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atl4ntxc · 3 years

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#devildom's ballerina !

BALLET, imagine.

—character(s), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon, Luke.

—genre, overall fluffy.

—notes, please do take note that this is fem! reader with the usage of she/her pronouns. if any of you wants a male version, send me an ask! (though, it'll be headcanons since my head is empty)

; Mc has to perform on stage as two of the lead roles in Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake after the exchange program. Little does she know, the brothers and her friends decided to give her a little visit before the show.

—————

They had to come to the human world for this.

Mc is a principal ballerina, though she doubted her skills, it was painfully obvious that the female was amazing at ballet. Ballet is theatrical – performed on a stage to an audience utilizing costumes, scenic design and lighting. It can tell a story or express a thought, concept or emotion. Ballet dance can be magical, exciting, provoking or disturbing.

For this years' performance, the ballet company that Mc was in decided to do the iconic 'Swan lake' performance.

And Mc was cast to play Odile, the black swan maiden and the secondary antagonist in Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. She also got to play Princess Odette, the white swan maiden, who is the heroine of the ballet. Getting two of the main roles of Swan Lake was surely exhausting, hours and hours of rehearsals in the dance studio and inside her own home.

Ballet is not a simple art form, and the brothers absolutely knew that.

"Okay, so the portal should be able to work now." Said Barbatos, smiling lightly at the brothers.

"Ah, I can't wait to see Mc again! It's been such a long month~" Asmodeus whined, putting both of his hands against his cheek and began caressing slowly. "It's only been a month, Asmo..."

"A whole month without Mc was terrifying! I don't have the courage to go through that anymore,"

Satan sweatdropped at his brother and gave him a nervous smile. "Right... Anyway, Barbatos— is the portal ready?" Barbatos looked at Satan and nodded, his gloved hand making its way to the portal.

"Well, what are we all waiting for? Let's go and visit Mc!"

Everyone that was present cheered.

—————

You sipped on your coffee, opening your Spotify playlist in the process as you put your earphones in.

You were on the way to the theatre, the time was currently around 7:30 am. It was the opening night for Swan Lake, and you got two of the major roles, Princess Odette and Odile. When the cast was announced, it was surely exciting but it worried you to the core.

Some would think this is a nightmare, some would think this is a dream. But you'd prefer to keep it at a neutral level like most professionals do.

As you step into the theatre's ground, you were shocked to see the ruler of hell and his butler, standing there, waiting to greet you.

"What the..."

"Mc! Hello, welcome,"

You stared at them when you felt your hands shake, making you drop your cup of coffee (which you paid a lot for), yet Barbatos thankfully managed to catch it.

"Whoops! Don't want to drop that. Here," Barbatos gave the cup to Diavolo, who handed it to you with a smile. "What are you- Why are you guys here?" You fixed your posture and took out your earphones.

"Well, we heard that you had a performance this evening and we wanted to surprise you! So, tell me, Mc. What is this 'Ballet' thing and how does it work?"

You stared at Diavolo with furrowed eyebrows and a disappointed sigh and cracked your knuckles. "Alright, let's get into it."

—————

"Oh, so it's basically a dance concert?"

"Yes, definitely." After showing Diavolo and Barbatos videos of various ballet performances, you decided to shut off your phone and get ready for your rehearsals. "It's kinda complicated but... I kinda have rehearsals in a few hours, and my show will be starting soon."

"Oh right, yes!" Beamed Diavolo, Barbatos smiling nervously in the background. You bid the demons a farewell and walked towards your own dressing room, remembering each move that was required in the performance

As you stepped into the room, you were surprised to see all of the demon brothers, waiting patiently for your arrival. "What kind of witchery is this?!"

"Mc! You're here!" Spoke Asmo, lunging himself towards you but failing after as you got pulled in a hug by Leviathan. "I missed you, my player two..." he whispered, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you lightly laugh at him, combing his hair through your slender fingers.

"Getting bold now are we, Levi?"

"I-" Before he finished the sentence, you were pulled away by the arm. "Hey! I'm her first," growled the avatar of greed, as he kept you in his arms in a protective manner. "Mc isn't yours, Mammon. Let her go!"

"Guys, stop! Look, you guys can quarrel later but I have rehearsals to do. It's already opening night, and I really don't have time to slack off." You exclaimed, pulling away from Mammon and putting your dancing bag on the dressing table. They apologized and you accepted it.

Taking your ballet costume that was specifically designed in white to the dressing area, you changed into it and untied your braided hair.

"Woah, Mc you look absolutely gorgeous!"

"Thank you."

You sat on the vanity seat and styled your hair into a classic ballet bun with braids wrapped around, styling it neatly and putting hair spray right after. "Looking great, Mc~! What about your makeup? Can I do it?"

"Excuse me, That's my job." Asmo turned his head to see a tall female that was around 5'8, with a layered brunette hairstyle. This was probably the makeup artist, thought Lucifer.

"Mc, do you know her!?"

"Anastasia, hey. Uh, she's our professional makeup artist..." You answered, smiling slightly at the brunette and sweatdropping right after. Asmo had a betrayed look cross his face, "You have your own makeup artist?" he whined.

"Usually, I teach Mc how to do makeup by herself, it is my profession after all. But, Mc requested for me to do her makeup for this performance," Anastasia sighed, making Mc smile nervously as Asmo gasped.

"Mc, you could've asked me!"

"Asmo, quit it. Alright, all of you, let's just wait outside." Lucifer kindly interrupted the conversation, pulling Asmo by the collar and making his brothers stand up to leave as well. "I'm so sorry about them."

"Don't worry about it." The brunette shook her head, her long locks falling off her shoulder. "Do you want it light or heavy?" questioned Anastasia, picking up her makeup brush. "Depends on you, of course. I don't mind anything!"

—————

"Mc, I believe you're a little late for rehearsal."

"I sincerely apologize, Madam Maria. It'll never happen again,"

"I'll take your word for it, now chop-chop! We're beginning our last rehearsal before the show." The Russian woman clapped her hands, making both of the male and female ballerinas jolt up to their positions.

—————

"You can do it, Mc!"

"Yeah! Go for it, Mc."

"Solomon, Luke? You guys aren't allowed to be backstage!" As much as you'd like to interact and spend time with them, this was not the time as you were about to go on stage in 10 minutes.

"I'm sorry, Mc! We just wanted to see you before the show." Luke frowned, hugging you as a part of the apology. Solomon nodded, a nervous grin crossing his face as he rubbed his nape. "Sorry if we caused a disturbance."

You sighed and let the corner of your mouth slightly curl up, softly smiling. "Well, you did cause a little commotion back there, but I guess it's fine. I've missed you guys too!" Pulling them in a hug, you were still careful to not accidentally mess your costume up.

"I miss the warmth you all provided, really."

"That's pretty poetic, I like that." Laughing lightly at Solomon's joke, you punched his arm, making him jerk back in pain. "Hey! It's true, what?" Luke cheered on, seeming to like the fact that you were beating Solomon up.

"Anyway, we'll go back to our seats now. Good luck, Mc!" Solomon exclaimed, pulling Luke away who was very angry at the fact that he never got to spend time with you. Smiling at the retreating figures of the males, your smile got wider as the music started to appear, walking onto the stage.

Each move you did was did gracefully, and it made the Devildom residences eyes locked onto your form, which appeared to be glowing as the stage light and music made it more beautiful, to the point where Belphegor was not able to sleep, too mesmerized.

Simeon was so proud of you, from the day you introduced yourself to the day of your last breath, and he made sure to stay that way.

Luke's eyes were sparkling, him silently cheering you on as he had a big smile across his face. Solomon was also smiling, witnessing his fellow human friend becoming and reaching one of her biggest dreams.

Diavolo had a satisfied and proud grin on his face, watching you intently on every move you make. Barbatos on the other hand, had a slight smile decorating his face, complimenting his beauty even further. His hands were rested on his lap, relaxing at the classical music that was presented, watching you perform on stage.

Leviathan and Asmodeus had their phones out, recording everything. Levi had sparkling eyes with a smile and Asmo had his right hand clasped on his mouth with tears in his eyes. "Mc looks pretty." Whispered Beelzebub, who was stuffing his face with popcorn.

"I agree. I can't sleep, but I'm not complaining," Belphegor nodded, resting his face against his palm.

"That's my human! Go human!"

"Mammon, shut up! Don't disturb." Lucifer scolded Mammon, who had his arms up in the air, to show how supportive he was of you. He lowered his arms down and began to cheer more quietly, his eyes full of adoration.

After scolding Mammon, Lucifer relaxed back on the theatre seat, closing his eyes for a mere second before reopening them, moving his gaze to the stage.

The performance ended with rounds of applause from the audience, making the theatre be filled with noise.

Wiping the sweat off your forehead, you sipped on the water that was provided by your ballet teacher. "You did great out there. It was a nice performance," she complimented, which made you almost choke on your drink, as she almost never compliments anyone, but instead insult them.

"Thank you, Madam Maria."

"All of you can head home now, or wherever you want to be. Just make sure to show up at our next lesson!" She announced, letting the ballerinas rest. Some nodded their heads, some ignored the woman's words yet she didn't care.

"That was tough, how was it Mc?"

"You're lucky to get one of the swans... My legs are practically dying out of exhaustion right now."

Whining at your fellow colleague, the female laughed at you before laying on the ground, closing her eyes. "Hah, you wish you were me. My wishes have been granted!" You shook your head and deadpanned at the woman, "You act like you're drunk when you're exhausted, Maribelle."

Maribelle laughed and looked at you in the corner of her eyes, "Ugh, I know, and I'm proud." She sat up, straightening her legs while massaging them, "Is anybody going to pick you up? I can give you a ride."

"Oh, I'll pass. I have some people coming to pick me up, don't worry. You should rest, Maribelle."

"You act like my mother! I mean, not that I mind, but you should take care of yourself more." She frowned, taking a hold of your shoulder, face full of concern. You smiled softly and patted her hand, "I'll take note of that."

—————

"Mc, that was incredible! You were so pretty up there, doing those twirls and making them look so easy," Luke exclaimed, putting his hands up in the air before lowering them down and putting them on his hips, huffing. "Can you teach me?!"

"I don't mind, Luke. It's painful though!"

He stopped walking and shrieked in horror, a scared expression plastered on his face. "On second thought, I don't think I wanna do ballet. Sorry, Mc!" You laughed at him, shaking your head.

"You were great out there, Mc. That was just raw talent,"

"Thanks, Barbs! That means a lot."

"I mean, you're my human! As expected from the great Mammon!" Lucifer hit his head, eyebrows furrowing. "It was entirely Mc, you're not involved Mammon."

"Hey, ya don't have to be so mean about it!" He pouted and rubbed the back of his head, sweatdropping. "It's fine, Lucifer. Let him be, don't be too fussy about it," You commented, putting a hand on Lucifer's back, rubbing it up and down in a comforting manner.

And as the wholesome moment was about to be treasured, Lucifer heard a click from someone's phone. He looked up to see Belphie, smirking evilly before showing the photo he took of Lucifer, sharing them with Satan.

"Belphie, delete that!"

"Make me."

"Anywayy, good job Mc! Though, the pas de deux between you and the prince made me jealous..." You looked to see Asmo, his smile turning upside down into a frown. "Pas de what?"

"Pas de deux is basically a dance for two people, typically a man and a woman." Satan interrupted, answering Mammon's question as well as Levi and Beel's questioning gazes. "Oh, it's THAT scene..." Levi frowned as he recalled the scene between you and Prince Siegfried's performer.

"We're just friends, nothing special." You denied their assumptions, waving it off. Beel looked at you and slightly smiled, taking a macaron and giving it to you. "Here, you deserve it."

Thanking Beel, you put the macaron in your mouth and chewed on it, swallowing it right after, enjoying it fully.

"Mc?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to be Devildom's official ballerina?"

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simstomaggie · 3 years

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Castle Swanburg, Grantbury, Queen Anna Bedroom, Early Evening

Princess Valeria: Heavens, I am bored.

Lady Maria: I will admit that I did assume this trip to the capital would bring more entertainment...

Princess Valeria: So did I. Even the returned soldiers are dull and boring...

Lady Maria: Even Sir Andrew looked like he did not enjoy some female company.

Princess Valeria: He is a dunce anyways. He would not know an opportunity if it jumped him in the face. Perhaps he is not interested in female company at all...

Lady Maria: Oh, I do not think that-

Princess Valeria: I want you to spread that rumor amongst the servants, Stokes. Don't you forget it.

Stokes: Yes, Your Royal Highness.

Lady Maria: I believe that he is engaged. I thought I heard one of the other Ladies mention it.

Princess Valeria: What?! How dare you only tell me this now!? (sighs) anyways, I cannot imagine being tied down in marriage. Why would you get married when there is no need for it? I want to be free, I cannot imagine being with one man for the rest of my life.

Lady Maria: Me too. In a letter my father asked me if he should try and find a husband for me, and with the next post he received my reply refusing it! At these balls there are so many interesting men to... get to know. Maybe one of them is right for me; maybe he is just a funny acquaintance.

Princess Valeria: Ha! Let my father try that... or my uncle! I would never give them a say in my marriage, I am not a cow to be sold!

Lady Maria: Unfortunately, not all of us get to pick and choose...

Princess Valeria: ... and then Juliet, that cow! The entire week she has been watching me like a hawk, asking me what I did, whom I saw... she has become ever more insufferable since we have come to Grantbury, now that Charlotte is encouraging her. She always had a mouth on her, that one.

Lady Maria: I believe she has it out for you.

Princess Valeria: Just imagine how they will all be when Juliet and Charles get married... She always needs a cause to do good, and Charles, with that ugly, disgusting scar in his face, is probably her next one (laughs). Though they are made for each other, the two most boring people on the entire continent.

Lady Maria: (snorts) It truly is an accomplishment that they are still free to cast their judging eyes on you, while they are gazing at each other.

Princess Valeria: I'm sure it won't be any different at the ball tonight...

Stokes: Forgive me, Your Royal Highness, but Miss Beckwith, Princess Juliet's Maid has told me that Your Royal Sister is not going to the ball at Eilenthen Hall tonight

Princess Valeria: What?!

Stokes: Yes, Your Royal Highness. Prince Charles has taken over Princess Charlotte's commitment at the Royal Ballet, and Princess Juliet will accompany him.

Princess Valeria: ... if that is not true, Stokes, I will have to think of a punishment for you.

Stokes: But, Your Royal-

Princess Valeria: Enough.

Lady Maria: What an interesting development.

Princess Valeria: (poses and gazes at herself in mirror) This changes everything, doesn't it? Charlotte on her own will be very busy I presume, entertaining the curious crowd of women asking about the ball tomorrow... We might be able to slip away.

Lady Maria: Perhaps I will sent out some notes. To the Duke of Harrad maybe, and James Colbert. You know, to let them know to keep their dance cards empty.

Princess Valeria: (smirks) Well done, Maria. It is for thoughts like this that I tolerate your presence.

Lady Maria: (snorts) Your Royal Highness is too gracious.

Princess Valeria: Stokes, I will wear the yellow corset, that one is easy to get in and out of quickly. And only one underskirt today. The silk of the ballgown is thick enough for nobody to notice.

Stokes: Yes, Your Royal Highness. (whispers) What have I done?

Previous | Beginning | Prequel | Next

#ada #a daydream away #the sims #the sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 story #the sims 4 storytelling #simblr #royal simblr #sims story #sims 4 storytelling #historial sims #sims4 victorian #victorian sims #simstomaggie #ts4 story #ts4 screenshots

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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Billy closed the front door behind him, the pine wreath jiggling as the door swung shut.

He took of his boots, leaving them next to Steve’s wet snow boots, smiling down and rolling his eyes fondly at the fancy fur-lined things.

He could hear Steve in the kitchen, no doubt on the phone. .

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. No, I don’t mind. Yeah. Mom, seriously, it’s alright. Just, uh, enjoy the trip. I’ll-yes. Yeah. I’m good! Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yep. Alright, love you too. Yep. Bye now. Of course. Yeah. Okay. Talk soon.”

He was leaned against the wall next to the mounted phone, his back to the entry way.

He was twisting the chord around his wrist.

Billy liked to imagine Steve doing that whenever they spoke on the phone. Liked to imagine him twirling the chord around and blushing and getting all gooey.

Mostly because Steve was always so damn rigid when he spoke with his parents. So anxious and stiff.

He shook his hand free, placing the phone back on the hook and sighing deeply.

And then he sniffed.

Billy wrapped his arms around him from behind, and Steve didn’t waste a moment before leaning back against him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What was your mom talking about?”

“It’s nothing.” Steve took a deep breath, turning in his arms to wrap his own arms around Billy’s shoulders, giving him his best attempt at a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

Steve leaned forward, ready to press his lips to Billy’s, only to have Billy lean back, avoiding him completely. He pouted at Billy.

“Tell me what’s up. Then you get a kiss.”

Steve’s pout just went deeper. Billy liked to pretend he was immune to those goddamn doe eyes. He absolutely was not.

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nah, your parents are being shitty again, and I wanna know about it so I can make you feel better.”

And Steve melted, just a little bit at that.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Billy gasped dramatically.

“I would never.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s just, my mom and I have this tradition. Around Christmastime. We, you know. We go to the city, and do dinner, just the two of us. And we. God, it sounds so lame.” Billy pinched his side. Steve pulled his hair in retaliation. “And, wegototheballet.” Steve let his head flop onto Billy’s shoulder.

“Stevie, you got mush mouth there at the end.”

“We go to the freakin’ ballet, okay? We go to the ballet!” And Steve was pulling away, his face beet red, his arms wrapped around himself. “We do it every year, and have since I could sit through the fucking thing, and she’s not coming this year. And she said why don’t you take your girlfriend, Nancy? And I don’t know how many times I’ve told her that Nancy and I broke up, but she still just-” he cut himself off shaking his head. “It’s like, I know it’s fucking lame, but it’s my favorite part of Christmas. I look forward to it all damn year and we’re not going.”

And the thing on the tip of Billy’s tongue was Jesus, the fucking ballet, Harrington? Could you be anymore of a princess?

But this is, like, effecting Steve. This is actually taking a fucking toll on him.

And, well, Billy said he’d try to make him feel better.

“So, when is it?”

“When’s what?”

“The fucking ballet.”

And Steve stared at him.

“Never, apparently. Because she’s having too much fun in Saint-Tropez, and anyway aren’t you getting a little old for it, Steven?” He put on a breathy voice when he imitated his mother, sticking his nose in the air.

“I mean when is it running, numb nuts.”

“All this month. It’s like, Christmas themed. They do it every year.”

“Then you’re in charge of getting tickets.”

And Steve was giving him a look, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you, suggesting, that you, Billy ‘I’m rough and tough and dangerous’ Hargrove, are going to take me to the ballet?”

“I’m not suggesting it, shithead. I’m telling you to get fucking tickets, and let me know the date so I can get a nice fucking shirt.”

“You’re serious? You’re going to drive with me to the city, and sit there for nearly three hours, and watch the ballet with me.”

“Jesus fuck-three hours? God, the shit I do for you.” He scrubbed a hand down his face as Steve, Steve’s face split into a wide smile, the one that makes his nose scrunch up, and he began hopping from foot to foot, bobbing his head.

“Okay. Okay! I’m gonna, I think I can buy them over the phone. I’ll, I’m gonna do it before you have a chance to back out.” He took a step closer to Billy, grabbing his face in one hand, making his cheeks pout, planting a kiss to his lips before zooming off to dig the phone book out of the hall closet.

He was humming away to himself, probably the music from the fucking ballet Billy had resigned himself to seeing, while he pawed through the heavy book, searching for the number of the theater in Indianapolis.

Billy rolled his eyes at Steve’s little outbursts of excitement, tossing himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

“You fucking owe me. Just, like, by the way. I’m talking blowjobs every day. I’m talking cigarettes. I’m talking homemade dinners.”

“Oh, you mean the shit that I already do because I l-love you, or whatever.” Steve’s face went bright red, and he turned away from Billy, standing in a stunned silence, jamming the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, hi, I’d like to purchase some tickets please.” His voice sounded strained, and he reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the crown of his head.

Billy was stuck fucking dumb.

He’s never, fucking never had someone tell him that they love him. He thinks maybe his mom did back in the day, but it’s been a long fucking time since he’s felt the slow spread of warmth down his spine that comes with hearing it.

Steve loves him.

Steve was rambling away on the phone, tugging on the phone cord, and tapping his foot maniacally.

Billy doesn’t think he could move.

And eventually he hear the person on the other end of the line hang up. He registered Steve placing the phone quietly on the hook once again.

He stayed with his back towards Billy.

“Steve.”

He took a deep breath, turning around to face Billy with a big fake smile.

“I got tickets! We’re going on Saturday. So, uh, yeah. If you need to borrow some clothes, it’s, it’s pretty fancy. So, like, uh, yes.” Steve was babbling, his eyes darting between Billy’s left ear and the wall behind him.

“Steve.”

“I got mezzanine seats. That’s where I like to sit, uh, you can see the stage better that way, and they’re usually cheaper. I mean, not that that’s, like, the thing, but, it’s a bonus.”

“Steve.”

Steve rolled his lips into his mouth, his leg shaking.

“Can we, like, not talk about it?”

“I feel like we should, though.”

“I don’t, wanna.”

Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He should be, like, sweet for this conversation. Or something. Adjacent to it.

“At least, did you mean it? What you said?”

Steve bit his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I mean. I liked, liked hearing it. And, uh, me too. You know. Uno reverse.” Billy gestured like he was putting a card down between them. Steve gave him a blank stare.

“Did you just, Uno reverse my confession of love? Is that seriously what just happened?”

“Well, like-” the thing is, it’s a big fucking word. And he doesn’t think he can actually, like, say it to Steve. But, he feels it. He definitely feels it. Like, fuck, he’s going to the goddamn ballet for this fucker. Obviously, there’s some big fucking feelings there. “What you feel. Is also. What I feel.”

“Oh. Good, then. Yeah. Good.” Steve looked around the room. “Should we, like, shake on it?”

“Shake on it? Steve, fucking Hell. Just come here.” He reached out, looping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops, tugging him into his arms. And Steve stumbled forward, crashing with very little grace into Billy.

He sighed as Billy kissed him, a sloppy, desperate kiss. A kiss that Billy tried to shove every word he couldn’t say into Steve’s brain the same way he shoved his tongue into Steve’s mouth.

And when they broke apart, Steve began humming, grinning wildly.

And Billy figured the song was from the fucking ballet he had agreed to see with Steve. Which he can’t stress enough, the fact that he is going to see a goddamn, motherfucking ballet just to make his favorite person happy, that’s as close as Billy can possibly come to a declaration of devotion at this point in his life.

But Steve pulled out a brightly decorated record from his family’s collection, explaining that the ballet had many different iterations, but all choreographed to the same compilation of music, and apparently, this was enough for him.

To have Billy hold him while he talked for hours about the story of the ballet, the history of it, the music the costumes he likes, everything, maybe it was okay that Billy couldn’t say the words. Maybe it was okay that he was there, that he did the things Steve liked just to see him smile.

Billy’s never been enough for anyone.

But then again, neither has Steve.

(And when they finally see the show, it’s the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen in his life. They go once more before the run is closed and establish a new tradition together.)

#yikes writes #I watched the nutcracker bc they aired our local production on tv and its highkey the best production of the nutcracker i've ever seen #and i've seen a lot #but it's my favorite #and I may or may not have cried while watching it and thought of this #I was in that production for four years ayyoooo #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

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Regained Passion - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 3 - Bonding

Welp…there he was…in an intermediate dance class, thankfully Bert taught the class (he actually taught a good handful, he was just the main beginner class teacher) so Harry wouldn’t be thrown into a whole new class with no familiar faces. Harry held down a smile as he remembered the jealous faces of his ex-dance classmates as Bert told him about his ‘level up’ the day before. He had only been at the studio for a month before he was leveled up, his schedule had changed a bit as well, before he was only going to the studio three days a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Now he would be going Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. His hour-long classes turning to two as Bert led Harry’s fellow dancers through new and much more complicated steps.

The only good thing that had come out of this was that his classes now ended at the same time as (y/n)’s, and now he would be able to go across the hall to pick her up instead of going from the back of the school to the front as he did when he was still in beginner.

Harry sat on the floor as he slid on his ballet shoes, strapping them to his feet and tossing his bag against the wall, standing with a sigh and walking over to where Bert was talking to the dancers.

“Any of ya hear of the ol’ bamboo?” Bert asked, taking a step back and grabbing a long stick, twirling it in his hands. The whole class shook their heads, well minus Harry, who just rose his brow. “well, this is what ya gonna be learning for the end of spring performance next year, the beginners are doin’ Step in time, ya will be doing ol’ bamboo, and the expert class is doing ballet, with miss charming as their star” Harry perked up at that, so that was the performance Esmerelda was talking to (y/n) about huh?

“So!” Bert clapped his hands, grinning at his students “let's start with the lyrics, shall we?! It is a musical performance after all”

By the end of the two hours, Harry was kinda exhausted, less exhausted than the rest of his classmate's thanks to his isle-bred stamina but still…very tired and very sweaty. Harry wiped down his face and neck with a cool towel and changed out his shoes.

“Hi~” Harry looked up, unable to keep the smile off his face as (y/n) looked down at him, hanging her head upside down while doing so “How was class?”

“Like usual” Harry simply replied, looking back at his shoes “Wha’ are yeh doin’ here? I thought yer class ended a bit after mine?” (y/n) just hummed, grabbing Harry’s bag and holding it open for Harry to toss his dance shoes in, then handing it to him as he stood.

“Ended early, Esméralda had an appointment…do you want to go get ice cream?” Harry rose his brow as he looked to (y/n), who gave an unsure smile.

“Ice cream?” Harry hummed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looked to the ceiling “Do I-Harry Hook-want ice cream?” (y/n) rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder gently. “Ice cream sounds good” Harry chuckled, patting (y/n)’s head and offering his arm again, once again ignoring the spark running through his skin as (y/n) hands wrapped around his arm.

“Yay! There's this new place I've been wanting to try! But no one will go with me! I'll drive us there!” Harry smiled at (y/n)’s rambling, leading her to pull him along to the parking lot where her car was.

“No-no no no no, the egg travels back in time and it creates a new timeline, and then later it's revealed that there's another egg that was corrupted that ALSO traveled back in time, but that one’s helping the yiga clan.” Harry licked his lips free of his chocolate ice cream, narrowing his eyes as (y/n) finished her mini-rant about one of her favorite games lore.

“So,” Harry started, setting down his spoon and tilting his head “the egg? Is-a time-traveling mini guardian?? And-the princess, Link or whatever-“ (y/n) looked at him with puffed cheeks.

“Zelda! Link is the knight! Zelda is the princess!” Harry made a face.

“But if the stories mostly follow Link, why is it called Legend of Zelda!?” Harry gave a smug smirk as (y/n) huffed and wiped the corner of her lips free of her ice cream.

“Becauseeeee oh! I remember! Well don’t quote me on it, but the first game was originally going to be about Zelda exclusively, then they made Link and they found the new story worked better, they just kept the original title.” Harry hid his smile behind another mouthful of ice cream, (y/n) was pretty cute when she went on her video game rants, Legend of Zelda being one of her favorites. “Okay, at some point you have to play one of the games, especially breath of the wild, you can barrow my switch” Harry chuckled, setting down his now empty cup of ice cream.

“Alright then” Harry started, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth “sounds fun?” (y/n) beamed in excitement, dancing in her seat a bit.

“Yes!...I can’t wait to see your ass kicked by a lynel” (y/n) cackled, laughing louder as Harry gave her an odd look.

“From how yer laughing, that tells me it's not a fun thing ta fight?” Harry guessed, smiling as (y/n) nodded through her laughter.

“Lynels are harder to beat than the final boss, which is bullshit but I digress” Harry turned to see Audrey, who was smiling at (y/n)s giggling self “side note; it’s a little odd to see you two hanging out” she waved off Harry’s slightly offended look “not in a mean way, more; you're both from a different crowd and Chad likes to say shit about you to (y/n)…though she” she gestured to (y/n) who was coming down from her giggle fit. “doesn’t like listening to Chad, so I should have expected this.”

“Damn right, hell will freeze over before I actually listen to his dumbass” (y/n) chuckled, finishing off her ice cream and looking up at Audrey, who was picking up her shopping bags again and going to leave “What are you doing here by the way?”

“Oh just some shopping, trying out a new style and all that, good day you two!” Audrey sauntered off, leaving (y/n) and Harry alone once more.

Harry looked back at (y/n) at the same time she did, they both smiled and (y/n) nodded back towards the parking lot of the mall they were at “Wanna get started on breath of the wild?”

Harry smiled, turning to toss his empty ice cream cup in the trash can behind him “Sounds fun”

“No! Dodge to the side! YES! Okay, mash the Y button!” Gil and Uma stepped into (y/n)s dorm room, having been looking for Harry for the past two hours after he didn’t return from dance class, and Gil had suggested looking for Harry in (y/n)s room.

Uma had thought it was a stupid idea but humored Gil, only to be surprised to see Harry and (y/n) in bean bags as Harry button mashed the controller he held in his hand, sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration. “Uhhhh Harry?” Uma called out, leaning back a bit as Harry shushed her.

“I’m fighting a lynel and am about to die I need silence!” Harry yelled, leaning forward into his controller, tossing his hands up in shock as the red-maned lynel finally died “FUCKING FINALLY!” (y/n) cheered along with Harry, laughing as he pulled her into his side.

Uma and Gil gave each other a look, Uma smirking before walking towards the two and pulling Harry up to his feet “Awesome, you beat a video game mini-boss, I've been looking for you for two hours” Harry seemed to come down from his victory high and gave a sheepish smile.

“Oh uh…sorry?” Uma hummed and nodded, grabbing his arm and waving to (y/n).

“Say bye to (y/n) Harry” Harry waved (y/n) goodbye as she giggled and saved Harry's game, switching the profile to her game.

“Bye (y/n)” (y/n) beamed at him, waving at him as he was pulled backward by Uma towards the door.

“Bye Harry!”

Uma pulled Harry out of the room, rolling her eyes a bit as Harry continued to wave until he was out of (y/n)s sight. Gil followed them out and closed the door behind him. “You are so smitten” Gil laughed, very much enjoying the way Harry’s face lit up.

“No-no I’m nae” Harry stuttered, pulling out of Uma’s grasp and stomping ahead of them “Yer out a yer mind Gil” Uma and Gil shared another look.

“He’ll realize it at some point, I give it another month or two” Uma mumbled, smirking as Gil patted his pocket where his wallet was.

“Three, twenty bucks” Uma nodded and the two shook hands to seal their bet, jogging forward to catch up with their flustered friend.

Jane sat against the wall of mirrors, watching you move about the almost empty room as you practiced your part from the duet Esméralda had assigned you. Jane wasn’t all that knowledgeable in the world of dance but it wasn’t hard to see you were struggling, not in the way of movement but in the way of conveying emotion in your dance.

It almost seemed….stale, if anything, the dance was supposed to convey two people falling in love, but Jane; as far as she knew, knew you had never fallen in love so it would be hard to convey that exact emotion. You had really only known platonic and familial love.

You stopped, collapsing to your knees as you heaved for breath, sweat dripping off your brow. Jane furrowed her brows in concern and stood, grabbing your water bottle and walking over to you, she kneeled beside you and handed you the bottle, staring at you as you greedily downed the water. “Are you okay?” Jane asked, mentally wincing as it was obvious that you weren’t.

You gasped as you finally took the bottle away from your lips, shaking your head “I just-I just can't seem to get this right, Esméralda says if I can't find the emotions I need to convey in this duet then she’ll replace me and-and” you sighed, letting your head fall between your shoulders. “I can't let them down” Jane furrowed her brows.

“Let who down?” Jane asked, unsure of who you were talking about, as far as she knew your parents didn’t really pressure you about your dancing, they were wholly supportive and understanding through every bit of your journey through dance.

“…I don’t know” you whispered, curling up and resting your chin on your knees. “My parents? Me? Grandpa? Esméralda? I’m not sure…but I feel like if I don’t get this right, I’ll be letting someone down” Jane rubbed your back, unsure of how to comfort you. You stood after a few moments and walked over to the stereo. “One last time, okay? Then I’ll be done for the day”

“Okay,” Jane mumbled, going to sit back down against the wall, starting up the camera on your phone to record you one last time at your request so you could see any mistakes you made.

You stood in the middle of the room, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as the music began.

And you danced.

-end of part 3-

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

@daughter-of-the-stars11 @musicarose @random-thoughts-003

@remembered-license @thecaptainsgingersnap @rintheemolion

@imtryingthisout @verboetoperee @jatp-rules-my-life

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #dancer reader #ballet dancer reader #dancing troubles

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justcallmenikki7 · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction To: The Times They Show Emotion

Mafia!Au

Summary: being born into the mafia world, all they know is that having emotions is weak. In the underworld they are known for being inhuman because of the lack of emotions they show. But no one knows that whenever you are with him, love is all they feel.

Warnings: mafia au, the boys are literally emotionless but not?, the boys not understanding feelings but are trying their best for you, FLUFFFF, reader doubting herself, reader just being a cutie in general

W.C.: 3k

Notes: a huge thanks to @minniepetals for the help on jungkooks, namjoons, and jimins parts along with @saturnmoon-night for helping me with the title! I love you both!

Seokjin:

“Princess…” Seokjin sighed, trying to not sound too harsh with you, but he just wants you to listen.

Waving him off, you gave him a scoff, “Jinnie, I know what I am doing, so hush.”

Not being used to the nickname still, Seokjin could not deny though how his heart makes this weird fluttering feeling whenever you call him ‘Jinni.’ “Do you though?” He asked, not meaning for his remark to come out rudely, and he cannot help but feel sad at your frown you unconsciously made.

“Yes, Jin, I do. It hurts that you have such lack of faith in me,” you teased, not knowing that your teasing made Seokjin feel bad.

“You know that I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. I’ll buy you the new iPhone 12 when it comes out to make it up.” Seokjin bribed, knowing that in the underworld, bribery is the go-to source when it comes to taking over land, gangs. Presidents. But what he does not know is that you understand that he is not good with being sentimental and that him admitting that he is not good with words and that bribing you is not the go to when it comes to you. You do not care about his money or his power, all you care about is him and his health, happiness, wellbeing – him!

So, with a heavy sigh, you put down the spatula and made your way towards him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you stood up on your tiptoes and pecked his lips. “I know that you did not mean for your words to come out like that, you should know that by now, Jinnie,” you cooed, confusing the mafia leader.

“But you were upset, and I just wanted to make you happy…” Seokjin replied dumbly.

“You make me happy. I don’t need anything fancy; I just want you, silly.”

For the first time in your six-month relationship, it dawned on Seokjin that you are here to stay. That he does not need money to make you happy, he just needs to be making you happy by being himself.

Yoongi:

To sum up Min Yoongi in one word would be detached. All Yoongi has known is survival. In order to survive you have to kill, lie, use, and make sure that you are bloodlust. In his dictionary there is no ‘love’ ‘trust’ ‘happiness.’ It all comes down to at the end of the day is survival. That is why he is the deadliest mafia boss in the underworld.

But somehow, in some sort of weird way you came crashing into his life, and it has left Yoongi confused because he likes you. From the start, he was attracted to you, and he wanted more of what you radiated which is happiness – something that Yoongi is unfamiliar with. And you know that. You know that Yoongi is unusual. Truthfully when he told you to “learn how to fucking walk, dumbass,” when you ran into him on the Seoul streets, there was something that made you fall for him. You find it ironic how you ran into him a second time at a grocery store, but you could not be any happier because it led you to where you are now – five months into an interesting relationship.

You know that Yoongi is detached because of his lifestyle, that he is not good with emotions, but actions speak louder.

Like now for example:

You decided to be a somewhat normal couple for once – much to Yoongi’s dismay – and go grocery shopping. You are extremely allergic to peanuts, but you love barbeque foods – especially when it has barbeque sauce all over it. What you did not know is that this certain sauce has peanuts in it, but Yoongi knew it did.

“No, not that sauce.” Yoongi stepped in, snatching the bottle of sauce out of your hand.

“What, why? I want to try it when I make ribs tonight.” You asked, trying to snatch the bottle back from his hand.

“Because it has peanuts in it and you’re allergic to them, that’s why.” Yoongi replied coldly, grabbing a sauce that you know that you have not tried that does not have peanuts in it. “Use this instead.” And at that, Yoongi ushered your love-struck form away from the sauces and to the cereal aisle, not knowing that he has now completely stolen your heart.

Hoseok:

Anyone who knows Hoseok knows that he does not like annoying people. He loathes people who are constantly asking him questions, bugging him, or just even breathing. Being a mafia leader is rough due to his short temper.

He just never thought that he would fall for someone who has a hyper personality and is constantly. You are the only person that he can stand and not shoot for being annoying. (Yes, Hoseok has shot a person because they were breathing too loud).

“Pleaseee?” You begged, plopping yourself in your boyfriend’s lap, giving him the puppy eyes while he works at his desk.

To an outsider, a person would think that Hoseok is about to blow a fuse. But to you, you can see the amusement in his eyes at your begging. “No.” Hoseok stated, voice harsh, something that he is trying to work on. Thankfully, you know that he is not meaning to be harsh with you.

“Why not? This is unfair!” You exaggerated, laying your head on his chest, finding comfort in the warmth and beat of his heart. “All I want is a puppy! That’s not much!”

“That means that another thing will be in here that will annoy me, and I already have you to deal with.” He bluntly stated, not realizing the impact of his words had on you.

“Oh, yeah…” you replied, getting up off of his lap, wanting to give him space.

Confused, “Where are you going?” Hosoek asked.

“The dishes need to be done, so I’m going to get them washed.” You lied lamely, wanting to give your boyfriend space.

“I have maids for a reason, jagi. Now, don’t lie to me and tell me what’s wrong.” Hoseok demanded, turning in his chair to face you with his interrogation look.

“I just don’t want to annoy you anymore; you’re working on work.” You spoke softly, looking down at your hands so you do not have to face him.

Not hearing Hoseok getting up from his chair, you jumped in surprise when he hugged you, his right hand softly pressing your head to his chest. “You’re my favorite annoyance, sunshine.” And by his simple, rare sentimental statement, your eyes stung with tears and your heart fluttered in your chest. You know that Jung Hoseok is bad with feelings and how bad he is at being kind, but the smallest and rarest times that he is always reminds you that he does, indeed, love you.

Namjoon:

The first time you met Kim Namjoon, your first impression was that he is strategic. Everything the tall male did was based off strategy and observation – it was like he is playing chess. Namjoon can admit that he plays life like it is a game of chess because of how every decision he makes will have a result that can either create chaos or peace. He told you that on your guys first date when you brought up your first impression of him.

The thing is, Namjoon is very serious – to serious sometimes that it makes you wonder if he knows any jokes. Sadly, he said that jokes are childish – to which you pouted and hung your head like a kick puppy. That did not mean you are going to give up on this! So, researching for other funny jokes and puns, you began this daily routine where you would ask him a joke or pull a pun on him. You could tell that each day Namjoon became even more impress with them, and that even a tiny twitch of his lips would happen, telling you that he is wanting to crack a smile or even laugh!

With this new founded joke, you could not wait until tomorrow to pull this joke. You have this feeling that this joke would give you the smile that you have forever been waiting for.

Knocking on Namjoon’s office door, you heard his deep baritone voice say ‘come in’ you carefully made your way into your boyfriend’s office, a huge grin covering your face. A knowing look made its way onto Namjoon’s face, a tell-tale sign that he knew what was about to go down.

“Hey, Joonie!” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, my love?” He replied, putting down the manila envelope, taking his glasses off and laying back in his chair, hands behind his head, ready for the joke that was about to come.

“What’s the difference between a well-dressed man on a bike and a poorly dressed man a unicycle?” You asked, trying to not start laughing.

You could see the twitch of Namjoon’s lips, giving you confidence that today will be the day. “What is it?” He asked.

“ATTIRE!” You screeched happily, slapping your knee from laughter, not being able to control your laughter. You made sure to keep an eye on your boyfriend, praying that he will give you some sort of reaction – and he did!

Dancing on his face was a small smile, his head shaking in disbelief. The joy and happiness that took over your body had you beaming a hundred-watt smile, finally being able to get a reaction out of your boyfriend. “Yes! You smiled! I made you smile, I made you smile! Ah-ha!” You cheered, dancing out of your boyfriend’s office, not noticing the fond and loving look your husband is giving you.

“You always make me smile, my love.” He muttered, not wiping the smile away from his face as he went back to work.

Jimin:

“What if I mess up?” You asked, doubting yourself for this biggest moment of your life. Looking down at your boyfriend of seven months helping tie the strings of your ballet shoes, you waited for his reply, already knowing it is going to be a scolding.

“Jagia, you are not going to mess up, so stop doubting yourself and start believing in yourself,” Jimin scolded, giving you a glare from the floor. “If you want me to, I can bribe the workers to let me stand to the side of the stage and watch you perform if that helps you feel better.” He offered, causing your heart to flutter at his offer and at how caring he is being right now. It is not that he is not caring, he is just not good with these kinds of situations.

“Yes! If you want too, I don’t want to seem like I am being a baby…” You replied, hoping that you are not acting weak to your mafia boyfriend.

“You’re not being a baby, Y/N. Now, go get in line, you are about to go on.” He said, tapping your calf in reassurance.

“You’ll be there, right?”

“Of course.”

Backstage, everyone was in shock to see the mafia leader, or the best hacker in the world, standing to the side of the stage, watching you with a mesmerized look. They all knew that you were dating the most dangerous person in the world, they just did not know that he would show up to support you. Truthfully, they all thought that Jimin was just dating you for sex, little did they know is that he is dating you because he loves you and wants to protect you.

Some of the girls could not deny how jealous they are of you due to how handsome, and in awe Jimin was of you by your performance. Even though his expression is blank, his eyes told a different story and that story is love. Once the song ended the lights went out, they heard your feet tapping against the stage floor and your excited squeal escaping you as you tackled your boyfriend in a hug.

“I didn’t mess up! I didn’t mess up!” They heard you yell, proud and happiness evident in your tone.

“I told you, jagia. I told you.” Jimin replied. “I would never lie to you.”

Taehyung:

Your face was pressed up against the window, eyes wide and mouth shaped into an ‘awe’ shape, taken away by how beautiful the outfit that was hanging up in the Maurices display area. Always have preferred Vigos jeans over a lot of higher named bran jeans, you desperately wanted to get the jeans and the flannel that was on the mannequin as display.

“Vigoss is not that good of a brand,” you heard Taehyung state from behind you, taking away the excitement you were feeling just before.

“Yeah, you’re right…” you replied, stepping away from the glass. “I just thought the outfit was cute, though.”

The emotions that passed Taehyung’s eyes were hidden from you since his glasses were on his face. Knowing that he put you down with his emotionless remark, Taehyung began to panic. “Come on,” Taehyung ushered, pulling you into the shop, confusing you with his actions. Walking up to the first worker in the store, “I’d like a dressing room for my girlfriend and every Vigoss jeans in the size 22 with the outfit that is on the mannequin closest to the door.” Your boyfriend ordered, walking you to the first dressing room that is opened.

Not even five minutes later, a worker named Ashley came to you with jeans, shorts, and capris in your size. Giving her a thankful smile and a small ‘sorry,’ she only give you smile back and reassurance.

“Let me know what else you need help with!” She said, giving you a warm smile before she turned away.

While you tried on every pair of pants that Ashley brought you, you walked out to the big mirror that gave you a good look at every angle, blushing each time that Taehyung watched you with a serious look. Finally deciding on two pair of pants, not wanting to spend too much, Taehyung sighed and walked into the dressing room that showed the pile of pants that you wanted to get but decided to not too.

“What are you doing?” You asked shocked as he picked up the pile of pants.

“You left these behind?” He stated obviously.

“Yeah, because it’ll be expensive. I’m fine with these two,” you said, shaking the two pair of pants in your hand to prove your point.

“You looked beautiful in all of these and you’re getting them.” He left no room to talk, not realizing the effect of his words that he had on you.

Jungkook:

The sound of your humming filled your boyfriend’s office as you put together a bouquet of flowers while your boyfriend read through files at his desk. You do not mind working in your boyfriends office, but you never understood why he started having you work in here with him instead of your own office beside his. Never questioning his actions, you got comfortable in your small area and worked. Little did you know that your presence brought your boyfriend comfort.

Getting stuck on an idea for a customers request, you looked up to see what your boyfriend was doing, it was as if a light bulb went off. Grabbing some flowers, you made your way towards your Jungkook, a small smile evident on your face. Making yourself comfortable behind him, you carefully put the headband over his head, earning a questioning look from your boyfriend when he turned his head to look at you. Smiling brightly at him, he shrugged his shoulders and allowed you to do as you pleased. Once the headband was situated, you began to place the small flowers around his head, tucking them securely into the headband so they would not fall out.

You continued this for the next thirty minutes, finally finishing with a triumph smile. Walking back over to your little station, you began to work on the order that had you stumped, now knowing what you wanted to do with it, happy that Jungkook allowed you to do as you pleased. Working on the request, you heard Jungkook grumble in annoyance.

“What’s going on?” You asked him, looking up from your design.

“Namjoon needs help with something, I’ll be back,” Jungkook explained, coming over to you to kiss the side of your head.

As you went to ask if he was going to take off the flower crown, he already walked out of his office. Shrugging, you went back to work.

As Jungkook walked down his hallway, he began to give his workers a weird look when they began to giggle and smile at him, confused as to why they are not bowing to him. Walking pass the mirror that was hung on the wall in the opened area, he caught a glimpse at the flowers on his head. Realizing that this is the reason why his workers smiling at him, he shook his head with a small smile of his own.

“The things I do for you, princess. They things I do for you,” he whispered, not making any move to remove the flowers from the top of his head.

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spencersawkward · 4 years

Note

not to go full fluff central but omg can you write a one shot about matthew hanging out with his kids?? i see him as a girl dad and he would 100% play dress up with them and they would be wrapped around his finger and itd be so sweet it could cause cavities lmao i just want that man to have children so bad

ugh yes i want him to have kids so bad and YES he 100% is a girl dad i definitely agree. this was super interesting to write tbh bc i did it from his perspective but i'm glad i did and i'm glad you asked for it bc we love a saccharine one-shot! also i'm so bad at names for characters i'm sorry lol.

summary: Matthew has a day off with his two daughters!

content warnings: none! literally just fluffy fluff with a side of fluff.

word count: 2.1k

masterlist

when Matthew wakes up to the press of a crayon on his forearm, he nearly startles. his head jerks up to see his daughter, Juniper, trying to draw on him. her hair is neatly braided and the other side of the bed is empty, indicating that his wife has already gotten up.

"good morning, sweetpea." he says to Juniper with a tired smile, wincing when she tries in vain to draw on him. wax on skin doesn't work that way.

"it isn't working, Dad." she pouts. she throws the purple crayon onto the bed and stares at him. she's got dark lashes framing huge, beautiful eyes, and a gap between her front teeth. she pried out the baby tooth a week ago-- seven years old and already determined to take it out herself-- and has been showing it around the house like a trophy.

"maybe we can try with markers after I get up." he suggests. she peers at him with an impatient expression.

"fine." although the word is venomous, she crawls up the bed until she's tucked beneath his arm and he kisses the top of her head. Matthew smiles to himself as he holds her, happy to have the whole day to spend with his kids. he hasn't had a day off in forever.

"should we make breakfast for you and your sister?" he asks cheerfully.

"yes!" she leaps up to stand on the bed, jumps around a little bit on the cushy mattress. "come on!"

"okay, okay," he chuckles, throwing off the covers. "let me brush my teeth first, sweetheart."

"I'm coming with." Juniper is insistent as she follows him. he takes out his toothbrush and toothpaste while she paws through her mother's makeup drawers and skincare. she grabs a bottle of perfume and examines it carefully. "what is this?"

"let's be careful with that." Matthew turns from the mirror, where he can see the rat's nest of hair on his head while he brushes his teeth, and gently puts the glass bottle back on the counter. Juniper crosses her arms.

"what is it?" she repeats. her father finishes up, then lifts her into his arms like she's a sack of potatoes.

"it's your mom's favorite smell." he clarifies. after kissing her little cheek, he walks into the kitchen with Juniper's arms wrapped around his neck. she clings to him like he is everything in the world, and he realizes that this is one of his favorite parts of the day. whenever he holds his daughters, he feels the kind of joy that simply can't be replicated. his heart overflows for them.

"morning, sleepyhead." Y/N looks up from the counter, where she's biting into a piece of toast and talking excitedly to their other child, Autumn. Matthew grins at the sight of her, so beautiful when she's laughing with her daughter.

"morning." he's smitten.

"I have to go in a minute, but I figured you'd be able to handle a day with them?" she comes over to him and kisses his lips, saying the last part softly. Juniper leans her head on her father's chest, staring at her mother with those enormous eyes.

"with these two devils?" Matthew nods to the girls. "of course."

Y/N shakes her head with a laugh and gives each of her daughter's foreheads before grabbing her purse.

"bye, Mama!" Juniper and Autumn say in unison.

"bye, my angels. I love you very much." she smiles warmly, ruffling Autumn's silky curls before touching Matthew's arm tenderly and heading out of the kitchen. he watches her go, waits for the sound of the lock clicking into place, before he looks conspiratorially between the remaining household.

"who wants pancakes?" he smirks. their ensuing squeals are affirmation enough.

...

"Dad, can I show you my ballet tutu?" Autumn surprises Matthew by grabbing onto his leg while he's making pancakes. Juniper is standing on a stool beside him, watching and helping to flip the flapjacks.

"nobody wants to see that, Autumn." Juniper scowls impatiently at her younger sister. Matthew turns to his little one and smiles.

"I would love to see your new tutu, sweetheart." he says. Autumn gives the other girl a triumphant look before running off to her room. when Matthew looks at Juniper, she blushes. "be nicer to your sister, Juni." he says gently.

the little scolded creature crosses her arms over her chest and turns her gaze to the pancakes. she knows she's not supposed to be mean, but sometimes Autumn is just so annoying. Matthew can't even pretend to stay mad for long, however, and offers the spatula to her.

"do you wanna flip it?" he smiles.

"yep!" Juniper quickly slides the utensil under the pancake, her father's hand guiding hers to make sure she doesn't accidentally burn herself. she's a smart girl, but she's inherited his lack of coordination (and his nose). they giggle together at the sound of the batter slapping the pan.

"dad, look!" Autumn tugs on the leg of his pants and he glances down to see her wearing a bright pink tutu over her leggings. his jaw drops open in wonderment, tinged with a smile.

"oh my goodness!" he gasps, hoisting her into his arms and burying his face in her curls. "you look just like a princess!"

she giggles. Matthew turns off the stove for a moment to spin her around in his arms before setting her down again and crouching to look at her. "can we see your dance routine after breakfast?"

Autumn nods shyly. he holds her tiny hand in his and kisses the back of it before standing back up. Juniper waits for him on her stool. they get back to cooking, both girls chatting about anything and everything while their father listens intently.

once they set the plates out on the table, Juniper volunteers to distribute forks and knives, and soon they've got a whole spread of golden brown pancakes, whipped cream, and fruit. they heap their dishes with food. the girls have a tendency to take more than they can actually eat, but that's okay. he loves the look of excitement in their eyes when they drizzle syrup over everything.

"nice job, kiddos." he nods, impressed, like they've made the whole meal themselves. both siblings grin back at him proudly. "let's dig in!"

he's hungry. Matthew cracks a couple jokes while they eat, pokes Autumn's stomach when she gets full halfway through her third pancake, and then both he and Juniper watch her do her ballet routine for them. she spins, twirls, smiles as she finishes the dance by throwing both arms into the air like she's won an Olympic gold medal. in his eyes, she has.

even Juniper is supportive and claps with a smile at her sister's achievement. although she teases and can be a bit too harsh with her younger sibling at times, the truth is that she's proud of her. it's evident in the way they play together in the summer, running around beneath the sun while Matthew and his wife sip on glasses of iced tea.

"brava!" he cheers when she skips back to her seat at the table. "a royal performance!"

"dad, can we have more whipped cream?" Juniper eyes the canister on the table with hungry eyes. he mulls this over for a second, enamored with the fact that she is so clearly his daughter. down to her features and mannerisms, her tendency to crawl onto the couch and watch the scary movies with him that she probably shouldn't be watching at her age. Autumn looks more like her mother, sweet and optimistic. a dreamy expression on her face.

he grabs the canister from the middle of the spread and pops the cap off the top.

"only if you don't tell your mother." he laughs. Juniper shakes her head vehemently like a half promise and opens her mouth as he puts a pile of whipped cream in it. he does it to Autumn next, then himself. they lean back in their chairs, rubbing their bellies with satisfaction.

"yummy." Juniper grins.

"whipped cream is the best topping in the world," Matthew says matter-of-factly, passing down a pearl of knowledge that will stay with them forever. "don't ever let anyone tell you different."

the three of them clean the dishes together, blowing suds all over the room while they listen to Sam Cooke and dance. the house rings with their laughter and the sounds of feet hitting the ground in rhythmic elation, the kitchen their personal concert hall.

if he could only bestow a few life lessons on them, one of them would be the importance of listening to old music.

Matthew wishes that he could spend all his days with them, making breakfast and hearing their crazy ideas. the world is so full and open to them, he sometimes finds himself thinking about how they're going to conquer it. they've got a grittiness to them that they could only get from their mother-- an absolute sureness that stiffens their little spines-- and an imagination that could fill books with stories. he wants to paint for them, do everything for them.

but for today, they head to Autumn's room and play dress-up with the enormous chest of costumes by her bed. should he work on not spoiling her so much? maybe. he doesn't care. she's absolutely adorable when she hauls out princess dresses, doctors' jackets and stethoscopes, other disguises. he thinks she's going to be an actress; she loves to take on different jobs and throw herself into them, walking around the house ordering that her next patient be brought in or for someone to prepare her microscope. her mind is full of ideas.

Juniper pretends to be disinterested in dressing up, but she gives up the act once Autumn hands her a tiara to wear and pours her imaginary tea.

"what flavor is this?" Matthew takes a sip from his miniature cup, fanning his mouth like it's hot. "it's divine."

"it's normal tea, you cuckoo bird." Autumn giggles. she sets the teapot down on the plastic table.

"I'm a cuckoo bird?" he pretends to be offended. "you're a cuckoo bird!"

"no I'm not!" Autumn protests, but Matthew is already wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his lap. he tickles her sides.

"you're the cuckoo bird!" he repeats through her fits of laughter. she squeals and kicks with joy until he sets her back on her feet.

"your hair is crazy." Juniper scolds. Matthew sighs and runs a hand through the unruly curls. they always tease him about it, and somehow it never gets old.

"probably because this one messed it up with her claws." he pokes Autumn's side and he suppresses a gleeful smile.

"Dad, you need a tiara, too." Juniper points to the empty spot on his head. "Autumn, get him one."

the younger sister looks like she's going to defy her sister's bossy demand, but decides against it and runs off to grab another bejeweled piece to place on her father's head. it's comical, the way the tiny thing sits.

"thank you, sweetpea." he smiles at his youngest, pinching her cheek before glancing between the two of them seriously. "how do I look?"

"silly." Juniper giggles. she straightens it out on his head and he wrinkles his nose.

"hey! boys can wear tiaras, too," he defends with mock attitude. "now, can I have more tea, please? I finished mine already."

"of course." Autumn stands diplomatically and pours him a new cup while they pretend to snack on baked goods. Matthew tells them about the new movie he's directing, dipping into his storyteller voice and wiggling his fingers with every mention of a spooky plot point. the girls sit at rapt attention, hanging on his every word, despite the fact that he's got a miniature tiara on his head.

they adore him, and every second he's there, they revel in it. they love their mother, too, of course. but days with their dad are just... different. he lets them eat whipped cream by themselves and tells them stories, kisses their foreheads and dances in the kitchen with them. they always have fun together, no matter how dreary the day is. and those feelings won't change as they get older; he's their rock, their security. he always will be.

#mgg fluff #matthew gray gubler #fluff

135 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

innocence - 26

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: no smut this time, just bucky meeting the family

NEXT CHAPTER

Her mother pulled Bucky into the house. She lived exactly where he’d expect her to live in, a dark academia sort of environment in shades of green, burgundy and dark browns. The walls were filled with shelves containing seas and seas of books and little memorabilia. There were photos of the family on the walls and Bucky noticed the little one right by the staircase of a young girl in a periwinkle dress sat on the beach with a bright smile whom he was absolutely certain was his Y/N. The woman continued to lead them until what he guessed was the living room where the fireplace was on and two kids were running around.

Bucky stood behind with Y/N as her mother made haste towards the drinks’ trolley where Y/N was almost sure the same watered down bottle her brother Anthony had constantly stolen from as a teenager still stood. They were lucky enough not to still have been noticed, her family having an weirdly tradition of not allowing anyone in the living area until they had a drink in hand. Of course she knew why, her family made so many questions both appropriate and inappropriate you’d have to be positively inebriated to deal with it.

- Everyone... - Lucy, Y/N’s mother, handed Bucky a burgundy coloured liquid before pulling him inside the living room. - Don’t be shy, Bucky. Everyone, this is Bucky, he’s Y/N’s boyfriend.

- I thought he’d be smaller. - a man got up from the dark burgundy couch, walking up to Bucky with an extended hand towards him. Bucky looked at his hand then at his own, before switching to shake it with his flesh arm rather than the metal aberration he’d covered with a glove. - Had a nice flight? Little bean here said she booked first flight tickets even though I told her it’s ...

- A waste of money, I know dad. - Y/N interrupted.

- It was nicer than I expected, sir. - Bucky said yet Y/N could see that little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. - Your daughter made it all the better.

- Hope she didn’t bother you with leitmotifs. - another man who looked just around Y/N’s age piped up.

- Colin, don’t even say that word, it might get her started. - a girl, blonde hair dressed in a baby blue dress added. - Oh wow, you’re athletic.

- C’mon El, you promised to help me tease Y/N about her first serious boyfriend. - Colin wrapped his arms around Y/N but she merely playfully slapped his chest. - Look at you, the last Y/L/N sibling to introduce someone to the family. We were gonna buy you a cake but mum said no.

- Colin Y/L/N, leave your sister be. - Lucy slapped her son’s head. - We are very happy that Y/N and Bucky are here.

- She’s happy there’s a chance you might give her grandchildren. - Colin whispered before adopting that grin that as children made Y/N want to throw a pillow at him.

- Colin, I said to leave your sister be. - Lucy wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter. - That is not the reason I’m happy you’re dating. Me and your father were just afraid that you would be a bit lonely in New York.

- Because you have no friends. - Eloise added.

- Eloise, leave your sister be. She has plenty of friends. - their father added, not moving from his chair where he had returned to read the paper.

- Where is your sister? She should be here to meet Bucky.

- Claire is busy with her husband convincing my husband to get me to have a rat-like creature they call a baby. - Eloise sat down on the other couch, legs crossed over each other. - Do you want a baby, Bucky?

- Eloise! - Y/N yelled out of shame. Now she understood why her mother looked so dead whenever she had to go shopping with 4 children at 10 AM. She was clearly wrong to think her siblings would act like regular human beings in front of a guest, they barely acted like regular human beings on a regular basis. - We should go put the bags in my bedroom.

- No, wait, beanie. CLAIRE! CLAIRE COME SAY HI TO YOUR SISTER AND BUCKY! - Y/N’s mother rushed to the kitchen, yelling out whom he guessed was the name of Y/N’s last sibling. Out of the kitchen and into the living room came a girl dressed in the same dress as Eloise except it was purple, holding a bundle of blankets against her chest.

- Aw, let me hold Sophie. - Y/N dropped her bags to meet her sister who handled her the baby. Bucky inspected the scene, watching as her embarrassed facade quickly changed into one of wonder as she looked at her niece. - Look at you, you’re so cute, Miss Sophie, yes you are.

- Claire, say hi to Bucky.

- Why is he so tall? - she shook his hand. - I thought you’d be smaller with that nickname.

Is this was Steve felt like after the serum? Bucky had never stopped to consider that maybe his nickname sounded like a name you’d give a short guy, to be honest, he doesn’t even remember how it came to be, he just remembered his mum calling it and it sticking. However, he did have to admit that he enjoyed seeing everyone’s confused look once they met him as if he was the tallest man alive when he was barely taller than Y/N’s brother.

- Conor, Jack come meet Bucky too. - Y/N’s mum held two men by the arm who looked as lost in the family reunion as Bucky did. - Conor’s Eloise’s husband and Jack’s Claire’s.

- Okay. - Y/N interrupted before anyone else told her boyfriend he was too tall. Handing Sophie back to her sister, she held Bucky’s hand. - We are going to put the bags upstairs and take the coats off and we’ll return.

Y/N knew her family way too well. She had been here when Claire brought Jack home for the first time and her father questioned him about a notorious case followed by Colin asking him if he needed earbuds for Claire’s snoring. She had also been there when Conor and all of Colin’s girlfriends so she knew when it was time to run away with Bucky from her very devoted and very curious family who had already decided to have the baby conversation with him before she had even mention it.

Bucky looked at the photos that were scattered on the staircases’ wall. He could always pinpoint where Y/N was, normally in the front with those beautiful, shining eyes. He noticed one particular photo of Y/N alone against a dark blue background in her graduation gown holding her diploma, posing like a beauty queen. He made a note to sneak a photo of it once she wasn’t looking.

She led him into her bedroom. It was a rather small one in tones of white and beige with a double bed. The walls were clean rather than one with a bookcase of dark wood filled with books, trophies and little frames of photos of her as a kid. Her bed had a small white lamb laying on it with some heart shaped pillows and a knitted beige blanket.

- Is that you? - Bucky rushed to the shelf to grab a photo of Y/N as a toddler dressed as a ballerina holding a golden medal.

- Yeah. My grandmother was a prima ballerina so she made all of us do ballet which came quite in handy when I was in Phantom. - she put her coat on the hook on the door. - Sorry about my mum, and my dad and my siblings. I should already apologise for their husbands and the toddlers you haven’t met yet since they’re out with Grandma Louis who I’m also sorry for.

- That’s fine. I think they don’t hate me much.

- It’s better than when Colin introduced Kate, mum was so upset she didn’t speak to her. I would say they love you.

- So which one is the oldest? Is there an hierarchy I should know about?

- I’m the oldest then Colin, Claire and finally Eloise. Eloise got married first and then Claire and Colin is living la vie boheme.

- And you? - he wrapped his arms around her waist

- I’m the actress. Once Aunt Petunia or Grandma Louis gets here you’ll listen to the “the debate team champion becomes an actress kissing all those men and she’s still single” discussion. I also apologise for that in advance.

- Well but you are not single anymore. - Bucky leaned down to kiss her. - And I will allow you to parade me as your boyfriend. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

- Ah yes, my three time three-time boxing champion boyfriend.

- You’re not gonna drop that, aren’t you?

- What? It’s very alluring, gets me going.

- Is that why you gave me an handjob at the airport, princess? - he leaned down to whisper against her ear. She felt goosebumps raise up her skin, mouth drying up as she tried to find the words. - You better have thick walls, princess.

- Beanie ... - her mother knocked on the door, pushing the door slightly open and sticking her head in. - We were wondering if Bucky ate meat. We bought this meat that’s not really meat and it’s vegan. I asked some of my colleagues at work to help me cook it and we made some but we can make more if Bucky wants some.

- No, Mrs. I’m okay with anything, it’s fine.

- Non sense. Y/N tell Bucky he can pick what to eat. You’re American right? I’m making some chicken nuggets for the kids and Colin, I could make you some if you’d like.

- Mum, that’s stereotypical.

- Nonsense, beanie. What do you want to eat, Bucky?

- I’ll eat whatever Y/N does, m’am. - he tried to hide the little grin as Y/N stood by his side still processing what Bucky had just said to her. - It’s fine, m’am, really. I don’t want to be a bother, I’m so grateful you and your family are okay with having me for Christmas.

Lucy merely smiled at him as a way of saying it was no problem. Y/N knew her family, they adored to embarrass their children in front of their partners, lovers, and friends but they would adore whoever their children adored as if they belonged to the family since the dawning of time. The actress rose her head to look at her boyfriend, staring at the door like a fading vision on the desert, relaxed muscles and expression. Her hold on his hand strengthened as her head laid against his shoulder, laying a small kiss on the fabric of his shirt.

- Do you want to go downstairs? We can stay here for a few minutes before dinner.

- Yeah, princess. - he snapped himself out of his state, smiling down at his caring girlfriend before following her down the stairs.

Her family had a lot of photos, some on big frames on the wall and other small ones in coffee tables and other surfaces. He couldn’t help but look at them, watching Y/N through the ages and wondering how she was. She always had that look, that inner shyness and bright eyed appearance. Most photos were school photos with that dark blue background followed by a few backstage photos of her in elaborate stage makeup and costumes. Bucky wanted a photo of her, any photo of her, to have in his wallet. Not that he would forget what she looked like, he could never forget it but he wanted to. He wanted to look at her face whenever he paid for his coffee, show people when they asked about her, he guessed he wanted to have the same pride in showing his girlfriend his father had about showing his mother. He wanted a suburban existence, no more Winter Soldier, no more Avengers, just James Barnes. Yet, he also knew he did not deserve that. No, he had taken that structure from so many people he didn’t deserve it.

Once in the living room, there were more people, notably two kids running around the Christmas tree and two women sat by the beautifully placed table. He felt shy, not knowing exactly what to say, barely knowing these people.

- Ah, let me look at you. - one of the woman from the table got up and walked towards them. Bucky thought none of it, thinking it to be directed towards Y/N until the woman took him by surprise by cupping his face. - You’re just gorgeous. Nice eyes, strong features.

- Aunt Petunia! - Y/N took her aunt’s hands away from Bucky’s face. - Please.

- You know what they say about men with strong features, great lovers, great breeders.

- Oh my god. - that’s it, she was no longer going to have a boyfriend once she got back to New York. - Bucky, this is my aunt Petunia.

- Nice to meet you m’am. - Bucky extended his hand to her but the woman merely pushed him towards the table.

- I thought she was kidding when she said she was bringing someone home yet here you are. - she led both of them to side by side seats on the table. - So, Bucky have you meet Grandma Louis?

- I’m afraid not.

- Look ma, Y/N brought a boyfriend home.

- Can we please not treat this like a world limited event?

- Nope. - Colin sat next to Y/N. - I had a bet with Eloise you’d date a 50 year old librarian and I lost which is unfair because 100 year old soldier is almost the same.

- It’s not and you know it. - Eloise argued from the other side of the table. - How’s the movie, Y/N?

- It’s ... good. - she forced a smile, not wanting to show the same family who always wondered why unlike every of her siblings she, the debate captain and champion, had turned down the option to do Law and instead pursued an acting career. Did acting made her happy? Yes. Did the movie made her happy? No.

- She’s the best actress I have ever met and seen. - Bucky drew invisible circles over her palm. - Everyone’s always speechless during her takes.

- That’s my beanie, always the best at whatever she does. - Y/N’s father added. - Besides, one of us has to not be a lawyer. We’re starting to be known as the lawyer family.

- So Bucky, are you enjoying London? Have you ever been? - Claire asked while putting the bibs on her two toddlers who were still happily playing with toy cars on the table.

- Long time ago, it’s a bit different now.

- Y/N should take you to see the tree in Trafalgar, it’s absolutely stunning. - Lucy added. - It’s where her father purposed.

- It’s where everyone purposed in this family. We need a new tradition. - Colin rolled his eyes.

- If it were up to you, you’d purpose in a McDonalds after coming from the pub.

- Shut up, Eloise.

Bucky merely kept to himself during the dinner, replying to the questions that were thrown his way and laughing at the jokes. There was the odd questions every once and then which Y/N would normally reply to followed by telling him she was sorry which he found adorable. Normally it was him who was defensive over her, too defensive even and to see her take on the role warmed his heart. The dinner ran smoothly and soon everyone was sat on the couch by the fireplace. She was by his side, head on his shoulder as a It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television.

The night kept going in and in until everyone decided to climb up to their respective bedrooms. Y/N turned on the heating the moment she came in, stripping onto her own cozy red pyjamas while Bucky kept inspecting her room. She had a bunch of books and programs from various West End musicals as well as a few bits of Star Wars memorabilia scattered on the shelves and a Phantom of the Opera music box on her desk. What caught his attention was the tiny miniature of a white picked fence house on her bedside table. Had she been an avid miniature collector and he didn’t know about it?

- Hey, what’s this? - he pointed at the little house.

- Oh ... that.

- Is it a sore topic? I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to ...

- It’s okay, Bucky. - she smiled. - It’s just a silly thing from when I was a kid. I told my mum I wanted to marry Luke Skywalker and move into a white picket fence home and she bought me it. Then I just wanted the house as I grew up but hey I live in SoHo, the best I can do is get another one of those

- You want a white picket fence house?

- It’s silly. - she hide her head as a familiar heat climbed up to her cheeks. Bucky placed the miniature back where it was, walking up to her.

- It’s not silly. I like picket white fence houses too, princess.

- You do?

- Yeah. One of my cousins had one when I was a kid and I always envisioned one for myself.

- Did you?

- Yeah and then I met you and I thought screw the home, as long as I get to come home everyday to you we could be living in a cardboard home but if you want a white picked fence house than I’ll give you one.

- Buck ...

- I’m not kidding. - he smiled at her. - We’ll live wherever you’d like and every single day we’ll come back home to each other and I will pretend I’m not tired so I can stay up and look at you smiling at those TV show reruns you like so much.

- You like them too. - she added.

- Maybe but until then ... - he walked up to his bag removing an worn out big navy blue box. - You can have this.

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

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safaia-47 · 3 years

Text

Gojo Satoru Diaries

Special Day part 2🎉 Pt.1

It got silent and the atmosphere in the dining room was quickly filled with heavy tension. The first to direct their displeasure at me was, Mr. Amagi.

"What do you mean you don't want my daughter to die?! Are you saying she's going to die from those curse spirits?" Her father show me his aggregate face as he questioned me.

"Well, actually I think your daughter is really strong. She has been telling me how long she has been exorcizing them. I even saw her myself fighting one of them. She is amazing, she looked like a graceful and powerful princess." I answered while finishing off my meal of curry. "The curry was delicious Mrs. Amagi.

"You're welcome Gojo-chan." She answered.

"You're right my daughter is very graceful and strong. I'm so proud of her. She's been learning martial arts, ballet, and rhythmic gymnastics ever since she was young. Wait a minute, stop trying to get me to talk about my daughter." He quickly snaps back from bragging about his daughter.

I quickly took a mental note of all his bragging about his daughter. I saw she got embarrassed when he started talking about her.

"Well, there are still many things she should know if she wants to fight them better. Ryuuga-kun too, I have seen great promise in you as well." I turned to look at him as well. "I haven't seen you fight yet, but I can see your curse energy."

"That's so cool! Safaia did tell me you can see curse energy. Your eyes can show you everything?" He asked me with so much excitement in his voice.

"Why yes, I can Ryuuga-kun! My eyes allow me to see curse energy flowing throughout people." I pulled down my shades to show my eyes.

I saw her friends blush when they saw my eyes.

"That's so awesome! Safaia told me everything you told her, about curse spirits and your powers. How far can you see?" Ryuuga asked me.

"I can see several kilometers away and in extra detail," I told them.

Ciel spoke up and asked, "So you just want to help Safaia and Ryuuga learn more about curse spirits, so they can fight them better?"

"Yep, I just want to teach them the basics, if they want my help?" I explain to them.

"That's fine with me Gojo-sensei, right Safaia?" Ryuuga nudges her to answer.

"I would love it if you could help us Gojo-kun, but I don't want to bother you." She looked up at me with worried.

"No no you're helping me out too. You guys would be me second and third students that I have at the moment." I say as I finish off my omurice.

"You already have a student?" Her ojin-san asked me?

"Yes, the little boy that I'm taking care of, that I told your wife and daughter about. He's my first student. Before you think he's my kid, he isn't. I can see your face ojin-san." I smirked at him.

"Then who is he to you?" He's asked.

"He's an old acquaintance's kid. He died not too long ago and left his son behind. He asked me to take care of his son and daughter before he died." I told him half-truths.

"That's so sad. I'm glad you can take care of them. You're such a nice person Gojo-san." Fukui-san cry out to me.

"I always try to be a nice person Fukui-san. So what do you say, guys? Would you like to be my students?!" I asked them with my thumbs up.

They turn to look at each other then back at me. "Yes, Gojo-sensei!" They both yelled in unison.

After we finished eating dinner. Mrs. Amagi and Ren went into the kitchen to get their cakes. She carried the fraisier cake while Ren carried a lemon tart with chocolate macarons on another plate.

They started singing in French, and even her friends were singing it. I just sang in Japanese. They place their pastry in front of them.

"Make a wish my angels." She kiss both of their cheeks, as they blew out their candles. Safaia-chan had the fraisier cake and Ryuuga-kun the lemon tart. The chocolate macarons were to share with everyone.

I had a piece of everything. Ehehehe. "Everything is fantastic Mrs. Amagi."

"You're welcome Gojo-chan." She smiled at me.

After they cut their cakes, they started opening their presents.

Her mother gave Safaia-chan a beautiful sparkly blue rhythmic gymnastics set filled with ribbons, hoops, clubs, rope, and ball. Then gave Ryuuga-kun a basketball in his favorite colors, black and blue.

Her father gave her two dresses one made from blue tulle and the other lavender chiffon. Both had a soft flowing silhouette with waist emphasis. Along with two shoes, one pink mary jane kitten heels round toe pump. Also a new Nike light blue shoes. Then he gave Ryu, new Nike basketball shoes in the same blue and black. Along with some fancy dress pants and shirts.

Her grandpa gave them both katanas. Safaia-chan has a light blue tsuka-maki and Ryuuga-kun has a darker blue tsuka-maki.

Ciel gave her a white keytar and him a red and white bass guitar.

Ren gave her a blue crystal microphone and gave him a black and green gaming headset.

Rachelle gave her all kinds of art supplies and gave him a Pikachu stuff toy.

Fukui-san and Amamiya-san gave her a friendship bracelet to match each other and gave him black stud earrings.

They thank everyone, then they finally took my gifts.

I gave Ryuuga-kun the Sly Cooper games 🎮. (1,2,3) He was grateful and thanked me.

Lastly, I gave her a novel called "Can a Villainess be a Saintess?"

She had the biggest smile on her face as she hugged the book to her chest.

"Thank you Gojo-kun, I love it." Her eyes turn into crescent moons again.

"You're welcome Safaia-chan, I'm happy you love it." I know she's loves reading romance, fantasy, shōjo, and josei genre novels. I see her read those types of stories when she's not working.

We talk for a while in the living room. Mostly the family talking about Ciel and Ren going to Tokyo for university. I told them I live and go to school in Tokyo. We might be seeing each other a lot very soon.

When I was eating my chocolate macarons. I felt sound rub against my shin. When I looked down I saw a white furball cat.

"So you're the furball that Rachelle-chan mentioned" I mumble to myself.

"She likes you. She doesn't like people besides my family and friends." Safaia-chan told me.

"Oh really now. Is this the furball that you said looked like me? I smirked when I tease her.

She lightly blush "Rachelle-chan told you didn't she?

"Yep, she did. That's okay my hair color is rare, so it's cool I matched someone. Even though that's someone a cat." I teased as I picked up the cat. "What's her name?" I asked as made funny faces at the cat.

"Her name is Sofia." She had a gentle smile on her face.

"Pretty name, what does it mean?" I questioned.

"It means wisdom in Greek. When I first got her, she was so smart. It was like she could understand me right from the beginning."

I move my face away from her cat and stare at her talk. "You must love your cat."

She twirls her hair around her finger. "Yes, she was one of my closest friends growing up."

"Oh really now? Are you talking to animals? See you are a Disney Princess?" I say.

"Heyy I am not." She pouted. So cute.

It was getting late so I decided to head off back home.

"Thank you everyone for welcoming me into your lovely home. The food and desserts were great." I thank them.

"No thank you for coming, and thank you so much for wanting to help my children." She bows to me.

"No problem Mrs. Amagi, I looking forward to working with each other." I wave off.

"Thanks for being friends with my daughter." Mr. Amagi forcibly said. I could tell Mrs. Amagi was making him say that.

"You're welcome Mr. Amagi, thanks for letting me stay." I winked at him.

"Be safe!" They all yelled when I walked to the door.

Safaia saw me off at the door. "Well see you soon princess." I teased her.

"I'm not a princess." She pouted at me.

"Your family sure treats you like a princess. I thought they were going to beat me up by how protective they are with you." I teased her by ruffling her hair.

"That doesn't make me a princess."

"Does too"

"Nuh-uh"

"Whatever you say, princess." Ehehehe Well goodnight Princess." I ruffle her hair again.

"Goodnight Gojo-kun." She said as she try to push my hand away.

I turn to walk back to my car as I waved goodbye.

As I drive back home I thought to myself, that I haven't seen my family in a while. My house nor my family never felt that warm before.

I didn't even go home for my birthday last year.

"Is that how a family should look like?" I whisper to myself on the car ride home.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen #writing #gojo satoru diary #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x amagi safaia #amagi safaia

7 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 4 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”��

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

123 notes · View notes

eideticmemory · 4 years

Text

EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse.

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City.

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said.

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.”

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance.

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow.

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum.

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.”

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.”

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.”

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you.

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!”

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said.

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.”

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact.

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.”

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?”

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head.

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.”

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance.

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break.

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet.

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name.

14. Won’t drop dead.

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation:

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas.

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary.

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7.

6. Laughed.

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard.

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project.

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb.

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you.

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea.

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.”

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.”

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.”

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder.

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed.

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing.

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7.

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.”

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit.

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?”

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?”

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked.

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?”

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.”

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.”

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion.

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip.

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs.

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth.

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them.

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets.

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit.

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.”

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure.

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek.

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.”

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans.

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach.

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew.

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed.

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever.

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there.

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze.

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left.

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited.

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad.

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks.

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew.

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.”

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue.

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh.

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew.

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out.

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest.

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you.

 But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.”

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching.

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?”

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core.

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came.

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered.

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock.

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening.

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume.

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response.

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

“Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground.

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded.

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.”

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance.

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire.

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.”

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away.

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505.

[PART 2.]

#mine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler/reader #matthew gray gubler smut #college!matthew #esny

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me part 6 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Ah, the age old question: what to get for the guy who has everything and also when you’re trying make up for the fact that you actually missed his birthday entirely while spending as little money as possible?

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Percy asks as they wait their turn to disembark. “I haven’t been to Staten Island in ages.”

Annabeth has never been at all. She knows there’s a handful of Greek revival buildings in the Historic District, but she’s never had a car to get there, or the stomach to get on the ferry. Percy had practically climbed onto the bow, his own personal reenactment of Titanic, arms thrown out to the wind, while Annabeth attempted to keep her breakfast down.

Having spectacularly flamed out last week in Philadelphia, she can’t let Percy’s birthday go without some sort of commemoration. The Staten Island Ferry is just part one. “All in due time,” she says, checking her phone for directions. They still have a bus they need to board, and Annabeth is getting sweaty in her leather jacket. Thank God Percy volunteered to carry the backpack with all their gear; otherwise, when this jacket comes off, it’s going to smell worse than his tights at the end of a long day.

Like a magnet, his gaze is glued to the strips of the bay he can spot through the bus windows, his head resting on his chin, a soft, serene smile lifting his lips. All the tightness, all the stress he’s held in his shoulders the last few times she’s seen him, it melts away at the sharp, salty tang of rust and sea air which suffuses every corner. She doesn’t even mind that he isn’t looking at her.

Hand in hand, finally, they get off the bus, and walk to the overlook. Slinging the backpack off his shoulder, he sets it down at his feet, eyes fixed on the strip of shoreline which can be seen, even all the way over here. “What is that?” he breathes, shielding his eyes against the glint of the sun on the water.

“That,” says Annabeth, “is the Staten Island ship graveyard.”

Still stewing in her guilt over how she missed his birthday--despite the fact that he didn’t even tell her--Annabeth decided to swallow her pride and ask for help. It took an inordinate number of coffee orders and one instance of her actually getting down on her knees and begging, pleading to their long friendship together and swearing that Annabeth would never use this information for evil, but she had finally wheedled the secret out of Thalia: Percy’s greatest love, after the ballet, was sailing. Ship construction, naval battles, maritime history, they were, according to Thalia, the only things which could entice Percy to actually set down the tights and “get some frickin’ sunshine for once in his life.” Annabeth hadn’t believed her, until Thalia had dug up an old photo which had never been posted to his socials--and Annabeth had certainly scoured them for long enough, she would have recognized it had she seen it before--of Percy, on a glittering, jewel-like sea, a rope wrapped around his fist as he leaned over the side of a sailboat, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide in a graceless, unrestrained joy.

“Back in the eighties, there used to be over four hundred ships down there,” Annabeth says, coming up beside him. “A lot of it’s been scrapped or sold, but there are still maybe a hundred or so boats, including the USS PC-1264, one of the--”

“One of the two predominantly African American crewed Navy ships from World War II,” he interrupts, eyes light. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Annabeth grins, unzipping her jacket. The midday sun beats down on them, the air sticky and heavy, and she needs this thing off, pronto. “And, there’s a ship that was supposedly the command post for the General Slocum disaster.” Not that she really knows what that is.

He whirls around. “The Abram S. Hewitt is there? Holy sh--”

His jaw drops. His eyes bug out.

Part two of his present was the ship graveyard. Part three is the outfit.

Annabeth, one hand on her hip, slings her jacket over her shoulder with the other, the leather hot against her bare skin. She has chosen to forgo a shirt entirely, wearing nothing but her nicest pair of black jeans with the thick suspenders and a shiny, red bra. And yes, she had Thalia touch up her hair, five inches of curls lopped off on one side, undercut sharp and severe.

“I thought we could have a picnic here,” she says, a smile curling her lips without her permission. “Then, if you want, we could do some light trespassing? See the ships up close?”

Percy swallows. He breathes in through his nose, shuddering. “Sure,” he whispers, hoarse. “Sounds good.”

Dropping to the ground like a rock, studiously not checking her out, Percy unpacks their picnic, laying out the blanket, something blue, old, but soft Annabeth had knitted in a fit of pre-finals’ anxiety in college. Annabeth had hinted the night before that he should make them some food, as no one could make a grilled cheese like Percy, and she sure as shit wasn’t going to buy them some prepackaged, tasteless garbage.

Percy’s sandwiches, just like the man himself, are stacked: thick, sourdough slices (which she suspects he made himself), bacon, turkey, apple, tomato, lettuce, avocado, mayo for her but none for him. She’d always been under the impression that dancers needed to watch what they ate, endlessly in pursuit of some unattainable ideal of beauty. Nope. Percy eats everything and anything he can get his hands on, high carb and high protein and high everything else. It makes sense, she guesses, for someone who basically has to bench their own body weight daily. Every inch of him is tailored for power and velocity, to propel him out of the grasp of gravity--rabbit food just isn’t going to cut it here.

Munching down, he maneuvers himself into a number of splits and stretches, unable to give up his routine for a single day. “When I was probably thirteen or fourteen,” he says, halfway through a tirade of reminiscence, “my dad took me and Triton and Kym to Cyprus, for some family bonding time.” He rolls his eyes. “You can probably imagine how well that went. Most of that trip was… well, Cyprus was definitely the best part. We went to Kyrenia Castle, which has this amazing museum that holds one of the oldest known ships in the world. Like, this thing was operational during the lifetime of Alexander the Great, and it sank about a mile away from the harbor.” He takes a heroic bite, chewing with his lips firmly shut.

“Cool.”

He swallows. “Very cool. I love really old ships, but you can imagine how few of those are still left, and not just because we haven’t found them.”

Annabeth feels her neck heating up, despite the shade they sit in. “Well, I hope these ones are old enough for you.”

“Oh, these are incredible--don’t get me wrong! I had no idea there was anything like this so close to home. Who needs Cyprus when you have Staten Island?” He grins, placing his sandwich down, throwing his arms in a stretch.

“I know it isn’t Tokyo or Moscow or anything…” she trails off, self-conscious even as she doesn’t actually ask the question that’s on her mind.

Shamefully, she has found that she still thinks about what Will had said at his apartment over a month ago at this point: Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous. But if she actually asks, it will make her look like some totally jealous girlfriend or something, like she honestly cares about Percy’s past sexual conquests.

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t.

He’s just led a really interesting life, and she wishes she could relate. That’s all.

“It’s not,” he agrees, bending his back with an audible pop. “It’s better.”

“Really? A little ship graveyard is better than the sites of Tokyo?”

“I didn’t see any sites in Tokyo,” he said. “Mostly just Mittie’s hotel room.”

“Mittie?”

Percy looks at his sandwich, suddenly very interested in the crust.

“She’s someone important, then?”

Silence.

Annabeth laughs to break the tension. “Okay, I'll bite--who’s Mittie? Another model?”

Taking a small bite of sandwich, he chews, methodical and deliberate. He swallows, clearing his throat. “Margherita Savoy.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Who?”

“Princess Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia.”

Her mouth drops open a little. “A princess?”

Percy shrugs. “Technically. The throne of Sardinia doesn’t exist anymore, obviously, but she’s big into the money and the titles and stuff.”

A princess. A fucking princess. “But she lets you call her Mittie.”

He looks a little constipated. “She didn’t… until she took me to Tokyo.”

“Oh,” she says. Because what else is there to say? She’s certainly no princess.

“She was nice,” Percy says, softly. “You know, eventually. Once we got to know each other.”

Her phone is hot in her pocket, like it’s preemptively searching Google for pictures of Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia, downloading them all so Annabeth can scribble all over her face like a bad high school movie. “A pretender?” She scoffs, exaggeratedly, her fists tight against the grass. “Talk to me when you get a real princess.”

His ears go red. “Um…”

No way. “No fucking way.”

“Look, Eugenie was just kinda pissed when Triton broke up with her, and so she just thought that we’d have some fun.”

“Oh my god.” She says, looking at him in something like horror. And telling herself at least it wasn’t her distant cousin Madeleine.

“It was only for like a week or two,” Percy protests. “We went to a club in Berlin she knew Triton liked to go to so he would see us and get annoyed.”

“A princess dated you because she was pissed at your brother?”

“Only twice,” he says, casual, like any of this is normal and not absolutely insane. “Eleonore is one of Kym’s friends. And she’s technically, like, an archduchess, not a princess. But I don’t know. A couple of his other girlfriends wanted to get back at him, and I was in Europe and available, so we just…” He trails off. She can hear the ellipsis, hanging hot and heavy over them, each dot dropping like a stone. What is this, fucking Mamma Mia?

“When was the last time this happened?” she asks, not really wanting to hear the answer.

He rubs a hand over his mouth, gaze unfocused as he thinks. “Um… not since the week after Frank left, I think. Mittie wanted to go to Bora Bora but she didn’t want to go alone, you know?”

“No, I meant,” she pushes through as her stomach flutters, tight and uncomfortable, “girls using you to get back at your brother.”

His face falls, just a bit. “Oh. Last year, I guess.”

“Who was she?” And where is she so Annabeth can punt her off a building?

“Calypso Atlas.” He sighs, wistful, with more reverence than he had given any of the princesses, and Annabeth’s stomach flops, different from the flutter. Painful this time. “She actually liked me.”

“Everyone likes you,” she says, faintly. Maybe wearing the leather jacket is giving her heatstroke.

“You know, they really don’t. Not how it counts, anyway.” He picks at a blade of grass, rubbing it between his fingers. “Most of the girls who wanted to use me to get back at Triton only did it because they knew how much he liked to bitch about me--the ‘half-breed bastard.’” He rolls his eyes, huffs a laugh. “And even Kym’s friends didn’t actually like me. Like, yeah, they’d fly me all over with them, but they didn’t want to be seen with me. Mittie and I were on and off for years, and she gets photographed constantly. I’m not in any of them.”

Annabeth thinks she might actually be sick.

But he doesn’t stop. “It wasn’t so bad when they went around saying that I was a dancer with the Paris Opera, because I was, and I was proud of it. But it wasn’t… I don’t know. It wasn’t like with Frank, whose family does have a ton of money, but who only ever dated me because he liked me.” He picks another blade of grass, tearing it between his fingers. “Calypso, though. She was different.” And he smiles, a little.

“How?”

That smile grows wider. “She just called me one day, out of the blue, and very publicly asked me to be her date to Milan Fashion Week after she and Triton broke up and he immediately turned around and got engaged. She was super up front about it, didn’t try to sleep with me or anything, even though I know she was friends with some people and probably heard about my various talents.”

She knows exactly which talents he means. He winks at Annabeth, ironic and self-conscious, and she forces out a little laugh, as though the idea of him going down on someone else is charming.

“But then we actually had a good time together, and a few weeks later, she called me up again, and again, and again, until eventually she introduced me to her father--which was a hell of an experience, let me tell you. The Atlas family puts the Olympianides family to shame as far as dysfunction goes. But it was nice, in its own way; if I’d ever asked Mittie to introduce me to her dad, she’d have laughed in my face.”

“Sounds like you were pretty serious,” Annabeth manages.

“That was the problem.” He looks away, towards the sea. Always towards the sea. “She wanted to leave Paris, travel the world. And she wanted me to go with her.”

“To leave the Paris Opera?”

“To leave ballet entirely. I just…” He holds the silence for a moment, lost in the fog of reminiscence, the mist of possible futures long since dissipated. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it. So, in March, she went to Dubai, and I started making calls back to New York.”

“You broke up with her this year?”

“She broke up with me,” he clarifies, turning back to her. “It was all very romantic. I always left my comp at the box office for her. She didn’t come to my show, but she showed up at the stage door the day before she was set to leave, telling me that she had an extra ticket with my name on it. I turned her down.” And then he looks her in the eye as he says, “I don’t regret it at all.”

She swallows, her face flushing, tongue numb as she searches desperately for something to say to that. “Atlas, you said her family was? It sounds familiar.”

“Oh, you’re probably thinking of Zoe Atlas,” Percy says, easing off for the moment. “You probably know about her because she and Thalia were archenemies in boarding school. Or maybe girlfriends? I have yet to get a straight answer.” Annabeth’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. Thalia, in boarding school? What? “But I like Zoe. She’s an activist, and absolutely hates her father. Like I said, there’s a lot of dysfunction. And she came to my first show way back when, and she wasn’t even weird when I dated her sister when we ran into each other in Paris. So that was nice.”

“She went to your first show?” What in God’s name is up with these one-percenter families? It’s like they all overlap in one big incestuous slurry. And as the daughter of the Chases and the Pallases, she tries not to think where she might fit into that.

“Thalia brought her. Her first not-date. It was Thalia’s first ballet ever, too. It… it meant a lot.”

“What show was it?”

He smiles, wistful. “The Nutcracker. I was one of the kids at Clara’s party. Most scared I’ve ever been. When I got out backstage after intermission, Thalia was waiting for me with my mom. She punched my shoulder, called me ‘Kelp Head,’ and told me I did great. Then I hugged her,” he says, snickering. “She punched me again.”

Annabeth laughs, huffing through her nose. “Good to see some things never change.”

“That’s our Thalia for you--looking out for everyone, even when it kills her inside.” He glances at her pointedly.

It’s her turn to share.

Annabeth’s mouth is dry, like sandpaper.

She grabs her backpack, pulling out a sketchbook and a pencil. Beside her, Percy sighs, deflating a little.

Annabeth flips open a new page, and starts drawing.

Each sketch delivers a challenge: bringing order to the whole through design, composition, tension, balance, light and harmony. Sometimes, buildings spring to life on the page, fully formed. Sometimes the page stays blank, an empty pencil.

Pencil to paper. Letting whatever wants to come out, come out. “My mom invited me to lunch one day,” she says. Her eyes follow the line of her pencil, ninety degree angles and symmetrical shapes. “I had moved to New York like six months before. Single girl, in the big city, to follow her dreams.” She’d gone to boarding school in New York before that, but it wasn’t the same as picking out her apartment and taking the train to the Manhattan skyscraper her office was held in. Sometimes she’d walk down the street, feeling like she was smack dab in the middle of Sex and the City, which she and Piper use to watch in secret, huddled under the covers in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. “Unfortunately, my mom didn’t love my dreams.”

“She didn’t approve of anarchist architecture?”

Annabeth’s laugh is hollow. “She thought I should have been charting some new path in business for a woman. But not in a feminist way. In, like, a capitalist way. But architecture was not really negotiable for me. And once that became clear, she had her own expectations about that, too.”

Annabeth has always been a prideful know-it-all. If all her mother had wanted from her was ambition, they probably could have made it work. Annabeth wanted to reshape the skyline, she wanted her name on buildings that would last and impress.

But even Annabeth couldn’t do that in six months.

“She wanted the best schools, the best companies, the best projects.” She sighs. “I was lucky to find a job in New York that wasn’t just carrying coffee.” She had gotten a bigger offer from a more well-known firm where she had interned one summer, but it had been for an assistantship, heavy on the assistant. Her eventual Junior Architect label hadn’t been great, but it had been something, being a rising star at a smaller firm. It seemed like a good fit. “I did not make my mother proud. I… she lived in New York, and I lived with my dad all over.”

Percy frowns. “Your mom didn’t have custody of you?”

“My mom didn’t want custody of me,” she laughs, bitter. God, it feels weird to tell someone else this. Piper and Leo and Luke knew, obviously, but they had witnessed it all firsthand. Telling someone else, out of the blue… Well, Percy had divulged his tragic backstory without complaint. It’s only fair that she does as well. “I mean, my dad didn’t either. But when it became clear my mom wasn’t an option, well, there we were. He stepped up as best he could. That wasn’t always a lot, but when compared to my mother, he seems like a perfectly involved parent.”

“Are you trying to make my parental situation seem more reasonable?”

“Is it working?”

“If you ever meet my dad, we can compare notes.” He shudders at the thought, playfully. “So, what happened with your mom?”

“She made her displeasure known.” Annabeth sighs again, shading a corner. “I mean, she’s always made her displeasure known. I wasn’t getting good enough grades, I wasn’t in the right activities, I wasn’t going to get into the right school, yadda yadda yadda. But for a long time… I don’t know, it at least seemed like she was worried about me.” She thinks of the Eta party, of the man in the brown suit, tutting about Athena Pallas’s druggie daughter, and scowls. “My mother has always had an all or nothing outlook. If I wasn’t the best, I might as well be nothing. But the thing was, this time I thought I was making real progress. And when she invited me to lunch after six months in the same city, I thought she would see that.”

She had not. Because to Athena Pallas, having a daughter who was an architect instead of an executive Vice-President on her way to CEO, having a daughter at a small but growing architecture firm instead of the best one in the country, was like having a daughter who was drunk in a gutter somewhere.

And Annabeth had realized as much that lunch.

All her work was never going to earn her mother’s love.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure what work had been her’s and what had been her mother’s ambitions.

She’d started crying. In the cafe and right now, on Staten Island, with Percy. “I’m sorry,” she sniffs, wiping her nose on her arm. “Wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He reaches over and wraps an arm around her, gently, rubbing her shoulder, and she more or less crumples into his side. “It’s fine. Take your time.”

Her arm, still free, keeps moving. The drawing takes a shape that she can’t quite name yet. A tree, maybe, in a box. A window to another world, possibly. She spills tears on the paper.

“She disowned me.” Her thin line trembles, before righting itself. “I ran out of there. I stumbled into the first tattoo parlor that didn’t smell like piss, and got my owl done.” She brandishes her left arm, the grey shape blurry and faded against her elbow. She had had a stuffed owl as a little girl, her protector against the spiders in the closet. “I cut off my hair, got my eyebrow pierced, found a club, and just… had a rough couple of days. Got really really drunk that night.” Like, too drunk. Crying on the floor of a filthy bathroom drunk. “Thalia found me under the bathroom sink, took me back to her place, helped me kick the hangover the next day, and that was that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Annabeth says. And most of the time, she isn’t. She wipes her eyes, smudged makeup getting smudger.

“Your mom sounds like she sucks.”

“She does.”

“What about your dad?”

She sniffs. “What about him?”

“You just haven’t really mentioned him. What’s he like?”

Shrugging, she wipes a tear from her cheek. “He’s a history professor.”

“And?”

“That’s about it.”

“I mean, do you like him?”

She shrugs again. “Sure.” There was a lot to like about Frederick Chase. “I haven’t really spoken to him in a while.”

Mouth in a sympathetic twist, he brushes the curls from her eyes, a gesture so sweet it makes her heart pound. “You should call him,” he says. “I’m sure he misses you.”

Her phone burns in her pocket, heavy with the weight of unread texts. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to change the subject?” he asks.

“Please,” she blurts out, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “God, please. Let’s go back to your cute backstory. Tell me more about your first ballet. I want to hear all about the time you were in the Nutcracker.”

Percy fishes out a napkin from somewhere, handing it to her. Grateful, she blows her nose into it, wet and disgusting. “I hate to tell you this,” he says, “But I have been in the Nutcracker, like, fifteen times.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he nods, “It's the big moneymaker. Have you ever seen it?”

“It's a holiday classic,” she scoffs, a little wetly. “Of course I’ve seen it.”

He snorts. “Like, for real, or the recorded one they play on Netflix with Macaulay Culkin?”

“I've seen it live! My dad lived in San Francisco when I was in high school. They have a fancy ballet there.” She’d seen it as a little kid in NYC, she thought, too. Maybe when her parents were still married, or her mother was still willing to take her for Christmas.

“Would you be willing to see it again?”

“Like, for real,” she parrots back at him, “or the recorded one they play on Netflix?”

“Ha ha. I mean for real.”

“I mean… maybe if they switched things up a bit.”

“It's a classic!” He protests. “I mean, it isn’t like we do the Balanchine everywhere, every time. But… it's a classic.”

“I’m sure the dancing is fine.” Annabeth says. She remembers going with Luke in Boston and thinking it was nice, but also hoping Luke would kiss her at the end of the night, so she hadn’t really paid attention. “But they get to design a land of magic and sweets and fairies, and every time the costumes and the sets are just, like, pink glitter and white gauze mixed with weird racial stereotypes. There’s no imagination.”

“Well, okay then.” There’s something in his smile, in the turn of his head that she can’t quite identify. “What would you do?” he challenges.

She holds his gaze for a moment, looking into those eyes that almost reflect the color of the sea around them. Her eyes feel a little puffy still, but he doesn’t look away. Then, without breaking away, she flips open a new page in her sketchbook.

“Space,” she says. “It needs space.”

“Outer?”

“Negative. Lots of space for dancers to move around.” Her pencil scratches over the paper, familiar blocky shapes springing to life. Doric fluted columns split the wings, because of course. “It’s Christmas, so we want color: no sterile, snowy landscape. We know it’s all frozen over--we don’t need to see it again. Obligatory Christmas tree here,” she sketches a crude triangle off to one side, approximately along the golden ratio, “and a big fireplace in the center, preferably a functional one.”

“You know there was this dancer in the nineteenth century that died because her costume caught fire, yeah?”

Annabeth tilts her head, capitulating. “Fair point. We’ll raise it up on a pedestal, keep it out of the way.” She draws a little platform beneath it. “But color is key.” Up above, she draws a pediment crowning the proscenium. She scribbles in the empty space, a placeholder. “Everyone knows the story, so you lay it out up here, episodes merging into each other from start to finish.”

Percy peers down at her page, his chin perilously close to resting on her shoulder. She can’t draw like that. “Kind of reminds me of the Parthenon.”

“You’ve been?”

He nods, his hair tickling the side of her face. “Couple of times. I thought you said you wanted color, though. The Parthenon’s all white, isn’t it?”

“Not originally,” she says. “Do they not explain that on the tours?”

“Um…” Sheepish, he looks away. “I, uh, I’m not always great at listening.”

God. It’s so endearing. What the hell. She kisses him on the cheek, enjoying the way he flushes lightly. “Me either.” He is so fucking handsome. “But no, the original Parthenon, all those white statues, they were painted. Ergo, color.”

He blinks, momentarily stunned. “Wouldn’t--uh, wouldn’t that distract from the dancers? People would just be staring at the ceiling.”

“Then… it’s only lit up before and after the show. During the show, you turn the lights down, bring the focus back down onto the stage.” She considered it. Something she’d worked on for a production once, a fashion show Piper had done at Pratt. “Or, you set it up so the colors are mostly lights. Lights that shine through during the snowflake dance and when Clara rides off with the prince. But then you also get the white for the frosted look. But, they’re still too pink, so I don’t think some color variety is bad.”

“So, not to kill your vibe,” Percy says, pulling back a bit, “but I gotta say, I don’t see how this is that different from the billion other Nutcrackers out there.”

She glares, lips pursed. He’s trying so hard not to laugh. Dick. “The set is only half the problem,” she says. “You'd need to redesign the costumes, too.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you come see my show in December, and then you can tell me all about how you’d fix it.”

“Me and every tourist in New York at Christmas time?”

He nods, like he was expecting it. “Then come to my current one. September isn’t Christmas, so it’ll be a lot less crowded.”

“I don’t know,” she grimaces, sketching a star in the corner of the page. “I don’t really think I’d fit--'' Fit in with those people like the ones from the Eta awards, who thought not being her mother’s lackey was the same as being in rehab.

“Annabeth.” Percy takes her drawing hand, lifting it off the page entirely. The pencil is caught between them, an ineffectual barrier to the sweet, rubbing thumb on the mound of her palm. “I want you to come to my show. I’ll leave you a ticket. No one will care what you look like, I promise.” He stares at her, baby seal eyes in full effect.

Fuck.

“As long as you leave me a ticket,” she says, weakly. “I mean, I wouldn’t be able to afford a good seat.” The lie slips out, easy as anything. She can’t help it.

He smiles, soft and warm and way too inviting. “And in the meantime,” he says, softly, you can come with me tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m going to my parents’ for dinner. It’ll be just my mom, Paul, and my sister. They’d love to meet you.”

“I can’t,” she replies, immediately, almost without thinking. “I’ve got--I’ve got work to do.”

She doesn’t. But boys don’t bring girls like Annabeth home anymore. She isn’t meant to settle down. She’s meant for grimy bars and ship yards. She'll leave it to the princesses to be brought home.

He deflates, just the slightest bit. If she hadn’t had so much up and personal time with his naked chest and the movement of his shoulders, she probably would have missed it. “Maybe next time, then?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, not entirely certain if she means to follow through. “Maybe next time.”

#ballet au #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #byima #uhhh whoever else #my fic #pjo fic #look at them having a real conversation and then immediately blowing it

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easily-infatuated23 · 4 years

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At the Ballet (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

a/n: hey! i am a dancer so this was super fun to write. i’ll link the video’s of the variations discussed both here and in the actual story incase you want to watch it ‘in the moment’ also the ending is super cliche but i wasn’t sure how to finish

Y/H/H/C= your hogwarts house color

Dying swan variation

Kirtri Variation

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Dancer!Reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: super brief mentions of blood and cancer

summary: Reader is using the Room of Requirement as a dance studio when a certain blonde finds her and watches her dance

I am probably one of the only people in the world who would be unhappy to find out they were a wizard. The day my Hogwarts letter came in I was devastated. As a muggle-born witch, I had lived the first eleven years of my life without any magic or magical knowledge. I also happened to be one of the few lucky people in the world who was born knowing what they wanted to do when they grew up. Ever since I was three years old, all I wanted to do was dance. While all the other kids were playing princess or digging in the sand box, I was twirling around the play ground. When I started my first formal dance lesson at age five, I was hooked. Everyday I diligently went to dance class after school. I would pull on my pink tights and leotard in the car, just to make sure I was ready when class started. While other kids had sleepovers and weekend playdates, I was in the studio working. When I got my first pointe shoes I was over the moon. I could finally look like those beautiful ballerina’s I’d seen on stage. I could just picture myself in the beautiful white tutu, being lifted in the air by a handsome prince. That all changed when I got my letter.

Boarding school meant no after school classes. Boarding school meant no studios. Boarding school meant crushing my career aspirations. I worked very hard once I got to Hogwarts. I threw myself into my school work to try and forget the aching feeling in my body building up from not dancing. I was too embarrassed to bring my leotard and tights to school but I couldn’t bear to leave my pointe shoes at home. The pink satin shoes called to me like a siren does to a sailor. When the common room was empty or when I could sneak into a classroom, I would dance. The cold stone floors wrecked my beautiful satin shoes, but, I couldn’t stop. Every summer I would take multiple classes a day, trying to gain any training I had lost. Even though I was a witch, I had no plans to go into a magical career. It was always dance. Always.

By my third year at Hogwarts I started to give up hope. My training was falling further and further behind my peers. At this rate, I would never be hired by a company. Then, the strangest thing happened. One day, I was walking down an empty corridor when I saw a door appear that I didn’t recognize. When I entered the room, my heart skipped a beat. Inside, I found a perfect replica of my studio from home. There were mirrors on all sides of the room, a stack of barres sitting in a corner, and a piano. How had I never seen this room before! After this discovery, I used this room (which I later learned is known as the Room of Requirement) every single day. One day when I came in, there was a white tutu sitting on the piano, just like the one I had always dreamed of. Although I had good friends at school, I never talked about my intense love for dance. I had made the mistake of telling someone I intended to go into a muggle career after school, and I was laughed at by all who heard. This caused me to keep my love a secrete.

By fourth year, I came to school with all of my leotards and a full lesson plan given to me by my ballet teacher at home. She had even given me a new challenge too. She assigned me a set of four solo variations to learn and perfect, one of which was the ‘Dying Swan’ variation from Swan Lake. Although the ‘Dying Swan’ variation was not the most technically difficult variation of the group, the emotions that needed to be portrayed made it increasingly difficult. The girl, Odette, was transformed into a swan. She was cursed to live as a swan during the day and become human at night. While in human form, she fell in love. The variation is about when she learned that the love of her life had spurned her for another and it was literally killing her. It was this variation I worked the hardest on. Repeating it over and over, sometimes until my feet would bleed.

Today’s rehearsal was different. I had gotten the bad news that my beloved teacher was diagnosed with late stage cancer and that I would probably never get to see her again. Today’s rehearsal was for her. I was no longer dancing the variation as a girl losing her lover, but as a student losing her mentor. It made the emotions of the dance feel more real and intense. I walked into the Room of Requirement and put on my pointe shoes, making sure to do plenty of relevés and warming up properly. Then, it was time.

I put on my white tutu and waved my wand at the small CD player, starting the sorrowful song. I glided across the space, waving my arms as if they were wings. No. Not good enough. I started again. No. My balance was wrong. I started again. This cycle continued until I got so frustrated I cried. Then, I felt it in my soul. I finally started to connect to the character and emotions I was trying so desperately to portray. I took a deep breath and started again. This time, it felt right. I glided across the floor, I held every balance, I truly felt like I did it perfectly. There was no separation between the music and my dancing. It felt like the violin was the dancer and I was the violinist. When the end finally came, I gracefully slid to my knee and draped my arms over my outstretched leg. Before I could congratulate myself on my execution, I heard someone begin to clap. I sat up with a start and turned to face the intruder. A boy with platinum blonde hair begin to saunter over, still clapping slowly. He saw my shocked expression and spoke. “The door was slightly open and I heard music, thought I’d check it out.” he began. “That was…” he paused, as if he was trying to decide on the appropriate word. “…heart-wrenchingly beautiful” he finished. I blushed slightly, secretly hoping it blended in with the color already present on my face from the exertion. “Thank you” I said quickly.

I turned and pressed the stop button on the CD player before the song restarted. “I’m serious, that was incredible” he said again. I gave a quick uncomfortable smile before taking my tutu off. After all, I had other variations to rehearse and I wasn’t going to let some nosy kid stop me. “Thank you for the compliment but would you please leave, I have other things I need to rehearse” I said shortly. “But please don’t tell anyone about this, I don’t need anyone giving me shit about this”. He looked at me, puzzled. “Why would people give you shit about this?” he asked, crossing his arms as a slight scowl formed on his previously awe-struck face. “Because I want to go into a muggle career” I said matter-a-factly. “Oh” he said.

I took a sip from my water bottle and checked my rehearsal notes for which variation I should do next. I looked over at the door, the boy was still standing there. “Are you gonna leave or are you just gonna stand there gawking at me?” I asked. He looked flustered for a moment. “Oh um, can I or well, would you mind if I watched? My uh, my mother took me to the ballet a few times as a kid so I guess its kinda nostalgic” he said honestly. I took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. I hadn’t had an audience in a while. “Fine but you can’t laugh if I mess up” I said. “Deal” he replied.

Next variation on the list, the act 1 finale Kitri variation from Don Quixote. Different from the ‘Dying Swan’ variation this one is filled with fire and joy. I knew I could do this one well and I figured that I should show off since my intruder had decided to stay. The music began and I was on fire. Every jump and turn I did was perfect. Then came the dreaded diagonal. I would have to complete twenty turns on pointe in a perfect diagonal, then end in a balance on one leg. I always would get nervous for this part but I nailed it. After I finished, there came another round of applause, this one more full bodied than the last. “Merlin, that was…just wow” the boy said. I turned to face him a curtsied. “Thank you! It seems like I dance better in front of an audience” I said jokingly. The blonde laughed and looked down at his feet. He pushed him self off of the wall he had been leaning on and walked closer to me.

“I’m Malfoy by the way, Draco Malfoy”. He stuck his hand out. “Well Draco it’s nice to meet you” I said, reaching for his outstretched hand and shaking it. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N”. I took a step back and looked at the clock that was positioned above the door. “Well, I’m done for the day, if I don’t stop now I never will and Snape’s potions essay will never get done.” I walked over to my dance bag and plopped down on the floor, beginning the relief-filled but somewhat painful process of taking off my pointe shoes. “Does it hurt?” Draco asked. “Oh yeah like hell, but the longer you do it the sooner your feet go numb to the pain” I replied, placing the shoes into my bag. Next, I stood up and peeled off my pink tights. I had seen a video of a professional ballerina wearing her tights over her leotard and I’d worn mine in just the same way ever since then. Although I wasn’t looking directly at Draco, I could of sworn I saw him blush a bit. I pulled on my skirt and button down shirt, lastly tying my Y/H/H/C tie around my neck. Draco was still standing there, just watching me as I gathered my things. “Are you just gonna keep staring at me or…?” I said, causing him to shake his head slightly as if he was bringing his brain back down to Earth. “I was actually on my way to the library when I found you, are you headed that way” Draco asked. “Yes, I was planning on going to the library to finish this essay after a quick shower” I replied. “We could study together if you want, meet in the library around 8?” he proposed. I looked at the clock, 7:30, I could make that. “Sure” I said, smiling sweetly. “Just don’t sneak up on me if I get there before you” I joked. He chuckled softly. “See you at 8” I said as I walked out of the room. He waved.

It was surprisingly fun working with Draco. We both got the work we needed to done but managed to have some fun conversations as well. He asked me all about dance and my life. I told him quite a bit about myself, more than I had told to most. He cringed when I told him I was muggle-born but I didn’t think much of it. I tried asking him some of the same questions he asked me, but he was much more reserved and closed off in his answers. I didn’t mind, we are all entitled to privacy.

The next few weeks went by like a blur. Draco had started joining me for my daily rehearsals. He would sit in the back of the room and do homework. Sometimes it felt like that homework was to study me and my body but it didn’t bother me. A few times, when he would ask me how it was possible to do certain steps, I would force him to try some. “Bloody hell this is impossible!” he yelled. “How in Merlin’s name do you do this??”. “Draco its fifth position, this is what the seven year olds learn, stop fussing!” I replied, trying to fix his arms in the position. “No no, chin up, stomach in, arms up, straighten your legs, no your arms are dropping again, no don’t look down!” I giggled calling these corrections at him. “I truly don’t know how you do this” he said, laughing along with me. “It took years of hard work and dedication” I replied. “No your focus is down again” I said, reaching out and touching his cheeks. This action brought his gaze straight forward and directly into my eyes. We stayed like that for a moment before I removed my hands and took a few steps back, the tapping of my pointe shoes cutting through the silence like a knife. “There, you got it” I said finally, unconsciously biting my lip. “Run me through that last correction again” he said, taking a few steps towards me. The gap between our bodies was nearly completely closed. He reached out and cupped my cheeks. “It not this,” he said, pointing my face at the ground. “it’s like this” he finished his sentence. He titled my head up and leaned in cautiously. I swallowed hard. “Mhmm” was all that managed to escape my mouth. Just as I thought he was about to kiss me, the bell tower rang 8 o’clock. We both giggled at the tension that had suddenly been released and he lightly bumped his forehead on mine before releasing my cheeks and stepping back. “I have to go, I’m supposed to be tutoring someone at 8” he said with an air of disappointment. “Yeah of course go I’ll see you later” I replied. He picked up his bag and walked toward the door. He was halfway through it when he turned around and flashed me with one last smile before fully exiting. My hand reached up to my face and felt my cheek, as if it was trying to replicate the feeling Draco’s hand. I smiled and shook my head softly. I turned back to the mirrors and walked over to the CD player. I let out a small giggle then pressed play. Now I understood how those heroine’s in the ballet felt when their prince’s gently caressed their cheek, and I was gonna make sure to rehearse that moment again and again.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #dancer!reader #hogwarts #harry potter #ballet #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor #room of requirement #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter au

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

Jaskier x firebender reader - We need a horse

Summary: Jaskier is tired of constantly walking, so he convinces you to find a way to get a horse.

Warnings- shenanigans, fighting, death of bad guys, Jaskier fluff

Masterlist

You and Jaskier are standing outside of a tavern as Geralt does whatever on the inside, you’re guessing it’s finding a new monster to hunt. Or perhaps he could be swooning over a fair maiden, yeah that doesn’t seem very plausible. You shake the thought out of your head as you lean against the side of the stony tavern, your boots in the dirt. Jaskier stands to your left fiddling with a piece of his tunic, as he watches random village goers walk by.

“I’ve just had a thought.” He says from out of nowhere. You push yourself off of the wall, nonchalantly resting your hand on the hilt of your sword that’s positioned at your hip.

“Oh here we go.” You quietly mutter.

“Maybe we could all take turns on Roach.”

You chuckle, “Yeah that’s unlikely.”

“No seriously, we have to walk all the time from village to town to castle to wherever the fuck the money and monsters are....so we should take turns riding Roach.” He argues, trying to get you on board with his new idea.

“I mean...I guess you do make a compelling argument.” You tell him with a shrug.

“See! I’m telling you Y/N, when that grumpy old snowbear comes back outta the tavern from whatever indulgences he’s getting into....I’m gonna tell him.” Jaskier exclaims, ever so sure of himself.

You give him a half-convinced nod, “You do that. I’ll watch from over there, by the carpet seller.” You tell him as you head towards the table across the road. His eyes widen at the realization that your a no-go for his plan to get Geralt of all people to share Roach. “What? You’re not going to help at all. This is Geralt. He won’t give a flying fuck about what I’m saying...but if I have you...we have a winning argument.” He tries his best to persuade you, but you appear unflinching as you turn around to look at him.

“Jask, I’ve know Geralt awhile...he’s not gonna go for it.”

“But Y/N.” Whines Jaskier with a pout. You step in closer to put your hand on his shoulder in an attempt at trying to comfort him, while you give him your most sincere smile.

“Listen there’s a vender over there who sells really nice travel bearing boots....some of them look very....er up to your tastes.” His face falls at that, so you abruptly remove your hand from his tense shoulder.

“Well you’re certainly no help, thanks for nothing. Sorry I’m not...well...whatever you are that makes it so easy to just walk everywhere and not apparently get tired.” He sasses, folding his arms and turning around with a dramatic huff. You roll your eyes at Jaskier’s pettiness, no matter how small the act.

You shake your head with a annoyed frown, “It’s not my fault I’m just not a little bitch.” You jest, whisper yelling the last part, gods Jaskier can be such a little princess.

You casually mosey on over by the shoe vender taking a good look at their diverse array of footwear, you look up again to glance over at a pouty Jaskier that’s looking over his shoulder to find you. When your eyes meet you stick your tongue out at him and he quickly looks away, staring intently back at the tavern door.

“Hello miss are you looking for something specific?” Asks an older man from behind the counter. You turn towards him with a small smile, “Oh um, I’m just looking for a friend.....just seeing what you got.” You reply giving him a nod as you look down at all the boots. He does have a nice gathering of travel wear as well as for parties and...

“Oh come on Geralt. Some of us don’t have a horse. It’s only fair.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of Jaskier, you watch as Geralt ignores him while he starts walking over towards you. His face is a blank slate of annoyance a he makes his way to where you’re standing as he tries to get Jaskier off his ass, with your help of course. “Y/N, did you have anything to with this.” He grumbles, stopping in front of you.

You look around his large frame at a pleading Jaskier, and then back up to him, “Nope.” You deadpan, Jaskier purses his lips together in frustration, as he walks around Geralt with his hands on his hips. He goes to open his mouth but you stop him, “I’ll just buy a horse Jask.” He stands back in surprise, before his brows furrow in confusion, “Okay as great as that sounds Y/N, how exactly are you going to afford a horse?” He wonders honestly, unsure of how you’d come up with the money. Considering the three of you low-key struggle as is to find an abundance of coin.

You cross your arms over your chest while giving them both a confident smirk, “I’ll find a way believe me.” You assure them, Geralt nods as he turns to walk away and Jaskier still looks troubled.

You roll your eyes at him while you link your arm in his, the both of you begin to walk in Geralt’s direction. “I’d really like to know how you’re going to get us a horse...but then again, maybe I don’t.” He muses, you pull him in closer to you, whispering in his ear. “There’s a pack of bandits on the outskirts of the village woods. I plan on robbing them for coin and whatever other valuables they may have.”

His eyebrows raise as he tilts his head to you, “That’s smart. Hmm you’re gonna need a lookout or...ah right! A distraction.” He says excitedly, always ready to get into trouble with you whenever the opportunity arises.

“Shhh...you want everyone to hear us. And besides I’m going alone.” He stops walking and holds onto both of your forearms. “Y/N. I need new material for a ballet, please let me go with you.....I mean the action, the danger, the gore, and uh...theft. So much potential.” He whisper yells while looking deeply into your shining eyes.

“If you keep giving me that look with those big blue eyes of yours I’ll crack. And last I checked you can’t exactly defend yourself as well as either myself or Geralt. You can get hurt Jaskier...” He holds up a finger to silence you.

“Y/N my love, my rose in a dead garden, my feisty foxy woman, my lamppost guiding me through a dark forest on a cold winters eve...my..”

“Jaskier.”

“What? I’m on a roll... you inspire me my dear.” He tells you grinning cheekily.

You shake your head smiling at him adoringly, “Gods alright, you can come along...but you’ll have to hide and....Stay. Out. Of. The. Way.” You warn him firmly, Jaskier just grins happily, bringing up his hands to cup your cheeks. “Ah, I love you.” He exclaims joyously, smashing his lips into yours. He pulls away abruptly leaving you dazed and wanting more, as he pulls you down the trail leading to Geralt and Roach.

“Eh..uh...okay then.” You mumble, smiling brightly like a huge lovestruck idiot. Dammit Jaskier with his stupid smile, and voice, and his even stupider charm. He’s the only person who’s able to break you enough to give in and let him get what he wants. If you could slap that infuriating grin right off of his smug face, but in all honesty you’d rather kiss it off him instead.

----

Later that evening you get up from your spot near the campfire. Geralt watches you suspiciously as he sits in broody silence trying to figure out what you’re up to. Jaskier finishes his rabbit leg, flicking the bone into the fire as he stands up to follow your lead. Geralt’s eyebrow raises, “And where are you two going?” He mutters. You snap your armored gauntlets onto your forearms while you look up at Geralt. “I’m finding coin.” You answer, reaching out to pick up your infamous metal chained whip, perfect for slaying monsters and taking out bandits and whoever else is in your way. “I’ll be back later, don’t follow me.”

“Oh and I’m coming too! I’ll have a fresh new ballot by this time tomorrow...it’ll be fantastic.” Gushes Jaskier, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“Yeah...uh... he won’t be near me.” You assure Geralt with an honest nod. He shrugs, not wanting to bother in your guys’ business. “Alright then. Let’s get a go on things. A horse won’t buy itself after all.” Says Jaskier enthusiastically, putting his hands on his hips. You pull up your hood, turning to quickly grab your camouflaged scarf to then adjust the dark green material to help better conceal your face.

“Here you might want this.” You tell Jaskier as you hand him a dark cloak, he gladly accepts it, throwing it on with ease. “And this...just incase.” You add while handing him a small dagger that’s lying secured in its sheath. He cautiously takes it, giving you a nod as he tucks it into his vest. You stand back to give Jaskier a look up and down, as he fumbles around with his cloak, completely oblivious to your amused gaze.

“Jask!”

He suddenly stops, snapping his head up to look at you, his hair flopping into his eyes. “Yes, my love?”

“Let’s go.” You tell him while walking away into the woods and out of sight, Jaskier gives Geralt an ecstatic smile before abruptly turning on his heels to trail after you.

The forest is dark and heavy, a small breeze rocking the branches in a strange type of dance. You look up through the cracks in the forest canopy above you, a crescent moon shows a Cheshire Cat-like smile beaming down on you from the sky. The stars seem to twinkle from high into the heavens, while back on earth the night is cool and mysterious. Your eyes adjust to the darkness now that you’re away from the comfort of the campfire light as you bring your hand up to make a tiny flame so you don’t trip on the forest floor.

Your peaceful moment is intrusively interrupted by the rushed steps of your humble bard, who’s fumbling in the dark to try and keep up with you. You turn around just in time to catch him as he has amazingly tripped on a tree root. His arms flail out as you snatch him by his torso, you little flame going out as this clash has evidently lead the both of you into a aggressive hug of sorts that sends you crashing onto the forest floor. Your back hits the grass with a hard thud as a greater pressure holds you in place from above. You suck in a sharp breath as your eyes shoot open to the weight that’s pinning you to the ground, the smiling face of Jaskier is staring right into your eyes.

“Well aren’t we in quit the compromising of positions my dear.” Smirks your bard with a cheeky grin.

“One, Two, Thre..”

“Alright alright!” Whispers Jaskier as he quickly lifts himself off of you. He holds his hand out for you to take, ever the gentleman.

“You’re as blind as a bat, why did I let you come?”

“If not I would have annoyed you relentlessly for the next week, I’d even make a song about it. Let me think....my Y/N, she hissed at me like a cat and said I was as blind as a bat, she killed for coin and touches my loins ohhh I loveee..”

“I’ll shove a leave down your throat.”

“Jeesh alright touchy. I’ll behave, I promise. You will not hear another word from me.” He announces while pretending to zip his mouth shut.

“Yeah I’ve heard that before.” You retort while turning around and heading in the direction of the thieves camp, Jaskier holding onto your cloak and trying his hardest to stay silent.

The both of you walk for another ten minutes before you begin to hear laughter and the familiar scent of cooked deer roasting over a spit. Then your eyes spot a flicker of light through the dull color of the woods, a solid indicator of where these idiots are camped. You signal your discovery to Jaskier who nods and urges you onward. You take cautious steps as you get closer, you can see the men gathered around a blazing fire, small tents behind them, and their weapons by their feet. No horses unfortunately.

“Stay here and don’t draw any attention to yourself I’m gonna kill them and then take their valuables.”

“Isn’t that stealing?”

“Not if their dead Jask.”

“Huh. Yeah that sounds about right.”

You turn back around, slowly sliding out your dagger from within its sheath as you cautiously stalk closer to the oblivious men. Without warning you lunge at the closest one, slitting his throat from ear to ear as you stab your weapon into the next one who didn’t even have time to stand. You turn around, quickly jumping over the burning fire as you plunge your dagger straight into the eye of the next unlucky fellow to cross your path. Suddenly an arrow lodged itself into your right shoulder with a sickening thwack sound. You turn towards the terrified bowmen, a flash of anger shining through your eyes as they catch sight of the local wanted rapist. You flick your hand with ease, your instrument of death slicing deep into his vulnerable chest. He drops his bow and arrow as a trail of blood begins dripping out of his parted lips. His eyes are as big as saucers when he abruptly lets out a pained gasp, falling to the forest floor in a slump of limbs.

You swivel your head around the entire camp once again, not wanting to miss anything or anyone who might have escaped. Not a sound is heard but the rapid thudding of Jaskier’s heartbeat from behind a bush. Your ears prick at the gargled mumble of the scruffy looking rapist who just shot you. Oh right, you still have an arrow stuck into your side, must be the adrenaline.

Taking care of that problem you pull it out, accidentally snapping it off before the pointy end has a chance to properly come out. Shit. Ignoring the dull throbbing in your shoulder, you focus your attention on the slowly dying man in front of you. Leaning down, you pull out your silver dagger, wiping the blood off on his clean sleeve before putting it back in your sheath.

“B..bi..bitch.” He mumbles through ragged breaths. You give him a sneer before crushing his jugular with your boot, another cockroach squashed.

“Y/N! That was bloody brilliant. They never even saw you coming.” Gushes Jaskier as he parts the bushes so he can jog over to you.

“Well that was the intention. Uh, look for any coin...I’ll look in their bags.” He currently nods, turning to do just that, he stops dead in his tracks at a large angry balding man across from the dying campfire.

“Uh, Y/N you may have missed one.”

Snapping your head of to Jaskier you turn to the angry huff of a monster of a man who’s glaring dagger at you and your bard. Suddenly the man lets out a loud battle cry as he charges with his axe towards Jaskier and you.

“Oh fuck.” Gasps Jaskier as you swiftly race to his side while throwing your outstretched arm in front of him. A furious blast of orange and yellow flames emitting from your palms and straight into the bulking thief, he lets out a blood curdling scream as the flames lick up his sides. Burning him alive within seconds, he falls to the ground as he thrashes and groans. Not even fifteen seconds later has he finally stopped moving, all that's left of him is a blackened charred body staining the once green grass of the clearing.

“Well...uh...that’ll do it.” Breaths out Jaskier as you turn to him, dissipating away the flames from your hand as you do so.

“I hope he didn’t have any coin on him, shit.”

----

The two of you walk back into camp, the fires gone to embers and Geralt is promptly snoozing in the grass while Roach nibbles at some leaves on the nearby tree. You walk over to your satchel, picking it up to stuff the concealed bundles of coin you were able to find earlier. Jaskier goes to sit down by the dimly glowing campfire as he watches you intently. You drop the old bag onto the ground with a clinky thud, deciding it best to take off your cloak and leather armored chest piece. Leaving your top half in a grey sleeveless shirt, you let out a tired sigh of relief.

“Oh..uh Y/N...you’re kinda bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulder. Oh come here let me have a look.” States Jaskier firmly, already scooting himself in the grass so you can sit down in front of him. Not wanting to argue, and now fully well aware of the fresh arrow head still stuck in your shoulder, you oblige and sit down right next to him. He carefully touches your bare shoulder, a concentrated look on his handsome face as he studies the bloody slice in your skin.

“You’ve got an arrow stuck in there...it’s almost out but...uh...it may hurt when I force it out.” He says, his eyebrows furrowing to together in concern.

“Do your worst.”

He nods, giving you a crooked smile as he takes out a small dagger from under his bedroll. You look up to the stars as you brace yourself for the coming pain. Suddenly cool metal is placed delicately onto your skin, then it’s quickly pressed deeper into your flesh. You bite your lip as Jaskier slices open your wound even more so he can get a better grasp onto the arrow head. Finally he finds it, pulling on the broken piece of wood attached to the silver arrow and out it goes.

“That’s gonna be a nasty one. The bloke must’v stuck you with a silver arrow...those things are sharp.” Chimes the bard as you stop his hand from covering your cut with some cloth.

“Let me cauterize it first, heals quicker that way.” He sets his hands down and watches intently as you conjure a tiny flame from your two fingers, carefully dragging it across your wound as you hold the pain in, it melts and fuses the parted skin together as you can smell the nasty scent of burning skin and bubbling blood.

“Well at least this little midnight raid seemed like a success...those fuckers were loaded with coin. By gods Y/N we’re gonna have the best horse and...hmm I’m just imagining all the wine we could snag while we’re still near town.” He says while raising an eyebrow to you.

You roll your eyes as he then carefully wraps your shoulder in spare cloth, you turn yourself around to face him fully now. The both of you sitting together in the grass as the remainder of the fire glows lowly in the warm summer air. Jaskier gives you a smile as he adjusts the sleeves of his shirt. “You wouldn’t mind sharing a spot in the grass with your loyal bard now would you?”

“Not at all.” You reply with a yawn, Jaskier flashes you an excited grin as he pats at the soft ground, making the two of you a makeshift bed.

Once satisfied with his work he lays himself down, looking up to you with those big blue eyes of his, pleading for you to join him. Tired and in need of a good cuddle you curl up into his side as he throws an arm around your waist. Careful as not to touch your injured shoulder in the process, your eyes lock with his as a bright smile plants itself onto both of your faces.

“Well if you aren’t the most radiant creature I’ve ever met. Oh and best part...you’re all mine.” Whispers Jaskier as he lightly kisses your nose, you let out a tiny giggle in reply, ever grateful for this tuneful idiot and the fact that Geralt is in a deep sleep.

“I took an arrow for you, when we get to the next tavern you better show me how radiant I really am.” Jaskier let’s out an amused snort before kissing you in an attempt at making you feel better for the arrow wound. You kiss him back, not being able to resist his charms for much longer, even if your shoulder still feels sore as it slowly heals underneath the cloth.

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher x y/n

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missorgana · 4 years

Text

lucky accidents

pairing: geralt/jaskier

fandom: the witcher (tv)

rating: teen and up

word count: 2408

warning: swearing, alcohol

summary: Jaskier's dog runs away. He might have to sneak into a random house to get her. Needless to say, it's going to be an interesting night. (modern au, teacher jaskier, single dad geralt)

(a ridiculous meet-cute(slash ugly??) and geraskier being chaotic as a very late birthday present for the queen Sabrina / @poirot my love!!! really really hope you like this fic babeee 💖 and thank you my ride or die Cat / @inafaithforgotten for beta reading for me, saved my ass once more MWAH 💕✨ enjoy!!)

read on ao3

Out of all the ridiculously stupid and awfully humiliating things Jaskier’s done in his life, this has got to take the cake.

Granted it isn’t completely his fault. Promise.

It’s rather Buttercup’s fault, his darling beloved cocker spaniel, who’s decided to pay a visit to a random house’s garden, and house, right in the middle of their perfectly fine 2am walk, thank you very much.

Curse her loveable face. He supposes she gets her curiosity and recklessness from himself, really.

And in the end, what can Jaskier do other than try to find a way in?

It’s taken him three months to get her rid of that habit of eating just about everything dropped on the floor (his local vet probably hates him), so he’d be damned if he’s gonna lose his baby to a stranger.

Maybe he’s way past sleep deprived right now. Maybe he’s had a couple of rums in his coffee. Maybe he has no fucking idea what he’s doing.

But, oh, what a perfect time for an adventure!

Okay, if he was in his right state of mind at this point, he’d probably stopped in his tracks and realised there’s a perfectly sensible way of solving this problem, involving a fucking door bell.

Alas, as mentioned earlier, embarrassing.

Whether it’s the daunting scenario of disturbing someone’s beauty sleep or the judgement a stranger might lay upon him from having a dog who doesn’t listen to him that scares him the most, Jaskier isn’t really sure.

So, here he is.

It took a little less than an hour for him to decide his plan of action, after about ten minutes of frantic searching, ten minutes of dawning realisation, and the rest a frantic panic staring at the god forsaken house.

Ultimately, Jaskier climbs over what he assumes is the gate to the backyard. Remember, definitely not sober right now.

It’s moments like these that leave him wondering how he ever landed his teaching job, but he prays to whatever gods might be up there that this doesn’t end up with him losing it. He’s too fucking passionate about that school and those kids to let it go.

But fuck! He wants his dog back!

Jaskier lands in the backyard, right to his assumption, and well, now that he’s officially trespassing on private property, he can’t really chicken out.

Luckily, a window is propped open for his convenience. It’s an extremely hot summer night, as the last two weeks proved, so he’s in no way surprised.

And a plastic chair and table-set to jump from, wonderful!

Don’t think about the illegality of all this too much. Jaskier’s trying his best.

At least, he proves that to himself climbing in, surprising himself in how quiet he can be. Even dodging a potted plant on the window sill, he sets his foot on wooden floor, huh, those years of ballet did pay off after all.

And, yes, he took his shoes off beforehand, duh, he’s not an idiot.

But soon enough, well… uh, let’s say that’s as far as Jaskier’s plan went. Now he’s officially breaking into a home , and he’s standing as if glued in place, staring at the living room that looks stuck in a forgotten century.

Focus!

He ponders on calling her name, or rather, whispering, but Buttercup’s familiar, frantic running footsteps get ahead of him.

“Buttercup!” he whispers, willing his voice as stern as possible for the troublemaker, “Come on, girl!”

Shakes are heard, more padding of feet, and his baby comes running along from what looks like the kitchen. He’s, like, 50% sure, it’s dark and the rum is making the world a little crooked.

Thank heavens she hasn’t broken anything.

And thank heavens he’s in time to shush her before the inevitable bark comes. She looks so clueless, but so happy with her big twinkling eyes, it’s a bit annoying.

She’s in deep, deep trouble for this. Can’t get out of this that easy. Nope.

Jaskier’s gonna scold her anyway, but right now, relief washes over him more than anything else. Entry succeeded, goal obtained, now it’s time for his exit.

To be honest, not really something he planned, either. But surely the way in works the other way around too, right?

See, that’s the funny thing, because it’s not his happy pup smashing anything in her spontaneous adventure, no, it’s when he heads back for the window the crash happens. Or, well, he thinks it’s the way for the window, the general direction at least, but Jaskier’s hip meets with a table, and he’s pretty sure a lamp’s involved in the fall.

That really hurt, thanks for asking.

But instead of fleeing the scene even faster, like any sensible person would do, he’s frozen half-standing, half-leaning against the windowsill, as light switches on in a room down the hall, and a voice calls, “Dad?”

Shit . Why is Jaskier drunk doing this? Why is he doing this at all?

Buttercup tilts her head at him and he’s none the wiser. He really does try to move, but then she’s running off again and he can’t even get to chase after her before a high pitched scream meets his eardrums.

He’s caught.

Yep, he’s so caught, because he’s an idiot who didn’t jump out the window when he should, and soon enough he’s being hit over the head with a slipper. Best night ever.

Jaskier becomes a bit of a flailing mess of limbs, attempting to dodge without much success while Buttercup starts barking excitedly somewhere in the other room. He even throws out a couple of “Ow!”s, because, seriously, that slipper hurts, what the fuck?

He can’t exactly blame his attacker, of course. In fact, very much the reaction he’d have himself. Still, he’s rather glad the hits come to a halt when the room is suddenly illuminated, the lamp he pushed over staring at him in offense.

The gruff voice from the hallway surprises him, when it says, “Princess?”

However, he’s a little more than shocked right now, because once Jaskier blinks himself to clear vision, he sees a young girl in front of him he in no way expected to meet today. Tonight. Whatever.

Ciri, one of his students, is clutching a blue slipper, used as a weapon only seconds ago, to her chest while staring at him with teacup wide eyes.

Well, this just got a hell of a lot more embarrassing.

And when Jaskier averts his eyes from the blonde girl, a giant blonde man who he can only assume is Ciri’s father, with arms that he’s pretty sure could snap him in half like a twig, is staring with a similar shocked expression, face twisted to a frown.

Why, oh, why in the name of all that is sacred and good, is the first thought jumping into Jaskier’s mind how he’d let those arms do all sorts of things to him.

You absolute goddamn clown. His brain’s too busy scolding him to say anything, but turns out he doesn’t need to since his pup jumps his student happily, because she doesn’t understand the situation at all and just found new friends in her post-midnight scavenger hunt.

He thinks he might’ve hit a new low at this point.

However, Ciri frees him of her father’s scrutinizing eyes for a minute, as she giggles in excitement, and now looks up at Jaskier with such a huge grin her cheeks are bound to hurt, “Mr. Jaskier!”

Okay. Okay, out of all the homes he could’ve possibly intruded in, this definitely isn’t a worse case scenario. Luck, maybe?

Not that he feels particularly lucky looking back at the man watching the scene, looking rather, uh, furious, which is understandable.

“You know this man?” he questions his daughter before Jaskier even gets time to consider his options, and the young girl looks back with an eager nod.

He himself is pretty much frozen in place.

Kind of fearing the brick wall of a man will murder him on the spot if he even moves an inch. Practically already killing him with his eyes only. Embarrassingly enough, he finds that even more attractive. Think with your head , idiot.

Meanwhile, Ciri’s face is painted with brief confusion, “My music teacher, dad! Didn’t you listen when I told you? Mr. Jaskier’s classes are my favorite.”

The girl seats herself on the floor and scratches Buttercup behind the ears, who seems to finally have used up all her energy for the day.

Ciri maintains her excitement, though, while looking painfully disappointed at her father. The man instantly reacts, it seems, because the glare vanishes into thin air, his stance less volatile, his expression almost… soft?

That word doesn’t exactly fit the blonde man, but it makes Jaskier feel a lot of ways. Man, is he drunk or just horny at this point?

“Of course I did.” his student’s father tells her, still eyeing him warily while apologising, “That doesn’t explain what your teacher is doing in our house, princess. At night.”

Jaskier wants to fucking die.

He tries to stammer something out, it takes, uh, a while, only landing on, “My dog.”

The blonde man frowns again.

Ciri still has zero judgement in her eyes, God bless her, and he laughs nervously in the attempt to elaborate, “Buttercup here, she, uh, ran away from me. In here. Didn’t wanna wake ya. Sorry.”

And Jaskier shakes his head at himself like it’s second nature. Well, sort of is. If you knew all the stupid shit he accidently gets himself into, you wouldn’t be surprised.

Luckily, his (favorite) student just giggles when Buttercup licks her hand, and her father seems degrees less inclined to call the cops, so that’s good. Ciri even asks him if she can give the pup a treat, and Jaskier can’t exactly say no to that, can he?

Buttercup’s clearly in love with her now, it’s adorable.

Which is why it makes him feel like a bit of an asshole when he clears his throat and tells the duo it’s probably time for him to make his exit. Ciri’s heart might as well have just shattered in pieces in front of him.

But he’s just still pretty terrified of her father’s rather menacing figure. Note to self to not be present at that parent-teacher conference.

The eye candy, though.

Focus on not getting arrested, Jaskier!

Ultimately, she looks to her dad and stands up hesitantly, her and the pup looking at each other like they’re being torn apart for eternity, and then directs her pleading eyes back to him, “Could I walk her sometime, Mr. Jaskier? Please ?”

His student drags out the word almost to the point where she loses her breath, and Jaskier can’t help his chuckle. Thankfully, her dad gives him a look of approval.

“Sure thing, kid.”

In return, he gets his second scare of the day when Ciri screeches again, only for a few seconds when she probably remembers it’s the dead of the night, and jumps for a hug. Bless her heart, but he can’t help still feeling utterly embarrassed.

Jaskier pats her back before she lets go and her father ushers her to her room, and the yell “Goodnight!” is way too endearing, although it was most likely more directed to his pup than himself, fair enough.

Well, then. He finds himself standing around awkwardly, nervously still not moving until said giant of a man crosses his arms and gets Jaskier out of his own head.

“Ah, well, that’ll be my leave then.” he says, looking everywhere else than the person in front of him, scratching his neck.

It’s almost obvious he’s getting a cold shoulder until the deep voice speaks again, “Make sure to use the door this time.”

Yup, he deserves that.

To be honest, Jaskier can’t quite believe he’s… uh, survived this. Better not jinx it, though.

“I, sir, uh,” he starts, holding out a hand for Buttercup to follow along, “I cannot stress how sorry I am for this. Seriously. If you tell my superiors about this, I’ll understand, uhm, I guess I just want to let you know I thoroughly enjoyed teaching your daughter.”

And the blonde is frighteningly silent once more, though he lifts one eyebrow, whatever the hell that means.

At last, a sigh.

“Well, I hope you’ll continue.” are the words coming next, shocking enough, Jaskier almost thinks he’s sound-hallucinating, or something, “Apology accepted. Nobody’s hurt, and Cirilla seems to like you quite a lot.”

He honestly can’t help but smile, in relief more than anything else. Buttercup barks once, and the man glances down. “And your dog, too.”

Is- is that a smile? Jaskier can’t really tell, because it looks oddly out of place with, well, everything else about him. Not that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing.

The not-so-scary-anymore man even opens the door for him, gosh, he does like his men with good manners!

Maybe, possibly, he really needs to sober up. Or eat something, now that he thinks about it.

“Then, adieu!” he offers with a little flourish of his hand, but while the pup’s already running eagerly out into the rose bushes, the blonde man stops him in his tracks with, “I suppose you’d like my number.”

There’s that familiar awkwardness again! Jaskier realises this when all he can do is gape like a moron, but honestly, those might be the most surprising out of this whole evening. That says a lot.

He finds himself stammering, “Uhm, uh, pardon?”

The giant’s already writing it down on a fucking post-it note. “So you don’t have to use the window when Ciri’s going to walk her new friend over there.”

Jaskier blinks, “Ah!” Of course, what else? He’s bordering on a thin line to delusion, truly, “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” he repeats back, and Jaskier pockets the note hilariously quickly himself.

Good, good, don’t humiliate yourself even more now. He guesses he can be thankful he’s just sober enough to not try one of those… horrendous pick-up lines of his.

Guess the eye candy will be enough.

He gives the blonde a nod at last, taking his final leave after a way too strange night, but not before the man forms that almost-smile, pretty sure it’s a smile, again (good God, did he just check out his ass, or has Jaskier officially lost it?) and says, “Name’s Geralt, by the way.”

Jaskier nearly chokes on his own breath.

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