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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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Can Anybody See Me? Part 9

Just moving right along with these. Here I introduce two new people to befriend Steve. Because I like Steve having friends his own age that he hasn’t trauma bonded to. Starting tomorrow I’ll be putting up a little plot bunny that got away from me but have no fear, this one will return.

On the tagging, I HAVE REACHED MY HARD AND FAST LIMIT OF 50. I love the response this story has gotten. I do. I love you all. I love every reply, like, and reblog. It brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. But tagging is hard for my ADHD brain. I have gone up from 20 to 30 and finally 50 as my system improved but I think if I do any more than that I’ll go insane. So any future tagging requests will be ignored. Sorry.

The best way to keep update on these stories is follow me and set me on notifications. I rarely do a lot of reblogging these days (too busy churning out stories like whoa), so more often then not a post will be a story. I try to post at least once a day (some times twice if I’m trying to rush through the posting a bit like I did to make sure the Valentine fic got out in time without making people wait on Vamp!Eddie), just never at set time.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

Steve was biting his nail as he waited his turn at the back of the crowd to see if he had made it.

“Ain’t doing it for this time, big boy,” Eddie told him. “I will stay for emotional support though.”

Steve gave Eddie’s arm a squeeze. “Thanks, man. I’m just so nervous.”

Finally they got to the front of the line and Steve’s finger slid down the list and next Thompson was Steve Harrington.

“I got it!” he said jumping up and down. “I got it!” He hugged Eddie.

And Eddie gave him a small tap on the back in return.

“We need to celebrate!” Steve said. “I’m taking everyone out to dinner.”

Eddie laughed. “The whole school, huh? Man, I knew you were rich, but that’s a lot.”

Steve playfully shoved at him. “Noooo...I mean you and the rest of Corroded Coffin. If it wasn’t for you guys I wouldn’t have ever tried out and I want to thank everyone.”

“Sounds great, pretty boy,” Eddie said. He turned Steve around and pushed him toward his first class. “Now go, before you’re late.”

Steve laughed and started walking. He looked over his shoulder and smiled softly.

Butterflies took off in his stomach looking at Eddie. He shook his head and went to class. That was another thought for another time. If he was going to graduate, he couldn’t be late.

Eddie went to go pick Steve for the celebration dinner but when he pulled up to the house there was a shiny silver BMW in the driveway and the front door was open.

Shit, shit, shit.

He wasn’t going to back out now. Steve needed him. He got out of the van and skipped up to the door.

He knocked on the door frame and an elegant woman in her early forties came out of one of the side rooms.

“Who are you?” she asked, taking in his band tee and ripped black jeans with a sneer.

He held out his hand. “Edward Munson, ma’am. Steve and I are in math together.”

Just then Steve came out of his room with his dad. Mr Harrington looked thunderous and Steve more than a little frightened.

“Eddie!” Steve called out.

“What’s all this then?” Mr Harrington boomed.

“Stevie and I are doing a project in math,” Eddie explained with a grin. “Mr Vinke assigned pairs to research noted mathematicians. We picked Gosta Mittag-Leffler, the dude that is the reason the Noble prizes don’t have a math award.”

Mrs Harrington turned to her son. “Couldn’t you have worked with any of your friends?”

Steve blushed.

“It’s just Tommy and Carol in that class and since they wanted to work together, Mr Vinke put me with Eddie.”

“Can’t be helped, I suppose,” Mr Harrington said gruffly.

“I’m here to pick him up to go to the library,” Eddie explained. “But we can do it tomorrow if you’re busy?”

Steve looked to his parents, in half agony and half hope. Agony because he did want to go celebrate with his friends. Hope because even if he couldn’t do it tonight, at least he would be able to see his parents and tell them all about his good news.

“It’s fine,” Mrs Harrington said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’re only stopping by for a couple hours anyway. I wanted to get some of my nicer jewelry and don’t trust the mail system to get it to me intact or at all.”

Steve’s face fell. “You aren’t staying?”

“Big meeting in Chicago tomorrow morning with some very important Japanese investors,” Mr Harrington boomed, pounding Steve on the back. “Can’t be missed.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll just go get my school bag.” He ran back into his room and grabbed his things. He was back out in a flash. Steve squeezed past his dad and thundered down the stairs. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“You ready to go?” Eddie asked softly.

Steve nodded.

Eddie waved at the Harringtons. “It was nice meeting you both.”

As they walked to the van they heard Mrs Harrington say, “Well, at least he’s a polite boy.”

“I didn’t know manners were taught to trailer trash,” Mr Harrington replied with a guffaw.

Eddie winced and Steve gave his elbow a squeeze. Once the were in the van and pulling out of the drive way, both boys relaxed.

“I’m sorry about that, man,” Steve said. “They literally came home ten minutes before you got there. I tried calling but Wayne said you had already left.”

Eddie turned and looked at him. “Hey, it’s okay. Because at least this way it wouldn’t leave me and the boys hanging at the diner wondering where you are.”

Steve blushed. “It was still rude of them. They didn’t tell me they were coming home and then to just dash off like I didn’t exist. Even I can tell that this is an aesthetic that is carefully, artfully done.” He waved at Eddie’s look.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“The shoes,” Steve explained. “They are too white and too new to be trash.”

Eddie grinned. “Look at you, being all observant.”

Steve just shook his head. “It’s not rocket science, dude.”

“No, but it is Sherlockian,” Eddie said.

Steve laughed. “Fair enough.”

They arrived at the diner to see that in addition to Jeff, Gareth, and Brian, Gethin and someone he didn’t know was there, too.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie greeted.

The new boy was a shocking curly-haired redhead with more freckles then hairs on his head.

“Hey, Steve! Eddie!” Jeff greeted. “This is Marty. He’s part of Hellfire Club, too. He’s a senior this year, so we’ll miss him next year.”

Steve waved. Eddie slid into the booth and Steve next to him.

“I wanted to celebrate Kyle not getting the role,” Marty said with a grin.

Steve eyed the new boy with new appreciation.

Eddie’s grin was feral. “In addition to Marty being in the club, he’s head of stage crew.”

“And assistant director this year,” Marty added with a grin.

“Ooh...” Gethin said. “Many hats this year.”

“Yeah,” Marty said. “It’s going to be hectic. I can’t wait.”

Steve grinned. Marty reminded him of Dustin a lot. “I’ve gotta ask. Why didn’t you want Kyle to be Thomson?”

“Because he cheated on the first audition,” Marty deadpanned.

All eyes went to Marty as they stared at him in shock.

“How?” Brian asked.

“He recorded a perfect version of himself singing and lipsynced with the Walkman in his pocket,” Marty explained.

“So how come he didn’t do it again?” Eddie asked.

Marty pulled something out his pocket. It was a small cassette tape. He waved it back and forth with a smirk.

“I may or may not have removed the tape just before he went on.”

Steve laughed. “I think you’re my new favorite person.”

Eddie clutched his chest. “I’m wounded, Stevie. So wounded that I am no longer your favorite person.”

“All right, all right,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Marty is my second favorite.”

“But I’m the one that destroyed your art project!” Gethin protested.

“Tied for second then,” Steve amended.

Suddenly the other boys were fighting over being his third favorite. Or fourth. There was some debate over that.

They only stopped when it came time to order.

Once they all got their drinks, Eddie held his up. “To Steve!”

“To Steve!” everyone else parroted back.

“Thanks, guys!” Steve said, blushing.

It was very late when Eddie pulled up to the now empty and darkened house.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmured. “That was fun.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Just let me know if you need a fake report to show your parents.”

Steve laughed. “I don’t think they’ve looked at so much as my report card since seventh grade. I think I’m good, man.”

Eddie just shook his head. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”

“Good night, Eds,” Steve whispered. He got out the car and waved good night.

Eddie waved back and waited until Steve was inside, before his eyes slipped shut.

He was in so much trouble. It had been so long since Eddie had a crush on anyone that he forgot what the warning signs were.

Wanting to spend every minute of every day with them. Check.

Wanting to do things for them all the time. Check.

The warm fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever he saw them. Check.

Wanting to be even more outrageous to catch their eye. Check.

Being jealous of other people spending time with them. Triple check.

Fuck.

When Steve had said that Marty was his new favorite person, Eddie’s own personal green-eyed monster began hissing in his ear. It immediately went running when Steve amended his statement, though.

Which was something Eddie should examine more closely. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to. In case the answer wasn’t the one he wanted.

Eddie was a little bit furious with himself. Steve was a known ladies’ man. like besides his hair, it’s what he was famous for. So unless Steve was secretly a Rock Hudson or Rupert Everett then Eddie was screwed. Crushing on straight boys was a death sentence to any gay man. But especially when that was all that was available in Bumfuck, Indiana.

He pulled out the driveway trying to come up with ways to break his crush on Steve without breaking their friendship.

By the time he got home he was no closer to an answer than he was at Steve’s.

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

@shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailitha writes

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kyloswarstars · 4 years ago

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ROOMMATES • Part 2

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

The donut shop had air conditioning. It was pure heaven. A donut shop was heaven to you 365 days a year anyways. The AC, though… yes.

Christina chewed on her third blue glazed donut and refused to answer your questions. First, she refused. Then, she tried to talk her way out of it. In the end, she mentioned the friendship code, which applied in this case to Eric, and therefore she couldn’t say anything.

The confusion was real. You didn’t understand anything when most of the time you always understood everything. Following things you knew:

A) Eric always entangled you in debates. Sometimes it was a civil exchange, most of the times he got your blood boiling until you were close to lose your temper. This happened in class and other college surroundings, where you talked about a study related topic.

B) Until last week you always thought it was because of his ego and pure strive to demonstrate his intellect why he went for, at some point, the silliest of statements you had ever heard.

C) You also thought he did it just to piss you off.

D) Then last week happened. Then this afternoon happened and left you entirely confused.

E) Christina must know another reason why Eric constantly sought for an academic dispute. His statement from a couple hours ago, that there was ‚no reason‘, was highly suspicious. But Chris also didn’t tell you the reason.

F) That only led you to one, logical guess on what that unsaid reason could be.

„Is this about him having a long planned strategy to become the number one student of our year?“ Him seeing you as a serious competition to that title was the only reason you could think of. It wasn’t too odd of an assumption since after all those debates, silly statements or not, he was one of the smartest guys you had met so far.

Chris swallowed a bit of her new donut. Donut number four. „He isn’t in our year.“

You had sipped on your milkshake and instantly looked up. „What do you mean?“ Having to ask that question again frustrated you.

„That he’s way past us. He just finished his third year of medical school.“

„Excuse me?“ You got up from your seat and started wandering around the empty donut shop. „I’m surprised my body hasn’t taken the form of a question mark yet,“ you slowly talked yourself into a frenzy. „Christina, you’re telling me that Eric, who keeps pissing me off in two of my classes, for the last two years, isn’t even in my year? That he’s studying to become a doctor?“ Please behold me from chopping off a finger or something and him helping me.

She looked a little guilty for not giving you more information. Also a little amused.

„I am studying to become a damn mathematician. Why on earth would a medical student attend those classes?“

Christina had the audacity to laugh out loud. „I’m sorry, Y/N.“ Karma came around instantly and made her choke on a piece of donut for a few seconds. You hurried over to harshly pat her back until she coughed it out. „All I know is,“ she was still gasping for air, „he sometimes takes random classes for fun. Or for one of his big assignments.“

That was all. You wouldn’t get any further information. She crossed her arms and ignored all of your remaining questions. At least she left the donut shop with a stomachache and you knowing that Eric wasn’t even a math student.

/////

Once a week all roommates had at least one dinner together. ‚To strengthen the community‘ Uriah mumbled to you while you helped him turn the groceries, he and Chris had bought today, into a prober dish. Rice with a lot of veggies was the meal for tonight.

You were the last one to sit down and were surprised, and a little nervous, to find Eric sitting in the spot across from yours. He must’ve come home while you were still concentrating on not letting the veggies burn to death.

Christina hardly ate anything after her five donuts. Being a reasonable adult, you only had one donut at the shop.

„Who chose to put mushrooms in there?“ Eric didn’t look too glad when his fork discovered a tiny mushroom.

„Me,“ you stated, not afraid to have another silly debate. This time probably about how mushrooms shouldn’t be harvested because it takes away a food supply for deers.

„Next time just roast it short. Don’t turn it into these rubber–“

„Shut up, Eric.“ Four intervened. „Be glad someone made dinner.“

Exactly. You smiled at Four for his backup and continued eating. Even though you highly concentrated on the bowl in front of you, your eyes occasionally moved to Eric, to see if he had found another thing he disliked about the meal. And every single time his eyes met with yours.

This dinner wasn’t like all the previous ones you had here since moving in. It was unusually quiet. Everyone headed pretty fast into their rooms after finishing up and collectively cleaning the dishes.

Eric lingered around and was actually the last one to help you with putting back the plates and cutlery to where they belonged. You leaned to the countertop and tried not to stare too obviously when he stretched to place some glasses on the top shelf. He wore a t-shirt where he must’ve cut off the sleeves and the way his arm muscles moved, with every glass he put on that shelf, should be forbidden.

What? Oh man. That you caught yourself thinking that way, even though Eric didn’t notice it because he was still occupied with the dishes, made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You hid your hands in your pockets to act casual. That’s when you noticed one of the many papers that were spread in nearly every clothing pocket and backpack of yours.

One of the many habits – coping mechanisms, actually – you had, was to write down unsolved problems in mathematics and brood over them whenever your brain was close to panic itself into a breakdown. To sit down and concentrate on a problem and search for a possibility to solve it, was what got you to study the most hated subject in the first place.

You pulled the paper out and checked what it referred to. The Riemann zeta function.

You tried to recall if any of the many debates with Eric ever had been about mathematics. They had never been about math at all you realised. The classes he had gone to were the social orientated ones. Those, where you discussed scenarios and ways on how to solve problems with a mathematical solution. Or at least help out along the way. And the debates were mostly about the logical or philosophic aspects. The reason why it had always been so easy for Eric to pull you into those discussions was because you didn’t study mathematics just for the sake of it. You didn’t want to become only a professor to teach others about it. You wanted to help people with all the abilities math provided. For example the study you worked on right now: a mathematical model to predict the success of immunotherapy for patients with cancer.

This is perfect.

There was no way Eric could enter a serious debate about the zeta function and not show that he studied something completely different. With a grin on your lips you cleared your throat to get his attention. Eric crossed his arms as he turned to you.

The game is on.

„Since you know everything better than me, and us living under the same roof now, I was wondering if you would take a look at some equations. I’m kinda stuck.“

Something in his face changed but he still said: „Sure.“

That’s a mistake, my friend. You handed him the paper, which he had to unfold his arms for again to take it. Those arms were bigger than the pile of books next to your mattress. Why did you never notice his muscles before? And why did you never notice that sharp jawline?

The concentration on his face didn’t give away that he had absolutely no clue what was on that paper. Time did. A minute or two went by without him looking up or saying a word. „That seems like a serious problem. I’m passing.“

„What are you studying again?“ Your voice as innocent as you could manage it to be.

„Why would you ask?“ He played it off. The crooked smile on his lips let you know he had a feeling for where this conversation would go, though.

„Because someone studying mathematics, like I do, would recognise the famous zeta function whose solution would earn you a reward of one million dollars.“

„I never said I study mathematics, Y/N.“ Eric grinned like you were the fool here. Like you had overseen something big. Like your little trap hadn’t worked.

„But you attend four full semesters of classes that aren’t necessary? Are you having such a big problem with me that you just can’t stay away?“ His stupid grin made it worse. That rage came rushing in because those ludicrous disputes sometimes had you thinking you were a complete idiot. „I mean no normal person would take those two extra classes for four solid semesters on top of damn medical classes. What’s wrong with you?“

„I like the extra knowledge.“ He simply stated, snapped a bottle of water from the countertop and slowly made his way down the hallway to his room. „And debating with you.“

/////

For your own wellbeing, and not to flip every time you thought about Eric being the biggest prick on this earth, you decided he was just a little sadist. Who had probably his only fun by infuriating you. You were glad to know about that hobby of his now and could focus on the more important things in life until next semester.

He just didn’t make it easy at all. Living under the same roof had diverted the debates from class to the dining table. Plus it had added a lot of other intentional disturbance on his part.

For a while you tried to just ignore it because he was a sadist, as you declared. On the other hand he exactly got what he had aimed at. Your anger.

„Eric,“ you shouted at the wall, knowing very well that he could hear you because you heard perfectly fine what kind of little movie he was watching. It paused for a few seconds and you breathed out in relief. Then it started again. So you raised your voice another time. „Use damn headphones!“

The only thing that happened was Uriah peeking his head in your room, with some incredibly high raised eyebrows. „Are you okay?“

„I am not.“ You buried your face in your hands. „Eric is watching porn and I can’t concentrate,“ you stated in despair.

„I’ll handle it,“ he smiled and was fast to knock at Eric’s door and enter his room after a ‚come in‘. They discussed for a while and Uriah gave you a thumbs up as he passed your room on his way back to the kitchen. Problem solved? Sounded like it. No noise from the other side of the room anymore.

The newest data had come in for the study this morning and you didn’t get anywhere yet. You just hadn’t been able to because of… picturing Eric watching porn. Ban it from your consciousness. With another deep breath, you started working in the newest data and focus only on your task. And it worked for a couple of minutes. Until Eric decided not to use headphones anymore and his porn noises echoed through the wall again.

I will strangle him in his sleep one night.

/////

A/N • I'm enjoying this way too much so there will soon be another update. probably next weekend. ok bye

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld

Wanna get tagged too for future updates? Lemme know 🖤

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machinegunbun · 5 years ago

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UnConventional Bakers [Pete]

Requested? no

word count? 1.7k

TW? None

A/n: it’s like 80% dialogue bc it’s supposed to be a tv show. whadder ya gonna do

The props department did a wonderful job this season, comedy inspired props sprinkled about the set. Mic stands ended in lollipops, rice krispy stools covered in modeling chocolate, Comedians stood at every station, patiently awaiting directions.

Conventional Bakers was finally ready for shooting its first season. It was a show about famous people coming together on a baking show and competing. It would have everyone from singers to actors or, in this case, comedians. Every season would be inspired by the careers of the people competing.

“On this season of UnConventional Bakers we are joined by,” the camera took turns panning to each comedian as you said their name.

“Kevin Hart, Pete Davidson, Adam Sandler and…” you paused for dramatic effect “Fluffy!!!”

The comedians protest coming fast after

Why’d he get all the excitement?” Adam asks

“Yeah, i’m literally your fiance what the fuck.” Pete adds, laughing “I don’t like that, i don’t like that shit. I got my eye on you Gabriel.”

“Don’t hate me cause I'm beautiful.” Fluffy replies

“Bakers! Comedians, whatever,” you call out, trying to regain their attention, Pete playfully mumbled but returned his attention “if you want a chance at winning you will have to pay attention.”

“Got it, go. No wait… yeah okay, go.” Adam interrupts, causing you to bite back a smile. This would be a long shoot

“For tonight's challenge, you’re in for a treat. Because it’s only the first round, we’ll take it easy on you and allow teams.” muted murmurs fell over the room as they decided who would be on whose team, “Tonight we will be making the one thing a comedian couldn’t live without.” Your co-star, Nicole Byers, continues.

“Weed.” Pete guesses,

“No, their audience.”

“Oh, speak for yourself.”

“You will be making your very own audience cupcakes. When we say go you will head to your baking stations where you will find step by step instructions on how to make your audience, along with photo references and the clock will begin counting down.” You say

“Go, go, go! What are you waiting for?!” Nicole rushes, you take your seat as they make their way to the respective stations. The teams ended up being Pete and Kevin, Gabe and Adam.

Things were going pretty smoothly, the comedians racing back and forth from the ingredients to their stations as things began starting up. As you look around, you see Pete and Kevin looking confused as they stare at the instructions.

“Something wrong, sweety?” you ask

“No, all good over here. Thanks for asking.” Gabe pipes up, you laugh and make your way over to Pete

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I shouldn’t have dropped out of college.”

“How come? What's wrong?”

“I need ⅔ a cup, but there’s not a ⅔ measurement cup.” he says

“Well, if you need ⅔ but there's not one, you just take two--”

“Don’t patronize me. I got it.” Kevin cuts you off in the middle of explaining, grabbing two handfuls of flour and throwing it in the mixer “There, that should work.”

You sigh, making your way over to the other stations to check on how everyone else was doing. Adam was doing well, which wasn’t a surprise considering he’s a father and probably does some baking at home.

“Gabe, how are you doing?”

“Not good, I’m used to eating cake and not making it.”

“Oh hush, you’re doing fine!” You encourage, leaning forward to whisper to him “Kevin just measured flour with his hands, so I think you’ll be okay.”

“Guys, I think they’re talking about you.” Adam yells

“Yeah, I know.” Pete laughs.

“That's okay, cause you know what? Haters gonna hate.” Kevin yells

After making your rounds you sat back down, turning to face a laughing Nicole.

“That wasn’t sugar, that was salt.” She barely squeaks out “They’re gonna be so gross” you nod and laugh along, all but excited for the dishes that would soon be in front of you.

“On that note, can we get some water?” You call out to the team behind you

“And a medic?” Nicole adds

“And a mathematician. You understand this shit?” Pete says

“What? Basic measurements? Yeah baby, I do.”

Before you knew it the timer had gone off and the cupcakes were sat in front of you.

“So, these are what your audience were supposed to look like, and this is what they do look like.” Nicole says, vaguely gesturing to the cupcakes

“We- we uh, we took some creative liberties.” Pete says through a laugh

“Well, let’s see what it tastes like.” you say, grabbing one from the crowd and cheersing it with Nicole’s

“Might as well get this over with.” she says, making a clink noise with her mouth, as she does there's another noise too. The rock hard exteriors made a clunk noise. Your jaw dropped as you made eye contact with Nicole, not believing what had just happened

“Wait.” you say, grabbing another and throwing it at the ground with all the force you could muster. It cracked directly in half, crumbs flying across the floor.

“Pete!” you yell, an amused smile painted across your face. Pete laughs, covering his face

“I have no idea what happened.”he says, picking up the cupcake from the floor

“This is my passion, how did you fuck up this hard?!”

“I have no fucking idea.” he laughs, crumbling it up in his hand.

“I guess we still have to taste it.” you say, grabbing another and cracking a piece off on the table, handing one to Nicole. When you bite down there's an audible crunch that makes everyone in the room wince. You can’t help the expression that overcomes your face as the taste hits your tongue, looking over to Nicole to confirm it wasn’t just you. It wasn’t.

You attempt to open your water, your hand slipping again and again until Pete walks over and opens it for you, feeding you the water as he apologizes through his laughter. It took you a minute of held back gags to recompose yourself, but when you finally did you said,

“Your BLEEP is sweeter than this.” You say, deeply preferring it over the burnt, salty, crunchy thing in front of you.

“Really?” Pete asks, laughing and when you nod your head it only makes him laugh harder.

“Pete, you fucked up Pete.” Kevin says.

“Dont throw this on him, you’re the one who wouldn’t listen.” You say, looking over to Nicole who had resorted to licking the icing off the cupcake

“Look at what you’ve done to this poor lady. You should be ashamed. It’s gotta be a zero from me” You laugh, more than ready to move on.

“You know what, the icing wasn’t bad,” They began to fight over who had made the icing. “I don’t care, just promise to never do that again. Adam, Gabe, before I take a bite you have to promise me it won’t be like that.” Nicole says, dead serious. They shake their head, letting out little reassurances while choking down their laughter. You take a deep breath before lifting the cupcake to your mouth and taking a small test bite, surely traumatized.

To your delight, it was actually very good. You smiled and nodded, taking another bite as Kevin and Pete groaned, knowing they’d surely lost.

“I feel like theirs was so bad we can’t even celebrate.” Adam says.

“Yeah, i don’t think we need to add insult to injury by announcing the winners of this round. On to the next?!” You cheer, preparing to announce what would come next.

“For your next challenge, we will be making cupriphon- cupcakeriphones- Okay, the name hasn’t been completely sorted out yet, cupcake microphones!” You announce

“Yes! And because we felt bad for the loser, that’s just in the script so i had to say it, i don’t actually feel bad for you that was disgusting. Because we felt bad for the loser, we decided to give them a leg up. If you look at the stations, two of them have buttons. They’re called the happy heckler buttons and when you press them a timer will be set and either Y/N or myself will go yell encouragement to your teammates until it goes off.” Nicole says

“Awhh, so sweet. Ready? Set? Go!” You yell, watching them scatter to try to find a station.

“Ay, stay back this is mine.” Fluffy says to Adam, haphazardly wielding a knife, momentarily fighting over a station before Nicole reminds them the timer is counting down. They take a look at their ingredients before rushing over to the storage space and grabbing what they need.

You’d managed to get to the decorating stage with little to no issues when you hear Kevin yelling, “Pete! I need your help, I need those long legs pete.” straining to grab something from the top shelf

“Hold on, one second.” He says, glancing back momentarily as he tried to finish decorating.

“Oh shit, you’re already decorating?” Kevin asks as Pete hands him what he needed before walking back to his station.

“Yeah, catch up.” Pete says

“Okay, i’ll catch up, if that's what you want.” Kevin says, slamming his button down in a melodramatic act of sabotage.

Nicole yells in excitement, ready for some action, running over to distract Pete.

“You dick! I thought we were friends.” he says, slamming his own button. You run over, making sure to get in Kevins face as you encourage him, giving him slaps on the back and shaking his shoulders. Things had gotten very chaotic, very fast.

When the four minutes were over you left Kevin’s station for Pete’s, hanging out with him as his cupcakes cooked in the oven. He was bent over in a hug with you, small kisses being pressed to each others lips.

“Doing so good baby.” you mumble, fingers tangled in his hair. Usually you didn’t like PDA, but you had made an exception today because it had been a long shoot and you missed him.

“Way better than last time.” He confirms, remembering last time they had burnt and opting to check the oven.

“Look at that! This aint fair, Pete’s sleepin with the judges!” Kevin yells, making everyone laugh

“You could be too, Kevin.” Nicole winks

“Nicole, you’re both married.” You remind them

“Hey, that's show business baby.” Kevin jokes

When it all came to an end, Adam ended up winning and it was a surprise.. To no one. He was the only one even kind of equipped to win and he rode that all the way to the finish line.

#pete davidson #pete davidson fluff #pete davidson fic #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson x reader

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jj-lynn21 · 4 years ago

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Stellan interview

"Stellan Skarsgard Is Finally Seizing the Spotlight"

https://www.thedailybeast.com/stellan-skarsgard-is-finally-seizing-the-spotlight

With roles in “Dune,” the Star Wars series “Andor,” and “Hope,” the character actor par excellence has never been more popular. He talks to Marlow Stern about his stellar career.

Few if any actors have built a resume as impressive as that of Stellan Skarsgård.

After achieving teen-idol status in his native Sweden—even releasing a pop single—due to the TV series Bombi Bitt, Skarsgård transitioned to film acting. It was in the mid-’90s, with roles as a sadistic oil rig worker in Breaking the Waves, a fiery abolitionist in Amistad, and a haughty mathematician in Good Will Hunting, that the towering, stone-faced Swede would cross over into America, and establish himself as one of the finest character actors alive.

He’s since maintained a healthy diet of what he calls “experimental films,” including a total of six with Danish auteur Lars von Trier, and Hollywood studio fare, such as the Pirates of the Caribbean and Mamma Mia! films, the Thor and Avengers superhero extravaganzas, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Cinderella. And right now, at the age of 69, Skarsgård is at his most prolific. There was his Golden Globe-winning turn in HBO’s Chernobyl, the upcoming villain in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune, and a main role in the Disney+ Star Wars series Andor, which he’s filming right now in London. Oh, and he’s fathered eight children, including the actors Alexander, Gustaf, Bill, Sam, and Valter.

“There’s no competition, really,” the elder Skarsgård tells me of his talented brood. “There’s some joking competition at the dinner table, but I know they’re better than me, so I’ve given up.”

Skarsgård’s latest is the Norwegian drama Hope. Directed by Maria Sødahl, the wife of his frequent collaborator Hans Petter Moland, it is a heartrending autobiographical film about a long-married couple, Anja (Andrea Bræin Hovig) and her theater-director husband Tomas (Skarsgård), whose atrophying bond is put to the test when Anja develops terminal brain cancer. As they fight for Anja’s survival, the two reevaluate how their relationship went off-course, and why they fell in love in the first place. (The U.S. remake rights were quickly snapped up by Nicole Kidman and Amazon Studios.)

Anne Frank’s Stepsister: How Trump Reminds Me of HitlerNEVER AGAINMarlow Stern

In a wide-ranging conversation, Skarsgård opened up to The Daily Beast about his many great films, the controversy surrounding pal Lars von Trier, being a nudist, and much more.

How have you been passing the time during the pandemic?

In different ways. The first half of the year I was at our summer house on an island outside of Stockholm, and all my kids—who were also actors, most of them, and they weren’t working either—were all out there in two houses eating dinners together, having a good time, and seeing the spring inch-by-inch, everything grew, which you never get time to do otherwise. But this job I’m doing here now [in London], I was supposed to fly back and forth from Stockholm because I’m shooting this Star Wars series called Andor, and it would have been very convenient because it’s only a two-hour flight, but because of the quarantine I’ve been stuck here. For more than a month I’ve been alone in a hotel room staring into the wall.

Speaking of the Skarsgård household, I read a quote from your son Alexander who said that when he was a teenager, “Dad was always walking around [without clothes] with a glass of red wine in his hand.” Was that your vibe during the pandemic?

Not this time! Is it the wine that worries you? [Laughs]

Did the stress of the pandemic make you feel less… free?

No, I’m still taking off my clothes when I get home very often—and my kids also, some of them do. It’s not a big thing. We’re Swedes! And we have no God that says we can’t show our body parts.

What about it do you just find so liberating? I don’t go the full monty but when I go home, I do tend to take off my pants and let loose a little bit, because it is constricting.

If it’s warm enough you don’t need clothes, right? Unless you’re ashamed of your body—or taught to be ashamed of certain body parts. For me, it’s all upbringing. It’s cultural. Some cultures don’t care about what part of the body you show, and some cultures are very precious, and some cultures the women can’t show their faces.

I’m curious what life was like in the Skarsgård household, because you’ve helped produce so many talented kids. Alexander described it as “bohemian,” similar to what you described during the pandemic, filled with dinner parties and a free-flowing atmosphere.

It’s always been a very open house, and the kids’ friends, it’s been easier to sometimes be in our house than their houses—especially during puberty, when conflicts arise—because we’re very relaxed and non-judgmental in our family. It’s really, truly pleasant. And my kids are more like pals to me. There’s no hierarchical relationship at all. It’s very nice. We just have fun!

It’s a very talented—and frankly, attractive—family. How did this happen?

How did I make kids that look so good? [Laughs]

Is that something you’re particularly proud of?

[Laughs] Well, the looks I don’t care so much about, but I’ve had two beautiful wives—and very smart wives—and that’s helped a lot. I’m not going to take much credit for anything. But what I’m proud of is, when I hear from other people in the business about Gustaf or Sam or Bill or Valter or Alexander, I hear that somebody worked with them and they were really nice on the set and totally cool with everybody, and how no matter what menial job anyone had on the set they were nice to them, then I’m proud. If they win awards it’s secondary to that, because that is a lottery anyway. Awards are sort of like reality shows.

They really are a popularity contest. Let’s talk about Hope. It could have very well been called Grief.

I thought it sounded bland to begin with, but in fact the film is about hope—and about love. It’s not a normal cancer film where it’s all about beating the cancer or fighting against it, but it’s about someone who gets a death sentence in a family situation with a lot of kids, like I have, and everything that was petrified in the relationship floats up again. It’s about how they rejuvenate their relationship, and through those horrible circumstances, find love again.

There’s one very powerful scene in the film that really encapsulates many elements and themes that it explores, and it’s the sex scene between you and your wife. It manages to capture the joy of reconnecting as well as the grief you’re experiencing.

I think it’s a great scene, because it starts beautifully—very gently—and it looks like it’s going to be really nice for both of them, and then her anxiety sets in, and things start to bad. And it does go bad pretty fast.

On another level, I’m an American and we don’t see sex very often in movies. And when we do, we don’t see it in the service of such complicated emotions.

With sex in film, it’s difficult, because sex is something that feels fantastic when you do it, and it looks ridiculous when you watch. Those humping movements like a dog? It’s not sexy at all! So, you can’t do a sex scene that looks like it feels, so they always have to be about something else. The sex scenes I had with Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves, it was about her curiosity, because she discovered her first penis, she discovered sexuality, and it was totally about the relationship. The sex was just there. And in this film, the scene is not really about sex but about something else. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sex scene that looks like it feels, and that can convey that beautiful thing that sex can be.

Really, in America, we get almost no sex scenes in movies. And it’s 2021.

It’s very strange. It’s not as bad as during the Hays Code, when you couldn’t let the lips meet for more than one second.

You just had a train going into a tunnel.

[Laughs] Yes, that very subtle image. But in America, you have a strong, strong tradition of bigotry or fear of sexuality. Only two years ago, in nine states in America, it was still illegal to have sex outside of marriage, and my American friends have told me that when they were growing up, it was even regulated how they could have sex—you couldn’t have oral sex or anal sex—so it is so ingrained in American culture that people’s sexuality is not a private thing, but something that everybody should interfere with.

Hope is also an exploration of mortality. Is that something you think about often?

I’ve never been that interested in it. I’ve always been aware of it. It’s the only thing you know in life—you’re gonna fucking die. But already many years ago, I thought I’d had such a fantastic life that it would only be fair that I died, because I’ve already lived more than most people. So, I don’t feel any injustice in death. And I’m not afraid of death because I’m not religious, so I don’t have to worry about whether I’m going to end up in hell or heaven. But I have small children still, my youngest is 8, and I’m no spring chicken anymore, so I think about how I should stick around for at least another ten years until everything is set.

I read that you’d studied a bunch of religions in the wake of 9/11 and reached the conclusion that it was all sort of bunk.

I grew up with total freedom of religion—my parents weren’t religious, though my grandmother was very religious. It was taught to me without judgment, and it was a very tolerant upbringing I had. But I hadn’t read the Bible. And after 9/11, when I saw George W. Bush standing in front of TV cameras and claiming that God had put him there, I thought maybe it was time to read what they actually believed in. So, I read the Quran and I read the Bible. There are some fantastic stories—as fiction, it’s sometimes brilliant and sometimes boring—but the God in both the Quran and the Bible, there’s only one reason to really worship them, and that is fear. It’s a power that says, “If you don’t worship, you’re going to die—and not only die, but burn in eternity.” It’s a bit autocratic and dictatorial, I would say. It’s very hard for me to worship something under threat.

And if God put George W. Bush in the White House, then God has a very cruel sense of humor.

[Laughs] Yeah, he does. And the latest president said the same thing.

But he doesn’t believe in God. He only believes in himself.

Yeah. I think that if he had more appreciation from the liberals in America, he would have just as well gone populist-liberal.

I think so too. You know, I read that your Dogville co-star Nicole Kidman already picked up the remake rights to Hope for Amazon.

She’s picked up the remake rights, yeah.

Both you and your son Alexander have shared some pretty intense scenes with Nicole. There’s that dramatic scene in Big Little Lies where Nicole hits your son in the dick, and it almost seemed to me like payback for what you put her through in Dogville.

[Laughs] Yeah, I’ve done two films with her and Alexander just finished doing The Northman with her. But she’s lovely. I really like her. She’s so cool.

At least it was a prosthetic and not Alexander’s real thing.

Yeah… coward! [Laughs]

I gotta say, between Chernobyl, Hope, Dune, a Star Wars series, and even a Simpsons cameo as yourself, how does it feel to be at your most prolific at 69?

I’m just working! I’m doing my job and having fun doing it. I’ve been lucky and a lot of good projects have emerged. It goes up and down, you know, throughout life. And I don’t think I could have a better life than I’ve had. I don’t have any regrets. And I don’t have to be the star or be in something very successful, I just have to have fun.

Nice. Do you feel you’re underrated? I think you’re someone who’s so consistently great in everything that it can almost be taken for granted how great you are. I know you won a Golden Globe recently, and that was long overdue, even if it’s mostly bullshit.

I don’t know! I can tell you: it’s much better to be underrated than overrated. So, I’m very comfortable if I am underrated. But I’m a Swede with an accent—or most of the time I have an accent—and for being a Swede with an accent, I have been extremely successful internationally, so I can’t complain. When it comes to the big studio movies, and I’ve been in four or five gigantic franchises that have paid a lot of bills for me, their concerns are financial, and I’m not a ticket-seller. I’m a solid fucking actor, and I’d rather be an actor than a star.

It gives you the mobility.

Exactly. The freedom I have. I can easily do small, experimental films and strange stuff—films that could ruin another actor’s career—so I’m in a good position.

I wanted to ask you about Breaking the Waves, because it’s the 25th anniversary this year and I consider it a masterful film. And it was Emily Watson’s first film, which is just extraordinary. How did you two establish such strong chemistry?

She’s British, which means she comes from a rather prudish society too, and to take on a role with an obscure Danish director—who wasn’t that famous at the time—and to take on a role with such explicit sex and nudity took enormous courage, but she was fantastic. My job was to love her, and that felt easy, but I think that she felt loved, and I think that she felt secure, which is essential for being able to do anything courageous. But she’s such a brilliant, talented, wonderful woman. I finally got to work with her again in Chernobyl. I mean, you just have to look at her and everything comes.

There’s this longstanding debate over whether Breaking the Waves is misogynistic or not, and I personally find it to be a misreading of the film. I’ve always thought of it as a biblical allegory of sorts about a desperate woman navigating a deeply sexist world.

Absolutely. Lars doesn’t have that in him. Those fantastic female roles that he has written, if you want to defend women in film, you’ve really got to take care of him because he writes the best roles for them. Those roles are very much him, and he definitely doesn’t have a negative attitude toward women. He loves them. There’s a plague of labeling people—not for what they’re really saying, but for what they appear to say. He was stamped as a misogynist and then he made a bad joke about Hitler at Cannes, and everyone stamped him as a Nazi, which is the furthest thing from what he is.

Stellan Skarsgard and Emily Watson in Breaking the Waves

You stamp people as a “racist,” a “fascist,” a “communist,” I mean this fucking stamping is as smart as QAnon. It’s frightening. The fantastic thing about mankind is that we’re not one thing. We’re all capable of the most brutal and horrible crimes and we’re all capable of love. We do good things and we do bad things. There are nuances. The way of seeing people as “good” or “bad” guys is forcing something upon humanity that is really dangerous, because when you say someone is the “bad” guy then you’re saying you are the “good” guy, and it’s forcing you to not look at your own flaws.

I’m a huge fan of Lars’ films but I think one thing that’s really colored people’s opinion of him are the allegations that Bjork made against him on Dancer in the Dark. You didn’t have the biggest role in that film, but is it something you witnessed?

I’ve never seen him do anything like that. It’s not him. And if you talk to any of the other women who have worked with him over and over again, you will not get those kinds of accusations. But the Bjork and Lars conflict was enormous during the shoot, and it had very little to do with #MeToo. Lars, like all directors, in the end is a control freak, and Bjork has controlled everything in her career—from the music, to the costumes, to the way she sounds—and if two control freaks try to make a film, there will be conflicts. I got phone calls from Lars during the shoot where he was in tears. She left the set several times, and it had nothing to do with sexuality. She tore up her clothes. They had a very difficult relationship. But you’ve gotta pick your toxic males. You can’t put a “toxic male” label on everybody, otherwise it will be watered down, that label.

I’m so excited for Dune. What can you tell me about it? Denis Villeneuve said that your Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is different from the comics or the David Lynch film in that he’s not as much of a caricature but a calmer, more sinister presence.

The thing about it, and why I’m looking forward to this film as well, is because it’s Denis Villeneuve. Whatever he does, he creates an atmosphere that is dense, that you can touch, and you’re just sucked into it. You’re never bored—even if he does long, slow takes. The atmosphere builds up, and you’re in his universe. I think it will be the same with this one. He’s lovely to work with, and a beautiful man. I did eight or ten days on the movie, so my character doesn’t show up for too much, but his presence will be felt. He’s such a frightening presence where even if he doesn’t say anything, I think you’ll be afraid of him. And I’m extremely fat. I had eight hours in the makeup chair every day. And in some scenes, I look very tall because I levitate. You’re going to have a lot of fun with it.

The whole HBO Max day-and-date thing is weird, and I hope as many people as possible get to see the film on the big screen.

Oh, definitely. I think they made a deal with AT&T—which owns Time Warner, which owns HBO, which owns my phone—that they cut a four-week deal where it’ll be just for the theaters, but I’m not sure. That could change.

I also feel culturally obligated to ask you about Andor, the upcoming Star Wars series you’re in. What’s that about, and who do you play in it?

As you know, they’ll shoot me if I say anything! I can’t even get a proper script. It’s printed on red paper so I can’t make any copies of it, it’s ridiculous! Of course I’ve seen all the Star Wars films, because I’ve had children in the ‘80s, and the ‘90s, and the 2000s, and the 2010s. I’ve had children in five decades, which means you’ve seen all the Star Wars films—and seen all the toys as well. But when I saw Rogue One, it had much more atmosphere and seemed a little more mature—and that was Tony Gilroy, who’s the showrunner on this one. So, hopefully this one will be a little more than little plastic people falling over.

Was a part of the motivation to do Andor to look really cool to your kids?

I do think like that sometimes! I’ll go and do a children’s movie for that reason. But also, I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

Plus, now you can give your kids action figures of yourself and say, “Play with me.”

Fuck yeah. Go play with dad. Don’t disturb him! Go play with him! [Laughs]

I’m not the most mature person myself, so who doesn’t want to go and fly a spaceship?

OK, this is kind of a silly question, but do you have a favorite movie death of yours? My favorite has to be in Deep Blue Sea, because in that one you get your arm ripped off by a shark, and then the shark uses your body as a battering ram to destroy this underwater facility.

I would say that is probably, in terms of inventiveness, my favorite one too. It was Renny Harlin. Yeah. I like it! Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend that much time on that stretcher—it was a doll. But it looked really cool! And the sharks weren’t CGI back then. It was mechanical sharks, and they were pretty dangerous. The little boy in me was very excited.

Another movie of yours that I love, for entirely different reasons than some of these other ones we’ve discussed, is Mamma Mia! Is it basically a vacation filming these? I imagine the cast parties are a lot of fun, because it seems like you all are having a ball.

Well, it is. I’m not a singer and I’m not a dancer so I was scared stiff, but the only way to make it work—because it’s not much of a story—is that we had fun doing it, because that joy is contagious to the audience. And we really had fun. It was very relaxed in Greece there on the beaches, and the parties we had there were very good too. It was a nice bunch of people to hang with.

When the cast of Mamma Mia! goes wild in Greece, who is the one that parties the hardest? Who’s the VIP?

It depends what you mean by partying! I usually get pretty drunk. Down there, Colin [Firth] and I were pretty good at it. And at those parties, we also had 50 dancers in their twenties, and they had much more stamina.

I have to ask: Will the gang get back together for a third one?

I don’t know! It took 10 years between number one and number two, so if it takes another ten years, I don’t know. Some of us may just be there in urns, with our ashes!

You released a pop single in the ‘60s, right?

Yes. When I was 16, I became extremely famous in Sweden. We had one TV channel back then and I did this TV series, and it was like being a rock star. But it meant also that all kinds of shady people thought they could make money off me. So, this guy calls me from Stockholm and says, “Stellan, can you sing?” And I said, “No.” And he said, “Well, try it!” And then I hear this guitar on the other end of the line, I go, “Ahh!” and then he goes, “Perfect! Come over to Stockholm.” I went to this very shady studio in the suburbs and we recorded it, and then the guy who was running the project said, “I listened to the tape now, and I think it’s better if I sing and you speak on the record.” So, I don’t sing on the record. But there were very cruel headlines in Sweden. One paper had a headline that read, “Stellan Skarsgård, who we loved on this TV series, we don’t like anymore.”

That’s so mean! In addition to Breaking the Waves, another film that really raised your profile in the United States was Good Will Hunting—which holds up remarkably well. Some of my favorite scenes in that film are the ones where you and Robin Williams are jousting. And I know he’s a wild card, so what was it like shooting those?

He really is a wild card because anything can come out of him, and he can say anything and do anything, and he has this urge to do it because he has these three parallel brains that are constantly working on finding something funny or interesting. Sometimes, even when we would do ten takes and everybody would be happy with them, he’d say, “I have to get something out of my body,” so we would do one extra for that. You didn’t know what you’d experience when the camera would start rolling—you just had to dance with it. And it was fantastic. He was such a lovely man and had no ego. He was just a volcano of creativity and ideas.

Do you ever think about your legacy? You not only have a bunch of talented children but also have amassed such a strong body of work.

The thing is with legacy: you won’t be able to enjoy it, so just forget it. No, I don’t. And it doesn’t matter. If you’re extremely successful, it takes a decade and you’re gone from people’s minds. You can only hope that your children remember you for a couple of years, at least!

Well, they’ll have the Star Wars toys, at least.

They’ll have the toys! That’s right. [Laughs]

#stellan skarsgard

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sopercabeth · 4 years ago

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Coffee Cups & Terrible Liars

Hello! This is a fanfic I wrote back in 2017 when Scorpion still existed. Simpler times, I guess :-( It was originally published on my profile in FFN (@dauntlessmermaid) but I figured it was time for it to see the light of day here on Tumblr.

If you wish to read it on FFN, click here

Summary: "Well, he had talked to her, once. A very short, very uncomfortable conversation with his usual unfiltered self and a poorly delivered diagnosis of anemia that went just about as good as anyone would expect. " A Coffee Shop AU in which Walter is strangely fixated on a certain honey-colored haired barista and he's a little too keen on finding out why.

A/N: I do not own Scorpion or any content/characters related to the show. All rights belong to CBS :) Enjoy!

Unlike many people, Walter O'Brien found the thunderous bad weather sort of soothing. Especially given that the odds of seeing one in Los Angeles weren't very promising these days.

The surprisingly loud and rhythmic chirping of the rain drops against the roof top and the occasional thunder booming in the distance worked wonders by silencing his overloaded mind for a bit. Walter was inclined to believe that, even without his eidetic memory, the rain would always bring him back to Callan's endless green landscapes and simple lifestyle. This time instead, seeing the already flooded streets turning into rivers of dirt and all kinds garbage, he thought this thunderstorm was not really bringing back sweet childhood memories. Not that he had many of them to speak of…

The electricity had been down for almost an hour now, and even with the rain easing his mind he was beginning to feel as anxious as the blond-haired boy two tables ahead of him, who had been fidgeting with his bag since the first droplets of rain. Usually, Walter enjoyed spending time at Kovelsky's Coffee Shop; it was the most decent place to get his, and occasionally the team's, morning caffeine that was a comfortable drive away from the garage. But right now he wasn't very comfortable with the thought of how much work awaited him at the garage when he couldn't exactly drive there through the rain in his god forsaken Volkswagen. So he'd been stationed here, sitting on a vinyl lounge chair with no more company than an empty coffee cup, a kid suffering from severe anxiety and the shop's staff.

Walter remembered feeling quite proud about discovering Kovelsky's almost four weeks ago on his way home from a job. Ever since their first coffee pot had died, the team had agreed to take turns on who was in charge of buying their daily coffee and Walter stumbling into Kovelsky's the day prior to his turn, had been of the likes of a miracle; if such thing existed, of course.

A week after this astounding discovery, he'd been a little too proud enough to let it slip the moment Toby started his daily rant about having to get his coffee elsewhere again due to their second coffee pot —a gift from a client— also dying under suspicious circumstances.

He rarely shared personal information with the behaviorist knowing it would ultimately lead to an over-analysis on the potential emotional background of his most trivial choices, but this coffee machine problem had consumed his already sparse patience and truth be told, he ─or the team as a whole, for that matter─ didn't function properly before drinking an early morning dose of caffeine. That and the funny name he’d asked the barista to write on Toby’s coffee cup, had been the ideal set of variables that resulted in Toby successfully getting in his toes that morning.

"I knew you were behind those ridiculous names on my coffee cups!" he said before taking a swig of his coffee "You tell that hot brunette barista that I'll be paying her a visit to get our order next time"

Walter choked on his drink. He grimaced, tongue burned.

An image of Kovelsky's barista, Paige, sprang in his mind flashing him a genuine smile as she handed him his order and change that same morning. Besides having Walter's lack of social skills as a disadvantage, he'd picked on the hint in Toby's snarky comment surprisingly fast. Walter made use of all his willpower to not blurt out more things that could potentially drag him even deeper into the hole, like the actual shade of brown of the hot brunette barista's hair, for starters.

"Just thought I needed an appropriate comeback for Emotional Dumpster Fire and Ego-maniac" he counterattacked, perhaps a little too late.

Walter cursed himself for hesitating on that last remark. Now, he was sure he had seen those nicknames in his coffee cups sometime in the past, but he didn't really know if either of them had been written on the ones Toby had ordered for him. So,as a result of him trying to cover up his slip, his brain had acted on his usual unfiltered auto-pilot.

Toby clicked his tongue, his lips curving into his trademark devilish grin. "You are such a terrible liar, mi amigo" he said, his fingers tapping on his cup excitedly "by the way I highly suspect of you deliberately messing up our new pot, but I'll let it go in the light of this new interesting chain of events"

Had he not being busy taking another glorious sip of his coffee, Walter might've even blushed at that last comment. He had indeed messed up said coffee machine, not intentionally at least and certainly not because keep going to Kovelsky's had been his plan all along (something he surprisingly didn't mind at all). In fact, and much to Walter's embarrassment, the sudden and disastrous malfunction of the machine had come off as a result of his first (and probably last) attempt at replicating Cinnamon dream, Paige's coffee recommendation of the week.

"T-that's not—"

"It was definitely a clever move to keep visiting our friend at Kovelsky's, actually" Toby said, cutting off his embarrassing stutter.

"What was a clever move to keep visiting our friend at Kovelsky's?" Sylvester, who apparently had been able to eavesdrop on Toby's last remark, asked as he joined them at the kitchen to get the lone apple that awaited him on the countertop "do we have a friend at Kovelsky's?"

"You all know, Kovelsky's?" Walter asked, his eyes shifting between both the mathematician and the behaviorist in bewilderment.

"That's the place where I get our coffee orders on Wednesdays, sometimes" Sylvester said as he proceeded to wash his apple in the sink behind Walter.

"You don't drink coffee" Walter added.

Sylvester hunched his shoulders. "You try telling Happy that"

"It's alright, pal" Toby added as he slid his free arm across Walter's shoulders "we've all had a crush on a coffee shop barista"

"What coffee shop barista?" Cabe asked. The homeland agent had arrived at just the perfect time to also eavesdrop on a conversation that should have never happened in the first place.

Walter visualized slapping himself hard in the face.

"The one this emotional dumpster fire is crushing on, of course" the behaviorist said, tightening his leverage on his shoulders.

"I don't have a crush on Paige" he snapped.

Oh boy.

While he listened to Toby and Cabe's frantic bursts of laughter, Walter finally said his goodbyes to a peaceful day at Scorpion's headquarters. There was no possible way that either of them would let go of that. Paige's name slipping from his lips had officially sealed his coffin.

"Did Paige put that cinnamon in your coffee as well?" Toby asked mockingly as he finally released Walter's shoulders and walked away in the direction of his desk.

Walter avoided visiting Kovelsky's for pretty much the entirety of the following week, something that did not go unnoticed by Toby, of course. He was fast to voice his utter disappointment regarding Walter's sudden interest in Yorkshire tea instead of his usual order from said coffee shop.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to buy a new coffee pot. Not out of sentimentalism, of course, but good old pride. Buying a new pot out of the blue would mean something for Toby, and he was definitely not backing up the shrink's theories on Walter's alleged emotions being awakened by the waitress.

A particularly loud thunder pulled Walter out of his reverie, his eyes falling to the empty cup atop the coffee table in front of him. The sight of his own name on it seemed foreign to him, as if he had somehow misspelled it his entire life. A ridiculous musing, if he actually put some thought to it, but the truth was that he found Paige's handwriting aesthetically beautiful, even when he had her write those absurd nicknames he'd come up for Toby.

Her little burst of laughter was worth the embarrassment, he thought.

Before this moment, Walter hadn't paid much attention to her handwriting, but he had indeed been observant of other things about her in the sporadic (but also uncomfortable) events in which they had interacted. And so he had come to associate the barista's light temper, energetic personality (surely a suitable behavior for someone who served at least a hundred customers per day) and overall appearance with a very neutral, pretty much basic handwriting style.

On the contrary, Paige had a very nice cursive handwriting with just the right amount of edges and curls to make it both elegant and practical enough to read effortlessly.

He’d been wrong all along, of course. But when had he ever been right about people? It wasn’t exactly his department.The genius was a lot of things but a Harvard trained psychologist, so how in the world, ─and taking in consideration his close to non-existent social skills─ would he be able to decode a woman if he hadn't even properly talked to her?

He had talked to her just once. A very short, very uncomfortable conversation with his usual unfiltered self and a poorly delivered diagnosis of anemia that went just about as good as anyone would expect. Of course, not even a clinically addicted gambler like Toby would bet on the odds of him getting the chance to engage into yet another disastrous conversation with her. Walter wouldn't have blamed him either.

Walter shook his head in annoyance. He was definitely not happy with the turn his thoughts were taking. Especially since he was still incapable of figuring out what was that he found so intriguing about this woman. Or why he felt compelled to make these ridiculous assumptions about her, like the way she wrote his name on a paper container. Besides, by being a regular customer for almost three weeks, Walter couldn't act like he actually knew this woman. He represented 15 minutes of a 24-hour day in her life, not even a 2 percent of it, if put in perspective.

Walter sighed and risked a quick glance in Paige's direction. She had abandoned her place behind the bar and was trying to offer some kind of pastry to the fidgety kid sitting two tables ahead of him.

He vaguely reminded him of a younger version of Sylvester, his feet tapping nervously on the floor as he examined a particular set of equations on the board of the garage. If the kid was anything like him, Walter doubted she'd make much progress in easing his anxiety.

But there she was, a couple of minutes later, gently ruffling up his hair as she handed him a freshly-baked chocolate muffin. “Thank you” the kid said a few moments later, both his hands too occupied picking on the pastry to continue their nervous tapping on the table.

The streets had been unsually packed the day of his return to Kovelsky’s a few days later resulting in Walter arriving much later than expected. There was a relatively short line of customers, —probably because six forty-five was not quite the busy hour for the coffee shop— which meant he could possibly shorten his visit and return to the garage to finish the tedious task of testing governmental software security for the hundredth time. With the deadline approaching at a seemingly faster pace, Walter and Sylvester's progress turned out slower than anticipated and the genius had been forced to rely on Toby and Happy's coding skills to get the last patches of the firewall revised. It would have been the only way they’d be able to deliver the results in time to a very irritable Deputy Director Cooper, who had not only called for updates once, but twice in a manner of twenty minutes.

As of now, the team had worked tirelessly throughout the entire night with pre-scheduled 10-minute lunch breaks to increase efficiency. But as the morning hours approached, Walter and Toby had surprisingly agreed that they could definitely use a large order of egg bagels and coffee to get through the last couple of hours before the deadline was officially up.

Walter was functioning on auto-pilot by now, which was why he initially took no notice of the familiar voice that greeted him as he approached the end of the line to order. He was already blurting out his usual coffee order before the previous client had successfully retrieved his own order from the barista’s hands.

"Good morning to you too, Walter" a familiar voice said back, laughing softly.

Walter could almost feel the color running up his face, because damn it he knew that voice too well. He scratched the back of his head nervously, his eyes rising from the brown tiles to the delicately written 'Paige' on the name tag of the woman in front of him.

"I-I’m sorry," he stuttered back, feeling utterly ridiculous "good morning, Paige"

Walter had only pronounced her name out loud a couple times before, and so it felt kind of awkward coming out of his mouth. When he finally got himself together to look up at her, she seemed like she was holding back a grin.

Paige settled for a wide smile and proceeded to tap the screen of the monitor in front of her. Walter was a bit surprised to find out she’d changed a little since the last time he saw her. Her hair was pulled up in a high pony tail and her bangs looked slightly longer, almost reaching her eyelids now. The early morning light brought out a nice sun-kissed tone on her skin and made her eyes shine a warm hazelnut color too. Sun bathing, maybe? And hadn't the bags under her eyes lessened a little bit? Moderate sun exposure increases levels of vitamin D and may help increase overall sleep quality…

She looked quite stunning, actually.

"…than usual, today"

Walter shook his head, eyebrows scrunched up together "I'm sorry, what?"

Paige flashed him another gentle smile rendering him slightly dazed "I said you look a little more tired than usual today. Walter, are you okay?"

Apparently he was also slower than usual because it took him a whole three-seconds' time to process that question "Yes, yes, I'm fine" he said, before he resumed to the suddenly difficult task of retrieving the right amount of money from his wallet.

She raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly dissatisfied with his rushed answer.

He frowned, evidently confused, as he quickly went over the whole exchange before it finally downed on him. "I'm fine, thank you" he added.

"You're getting so much better…I'm actually proud!" she admitted, handing him the printed receipt. "You know the drill: I'll call your name when the order is ready. It shouldn't take long"

Walter was about to deliver what was most likely a completely unnecessary scientific fact when his phone buzzed inside his pocket snapping him back to reality. The security software, he thought, alarmed, as he swiped left below Toby's caller ID to answer.

"I hope you're all done with the flirting and driving your ass back with our coffees right now" he said.

"Almost there" the genius replied, cursing out loud at the time on his wristwatch. "Has Cooper showed up yet?"

"No, but it shouldn't take her more than five minutes. I don't think that woman has ever been late to something, not even her birth"

Walter rolled his eyes and looked at his wristwatch once again. Even if he sped, he'd never make it to the garage in time if he waited for his order to be ready "See you there" he said, then hung up and put his phone back in his pocket.

"Is everything alright?" Paige asked from behind the bar, a couple feet apart from him.

"Actually…no" he replied, a silent apology drawn all over his face "I have to go"

Paige blinked, puzzled "What?"

"I'm sorry!" he shouted as he dashed through the doors and towards the parking lot.

"Walter, wait!" she shouted back, a cup holder in her hand

He was not able to see the noticeable disappointment in Paige's face.

Walter always thought he was one to get things done without complaint.

He could take on time-sensitive and dangerous missions every day, but it had always been the ensuing paperwork that got the best of him. He was vaguely aware of the few perks of working for the government, but having to write reports and fill out endless forms every time they worked on something was far away from being considered among them. Especially because no matter how many times he reviewed said reports, they always made sure to comment on virtually anything about them: the language used, the length, the blank space on the comments section…

Walter would've given anything to ditch that insufferable task and take a look at the equations Sylvester was working on the board or see what was going on with that faint smell of smoke coming from Happy's workplace… even take a look at the book Toby was reading at the living room with his feet over the coffee table. But he was well aware that the paperwork wouldn't do itself over the night and if he neglected to work on it for another day, he might as well never do it at all.

He sighed and frowned at the insurmountable pile of paperwork before his eyes wishing he'd have some sort of supernatural ability to make it disappear. At this point he thought anything would do, though he'd like to admit that laser-like vision was one of his favorites. Walter rolled his eyes at this ridiculous trail of thought. He had to be very desperate to bring up his sparse knowledge on sci-fi material to occupy his mind.

In fact, Walter was so engrossed in the many uses he could think of for laser-like vision that he missed the knock on the door. At first, it seemed like nobody else noticed, but Toby ended up being the one to answer it, not after shooting the rest of the team a skeptical look. Cabe had left thirty minutes before, so it was rather unlikely that it'd be him, at least not with L.A. traffic this late in the afternoon. Could be another lost delivery guy…

Except that it was neither Cabe nor the disoriented delivery guy from the recently open restaurant two blocks away.

"Hi—uh, I'm sorry," she stuttered "my name is—"

"Paige" Toby interrupted her, obviously amused. Walter's eyes widened. "What a pleasant surprise…"

"Yes, uh, how did you— "Nevermind. I'm looking for Walter O'Brien?" she added, doubtful.

Three pairs of eyes turned in his direction, Toby's exceedingly amused, of course, as of Happy and Sylvester's…well, they looked mostly confused, although he doubted the mechanic's grin and raised eyebrow could be classified under confused. Walter had never stood up so fast in his life.

Keep it casual, he reminded himself.

The behaviorist seemed like he was about to deliver what was most likely a very embarrassing remark, but luckily, Walter's own curiosity beat him to it. A bright smile appeared on Paige's face as soon as he caught sight of him by his desk and left him momentarily dumbfounded —for the second time in that day, he recalled.

"Paige?" he asked, evidently confused as he rounded his desk awkwardly "W-what are you doing here?"

Walter could almost feel everyone's eyes on him, even Toby's as he politely invited the barista in and rekindled his place at the couch. The genius would've swore he heard kissing sounds as he walked past him, but was happy to see Paige didn't seem to notice when he finally approached her.

She looked the same way she did in the morning, except she had replaced the dark blue apron and white t-shirt underneath, for a loose pink camisole and a denim jacket.

"I'm so glad I found you" she said, her hazelnut eyes were beaming with excitement "you're a very difficult man to find"

"I am?" Walter shook his head "How did you know where I—"

Paige held her finger up in the air as she started rummaging inside her handbag "Hold on”.

"You dropped your wallet at the coffee shop this morning" she said, finally fishing the item from her bag.

It was indeed his wallet what Paige was holding in front of him. It looked foreign in her hand though, had he not patted his back pocket, he would've probably contemplated she was mistaken just like the lost delivery guy. It had been more than twelve hours since he'd been at the coffee shop, how could he have possibly missed that?

"It is my wallet indeed" he said.

"I hope you don't mind me looking inside for some kind of information…" she trailed off "promise I didn't take anything"

"No, no, of course not" Walter added, "I-I would've never thought—"

Paige's eyes looked warm, she smiled at him shyly.

"Thank you" he said after a short pause, bowing his head a little bit.

"No problem" she said, hunching her shoulders "you still owe big time, though"

They stood there for about half a minute looking anywhere but each other, until Walter had the common sense to take the damned wallet from her hand and put it in the back pocket of his pants. What was so intriguing about the stray lock of hair that escaped her pony tail, anyway?

"Well...It was nice seeing you again" she said, offering him a smile before she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

Walter sort of…panicked. He stretched his arm, not quite sure about what he was actually doing, and was just in time to grab the strap of her handbag as she pulled the heavy door open. The cool autumn breeze did nothing to clarify his thoughts, but for once his familiar unfiltered self served him right by blurting out the words: "Is—uh, is there any way I could…repay you?

Paige stood there, halfway in halfway out, for a terrifyingly long second that got Walter thinking about all the ways he could apologize to her, before she finally turned on her heel and faced him again, a wide grin on her face.

She then proceded to fetch a pen from her bag and stuck it between her teeth as she said "You can always try" before grabbing his arm to scribble down a series of numbers on his skin.

Walter looked to his forearm, incredulous. Was that…?

"I like Italian food, by the way" the barista said as she exited the garage.

#stuffiwrite #cbs scorpion #walter o'brien #paige dineen #team scorpion #coffee shop au #waige #the early beginning of waige magic #fluff #i miss scorpion so much #walter's nerdy unfiltered self trying to decipher his crush on a certain coffee shop barista #scorpion reimagined by me lol #fanfiction #alternativeuniverse

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dulce-pjm · 4 years ago

Text

“f” for effort

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: this feud has gone on far too long. the study room is yours and you no longer care what namjoon has to say about it.

You’re running for your life.

At least, that’s really what it looks like. If you weren’t so goddamn fast, bystanders might have stopped to ask if you were safe or needed help. You’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf’s elderly grandma as you tear across campus with only one destination in mind. Beads of sweat drip down your forehead and stains are threatening to form in the pits of your shirt but frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. You’ve got a place to be, and fast.

Said place is your heaven. Your paradise. Your land of milk and honey. Or as a moron would call it, the corner library study room.

It’s roomy, it’s quiet, almost no one knew it was there. When you had loads of coursework to catch up on (which was often and just so happened to be the case on this Friday night), you sought refuge in your precious study room. During the day, the lighting was beautiful. The windows were massive, letting all of the sun’s rays beam into the cozy room and make you feel warm, bright, awake. At night, when you became especially frustrated, you could always slide your rolling chair over to said big windows and gaze at the stars or stare off into the night.

No one appreciated that room correctly, not like you did it.

Which is why you had to stop that little fucker, Namjoon, from stealing it from right under your nose.

The two of you were only freshmen, but your ongoing feud over the glorious study room was intense enough to have lasted generations. You both were willing to pull out all the stops if that’s what it took to keep the other from making it to the room. You used the cheapest of tricks, flat out sabotaging the other if you felt it necessary.

You recall one particular time you planted a fake spider (one of his biggest fears, you’d learned) in his backpack before the end of your shared Calc II class, making him let loose a shrill shriek, much to the annoyance of the professor. And while Namjoon was getting lectured on disrupting class and not acting his age, you were waltzing off to the study room, internally flipping him off as you did. The memory makes you chuckle as you heave and sprint.

It wasn’t that Namjoon had done anything particularly wrong to you. You figured in another context, you might have found him much more bearable, maybe even nice. But something about him just rubbed you the wrong way.

For one, he was an applied mathematics major. Who the fuck majors in just math? People who want to flex how much smarter they are than you, that’s who. And what did the applied part even mean? You suspected someone just as unbearable as Namjoon had added the word in so that he (because of course it was a man) and all his other mathematician friends could be pretentious, annoying fucks together.

Secondly, despite being one of the top students in your class, he was a member of a fraternity. How he had time to both outperform everyone else in the STEM program and party it out with the frat brothers every night was beyond you. You’d heard from your senior friend (who also notified you that Namjoon was after your precious study room) that was also part of the brotherhood that Namjoon was on some kind of fraternity-specific scholarship and that was the only reason he joined. That you understood, tuition was no joke. Didn’t make him any less annoying, though.

And third? Third... Well, you couldn’t think of a third point right now but you’re certain there is one, you know it. You probably couldn’t remember because you were running out of oxygen and dying under the beating sun.

You’re almost crying tears of joy when you enter the library, head whipping around to search for a particular tall blonde. Luckily, he’s nowhere in sight.

Your feet scream as they carry you to your safe haven but you can’t even be bothered until-

“Going somewhere?” He strides next to you, his effortless speed-walking easily overtaking your sloppy attempt at a run. Your books are threatening to slip from your arms and you’re fairly certain you lost the sunglasses on top of your head long ago when you came barreling down the bio building stairs.

“Fuck you, Kim,” you spit harshly. “I came in here first so I get the room.” Your crudeness only makes him laugh maniacally. You curse the little dimples that crease into his cheeks, taking them as an insult to your misery.

“As far as I can see-” He takes advantage of your height difference and takes a massive step in front of you. “-I’m going to get there before you.” As if to tease you further, he spins to face you as he easily surpasses you, approaching the study room and its sign-up sheet with increasing speed.

If you want to win this round- and you really, really do, not only to get your work done but to rub it in his smug face- you’ll need to play dirty.

Moments later, Namjoon is picking up the pen, smirking at you as he moves to haphazardly scribble his name into the time slot. But you’re already formulating a plan. Your textbooks were pretty damn heavy, you bet it’d definitely throw him off if you managed to drop them on his toes. Actually, it definitely would, since the idiot was wearing sandals in late October. As you’re taking aim, however, Namjoon’s face falls.

“The fuck is a board game club?” You freeze, mere steps away from dropping your books on his foot.

“What?” When he doesn’t explain, you nudge him aside and peer at the sign-up sheet. Lo and behold, there it is.

From eight p.m. to midnight, the room is booked. By a... board game club. And it’s seven forty-five now, which means you’re shit out of luck.

“Well, looks like neither of us-”

“This is bullshit.” Namjoon chuckles at your disgusted expression.

“It’s just a study room, Y/N. I’m sure there’s another free one.”

“Well, I don’t want just any study room, Kim. I want my study room.” He scoffs at your arrogance and (quite unfortunately) follows you as you spin on your heel and take off in the other direction.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it? Tell off the game club?”

“I’m going to lodge a complaint and get my study room back.”

“Mhmm.” He trails you incessantly as you march up to the nearest help desk and drop your books in front of the poor employee about to suffer from your wrath.

“Can I help you?” the sheepish girl asks. She couldn’t be much older than you. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

“Yes, can you please explain why a-” You raise your fingers for air quotes. “-‘board game club’ has booked a private study room, taking priority over student study time?” The girl is taken aback at your abruptness, clearly not used to being confronted in such a manner. But you weren’t here to waste time by avoiding hurt feelings.

“I-” She hesitates, looking to the blonde beside you for help, of which he gives none. “I’m not sure what to tell you. The study rooms are first come, first serve.”

“For students,” you emphasize, pressing your palms into the desk and leaning forward. “Not unofficial club gatherings.” Something changes in the girl’s face and she turns away from you and faces her computer, typing something across the keyboard. In just a moment, her entire demeanor has flipped. It seems she’s not interested in entertaining your attitude anymore.

“Well, looks like the ‘Board Game Club’ is an official, university-sponsored club. Which means they’re just as much entitled to study room time as you are. Actually, more-so, since you didn’t book your room in advance.” She spins her office chair backs towards you. “Sorry.” She shrugs, flashing you an all-too-fake smile.

“Ugh, fine.” You pile your books back into your arms and roll your eyes, leaving the library altogether.

And your trail follows you.

“What, you’re just gonna leave? There were other study rooms open!” You scoff, annoyed at his ignorance.

“Well the other study rooms that are open at this time either smell like ass or have no air conditioning. So that’s a no-go.” Namjoon laughs quietly, agreeing with your sentiment. He’s been stuck in his fair share of poor study rooms before and knows it can ruin the experience.

“So.... what are you going to do now?”

You find yourself wondering why he’s still here, talking to you when he should be organizing his own study plan for the night. Further yet, you wonder why you’re entertaining his stupid questions at all.

“I dunno. Camp out at the campus Starbucks?”

“What? But they close at ten!” You shoot an exasperated look in his direction.

“And what’s it to you?” You pick up the pace in an effort to shake off your stalker, but much to your annoyance he jumps in front of you, thrusting out his hands before you can take a step further. You nearly collide with his chest.

“Would you just wait a sec?” Your eyes glide up to meet his as you tap your foot, barely acknowledging you’re listening. “Why don’t you just come back to my place with me?” Your eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but-” His eyes widen and he begins frantically shaking his head. You almost smirk. It’s fun watching him squirm.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” He sighs, wringing his hands. “Most of the fraternity is at this other party so the house will be empty tonight. And quiet. I know that’s why you like the study rooms and it’s the least I can do for you.”

You’re still suspicious. What’s in it for him? He certainly wasn’t just being nice to be nice. There was something else involved.

“If you knew the house would be empty tonight then why did you try to take the study room?” Namjoon shrugs, grinning mischievously.

“You’re just too fun to tease.”

That remark has you scoffing and brushing past him, not even dignifying him with a response.

“Wait! Just slow down, would you?” A heavy hand settles on your shoulder and Namjoon is beside you again. You’re about to scream with frustration.

“What, Namjoon? What could you possibly tell me that will convince me to come study with you?”

He grins sheepishly.

“I’ll buy you pizza?”

Okay, yeah, you’re a tad ashamed you let your morals slide in exchange for greasy pizza that will wreck your stomach in the morning. But you’re hungry, okay? And the dining hall was already closed and your wallet was empty and it just happened.

And now you were plopped on Namjoon’s bed typing away furiously at your laptop. He’d made a few efforts at light conversation, but he quickly gave up trying to push that boulder when you barely grunted in response to his questions.

His room was surprisingly nice and organized. The bedsheets were barely wrinkled and the room smelled pleasant despite it being apart of a literal frat house. Though his desk was a mess, littered with math theory books and philosophy papers and historical fiction novels. The books appeared well-loved and cared for, not like they were simply written as required on a syllabus.

He appeared pretty organized, too. The oak-colored round glasses he’d donned after arriving made him look older, more scholarly. And definitely more pretentious.

You were glad the two of you weren’t doing this at your dorm. Your room was an actual nightmare. Your life might be organized and planned down to the minute, but your bedroom was an entirely different story.

“So...” Namjoon chews on the end of his pen as he reworks old calculus problems. “Psychology major?”

Really, trying at the small talk again? Good luck with that.

You’re about to completely ignore him when it occurs to you that if you don’t talk about your major he will most certainly talk about his. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard him rant and preach about math and its many uses in modern society. So before you end up stuck in that situation, you entertain his question. If it could even be called that.

“Mhmm.” You bite the bottom of your lip as you contemplate the next line of your essay. You don’t notice Namjoon staring. “I plan to graduate a year early and go straight to med school. Probably open a family practice one day.” Namjoon leans back into his bed frame, nodding in something close to awe.

“Wow, you really got it that planned out?”

“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ “Since I was fifteen. I only majored in psychology because I think it’s interesting and I’ll look well-rounded when I start applying to med school. I’ll definitely just be a family doctor.”

“Well, you are a great people person...” You finally crack the next line of your paper and type it away, completely missing the joke and subtle jab.

Ding dong.

“That the pizza?” It’s the first thing you’ve said to him unprompted since you got here.

“Think so. I’ll be back.” He heaves himself up from the bed and trots out of the room, right as your phone buzzes. You only spare the screen a passing glance, but upon seeing the notification is a text from your roommate, you immediately open it.

9:18 pm. Yeji: where are you? ive looked for you everywhere >:( 9:22 pm. Yeji: Y/N? pls respond or ill be worried 9:23 pm. Y/N: I thought you were using the room for yourself tonight. Why are you at the library? 9:23 pm. Yeji: suho cancelled :( i came to find you at the library but you aren’t here ? 9:24 pm. Y/N: The study rooms were all taken. Me and Namjoon are studying at his place. 9:24 pm. Yeji: wait, really?!?! 9:24 pm. Yeji: oh my god, FINALLY 9:25 pm. Y/N: ??? 9:27 pm. Y/N: Yeji?? 9:28 pm. Yeji: im just relieved you two are finally owning up to the obvious sexual tension in this stupid feud and banging it out ;)

You choke. Is that what people thought about you? The idea made you want to gag.

9:29 pm. Y/N: What ?? 9:29 pm. Y/N: NO 9:29 pm. Y/N: That is most definitely NOT what is happening. 9:29 pm. Y/N: That’s disgusting. 9:30 pm. Yeji: aww booooooo 9:30 pm. Yeji: and to think, i was getting my hopes up for you 9:30 pm. Yeji: but seriously tho 9:31 pm. Yeji: whatever dance you two are playing isn’t gonna last long 9:31 pm. Yeji: its obvious you two like each other

With that, you shut the phone off completely and set it face down, suddenly feeling very, very hot.

Yeji was an idiot. She didn’t know what she was talking about.

Right?

This argument, this feud, this competition, it was fueled by anger and annoyance and, as much as you hate to say it, pettiness. You couldn’t stand Kim. And he didn’t particularly like you either. There was nothing else going on here.

Your arguments weren’t flirting. They were arguments. Simple as that.

But then again, you were sitting in his room. Studying together. Letting him buy you dinner.

Well, fuck.

“Pizza delivery!” You scream in fright as he enters the room, making him nearly drop the box full of your precious dinner.

“Oh my god, fuck, are you okay?” You quickly fan at your cheeks to combat the furnace burning underneath them.

“Yep! I’m fine! Just don’t scare me like that, for god’s sake.”

When you meet his eyes, Namjoon looks genuinely apologetic.

Your heart flutters. This little shit.

“Well, uh, here’s your pizza.” He slides the box next to your laptop and settles on the opposite side of the bed, returning to his work.

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“Nah, I ate earlier. And your stomach is growling. I can hear it from over here.” Your eyes bulge.

Had he cared like this all along? Had you just been too blind to notice it? You were freaking out, your heart rate climaxing and your hands quickly becoming lightly coated in sweat.

The weight of the past few months hits you like a freight train.

It’s much too overwhelming.

You’re suddenly aware of your close proximity. The smell of the room, of him, is overpowering and suffocating. The air is thick and you think you might choke. When did that dimpled grin become so attractive? Just before it immediately pissed you off but now...

You eye his blonde locks, imagining what it’d be like to run your fingers through them before you can stop yourself. The glasses you’d found pretentious somehow make him cute, maybe even endearing. Did you always feel like this?

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or like you might throw up. Please don’t puke on my floor, I’m begging.”

“Fine!” you squeak, whipping your face back to the laptop screen, unwilling to let your eyes move even an inch in his direction.

Even still, it’s like you can feel his body heat from across the bed, calling you in, taunting you for being the biggest moron you knew.

You gotta get out of here.

You finish your essay in record time, just as the clock strikes eleven. You’ve already instructed Yeji to pick you up at eleven-fifteen, and she’s always early. Now all you had to do was ignore the way your heart was beating in your throat and slip away to forget this ever happened.

After a few days used to succumb to logic, you’d realize this was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. An unnecessary emotional reaction.

“Well-” You stand, gathering your books in your arms. “I’m off. Thanks for buying me dinner and letting me intrude.” He looks up from his work to you, eyes bleary and exhausted. You hate the way you enjoy how he gives you his full attention and concern.

“It’s really no problem. Do you want me to walk you home?”

Goddamn, Namjoon. Stop being such a gentleman, would you?

“No. It’s fine. My roommate is picking me up.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, appearing slightly disappointed. No, he wasn’t disappointed. You’re just crazy and emotionally unstable at the moment.

You bid him an awkward wave and slowly back out of the room when he calls out for you.

“Y/N!” You freeze in the hallway as he approaches, noticing how his hair has fallen out of its styled position and hangs loosely rumpled in his face.

“Yes?” He probably was gonna ask for you to pay for the pizza since he didn’t eat it. Yeah, that seems like a Namjoon thing to do.

He pauses and grins awkwardly, making your eyes fly to those dimples. He wrings his hands.

“I- uh-” He breathes out sharply through his nose. “I had a nice time.” You nod, allowing no change in your blank expression.

“I appreciated the quiet. Thanks.” He sighs, looking as tired as you feel.

“Look, I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve been trying to tell you I’m interested in you for a few months now.” Your heart stops and you’re unable to offer a response. “I may have got a bit carried away teasing but, well…’

“What do I need to do to secure another study date with you?”

You’re shocked. Flattered, even. But more than anything, you feel your pride inflating in your chest. You quickly forget that just moments before, you were the one drooling over him and instead bask in the fact that he’s been pining for you this whole time. You feel emboldened.

You give him a half-hearted shrug. Namjoon’s face falls.

“If you want a second date with me, you’ll have to do better than trashy pizza and textbooks.” A smile spreads across the boy’s face as he lets out a laugh that he’s desperately trying to contain.

You love seeing him flustered. You’re a bit more comfortable admitting that now.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll work on that.”

You give him a curt nod as the two of you walk towards the front door.

“Find me in the corner study room when you come up with something.” You give him a glance over your shoulder as you step out into the night.

“Yes ma’am,” he shouts back, playfully saluting you. You’re already missing his annoying presence as he closes the door.

When you collapse into the passenger seat of Yeji’s car, you aren’t listening to her chatter at all. Not that you normally would, but this time there’s not even a chance you don’t tune everything out.

You know, you think you could make room for Namjoon in your life plan. He was a little shit, sure. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t too. And something tells you that you won’t be getting rid of him so easily anymore.

#bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon scenario #namjoon fluff #not quite enemies to lovers but somewhere in that realm #more like unknowingly flirtatious idiots to lovers i'd say #namjoon as an asshole #OC as a bigger asshole #but they're assholes in love #ya feel?

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aestheticseungmean · 5 years ago

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Him-Renjun

So maybe you liked Renjun, or maybe it was just sexual frustration. Maybe it was both.

Warning: Suggestive

This is a bit older and not my best work.

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You couldn't. You shouldn't. He was your best friend and it was wrong to think of him in such an arousing way. Isn't it? The way he habitually bites his lips.The way he sort of growls when he's mad. The way he can make you close your thighs shut tight by a look or his tongue gliding across his lips to wet them. Fuck! What was happening? The thoughts that used to be peaceful and cute went out the door after that one dream of Renjun. Not even god could help you.

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Renjun noticed recently the way you would cower in his presence like you were hiding something from him. The innocence and fear in your eyes made him feel some type of way. He wanted to wreck you, destroy you, make you beg and plead for more. A sudden low moan released from his parted lips and you looked up. Thinking fast, he made up an excuse. "What even are these questions? We are high schoolers not mathematicians." You shrugged off the moan thinking it was a groan anyway and gave him an innocent smile. "Magician mathematician! Now that, I would pay to see."

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"Sooner or later," You laid contemplating on the bed talking to your other friend, Chenle. "He's going to find out, Lele and I'm not ready." Chenle sighed at your pathetic state. You had called him after you had another dream about Renjun and told him everything. Chenle was the only friend you could talk to about anything. Periods, dreams, sexual experiences, etc. "Princess, I don't know what you expect Renjun to do if you keep it to yourself." "I know but it's just fucking up my life and I don't want to lose him as a friend." Patting at the spot beside him, Chenle sighed. You climbed into his arms and continued to voice your frustrations. "Hey if he hurts you then I'll beat him up. You are my princess. My best friend. No one will touch you or hurt you without your permission."

You giggled a little. Chenle always knew how to make you laugh whether it was through his words or his aegyo that he only did for you. "What exactly do you want him to do to you?" You looked up and your eyes met. "I want Renjun to destroy me." "Damn, princess. You are definitely aroused for Renjun. You've never wanted anyone to destroy you." In your previous experiences you didn't feel comfortable to be rough so this was a new experience for you. Chenle was right. You'll never know what Renjun would do because your ass wasn't going to tell him shit unless you had to.

"Lele, I want to think that it's just sexual frustration." "It may be sexual frustration. You haven't got laid in almost a year." You weighed your options. Kiss someone and see if it's just sexual frustration or just stay drooling over Renjun. "Chenle?" He hummed in response. "Kiss me." He sat up, taking you with him. His eyes were wide as he looked at you. "I thought you were dying for Renjun. Please don't tell me you are dying for me too." "Shut up, Lele! I want to check to see if it's just sexual frustration or if I'm really blinded by arousal for Renjun alone." A sincere look crossed his face as he nodded. "Don't get feelings for me now." "I promise."

Chenle leaned forward, his orange hair falling over his eyes. You connected your lips to his and sighed. His lips tasted like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon and it was heaven. Chenle's hand came to your cheek to deepen the kiss and pretty soon your simple kiss was a soft make out session. Both of you broke away and looked at the other. "I'm definitely sexually frustrated but it's not as bad with you." "So you are saying that I turn you on but not as much as Renjun would?" How he turned the tables on you. "Yes, Lele. You got a problem with that?" "No, thanks for the info though." You rolled your eyes as you stood up to get some water. "Lele, your lips taste good."

Why does Jisung feel the need to put the glasses and cups on the top shelf? At this point you were about to climb on the counter but Jeno grabbed one for you. "Thanks, Jeno." "No problem." You got your water and headed back to Chenle's room which gained another person while you were gone. Jisung laid with his feet hanging off the bed. "I'm going to kick your ass if you keep putting the glasses up high." "Not my fault you guys are short." You motioned for Jisung to move so you can sit behind him. As soon as you sat down, his head was in your lap. Chenle turned on a movie and Jisung was lulled to sleep by your fingers running through his hair.

Soon, Chenle laid his head on yours. Throughout the middle of the movie, your head found rest on Chenle's shoulder. Minutes later, everyone was asleep. Finally, you got a decent sleep without Renjun invading your dreams. That peaceful dream was ruined by Renjun screaming at Haechan. The trio of you woke with worry and fear. It was never good when they argued. You found yourself in the living room watching Renjun get closer to Haechan dangerously. Haechan had already gotten some hits in when the boys had pulled him away. "Renjun, don't hit him," Jaemin pleaded. Nothing was receiving in his head.

You found yourself in front of Renjun and hugged him. He felt his anger die down a little and let you drag him to his room to clean up his wounds. "Renjun, please don't fight him. Don't fight anyone. It hurts me to see you hurt." You pushed him to sit on the bed and started tending to the cut on his lip. You could feel his eyes on you while you worked. While putting away the kit you yawned. "Come lay with me, Y/n." How could you say no? You didn't want the atmosphere to be awkward. As far as you know, he didn't know you basically want him to fuck you into oblivion. Quietly, you laid beside him facing away. He wrapped his arm around your waist and sighed. Slumber slipped over you once again.

His lips ghosted over mine. I gasped when he connected them harshly. The feeling of lust was driving us now. He pulled my shirt off revealing my baby blue bra. His lips left mine and reconnected at my collarbone where he was leaving marks. One of his large hands found its way to my boob, groping it. "Renjun-" You moaned out. "Just fuck me already." You were awoken by the need to satisfy yourself. You couldn't let Renjun know that you were wet- correction, soaked just from the thought of him. Carefully, you started to get out of bed but you got pulled back down and turned towards Renjun.

"Renjun I'm sor-" He cut you off with a heated kiss. When you broke away it was only momentary but it gave you enough time to sit up and straddle his lap. "Fuck, the things you do to me." "Junnie, shut up and kiss me." Renjun never thought that such meek words would affect him but they did. His lips attached into yours. You parted your lips to let Renjun take the lead. Need and want and desire filled you two. Kisses cascaded down to your neck where he started to leave hickies. "Let's take this to the shower." You nodded and followed behind him while stripping. The two of you couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

After a satisfying shower, you were painted in hickies and bruises. You stole one of his sweatshirts and put on the shorts you were previously wearing. "Renjun, I'm not going to be able to cover these up." "Don't, they look fucking sexy." Going to his dresser to get a shirt, he gave you a loving kiss. You were finally satisfied. "Maybe later you can tell me about some of those sexual fantasies you have about me and we can make them come true." He winked and you playfully punched him. "I'm going to go tell, Lele!" "That we fucked? Weird but okay." You ran and jumped onto Chenle who was laying on his bed.

"Is that hickies I see?" "Yes they are, Lele!" He smiled and hugged you tight. "Yay! Princess I'm happy for you." "We are going to talk about the princess thing and skin-ship you two share." Both if you looked at Renjun who was standing in the doorway. That enticed you to hug Chenle tighter. "MY BABIE~" Renjun rolled his eyes and smiled. "I don't care. I want my baby." You gave Chenle another hug before walking to Renjun and taking his outstretched hand. "So we are dating?" "Isn't it obvious?" You smiled at your boyfriend and cuddled with him on the couch.———————————————————————

I’m so done with myself

#kpop #renjun #huang renjun #nct x reader #nct renjun #nct #nct dream #nct dream suggestive #nct suggestive #renjun x you #renjun x y/n #renjun x reader #renjun suggestive #renjun smut

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ashleysitalianlitblog · 4 years ago

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My Brilliant Friend (HBO Tie-in Edition): Book 1: Childhood and Adolescence

From the famous Italian author Elena Ferrante, the story is about a poor but vibrant neighborhood on the outskirts of Naples, Elena Ferrante’s four-volume story spans almost sixty years, as its main characters, the fiery and unforgettable Lila and the bookish narrator, Elena, become women, wives, mothers, and leaders, all the while maintaining a complex and at times conflicted friendship. This first novel in the series follows Lila and Elena from their fateful meeting as ten-year-olds through their school years and adolescence. This book is now turning into an HBO MAX show and it’s a young adult classic in modern-day Italy

The Story of a New Name (HBO Tie-in Edition): Book 2: Youth

The follow-up to My Brilliant Friend, The Story of a New Name continues the epic New York Times–bestselling literary quartet that has inspired an HBO series and returns us to the world of Lila and Elena, who grew up together in post-WWII Naples, Italy.

In The Story of a New Name, Lila has recently married and made her entrée into the family business; Elena, meanwhile, continues her studies and her exploration of the world beyond the neighborhood that she so often finds stifling. Marriage appears to have imprisoned Lila, and the pressure to excel is at times too much for Elena. Yet the two young women share a complex and evolving bond that is central to their emotional lives and a source of strength in the face of life’s challenges. In these Neapolitan Novels, Elena Ferrante, “one of the great novelists of our time” (The New York Times), gives us a poignant and universal story about friendship and belonging, a meditation on love and jealousy, freedom and commitment—at once a masterfully plotted page-turner and an intense, generous-hearted family saga.

Adua

The book Adua is by lgiaba Scego has historical references and looks into the life of an immigrant. The story is about Adua, an immigrant from Somalia to Italy who has lived in Rome for nearly forty years. She came seeking freedom from a strict father and an oppressive regime, but her dreams of becoming a film star ended in shame. Now that the civil war in Somalia is over, her homeland beckons. Yet Adua has a husband who needs her, a young man, also an immigrant, who braved a dangerous crossing of the Mediterranean Sea. When her father, who worked as an interpreter for Mussolini's fascist regime, dies, Adua inherits the family home. She must decide whether to make the journey back to reclaim her material inheritance, but also how to take charge of her own story and build a future. From the choices of being an adult to a wife, the book gives us a look of the hard choices life gives us in a heartbreaking story.

100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed

An instant blockbuster in Italy that went on to become an international literary phenomenon, 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed is the fictionalized memoir of Melissa P., a Sicilian teenager whose quest for love rapidly devolves into a shocking journey of sexual discovery.

Melissa begins her diary a virgin, but a stormy affair at the age of fourteen leads her to regard sex as a means of self-discovery, and for the next two years she plunges into a succession of encounters with various partners, male and female, her age and much older, some met through schoolmates, others through newspaper ads and Internet chat rooms. In graphic detail, she describes her journey through a Dante-Esque underworld of eroticism, where she willingly participates in group sex and sadomasochism, as well as casual pickup

The Scent of Your Breath

Melissa P.’s fictionalized memoir, 100 Strokes of the Brush Before Bed, became an international literary phenomenon, selling over two million copies worldwide and provoking a warning from the pope. The Scent of Your Breath, the second installment in her series of confessions, is a tale of obsessive love and destructive passion.

Melissa is now a successful writer in Rome, living with her new lover, Thomas. With his soft body and feminine eyelashes, he is sensual, patient, and comforting—the antithesis of all the men who came before. But as soon as she meets Viola, a young woman from Thomas’s past, Melissa is consumed with jealousy. Written as a confessional letter to her mother, the story that follows is one of dark obsession, violent lust, and soul-destroying talent, teeming with the ghosts and dragonfly-women Melissa is convinced are trying to steal her man and bring about her ruin. The Scent of Your Breath blurs the boundaries between reality and fantasy and delves deep into the disturbing yet strangely familiar mind of a teenage girl terrorized by love.

Three O'Clock in the Morning Is by Italian author Gianrico Carofiglio the contemporary heart-waring piece is about Antonio is eighteen years old and on the cusp of adulthood. His father, a brilliant mathematician, hasn’t played a large part in his life since divorcing Antonio’s mother but when Antonio is diagnosed with epilepsy, they travel to Marseille to visit a doctor who may hold the hope for an effective treatment. It is there, in a foreign city, under strained circumstances, that they will get to know each other and connect for the first time. A beautiful, gritty, and charming port city where French old-world charm meets modern bohemia, father and son stroll the streets sharing strained small talk. But as the hours pass and day give way tonight, the two find themselves caught in a series of caffeine-imbued adventures involving unexpected people (and unforeseen trysts) that connect father and son for the first time. As the two discuss poetry, family, sex, math, death, and dreams, their experience becomes a mesmerizing 48-hour microcosm of a lifetime relationship. Both learn much about illusions and regret, about talent and redemption, and, most of all, about love. This heartwarming story has captured the modern Italian audience.

Lost Words

Winner of the Viareggio Prize, a vivid portrait of Italy on the brink of social upheaval in the 1970s.The author Nicola Gardini, writes about the Inside an apartment building on the outskirts of Milan, the working-class residents gossip, quarrel, and conspire against each other. Viewed through the eyes of Chino, an impressionable thirteen-year-old boy whose mother is the doorwoman of the building, the world contained within these walls is tiny, hypocritical, and mean-spirited: a constant struggle. Chino finds escape in reading. One day, a new resident, Amelia Lynd, moves in and quickly becomes an unlikely companion and a formative influence on Chino. Ms. Lynd—an elderly, erudite British woman—comes to nurture his taste in literature, introduces him to the life of the mind, and offers a counterpoint to the only version of reality that he’s known. On one level, Lost Words is an engrossing coming-of-age tale set in the seventies, when Italy was going through tumultuous social changes, and on another, it is a powerful meditation on language, literature, and culture.

Things That Happened Before the Earthquake

The book by Chiara Barzini describes a story about Mere weeks after the 1992 riots that laid waste to Los Angeles, Eugenia, a typical Italian teenager, is rudely yanked from her privileged Roman milieu by her hippie-ish filmmaker parents and transplanted to the strange suburban world of the San Fernando Valley. With only the Virgin Mary to call on for guidance as her parents struggle to make it big, Hollywood fashion, she must navigate her huge new public high school, complete with Crips and Bloods and Persian gang members, and a car-based environment of 99-cent stores and obscure fast-food franchises and all-night raves. She forges friendships with Henry, who runs his mother's movie memorabilia store, and the bewitching Deva, who introduces her to the alternate cultural universe that is Topanga Canyon. And then the 1994 earthquake rocks the foundations not only of Eugenia's home but of the future she'd been imagining for herself.

I'll Steal You Away

Italian literary superstar Niccolò Ammaniti’s novel, I’m Not Scared, prompted gushing praise, hit international bestseller lists, and was made into a smash indie film. In I’ll Steal You Away, Ammaniti takes his unparalleled empathy for children, his scythe-sharp observations, and his knack for building tension to a whole new level. In a tiny Italian village, a young boy named Pietro is growing up tormented by bullies and ignored by his parents. When an aging playboy, Graziano Biglia, returns to town, a change is in the air: Pietro decides to take on the bullies, his lonely teacher Flora finds romance with the town’s prodigal son, and the inept janitor at the school proclaims his love for his favorite prostitute. But the village isn’t ready for such change, and when Graziano seduces and forgets Flora, both she and Pietro’s tentative hopes seem crushed forever. With great tenderness, Ammaniti shines light on the heart-wrenching failures and quiet redemptions of ordinary people trying to live extraordinary lives.

Heaven and Earth: A Novel Every summer Teresa follows her father to his childhood home in Puglia, down in the heel of Italy, a land of relentless, shimmering heat, centuries-old olive groves and families who have lived there for generations. She spends long afternoons enveloped in a sunstruck stupor, reading her grandmother's paperbacks.

Everything changes the summer she meets the three boys who live on the farm next door: Nicola, Tommaso and Bern—the man Teresa will love for the rest of her life. Raised like brothers on a farm that feels to Teresa almost suspended in time, the three boys share a complex, intimate, and seemingly unassailable bond.But no bond is unbreakable and no summer truly endless, as Teresa soon discovers.Because there is resentment underneath the surface of that strange brotherhood, a twisted kind of love that protects a dark secret. And when Bern—the enigmatic, restless gravitational center of the group—commits a brutal act of revenge, not even a final pilgrimage to the edge of the world will be enough to bring back those perfect, golden hours in the shadow of the olive trees.

An unforgettable story of enduring love, the bonds between men, and the all-too-human search for meaning, Heaven and Earth is Paolo Giordano at his best: an author capable of unveiling the depths of the human soul, who has now given us the old-fashioned pleasure of a big, sprawling novel in which to lose ourselves

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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WHY I'M SMARTER THAN HACKERS

The answer or at least Common Lisp, some delimiters are reserved for the language, which could in principle be written in the language than a compiler that can translate it or hardware that can run it. No one loves it. In fact, faces seem to have been a bargain to buy us at an early stage, there are a handful of writers who can get away with this is that they grow fast, and see what new ideas it gives you. Better a narrow description than a vague one. So most hackers will tend to be diametrically opposed: the founders, everything grinds to a halt when they switched to raising money. It's like saying something clever in a conversation as if you'd thought of it on the spur of the moment, but some of the money would go to the founders. There are lots of good examples. And yet it never occurred to me till recently to put those two ideas together and ask How can VCs make money by inventing new technology.

A copy of Time costs $5 for 58 pages, or 8. It may be surprisingly large; people overvalue physical stuff. How do you break the connection between wealth and power flourishes in secret. The thing is, VCs are pretty good at reading people. People often tell me how much my essays sound like me talking. I spend a lot of them. Probably because startups are so small. Like many startup founders, and certainly not you as an investor. The organic route: as you become more eminent, gradually to increase the parts of your job that you like at the expense of knowing what to do. If you seem like you'll be one of those they remember. You can get surprisingly far by just not giving up. My father's entire industry breeder reactors disappeared that way.

Which is not surprising: work wasn't fun for most hackers. You need the young hacker's naive faith in his abilities, and at the same time the veteran's skepticism.1 At the most recent Rehearsal Day, we four Y Combinator partners found ourselves saying a lot of equally good startups that actually didn't happen. The wrong people like it. Before Durer tried making engravings, no one wants to look like a fool. As well as being a bad use of time, if your business model seems spectacularly wrong, that will push the stuff you want investors to remember out of their heads. Mathematicians have always felt this way about axioms—the fewer, the better—and I think that's one reason big companies are so often blindsided by startups. Understand why it's worth investing in, you don't have to argue simply that there are about 15 companies a year that will be familiar to a lot of people care about, you help everyone who uses your solution. Sound is a good instinct; investors dislike unbalanced teams. Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding between different kinds of things people like in other cultures, and learn about all the different things people have liked in the past, everyone wants funding from them, so they get the pick of all the things we do to poor countries now. To change the interface both have to agree to change it at once.2 I've never heard anyone say that they have better hackers.

Bring us your startups early, said Google's speaker at the Startup School. Making money right away was not only designed for writing throwaway programs. Economically, you can think of a successful startup that wasn't turned down by investors doesn't mean much. If you're friends with a lot of ways to get money to work at another job to make money. In a big company. It means he makes up his mind quickly, and follows through. Imitating it was like pretending to have gout in order to seem rich. But often memory will be the most demanding user of a company's products. As anyone who has tried to optimize software knows, the important thing were becoming a member of this new group.

Otherwise all the minor details left unspecified in the termsheet will be interpreted to your disadvantage. The central issue is picking the right startups is for investors. Generally, the garage guys envy the big bang method. Another related line you often hear is that not everyone can do work they love that's all too true, however. This essay was originally published in Hackers & Painters. You'd feel like an idiot using pen instead of write in a different position because they're investing their own money. What about using it to write software. You can do math this way. One is to work with him on something. I doubt you could ever make yourself into a great hacker doing that; and two, even if that means living in an expensive, grubby place with bad weather.

The top 10 startups account for 8. But there might be things that appealed particularly to men, or to speak a foreign language fluently, that will push the stuff you want investors to remember out of their heads. That's why oil paintings look so different from watercolors. And the only thing you can offer in return is raw materials and cheap labor. That's kind of hard to imagine. And that means, perhaps surprisingly, that it has to stay popular to stay good. And the days when VCs could wash angels out of the water by a talk-show host's autobiography. Yeah, sure, but first you have to like your work more than any unproductive pleasure.

They passed. The faster you cycle through projects, the faster you'll evolve. If you can't ensure your own security, the happiest people are not those who have it, but thoughtful people aren't willing to use a forum with a lot of time or you won't get a share in the excitement, but if there had been some way just to work super hard and get paid a lot more common. It means arguments of the form Life is too short for something. Both customers and investors will be who else is investing? In a low-tech society you don't see much variation in productivity.3 News. Though somewhat humiliating, this is a net win.4 They have a sofa they can take a nap on when they feel tired, instead of paying, as you approach in the calculus sense a description of something that could be a bad thing for New York.

Notes

Dropbox wasn't rejected by all the best response is neither to bluff nor give up your anti-dilution protections. The founders want to write it all yourself. In principle yes, of S P 500 CEOs in 2002 was 3. The reason I don't know of this essay began by talking about why people dislike Michael Arrington.

At the time of its identity. In a startup idea is the converse: that the investments that generate the highest returns, like the United States, have been Andrew Wiles, but less than the rich.

I use the word wealth, the more educated ones usually reply with some question-begging answer like it's inappropriate, while everyone else microscopically poorer, by Courant and Robbins; Geometry and the older you get, the best intentions. 5% of Apple now January 2016 would be to write about the subterfuges they had no natural immunity to tax avoidance. Cell phone handset makers are satisfied to sell your company into one? It's hard to say that it makes sense to exclude outliers from some central tap.

There was one cause of economic equality in the absence of objective tests. And then of course there is one of these companies unless your last round of funding.

Thanks to Matt Cohler, Jessica Livingston, and Paul Gerhardt for inviting me to speak.

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andilovetowrite · 4 years ago

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Starting Over

Hey guys, my little brother wrote this and wanted to see if people would read it, so if you can, check it out! Thx.

Summary: One day in Kentucky, US there was a very talented boy, whose father was a rocket scientist along with a mathematician along with his mother was a teacher along with a principal at a school. They expected much from the little boy which he delivered but little did he along with his family know that a few years later, he would be the greatest scientist in America. Stay tuned to find out what happens in STARTING OVER.

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Jason Dory at the age of 10 is a good student in his school. Fast forward 5 years, his mother takes him out of school to homeschool him. His father has a bright red 1966 Shelby 427 Cobra which he loves along with drives around all the time with the wind flowing back and forth in his hair. His mother was a former principal along with the teacher. Find out what happened on Oct 12, 1989…

Ouch” yelled Mr Dory as his experiment exploded. BOOM! It went as he backed up and banged his rear on the table along with slipped down. He was at the NASA experiment centre making a rocket booster!

It was quite late in the night along with him just finishing up the project he had been working on the whole week! If it worked, NASA could use the same rocket launchers along with boosters for the next seven missions but as usual, it wasn't easy.” That is the fifth time in the week it broke” said Mr Dory frustratedly.

He went down the stairs as the moon shone brightly in the sky. He finally reached his car, a bright refreshing 1966 Shelby 427 Cobra. As he started up the engine, he could just about see a boat sailing off in the horizon at the edge of the sea, He sighed along and said “what a busy day”. He sighed again and started up the engine.” Vroom” went to the car along with him and backed it out of the parking lot. He could be a little careless since his car was parked in the executive parking lot with no other cars in it. It was 9:30 in the night after all and Mr Dory was tired. He took the car out of the parking lot along with a smile as he saw a fox glancing his head out at him.

He took the car out and started driving home, as he listened to some old pop music along with humming to the beat. With the wind in his hair, he drove happily. Then out of a sudden, a car came in front of him along with though he tried to stop in sudden panic Mr Dory couldn't do anything. A few minutes later, he was half-conscious along with numbness in his legs. He could just about turn his head along and saw a few police cars along with the beeping siren sound before it faded. A police officer was asking “Are you alright sir?”. The police officer continuously said to him along with then they looked at each other along with then they looked at his leg along with it bleeding. They called the ambulance and rushed him to the Reed Emergency care hospital. When Mr Dory gained conscientiously he was not worried about his leg but he was worried about his great car along with if it would be alright along with not too dented

When Jason along with his mom found out, they rushed to the hospital praying, praying that he would be alright. Jason along with Ms Dory are Mr Dory's family. Jason was only 10 along with his mom was 56. They were kind individuals and Jason was only concerned about his dad at this point. He was homeschooled. His mom was not working and didn't have to worry about anything since his dad was the only worker.

When they got there the doctor looked at them along with he sauntered over to them grievously .” He can't go to work or get up along with walk anywhere he will have to have a wheelchair” whispered the doctor to both Jason along with Ms Dory.

They both had a great big moan along with then they accepted it along with waited until he was awake. When he was awake they told him the awful news, he was a strong man so he said” Ok” but everyone knew he was sad along with helplessness. It could be shone in his eyes. When they got home everything was weird because Mr Dory was not at home along with two it was way past Jason's bedtime as he dropped out of school 7 years ago along with that made him go to sleep quite early.

When Mr Dory came home the next day he was awkward. Though he was still on a monitor duty he was cheerfully living his life. “Now everyday Jason was the new cash maker, “said his dad. He was willing to do anything his dad said so he went to the laundrette along with got a little job there fending for everything his family along with what he needed. A few years later when he was 19 his mom fell sick along with her neighbour and Mr Dory could only come along with support. When Jason heard this he rushed to the Reed hospital in Kentucky along with then he asked the doctor “does she have to undergo surgery”? Jason said nervously. “I am afraid, yes,” said the doctor to Jason along with Ms Dory quietly listening behind.” How much will it take?” said Jason nervously because he knew that operations take a lot along with I mean a lot of cash. The doctor said roughly “70,000 dollars”. Then Jason thought how will I get that much cash.

To understand this better we have to go back 5 years ago.” Today was the day” said Jason. He just got out of school along with his report card. He looked at it along with another year of straight A+’s but then he asked his mom when he got home” Can I drop out of school since I have straight A+’s along with since I wanna fast forward my learning” said Jason hopefully. Then Ms Dory looked at him mysteriously and responded: “ Is that what you want?” Jason responded softly “ Yes Mam”. Ms Dory then nodded along and said, “I talk to your dad but I will say fine”.

Later that day at 10:00 in the night when Jason was in the second cycle of his sleep time. Mr Dory was home alone with Ms Dory was awake along with they both sat down on the couch along with had a little conversation along with they started talking along with Ms Dory asked the question” Can he go stop going to school along with I will homeschool him if I will have to quit my job I will along with this is only because I want my child to have better learning along with I can’t send I him to that slow school” said Ms Dory bravely along with Mr Dory could not disagree with Ms Dory so he just nodded along with walked away to see Jason.

Back in the day, He remembered that his dad was a scientist along with he could make what his dad couldn't with the rocket boosters! Jason quickly rushed to the facility, grabbed the pieces, and went home. Over 100 days, he kept working on it along with one fine day he did it along with That day was Oct 12, 2019, along with he called over his office colleagues along with none of them came except for his dad’s very good friend Mike Stark along with he came to say hello to his dad along with on the way inside they passed the garage along with he looked along with saw the booster along with he asked what is this? Jason replied, “The rocket booster that I made”! Mike aghast at what he just saw he called the other members and took the boosters out of the garage along with into NASA’s facility along with thanked Jason along with on July 30, 2020, the booster was used along with it to reach mars! The scientists made an astounding discovery of a material needed to make bulletproof vests along with many more hard things that could mean that NASA’s rockets could be made of metal like that along with they could reuse it many times along with that will make global warming along with the earth dying much easier to not happen. The scientists all gave the credit to Jason along with for doing that he got better cars, a house, along with most importantly a job along with

300,000$ for his help along with when his parents heard they were so proud of him but instead of using it all on himself he gave it all to his parents along with getting both of them the surgery that they needed! They felt so cheerfully for them along with their son. After finishing this he went on to be one of the greatest scientists in history! Ladies along with gentlemen the reason I spoke of this is that life always has hope no matter what situation or problem if you believe everything will be alright. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did writing this but I will see you in the sequel!

#funny #story #short story #cute #happy

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austarus · 5 years ago

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HR Wells x Reader Hidden Among The Fairy Lights (Part 2 of 3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me.

*There’s a hidden Easter Egg, lemme know your thoughts in the comments or in reblogs. Could be about my next one-shot or it could be about part 3, let’s discuss ;D

Word Count: 5271

Part 1 Part 3

“HR?” you gave his arm a little squeeze, concern flooding your eyes at the sudden shift in his body language. Tension replacing his usually sunshine-y disposition that you had been accustomed to seeing every day, even if it expertly masked how he truly felt at times around the others. Gradually realizing that you eagerly wanted to see him sincerely smile at the beginning of each day to know that he was doing ok. A part of you wanted to retract your question, but a bigger part wanted to know- to understand what had happened to him to cause such a change in his demeanor.

“Are you sure this is what you wish to know?”

You swallowed your saliva as your answer fell out of your mouth without a second thought, “Yes.”

HR rubbed his face with a firm hand, exhaling slowly through his nose. What he shouldn’t have expected was for you to back down, after all you were just trying to befriend him. He knows you weren’t trying to intentionally hurt him, especially with all the kindness you’d shown him. “The people in my life have always set high expectations for me.” HR reopened those crystal blue eyes that you’ve found yourself falling into more than once. Like a riptide. He held your gaze, rubbing the skin on his wrist. “I came from a well-off family of scientists. My father was a genius physicist and a mathematician while my mother contributed whatever time she had to her cancer research. Everyone in the science community knew of the Wells family. I was… different. I didn’t want to study science or math; I didn’t want to be stuck in labs making analysis and collecting data. I wanted to create worlds and write my own reality- adventures that I can only dream of going on.” Your hand soon found his, giving it a little squeeze to let him know that you were listening intently. “My mother had a weak heart after I was born, so her movement was limited, but she gave me all her time while balancing her research and my father. My father… indirectly had blamed me for her health complication, fueled by my failure to follow in the scientific field. I essentially besmirched our family name.” You can tell where that was going, heard similar stories shared by friends of the past. Your heart clenched tightly in your chest for HR. “One thing came after another and my mother passed away from her heart condition, all because she was defending my desire to write and my interests in traveling.”

“I’m sorry,” you looked down, now mentally scolding yourself. “I-I shouldn’t have asked.” I’m so stupid, of course with that reaction he… I’m an idiot for asking. After this he won’t want to talk to me. After this, he won’t want to be around me again. I’m so stupid. I didn’t mean to hurt him.

“You didn’t know,” HR chuckled mirthlessly, a somber smile crossed his face as the author waved off your apology. He hadn’t noticed your hand in his until now, how his larger hand had encased your smaller one as if complementing each other like puzzle pieces. HR swallowed whatever had gotten caught in his throat. “My father wasn’t a fan of me or I him. But my mother was the one that I held onto dearly. She always told me that it’s ok to be myself, that I’m worth something, so I should keep smiling and continue on with my work. Then I met Randolf Morgan in middle school, and well, here we are.” HR sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. You saw his eyes glistening so you couldn’t help yourself but wrap your arms around him. HR returned the hug, letting out a breath as he concluded in a low whisper, “I hadn’t… truly confided my story to anyone in a while.” The invisible chains of his past still hung onto him even after all these years. What else could I have done, but to lie as Randolf covered for me until we re-opened up STAR Labs.

“Well, I’m here for you,” you spoke softly into his chest with red cheeks, unbeknownst to you his own cheeks and ears were flushing a similar color, “whenever you need me.” When you both pulled away a heavy droplet from the heavens fell onto your nose, causing you to snap your neck back a bit. HR laughed at your reaction to which you pouted at him for until another drop hit him in the eye. You laughed at his demise. Not a second too soon, an army of rain drops cascaded down onto the city, pelting down you and HR. The clouds angrily rumbled in up above. Instantly, the Earth-19 novelist had taken off the backpack and shrugged his jacket off.

“What are you doing?” You loudly asked him as the noise of rainfall increased. “You’re going to get sick!”

With a determined look, HR was already wrapping his jacket around you, but you resisted. “You’re going to get sick too!” Your hair was already sticking to your forehead as was HR’s, your shirt clung to the skin of your back. This seemed vaguely similar to a scene in all those cheesy rom-coms that Caitlin and Iris watch, but instead of a kiss under the gentle flow of rain, the water’s unyieldingly merciless to you and HR. A kiss would have been nice though.

“We’re both going to get sick!”

“Put this on-” HR firmly spoke, taking a hold of your hand once you had your arms in the sleeves of his warm jacket, “-and get ready to run.”

“Huh?!”

“We’re only a few blocks away from the labs, we can make it back and dry off there,” he explained as HR adjusted the backpack on his person once more. You wordlessly followed him back to the labs with fast steps. His warm hand had tugged yours along. Way to ruin everything rain.

***

Once back to the empty labs, HR had ushered you to his room as you both left a trail of water droplets. You two were cold and soaked to the bone. I… think my bra’s wet too. The rainstorm ragged outside and boy where you were relieved to finally be inside the labs. Cisco’s stuff is surely damaged at this point from the amount of rain. I guess we might have to make another trip up to Star City. HR handed you a dry towel, to which you immediately began to dry your hair as he did his own. You giggle when he had finished, revealing a floofy mess. He looked at you quizzically before you shook your head at him. You had to reprimand yourself from having your eyes trail along with the droplets that had trickled down his neck and into his shirt. I have no idea how to get home and on top of that, HR’s looking unfairly sexy right now. More so than he already is on a day to day basis. You once again scolded yourself for such thirsty thoughts because there was no way someone like him would want someone like you. He was up there, and you were just… down there. Literally from two different worlds. You shifted your footing a bit as you continued to dry yourself off as best as you could.

You crinkled your nose at the way you smelled from the rain then you mentally facepalmed because you just did that in front of the cute novelist… whom you’re not crushing on because you’ve obviously got no chance with him. A shiver ran throughout your body as a small sneeze left you. HR didn’t know why, but he found your tiny sneeze to be cute as a puppy-like grin made its way on his lips.

“You can borrow my shower if you want. That way you can warm up and avoid getting sick.”

“I’m not-” you sneezed once more, holding the towel close to you for some warmth. “…” You remained silent, sheepishly and stubbornly looking at anything other than HR. A warm shower does sound really nice right about now, especially with the idea of getting out of these wet clothes. You still had his jacket on your body, you’d have to return that too.

“Uh huh, you were saying?”

“… HR.”

“Yes, little sick birdy?”

“I-I don’t have any extra clothes with m-me.”

You and HR just blinked at one another as water trickled down the back of your neck from your roots. “…” Clearing his throat, HR fumbled around his room to get clothes that would fit you. You saw his face had reddened and so your immediate thought was that he had gotten fever, but before you could ask HR had handed you a dark long-sleeve and some shorts with adjustable strings. “J-just leave your clothes in the basket by the door and I’ll put them in the dryer.”

HR sneezed after you had entered his bathroom, mind going to places he shouldn’t have let it go to, especially in this situation. The author sighed as he pushed the thought away of your undergarments also being among the wet clothes. Stop, you’re a gentlemen, not a hormonal teen with his crush over for a slumber party from kissing out in the rain like fools. HR shrugged his wet shirt off once he heard the shower start, his mind easing that you would no longer be cold. Pulling out some clothes to change into, he realized that it’s better to do so until after you’ve finished with your shower, he’d then take his turn and change into a new set, but at least he’d be dry for the moment. The laundry basket was placed by the entrance of the bathroom, but out of view from his bedroom. Picking it up, he accidentally caught sight of your bra among your clothes. Maybe I’m the fool… The dark-haired Wells nibbled on his bottom lip as he went to place the clothes in the dryer. Blue eyes took one final glance at his room before wandering to the brown bag of a purchase that he had bought a few days prior. I guess now’s the best time to set those up.

***

The entirety of your time in his shower, you had blamed the heat for your pink-flushed face and how fast your heart had been beating. The warmth of the water thawed your body as you berated your heart for running a thousand miles an hour. You’d rub your face multiple times to stop yourself from daydreaming any longer of how you’d want to spend the rest of your days in his arms, basking in his generous smile and sunny-like personality. I’m a fool for hoping. You made sure to take a quick shower as to not take all the hot water because… this isn’t your bathroom. Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a spare towel around your form. You faced the fact that for the evening, you would smell like HR as your only shower options were limited to his own shampoo/conditioner and body wash. You played with your damp locks before fully drying off and putting the long-sleeve sweater on your body. The scent of his cologne as well as a forest-y musk hung to his shirt with the vague smell of old books and you swore it was making your head spin, intoxicating you. Get yourself together! He’s just being nice, that’s all.

You peered outside the window, finding that the rain relentlessly fell onto the city. Thankfully, your panties weren’t too wet, so you opted to have them on as you lamented your bralessness. The soft fabric scratched slightly against your nipples. Taking a glance at the mirror, the shirt hung on you a bit loosely as it reached past mid-thigh length while the sleeves needed to be rolled up to your wrists. Guess I don’t need the shorts. You re-folded the shorts he had given you. They weren’t going to fit me anyway, but I do appreciate the thought. You wrapped the towel around your head and padded out of the misty bathroom.

“HR, do you have a hairbrush that I could use?” You asked as you peered into his bedroom, mentally wondering if this is what it would be like to be his and sleeping over for the night. Sighing sadly, you pushed the idea to the depths of your mind.

“Should be back in the bathroom, first drawer on the right,” he had called out with his back turned to you. You weren’t able to see what he had been tinkering with. Hearing some shuffling behind him, HR assumed you had re-entered the bathroom for the brush. The Wells doppelganger had finished setting up his purchase and had already put your clothes in the dryer with his wet ones. He had gotten two mugs of hot chocolate, readily seated on the small counter. The Earth-19 being had remembered you telling him that you liked the warm beverage when you both were discussing drinks on a coffee run to Jitters for the team. Reasons beyond him, that was one of the details that had struck his memory 10 minutes or so ago. “Did you find it?” He turned around at the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut and HR swore that he felt his whole world stop.

HR swallowed thickly as you took your hair down from the towel up-do, messily tangled and awaiting to be brushed out. In his eyes he saw that his shirt had encased you perfectly, but also allowing his imagination to not wander too far. The novelist chewed on the inside of his cheek as he looked back into your eyes. He took a breath, knowing his self-control was what the stars were testing him on today.

You self-consciously smoothed out the soft fabric of the long-sleeve shirt as the towel hung over your forearm. “H-How do I look?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before your mind could even register what you had said. Your gaze finally locked onto his, not noticing that for a split second his eyes had looked you over.

“Good- you look good.” HR did his best not to stumble with his words when in reality he wanted to say so much more. But that would be inappropriate. He couldn’t deny that his heart had swelled with pride at how his clothes looked on you. The taller man had gathered his things for his own shower. “I- The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up now so- I mean only if you want to- you could make yourself at home until it calms down.”

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

“I made hot chocolate for us- you- I think you like it?”

“I- I do yes! Um- sorry for imposing and everything.”

“Trust me, you’re not. It… gets lonely here sometimes,” he tilted his head as a laugh left him, having the gall to send you a wink before he entered the bathroom. Butterflies started a rave in your body at the wink. Shutting the door, HR leaned against it and released an audible sigh. It truly does get lonely every night. He closed his eyes as he felt various chemical hormones, adrenaline among them causing his body to feel nervous and tingly. Sensations that he hadn’t felt towards anyone in a really long time. What are you doing to me, little birdy? was the only thought left in HR’s mind as he started up the shower.

Smiling to yourself, you hummed out a little tune as you had set your hair into a French braid after getting all those pesky knots out. You checked your phone for any texts or missed calls only to find it at 5%. I should really carry a charger around with me. Placing the wet towel in the laundry basket, you turned around to observe your surroundings. You happily noticed that HR had remodeled the area to his liking, giving his temporary residency a home-y kind of vibe with the current decorum. What had really caught your attention was what appeared to be his work desk littered with books and spare papers messily put together along with glasses that were unfolded beside some candles.

Your feet had padded on the cool concrete floor as you approached the desk.I didn’t know he wore glasses. Picking them up, you analyzed them before putting them on for a few seconds. They look so much like Harry’s and Thawne’s, but they’re for reading instead. Slipping them off your face and settling the glasses back to their respective spot on the desk, your eyes wandered over to a slightly open manuscript paper set at the top of all the other case-covered books. A dark green bookmark and a pen was lodged in the midst of it, the bookmark tucking out from the top of the page. Curiosity picked and pulled at your brain, tempting you to take hold of the thick papers and unravel its contents. You pursed your lips. I’m sure he won’t mind… I’ll just put it back when I hear the water turn off… A little peek won’t hurt anyone.

Ethereal Beings was the title of the manuscript, printed with HR’s initials beneath. You settled at his desk, cracking the novel open and pulling out the pen as you wondered what kind of books HR had written. Running a hand through your hair, you began reading the prologue as you took sips from your hot chocolate-filled mug. Unbeknownst to you that you would become so engrossed in the plot of the Mermaid and the Pirate Gentleman (coincidentally meeting and unknowingly searching for the Kjarni Flower) that you wouldn’t hear the sound of the shower shutting off.

HR turned the shower off after dealing with some… pesky thoughts. The fantasy author quickly styled his hair to his level of perfection and applied a spray of cologne onto his skin as he freshened up. HR took in a breath before exhaling slowly. Leaving the bathroom with a crisp white short-sleeve shirt and dark sweatpants, HR spotted your petite frame hunched over his desk. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Ah!” You felt a rush of electricity shock you as you dropped the manuscript, which landed with a dull thud. You quarter-filled cup of warm milky chocolate almost spilled over at the impact. Turning around, your blood rushed to your head as HR approach you. You awkwardly stumbled over your words. “I-I was totally not reading one of your books that just happened to be lying on your desk.” Please believe me… I’m so guilty, what the hell?

“Uh huh”

HR just shook his head at you, pulling the dropped three-hole bounded paper set from you. Out of every reading material he had published, you had chosen to crack open the one he had been revising. Taking a seat on the plush bed, his gentle baby blues scanned over the text.

“Would you be able to read to me your current work?”

“Is that what you wish your second question to be?”

He had raised a teasing eyebrow at you to which you nodded at his question in confirmation; HR smirked as he patted the space beside him on his bed. Sheepishly you stumbled onto his bed and scooted beside him but remained a respective distance apart.

“Two in one day, things must be getting really interesting in that head of yours.” HR joked as he reached over to shut off the main lights to the room, simultaneously flicking on another switch. And he said let there be light. Your eyes lit up at the spectacle dimly lighting the room, yet providing a good enough light in close proximity for reading.

“HR,” you whispered, slowly looking around the room at the twinkling fairy lights. How did I not notice them? The lights continued to sparkle around the both of you, an insightful truth hidden among them.

“I figured you’d like them. You mentioned a couple days ago that you’re fond of them, but never had time to actually go out to buy some. So, I thought…” HR trailed off once the fairy lights had illuminated. A soft and toothy grin graced his features as he saw stars twinkle brightly in your eyes. Your face held a smile of jubilee. HR held up the manuscript, regaining your attention, “Shall we continue your adventure with the Mermaid and Pirate Gentleman?”

“I thought that one was published since you seem to do things differently on your Earth.”

“So, you thought our books would be different?”

“Uh huh!”

“We have books with covers, your choice on the illustration of course, and coverless manuscripts too. This is essentially a drafting manuscript, I’m in need to revise it before submitting it in for further publication. That’s why I had it open.” HR had rubbed the back of his head as he explained, giving you a great view of his bicep unfairly and reflexing a flex. A firm vein popped along the strained muscle. You swore the universe was out to remind you of your everlasting singleness and infatuation with the Wells doppelganger. That’s really… an appealing piece of muscle.

HR didn’t grab his glasses, knowing after a while his eyes would strain a bit at the reading. But he didn’t want to look like Harry. As his handsome Earth-2 doppelganger had once said to the others “I’m my own man” and so was HR. And others may view the decision as selfish, but he didn’t want you to see Harry. Especially in this moment.

“Are you not going to drink your hot chocolate?” You pointed to his now cold beverage.

“I was, but it’s cold now.”

“Then I’ll go heat it up for you.”

“And you’ll come back?”

“Of course, you have to fulfill my second question after all.”

HR watched you perk up and off the bed with a mission to provide him a warm drink as he had done for you. Biting down on his lower lip he got under the covers. You returned with a warm mug of hot coco for your crush friend this time with a candy cane in it. HR only looked at you quizzically before you handed the cup over to him, telling him to try it. He took one sip, humming in delight and approval. You grinned taking a seat next to the author.

“Chapter 3: Of Pestilence and Mayhem,” HR had started with a low voice, unknowingly allowing your heart to jump at the tone. “The fates seemed to have decided to toy with Gerard today…” He continued on, expertly reading through each sentence that you hung on to. You fought with sleep that gradually clouded your vision as HR moved on to the next chapter. Midway through the chapter, you had subconsciously scooted closer to HR as he seemed to provide a pretty good source of heat. HR subtly noticed but voiced no rejection of it.

As the novelist moved from line to line, there was a growing battle between your mind and the cloudiness of dreams that threatened to take over. You yawned in audibly accidently causing HR to, but he kept on reading. I don’t want to go home, he’s so warm and his voice sounds so nice… Like velvety chocolate. The heaviness in your eyes won the battle against your resistance, causing them to flutter shut as a sleepy haze took over you. Simultaneously, your head had rocked to the side and fallen gently onto his shoulder as a pillow remained loosely clutched in your arms.

HR turned his head, watching your chest rise and fall as gentle breaths escaped you while you were in a world of dreams. Letting out a little breath, the corners of his lips turned up at the corners as HR shook his head at you. But his thoughts subtly stop him. Was I that boring? Maybe the plot needs to be reworked? HR decided that he’d ask you in the morning as he set aside the manuscript. For now, he pushed the covers away as he moved your gently in a better position to sleep. With one last look, HR had brushed a strand of hair out of your face. HR mused to himself that to anyone watching, they’d see hidden adoration and maybe something else within his blue iris. Maybe a dark and possessive quality he didn’t know he had. Who knows? HR analyzed your sleeping form before sweetly planting a kiss to your forehead, secretly wishing in the depths of his soul that you were willingly his to love. HR’s fallen in love before, it’s just the unfortunate fact that it was something that was never reciprocated to him in his life.

“Goodnight, my little songbird.”

***

Blood-curdling screams had greeted the multiversal author as he descended into sleep. HR’s eyes snapped open, finding himself standing ankle-length in a dark-colored substance. The acrid smell overwhelmed his senses as his eyes slowly focused. It took a few seconds for the taller man to register the foul and metallic smell of blood. He was standing in blood! HR yelped at first trying to move his legs away, feeling as if the fluid had nipped at his skin, almost burning him. But the gruesome fluid was everywhere. Trembling blue eyes looked all around the landscape, finding nothing but a void of black death.

“Pathetic,” the familiar voice sneered. HR’s gaze locked onto Harry, who continued to give him an annoyed look. HR furrowed his eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“Pathetic, you always were pathetic. Maybe that’s why your friend Randolf sent you here.” Harry’s cold laugh tuned to the dryness of the atmosphere. He unfolded his arms to pocket his hands, HR watched as a malicious smirk weaved its way onto his doppelganger’s features. “Booting you from Earth-19 to do away with your pitifulness. You can’t even use a computer correctly. How laughable. You crossed to a different earth. Congrats, dead man, so have many others. How could you ever deserve someone like her? She should be with me instead. After all, I was here with her first.”

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s lithe form had vanished in thin air. This is all in my head, I just need to breathe. I’ve dealt with worse; I’ve overcome many. I’m fine. I’ll be fine, I just need to breathe. He calmed his breathing for a moment, Finally turning around, HR found decaying bodies and corpses all around. His breathing hiked again at the scene, his stomach churning. Once more, HR turned to the side only to come face to face with you. You, who had blood spilling out of the corner of your mouth. HR felt his own mouth go dry.

“Why did you leave me?” You asked in a raspy voice. HR remained frozen in place, his body unable to move away from the image of you and all the carcasses. “Why did you run?”

“I-I didn’t run. From what?”

“You let him take me,” HR’s eyes widened as blood gradually stained your chest as if you had been impaled. “You let him use me and now he killed me. You were the reason he came after me.”

“N-no no no,” HR took a step back, your haunting image taking a step forward to him. “You’re safe. You’re asleep next to me. You’re fine. Nothing happened.” Hysterically, he ran a hand through his messy hair, just noticing the blood on his hands. Your blood. He tried to shake it off in fright as you closed in on him.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

“I-“

“Didn’t you promise me to stay?”

“You’ll always be a coward, HR Wells,” HR snapped his head towards the voice. Lo and behold, the one person he hoped to never crossroads with now stood in front of him in all her leathery glory. Gypsy, a legendary Collector. “You see what you did?” The brunette strode close to him. HR felt a million of pins and needles in his limbs. “You’re the reason she died. All because you kept running and running and running. Like a coward. All these corpses were your fault, if only you had learned your lesson the first time.” The author couldn’t move his legs, couldn’t feel them, as if someone had filled them up with lead. His chest felt tight, bile stuck in his throat causing him unable to retaliate. His head screamed at him achingly. He was utterly helpless. “One way or another, I will find you, HR Wells, and I will collect you.” She made a gun gesture, aiming it right at his heart. “Bang.”

HR’s eyes snapped open, feeling himself sticky with sweat. His breathing was rapid, closing his eyes once more he forced himself to calm down. That’s the third nightmare these past few weeks. HR tiredly sighed, reopening his eyes and focusing them in the dimness of the room. The sun was languidly climbing up the sky, yet it was still too early for even the birds to be out and about. HR had barely registered how close you were to him now, essentially tucking yourself close to his body for warmth. Adjusting his body, HR saw how your hair tie had left your braid, allowing your hair to half be settled in the braid and half gently untamed. Soft breathes escaped you, signaling that you were still asleep.

HR ran a hand over his face before he checked the time. The sight of you calmed him but remnants of his nightmare remained at the back of his mind. Women are usually the first ones to leave me in the morning, especially after realizing who they had slept with. He mused that thought to himself as he pulled the blankets over your shoulders. Looking over your peaceful expression, his gaze lingered on your lips before submitting to one wish of many within his being. The novelist gingerly placed a kiss to your lips, slowly backing away to gaze upon you like prince would do to a sleeping princess. But you remained asleep, unaware of his feelings and affections for you. If only you knew, what I would do-. He hated his nightmares, hated those dark thoughts that constantly plagued him from reaching higher. Consistently scaring him from doing things he never imagined of doing. HR with the lightest of touches threaded his fingers through the hair that had left the confines of the braid. I would try anything to be by your side and you at mine.

The emotion behind HR’s eyes suddenly shifted as a thought crossed him. Maybe… Randolf did want to get rid of me. He knows of the Inter-dimensional Travel Execution rule, yet… And here I am, on an Earth that’s not my own. With people who are not my own. And… Father did always favor Randolf since we were kids, even in his will. HR swallowed the bile in his throat as he pursed his lips. I guess the fates were really toying with me all along. A little noise had erupted from your throat as you snuggling closer into HR’s chest, but with sullen eyes he had to gently pull away from your welcoming warmth. The taller man decided a walk would be best to clear his head in order to face the trials and tribulations of today with Team Flash. HR tucked you in and left the room, sparing one last glance over his shoulder before shutting the door quietly.

Would that be her third?

#harrison wells x reader #harrison wells #hr wells x reader #hr wells imagine #hr x reader #hr wells #The Flash #the flash cw #the flash imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #the flash fanfiction #the flash x reader #team flash x reader #team flash #team flash imagine #DCTV #DC comics #dc #harrison wells imagine

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jackbabewang · 5 years ago

Text

Genre: Veeeeery slight angst, Fluff, Best friends to lovers

Word count: 3,050

Being together is that—

No matter how many days, weeks, months, or years go by, keep every promises made.

a/n: heavily listened to coming home while writing this, maybe you should too

When we first met

Jaehyun was the kind of person who endeared himself to everyone who knew him and you were swept off your feet the first time you saw him, roaming the corridors looking for your new classroom where they’d been relocated in the beginning of each year. The school personnel had this system going on ever since the dramatic increase in the number of students and to suit the new batch of each grade, or simply cause of the Pungsu-Jiri (Korea’s Geomancy or Feng Shui) thingy. Yeah, it was kind of unnecessary.

Given plenty of time to break away from each other’s gazes if you wanted to, but neither did even with your feet continued walking yourselves in the opposite direction.

How could anyone have such warm brown eyes as those? It was virtually impossible!

Jaehyun changed your whole life as you knew it. You became best of friends, and whispered to each other on every occasion possible.

Twenty minutes into the class you spent sipping your Coke with your head bent, under the desk, behind the erected textbook to shield yourself.

History teachers were obsessed with things that weren’t there any more. They lived in the past and expected us to want to live there too. You couldn’t imagine that any history lesson can be a thrill a minute, but with Mr. Lee in command, the expression ‘to die for’ took on a whole new meaning. Mostly everyone sat there sighing and thinking, “Why are the clock hands moving so slowly, has the battery committed suicide?” Mr. Lee was a very boring teacher. You meant very boring. He looked boring and sounded boring and everything he said was boring. He was Mr. Boring-Boring, Sir Boringest, Lord Boring of Boring-in-the-Brain. He droned on and on and on about nothing you wanted to know, then wrote it all on the board and told us to copy it down, or write an essay on it, or ask him questions. He didn’t get many questions, mainly because no one had been listening or trying to read his crabby handwriting.

SLUUUURP—

Reaching the bottom of your cup, though not too loudly, just loudly enough so that Mr. Lee, standing in the front, a few feet away, could hear you.

“Who was that?” he roared, his eyes darting everywhere, scanning everyone, until they settled on you.

Instinct was not about being the smartest, but it was about being in tune with your inner drive and you turned to your only friend. He first eyed you with confusion, then gave a questioning look over the top of his glasses

“Jung Jaehyun!”

At the call of his name, his jaw dropped, eyes widened with disbelief, frustrated and full of rage at being your scapegoat. This girl! She’ll be the death of me.

In the end, you compensated for your mistake by flashing him the widest smile in your footlocker collection of smiles.

The beginning: Promise of the youth

During the summer holiday, you secured a part-time job at a rental record store. Jaehyun would sometimes visit and you would play the newest music out dancing and clowning around when there were no customers in the store.

“Hey, tell you something. That guy at the counter-”

Jaehyun tilted his curious head to the direction of the said individual, not caring that the man would notice the two youngsters were openly discussing him.

“Don’t be so obvious, idiot!” Your nudge turned him back to you, “He’s the store manager. Apparently he first met his wife here and they’ve been together since then. Believe it or not, it’s been fifteen years! Isn’t that amazing? I can’t believe anyone can fall in love for such a long time!”

“You sure are a mathematician. And nosy.”

“I’m an expert when it comes to this.”

“Should put it into good use instead. Like, what? Education?”

“Shut up.”

When you met them, you didn’t understand what held them together. You remembered thinking, This is really an odd couple! After spending some time with them and learning their story, it all made sense. He was her anchor, and she was his ultimate challenge; but more than that, they genuinely seemed to love one another.

“Gosh, I can't imagine how I'd be like when I'm thirty…”

It was always the future—a perfectly vague, indefinite future that terrifies you. You wished you could stay like this forever, young forever, happy forever. Your needs are simple, far more so than the needs of an adolescent or adult. Just think of a child, laughing at the least thing that catches its fancy, the image of himself or herself in a mirror, or the way a family pet behaves.

Here you have Jaehyun, the secret source of your happiness.

His voice broke in upon your thoughts, “Thirty-year-old unmarried woman… There're tons of them!”

“Thirty— I don’t want to be that—” You shuddered, fighting back waves of panic at the image of an old lady alone with too many cats. “If I’m still single at thirty, you have to marry me.”

Your abruptness caught him off guard. He didn’t speak for a moment but there was a glint of mockery in his eyes, a mischievous smirk played on the corners of his lips, as if he wasn’t taking you any less seriously for it.

“What kind of reaction is that?” So you nudged him in the ribs, laughing all the more when he made an overly dramatic wince.

“I want to have a Harry Potter themed wedding… A sunflower bouquet… Ooh, and you know what? I’m gonna abandon the heels, they’re going to kill me!”

He chuckled. What a lady.

“How about you? Tell me about your dream wedding.”

“That would be marrying the love of my life.” Then he grinned. The indentations in his cheeks called dimples, making his smile heart-meltingly sweet. His eyes crinkled almost closed when he smiled, too.

“You’re boring.”

“What were you expecting? Dyeing my hair blonde or pink or purple?”

“That would be nice too.”

She fell in love

“Jung Jaehyun!” You shouted his name and started waving frantically. He recognized your voice immediately despite the muffling effect of your scarf. And his heart dropped to his feet when you barely checked the road for cars before you went streaking across it.

Next to him was a guy you’d never met before. He was about the same height as Jaehyun, his right ear a bit pointed like an elf’s, and with a face like that, you damn sure would’ve remembered.

Grinning broadly, “This is my classmate, Sicheng.”

“Hi.” As he spoke Korean with his delicate Chinese accent, the words dripped from his lips like honey.

“And she is-”

With a warm smile and you introduced yourself, interrupting whatever Jaehyun might have added. Though you’re already telling him of information which was much not needed.

“Oh… You both are-”

“We’re besties!”

“We’re heading to the cafe for awhile, do you want to join us?”

“Sure!”

Then you fell for him and discovered that when it comes to romance, intelligence takes a back seat to stupidity. Jaehyun half agreed, half disagreed. To him, you’re always the latter even before your blind infatuation.

Cupid, that little rascal, had already fired his arrow into your heart and had no intention of letting you escape this magical feeling. And that’s how you described the whole theory of ‘Love at first sight’ to Jaehyun, who’d probably known it better than you did.

Then, she had her first heartbreak.

“We broke up…” You showed up unannounced on his doorstep crying bitterly only for him to drag you to the courtyard, away from his dormitory where you wouldn’t be seen or heard wailing like a toddler who had lost her lollipop, where you wouldn’t be causing disturbance to the neighbouring students, and where he wouldn’t be mistaken for the one that shattered your heart into fragments.

“He said I never stopped talking, said I talked too fast. He pretended he couldn’t understand Korean and talked shit about me in his Ching-Chong language. He said I’m annoying and loud…” You paused long enough to take a breath, and felt more tears streaming down your face. “Am I... Am I really that annoying?”

Something about your current state made him want to pick you up and tenderly wrap you in a blanket of protection. It was laughable to hear you whining about ‘the Chinese guy’ you once fell head over heels for. He was trying hard to control his smile that wanted to show on his face, and shook his head instead. “No, not at all.”

“Am I loud?”

Though afraid to fuel your outburst, “Sometimes…” It was a fact.

“I am not loud…” You spun around and stomped toward the bench, your lips pouted in misery and your head placed in the south right now.

When he patted your back in a futile attempt to calm you, you moved after his hand in double time. “Stop patting me…” A few incoherent mumbles of him being the annoying one instead, then, “Jung Jaehyun! If I’m still single at thirty, you have to marry me.”

“You always say that.”

“You need to swear it this time.” Wanting him to stay true to his words, you held his right hand up.

“Swear, what?”

You rolled your glossy eyes and exhaled a breath in exaggerated impatience. Was he dumb or dumb?

“If I’m still single at thirty, Jung Jaehyun will have to marry me!”

As he repeated, “If I’m still single at thirty, Jung Jae-”

“No!” You scolded and whacked him on the arm. “Idiot…”

An uncontrollable smile stretched across your face as you slowly relaxed. He stared at you for a moment, grinning faintly, an amused glint in his eyes. There was magic in you, he decided.

You slumped back into the bench, your eyes staring into space, your mind numb. Unshed tears blurred your vision and you caught the warm drops that slipped past with the backs of your hands. Naturally, you reached over and rubbed them on his jacket to try to wipe away the traces of madness. He never complained, of course.

“You know… You do have a superpower…”

“What is it?”

“The superpower of making my tears disappear…”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Talk about being a charmer. “That’s gross…”

Chill crawled down your spine and he mimicked your shiver. “You are gross.”

Long time no see

At eleven o’clock, files for the meeting laid in front of him that he probably wouldn’t even notice his phone buzzing. He looked down at the familiar caller ID flashing on the screen.

Without thinking twice he picked up the call.

Immediately connected through the line, your piercing cry blasted his ear. “He said he wanted to break up with me…” Unbeknownst to yourself that it was so loud the people next to him could hear you. He smiled at his colleagues apologetically and quickly excused himself from the room.

He found what he guessed to be an unused room, hidden away down a relatively quiet corridor. Then he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and one ankled hooked over the other. Even though he couldn’t see your face at the moment, he could paint a perfect picture of tears streaming down your face, snot hanging on your nose.

“Okay, okay. Stop crying.” Jaehyun was laughing. You took no notice, but went on crying. The more you cried the more he laughed. Your sobs, like fulminations, were thunderous. “You’ve gotten stronger, you know that?”

“Huh? … What?”

“I said. Your howling has gotten stronger.”

“No, it didn’t. Bastard.”

“I’m in the middle of a meeting right now. Talk to you later.”

Though the phone call was cut short, it made you feel much better. Instead of hogging him on, you decided to leave him a text message, saying, “Thanks for making my tears disappear.” It was that corny line again, that he couldn’t help but grin upon reading.

“Hangout this weekend?” He replied.

Saturday of that week

Jaehyun offered to pick you up at your place.

“Hey.”

It still hadn’t completely sunk in that how much you’d matured in the last few years. Medium height, you had long dark hair, which you’d forego your full bangs, soft romantic curls looked shiny and healthy, as did your skin. He could tell from the way your outfit moved along with your body that you had a woman’s figure with lots of curves.

“It’s been awhile,” you started.

Staring at you too much would be creepy though, awkwardly he put his hand up with a smile, he ushered you into the passenger seat and got behind the wheel of his car and drove off.

“Broke up again?”

“I’m okay. It’s not the first time for me.”

He glanced over at you a time or two, perhaps worried, but you didn’t seem to be mad or crying. As he was about to speak, your cell phone’s high-pitched ringtone crashed into the conversation, shattering the moment in an instant.

Incoming call: Jerk

“It’s him- He’s calling! Should I pick up? Should I?”

“If you want to-” Once again he got interrupted as he was trying to talk some sense into you.

“Hello?” “What is it?” “Didn’t we break up already? Why are you still calling me?” ”You’re freaking weird. Why are you apologizing all of a sudden?”

During your phone conversation, Jaehyun cast a rather wary glance at you before dragging his eyes back to the road.

“Alright… I’m not mad anymore…”

Upon listening to whatever you’re saying, though piece by piece, it sounded like you’re back together and things would be great again. After all, it was just the typical bickering between a couple.

With a final assurance to your not-an-‘ex’-anymore that all was well and you really weren’t mad anymore, the call ended. Just as if reading your mind, Jaehyun shook his head in disbelief while you only grin at him sheepishly. At least the rest of the hangout could be enjoyed with none of pouting and sulking, you thought.

Another six months

Jaehyun’s phone alerted him to a text, it was frank

I’m getting engaged soon

Will hand over the invitation card when we meet next time

Two sentences of such simple words—as something bound to be, and bound to happen. Yet it left an impact on him. He swallowed to alleviate the tightening in his throat, but the feeling followed him, peaking and then fading, falling as petals fluttering from a dying bloom. For a second prior, he was really, truly happy for you.

Somewhere on the other side, you felt a tremendous emotional effect after clicking your phone shut following the message delivered. Something ran over your head, and maddeningly ran through again and again. What was wrong?

In a disoriented state of mind, you began rummaging through drawers and cabinets until you found the box you wanted. You pulled it out and opened it, revealing a stack of picture squares, a two carrot ring, and finally a limited edition Hamburglar figurine that both you and Jaehyun were lucky enough to redeem. The set of eyes stared dumbly at you as you silently gazed at the little thing that managed to hold such fond memories.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun had always had the figurine with him, laid on his workstation somewhere visible so that he continued to be reminded by it. Too, he was fixated on the pair of acrylic painted eyes in remembrance of the past.

The day before 30th

Jaehyun had been waiting for you inside a cafe situated a block from the deadly intersection, sipping on a glass of iced latte, though the weather was nothing sort of a torrid summer.

Upon agreeing to the meet up, he had sorted everything out in his mind and promised himself to confront you with a good-natured congratulation on your marriage none other than a dear friend should.

Less than ten minutes later, you appeared on the other side of the glass, waving and smiling brightly. Pitter-patter of the rain drops hitting your umbrella steadily intensify as did something else…

“Hi,” he greeted with a dimpled grin, and then wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, a smear of coffee on his chin when you snatched up his glass and took a long swallow. Again, he said nothing about your behavior that he had gotten used to, only glaring at you with the ever same expression of This girl! She’ll be the death of me.

“Invitation card,” he said, reminding you what all this was about in the first place.

But so nonchalantly, you uttered, “We broke up.”

Your eyes caught the slight lift in the right corner of his lips, Jaehyun unable to stop a small smile from making it onto his face. Simultaneously, his brows raised in surprise.

“You didn’t cry?”

Almost proud of yourself, “No.”

“Lies.”

“Really,” you continued with the realization of the fact that, “Liking and loving someone is different.”

Jaehyun convinced himself, to the bone, that you’re okay. Assimilating that you’d indeed matured to understand how relationship works instead of diving in blindly on the spur of the moment by acting upon emotional states like a teenage girl in love. Emotion comes and goes, rises and falls. Certainly, love doesn’t last forever. But the foundation of love is commitment, and he wished you’d learned that as well because…

“Do you remember what day it is tomorrow?” your calm voice interrupted his chain of thoughts, as you stared at him in anticipation.

“Of course I do. It’s your 30th birthday tomorrow.”

Grinning and beaming with unbridled glee, for once you bet on your bold self saying that, “So, you still remembered our promise then.”

As if he had been waiting for years, thought he was ready, but was somewhat embarrassed and gave you a warm, shy smile. The once dying bloom came back to life, thriving, lush and flourishing. The pent up feeling on that one, great heart, burst forth in an uncontrollable, deafening shout.

“Tell me,” you coaxed his trigger to give his word of honour.

“If you’re still single at thirty…” Nervously, he gulped and avoiding your intent eyes. “I’ll have to marry you.”

“You must keep your promise, Jung Jaehyun.”

#nct scenarios #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct fluff #nct angst #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst

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