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caius-hhhhhh · 3 months

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following up on this fanfic emoji ask game: I know this is not the general convention but i tend to like responding to an ask game all at once rather than waiting for prompts. so I’ve just answered every single one of the questions below the cut. Again, if you wanna play or use the game for your own purposes, please do! you don’t have to repeat my strategy, although you’re free to do so too.

i was about to say “this is a bunch of autofellating nonsense” but that’s the point. who cares. i wrote a lot about disability. if your mental illness also significantly impacts your ability to write, this might be triggering.

I’m still a baby ao3 user (@ is spitemonger) with only one published fic (it’s Zutara. It’s not that I’m not proud of it but I wrote it on a deadline and thus spent a lot of the creative process going “i don’t want to i don’t want to”). but a) I have generally been writing since I was a teenager, and b) I want to write more and publish more.

So I’ll be mostly referring to unpublished wips, with a primary focus on a long-form one-sided radiostatic fic covering Vox’s fall to Stayed Gone, and a minor focus on two shelved Magnus Chase (PJO spin-off) fics, one for Fierrochase and one for Blitzstone. [if you haven’t read Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgaard get the fuck on it, there’s a genderfluid character]

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

my entire trunk novel? If I’m embarrassed by a scene I delete it during edits. So the only thing I’m even minorly embarrassed by is the fandom-specific plot I wrote by the seat of my pants (Magnus goes to Camp Half-Blood) — I’ll get more into that in a later question

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

love that this emoji doesn’t fucking register on my computer. I’ve never thought about this before! It’s hard for my own writing to get me emotional, I tend to look at it so clinically and dispassionately I kind of get caught off-guard when people say an emotional moment hit them. I do get very easily fucked by other people’s writing about transness. No prizes for guessing why, characters exploring their own gender and other people telling them they see them as their proper gender always get me feeling some type of way. calam4r1’s comic about Alastor’s “what have you done to me” makes my heart EXPLODE

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

I am exceedingly proud of this Cave Johnson-ass line: “All projects, collaborations, products, and endorsements featuring or even vaguely mentioning that crimson ass’s likeness are to be liquidated. And burned. In fact, trap and seal the gases from the fire, freeze them back into liquid, and then burn them again.”

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Oh fuck yes. It is a major twist that I’d be stupid to spoil, but! There is a red herring at the start of my current fic that you don’t get resolution for until three-quarters of the way through. It involves Vox’s real name.

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

My close associate SpaceWall is a fan-fucking-tasting editor who understands my need for my writing to be completely eviscerated. She has the balls to tell me when I’ve got a shite idea, and I could not ask for a better editor. Go fucking read her fics and tell her she’s excellent. On the subject, I really like editing and am fully open to reading your work. I’ve a slightly longer post about it here but please reach out to me if you’d like me to look at anything you have.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Disability. It’s well and truly quite hard to find a story that doesn’t deal with disability — hell, it’s hard to find a human that doesn’t have a relationship with disability — but it’s something canon so frequently either tacitly ignores or doesn’t pick up on. If I’m going to do anything in a fic, it’s explicate the characters’ canon disabilities or headcanon new ones. This is my favourite part of Cold Bodies btw, and basically the only part I wrote without explicit prompting. It’s in the last subsection if you don’t want to read the 8k words of prep

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

idk man I’m really bad at pacing so even if the content is whack I go about it too slowly to really shock anyone

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

fuck off.

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

Love the implication that I don’t fall asleep every night fantasising about a thousand different first kiss scenarios.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I’m very picky when it comes to listening to music while I write. I can’t think about words if the song I’m listening to also has words, nor if it has a really tangible melody that I want to follow along with. So I need really slow, atmospheric music without a real tune. Undertale genocide themes are actually fucking excellent for this, I’d highly recommend them. I’ve created a massive fuck-off OSRS playlist (on itunes, not spotify, so I can’t share it, sorry) basically comprised of the entire Portal 2 soundtrack (special fucking shoutout to The Friendly Faith Plate, which is SO VOX CODED YOU DON’T HAVE ANY IDEAAAA) and Sim Gretina’s electro swing (Enemy Like Me is my favourite), plus Kira’s Piece of Art and Dua Saleh’s mOth. The first because it’s giving Vox’s obsession with Alastor, and the second because, duh.

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I’m a google docs hoe. I know I shouldn’t be, but fuck man, I know how it works. It feels natural when my writing is on there. I’ve tried Scrivener and it made me angry. What the fuck ever And “tools”, that’s really funny — I’m the type of grad student that does all my citations manually because switching to Zotero is weird and scary. I know how to do it manually! Why would I ever accept help for something I know how to do?? (< ocpd symptom)

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

The world doesn’t fucking need any more Nico di Angelo fics. It really doesn’t. There’s plenty. He’s a skinny white boy, he’s got the entire internet in the palm of his hand. You wanna compete with Robin? Really? You wanna do that to yourself? I don’t even have catholic guilt, I’ve got nothing to add

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

SpaceWall and I are irl friends, but we hold each other’s secrets in equal regard. The secret is that she is a good writer and I’m a poet I wouldn’t actually mind if people I knew irl found and read my fics. It’s just writing. I don’t find anything to object in it, and in fact I’d like it if I could talk about Hazbin with other people irl. I would hate it if people I know irl found my tumblr, but that’s principally because I’m significantly more open about my ocpd here. I’m not a person on the internet, I’m just words and a drawing. You haven’t seen the kinds of fucked up shit I do in front of my peers that would suddenly Make A Lot Of Sense if they knew I had a FUCKING personality disorder.

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

The Blitzstone origin wip, which is mostly “ostracised gay dwarf learns ASL because he saved this dying elf’s life”. come to think of it the first chapter of that fic is technically perfect and there’s very little stopping me from putting it the fuck on ao3 and abandoning it for three years before coming back. huh. i might… just do that.

🍷 Do you drink and write?

Always. It turns the judgemental part of my brain off and I have a much easier time making things and getting ideas down. Such a shame I don’t smoke too! I’ve tried writing whilst high and it was not writing. It was in fact lying back and rereading 666

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

“the spicy stuffs” porn is the word you’re looking for. You can say it. It’s four letters. The internet police won’t get you. See look, porn porn sex penis tits ass fucking Writing erotica was a really instrumental part of unlearning the self-destructive writing habits that made me suicidal scrap my original work. My initial intention was that because it’s erotica, it’s not for other people: it’s for me. And having that barrier of “this is not for other people to see” was liberating and necessary — I turned it off eventually, because erotica is not something to be so ashamed of that no eyes but yours can look upon it — but I needed to force myself to write something that I couldn’t imagine being scrutinised and therefore needed to be Purposeful and Say Something.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

11pm–2am is when I get my best work done. Unfortunately, I write the most frequently between 1–3pm because I have the energy and motivation to, but those are Self Doubt Hours and I have a hard time getting into the swing of things I actually have the best writing luck when I get up early but that’s not gonna fucking happen

💖 What made you start writing?

In general, pathology, but I’ve kind of made that clear already. What made me want to write a Hazbin fic was seeing how exceptionally creative this fandom is and how much fun people seemed to be having sharing their ideas. I feel like in the circles I’m running in, there’s not a lot of pressure to make Good Art, and it’s… not really a big deal if your work gets a lot of attention or not. Everyone seems to be getting the same tone of feedback, all cheer and encouragement, and the vibe to me seems really casual and fun. I’m not thinking to myself “how will I compete with these other authors”, but “I wonder if the user I idolise will see and like my work”. And the answer is often yes. It’s not just that people are creating and playing so freely, it’s that it feels like a lot of us are here to support one another, and that’s been really reassuring. Because I feel like people will like anything I put out

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I was about to say “anything related to pregnancy, thinking about my uterus makes me nauseous” but I uh. Wrote about a miscarriage. So I guess writing about a wanted pregnancy is the real limit

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

This is a super interesting question I haven’t seen spoken about very widely: it is considered extremely normal to commission fanart, but whenever the subject comes up, people seem incredibly reticent to ever commission fanfiction. I’m not fully sure why — in principle, it seems like there should be no real distinction in paying for fanart versus paying for fanfic. They’re both derivative work, they’re both made by enthusiastic artists who deserve to be compensated for their thousands of hours of expertise. I’m not certain what causes the disconnect. I have seriously toyed with the idea of doing podfics for money. I am in fact a professionally trained actor, and I own a USB microphone; which puts me ahead of like 50% of all of AO3’s userbase. Not sure if I’d fully commit to the idea because it’s still rather contentious. Were I to read my entire fic out loud I would put it behind a patreon though. It is in fact a very labour-intensive process, and again, I do have professional training.

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Hoo boy.

this is my fic folder. For most fics I write, I have a draft document and a research document: I’ve colour-coded the related documents: so dark green and dark green are the draft and research, pink and pink are both parts of the same project, etc. Let’s compare the word count in each of these draft documents and research documents, shall we? The dark green draft is 8k; its research document is 16k. The pink document is Cold Bodies. Including the html coding and my author’s notes, it’s edging on 13k. Its research document is 8k. It’s the only fic I’ve completed. The light purple draft is 21.5k. Its research is 96k! The light green draft rather conspicuously titled “botw script” is in fact a script, not prose, so it’s only about 4k. Its research, which is in fact titled “I don’t like botw’s story”, is 25k. The dark purple draft is a rather tragic 6k. Its two research documents are a combined 104k!!! One of the documents is called, rather tellingly, “I think I like research more than I like writing.”

My research process involves a not insignificant amount of textual analysis. For Cold Bodies, it looked something like this:

I haven’t done a lot of that kind of work for Hazbin because most info is fanon or only vaguely canon-adjacent, but I have compiled a list of headcanons many of you have put out into the world.

that’s gabrielsbubblegumbitch’s post and soot-and-salt’s And Not From Head To Toe. The other significant form of research I do is scour books I think are interesting or relevant so I can take plot or thematic inspiration from them. Previously, I’ve combed through Creating A Champion (and cannot recommend the experience. it’s kind of racist 😬) and made a fic a loose parody of Emma so I could fall back on its plot when I needed inspiration. For this Vox fic I’m rereading David Sedaris’ When You Are Engulfed in Flames, Eden Robinson’s Traplines (the last short story has a Monkey Beach spoiler, read that first), Catcher in the Rye, The Chocolate War, and, for some reason, Cary Elwes’ As You Wish.

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

Only got one. Shoutout to grownupchangeling for fucking SPRINTING into my inbox to ask for the answer to this question, really admire their(?) tenacity and dedication to squatting in my notifs like a spider in the corner

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

Never really crossed my mind. I do like a good beach fic, and anything set in winter makes me happy, but I’m not a massive holiday story enjoyer.

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

I spoke about this a bit in response to soot, but if your readers are able to accurately guess a plot point or twist it means you have done it successfully. It means you have given your readers the tools to reach the same conclusion you did: and those tools are foreshadowing, atmosphere, subtext, and tension. Those are how a twist or beat feel that they belong in the narrative, because they gel with everything that has come before it. It in fact should be the author’s goal for readers to be able to guess the twist! It’s not that it should be blindingly obvious, but more that a seed should exist somewhere that smart readers (which are all readers!) should be able to see it and notice when it takes root.

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

Who doesn’t like fan art? Who’s the fucking Anne Rice of AO3 that’s going to be like “you may read my fic but do Not make art inspired by mine” literally who does that

📈 How many fics do you have?

Guess.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

I outline wherever possible. How detailed the outline is depends on the scene rather than the fic: “Vox goes house hunting” is in fact a very very long scene and a scene that amounts to two pages might well be described beat-by-beat in the outline. Pants-writing gets me incredibly stressed out because I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where I’m going, I have no direction in mind, and because of that panic impulse I cannot be open to serendipity. It’s also really hard for me to do complete rewrites, so as soon as I have something down on the page and it’s made it past the first, worst, round of excruciating edits it tends to remain as-is in the final draft. So I often need at least a vague idea of what’s going to happen before I can start my work. I don’t do drafts, inasmuch as I’ve used that word pretty consistently throughout this post. I think. I think, think, think, research, ruminate, think, tentatively write less than 100 words, think think think consider scrapping the whole thing and then I detonate like a firework and the vast majority of the ink that first splatters on the page in that initial explosion stays until I know it’s done. I write like a shotgun: with a very intensive buildup and lots of preparation with a very short but very powerful discharge. I’ve told this to people and received the kind of expression you typically only get were you to remove your shoes and begin licking the sole of your foot. So please do not compare your own writing process with mine. Okay? This is not normal. I don’t know how often I’ve mentioned this but I have a disorder. No one but me does this. You should not expect yourself to.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

No <3

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

I am literally the last person you should ask. Never pour water on a grease fire? Your face mask should completely cover your mouth and nose? Always make sure the base is larger than the widest point?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

I don’t actually find that there’s a single character who brings me comfort to write about. I write about someone if I have something to say about them. I do have a comfort trope, which is sleeping together.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

I think that Valentino used to be a porn actor before he became a director. During a shoot, he would wear an earpiece so his director could feed him lines, given that he couldn’t read the scripts.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

Alastor! I also talk breezily and with an emphasis on slightly elevated language, so I find his dialogue to be incredibly natural to spit out. Plus, who doesn’t love dated exclamations and turns of phrase like “By Jove!” and “take a powder”?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

I well and truly don’t care. I don’t publish anything I’m ashamed of. I only publish things that I think showcase my skills, and that I think are worthwhile pieces of art. And if I had a friend who thought fanfiction or erotica was something to shame or scorn, well, they would not be my friend.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

Finishing it.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Romantic partners becoming the main character’s therapists… I mean, that’s one of the great things about writing villain protagonists. They don’t fucking have to go to therapy.

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

Buckle up, cunt. I had a novel I was working on as a teenager. It was about toxic masculinity and MLM sexual assault. I said to myself, this will be a piece of art that defines a generation. It will say something that our (western) society desperately needs to hear, and one day a young gay kid just like myself will be tilting their head at a 90° angle to see the titles of the books lining the shelves of their local bookstore, see my novel, pick it up, and discover that it spoke to them: in the same way that I felt seen and heard by the books I loved. So as I wrote and worked on it, I often looked at my own writing with the harsh and uncaring eyes I knew it would be faced with when I inevitably contacted an editor. I wanted to make it flawless, bulletproof, do everything in my power to make this work perfect before an editor could see it, so that way I could wholeheartedly say that it was ready for other eyes. So nothing was perfect. Every part of it wasn’t good enough, fix it, FIX IT, I know you can do better so stop acting like THIS is the best you can accomplish. Come on, pick yourself up and do it right this time. And I tortured myself with that. To this day I cannot look at my draft without thinking of all the mistakes I made, what needed to be improved, what still needs to be improved, and after I’ve grown more and gotten diagnosed and met with people who have been published — met publishers — I know that I can’t trust myself enough to let this become a career. Do you know how hard writing this post has been? Did you know it’s taken me two days? Did you know how long I leave my posts in the drafts for, rereading, rereading, rereading, making sure there’s no chance this can be fucked up in any way, that it is totally within my control? I cannot become a professional writer. It’s my disability.

so, you know. rock make stick hit hard on head, cock make dick real hard in bed

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

A lustrum.

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

B-plots! I kind of get regular plotting, in that I know how to build and resolve tension, but I am so bad at finding other things for the characters to DO in order to take a break from the main plot. I already worked so hard to make a main plot, you want me to do another one??? To say what? I did everything I wanted to, I tied it all in a neat bow, if the readers want a break from the main tension why can’t they just tab out

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I love trans Vox, but in order for him to be in character he has to hate being trans. I’m really used to writing about trans joy, for my own health and for everyone else’s, so writing a character that wishes they weren’t trans is really sad.

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

I actually love criticism. Your work can only get better through education, and one of the easiest ways to get education is by having another person read your work and tell you something about it you didn’t know. I need other perspectives because my own perception of my writing is exhaustive and exhausting: I feel like I’ve done everything I can to improve my work and I am so tired of looking at it that I need a fresh pair of eyes to show me something I’d not found. Getting better is always something to strive for; and even in mean comments it is entirely possible to find the thread of a lesson. More often than not it’s a threat of a lesson, but personally, I take what I can get. Criticism is something I find easy to receive because I can turn it into something productive, either “okay, this is something I need to improve upon, let’s do that” or “this is so clearly in bad faith it is costing me nothing to ignore it”. It’s something I can easily take control of. It’s positive comments that feel like apple-bobbing in a tub full of syringes.

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

#Psychological Horror immediately followed by #Eventual Smut. One of my favourite tag jokes I’ve written is #falling in love, #unrequited love, #friends to enemies, #on-again off-again relationship, #don’t date your coworkers holy shit don’t do it. And you really can’t go wrong with Cold Bodies’

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I suppose I’m kind of asking for it at this point.

I’ve left this one for last so it will have the best dramatic impact. Thank you, heartily, for sorting through that much shit!! I hope this is a worthwhile reward for your efforts.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

The shadows lengthen. The room is small, bereft of light; the darkness has plenty of recesses to establish itself within. His chest distends and recedes with a languid, heavy pulse: good. He will not wake. He dares not take a step. He contorts with the gloaming, letting it carry his weight like waves on the wine-dark sea. Ink creeping along the fractal contours of incautious skin, on paper pulp. The blanket is drawn too far up his shoulder, but his hands have wisely ventured away from its grasp. He has nestled them close to his face: the right palm faces the ceiling. His overgrown claws, weightless, curl around the soundless air. The cuffs of his shirt have drawn back to reveal the skin on his left wrist. He casts a faint but adequate illumination. Regrettably — he discovers — he has not flesh but casing. Whether it be titanium or catalin, it protects the veins underneath. What seams it must possess, he cannot access at present. He cannot smell his blood. Only the hot hiss of his breath, of bertholite and alkaloids. Experience has had the good grace to train him to anticipate the worst-case scenario. Thus, he suspects his knife would dent upon contact with his skin. This would likely require blunt force, something messy and more out of his weight class. Which is unideal: his own strength is formidable, naturally, but imprecise. And somewhat unsubtle. He sees the power buzzing underneath his grip. A live wire ready to snatch at the first hint of energy, snapping, sparking, antsy and unfulfilled. He likely isn’t trained enough to feel it himself, but again, the danger is too tangible to risk tripping over it. Were he more experienced, older, had experimented enough to test his limits, it would be a safer estimate; but as he is now, untapped and spring-loaded — fisticuffs would result in a significantly less assured victory. It is not a lack of confidence. It is simply a risky bet he does not want to get caught foolishly trusting himself with. That is smarts, not sheepishness. He does not hiss aloud. Nor does he retreat: he takes stock. The room offers little relevant information. His possessions are scarce, no letter drafts upon the writing desk, no bandages or weapons. His wallet is useless. He’s laid out nicotine patches and topical creams upon his toilet table: an invasome, it seems, may be a possibility. Unfortunately, he would have to synthesize it himself. He despises inconclusiveness. He returns his gaze to the picture box, his screen dim and vacuous. Loathed as he is to admit, this may be a somewhat longer project than he had initially envisioned. More’s the pity — what a spectacular send-off he would have been able to provide! Keep your chin up, now, old boy. This was hardly a trip for biscuits. It was, however, strike two.

#um jamma lamy #long post #like… really long #might make minor edits post publication but you’d probably have to be… me to notice #queuing because i don’t wanna be awake when it publishes #writing miasma

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hotelhousecat · 1 year

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Addiction as told by LDR

1. For the last couple days I’ve been fascinated by the song Jump from the album Lana Del Rey AKA Lizzy Grant.

One time my little cousin (who’s since come around) told me she didn’t like to listen to Lana Del Rey because it made her feel dirty, like she just smoked a pack of cigarettes.

I think this effect is even stronger in her pre-LDR music, despite the brighter sound. Lana is a wealthy, glamorous starlet. But Lizzy Grant is forever immortalized in a world of motels, gas stations, Christmas lights, flamingo lawn ornaments, and bleach blonde hair.

Palm Trees in black and white/Last thing I saw before I died

Jump is a song about heroin, but it’s one of her most fun tracks. It has an almost childlike innocence to it. That disconnect between the dark subject matter and the sound of the music, her ‘cutesy’ approach, is really disarming. It almost puts a lump in your throat. Like, you know this young girl is in real danger, and here she is singing about the fun of it all.

The lines, “Hair thinnin’ in the wind” and “You got the grin of a very old man” creep me out in particular. It’s a scary image, and yet she’s sitting in his car innocently admiring him. It reads with a sense of dark humour. The simple chorus is just perfect; the tension hangs thick in the air as she asks, “Do you wanna (jump, jump, jump)?”

2. Art Deco is a beautiful track from Honeymoon that I always neglected until I realized it was not, in fact, a song about a man, but a solemn reflection on the naivety of her Lizzy Grant days. A sequel to Jump, if you will.

A little party never hurt no one, that’s why it’s alright/You want in but you just can’t win so you hang in the lights

A nobody aspiring to be a star, caught up in the attention and adrenaline that comes with the partying. I love her choice of words in describing the protagonist as “shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure”.

3. Each of Lana’s albums represent their own era and a sort of turning point. To me, Lust for Life seems to mark her turn toward happiness, growth, and building a future.

The song Heroin is a further reflection on the pull toward escapism. She condemns the drug, commenting on its destructiveness, but lyrics still hint to a sense of nostalgia and longing.

Oh, makes me feel like I can change/Oh, all of my evil ways and shit/Oh, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sick of it

Substances and addiction are a central theme to a lot of Lana’s music, so forgive me for only mentioning these three songs in particular. Another that jumps to mind is Fuck it I love you off the album Norman Fucking Rockwell, in which she sings “I used to shoot up my veins in neon”.

I suppose the overall point here is: it’s interesting to watch LDR evolve in style and sound, but even more-so to witness the tremendous evolution of character which shines through in her lyrics. I love the song Jump, but it’s hard to listen to with the added context of her later music. The whole fun, fast world of Lizzy Grant gets a lot scarier the longer you dwell on it.

#lana #im sorry i dont know why i wrote this #i have adhd #and im fixated on her rn #Spotify

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 2 years

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Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)

Chapter Three

Warning: one trippy moment for reader, anxiety talk

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

Steven Grant is a pretty cool guy! He seems meek, shy, a bit anxious too; yet, this man can be brutal in his quips! Twice he caught you off guard when another employee tried to basically jerk him around. His old job's director used to do that along with never calling him by his name.

A condescending bitch is what he wouldn't say but you said it for him.

Steven also lives in the same apartment complex as your father! Top floor attic style, from what he has told you. Fancy in your mind, he says it's okay. Steven is self taught in almost everything when it comes to history and French. He likes burritos and his friend is a guy who pretends to be a statue.

Overall a guy you have no problem having a minor crush on.

In Steven's point of you: you have a lot of energy! Steven is trapped in the maelstrom called you each afternoon on a Wednesday, you said Wednesdays is your day off. He would be at lunch eating and you slide next to explaining how you are going to fist fight your art history professor. Or, showing him the sketches you got done while on the bus here. You are harmless and he found himself enjoying the company.

It took some getting used to someone talking to him back.

To have a friend who responds back with eagerness and ready to talk about any subject, he isn't used to that.

"Aw, you still have it!" Today he is walking you to a vegan cafe he enjoys from time to time.

"It's a lovely sketch. Are you studying art here?"

"Pft, no, for that I would be in South Korea."

"South Korea?"

"Animation and stuff." Shrugging, "I'm studying history and figured why not try out the international problem plus see my old man." Hands moving as you talk, "You never seen him before?"

"Never met most of the residents. We tend to keep to ourselves." The alternative text was that at the time he was afraid of everyone and scared an old lady when Khonshu was walking towards him through a dark hallway. Steven thought he was crazy, completely batshit nuts.

You nod then glance at your phone checking the time, "Saturday you wanna see an art gallery? A classmate invited me to come see their show." Then you nudge him with your shoulder as he orders some food, "Unless that guy at the cafe finally asked you out, ay ay?"

Steven gets flustered easily, "N-no, anyway he tends to flirt with everyone."

"Booooo."

Lunch with Steven is always educational, he tells you something new or helps you find a better way to remember key dates for a test (it's a pain in the ass). You in turn let him vent, you love when he vents about work!

"Ya'know," Sitting down enjoying the scenery of the cafe and cute Steven. "It's good to know even at thirty years old life is still confusing as fuck."

"You make me sound old, (Name)."

"Older than me! You're at the age my dad helped make me."

He groans, putting his face in his hands while you laugh.

Thursday.

Forum update.

New theory support but a new picture! Which said picture looks almost unbelievable. The costume is completely different from the other two though it fits the moon theme.

CapPuertoRico4Prez says: Could be a fake

IntoSpideysHeart says: Idk man it looks real af

Thunderclapping says: Could there be more than one? So far all of them look completely different from each other. Maybe there's more than one??? Like tht one issue of The Bat and Robins where there were more than 1 lady bat.

The forum blew up from there going over and re-analyzing reports and pictures. You just liked seeing the posts.

Saturday could not come fast enough and your dad of course had to embarrass you. Dressing nice means you like him (true but just cause he is cute!) and since he is a boy (your dad though learned to apply that to anyone now) and is meaning you at your door.

Conclusion: scare the man!

You begged him not to be weird when Steven came down to the apartment to pick you up. Your father had to go do the dad-cop move!

"Thanks, bye dad see you later!" Grabbing Steven out of the kitchen and out the door.

Neither of you spoke until you both were outside waiting for the ride you booked to show up.

"Nice man."

You groaned as Steven broke the silence as you walked. "Listen, I'm sorry about interrogation—"

"(Name), it's alrigh'. I can say now I was interrogated by a bobby."

"American one. Retired veteran and officer." You sigh, "Dads… So extra."

Steven wouldn't know but he nods. He envies you from what you told him about your family. Close with you mother, kinda close with your dad; overall connected to your parents.

"Thanks for being cool about it, Steven."

The gallery your classmate rented out is in Soho which is far from your place, and there are a few spots around to eat and window shop around.

Ideal date vibes. Downside, uber fare prices.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a bus?" Asking as you showed on your phone map the places they should go to after the gallery's presentation.

"Bruh, I one time walked all of Manhattan because Spiderman was seen swinging around."

"Spiderman?"

"... Seriously? You never heard of the Amazing Spiderman!?" Steven can't help admiring how easily excited you get and energy you have, the saying 'kid at heart' really suits you. "Okay, uh guess makes sense given.. Seriously, you never heard of him?"

"Busy adulting." Sharky, "Finding a job, shopping, basic functions for being alive. The economy."

You snicker at how he copied your complaints from before though you were more dramatic, "Okay, valid."

The conversation goes off and on, comfortable silence then you pointing out things like a tourist.

You stole glances at him during the car ride.

"When you said gallery," Getting out of the car then assisting you out. "I thought it was going to be small with pictures on the wall." You shrug after giving thanks to the driver and closing the door.

"They're loaded." Most of your classmates are of the privileged percentage. "They're one of nice ones and they offer me some good critiques. They worked really hard for this." Taking his hand tugging him along.

You aren't labeling this a date.

Marc is telling Steven this has all the signs of a date.

The gallery is full of paintings, sculptures, and video presentations of music. Your classmate is a modern day Renaissance person!

Steven is distracted by your hold on his arm, firm and secure, as you show him the different paintings or sculptures you witnessed while in the art workshop.

"They love space." He finds himself enjoying this almost as if you infectiously passed on your excitable nature to him. To say he is enjoying himself is putting it mildly with you by his side.

Then Steven suddenly wasn't by your side as a crowd rolled in.

It happens! One moment you are with someone the next they are missing. The crowd going around checking out every inch of the place, you figure to stay where you are. You stood there standing in front of still life painting, your eye taking in the details and brushstrokes seen in the light. You hope they make it out there in whatever field their art is going to take them.

You turn around figuring to do a lookover the crowd to see if Steven is wandering around, then you freeze up.

A large creature with a body made of what seems like stars and nebulae, a human-like face, and a scepter.

You rub your eyes, blink twice, and pinch yourself.

Holy shit. Not again.

You don't know who or what you are seeing standing next to a man who is talking to your classmate. All you know it looked at you and you turned around pretending to be reading the gallery brochure. Silently praying it didn't see you, praying you maybe are just tripping out.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!?

"Hello," The man's voice right behind you. His accent is not British.

Don't freak out, just breathe, "Oh, hello!" Awkwardly turning fearful to see the– Nothing is there. You are so confused right now. "Uh, hi." Maybe it's the paint, yeah totally the paint fumes.

The man holds out his hand, "Thank you for coming, this means a lot to them."

"Oh, it was nothing! I mean this isn't nothing, no problem getting here." You gather your thoughts, "Who are you?"

"A family friend. I have been helping them achieve their goal to break into the art world." So pleasant with a firm business grip, "They told me you are also an artist."

Just when you are about to relax… The creature is back right behind him looking down at you.

Shake your head very quickly and take your hand away, "N-no, just a hobby. Would be in South Korea for animation if I did! Haha." You want to bolt so bad but you know you would look crazy. You feel crazy! "Sorry, um I gotta go to the powder room." Smiling nervously as waved goodbye then speed walking away.

The bathroom is empty and you lean forward against the long sink counter, closing your eyes and counting from ten backwards. Maybe your anxiety triggered you seeing whatever that, God, you wished mom let you figure out why you sometimes see strange things! Google can only do so much! You groan as you reopen your eyes taking a slow breath in then out. At least it was a jackal this time.

When you leave the bathroom, you hear voices coming from the hall just beside where you are.

"Khonshu."

"Ptah."

You stay hidden as you grow curious about the conversation.

"The Gods must be desperate for more avatars. You never cared to just observe humans."

"And you must be desperate to have an avatar. Lots of talk about how broken his mind is. That's pretty low but no surprise coming from you."

You blink a few times, very confused by the way these people are talking. So you take out your phone putting it in camera mode on the selfie view. Peeking it a bit out, you cover your mouth when you see something freaky as all hell.

#fanfiction #moon knight #ao3 fanfic #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #steven with a v #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight reader insert #moon knight fanfic #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #reader insert

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blueberrypossum · 3 years

Text

A Date Down Under (GN Reader x Leo)

OH MY GOSH IT’S BEEN FOREVER SINCE I’VE POSTED!!

If you guys are wondering where I��ve been I write more on A03 with two original fanfics in the making! But, my tumblr account deserves some love too! This fanfic has been siting in my file for a long while and I originally wanted to post it when I was deep in the ROTTMNT fandom (still love it and miss it man). So, I decided to take out my oc in it and make it a reader fanfic so everyone can enjoy! @bootyyy-shaker9000 I know how much you love Leo so have some of the wonderful boy in blue!!

When Leo asked you if you wanted to celebrate your Friend Anniversary in the Lost City, you couldn’t refuse.

The feelings for the turtle though were getting tougher and tougher to maintain. Leo was always the flirt, and you tried to not let him play with your heartstrings, but now a blush would creep around your face whenever he would fire a one-liner or when he would push the physical contact to the extreme.

You weren't used to so much affection, nor letting the addiction of being touched take over you like a drug.

But you have seen the way Leo fake flirts with others, and just believed that he was just doing the same thing to you, because you were just friends, right?

You were brushing your comb through your hair when your phone started to vibrate on your desk. You brought it up to your ear as you got comfortable in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

There were a few knocks on your bedroom window.

“Me.”

You giggled and walked over to the window and pulled back the blinds to see the one and only Leonardo Hamato, a sly grin on his face as he hung up on the phone. You placed your phone into your pocket and unlocked the window to reveal yourself to him.

The blue bandana turtle looked a little taken aback as he took in the sight of his best friend. With the season turning colder, you wore something that suited the chilly wind yet sunny season, the cloth clinging to you gently. What caught him off guard the most was the dazzling smile you presented to him, the pure excitement of seeing him causing his bandana to feel tight around his head.

Leo almost lost his balance as he hopped into your room, sweat growing on him as he tried to find anything else to look at other than you.

“Hey, how's your fever?” He asked, his voice drowned with no confidence, his heart still pounding as he finally glanced over.

You were picking up your bag and you frowned at the question.

“Hum? What fever?”

“Oh, yeah, you just look hot to me,” he replied, pressing a confident smile on his lips as he hoped that you didn’t catch him almost slipping up.

Your cheeks went pink and you playfully slapped his arm.

“Oh hush up and let’s go, we’re burning daylight.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s burning.”

“Oh my gosh, get going, Red Kamon.”

The tall turtle chuckled and pulled out his sword, swiping it around the room until a portal was created. Leo moved to the side and bowed his head towards you.

“After you,” he purred and you rolled your eyes at him and took a step into the portal and was led right at the center of the Hidden City. The colorful and mysterious city was weird to say the least, nothing but weird creations and magic lingered in the air as yokai walked past you. Leo stepped through the portal and was at your side as you both walked over to the city map.

Leo used your shoulder as a rest while you gazed over at the map.

“Where do you want to go, shorty?” He asked as your eyes scanned the different areas and pointed towards the Witch Town.

Your mind seemed clouded from the close contact and you pointed to the spa.

“What about here? Sounds interesting.”

“Can’t do. My idiot and less attractive twin got us turtles banned there,” Leo commented and soon his arm snaked around your neck and was completely over your shoulders, bringing you close enough that you could feel his breath over your cheek.

“What about here?”

“Nope. They banned me there.”

“How did you get banned from a spa?”

“My dashing good looks were just too much for them.”

You let out a gust of air and knew the real reason, Donnie told you the whole funny scenario of Leo needing hair to get into the spa, totally backfired and threw him in jail.

“What places are you not banned from, blue?” You asked, turning over to him with your arms crossed.

He gave you his signature smile and leaned down till you were face to face, his beak just a few inches from your nose.

“Here, just those two places. Your heart? Never.”

“Then what about the Pirate Bazaar?” You mumbled, your heart almost leaping out of your chest as Leo’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Ohhh, I’ve been there! But only for a little bit, let’s go!” He squealed and took your hand and led you through the crowd of animals and other subjects of yokai. His three-fingered hand was cold against your warm one, and you knew Leo and his brothers like closeness to you and April since you were the only warm-blooded creatures; Splinter was too but hugs were hard to get from him. Still, the hand holding made others look over and gush at you two, as if you were a couple.

If only.

He didn’t let go as he took you into lesser crowds, bringing you closer till your arms were touching. You then realized he wasn’t wearing an outfit, but then remembered most of the yokai’s were clothesless as well. His muscles bounced as he walked and you had to do everything to not wrap your fingers around the growing muscle.

STOP STOP STOP THINKING LIKE THIS! HE DOESN’T LIKE YOU LIKE THAT!

His thumb started to brush against yours as he turned to you and you swore you saw a red dash against his cheeks, and it wasn’t his stripes.

“You’ve been friends with me for a whole year! Please, do tell how great it must’ve been to be called my best friend,” he said slyly, wiggling his non-existent eyebrows, causing you to laugh. The joyous melody made Leo weak in the knees.

“You mean, me always having to save your shell from dangerous bad guys, having to endure all your jokes, and then the constant-CONSTANT- marathons of Jipiter Jim and Lou Jitsu to the point all I could do was speak quotes from the movies.”

“Oh yeah, may I remind you that you would text me excited about every movie date? Didn’t someone make their signature hot chocolate just for me when I showed this specific someone their now favorite movie? Ring any bells?” He replied back.

“Pffts, you know what? Your one-liners stink.”

The sword yielding turtle let out a gasp and grasped where his heart would be over his plaston as if he had been shot as he looked down at you.

“My one-liners stink like Raph’s victory stink!”

You laughed and took back his hand and Leo felt his heart flew as your warm hand was gripping onto his cold one. You took the lead and finally made it to the entrance of the pirate grounds. There were booths of stuff that were related to the pirate theme of the area and some were just random selections of things to sell. The smell of seafood and other fried foods drifted into your nose and you led Leo to the entrance.

After getting Lost City Cash at a money machine, you both took a selfie at the front entrance, Leo bringing you close and him having to lean down due to your height.

There was a goblin looking woman in the booth at the entrance and the woman took your money and gave each of you a bracelet to get on rides and such.

“For an extra 20 dollars, you can have a custom pirate outfit that you can switch on and off with ease,” she explained and you and Leo shared the same look, giving the worker a simple nod. She pointed to where single bathrooms were after she got the money.

“Last one there is a rotten turtle egg!”You challenged out as you raced over to the bathroom stalls, the mutant turtle schoffing and charging after you.

With a little bit of magic, you were able to think up your very own pirate outfit with a second band around your wrist so that you could switch it off and on with ease. Leo picked the same outfit he had when he first came to the pirate utopia with Hueso, but didn’t pick an eyepatch this time since he didn’t want to trip in front of you.

You quickly raced out of the changing room after saying thank you to the worker who helped you and looked around, your eyes trying to find the mutant turtle in the crowd. You spotted the long strands of his bandana and felt yourself shudder at how good he looked in a pirate outfit, how the white shirt clung to him and how he had his sword hung against his side instead of over his back. You swallowed the saliva that was swimming in your mouth and quickly dashed over to him, clearing your throat before you spoke in the worst pirate accent.

“My, my, isn’t ye the best booty I’ve ever seen in these vast oceans!”

The red slider turtle quickly turned around but you moved out in front of him.

“Aye, wanna shiver me timbers?” You laughed, throwing another one-liner at him and he turned, his eyes going wide as he almost told you that if you were a pirate, you would be the most beautiful treasure that no man or woman could handle or capture. If you were a pirate he could definitely walk the plank.

“Those jokes are so lame, that they need a peg leg,” he replied, almost hating himself fully for using one of Huesos jokes instead of his own. But you flashed him a smile anyway and motioned him to follow as you made your way through the crowd.

The teenage turtle felt his heart leap after you and gave chase as you made it to the center of the pirate theme park.

Once in the middle, you pulled out the map the woman at the booth gave you and started to read over the activities that you could do.

Leo leaned down close, still a little out of breath, but his confidence had awoken him as he said: “Ya certainly put a shiver in my timber!” he said in a deep pirate accent. You booped his beak away from your face and he blew a raspberry on the index finger.

“So, there is a treasure adventure we can go on, a booth section of stuff to buy, a pirate show of a reenactment of pirate history-Oh! They have timed dances throughout the area! And you can join in!”

“Are you going to join in?”

“Maybe. I could finally dance with someone who doesn’t only do fortnite dances and dabs.”

“Hey, my moves are almost like a work of a pirate ship.”

“Old and needs remodeling?”

“What?! No! Unique and cool.”

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arm around Leo’s and led him to the show since it was the closest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stood on the pier as ships and flying creatures dashed by, the glowing lights of the underworld turning into a creamy orange to signify that the day was coming to an end. You leaned your arms over the railing as you scrolled through the photos that had been taken throughout the day. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing your goofy pictures and would scroll past the ones you took specifically of Leo without him knowing.

Speaking of the turtle, he leaned in close to your shoulder as he noticed that your attention was not on him.

“Whatcha lookin at?” He asked, his head slowly getting closer. You felt your body grow warm and quickly turned your phone.

“Bruh,” you giggled and he gave a quiet chuckle and tried to snatch the phone.

“If you’re looking at something, then as your best friend I have a right to see.”

“Fine, hang on.”

You quickly saved the single photos of him into a secret file and moved the phone between them, his head still on your shoulder as he scrolled through the photos, both of you laughing at the one where you fought the pirates and failed.

“What about you? I know you took photos of today for your social,” you commented as you placed your phone into your bag.

Leo took out his phone and hid it out of sight since his home screen was a picture of them together at an abandoned skatepark and he had you in a piggyback ride and he just had to capture the moment. He handed his phone without thinking and started to go through your bag due to boredom.

You scrolled through the photos until you stopped at a specific one. You didn’t remember him telling you to pose for this photo; it was when you had stopped to eat dinner and you happened to watch one of the kids getting a fake pirate hook from a vendor. Your head was supported by your hand as a breeze caused your hair to ripple around your face in an alluring photo. A blush rushes to your face as if you had been hit and soon you started to scroll faster and found more photos of just you; of you waiting in line, in your pirate outfit, several were taken of you during the pirate treasure hunting, when you grabbed a candle from one of the booths in excitement, he even got a cliche photo of you holding his hand while you led him through the crowd.

You felt your heart stop in your ribcage and looked over at the ninja turtle, who was still looking through your bag as if he was hunting for treasure. You didn’t want to snoop, but you couldn’t help but exit out of his camera roll and looked through his folders on the right side; there was a folder for comic books, shopping, epic moments, even a puns list, then found it at the bottom. It was labeled with a first letter of your name and a heart, and with twitching fingers, you opened it. It wasn’t many photos but enough to where you almost dropped his phone into the water below. There were pictures of you whenever you both hung out, and some he probably got from your social.

Holy Hot Soup, he liked you.

“Okay, now you really look like you have a fever,” Leo commented as he reached for his phone, causing you to swallow and quickly turned off the device and handed it back to him.

“But don’t worry, Doctor Neon Leon will help you get all better,” he said in a baby voice and wrapped his arm around you and brought you close.

“Maybe you need some Vitamin ME,” he whispered and you laughed at yet another ridiculous one-liner made by him. He grinned at the sight of you laughing and rested himself against your side, taking in your scent and warmth.

“Maybe I do, where do I get my prescription Aka Kamon?” You asked slyly, a shit eating grin on your face as Leo blushed. Whenever you could, you would fire back a one-liner and was overjoyed to see him be the one to get flustered and a stuttering mess.

“ Oh, um, well,” he stuttered and mentally kicked himself as he couldn’t think of something to say back and then a question he always wanted an answer to.

“Are you ever going to tell me what those words mean?” He asked.

“Are you ever going to open a book and find out for yourself.”

“Ha! Jokes on you, I don’t know how to read. And also, there are phones now, boomers.”

“Then look it up.”

“JuSt GiVe Me A hInT.”

You released a sigh and gave him a look while he returned to you his huge puppy dog eyes look and placed his hands together as his bottom lip wobbled as if he was trying to get out of trouble.

“Finnnne, but only because it’s our best friend’s day.”

You poked the red stripe against his face and then pointed upward, a smirk growing on your face as he gave a confused one.

“WHAT KIND OF HINT IS THAT??”

“A pretty good one in my opinion.”

The red slider turtle let out a large groan as he crossed his arms, his face growing tight as he tried to think of what the hint meant.

“Are you just calling me stripes but in Japanese?” He said with a groan.

“Leo you insult me, it would be kind of stupid to call you stripes in both English and Japanese.”

He mimicked your talking right as you finished and he received an eye roll as he continued on thinking.

So, it wasn’t the stripes, maybe the color? Or the shape?

“Man, this is hurting my brain, this best friend day sucks.” He said as he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Okay, okay. The two words are a color and a shape. Is that better?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

You continued to watch as Leo tried to put the pieces together and you wished you could get this on video, but it would be too obvious, so instead you painted it into your mind.

“So, the color is totally red, but the shape I’m lost at. Why did you point at the sky? Is that a clue? Why did you make this so difficult?”

“Because I’m a difficult person.”

“I do like a challenge.”

“One more hint, it’s the shape of something in the sky.”

Leo looked up at the fake Lost City sky and squinted as the fake sun started to set and the moon would start to rise.

“Red Moon?”

“Close. It’s Red Crest.”

The blue bandana turtle searched the horizon for an answer for why you called him that as you looked away due to embarrassment.

“Why?” He simply asked as he looked over; he could always tell when you were nervous, your eyes would always dart around and your left foot would start to shake. You rose to a tallen stance though and looked over at his hands.

“I just find your marks...alluring. In Japanese culture, the red moon is respected due to its power. I just thought you deserved to have a nickname that represented you.”

Leo felt his face go completely red that it could put Raph’s mask to so much shame that it would go bland. All this time he thought you were just calling him something insulting in Japanese, but it was a nickname that you made up for him. Not like Raph’s, Donnie’s, Mikey’s or April’s, it was one you made up for him and only him.

“Stop looking at me before I throw you off this dock so I can live the rest of my life without this embarrassment,” you laughed nervously as your fingers combed through your hair and let out a shaky breath.

Leo started to get his little shakes as he let out a confused laugh.

“All this time I thought you were calling me a stupid turtle or somethin in Japanese, whoa oh boy was I wrong.”

You both looked away from each other and the atmosphere became heavy.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, I still don’t know, you thought, but then you felt his finger poke your elbow and looked over at him, and the soft expression on his face almost made you melt.

“But how can I stop looking at you?”

Your breathing immediately hitched.

“Are you blushing? It’s a good feeling to know that I do it.”

You could only cover your face as you leaned against the railing on your elbows and looked between your fingers at him. You hated being so flustered up, but with Leo dripping with confidence, it made you want to curl into a muttering mess.

Leo watched you with amusement and went to touch you, but then fell back. He remembered how he started the physical touch between you two, holding your hand, always leaning on you, every movie night you would be his cushion. But you two couldn’t kiss, couldn’t cudde too close, he couldn’t tell you he loved you more than just a best friend.

He hated how the day went by so fast and now he wanted to do what he has wanted to do for months. But he couldn’t work up the courage, he had a ton of one-liners to ask you out, to ask if you returned the feelings, even though he was mutant turtle that lived in the sewer and fought enemies that could destroy the whole world and wholly Ōdachi he can’t ask you to be a part of that life.

But, the way you would smile at him and how you always gave him credit for the growth into someone you wanted to be. How you saw something in him that he didn’t even see, and he wanted to keep being whatever you saw.

He just wanted you.

So, he worked up the courage, tried to make the sweat stop rolling down his body, and looked at person he had fallen for

“Y/N.”

You tensed up, you had never heard Leo sound so serious in his life.

“Yeah?”

“With this being.....I mean if I’m wrong. Would you consider this a date-date?” He spilled out, and he wanted to climb into his shell like Mikey and never come out. He let out a gust of air and didn’t look over at you, his fingers messing within each other. It was silent between you, the city life buzzing around them as yokai’s came and went. You wanted to scream out in joy and say yes a hundred times, but you also had to be careful, along with if Leo was being a bubbly mess, you wanted to take advantage of it as long as you could.

Spotting a red and blue flower with a bright yellow center growing on the side of the deck, you wrapped your fingers around it and pulled it from its roots. To Leo’s surprise, you pushed your way under his arm until it was back over your shoulders. The blush on his face was noticeable and with being against his chest you noticed his uneven breaths.

“I do. And I would like more of them, if you want to.” You answered and handed him the flower. He shakenly took the flower in his hand and his confidence came crashing back to him, knowing that the feeling was mutual. As quickly as you gave him the flower he leaned over and placed the flower over your ear. Your eyes widened with surprise and quickly averted them away, a nervous but sweet chuckle escaping your lips. But the Red-eared slider never averted his gaze away from you.

“I would like that too,” he answered back.

You both stood there for a while, your head curled into Leo’s chest as his own head rested on yours. You were used to being close, but this was different, this filled you up with knowing and it made the physical connection much more warmer and scarier. Little lights started to flicker around as the city started to get dark, even with no sun or moon. Leo brought you closer and buried his face into your hair, a long sigh escaping his lips in content, his mind slowing down for once and just taking in this moment.

But the moment went quicker than expected as a low yawn escaped your mouth and the red slider turtle remembered that it was getting late.

“Alright, sleepy head, I think it’s time to raise anchor and set sail for home,” he joked as he lifted himself off of you and then held out his hand. With a roll of your eyes, you gladly took it and let him lead you back to the entrance of the Pirate Bazaar. He could just use his sword, but he wanted to juice out every moment with you.

The hand hold was different in some way, you gripped his hand tighter and when he came to a stop you would use your other hand to lightly touch his biccup before continuing on.

You gave the booth teller their costume bracelets back and walked a few feet ahead before Leo pulled out his sword and created a portal.

He once again bowed his head as he moved to the side.

“After you.”

Through tired eyes she gave him a smirk as she was halfway through the portal.

“Thank you.”

He followed you through the portal and took the step onto your apartment’s fire escape, the flashing lights of New York City spilling over your side as you opened your bedroom window; throwing your bag inside before turning to Leo. You both turned to each other and then quickly averted eye-contact with each other.

“I had a lot of fun today, Leo. Thanks for being a good fri-” you stopped yourself since you didn’t know if you two were still just friends, or more.

He let out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, chief, it was,” Leo said and then let out a groan at the terrible execution.

You knew that you had to make the first move now or else you both would accidentally place yourselves into the “friend zone”.

“Leo, can you bend down a little bit?”

“Why? Tired of being the only short one?”

“You can say that.”

He bent down till he was on your level, a smug smile on his lips. You let out your form of a chuckle as you curved your fingers under his chin. The teenage turtle instantly felt weak in the knees and thought that his legs would give out from under him and became a stuttering mess as you both made eye-contact.

“Um, haha, is it hot or did you know that, uhh,” he mumbled as you tilted his head to the side and placed a small kiss against his red stripe, instantly making his whole body, for once in his life, burning.

Your lips were soft against his skin and he stood there as you leaned away and climbed back into your room.

“Goodnight, Leo,”you mumbled, your hands shaking against the window.

“N-night.”

You closed the window and walked away while Leo stood there, his mind racing a hundred miles an hour. He got a kiss from you, from you. He never felt so much adrenaline rush through his body and all he wanted to do was go back in time so he could’ve moved his lips over.

He took a step towards the window and then took that step back. What should he do? What could he do? Were you both dating now? Or were you two at the very edge of the line of a relationship?

He wanted to call his brothers or April for advice, especially since she would slap some sense into him. His shakes were coming back.

He let out a grunt and rubbed his eyes as he tried to decide what to do. He looked back at the window and saw that you had turned on your lights. He walked up to the window and knocked.

You had just gotten out of the bathroom when you heard the light tap against your window and your heart started to race faster than it already was. You were already shaken up by having enough courage to kiss him but if that was him then what if he didn’t want the kiss?

The knock came again and you took a few deep breaths before you moved the curtain aside and there he was, his face all flustered up as he gave a small wave as she opened the window.

“Yes?” You questioned as you leaned your hands over the window seal. You hoped that the silky night of the sky hid your flustered face.

“I honestly didn’t think this far ahead,” he spilled out as he let out a nervous laugh as he leaned against the window.

You looked up at him and Leo blinked several times in wonderment at the startled expression that crossed your face. Leo took a deep breath and gave you his signature shit-eating grin.

“Knock knock.”

“Wow, you’re doing jokes in the same place now are ya?”

“Just do the joke.”

You giggled and fluttered your eyes mockingly at him.

“Can I who?”

“Who’s there?

“Can I?”

“Can I...Can I kiss you?”

Even though it was a terrible joke, you felt like you could throw up all of your guts for how fast your heart rate was. Kissing him on the cheek was a challenge but at least you didn’t have to worry about his lips against yours. Do turtles have lips? Or beaks?

The word yes slipped out before you had a second thought.

Before you knew it, Leo’s hands were slipping into your own, the tip of your fingers shaking but Leo reinsured you with a stroke of his thumb You looked up at him and was taken aback at how handsome he was, how his stripes glowed in the moonlight and his blue bandana flew behind him as he leaned down.

Oh you were glad he didn’t have his lips puckered or drool hanging out of his mouth like in the cartoons.

Swallowing any other signs of panic that were trying to build in your body as you leaned in.

The city of New York continued on around you both as the kiss ended; it was soft and sweet, not a full one, but it left both of you speechless. You felt as if your stomach was falling apart and Leo thought he could slip off the stairway. He was still holding your hands before you both departed, but with your free hands, you grabbed his face and brought him in once again. The red slider turtle’s eyes went wide as moons as this kiss much more, more than he could ever dream of.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and slightly lifted you up, burying his face into yours under the moonlight. He tangled himself around you as your hands wrapped around his neck and Leo felt his stomach flip at the actions. Your shirt was warm against his chest and he tried to focus in on that instead of the worry of messing this up. He leaned more down as his hand slipped into the back of your neck. Due to the lack of experience, the kiss was sloppy and messy and anxiety swam between the connection between the two of you.

But it was a tender memory of a kiss between the two of you, to remember as your first.

You both finally separated, your chest heaving as you tried to get your feelings under control. His arms were still wrapped around you and your hands had slipped down onto his plaston, the hard material rising and falling under your fingers. Leo felt himself lean back, the shock setting in that he just had his first kiss and it was that deep and romantic and that….

The teen turtle felt his shell bump against the railing and you quickly latched onto him to stop him from falling, a horse laugh coming out of your mouth.

“Guess you can say that you’re falling for me?” You asked, Leo knew now that he had to have a fever for how hot his face felt. He let out a few breathless laughs as he tried to calm himself down, longing and fear still lingering in his heart.

All he could do was pull you into a hug and whisper out, “I just want to stay here and kiss and hold you and Y/N I can't feel my heart.”

He buried himself into your neck as he once again slightly picked you up, hoping that your warm body would calm him down, but the organ in his chest raced on as you hugged him back, your arms barely going around his shell.

“Leo, will you be my boyfriend?”

My boyfriend. My boyfriend. My boyfriend. My boyfriend.

The words rang in his head like chimes as he slightly pulled away to look at her, the harsh blush on her face giving him an ego boost as he grinned at her.

“Being called a boyfriend, eh? Neon Leon already has so many cool names, but boyfriend is probably the best name to be called, especially if it’s only you saying it.”

“Probably? I guess I should just give the boyfriend title to someone else, then.”

“What?! No, no, no. I already called it, I’m your boyfriend capiche? Now come here.” He pulled you into a tight hug and gave you a little spin, a laugh escaping your throat as you held on.

“Leo! We can fall, and my back cannot handle cement like yours!”

#ROTTMNT #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x leo #rottmnt leo #ROTTMNTXREADER #rottmntleo #rottmnt reader x leo #rottmnt leo x reader #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Exorcist

“And then, see here? You have to be on the lookout for subtle signs like these. This indicates that he’s…” Marinette nodded as Tim continued explaining, pointing out various body language and other clues out on the Batcomputer. It had only been about six months since the Batfam collectively adopted the little ladybug into their menagerie of heroes, and started teaching her deductive habits and skills. She would not allow them anywhere near Paris on pain of death (some of them had already tried, and Bruce was still recovering from the bruise to his ego. The bruise on his ass from being teleported out of the city and onto the stone of the Batcave was gone, though) but she welcomed any help they could give from within Gotham’s city limits.

Usually, at least in the beginning, they did their mentorship at a distance over video call. But then Tim found out her identity, and Marinette made the excuse of wanting to meet with them in person to gauge their trustworthiness for herself and erase their memories of her identity if they failed her test— and, well, it all snowballed from there until she was teleporting to the Batcave every few days for detective lessons. She was practically a Bat herself, if not for her out of theme codename. And she found herself surprisingly comfortable with the thought of them being a… very eccentric extended family.

Tim was flipping to another saved video in the Batcomputer archives to show another example of his current lesson, when Tikki flew up to Marinette in a hurry. She was holding Kaalki’s glasses. The little kwami whispered something in Marinette’s ear, instantly making the teen blanch and force on the glasses.

“Sorry Timmy, gotta cut this short! I’ll come back tomorrow to make up for it! Okay? Okay! Awesome, you’re the best, bye!” She ignored all of Tim’s protests and rapid fire questions, instead opening up a portal and jumping through it as fast as humanly possible. The portal has barely disappeared before an all-too-familiar voice rose up from behind Tim.

“Maybe I’m still drunk, ‘cause I could’a sworn I just saw a portal closing in the damned Batcave, of all places,” the British-accented drawl was accompanied by the flick of a lighter and accompanying fizzle of a flame. Tim groaned, mentally making a note to ask how in the world Marinette had known that John “Annoying asshole” Constantine was showing up soon, and if he could be in on the warning next time. Bruce, cowl still off, walked over from where he had been sparring with Damian and crossed his arms. He had also heard Marinette’s hasty exit, and made a few mental notes of his own before focusing on the exorcist in front of him.

“What do you want, Constantine?” he grumbled. Any time the blond brit showed up, things only got far more complicated than he ever enjoyed. And he always gave Bruce a migraine, to boot.

“Two things actually, Batsy,” John held up to fingers as his free hand tucked his lighter away in his pocket. His unlit cigarette stayed in his mouth though, probably just for the familiar feel of it. “One; I’m gonna need you to tell me why there was a portal closing when I walked in, because I’ll be honest. The implications there are way more interesting than what I came here for in the first place.”

“None of your business. What’s the second thing?” Bruce immediately shot him down, but John was not one to be deterred. He never fucking was.

“But you hate magic! You make sure I know that all too bloody well every time I pay you a visit, so why the sudden change in heart? Huh?”

“Drop it, Constantine. What. Do you. Want?”

“Fine, fine. I need your help with…”

— * — * — * — * — *

A week later, Marinette was sitting with Jason and Damian in one of the manor’s sitting rooms, the three of them just minding their own business and silently enjoying one another’s presence. Even if two of them would never admit it. Jason was reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, Damian was leaning against Titus on the ground as he sketched, and Marinette was embroidering a sunhat. Unfortunately for her, Alfred the Cat was currently asleep on her lap and thus holding her hostage.

Even as Tikki flew up to her ear in a panic and whispered, making Marinette prick herself with her needle. She hissed for a second but shrugged off the familiar pain, much more concerned with whatever news Tikki had given her. Damian and Jason were already on high alert from the second that a whispered curse had left her lips, and were staring straight at her and her kwami and Marinette frantically tried to find a way to get up without awakening the cat sleeping on her.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jason asked, feeling thoroughly confused and left out. On one hand, he knew that if they were in physical danger she would have moved Alfred the Cat without hesitation. On the other, he did not like the sheer amount of anxiety he could see her experiencing. Marinette’s frantic eyes shot over to him, pupils mere pinpricks and hands mouth agape as she tried to form some sort of plan.

“Uh— “

“Ah! You must be the fair maiden that the Bats are comfortable with using magic around them,” John goddamned Constantine threw the door to the sitting room open wide, making it bounce off of the wall and lightly smack back against his shoulder. He ignored it as he grinned at the three younger people in the room, waltzing in casual as anything. He wagged a finger at her playfully. “I’ve been awfully curious about you, ya know? Brucie boy knows a shit ton of magic users, but he never likes seein’ any of us do our thing. And to not only allow you to teleport without any apparent discomfort but to actively protect your identity from me? Now that’s a damn accomplishment and I really gotta applaud you for it,” he mockingly clapped his hands a few times. “So what’s your secret, huh? I won’t tattle.”

“No thanks. Kaalki, a little help?” Marinette carefully pushed Alfred the Cat off of her lap before diving into the portal that Kaalki whipped up for her, the entire process happening so fast that Constantine couldn’t even get out a proper “hey!” before she was gone and the portal closed. He just nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Ya know what? Fair. That’s fair.”

“Goddamn it, Constantine!” Jason threw up his hands in frustration. “Why the fuck do you have to scare away one of the only sane people in this family?”

“Part of my charm, little red riding hood.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“You know, I’ve been pretty damn nice not teleporting right over to you whenever you disappear. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re avoiding me now that we happen to be in the same room by complete accident, huh?” John asked from where he sat in one of Bruce’s lounge chairs sipping on a beer. Marinette mimed choking him, clearly fed up. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for the past three months, ever since that one time he caught the tail end of her portal closing in the Batcave. Three. Long. Months. And he hadn’t given up, because something about this little Parisian teenager intrigued him. She was sixteen, that much he had gathered from the Bats. But to be sixteen and not only in possession of the Horse miraculous but also clearly the Ladybugs, since he had seen Tikki more than once as well, now that was interesting.

Anybody being in the possession of more than one Miraculous was already cause enough to be keeping an eye on them, which was why he had been keeping an eye on the Paris situation and had pieced together on his own that the presence of Tikki meant that this little parisian teenager was none other than Ladybug herself. Now, that? That was a whole new level of concerning, especially since he knew firsthand that the old Grand Guardian was gone and passed his title down to— yeah, Ladybug.

After that deduction, his interest in Marinette had swiftly switched from curiosity to fuck-I-need-to-know-what’s-going-on-here. Because no kid should have to deal with that kind of weight, and Constantine always looked out for kids when he could.

But right then, Marinette was glaring at him. She had been just coming over for a normal “family” dinner with the Waynes, which she attended from time to time. And apparently they had decided to have Constantine already over so that they could chaperone a meeting between them that would hopefully appease the stupid british magic user enough that he left them all alone again until the next time he needed help.

“Believe me when I say, you’d rather not know,” she replied sharply, glaring Dick. He was the one who had convinced her to come despite her recent close calls with Constantine in the past few days. He studiously avoided her gaze. “I just would rather not cross your path, and there’s no reason for us to interact. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You see, now that is an excellent question!” he chugged the last of his beer and gestured to her with the empty bottle. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. But I’ve put two and two together, since I know who Tikki is,” he nodded to the red and black Kwami. “And maybe I just wanna keep an eye on the new Grand Guardian to make sure she’s doin’ alright. That’s an awful lot of magic and responsibility that you don’t deserve, but I’m not about to try to take it away. Keepin’ an eye on you is the next best thing.”

“Try again,” Marinette shot back, crossing her arms. “You were interested in me before you learned about me being Ladybug.”

“I’m nosy, what do you want me to say? I saw a portal in Batman’s man-cave, I get curious. Sue me.”

“Well. I have Bruce and everyone else already watching out for me, so you can leave me alone now. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to ask every other magic user first before contacting you.”

“Woah, now what’s all this venom for?”

“Uh, maybe we should go and actually eat dinner?” Dick tried to step in, hands up. Constantine had stood up from the chair he was in, which was usually a cue to change the subject as fast as possible. “Before Alfred has to come get us?”

“Maybe I’ll be less venomous if you let the subject drop and leave me alone!”

“Context would be nice, though.”

“Seriously guys, let’s go! Food!” Dick was once again ignored.

“Context is the last thing you need in this situation,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, her arms dropping to her sides. “We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many now-deleted timelines. Just drop it this time.”

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

“See? I fucking knew you would— that this would happen. This always happens, you always hate finding it out, but you’re so— so stubborn!” Marinette was blinking away tears, digging in her pockets and bringing out Kaalki’s glasses. “You’ll drop it now, at least. You always do.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Constantine rubbed his forehead, still trying to sort through his amalgam of emotions. Marinette just shook her head, turning to Kaalki.

“Do you mind showing Monsieur Constantine the way out, Kaalki? I’ll grab you a load of sugar cubes afterward.”

“No, wait, hang on a second!”

A portal opened up under him, making John “Stubborn Idiot” Constantine drop ten feet down onto the hardwood, polished floor of his house. His bruised tailbone would take a while to heal, but his frazzled mind was by far the more concerning development. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila.

“Ugh, fuck my damn life.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“Marinette..?” Damian nudged the girl with his shoulder, frowning. It was after dinner that same day, and as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to actually like having her around. She was a good friend to have. And seeing her slumped back on one of their sofas, sketchbook covering her face and not a single rambling conversation to be had or heard? It was very concerning. She just made a groaning sound to answer him, prompting his frown to deepen. “Are you alright?”

“I just can’t believe that such a sweet, adorable thing like you is half made up of Constantine’s genes,” Jason mused bluntly from the opposite couch, where he tossed a rubber ball up and down out of boredom. “But now I see where you get all of your Disaster Bi-ness from.”

“Shut uuuuup,” She groaned, chucking her sketchbook at him. He caught it in midair, replacing his rubber ball with it and tossing it up and down in the air. “I’m just frustrated. This timeline is still perfectly stable, so I can’t erase it. And I can’t exactly ask ‘hey, can someone commit a horrid atrocity that makes this timeline split from the main one so that I can erase it and we can start over from four months ago?’ because that would be horribly irresponsible of me. But seriously, Jason. If you’re gonna ever commit, like, city-wise arson? I’d probably condone it right now if only so I have an excuse to use time travel to get out of this situation.”

“Not committing arson unless you give me a better reason for it, Pigtails.”

“Damn.”

“But are you okay?” Damian asked again, seeing as she had completely ignored him.

“I’m fine, Damian,” she finally sighed. “And I know how this is gonna go. He’s going to totally ignore me now, until we meet during some magical crisis and he only interacts with me when necessary. Then he pretends we never met, we have a private little one-sided whisper-argument about how he will never make a good father figure and I would be better off leaving him alone, blah blah blah. Avoidance is a coping mechanism I guess I inherited from him.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m trying to bite that in the bud then, eh?” Marinette startled out of her sitting position, seeing John stumble into the room…

Drunk off his ass. But apparently still at least mildly coherent.

“I agree with deleted-me’s, I’m not gonna be a dad. Not me,” he tripped, landing on his still-bruised ass and hissing in pain before continuing from the floor; “So if you’re looking for another Daddy dearest, that ain’t me.”

“See, I knew this is how you’d—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I don’t know how long the booze is gonna last and I need it’s courage here. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. Where was I? Right. But I know magic, ya know. The kind that doesn’t rely on little bobblehead gods to do. I got— like, a million books. Shit ton of books. At my place. Ya can read ‘em. My books. At my place. But I ain’t gonna parent, but I can lend ya books. Maybe give magic advice. Teach a little. Little bit. Didn’t think I’d have a child, but apparently I do and she’s the fuckin’ grand guardian and a damn hero, and I don’t know how the fuck I was able to help make someone like that. But whatever, it’s not like the world’s ever fuckin’ been easy on me,” He pulled out a sample-sized bottle of whiskey from one of the pockets on the inside of his trench coat and chugged it. After a brief wince and hiss at the burn, he kept rambling. “My door’s open, is what I’m tryin’ to say. No guarantee I’ll be in any state to talk to when you walk through it, but it’s open.”

Deciding to steadfastly ignore the tears streaming down her face, Marinette just swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I, uh. I think I can work with that.”

John barely made it to the nearby bin in time to vomit into it.

— * — * — * — * — *

I hate my imagination sometimes, guys. I started imagining a convo between Mari and Constantine at like 4am and it wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. but by the time I wrote it, I kinda forgot like 60% of the original convo and just winged it. And this was born. I 100% blame @multifandomscribette because their Bio!dad John Constantine headcannons are amazing and even though this isn't in that universe, those headcannons are exactly what inspired this. So blame them, lol.

#dc x mlb #ml x dc #mlb x dc #maribat fanfic #maribat #maribat fic #miraculous ladybug x dc #bio!dad John Constantine

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mysticetus · 3 years

Text

im not gonna say people should focus on the symbolism and more abstract aspects of petscop rather than the plot or characters because its not entirely fair to place one on a pedestal, since they all work cohesively to get the message of petscop across and its not like ones more important than the other, they cant function without each other, as with any story the characters and events are tools used to drive the meaning forward

but i do wish people stopped losing the forest for the trees. i think the beauty of petscop really comes into view when you can see this cohesion in action. i say this because time and time again i notice themes or patterns that the guys over on reddit amazingly havent caught on to, despite their near frame by frame analysis of the series. and i think its Due to their frame by frame analysis of the series. its understandable because investigation calls for attention to detail but if you pay attention to the series in a broader sense you can notice what petscop does want to call attention to, and what it doesnt.

i do firmly believe almost everything in petscop exists for a reason, because of the nature of rainer. he derives meaning from the seemingly meaningless, often to his detriment. the nature of creating a game is you have to make a decision for nearly everything, and when anomalies occur - the stuff you didnt decide to put in - you need to decide how to address them. rainer addresses his anomalies very delicately, and often integrates them into the work. in this way, even the errors become part of the art. but when you start incorporating elements from a source that isnt your explicit artistic will, you begin introducing an alien will into your work. computers arent human, they dont think in human ways, the things they create dont follow human logic. because petscop often embraces its errors rather than work against them, its something more than human creation.

and im not just talking about the fictional creation of the game, tony has talked about how he literally incorporated bugs into the work itself, because such things provided artistic inspiration. this in itself, i believe, is why petscop is so distinctly bizarre and at times unsettling … not even because of the subject matter, but just as the game exists on its own.

but i didnt wanna make this post about any of this stuff, i wanted to talk about recordings, because at 1 am i was thinking about recordings. A recording is a frozen, immortal copy of a dynamic object. It’s a snapshot. The object itself will change and evolve over time, but its recording will always exist just as it is. Videos are recordings. Photos are recordings. Generations are recordings. Petscop is a growing organism. In an act of preservation, you can record it as many times as you like, record the button inputs, record the generation, record the audio and video and post it on youtube, but the game itself will always continue changing. You can’t freeze the game because it’s alive. The recordings, meanwhile, are dead. Or, rather, they’re too alive to be real. You can destroy or lose access to their source but you will always have the recording. You can edit a recording, you can chop it up and censor it and arrange it so it’s out of order, but you can’t do any of that to the dynamic, living object.

Rainer explicitly created anachronisms in his game. Take christmas day, for example. Logically, rainer’s suicide has to have been planned. He has to have created the segment of the game before recording it and then giving that gift to the family to watch. Rainer makes the segment > the family watches it > the segment tells them to check their bathroom > rainer is dead. Rainer had to predict what would occur in the house so the recording’s superficially anachronistic nature is effective. He put in generic dialogue for his aunt Anna, planned what he would say like a script, and if executed correctly, the family would have this horrific dawning realization as they witness the recording - something dead - repeat back to them what just happened in real life.

It’s unsettling because the recording isn’t supposed to be alive. Whatever happens in that recording is supposed to be absolute fact, because it’s a copy of the dynamic object. If the recording omits certain details it can change the viewer’s perception of reality. But rainer tells us explicitly: “Everything’s a trick!” If a girl’s behind a camera when a picture is taken she basically doesn’t exist at all.

I dunno.

#7 am..

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Seven // Wanda Maximoff

chapter six | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eight

author’s note: hope y’all like this one 👀

The Maximoffs were just as a good at throwing a party as my own parents were.

Celebrating a new book that was published at Pietro's business, they threw a party in their back garden big enough to host half the town if they wanted to. Actually, now that I thought about, half the town was probably there.

We were invited to celebrate along with them because we were 'family' now, as Oleg and Iryna pointed out, so I found myself standing in their garden getting a drink under the night sky and trying to blend in with the snacks table so I wouldn't have to mingle. Parties still weren't my thing, clearly.

People-watching was more my forte. It was amazing the things people did when they thought nobody was looking. One guy coughed into his hand and wiped it on his pants – I reminded myself not to shake his hand – whilst some woman checked if her teeth were clean on the back of a serving tray.

My gaze raked the garden, indifferent to the men who attempted to get women's attention with a boyish grin and terrible pick-up lines, or the women who lifted their dresses a little higher than necessary to steal a man's attention. I spotted my parents talking to some guests whom I'd never see before, then there was Wanda's parents laughing alongside Pietro as he told a joke to some important looking people.

Eventually, my eyes fell to the remaining Maximoff, who was looking especially beautiful tonight. A deep lilac gown adorned her figure and she wore it like it was uniquely made just for her. She probably didn't even realise, but all eyes were definitely on her; a simple stride around the garden had people turning heads to see who the lilac beauty was. Y/B/N was the most envied man of the evening, with every guy here wishing they could have Wanda on their arm.

I'd wanted to tell her just how truly stunning she looked tonight, but I hadn't been able to pull her away from my brother's side for even a second. Everywhere he went, she went, too. I'd caught her eyes maybe three times tonight since she was so involved with whatever she spoke about with the people who worked for Pietro. I didn't take it personally of course, but it didn't make me feel any better.

Y/B/N had his hands all over her, probably suspecting just how many people were checking her out tonight, and I hated the way it made me feel. Envy and jealousy came over me and it wasn't pleasant. His hand was permanently fixed on her waist, at times moving suspiciously lower and making me roll my eyes. Occasionally, he'd lean over and whisper something in her ear making her flush – involuntarily or not, I didn't know. Wanda was a good actress, appearing as the perfect fiancé to him and couple to everybody else. Or, at least, I hoped it was acting.

"Pretty ladies shouldn't be standing by their lonesome," said someone with a Sokovian accent, but sadly not the one I wanted to hear.

"Pietro," I said with an amused smile, turning to face the man of the evening. "Congratulations on the new published book!"

He smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Y/N. How are you finding the party?"

I glanced around, disguising my discomfort with a nod. "It's great."

He chuckled, as if suspecting that was a lie, before changing the subject. "So, the book. Have you read it?"

Glad that this was something I could actually talk about, my shoulders relaxed and I nodded. "Yes! I bought it yesterday as soon as it was published. I've only read the first six chapters, but what I've read is beautifully written."

Pietro snickered, raising his brows. "Only? That's further than anyone here has read."

I smiled bashfully, eyes veering elsewhere with embarrassment. "I guess I just have a lot of free time."

He hummed with amusement. "And you must really like reading... Wanda mentioned you write, too. It's nice to know it runs in the family."

Certain my cheeks were flushed, I nodded. "Yeah, our dad, he taught Y/B/N and I how to write when we were kids. That's where my love of literature began."

"And what do you like to write?" he asked, intrigued.

I shrugged, the grip on my glass of champagne loosening as I grew comfortable. "I don't know... short stories, drabbles, novels. I mainly deal with themes of love and romanticism. We're so intent on leading our lives with what other people want that we rarely take time to think about we want... I write about that."

Swallowing, I looked to Pietro, hoping I wasn't boring him. He was a publisher after all, besides my soon-to-be brother-in-law. His opinion was important to me.

"I must admit, Y/N, my interest is piqued," he admitted, watching me with an inquisitive gaze. "Do you have anything I could read?"

"It's probably better than it sounds," I said dismissively, knowing this was just small talk.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I doubt that. You shouldn't say such things. You never know, you could be my next signed author."

I tried not to laugh. "Nice try, Pietro."

He smiled widely. "What? I'm serious!"

Tilting my head towards him knowingly, I sighed. "We both know that can't happen."

He was grinning now, clearly entertained by my unamused expression. "Says who?"

I motioned around us with my drink. "Says everyone? The world we live in?"

He began to list authors on his fingers as he said, "Jane Austen. Emily Bronte. Mary Shelley. Louisa May Alcott. Dare I name more?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said, pushing his hand down and rolling my eyes at his smug expression. "But I can promise you that all of those women fought tooth and nail to get published. Their families probably weren't as accepting as they wanted them to be. There's still people now who talk about how unprofessional and lacklustre their works are. They didn't have it easy. Still don't. And don't even get me started on the reputation side of things for you... d'you know how much backlash you'd get for signing a woman?"

Pietro shrugged, sipping his drink, before saying casually, "I only care about talent, Y/N. And if you have even a quarter of the talent your brother does, then I'm happy to go from there."

I quirked a brow, trying to gauge if he was pulling my leg or not. But the kind eyes looking back at me suggested he may not have been. Either way, the idea of actually being published – something I'd been dreaming of since I was a kid – was enough to raise my suspicions and make me shake my head.

"Thanks for listening, Pietro," I said conclusively, hoping he got the hint.

He nodded, accepting my word, thankfully. "Anytime. Hopefully this isn't the end of this conversation, though."

I cracked a smile, knowing it was but giving him the benefit of the doubt. He pursed his lips, glancing around briefly before attempting to hide an amused smile.

"What are you smiling at?" I teased, nudging him in the arm slightly.

His eyes met mine, sparkling with mischief. "You've probably not noticed, but as we've been speaking, almost everyone in this garden has looked our way."

I cocked my head with confusion, smile still present. He nodded subtly, eyes flickering to the right, so I followed his gaze and inconspicuously looked around. He was right, as murmurs of gossip escaped people's lips, their eyes trying to get a good look at the two of us. Even our parents were looking our way, no doubt discussing our future wedding affair.

"Wow," I breathed out, trying not to laugh as I looked back to him. "You'd think they'd have something better to do."

He leaned in, muttering, "Wanna give them a show?"

My eyes flickered between his, seeing that roguish charm of his come to life. I couldn't resist his mischievous attempt to piss off our parents, so of course I nodded with a stifled laugh.

"Care to dance, Miss Y/L/N?" he asked, a little louder than he needed to, attracting more attention.

I grinned, grateful for the idiot that was Pietro. He was already making my evening ten times better than it was.

Resting my hand in his outstretched one, I nodded. "Thank you, Mr Maximoff."

I barely had chance to put my glass down before he led me to the area before the live band that was strumming a lovely upbeat ballad. We joined the other couples that were also having a dance, unbothered by their nosey stares.

Bowing dramatically, he smiled and I curtsied before resting a hand on his shoulder and the other in his. He rested a hand on my waist respectfully before a grin spread across his lips and he began to dance me around everybody else, way too fast for me to keep up.

"Pietro!" I exclaimed between fits of laughter, trying not to trip over my feet or his.

"You said we could dance," he answered simply, before spinning me around.

My eyes went dizzy as he dipped me, making me laugh joyfully. For the first time all night, I was having fun. When he pulled me up, his eyes motioned to the left of us.

"D'you think our parents have already picked the wedding venue?" he teased.

"Definitely," I said with a nod, before shoving him back slightly. "But you, mister, need to slow down. You're like a speedster with the dancing. We should call you Quicksilver."

He laughed, continued to dance me around but much more slower this time. "I like that. You're clever. I can see why Wanda has taken a liking to you."

I knew he didn't mean it like that, but my heart dropped to my stomach anyway. A hearty chuckle escaped his lips as he noticed my expression. Thankfully, he didn't question it and we continued to make a fool of ourselves for a few more songs before taking a break by the snacks table.

"You're an idiot," I told Pietro as we caught our breath, but a delighted smile was on my lips. "You know you've probably convinced our parents that we're a couple now, right?"

"Hey, you're the one who started to fluff my hair like you loved me!" he retorted with humoured eyes.

"Because you're just so darn cute!" I mocked him, before moving forward and going in to fluff his hair yet again.

He attempted to smack my hand away as he said, "Hands off the hair, Y/L/N! I styled it perfectly!"

Grabbing my wrists, he held me back and I tried not to cry with laughter at the expression on his face.

"Such a child," I decided, pulling my hands away. "Whatever happens from here on out is definitely your fault."

He scoffed, as if ready to refute that fact, but before he could say anything, my brother's voice was heard.

"It's nice to see you actually conversing with people for a change, but maybe not my publisher."

Pietro and I turned and saw Y/B/N and Wanda approaching us. My brother seemed entertained by Pietro and I, looking between us with pre-conceived ideas that we may have already fancied each other, just like everyone else had tonight. Wanda, meanwhile, was watching me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"He's good company, what can I say?" I joked, returning my brother's smile.

"Oh?" He raised a brow, knowing look in his eyes.

I rolled my own, trying not to laugh at his insinuation. There was no point trying to convince him otherwise.

"I was just giving Y/N here the best evening ever since she was moping around in the corner," Pietro explained nonchalantly, making me smack his arm.

"I was not moping!" I defended myself.

He shrugged, ghost of a smile on his lips. "Whatever you say."

I gave him a playful glare before focusing my attention to the couple before us.

"As lovely as it is to see whatever this is," my brother continued to make things awkward as he motioned between us, "I came to get Pietro. Someone from the press is here and has questions about the book."

At the mention of this, Pietro straightened up and neatened his bow tie, flashing my brother his most confident smile. "Lead the way, Y/B/N."

After assuring Wanda he'd be back in a second, Y/B/N let go of her waist and guided Pietro to the members of the press. Glad that he'd finally left her side, I looked to Wanda with a soft smile.

"Hey," I said quietly, glancing around before saying what I'd wanted to say all night. "You look radiant tonight, Wanda."

Unexpectedly, she crossed her arms and pressed her lips together firmly. "How was your dance with Pietro?"

Her green eyes, literally green with envy, watched me with distaste. It didn't take long for me to recognise that familiar jealousy entwined in her expression because it was probably the same way I looked when she was with my brother. For some reason, this made me smile with amusement.

"He's a very good dancer," I said, half truthful and half trying to poke fun.

She wasn't amused. "Yeah, everybody saw. You've been all over him."

I covered my mouth, trying very hard not to laugh. "I mean, he's pretty funny to be around. I can totally see why everybody wants us to get married."

Her jaw clenched as she narrowed her eyes at me.

"C'mon, it's a joke," I said lightheartedly, nudging her in the arm. "You know that."

After internally debating whether or not to believe me, she relaxed her shoulders and unclenched her jaw. "I know."

"So, what's the problem?" I asked, raising a brow and smiling playfully.

She rolled her eyes. "Nothing."

My smile faded as I searched her eyes. "C'mon. What is it? You know you can tell me."

"Forget it, Y/N," she muttered, avoiding my eyes.

Realising she was still clearly bothered, I sighed dramatically, hoping to lighten the mood. Making sure my voice was low enough for only her to hear, I said, "I only danced with him to annoy our parents. Same with him. He's clearly not interested in me and neither I with him. That's why we get along so well." Teasing her once more, I added, "If circumstances were different, I'd like to think we'd be good friends. He's quite handsome, though I think the good looks are a Maximoff twin thing. Maybe if–"

"I'm in love with you!"

I paused, blinking, unsure if I'd heard correctly. Her cheeks were flushed as she looked to me with exasperation.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was attracted by her outburst, I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding in my ears as she said what I'd been struggling to accept for the past two months.

"What?" I breathed out, raising my brows with surprise.

She licked her lips, realisation replacing her look of admission. Opening her mouth to say something, she stepped forward, but my brother returned with an oblivious smile on his face and interrupted the moment.

"Wanda, the journalists want a picture of us for their article," he said enthusiastically, returning his arm around her waist and tugging her close, making my skin crawl.

Her gaze lingered on me for as long as she could before looking up to my brother with a halfhearted smile.

"Sure," she agreed reluctantly.

My brother nodded at me before leading Wanda away. She gave me one last look, her eyes trapped with unsaid words, before leaving with him. My mouth went dry as Wanda's words echoed in my mind. She was in love with me. And I knew I was in love with her, too. I had been for a while.

But wouldn't admitting that make this whole thing a lot more complicated?

—

"Will you stop shaking your hand? It's very distracting."

I stopped shaking my hand and gave my mum an apologetic glance before facing the door again. I was extremely eager and nervous to see Wanda again, as I hadn't been able to see her for the rest of the party last night.

Her words were permanently resounding in my mind all night, making it difficult to fall asleep. The reality of our situation had dawned on me and I knew that even though everything would become more difficult between us, I had to tell her that I felt the same way. The last thing I wanted was her panicking that I didn't. Because these last two months loving her in secret were better than anything I'd experienced in my life.

Iryna and my mum had made plans to hang out today, including Wanda and I in the plans without actually telling me until this morning. I didn't mind though as I was hoping it could be an opportunity for us both to finally speak.

The front door opened to reveal Iryna with a bright, inviting smile. She exchanged greetings with us both and ushered us inside instantly. There, waiting, was Wanda, looking as gorgeous as ever. A calm suddenly enveloped me as I looked to her, my heart fluttering in my chest more so than usual. She loved me and that thought alone made me feel giddy inside.

"You must come upstairs to the closet with me," Iryna insisted before I could utter a word to the brunette. "I've been very silly and impulse-ordered a bunch of new dresses. Of course, the only way to fix that is to try them on."

My mother laughed alongside her and the two of them looked to Wanda and I questioningly. I smiled their way, glancing at Wanda, before following them upstairs. Maybe later.

I spent the next hour trying on clothes against my own will, modelling them for Wanda and our mothers awkwardly. Ecstatic, our mothers threw their opinions out at me, but I was barely listening because all I could seem to focus on was a quiet Wanda. I couldn't read her mind for the life of me – she was getting better at hiding how she truly felt.

Wanda also tried some dresses on, still not as enthused as she usually was, but neither of our mothers seemed to take notice. I sat on the lounge sofa alongside them, eyes unable to look away from Wanda as she modelled the dresses. I had no words, my mind hazy and tongue tied as she stole my breath away for the millionth time. She was ethereal.

"...what do you think, Y/N?" Iryna asked, forcing me to look away from Wanda and to her. "She should keep this one, shouldn't she?"

I hummed in agreement, looking back to Wanda, who was avoiding my eyes. "She should. I don't think I've ever seen a dress so perfect for someone before."

Our mothers didn't seem to think much of my comment, but Wanda finally looked up, not ignoring me for the first time since I got here. I offered her a small smile, hoping she could see what I'd been wanting to say to her since last night. But she looked away, chewing on her lip and looking down.

"I'm gonna change," she mumbled, before turning to go back behind the curtain.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned back against the seat. I'd just have to find a spare moment.

Iryna and my mum proceeded to try on a bunch of dresses before we called it a day and were ready to eat lunch.

"I want you to have these, Y/N," Iryna told me as we all stood up, motioning to the pile of dresses on the arm of the sofa. "It's my gift to you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, Iryna, you don't need to give–"

"Don't be ridiculous," she cut me off with a wave of her hand. "You're family now. Anything for my daughter-in-law."

I smiled awkwardly, not missing the eye roll from Wanda, before nodding. "Thanks..."

She looked to her daughter. "Wanda, medovyy (honey), can you help her pack them away and meet Y/M/N and I outside on the patio for some lunch?"

Wanda, having no other choice but to say yes, nodded and forced a smile in her mum's direction. "Sure, mum."

Our mothers fell into conversation as they left the room, finally leaving Wanda and I alone. I released a breath, grateful for the privacy, and looked to the Sokovian in question.

"You okay?" I asked slowly, wanting to find a start before erupting straight into my feelings.

She nodded, nibbling on her lip. She looked like she wanted to say something more, so I watched her patiently.

After a pause, when I thought she may just stay quiet forever, she spoke. "If what I said last night was out of line, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, a smile curling on my lips. "It wasn't. I'm in love with you, too."

Surprised, she finally met my gaze, eyes swirling with confusion. "You are?"

"Of course I am," I said quietly, stepping forward and taking her hands in mine. "I didn't mean to make you jealous last night. Pietro and I were genuinely just hanging out as friends."

She shook her head, eyes flickering between mine. "It doesn't matter about that. Forget it."

I still felt guilty, adding, "I know, but it does matter. I don't want to–"

She pressed her lips to mine quickly, cutting me off. Her fingers tangled in my hair as she tugged me closer with her other hand, making me gasp when my body touched hers. I kissed back, closing my eyes and moving my lips against hers in perfect sync.

I probably could have kissed her all afternoon, but the sound of the door opening made us both jump apart, startled. It was just a servant who was coming in to clean up the room. When she saw us, she gave us a small smile before moving around the room carefully. My eyes fell to Wanda's excited ones, and I smiled at her before nodding to the dresses.

"We should sort this out before they wonder what's taking so long," I told her, moving to pack them.

She nodded, grabbing my hand and squeezing it gently before helping me. We packed the dresses in no time before joining our mums out on the patio where they were sat with our lunch. I tried to keep my eyes off Wanda as our mothers spoke to us about God knew what, but it was hard when all I wanted to do was kiss her over and over, telling her just how much I loved her.

"...nice to see you both getting along lately," Iryna was talking, and I only zoned back in when I realised she was looking at me.

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Wanda stifled a smile as my mum gave me a disapproving look from across the table.

Iryna didn't seem to mind as she chuckled. "You and Pietro," she continued. "You both seemed very comfortable at the party last night."

I settled on a polite smile. "He's a gentleman. Very nice to be around, I guess."

Iryna smiled knowingly, exchanging glances with my mum before patting Wanda on the forearm, getting her attention. "How does that sound, dear? Your brother and Y/N together?"

I shook my head instantly, realising how she'd taken my words. "That's not what I meant."

Humming in response, Iryna continued to look to her daughter. "You may have to start sharing your new best friend with Pietro."

Remembering Wanda's jealousy last night, I spared her a glance of concern, hoping she wouldn't let this get to her. She was smiling, but her eyes were dimmed with dismay.

"Uh-huh," she played along with her mother's words, before using her fork to pick at her food.

As our mums began to talk about it, I found Wanda's hand under the table and laced my fingers in hers, hoping she'd know I only cared about one person and it was her. Though she didn't look up, her hand tightened around mine and she didn't let go.

The rest of the lunch went by as expected, though the more Iryna and my mother mentioned the wedding, the more Wanda and I grew uncomfortable. It was so much harder to hear about it when I knew my feelings were growing stronger for the brunette every day. By the end of the meal, my mother was happy to go back home and said I could stay to hang out with Wanda, which of course I did.

After bidding her a goodbye, I let Wanda drag me upstairs and to her bedroom, though the door closed when she spun around and pushed me against it, immediately kissing me. Before I could even question what was happening, she pulled away and looked at me through a half-lidded gaze.

"I don't want to share you with my brother, ever," she rasped out lowly, before licking her lips. "I don't want to share you with anyone."

She breathed out, her breath mingling with mine. Her hands rested on my waist before she reattached our lips, moving hers slower and more thoughtfully against mine.

I closed my eyes, grabbing her face and holding her gently, letting her slip her tongue between my lips and play with mine. Then she sucked on my lower lip, teeth nibbling gently at the sensitive skin, and made my insides go warm and fuzzy.

When she let go, she trailed kisses down my jaw and to my neck, having me at her mercy.

"Wanda," I moaned, hand moving to the back of her neck as I tried to regain some control of the situation, but the longer she sucked at the exposed skin, the more my knees wanted to buckle.

Already lowering my dress to my shoulders, her hand untied the back of it and I flushed at the contact of her fingers against me, not used to the feeling but also not opposed.

"Wanda, are you sure?" I asked between bated breaths, attempting to get her attention by tugging at her dress.

She pulled back, hand rising to my jaw and caressing it with her thumb as she looked between my eyes. Hers were dark, clouded with an arousal I hadn't seen before.

"I am," she said with certainty, before asking, "Are you?"

I swallowed hard, the warmth in my core growing hotter as she stared at me with lustful eyes and swollen lips. "Yes."

She gave me a slight smile before pressing her lips to mine again, allowing me to wrap my arms around her neck. I heard her lock the door behind me as I undid the top of her dress, struggling to do so without breaking contact from her. We moved to the bed clumsily, trying not to stumble over our discarded dresses, before I laid her down and straddled her.

Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, I felt her fingers grip my waist, keeping ahold of my body on hers. I shivered as her nails scratched gently against the skin and grew warm when she lifted herself up gently to get more comfortable, her clothed centre rubbing against mine.

Taking a breath, I pulled away and hovered over her, revelling in the beauty that was Wanda Maximoff. Her cheeks were dusted pink as she opened her eyes, green eyes sparkling desperately as they flickered between mine.

"I love you," I told her softly, leaning on my elbow and caressing her forehead.

She smiled, nails trailing up my back and sending shivers down my spine. "Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu."

I tried not to laugh as I tilted my head with confusion. She smiled a little wider, hand reaching for the back of my bra.

"I love you, too," she translated in English, hint of amusement in her eyes, before she managed to undo the bra strap.

I rolled my eyes at her attempt of mockery before chasing down her lips once more. Everything about the woman before me was absolute perfection and I was glad I could finally share how I felt about her without having to hide it anymore.

The potential consequences of our actions was not my concern right now... all I cared about was treating her with the respect and care she deserved.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine

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buckysbabygorl · 3 years

Text

Writer’s Block

Summary: Friends help each other out, that’s just how it is. Steve doesn’t bat an eye at his and Y/N’s behaviour, but insights from Sharon make Steve rethink things between them.

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, dumbasses Bucky and Sam, an extremely chaotic turn of events

“Steve!”

Sharon nearly spilled her beer as she jumped at the voice, surprised to hear it so loudly after Y/N had been holed up in her room for days.

Steve turned nonchalantly at this voice; used to the chaotic out bursts. “Yeah?”

The young woman trotted in, dishevelled and tired but manic looking.

“I need your shirt, I’m on to something here--”

Steve stood without hesitation; as if he’d done this thousands of times before. And he had.

“On it,” he said, pulling the garment off with one hand and tossing it in her direction.

She caught it with ease, not even taking in his shirtless state as if she’d seen it a thousand times before. And she had.

Sharon however had never seen this interaction before, and stared in awe at the two’s casual exchange.

As Y/N rushed out of the lounge and back to her room, Sharon couldn’t help but gawk.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, amused.

“What?” Steve asked, now shirtless on the couch, “Oh--she’s writing.”

He sipped his beer after his statement, and Sharon was surprised at how he expected that to answer her question.

“I’m sorry?” She said confused.

He leaned further back into the couch, getting comfy. “She’s writing--she needs my shirt when she writes.”

Sharon laughed; “Why’s that?”

Finishing off the last of his bottle, he set it down on the floor as he spoke; “She says it helps her write when she gets stuck--it’s a weird process but…” he shrugged as he grabbed a new bottle.

“How romantic.” Sharon teased, sipping her own beer.

He smiled awkwardly; flustered at where the conversation was going, “Come on--” “What? We’re friends, we can talk about this stuff.” She said.

He gave her a look, “Can we?”

She shook her head at his prudence, taking another swig.

“Yes,” she said, “It’s not like we were married. We kissed like--twice, plus you’re not exactly my type anymore…”

Steve chuckled, “Oh right--how is Maria, by the way?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said, pointing a finger in his direction, “I want to hear more about this process.”

“It’s no big deal, it’s just…” He thought, choosing his words carefully to not give Sharon any more material to tease him with, “Helping out a friend.”

“Bullshit.” She said. He cracked open the bottle with his hand, avoiding response.

It was a touchy subject around the compound; his and Y/N’s very… intimate relationship. They were friends, coworkers they’d say. At least on the surface. But it couldn’t be missed how quickly he fell in line for her; and how her first instinct with anything and everything was to go to Rogers. They refused to go on missions without the other; they were touchy, they were jokey, if you found one the other was always in close proximity. Hell, the team was surprised they weren't sharing a room yet. But apparently, for some unknown reason, they told everyone and themselves they were just friends.

Sharon looked at him, deadpan. “Steve.”

He looked back to her in playful annoyance. “What?”

She slapped her thigh with her free hand, finishing off her drink. “Come on, let’s get into this.”

He sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you--she doesn’t see me that way.”

She jumped on his choice of words immediately, “She doesn’t?”

The implication being, of course, that she didn’t but he did.

Flustered, he waved a hand at her. “No, no, no--that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not not what you meant.” She countered, “You like her.”

“Shut up,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s not a no.” She hummed as she thought of another point; “And what’s she need your shirt for anyway? That’s cute as hell.”

He sighed again, “Well--it helps her… get in the mindset.”

“Pardon?” she asked at his cryptic explanation. “‘Mindset’?”

He didn’t want to admit the reason, running a hand over his face, flustered.

He bit his thumb, his voice coming out muffled as he spoke. “Well, she writes about… characters… in romantic settings, so--”

He spoke, drawing out his words, “She needs inspiration, for those kinds of scenes.”

“Dude, EW!” She said, way too much information coming her way for being this sober, “I don’t wanna hear that.”

“NO,” he defended, “Not in a weird way. But like--if the guy gives the girl his shirt, or he picks her up or something, I dunno, but like--she’s very sensory. So the shirt helps with getting into the moment. She can put herself in the character’s shoes, if that makes sense.”

Sharon’s eyes went wide as she cracked open a bottle for herself, “Well I don’t know how you’re not using that to your advantage.”

Steve did a double take, “Elaborate.”

She laughed through her nose, “Well, if I were in your place--”

“--Hey.” He warned.

She raised her hands in defense, “I’m just saying, you could be giving her a hell of a lot more inspiration than your shirt and your cologne.”

“You think she likes my cologne?” He asked.

“Steve, you’re a grown man. In fact you’re an old man, figure it out for yourself.”

They sat in silence as Sharon waited for Steve to ponder this.

He jolted upright as if having an epiphany; “you don’t think--”

“--really? Are you fucking kidding me?”

She laughed at his blushing cheeks, he ran a hand through his hair cursing under his breath.

“So what now?”

“Oh my god--” Sharon said through gritted teeth, “Go give her inspiration. I swear you’d never get laid if I wasn’t around.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Steve joked.

“Hey,” She said, kicking his shin lightly.

He laughed, “Hey, we’re friends, we can talk about this.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Are you gonna go in there or what?”

“Like--now?”

“Yes! You dumbass, go get your girl. I can wait, I can handle myself.” She sipped her beer as if giving an example, and patiently waited for Steve to go.

Hesitantly, Steve rose from his spot, wiping his hands along his jeans nervously. He was stalling, evidently so. Was he really gonna do this? He didn’t know what was lying on the other side of that door, metaphorically speaking. He knew she was likely frantically typing away, thinking out loud, and egging herself on. How could he even begin to approach that? The man didn’t have any moves; hell, the last time he’d kissed a girl was Sharon, and that was ages ago.

He was frozen in place; glancing back and forth between the hallway and the woman in front of him. What the fuck was he gonna do?

“What are you doing? Warming up? Just go.” Sharon complained.

Steve sighed, throwing his head back in annoyance, “Fine,” he exclaimed, “But if this goes south, it’s your fault.”

“Fine, fine, whatever, I take the blame. Just do something already.”

Fed up with her pestering, Steve forced himself to leave the room.

Okay Rogers, you got this.

As he hunkered down the hall, moving quickly before he could change his mind, Rogers continued to silently hype himself up.

You--you’re captain america. You. Are. America’s. Ass. You’re already shirtless, and that’s half the battle won.

But as he found himself in front of Y/N’s door; all his false surety had disappeared.

Steve groaned to himself, “Oh my god, what am I doing?”

“What are you doing?”

The voice of his friend made Steve jump, as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Bucky and Sam approached him from the other end of the hall.

“Steve, where’s your shirt?” Bucky asked, equally as confused as Sam. They then realized who’s door he was in front of, and immediately lit up.

“Whoa, are you coming or going Rogers?” Sam asked, assuming illicit activities were taking place.

Steve pursed his lip, looking back to the door in front of him. “Coming, at least trying to.”

“Seriously? You’re actually making a move? I never thought I’d see the day--” Bucky said.

“--Proud of you buddy, we didn’t think you’d ever go for it.” Sam added.

“Wh--” Steve stuttered, looking between the two, in both shock and embarrassment. “Does everyone know how I feel?”

“About Y/N? Uh--yeah.” Sam said.

“Come on Steve, you’re not exactly the most subtle when it comes to feelings.” Bucky explained, “You’re always together..”

Sam added on, “...whenever you’re not, you’re depressed…”

Bucky nodded, “You remember her birthday, she remembers yours--”

“--Wait, do you guys not know my birthday?” Steve asked.

The two friends shared a look, squinting as they pondered how to break the news that; no, they didn’t.

“July?” Sam asked.

“I know you’re a Leo,” Bucky said, as if that would suffice for an answer.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, “It’s July first.”

“We’re getting off track,” Sam said, “What exactly is your game plan here?”

Steve put his hands on his hips, shifting his weight to face away from her room, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Well lucky for you,” Bucky stated, confidence in his tone, “We’re here to help.”

Steve looked at him, disbelieving, but also slightly intrigued. “Oh yeah?” He asked, half jokingly. At this point, he’d take all the help he could get.

“Yeah,” Sam spoke, nearly offended that Rogers could ever doubt the Wilson charm. And whatever the hell Bucky thought he had going for him.

“Just go in there and be cool, flex a little, maybe be a little dismissive.” Sam said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky agreed, eagerly, “And like--act like she wanted you there.”

Sam snapped his fingers, “Exactly, make her come to you.”

Bucky and Sam stood, satisfied with themselves, as Steve stared slack jawed at the men in his presence.

“You guys are idiots, how have you ever gotten laid?” He asked.

Immediately the two jumped to their defense. As the three soldiers’ argument increased in both intensity and volume, they didn’t realize they’d attracted the attention of the woman on the other side of the door.

Y/N huffed as the sound penetrated her walls, snapping her laptop shut as she rose and charged to her door. Whipping it open, she startled the men in front of her.

Bucky screamed and nearly knocked Sam over, while Steve stared at her like a deer in headlights.

“Will you guys shut up, I’m trying to--” Her face lit up with a sudden epiphany, “Steve! Get in here.”

Before any of them could react, or argue, the young woman had grabbed Steve’s arm, and with surprising strength, pulled him into her room. The door slammed shut in Bucky and Sam’s faces, leaving them as dumbfounded as ever. They scrambled to press their ears against the door, not wanting to miss a second of whatever was going to happen next.

“Thank god you’re here, I need your help--”

Steve stood panicked in her doorway, unsure of what to do. She started pacing around the room, dramatically gesturing to further elaborate whatever point she was trying to make; which was completely lost on Steve. This was classic Y/N behavior; off on her own tangent and assuming Steve was with her every step of the way. Usually, he was, but this time he was too caught up in the ideas that Sharon, Bucky and Sam had put in his head.

Fuck, what did they say to do? Uh--flex. Damn it, what do I do with my body? What do I do with my hands?

Steve tried to control his expression; aiming for stoicism, cool, as Wilson described it. With his awkward smoulder, Steve moved to lean against the wall in a flattering way. He flexed, or tried to, as he braced himself in the most horrible attempt at casual standing.

He looked around the room; trying to be nonchalant while Y/N continued.

“So,” She said, “What do you think?”

“Uh--yeah, sure. Cool, whatever.” He said.

Dismissive, got it.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she took in his stance, gesturing a hand to the wall he was placed against.

“Uh… what are you doing?” She asked.

Immediately embarrassed at whatever the hell that was, Steve stood upright.

“Nothing, nevermind,” He said in an attempt to brush off his previous actions, “What were you saying?”

She groaned, “Just get over here.”

She manhandled him, pulling him to the centre of the room, closely in front of her.

“Okay,” she said, “Try it.”

“Try what?” He asked.

“Try to kiss me!” She said.

He pushed her hands off his arms, “What?!”

She laughed stupidly, “You don’t have to actually do it. I just need to get a feel for the motion of it.”

She went to take a step forward, her arms getting ready to wrap around his shoulders. Steve took a step back and raised his hands in fear.

“What motion? What are you talking about?” Steve sputtered.

“Oh my god, were you even listening?” She teased, reaching for his forearms to pull him back. God was she strong. Or was Steve just oddly willing?

“Chris is about to kiss Hailey, or try to anyway. Sebastian and Anthony just talked to him and he’s finally gonna do it. Your shirt was working for awhile but now I’m getting stuck again. So--try to put yourself in that position. You just realized you’re in love with your best friend and you’re really gonna go for it. Act it out if it helps.”

Steve felt like he was going to throw up, lord help me.

“Y/N, I don’t think this is a good idea--”

“Come on,” she ushered, “It’s just me.”

“Exactly.” He said.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, not aware of the real sentiment behind his words.

“Please? Do it for me.” She begged.

He looked down to the hands wrapped around his forearms; this felt like cheating. It wasn’t supposed to go like this; using the incredibly odd and specific scenario she’d laid out for him. It was hitting too close to home; how could he use this as a scapegoat to get what he wanted? Confessing his feelings and holding her in a way he’d wanted to for so long… the guilt overcame him.

But as he looked back into her eyes, as she was pleading for him to do this for her, he knew he couldn’t say no.

“Alright--can you just, can you close your eyes? It’s freaking me out.” He said.

She nodded eagerly, closing her eyes at his request.

He sighed, I guess it’s now or never.

He slipped his arms from her grip, and gingerly took her hands in his. He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, and resisted the urge to pull her closer. To press a kiss along every delicate finger in his grasp, to take her immediately how he wanted to. He inhaled, he exhaled, he had to pace himself.

“Okay,” He whispered, readying himself for what he was about to do.

“I want you, I’ve wanted you for so long that it’s driving me crazy. I--I don’t how to do this; how to do this right but I have to do this now because I know if I don’t I never will.”

He laughed at himself; the romantic honesty of it all.

“I’m crazy about you; I can’t get enough of you.”

He let his hands glide down to her wrists, bringing her to his chest and placing her hands on his shoulders. His hands fell to wrap around her waist, drifting his fingers along the shirt that he knew was his, revelling in the fact that she was in his clothing, and in some indescribable way, in his possession.

She was lost in the low timbre of his voice, completely consumed by his words. It sounded so real.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked, breathlessly in her ear. “I could just…”

He allowed himself to trail off, lips ghosting just over hers, taking in all the beautiful features of her face that he’d admired countless times before.

This was it; this was the moment he’d been praying for.

She broke into a smile, opening her eyes and playfully squealing.

“That was perfect!” She said, not moving from her position. “That was so good, how’d you think--”

He didn’t let her finish.

Words couldn’t describe how good her lips felt on his; how intoxicating the feeling of her bare skin was in the palms of his hands.

He clutched her tightly as he kissed her; gripping the soft flesh of her waist in a desperate hold to keep this moment as long as possible. Indulging himself in her taste, her touch.

His tongue trailed gently along her bottom lip before gently taking it between his teeth.

She gasped softly as he deepened the kiss, her hands instinctively wrapping in his blond locks.

As she tugged at his hair, eliciting a groan from Steve, he shifted his hands down to her hips and pulled her taught against him.

Her hand moved to cup his chin, lightly scraping the stubble with her finger tips. She moaned as the action made Steve’s fingers dig into the skin of her back. She arched her chest at the feeling of the possessive hold.

Why the hell hadn’t they been doing this the whole time?

She pulled back from his kiss, trying to catch her breath. Steve couldn’t read the look in her eyes; a mix of shock and confusion, and another emotion he wasn’t sure he’d seen before.

She tried to clear her mind as her hands shifted to rest on his chest; she felt his heartbeat pounding with the rise and fall of his own breath.

“Get on the bed.” She demanded.

Steve’s eyes widened at the command, stupidly ogling her as her hands moved to remove her--his shirt.

“What about your story?” He asked her.

She chuckled lightly at his naivety, reaching out to grip his biceps and pull him towards her.

In one quick motion, she pulled them on to her mattress. Steve reached out his hands to brace his fall, hovering above her.

With a lustful glint in her eye, she smiled.

“Fuck the story. We’ve got better things to do.”

“Sam we have to go,” Bucky said, “They’re gonna start fucking and I don’t wanna be around for that.”

Tags: @babyblue-07 @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @lonewolf471 @babybluereads @marianas-studyblr @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms

#marvel #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Day four of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt was Sunglasses!

Steve has a lot of secrets. Too many probably.

Most teenagers’ secrets are things like sleeping with the wrong people, smoking the cheap shit the jocks pass out, broken curfews and failing grades. He’s got all of those too, but Steve's secret runs much deeper than that.

His is the kind of secret that’d have men in black suits coming to take him away, or at this point, more than a decade after letting him go in the first place, putting a bullet in the back of his skull and calling it a day before any trouble comes up.

He’s been stuck in Hawkins all his life. Been fed the knowledge about the world off a silver spoon he didn’t ask for. His first five years of life are well forgotten to shock therapy and to the lab, where they intended to use him and the rest of the kids like him as weapons. Pawns in their big game of life.

But Steve was different. He could turn his powers off, make them undetectable by the machines they hooked him up to. They thought he was just a failure, so after so long, they wiped his brain with their very own cocktail of drugs and just let him go. Adopted him out to a middle aged dink couple who wouldn’t run their mouths about where their little bundle of joy came from as long as their pockets were lined with enough hush money, and that was that.

It didn’t take long for them to realize though, that he wasn’t as normal as they had been convinced he was. Not even knowing he was doing anything wrong, little Stevie would have outbursts, or small tantrums as momma always tried to convince everyone who told her Steve was too much for her to handle.

These weren’t just normal crying fits though. Anyone who got near him would be just as sad or scared or frustrated as he was. A single sob from that boy had enough power to crack the foundations of the family home.

Most kids when they have a cranky morning will get on the nerves of their parents, but Steve could disrupt the whole neighborhood without even realizing it. And that was his power.

They didn’t have a name for it, really. The range of what he can do is too broad, too undefined by anything else. There was a telekinetic girl, a pyrokinetic he’s pretty sure is dead now. But Steve was just special. Part of what made it so easy to go under their radar was this, but it also made him a risk.

The only reason he wasn’t immediately reported and given back to the bad men was the power this frail boy carried. It scared Ruthie and John, and they decided that they’d rather face the men at that lab again than a seven year old who could accidentally destroy them with his emotions.

So they kept him, and certainly kept their distance. They forced him into a little mold of how to behave properly and made him take pills to weaken his powers. They send him to behavioral therapy and make him act like he’s not a failed government experiment. A fact which he only learned a couple of years ago after his pills worked a little too well at messing with his memory that he forgot to take them, and memories came flooding back.

For the same reasons, Steve’s bored of being careful. Bored of following all the rules and being passive, just pretending he’s like everyone else so mommy and daddy dearest are safe. He starts getting a little riskier, testing what he can do, since this is the first time he’s ever really had control over his ability. He finds a link with other people and their emotions, something of an empathy power, but he doesn’t get far in his research, because his plan very quickly goes to shit when Billy Hargrove rolls into town.

Where to begin with Billy. That boy makes him feel all sorts of things he never even considered. The very first day he showed his unimpressed (but very impressive) face at Hawkins high, Steve cracks his windshield. Oops.

He was able to tap into that control and tone it down, but that reserve dwindled the more he’s around Billy, and from there it just spirals. Bending the basketball hoop on accident, exploding light fixtures, giving everyone in the school headaches. It gets to the point where Steve has to come to terms with the fact that he had a crush on Billy, and that he has to do something to get it back under his control before somebody gets hurt.

That and he doesn’t want to get caught now. He just got back into the swing of using his powers before Billy interrupted his calm. Going back there, or whatever else might happen, is the last thing he wants for himself.

He settles for a pair of ray bans.

It’s stupid, but when Steve was still young and all but popping his mommas brains every single time he cried, she was desperate to find a way to get him to stop. She started to notice he’d concentrate hard on one thing and another would happen, staring at a lamp until it shattered, looking into her face until her ears started to ring and pop. So she does what she can to break that subconscious focus. Puts a barrier between him and all that he’s hurting. A plastic, race car themed barrier, but it does its job, and it worked every time until they got him on meds. So now that he’s old enough not to just tear the damn things right off his face, he figures it’s worth a shot.

Because nothing had made him this emotional, this out of control since the day he found out the truth about his past. Billy is special, and the very last thing he wants is to lose control and hurt him.

He still feels like a dope walking into the school with a pair of shades on. Everyone starts to stare in that way he tries not to let remind him of the lab and the doctors standing in circles around him, prodding and waiting for a reaction. Steve thinks wearing sunglass inside is the least weird thing to happen in the halls of a highschool if Tina can come in with a perm high enough to touch the ceiling, but whatever. He’ll get over it.

The fact that nothing’s exploded from how on edge he is, mostly from wondering if his momma’s trick will work and not because of their judgement, is a very good sign.

Boldly, he decides to put it to the ultimate test, and approaches Billy.

In his head, he’s so focused on just going to talk to Billy, he has nothing planned to say to him, but he thinks he would’ve forgotten anyways, what with the lazy smile Billy flashes him when he notices him approaching.

Steve’s gaze quickly darts past Billy to check for damage to anything, the racing in his chest from just a look like that typically enough to at least crack a window. Maybe he’s not as confident about this as he thought, or maybe Billy’s just really good at making him flustered.

Doesn’t matter, because he’s at the other boys locker before he has time to process what he’s doing, “Lookin’ for somethin’ Harrington?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just checking for uh, my fans. Yeah, they follow me around everywhere, you know?” It’s bullshit, and it sounds more than dumb coming out of Steve’s mouth, but it makes Billy laugh, real low and raspy and that’s a win in his book.

“That what the little disguise is for?” Billy hums and taps his temple, clearly referring to the sun glasses perched on Steve’s nose.

“Oh these? No, I uh, wear these ‘cause of the uh.. because I wanna sleep in class and down want the teachers to know?” His answer comes as more of a question than anything, so he’s grateful when Billy seems to be more interested in his excuse than the subject at hand.

“Pfft, yeah right. I’ve heard you sleepin’ on the basketball bus. Ain’t no way your snoring doesn’t get you caught before your eyes do.”

Steve just waves him off, laughs with Billy even if his heart isn’t in it.

Billy closes his locker door, switching the subject as the scenery switches. It’s all a distraction to Steve, but he forces himself to look Billy in the face as the other boy asks him, “Seriously though dude, you okay? It ain’t like you to switch up your look. You’re not hiding anythin’ under the shades are you?”

“Nah. Just been thinking, I’m not the King because I’m not cool anymore, right? So I’m tryin’ to look a little more.. interesting.” Steve’s not a very quick or good liar, despite the military guarded secret that is himself and the little black number seven carved into his arm, and he can tell Billy doesn’t buy it.

He’s a good sport though, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders and assuring him with a little jostle, “Aw, Stevie, you're cool in my book. At least as long as you quit comin’ up with reasons not to hang with me, yeah?”

“Yeah, I- alright. I can do that. Sorry for flaking so much though. Didn’t realize until you said something.”

“S’Cool. Just meet me at the quarry after dark and it’ll make up for it.” Billy offers, obviously trying to play up the coolness neither of them apparently actually have, and Steve can’t help but call him on it. “It gets dark at like, four-thirty, five o’clock anymore?”

“Fine. Meet me at nine, pretty boy.” Billy smirks, dropping his voice to add knowingly, “And lose the shades. I think you’re much more interesting without ‘em.”

#CherryLangeChallenge #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #experiment! steve #ej writer #story by ej!#this is a mess but that’s okay #I have two midterms tomorrow and can’t be bothered with cleaning this up again

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may-b-a-u-shewritestoo · 3 years

Text

The Feeling Is Mutual | | Part 2 | | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

PART 1

Summary; You’re both profilers, analysing behaviour and making connections. So why is it so hard to read each other?

Includes; injury to main characters, talk of injury, talk of violence, talk of unsub and weapons, talk of being drugged, sickening amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, (MINORS DNI 18+)talk of sex, dirty talk, no dynamic!, and a bit more fluff :)

Word count; 3.6K

Plans had changed and you were not happy about it. The pattern in victimology had shown that the unsub targeted men who were uncomfortable in social settings. Vulnerable type. Derek, being the giant intimidating boulder of a man he was, wouldn’t have attracted the unsub.

So they were sending in Spencer. Everybody including you knew he would fit the description required for this unsub; but the thought of him being touched or hurt or flirted with by somebody that wasn’t you brought a nauseating heavy feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong? You’ve had a permanent frown on your face since we started this morning.”

Spencer could feel the mood thickening in the air of the hotel room as he turned to face you.

He was trying to straighten his tie, completely oblivious to the way you stared at him with a mix you could only describe as anger-lust-fear. You didn’t want to even think about how he would react to you telling him the real reason you were upset so you just sighed and shook your head.

“I just hate last minute changes. I thought we were gonna hang back, let Derek do his ‘thing’ and she’d walk out gripping his unnaturally large bicep.” You twiddled with your fingers as you mumbled an excuse to get Spencer off your back.

“What’s wrong with her walking out on my unnaturally small bicep?” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes, forcing them away from staring at his arms and imagining yourself gripping them in a different situation.

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

It was nauseating. The way her fingernails slowly dragged along his forearm, and slipped a little underneath the rolled sleeve. Her stupid voice pitching higher to seem more cute and innocent. He really did fit the part, swallowing thickly and stumbling over his words when she leaned forward a little and exposed her chest a little more.

“Have you ever felt like your body was on fire?” she asked, face now mere inches away from his. Spencer looked over at the security camera that he knew could see them both.

“That’s it. That’s the line. Stand by Y/N, Morgan.” Hotch warned, watching the footage over the nervous shoulders of Garcia.

A young tech student from a local college had been extremely fortunate in escaping the unsub the early hours of this morning. He’d shakily mumbled about her saying about being on fire and then chugging back a pint of straight gin. He asked if she needed help and she’d told him her car was outside if he wouldn’t mind helping her get home.

But as he went to open the driver side door to get in, he noticed her giggling to herself and a gun sitting on her lap. So he ran.

Hotch was worried that his escape would either mess up the trap tonight, or completely change her M.O and she would devolve, leaving you all at another starting point. But luckily for you all, she only had one technique, and was set on using it; so here you all were.

As you stood with your back against the wall, you peeked your head ever so slightly around the bar doors; the small circular window showing the back of her head and Spencer in full view.

“God, she’s making me feel sick. Why is she so touchy? I thought she would’ve dragged him out of here by now.” Whispering with a malicious tone to your voice, Derek chucked quietly at your rage.

“Jealous? Pretty Boy’s getting some attention from a serial killer and you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous Morgan. I’m disgusted.” sighing, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N you know it’s my job. I’m not stupid. Anyone can see you’re completely and utterly-“

“Shut up.”

“Y/N you can change the subject all you like, everybody kno-“

“Derek, they’re gone.”

You had no visual. You couldn’t see her, nor Spencer. Not even an inch of her hair flicking into a different direction, not even a corner of Spencer’s jacket.

“Hotch?” Morgan spoke with a warning inflection into his smart watch.

Scanning the footage for where they could’ve possibly gone, Hotch hurriedly put on his Kevlar and gun before jumping out to head round the back of the bar.

“Guys, I have a visual on Reid. He’s out cold up on the V.I.P balcony. I can’t seem to find-”

Peeking again through the bar window, you didn’t have time to register what Penelope was saying nor what was happening before you felt a dull pain throb through your face. Stumbling backwards and trying to keep your balance, you noticed a warm and fuzzy feeling buzzing across your body before everything went black.

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

“Can you just shut up and pass me a spoon? I’m not kidding anymore.”

“Get it yourself. You don’t wanna listen to me, why should I listen to you?”

“You’re an asshole Derek. Just so you know. I’ve eaten Jello with a straw before, and I’ll do it again.”

“Boys, will you shut up, her eyes just moved.”

Muffled voices stirred you to consciousness as you struggled to open your eyes. Immediately sending a sharp pain to your head, the lights felt like lasers as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“Jesus H Christ, why are the lights so damn bright?”

“There she is. Good morning pretty girl.” The sweet sounds of Miss Garcia swam through your ears, and her perfume overwhelmed your senses as she leant down to kiss your cheek. “I bought you a cupcake, and I’ve made sure these two don’t touch it.”

Squinting at the two men sitting on the empty hospital bed next to yours, you laughed at the two of them. They were acting like children.

Derek had a plastic spoon in his hand, holding and waving it as far away from Spencer as he possibly could. Spencer sat cross legged, arms folded but with a sealed cup of orange jello in one hand; tutting at Derek with disappointment.

“Would anybody like to update and inform me on why on earth Penelope is babysitting us in a hospital ward?” you asked, attempting to sit up a little bit, and groaning out at how much your body ached.

Spencer almost stood up when you grimaced in pain, but stayed seated as not to look too bothered.

“We caught the unsub,” Derek began to explain, Penelope giggling when you did a silent ‘yay’ and mini jazz hands, “but she roofied Reid, which was new and discovered his badge in his jacket.” He looked over at Reid with a sarcastic look, to which he was met with shrugged shoulders and Spencer digging into his jello.

“As she came back down the stairs to make her escape, she noticed you and Derek arguing or whatever that was outside the bar doors, and snuck into the crowd to watch you. When you tried to find her, I just saw her coming towards the doors but she moved hella fast.” Penelope explained, sipping from a bright pink tumbler.

“She kicked the door that you were stood behind, and then basically jumped you until you were unconscious, but didn’t quite realise I was there. So I got her. Pretty Boy here woke up a few hours ago just hungry.”

Spencer looked up at Derek and smiled, letting everyone know he was too invested in the jello to retaliate to his sarcasm. He glimpsed over at you and smiled in a different way, which Penelope caught on to immediately.

“Anyway! The doctor said you have a lot of bruised ribs but other than that you are good to go home today! Did you want me to stay over at yours? I can bring more cupcakes?” She asked sweetly, passing you the sprinkle covered cupcake and unwrapping it for you.

She was the equivalent of a big sister and a mom to you; always looking out for you, making sure you’d eaten but also joining in on gossip and hosting alcoholic themed sleepovers. She knew about yours and Spencer’s hookups, after the one time you were accidentally too loud in the hotel room next to hers.

You’d been sat on a swivel chair in her office, begging and pleading and bribing with sweet treats and baked goods for her not to tell a soul and as far as you were aware, she stuck to her promise. With a dramatic mime of locking her lips shut, she had grabbed a croissant from your hands and turned back to her computer.

“I could - sorry - I could stay over if you’d prefer Y/N? I know we’ve got a few episodes of Black Mirror to catch up on?” Spencer jumped at the chance to interrupt, correcting himself as his volume came out louder than planned.

Nodding quickly with a huge beaming smile and a mouth full of cupcake, you could feel yourself internally healing already.

“I’d like that. If that’s okay Pen? I’ve tried to explain to him that you can’t ‘catch up’ on Black Mirror but he won’t have it.” You carried on enjoying the sugary treat, as Spencer carried on eating his; ignoring the blatant smirks being swapped between Derek and Penelope.

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

As far as you were concerned the past weekend had gone way too quickly. Coming home from hospital on Thursday evening, Spencer had stayed over and still hadn’t left.

It was just about Sunday morning, and you’d both passed out after playing cards until 3am. He’d kept you so busy and your brain occupied you’d barely had time to think about your body aching and healing. He made you laugh so hard at times you were tempted to call the emergency room back to see if they could check you in again.

You guys hadn’t kissed or barely touched except to cuddle on the couch; even then Spencer was hesitant because he was convinced he’d do more damage. But it wasn’t the aches and pains that was getting to you. It was the way you felt starved of touch and affection.

Usually you both would be particularly in the mood, would call one another up and you’d both satiate each other’s needs before maybe having a cuddle and leaving.

In all fairness, the last time you felt him was only yesterday morning when he came to give you some tea in bed. He’d sat beside you - very gently - drinking his own sugar and coffee; hand holding onto your thigh and stroking lightly. It was all too sweet. Sweeter than the concoction he made to drink every morning.

But now you’d woken up only a few hours after going to sleep, the room still a shade of blue and gray. Sunrise was on its way, but night was still present, no birdsong could be heard; but the soft hums of Spencer Reid sleeping filled the air.

You knew that Hotch had given the both of you time off, you had nowhere to be for 2 more days. You wanted oh so desperately to shake him awake, jump his bones and go several rounds until you were due in, but not only could your body not physically take it; your heart couldn’t either.

Something felt different. Unrecognised, the feeling of wanting something else flooded your thoughts. Did you want to be fucked? Did you want to lay in Spencer’s arms for the entire day and be held? Or did you want both?

The way he’d smiled over at you when you woke up in hospital made you feel like you’d driven over a speed bump, your tummy swirling around and doing backflips. How he’d stayed with you after, how he’d looked after you and listened to you this whole time.

Unbeknownst to you however, while you were deep in thought about whatever this weird feeling was; Spencer had blinked his eyes open, rested his head in one of his hands and was watching you.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You jumped, grimacing as you stretched out a rib that you definitely shouldn’t have stretched out. “I’m currently thinking about how much that hurt, how much I hate you and how much I’m going to regret being awake later.”

Spencer laughed, a slight husk from tiredness layered into it. He brought his opposite hand up and stroked up and down your spine, noticing how goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips.

“You cold?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

Slowly laying back down, you groaned out in a mixture of uncomfortableness and relief as you got back into the warm spot next to Reid. Looking over at him made you feel giddy, the way you would feel getting ready for a date or a big event. You were nervous. But why?

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Y/N?” he asked sweetly, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He quickly withdrew them and cleared his throat, laying back down completely parallel beside you.

“Spencer, are you tired right now?”

“No. Are you?” He shuffled onto his side again.

“No. Quite the opposite.” with slight struggle, you mirrored his position, laying on your side and looking into his eyes with a lazy smile.

“Y/N, I can’t, you’re struggling to even lay down let alone-“

“No Spencer, I’m not hinting at sex. Although the millisecond I can, I will.” you laughed out, edging slightly closer to him. His breath hitched, and he shuffled awkwardly.

“What do you want?”

“I want to feel good Spence,”

“I thought you just said-“

“I want to feel good. So, I’m going to make myself feel good.” Your voice dropped a little, hoping that Spencer would catch on to what you were implying. Sometimes he could catch your drift, other times you would have to spell it out for him. Luckily for you, it was the former.

He nodded, waiting for you to make the next move. Watching you with intent, he began taking in each tiny detail of you.

The way you kept your eyes on his but let your hand trail down your body. The sigh of relief and arousal as you shuffled a little closer to him again, before laying on your back slowly and getting ready and comfortable. You let out a deep exhale while trailing your other hand over your chest, squeezing ever so lightly.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re really gonna do it? What if you hurt, the doctor recommended not strain-“

“Spencer, stop. I know my limits. I also know that if I don’t make myself cum soon I might actually spontaneously combust.”

He chuckled at your silliness, before remembering something. “There’s actually been less than 150 cases of spontaneous combustion recorded in almost 2000 years, so I doubt that your heightened state of arousal could cause you-“

“Spencer Reid, if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now I will make sure I’m the 150th case.”

He giggled and leant down to your lips, holding your face with one hand and holding himself up with the other arm. Pressing gently against your lips as if you were made of glass, he smiled against you; letting out a small moan as you reached up and pulled him closer into the kiss.

Your fingers circling over your clit through your panties caused you to wind your hips up against your hand gently, remembering not to overdo it. Moaning out quietly as you applied more pressure, Spencer pulled back to watch you.

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” He whispered, eyes darting between your face concentrated with pleasure and your hands roaming around your body.

He could feel himself growing and stiffening underneath his pyjama pants when you whimpered in response, and he bucked instinctively as the material grew tighter.

“Do you wanna touch yourself too Spence?” you mumbled out, movements staying the same speed but your head turning to watch him,“Touch yourself with me, feel what I’m feeling.”

“Yes, please.” Spencer laid down beside you again, his arm touching yours. Gripping himself through his pants he hissed out at the sudden contact.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched to see what his next move would be; waiting to mirror him. He caught on to you copying his movements as he slipped his hands underneath his pants, a mix of a chuckle and a moan falling from his lips as you did the same.

“God this is so sexy..” Spencer moaned out louder this time, as he grasped his cock fully in his palm. Mimicking his actions, you also became a little louder; the feeling of skin touching skin becoming more and more intense.

“Tell me something Spence.” you spoke breathily, fingers applying more pressure to your clit and switching to dip inside yourself.

Curling his wrist with every sharp tug and squeezing the head of his cock every time he reached the top, all he could do was try to take deep breaths where he held them for so long.

“I thought about you. When she flirted with me.”

You wanted to pause, wondering why he brought up an unsub in the middle of such an intimate moment. But his next words only brought you closer to your brink.

“When I looked over her shoulder and saw you watching, saw the anger in your eyes. You looked so fucking mad baby. I couldn’t figure out why, but I liked it. When she touched me, I wished it was your hands. I thought about you the whole time, fuck.” Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not look at you in order to keep calm and patient with his orgasm.

“Yeah? Wished it was me leaning over you like that?” You could barely string a sentence together with how good you felt, your thighs clenching together around your wrist, your hips bucking up as much as your body allowed them to.

“Mhmm. Thought about taking you home, bending you over my couch with your uniform still on.”

“Fuck Spence. She made me so jealous, I wanted to go in there and rip her off of you. Would’ve made you mine right there at the bar.”

He hissed and groaned out, speeding up even more, matching the pace you had set yourself; aiming to finish with you.

“Fuck. I’m all yours Y/N, this cock is all fucking yours.” He was so close, throbbing and thrusting into his fist, pulling his head back so he could watch your face.

Hearing him say he was yours dragged you to the edge of your orgasm, thighs beginning to shake a little. Your wrist was growing tired but you refused to stop, too caught up in the gradually increasing pleasure.

“I’m so close honey, please,” you pulled your gaze away from where he stroked himself to meet his eyes, wanting to watch his face as he toppled over the edge too, “please tell me I can come, I wanna come for you.”

You grew needy, ignoring the ache in your torso as you writhed against your fingers, your head falling back as you felt the waves coming. Spencer watched as you slowly began to fall and crash into it.

Tugging at himself with the same speed as you, he quickly moved onto his side a little to watch you better. Pressing his lips to your neck, he bit down gently before whispering the words you needed.

“Let it go for me Y/N, you can come. Come for me,” As you slipped under the waves and felt like you were drowning in the numb yet intense pulsation, Spencer coaxed you through it as he too got carried away by his own throbbing, “that’s it baby, fuck I’m coming, oh my go-, ah fuck it feels so good.”

Spencer became quickly overwhelmed by his orgasm, rolling onto his back again as he carried on spilling onto his stomach. Continuing to slowly rub yourself, you came down from your crescendo and watched as he worked himself through his.

“Fuck Spencer, there’s so much.” Leaving little kisses along his shoulder, you giggled sweetly as he tensed with the aftershocks and tried to catch his breath. He grinned with a post-orgasm smile and turned his head to nestle against the top of yours.

“Are you okay?” Spencer murmured into your hair, leaving a little kiss on the crown of your head. Simply nodding against his shoulder, you attempted to shuffle closer but forgot how tense your body had been in its peak.

“Fuck. Can you help me?” Giggling and wincing at the same time as an attempt to sit up. Spencer laughed at you sweetly, sitting himself up quickly and snaking an arm underneath your back.

Pulling you up smoothly, he left a light kiss against your temple before slipping his other arm underneath your legs and hoisting you up.

“Wait, where are we going?” You whined out, wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. He walked the two of you into the en-suite and set you down gently on the counter.

“I am going to get us cleaned up,” he smiled at you before getting a washcloth ready, “and then we’re going to talk about us.”

He began to wipe the washcloth across his chest and his stomach, looking up curiously when you asked, “Us?”

“Wait. What you said about- when you said that thing about making me yours? Did I completely misread that? Because I feel- I thought it was obvious that I felt-“ He stumbled, self consciousness creeping in slowly as he realised he may have taken it too far.

But you smiled softly, grabbing the cloth from his hands and pulling him to rest between your legs. At least he’d cleared the air for you. You didn’t feel remotely nervous anymore.

Cupping his face in your hands and stroking along his jaw with each thumb, you pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Grinning against his lips, he returned the motion and kissed you once more.

“The feeling is mutual, Spencer.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #tfim #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic

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otomes-world · 3 years

Text

Trick

12th - trying to prepare different cocktails for a party but strangely every drink turns into Bloody Mary

Probably, there is no holiday without themed dishes, which turn into the most ordinary onе in any other day. More than the holiday itself, people are drawn together by the preparation for it. However, Yuu could not understand why she and Floyd were assigned to make cocktails. More precisely, the prefect did not know why a person like Leech would get involved in something so mediocre.

The girl knew from the weekends in the Scarabia that the young man knew how to cook and did it skillfully. However, at the same time, she remembered his brother's words: “Looks like Floyd is in a good mood today. Otherwise, it would be impossible to eat." Yuu was still very reluctant to take on the crime of poisoning other students. She decided to leave this honor to Vanrouge, who personally volunteered to help with the baking.

Well, looks like he's been busy chopping mint right now. Why was it necessary to cut it so finely, but not to argue with the I-am-personality-with-emotional-swing. Returning to her drink, Yuu frowned slightly. She was sure she hadn't added tomato juice. Moreover, she didn't even buy it.

"Senpai?.. Did you pour the tomato juice?" She took a chance and asked the man. Only she and Floyd were in the kitchen, and perhaps the recently settled ghost.

“Eh~? Shrimpy, did ya overworked~?" The Leech turned around, continuing to turn the poor plant into minced porridge.

“Can I ask you a question?..” Deciding to change the subject and at the same time satisfy curiosity, Yuu asked as a pleasant mint smell spread through the kitchen. "What are you cooking?"

“Can't ya see~? Mojito~"

Ignoring the question in her head that it only needed a few leaves, not heap, Yuu put on a smile and looked again at the decanter full of tomato juice. Well, since she couldn`t make Pina Colada with this, then with a new base she can at least make a Bloody Mary.

Putting the finished drink aside, she poured water into a clean bowl and went to fetch the surviving mint that Floyd had not yet reached. When she returned, she saw that instead of water, there was again tomato juice.

"Mary again~?" Looked over her shoulder at table Floid, piling all his weight on the prefect, who try all her best to keep balance. “The shrimp likes that drink so much~? Azul definitely wanna hear this~"

"How about Sangrita?" Yuu suggested, trying to ignore the weight that the dead load was pulling her down. "And has anyone come here?" She's not completely insane, has she?

"Hmm, nobody~" Floyd was clearly amused by what was happening. "There was only me, a shrimp and an octopus" At the last phrase, the prefect gathered her last strength and turned around in surprise. "But he was here from the start~"

“Vanrouge-senpai!" Now everything fell into place. The girl even wanted to give up and let gravity pull her down. "Just because you love tomato juice doesn't mean that everyone else loves it."

"Oya, have I been caught?" There was not an ounce of regret in the intonation of the third-year hanging upside down.

Yuu genuinely understood Clover's desire to send Lilia away and calmly cook, but letting the boy stay meant dyeing the party in red. Therefore, having sent him back, the perfect tried to focus on the assigned task. This turned out to be more difficult than it seemed at first glance, because Vanrouge had already managed to fill all the available decanters with tomato juice. Thank the Great Seven that he didn't have time to add anything else.

Prompt belongs to @youneedsomeprompts

#twst #twisted wonderland #tw #twst oneshot #twst fic #Halloween #floyd leech #twst floyd #female reader

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inamindfarfaraway · 3 years

Text

Weather Symbolism Analysis in Frozen the Musical* Because I’ve Been Listening to the Soundtrack Again and I Respect Good Lyricists

*Not the movie, though some of this applies there too. The musical basically took all the movie’s lyrical motifs and themes and expanded on them.

Anna’s mother calls her “[her] sunshine” in the dialogue of “Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?”. That little detail sent me spiralling into a musical-wide analysis. Anna’s personality is definitely a ball of sunshine, especially as a child. But it also ties into the narrative symbolism of the sun and light representing happiness; love; safety; and clarity and understanding in relationships and how people are perceived (as in, it’s illuminating). In the introductory song “Let the Sun Shine On”, everyone in Arendelle - and specifically the royal family - is content, secure in their role in life and feels loved, and the song is brimming with language about light and warmth. Hence the title. Anna gets many lines and the better part of a chorus of this song to herself, being arguably the happiest character.

Let the sun shine on

Let our hearts be light

Like this perfect, happy, shiny summer day

She continues to be the main embodiment and ambassador of these ideas throughout the story. In “For the First Time in Forever”, she refers to the celebration bringing people she could connect with (including Elsa) and hopefully ‘shedding light’ on what Elsa is really like to her and their subjects with

There’ll be magic, there’ll be light

and when reaching out to Elsa in the reprise, she says,

We can make the sun shine bright

However, other characters use the theme too. Olaf is the living embodiment of it, and Anna and Elsa’s close childhood relationship. He’s constantly positive and the one to explain the definition of love to Anna: “putting someone else’s needs before yours.” And he of course inherently loves summer and warmth. From “In Summer”:

I’ll finally see a summer breeze

Blow away a winter storm

That brings us to the symbolism of storms and cold weather. Though briefly mentioned in “Let the Sun Shine On”,

Together we can keep the storm at bay

what storms represent is really established when one snuffs out what’s left of the sisters’ sunny childhood by killing their parents. If someone references cold and/or a storm, it’s related to fear; anxiety; grief; depression; loneliness; and emotional disconnection. Whereas sunlight helps you see, the chaos and darkness of a storm cloud (heh) your judgment and understanding. This is associated mainly with Elsa, in contrast to Anna’s sun and heat motif.

“Let It Go” is notable because it’s the only song that uses storms and cold in a good sense.

Let the storm rage on

The cold never bothered me anyway

Both lines have a positive, confident tone, but they show she isn’t actually dealing with her trauma and anxiety, she’s just too caught up in the sudden rush of joy and freedom to be totally consumed by them right now, and since her frame of reference is ‘I feel terrible all the time and will feel dramatically more terrible at the sightest trigger’ that seems close enough to perfect. The storm, with its biting regrets and icy fear, is still there and maybe even worse as she recklessly allows it to “rage on”, she’s just no longer actively “bothered” by it at the moment. For all her throwing away of gloves and cloaks and crowns, she is neither free nor moving on. To quote her own words to Anna during their reunion at the ice palace, she’s

Standing frozen

That’s the opposite of moving on, Elsa! It isn’t like storms mean good things in relation to Elsa alone because of her ice powers either, as she speaks of them in the traditional negative sense all the time. In “For the First Time in Forever (Reprise)” there’s

No escape from the storm inside of me

In its replacement “I Can’t Lose You” there’s

Can’t you see I’m the storm, and you make it worse?

Elsa has been in such a dark place for so long she can no longer disentangle her identity from the ‘storm’ of anxiety bombarding her mental health, thinking it’s either in her or is her. A very different interpretation of her declaration back in “Let It Go” that

I am one with the wind and sky

In the wider context of storm symbolism, that line also reveals/foreshadows the misguided and unsustainable nature of her freedom. She cannot see any part of herself that isn’t supposedly dangerous, harmful or burdensome. That’s… that’s just sad. In “Monster”, a new peak of depression and self-hatred to the point she verbally contemplates suicide to protect her sister and people from the destructive consequences of her mental illness (Disney princesses, everyone!), “the storm” comes up a lot:

The storm is awake

I’ve started a storm

Gotta stop it somehow

And will that take the storm away

Or only make it grow?

Mother, what if after I’m gone

The cold gets colder and the storm rages on?

These are all referring to the actual, physical blizzard her powers have created, but it’s evident her internal landscape is being equally ravaged. That’s why there is an external storm in the first place, after all. Her lines also contain uses of the sun and light in the context found elsewhere, in “For the First Time in Forever (Reprise)”,

Go enjoy the sun, and open up the gates

“Monster”,

I have to stay alive

To fix what I’ve done

Save the world from myself

And bring back the sun

and even “Let It Go” itself.

And I’ll rise like the break of dawn

Here I stand, in the light of day

These last two lines show how Elsa feels she is reclaiming the liberty and bliss of her childhood. That’s why she finally rebuilds Olaf the snowman and puts so much of herself into him he comes to life, made of everything the young sisters said he would be in “Little Bit of You”. So she does understand the ‘good sun/bad storm’ dichotomy and it does apply to her. So yeah, “Let It Go” is purposefully anomalous to demonstrate the flaws of its mentality. Consider that next time you hear it, although it’s easy to get swept away by the awesome rush of Elsa’s empowerment like she did.

“Colder by the Minute” is the epitome of this symbolism. Practically the whole song is relevant, so I won’t bother quoting it all. It’s self-explanatory. It stresses the physical and emotional distance between the four characters and is probably the story’s lowest point, thus it’s also the story’s height of bad weather. It’s set in the midst of a raging blizzard that conceals lovers Kristoff and Anna from each other; Anna still being alive from Elsa and the people of Arendelle, thereby prolonging Hans’s crucial deception; and Elsa and Hans approaching Elsa to kill her from Anna and Kristoff, preventing them from helping sooner. It’s not only directly impeding the heroes’ achievement of their goals, it’s enabling the villain right at the climax of his evil plan. The storm is an antagonist! Technically it’s been antagonistic since it first started inconveniencing the kingdom, but never does the weather seem more tangibly malevolent. The citizens turn against Hans afterward because when Elsa hears that Anna is dead

the wind blew soft

And in her grief the storm stood still

allowing Anna’s sacrifice to be seen.

In “Finale/Let It Go (Reprise)” the lyrics of “Let It Go” are ‘fixed’ and rid of the toxic storm and cold imagery with lots of additional sun, light and heat.

Let the sun shine on

I take this warmth within and send it up above

Goodbye to dark and fear, let’s fill this land with light and love

Then we'll rise like the break of dawn

The fear and cold are gone

Here we stand, in the light of day

The new plural pronouns (“we” and “[let us]”) show that the song is now about the coexistence of freedom of expression and inclusion, instead of the freedom of expression through exclusion it used to be. Everyone has found a much more robust, complete, mature happiness than Elsa did in the original song (except Hans, Hans can rot in prison) where Elsa’s learned that loving herself and directly loving others are not mutually exclusive and Anna has multiple forms of true true love.

#so basically #pathetic fallacy #pathetic fallacy to the max #it’s patheticing absolute fallacy #frozen #frozen the musical #frozen musical #frozen broadway #frozen west end #frozen analysis #frozen the musical analysis #lyrical analysis #frozen lyric analysis #frozen symbolism #weather symbolism #song analysis

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 3 years

Note

“Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing great.” 11 with lewthur but with caretaker Arthur again bc it’s my favorite okay

HELL YEAH (source)

(context: instead of dying in the cave, lewis was “saved” and taken hostage by the station people, who also found reverb trapped in the arm. and they wiped vivi’s memories. juuust to be thorough)

Arthur never really expected to find Lewis anywhere they went – not after the first few times, it was just setting himself up for disappointment – but if he'd thought about it, he would have said that he was hoping not to find him here.

Lewis hated doctors, hated anything medical, hated white walls and being trapped and this place was the worst possible place for him. Underground and freezing cold, devoid of any real signs of life, full of cold, clinical language.

But as soon as Arthur noticed the musical theme of the place, a sick feeling of anticipation started to settle in his stomach.

That only got worse when they eventually found a room with a working computer. Arthur instructed Vivi and Mystery to watch the doors, and then started to search through the files – it seemed to just have a database, along with some other tools he wasn’t confident enough to touch yet. Most of the listed subjects weren’t human, were some kind of spirit or magic creature – but there was one, listed as human subject, that made his heart drop.

Harmony. He knew that name, remembered Lewis as a tiny child and that name sewn into the back of his shirt but if anyone said it he’d panic or shut down–

He committed the room code to memory and took off, not even bothering to give the other two a we’re going! first. The tunnels turned into a blur as he raced through them, barely stopping to check the signs for which way to turn.

Then, finally, they made it to the right room, and he slammed the door open. There was an observation window splitting the room in half, and he looked through it and–

–oh. Oh, god.

It was unmistakably Lewis, even with his hair out of its usual style and hanging in limp, dirty coils over his face, slumped over in the corner and god he’d lost so much weight–

“Shit,” he faintly heard Vivi breathe behind him, “shit, is that a person-?”

He didn’t have time to answer her, he had to get in there – but the door to into the test chamber was locked, someone must have left it like that when this place was abandoned not too long ago. He was reaching for the set of picks he’d stashed in his vest when he picked up a faint noise from behind the glass and his head jerked up.

Something... dark and smoky – mist? Fog? – was seeping into the chamber. Slowly, it took on a shape that looked almost... human. Its head – if it could be called that yet – was already focused in on Lewis, who was still unresponsive.

There was no time to pick the lock, he could feel it. Instead he backed up and balled his prosthetic hand into a fist and rammed it into the wall as hard as he could, and the glass, as it is wont to do, shattered.

He forced his way through the newly-made hole, paying no attention to the shards around the edge, and scrambled a couple steps forward before that thing had its eyes on him. It was forming a face now, glowing and sick green in a way that felt too familiar, in a blurry half-remembered way.

“Well, look at this!” it crowed, swirling slightly upward. “You’re actually here! It’s like a little reunion.”

Then it was moving for him, and there was nothing he could do to fight something that wasn’t corporeal –

And then Vivi stepped in with her bat at the ready, and Mystery hopped in after her, and the thing visibly recoiled, looking between the two of them. Its eyes settled on the dog for a moment, and it hissed. “You.”

Arthur didn’t pay too much attention to them – he was already moving for Lewis, dropping to his knees in front of him and with the monster at his back.

“Lewis?“ he said, keeping his voice soft. He must have heard him, because his head picked up–

–and then he lunged back with a small gasp, eyes going wide with fear. He only got a little ways before something stopped him with a loud clank – he was bound to the wall.

“Lewis, it’s okay-” Arthur reached out to him with one hand, trying to reassure him, and then snapped his attention to the chains. He kept up a steady stream of reassurances as he worked, “it’s okay, you’re safe now, you’re going to be okay, just hang on.”

By some incredible stroke of luck, for which he spent a moment silently thanking whatever-was-watching in his head, whoever was in charge of the security in this place had made the common-but-still-embarrassing mistake of buying from a company that sounded fancy but didn’t actually have any idea how to make a lock. He shimmed it open in barely a second and the entire thing fell apart.

He looked back to Lewis, who still seemed frozen – had he even recognized him yet? – and scooted a little closer, reaching out again. This time he didn’t flinch away, and Arthur was able to close the distance and put a hand on his cheek. It was tacky with dried tears or sweat – it was impossible to tell – and his eyes were almost sunken, surrounded by dark circles.

“Lewis, it’s me,” he tried again. “I’m here now.”

He drew a little closer and then Lewis practically fell into him, burying his face in his shoulder. His breathing was shaky, unsteady, and if he was trying to hug him he was too weak to even get his hands up to his shoulders. Arthur just held him for a moment, rubbing his back with one hand, trying not to pay attention to the outline of his ribs and spine.

“We need to move,” he said after a moment, remembering that Vivi and Mystery were still holding back that thing. “Can you walk?”

“...dunno,” was the hoarse, almost-whispered reply.

“Okay. Just lean on me, okay? I’ve got you.”

They stood up together, Lewis’s legs shaking and threatening to give out before Arthur caught him and supported him a little more. This time, Arthur remembered to call out to Vivi as they were headed for the exit, and he briefly saw her head jerk around before he looked back towards the hole they’d made in the glass. He briefly struggled to get Lewis over the hole without scraping his knees, he couldn’t lift his legs high enough – and then Vivi was on his other side and, without another question, lifting him up and dragging him along, and they all started to run.

They were almost to what looked like a fire exit, when Arthur heard that indistinct whispering that had preceded the spirit’s arrival earlier. He saw wisps on the edge of his vision and could only try to move faster. Vivi suddenly disappeared and Lewis dipped forward, slowing both of them down significantly. The spirit was forming again next to him, that same sick grin stretched across its face–

Vivi’s bat connected with the thing’s chest and it exploded in a shower of ice-blue light.

When the light cleared, there was a frozen impact of ice shards in its chest, and it was visibly reeling. Vivi stared at it for a second, and then turned and ran for the others again, and that was everyone’s cue to start moving.

Arthur shouldered the door open, and thankfully there were only a few stairs, and he could see the bright orange of their van through the trees.

“Vivi, you drive,” he said when they were getting close to it.

She stared at him for a moment, visibly bewildered by this request. “What? I can-”

“Please.” He couldn’t leave Lewis alone, and she didn’t know what was going on, didn’t know how to help.

Maybe she could see or hear his desperation, because she didn’t argue anymore, just nodded and headed for the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

Arthur helped Lewis up the steep ledge of the van’s back doors, and then they both dropped to the ground, and it was silent for a moment as the van’s engine whirred to life and they started moving.

It didn’t take much longer for Lewis to start hyperventilating.

Arthur was there in an instant, pulling him to his chest again, and forcing his own breathing to be even and slow as he rubbed his back and murmured reassurances. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re gone, you’re never going back there. Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing great.”

It wasn’t long before he devolved into what might have been weak, hiccupy sobs, though he was too dehydrated for any actual tears. Arthur started carding one hand through his hair.

“You want some water?” he asked after a while. Lewis just nodded unsteadily against his shirt.

Arthur pulled away a little and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler. He helped Lewis drink, guiding the bottle with his hands.

After that, Lewis just stared at him for a while, and then reached out and put a hand over his.

“This... is you? You’re... real?”

His voice was still weak, but not quite as ragged as it had been before. Arthur picked up his hand and squeezed it.

“Yeah. I’m here. I promise.”

Lewis spent most of the next day pretty out of it, sleeping occasionally only to jolt awake at the slightest disturbance. Arthur barely left his side the entire time, except to grab water or something light to try to coax him to eat. He was always there to hold him and offer reassurances that yes, he was here, this was real, he was home and he wasn’t going to go anywhere.

At some point, pretty late in the night, Lewis was curled up against Arthur’s shoulder again, at the end of another bout of weak sobbing. He lifted his head only barely to speak.

“I still... smell like that place,” he murmured.

“You wanna take a shower?” Arthur answered, sitting up a little.

“Mm... too much work...” he laid his head back down again. “Don’t want you to leave...”

“I’ll help. C’mon.”

So Arthur pulled off the papery gown Lewis was still dressed in and helped him bathe, replacing the smell of sweat and disinfectant with the flowers and sweet vanilla of the bath soaps. He didn’t say anything about the large, messy, still-healing gashes in his side, just gently washed away the blood still left around the wound. He worked shampoo and conditioner through his hair, detangling the messy locks until they lay almost flat against his neck. The gentle rhythm lulled Lewis almost to sleep, swaying slightly as he sat in the bath, Arthur humming softly to him.

Once that was done, he helped him into clean pajamas, finally rid of every lingering trace of that fucking facility. Lewis’s own bed was dirty from him lying in it, so until the sheets could be changed, they both laid down in Arthur’s room instead.

They laid there in the darkness, the only sound a distant fan running in some other part of the house, and for a while, were just silent.

“...thank you,” Lewis said eventually, not opening his eyes.

“Of course,” Arthur responded immediately. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You came for me,” he continued. “I thought you were...”

Oh. He wasn’t just talking about the bath.

Arthur sat up a little, putting one hand on Lewis’s face and tilting it up toward his. “Hey. Look at me. I will always be there for you. No matter what. I’d look forever if I had to, okay? I would never leave you in a place like that.”

Lewis nodded slightly, and then went back to curling up against him.

“Thank you,” he said again, a barely-audible whisper.

#mystery skulls animated #lewthur #the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #swift writes #medical tw #i say 'this got away from me' a lot but tbh. i knew this was gonna be long when i started #arthur taking care of lewis. godtier #eagefree

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 4 years

Text

WHO?

Prompt: “Can you do a mob!Roman Reigns x Pregnant Reader where they are in a meeting and someone disrespects her?” Requested by the lovely @purpledragon04 (I’m also tagging my girl @ziasaph ‘cuz she wants all Roman related stories...and I can relate babe! Hahaha)

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Mob!Roman Reigns x Pregnant Reader

Warnings: Mob themed related subjects(drugs/gun),cursing,explicit violence,mentions of murder,harassment.

Notes: I’ve always wanted to write something Mob!Roman related but I’ve never had any good ideas,until the amazing @purpledragon04 request this. I’ve had some free time today so I dedicated to write this.So there you have it, I hope you like it babe.🥰 Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

I woke up as soon as the smell of fresh toast and scrambled eggs filled the bedroom, I opened my eyes and saw my beautiful man holding a tray fool of food,shirtless and barefooted with his hair down,only in a pair of black sweatpants that hanged dangerously low on his hips.

“Good morning baby girl” He softly smiles

“Good morning Ro”

He placed the tray of food on top of the bed on his empty side and approached me kneeling on one knee,placing one big hand on my round belly,pecking my lips,looking at my bump and asking in a soft voice

“And how are we feeling today?” While he rubbed and gave light pecks all around my belly.

“So far so good!” I answered as I ran my fingers through his thick,silky,dark hair.

“Good” he pecks my lips “ ‘cuz I’ve brought us some food”

He got up and walked to his side of our king size bed,placed the tray next to me so he could sit on the bed.

Ever since we’ve found out I was pregnant Roman did this same morning ritual every day without a fail! He would wake up before me and cook himself our breakfast. And to be honest I don’t know how he could do it,for 6 months straight now,every single day. It mesmerized me how much dedication he had with my and the baby’s well being.

“What did I do to deserve you?To deserve this everyday?” I honestly asked while I pointed to the tray

He shyly smiled and I could swear he blushed before answering “Baby girl,you’re making a big deal out of nothing really,it’s a simple gesture that I like to do,because I love you and our little bundle of joy” He rubbed my bump “I just like to take care of you both that’s all...now let’s eat before the food gets cold”

I smiled and took a good look on the tray,there was scrambled eggs,plain toast and toast with jam,fruit salad,water,coffee and juice. I eagerly reached for the coffee when...

“Nu uh! You’re not drinking that missy!” He took the coffee out of my sight “I’ve made you some peach juice and there’s water.”

I rolled my eyes and let out an annoyed sigh before saying “The doctor said that I had do control the amount of caffeine I drink and not to totally quit it,you know?”

“First things first,don’t roll you eyes at me missy. Secondly yours and the baby’s health comes in first place,so that means no caffeine for you”

“But I-“

“There’s no arguing about it! Now drink your juice and eat your breakfast!”

“Whatever you say,dad” I scoffed

He briefly chuckled and said “Don’t you worry baby girl, later tonight, I’m sure the same words will come out of your mouth with a different tone to it” he deviously smirked at me.

I was finishing opening the last package with some of the baby’s items I’ve bought online, to find the one thing I was looking for. A romper with some beautiful and delicate flower patterns on it, with the saying ‘ I may be small,but I’m a one big wish come true’, the same words Roman said to the baby when we’ve found out I was 4 weeks pregnant.

I smiled and made my way to his office, I was so excited to show him what I’ve found that I bursted through the door saying

“Hey Ro,look what I’ve foun-“ I stopped talking as soon as I saw he wasn’t alone “I’m so sorry! I didn’t knew you had a meeting,that was so reckless of me to burst in like that,sorry.”

“It’s ok baby, it’s a last minute meeting, I didn’t even had time to let you know, it’s ok tho, I know you didn’t mean to” He smiled “Besides,we’re pretty much done here.” He stood up from his chair,made his way towards me at the door and whispered “I’m just gonna go grab something really quick,so I can give to David,then I’m all yours ok?”

“Sure,Ro” I answered and he pecked my lips

“I’ll be right back baby” And he quickly went down the stairs.

Personally, I don’t like David, as matter of fact I fucking hate him! He is one of the guys who takes shifts with Ben selling Roman’s product on the streets. And he’s a total pervert.

Every time he sees me he flirts (borderline harass) me, making disgusting comments about me,my body,my clothes..and since I got pregnant it became worst, I once caught him saying that he loved the fact that I’m pregnant now,because it would make my boobs look bigger and I would look so good that way. To say that he’s disgusting and filthy is an understatement, he’s the worst scum bag I’ve ever seen! I never said anything to Roman because I know David is one of his top guys and I didn’t wanted to ruin his business,but I swear that many,many times I wish I had told him.

David stood up and made his way dangerously towards me

“Well, well...what do we have here?Two beautiful girls” He reach his arm to touch my bump and a ferocious mother instinct took over me. I could take care of myself but I’ll be damned if he touches my baby!

“Touch her and I’ll kill you myself” I snarled.

It may sound dumb, since she wasn’t even born yet, to think that he could actually touch her. But he knew that to me touching a woman’s pregnant bump was as intimate as touching her baby. And he would never,ever touch my baby girl!

“Calm down mama” he chuckled “I mean no harm! I gotta say tho Y/N, you look as beautiful as ever” he measured me from head to toe with an aroused look upon his eyes and I had to hold myself from throwing up.

“You know I would give anything for that baby to be mine and not his right?” He approached me carefully

“Stay away from me”

“Calm down tigress!” He lightly laughed

“Don’t you dare to touch me or her! You make me sick!”

“I just wanna give my girls a hug,that’s all”

Pure fear surrounded me and I turned away to run,but he was faster pulling me towards him, wrapping his arms around my belly making my ass rest on his erection.

“See,how I get whenever I see you tigress?” He started to caress my baby bump and hot tears poured down my eyes making my sight completely blurred. I felt someone quickly yank him from me and I cleaned my eyes to see Roman on top of him restlessly throw punch after punch on his face.

“Have you lost your fucking mind motherfucker? You must have a death wish boy!” Roman said while he continued to punch him with such a ferocious rage that I was pretty sure his face was getting unrecognizable.

He started to choke in his own blood, so Roman stopped his actions, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulled the 9mm gun he always kept on his pants back waist. He put the gun nozzle on his cheek close to his lips and David started to cry babbling something along the lines of please and sorry. Roman just ignored saying

“Who the fuck you think you are boy? You live from my money, live in one of my houses, sell my drugs and still you think you can come to my house and mess with my pregnant woman” Roman dragged the nozzle from his cheek to his closed lips “And unborn daughter, under my roof and it will all be ok? Open your mouth” David begin to cry even harder “I said open. your. fucking. mouth boy!” He screamed and David slowly opened his mouth.

Roman places the nozzle inside of David’s mouth and continues to say scaringly calm

“What’s the matter Davie? I thought you liked to touch and talk obscenities to pregnant women. Go on now,continue what you were saying to my wife” David paralyzed “C’mon Dave, don’t be shy! You clearly have no respect for women, specially for my woman, or myself for that matter. So go for it, I’m all ears now!” The light beige rug beneath David started to slowly become a darker beige tone, was he?..

“Oh Davie, you filthy motherfucker, you’re pissing on my fucking rug???! Unbelievable! You know I’ll have to discount this from your paycheck right?” Roman was now laughing uncontrollably, he looked at me with amusement on his eyes

“Do you see this Y/N? David is scared...poor thing!” He continued to chuckle “Are you afraid to die Dave?”

“Yes, sir” David barely mumble

“Don’t you worry Davie boy, I’m not gonna kill you...I’ll just make you an example for any dumb motherfucker who thinks he can disrespect my wife or daughter..” Roman smiled

It has been 2 weeks now,since the incident with David. Roman has never once spoken about him since Ben took him out of our house.

I was in the baby’s nursery, organizing some of her clothing in the little lavender and white wardrobe we just bought for her, when Roman came through the door.

“Whatcha doing baby girl?”

“Trying to organize the chaos” I laughed,there were clothes and toys all over the nursery.

He placed one hand on my bump and whispered “And what’s my other baby girl doing,huh?” He kneeled down and nuzzled his nose on my belly, placing his bearded cheek on it right after.

“Oh definitely sleeping!” I chuckled

“I wonder where did she got it from?” He tried to hold back a laugh

“Uh” I gasped, pretending to be offended “Roman, are you trying to imply that I’m the lazy one?”

“No baby! I would never say such thing!” He smiled while pressing his chin to my bump so he could look at me with an amused look on his face.

“Yeah right you wouldn’t!” I laughed while I stroked his bearded cheek. He stood up and sweetly kissed my lips before going to the little wardrobe.

“Oh,this is cute” He said while holding a yellow dress with big black polka dots in it.

I couldn’t stop the thought that lingered on my mind for 2 weeks now, and before I could process what I was saying the words left my mouth.

“Ro, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, baby girl. Whatcha wanna know?” He answered still amused by the baby’s dresses

“What happened with David?”

I could see that his whole body tensed, before relaxing again. He took a small hanger out of the wardrobe, hanged the little yellow dress on it and put it back on the baby’s wardrobe before turning to face me,while calmly answering

“Who?”

I love Roman,although he’s a big guy and all of that I was never afraid of him, but I’ve never seen such a cruel, cold look on his face...and to be honest it was kinda scary.

“David...” I whispered

“I don’t know what you’re talking about baby” He gave me the coldest smile I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Roman...you’re kinda scaring me,love” My voice came out quite shaky

“Y/N, baby girl..” He came to me and cupped my face on his hands “Look at me baby” I did as he asked

“Y/N, I sincerely tell you that I don’t know who this David is or what happened to him. I’ve never met any David baby girl... You look a little flushed, why don’t we go downstairs to the kitchen and I’ll make you a sandwich huh? I need to keep my girls healthy” He leaned one hand down to my belly and the other one stroked my hair.

“What do you say baby?”

“Yeah Ro,that sounds nice”

“Good” He sincerely smiled at me and the warmth was back to his eyes “C’mon” he intertwined our fingers as we went down the stairs to the kitchen “I have to take care of my girls” He said while he looked at me with a smile.

That’s when I realized that whatever happened with David I would never know, and to be honest with you, I don’t even think I wanna know anymore...

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes #request

288 notes · View notes

bbugyu · 4 years

Note

hi! could i request a jeonghan enemies (or friends that bicker a lot) to lovers? ty and i love ur writing !!

i am so glad you requested this because i have had this in the works for so long that i had to throw it into a case converter because it had capitalization and i was Not gonna finish it if i had to type it proper (i'm a fucking gremlin ok)

thank u for reading my work and thank u for giving me the perfect excuse to be hopelessly in love with jeonghan!!!!

falling + yoon jeonghan

finally, he thought. someone on his level. what’s the catch?

part one | part two

wc.10009 (fuckin oops) | fluff, humor, uni/coffeeshop/enemies to lovers au, gender neutral reader, slow burn, drinking, like lk too much drinking, swearing, throwing it back to sistar, copious argumentive flirting, everyone is MEAN but like in a funny way, bff!mingyu, it's your resident mingyuzi shipper, the only person more of a little shit than jeonghan is y/n

i used to be a barista and i would get exceptionally hateful towards customers for really stupid reasons and the only thing that could stop it is if they were really hot. this seems to hold great jeonghan energy. also i made y/n, like, mean as hell. like not actually mean but like. Mean. sorry. also all bars mentioned are real bars on capital hill in seattle that i love so if you recognize them that’s why. enjoy this enemies to lovers courtship.

you were pretentious, jeonghan thought. you acted like you were better than everyone else, and he hated that he had yet to find a reason to call you wrong.

he saw you almost every day during the week, between the class you shared on tuesdays and thursdays, and the cafe he worked in that you frequented to study. your demeanor was always polite, but what most people would describe as cold. you had caught his attention the first day of the semester, something about you seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it until he made your coffee the next day. you usually sat in the row in front of him, a few seats over, and he would chew on his cheek and wonder how you could sit back in your chair, arms crossed and eyes hardly opened, but still get the highest essay scores in the class. at the end of lecture, after he was done spending all his brain power stewing about your ability to succeed in visual culture without really trying, he would text his friend that took the class last quarter and ask, panic stricken, if he still had his notes, the irony of the situation completely lost on him.

at the cafe, you would come in, order an americano, and sit yourself in a well lit corner to work on your classes for a few hours, the coffee mostly undisturbed on the table beside your favorite armchair, then leave. there was never a smile on your face, and you were always alone. jeonghan watched the ice in your americano melt, watering down the coffee he made. maybe he had let the shots of espresso sit too long before saving them. maybe he let them burn on purpose just to see the face you made. but alas, you hadn't even put the metal straw to your lips. he wondered why you even ordered a coffee if you weren’t going to reap the benefit.

joshua spotted him leaning against the counter as he came out of the kitchen and laughed, setting down the freshly washed milk pitchers. “ask them out.”

he stood up straight. “why?”

“why not? you clearly like them.”

“i really don’t,” jeonghan laughed. “you’re crazy for thinking i do.”

joshua rolled his eyes. “no one spends as much time as you do staring at another person if they don’t find them at least a little attractive. have you ever even talked to them? outside of taking their order?”

he hesitated. “no?”

“so what if they’re actually really wonderful and you have a lot in common?”

“as if.”

“wow,” joshua said, leaning against the counter. “i can’t believe yoon jeonghan is afraid to talk to his crush.”

jeonghan shoved his friend's shoulder, giving him a look. “absolutely not. i'm 99% sure they're a pretentious asshole.”

he crossed his arms. “what does that make you?”

“shut up.”

“whatever, han. i’m just saying it’s kind of pretentious to hate someone solely because they don’t smile wide enough for you when they’re saying thanks.”

“it’s not that hard!” jeonghan said, maybe a little too loud. “i don’t wanna smile either, shua! but i do it! so can they!!”

joshua laughed. “lower your voice and go say hi, you freak.”

much to his chagrin, jeonghan got shoved towards your spot in the cafe with the front of the tables needing to get wiped down. he looked at joshua and seokmin with a furrowed brow as he wrung the towel, both of them giving him thumbs ups with wide grins. begrudgingly, he slowly made his way over to you.

“hey,” jeonghan said, doing his best to project something other than the absolute turmoil going on inside his head. you looked up from your textbook, pulling the earbud out of your ear. “why don’t you drink the coffee?”

you furrowed your brow and looked at your untouched americano. “i- uh, what?”

“you never drink the coffee,” he repeated, nodding at the glass. “why do you get it anyways?”

you blinked up at him. “are you offended that i’m not drinking your coffee?”

he almost laughed at the look of disbelief you were giving him. “no, i just don’t get why you waste the money here if you don’t even need the caffeine.”

“it’s cheaper to buy an americano than it is to rent a stall at a study cafe,” you said, habitually hitting save on your notes document. “why are you so worried about me, yoon jeonghan?”

he faltered, surprised. “you know me?”

“nametag,” you didn't miss a beat, pointing at his chest and giggling. “do you know me?”

jeonghan’s lip twitched, feeling almost embarrassed by not thinking of his own nametag, and definitely not an involuntary reaction to seeing you smile for the first time. “uh, yeah. we have a class together,” he said as casually as possible as he folded the washcloth in his hands. “visual culture.”

you nodded, looking into space for a moment. “hmm. weren’t you also in child psych with professor moon last winter?”

he blinked back at you. “yeah? you were in that class?”

you nodded, holding in a laugh. “yeah, yoon jeonghan. i was. head in the clouds?”

for some reason, the way you said his full name made his ears heat up. “maybe you were easy to forget,” he said dismissively, even though you both knew that wasn't the case. “isn’t it better to study in a library? that one’s free.”

“there’s never any open tables at the library,” you said, unfurling your legs and sitting straight, textbook in your lap. “and the chairs are uncomfortable, unlike this armchair. and people usually don’t bother me here.”

jeonghan sighed. “well, if you’re insistent on going to a cafe, there’s one down the street with a better espresso bean and it’s less busy. less people to bother you and a better tasting americano that you won’t drink.”

you cocked your head, closing your laptop. “is that an invitation?”

and for the first time, you saw jeonghan stutter. “n-no? just a suggestion. i think it’s cheaper, too-”

“don’t you work here?” you asked, eyes shining. “shouldn’t you be happy i’m wasting my money here?”

he eyed you, beginning to turn his body to leave the conversation. “do whatever you want. i’m not your dad.”

you grinned, leaning forward in your chair. “are you busy after class tomorrow?”

“why?”

“i need you to show me where this cafe is.”

jeonghan sighed. “can’t you just look it up? cafe nomu.” he wrote the characters with his finger in the air. “no-mu. use naver.”

“i get lost easily,” you said, standing up. jeonghan wondered if you were telling the truth. “we can go together?”

jeonghan watched you pack up your things, confused. “why?”

you paused, looking at him. “why not?”

he was getting real sick of people asking him why not.

“did i drive you away?” he asked instead, nodding at your now packed bag.

“no, i was headed out soon anyways.” you swung the bag over your shoulder and picked up the untouched americano. “do you want this?”

jeonghan couldn’t help but scoff as you handed him the glass that had been the subject of his staring all afternoon. “you can't be serious.”

you grinned and patted his shoulder. “i’m y/n, by the way. i’ll see you in class?”

he squinted at you as you walked away, suddenly confused by the quick succession of questions you had thrown back and forth. you were cute, sure, and his distaste for you was misplaced, perhaps, but he couldn't help the annoyance that bubbled up in him as you sauntered out of the cafe like you had won a debate. he walked back to the counter and set down the americano, an excited seokmin waiting for him.

“so?” he grabbed the glass and dumped it in the sink behind the counter. “how’d it go?”

jeonghan looked at the door you had left out of. “i think i just got asked out.”

“what?” seokmin’s hands made fists in front of him while he grinned. “y/n did? are you serious? you said yes, right?”

“not really,” he replied, looking back at the younger and exhaling deeply. “but i don’t think i can avoid it.”

you had known of yoon jeonghan for a while. a class here and there, a few mutual friends, and of course at the cafe. but the night you learned his name really stuck out to you, when he had been singing at a karaoke bar right after finals last quarter.

it was common to celebrate the end of finals week with partying and drinking, and your friends had invited you out to barhop until the sun came up. you started at a dance club, had way too much rum at a hula themed place, took tequila shots at a gay bar, then landed at a karaoke bar with a can of beer in your fist and a grin on your face. your friends liked to sing, so you had fun encouraging them to get on the slightly raised stage and show their chops.��

“no, no, no,” mingyu said, grabbing your hands as you tried to push him towards the dj. “no way, i recognize the names on the list. there’s real singers here.”

you looked at the screen that displayed the queue. “what do you mean? who?”

“that guy,” mingyu said, pointing at the screen easily, despite you having to crane your neck to even view it. “no way. he’s in jihoon’s band, i’m not following that guy.”

“hangguk’s angel yoon jeonghan,” you read, squinting. “sounds like a pretentious asshole.”

mingyu laughed. “wait til you hear his voice, you’ll see how he got the name.”

"y/n's right," jun interjected, leaning heavily against the standing table your quad squad had claimed, pouring more soju for himself and whoever would claim the other glass. "he is a pretentious asshole."

you pointed at him, brows raised at mingyu. "jun is never wrong."

mingyu rolled his eyes. "pretentious assholes can still sound like angels."

“where the fuck have you been,” you asked, startled by your third and final friend suddenly appearing beside you.

“around,” vernon said, sipping at the nondescript brown liquid in his glass through a bright pink straw. he laughed when you quirked an eyebrow at him. “soonyoung’s here with his posse, he caught me while i was getting another drink.”

“see!” mingyu shook your shoulder, nearly choking after downing jun’s companion shot. “i told you! jihoon’s band.”

you whacked his bicep. “who cares? just go queue a rap song or something, you pussy.”

the singers cycled through and you cheered on many of your fellow drunk university students as they sang with no remorse. jun dragged you onto the tiny dancefloor and forced you to help him hype up soonyoung - his dance team captain - as he screamed along to hurricane. then one of vernon's friends performed a near flawless rendition of shake it by sistar after yelling something about bringing the summer to this cold winter night, earning him a cheering and dancing crowd, and you had known far more of the choreo than you had thought. mingyu was whooping and hollering at you playfully every time you threw your ass out to the song, and he only got louder when jun and vernon did their best to follow along with you, and you had almost forgotten about the name that everyone insisted was to be feared.

“that guy?” you asked, the self-proclaimed angel stepping onto the stage. you recognized him immediately. “that’s my barista.”

mingyu made a noise that almost resembled whistling, if he had been capable of doing so. “i should start studying with you next quarter.”

and when he sang, it clicked. despite the tonal difference, you couldn't help but become enthralled by his voice. gyu was right. pretentious assholes could still sound like angels, and perhaps that was by design.

his voice drifted through your head again when you noticed him in your visual culture class, seated and giggling at his phone on the first day of the quarter.

"you have another class with him?" mingyu groaned a week later, walking beside you. "why you? why aren’t there hot guys in my major?"

"because pre-med kids are too busy to be hot."

he gave you a look. "damn, okay. like, you're not wrong, but damn."

you rolled your eyes. "don't act like you don't love being the pre-med heartthrob. you would be pissed if you had competition."

"anyways, are you gonna ask him out?"

you pause at the stop light to wait for your turn to cross, turning towards him. "why would i do that?"

“because he’s hangguk’s angel yoon jeong-honey voice,” mingyu said, moving his head as he dramatically pronounced each syllable in your face. “if you’re not already in love with him, you will be soon, and it sounds like fate's trying to bring you together. didn’t you say he’s your barista?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, and his americanos suck now. i don’t even drink it when he makes them anymore.”

he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. “what the hell? why do you still go there, then?”

you pouted. “it’s quiet and there’s a comfy armchair.”

weeks passed, and you continued to spot jeonghan in your class when you arrived, hearing the faint sound of his singing voice in your head. when he took your order at the cafe, he had a vague snottiness to his voice, and while you absolutely believed that this was the same person as the one you saw sing a soft love ballad with a sobering intensity at two in the morning, you still struggled to connect it to the one you watched run off the stage, immediately curling into himself and laughing with his friends in embarrassment.

you became more and more fascinated by yoon jeonghan as time passed, but his americanos continued to suck. so when he suggested a cafe with better espresso, you lit up. and when he got flustered, letting down his guard unintentionally, you lit up even more. that was the drunk, embarrassed boy you had seen, pink faced and giggling as he hid behind his friends.

jeonghan sat in his usual seat in class, anxiously glancing up at the door every time a group of people entered the lecture hall. when you arrived, your usual minute before the turn of the hour, he rubbed his palms against his sweats. the sweats that he had worn with the specific intention of making sure you didn't think he was trying too hard to look nice around you. despite that fact, part of him still felt annoyed that you were also dressed down, swimming in a hoodie several sizes too big for you. he tried to make sense of the sudden nerves he had, but not once did he consider they were because he thought you were disgustingly adorable.

instead of taking your usual spot, you marched right up to jeonghan’s table and grinned. “is this seat taken?”

he blinked at you. “yes.”

you laughed and slid into the seat beside him anyways, ignoring the dagger stare from a girl across the room that usually sat beside jeonghan silently. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“how do you expect me to react? you’ve never even smiled at me before yesterday.”

shrugging, you put your bag on the table and leaned back in your seat, assuming your usual position for this particular class. “you didn’t deserve it before yesterday.”

jeonghan wanted to argue with you, but the professor cleared his throat and introduced the subject of the lecture.

after only ten minutes, jeonghan could have sworn he heard you snoring. he poked your shoulder with his pen.

you looked over at him, eyebrow quirked. you mouthed a “what” at him.

he exhaled suddenly, mouth forming a vague smile more in disbelief than from being entertained. he seemed annoyed with you, despite the fact that he was the one interrupting your allocated meditation time. he leaned forward, turning his body towards you and spoke in a hushed tone. “how can you do that every day and still be top of the class?”

you mirrored his body language, leaning forward over the desk and resting your cheek on a fist, speaking in the same hushed tone. “visual culture is subjective. as long as you understand the concept; i-e, how we as humans visually design the world around us and how that becomes an important aspect of our place in nature, in the universe, in existence, etcetera; then you can write about literally anything. my last essay was about skate parks. the more opinionated the essay, the better score you get.” you pointed a finger at the man speaking at the front of the class. “i watched the prof’s ted talk before the quarter started - every lecture is just a regurgitation of the same concepts. it’s an easy a, as long as you have strong opinions.”

jeonghan stared at you for what felt like an eternity. “you do seem like you have strong opinions.”

“and you don’t, yoon jeonghan?”

he supposed he couldn’t argue with that, but it still frustrated him to no end that you had found some kind of loophole that he had missed. you gamed the system better than he could, and he had been stuck pouring over his friend’s notes from the previous quarter and bullshitting some essays about architecture that he didn't give a shit about. and so, instead of spending his whole class stewing like he normally did, he decided to waste no time adopting your approach, pulling his sweatshirt hood over his head and catching up on some missed sleep. when he woke up again, it was to your prodding finger.

“what time is it,” he said immediately, squinting at his surroundings. he suddenly remembered he was in class as he saw fellow students packing up their things and filing out. he looked at you, blinking at your grinning face.

“time for coffee,” you said, tugging on the drawstrings of the light blue hoodie he wore. “did you have any sweet dreams?”

jeonghan shoved his blank notebook into the tote bag he used for classes and stood. “of course not.”

“i did,” you said, throwing your bag over your shoulder and following him down the hall steps. “i dreamt you paid at the cafe.”

he turned, eyeing your shiteating grin from behind his hood. “yeah, keep dreaming.”

“worth a shot,” you said, trotting down beside him. “so, what’s your major, yoon jeonghan?”

he rolled his eyes, almost forgetting about your habit of calling him by his full name. “do you really care?”

“what else are we gonna talk about, my drinking problem?”

despite himself, jeonghan laughed, looking over at you as you left the lecture hall. “maybe! how bad is it?”

you grinned, feeling successful from making him break his serious persona. “wouldn’t you like to know.”

he clicked his tongue, pushing open the doors of the social studies building. “no fun.”

“you’ll have to invite me to a bar next time,” you said, following after him out the door into the sunshine that cascaded over the quad. it was a beautiful spring day, but a bit chilly, and you shoved your hands into your sweatshirt pocket.

“hmm,” jeonghan said, letting his blue hood fall off his head as he stretched in the sun. “i only really go to one bar.”

you watched him bask for a moment, wondering how many sides of him you had yet to see. his hair was dark, but the lighter chocolate tones reflected in the sun. “bet i can guess which one.”

jeonghan paused on the sidewalk, making you walk ahead of him a couple steps before you turned towards him questioningly. “okay, yeah. guess. you won’t get it.”

you size him up a moment, taking his words as a challenge. “if i guess right, you buy coffee?”

he exhaled, an amused smile on his face. “why are you so obsessed with me buying you coffee?”

“it tastes better free.”

“okay, fine. but if you’re wrong, you buy.”

you groaned. “do you know how many bars are in this city? that doesn’t seem fair.”

jeonghan resumed walking, gesturing for you to guess. “i’ll give you three tries.”

you chewed your cheek, trying to conceal your sly grin. “okay, three tries. deal?”

he nodded. you made it way too easy for him to win. “deal.”

“let me think.” jeonghan watched your feet fall easily into step beside him. “what bar has a stupid gimmick you would be into... pie bar?”

he shook his head, almost laughing at your teasing. “i’ve been there before, but it's not really my thing.”

you exhaled sharply. “shouldn’t that count for a stick of gum or something?” jeonghan laughed, insisting that this was an all or nothing situation. “then i give up.”

“you can’t give up!” jeonghan said. “you said deal. no going back.”

“fine," you pouted. "why can't i remember any bar names? uhh, r place?”

he stopped. “the gay club?”

you stopped, looking at him expectantly. “well?”

jeonghan laughed as he walked again. “no, not r place. jesus. you have one last chance. i’m really excited to order something expensive today.”

you chewed your cheek. “where would someone like yoon jeonghan go to drink… hanguk’s angel yoon jeonghan…”

he stopped in his tracks. “what did you just say?”

you tapped on your chin with a finger, arms crossed. “yoon jeong-honey voice… where would someone like him go? maybe… a karaoke bar?”

“hey, hey-” jeonghan pointed at you accusingly. “are you serious? you’ve seen me?”

“hmm,” you continued, laughing as you avoided his gaze. “oh, i know! the rockbox!”

“yah!” jeonghan was laughing, pointing at you in disbelief. “what the hell! this isn’t fair!”

“you said deal, no going back.” you grinned in victory. “wow, maybe i’ll order something expensive. i can’t believe i won.”

jeonghan’s tongue ran over his teeth as he watched you giggle and happily trot ahead of him. “fine, fine. you win. when did you see me there?”

“after winter finals,” you said, cheesing. “i was there with friends and you sang.”

he tutted. “damn. did i just miss you or did you not sing?”

“i don’t sing,” you said, smiling as he continued walking with you. “my friends do, though. and i was forced to be in soonyoung’s hype squad for hurricane.”

jeonghan clapped suddenly, remembering in his perhaps too drunk stupor that seungcheol had pointed you out, calling you “the cutie that keeps looking at him.” he had, admittedly, checked you out, despite the fact that he had been too embarrassed by his too-serious song to go and talk to you, and he had thought you looked familiar. “oh my god! yes! i did see you! how do you know soonyoung?”

“mutual friends,” you said. “chwe hansol?

he nodded. “we’ve met once, i think. were you there with junhui?”

“yeah, actually,” you said, remembering the opinion of jeonghan your friend had volunteered up for you. “how do you know him?”

“i haven’t talked to him a lot directly, but i know both his roommates pretty well,” jeonghan said. "we do music together.”

“ah, yes,” you nodded in recollection, but refusing to acknowledge how insanely pretentious it was of him to say something like we do music together. “jihoon’s unnamed but immensely prolific band.”

he rolled his eyes. “why is it jihoon’s band? why can’t it be jeonghan’s band?”

“don’t ask me,” you said, putting up hands in innocence. “i didn’t even know it existed until that night. mingyu wouldn’t shut up about it.”

the name sounded familiar to jeonghan, but he moved on as the two of you reached a stop light. “do you go there a lot? or was that a one time thing?”

you eyed him. “this is starting to sound like an invitation, hannie.”

he didn’t comment on the nickname, despite the weird way his arms tingled at it. “you should learn what an invitation actually sounds like. you tend to assume a lot.”

you laughed heartily, and jeonghan ignored the way his stomach flitted while you started to cross the street. “call it wishful thinking, but i think i get you, yoon jeonghan.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean?”

you never answered his question, but grinned instead, which gave jeonghan a sense of unease and a touch of curiosity. as he led you to cafe nomu, he caught himself smiling. laughing. enjoying your company and conversation.

maybe shua hadn’t been completely off base.

by the time jeonghan had realized that his feelings towards you might have evolved from vague malice into something more akin to genuine interest, he was pushing open the door to the cafe for you and mentally double checking that he had put on deodorant that morning, cursing his inability to control his own nerves. ah, he thought. that explained the weird feeling he got waiting for you in class, too. and why he got flustered the day before at his work. he only snapped out of his crowded mind when he heard you ordering an iced americano.

“and for you?”

jeonghan blinked at you, then at the barista that was addressing him. “make that two.”

“thank you for the coffee,” you said, pressing your hands together as he inserted his card.

he waved you off, chuckling, but kept his eyes as far from yours as he could. “a deal is a deal.”

you looked around the quiet cafe, quickly scoping out the seat options as jeonghan accepted the buzzer for your order. he thought it was a little silly, considering the two of you were half of the customers in the cafe currently, but said nothing as he turned it over in his fingers, standing next to you.

“there?” you asked, pointing at a table by a window.

jeonghan bit his cheek, thinking about how joshua would likely be walking down this street to go to his shift, if he had one. “yeah, wherever.”

you were already on your way to the seat when he responded, and he followed, dropping his bag off his shoulder to hang on the hook under the table.

“i thought you were going to get something expensive,” he teased, sitting across from you.

laughing lightly, you pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and set it on the table. “you said the espresso was good, i wanted to try it.”

“don’t you not like coffee?” jeonghan asked, squinting at you.

“i love coffee,” you said, quirking an eyebrow.

“then why don’t you drink the americanos i make?”

he was leaning forward, staring at you, fingers folding over each other on the table. you pouted, avoiding his eyes suddenly. “no reason.��

leaning back again, he kept a wary eye on you. “that’s convincing.”

“good, it’s the truth.”

jeonghan decided to put a pin in that interrogation in favor of asking you your major.

you laughed again, making a small smile appear on his face. "communications," you answered, despite thinking of how he denied the same question from you earlier.

he let out a low "wah" and cocked his head. "what's up with that? same major."

"really?" you leaned over the table. "what year are you?"

"third."

you put a peace sign next to your eye like you were posing for a photo. "second."

you couldn't help but giggle at the "pfft" that spilled out of jeonghan's lips as he laughed at you, muttering a "really" under his breath at your pose. he was running a hand through his extremely soft and fluffy looking hair when the buzzer went off, and you blinked yourself awake from your trance to nod after he said he would go get the drinks.

admitting to it was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn’t help but hear mingyu’s voice rattling around your head, telling you that you would fall for jeonghan eventually. you had once thought he was completely up his own ass, but you kept getting glimpses of this really cute, really sweet version of him, and it made you want to get to know him better. additionally, it was getting harder to find people that would happily play along with your teasing, and he had no qualms teasing you right back.

when he returned with the americanos, you pressed your hands together in another thank you before taking a sip. he slid back into his seat and looked at you expectantly. "well? what do you think?"

you paused a moment, appraising the flavor. "delicious. thank you."

after he sipped at his own, he nodded. "the beans here are really good. balanced. i wish i could convince my boss to source better stuff."

you watched him sip again, letting out a praise under his breath. you sighed. "i have a confession."

his eyebrows quirked at you, and he did his best to not show the way his stomach flipped. "what kind?"

"i don't drink your americanos because they're shit."

there was silence as he processed your words, and you wondered if you had royally fucked up by saying something. suddenly, he was laughing, and you stared at him in shock as he calmed down. "oh my god, yeah, they are."

"wait, you know?"

"i-" jeonghan paused, rubbing his face, still laughing. "god, this is so stupid. i burn your shots."

your jaw dropped open, but a smile creeped across your face as you understood. "wait, on purpose?"

"you never smile!" he attempted to explain himself with a bit too much enthusiasm, finding his own pettiness ridiculous in hindsight. "not even when i smiled at you. i had a grudge. i'm sorry."

you were sipping your non-burnt americano with a sly look on your face. you wanted to be mad at the wasted money on countless gross americanos, but somehow, you couldn't be. "do you hold grudges against everyone or am i just lucky?"

"uh, depends," jeonghan said, crossing his arms and thinking. "when the prof that failed my roommate comes in, i burn his shots, too. i think he might like it that way, though, because he's always really nice to me."

you almost snorted. "well, you owe me a lot of coffee."

he nodded and sighed, resigning to his fate. "when you come in, your coffee's on me. and i won't burn it this time."

you pouted a second, and jeonghan barely caught it, but he thought the expression was far too cute. "i was hoping you would invite me out again."

"again?" he asked, letting a few 'ha's fall from his lips in quick succession. "you mean for the first time?"

you gestured to the cafe you sat in. "was this not your idea?"

he rolled his eyes. "you invited yourself out and held me hostage."

"does that mean you have stockholms?"

he laughed at the diagnosis, remembering the class you claimed you had both taken the year before. "you're a very charming captor."

you smiled at the compliment, despite the sinister implication.

the next time you saw jeonghan, it was saturday. you had rolled out of bed far earlier than you had intended to when you had fallen asleep at 4 am after a very drunk and extremely conflict heavy game of uno with the guys. you winced at the sunlight streaming through your shitty dorm blinds, fumbling your way to the water dispenser on your desk to rehydrate.

you stared at your roommate's empty bed, remembering they had said they worked early shifts this weekend as you brushed your teeth, and you wondered how they had dealt with you stumbling into the dorm in the wee hours of the day.

you almost gagged on your toothbrush. an empty room on a saturday morning with too little sleep and a nasty hangover, you thought. bad decisions could never be made under these circumstances.

"does jeonghan's cafe do breakfast sandwiches?" you thought aloud with a mouth full of toothpaste, leaning over the sink to spit. you kind of remembered seeing them on the menu, though you never thought to get anything beyond the occasional muffin. maybe today was the day.

after washing your face and cleaning up your hair a bit, you had to dig in your clothes to find your favorite pair of black sweats and a shirt to tuck in. you last minute decided to bring your good headphones, just in case hanguk's angel wasn't there to bug, and ran out the door with your wallet and phone, a pair of sunglasses shoved onto your face.

the walk to his cafe is short from the dorms you lived in, which was another reason you liked it there. it was warmer than it had been during the week, and you watched a big muscular dog running alongside its owner. before long, you were tugging open the door, seeing no line. you grinned at how lucky you were as you pulled your headphones down to your neck.

"yoon jeonghan! you are working!"

he seemed startled by your voice, his shoulders raising slightly as he turned towards the door. "oh, what the hell? what are you doing here at 9:30 on a saturday?"

you pouted, walking up to the counter and tugging off your sunglasses. "are you not happy to see me?"

his laugh was genuine and completely out of his control. "sure i am. nice eyebags."

that, you noted, was the first time jeonghan had ever greeted you with a smile, and it seemed appropriate that it was paired with an insult. "thanks, i'm violently hungover right now." you said, noticing your best friend's roommate standing further back behind the counter, pretty obviously pretending to not be listening to you.

"do you wanna redeem a free americano?" he asked, poking at the touchscreen register.

you hummed, crossing your arms and staring at the menu board. "not today, i wanna try a latte. something tasty, and something for breakfast. what do you think?"

jeonghan stared at you, and you stared back, a small smile on your face. he blinked. "have you ever tried lavender?"

"lavender?" you shook your head, genuinely surprised. "is that a good flavor?"

he nodded, looking down at the screen and adding items to your order. "we have this seasonal syrup that we make in house," he said. "it's my favorite one of the year. honey, lavender, and vanilla bean. big one?"

you blinked at the cup sizes, trying to remember how many bottles of soju you had bought the night before, and subsequently how much money was left in your account. "uh, yeah."

"will you be offended if i give you a vegetarian sandwich? it's the best one."

you cocked your head. "i mean, if it's the best one…"

jeonghan smiled slightly, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. "it's the best one. and it's my secret hangover cure."

you noticed his card too late. "hey, what are you doing?"

he quirked an eyebrow at you. "buying your coffee. like i said i would."

"that was way more than an americano."

"and i've burned way more than an americano," jeonghan reminded you. "and if you don't accept that, i'm buying you breakfast as a peace offering."

your eyebrows raised. "a peace offering?"

he avoided your gaze. "i've decided you're not a pretentious asshole."

you laughed at his word choice, and how it mirrored your own. "i mean, i can be kind of pretentious sometimes. and a major asshole a lot of the time."

jeonghan grinned. "me too."

he washed his hands and passed along the sandwich order to his coworker as he moved to the espresso machine, briefly explaining to you that he was completely useless with food as soon as a heat source becomes involved, but assured you that seokmin was a master with a turbochef, and that your sandwich was in the best hands.

you giggled, watching his hands as he found a squeeze bottle and shot the contents into a glass. "i trust you."

his eyes flicked to you briefly, and you leaned against the drink pickup counter, squinting at the syrup. he held the glass that would soon be your drink up for you. "see the specs? real vanilla."

you hummed. "it smells good."

"it tastes like sunshine, i swear to god."

your eyes followed his hands as he expertly filled and packed the portafilter with fresh grounds. he felt you watching him, and did his best to suppress the itch to fumble. you watched him not burn your shots, stirring them with the syrup and pouring milk from a jug. he added ice, put a metal straw in the tall glass, then placed it on the counter in front of you.

you made sure to smile when you told him thank you, and jeonghan was pretty sure he would have collapsed from how cute he found you if he had slightly less resolve.

"veggie sando for… y/n?" seokmin announced to the cafe, eyes creasing into a laugh as he appeared with a plate.

you gave seokmin a nervous smile. "sorry for staying over so late. i didn't know you worked this morning."

jeonghan looked between you suspiciously as seokmin assured you it was fine, claiming he was knocked out by midnight and didn't even know when you left. who did seokmin live with again? jeonghan chewed on his cheek as he put your drink and sandwich on a tray.

your eyes flicked over to the front counter as a few customers entered the cafe, seokmin already heading over to greet them and begin the order. you tried not to let your disappointment show when you told jeonghan you should probably let him get back to work. he tried to not let his show, either, when he nodded in agreement. neither of you did a great job.

"someone's clocking on in half an hour, i can take a break then. don't leave?"

his almost pleading tone made your lip twitch upward. "don't act so clingy, hannie."

he grinned, then stopped you before you picked up the tray. "first- hang on," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it, quickly going to the keypad as he looked over his shoulder at the customers. "give me your number."

your eyes met his briefly as you took the phone, quickly punching in your digits and tapping to add yourself to his contacts. he smiled at the profile name - "americano" - as you picked up your tray and headed to your favorite armchair. even as he was making other drinks and serving other customers, he couldn't take his eyes off you, sitting in your armchair with your headphones on. it had only been two days since he saw you last, but he hadn't thought of anything but you the entire time. he had almost considered asking shua to swap shifts with him so he could have a chance of seeing you the day before, but he knew his coworker would refuse to take the saturday opening shift. he spent his whole afternoon off sitting on the couch in his apartment, staring at the back of his roommate's chair, trying to figure out why he didn't ask for your number.

"hey," jihoon said, and jeonghan had only then noticed that his roommate had spun his tall cushioned chair around to look back at him. "i said, do you know when seungcheol invited people around tomorrow?"

jeonghan stared at him for a second, then sighed dramatically, rubbing his eye.

"woah," the younger laughed and leaned back in his seat. "who'd you sleep with last night? i need to warn them you're crazy."

"no one," jeonghan pouted. "what the hell? i'm not crazy."

"hyung, i say this with the most respect i can," he said, leaning forward. "you're batshit, especially when you catch feelings for a one night stand."

"ugh, whatever," jeonghan pushed the pillow off his lap and ran a hand through his hair. "we didn't even do anything."

jihoon squinted at him a moment. "okay, hang on, i feel like our definitions of not doing anything are different."

he rolled his eyes. "we didn't do anything," he repeated, standing from the couch and walking over to the kitchen to get water. "like, nothing. we didn't even touch each other. not once."

jihoon looked around, trying to understand what he meant. "i'm confused. you didn't touch your one night stand?"

"it wasn't a one night stand!" jeonghan threw a dagger glare at the other before he drank his water, muttering a "really" beneath his breath.

jihoon's face didn't change. "so… you went on a date?"

jeonghan swallowed the water hard, putting the glass down on the counter and leaning against it. "kinda."

"you are really not making this easy for me at all."

"we got coffee," he said finally. "we have a class together, and we made a stupid bet over who would pay, and they fucking tricked me, so i had to pay for it and we talked for, like, a stupid long time, and i think i actually really…" he exhaled, both hands rubbing his face. "i think i really like them."

jihoon whistled. "i just wanna say before the moment passes that it is incredibly on brand for you to fall for someone because they conned you into buying them coffee."

jeonghan glared at the younger, but he couldn't argue. "we got coffee and talked and then they just…" his palms faced the sky as he gestured, shoulders raised. "they just left. i didn't even get their number."

"okay, and?" jihoon swivelled back and forth in his chair. "you have a class together. you'll literally see them next week."

he groaned, pressing his forehead against the fridge. "but i wanna see them now."

and now, he was seeing you. much sooner than he had expected, yet not soon enough. the saturday morning rush began to pick up, and even when an additional barista arrived, jeonghan wondered if he would actually be able to slip away for a break.

"go ahead," seokmin said, grabbing the steamed milk pitcher from his hand. "me and hyejoo can handle it for a minute."

jeonghan looked at the shrinking line and nodded, quickly pulling off his apron as he walked around the counter. he knew he didn't have a lot of time, and pulling up a chair seemed silly, so he instead just squatted and folded his arms over the arm of your favorite seat.

you looked up from your phone at the motion, pulling your headphones off and grinning. "hey! the drink is delicious and extremely not burnt."

he smiled, noticing it was almost gone. "i'm glad! it's still busy, so i can't really take a proper break, but i wanted to ask you something."

you squinted at him. "what kind of something?"

"do you have plans tonight?"

"depends," you said, turning your body to face him better as you sucked on your cheek. "what's going on?"

jeonghan exhaled, amused. "my roommate is having people over for a few drinks or something, it'd be cool if you came by?"

you looked at a light, gauging the state of your hangover. your voice almost cracked when you asked "tonight?"

"you don't have to drink," he said, remembering what you had told him earlier. "and you can, like, bring a friend if you want. i know it's weird that i'm inviting you to my place."

you thought a moment. "don't you live with lee jihoon?"

jeonghan blinked. "uh, yeah?"

"i'll bring a friend," you said, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. you looked back to him and smiled. "text me details?"

jeonghan stood. "yeah, i'll text you," he said, glancing up at the door where more customers were walking in. "fuck, i should go."

you followed his gaze. "i think i'll stick to weekdays. this place gets crazy on the weekends."

"tell me about it." he started to walk back to the counter. "i'll talk to you later?"

you smiled and nodded at him, and you waved enthusiastically at him as you were headed out about ten minutes later.

"i'm still waiting for a text," you teased, peeking over the counter as he made a drink.

he laughed. "i'll get to it when i get to it."

"thanks for the sandwich, seokmin! it was delicious!"

seokmin waved at you with a big grin and you looked back at jeonghan.

"i'll see you tonight?"

he nodded, a smug smile teasing his lips. "yeah, i'll see you tonight."

you didn't show the way your stomach flipped when he made eye contact with you, but you slid your sunglasses back on and put your headphones back on your head, and walked to the rhythm of love songs in the sun on your way to your friend's apartment, a stupid childish giggle threatening to surface the entire time.

"hey, is mingoo around?"

minghao blinked at you, standing at his front door with a smile on your face. "dude, you left like four hours ago. what are you even doing here."

"uh, no, myungho, i left like seven hours ago, get it right." he let you walk past him into the apartment. "is he still asleep?"

"is that actually a question?"

you trotted into mingyu's room, humming along to the song playing through the headphones around your neck as you pulled open his blinds.

"god, what the fuck," his rough voice went behind you. "the hell is wrong with you. go home."

"that's not a very nice way to treat the person that's gonna set you up with your future ex-husband."

mingyu's hair stuck in several different directions and his eyes were still squeezed shut, but he had pushed himself off his pillow enough for you to know you caught his attention. "which one?"

you grinned. "the one with the pretty voice."

"wait," mingyu fumbled with his comforter as he tried to sit up. "wait, hang on. jihoon?" you laughed and nodded as he sniffed noisily. "he is not my future ex-husband, y/n. he's it. he's the one that's gonna make an honest woman out of me."

"well, lady, get ready to be honest, because i got an invite to a kickback at his apartment tonight and i snagged a plus one."

he squinted at you. "what's the catch?"

you rolled your eyes. "there isn't always a catch. maybe i'm just trying to be nice."

"yeah, uh huh." mingyu flopped back onto his bed, rubbing his eyes. "why didn't you just text me or something? it's so early."

"it's like, barely morning."

"it's ten."

you exhaled. "it's 11:17, asshole. are you going with me or not?"

mingyu groaned and flopped around, his head aching from the drinks that had stopped too recently. "when?"

"uhh," you stalled as you checked your phone. no new messages. "not sure yet. i'm waiting on a text."

he squinted at you. "who's texting you? soonyoung?"

you shrugged. "sure."

"oh my god, it's jeonghan, isn't it?"

"whaaaaaat?" you deadpanned, walking over to mingyu's bed to sit on the edge, staring at your phone. "why would i be waiting on a text from that loser?"

"i knew you were acting stupid yesterday for a reason," he accused. "and you asked jun what his deal was. you like him, don't you? what did he do? did he corner you?"

"absolutely not," you said, sighing and throwing your phone down on his bed, slightly offended by him saying you were acting stupid but truly not being able to remember if he was wrong. "i cornered him, at his workplace, no less. then i made him buy me coffee. then i showed up to his workplace, again, incredibly hungover, and he still asked for my number."

mingyu's lips formed a pout as he hummed, rubbing his eye again. "never would have pegged jeonghan as the simping type, but sure."

"shut up," you laughed, and mingyu whined about whether or not you had washed your hands when you plopped your palm against his face. he pushed your wrists away. "do you still have that bottle of white wine?"

"you mean the one hao refuses to drink even though i spent good money on it for his fucking birthday? yeah, why?"

you grabbed your phone again, despite it not vibrating. "it'd probably make a good first impression if you bring a nice bottle to the kickback you were last minute invited to. i bet jihoon will be so impressed by your manners."

mingyu blinked heavily. "you're devious. what about you?"

"i don't need a good first impression," you said. "i already made an awful one and he still likes me."

he sighed. "you always have been a charming dickhead."

you grinned at your best friend. "thanks, babe."

mingyu groaned against his palms. "god, fuck, i was supposed to study for my exam today."

you clicked your tongue. "that sucks dick."

"you suck dick."

you pouted out your lips when you got a text from an unknown number. "i'm trying."

you hadn't fully decided yet how you were going to make sure jeonghan really liked you, especially after jun regaled his "disgusting sexcapades," as he described them. you took his words with a grain of salt, considering the guy had an extremely low opinion of him from the get go, but either way, could you really blame jeonghan for putting his incredibly good looks and charm to use?

you, however, found flings incredibly uninteresting. most of the men that went after you were dull at best, and definitely would have fallen for any stupid prank you had played on them. with jeonghan, though, there was a challenge. there was always the chance he would out-trick you. it was new and exciting. playing with people, you decided, was only fun when there were some stakes involved.

inviting you to have drinks at his place seemed like such a transparent ploy to get laid, but you couldn't help but expect more from him. something told you he knew that you wouldn't be that easy, and you wondered what his game was.

i think i'm here >

which apartment was it? >

you definitely could have scrolled up in your conversation with jeonghan to check, especially since mingyu was complaining next to you on the street outside the apartment building, but you preferred the power move of asking again. you hadn't considered, though, that jeonghan was absolutely the type to know exactly what you were trying as soon as he saw the notification and make you wait. you squinted at the window that clearly had a party going on inside of it, willing the boy to respond.

"bro, it's apartment 2-b. soonyoung says he's 'the b in 2-b' like, every chance he gets. let's just go up."

"hang on, i'm plotting," you said, putting up a finger and scrolling through your contacts.

mingyu groaned as you put the phone to your ear, pressing the cold wine bottle against his eye. "you are the most annoying person i've ever met."

"yet you ask me to hang out constantly."

mingyu glared at you with his uncovered eye. "i also watch a lot of shit television, so don't take my taste as gospel."

inside, soonyoung patted down his pockets when he heard his ringtone, then looked at the kitchen counter where he had left it when he was making drinks. he grinned wide when he saw the contact info and practically yelled when he answered the phone. "y/n! please tell me you're finally coming over?"

jeonghan heard your name, his head whipping towards the sound. he stared at soonyoung, phone to his ear as he laughed into it, and he exhaled when he realized what you had done. he looked down at the ignored notification on his phone, his thought process being that you would call as it became more urgent.

and you had, just not him. he cursed under his breath. you were always one step ahead.

"yeah, second floor! come on up, i'll meet you at the stairs!"

jeonghan watched soonyoung shove his feet into a pair of slides and exit the apartment, then quickly downed the rest of his drink. he was gonna need an excuse to ask if you wanted one.

you followed soonyoung down the hall as he excitedly chattered about how he didn't know you were coming.

mingyu laughed. "yeah, we didn't either. y/n got an invite from jeonghan this morning."

"jeonghan?" soonyoung looked at you. "i didn't know you knew each other."

"i enjoy being a mystery," you said, checking quickly to see if your message had been seen yet.

soonyoung couldn't help but laugh at the idea of you and his roommate, especially with a few drinks in him. "you definitely suit each other."

jeonghan hadn't lied when he said people were coming over for drinks, but he had definitely made it seem much smaller than it was. the living area had enough people that you didn't want to bother counting, but probably somewhere in the twenties. there was music playing, but the conversational chatter was still audible over the beat, and people were laughing with each other on just about every surface you could see. you noticed jihoon by the kitchen counter as you were taking off your shoes, and grabbed mingyu's arm to face him towards you.

"jesus, fuck," he stumbled over his own shoes. "why do i hang out with you?"

"he's in the kitchen and he's alone," you said, your fingers digging into his bicep. "now's your chance. ask him where you should put the wine."

mingyu peeked over his shoulder, then looked back at you with wide eyes. "are you serious? right now?"

"right now," you reassured. "you got this, big guy. you're hot, smart, and tall. say you like his music and blow his mind."

he exhaled, his lips forming an o, and shook his hand nervously. "okay. okay. thank you. i love you. i'm sorry i ever called you annoying."

you laughed, smacking his arm. "love you too, goo."

he shut his eyes and spun, walking towards the boy of his affections. you watched him for a moment, though slyly, as you wandered into the party. you wondered where soonyoung had gone so quickly, then clenched your fist in victory when you saw jihoon get wine glasses out of a cupboard and laughed at something mingyu said.

"oh, y/n!" you spun to the familiar voice, spotting jeonghan leaning against a wall casually, half engaged in a conversation. he pushed off it as you closed the short space between you. "you made it! why didn't you tell me you were here?"

"i did," you said, cocking your head at him. "but you probably knew that."

a sideways smile creeped onto his face. "hey, are you drinking tonight? i don't wanna tempt your self proclaimed alcoholism, but i've been sitting on an empty drink for a while, i could make you one too."

you eyed the red cup in his hand. "what's on the menu?"

"paloma," he said, lifting the cup. "but i can make you something else."

you thought for a second, then looked at him. you hadn't had tequila since the night you saw him sing. "i trust your taste."

he tilted his head as he moved, gesturing for you to follow him to the kitchen. you nudged mingyu with your hip as you settled against the counter next to him to watch jeonghan make a drink for you. he looked down at you, then put an arm on your shoulder as he sipped the wine he had brought, and you noticed jihoon had a matching glass. you smiled proudly.

"mingyu?" jeonghan asked, gesturing.

you nodded, then looked up at your best friend. "this is jeonghan," you said, pointing.

mingyu smiled at him. "good luck with this one. jihoon, this is my worst friend, y/n."

"i'm also the reason he's here," you said, leaning forward to direct the speech at boy you were being introduced to. "you're welcome."

jihoon looked at you, mouth parted into an almost smile. his eyes went to jeonghan, remembering their conversation the day before, then to mingyu again, who was covering his eyes with a palm in embarrassment. "this is why they're my worst friend."

jeonghan laughed, pulling your attention back as he popped open a soda with a bottle opener. "so you're like this with everyone?"

"i’m sure i don't know what you mean," you quipped, sliding out from mingyu's arm to grab the bottle and inspect the label. "jah…ritos?"

"jarritos," jeonghan corrected, pronouncing the h sound. "mexican grapefruit soda. it's the best for palomas."

"see, this is why people think you're a prick," you said, putting the bottle back on the counter. "you get fancy soda specifically for your fancy cocktails."

he just laughed at you as he poured tequila from a bottle into two cups of ice. "if i cared what people thought, i would have changed my ways years ago."

you let that marinate for a moment, then decided the two of you were much more similar than you had originally thought. he grabbed the bowl of cut lime wedges that seungcheol had prepared and squeezed two into each cup, and you watched as he topped the drinks with the soda.

"can you handle heat?"

you looked at him. "that's a loaded question."

he laughed again, and you wondered how many palomas he had before you arrived. "i like chili on the lime, but i wanted to be nice and ask before i did it for you, too."

"i'll try anything once."

then you tried it again.

and again.

jeonghan really was charming, you thought. and pretty. and he had a lovely voice.

at some point, soonyoung found you again, just to waggle his eyebrows at jeonghan when he thought you weren't looking, and you got introduced to seungcheol, who you both recognized and were recognized by. jeonghan rolled his eyes and shoved him away when he gave him a look, remembering how he described you at the bar ages ago.

you barely even noticed the time passing, but your drinks kept draining and you kept accepting more, and you wondered if you were really stupid enough to say yes if he asked you to join him in his bedroom tonight. but the more jeonghan talked, the more you were kind of okay with the idea.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you blinked, chin in your palm and elbow on the counter, face inches from jeonghan's as he put down his cup. "and go where?"

he pouted as he thought. "i could really go for tteokbokki right now."

at that moment, you decided jeonghan really liked you. you grinned. "that sounds so good."

he smiled back at you, and you didn't comment on the way his eyes lingered on your lips, even if you really wanted to. "better tell your chaperone."

you rolled your eyes at the title mingyu had given himself earlier when he was trying to convince you to not take a fourth drink. "don't let his stupid height trick you, he's more of a lightweight than me."

"at least you don't have to worry about him, jihoon would never try anything. the poor guy is so shy, he was probably flustered just when mingyu said hi."

you quirked an eyebrow at him. "does he have to worry about me?"

jeonghan laughed. "if i wanted to get you drunk, i would have poured heavier."

"speaking of," you said, tipping your cup. "this one suspiciously tasted like not tequila."

he stood suddenly, palms on the counter, trying to force down the blush on his ears. "if you're gonna complain about every drink i make you, maybe you should stop asking for them."

you giggled, standing and imitating his stance. "just admit you care about me, yoon jeonghan."

he looked at you, a smile teasing his lips. "only after you admit you're in love with me."

you squinted. "a draw."

he grinned. "tteokbokki?"

#hi im in love with jeonghan!#what i wouldnt give for a fun teasing sexy realtionship with yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #i like this one a lot i hope yall do too #i wrote dis #hannie

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