all we need for now, Ms. Garcia. We will be in touch if there is anything new or if we have more questions." He walked around the table and waited for her to grab her purse before he led her to the door. 

"You have my number, correct?" She looked up at him with hopeful eyes as he towered over her. 

"Yes, it's in your file." He gestured back to the table. 

"Feel free to call me, anytime. And I mean...anytime." She touched his yellow pocket square on his chest and he chuckled deeply. 

"Of course," he said, moving her hand off of him like it was something slimy and undesirable. She didn't seem to notice.

You rolled your eyes as the door clicked shut behind her and Max leaned against it with a heavy sigh. "Really?" You asked and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Do you have to do that?" You ask, gesturing to the door. 

"I was absolutely, one hundred percent, professional."

"Ah, yes, I forgot you cannot control the hordes of lonely women that throw themselves at your feet." You scoffed, gathering your notes and the papers from the Garcia file and stacking them neatly. 

"It isn't my fault that my powers don't work on you. If they did then maybe you would believe that I didn't have any control over that situation," he waved his hand in a circle indicating the woman who had previously been occupying that space. 

Max was right about that. Since the day you met, his telepathic powers of suggestion had failed to work on you, and it wasn't for his lack of trying. You had chalked it up to your natural Slayer resistances. Just another talent in your arsonal to go with the above average strength, extended life span, and ability to get your ass handed to you by the undead and walk away without so much as a limp. 

He shimmied out of his suit jacket, hanging it on the coat rack before moving back to the desk and sitting on it. "Besides," he grinned down at you, letting one leg hang off the table and leaning in close. "She's not my type."

"Get over yourself, Phillips." You rolled your eyes and walked over to the swivel chalkboard, turning it from the blank side that clients got to see, to the side that was full of your current notes on the situation.

"Ouch, back to the last name?" He put his hand over his heart like he was in pain. "Come on, Pookie. I thought we were past this?" 

Six months. Six whole months had passed since the Watcher’s Council had sent the most arrogantly frustrating man you had ever met to your doorstep. Max Phillips was, on the outside, the definition of most of the Watchers you had had the pleasure of meeting. He was intelligent and well read, but he was also vain and meticulously well dressed. His three piece bespoke suits were always pressed and tailored, his tie was always bright and made a statement, and you could have seen your reflection well enough to do your makeup in his leather shoes. His brown eyes sparkled as brightly as his jeweled cuff links, and his charm was only matched by his wit. The only unorthodox thing about him was that he wasn’t human. 

Before Max came into your life you were under the impression that vampires weren’t allowed on the Council. And until Max, that had been true. It went against everything they had stood for for the last thousand years or however long they had been in business. That business being to hunt and eradicate people exactly like Max. But someone on the council had fucked up--and fucked up big time. It was their fault Max was the way he was, and to make good on their transgressions they cut him a deal. Instead of death, they restored his soul, made him a Watcher, and after five years of service, he could be a free man...err, free undead man?

“Why won’t you just cut to the chase and tell her that her son is either dead or a vampire?” he asked and you shook your head. 

“We’ve been through this, Max,” you said thumbing through the file and getting familiar with everything you two had learned from your new client. “If we told them that, it would scare them off--we have to hold out hope.”

“I mean, sure, if you want to give them a nice comfy sense of delusion.” He shrugged and started to turn but stopped on his heel. “I’m still charging her our full rate.”

“You’re heartless.” You looked up from the file and narrowed your eyes on him. 

“Yes, exactly,” he gestured to his chest and said slowly like you were hard of hearing. “V-am-pire. Remember?”

“I meant your lack of empathy for humans never ceases to shock me.” 

“Honey, I was an asshole before I was turned,” he continued to hold his hand to his chest. “I may have died but my personality carried over into the afterlife.”

“Lucky me.” You gave him a large smile that was entirely too much teeth. Everyday with him was exhausting, just once you wished you could find a way to shut him up. Peace and quiet. A Max-less thirty minutes to hear yourself think would have been the best present he could ever give you. 

You moved to the chalkboard and taped Jason’s picture next to the line of other dead college boys. Of course there was a chance that Ms. Garcia’s son was still alive, but you seriously doubted it. By the time they came knocking at your door, most of the time, it was way too late. You had lost count of how many times you and Max had already solved the case before you even got up from the table. The two of you would share a knowing look as the person on the other side of the desk told their sob story, and by then it was all said and done.  

Max picked up a piece of chalk and blew the dust off of it distastefully. “Who still uses chalk? Can we at least get a smart board?”

“We can’t even afford a dry erase board, Max.” You took the chalk from his hand and tried to ignore the lingering brush of his fingers against the back of your hand. 

Times had been tough. You had opened this little detective business out of necessity for money, not many places were hiring someone with your specific background and skill set. But there had been an alarming increase in the amount of vampire related deaths in this small town, and that was something you could help with. 

“You asked if Jason played sports,” you said, writing your notes neatly next to the boy’s picture. “Was there a point to that question?”

“There is always a point to what I say.” He grinned, unclipping his cuff-links and starting to roll up his sleeves. 

“Max.”

“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands in surrender as he leaned his ass against the desk and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Write this down. The first kid played football--”

You started a list at the top of the board and wrote down each sport as he ticked them off on his fingers.

“Then we had lacrosse,” he tapped a different picture on the board. “Track. Swimming. And then--” he tapped his finger on the last boy in the row and bit his lip. “What was this one?”

“Ultimate Frisbee.”

“Right!” He snapped his fingers and shook his finger at you in conformation. “The one you thought wasn’t a sport.”

“Because it’s not.”

“And that’s where we disagree.”

You rolled your eyes and finished writing the list of sports off to the side. Crossing your arms, you shook your head. This wasn’t much to go off of--all victims had been junior or senior boys, all played sports and had the reputation for being stereotypical jocks. But despite what little they all had in common, so far they had all met the same end--left in the middle of the woods, completely drained of blood. 

“Look on the computer,” you said. “See if there are any cemeteries close to the university.” Max sat behind the desk and opened up your laptop, typing in the password and clacking away at the search engine. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “How do you know the password to my computer?”

“The same way I know you’re wearing that t-shirt bra for the fifth day in a row,” he mumbled without looking up. “I’m observant.”

You looked down at your chest on instinct before glaring back at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Well, cut it out.”

“As you command, sugar tits,” he smirked and before you could say anything he turned the lap towards you and pointed to the map of the university. “There are four cemeteries within hunting distance--but I say we start with this one.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only one with a mausoleum. Doesn’t matter the flavor of vampire--we all gotta sleep somewhere when the sun comes up.” He smiled, looking somewhat proud of himself and the expression almost made him look endearing. Almost. 

“Good job, Max.” You nodded before moving to write the address on the chalkboard and put it in your phone for later. 

“Oh, say that again--but slower.” He pouted his lips and pretended to give a full body shudder and you contemplated punching him. 

“Get some rest,” you tossed him the manila folder to put in the filing cabinet. “Eat,” you nodded to the mini fridge that contained his snacks from the local blood bank. “Be ready to go by nightfall.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving you a small salute after catching the folder. As you grabbed your car keys off the hook and your jacket off the coat rack, you could almost feel his eyes on your ass. Nothing in the world could have made you give him the satisfaction of letting him know though, but you did slam the front door a little harder than normal on your way out. 

--

The cemetery on the other side of town was just like every cemetery you had ever been in since you took on your role as a Slayer over a decade ago. You thought things were simpler back then, but looking back you weren’t entirely sure how you had lived this long. Slayers were notorious for burning bright and dying fast. They were an intense flame that danced with danger so often the odds were never stacked in her favor when it came to living to see the next sunrise. 

It was these odds that took your first Watcher from you. He was everything Max wasn’t. He was soft spoken, kind, and he cared for you. Against the Watcher’s code, he became the father you never had and in the end it had gotten him killed. Maybe that’s the reason they sent you Max in the first place, you needed someone to look after you that was a little more sturdy--a little less human.

You shined your flashlight on the ground as you and your partner walked another line of gravestones. This was your third lap around the plot lines and thankfully Max had been quiet for most of it. 

“You think she’s going to show?” he asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“She?” you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Call it a hunch,” he shrugged.

“Oh, I gotta hear this. Please share your theory, Detective Phillips.” You tried to scoff but it turned into a laugh as he smiled sheepishly. 

“All the victims are male. All of them are jocks--most likely douchebag muscleheads--”

“Are you familiar with the type?”

He ignored your quip at his expense and continued talking. “I’m guessing we are dealing with a female vamp, scorned by an ex boyfriend and now that she has the power to do something about it, every poor sap that resembles him is getting the ax.” He drug his thumb across his Adam's apple and made a ‘ack’ noise in the back of his throat. 

“Solid theory,” you nodded, having to hand it to him.

“I’m also guessing she’s freshly turned by how messy the kills are and the tearing on the bite wounds.”

“Tearing? The police reports didn’t say anything about tearing.”

Max nodded and looked down at his shoes as the two of you turned the corner of a new row of gravestones. “Vampire fangs are like hypodermic needles--hollow on the inside. Let me show you.” You both stopped and he turned to face you. He held up his first two fingers and curved them down to imitate fangs, placing them on the side of your neck. “If done correctly and you bite straight down, then pull straight back up once you’re done,” he mimicked the action with his hand, pressing the blunt edges of his nails against your tender skin, making your arms break out in goosebumps. “The bite is hardly noticeable.”

“And if you pull out too quickly or to the side, it tears the skin?” You asked, swallowing hard and letting your shoulders relax as he moved his hand away from your neck. 

“Exactly,” he nodded. He held your gaze for an extra moment before clearing his throat and the two of you continued the path down the middle of the road that led to the mausoleum. “Unless you’re an experienced vampire, you don’t have the control to keep the bite that clean.”

“Charming,” you grimaced and he chuckled.

“What? Does a big, bad slayer like you not enjoy talking about fangs and blood?” He teased and you stayed quiet. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like talking about those things, you lived those things, fangs and blood were a part of your daily life. It was that you weren’t particularly fond of hearing him talk about those things. Lately the moments it became increasingly apparent that Max was undead had started to make you uncomfortable. But like all thoughts and feelings you didn’t fully understand, you pushed them down and compartmentalized them until they faded away. 

A crash of glass came from the back of the stone building and you thanked the universe for saving you from having to answer Max. The two of you looked at each other and you dropped your shoulders to let your leather jacket slide off into your hands. 

“Show time?” you asked, putting the jacket over a small statue of an angel with outstretched arms. 

“Absolutely.” Max mirrored you with his suit coat. He left the cuff-links at home to make it easier to roll up his sleeves. He adjusted his tie and tucked it into his vest for dramatic effect and you fought not to roll your eyes. He cracked his neck and if you weren’t staring at him you would have missed the flash of yellow amber that engulfed his normally brown irises. You were never going to get used to that.

You had a wooden stake in the holster on your thigh, freshly sharpened and ready for whatever was about to come around that corner. You hoped this was the vampire that had been killing all of those boys. You hoped this was the night that the two of you could finally stop this string of murders and crying parents.

“Take right, I’ll take left,” you nodded your head in each direction and watched as Max returned the motion before disappearing into the shadows on his side of the building. 

With eyes and ears straining for any sign of movement, you were careful of your steps. Your boots found easy purchase on the soft, marshy ground as you scanned the treeline on the other side of the pointed wrought-iron fence. Freshly turned baby vamps were your least favorite. There was a certain level of feral-ness to them that made them more dangerous. They lunged, they fought, they bit and scratched without abandon. Their actions were unpredictable and sporadic as they literally fought for their life with about as much coordination as a baby deer with too many teeth. You knew the myth that baby venomous snakes were deadlier than their parents--well, it was actually true when it came to vampires. 

Another sound came from the back of the building and you quickened your pace. Just as you topped the small hill at the back of the crypt a blur of white hit you at full speed like a freight train. Your back hit the ground hard. The dull pain of a stone or something blunt on the ground blossomed  between your shoulder blades and took the air from your lungs. Whatever had hit you landed on top of your chest, making breathing more difficult than it already was.

“Fuck!” you gave a strangled gasp and threw your forearms up to cover your face and neck. 

Just like you expected, it was a vampire. If it was the one you were looking for, that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was getting it off of you. 

It’s blonde hair fell around you as she hissed and spit and flashed her fangs. Her face was grotesque, pinching in the middle towards her nose, her cheekbones sat way too high up on her face, and the curve of her eyebrows arched in an almost cat like way that made her skull look perpetually angry. Her yellow eyes looked sickly and diseased, the black of her pupils forming into an elongated slit.

You pulled your fist back the second she closed her mouth and punched her in the jaw. She reeled back a bit but it didn’t get her off of you. “Have you been killing those boys at the university?”

“They got what they deserved,” she snarled and you nodded. 

“That answers that.” 

Max had been right and you were never going to hear the end of it. You pulled your knee up and tried to press it into her chest. With the right amount of leverage, she toppled backwards and you held onto her letting the momentum pull you to your feet. You stumbled and caught yourself on a gravestone catching your breath before she grabbed you by the hair and slammed you into the marble wall of the crypt. You bit your lip, refusing to cry out and instead said through gritted teeth, “Where's Jason? Where’s your new boyfriend at?”

“Dead,” she smirked, pinning your arm behind your back and leaning in to whisper against your hair. “Where’s yours?”

“Right here!” Max said as he barreled into her and took her to the ground over one of the benches intended for visitors and mourners. He grabbed her by the base of the neck and snarled in her face as he bounced her skull off of the sidewalk. 

His face was contorted much like hers and as you slowly got to your feet, you forced yourself not to look away from it. That was the real him and you didn’t see it as often as you probably should in order to remember that. You pulled the wooden stake from its holster and started walking towards them.

“Max!” You called and he looked over his shoulder and caught your eye. 

He looked at the stake before giving a short nod and flipping the two of them over. He braced his arm as he held the snapping, snarling woman away from his face and you stood over her. With a raise of your arms and a quick line of sight to make sure you hit the heart, you brought the sharp piece of wood down into her back and felt it go through to the front of her chest. 

She screamed, jaw widening before her entire body exploded in a cloud of black dust that quickly dissipated into the night air leaving no trace of her existence. You let out a hard breath and held out your hand to help Max stand up. 

“Thanks,” you said, as he took it and got to his feet. 

“Any time.”

“She got the jump on me. I’m off my game.” You shook your head and silently cursed yourself for letting it happen. 

“I see that.” Max motioned to your cheek and you watched as his pupils dilated like a great white shark. His face was once again the smooth perfection that it always was, but his eyes stayed that alarming yellow.

You touched the apple of your cheek and it felt wet, the bright red drops of your own blood sat on the tips of your fingers. “Shit.” It was as if bringing your attention to it made a dull ache settle on the side of your face. “I guess she got me against the stone.” You nodded back to the pillar of the crypt and went to wipe it off on your jeans.

“Wait,” Max said curtly as his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist. The muscles in his neck twitched and if he had a working heart you were fairly certain you would have been able to hear it from where you stood. His tongue licked his bottom lip slowly.

“Max--” you cautioned, starting to pull your wrist back but his grip tightened. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, flatly.

It wasn’t a command, it was a challenge. If you wanted him to stop, he would, but he was banking on the hunch that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew that after months of back and forth, of testing each other, and pushing one another’s buttons, it was bound to come to a head eventually. If you were being honest with yourself, Max fucking Phillips was the only constant thing in your life recently, and that should have scared you to death. 

“Even I know--it’s a shame to waste a single drop of Slayer blood.” He brought your fingers to his mouth and held your gaze as he wrapped his lips around them, hollowing his cheeks gently and sucking the small amount off your skin. You bit your lip and blushed as he freed your fingers with a gentle pop and hummed. “Just like I thought.”

“What?” You asked, hating how breathy and soft your voice was.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

The groan that came from the back of your throat was downright shameful but you wanted to do anything in your power to wipe that look off of his face. If you looked insufferable up in the dictionary, you knew there would be a picture of Max, but that didn’t stop you from raising up on your toes, putting your hand behind his neck and crashing your mouth against his. He closed those unnerving yellow eyes and dropped his head slightly so you didn’t have to stretch as far. When you felt his large hands settle on your hips, you knew it was game over. 

Max tasted just how you thought he would, like expensive liquor and a twinge of copper, the latter not being something you particularly wanted to dwell on. You gave up control of the kiss and let his tongue slip inside your mouth and taste you as well. Fair is fair. When you tried to pull back his head followed you like a dog on a leash and you gripped his hair to keep him at a distance. 

“Oh, boy--” you said, any anticipation you felt was mixed with the regret and trouble that would undoubtedly come with kissing Max Phillips. 

He chuckled deeply and wet his lips again with his tongue, the action plucking the chords of things low in your body. “Oh, boy, is right, sugar tits.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you sighed heavily and shoved him back against the concrete before devouring his mouth with your own again. Maybe if he didn’t speak you could pretend like whatever was happening wasn’t the end of the world as you knew it. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled against your lips as he bent his knees slightly and put both hands under your thighs. As he lifted, you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. Once your arms securely around his neck, another moan bubbled out of you when he flexed his hands on your ass. 

You thought you would never hear the end about his theory being right about the vampire, but this--this was a whole new level of trouble. And trouble was never something you wanted or particularly went out of your way to seek, and yet, it always seemed to find you.

--

Tag List: @stevieharrrr​ @winters-buck​ @zeldasayer​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @sendhoots​ @seawhisperer​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @robbinholland​ @scorpionsandhoney​

If you want to be added to my permanent tag list please let me know, I need to get one together for my one shots and stuff. 

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #bloodsucking bastards #Pedro pascal #pedro character fic #katryns FRW

[crownjimin]

✰ 099 | no takesies backsies

la vie en rose ━ in which lee aera, a girl who has been crushing on choi soobin for a long, long time, is starting her junior year and her friends decide that its time for her to make her move.

( masterlist | prev | next )

A/N: whoop! one more update + the epilogue and we’re donezo!!

“I can’t believe it’s really red—,” He flipped and shuffled his hands through her hair as he said this.

“So bright, so pretty,” Soobin muttered to himself, going as far as to bend down and push his nose into her scalp, taking a long, dramatic sniff. “Oh, it doesn’t smell like strawberries.”

Aera laughed at this, shoving her not-boyfriend away from her softly. “Of course not. That’s like me saying your hair should smell like chocolates.”

Soobin had recently dyed his hair back to brown--well, dark brown, and as much as it made Aera sad to see the purple gone from his hair, it was well past due. His roots had grown out terribly, meaning that he was either going to have to redo his roots or retreat back to his natural brown. Also, the purple was less purple and more of a faded ash gray, from all the washing Soobin did to his hair.

For a while, he was set on just letting his hair grow out, then cutting it at the brown once the ash gray was to the tips of his hair but Aera told him he would look crazy. They debated about it for a few days, but one day Aera showed up at his house with a kit with brown hair dye and a few hours later his chocolate brown locks were back. 

“Well, if you used strawberry shampoo it would smell like strawberries.”

“I will when you use chocolate shampoo.”

Soobin pouted. “I bet Ariel’s hair smells like strawberries.”

“Go sniff her head then,” the red-head quipped. “And I actually highly doubt that is true. She lives in the ocean, you know. The place where fish pee--that ocean.”

“Is there another ocean that I should be thinking of?”

“Yeah,” There was a teasing lilt in Aera’s voice. “The one I’m going to toss you in if you keep sassing me.”

The two were currently sitting in Soobin’s living room on Saturday morning, Soobin having asked Aera on Friday night if she wanted to spend the next day with him. Of course, without hesitation, Aera agreed, telling him that she would be there by ten, and now they were there.

Soobin had suggested watching YouTube in his living room until his mom got home from the gym, and Aera found no issue with the idea. During the past hour and a half, they had watched way too many Girls’ Generation music videos, and even attempted to learn the choreography to Catch Me If You Can. After forty minutes of them attempting to get past the first verse, they called it quits. Soobin claimed that he was too talented in girl group choreography to continue and further embarrass Aera with her lackluster movements.

But if you asked Aera, Soobin just didn’t want to have a dance battle, because he knew he was going to lose.

At noon, Ruha walked through the front door, her arms loaded with three market bags, filled to the brim with groceries.

“Soobin-ah,” Ruha yelled, a little too loud since she hadn’t realized he was right there in the living room. “Come help me with my bags!”

Both Soobin and Aera rushed to help Ruha, the older woman being slightly startled by Aera being there but she quickly perked up and said, “Oh good, Ae Ae is here. More hands to help!”

Everything felt so natural with Soobin and his family. Aera had spent a lot of time at his house since the picnic, and his parents seemed to love her. Soobin’s dad was obsessed when he saw how small Aera was, often leaning his elbow on her head whenever he stood beside her as a way to ridicule and tease her about her height. Then when she turned up with red hair, he almost had a better reaction than Soobin, dubbing her Strawberry Shortcake and hasn’t stopped calling her that since.

Aera had also gotten Soobin’s parents’ phone numbers, Ruha often texting Aera at random times throughout the day whenever Soobin talked about her.

ruha-ssi

he said you brought him lunch to school today. says that he loves how much you care about him

i’m sure he cares about me way more than i do him

ruha-ssi 

does he show it well?

that he cares for you.

wouldnt ask for him to treat me any better than he already

does ruha-ssi.

Or the time Ruha told her that Soobin was sleep talking and had muttered her name.

ruha-ssi

he’s napping.

[picture attached]

ruha-ssi

he just grumbled your name and had the biggest smile

aw that’s so cute

ruha-ssi

i know :)))

Soobin was aware that Aera had his mother’s number, but he didn’t know that his mother was revealing just how lovestruck he was. Aera didn’t plan on mentioning it to him either, thinking that Ruha is godsent for giving her so much dirt and content to tease Soobin with whenever he decided to get too sassy with her.

Plus, Soobin has had Dongmin’s phone number much longer than Aera has had Ruha’s, and she is one-thousand percent positive that her mother lived to embarrass her, so Soobin for sure had some dirt on her.

 It’s a win-win situation, all is fair in love and war.

“So, Soobin-ah,” Ruha spoke as she walked into the kitchen. “What time do you want to head out?”

Aera was busy placing things where they belonged from the market bags (yes, she knows where their groceries belonged—she’s been over there that much), but she raised an eyebrow at Ruha’s question.

“Head out where?” she asked.

“Soobin wanted to take you to an early dinner today,” Ruha paused, with a nervous expression on her face. “I-I don’t know if it was supposed to be a surprise or not-”

“No, mom, it’s fine,” Soobin waved it off. “It wasn’t really a surprise, I was gonna mention it to you later, Pouts.”

Aera walked out of the pantry, an excited glint in her eyes. “Will there be steak at this dinner?”

“Do you want there to be steak?”

“Yes.”

“Then there will be steak.”

━━━━━━━

The restaurant Soobin had chosen was very dark, Aera noted. The only light that was supplied was from a single candle lit in the center of the table, which left everything as shadows and tinted orange.

It seemed super expensive, and once Aera picked up the menu, her suspicions were confirmed.

“Soobi,” her voice seemed hesitant. “How are you affording any of this?”

She should’ve realized that the meal was going to be an expensive one when Ruha had offered Aera one of her old dresses, seeing as Aera had came over to their house in a pair of ripped jeans and a tattered t-shirt. The dress Ruha lent her was a dark blue, high-necked dress, where the waist tapered in and then flowed out to mid-thigh. Luckily, Aera had worn black flats that day, those being the shoes closest to her front door when she left for Soobin’s house.

Soobin was dressed in a simple button up and black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the top button of his shirt was undone—if Aera hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought Soobin was a young adult that worked a nine-to-five office job and not a sixteen year old boy taking his not-girlfriend out for an early dinner.

Everything was fancy, and the two of them were tucked into a corner booth where once they sat down the hostess had wished ‘Mister and Missus Choi’ a nice evening. 

“Months of allowance that I’ve saved up,” Soobin lifted his gaze from the menu and once he saw how worried Aera was, he rushed to reassure her. “Plus, I work a summer job! Don’t worry, Pouts, I promise it’s not too much.”

“You don’t have to spend your allowance on me, Soobi,” she spoke softly. “You should spend it on something you really want-something to make you happy.”

“Seeing you happy makes me happy.”

Aera blushed. “Don’t try to flatter me into running your pockets dry.”

“Ae Ae, seriously,” Soobin put down his menu and reached his hands across the table to touch her hands, which laid on the table. He tugged her index fingers once, attempting to soothe her and get her to not worry. “It’s fine. If it makes you feel better we can just split something, so that way I won’t have to spend much.”

The crease in her eyebrows gradually faded and she nodded in agreement. “Are you okay with splitting a steak?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Just order whatever, I’ll eat anything.”

Aera looked over the menu, her eyes skipping over the more expensive items but honestly the cheapest things were the hor d'oeuvres and even those weren’t cheaper than 74,000 won. 

“How about I choose one, you choose one, then we pick something together?” she suggested. “That way we can both enjoy something.”

By the time the waiter came to the table, they had decided on their personal picks and their combined choice, and once the food came to the table, Aera knew it was more than enough. The steak she had chosen ended up being as big as her face and had the both of them gasping in surprise once it was set on the table. Soobin decided on a rose pasta, in a dish large enough that it could feed a family of five. And their combined choice was a large platter of American-style french fries, but the way the menu phrased it made it seem like they were ordering a fancy potato.

Soobin offered to have the kitchen take it back, but Aera refused to give back french fries--she’d be crazy to ever turn down french fries (plus it came with a gravy boat filled with a white sauce that Aera could literally guzzle down in one go, so she was more than happy to keep it).

The moment the waiter told them to enjoy, Aera was shoving her fork into the steak, which was thankfully pre-cut, and the second she bit into it, juice ran down her chin and she had to squeeze every muscle in her throat to not let out a moan.

Soobin noticed her expression, the way her eyes fell close and she paused mid-bite. “Is it good, Pouts?”

“Tho goof,” she attempted to speak around her bite but she just gave up and nodded enthusiastically. 

“It’s so juicy,” she said once she swallowed. 

When they were ordering, she wanted to get the steak cooked well-done, but Soobin had told her to get it medium preaching something about it being more tender and juicer as if he knew everything and anything about steak. Aera argued and said she didn’t want to cut into her steak and hear it mooing back at her, and Soobin chuckled but promised if it was too raw for her when it came out, they could just send it back and she obliged.

She most definitely was not sending back this beautiful piece of heaven, and shoved another piece into her mouth. The scene from Ratatouille when the rat fused together strawberry and cheese and had color swirling around his head played inside Aera’s head the second she took another bite of the steak. Her eyes were closed, her head lolled from side to side as she swayed euphorically to the warmth of the steak and the flavor on her tongue.

Once she noticed what she was doing, she sat up stark straight and opened her eyes, watching as Soobin recorded her and laughed silently at her actions.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself alot there,” Soobin ended the recording and set his phone on the table.

“Delete that.”

“I won’t. Here,” Soobin held out his fork where some of his pasta was twirled on the end. “Try it.”

Aera opened her mouth, letting him guide the fork inside and once she closed her mouth around the fork, the Ratatouille scene played again. She pulled away from the fork, her hand shooting over her mouth as she chewed and her eyes shot wide.

“Good?” Soobin asked, stabbing his fork in a piece of steak and eating it, much less dramatically than Aera had. 

“Is amayshin,” Aera muttered. “Why ish ev-wee-shing hwere sho amayshin?”

Soobin swallowed and laughed. “It better be with these ridiculous prices.”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded and swallowed her bite. “It’s so worth it.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m glad I like you,” Aera giggled, shoving some fries into her mouth. “You buy me expensive steak.”

“Only because of the steak?”

She nonchalantly shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Soobin faked a scoff, halfway knowing she was joking, but once he watched her pick up another piece of steak, and then kiss it before she ate it, he wasn’t so sure if she was joking anymore.

━━━━━━━━━

Thirty-five minutes and an entire steak later, Aera and Soobin were slouched over, bellies full, with their plates cleared.

“I am going to sleep so well tonight,” Aera grumbled as she rubbed her stomach. “This was so amazing.”

The waiter came to give the receipt and return Soobin’s card, wishing ‘Mister and Missus Choi’ a good night, and left them to their vices. Aera chuckled at being called Missus Choi, because did she look old enough to be married?

Did married people dye their hair red? She didn’t know but did she look married? Did her and Soobin resemble a married couple? Oh god, that just fueled her fantasy of marrying Soobin and she knew that she would never let this go.

“Alright,” Soobin groaned, shoving the receipt and card into his pocket as he stood and rounded the table, reaching his hand out to help Aera up from her chair. “You okay?”

Aera blew out a breath. “I’m stuffed.”

They both stood in place, Aera swaying a bit from standing up too quickly and Soobin attempted to stabilize her by setting a hand on her waist. “Careful.”

“I’m fine,” she tapped his hand on her waist. “I’m okay, just stood up a little too fast. Let’s go.”

They walked out of the restaurant hand-in-hand, Soobin somewhat leading Aera as she momentarily closed her eyes as a way to wheeze out air around her full belly. This was the best meal she has had in entire life, one that she never imagined having unless she was filthy rich and drank gold for breakfast, lunch, and dinner but here Soobin was taking her on a date just because he wanted to see her happy.

When they made it outside, Aera tugged his hand, causing him to stop and turn to her. She eased her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder as she softly hugged him. He returned the gesture immediately, cuddling his head on top of hers and they just existed in the moment, in each other’s arms.

“Thank you for this, Soobin,” Aera squeezed him tightly, nuzzling her head further into his shoulder. “You made me really happy by doing this—you make me happy always.”

“I’m happy to make you happy,” Soobin chuckled, pulling away from the hug. “But the night isn’t over, we have one more stop!”

“Is  it far?”

Soobin nodded. “My mom is going to take us there. She’s on her way here now.”

“Where is it?”

“The beach.”

“The beach?”

Soobin nodded again. “The beach.”

“The beach,” Aera said flatly. “I like the beach.”

“That’s why we’re going.”

“Hm,” Aera sighed happily. “The beach.”

━━━━━━━━━━

Upon their arrival, Aera realized that when Soobin said the beach, he actually meant the boat dock by the beach. Well more like the yacht dock by the beach, because as they made their way to the end of the dock, they passed massive yachts, the type that only rich people could afford. Ones with balconies and two-stories that have some corny name etched onto the side that were either named after an important woman in their life or something like Old Betsy.

“What are we doing on a dock,” Aera giggled, swinging her and Soobin’s hands where they were connected. “I’m almost positive we aren’t supposed to be here.”

Soobin laughed as they came to stop in front of one of the smaller yachts, which wasn’t exactly small (but in comparison to the other yachts it was more compact), where a man was waiting for them.

“Choi Soobin?”

“Yes sir,” Soobin nodded, then gestured behind him. “And this is my mother, Ruha.”

The man extended his hand to Ruha, giving it a firm shake. “Yes, we spoke on the phone. Everything is set, if you guys want to climb on in, we’ll head out in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Ruha said as the man helped her onto the yacht by her hand. 

The man then lent his hand to Aera, but instead of grabbing it, she took a step back, a conflicted look on her face.

“Wait,” Soobin placed his free hand on Aera’s wasit, causing her to look up at him. “You aren’t afraid of water, right? Boats or anything? Because I was just trying to surprise you, that’s why I didn’t as-”

“No, no,” Aera shook her head. “That’s not it, but Soobin how much was this?”

Soobin raised an eyebrow at the question, confused as to why she was asking this. “What?”

“It’s just—” she sighed. “You’re spending a lot of money today, and I don’t want you to think you have to blow a bunch of money just to make me happy. You could’ve just given me a bottle of water and I’d be happy that it came from you, so I don’t get why you are taking me to all these expensive places and things.”

“I just want to spoil you,” he softly replied. “Even if it’s just for a day. I want you to have some of the best experiences with me, so I don’t mind spending a lot of money on you.”

“But, Soob-”

“And plus,” Soobin smiled wide. “My friends chipped in to help, they wanted to make us both happy so they offered to help. You don’t have to pay them back, I don’t have to pay them back, they were just doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. Me as well.”

Aera stood there frozen.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“But I’m already happy with you.”

Soobin leaned down to rest his forehead on Aera’s. “Yes, but you’d be even more happy on the boat, so let’s go!”

Aera laughed as she reached out for the man’s hand, him having stood there and watched that whole sappy ordeal, and he pulled her into the boat. Soobin followed and guided Aera to the very front of the yacht, where Ruha sat with a blanket over her legs.

“Choi Soobin, this will be the last time you spend a shit ton of money on me, do you understand?” Aera scolded, her finger pointed at Soobin but a smile was on her face.

“Yes, ma’am, never again,” Soobin spoke jokingly, totally not meaning a word of what he just said. 

“You’re not going to listen to me are you?”

“Nope.”

The yacht got moving a few moments later, things feeling a bit shaky for a few minutes, but Aera acclimated to it quite fast. She and Soobin had taken to roleplaying the scene from Titanic that nearly everyone does when they are at the frontmost point on a boat.

Soobin held her waist as Aera held her arms out to her side, feeling the wind whip on her face and the smell of salt infiltrate her nose.

“The ocean is kind of stinky,” her nose scrunched up as she said this. “Smells like raw fish and high cholesterol.”

Soobin cackled, tightly wrapping his arms around Aera’s waist as he pulled her into his chest, her back to her front. “You ruined such a good moment.”

She giggled, placing her hands over his arms and squeezed. “I was just telling the truth.”

“Kids!” Ruha called out. “Come sit down for a few minutes, you’re making me nervous by the ledge.”

They obliged, walking to sit across from Ruha and they talked amongst themselves for a few minutes, playing a few rounds of rock paper scissors to pass the time.

“So are we just going to cruise around the ocean for a few hours or what?” Aera asked, peering over the side of the boat to look down into the water. “Because no offense to the ocean or anything, but this is a bit boring.”

Soobin pulled out his phone, checking the time before he answered, “Actually, no. Just seven minutes until what we came here for happens.”

Aera looked intrigued now, “Oh, is it fireworks? Are we looking at fireworks?”

“I don’t think lighting explosives on a yacht would be smart.”

“A yacht,” Aera chuckled. “Never thought I’d see one of these in my entire lifetime.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

“I’m glad my first time was with you,” she softly spoke, her voice almost a whisper.

“Me too,” Soobin smiled. “We’ll have many firsts together, hopefully.”

“Hopefully.”

At the moment, they were sitting side-by-side with their waist turned to face one another, but Soobin pointed behind Aera as he muttered, “Look.”

Aera turned her body around, to face the ocean, a gasp leaving her mouth as she absorbed the breathtaking scene in front of her. She watched as the sun burned a hypnotizing orange and pink hue, reflecting on the ocean’s surface. Slowly, the orb lowered to meet the horizon line, kissing it softly as the glares glittered across the rippling water.

She had seen nothing like this, ever. Mother nature and the Earth’s natural occurrences never appealed to Aera, they were never something she found interesting or attention-catching, but this—this was so worth it.

Her awestruck trance was broken when Soobin rested his chin on her shoulder, whispering, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s-I-” Aera searched for the right words but there were none that could accurately describe exactly what she was witnessing. It made her speechless, her jaw going slack as she once again watched the sun move lower and lower.

They sat in silence, taking in the scenic view before them. Ruha sat opposite of them, snapping pictures of the sunset as she oh’ed and aw’ed at the scene.

“Pouts,” Soobin muttered into her ear, keeping his voice low so as to not ruin the moment. “I, uh-”

“Hm, Soobi?”

“Please, be my girlfriend.”

All of Aera’s breath left her body, all of her blood seemed to run cold. Was she hallucinating? Was she hearing things?

“Huh-” Oh god, she sounded so stupid. Who responds to the boy of their dreams asking them to be their girlfriend with ‘huh’.

“I-” Soobin sat up straighter, Aera being able to feel so behind her. “I really like you-no, love you, and I want to be with you. Officially. For a very long time.”

Aera eased her way around, turning to face Soobin who looked like he was going to pass out any second if she didn’t give him an answer within the next millisecond. So she carefully raised her hands to his cheeks, cupping his face softly.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Choi Soobin,” she breathed. “I’d kind of be an asshole if I said no after all of this, am I right?”

Soobin held onto her wrists. “I hope that isn’t the sole reason you are saying yes.”

“Lucky for you, it is not. It’s probably one of the lower list reasons.”

“There’s a list?”

She giggled. “There has always been a list.”

The sound of her giggle seemed to have him smitten, his eyes zoning in on her lips which caused her heart to skip a beat. She wasn’t dumb, she knew what he was thinking of, what his eyes were asking for, and for some reason, she had no qualms about complying.

Her first kiss was always something Aera fretted about, thinking about how awful it was going to be, how she was going to mess everything up. But for some reason, right here, right now, with Soobin, she knew for a fact it was going to be amazing. This is maybe the first and only decision Aera didn’t hesitate to make, and so she leaned in.

The touch of their lips was soft. Simple. A measly, quick peck.

When they pulled back, both of their cheeks were colored rose, a look of fondness between the two of them and Aera leaned in to kiss the the corner of Soobin’s mouth before pulling away and dropping her hands from his face.

“No takesies backsies, Choi Soobin.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lee Aera.”

#choi beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #hueningkai #kang taehyun #kpop #choi soobin x female oc #social media au #txt #txt social media au

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 13 "The Final Girl(s)"

"It was a plan 20 years in the making. And it worked."

"Now, this is a hammer. Hammers are good for bashing people in the skull and watching them bleed to death, okay?"

"Easily cuts through muscle and bone, and has the added advantage of making sure your victim's final emotion is terror."

"I needed a persona to hide behind while we murdered people and stuff."

'As for me, what I've noticed is that the more weird and gross you are, the less people want to know about you. No one asks the kid with terrible acne what their favorite movie is or where they were born."

"My butt could launch a thousand ships."

"All killers have a cool costume; Jason with his hockey mask, Freddy Krueger's sweater and hat, Cujo's totally realistic dog costume."

"Unisex, kind of satanic. But not, like, a giant goat head satanic."

"I think he's dead."

"Stabbing can be pretty dramatic."

"Wait, we're spraying acid on the furniture?"

"Obvi, I was the brains of the operation."

"Your high school transcripts are clearly faked. And I'm guessing you made up your SAT scores, 'cause it's not possible to get one million percent on them."

"I've got a bedazzler back in my room."

"I hope you guys aren't freaked out by my appearance. Or lack of social skills and money."

"Come on. Let's go mingle, babies."

"I've always said that being nice is a really good quality. It could save your life one day."

"Order is restored, as they say. More than restored--reborn."

"I mean, someone had to take all the blame."

"Can we save the shoe?"

"Also, it helps to be completely frickin' insane."

"Because for a plan like this to work, you have to be willing to totally commit."

"I mean, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"This was the price I had to pay if I wanted to get away with murder and pin it all on someone else."

"Because some people don't deserve to just get murdered. They need to be truly punished."

"I didn't do it, I swear!"

"I'm one of the good guys!"

"You bite your own toenails."

"Okay, I am flexible."

"When I fart, I cup it in my hand and smell it."

"Dear god, shut up!"

"Oh, I see where this is going. You're gonna try and pin all of these murders on me so I spend the rest of my life in prison."

"The doctors were able to save my eyeball, and they said that I'm gonna make a full recovery."

"You're the killer!"

"Your entire life story is totally fabricated."

"She definitely was not adopted."

"Wait, I do know! I know where I know you from. You're from that prostate commercial."

"We took her in out of the kindness of our hearts. And also for the tax deduction."

"As soon as she learned to talk, I wanted to disown her."

"Our daughter sucks."

"But, sweetie, you're toxic, and you're bumming us out, so it's time for you to go."

"You can't arrest me-- don't you need, like, a warrant or something from a judge?"

"Wait, you think I'm the killer?"

"Well, just saying you saw something isn't evidence."

"Uh, if you're gonna just continue to accuse everyone, could we at least sit down?"

"I don't have a diners club card! Is diners club still even a thing?"

"I didn't know the oil was boiling!"

"What is your game here?"

"I mean, I am a pillar of this community."

"What better way for you to knock off everyone that you hate, because they're different from you or not as popular or not as pretty, than to murder them one by one?!"

"This is what I like to call first-class entertainment."

"You'll never take me alive!"

"Are these strippers?"

"I just don't understand how you just end it."

"I don't have a choice is what I'm telling you."

"Don't let it end like this."

"It was never gonna work out between us."

"We got too close to the sun, baby. We shined too bright."

"I promise I will never bang anyone the way I banged you."

"What do you mean, "what charity"? Just charity. All proceeds will go to charity."

"My friends are dead! I have nothing left!"

"I wrote up a quick book and became a media sensation."

"Women are better."

"If you think about all of human history, add up the wars and the genocide, all the oppression, the violence, the exploitation, the degradation of the human spirit, what do all those things have in common? Dudes. They have dudes in common, right?"

"It's true, a lot of people had to die to make that happen, but I often catch myself thinking, "you know what? Maybe it was worth it."

"But I suppose money still talks."

"We're gonna make cookies and brownies, and eat them while we talk about our feelings."

"At least some good came out of all of that evil."

"These kids were martyrs for a much bigger cause."

"It's not my fault that all of that happened to me."

"Maybe if I would've had a real dad, my brother wouldn't have turned into such a douche."

"They're dead. And that is your fault."

"I didn't kill any of these kids."

"Are you getting me a car?"

"I think you need your space."

"I was under the impression that I had the inalienable right to a jury of my peers. Look at these hippos. These are not my peers."

"This is a kangaroo court."

"You can't ignore the verdict."

"My dad is super gross rich. Like, disgusting rich. He'll have me out of prison in no time."

"You're going to an asylum."

"You're rude, entitled, narcissistic, racist and insane."

"Your entire defense consisted of you screaming at the jury that you didn't kill anybody and then threatening to kill them if they found you guilty."

"I think I'm ready to show you my ears."

"I love it here! I never want to leave!"

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay starters #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #scream queens

[rdmdani]

Raincheck? (Peter Parker)

Summary: You and Peter have been in love with each other since you were kids, but who will admit it first? 

Warnings: fluff, sexual sayings 

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker

Word count: 1850

“Okay, spill it,” MJ said as soon as she sat in front of you in the cafeteria. Of course you knew exactly what she was talking about, but there was no way you were going to give it up that easily. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about, MJ,” you said with a small smile, poking your fork into a fry and chewing the ends off. She rolled her eyes at you with a glare causing you to hold your hands up, feigning innocence, “What?” 

“Do not what me, Y/N Y/L/N,” MJ snapped, throwing a grape at your forehead, “You know what I am talking about, but I’ll play along just because you’re my friend. You. Parker. Kiss on cheek. Winking. Staring at each other in math class. Your turn.” 

“It’s nothing I swear,” you said sweetly, “he’s my friend. My super cute, super funny, and ridiculously smart friend that I want to make out with every time I see him. That’s all.” 

“That’s all? Really? That’s all?” MJ repeated incredulously and very loudly, which was not like her at all, “You and that idiot have been making sex eyes at each other since you grew boobs, Y/N. Just fucking ask him out or kiss him already! It’s getting pathetic!” 

“Tell me how you really feel, friend,” you sassed back, stabbing another fry with your fork, “It isn’t that simple. I don’t want our story to be we liked each other and flirted for years, then one day… I jumped his bones like a rabid dog.” 

“So romantic,” MJ swooned sarcastically, “Your future children will love it. And so would Parker if you would make his dreams come true and do it.” 

“Peter isn’t like that,” you sneered at your best friend, wanting to get off the topic, “He doesn’t think of me like that. If I just jumped his bones out of nowhere he’d probably freak out, forget how to speak, and run away.”

“I mean, you could just ask him,” MJ pointed out, “Since he’s like right there.” She pointed behind you, causing your heart to begin to race a million miles a second, but when you turned around the only person you saw was Ned. 

“You fucking suck, MJ,” you growled as you made eye contact with the girl once again. She just chuckled and shrugged before going back to her lunch. You, however, didn’t feel hungry anymore, “Ned, you can have the rest of my food on one condition…”

“Don’t tell Peter what I heard, got it,” he said cooly before plopping down in the seat and snagging a few fries off your plate. You nodded and muttered a ‘thank you’ before leaving the lunch room with a sour feeling in your stomach.

--

“Y/N?” you heard his voice behind you as you wandered aimlessly through the hallways. When you turned you came face to face with the very boy you couldn’t seem to get out of your head the past few years prior. He jogged up to you with his usual sloppy smile on his face. You stopped dead in your tracks, imagining everything MJ had put into your brain. You imagined what it would feel like, what he would smell and taste like… but no he was your friend. Just your friend. 

��Hey Pete,” you said cooly to the boy who stood barely a foot away from you, “Why aren’t you in lunch?” 

“I uh- I saw you leave,” he said bashfully, rubbing the back of his head, “I wanted to make sure you were okay and all. You are, right? Okay I mean.” 

You laughed at the innocent boy as you nodded your head, “Yeah I’m fine, just a busy mind. Was really loud in there, couldn’t really concentrate, y’know?” 

“Yeah I get that a hundred percent… we can go somewhere quiet,” he said, but then his eyes got super wide and he began to panic, “I mean like to help you calm down and concentrate, I mean. Not in a weird I-wanna-get-you-alone way, that would be t-totally weird.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at the boy, seeing him wring his hands wildly, “Peter are you okay?”

“Definitely fine,” he nodded, gulping sharply, “Just having c-concentrating issues as well.” His eyes quickly wandered down your frame, but you pushed it aside. There was nothing more to it, there couldn’t be. Peter was just being his usual weird self that he always was.

“Well we can go to that quiet place then,” you confirmed, placing your hand on his in a calming manner. Peter just nodded silently before leading the way.

-

Both of them sat on the roof of the building in silence. You had your feet dangling over the edge, staring out into the city. Peter was sitting against the building, his eyes closed tightly as he thought about the same things you were. You had your mind swarming with thoughts of him, and all he could think of was you. He just wanted to know what it would be like to be yours and only yours. You knew everything about him. Even about his whole alter ego. You were the first to figure it out. It was too obvious for you to not notice. But somehow you didn’t realize that his eyes never strayed away from you for a moment since the two of you met. 

“Y/N?” Peter called out from his spot against the brick wall. 

“Yeah?” your voice came out calm and dreamy as you were stuck in your head. Peter walked up behind you, but you were too in your head to realize just yet. 

“Y/N…” his voice was so soothing to you, drawing you out of your daydream, “Can I ask you something without being mocked or judged?” You turned towards the boy and nodded your head. 

“Of course you can, I’m always here for you Pete,” you smiled, restraining yourself from reaching out to stroke the boys cheek sweetly. 

“I like this girl,” he started. Your heart lurched in your chest, but you didn’t speak or show it, “She is drop dead gorgeous and insanely smart… and I want to ask her out, but I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve stopped robberies, but I am terrified to ask out the girl of my dreams,” he laughed, berating himself, “What should I do?” 

You had tears edging your eyes, but you held them in to the best of your ability, turning away to face the city once again, “She’s so lucky to be admired by someone like you, Pete. Just tell her that you like her, tell her everything that makes you like her. Speak from the heart, and I know she’d never reject you because you’re amazing…”

“But what if she thinks of me as just a friend? What do I do then?” 

“Then you have to respect her and let her go,” you said strongly, holding back a sob, “If she doesn’t like you, there is no way for you to force it on her. But, like I said, there is no way she wouldn’t like you. You’re smart, funny, and brave. I mean, look at you. You’re the definition of adorable, Peter. If she says no to you, just know it does not mean that there is anything wrong with you, you’re amazing. Trust me.” 

Peter looked at you for a moment, his cheeks glowing a bright red, “I have something else I need to say then.”

You turned towards the boy with furrowed brows as he continued, “Y/N I have had the biggest crush on you since we were little. You’re breathtakingly smart and kind and God you are gorgeous. I have wanted to tell you this since the day I accidentally dropped pudding on your brand new shoes, except that back then I didn’t understand that me losing my breath looking at you meant I liked you- I actually went to the doctor because I thought I had asthma. You figured my secret out within days of me having it, and the fact that you did made me realize just how much attention you pay me and I swear I thought I would faint right there. God, I just want you to be mine- in a totally not-creepy-and-possessive way, but in a I-want-to-die-with-your-hand-holding-mine way,” he rambled, searching your face for some sort of reaction. Instead he just found pure shock. You didn’t say a single word to him. Physically, you couldn’t. At that very moment you thought your heart would burst out of your chest if you even tried. So you just stared, trying to break yourself free so you could tell him how much you wanted the exact same thing he did. 

Peter stood there, staring at you in desperation. You watched as his facial expression died down to a broken look, “I guess this is the let go part of your advice…” he sighed as he turned away. Suddenly you broke free, terrified to miss this chance you have waited years for. 

“Wait!” you shouted as you took off in his direction. He turned around at just the right time, catching you in his arms as you pressed your lips against his. He didn’t waste a moment before hungrily kissing you back. You couldn’t find the words to say, so instead you were going to show him. Your hands wrapped around his neck, intertwining your fingers with his curls and tugging lightly. The boy moaned into the kiss, deepening it as he stepped forward towards the side of the building to press you against it. 

Peter gently pressed you into the wall, his hands going from your waist up to your face and holding it gingerly. This was everything he had dreamed about but a three thousand times better. He could feel every single goosebump on his body rising underneath her fingertips as she dragged his hands down his chest and into his shirt, feeling his abs underneath it. A lusty growl escaped from his lips at the feeling of you attempting to tug his shirt off before he pulled away, worried he would push it all too far, plus he needed to breathe. 

“Y/N,” he whispered against your neck, breathing heavily, “I don’t want to… you know… until you’re ready.” He was ready, hell he was more than ready, but he wanted to make sure you were sure.

“Peter,” you giggled, “I have been ready for a while now… but how about we not do it on the roof of the school?” Peter looked you in the eyes for a moment, taking in the sight of you with rosy cheeks and plump red lips. Hearing you breathing heavily from his touch… 

“I one hundred percent would take us to either mine or yours right now… but I don’t have my suit up here with me,” he sighed in regret, “Raincheck?” 

You laughed and nodded, “Raincheck… but as for now…” 

Without another word, you and Peter locked lips once again, taking in the taste of each other like you both were starving.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland jealous #tom holland insert #tom holland fluff #tom holland x best friend!reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #tom holland imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #spider man #spider man homecoming #spider man far from home #spiderman x reader #zendaya #jacob balaton #iron mike #endgame

[kevkesblog]

Translation: Julian Brandt Interview for “11 Freunde” (June 18, 2020)

Attention: long post! Julian talks about overblown salaries in football, why he even stays at two-star hotels, why he thinks football should not be dramaticly reformed and why you won’t see him in Gucci clothing & more.

Julian Brandt, what do you miss the most at the moment?

Ju:     Just going outside and sitting in a café with some friends. Enjoying a bit more freedom. But I think many people have the same wishes right now.

Yet, the break because of the Corona pandemic seem to have lifted you. You were involved in all four goals during the 4-0 win against Schalke.

Ju:     I would still have preferred it, without the break. I mean it’s like this: sometimes you need just a few days to arrive at a place, sometimes it takes months. Feeling well in a city, a club and with my teammates is important. I’m a football player that needs a comfortable environment.

How was it for you at BVB in the beginning?

Ju:     There were definitely no fireworks at the beginning. But honestly, I kind of expected to need more time. I think thats normal after five and a half years at Bayer Leverkusen. It was a great time there, but in the end it was a comfort zone for me. I switched to BVB because I wanted to do something new.

And because Marco Reus asked you.

Ju:     Many people were in favour of me going to Dortmund. Even my mother wore yellow pullovers astonishingly often, during the time before my transfer happend. And Marco asked me at the national team, that’s true. I felt honored, but I saw a chance playing for a team which plays competitively for the title until the end of the season and is represented in the Champions League regularly, those were the main reasons for my transfer.

What else is different in Dortmund than in Leverkusen?

Ju:     Dortmund is bigger in almost every regard. Even the stadium is enormous and it becomes even more imposing with people in it. Building such a stadium somewhere is one thing. Brining it to live however like in Dortmund – that’s an art in and of itself. You don’t get that very often in Europe. Leverkusen – and I have to be honest here – has never been on my radar for me as a boy. But it’s the perfect club if you want to develop as a young player. I already suspected this after I talked to Rudi Völler for the first time.

I was told, you said „Rudi Völler has honest eyes“ to your father afterwards.

Ju:     He has a sincere attitude. I would have believed everything he said. And his promises became reality. We were playing attractive and successful football. And you don’t get so much pressure as a young player from the outside. The media landscape for example is much smaller in Leverkusen than elsewhere.

Do you miss the fans in the stadium in Dortmund?

Ju:     I was never that guy who was aware of stuff that happend on the stands. But after the game against Inter Mailand, where we were behind 0-2 before the break and won 3-2 in the end – I recognized how important football is for the people here and how much they were willing to support us. It was so honest, authentic and direct. One of the best games thus far.

Before that Michael Rummenigge critized you as „C-youth player“. That was after the Inter game where you scored as well. Was that a key moment?

Ju:     Everybody can voice their opinions that’s totally fine for me. I’m not a person who jumps on it.  And I wasn’t really satisfied with my game as well. Perhaps the 2-1 win against Gladbach a few days before was a turning point. Not only, because I scored twice, but rather because I was able to play on the ten for the first time. After that my game became better.

You said in the beginning of your time at BVB „Peter Bosz liked the risk. We don’t really have that here in Dortmund“. Did the way you play now changed?

Ju:     We play nice football under Lucien Favre. He likes an offensive tactic. Adding that, we score alot of goals. But Peter Bosz was a special coach in that regard because we played a modern version of football with a high amount of ball possesion – often over 80 percent. And we not only wanted to keep the ball all the time, while playing until our opponent gets tired like it’s the case with tiki-taka football. We were always on the attack. At BVB we put more emphasis on the defensive at the beginning. It was a change for me, since I wanted to have the ball and not running behind him all the time.

Is football an elegant game?

Ju:     My room as child was full of „Bravo“-magazine posters with offensive players. Nedved, Robinho, Del Piero and the best among the best: Ronaldinho. I liked it whenever players carry their street football skills to the pitch. Whenever somebody is looking for something spectacular. I want to gamble and not just act in a rigid system.

Doesn’t modern tactics prevent something like this?

Ju:     You are basically being funneled at youth football academies with: receive the ball, passing, receiving, passing. There a strict requirements you have to follow. But I think good teams need self-confident players, saying „No, I won’t fit in, but I rather go into a one-on-one situation“. We have such guys in our national team. Leroy Sané or Timo Werner. Kai Havertz is a player who has a street football mentality too. Often it looks very easy, but it’s not. It just passed over into blood.

You are wearing the jersey number 10 at the national team. Like you also wore at Leverkusen. Does that do something with you?

Ju:     I feel lighter in some sense. Perhaps because I know that you have to earn the number ten. Not like in the past, but I do think it has a certain meaning yes.

We heard you don’t like to talk about your strengths. Why?

Ju:     I think, it looks like I’m a show off. I have enough self-confidence already.

Yet you do know that you can shoot really good. Who taught you?

Ju:     Many things happened because I just tried. I even knew as a ten-year old boy: if I want to become a great football player I have to be able to shoot well with both feet. So, for weeks I shoot with my left foot on our lawn. Shot, flank, pass. It helped a lot. I met Federico Palacios during my youth time in Wolfsburg. He taught me insane techniques. I had a phase were I was obsessively training my first contact: not trying to stop the ball between the lines, but rather take the ball without defender nor midfielder getting the ball instead.

What are your weaknesses?

Ju:     My headers. But I’m currently working on it and I often score. At least without opponent (laughs). Some people say I can work more on my defensive work. And yes, there is some truth to it, even after I already worked on it for quite some time. The thing is: I’m not an aggressive person, its not who I am. But of course, I understand whenever coaches say I need to have a certain minimum amount of aggressive behavior on the pitch.

Do you have a career plan?

Ju:     No, everything I do, I do spontaneously.

But everything you do looks so reasonable: youth football for your home club. Training at a football academy in Wolfsburg. Professional debut at Bayer Leverkusen, your transfer to BVB a year ago…

Ju:     Honestly: I could not have imagined going to VfL Wolfsburg as well at the beginning. Why should a boy do this, when he basically grew up just a 20 minute bike ride away from the Weser stadium in Bremen and was standing in the fan curve in his youth?

Because Werder [Bremen] overlooked you?

Ju:     That’s not true. I even got invited to a try-out training. But then I looked at some other academies. I wasn’t only looking at VfL Wolfsburg. For example I looked at FC St. Pauli as well. Yet, I had the best feeling with Wolfsburg.

Why?

Especially during the ages 15 to 18 a lot is happening: you grow, your muscle mass is increasing, you slowly get to play with the professionals. On the other hand, many doors are opening. Your friends go partying for example. I liked being on a football academy for two and a half years. You couldn’t leave the campus after 11 o��clock in the evening. Apart from that we were very successful and won the German a-youth championship. But I can still remember how perplexed my parents were at the breakfast table, back when I told them about my decision to join Wolfsburg.

You are being called the “Anti-Star” of the business quite often. Does that do something with you?

Ju:     Many people seem to think it’s probably because I have no tattoos and my father is my agent. But to be honest: there are some football player clichées I fit in. I like fast cars. I like playing playstation and I have 40 pairs of shoes in my closet. I just try not to pretend to be someone else. I wouldn’t look good in a Gucci-pullover.

Others like to call you “premature”. You were allowed to train with the professionals at the age of 15 in Wolfsburg. How did you do that?

Ju:     That was insane and unreal. I was riding my bike to the training ground one day and the assistant coach Bernd Hollerbach took me to his side and said: “Introduce yourself to the coach”. So, I went into his office. “Hello Mr. Magath, I’m Julian from the under-17 team.” Of course, I was suspecting he already knew me otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten an invitation. But he was just staring at the television. After a while – it felt like an eternity – he looked at me, didn’t say a word, total silence and then he turned away. And then I was sneaking out of the room.

Magath wanted to test you?

Ju:     I was unsettled a bit, but I wasn’t thinking about it anymore on the pitch. It doesn’t matter who is on your side, or whether your opponent is twenty years older than you and who your father is.

Did you nutmeg someone?

Ju:     I would have been beaten for that. On the other hand: the pain fades away, the nutmeg stays (laughs). I remember I unintentionally shoot a ball into Marvin Hitz’s face.

How many agents were lining up at your doorstep at the time?

Ju:     I stopped counting it after a while. I don’t think all agents are bad but I don’t need one at the moment. I have my father. He may not be Mino Raiola with thousands of contacts all over the world. But he doesn’t need them.

Nevertheless: this son-father-constellation also has it’s potential conflicts…

Ju:     Our family sticks together – we are very harmonic and strong. I can’t remember a time where we were had an argument. I lived together with my brother in Cologne. I also have a connection with my father because of football. He used to play for the first team at SC Borgfeld – which was also my first club. I still remember: we went into the clubhouse whenever the Champions League was on. It was the best day of the week.

Now it’s about big business. Do you know your own worth?

Ju:     It was downgraded since the outbreak of the pandemic. I read that on so some sites.

But it’s still 40 million euros. What does such a number do with you?

Ju:     I can handle that because I can manage those numbers quite well. There is a lot money floating around in football. And I know its not easy to comprehend it with normal standards anymore. We live in our own bubble in that regard. The salaries in football are in no relation to what normal people earn – even with football being the greatest sport on earth. But why is that the case? Because sponsors are flushing so unbelievable high amounts of money into football. I think it’s important not to make the sport a luxury item. It has to stay affordable. In the stadium as well as in front of the TV.

Explain to us: why does a professional football player negotiate whether he should get 10 or 11 million euros per year?

Ju:     It shows how greedy people can be sometimes. But that’s not football specific. It’s as unfair as the richest one percent of the world’s population owning more than half of the world’s wealth, right?

Could this crisis perhaps be a chance in order for football to calm down?

Ju:     Perhaps in the short term. For the next one or two years. If any. I can’t imagine a player like Mbappé being sold next year for 80 million euros. Someone will always pay those insane sums of money.

How do you ground yourself?

Ju:     Through my family and friends. Many are studying or doing an apprenticeship. It’s never about money when we talk, I just like having a great time with them. We don’t need a luxury vacation. But one time: we went to Mallorca for four or five days just as we qualified for the Champions League with Bayer Leverkusen. We stayed at a normal two-star-hotel, one room with a bed and a bathroom – that was it. We went to the beach and relaxed.

Has there never been a situation where a friend or family member had to take you back to the ground?

Ju:     No. I can’t remember that I ever reacted arrogant or snooty. Or a situation where I thought: “Wow. That’s not who you are”. I’m fully aware of my very privileged life. In short: my greatest worry is whether we will win or loose on the weekends. It’s important to be thankful and to remind yourself what you got every once in a while.

Why do you have to remind yourself stuff like that all the time?

Ju:     In order for it never to become normal. I know cheese costs about 69 cents at the grocery store and a different one costs 1,29 euros. But if a tool or device breaks down I sometimes just buy myself a new one. Whereas in the past I would have repaired it by myself.

But is football still the same game you fell in love with as a kid?

Ju:     Absolutely. The game itself hasn’t really changed much. Okay, we have the goal line technology – which I support. And we got the video assistant referee, were people can argue. I abstain in that question. Once in a while, new ideas are being floated: like reducing the playtime to 60 minutes, new tournaments, elite leagues – I think it’s all bullshit. Keep football like it is. The way we learned it. With all its faults and tricky aspects. Even if something goes wrong.

Like during the World Cup 2018. Did you know that you could be the first DFB-team leaving the tournament after the group stage?

Ju:     At some point he heard of it. It doesn’t really look good on your vita but it happened. Perhaps we needed this in order for something new to emerge. You have to remember: other great football nations also failed in similar ways. Italy, Spain or France all crashed out of the group stage after they won the World Cup.

Did the photo with Mesut Özil and Erdogan brought some unrest into the team?

Ju:     The fact that almost all reporting was revolving around that topic was irritating sometimes. Don’t get me wrong: I think its important for the media to cover political topics extensively and with background stories. But I remember after the game against Sweden – after we barely won because of Toni Kroos free kick: shortly after the game you get asked whether the poor performance during the first 75 minutes were due to the photo – and you thinking: why don’t we talk about the game? Mesut became the poster boy for the disappointing World Cup. That’s nonsense. We all played shitty.

During the Confed-Cup the year before, many young players were in the team. At the World Cup the established players came back. Did Löw put his trust into the wrong players in Russia?

Ju:     You can come to that conclusion afterwards, but you don’t know it in advance. I could fully understand Low though. He was loyal and in some cases he felt some gratitude. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to replace a World Cup winner from 2014 with a young player. The way we were defeated at the World Cup was not foreseeable. Because we also played great football between 2014 and 2018.

The team made it to the semifinals at the EURO 2016 and you became second with the Olympic football team in Rio.

Ju:     A great experience with a team that was just thrown together. A contribution of Horst Hrubesch.

What makes him special?

Ju:     He is just great, the guy! He’s from a different generation which you can tell with a lot of things around him. Once he wanted to show me how to shot from the side. I almost tore my muscle fiber doing it. But he manages it very well forming a team with young players. He’s a very free coach and very direct. He always called me lazy (laughs). And he has a very nice and dry sense of humor.

An example?

Ju:     Me and the Bender-twins were sitting together shortly before the semifinal against Nigeria. He came up and said: “Guys, losing today doesn’t make any sense anymore.” A funny sentence, but also true if you think about it.

Julian Brandt, you made over 200 Bundesliga games, played Champions League and participated in one World Cup. You just turned 24. Do you even still have time to suck it all in and enjoy it?

Ju:     Football is quick. I can still remember coming to Leverkusen – as if it was yesterday: my first game for the under 23 team against Essen. My Bundesliga debut against Schalke a week later. That was a little more than six years ago already. Crazy. Veteran players always say: “Enjoy it, because quickly your career will be over.” But how should you enjoy it? A game every four or five days. New photos, new events. You don’t have an awful lot of time to let everything sink in for a moment. I usually do that on new years eve. On a friend’s balcony. I even get sentimental then.

#julianbrandt #julian brandt #bayerleverkusen #borussiadortmund #bundesliga #bvb #dfb #diemannschaft #german nt

[destroy-the-cannon]

Title Pending Olivia x MC Fic, Chapter two

Hellooo! I’d like to start off with a quick apology. I had a bunch of family drama this week, so I’m aware that this chapter is a bit lackluster. I swear  that it’s not just a lack of talent! That’s only like ten percent of the problem! Anyways, here it is! 

Warnings: Sexual language, cursing.

Story Tags: (Eventual) lemon, slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst.

Taglist: @kingliam2019 , @kamilahsayeet2063

“Woah.”

Maxwell was craning his neck to inspect Paige’s outfit from where she stood on the steps. It felt strangely like a grown-up prom, gliding down the stairwell with all eyes on her (well, Maxwell’s eyes). She gave a little twirl, showing off her devastatingly expensive gown. The gown she’d had to buy herself. You’d think that riding with a noble would mean that they’d be willing to shell out a dime or two, but alas, she’d spent her own damn money on this. Not that she was bitter or anything.

She’d gone with the angel outfit. A glittery, cold shouldered bodice gave way to heavy skirts of layered tulle and silk. A delicate lacey mask fit over her eyes, and a fluffy little halo floated above her head. She felt genuinely angelic, like she could float right around the room.

“Man, you look amazing! You’ll definitely get the ladies in court talking.”

It was the night of the first ball of the season. Just a day ago, Paige had hopped on a plane and flown out to Cordonia. She was staying in the palace with all the other nobles until the tour started up. They were set to move all around the country to the various duchies of the various suitors. In the meantime, Paige was staying in a fabulous room in the back of the palace she’d spent all last night marveling at. Now, she was marching down to the introductory ball with Maxwell by her side. It was a masquerade event, hence the angel outfit. She was set to make an excellent first impression, something that was crucial to building the flawless reputation she was determined to possess. According to Drake, she was about to walk into a room full of bloodthirsty snobs, so it was important to look the part of a future queen. Her wardrobe was her armour, Hana had said.

Hana. That was the name of the girl Paige had met in the dressing room, who happened to be the fourth of those five people who would one day change her life. The two had gotten dressed and acquainted, and Paige was hoping to run into her at the ball. She had been sweet, helpful, informative, and gorgeous. What was it with the people there? She had never seen such a consistent concentration of ridiculously hot people in her life.

“Okay. It’s time.” They stopped in front of the ornate golden doors. Maxwell turned to her, adjusting his mask. “Before we get into the actual ball, you’ll need to give the herald your full name when we go in. Since you’re with my family, you could technically be considered a Lady. You’ll give him your name, and he’ll announce you as Lady Paige…?”

“Langley. Lady Paige Langley.”

“Hm. Not exactly traditional, but regal enough.”

With that, he pushed open the doors, and they strolled in. Paige gave her name to the herald, and stood as straight as she could on the steps. Maxwell gave her a quick, reassuring smile, and she felt slightly better. He was good at that.

“LORD MAXWELL PERCIVAL BEAUMONT, AND LADY PAIGE LANGLEY!” The herald’s voice boomed through the enormous room. At the sound of an unfamiliar name, heads turned to watch Paige strut down the stairs. Little gasps and murmurs rippled through the room as they stared at her. She resisted the urge to tug at her hair or adjust her halo. Any move that betrayed how self conscious she was feeling would definitely get her noticed. People like those could sniff out an insecurity like blood in the water. The second a confident exterior faltered, they went in for the kill. Paige kept her back straight and her eyes ahead.

“Okay. I gotta go talk to my brother. You stay here. Mingle. You can do that, right? Just mingle.” Before she could respond, Maxwell was gone.

Paige turned, looking around desperately for someone she knew. She spotted Drake, looking vaguely angsty and annoyed in a corner, still in his basic denim. She decided she might as well try her luck with him. She walked over, trying her best to step slowly and gracefully.

“Well, well, well, aren’t you looking pretty.” He sized her up. “You fit right in.”

“Well, you’re charming as ever.”

“Ha! Compared to most of the nobles here, I’m your best friend.”

“God, Drake.” she rolled her eyes. “Everyone here’s been perfectly nice so far.”

“Sure, to your face. What do you think goes on the second you leave the room? The people here will jump at the chance to shove you as far down the totem pole as they can.”

“Well, let’s take a look at some examples of their behavior, shall we? They’re letting you attend an extremely high-brow event for free, in your day clothes. You have access to expensive foods, interesting conversation and a bar full of fancy foreign cocktails. And instead of being grateful, you choose to badmouth these people whenever you can, complain, and act like you’re being some big hero by being here. You’re not even wearing a mask!” She hadn’t realized how annoyed she was, but she found herself surprisingly worked up on this. At the sight of her pissed-off expression, Drake softened slightly.

“Look. I swear I’m not trying to be a dick, just trying to be honest. It may look glamorous here, but these people are completely two faced. You’re the newbie, and without someone like me looking out for you, you’ll get clobbered.”

His explanation didn’t exactly soften her up. “If your way of helping is to stand in the corner and bitch about this place, then I’d say you’re doing an excellent job.”

Drake looked like he was going to respond, but he stopped suddenly. He went stiff as a board and completely pale, his eyes fixed right over Paige’s shoulder. Before she could ask what was wrong, she felt a warm hand on her arm.

“Pardon me, but I must steal her away.” The voice was warm, seductive, completely unfamiliar. Based on the alarmed look on Drake’s face, it must not have been a friendly one.

“Um, I’ll just…” He all but sprinted for the opposite end of the room. Paige turned to face the intruder.

Oh. The tiniest of gasps escaped her lips as she gazed into a pair of emerald-green eyes.

If you were to take the moment she first saw Liam, and multiply it by about a thousand or so, you’d have some idea of how Paige felt. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her body as her stomach swooped dramatically.

The woman before her was like no noble Paige had seen before. Where some, like Hana, chose to present themselves as a sweet, soft sort of beautiful, this woman was more sexy. An edgy, almost dangerous sort of drop-dead gorgeous that made heat pool in Paige’s core.

She realized, dazedly, that the woman was wearing the devil costume Paige had almost bought. Little horns peaked out from her pile of crimson hair. The red velvet of her gown clung to her rounded hips, and the neck of it fell as far down her chest as courtly etiquette would allow. She gazed down at Paige, her lips slightly parted. She seemed surprised, as though the other woman had caught her off guard somehow, and Paige wondered distantly what that meant.

“I am Lady Olivia Vanderwall Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos,” she murmured. Paige fought to keep her eyes from flickering to the duchess’s candy-painted lips.

“I’m-”

“Lady Paige Langley. Yes, I heard the herald announce you. That’s why I’m here.” She shook her head slightly. Her gaze became sharper as she smiled at the other woman. “I make it my business to know every name at court, and I’ve never heard yours before. Perhaps you’re from one of the humbler duchies?” She didn’t give Paige a chance to respond. “In any case, since you’re the new girl at court, I thought I might give you a bit of advice. You’re not from here, I take it? Cordonia, I mean.” Paige could only nod.

“Well then, let me give you a little tip.” She leaned in with a conspiratory smile, and Paige could feel Olivia’s warm breath on her skin. Her legs grew unstable beneath her, as though she were about to faint.

“When you go up to see the king, bow and kiss his right shoe. It’s a sign of ultimate respect here.”

Could that be true? Unlikely as it seemed, Paige did recall reading about a similar custom from somewhere else in Europe. She frowned. “Really?” She made a mental note to ask Maxwell about that later.

“Oh, of course! It’s lucky I was able to tell you, otherwise you would’ve looked like a complete fool!” She gave a light laugh. As soon as she heard it, the waitress wanted to do whatever she could to hear that sound again.

“Paige!” Maxwell ran up from out of nowhere. Paige did her best not to be annoyed with him for cutting her time with Olivia short. “Liam’s-” he cut himself off as he noticed the Nevrakis. “Um, I mean, Prince Liam, whose title I am always sure to use, because of my deep respect and admiration for him, is coming out to see everyone.” Olivia rolled her eyes and walked off to join a small cluster of ladies.

“Are you ready to see him again?”

Paige tried to paste on a convincing smile. “Totally. I’m totally ready for this.”

“Cool. Let’s go!”

The pair ran off to join a gathering of people at the side of the room, Paige resisting the urge to check over her shoulder for Olivia.

“There he is!” Maxwell pointed. And there he was, the prince himself. Liam stood at the end of the room, making conversation with a star-struck young woman clearly trying very hard to keep cool.

“Do you think he’ll be happy to see me?” Paige whispered.

“Only one way to find out, I guess. But first, you gotta meet the king.”

“Wait, what? You didn’t tell me that I’m meeting the king first thing! What do I say to him?

“Calm down. It’s easy. Just follow what the other ladies do, and you’ll be fine.”

“Wait, wha-”

“LADIES OF THE COURT!” An announcer’s voice boomed across the room. “LINE UP TO GREET THE KING!”

The women rushed to form a line leading towards the front of the room. Paige caught a glimpse of an older man taking a seat upon one of the gilded thrones at the front of the room, flanked by two guards. Hitching up her skirts, she hurried over to take her spot in the growing queue. She watched as each woman made her way up to the king, curtseying and-

And nothing. The bulk of heavy skirts and the towers of gelled-up hair completely blocked her view. It was impossible to tell if any shoe kissing had taken place. She tried her best to steal a glance, but the women in line seemed to take her rustling for attempted line-cutting. She received multiple dirty looks as well as one quick jab to the ribs.

The line was shortening quickly, and Paige was beginning to get panicky. She was already a commoner. She couldn’t afford to broadcast the fact that she also knew pretty much nothing of Cordonian culture. She’d be laughed right out of the court, right out of the country. She leaned to the side again, trying desperately to see what was going on. Nothing.

Finally, there were only two women left in front of Paige. She had given up on trying to see what they were doing, and was instead just trying to not let her nerves show. Elegant smile, straight back. She caught a glimpse of Liam standing across the room, making polite conversation with those who had already met the king. Out of his sweater and into his official suit, he looked so much more… official. That air of nobility that had seemed out of place at the bar suited him perfectly here. He looked so quintessentially prince charming, the poster boy for all that was good and wholesome. It was easy to see why so many ladies were here. In addition to the many gold diggers that Paige was sure were lurking about, many of these women probably actually liked Liam. She watched as a dark-haired young woman laughed a little too hard at a joke of his, slapping his arm lightly. Her eyes sparkled as she stepped closer to him. Her lips parted, as she pre-

“Shitshitshit!” She hissed under breath, before praying that nobody heard her. It was her turn to greet the king.

“Good evening, milady.” The king smiled kindly at her as she took a step closer. He was clearly expecting something.

“Good evening, your majesty. I am Lady Paige Langley, of House Beaumont.”

She dropped into a low curtsey. Her face was inches from the king’s shoe.

She risked a glance back at Olivia. The duchess was watching with not a look of hope, or excitement, or malice. She was looking on with a very clear expression of guilt on her face.

Paige stood from her curtsey, smiled once more, and left the line.

  * * *

“Hey! Where'd you go? I was looking all over for you!” Do you know how hard it is to find a pretty girl in a nice dress in a ballroom choked with pretty girls in nice dresses?”      

“Sorry. I got caught up talking to Hana.”

After the thing with the king, Paige had felt strangely paralyzed with anxiety. Well, maybe it wasn’t so strange. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that a total stranger had tried to humiliate her like a schoolyard bully. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that said stranger was gorgeous and intimidating and sexy and Paige had wanted for her to like her so, so badly. She knew that a trick like this alone wasn’t a big deal, but it hurt that much more coming from someone whom she had so desperately wanted to be some angel. So, instead of joining the growing crowd of women mobbing Liam, she had gone out to the balcony for a moment to breathe. That was where she had found Hana, and the two spent the next half hour talking. It had been nice to just talk to someone, with no expectations or rules. Hana was quickly becoming one of her favorite people at court.

“Wait, you know Hana? Actually, nevermind, we’ll talk on that later. In the meantime, you have to get in there with Liam. You’re one of the only people he hasn’t talked to yet.”

“You think he’ll be freaked out? We only knew each other for like a night before I decided to come out here, and now I’m trying to marry him? Isn’t that weird?”

“Ha! You think a night is too weird? That’s practically a year in royal time. He’s meeting some of these women for the first time tonight. If anything, you’ve got a leg up. He both knows and likes you.”  

“If you say so.”

“And I do. Look, I think he’s free. Go, go, go!”

Maxwell nudged her forward, and she strode across the room to meet Liam. He was finishing up a conversation with someone, and he turned to look at Paige as the woman walked away.  

“Hello, Lady-” He stopped short, his eyes going wide. “It’s you! Paige!”

“It’s me.” She smiled at him, hoping this was a pleasant surprise. Her hopes were confirmed when he broke out in a huge grin.

“Oh, Paige, I thought I’d never see you again! How are you even here?”

“The morning after I met you, Maxwell found me. He offered to take me here so I could represent House Beaumont and… become queen.” Though it was the truth, the thought of saying “marry you” out loud turned her stomach.

“That’s amazing! I’m afraid we don’t have too much time to talk, but that’s incredible news. For the first time all night, I’m actually enjoying a conversation.”

“Does this mean that you’re happy to see me?”

“Happy? I’m ecstatic. I truly like you Paige. I think we have something, and I’m glad we’re getting the chance to explore that together.”

Guilt stabbed at her insides. Liam looked so happy to see her, and yet she couldn’t say the same. She kept thinking back to the moment she saw Olivia. They had barely spoken, and still she had sensed more chemistry in those few minutes than she had after a whole night with Liam. He wasn’t the one she wanted, not even close. But he had deep, personal feelings for her. If she nailed those challenges, she had a real shot at being Liam’s wife. It was a thought that would have made so many of those courtly ladies cry tears of joy, but succeeded only in filling Paige with dread. He actually liked her. He wanted this.

“It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it? All this, I mean. How are you holding up?” She hoped he wouldn’t notice how she changed the subject.

“I’ve known this was going to happen for some time now. It’s certainly not ideal, but perhaps it won’t be quite so terrible with you here.”

God, he really wasn’t making this easy on her, was he?

“Are the ladies here really that bad? Most of the people I’ve spoken to have been nice enough.”

“It’s not that the ladies themselves are bad, not at all. It’s the process I don’t enjoy. The whole thing is ridiculous and exhausting to all those involved. I know most of the women here, and they’re all incredibly smart and accomplished. And yet they’re being lined up like members of...of…” He paused. “What’s that american dating show? The one with the roses?”

“The Bachelor?”

“Yes! That’s it! This whole thing is one big episode of the bachelor.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through all of it.”

“Don’t be. It is my duty to serve my country however I can. If this is what I must do, so be it.”

Before Paige could respond, the guard behind Liam stepped forward to clear his throat. The prince winced apologetically at Paige.

“I’m afraid we’ve got less than a minute now. Before you go, can I give you a warning?” She nodded.

“This place, these people, are different. We’re not in New York anymore. There are codes, rules, that you’ll have to learn but never be taught. You’ll make friends and alliances, but be careful. Someone like you, here, can’t be too trusting. I don’t mean to scare you, but I care about you. I couldn’t stand to watch you get hurt.”

“Liam, I-”

“Ahem.” The guard coughed. “I believe it is time to move on, your grace.”

“Thank you, Bastien.” The prince turned back, looking regretful. “I’m so sorry, but I must move on. Shall we speak later?”

“Let’s.” She shot him what she could only hope to be a reassuring smile, curtseyed, and strode off, spotting a familiar figure by the drinks.

“Hey, Paige! It looked like that went well.”

“I’d say it did. He seemed happy to see me.”

“Of course he was! I told you he would be.”

“He was weirdly cryptic, though. He kept talking about how much of a drag this whole thing is, and how I need to make allies, and gather people I can trust, and watch my back-the list goes on.”

“Huh. That doesn’t sound like him. Are you sure you weren’t talking to Drake?”

“Unless Drake suddenly owns a body guard and a non-denim item of clothing, then no.”

“Hm. I’ll talk to him later. It’s probably just the pressure of everything getting to him. He’s not wrong, though. It’s good to form alliances with the other ladies. Most of them are outside right now. Go join them, grab a drink, socialize. Make some friends.”

“Got it. Any tips before I go? Who’s nice, who’s boring, who’s a snobby-ass bitch, et cetera.”

“Well, first off, save the cursing for later. One F bomb in here can and will get you kicked out. But to answer your question, Hana’s probably one of the nicest that you’ll meet. Friendly, not a known schemer. Penelope Ebrim is probably one of the more boring ones here, but she’s nice enough. Easily manipulated, but you didn’t hear that from me. Kiara Theron’s pretty interesting, but she can be sort of condescending, snobby. And if you want to talk about-” He paused.

“If you’re looking for witches with a b, then watch out for Olivia Nevrakis. She would kill, and I mean that literally, to become queen. She’s ruthless, cruel, and a known saboteur. Be on the lookout for her.”

“Oh. Good to know.”

“You’re welcome. Now get out there!”  

Hiking up her skirts, Paige strode out into a moonlit garden. The women were talking amongst themselves as they grabbed flutes of champagne. She was scanning the crowd when she felt someone come up behind her.

Turning, she found Olivia glowering at her, her friendly smile from before replaced with a pissy sneer.

“You seemed awfully friendly with the prince earlier, hm? You didn’t say you knew him personally.”

“It’s none of your business how I know Liam.” Paige savored the way the duchess blanched at the way the other woman skipped Liam’s title. “And can we get back to the way you lied to me about the shoe-kissing thing?”

“Yes, yes. Come on, even you have to admit that was funny.You’re the new girl, you’re going to get tricked.” Perhaps this would have been more bothersome if Olivia had been able to look the other woman in the eye, or stop fidgeting with her gown.

“Well, it’s done. You’ve gotten in your dumb little joke, and now it’s over.” At this, the duchess’s head snapped up, her mopey exterior suddenly vanished.

“It’s over when I say it’s over.” She took a step closer, her eyes blazing. Her voice had gone low and dangerous, and Paige hated the way it made her shiver. She tilted her chin, trying to look unfazed.

“Listen to me. I know you’re used to getting whatever you want from people, but that’s not how this is going to go. I’m not your servant, I’m not your follower. Whatever you may believe, you’re not entitled to Liam’s hand, and you’re certainly not entitled to my respect, fear, or loyalty.”

Olivia stepped back, surprised. Some of the women actually gasped as they watched the whole thing unfold.

“Excuse me? Clearly, you’re delusional. I grew up with Liam. I know him better than you ever will. Maybe you made for a fun distraction, but you’re nowhere near wife, or queen, material. The women here have been trained since birth to marry a prince, and if you think that you can just waltz in here and steal that from us, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not a threat.” She was close, too close, and Paige wanted desperately to grab her even closer.

“A promise.”

#enemies to lovers #slowburn #eventual sex #angsty #choices stories you play #olivia nevrakis #trr mc #maxwell beaumont #liam rys #liam rhys #hana lee #drake walker

[eafsegse]

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flawsome bandits pt. 2 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Bar Fights 

Welcome to part 2! Updates may be a little irregular as we progress back into the school year, but I assure you lovelies that I am hard at work on the next chapter! So for now, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings - implication of sexual harrassment, LOTS OF FLUFF 

♡♡♡

“Alright, if this is going to be a thing, there are going to be rules,” Tom began, attempting to keep his eyes on the road. 

“You seem really familiar,” Y/n hummed thoughtfully, looking Sonic over once again and completely ignoring her father. Sonic’s green eyes grew concentrated as he looked the young girl over again for the hundredth time since he met her.

“You too! I feel like I know you from somewhere.” He tapped his chin quizzically as the two stared long and hard at each other. 

“Will you two please pay attention? Good lord!” Tom cried. “If this is going to work, you will need to listen to me and do whatever I say one hundred percent of the time. Got it?”

“Whatever you say, Donut Lord!” Sonic smiled, eyes ablaze with excitement. Unfortunately, the cute nickname only pissed Tom off as he took his eyes off of the road to yell at the hedgehog.

“Would you stop with the ‘Donut Lord’? I have a name. It’s Tom, and that’s Y/n.” He motioned to the girl sitting behind them. She rummaged through the console and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

“He already knows my name,” she laughed, earning a smile from Sonic. 

“Well, my name is Sonic!”

“Sonic,” Tom nodded thoughtfully. “So you’ve been spying on my family for years, or specifically spying on my daughter?” He was slipping into overprotective father mode very fast. Y/n was about to stick up for the little hedgehog when he beat her to it.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have called it stalking. We were all just hanging out only no one ever knew I was there! Like when Y/n was driving your old motorcycle and she smashed into a tree!” He sighed dreamily, leaning back against the seat. “Fun times!”

“What? You told me a semi hit it!” Tom cried out in horror, trying to keep his main tunnel of vision on the road while restricting himself from smacking his kid upside the head. Y/n chuckled sheepishly and slowly lowered herself to hide behind the driver’s seat. 

“I mean, I’m more so surprised that Crazy Carl was right all along,” she mumbled. Sonic nodded.

“You should call him Super Observant Carl instead.” At that, Y/n burst out laughing. It was an adorably creative name, and from all of her time spent hanging out with Crazy Carl and helping him set up his traps when none of the kids at school wanted to hang out with her, it didn’t take too long to notice that he did have a system. 

“You’re funny,” she giggled, sliding the sunglasses back up onto her forehead to reveal her humorous e/c eyes. Sonic’s emerald-like orbs lit up like fireworks as a huge, dopey grin spread across his face.

“Really? You think I’m funny?” He asked hopefully, practically throwing himself on top of the console to be closer to her. Spending most of his time alone, Sonic was only ever used to getting compliments from himself. So the fact that someone thought he was funny, better yet a beautiful girl, sent him to cloud nine. 

“Hey, HEY,” Tom scolded, pointing a finger at the blue hedgehog. “That’s still my daughter, buddy.” 

“Dad, leave him alone,” Y/n sighed, poking his arm gently. How much sense would that make? A human and a hedgehog? Then again, she did have no origin story, no idea who or what she truly was. How was she supposed to know that she had been a human her whole life when she could barely remember who her real parents were? 

“Oh my god, stop the car right now!” Sonic exclaimed, popping his head out the side window, the big grin still plastered on his face. He read off the gigantic touristing billboard sign as Tom drove past it. “The World’s Largest Rubber Band Ball, we’ve got to see it!” 

“People really need to find some hobbies,” Y/n sighed, rolling down her window too so she could imitate a dog. 

“No, this is not some fun family road trip-” Tom snapped, his sanity slipping out of his fingertips with every passing second. “The government wants to dissect you, arrest me, and possibly put Y/n in the mental institute. This is serious!” Sonic exchanged a bored expression with Y/n and in a flash, he was out the window. Before Tom even had a second to flip out, he was right back in the seat with three souvenir rubber band balls, a paddleboard, and a baseball cap. 

“Eh, you’re right, it was lame. Gift shop was cool though! I got you a mousepad!” He held up a little white mouse pad reading ‘I love rubber bands.’ “And don’t think I forgot about you!” He winked at Y/n before handing her a surprisingly adorable bracelet made out of what looked like fragments of rubber bands. She couldn’t stop the heat that began rising to her cheeks as she slipped it onto her wrist, still trying to get over the amazement that he was thinking about them. “When are we going to get there?” Sonic smiled, pulling out the paddle board and hitting the ball repetitively as Y/n watched his precision in amazement. 

“We will get there when we get there,” Tom sighed in frustration. A moment of silence fell over the three as they watched the scenery pass by. Y/n glanced between her father and the eccentric hedgehog and finally decided that if this little creature was going to be hanging out with them, then the least she could do is try to get to know him better.

“Hey Sonic, want to play a game?”

“Is that even a question? Of course!” In a split second, he was sitting next to her in the backseat, leaning towards her excitedly. Little did she know that he was fanboying internally just over the fact that she had talked to him in the first place. This was his dream come true! Getting to spend some one on one time with the Star Chaser! She was so beautiful up close.

“Okay, which game do you want to play? There’s Truth or Dare, 20 Questions, Would You Rather, I Spy, How Well Do You Know Me, and Russian Roulette but we don’t have any guns,” she sighed in disappointment. Sonic’s eyes practically had stars in them as he grinned wider.

“Let’s play all of them!” Tom groaned in the driver’s seat.

This was going to be a long ride.

♡♡♡

It was night when Tom finally pulled the truck in to a gas station, Sonic and Y/n still deeply indulged in a game of Truth or Dare. 

“I don’t know, I still think that I’d be faster than the Flash. I was born with my powers, so I’ve had a lot more time to get used to them whereas his happened from an accident in his lab,” Sonic explained, flipping her sunglasses back up behind his ears. The two had gotten comfortable after the first two hours of games and had established what they deemed to be the most comfortable position: Y/n sat against the left side of the backseat and had her legs stretched across the seats while Sonic sat on top of her legs, using her shoes as a cushion. It was amazing how four hours of playing games with someone could bring them closer together. Over the course of the car trip, the two had been through every topic from their favorite television show to what the best way to get away from the cops would be to what they would name a hamster if they ever got one. 

“Fair point,” Y/n nodded. “Respect.” 

Tom put the truck in park and stepped out of the vehicle, causing the internal lights to turn on. The two sat up in anticipation, wondering if they were finally going to be able to stretch out their legs. Tom walked around the truck and stopped at the open window above Sonic’s head, leaning against it slightly.

“Alright, I’m going to go in and check on Wade. See if he knows what’s going on.”

“You’re going to see Wade in that glass thing?” Sonic asked, peering out the window over at the payphone. “What is it, a teleportation device?”

“It’s a payphone, Son,” Y/n gently explained. “I had no clue what it was either when I first saw one.” Tom glanced behind him at the device and sighed.

“It’s mostly for drug dealers and fugitives, which is us. Now stay in the car, I don’t want anyone to see him. Y/n, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” And with that, he walked off. Sonic groaned in boredom and leaned his head against the door once more.

“This is so boring! Is your dad always this high strung?” He asked, the poor lighting casting shadows across his fur. Y/n breathed in deep through her nose and watched as her dad stepped inside the phone booth.

“Not unless we’re in trouble, which we are right now. But he means well. When I was first found and brought to him and my mom as a foster kid, they were super patient even though I was a teenager with no clue how the world worked.” She explained, running a hand through her hair and placing Sonic’s baseball cap back on her head. He furrowed his brows in concentration.

“Wait, so let me get this straight - you were found wandering around in the woods and you have no memories of who you were or what you were up until that day?” She nodded sadly, and shrugged. His ears fell back against his head a little in sadness. “I’m sorry… Well, hey, how about we make a deal? I’ll help you try to figure out your backstory if…” He got a sheepish look on his face as he suddenly broke eye contact. “...You become my friend.”

Y/n’s eyes shot open in surprise. “Sonic,” she laughed softly, her gaze softening. “You’re already my friend.”

At her words, the largest grin she had ever seen found its way onto Sonic’s face as he lurched forward and tackled her in a hug. Laughing, she reciprocated the hug by wrapping her arms around his torso but making sure to beware of the quills. 

“Thank you,” she heard him mutter soft enough that if she had been breathing any louder she wouldn’t have heard it. In response, she squeezed him a little tighter. Even though it was a little strange to be hugging a talking hedgehog, it felt familiar once again. Everything about this moment seemed familiar, like she had lived through it a thousand times before. Little did she know that the same thing was happening for Sonic too. As they pulled away, mouths both opening to say something about it, they were interrupted by the sounds of beer pong and Harley engines. The duo froze, eyes already beginning to fill with comical stars as they turned towards Y/n’s open window.

Sure enough, there was what looked like a raging party going on at the club next door. Bikers littered the front, the engines of their motorcycles spewing out licks of fire. Cheers and hollers could already be heard from the open door to the bar as people filed in and out in a constant motion. It was the coolest thing that either of them had ever seen.

“Oh my god,” Sonic breathed.

“Okay, okay, so that may just be the coolest thing that we’re ever going to see,” Y/n admitted nervously. “But we have orders. I have orders. From my dad. Who is also a cop. We have to stay in the car.” 

“Right…” Sonic slowly raised his head above the door until just his eyes were peering through the window at the scene before them. It wasn’t long before Y/n followed in suit. They exchanged a nervous glance before looking back at the bar. 

...Damnit.

♡♡♡

“Shit,” Tom swore as he stood before the empty truck. Of course this is what he got for leaving his very responsible teenage daughter with a train wreck of a hedgehog (whom he was starting to worry was developing… feelings for his daughter). He set down the drink carrier of food and beverages he had got and looked around the parking lot for any sign of the Bonnie and Cylde duo. Finally, his eyes rested on the bar next door. Bingo.

Losing most of his dignity as he walked through the door, Tom’s eyes scanned the room for the two kids until they finally found a strange couple sitting alone at a high top table. One was a girl wearing a cowgirl hat and a bandana around her neck while the other was significantly shorter than her with a hat, shades, and a bright red shirt that appeared to be three sizes too large. He frowned the entire way to the table, enjoying the panicked look on his daughter’s face as she saw him coming towards them and frantically tapped the hedgehog sitting next to her. He swiveled around in his seat and gave Tom the most innocent look he could handle.

“Well, howdy there, partner!” 

“I’m not your partner. We’re leaving, come on,” Tom motioned his head towards the door, but Sonic had other ideas.

“But there’s a ZZ Top Cover band, c’mon, you’ve got to see their beards!” He exclaims. “And we even came up with the perfect disguises and backstories so we could get in without showing ID.” He held out his gloved fist and Y/n didn’t miss the chance to bump it, leaning cooly against the counter. Tom rolled his eyes.

“Good to know you’re taking this seriously. We’ll catch them some other time. Now, let’s. Go.” His tone was sharp, daring them to object. Luckily, that was what Sonic was best at.

              "I promise that if you let us stay that I'll stay quiet for the whole trip! Starting now!" He clamped his mouth shut, proving his promise to be true. Tom glanced over at his daughter skeptically, and she sent him a reassuring smile just as a waitress wandered over to their table.

“Welcome to the Piston Pitt,” she mused, sporting a traditional cowgirl from the West outfit. “What can I get you fellas?” Sonic leaned towards her excitedly, pressing his hands on the table to prevent him from falling off the stool he was sitting on.

“Ooh! I want nachos and buffalo wings and guac! Lots of guac! Isn’t that a funny word?” He then began quacking like a duck, making Y/n chuckle next to him. The waitress furrowed her brows skeptically at the behavior, trying to figure out just what exactly she was looking at here. 

“Umm, kids aren’t allowed in here,” she told Tom accusingly, eyeing Sonic up and down. “Is he wearing a mask or something?” Tom opened his mouth, about to defend him when Y/n quickly beat him to it, wrapping her arm protectively around the blue hedgehog in disguise. 

“Excuse me, but that’s my husband you’re talking to,” she snapped, watching as Tom’s eyes practically exploded with shock. THIS was their excuse? “And he has a height condition, mind you! A skin one, too. It’s very tragic really, stunted his growth. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” Tom’s overprotective father rage came back full force as he watched his daughter look down at Sonic with a lovestruck look on her face that could have won an Oscar. How the hell could they think that anyone would believe an excuse like that? He watched with flames in his eyes as Sonic gave the girl a heartwarming smile and rested his gloved hand on top of hers, using the fakest country accent that Tom had ever heard.

“That’s right, darlin’. The face I was born with, the confidence I picked up along the way.” Shockingly, the waitress was dumb enough to believe it, nodding her head softly and smiling at the “couple.” 

“They’ll have two Mello Yellos,” Tom sighed, watching as the waitress walked briskly away. He finally turned back to the two just as they hesitantly brought their arms back to their own bodies. Y/n’s heart raced excitedly in her chest as she glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye, her head getting slightly confused from all of the emotions she was experiencing. Sonic’s stomach was full of butterflies as he cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from thinking too much about everything going on. 

“You two are insane,” Tom tossed off his cap and sat down across from them. “You owe me one.” 

“Thanks, Dad,” Y/n smiled sincerely, her e/c eyes gleaming at him from across the table. She knew that he was having a difficult time with the situation as a whole, and while she was doing her best to lighten the mood on things, no one could deny that the danger was ever present. He was just trying to keep them safe. Tom gave her a smile in return. No matter how much they quarreled and disagreed, she was still his daughter. Maybe not biologically, but they were one of the lucky ones to have accomplished that bond.

“I have never sat on a bar stool before,” Sonic gushed. “Look, it even spins!” He spun around in the chair so fast that his sunglasses were thrown off, landing on a pile of crushed peanut shells by some bikers. 

“Having fun?” Tom asked sarcastically. “Check this off the bucket list, right Y/n?” The girl in question pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side in thought.

“Actually, inline skating behind a car went before watching a bunch of bikers search for stray peanuts in their beards, but who’s counting?” She shrugged. Sonic stared at her with wide eyes, amazed at the pure awesomeness of this girl.

“Wait, what’s a bucket list?” He asked. 

“A bucket list is, uh, it’s a list of things that you want to do in your life before you, well, you know, kick the bucket.” Tom explained, scratching the back of his neck in an avoidance to say the word ‘die.’ Sonic’s bright green eyes lit up like a Christmas Tree at the idea of it. He was learning something new every minute he spent with these two.

“I’ve never kicked a bucket before, either! I have to make my list! N/n, you got a pen?” Sonic asked, swiping a notepad from one of the bartenders and returning back to the table just as Y/n pulled out a random LED light pen she didn’t even realize was stuck in her boot. The two humans watched as the hedgehog scribbled down line after line of things he wanted to do, giggling to himself along the way. The sight of it brought a soft smile to Y/n’s lips as she watched him write away. Never before had she had so much fun with someone, enjoyed being in someone’s company for so long. She had never really had a true friend before. Until now. 

“Hey,” she gently touched his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, Sonic stopped writing. Y/n’s pen slowly lifted off of the paper as his expression began to fall, his green eyes that were once full of joy and excitement were now filling with sadness. Y/n felt her heart instantly drop, already feeling the desire to get that smile back on his face no matter what the cost.

“There’s so much stuff I’ve never done,” Sonic responded, sitting up straight. “And now that I’m leaving earth forever, I guess that I missed my chance…” 

Y/n’s heart sank. In the big rush of things, she had completely forgotten that the whole point of this road trip was to find Sonic’s rings so he could leave the planet. No matter what the connection they had (even if it was just nostalgia), he wasn’t staying. He had to go… 

Tom noticed his daughter’s expression fall as soon as the words left his mouth. He sighed deeply, glancing between the two of them. They were good kids, trying to keep things light hearted through the duration of this trip. And if Sonic wasn’t going to be on this planet for much longer, then the least that Tom could do was help him make those moments count. 

“Well, I guess this is the kind of place where you can get a lot of living done,” he spoke, looking around the room. Sonic and Y/n looked up at him. “I suppose we could spare an hour.”

The two exchanged excited grins and turned back to the adult. “Really? You’re going to bucket list with me?” Sonic asked. Tom shrugged, smiling.

“Sure, why not?”

“You will not regret this!” Sonic promised. Y/n laughed, grabbing the list and reading over the first couple of lines. 

“I’m pretty sure we will,” Tom sighed. 

♡♡♡

In forty minutes, the three were able to knock out almost half of the things on Sonic’s bucket list. They started with country line dancing, which Y/n was shockingly good at (and made the two boys stop and stare in shock because they didn’t even know that she knew how to dance). Then they played darts and successfully managed to pop open ten cans of beer in less than two seconds. The bar even had a metal basketball hoop, so in order to complete a slam dunk, Y/n threw Sonic up onto the rim where he kicked the chain so many times that he established a new high score. And what kind of country-themed bar would the Pistol Pitt be if they didn’t have an electronic bull? 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Y/n shrieked, clinging onto Sonic as he held on to what she assumed to be the withers of the bull. It bucked them around in circles, making Tom laugh from his point of view as the two struggled to hold on.

“Is this bull headless or does it have two butts?” Sonic asked. 

“It’s best not to think about it.” Y/n laughed just as the bull’s tail hit her in the ribs. “Ow! Okay, that was rude!” She snarled as Sonic burst out laughing. About two minutes later, the duo got flung off of said bull by Tom and Y/n flopped around on the blowup floor. 

“Seriously?” She groaned, placing her hands on her stomach. Tom chuckled next to her. After a couple more minutes had passed and Sonic managed to make some lady throw her drink in Tom’s face, the three sat back down at the high top to catch their breath. 

“Nice work, Romeo,” Sonic laughed, wiping a tear out of his eye. Tom faked a laugh too, wiping off the rest of the alcohol from his face.

“Ha ha, having a good time?”

“Of course I’m having a good time,” Sonic cheered. “I mean, what could go wrong?” Something moving behind them caught Y/n off guard, and the moment she tilted her head to look she regretted it. 

“U-um, Dad…” She whispered, staring with wide eyes as three very pissed off looking men approached them. Sonic spun around on his bar stool to face the friendly gentleman and plastered on a smile. 

“Can we help you gentlemen?” Tom asked politely, but keeping a wary eye on the men. One of them was taking a very sudden interest in Y/n, so Sonic carefully nudged himself closer to her, just in case. The man in the middle with the surly face looked Tom up and down.

“We don’t like your kind around here.”

“And what kind would that be?” Y/n asked in confusion, leaning back slightly on the table in an attempt to rid herself of the putrid smell of cigarette smoke that came from their clothes. The guy looked down at her and Sonic, using the fact that he was standing to his advantage and gritting his teeth.

“Hipsters.”

Y/n had been expecting a worse insult, so she just shrugged, but Sonic took it as a severe offense. 

“How dare you?” He muttered heatedly. Tom quickly held up his hands in surrender, sensing the high levels of danger starting to appear. 

“Now, now, we were just leaving,” he began, but Sonic was quick to interrupt him, wagging one gloved finger. Y/n slowly shook her head at the hedgehog, trying desperately to send him cues to back down. The last thing they needed was a bar fight to top off the wanted signs that were probably being posted right now. Y/n watched in fear as Sonic gave them a “pop quiz” which she assumed was some great one-liner from a movie, and then knocked the guy on the head with one of Tom’s empty beer bottles. Unfortunately, it didn’t break. 

“Darn,” Sonic muttered, flipping the bottle around in his hand. “That was supposed to work.” 

“Son,” Y/n began to slowly rise from her chair, tugging on a stray lock of her hair nervously. “I think we should go…” Her friend, however, refused to give up as he continued to knock the burly man on the head with the bottle, not quite hard enough to break it. She watched with fearful eyes as the man’s face slowly contorted into one of anger. Tom quickly made his way over to Sonic just as the man pulled back his fist and went in for the punch. Sonic was quick to duck, unfortunately leaving Tom to take a full blown fist to his face. 

“Dad!” Y/n’s hands flew up to her mouth as she watched her dad stumble back.

“I’m good, kid,” He reassured her. Then the best part of the brawl flung into action. People got bumped into other people, in turn pissing them off and causing them to find their fists a much better source of anger management than their manners. Sonic, overjoyed that he was now living through yet another thing on his bucket list, took a myriad of super punches at the man who punched Tom in the face, which only pissed him off more. Even Y/n, who had been a bit scared at first, was testing out her abilities by dodging the pedophiles littering the area and taking out some people that she couldn’t tell their gender. She was doing amazing up until the point where some very drunk, very scary-looking man with a teardrop tattoo under his eye and a mangled head of dreadlocks pinned her against the wall. 

“Hey there, pretty lady,” the man chuckled. Y/n squirmed under his grasp, scrunching up her nose from the putrid stench of alcohol coming from the man’s mouth. Her heart began to race from the adrenaline filling her veins as her e/c orbs looked into the man’s black ones, void of any emotion. She refused to answer, desperately trying to wrangle herself free from his grasp, but he was much bigger than her and ultimately overpowered her. Y/n frantically looked around the bar for help, but Tom was busy trying to avoid getting hit in the face and Sonic was nowhere to be seen. 

“L-let go of me,” she rasped, her limbs beginning to grow weak from the fighting. Then the fear began to set in.

People began slamming into one another, beer came crashing down from the sky, men got yanked up to the ceiling with elaborate wedgies, and bikers wearing bear heads crashed into the floor. Y/n and Tom smashed back into time in shock, shaking their heads a little and looking around at the chaotic room in shock. Everyone else was lying on the floor with some sort of injury. 

Meanwhile, Sonic had just finished helping rescue Tom while he was running through the air in his own slowed down time slot. He pushed the man up to the bar and turned around to see what else there was he could mess with until his eyes landed on Y/n. She was pressed up against the wall by a very disgusting and uncouth man, a look of pure terror written on her face. His expression became overcome with worry as he raced over to her. The blue hedgehog practically threw the man off of her in a fit of what he assumed was rage (but quite honestly felt like jealousy) and grabbed a pitcher full of beer, positioning it just so so that once time came back to full speed that it would spill all over his head. He turned back to Y/n and pulled her by her hands all the way to the bar where a frozen Tom was still standing. After he had assured that his two favorite humans were safe, he screwed around with some other people a bit before zipping back to Y/n just as time fell back into motion. 

“W-what just happened?” Y/n asked, wondering how she had gotten out from underneath that guy so fast. Sonic grabbed ahold of her hands once again and looked at her with concerned eyes.

“Are you okay? That guy was being such a jerk!”

“Y-you did this?” Tom asked in surprise. Sonic nodded rapidly, but his focus was still on Y/n. She slowly nodded, dumbfounded. What the heck had just happened? Did Sonic save her? She looked back down at the hedgehog that was still holding her hands. He did save her, didn’t he? Wow… the only guy that had ever saved her before was her dad, and that was when she was in danger of getting sued for crashing into someone’s chicken coop. He cared enough to save her. He didn’t have to do that, I mean, he barely knew her! But there was something about him… the way that he vibed with her, his excitement and ability to make any situation a fun one to be in. He made her smile and laugh. He made her feel like she actually belonged somewhere.

A small butterfly lifted up from its perch and began to flutter around in her stomach.

“So, should we get out of here?” Sonic asked, looking over at Tom for confirmation. The man in question nodded quickly, already picturing the amount of trouble they could get in.

“Yep, time to go.”

♡ a.a.

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