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defectivevillain · 2 months ago

Text

comfort crowd

pairing: Bruce Banner/Reader

the reader is masculine implied. otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used.

summary: “You could be hanging around any of the Avengers and you choose Bruce Banner?" your friend asks disbelievingly, glancing at you over the rim of their glass. You’ve been trying your best to ensure they aren’t staring at any of the heroes for too long, but it’s only inevitable. It takes you a moment to respond to their question. “We’re friends,” you respond. At your friend’s skeptical look, you frown. “What?” "Friends don't look at each other like that."

word count: 2.2k | ao3 version

notes: The reader is implied to be masculine (they’re said to be ‘fanboying’ over Bruce, but that’s literally it). Otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used. Also, the reader works for Tony Stark but their exact career isn’t specified.

no warnings I can think of. hope you enjoy!

You usually ditch Tony Stark’s parties. Tony is many things: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist—as he so eloquently states. But he’s not exactly the best at throwing parties. It’s not his fault, really. A bunch of superheroes in an enclosed space with alcohol is a recipe for disaster. Combine that with the general luxury of Stark Tower… and you’re faced with an event you’d really rather not attend.

But this time is a little different, because your friend is here. Your amazing, nerdy friend who loves the Avengers far more than any normal person should. Since the moment you revealed that you work with Tony Stark, they’ve been practically begging you for a chance to even be in the same room as the superheroes. And, well, after at least six or seven denied invites, you figure you have to show your face at this upcoming party for a bit. It’ll kill two birds with one stone: proving you’re not an unapproachable asshole, while giving your friend the chance to drool over the Avengers from across the room. It’s a win-win, you think.

This is how you find yourself awkwardly lurking in the corner of the living room, spectating the madness from afar. A few of the guys are currently fixated on trying to lift Thor’s hammer, while Thor watches on with a smug expression. Wanda and Vision are discussing something quietly in the corner; Tony is ambling about, providing people with more drinks and just generally ensuring everyone is having a good time. Bucky and Steve are on the couch, the two of them looking somewhat out of their element until Sam approaches and gets them to loosen up a bit. Clint is speaking to Bruce quietly in the corner of the room.

Bruce Banner is probably the Avenger you’re closest to, if you’re being honest. A few of the heroes are antisocial or prickly—cough, cough, Bucky, Natasha and Wanda, cough, cough—but you get along with most of them. Vision is cool; Sam is a good guy and the two of you have been known to watch movies together when time allows. Clint, Steve, and Rhodey are polite and friendly enough, but you’ve never really had long conversations with them. There’s Tony, of course: your indirect boss. He’s a piece of work, but he does have a heart buried underneath all that metal. (At least, you hope so.)

But Bruce? Bruce is the one you gravitate towards. He’s grounded in a way most of the other heroes aren’t. He’s a scientist first and a hero second. He’s wicked smart, of course—with a dry sense of humor that always amuses you.

When your friend learns that Bruce is the one you’re closest with, they seem surprised. “You could be hanging around any of the Avengers and you choose him?” your friend asks disbelievingly, glancing at you over the rim of their glass. You’ve been trying your best to ensure they aren’t staring at any of the heroes for too long, but it’s only inevitable.

It takes you a moment to respond to their question. “We’re friends,” you respond. At your friend’s skeptical look, you frown. “What?”

“Friends don’t look at each other like that,” they say smartly, with all the wisdom of someone who has very little knowledge of the situation.

“Like what?” you blink in confusion.

“Like that,” your friend says, looking at Bruce pointedly. You follow their gaze to find him staring at you intently—he quickly looks away.

“Please,” you scoff at them. “You’re losing it.”

“I don’t think so,” they say, before raising their eyebrows suggestively. You both laugh at the gesture and soon forget about that particular subject of conversation.

Eventually, your friend has to head home—and you walk them to the door, giving them a hug and reassuring them that they don’t owe you anything (despite their insistence that they do.) After they leave, you close the door and turn around—only to nearly run into Tony.

“They were right, you know,” Tony remarks, apropos of nothing.

“What?” you say. Is he talking about your conversation earlier? How does he know about that? “Hey, were you eavesdropping?” you look at Tony pointedly.

“I’ve never seen Banner half as sociable as he is when he’s with you,” Tony says, completely ignoring your accusation. “What do you two even talk about, anyways?” he huffs.

You shrug. “Depends.”

“Hm.” Tony looks contemplative, before a smirk rises on his lips. “Knowing you nerds, it’s probably mortality, existentialism, blah blah blah, naturalism, blah blah blah, uncanny valley, something something—”

“Okay, okay,” you huff, refusing to admit he’s right on the money. “Sheesh.”

Tony shrugs. “Hey, I’m just making an observation.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Flirt all you want.”

“Flirt?” you echo incredulously. “We’re not flirting.”

“Sure,” Tony says flippantly, clearly not committed enough to argue. “Well, maybe you’re not,” he adds casually.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squint. Tony just shrugs, taking advantage of your confusion and promptly leaving the conversation. You watch him walk over to get another drink, feeling equal parts fond exasperation and irritation. For a moment, you wander about the party and exchange quick greetings with everyone.

It’s inevitable, you think, that you find yourself gravitating to Bruce. He’s standing at a high-top table, staring off into the distance. You watch him for a moment, idly wondering if he even wants company. Eventually, you manage to summon the courage to approach him.

“Hey, Bruce,” you say casually, standing across from him.

Bruce blinks and drags his gaze towards you, his tense posture seeming to relax a bit. “Hey yourself,” he responds with a brief nod. He’s nursing an almost untouched drink in his left hand. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Oh, yeah,” you acknowledge. You don’t usually bother going to these parties, after all. “My friend’s kind of an Avengers fan, so I had to bring them here to shut them up.”

“It was a religious experience, I’m sure,” Bruce says jokingly.

“Yeah, I had to watch them the whole night,” you admit with a smile. “Make sure they didn’t try to jump Steve’s bones or anything.”

Bruce chuckles. “I saw Tony talking your ear off earlier,” he points out.

“Agh, yeah,” you sigh. “Everyone’s up my ass today, it’s kind of annoying.”

Bruce sputters at your somewhat vulgar honesty, laughing for a bit before composing himself. “And why’s that?” he asks, his eyes glittering.

“I don’t know,” you admit, tapping your fingers against the table restlessly. Bruce’s eyes track the movement. “They keep asking me about you.”

“Me?” he blinks. “Why?”

You shrug helplessly. At his confused look, you try to elaborate. “They seem convinced that we’re more than friends, that you’re flirting with me.”

“Hm,” he says calmly. Bruce is a composed guy, but you expected him to react a bit more skeptically. There are a few seconds of silence. “And what do you think?” Bruce continues, his expression impossible to decipher. The room around you almost seems to fade into obscurity. It’s just the two of you.

“What do I think about it?” you clarify. Bruce nods. “I mean, I don’t think you’re flirting with me. Obviously.” The remark probably sounds a bit pained and stiff, but what else are you supposed to say? ‘Yeah, I really wouldn’t mind if you were flirting with me. Keep it up!’ You fight off a laugh at the thought.

“Obviously,” Bruce repeats. He considers you for a moment. “You know, for someone so intelligent, you can be pretty oblivious,”

“Hey,” you huff indignantly. “Rude.”

“You think I’d spout off about my research to just anyone, in such explicit detail?” he asks.

“…Yes?” you say weakly.

Bruce looks unimpressed. He sighs, shakes his head. “I was trying to impress you,” he admits, looking at some unseen point over your shoulder.

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief. “You don’t have to try to impress me,” you manage to say, when you can gather your thoughts again. “I’m already impressed by you.”

This time, Bruce is surprised. “Really?”

“Um, duh,” you say with a sheepish smile. “I’ve been borderline fanboying over you.”

“Our last conversation was you trying to justify nihilism,” Bruce recalls with amusement. “You call that fanboying?” That unfairly attractive, lopsided smile is on his lips again.

“I don’t know!” you say defensively, once you can tear your eyes away from it.

“You’re ridiculous,” he remarks, with a fondness you can’t quite dismiss as merely platonic.

“I think we both are,” you respond.

“Maybe,” Bruce admits with a slight smile. His eyes wander the room before finding you again. “Everyone else seems to think so.”

“Maybe we should really give them something to talk about, then,” you say before you can stop yourself. The implications of that statement are clear, and you watch as comprehension dawns across Bruce’s face. The two of you are standing closer than socially appropriate now.

“Maybe we should,” Bruce responds with a smile, placing his drink on the table. It’s unreasonably smooth, the way he enters your space with ease. His hand finds the side of your face and he pulls you into a kiss. At some point, your hand moves to rest at the nape of his neck.

You’re certain you could linger in that moment forever, if not for the sharp wolf-whistle Tony lets out. It promptly cuts through the comfortable noise of the party, drawing attention to Bruce and you. The two of you break apart,

“Finally,” Tony grins. “Jesus. Thought you two would never get your shit together.” A few of the heroes murmur their agreement; Bruce and you exchange a glance.

“Shut up, Tony,” you both say in unison. Tony either has no awareness or simply doesn’t care, because he then heads over to you and wraps his arms around you two. You’re fighting off a smile regardless, still reeling from the admission that Bruce likes you too.

“Tony, we were kind of having a moment here,” Bruce says pointedly, when the man doesn’t make a move to leave.

“Right, right, right,” Tony sighs dramatically, twirling around and walking away.

Bruce shakes his head in disbelief, before his attention returns to you. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Bruce admits after clearing his throat. His hand lingers on your forearm, as if he doesn’t want to let go of this opportunity presented to him.

“Me too,” you confess. “Probably too long, honestly.” Since you first met. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Not longer than me, I’d imagine,” Bruce huffs. You raise your eyebrows at him and he seems to have realized what he just said, quickly back-pedaling with a slight flush on his cheeks. “I’ve— uh. Tony talks about you a lot.”

“Really?” you question, struggling to fully believe that. “I can’t imagine he’s ever said anything flattering about me.”

“Maybe not explicitly,” Bruce acquiesces, “but tolerating Tony Stark is more difficult than most people imagine.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you huff. You’ve known him long enough to recognize that. Rhodey once told you that you deserved a Medal of Valor for working with Tony as long as you have. The thought still amuses you. It takes you a few seconds to remember the subject of conversation. Bruce just admitted that he was interested in you before you even met, if you’re reading things correctly. “So, what, did you stalk me or something?” you joke.

Bruce’s lips part for a moment, as if he’s about to speak. But he remains quiet. That small slip, that quick reaction, is all you need.

“No way,” you laugh. “You did?” It’s impossible to fight off a grin now. Here you were, thinking you were acting like a complete bumbling fool around him… assuming he never felt the same…

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Bruce mumbles quickly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, it’s cute,” you say before he can get more embarrassed. You put your hand over his in a spontaneous gesture—you’ve decided you’re being very brave tonight. Your courage pays off, because he squeezes your hand reassuringly, almost lovingly. “You have no idea,” you admit. “You could’ve done something as simple as friended me on LinkedIn and I would’ve fallen over.” Just the thought of your early days working with Tony… looking down at your phone to find a notification from Bruce Banner… You would’ve had an aneurysm.

“You’re that easily impressed?” he jokes. “Good to know.”

You roll your eyes.

Despite the excitement of the evening, you’re fighting off exhaustion. It’s getting pretty late, and the superheroes show no sign of wrapping up. Yet another quality to envy: endless stamina for parties. Must be nice.

You’re fading fast, and apparently, it’s pretty obvious. Bruce urges you to get rest, promising you’ll talk in the morning. He makes a compelling argument, and you can’t bring yourself to argue when he’s leading you to the door with a hand on the small of your back and an adoring look on his face. He kisses you goodbye and you go to sleep that night hoping that party wasn’t just one long dream.

The next morning, you blink sleep from your eyes and look down at your phone. There’s a message from Bruce reading “Hope you’re sitting down for this.” Moments after you type a response, (“??”), your phone buzzes. It’s a LinkedIn notification, with a friend request from Bruce.

You laugh.

@connorhasabigtip tysm for reading this over! <3 excited to see you soon! here was her feedback for me, because it's funny asf:

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat @always-lying-to-you @moss4ev3r @hottskull

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#defectivevillain #male reader #transmasc reader #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x male reader #mcu x transmasc reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x transmasc reader #bruce banner x male reader

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hwnglx · 11 months ago

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for dear anon who requested ᰔ ᩚ

(to clear up misunderstandings, this is a reading on what in another person could turn the members on and off. i realized my wording might cause confusion, sorry about that)

stray kids' turn on's and turn off's

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

bang chan

turn on's > charming and eloquent (someone who's a very good speaker and communicator) > tactful and strategic -> isn't too overwhelming in their approach and acts carefully > unique looking -> stands out among other people > foreigners or people with a completely different background > knows the value of hard work > courageous and outspoken about things they believe in > has an immense amount of passion for something -> borders on obsession (he needs someone extremely invested in what they do, otherwise they wouldn't understand his lifestyle) > also, obsessed and clingy with him (he likes feeling needed and the thought of being the only person they see)

turn off's > way too selfish and greedy, no consideration for people in need of help > keeps being negative and dwelling on the past > lets go of things/people too easily -> gets discouraged fast > gets scared of the real world and escapes every challenge or obstacle in life > tactless communication -> says wrong thing at the wrong time, doesn't know how to articulate themselves smartly and adjust their words to the situation > takes everything personally and gets defensive fast

lee know

turn on's > laidback and calm energy > isn't extremely competitive and doesn't get greedy over useless things -> knows when to give in > ideally non-famous and ordinary people (he likes the thought of his partner providing him with some normalcy) > very observant and notices small details about you > knows when to let go and doesn't cling onto things (like someone who knows things come and go and is accepting towards the harsh realities of life) > isn't interested in gossiping, stays away from childish drama

turn off's > plays useless games with you (like playing hard to get) > is too delusional and unrealistic > keeps whining and crying over how awful their life is (lmao i can see him being taken aback and thinking “am i your babysitter”) > unreliable and doesn't keep their promise (someone who tells you they'll do one thing and end up doing another) > unwilling to acknowledge and work on their toxic habits (he just hates pretentious people who act all smug when they're not, he thinks it's very cringy because he can see through it)

changbin

turn on's > humble and grounded > a lot of potential and enthusiasm for something (he likes it when someone has motivation and goals, he wants to help them reach whatever they aspire to be) > has love for everyone and spreads kindness -> goes through life non-prejudiced (he likes pure people) > thinks and acts with and from their heart > considerate of people's needs -> doesn't put themselves above anyone and knows how to be happy for others > doesn't rush into things and approaches everything with patience (someone who thinks before acting) > responsible and takes care of the people they cherish

turn off's > lazy and doesn't set themselves up to any standards (just goes through life without any goals or ambition) > doesn't take life seriously, makes inappropriate jokes > is unnecessarily strict in how they treat others (he thinks why be hurtful if you can get the point across in a considerate manner) > doesn't know how to have empathy for people > very egocentric > moves on too quickly (it'll make him wonder like damn did i even mean anything to you if you're already over me)

hyunjin

turn on's > guarded, careful who they get close to (doesn't share their business with everyone) > deeply empathetic and caring nature, good listener (i can tell he finds beautiful and calming voices attractive) > fiercely loyal and committed to the people they love (he gets insecure about not being enough for his partners, so he needs the guarantee that you won't leave) > very determined and driven to fulfil their desires (is very eager and direct in their pursuit, he likes feeling like you're obsessed with him) > capable of carrying responsibilities and burdens on their shoulders -> doesn't get tired quickly, makes it look easy > helps him understand himself better (he wants someone who can make him feel confident & comfortable in his skin)

turn off's > doesn't understand the weight of deep connections -> gets close to many people (can make him feel like he isn't special) > hides and runs away from their emotions > holds endless grudges and never lets go of past occurrences > doesn't have an opinion of their own, just follows the crowd > keeps being dissatisfied, complaining and nagging at him (this would make him very self-conscious, he wants someone who's accepting of his imperfections) > dependent on others to help them -> doesn't know how to heal themselves and self-sabotages

(tbh, i can feel that hj wants someone who fills all his weak spots, because if he was with someone too similar to him, he feels like that'd be a recipe for disaster)

felix

turn on's > cheerful and full of energy, ability to light up the room > self assured and confident > very protective and willing to do anything to defend their loved ones (wants someone more direct and unafraid than him, he's too much of a people-pleaser) > carries a lot of inner wisdom and always has good advice > self-aware and reflective of their own actions and words > very different to him (whether that's in looks, personality, mindset. he gets intrigued) > a lot of inner strength and resilience -> doesn't falter easily > plus physical strength as well > puts plenty of thought into their relationships and feels the need to look after their loved ones, worries about him (he wants to feel safe and taken care of)

turn off's > doesn't care about boundaries and acts recklessly > bad manners > doesn't take care of their health and takes it for granted > always negative and drags others into their negativity > plays victim all the time and complains a lot (especially about others) > lacks drive and motivation in life > is too narrow-minded, traditional and conservative -> judgemental of minorities and people different to them > deliberately uses sharp and cruel words to hurt people and push their buttons or provoke them -> keeps starting conflicts > badmouths people too much

jisung

turn on's > has strong capacity for a deeply emotional bond (doesn't take relationships lightly and is emotionally involved) > pushes him to be a better version of himself > has a comforting and soothing effect on him -> makes him feel safe and understood > helps him acknowledge and work on his toxic habits (also loves him regardless of him not being perfect -> helps him accept himself the way he is) > very romantic and affectionate (compliments, words of affirmation!) > self-assured and headstrong -> doesn't get beat down easily (fire sign energy) > is tolerant and understanding of his circumstances and lifestyle (accepting the fact that relationships aren't that easy for him and dating him can come with certain struggles)

turn off's > is too possessive and clingy -> doesn't give him space > makes him feel incapable or inadequate (triggers his insecurities and his self-doubt) > acts like they're his parent (lol like someone who babys him too much and doesn't acknowledge he is a grown man) > gets too controlling and acts like they have a say in his life > is too strict and direct with him (he needs some sugarcoating sometimes) > too materialistic and focused on superficial matters (like looks, money, fame etc.) > is very hot and cold -> makes him believe one thing and then says something else, keeps him on his toes too much > is too conservative and stuck in the way they see things -> not open and understanding of different perspectives

seungmin

turn on's > knows exactly what they want in life and what to do to get it > independent and self-reliant (especially when women are very self-sufficient and in no need of anyone, he thinks it's admirable) > strongly stands by their belief or opinion and isn't fazed by external influences > very creative and passionate (especially musically, he likes it when people express themselves in an artistic manner) > trustworthy and committed to everything they do > can be their own boss and doesn't allow anyone to commend them around > elegant, well-mannered and polite

turn off's > keeps themselves trapped in their own delusions and refuses to open their eyes to reality > spoiled, takes precious things and people for granted > too attached and obsessed about materials or money -> doesn't know how to appreciate what they have (especially family, he definitely wants someone devoted to their home) > thinks they're levels above everyone and acts entitled > has something negative to say about everyone and is too judgemental > too antisocial and boring

jeongin

turn on's > free-spirited and fun to be around > has an optimistic outlook on life and doesn't always take it too seriously (i can tell he really likes someone with a great sense of humor who can make him laugh) > observant and curious about him as a person > makes him feel confident and special (a lot of compliments) > natural charisma and strong presence (main character energy, attracts gazes wherever they go) > but! okay with making themselves smaller and stepping back for him to shine and be the main character (lmao like telling him he's so much better than them etc.) > isn't afraid of arguments -> fearless and headstrong (he doesn't like scaredy cats)

turn off's > too prideful and ego-centric > overly serious and uptight all the time -> boring and doesn't know how to take a joke (like buzzkills, someone who keeps ruining the fun) > too focused on marriage and the longterm (he just wants someone to have fun with and see what comes out of it, he doesn't consider marriage right away) > surrenders and gives in too easily -> doesn't put up a fight > too obsessed about their own career and overly focused on remaining stable (cheap and boring people)

#kpop tarot #stray kids tarot

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moondrama · 3 years ago

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The main reason I haven't caught up with my dramas and shows or started new ones is because I watch everything at night before bed. And recently, all that time is spent on watching clips from the Depp v. Heard trial. And when I'm caught up with those, I turn the live stream on (their court time coincides with sleep time in my timezone) and listen to it until I fall asleep.

I wouldn't consider myself invested in this case or the two people involved honestly. I did not know Amber Heard before this trial at all. I liked Johnny Depp and his work a lot bit not enough to follow his court cases or anything.

It's just... interesting. And the trial content is soooo easily available and accessible. You watch one clip, you want to watch another. The trial is (and I say this very carefully as the issue involved is super sensitive) rather entertaining at times too. It's hard to not describe it like that once you see certain witnesses and other non-serious moments. Plus I find it fascinating to see everyone talk so eloquently with confidence. I know they're all experienced and all but I just like observing how they talk and communicate with each other.

As for my opinions which do not matter at all, I started off supporting Depp. Heard's side felt very weak and fake to me at times, though the Vasquez lawyer on Depp's side has that extra powerful vibe so idk if it's just their demeanor or way of talking that influence our opinions. But when Heard mentioned her s**ual a*s*ult experiences - idk if they're true or not - it just got a little hard to keep a one-sided stance about the whole thing.

I'm quite neutral about the whole thing right now. Both of them seem to have led very very messed up times. I'm kinda watching it for my interest in the whole legal setup now. Hope whoever is right gets justice.

#like right now i listened to like 2+ hours of their closing argument 😭#i just enjoy watching confident people speak eloquently in public #not just public but a very high profile public area like a court #they're alllll soooo confident and eloquent amd well-spoken #which also means they're capable of being manipulative lol coz that's their job too #some cross examinations were very precisely and smartly worded...#almost like they got the answers they wanted #johnny depp #amber heard #depp vs heard

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kileaderie · 3 years ago

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Hate

.ii. Pairing: Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

.ii. Genre: Angst, Smut

.ii. AU Selected: Office

.ii. Warnings: dom!Seonghwa, sub!Reader, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, strong language, name calling (slut), dirty talk, nipple play, overstimulation, creampie, etc.

Word Count: 4.8K+

Summary: Your co-worker hate you, but you didn't care. You continue to get on his nerves but one day, he shows you how hateful he can get.

Author’s Note: Been keeping this for months, hopefully y’all enjoy it! I’m still working on a few more things for you all, fighting!

Seonghwa sighed, his back aching while trying to concentrate on work. Piles of papers were laying before him and he was reading the same document over and over again. He could see the letters but didn't understand them. His mind was somewhere else.

She's so annoying, he was thinking to himself. She did it on purpose, didn't she?

It was so frustrating not knowing why you acted like that. He told you, right? He warned you that there will be consequences if you embarrassed him in front of anyone. And yet you did it. You spilled the coffee on his chest, dirtying his shirt with dark stains. But that's not all, you began to apologize and attempt to wipe the stains out of his clothes, setting him in a strange sense of dismay.

People were looking at him, whispering, including the boss and other members of the company. First, he thought that you did it by accident, but then he saw a little glow of triumph in your eyes. The sound of knocking on his desk pulled him from the grip of memories. He sighed again, raising his eyes from the papers, and he froze at that moment.

"What now?"

"Nothing, I just want to disturb you." You smiled before walking to your desk.

Seonghwa gripped the papers, cursing under his breath as he watches you. There's always been something about you that he can't quite put his finger on. Maybe it's the way you speak eloquently. Maybe it's the way you dress smartly. Maybe it's the way you catch him curiously watching you from time to time like he's waiting for you to fuck up or step out of line, which you did.

He hates it, he hates you.

He can't stand the way you look at him, how you keep bothering his mind even though you didn't actually do it. Both of you hate each other, but you love to make him lose his nerves. You just can't stop bothering him, every day, you'll always think of something to make him angry. Seonghwa closed his ears with his palms when a loud thud echoed the small office that you both shared with.

"Argh! What's wrong with you?!" He glares at you.

"What? It felt on its own, you can't blame me." You put on a serious face.

He rolled his eyes and went to read the documents again. Once he turns away, you snickered, holding up your laugh, and go to pick up the files that you purposely knocked over. Seonghwa rubbed his temples, his eyes twitched to look at you. You bend down to collect the files, and he could see your cleavage showing, teasing him.

He instantly closed his eyes with his hand, grunting as he hates but loves the sight. How many times had he told you that you can't wear provocative clothes? Never, he doesn't want to be called and teased by you for being a pervert, for checking you out. But your hair is so beautiful that he can't force you to change the haircut. You're too pretty like that, it was distracting him so much and he hates it so much he could get a major headache.

"God, how did I ever end up being in the same office room with you?"

"Because I asked the boss to put us together." You cheered, smiling at him.

He looks at you in shock, sighing as he tilts his head backward. You stepped gracefully, holding binders filled with documents in your hand while the other hand patted his neck softly. He stiffened for a moment by your touch but his eyes glared at you. He swatted your hand off of him and you chuckle, going back to your seat.

Yeosang pokes his head into your and Seonghwa's office, his eyes slowly scanning the area. He noticed the peaceful atmosphere and stepped in, walking past Seonghwa's desk and making his way towards you. He leaned forward, talking to you in a sensual voice, flirting with you.

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I'm always free for you." You whispered.

You and Yeosang aren't dating but in fact, just friends with benefits. Every weekend, you'll spend the day together, going to movies, hanging out, or just chilling. But when it's night, he'll bring you to the club where he'll enjoy watching you swing that ass of yours and lastly fuck the living shit out of you at his apartment.

Seonghwa knew it all too well since he'll always overhear Yeosang telling the other male employees about how great you are the next day you guys had sex. But what's more shocking is that you aren't just fucking around with Yeosang but almost half of the male employees in the office. All except him.

He felt angry and disappointed, why would you fuck other guys when you love to tease him so much? He wonders this more than once, letting it go but he'll always ask himself the same question over and over again when he sees you. Of course, he'd lie to others that he once fucked you but he hoped you didn't expose him for lying. He silently listens to your conversation with Yeosang, his hand came down to his thigh and slowly rubbed it.

"See you this Saturday, baby." He winked, walking out of the office.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, fixed his position, and clenched his jaw when you called his name. "Seonghwa. Hey, Hwa."

"What?" "Your thighs are itchy?" He looks at you and realized he has been rubbing his thigh for quite a while.

"N-None of your business!" He said before getting up, leaving the office with a flustered face.

Seonghwa rushes into the restroom, wetting his face in the sink before looking at himself in the mirror. He clenched his fist, groaning as he could feel his cock straining in his underwear, growing warm when he remembered the details that Yeosang had told about sex with you. He then went inside one of the cubicles, locking it.

He puts down the toilet lid and sits on it. He stays there for a little longer, bouncing his left leg up and down. He immediately felt his dick growing in his pants, saying hello to its owner. His hand slowly reaches his little friend, palming himself through the fabric. He groans, fumbling with his belt and unzipping his zipper.

Ignoring everything around him, Seonghwa took off his pants just so he can pull out his dick. Closing his eyes, he bit his bottom lip. Rolling them between his fingers, he moaned softly. Suddenly, his mind flashed to the way you look at him, and the tits he had seen only a short while ago. Wondering if you would have given him head, or even jerk him off.

The thoughts had made him increase his speed. He tugged at his cock quicker, and the sound of the bathroom door opening nearby made him reluctantly open his eyes. He stopped his movements as he hears other colleagues' voices in the same area as him. He cover his mouth with the other hand, slowly moving the other as he was close.

Seonghwa wished you were here, jerking him off and causing him to undone. His thumb rubbed over his slit, and he could feel the fire burning in the pit of his stomach grew more and more. Seonghwa was unable to keep his eyes open as he leaned his head back. He imagines him fucking you senselessly and not the other men.

"F-Fuck.." He moans as soon as the guys outside have left.

Seonghwa's hand was pumping his cock fast, the poor male's legs were shaking with pleasure. He moaned your name as he came with a few sorts of cum, his hand can't stop, he hates it, hates how you're the reason he's jerking himself off in the men's bathroom. Quickening his pumping, he reached down and played with his balls. Not long after, hot spurts of cum landed on the cold tiles and Seonghwa was breathing heavily.

"I hate you, Y/n.." He mumbled, tucking himself back into his pants.

Yeosang wrapped an arm around your waist, walking with you into the club. The bass from the music pounded through your bones with every beat, sending your blood pulsing through your veins. The heat around you was building up with every movement, bodies pushing in from every side as they all moved to the rhythm of the thrumming music.

"I'll get the drinks." He says, walking towards the bar.

You went to the seat in the corner, sitting alone as you watch other people dance on the dance floor. After a while, Yeosang came with two glasses of drinks, handing one to you. You thanked him, tipping up the glass as you take sips. You sighed, and he nudges your elbow, asking if you wanted to dance.

You agreed.

Dance brings you joy. But what's more, is how he'll place his hands on you. How his body was so close to you, feeling like you can't breathe seeing his angelic face. He then buried his face in the crook of your neck, sniffing your new perfume. Smiling, he bites your skin, whispering in your ear with his deep voice.

"Let's get more drinks and we're out of here."

That's exactly how you're in Yeosang's apartment, getting naked, getting into foreplay, he'll worship your body like no other. However, when it came to sex, you'll always remind him to wear a condom or pull out. You are on birth control, and of course, you're clean, it's just that... You're waiting for someone you've wanted for such a long time, you're just hoping he'll take the hint and make the first move.

You're waiting for him.

You woke up to the sound of the noise from the kitchen. Getting up to the closet, you wore the bathrobe that you'll always wear and head on over to the kitchen. Yeosang smiled, walking towards you and kissing your cheek before he focused back on the pancake he was making.

"You sure don't want to get more sleep?"

"Why so?" He just shrugged. "Well, you fell asleep during our first round, looks like someone is hardworking these days."

You snickered. "I'm just too drunk I guess." He'd shake his head. "Sure you were."

He handed you a plate of pancakes, topping it with some strawberries and maple syrup. He licked his finger which was covered with maple syrup. You smiled, thanking him with a peck on the lips. You could taste the maple syrup on his tongue and he knows that look in your eyes as you stare at his lips.

"Breakfast can wait.. Let me have you first." He whispered, pulling you towards the bedroom.

Seonghwa was walking around in the supermarket, pushing his trolley as he looks at the shelves. Getting the usual grocery that he list, he walks to the men's healthcare aisle. Scanning the shelf, he takes a deodorant and has a sniff. Unsatisfied, he tries the others. Just then, a couple stands next to him, checking the shelf as well.

"Oh, I found it." The boyfriend said, pointing.

Seonghwa lowered his gaze to see but quickly looks away. There were condoms, right next to the deodorant and men's razors section he's at. He gulped, sniffing the other deodorant and quickly putting the one he likes in his trolley. He heard their giggles, and he blushed as they started dirty talking. He quickly walks away, to the cashier.

Getting into his house, he arranges the stuff he had brought to their places. He took off his cap. putting it on the bed. Seonghwa sighs and was about to enter the bathroom, but his phone rings. It was you, weird, what do you want? He muttered, picking up the call. He heard moans and was taken aback.

He was about to hang up the call since he doesn't want to invade your privacy. However, there was Yeosang's voice too, his eyes grew wider than just now. Swallowing greedily, he focused on your voice, the sound of your whine and whimper, the way you beg for Yeosang, screaming his name, it made his fists clench.

Don't call his name.

Scream mine.

Say Park Seonghwa.

Please.

He took a deep breath as he heard your loud moan, reaching your orgasm. You panted and Seonghwa was holding on to his breath. He hangs up the call, staring at the phone for a moment. He then sits on the bed, clenching the bedsheets as he feels his wrath grow.

I'll make her pay for this.

It's been weeks and you wonder why would Seonghwa ignores every little thing you do. You try to distract him by touching his thigh in the meeting room, but he didn't show any reaction, in fact, he was so focused on the boss, not pay a single glance at you. You began to get frustrated when he instantly left the meeting room when it was over.

You lean your chin on your palm, staring at Seonghwa as he casually types on his keyboard. His delicate hands move freely and you sigh. Once and then twice. You noticed your little move causes his eyebrow to twitch. Finally, you know what to triggers him, he's sensitive to the sounds you made not the actions.

You started your plan by drumming your fingers on the desk, and next, your heels tapping on the floor. You smirked when you saw his adam's apple bobbed up, gulping. Seonghwa glances over and caught by you, smiling mischievously as you recognized that face of his. He raised from his seat, going towards your desk.

"Looks like someone is mad." You teased, leaning against your chair.

"Looks like someone is hungry for dicks." He retorts which surprised you.

He leaned forward, resting his palms on your desk. You raised a brow at him, sucking a breath as he came face to face with you. His stone-cold expression makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You stare at each other and he made the first move, just like you've been wishing for. He raises your chin with his fingers as he scoffed.

"Slut." He whispered.

"I am not." You glare at him.

"Say it again."

"I am-" He squeezes your cheeks with his hand causing you to stop mid-sentence. "Slut, that's what you are."

He smirked, leaning closer to your face. You gulped and try to release yourself from him but he gripped your cheeks more. You both shared eye contact for a good five seconds before he whispered, mouthing I hate you and harshly releasing your face.

He smiled as he saw the surprised look you had when you stare at him. He scoffed and went to his desk again, just in time, a co-worker knocked and came into the office room. If he didn't keep his cool, she would've walked in him and you by the window, fucking.

It was almost midnight and most of your co-workers had left the building, especially Seonghwa who was the first to step out of the office you both shared. You were given extra tasks but luckily you get to finish them in a nick of time. You swept your hair out of your face when you walk out of the office. Your heels made clicking sounds as you step onto the hard floor.

You drove back to your apartment, a place where you can relax your mind. That's what you thought until you instantly saw Seonghwa standing right in front of your door as soon as you stepped out of the elevator.

"What are you doing here?"

"My car's tire flattens, and I don't have a spare tire in the car. Since your place is the closest to where I was, I came here." He shrugged.

"You could've gotten the cab or something."

"Just open the door, I'm freezing here." He urges.

"You don't tell me what to do, and I don't give you permission to enter either." You said, unlocking the door but shoving him out.

He scoffed. "I waited hours in the cold and you'll just kick me out?"

"That's why you'll have to think twice before coming here!" You snapped and he looked down.

"Well, how about Yeosang?" You tilted your head. "What?" He raised his head.

"And other male workers? Oh, even other random guys you had brought into your apartment? How come they can go in and I don't?"

"They're just sex buddies, nothing more." You were about to close the door but he stopped you.

"Then, let me be one of your sex buddies too." He said, pushing the door fully open. "Seonghwa- No!"

He pulled you inside and locked the door, throwing his bag on the floor before taking off his jacket. You called his name but he continues to undress, going for his tie, and went to untuck his shirt. He was about to unbutton his button-up shirt but you yelled at him, catching his attention.

"We can't do this." You mumbled when you saw the tears in his eyes. "Why.. Why would you say no to me but yes to everybody."

"Why would you say yes to him and not me?! Why would you make me hate you even when I don't want to!? What is your purpose, Y/n!" He was out of breath, tears threatening to fall.

"Because I don't want to fall in love with you."

"I fear rejection."

"That's why I'll always mess around with other guys and not you."

You both eye each other. And you were the first to break down, tears rolling down your cheeks as you clenched your fist. Seonghwa was not far behind, his tears slowly dropped, following the line of his cheekbones.

"Y/n, it's too late now, I have fallen for you." He whispered, stepping closer.

"I hate you but my love for you grows stronger as you keep bothering me." He cradles your cheeks softly this time.

"And I don't want to hate you anymore, so please, love me?"

He leaned in, kissing you soundly before dropping his lips to your neck. You let out a deep moan as he bites the skin, marking you as his. He runs his hands down your sides. Burning a pathway in your skin beneath your clothes with his fingers. He grows at the sight of you.

He slowly moves you to the wall, slamming your back against it. You roll your hips into him making him groan against your neck. The silly fight had gotten to him and now here he was, fingers digging into your hips, his mouth devouring yours, grinding his hardness mercilessly against you.

You tug on his collar and he pulls away, panting heavily as he stares at you. He nodded and you slowly began to unbutton his shirt as you admire his body. Your hands touch his chest, up to his shoulders, and his neck. He takes the shirt off, letting you see his perfect figure. He started to unbuckle his belt and you help to push his pants down.

He wasn't ready went you dropped to your knees. It feels like a dream to him, it's finally happening. You were stroking his thighs, seeing his thighs flexed makes your heart race. You stopped for a second, tilting your head up to look at him. He looks ethereal. You then focused on his briefs, his hard cock straining out.

"Can I do it?" You asked, gulping.

He nodded, whispering, "Go ahead."

The sight of his member lifting out of his briefs had your lips parting in awe, saliva gathering in your mouth purely at the glorious size of him. You knew you would not be able to take him, but you were willing to try once you had him flushed and on the edge of his high. Your mouth finally parting and sliding down his length certainly did.

The sound of Seonghwa groaning with such satisfaction had you pushing your thighs together, the depth of it unbelievably arousing and distracting you momentarily. After refocusing on the task at hand, you started to work your mouth and fingers in unison, pumping up and down at an agonizingly slow pace, milking as much pleasure as you possibly could through the way that your tongue traced delicately around his length, caressed the vein that throbbed eagerly on the underside, hollowing your cheeks so that you could suck hard.

From his lips slipped your name in delicious moans and throaty grunts, hips rolling up into your mouth with a fuck you are so good or praising when you would venture deeper for him with that's a good girl drifting into your ears and making you whimper quietly around him which straining to refrain from reaching your free fingers between your thighs to satisfy yourself.

Seonghwa's hand that was tangled in the strands of your hair had gone slightly slack with the euphoria that was rushing throughout his limbs, tightening every time you would push down, encouraging you to go deeper, harder. But you were in the mood to make him wait, for him to earn the privilege of feeling his tip brush against the back of your throat.

"Y/n, faster, I'm close.." He groaned, resting a hand against the wall behind you as the other hand gripped your hair tightly.

His entire muscles frame quivered at the sensation. Eyes fluttering shut, he thrusts forward, cumming in your mouth. You smiled as you swallowed, looking up at him. After you kiss the tip of his dick, he instantly pulls you up, slamming you against the wall again. He went for another kiss, more aggressive than before.

"Say you love me." He muttered.

"Come on, say the word love on me." He bit your earlobe.

"I l-love you, Seonghwa.." You obeyed, resting your hands on his chest.

Seonghwa hummed as he pulled away from you and looked you up and down. Your eyes were full of lust, you want him and you want him now. His fingers lightly touches your shoulder and quickly went to unbutton your shirt. He moved his eyes down to your chest. that's where he saw the cup of your bra peeking out as he was halfway done unbuttoning. His finger looped around the strap and slowly let it down your skin.

"You are so perfect.." He whispered, caressing your skin.

He licked his lips before diving to kiss your neck, trailing down to your chest where he'll unzip your skirt, letting it down slowly. You let out a breathy moan when he slipped his hand into your panties. His fingers toying with your clit and casually poking your entrance multiple times, letting out the sound of wetness.

"Did you get turned on by sucking me off?" He scoffed.

"I knew you're a slut."

Suddenly, he picked you up, going to the bedroom. His dick pressing against your naked stomach as he opens the door to the bedroom. You were laying flat on the bed, staring into his eyes as he lowered himself, resting his elbows on either side of your head. You gasped, the way his cock rested on your stomach and slowly moved up and down made you shiver.

He feels warm, very warm.

Seonghwa smiles as he likes the way you're looking at him. Eyes half-opened, mouth slightly agape, and chest heaving up and down. He grabbed his cock, pumping it a little before aiming for your entrance. You stuttered as he slowly pushed in and whimpered as he was halfway inside you. You grabbed the bed sheet, listening to his coos as he pushes all the way in. He's the longest you've ever had and probably the best one so far.

"Are you okay?" He asked, caressing your cheeks.

You nodded and he grabbed your chin harshly. "Say it properly."

"Y-yes, Hwa.." You stuttered, shakily nodding.

He smirked, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head. You were moaning when he started to shallowly thrust in and out. His tip perfectly hits your cervix, and your walls clenched on him once he latched his mouth on your nipple. His warm mouth kissed and sucked your nipple as his eyes stared innocently yet devil-like into your eyes.

The silly fight had gotten to him and now here he was, on top of you as he quickens his pace. You were enjoying this too much, so much that Seonghwa begin to slow down just before you can reach your climax. You gazed at him, eyes searching for an answer while your hips moved on their own. He noticed what you were doing and push your stomach down, his fingers digging into your hips as his mouth devoured yours.

"I should give you punishments for all of the teasings you did." He kissed your cheek.

"I could edge you for hours." He gives a sharp thrust.

"A-ah!" You whined, his pace suddenly quickens. "Or I could make you cum over and over again until I'm satisfied."

"I like the face you're making, let's go for the second choice." He grinned, ramming into you fast.

The night keeps on going and you wonder how long you both had been doing it. The way Seonghwa holds you gently yet firmly by your hips as he rams into you from behind. You panted, tears on your face and sweat glistening all over your skin. You were so lost in thoughts, your eyes were half-closed as you clenched on him. Seonghwa smirked, leaning down his upper body fully, his chest met your back.

"What's wrong? Don't you like to be in multiple rounds and multiple positions?"

"I-I.. I like it.." You answered and your spine shivered as he massaged your breasts.

"Would you rather have sex with me or Yeosang?" His question came out of nowhere.

"Answer, slut." He insisted, his hands squeezing your breasts harshly.

"W-with you! Fuck, that hurts..!" You were breathing hard and his thrusts never faltered.

Seonghwa chuckled as he carefully fondled your breasts. He pinched your nipples to get a reaction from you, and his hand slowly went up to your neck. He grabbed your throat and tilt your head up, kissing you slowly. He stares at you for a while, amazed by the way you look at him now. He starts to feel things again, his eyes closed as he pushed your upper body down on the mattress, ass up with your legs spread wider. He intertwined your fingers with him as he quickly catch his orgasm.

"I'm going to cum.. I'll cum in you.. Make you mine.."

"M-My slut.."

His words made you clench on him in instant, and you were moaning like there's no tomorrow. He pounds into you quickly and hard, and you were the first to release. Sighing, you moved your hips with Seonghwa. The way he immediately gripped your wrists had made you flinch and the feeling of his cum being shot inside of you was incredible. He groaned, dick twitching as he spurts out more of his semen.

"Hold on, i-it keeps coming out." He exhaled, teeth nipping on your earlobe.

You whined at how full you are right now and once he's done, he thrusts in and out a few times before he pulls out slowly. His hot breath fanning on your back as he gets up. You remained on the bed, ass up as his cum oozing out of your pussy. He grinned at the view, his large hand softly touching your inner thigh, gradually moving up before shoving his fingers to fuck the cum back inside. You whimpered, even more, ass twitching as your hands clenched on the sheets.

"Such a dirty slut you are, huh?" He stilled his fingers in you.

"Taking my cum like a whore." He smiled, his other hand spanking your ass cheek harshly.

"O-only for you.." You mumbled. "What did you say? Can you say it louder this time?"

You bit your bottom lip. "Only for you!" You shouted. "That's a good girl."

He caressed your red ass and kissed your back before pulling out his fingers and humming at the taste of you and him. You then collapse on the bed, eyes teary as he lays beside you. He smiled, pulling you closer to his chest, cooing as it feels uncomfortable to move. He really gave you that feeling that you were going to struggle walking in the morning and this is the first time someone ever cum inside you and you were glad that it was him, someone, you've always wanted.

"Was I too rough with you?" You shake your head. "No, I like this new side of you."

He chuckles before he becomes hesitant again. "Do you think.. I'm, better than Yeosang?"

"Seonghwa, you're always the better one." You said, and he nodded.

"You said you love me, does that mean.."

"Slow down, big boy, take it slowly, would you?" He giggled, nodding afterward.

"Also, I'm sorry for being annoying every day and sorry that I spilled coffee on your shirt last time."

"It's okay, we are even now."

"Huh?"

"I already spilled my babies in you."

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band--psycho · 3 years ago

Text

Chibs Telford x Reader-Professor

My first story of the new year and the latest addition to my A-Z list of stories!

I hope you all enjoy this!💛

(Yes there will be a part 2!)

Warnings-Teacher/Student (over 18) relationship, smut (do not read if under 18)

Y/Ns POV

‘Why do I always leave assignments to the last minute’ ; I thought to myself as I chugged down my energy drink. My eyes were stinging as I tapped away on my keyboard trying to focus on the words I was writing and making sure that they made as much sense as my already tired brain could muster.

It wasn’t a particularly important assignment, just an introductory history paper where we could write about whatever we really wanted; it was all so the new Professor could get a sense of what and who throughout history we were interested in.

But I couldn’t really focus on the assignment at hand at the moment, instead, my mind wandered to the new Professor.

He was different from the other Professors at the university; he wasn’t so eloquently spoken, smartly dressed in a suit, or as arrogant like most of the other Professors were. Instead, he swore like a sailor, always wore a black leather jacket with jeans and black trainers. The biggest difference, he was fun. His classes were exciting and enlightening. I certainly couldn’t fall asleep during his class that was for sure.

And to top it all off, I had a crush on him.

Yes, I had a crush on Professor Telford.

His accent was enough to make her go weak at the knees, but that wasn’t the only attractive thing about him. His eyes were absolutely gorgeous; I could stare into them forever; and his hands, I didn’t know what it was about his hands but I couldn’t help but think about how good they would feel wrapped around my throat.

‘Focus,’ I mentally scolded myself, snapping myself out of my fantasies, refocusing on the assignment before her, tapping away on the keyboard.

About half an hour later; the assignment was finished. A wave of relief washed over me as I leaned back in the chair, my eyes glanced at the clock, 3:15am; at least I’d be able to get a few hours sleep before my flatmates woke me up at a ridiculously early hour of the morning for breakfast.

Drowsily I dragged the file into an email and sent it to Professor Telford before all but collapsing onto my bed, hoping that despite the amount of energy drinks I had consumed tonight I would actually be able to sleep.

~~~~~~

‘How could I have been so stupid,’ I thought to myself as I sat at Professor Telfords desk, trying to find the email that I’d sent him.

I knew I could get kicked out of university for doing this; but there was no way I could let the Professor read the story I’d written. So the risk was worth it.

Thankfully, his office door wasn’t locked and his computer was already signed in; so all I had to do was delete the email that I’d had sent him, send him a new one with the correct file, and it would all be sorted.

I hadn’t planned this; I wasn’t even really thinking clearly, I just knew I had to stop him from reading the story.

I was scrolling through his emails; and just as I found mine, I heard the door open.

And there he was, Professor Telford himself.

“Sir…what are you doing here?” I asked; terror washing over me along with embarrassment. My question was stupid; so stupid I was mentally cursing myself as soon as the words left her mouth.

This was his office. If anyone shouldn’t have been in there, it was me.

“I think that’s a question I should be asking ye, Miss Y/l/n,’ he replied, his eyebrows raised and his arms crossed.

~~~~~

Third Person POV

Although he kept his expression neutral, he could not ignore the way his cock twitched when the words ‘sir’ fell from her lips.

He knew why Y/n was here, though he could not lie he was both surprised and impressed by her actions.

The essay, that’s why she was here.

Today was the deadline for their latest history essay; but what he received in his email was certainly not that. It was a story. A smutty story. Where a Professor fucks his student.

He tried to stop himself from reading it, he really did but his curiosity got the best of him. He soon realised that the Professor she had written about, was him.

Filthy scenarios flooded his mind as he continued to read the story; his cock hardening with every sentence he read, until he finished the story. He didn’t know what to do; so he went to get some fresh air, hoping to clear the thoughts in his head.

He was in such a rush to just get out of his office that he forgot to lock the door, explaining how Y/n had gotten into his office.

“I um…I realised I gave you the wrong paper, I gave you my English essay instead of the history essay,” Y/n lied, completely unaware that her History professor had already read the story.

A small smirk tugged at Chibs’ lips, had he not already known it was a lie, he certainly would just by looking at her face.

“And ye couldnae just told me that?” Chibs asked, locking his eyes with the woman who was behind his desk.

He had to keep his composure; he was her teacher. But there was no denying how beautiful Y/n was, and right now, despite all his best efforts, all he could think about was fucking her on the desk, just as she had written.

“Are you okay, Sir?” She asked, looking at him with confusion, momentarily snapping him out of his thoughts. But then his brain processed that word again.

Sir.

The sound of that word falling from her lips made his cock twitch again as he thought of her moaning that very word while he had his hand wrapped around her throat and fucked her from behind.

“Sir?”

It was at that moment, Chibs lost the composure he’d tried so hard to keep.

”I read ye little story,” he continued, slowly making his way over to her.

There it was. The sentence Y/n had dreaded hearing.

Was it possible to die from humiliation? Y/n was certain it was; because in that moment, that’s what she felt as the embarrassment washed over her. He was her Professor, he could get her kicked out of the University for this. All because of her own stupid fantasy.

But the lowness in his voice and the way his eyes were fixed on her, made her weak at the knees.

“Professor-” Y/n began, her voice barely above a whisper, a worried look filling her eyes, “I’m so sorry, it was just a stupid story-”

“Relax, Y/n, ye’re not in trouble” Chibs breathed; it shouldn’t have added to her arousal but it did, as did the devilish glint that was gleaming in his eyes.

But it also made her extremely confused.

She should’ve been in trouble; she should’ve been expelled, something; but instead her Professor was telling her that she wasn’t.

“I’m not?”

Of course she wasn’t; Y/n was one of the best students in his class, it would be stupid to report her for this.

“No, ye’re not,” he answered simply, “Ye can delete it, send me the new one over, leave and we can pretend that none of this happened.”

Relief and surprise mixed within Y/n along with a little bit of disappointment. Relief and surprise at the fact that she wasn’t going to get in any trouble for this. Disappointment because she didn’t want to pretend that her Professor was looking at her in a way he certainly shouldn’t.

The disappointment in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“Or..” The Professor continued, his voice barely above a whisper as he hooked his thumb under her chin.

His voice and actions cut through Y/n's thoughts, as her eyes met his.

He knew this was wrong. So wrong. He could lose his job over what he was about to say, but he couldn’t stop them from leaving his lips.

“I could lock the door and we could recreate that little story ye wrote,”

A small gasp fell from Y/n lips, her shock evident.

Did he really just say that?

No, no he can’t have. She must’ve imagined him saying that. She was sure of that; until he ran his thumb across her bottom lip.

“It’s ye’re choice, lass,”

‘Fuck,’ Y/n thought to herself. She should say no.

She should delete the email she'd sent him go and send the essay she was meant to send when she got back to her room.

That’s what she should do.

Should.

She didn’t though.

Instead, the word ‘yes’ left her lips.

“Well then, ye best get ready for ye fantasy to become a reality, ” he mumbled, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear, before walking to the door to lock it.

Leaving her breathless.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @i-just-read-stuff @05supernatural20 @heyitskat101 @skyofficialxx @sassymox @jitterbugs927 @withmyteeth @little-diable @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @xbreezymeadowsx @munsinner @may85 @lady-writes-flanagan @lady-writes20 @beth-gallagher22 @oskea93 @lexondeck @thexhostess @tempt-ress @choochoo284 @rebelwrites @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @bl3333h @devilishducky97 @meteora-fc @the-mayan-queen @rosieposie0624 @thekaelicobain @elliewigginton20 @chibsgirl143 @chibsytelford @samanthaofanarchy @bookworm1767 @book-dragon03 @missbee1095 @xxemberlights @igotmajordaddyissues @stillbreathin @beeroses @fandom-oneshots-etc @purplerain85

#sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy imagines #sons of anarchy x reader #chibs telford imagine #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford soa #chibs telford imagines #chibs telford smut #professor chibs telford x reader #chibs telford

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acquariusgb · 4 years ago

Text

The Clinton Tapes extracts of Bill as a father

Since tomorrow is Father’s Day in the US, here are some cute extracts from the book the Clinton Tapes by Taylor Branch about Bill being a wonderful father to Chelsea.

- Chelsea stopped by, neat as a pin, talking about an exam on Spanish verbs. She said good night and a preliminary goodbye for his long trip. When she was gone, Clinton said former president Bush had been encouraging him to spend more time at Camp David. Bush was hearing of low morale in its vast, attentive support staff, which remained isolated and idle because the Clintons almost never visited. The president said that while he appreciated such concerns, he saw few opportunities to change soon. Chelsea was fourteen years old. The last thing she wished for was a weekend at Camp David, which to her was the middle of nowhere. She stayed home, and her parents wanted to be apart from her as little as possible. So Camp David must wait. May 1994

- When Chelsea stopped by, the president tried to set a time to play cards, or just to talk. He said he had not seen her for a while, but she excused herself to get up early. Clinton looked a bit forlorn, telling me she had a summer job at the National Institutes of Health. July 1994

- Chelsea came in fretting about homework. In an exercise to hone succinct composition, she was writing an essay of no more than one page on the best and worst qualities in the legendary character Dr. Frankenstein, with illustrative passages from the Mary Shelley novel. Chelsea said her draft spilled stubbornly onto a second page, which was unacceptable, and she expressed doubt about her choice of quotations. The president paused to give counsel, and I left the recorders on as he read most of her essay out loud. He liked its cited images of Frankenstein’s passion for learning, enthralled in his lab, cheeks sallow with intense discovery, but he thought Chelsea was slightly ambiguous about whether his best quality was curiosity or ambition. On the negative side, where she wisely pinpointed an overbearing pride as the chief fault, he said she might find shorter, more precise quotes. We both complimented her language about the progressive blindness of Frankenstein’s zeal. Instead of creating life, Chelsea concluded, the mad doctor faced a “monster who had become his bane.” She went off to make revisions, and Clinton promised to consult her again before saying good night. May 1995

- A festering wound could damage sensitive U.S.-Japanese relations for years, Gore warned. Clinton must visit Japan quickly to make amends. Just today, the president told me, he and Gore had tramped back and forth over a crowded calendar. December was out because of nightly Christmas parties, and so on, until Clinton circled dates next April. Horrified, Gore said that would be months too late, especially since the White House was announcing a peace trip to Europe for next week. Why not substitute Japan for Northern Ireland? Alternatively, Gore zeroed in on three lightly committed January days, but the president pronounced them vital to Chelsea’s schoolwork. Gore blinked. So what? He stared through Clinton’s halting explanation why this would be a bad time—because Hillary must join him in Japan, and junior-year midterms are the most pressure-packed events in all of high school. Mutual exasperation spiked. “Al,” Clinton told him, “I am not going to Japan and leave Chelsea by herself to take these exams.” Gore erupted. He thought Clinton had lost his bearings. They had a big fight, said the president, and were still wrangling about dates for Japan. November 1995

- During this preview of the campaign, Chelsea popped in the doorway to say she was sorry she may have disturbed us. She had been singing to herself in the hall, and did not realize we were here. Before he could reply, she vanished, and while I was rewinding the tapes shortly afterward, the president rummaged around the big Ulysses Grant desk. A decade ago, when she was about six, he said Chelsea had skipped into a ceremony at the governor’s office with a briefcase, which he was obliged to open in front of everyone. He showed me a photograph of little Chelsea doubled over in laughter as Clinton squeamishly displayed a boa constrictor inside. His daughter was cheerful and courteous, he said, but she was mischievous, too. May 1996

- His voice surprised me again on Sunday, July 7. He had just finished testifying by videotape for one of the Whitewater criminal trials, in which Ken Starr’s deputy prosecutors were trying to tar him with far-fetched charges against Arkansas bankers. The president was tired, and really needed to spend time with Chelsea. So we must cancel our session tonight. He vowed to catch up soon. Of course, I replied. His staff always handled such logistics, but for some reason he delivered this notice himself. July 1996

- Clinton told stories about Chelsea on our way down the hall. He and Hillary had just returned from her ballet recital. “She’s not an ideal body for a ballerina,” he reflected. “Far from it.” Chelsea was bigger than most of the other girls, who were flat-chested and tiny. She had big bones. Her feet had bled after practice ever since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, she pursued ballet above other arts or sports for which she was more naturally suited. “I’ve always admired that,” he said. “I’ve wondered whether I could ever stick with something for its own sake.” He was inclined to obsess about competitive standing and talent, he said, whereas Chelsea, though smartly aware of her limits, loved everything about ballet including the hard work. August 1996

- Then he lingered on Chelsea’s seventeenth birthday. Because Hillary had been late to dinner at Washington’s Bombay Club, Clinton found himself the delighted sole host to a dozen high school girls in raucous discussions of love and the world. [...] The president glided into stories wholly off my list. Chelsea’s Sidwell Friends School had welcomed seniors to make two-minute spontaneous remarks at a gathering of fathers. On a theme of candid revelation, one girl told the assembly why she and her dad communicated by letter in the same house. Chelsea almost knocked Clinton over, he said, with raw eloquence cutting through the inhibitions of youth and the public eye. She confessed setting her heart all year on tryouts for a part in The Nutcracker, which she did not get. Life’s first major disappointment, as she called it, left her depressed and sleepless, consumed by failure. She could think of nothing but wasted sacrifice. Both parents talked with her late many nights, but she was inconsolable until she woke up fitfully to a letter only an hour old, headed “3am” on her father’s White House stationery. It said he could not sleep, either, being upset because she was upset. He loved her, was proud of her, and believed one day she would find new value in her years of ballet. Somehow these words dispelled a cloud of absorption, she told Sidwell. She still read the note every day. As for his work, she admired what he did in the face of so much invective, but it had not always been so. In preschool, she had cringed as the other children stood proudly to declare their parents’ jobs—doctor, fireman, teacher. Not even she had a clue about governor, and so Chelsea in turn said her mom was a lawyer and her dad cooked the French fries at McDonald’s. She became an instant hit, with by far the coolest dad, but of course the grownups made her promise not to tell lies. Apologizing later to the class, she thought her father just talked on the phone and made speeches, which got the kids briefly excited again because they thought she said he made peaches. February 1997

#the clintons #bill clinton #chelsea clinton #father and daughter

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bloodybigwardrobe · 5 years ago

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the pevensies as dnd classes

i’m frankly surprised it took me this long but i have had some Thoughts:

lucy as a life domain cleric, caring deeply for preserving life, tending to those in need and wielding the power to bring her allies back from the brink of death, while also being a force to be reckoned with on a battlefield.

edmund as a fighter with the archetype of battle master, going beyond being a swordsman and using his wits to study the art of battle in depth through history, theory and practice, with sharp eyes easily assessing his foes’ capabilities.

susan as a college of eloquence bard, mastering the art of language and weaving her words to aid her in whichever tasks she faces, be that through heartfelt speeches or smartly placed words that unsettle any enemy.

peter as an oath of the crown paladin, valueing law, loyalty, courage and ones own responsibilities while wielding his sword and a presence that commands any battlefield, brings inspiration and will challenge any foe in defense of others.

bonus: caspian as an oath of the open sea paladin, fighting for the freedom and the right of any soul to live ones life as they so wish, with a desire to explore uncharted waters for new adventure.

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #lucy pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #caspian x #mywriting #please someone come and talk to me about this im open for differing opinions/other ideas #may or may not turn this into a fic somehow #i also have a soft spot for oath of sacrifice peter but that one's biased because of the paladins ive played

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capsized-heart · 5 years ago

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Sky Castles

Pairing: Laurie x Reader, Jo x Reader

Summary: Summer has always been your favorite season in Plumfield. Perhaps it’s the lovely, sunny mornings and cool, calm nights, or perhaps it’s the fact that you and Laurie and Jo are practically inseparable in midsummer.

Follows the summers from childhood into young adulthood, with turmoils of the heart along the way.

Word count: 6.1k+

Warnings: fluff!!!!!!!!

A/N: hi, everyone. I hope you’re all staying safe and well! Right off the bat, I want to mention that I’ve pinned a post on both this blog and my main blog @sarapii-peachy about resources for the BLM movement to raise awareness and petitions you can sign to help make a difference on a smaller scale. Everything counts!

i’m back and now with a bachelor’s degree :’) class of 2020 high school and college esketit!!! we did it!!! in this historic pandemic!!! Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, this fic has been my rocky transition/attempt out of writer’s block after my INSANE last semester of uni and with all the craziness going on in the world. I hope you can channel and take in some of this innocent happiness and childhood glee into your own lives as we navigate the shitshow that is 2020. Saoirse x Timmy x Reader here to cure me of my depression lmao

this title is also based off a chapter in the Little Women book where Laurie, Jo, and the girls go to a park and gaze at the passing clouds and talk about their futures...it’s honestly really sweet. Loosely based off of that!

Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated on this💛! Not that you guys don’t leave love, but this fic like I mentioned is my attempt at kicking writer’s block in the ass, please let me know how I did! :) talk to me I missed you guys :)

tags: @ravenmoore14 @monikakrasnorada @dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids @adawn1970 @mrchalamet-mrstyles @chavezlikesthings @loveylangdon@daygiowvibe @statisticlytimmy @ceexreverse @bamposworld @lilttletimmy @cindere-llaaa

gif credit to @sheisraging

You love New England for its rich, distinct seasons, how they each paint the countryside in eloquent sweeps of shade and hue. Snow, sun, and breathtaking landscapes of fall color that tinge the treetops throughout the year. You love Plumfield, Massachusetts more for the warmth and love the March sisters have shown you, each alike in personality, nature, to the equinoxes that have shaped your girlhood, each tender memory from your youth synonymous with Meg, Amy, Beth, and Jo.

Autumn. Cozy and comfortable, where motherly Meg showed you how to heat and dip caramel with the apples you’d carefully picked from the orchard for a rare treat, the kitchen swirling with the aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric, and spices that left you feeling aglow. She’d taught you how to use an embroidery hoop, how to let dough rise, how to bake a proper pie and how to fix any clothing tear with a simple needle and thread, her compliments quick for your ever growing domestic talents.

Winter. Like cool, ambitious Amy with her painting and taste for luxury and pleasure, how she would praise you for being the only subject suitable for her artwork. Laurie would moan and complain about sitting for hours by the fireside, begging to be excused to go play in the snow, but never you. Amy called you her muse, arranging your hair and skirts to her liking, softening your lips and cheeks with a touch of rouge. It was always such fun to make a day out of modeling for Amy’s portraits, talking and laughing as she’d set up her paints.

Spring. Sweet and angelic like little Beth, windows wide open as her piano trills would float on the warm air, curtains ruffling in the breeze. You’d sit beside her on the piano bench and turn her sheet music for her, to which Beth would give you a shy, rosy smile in thanks. She taught you how to play Chopin and Tchaikovsky, duet pieces where you’d accompany her on the keys, harmonizing with chords and your fingers flying easily together.

Summer. Your favorite season, refreshing, bright, where you and Jo would spend balmy days and long, cool evenings tucked beneath the shade of tree trunks and willows as you’d read in the sun, listen to Jo’s carefully crafted stories. Her creativity and imagination never failed to amaze you, how her writing could transport you to the farthest countries, or keep you grounded in whatever fantastical setting she’d constructed for herself. She’d often write about the two of you; two young girls, best friends who’d have all sorts of dazzling adventures exploring the corners of the world, without the taxing responsibilities of chores, or schoolwork, or the foreboding, inevitable reality that one day you will be young adults and childhood would be gone forever. You’d have picnics and excursions to the nearby fields, dozing in the sun and picking wildflowers, splashing and wading through the rivers and creeks when the heat became unbearable. Before Laurie would come and spoil your fun, of course. Then, you and Jo and Laurie would be like three rowdy boys playing in the woods, your laughter echoing off the trees and sparkling waters.

You first meet Theodore Laurence as a young girl in the fields connecting the March’s property and your own. You live just down the road from the March sisters, your house tucked away beyond the bend and you’d make the trek across the meadow and grasses daily to visit your neighbors. Being an only child with your father off fighting for the Union, the March house was like your second home and the girls and Marmee and Hannah always made you feel like part of the family, your own loneliness long forgotten as soon as you’d step through the door and you’d be welcomed back with laughter, squeals, and embraces.

Today, you are seeking the company of your friends as usual, returning a book Jo had lended you with a basketful of scones you’d baked in repayment. A recipe you’d learned from Meg. The autumn air is surprisingly warm against your skin, indian summer, flushed and golden and dappling the plains. It makes you smile softly, your mood pleasant as you gather your skirts in time with your step, adjust your basket.

Then, you see him. A boy making his way in the same direction, dressed smartly in a black woolen coat and matching trousers, a silk scarf tastefully tied around his throat. His curls are windswept and tousled, his gait relaxed. He feels your gaze and looks up, eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a friendly smile. Warmth floods your cheeks. You quickly duck your head.

He looks to be your age, but you’ve read tales of highwaymen and bandits roaming the countryside, how they’d feign kindness, only to strike unsuspecting travelers. Perhaps it was the work of Jo’s overactive and contagious imagination playing at your nerves, but why was he heading towards the March’s? You think of little Beth, how boys and newcomers made her nervous, timid. Your resolve hardens protectively. You have to keep this stranger away from the girls.

Your pulse hammers in your throat as you lift your head to see the boy still looking your way. He waves his hand in greeting.

“Hello!” he cheers.

With your eyes still locked, you pick up your pace and keep your silence. Curiously, the boy finds this amusing, laughing, making it into a game as he too begins to walk briskly towards the house, of who will reach the door first. You narrow your eyes, summoning as much hostility and wickedness to your expression, demeanor as you can muster. The two of you are running now, his grin wide and eager, your own mouth twisted with hard concentration as you race each other.

Your chest is heaving when you brace yourself against the doorframe, blocking his way with your arm, back against the wood. He’s not a second behind you and is already on the stoop when you turn to face him.

“Are you Jo’s friend?” the boy asks you with a breathless, easy smile. “You’re quite fast, even faster than her.” He adds. He’s practically bouncing on his feet, jovial and buzzing with energy. The mention of Jo’s name curbs your distrust further. Bandit may now be off the table, and the thought makes you feel a bit foolish now, but how could Jo befriend such a strange boy without you knowing? How did he already seem to know who you are?

Up close, you notice his eyes are green and mischievous, reflecting back the shimmering plains in flecks of amber as he gazes at you, your pulse fluttering ever so slightly…

You scold yourself internally.

Handsome or not, he was undoubtedly a boy of trouble who had somehow won over Jo’s attention. And no easy feat, might you add. Headstrong and resolute, Jo’s circle of friends was quite small outside of you and her sisters, and you liked it that way. You’d like to keep it that way as well.

You feel a sharp, ugly pang of jealousy curl in your stomach. You stick out your lower lip in a pout, turn up your nose in a way that would certainly earn a scolding from Marmee if she were to see your impoliteness.

“Who are you to ask?” You snap.

Your words do not take the desired effect on him. Instead of hurt, or embarrassment, the boy smirks at you, amused. He cocks his head to one side and leans back on his heels, studying you like you’d just asked him why the sky is blue. His mood is breezy, amiable.

“I’m Laurie. Is that better?” he offers with a comical pout of his own. You wrinkle your nose. This boy was starting to irritate you more and more.

“Surname?”

“Laurence.”

“Laurie Laurence? My, how silly and dull.”

He laughs, a low and pleasant sound that threatens to melt your angry facade. He shakes his head, hands in his pockets.

“It’s a pet name. Jo calls me Teddy, but you may call me whichever you like,” he says. Your jealousy burns brighter, flushing your skin, twisting together with a hint of desire and yearning.

You were once Jo’s everything, her favorite companion. She made this clear with how she’d tell you plainly, how she’d spoil you with compliments and stories and affection. And now, it seemed Jo knew another, this Laurie, well enough to call him Teddy when you had no pet name of your own. She seemed to speak of you, which would explain Laurie’s cordiality, but did she tell him how you were the only one she felt comfortable enough with to critique her writing? How she would encourage your aspirations of becoming a dancer by arranging the foyer into a stage and cheering for you while sitting atop the staircase like an admirer in the box seats? How the two of you could jest and play for hours with nothing but your imagination, crying from laughter until your bellies ached?

You feel a sense of betrayal and heartache at this, an intrusion, a tirade of emotions you can’t quite explain. Did you want Jo all for yourself? Did you want to befriend Laurie as well? Did you just want to be someone’s everything again and to be doted on and loved?

Then, Laurie’s voice tapers into a quiet hum, a touch of softness. You hear the first indication of bashfulness as he looks down at you through full, dark lashes. “I hope the three of us can be good friends. I’d like to know you as well.” He murmurs.

You don’t know what to think of him. Your chest feels tight and your cheeks burn, from anger or passion you can’t quite tell. You’re contemplating leaving your basket on the doorstep and shoving past him to go back home when you suddenly hear a clamor of voices and the turning of the knob and then the door falls open behind you.

Laurie catches you before you can tumble through the entryway, hands finding your waist. Jo, vibrant and chipper as ever, lights up when she sees you and her sky blue eyes shine like glass. She has her cap fitted over her wavy blonde curls, skipping into your arms and for a moment you’re sandwiched between the two of them. You flush scarlet.

“Oh, good! You two have met. Goodbye, Marmee! I’m going out!” Jo calls into the house, her voice overlapping with her sisters’ as they all greet you in a burst of chaos. But before Jo can usher you outside, you feel your childish temper flare and you squirm out of her reach and back through the open door and into the house. You set your basket onto the table, turning to hide your face in Amy’s shoulder with a flutter of your skirts as you feel the hot sting of tears prickle your eyes. You weren’t going to let this Laurie boy see you cry upon your first encounter.

“I’m not coming.” You mumble. Amy’s hand comes to soothingly pet back your hair with a hush of surprise and you sense her look to Jo with a characteristic glare.

“Jo, what have you done?” Amy presses.

“I’ve done nothing!” Jo retorts with a huff. Then, her voice turns gentle, curious as she speaks to you. “Dear, what’s the matter?”

“She wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if you hadn’t done nothing, would she?” Amy replies. You laugh weakly, tightening your arms around her. “See?” Amy says. “You’ve broken her heart, the poor thing.”

“Jo’s made new friends,” you sniffle, embarrassed when Laurie’s eyes meet yours. Amy’s arms around you make you feel comforted and safe, brave enough to voice your true burdens when you say, “I’ve been replaced,” and gaze back at Laurie in defiance, protest. He frowns and shifts his weight, looking genuinely sorry with a guilt that touches his eyes. Good, you think. Let him think twice before stealing away your best companion.

At this, Jo’s expression softens with understanding and warmth as she sees you curl into Amy once more. Jo takes a step into the open doorway, leaving Laurie on the stoop.

“No one could ever replace you, dear,” she says. “I only keep Laurie around for when I’m bored and you aren’t around to play. Look at him,” she gestures in his direction. “He’s aloof and vain, he’s lazy, he doesn’t have an ounce of the imagination you do-”

“Don’t forget arrogant.” Amy pipes up.

Jo nods, wagging a finger at her sister. “Right you are, Amy. We mustn't forget that.”

Laurie starts to puff up with a temper, his lips twisting together and you can see him struggling with whether to speak up and defend himself, or let the girls have their fun for your sake. Jo goes on, saying he was devious and too pretty for his own good, making you and Amy giggle as she rubs soothing circles into your back. It’s rather polite and charming as you watch Laurie suffer silently, biting his tongue as Jo continues to defame his character before she finally turns back to you.

“I should have introduced the two of you properly, and for that, I’m sorry,” says Jo. “You must have had quite the surprise running into him.” Laurie again glances to you with an apologetic softness, wringing his hands together. “So, what do you think, Teddy? Are we ready to start afresh?” Jo asks him, hands on her hips.

This makes you laugh, bubbly, your mood perking up as you finally lift your head from Amy’s shoulder. Of course, Jo would be able to comprehend your grievances and somehow peg Laurie with the blame, how she knew your heart was delicate and tender and so full of devotion that you were quick to hold grudges. Your envy dissipates and you feel a bit sorry seeing Laurie now in such low spirits, his theatrical demeanor now quiet and modest.

“If she’ll have me,” Laurie murmurs, glancing up at you with such a pureness in his glittering eyes that regret starts to settle in your stomach.

“And I’ve written more of that story you enjoyed so much,” Jo holds out a hand to you. “Won’t you come hear what happens next?” she asks. Slowly, like the pull of a magnet, you untangle yourself from Amy’s arms and cross the room to take Jo’s outstretched hand.

“Alright.” You say at last. Jo beams and cradles your face with her other hand, swiping away your tears with her thumb. You let her baby you like she would with Beth, enjoying her touch against your cheek.

“That’s my sweet girl.” She smiles.

You then look to a sheepish Laurie and extend a hand, filled with new courage. You tell him your name and echo back his words that you hope the three of you can indeed become good friends, that you and Jo could do well with another acquaintance. The smile Laurie gives you is genuine, sweet and gentle, the corner of his mouth turning up in crooked delight. He clasps your hand warmly.

“I would want nothing more.” Laurie laughs.

And with that, nestled between Jo and Laurie, you step back outside into the rich and golden light of a warm autumn afternoon, curious, excited for what adventures the day will bring you.

Laurie joins your duo swimmingly and the rest of the year passes in pleasant tranquility as the three of you spend nearly every waking moment by each others’ sides. All Hallow’s Eve finds you dressed in a costume of French royalty, a pompous and comical gown of ballooning fabrics, complete with a powdered wig of pins and curls. You’ve painted your face with overlined lips and the trademark mole below your eye and the March sisters double over with laughter as you enter the foyer, fluttering your paper fan with an aristocratic pout, Laurie saluting your entrance with a roar of, la plus belle fille du monde! Jo is dressed as a fearsome pirate, outfitted in boots, breeches, and a captain’s hat, the wooden sword you and Laurie helped to paint swishing through the air as she parades into the room. Laurie enters last with a bang and a flash of white powder, appearing before your eyes in true magician fashion with a top hat and cane, a false mustache pasted onto his upper lip. All six of you then march across the field to the Laurence residence, now alight with carved pumpkins and lanterns, for your All Hallow’s Eve party of sweets and games.

Christmas brings festivities, flurries, and cheer. Sledding, ice skating, days of cold and winter fun making snow angels and snowmen, decorating the March house with holly, mistletoe, culminating into a hearty turkey dinner as you sit perched next to Laurie. The candlelight is homely, the sound of laughter and clinking silverware washing over you and you catch Laurie’s eye as he lifts his fork to his mouth. The two of you grin, leaning into each other with quiet happiness, heads bowed. You and Laurie both mirror each other in being only children, meaning these times together have been filled with welcome camaraderie. Where your instances of yearning for the companionship of siblings that only those without can understand, you’ve found company in each other, never a dull moment, never lonely.

The thaw of spring keeps you tucked away indoors with torrents of rain pelting against the roof. Jo reads to you aloud from her novel, asking for your thoughts every so often as you and Laurie lounge on the sofa. When you articulate a point of slight critique on Jo’s use of character, Laurie teasingly tugs on a lock of your hair with a smirk.

“How perceptive.” He murmurs, grinning.

You swat his hand away, glaring at him in mock anger.

And as the days grow warmer, so does your heart. You’ve learned to share your affection between Laurie and Jo in a way you think is equally matched and that autumn day where you’d been so sour to both of them seems like ages ago. Soon after that incident, your bravado had quickly morphed into appreciation and Jo had been eager to break the ice between you and Laurie. And like all children, your differences and jealousy had been set aside as you’d discovered he was quite fun to be around. Laurie shared Jo’s quick wit and intelligence, like an androgynous mirror, so much of yourself also reflected in both of them in time and they in you. And yet, Laurie had a certain charm about him; how he could have the two of you in stitches and still maintain the air of sophistication that was so often expected of the Laurence boy. Admittedly, you were thrilled to have them both as your best and favorite playmates.

In turn, they had done the same, showering you with loving attention and teasing, keeping you entertained with their bickering, quarreling over how they both wanted to occupy your time with their respective ideas for sport. Fighting over you. The thought of it makes you blush furiously. Yet, you feel cared for, like the most precious thing in their lives.You’ve also selfishly enjoyed being the apple of their eye and all the privileges that has bestowed; Jo writing you into her stories, featuring you as a beautiful sugar plum fairy, and Laurie promising to write you a French ballet, to someday whisk you off to Europe to experience high art and culture.

At last, spring turns to summer and the three of you are back to mischief and horseplay in the great outdoors. The days are lush, agreeable, bright and pleasant with flashing sunshine and lofty clouds. You’re again reminded why summer to you is synonymous with Jo as you run together through the waving fields bursting with flowers, Laurie right on your heels as he too gives chase.

“Jo! We were only kidding about the toads!” Laurie calls out from behind you. “It’s not like I have one in my pocket this very moment who’s squirming to get free and might have bitten me earlier when I caught him by the river and-”

He gives a shout of surprise and you hear his footfalls pause in the grasses. You and Jo both turn, breathless, already laughing when you see Laurie hopping about like hot coals are burning beneath his feet.

A small pond frog wiggles out of his pocket seam with a croak and then disappears into the meadow, waddling with great speed. With out-turned pockets and wrinkled trousers, Laurie stands there with his hands on his hips, confidence and humor masking his faults as always.

“My, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” Laurie says as he looks out over the crest of the hill with a humorous glint in his eyes, like a mother watching her child leave for the vast, cruel world. You and Jo collapse into a fit of giggles, holding each other upright by the shoulders and gasping for air.

Eternal summer and sun, a tender paradise. And as midsummer arrives, so does the heat. It’s stifling, heavy, the kind that suffocates and forbids any excessive movement or play, when being idle is perfectly acceptable, a rarity for you three young adventurers. Today, even nature herself seems to be drowsy from the stifling weather. Sunflowers droop from the weight of honeybees as they float lazily over the fields. Birds chortle from the treetops, as if too tired to fly, their song intertwining with the rustling grasses, tousled by the rare cool breeze. The sky burns a dome of brilliant blue above you, filled with towering, cotton white cumulus clouds. You watch as they drift slowly over the horizon. Like colossal ships at sea.

You rest your head on Laurie’s chest and he toys with your hair. Jo dozes with her arms pillowed across your stomach and the three of you are a sleepy dog-pile of limbs. The feel of Laurie’s fingers makes you relaxed, drowsy. You hear Jo then give a soft snore and you chuckle.

“What is it?” Laurie asks. You can already hear the smile in his voice, how just your laughter is enough to amuse him too. You shake your head against his chest and the movement makes you giggle again. Laurie joins you, flopping out his legs, the heat making you both delirious and loopy.

You reach up blindly and give him a firm nudge, your hand landing just under his chin.

“Stop it, you’ll wake her.” You scold him with as much seriousness as you can muster and failing miserably.

“Ow,” Laurie groans. He grasps your wrist, moving your hand to place it against his cheek and he puckers out his lower lip. “You’ve hurt me, I’m unwell.”

“Oh...Laurie, I didn’t mean it..” you sit up and coo, caressing his skin. Laurie looks pleased, a flash of playfulness in the green of his eyes as you lean towards him. “Let me take a closer-”

You cuff him on the ear ever so lightly, catching him by complete surprise and Jo wakes, cackling, throwing her arms around you.

Later, the three of you gaze up at the passing clouds, a comfortable silence settling over you all as you enjoy the afternoon.

“If we could fly up into those clouds and there was a castle with anything your heart desired, what would it be?” Jo asks. “Where do you two see your lives leading you?” Her tone is pensive, romantic. You and Laurie both hum in thought.

“You first, Laurie.” You murmur.

Laurie turns to look back at the bright blue sky, to the billowy clouds that look like spun sugar candy.

“I want to live abroad in Europe and be surrounded by music, my music. I want to compose, I want to be renowned for my operas.” He declares with a proud puff of his chest. Jo nods, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“That sounds very much like you, Teddy,” Jo says. “A bachelor making art in Europe, how capital.”

He makes a face, then winks at you out of the corner of his eye. You stick out your tongue.

“You can do it if you stay focused,” you add. “No more billiards, for a start.”

Laurie wrinkles his nose. “And what is it that you want, prima donna?” he asks you in challenge.

You turn away with a roll of your eyes, gaze to the heavens. The thought comes to you easily as you listen to the birds, feel the breeze tickling your skin, drinking in the sky.

“I want to be a ballet dancer in a prestigious company. I want to tour the world.” You say softly. Before, you would have felt embarrassment to share such an ambitious dream. But something about this moment, of being with Laurie and Jo makes you feel brave and safe enough to speak your mind, to put your words into the universe and have it come to fruition. Like a magic spell of sorts. With them here with you, you feel like any dream is possible.

Another chorus of hums and Jo looks pleased at your response. Laurie smirks up at the horizon.

“No fair if it’s likely to happen,” he laughs. “That’s cheating.”

“Oh, hush,” Jo chides with a rather hard sock to Laurie’s arm. She ignores his whines as he recoils and grumbles dramatically. “You’re well on your way, dear,” Jo tells you. “Now that you’ll be in that New York production next summer, I’m sure your opportunities will be plentiful.”

You hope she’s right. You’d secured a role as an ensemble dancer in an upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, your most prestigious show as of yet in your young and budding career. Jo’s warm praise makes you blush like the flowers surrounding you, pink and full. Laurie’s quick eyes catch this, envious, and he changes the subject, a muscle ticking ever so slightly in his jaw.

“And you, Jo?” He asks tightly.

Jo exhales, crossing her arms behind her head. “Being a writer, of course. A great one. I don’t want to settle for less.”

“Doubtful,” snides Laurie. “I don’t see it.”

You and Laurie look to each other with a quiet smile.

“No, not with all the prizes you’ve won,” you add. “Impossible.”

Jo shoots upright, too quickly for the heat. She slugs Laurie again.

“Ow...Jo, it’s too hot for your beatings,” he moans. “Don’t be a poor sport.”

She doesn’t answer him, only gives him a final push and hunkers back down onto the grass, turning her back to him with a huff.

“Why am I the only one that ever gets hit?” Laurie grumbles, opening his shirt to cool himself off and throws his forearm across his eyes for shade, frowning. You giggle, curling up beside her.

“I believe in your abilities, Jo.” You whisper to her. She takes your hand.

It’s not long before the three of you are fast asleep in the sun.

And as the seasons and summers roll on and the fruits of childhood begin to slowly ripen with the passing years, you find your companionship with Laurie and Jo changing and growing like never before. Your friendship starts to blossom into fondness, adoration. Indeed, you’ve loved them as playmates and companions since the three of you were children, but as you flourish amidst that quaint, strange, and budding pocket of time when young men and women come of age, where you and Laurie and Jo are now struck with bashfulness and an awareness of being alone with each other, your love for them arches and glows like summer sunset.

This makes you acutely conscious of your appearance and dress, your posture, how you carry yourself, your mannerisms. How did your hair look? Did you laugh too loudly? Would Jo think your comments about her writing were too harsh? Why did you feel such warmth in your chest every time you saw her? And why were you starting to anticipate Laurie’s company? Why did you always have a sharp hope that he would come around with every visit of yours to the March residence? The constant whir of thoughts and worries was enough to make your head turn with heaviness, make you collapse from the pressures of simply existing.

“You’re acting odd,” Laurie tells you one day.

The two of you lay in a meadow with summer buzzing all around you, resting beneath the drooping leaves of a willow tree. Jo had been unable to join you as she had Beth’s lessons to teach that afternoon, much to her own disappointment and promising to make it up to you soon with an affectionate pinch to your cheek. You’d considered going home then. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with Laurie, that familiar crush in your chest, an inkling of dread coupled with a shortness of breath, fear and excitement. You were terrified. But when he’d taken your hand and asked you so sweetly to accompany him to the meadow’s waters, how could you possibly refuse?

But of course, Laurie was quick to notice your nerves.

“The heat is getting to your head,” you say evenly with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. “Besides, that’s rather rude.”

You hear him move and feel his presence directly in front of you, as if leaning in.

“It is a bit hot, do you feel up for a swim?”

This makes your eyes snap open. Following Jo’s mannerisms, you give him a shove in the chest. “You’re vile,” you grin.

To your surprise, Laurie’s teasing, playful demeanor is nowhere to be found. His gaze is instead thoughtful, holding your own like you are all he sees. Immediately, you feel your pulse kick up in the side of your throat.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he continues with a shake of his head. “You don’t seem like yourself. I thought a change in our routine could be refreshing.”

You give a light shrug of your shoulders. “I feel fine,” you say.

He brushes the back of his hand against your forehead. He hums, then curls his fingers down along the planes of your face to rest on your cheek.

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs.

Time seems to slow. The roar of blood deafens your ears and the fragrance of the sweet waters and blooms around you is overwhelming, sunlight refracting like prismed rainbow. Laurie kisses you then, a gentle touch of his lips, tilting your chin up to meet him. A sweetheart’s kiss, one that tastes of summer secrets as you’re shaded by vines and mist. When you break apart, he keeps his hand cradled against your cheek, his thumb circling the corner of your mouth.

You don’t know what to say. You’re speechless, your chest rising and falling softly, staring back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Laurie looks reflective, emerald irises half-lidded.

“What am I to tell Jo?” you whisper to him. Heat diffuses through your body like desert wind. You feel elated, cherished, frightened, embarrassed. Guilty. Laurie’s eyes flicker once more to your lips, his dark lashes fluttering with the movement. His smile is melancholy, yet knowing.

“You love her, too.” Laurie hums. It’s a statement, a confirmation of your feelings for both of them. The fact that the boy you’ve adored for so long has uttered your very thoughts out loud should have you completely mortified, yet there’s a small sense of comfort knowing he’d understand. Laurie knows this because he himself feels the same way, knows you or Jo or himself could never bring themselves to choose.

Laurie’s smile prompts you to lace your fingers together in the grasses and you give him a light peck on the cheek. He brightens up, raking a hand through his black curls.

“You love me.” Laurie beams.

When you tell Jo about the kiss, she’s dancing with you on the porch in the evening light. Inside, you can see Marmee and the girls entertaining themselves through the windows as you practice your pirouettes. Jo is dressed in her writing jacket and trousers, keeping you balanced as she plays the part of the male dancer, perfectly competent.

“What an impish boy,” Jo says of Laurie. You laugh and the two of you continue your steps, running through the dance number in a private rehearsal. Laurie is due to rehearse with you the week before your performance and the thought itself is enough to make butterflies explode in your stomach. Jo is a strong, leading dancer, while Laurie is graceful and firm, both capable of making the palms of your hands sweat with nerves. You know in your heart if you could rehearse with them, you’d have no fear on opening night. You’d already be invincible.

“Again from the top, please, kind sir,” you curtsey to Jo. Her smile is giddy and she gives a click of her heels before returning to her starting position.

“Of course,” she responds. Taking your hand, she guides you through the steps once more, your heart soft and temperate like the evening around you.

The sound of applause is warm and full, washing over you as you take your bows. You feel weightless, aglow, eyes brimming with tears. You think you see Laurie and Jo leap to their feet in the audience, but the stage lights are too bright and you cannot see clearly and you think you may faint from happiness.

In the auditorium, you’re still in your costume of Venetian silks and flowers when you’re swept off your feet by a boisterous Laurie and he twirls you around in his arms, his riding cloak billowing out behind him.

“There’s our Capulet! You were phenomenal!”

“I’m so proud of you, dear!” Jo practically shouts with excitement, tackling you next in a bearish hug when Laurie finally sets you down. Their praise is boundless, endless, showering you in so much adoration that your heart feels close to bursting. You gather them close, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Thank you both for everything,” you choke out, squeezing them tight.

Over Jo’s shoulder, you spot Marmee, Meg, Amy, even shy little Beth with a bouquet of flowers and then you let the tears fall when you run to them and you thank your stars for the luck and love you’ve been blessed with.

Another year, another summer soon arrives. You and Jo and Laurie are back in the fields cloud-gazing, a lazy afternoon of heat and leisurely time well spent. Things feel familiar, recognizable between the three of you, yet there’s a sense of distance between now and when Jo had first asked about your castles in the sky all those summers ago.

Jo was now making a name for herself in the writer’s world, having won another prize in a New York newspaper. She’d been gaining the attention of devoted readers and critics alike and was now working on a proper novel, her longest project as of yet. She tells you not to worry, that she’ll be sure to feature you as a central character in the same way she’d done as a child, nostalgic tales of pirates and adventure and love.

“My sweet sugar plum fairy,” she’d gruffed, pulling you into another powerful hug.

Laurie had finished his opera, now with aspirations of pulling funds together and opening a production in Europe. He was still in the midst of planning and conversing with his grandfather about finances and departure dates, but it seemed like Laurie’s promise of spiriting you away to Europe could now become a reality. And with the possibility of your very own French stage debut!

Thus, you three souls were being tugged into three far corners of the globe, to your respective callings. The realization scares you, to know that this may be one of the few times you have left together. But underneath it all, there was a sense of excitement to see the world and make it your own. You were satisfied, proud knowing that the three of you had come so far with your aspirations and you had no doubt you would find success in your art.

In the comfortable silence, serenaded by the hum of cicadas and birdsong, you gaze up to the clouds gliding over Plumfield, Massachusetts. You feel an aching longing for those childhood days of carefree play, the countless rose-tinted memories of Laurie and Jo by your side, yet looking up at the sky, you know these memories of summers past will always be with you.

And there would be better and more to come.

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everwitch-magiks · 5 years ago

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dance with somebody (ch. 12)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 11

“Hey, Whiskey. Whisk. Yo! Earth to Whiskey, hello?"

Belatedly, Whiskey looks up from his phone.

Tango is watching him from the opposite stall with a somewhat bemused expression.

“Whatever Beth is texting you about, it absolutely can’t be that interesting.”

Whiskey reluctantly locks his screen, despite the fact that those three little dots clearly indicate that Miguel is already texting him back. Again. Almost as if Miguel is actually enjoying their near constant back-and-forth just as much as Whiskey is.

There’s an oddly fluttery feeling in Whiskey’s stomach. He feels… Calmer than he thought he would, sure, but still more nervous than he’s been before a game in a long time. To think that Miguel is out there, in the audience, about to watch him play – to think that Whiskey is taking Miguel back to the Haus, after, that Miguel is coming along to the kegster. Whiskey still has no fucking clue what he’s going to tell the team, unless you count the vague idea of as little as possible.

At least he’s managed to pick out an outfit.

“Whisk? Hey, Whiskey!”

Whiskey looks back up at Tango – he has no idea how long he spaced out this time, but apparently it’s been long enough for Tango’s expression to shift from amused into suspicious.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was just asking if you'd want to run by Stop-n-Shop, after,” Tango says, slowly. “Hey. Are you-”

“Let’s show those Yale boys what we’re all about!” Whiskey lets out a breath as coach Hall steps into the locker room, effectively interrupting whatever Tango was going to ask. "Remember, we want to be the ones setting the pace tonight – we're going for a strong offense, right from the get go. Lyons, Brant, make sure you're always keeping an eye on each other, and on Chow, even when you're moving up the ice. Piper, Whisk, I’m going to need to borrow you two for a couple of minutes – please come with me. I promise this will be quick.”

Whiskey looks up, meeting coach Hall’s eyes and giving a quick nod. Then he searches for Pips’s gaze across the locker room, raising an eyebrow in question.

Pips looks equally bewildered.

Coach Hall leads them out of the locker room, down a corridor and then left, and it takes Whiskey that long to realize they’re heading over to coach Hall’s office. For a brief moment he wonders if he should feel concerned, but then they’re stepping inside and Whiskey comes face to face with a man and a woman dressed smartly in tailored, black suits. The woman is wearing heels, and the man is carrying a briefcase. They both look decidedly friendly, if a little intimidating in their impeccableness.

The meeting is brief, just like coach Hall indicated, but it’s still something of an out-of-body experience. Because it can’t be real, not really real, the way coach Hall just said Whiskey’s name in the same sentence as one of the most agile and adaptable players I’ve had the pleasure to work with and Connor has taken on more of a leading role on our team this season, on and off the ice.

It’s not like Whiskey doesn’t know he’s good at hockey – really good, even – but there’s a significant difference between plain old really good and all those impossible things coach Hall just claimed.

Yet somehow, the game managers for the Houston Aeros look sufficiently impressed.

“You two have shown some particularly great teamwork, during the first half of this season,” the woman chimes in – Whiskey thinks she said her last name is Larsen, maybe? She probably mentioned a first name, too. Whiskey wishes his mind would stop spinning. “Of course, we’ve had the opportunity to watch Connor play several times last season as well.”

“Oh,” Whiskey says eloquently.

Larsen smiles.

“It’s very impressive to see how quickly you have adjusted to playing with new teammates,” she adds, turning towards Pips. “And evidently, Samwell continues to attract players with a lot of potential. Nathan Piper, is it? Very nice to meet you, too. You’ve been racking up some quite impressive statistics, so far.”

“Thank you,” Pips says carefully, almost unsurely. “I’ve really been able to learn so much, since I came to Samwell. And Whiske… Uh, Connor’s been a great help. The whole Samwell team is so great.”

Whiskey smiles, briefly.

“Sounds to me like you’re both thriving,” Larsen continues brightly. “We’re very much looking forward to watching you play tonight, as well as seeing how your performance continues during this season. Both of you, of course.”

Yet as she speaks, she shifts her focus back towards Whiskey.

“Connor, when do you graduate? This spring?”

“Next spring,” Whiskey corrects her. “I’m a junior, this year.”

Larsen pauses, almost unnoticeably.

“Right,” she continues, just as pleasantly as before. “Very good to know. Well, we’d certainly like to keep in touch with you both. Here – you should take my card.”

Whiskey accepts it and glances at it briefly – Emily Larsen, GM of the Houston Aeros. Right.

And somehow, that’s it.

After they’ve left the room, walked back down the corridor and turned the corner, Pips stops abruptly.

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Whiskey says quietly, staring at the card in his hand. “I know.”

“Holy shit. What the actual fucking fuck.”

Whiskey leans back against the wall. He offers Pips a small smile – because really, Pips’s bewildered expression is just so precious, it almost makes Whiskey forget his own internal turmoil.

“Ever thought about it?” he asks loftily. “Going pro.”

“Me?” Pips all but squeaks, and there’s a joke waiting to be made there somewhere. “The NHL? Are you crazy?”

“Apparently not.” Whiskey grins slightly. “I have it on good authority that The Houston Aeros think you have plenty of potential.”

“Fuck you, don’t even say that.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear this much, Pips.”

“What about you?” Pips asks, completely ignoring all of Whiskey’s chirps. “Do you wanna do it?”

That makes Whiskey pause. It’s a serious question.

“Yeah,” he says, after a beat. “Yes. I’m going to.”

Pips’s eyes widen.

“You’ll play for the Houston Aeros?”

“Not necessarily the Aeros,” Whiskey adds quickly. “But play in the NHL? Yeah. That’s the idea.”

It’s something he’s been saying out loud more and more often, lately. Somehow, that makes it seem less like the dream it’s always been, and more like an actual possibility. It’s weird. The words hanging in the air between them shouldn’t feel more like a tangible, irreversible truth than the business card he’s holding in his hand.

“Wow,” Pips breathes out. “I’ve never, like… Thought of that as something you can just do.”

“I’m sure it won’t be anywhere near that easy,” Whiskey says honestly. “But I know I’m going to try.”

“That’s so cool,” Pips says. His eyes are wide. “And I mean, if anyone can do it, it’s you. It’s definitely you.”

Whiskey laughs a little.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m serious!” Pips sounds almost insulted on Whiskey’s behalf. “You are by far the best player on this team. By far. You’re so fast, and you play so smart, and you’re agile and adaptable and all those things coach Hall said in there. And I learn so, so much from you, every day. I play so much better when I play with you. We all do.”

“Hey, now,” Whiskey says abruptly. He has literally no idea what to do with that information. “We, uh. We should be getting back. Got a game to play, remember?”

Pips grins. He looks unfairly relaxed for someone who has just articulated his private thoughts and feelings out loud. How do people just do that?

“A game to win, right?” Pips chirps.

“Yeah,” Whiskey agrees, absentmindedly.

Impulsively, he reaches out to ruffle Pips’s hair, just a bit – sort of in the same way he might’ve pet a cute little puppy, if he liked dogs, or tried to mess with an annoying little brother, if he had one. A friendly, affirming gesture. Sort of.

Or not. Because unfortunately, what felt like a good and reasonable idea in Whiskey’s mind feels like an overly stiff and unnatural motion in reality, and for a second Whiskey takes the opportunity to thoroughly regret his entire existence.

(It’s never been a completely conscious thing, how Whiskey has always been careful not to touch his teammates outside of a celly. It’s not something he’s particularly inclined to think about now, either.)

Somehow, it had just felt like the right thing to do, in that moment – something in place of those right words to say that Whiskey will surely never find, right in between thank you and I like playing with you, too and I’m here for you. I see you. I’ll always have your back.

Still. Pips doesn’t look at all bothered.

Instead, Pips – even with his hair ruffled – looks otherwise… Unruffled? For some reason, Whiskey’s impossibly awkward gesture only makes him grin wider than before. And in Pips’s eyes, there’s something surprisingly like recognition. Like understanding. Almost as if Pips has somehow heard all those words Whiskey will never speak.

“Race you back!”

And then Pips takes off. Whiskey blinks, watching him go, dumbfounded.

Then he gets moving.

(ch. 13)

#check please #omgcheckplease #omgcp #connor whisk #OC: Miguel #whiskey x oc #romance #Pippin the scone #actually he goes by Pips now #or at least that's what Whiskey calls him #hockey #no seriously there's actually hockey in this one not just pie #next up: a pivotal kegster #dance with somebody #fanfiction #evie writes

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pynchme-awake · 6 years ago

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If We Were Villains Review (Spoiler-free)

If We Were Villians centers around a group of 7 fourth years who are all studying Shakespeare plays at a very pretentious art school and it shuffles back and forth to 10 years in the future where Oliver has just gotten released from prison for killing one of the classmates. He is recounting the story of what actually happened that last year leading up to and after the murder.

I haven’t devoured a book like this in ages as I read it in a single day and basically couldn’t put it down. It was engaging, funny, smart but not overly pretentious, and heartbreaking. I will say you do not have to have a profound connection or deep understanding of Shakespeare’s work to enjoy this book. However, it would probably help with a lot of the references but most of my Shakespeare knowledge is surface-level and left in high school and I was still able to understand and thoroughly enjoy this book. I see most people compare this book to The Secret History, which is a completely valid comparison as they both have themes of dark academia such as obsession, paranoia, and cultish vibes. If you liked The Secret History then you’ll most likely like this book too, but if you disliked The Secret History (me), this book is everything you wanted The Secret History to be. For me, I found the characters to be much more palatable and interesting and the pacing of the story to be perfect.

This probably one of the most smartly written books I’ve read in a while as it’s layered with so much symbolism through the plays they study and as the story itself is written in the pacing of a Shakespeare play and even has the famous homoeroticism that is laced throughout some Shakespeare plays and other classic works. Overall, this book was what I’ve been looking for as I’ve gone through many satisfactory books this year but not one that has reached my core quite like this book.

“The things about Shakespeare is, he's so eloquent...he speaks the unspeakable. He turns grief and triumph and rapture and rage into words, into something we can understand. He renders the whole mystery of humanity comprehensible.”

#if we were villains #book review

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keenerparkerstark · 6 years ago

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All I see is green (6/?)

Ship: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Summary: Peter Parker feels on top of the world! Getting good grades in high school, spending time with Tony Stark (!!!) on his weekends, and at night, he roams the city as the hero known as Spider-Man! Everything changes when a new student shows up at Midtown who seems determined to take it all away from him.

AO3 | FF.net

Harley felt an odd sense of déjà vu as he stared up at the increasingly familiar building in front of him, filled to the brim with a strange mixture of dread, anticipation and exhaustion. Well, the latter was not quite strange, seeing as every single time he closed his eyes, he felt the metal of a gun pressed against his head.

Sleeping had been impossible that night, and he had spent it pressed against Tony’s side on the couch, staring unseeingly at the TV, which was playing some old episode of a comedy show. Tony had urged him multiple times that morning over breakfast to skip out on school that day, but Harley had insisted. It was his first week of school, and missing a day already would be less than ideal. Besides, it wasn’t as if sitting at home doing nothing would be bringing him any comfort in this situation. Tony had let him go, under the condition that he would wear his watch, and press the panic button at any time if he didn’t feel comfortable.

“Harley?” A soft voice spoke up from behind him, and for some reason, all Harley could see in that moment was a pair of white lenses on a red mask, owlishly blinking back at him. He shook his head to rid himself of the image, and turned around. In front of him was Peter, with hunched shoulders and brown eyes shyly glancing back at him. He looked nervous, with his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his hoodie. His friend Ned was a few steps behind, enough distance to not be barging in, but close enough for silent support.

“Hey, Peter,” he replied, his voice equally soft. Honestly, the whole situation with Peter had taken a mental backburner in comparison to everything else that had happened, but now that he was faced with the boy again, and the guilt came back with an overwhelming force, he wanted nothing more than to make things right. Life was short, after all.

“I noticed you wanted to talk to me yesterday…” Peter’s words trailed off and he cocked his head in tentative expectation.

“Yeah, yeah, I honestly…” Harley took a deep breath, trying to remember the various speeches he had practised what felt like a million years ago, before shaking his head, and pushing aside everything he had prepared. “I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t realise that you were actually Tony’s intern, and although that doesn’t excuse all the shit I pulled, I hope we can move past this. Maybe we can hang out at the compound sometime, tinker in Tony’s workshop…” At this point, Harley had lost most of the confidence he started speaking with, and lowered his gaze to the ground, not daring to see Peter’s reaction.

“I’m sorry too.” Wait, what? “I should’ve just come over to Mr. Stark’s car that afternoon, and talked to him. It was just a misunderstanding and I turned it into something much bigger than it needed to be. I’m sorry for dragging this out, and-”

“Okay, don’t apologise,” Harley rushed to say. “Let’s just… let’s hang out this afternoon, I’m pretty sure Tony’s coming to pick me up, and we can talk things over with the three of us, okay?” Peter nodded with a slight smile.

“Sounds good.” Harley grinned in response, just as the first warning bell rang.

The relief Peter felt after talking to Harley was immeasurable, and he couldn’t stop grinning as he walked towards his first class. The day went by surprisingly fast, finding that it was easier to focus on his teacher’s with significantly less worries in his head. He spent lunch, as always, in a corner of the cafeteria with Ned, glancing around the crowd and chatting, as they both tried to not be noticed. Peter saw Harley on the other end of the cafeteria with Flash, and they seemed to be having a serious discussion. At one point, Flash even put a hand on Harley’s shoulder, a concerned frown on his face. It was then that Peter started feeling the acidic ache in his stomach again.

“I bet he’s telling him about what happened last night.” Peter glanced over at Ned, who had followed his gaze to Flash and Harley.

“Hmm,” was Peter’s only response. Right in that instance, both Harley and Flash turned around and looked straight back at him, immediately making eye contact. Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he looked away quickly, but Ned raised his hand and waved awkwardly. Peter was too mortified to notice their response.

“What are you doing,” he hissed at his friend.

“I’m waving to your new friend.”

“And the biggest bully in the school!”

“And your new friend’s friend!”

When Peter looked back up at Harley and Flash, they had both turned back to their previous conversation, and did not look at him after that. Peter took out his phone to distract himself, and noticed that he had received a text from Tony:

TONY STARK Hey, kid. Harley told me you’re coming over today. I’ll be there to pick you both up. I’ve also called your aunt already and got her okay, so don’t worry about that. See you in a bit.

The car ride was awkward. Mr. Stark had insisted on both boys sitting in the back of the car (an ill-concealed attempt at avoiding picking who gets shotgun), and the teens ended up looking out of their respective windows while occasionally throwing glances in the other’s direction, unaware of them doing the same thing. Mr. Stark sighed a lot.

‘’So how was your day at school, boys?” The synchronised shrug that followed was almost impressive in how they both managed to convey the exact same level of extreme disinterest. “Eloquent, nice. Go figure that I’d be stuck with two boy geniuses that suffer from a staggering lack of social skills.”

“I have plenty of social skills,” Harley huffed, glaring at Mr. Stark through the rear-view mirror. “I just got robbed last night so I’m a little tired, and Peter here has a staggering lack of social skills.” Mr. Stark tried to hide his snicker in a cough as Peter shrugged again.

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” A beat, then… “Wait, you got robbed? What happened, are you okay?” Nice save, Peter.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harley replied, turning back to look out his window. “Spider-Man saved me.”

“Ah,” Peter responded. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Silence filled the car again, only occasionally broken by Mr. Stark’s exasperated sighs.

“We’re here,” Mr. Stark eventually exclaimed as he pulled up to the gate of the compound, which automatically opened as he approached. “Are you boys joining me in the lab today? A little birdy told me that Spider-Man is running out of his web fluid sometime in the next week if he doesn’t get a resupply soon, and personally I don’t feel very much like scraping red and blue off the streets of New York this week. I’m a busy man, after all.” Peter rolled his eyes, as Harley shot forward in his seat.

“We get to work on Spidey’s tech? That’s awesome!”

“Peter’s actually Spider-Man personal tech guy.” Harley’s awe was now immediately aimed at Peter, who visibly shied away from it.

“Really? Have you met him? What was he like?”

“I- I, I mean,” Peter stammered helplessly, feeling tension rise in his chest. You’re a terrible liar, Parker, don’t fuck this up. He shot a panicked look at his mentor, who, despite not even glancing at him as he drove into the garage, still seemed to sense his tumult.

“Leave him be, Harles,” he interrupted smoothly. “Pete’s not allowed to say much about it for obvious reasons, and asking him questions is just going to make him feel bad.” Harley back away, looking mildly ashamed of himself, nodding meekly.

After having parked the car, the three quickly found themselves in the elevator up to the highest (private) R&D floor, Mr. Stark chatting senselessly as they went.

“… and Ross called me back a couple of hours later, and he was so angry-”

“There you are!” The moment the elevator doors opened, a voice interrupted Mr. Stark’s insistent chatter and he quite literally froze in his step, making Harley bump into him, and Peter stop equally abruptly as his spidey senses warned him. The sound of clicking heels echoed through the white hallway littered with class doors as a slender, smartly dressed woman rushed towards them, somehow managing to look stunningly graceful in her panicked rush.

“I’ve been calling you for hours! Where have you been?”

“I was picking up Harley from school. I told you about it.”

“You most certainly did not.”

“I’m sure I did. FRIDAY?”

“You did not, boss.”

“Well, you’re just a little traitor, aren’t you? Show your father some respect.”

“Tony, something happened in the stakeholders meeting and I needed you to come in and put out some fires-”

“I’ll have you know, I’m not very good at putting out fires-”

“But when I went up to your lab, you weren’t there!”

“Making fires and explosions is more my forte-”

“You need to tell me if you plan on leaving in the middle of your work day.”

“You should ask DUM-E, he loves putting out fires-”

“Tony, can you be serious for one second!” The woman raised her voice and effectively cut off Mr. Stark’s rambling. He had the decency to look regretful.

“I’m sorry, I was so sure I told you over breakfast this morning.”

“You weren’t even upstairs for breakfast.”

“Right, I mean, that’s probably where it went wrong. Look, Pepper, I’m terribly sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Just say what you want, and I’ll make it happen. In my defence, though? I’m not CEO of the company anymore, and so-” As Mr. Stark continued spouting nonsense, the woman rolled her eyes and finally noticed Harley and Peter standing slightly behind Mr. Stark as if hiding from her scrutiny.

“Hi, there, Harley, honey, how was your day at school?”

“It was pretty good, Ms. Potts, thanks you,” Harley grinned back.

“Oh, please, just call me Pepper! It’s okay! And your friend! You must be the famous Peter Parker, am I right?” Peter felt a rush of excitement run through his body as he realised he was speaking to the Pepper Potts, and could only nod shyly in response. Ms. Potts rewarded him with a patient smile.

“Tony has told me much about you, Peter,” she added. “Only good things, of course! You’re apparently quite the genius.” She let her eyes wander over the boys again, taking in Mr. Stark’s hunched shoulders, Harley’s confident grin and Peter’s wide eyes. “You’re in good company.” She made to leave, but not before turning back and shooting Mr. Stark a warning glare.

“Make sure you all eat, Tony.” He nodded solemnly and watched as his fiancée walked away. It took a couple of seconds to shake himself out of his apparent stupor, but when he did, he turned to Harley and Peter with a wide grin.

“Let’s go explode some stuff.”

“I heard that!”

#harley keener #peter parker #peter parker/harley keener #Peter Parker x Harley Keener #fanfic #pls share and review

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junionigiri · 7 years ago

Text

Ruby Red and Caramel Ch 6: Croque Monsieur

Chapter Summary: What can Momo do for Katsuki?

Relationship(s): Bakugou Katsuki/Yaoyorozu Momo; Awase Yousetsu/Yaoyorozu Momo

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: sorry if the transition is weird--I’m changing how the story is paced. T_T i hope this isn’t too odd

Another day, another emergency.

It’s already late afternoon, and Momo tries to focus despite not having slept even a minute of the previous night. The patient she just saw, a civilian involved in a scuffle between a hero and a villain in the Naruhata district, suffered a blow to the head, a spinal fracture, and a broken hip. She probably needs to take the patient to the OR soon, but…

“Excuse me,” she asks one of the ER nurses, “what’s taking so long? I need a CAT scan, stat.”

Everyone’s moving so slow, it’s simply unacceptable. The nurse stammers an apology. “They said we can bring in the patient in 5 minutes, Doc--”

“We might lose the patient in 5 minutes--”

“Yaoyorozu,” someone calls from next to her. She doesn’t look up from the chart.

“I’ll give them another call, Dr. Yaoyorozu.”

“Yes, please.” She shakes her head, tries to get back to writing her notes down, but her irritation made her lose her focus, and she loses track of what she wants to do in the middle of an order. Her mouth goes tch before she’s able to stop it.

“Yaoyorozu.”

Momo… of all the habits to pick up. Honestly. She feels something awful arise in her chest.

Her orders don’t make sense. Not a single thing she wrote, makes sense.

“Hey.” A callused hand stops her hand, and the pen in its tracks. She looks up from her work and glares.

“Awase-san,” she says, in the most level voice she can manage. “Is there anything wrong?”

Awase Yousetsu’s eyes are as sharp as ever when he stares her down. He takes the pen from her hands, twirls it in one dexterous hand. “Yeah. You. What’s up, Yaoyorozu?”

“Nothing,” she answers quickly. Yousetsu doesn’t give her the pen back, so she creates one from the flesh of her left forearm and gets back to struggling with her orders. “Except, I’m trying to get things done for the patient in bed 3, and our system in this hospital just… isn’t moving fast enough. You should know Awase-san, Ortho’s on this case too--”

“Yeah,” he cuts her off, pulling the chart from her easily. “But you aren’t on call. Tetsutetsu just called Todoroki. They’re on their way here.”

She glares at him. “I was the one who received the call first, so--”

“You were supposed to inform Todoroki to give him the case. You’re supposed to be on the way home.”

She’s about to retort before she’s interrupted by a gregarious yell from behind. “Hey! Awase! Yaoyorozu!!! That the trauma case?”

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu’s voice is as loud and cheerful as ever. It doesn’t always give Momo a headache though. She presses the space between her eyes, reeling from the auditory assault, and barely registers Yousetsu’s response. He hands the taller man the chart, easily dodging Momo’s weak attempt to get it back. “Yeah, here. Is Todoroki goin’ down soon?”

“Yeah! He gave the OR a heads-up and everything! We’re meeting up at CAT scan!” Tetsutetsu flips through the pages and makes a loud ah when he reads the last entries. “I didn’t know you were on the case too, Yaoyorozu! Ain’t Todoroki on call?”

“Yeah. It’s Half-and-Half today. Yaoyorozu’s just about to go home.” Yousetsu doesn’t even give her time to respond. It might be unfair given that he’s technically right, but Momo decides that she dislikes him very much, at that point in time.

“Er… yeah, okay!” The silver-haired man looks at the two of them warily, like he detects something is off, but doesn’t have enough to put two and two together. Or more of, he doesn’t want to recognize the tension between his two former classmates. The way he’s avoiding their gazes tells Momo as much. “So… I’m going ahead! Awase, you’re goin’ home too, right?”

“Yeah man. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Tetsutetsu gives them a cheesy grin and starts shouting at the nurses to start moving the patient to CT. In turn, Yousetsu pulls Momo away from the nurses’ station and out the ER exit, where there’s no-one to listen to what is presumably, the impending argument between them.

“Yaoyorozu,” he repeats more gently. Steely eyes try to look into hers, even though she pointedly avoids them. “You’re pissed off.”

“No, I’m not.”

He doesn’t move. “If you got something to say to me, say it.”

She’s had enough arguments with him in the past to know that he won’t stop until she spills everything. She inhales slowly. “I… could have managed that one on my own, Awase-san. I do not appreciate how you… interfered with my process.”

He gives her a stony look. “Yeah. That order sheet you were workin’ on had so many errors in it, it looks like one of Shishida’s when he accidentally goes on beast mode while writing. You shoulda just gotten a new sheet of paper.”

“I was fixing it,” she argues weakly.

“You were raising your voice at the nurse who was just doing her job.”

“She wasn’t doing it very efficiently.”

“She was doing her best. You know our system here isn’t perfect.”

“Yes, but it should be. Our patients depend on us, right?” Momo says smartly. They have been depending on her for the past… thirty-six or so hours, and heaven knows she’s been doing her best the entire time. Everyone should, no matter how terrible they’re feeling--

Her head throbs, making her grimace.

She turns away, hoping he doesn’t notice, but of course, it’s Awase Yousetsu and his tingling ‘Yaoyorozu-sense,’ as Tsuburaba-san had described it so eloquently before. Most of the time he knows when she needs help, and somehow always knows when she isn’t feeling very well. His exasperated sigh tells her as much.

His voice is more careful when he speaks again. “Is it really about the patients, Yaoyorozu?”

She knows that tone of voice very well. He’s gentle, but suspicious. Forcing her into honesty, even though she thinks it’s completely unnecessary. “What else would it be about, Awase-san? I--”

“I don’t know. We haven’t even talked, or even fuckin’ texted in a while, so I wouldn’t know what’s up with you,” he cuts in, in his usual no-nonsense kind of way. Despite the weight of his words, she’s sure that he isn’t doing it to guilt-trip, he’s just laying out the facts.

(Still, Momo wonders if she’s hurt him in some way for him to say that.)

“But I like to think I know you well enough to guess. And I’m, like, 100% sure you’re pretty fucked up over something right now.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter if I am… bothered by anything--”

Because it shouldn’t matter that she has not slept that well, and has consistently been skipping meals. Shouldn’t matter that Kendo-san and Honenuki-san and even Todoroki-san, who doesn’t usually speak up about these things, have told her that she might have been overdoing it. It doesn’t matter that Amjiki-senpai has talked to her once again, asking her the very same inane questions and accusations that Yousetsu’s giving her now.

All she needs to do is work. All she needs to do is to help people. That’s why she’s here.

“Momo.”

She doesn’t give in, not even when he inexplicably uses her first name again after three long years. Professionals should act professional and not bring their troubles to work. That’s why she straightens out her posture, looks him right in the eye like nothing’s wrong. “I just need to do my best.”

“But right now, you can’t. You look like you’re about to keel over any second now. Did you even notice?”

No. If she remembers that she hasn’t eaten, her stomach will complain. If she pays attention to how tired she is, she’ll feel nothing but exhaustion. If she thinks of… of the things that make her sad...

It’s been two weeks, a small, despondent voice in her head reminds her, making her heart wince.

“I’m fine.”

Yousetsu sighs. “Really.” She’s frozen when out of nowhere, he tilts her chin upwards and stares right into her face.

He hasn’t done that in a very long time. Momo is surprised at how familiar this all feels, still…

He’s being clinical about it, when he examines her skin and eyes. “You’re really pale,” he tells her seriously, looking at her side to side, mumbling something about the hollow of her cheeks not being there before. “And you lost weight. I bet it’s cos you’ve been skippin’ meals and makin’ matryoshka dolls at home until you pass out.”

He… is scarily accurate. She doesn’t tell him that, though.

He gives her a bored smile. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Please,” she tells him, releasing her chin from his grasp. “It doesn’t matter, because I need to get back there and see my patients.”

When she turns to leave, he holds her by the wrist and pulls her backwards. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am."

“I’m activating my quirk on you.”

“No, you’re not. It’s illegal quirk usage, and I will complain.”

He gives her a challenging stare, and fuses his hand to her wrist anyway. Her jaw drops in offense.

He chuckles. “Okay, now you’re payin’ attention, Yaoyorozu. Come on.”

Momo doesn’t even have a say as Yousetsu leads her by the hand to the exits and out the streets at the back of the hospital. She’s annoyed, but a little relieved that he doesn’t take her out the lobby, where the NTG Cafe and its staff are visible from as far as the doorway. Again, she wonders if it’s Yousetsu’s instincts, or just his insanely sharpened common sense that made him decide where they go.

When they’re about three blocks away, he un-fuses himself from her wrist. When she eyes him suspiciously, he shrugs. “I just wanted you to breathe something different from the air inside the hospital. It might help your stubborn head think a little clearer.”

She pouts. “You know I can just march right back there and get back to work.”

He shrugs, and gestures to the empty street ahead of him, going away from the hospital. “Do what you want. Though, Todoroki’s doing your work now, and Tetsutetsu’s doing mine. Meanwhile, I’m gonna be at Monoma’s, eating a croque monsieur--”

The image of Monoma’s famous snack flashes in her brain, making her mouth water. Momo’s stomach suddenly complains out loud. Yousetsu guffaws much louder. She gives him a sour look as she clutches her traitorous tummy in a foolish attempt to quiet it down.

“So there. Go back if you want to, I guess, Momo. See if that growling goes away.”

He turns and walks at a leisurely pace, hands in pockets, whistling a little tune. Momo stares at his retreating figure and the elongated shadows along the street.

She looks at the sky--deep oranges, purples, pinks, steadily darkening as the seconds pass by. She didn’t even notice that the sun was setting already.

She’s… hungry. Exhausted. Miserable. The feelings aren’t going to go away. Not soon.

She walks forward, keeping up with Yousetsu’s stride. She pointedly keeps her eyes forward, but sees him at the periphery with a small, satisfied smile.

Wordlessly, they walk along the orange-stained streets to Monoma’s.

“Here ya go, you guys. Two croque monsieurs, a quiche paysanne, a crêpe suzette, a black coffee with muscovado sugar, and an iced coffee.” Tsuburaba Kosei-san places the orders in front of them one by one with an easy smile on his face. “Ya need anything else, man?”

“We’re good, bro. Thanks.”

“Sure, any time.” There seems to be extra meaning in the way he smiles at Yousetsu. She concludes that the wide-eyed server is definitely getting the wrong idea about her, and his high school friend right there.

Seems that Yousetsu might be thinking the same thing, judging by the pointed glare he gives Kosei before shooing him away. “Okay. I know you haven’t eaten anything since this morning when Kendo force-fed you a nutribar, so just dig in already.”

“How do you know something like that?” she asks him suspiciously. Because again, he’s scarily accurate, the way a stalker is scarily accurate. She’s sure that he wasn’t there when Kendo-san practically shoved half a nutribar in her mouth while they were doing rounds.

He answers easily, “Kendo told me. It’s not just me who’s worried about you, you know.” He pushes the quiche and the crepe, dishes that she didn’t order for herself, closer to her. She gives him a look of disdain.

“This is too much, Awase-san.”

“You eat twice as much in a normal meal.”

“But… I don’t think I can finish this.” It’s true. Her appetite had just shut down inexplicably.

“So take the rest of it home,” he says, in between bites. “Oh man, this is really good, though.”

It really is. It’s better than she last remembers it. But after she’s taken two angry bites of Monoma’s perfect croque monsieur, her stomach is telling her that she’s already half-full. She chews, tries to analyze the salty, savouriness of the ham and how the swiss cheese compliments the overall flavor of the dish, but the words don’t come.

It’s… been two weeks, since she’s done that.

The man across from her notices how she fights down her food. “Hey, Yaoyorozu...”

“Hm?”

He sighs. “I guess I was wrong about how hungry you were. You don’t have to force yourself to eat everything, if you can’t. But I want you at least finish half of that. Can you do that?”

She swallows the small portion, and nods. “I’ll finish everything. Don’t worry.”

“Well… all right,” he says quietly. “Just… tell me if you feel sick, or whatever. Or you know. If you want to talk, or something.”

She cuts through the pastry quietly. “Talk about what?”

“Anything you like,” he says flatly.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Is he going to force her to talk, again? She isn’t really ready to share anything. She kept herself insanely busy to avoid processing her inner turmoil by herself. Does Awase Yousetsu expect her to do it with him, of all people? “I don’t have anything in particular I want to talk about.”

He’s a pushy person. He usually doesn’t stop pushing her until she says something, anything, everything he wants to hear. And usually, what he wants to hear is the truth, nothing more and nothing less. It’s a difficult trait to deal with, at times.

So much to her surprise, this time all he does is nod. “Okay.”

She blinks in astonishment. “... okay?”

He nods again, quietly munches on his sandwich. When she continues to stare at him dumbly, he gives her a mildly offended look. “You look a little surprised.”

“W… well,” she begins awkwardly, “This is just. A little different, I suppose. You forced me out of the hospital, after all.”

He sighs. “That’s different. I needed to do that because you might actually die if I didn’t get you outta there.”

“But before…” She trails off, hesitates.

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “No, that’s…” He makes a small frustrated sound that sounds funny to Momo’s ears, making her smile. He struggles with his words and stammers, “I mean, four years together is a long time, so I guess you’d still expect me to act the same, but…”

Momo shakes her head with a reassuring smile. Those four years weren’t terrible, but they really are a distant past. “No… this is… okay. Thank you, Awase-san.”

He nods, and goes back to his food and coffee. He finishes his croque monsieur when she’s barely halfway done with hers, and eventually decides to finish the crepe by himself.

As he cuts through the sweet, Momo’s mouth opens on its own accord. “I--”

His head snaps up in attention.

She closes her eyes, inhales. Hopes for a smidgen of composure, because she’s sure that her voice will crack--and it does, when she begins speaking. “I… was hurt, Yousetsu. It… it feels wrong to feel that way, but…”

Stupid, Momo, why are your eyes already stinging? Why are your cheeks already damp? You haven’t even started yet, haven’t even begun your silly, sordid story.

“Hey,” he says comfortingly. He gives her a neatly folded handkerchief with the zig-zag design as his headband. Momo takes it gratefully and dabs her cheeks.

“I learned that he was… keeping very important things from me,” she manages to say without stuttering. “Maybe there’s a good reason for it, but… I wouldn’t ever know them now.”

He hasn’t even tried to speak with her. She’s called and texted as many times as she could before her courage eventually wavered. All of them left unanswered. She hasn’t had the gall to show herself in the cafe just yet, but…

Yousetsu’s lower jaw juts out, obviously annoyed at what he’s hearing. Damn, if it didn’t remind her of that man. “What exactly happened?”

Momo takes another deep breath, and tells him everything as quietly as she can. Her story is in disarray, and her voice cracked so many times that it’s embarrassing, but he doesn’t tell her off for it and lets her continue at her own pace. He hums in understanding and tries not to react too much, even when she admits to have been intimate with the man-in-question.

After she tells him everything, he lets out a long exhale, as if the story took a lot out of him, too. “That’s… messed up, Momo. I’m sorry you had to go through that with that dumbass.”

She laughs somehow. By this time, her eyes aren’t that damp anymore, although they feel very puffy. “Shinsou-san has also called him the same thing.”

“That’s ‘cause he is.” Yousetsu huffs in annoyance. “He may have gone through a lot, but doesn’t he fuckin’ owe you at least a single word? Suddenly treating you like you were nothing, fuck, I want to fuse that smug bastard’s face against the side of the street--”

“Calm down,” she tells him sternly, but with some humor. It’s a small relief to see that Yousetsu is as hot-headed as ever. It’s funny how the two of them are similar in some ways, except Yousetsu is just a little calmer. “I don’t think he owes me anything… my worry about the entire thing is how I probably forced myself on him, and--”

It’s a hard pill to swallow. She’s the one who keeps coming back to the cafe to eat his food and to speak with him until past closing time. She’s the one who drank all that wine and cornered him into taking her home. She’s the one who kissed him first that night, and…

“What? No, that’s stupid.” He looks much more annoyed than before, going as far as gritting his teeth. “That bastard is just as interested in you as you are with him. I should know, that day he dragged you out for lunch, we fought over--”

His mouth closes suddenly, and Momo is left to stare at him curiously.

He clears his throat and recovers. “We argued. He was sure you’d come down even if he paged for Dr. Ponytail. Especially because he called you Dr. Ponytail. As if he’s putting his mark on you with that weird nickname. I thought it was stupid and impolite, so I wanted to beat his ass.”

Momo suddenly remembers seeing the two of them argue that day. During the time, she was too focused on him to really notice what was going on, but…

“Why… were you there in the first place?”

“I just was,” he says, a little exasperated. “And something felt off about him. I dunno.”

It’s the ‘Yaoyorozu-sense’ again, Momo muses. Will he ever get rid of it?

“Enough about that.” Yousetsu gives her a serious look. “What do you plan on doing about this, Momo?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve… opted to try to move on. Focus on my training, and nothing else.”

“Work yourself to death, you mean,” he quips with a frown.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Not work yourself to death is a good option? I dunno, just a thought.”

Momo sighs. “I didn’t think I was? Look, I’m not about to knock on his door to force him into letting me take care of him…”

He’d hate her for that, she’s sure of it. He doesn’t want her to see him as a patient. That was Dr. Hakamata’s point that day, the reason why he kept her away from Katsuki. Why he told her to look strong, to actually be strong so Katsuki could trust her. She has to be something else for him, but right now she can’t quite figure it out.

Besides... how can Katsuki trust her, if he suddenly doesn’t want anything to do with her?

Yousetsu hums. “Yeah, don’t. So… maybe take care of yourself first? I don’t expect you to get over this fast, so… baby steps.”

She gives him a look of disdain while shaking her head, and he gives her a similar look while nodding. “Awase-san--”

“Yaoyorozu-san,” he says, imitating her high tone. He begins to look ridiculous, so she bursts out into a short bout of laughter. “That’s better, we can start by making you laugh,” he says after she’s done.

She feels a little odd then, and she realizes it’s because she hasn’t laughed a lot the past week. She supposes he’s right. He usually is, even though he can be pushy and annoying about it. She just needs to calm down, try to move on without stretching herself too thin.

Easier said than done. But at least the croque monsieur looks a little less daunting at the next bite. When she’s almost done, the bell chime over the door sounds. She sees a messy green mop of hair behind Yousetsu’s head.

“Ahh, please don’t close yet!” the man says to Tsuburaba, who seems to be ready to flip their signage closed then. “I just need food, please, pretty please!”

Tsuburaba huffs. “Sure, but it has to be to go. The boss wants to close early today. He’s got important places to be. Or so he says.”

Awase rolls his eyes. “Ain’t even nighttime yet. Jesus. That guy’s a lovesick fool,” he grumbles.

“You know it,” the wide-eyed server nods sagely, allowing the customer in. “Come on Midoriya, you like the cake salés with ham and gruyere right? I got the last one for ya here. Let me heat it up.”

Dr. Midoriya Izuku of Pediatric Surgery looks terribly relieved at that. “Thanks, Tsuburaba-kun! I’d like a baguette too, if it isn’t much of a bother...”

Tsuburaba tells the fussing Midoriya to sit down first. It’s then that the green-haired boy sees the two of them in their booth. He regards them with a wave. “Awase-kun! Yaoyorozu-san! Mind if I sit there with--oh…”

He stops mid-step when he sees Momo’s face and all its puffiness and redness. “O-oh, I m-mean, if it isn’t rude, I d-don’t need to sit there, I mean I can sit anywhere else I’ll be okay--”

Momo hasn’t had a chance to work a lot with Midoriya, this man in sheep-print scrubs, thick glasses, and more freckles on his cheeks than anybody else she’s ever seen. Therefore she doesn’t know much about him, except that he’s nice, perpetually awkward, and that he actually trains in Musutafu Children’s Hospital. He’s in Hosu Gen for just one year, for more villain- and quirk-related cases.

Also, he’s nice and very cute the way an infant lamb is cute. Momo shakes her head and shifts in her seat to give him room. “It’s alright, Midoriya-san. Sit next to me.”

“Is that really okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t mind Yaoyorozu’s allergies,” Yousetsu says flatly, gesturing towards the seat. The green-haired boy accepts the explanation, albeit a little uneasily, and obliges.

“Thanks! Um, allergies are awful, aren’t they? I, I have some antihistamines somewhere in my backpack, if you want--”

She shakes her head. “I’m doing better. Thank you for offering, Midoriya-san. You’re very kind.”

“Hah, no, that’s--” Momo thinks that it’s awfully cute how easily he stumbles over his words, how just the act of her speaking to him makes him so clumsy. It’s endearing.

He’s… the exact opposite of him , she thinks.

Momo, why--why would you suddenly think that, Midoriya-san has nothing to do with this mess, please stop thinking of him--

She doesn’t understand what Midoriya says afterward. Yousetsu replies, and eventually they get to talking about a case they’d worked on together. She sits quietly and lets them have a normal conversation. Heaven knows it’s been long since she’s had anything like that.

It’s been two weeks, since--

Stop.

Tsuburaba comes back with Midoriya’s take out. In a minute, he wraps up all of Momo’s leftovers and hands it to her protesting hands. “You still do midnight snacks, right?” he says with a grin. “If this ain’t enough, come back here tomorrow. I’ll make sure you get the best of the batch.”

She smiles at him graciously. For a loyal customer, she hasn’t been here in a while, and maybe Tsuburaba-san isn’t the only one to notice. She’d have to change that.

Baby steps.

Midoriya and Yousetsu live in the same apartment complex two stations away. They agree to walk Momo home before taking the train together.

The sky is already dark as they walk the streets in relative silence. Midoriya keeps the air light by chatting about the new All Might anime that Studio Bones has released. Yousetsu keeps the conversation going, but everytime Midoriya asks Momo what she thinks, she gives a noncommittal response. She doesn’t even have the energy to tell him that she doesn’t watch a lot of anime. Maybe the disinterest is obvious by the way the green-haired boy stammers and blushes.

Sorry, Midoriya-san , she thinks as he looks at his slightly deflated form. It’s just a little hard to take on a normal conversation right now…

Soon they reach Hosu Gen, across the street from Momo’s condominium. “Thank you for walking me home,” she says, with a bow. “I’ll see you both at work tomorrow.”

“It’s fine, Yaoyorozu-san,” Midoriya says with a nod. He falters a bit when Yousetsu steps forward and holds on to Momo’s shoulder.

“Momo,” he says in a low voice. He sounds just as he did three years ago, when they decided they were better friends than lovers, and the time after that, when Yousetsu has proved it time and again. “You’ll take care of yourself, right?”

She nods and honestly tells him, “I’ll take care of myself.”

He gives her a genuine smile. “You’d better.”

Midoriya clears his throat and turns his eyes away, obviously uncomfortable and easily embarrassed. “I’ll… I’ll wait for you over there, Awa--ah…”

The shock in his voice makes Momo and Yousetsu snap their eyes to him in unison. For one reason or another, the baguette that was in his hands is on the ground, and his eyes are wide open at the people before him.

From the distance, Momo sees two individuals: Shinsou, clad in his coat and scrubs, tired eyes and face carefully neutral as he speaks to someone who looks like he wants to be somewhere else.

The other has a shock of flaxen hair and a navy blue apron. A flash of the white of his teeth, as his jaw juts out as it does when he’s annoyed. One large hand, the lines and creases and calluses of which Momo’s got memorized, holds a small orange canister that goes in the pocket of the apron. Eyes, ahead and glinting red under the street lights--

“K… Kacchan…”

The mention of the name makes everyone freeze. Momo watches the scene play out before her, barely notices that Yousetsu’s hand is still on her shoulder. Shinsou and Bakugou Katsuki slowly turn to them, to Midoriya Izuku, who inexplicably already has tears in his eyes.

Katsuki stares at the green-haired boy first, utter shock in his eyes that transforms to irritation. And then he sees Momo, eyes going right into hers, before they go to the hand on her shoulder, and…

“Kacchan,” Midoriya cries, stepping closer to him, as if he’s seeing an apparition instead of a human person, “Y… you’re here, I can’t believe it--”

She feels the moment Katsuki’s eyes disconnect from hers--a fragile thread breaking, the snap of it echoing in her head, painful and sobering. He makes a grumbling noise when Midoriya touches him, swats his hand away. “Shitty fuckin’ Deku, what the fuck are you doin’ here?! Aren’t you supposed to be in Musutafu?”

“N-no, what are you doing here, Kacchan? Oh my god, I thought--I thought you went far away, I thought I’d never see you again! B-but if you’re with Shinsou-kun… oh no, did you have another attack? Did you get hurt again, Kacchan? Tell me, I’m here--”

“ Fuck you, stay away.” He growls, and pushes Midoriya so hard the smaller man’s glasses fall off his face, and the rest of him almost crashes to the ground. It’s so that Shinsou has to hold Katsuki back. Yousetsu jumps next to Midoriya to support him.

“Easy,” Shinsou says warningly, clutching the fabric over Katsuki’s front. He receives a glare in response.

“ Easy ? Shut up, you mindfucker, he’s butting in my business again, as if it’s his job to fix me! It’s fuckin’ annoying!”

“B-but, Kacchan--”

“Oi, Bomb-face, take it easy!”

Katsuki makes a sound like a cornered animal that makes the hair at the back of Momo’s next stand. He glares at Midoriya first and says nothing. He glares at Yousetsu next, teeth bared. “Mind your own business, Headband Fucker, unless ya wanna go?!”

“Oh, you wanna go, is that it Blondie?!”

“N-no, Awase-kun, please don’t hurt Kacchan, he didn’t mean--”

“Y-you--shut up you fuckin’ useless nerd, don’t fuckin’ speak for me as if--”

“You fuckin’ asshole, can you leave Midoriya alone?! Why the fuck do you wanna kill him?!”

“Because he doesn’t mind his own fuckin’ business! And you know who else is a meddlesome fuck, Headband?!”

They’re at the verge of a brawl, and Momo knows that someone has to do something, but she’s absolutely petrified seeing the violence in Katsuki’s eyes. The security personnel of the hospital are sensing the trouble, and are edging in closer to them. She has to do something, she has to get to Katsuki, she has to--

Momo, please move your feet, please, just run next to Katsuki, tell him it’s all right, he doesn’t have to be angry, he doesn’t have to do anything or say anything he’ll regret further--

Her feet remain on the pavement. Her breath remains at the back of her throat, the air frozen in place. She opens her mouth, tries to call out his name, but nothing comes out.

Shinsou rightfully looks like he’s had enough of this. Momo hears him mumble something under his breath. When his voice comes out again, it’s deep and commanding, unlike anything Momo has heard before. “Midoriya! Shut your fuckin’ trap!”

“B-but--”

The effect is instantaneous. Midoriya’s eyes glaze over, face instantly impassive and free of distress. He stops struggling from behind Yousetsu’s arm. Like a mannequin, he stands straight, eyes going to Shinsou’s, waiting for the next command.

Silent anger barely concealed, he glares at him and everyone else. “Step away from Bakugou. Stand next to Yaoyorozu. Don’t move another muscle ‘til I say so.”

The docile Midoriya does just that. As quiet as a mouse, he stands next to Momo. She sees the tears fall over his blank face. It’s disconcerting to look at.

“You two.” Shinsou says to Katsuki and Yousetsu, in that same unsettling voice--deep, quiet, but dripping with authority, demanding anyone who heard it to listen and obey. “Are you gonna stop this shit, or am I gonna have to brainwash your dumbasses?”

The anger in the air, heavy and overbearing, doesn’t go away. Still, the two men stand down, Katsuki going tch as he does so.

“Good.” The only rational person left in this scenario rubs his tired eyes and turns to the blonde. His voice is more subdued when he speaks again. “Go home. I’ll handle Midoriya.”

Katsuki glares at him, as if to tell him off for daring to tell him what to do, but doesn’t say anything. His gaze moves on to Yousetsu, still with that brittle anger in his eyes, and then to Momo.

Eyes glinting like embers. Words like smoke, unreadable, floating in the air and disappearing. Katsuki looks at her eyes, her mouth, the rest of her, but… everything is different. She can’t read him anymore. She doesn’t know.

There must be something she can do for him. She knows it in her heart, she wants it so badly it hurts, but...

He’s too far away.

It only lasts a second, but in that second she feels her heart drop.

Katsuki looks away. “Do what you want.”

He might be telling this to Shinsou, but his words reach her all the same--a stray bullet that goes through skin and sinew, burning through her chest, making her head and her eyes drop to the ground, away from his.

Without looking back, he crosses the street and disappears into his cafe.

Hard days pass after that fateful encounter.

For Katsuki, at least. The cafe is as busy as ever, but it’s okay. Work is good, even though Jirou treats him like he’s five and glares at him whenever he’s a minute late drinking his fucking meds. Having missed the breakthrough entirely, the snoopy Kaminari hovers over his shoulder constantly, expecting him to keel over any moment. They probably mean well, but he’s sick of this kind of treatment. He isn’t fucking weak and fragile, god anyone just try him, just let him murder one more person who tells him to sleep early god fucking dammit.

He doesn’t have another follow-up due with Best Jeanist, thank fuck. Even though he’s one of the rare few who thinks that Katsuki’s bones aren’t made of glass, he hates seeing that dandy fucker. Constantly reminding him of the past, as if he can fucking go back there and go back to normal. God fucking shit and damn, it’s enough motivation not to fuck up drinking his meds anymore, if it means not seeing this guy for a prolonged period of time.

His so-called-friends aren’t any better. Shinsou is trying his best to be fuckin’ normal, but he can tell that he’s extra careful around Katsuki, like he’d spontaneously combust in the next moment or something. And ever since that shitty fucking Deku saw him again, Kirishima’s been adamant for the two of them to kiss and make up. First of all, yuck. Second of all, fuck you shitty hair Bakugou fuckin’ Katsuki doesn’t just make-up with anyone, least of all Deku who, after all this years, still doesn’t understand that Katsuki’s health is any of his business.

Deku . Shit, just seeing that green-haired crying mess forcing himself on him again, fuckin’ hell! If Shinsou wasn’t there Katsuki doesn’t know what he could have done to that nerd. After the hell that is their shared middle school experience, it’s hard enough getting along with him in UA. Hard enough that the shit followed him into the same med school and the same residency in Musutafu Children’s hospital. All that time with all that guilt, that complex that he doesn’t want anything to do with.

He doesn’t need that in his life. He doesn’t need Deku or that stupid look in his stupid face, as if he’s the one who needs him. He doesn’t need shit.

And… Momo.

Well.

What about Momo?

It’s five AM on a weekend and he’s staring stupidly in the ceiling, trying his fuckin’ hardest not to think of her. Obviously failing, because he’s flashing back to that street where that Headband Fucker is touching her shoulder, looking at her tenderly like there’s no-one else in the world except her.

That look on her face when she turns to him. Confused and shocked and scared and infinitely sad and fuck him if he didn’t want to drop dead right there. His rage against Deku was what kept him going that day. It’s hard looking at Momo in the eye.

That kind of look doesn’t suit her, Katsuki thinks. She’s never going to stop looking like that as long as he’s around her.

Shit, he really hates that Headband Fucker, wants to shove his palm and burn that stupid oversized shit off his forehead but what if that guy is who Momo needs right now?

“Argh!” he growls to the vast expanse of emptiness before him.

Nothing follows. He’s alone. Momo isn’t there anymore.

He sits up and cradles his head. He isn’t going to get any fucking sleep just moping about the past like this, he concludes as he stands up and stretches.

Might as well run.

The streets of Hosu are empty and dark when he comes out. The streetlights are beginning to dim as the sun begins to slowly rise from the east. He inhales a lungful of cold air and heads out.

Deafening rock music blaring in his ears, the thud of concrete under his feet, the stretch of empty street before him. It’s a good enough combination for him to forget about the shit that’s happening right now. And if he drops dead this time at least he can do it in peace and quiet.

The rhythm is hypnotic, his brain shuts down except for the parts that will his body to move, just the way he likes it. The sky is turning brighter, the shadows of his body start to appear, and his thoughts shut down and fade into silence--

It’s so that he doesn’t notice the flash of white coming from his right.

“Waaah!!!”

He doesn’t snap out of his trance until the collision is milliseconds away from happening. With all his reflexes, he blasts his way up and over the other jogger and lands about three steps away from him. The other guy, probably too surprised to steady himself, falls to the ground.

He doesn’t hear the crash of the other guy’s body, though--much to his surprise, half of it sinks to the ground, which is suddenly soft, for some reason.

Katsuki is at his side in the next second, offering his hand which the other man gratefully takes. “Sorry. I didn’t see you,” he says gruffly, pulling him off the concrete, which is suddenly quicksand.

“Yeah, same here,” the guy says with an easygoing smile. Well, as easygoing as his skull-like appearance allows, at least. He stands up and dusts himself, touching the ground once more as he does. It turns solid. “I’m okay though, I softened the ground right as I fell. How about you?”

“You’re the one who fell there, Skeletor, I’d worry more about you than me.” He’s had enough shitty people worrying about him, thank you very much.

He expects the guy’s face to sour with the new insulting nickname and all--Katsuki wonders why he’s so rude, sometimes--but all the other guy does is laugh. “That’s a cool name! All my online handles in middle school were like that.”

What the fuck, he’s too nice for someone he almost blasted in oblivion.

“But… if you want, you can call me Honenuki too. That’s my real name,” he says, extending his hand out to him. “I live in this neighborhood.”

He doesn’t usually make friends with anyone clumsy enough to crash into him while he’s deep in a running trance, but dammit this guy is so nice it’s hard even for Bakugou fuckin’ Katsuki to remain his rude and abrasive self. “Uh. Yeah. Bakugou,” he says dumbly, shaking his hand. Momentarily he worries that this Honenuki guy will turn his hand to mud too, but luckily he seems to nice even for that.

“Bakugou,” Honenuki repeats, with a curious tilt of the head.

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “What?”

The fuck, he wants to continue, but he doesn’t want to cuss out this new guy. “Sorry for staring, but you seem familiar--”

Before he can ask though, someone’s running towards them. “Honenuki-san, what on earth--”

Jesus Christ. What did he fuckin’ do to deserve--

“Yaoyorozu,” Honenuki says, with an awkward laugh. Too late he realizes that he’s waist deep in shit when Momo freezes ten feet away from them with those terrified doe-eyes locked on Katsuki’s. “Um, so… it’s my fault, I was running and wasn’t watching where I was going, and almost ran into Bakugou-kun over here who was just… running a different route, and, excuse me Bakugou-kun that stings--”

He almost forgets to let go of the other guy’s hand mid-hand shake. When he does, the other guy’s hand flares red with heat and shines with nitroglycerin. A few more seconds and Skeletor will have a few bones less from his hand. The way he smiles at Momo though, like he’s a cop reassuring a hostage in a warehouse full of thugs, you won’t be able to tell.

The thug in this situation being Katsuki, of course. He doesn’t miss the way Momo tries to avoid his gaze and focuses instead on Honenuki. “I heard explosions. Are you injured?”

“Nope! We’re fine, really.” Poor fucker seems to be choking in the tension, but he tries to smile all throughout. “So, um… we were talking about a race earlier, right Yaoyorozu? I’ve given you enough time to warm-up, right? Bakugou-kun, if you’ll excuse us--”

Katsuki grimaces and turns with a shrug of one shoulder, fully intending to get the fuck out of there and pretend that seeing Momo in that ruby red tracksuit of hers didn’t simultaneously make all of his guts feel like lead and his chest feel like it’s on fire and his brain go stupid. But two steps into his jog, he hears her call out from behind him.

“Bakugou-san. Race me.”

He stops in his tracks. A ridiculous look is on his face when he glares at her.

“Uh. Yaoyorozu?” Honenuki stammers, astonished. “What… are you doing?”

What the fuck is she doing? One eyebrow raised, he gives her the most lackadaisical smirk he can manage. “You heard the bony fucker. What the fuck are you doing?”

“You heard me. Race against me and Honenuki-san.”

“And why the fuck would I do that?”

“We made a bet,” she says. Arms crossed, with a confidence and swagger she pulled out of nowhere, she steps closer to Katsuki and looks him right in the eye. “Loser does whatever the winner says, no questions asked. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Honenuki stammers something useless behind her that Katsuki doesn’t catch. All he’s able to see is the fire in her eyes, the steely determination, the sudden absence of uneasiness and fear in them.

He’s fuckin’ mesmerized, but he doesn’t say it. Still, he doesn’t know what the fuck she’s up to. “I ain’t interested in racing against slowpokes like you,” he says, mockingly.

She shrugs. “Afraid? Well… I suppose I can’t blame you.”

Afraid?! Who’s afraid?!

She turns, the ponytail of hers swishing behind her and falling down her slender back in the way he really likes. Not enough that the swelling irritation in him calms down though. He grabs her shoulder roughly, pulls her in so that she sees the rage in him up close and personal. “Who’s fuckin’ afraid, Ponytail?”

She doesn’t flinch. Just smirks in a way he’s never seen before, eyes burning hot. “It’s on, then.”

“You bet your fuckin’ brains it’s on.”

Behind them, Honenuki sighs in exasperation.

The route for the race is simple enough--a loop starting from the Lawson in the corner, passing through 5th avenue and back through the side streets, roughly 1.5 km in distance, uphill at the start and downhill to the finish line.

“So whoever reaches this spot wins,” Honenuki says, tapping the pedestrian lane with one foot. “Do your best you two, but I gotta tell ya, I hate to lose.”

“I know you do, Honenuki-san,” Momo says with a smile. “But I won’t lose just for you.”

Katsuki scoffs. These two are fuckin’ dead.

Momo leaves an alarm-clock like contraption at the side of the street, the sound of which will signal the start of the race. They take their places behind the line, with Honenuki in the middle. Katsuki leans down and focuses on the street in front of him.

The alarm sounds, and they run.

Predictably, Katsuki takes the lead so easily it’s comical. Despite all the shit that has happened to him, he’s kept himself strong and fast and sharp all these years, not slacking off working out even when he was incredibly busy in the hospital. Being strong is all he knows after all, since he was young and had all those stupid dreams of being a pro--

(He was going to be the strongest of them, he was going to be number one, better than anyone in history, better than All Might… he was, he really was, if only--)

He hears footsteps thudding behind him, far away. His legs are screaming and his lungs are thirsty for air, but he can still keep going. He hears ragged breathing louder than he hears their footsteps, making him smirk in victory.

(What the actual fuck was Momo thinking, challenging him like this? She’s really soft and really gentle, he knows, remembers just how those legs and thighs feel under his touch--transformed them into jelly with just his hands and mouth--does she really expect herself to outrun him with those beautiful legs of hers--)

He reaches the top of the hill and begins to feel the strain of sprinting his way up there. He slows down a bit, but not too much to allow either of them to snatch the lead from him. He turns to the sidestreets, where the downhill slope begins, and continues the run.

It’s hard on his knees, but he can manage it. Soon he sees the convenience store and the finish line, and there’s no fuckin’ way that those two brainiacs can snatch the victory from him--

He laughs out loud--there’s too much adrenaline through his veins now, more than he knows what to do with. In an attempt to use it up, he screams, “See ya at the finish line, losers!” which echoes along the empty alleyways, reverberating with the roll of wheels against the concrete--

What. Wheels?

He doesn’t realize it soon enough--the rolling noise comes closer, next to him, then ahead of him, in a blur of red and black, ponytail whipping him in the face along the way.

“The f--”

The sight of Yaoyorozu Momo, in just a sports bra and track pants, jacket nowhere to be seen, riding a fuckin’ longboard like she’s Tony fuckin’ Hawk, should be the stuff of his pubertal fantasies on a normal day.

But seeing her edging closer to the finish line like a fuckin’ cheater just makes him want to explode.

So he explodes. “Oh no you fuckin’ don’t, Ponytail!!!”

His hands explode behind him like jets and propel him forward. He flies in mid-air, reaching the blue of the sky, faster than he’s ever allowed himself to fly, falling faster than even that.

Soon he sees concrete and red and black, zooming closer and closer--Momo reaches the finish line and looks up at him in sheer horror--

Shit I’m gonna kill her. We’re gonna die, he thinks a tad too late. He reaches out for her, catches her in his arms, twists them so that it’s him that will take the brunt of the crash on the unforgiving pavement, and…

He lands, with a splort.

Not the nicest of sounds, but it’s a safe and soft sound, at least.

Honenuki emerges from the ground beside them, wheezing as if he swam a mile. “Oh my gosh, are you guys okay? I barely just made it here--”

Katsuki wheezes back, “I’m good…”

Honenuki exhales in relief, and pulls himself up as if he’s in a swimming pool. “How about you, Yaoyorozu? Honestly, I thought I was going to have to bring you guys to the hospital after this race--”

Momo isn’t moving very much, but Katsuki feels her breathing. He rubs his hand across her bare back and arms. No fractures there, at least. “Oi. Skeletor’s talking to you. You okay?”

She looks up, nods. And slaps him hard on the face.

“What the fuck, Momo?!”

“Yes, Honenuki-san, I’m okay, because I. Won.” She stands up and stumbles onto the solid ground nearby. Dusting herself off, she doesn’t spare him a glance when she says, sternly, “And you deserve that, Katsuki.”

He knows he does, but what the fuck is this timing?! Right after challenging him to a fuckin’ race and then cheating to get to the finish line, what the hell?! And she’s the one getting pissed?! “Who the fuck won?! Using your quirk to win, that’s fuckin’ cheating!”

“Whoever crosses the line first, wins. There’s no rule against using quirks,” she points out matter-of-factly. “Among the three of us, it’s obviously me. So the two of you owe me.”

By this time, Katsuki’s out of the mud, and Honenuki has turned the ground solid again. But while he is staring dumbly at Momo and her uncharacteristic snappiness, the mudman only looks mildly miffed at the turn of events like he expects it.

“You won fair and square, I guess, so I owe you breakfast,” Honenuki tells her. Eyeing the two of them and the unresolved issues between them, he points a thumb away from them. “I’ll go ahead and order for us, Yaoyorozu. See ya in a bit.”

She smiles, and lets him go ahead. When he’s out of sight, she eyes Katsuki with a disconcerting quiet. A breeze blows past them, making her ponytail sway with the wind, spikes flowing behind her gracefully like she’s in a shampoo commercial.

She… is ridiculously attractive like this, Katsuki thinks, making his loss all the more unbearable. He bares his teeth at her threateningly, and grits out, “What.”

She tilts her head, raises her eyebrows in question. “I beg your pardon?”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “So. You fuckin’ won and shit, even though you cheated me out of it, but apparently I owe you something. What do you want.”

She smirks--who the fuck taught her how to smirk, he’s going to kill the bastard who made her face even more attractive than it is--and steps closer to him. “Don’t worry, Katsuki. I’m not going to make you do something for me. I just… want to know something. Please answer me truthfully.”

He tries his best not to make a face. He knew she was going to use this win to dig out some answer that he isn’t prepared to give, or to let Momo hear. It’s why he tried his best to win in the first place.

Shit, he should have blasted his way to the finish line from the start. Stupid rule. Still, if Momo has to resort to shit like this, maybe it’s what she needs right now. So he steels himself and says, “What do you want to know?”

Shit, he's done it. She's going to ask about that shitty fucking Deku, why he's ready to kill that fucker on the spot. She's going to ask what the fuck happened to his brain, why Best Jeanist knows him since middle school, why that guy called him Dr. Bakugou, why he quit medicine altogether. Why Shinsou and Kirishima treat him like he's a toddler who can't take care of himself. Why he's like this.

Why he couldn't man up and face her.

She inhales softly, onyx eyes gently searching his. Searching for what, he doesn’t know, but the intensity of her eyes is too much. He looks away and focuses on the pole behind her head.

When she speaks, he feels pressure welling up in her, as if she braces herself to stand against a tsunami. “When,” she says, after a meaningful pause, “is your birthday?”

He stares at her dumbly, waiting for the punchline.

“... what.”

She repeats with all dignity, no nonsense: “When is your birthday?”

“My birthday,” he repeats incredulously. “The reward of the win you almost died for. You’re using it up to know my birthday.” He doesn’t know how his face looks like. It must look like a confused pile of shit, but Momo doesn’t falter, not even with the ridiculous look he gives her.

“Yes,” she answers primly. “Are you going to honor our bet, or not? It’s exceedingly simple, Katsuki.”

He scoffs and keeps himself from mumbling a curse under his breath. “Suit yourself,” he finally grumbles, rubbing his forehead. Taking another deep breath, as if he’s about to reveal a deadly truth about himself, he rasps out, “April 20th.”

“April 20th,” she repeats, with a nod. “Year?”

What the fuck, he thinks to himself, as he rumbles out the year, still incredulous.

She processes this information briefly and nods. “So you’re 27 years old,” she says. “As am I.”

He shrugs. He knows she’s just turned 27 last September 23rd. Because they talked about teas, and she mentioned some snooty cousin of hers who gave her tea from the Himalayas for her birthday, and then she asked about his birthday and he and refused to tell her, just skirted around the question until they were talking about something else, and--

Wait, why didn’t he tell her that back then? There was no reason not to tell, come to think of it. Before he can think too deeply about it, she’s giving him a curt bow and turning away.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says politely, beginning to half-jog away from him. “I have to go now, Honenuki-san is waiting.”

Katsuki nods dumbly and grunts. Again. How many times has he dumbed down in front of this girl this morning, seriously?

With a swish of her ponytail and a small, genuine smile on her mouth this time, she adds, “I suppose I’ll learn more about you when you lose, next time.”

“When I lose?! Oi, who’s gonna--”

But before he can finish the sentence with a juicy profanity, she’s already running off like she hasn’t this morning, not looking back. Soon, she’s gone, and he’s alone on the empty streets of Hosu, exhausted beyond belief but less heavy with secrets and regret. He strangely feels more alive than he felt before.

He shakes his head and begins his walk home. There’s no fuckin’ way he’ll lose to Ponytail next time, though, secrets be damned.

#cafe/hospital AU #ruby red and caramel #bakumomo #awamomo #bakugou katsuki x yaoyorozu momo #bakugou katsuki #yaoyorozu momo #awase yousetsu #midoriya izuku #shinsou hitoshi #honenuki juzo #hnhnhnhn how to tell bakugou's past without cheesy flashback sequences #welp ill get there when i get there

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universeconspired · 7 years ago

Note

"You spilt something on that dress of yours."

The night had been an interesting one. A warmer than average Christmas Eve, coupled with traditional rain hitting the Covent Garden cobbles leaving everyone complaining about how unfestive it all was. The juxtaposition of the beauty and grace and joy on the stage with the tensions rising from families trying to portray perfection from their boxes. While Nova had historically complained every single year about how she hated the traditions, getting to see the Nutcracker every Christmas Eve was certainly one of the better ones. Although, even still, it came with its downsides: an uncomfortable dress, even more uncomfortable heels, but her mother’s approval at how she cleaned up well. Watching the uncomfortable interactions between her dad and Dom, knowing her dad had no clue how to communicate with someone who hadn’t been brought up like he had. Listening to Luna talking about what angels her kids were, how amazing her husband was for choosing another diamond necklace and how they were going skiing between Christmas and New Year. And, of course, the meal after while still wearing the uncomfortable dress and coupled with too many glasses of champagne.

It was all ridiculous and pompous and she hated it.

But then there was that moment when the orchestra started to play and she’d felt Dom’s hand squeezing her leg. In that moment it was perfect. All of the arguments and frustrations melting away by the comforting spectacle that she could share with Dom. While they were from different worlds, being able to share that moment - albeit surrounded by family who were trying so hard to put on a show - was one of the better new traditions. The slow walk to the restaurant gave her time to curl into Dom’s side as they shared an umbrella, stealing warmth from him as they murmured inside jokes and tipsy chuckles. Sure, it may have come with a few complaints from her sister that they were holding things up - if she didn’t have to wear heels on cobbled streets then maybe she would have walked faster! - and shared glances between her parents who still weren’t sure about Dom, but it was entirely worth it.

At least, level headed and sober her would have thought that way. Too much champagne - sparkling English, Nova as her father would have reprimanded - had left her the wrong side of tipsy and irrational. Her feathers had been ruffled by harmless comments, evident by how aggressive she was at trying to take off her mascara. Between curses at why she thought waterproof mascara was ever a good idea, she’d barely heard Dom come into the bathroom. God, he probably thought she was insane after spending their entire taxi ride back to their flat complaining and getting more and more wound up over tiny little things that had been building throughout the year. And it was only going to be worse tomorrow - more wine, more sparkling something, opulent gifts that were entirely about showing off rather than needing anything. He must have regretted ever marrying into her insane family.

She hadn’t expected the gentle kiss to her shoulder, the words murmured against her neck. Almost immediately, Nova leaned back against him while letting her eyes close. This was the best part of her new Christmas. Getting to spend it with the love of her life in quiet little moments where he knew she needed distracting from going down her self deprecating hole. Getting to spend it with someone who understood and appreciated and thought she was perfect, even as she stood there with black smudges running down her face, lipstick stained lips and her once perfectly curled hair thrown into an awkward pineapple bun on the top of her head. She couldn’t have gotten any luckier. Luna? She probably still had to live a life where her husband was unaware that she was anything other than picture perfect. That had to be exhausting. Herself? She was almost entirely sure she could not shower for an entire year and roll around in mud and Dom would still love her. Well, maybe he’d poke fun at her, but there would still be love there.

“Unzip me?” Nova asked, voice soft as she opened her eyes to look at Dom in the mirror. For the first time that night, a genuine smile gently lifted the corners of her mouth. “It’s probably English sparkling wine, darling,” she continued, mocking her father’s obnoxious need to let everyone know his patriotism and how much he disliked other countries produce, even when it tended to be far better. “We can burn it, like an offering to the festive cosmos or a fuck you to my mother. Either one works.” A laugh left her then as she turned her head, pressing a clumsy kiss to anywhere she could reach on Dom’s face. Leisurely, she turned to follow her head, melting into Dom’s chest while her fingers trailed up the back of his neck, into his hair. Maybe her favourite part of the evening was seeing Dom dressed up so smartly. As pathetic as it was, her upbringing had clearly given her a thing for an impeccably fitting suit. Although, right now with his slightly loosened tie and the discarded jacket? She was finding it far more attractive. Definitely nothing to do with how much she’d had to drink. And that scent of fading cologne? Almost enough to make her weak at the knees. Maybe that’s why she was clutching onto his shoulders so much.

“Nothing says Merry Christmas like unwrapping me like a present and being kicked out of our home for a little bonfire fuelled by Victoria Beckham’s finest, hm?” Another laugh bubbled from her as he leaned back against the sink counter to look up at Dom with complete affection. Her thumb brushed gently along a slight smudge of lipstick left on his jaw, the other falling to rest on his waist, fingers crumpling the fabric of his shirt. She was lucky. She had a family she adored, despite how they drove her crazy with their diverging idealism and pretentiousness that she no longer fit in. She was loved so clearly by a man who would give her every star in the sky if he had the means to. And she loved him back so selfishly that all she wanted with a million lifetimes to be able to express how much she loved him, even though she was sure it was impossible to explain. It was like a switch was flipped in every single cell of her body the second they had met, giving her all of these emotions and feelings that she’d never truly felt with anyone before. That was a gift in itself; being gifted that continuously for the past few years. Instead of voicing that - because, really, she was far too drunk to say anything eloquent in that moment - her thumb continued to lightly brush over his jaw, trying to express her adoration for him.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

#transcendtherules

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frankie2902 · 8 years ago

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Rose of Fate; Jakoby X Reader Imagine! Source is pinterest again! {Teehee.. pinterest is life! XD}

Imagine...

You sigh as you look again down at your phone, no text, no call, no nothing. You were here because you'd finally convinced your significant other to participate in a weekly date night in order to fix things between you but it would seem that they have decided attendance is not mandatory.

"Ma'am/Sir? Can I get you anything to drink at least? I know you're waiting for someone" the nice waitress comes to asks you for the third time. you can't help the sad frown that comes to your face as you finally break, it's obvious what your boyfriend/girlfriend was saying by not showing up. They'd said so themselves earlier that day that if they didn't show that meant they didn't want to be together anymore but you had to take the chance that they might.

"It's been three hours, if they're not here by now then they're not coming" You finally rationalize with yourself as you reach down for your bag to tip at least tip her for being so nice. You can feel the pitying eyes of the others around you and bite down on the inside of your lip as a tear falls but suddenly the chair across from you scrapes back.

"I'm sorry I'm late my love, things were so hectic at the station that I couldn't get away" You straighten instantly, feeling the tear slip down your face and swipe it away on instinct as a handsome Orc man in a white button up shirt and black slacks sit down across from you. You blink in shock as the waitress sighs with relief and says she'll give you both a moment. That’s when he leans forward a little with an apologetic smile on his face.

"I'm sorry if I startled you, My name is Nikolas if you'll be willing to play along I think the man/woman who stood you up is an absolute fool" He tells you kindly, offering you the red rose he'd had in his hand. You quickly realize his kindness is almost enough to bring back the tears back and take a steadying breath.

You carefully accept the rose, smiling at the sweetness of its smell as you thank him sincerely. Its thorns had been carefully removed to prevent injury, roses have always been your favorite. You wonder for a moment why he would have a random rose on him like this but then your eyes drift to how smartly he's dressed and your jaw drops as the realization hits you.

"Oh my gosh.. You were not stood too! Were you?" You ponder quietly, he blinks and chuckles nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at the table. Well that was an answer if ever you were looking for one, you quickly reach across and touch the back of his hand lightly to reassure him. "Well I think we both have our fair share of fools to deal with then huh?"

He looks back up at you and smiles sweetly, his eyes wide as though relieved that you weren't judging him but why would you? He's so handsome, you can't wrap my head around the fact that this woman or man wouldn't show up. On your end however it was told to you daily why your s.o. wouldn't want to be seen with you, painfully so. At least you wouldn't have to deal with that anymore thankfully.

After twenty minutes filled with amazing conversation and a delicious meal you were finding yourself even more confused as to why any woman or man would reject this beautiful soul. You lean forward with your chin resting on top of your interlaced fingers and smile as he tells you about his day and about how his partners wife had been the one to kindly try and set up this date for him.

"Well I think he/she's seriously missing out, I haven't been able to figure out why someone would stand you up in the first place the whole time we've been sitting here" You tell him as you take a sip of wine, you see a pinkness flow into his face and can't help but think not for the first time that he's adorable. Then waitress then comes back with your checks, even though he had insisted that he pick the whole thing up you had managed to convince him to either let you pay your own way or let you pay for his as a thank you for his kindness. As she walks away he turns back to you and shrugs slightly as he answers your assertion.

"Well I'm not exactly anyone's type as I've been told, what with my filed tusks and being an Orcish cop" He speaks so frankly, not even looking at you as he again rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as though this is pain he deals with every day. You feel an instant pull of guilt, putting down your glass and are about to reassure him that he's an absolute delight when his eyes flick back up to your face and he gestures right back to you. "Meanwhile I've been thinking the same thing about you! What fool would dare to pass a chance to spend time with you? I certainly think they're missing out as well"

He laughs but as he says this you feel a pain in your chest, reminded that your own boyfriend/girlfriend didn't have half the decency this Orc man did. Your lips part slightly as you think of what to say to this, should you just agree? You have no idea, so you just mirror his earlier body language. You glance down to the table with a small cheeky smile on your face, cheeks flushing with the thinly veiled compliment. You notice his ear twitch and his nostrils flare slightly as the depressing feeling washes over you.

"Well thank you but I don't think I'm all that special, my own boyfriend/girlfriend couldn't bring themself to walk two blocks and be here to fix things so.." You feel the words flow forward before you can filter them and suddenly you feel your eyes brimming again, throat tightening just a little bit. You laugh and blink rapidly, fanning your face a little as you lift the wine glass and set it a little farther away from you. "Ooh, my gosh I'm so sorry, this wine is getting to my head"

This time it's Jakoby, as he told you he prefers to be called, who reaches out but he doesn't touch your hand like you had done for him. Instead he picks up the rose that he'd given you, a soft smile on his face as his golden eyes meet yours.

"Do you think this single rose is special? It's only one and its thorns have been removed, all it has is red petals and a green stem, green leaves." He speaks so carefully, pointing out each part of the rose in turn as you shake your head clearly not understanding what he means. You take the rose back from him as he hands it to you, leant forward as well as you cradle the rose gently, admiring it.

"Oh no! it's beautiful! I think it's more precious by itself, anyone can give someone a bouquet but a single rose is much more romantic." You smile as you trace your fingers over the petals, leaves and stem, thinking of all the reasons why you love roses so much. "Its petals are soft as velvet, the colors are gorgeous, it's smell is intoxicating! Its leaves can be used for tea and lotions and even without its thorns its gorgeous, softer even, than it would be with them."

"Absolutely, so if one single rose has all those beautiful qualities don't you think you have that and much more?" You freeze mind blown as he tells you this softly, his hand just barely curling around the top of yours as it cradles the flower petals. He lowers his head to catch your gaze, smiling so sweetly. For a moment your stunned at this eloquent delivery that makes your heart flutter and a smile crawl across your face.

You also notice how close you are as the silence stretches on, though you hardly notice the quiet as you find yourself tracing his features with your gaze. He truly is magnificent, the most handsome male you'd met before and with his kindness much more appealing than your jerk of an ex boyfriend/girlfriend. You break apart as a small voice giggles to your left and you both flinch, sitting back in your seats as the waitress stares down at you. You imediately notice the chocolate cake in her hands as she sets it and your paid checks on the table.

"Oh we didn-"

"I know but you two are just so cute that we wanted to do something for you!" She tells you sweetly, nodding back to the group of wait staff and bartenders gathered at the bar a few of whom wave emphatically at us. Its then you realize that the restaurant is very much empty and you think that Jakoby notices this as well as he speaks up.

"I'm sorry miss but what time is it?" Jakoby asks her curiously, You also look down at the watch on your wrist and nearly gasp as you find that its almost ten at night. The waitress blushes and laughs nervously as Jakoby looks to you to find out why exactly you look so shocked.

"It's almost ten! Don't you guys close around eight?" You ask kindly, feeling guilty that you'd made them stay later than normal. Jakoby looks like he might say something but the waitress rests a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Don't you worry about that! You finish your cake okay? We don’t usually get out of here till ten anyway so it's not that much of a stretch" She assures you carefully, you hear footsteps start approaching as Jakoby shakes his head.

"Oh no we couldn't possib-"

"You can and you will" You turn and find a matronly woman with brown hair and a take no crap gait approaching the table. "My name is Molly, I'm the manager. When Lana overheard the situation she came to me and I cleared this so everything is just fine"

Lana laughs again, clasping her hands in front of her timidly as she blushes.

"you guys were just so lost in each other and it was just so sweet how he came to your rescue like that! I had to" She admits quietly, Molly setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Lana is one of our most devoted waitress's, she takes our Fate policy very seriously" She smiles happily at the young woman and Jakoby and you both frown, his ear twitching cutely as you both look up at her curiously. "Our Fate Policy means that we will not ask any couple to leave as long as they are acting appropriately. Because you had met this requirement Lana came to me once eight o clock rolled around and the staff took a vote to give you a complimentary dessert"

"Well thank you very much, that is so sweet of you" You tell her, awestruck and as they walk away, You and Jakoby stare at each other in mutual shock. "So I guess that makes you my knight in shining armor then"

You say this jokingly but he blushes and laughs, his smile the only thing keeping you from thinking you'd embarrassed him.

"That'd make me more of a knight in blue armor but.." He smiles and trails off as you laugh at his joke and you both pick up your forks to dig into this beautiful piece of cake.

Once you're done with your cake you mutually decide to clean up the table and bring the dishes to the bar despite the protests from the wait staff around you. That done, you thank the employees and make your way out and onto the street. The streetlamps buzzing and the silence comforting as you both turn towards each other.

"So I don't know about you but tonight was just about the best date I've been on in my entire life" you let yourself admit with a happy smile, You see his eyes light up at this, the smile broadening on his face.

"I can definitely agree with you, with that said would it be too forward to ask if you'd like to go out with me again sometime?" He ventures awkwardly, his eyes averting from your face and you smile at him letting the warmth in your cheeks be seen.

"I don't think that’s forward at all, I'd love too" You respond gently, giggling as he looks back up to your eyes and that wonderful smile comes back to his face.

"Then I'm definitely looking forward to it, may I walk you home?" He asks politely and you nod, taking his arm as he offers it and leaning your head on his shoulder as you walk the four blocks to your apartment in comfortable silence.

(I really hope you guys like this one!! Here are the tags! If you like to be one of them feel free to ask and I’ll add you too!! :3 @byzantium-glytch @multi-villain-imagines @queencobblefreezestuff @walterkov @ever-hungry-aria @littlemessyjessi @homra-the-red-clan )

#bright #bright fanfic #x reader #jakoby x reader #nick jakoby x reader #nick jakoby #NikolasJakoby #netflix

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