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vendettaparker · 3 years

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Peanut Butter and Extra Jelly [T.H]

Summary: Tom’s long time crush on you becomes painful when you and Harrison are cast as love interests in a movie.

Paring: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: Suggestive themes, fake smut (very light), jealousy, probably some typos, swearing

a/n: i have no idea how filming a movie, or auditioning for one actually goes so don’t crucify me for this. i’m pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering that this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. also, Burt Kreisher is one of my fav comedians in real life, he has 3 shows on neflix and a mini series.

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Tom was not a jealous person. At least, that's what he always told himself. He prided himself in thinking he was a very level headed individual who didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. That worked best for his job anyways; always being able to control his emotions and not get in his own head. That simple, pacifistic mindset seemed to change when it came to you.

You were one of the many actors Tom got the pleasure to help hone their technique and work closely with. You were new to the lifestyle of Hollywood and the only roles you had before were in small indie films that never garnered too much attention. The first major role that you landed, which also happened to help kickstart your career, was in the MCU. You played the secondary villain in the third Spider-man movie.

Meeting the cast was a dream come true; they were all extremely helpful and they provided tons of tips and tricks in navigating the hectic schedule required for such a huge production. By the time filming wrapped up, you were considered part of their little Spider-man family.

Tom was easily the most helpful. Whenever he saw you struggling with anything, he offered to help. You two spent hours upon hours together in his trailer, ordering take out and practicing lines. Some nights you two planned to work through your script, but inevitably ended up falling asleep binge watching The Office, and laughing about crazy shit that happened on set that day.

When the movie wrapped up and you went home for a month before the press tour, you were completely unsure and nervous about what direction your career was going in. You auditioned for a few new movies, but had yet to hear from any of the directors about casting decisions. You kept in touch Tom during the month you were apart and expressed your concerns.

“I don’t know, Tom. I’m just so sick of waiting around and hoping that some director out there throws me a bone, ya know’?” You said on facetime, while making cookies.

“Yeah, I totally understand that, (Y/N/N). I had that issue a couple years ago before the Marvel movies. Trust me, you did outstanding in that role and once it gets noticed I’m positive you’ll have directors calling you, begging for you to audition.” Tom smiled warmly into the camera as he walked around his apartment in London.

“Yeah, easy for you to say, movie-star.” You giggled, turning your face away from the camera in hopes that Tom wouldn’t notice the blush his compliments painted onto your cheeks

“I’m serious! You were outstanding! Like in that one scene where you—”

“Tom! Tessa chewed a hole in my trousers again!” A voice came from outside of the frame, “Mate, you gotta get her to stop doing that somehow.”

Tom sighed, and waved his hand dismissively at the figure, “Okay, sure. I’m busy right now.” Tom looked back to the camera, “anyways, as I was saying, don’t stress about not having a new project yet, (Y/N)—”

“(Y/N)?” The other voice whisper-yelled. “Let me say hi!”, suddenly the phone was yanked out of Tom's hands and the video shook around a bit as Tom wrestled to get it back. Finally, the camera stilled and Harrison was on the other end smiling. “Hi, (Y/N)!”

“Oh, hi Harrison!” You smiled back, laughing. You'd met Harrison a few times when he visited Tom on set. “How are you?”

The camera started moving around more as the background behind Harrsion whizzed past. You assumed Tom must’ve been chasing him to get the phone back.

“I’m good! I just auditioned for a new movie. You should audition too! The main female lead’s description looks just like you.” He exclaimed, running past the kitchen to his room.

“Oi! Give me my phone back you div!” You heard Tom yelling in the background, no doubt in hot pursuit of Harrison.

“I don’t know, I'm not sure I’m prepared for a lead role.” You sighed, “What’s the movie called? I’ll look into it.”

“It’s called ‘Collateral Damage’, it’s a spy movie.” Harrison said, shutting the door to his room, while Tom pounded on it from the other side. “Yeah, it’d be really fun working with you. Tom constantly talks about how much fun you are on set.” Harrison wheezed out, trying to catch his breath.

“Aw, that’s sweet of him.” You laughed. “Well I’ve got to go. Just tell Tom he can call me tomorrow or something.” You waved at the camera. “Bye!”

“Yup, bye.” Harrison said right before the video cut out.

Harrison finally opened the door to a seething Tom. Tom grabbed the phone back from Harrison and noticed that the call had ended.

“Dude! Why would you do that?” Tom whined.

Harrison just patted Tom’s back, “Sorry, mate. She said she had to go, though. I was about to give the phone back.”

Tom huffed and sulked for a moment. “Whatever, I’ll just call her later, I guess.”

Harrison nodded and smirked at how whipped Tom was. “You should just ask her out if you’re so desperate for her attention.” Harrison teased.

“Shut up. I’m not desperate for her attention, I just like her voice and her personality, and the way she talks, and her funny sayings, and how her hair looks when she just woke up.”

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It was only a few days later when you received an email from the director of the movie Harrison told you about, asking for you to audition. You were ecstatic, Harrison must’ve already sent in some things about you since the director seemed adamant that you were of high interest for the role.

You called Tom immediately to share the good news.

He picked up after the third ring, “Hello, darling! How are you?” he beamed when he answered your call. He usually was the one to call you so he felt a sense of pride knowing that you were calling him for once.

“Tom! The director of the movie Harrison auditioned for just emailed me asking for me to audition!” You squealed excitedly.

“Really? That’s wonderful, love! Harrison just got the part of the lead too, so you’d be filming with him if you got it.”

“That’s so exciting, I’m flying to London for the audition in two days. Are you still there?” You pulled the phone away from your ear and switched it to speaker. “I’m booking the flight right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in London for another week and a half. Then we have the press tour starting in Japan.” Tom said, also switching to speaker phone to look at his calendar. “You can stay with Harrison and I while you’re here. Since we have to go to Japan together anyways.” Tom offered nervously. He really wanted you to stay in his flat with him. It’d be all cute and domestic, and maybe, just maybe, he’d spend enough time with you to not feel nervous about asking you on a date. If he was lucky, that is, but awaiting your reply he was a jittery ball of nerves.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I won't be intruding though, right?” You said, smiling from ear to ear. Thank god you weren’t on facetime and Tom couldn’t see the stupid smile adoring your features.

“No, of course not. Harry will be so excited to see you. And Tessa too, she really misses you.” Tom shuffled around with his phone, shooting a quick text to Harrison letting him know you were coming to stay for a week.

“Ok, thanks so much, this is really thoughtful of you. I absolutely can’t wait to see you!” You gushed, finalizing your purchase of a one-way ticket to London. “K, the flight is at 2:30 pm here, it’s about 9 and a half hours, but you’re also ahead of me, so I’ll be in around..5?”

“Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll come pick you up. I’ll wear my incognito disguise.”

“If you mean that stupid t-shirt you got that says ‘I’M NOT A CELEBRITY’, then maybe I’ll ask Harrison to come pick me up…”

“That’s cold (Y/L/N).”

You giggled softly, “I’m sorry, Tommy. If it makes you feel better, that shirt isn’t as bad as that stupid blue beanie that you never wear correctly.”

“How the fuck would that make me feel better? You’re killing me, (Y/N/N).”

You laughed at his over dramatic reaction, “Sorry that you’re a sensitive babe. I gotta go now, see you soon!” You hung up before Tom could respond with a sassy quip. Then immediately after you received a text:

Tommy: The second you get here I’m bout to 👊

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Tom called Harrison up after you got off the phone, he needed to make sure his best friend wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass him in front of you.

“Tom, don’t you think this is a bit obsessive? I mean, she’s only staying with us for a week and you already know her so well from spending all that time filming with her.” Harrison sighed, sick of listening to Tom ramble about every possible embarrassing situation he could be put in, in the coming week.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It's no big deal. But don’t mention that time I accidentally shit my pants at the club, or that time I got hit in the head with a golf ball ‘cus I got distracted by a flock of geese, or that time a got chased by a flock of geese, or—”

“Geez, mate. At this point we might as well not even talk to her.” Harrison chuckled, thinking of all the stories he could bring up about Tom around the dinner table with you. Tom really was just a walking ball of embarrassing moments.

“Stoppp ittt,” Tom whined, “when we were on set it was usually just the cast and Harry around, but you? You could do some real fucking damage to my love life, Haz.”

“What love life?” Harrison barked out, laughing.

Tom then hung up and began praying to whatever god was out there that this week could go by without a hitch, and then you and him would be on your way, together, to Japan.

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The whole week spent in London actually went really well, especially the audition. Tom and Harrison both accompanied you for moral support, well Harrison actually had to be there to be your scene partner, but it was still nice knowing he supported you.

The director shook your hand and you went through the normal formalities before beginning your scene with Harrison. It was a quick scene with a monologue in it. The main premise of the movie was all about choosing love over work, especially in dangerous, life-threatening scenarios. The scene you used to audition with Harrison was the scene where the main character, Lincoln, and his lover interest, Mallory, were arguing, trying to push each other away to keep each other safe. The scene had a lot of raw emotion that you were able to tap into, and the directors gave your performance a standing ovation once the scene concluded.

They said that they’d get back to you within the next few days, but they also mentioned how the chemistry between you and Harrison was off the charts, leaving you hopeful. Tom and Harrison both gave you hugs and pats on the back. Tom had watched the whole scene unfold and he was in complete and utter awe of your talent. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t audition for the movie and a chance as your love interest. But Harrison deserved this big break and so did you, so he was hopeful of the outcome being something that benefitted both of his best friends.

After the audition the rest of the week went by nearly perfectly. The real kicker was when Tom’s family invited you and Harrison to join them for dinner. Tom had not anticipated his mom asking you to come to family dinner, so he wasn’t able to stop the embarrassing anecdotes his mom told on his behalf.

“Tom had the cutest little tush,” Nikki exclaimed, placing the old homemade scrapbook in your lap and flipping through a couple of pages. “See look,” she happily pointed to a picture of Tom as a toddler in a bath, surrounded by bubbles, his little bum poking through them.

Tom sat uncomfortably on the sofa next to you, cringing at the now 21 year old photo of him. He expected you to also cringe along, or worse case scenario, get up and make a flimsy excuse to leave his crazy family, but you just chuckled along with Nikki and continued making your way through the scrapbook, making little comments here and there.

“Oh, and this one,” Nikki said, pointing to a photo of Tom crying and Sam holding up a superhero action figure triumphantly, “that was Tom’s favorite toy, but when Sam saw how much Tom liked it, he made an effort to always be playing with it when Tom came into the room and he wouldn’t share.”

You giggled at the little whiny face Tom made in the picture, and turned to him, replicating it on your face, making fun of him. Tom laughed along and playfully shoved you. He adored how well you seemed to fit in with his family and his feelings for you only multiplied.

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The week in London was one of the best in your life. You didn’t realize how much you missed Tom until you got to the airport and he was there waiting for you, unfortunately in his stupid blue beanie, and no, it wasn’t on right, his big ears poked out of it horrendously.

The last day you had in London before you and Tom went to Japan, you finally received a call about the audition. The director called you to congratulate you on getting the part, and he sent you numerous emails about scheduling, where to be, and when. Harrison was elated to have a familiar face playing his love interest on screen, and Tom was over the moon excited for you, this on top of the Spider-man movie coming out, you were certainly becoming a force to be reckoned with.

You spent the night celebrating at a club, Harry and Sam also showed up to party with you. The night was still young and the club was already packed and in full swing. Tom ordered two shots for each of you to start off the night before he was whisked away by a few fans to sign autographs. When he didn’t return you took it upon yourself to have his shots, giving you an extra edge to help spice up your night.

Harrison found Tom in the corner of the club talking to some fans. But throughout his whole time taking pictures with them, he couldn’t help but glance at you every once and a while. You looked so carefree and beautiful, dancing around in your shiny silver top and leather leggings.

“Tom.” Harrison interrupted Tom’s gawking and directed his attention to the small group of fans Tom was with.

Tom nodded and finished up his pictures and autographs before wishing them all a good and safe night. Once he reached you, you engulfed him in a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you for such a great time in London, Tommy.” you slurred, already feeling the impact of the four shots you took. “I had the best time of my whole life.” You pecked his cheek and pulled him close to dance with you.

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The following month or so on the press tour was a once in a lifetime experience. You travelled to more cities than you even knew the name of and you had all of your friends by your side. More so, you had motivation to remain approachable and well liked by fans considering that you were moving up in the industry. Some interviews were mostly for Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. Your role in the movie was big enough for you to be needed for some interviews, and most people were genuinely interested in getting to know you, but there were also a handful of press activities that you weren’t included in, which you didn’t mind.

When you didn’t have anything to do for an hour or so, you would text Harrison and send him funny memes. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends; you had already created a surplus of inside jokes with him just over the phone.

Tom noticed how you were always laughing at your phone or rapid fire texting. Even when you were being interviewed, Tom could faintly hear the buzz of your text message notifications going off.

“Tom,” you snapped in front of his eyes, “did you need something?”

“Huh?” Tom blinked a few times, “Uh—no, sorry.” Tom’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed for having been caught staring at you. He couldn’t help it though, you were dressed so pretty that day. You had your hair done up in two bubble braids and you wore his pink sweatshirt over your yellow sundress.

“Okay then.” You smiled at him. You went back to your phone, reading what Harrison had just texted you. “What was the name of that comedian we watched the other night?”

“The one on Netflix?”

You hummed out a yes, tapping away at your phone.

“Burt Kreisher, why?” Tom asked, leaning over to your chair to try and catch a glimpse of who you were texting. When he saw the contact name “Hazzy”, he couldn't stop the little angry pit of jealousy that started in his stomach. Sure, you were here with him now, not with Harrison, but when you two were apart you also texted him nonstop, and the texts seemed to all be inside jokes, which was something you also shared with him that he held near and dear.

“I made a joke referencing him to Harrison and he didn’t get it. Fucking nerd.” You chuckled, texting Harrison a link to the skit you were referring to.

Tom chuckled along, but he couldn’t help but frown slightly at how bright your smile was when Harrison replied.

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The press tour and premiere of the movie seemed to go by lighting fast. You’d never been to a premiere for a production this big, and your nerves for the red carpet were starting to get to you.

You and Zendaya were stuffed into a hotel room with both of your respective teams, both trying to rapidly get both of you ready for the event.

“So when do you start filming for your next project?” Zendaya asked, she sat in front of a broadway-equse mirror, bright bulbs of light giving a luminescent glow to her already near flawless complexion. She hadn’t even finished her makeup yet and she was so pretty.

“In a month, I have to go back to London next week.” You said, sifting through the opinions you brought for dresses. You brought three options, just in case you changed your mind after seeing yourself in the dress. “Harrison and I are going to go over the scripts together and we were also told to go out in public a few times; for press and whatnot.”

“That’s exciting!” Zendaya mused, she glanced at the clock and gave her hairdresser some instructions about how much time she had to do hair. “It’s a good thing you guys are already friends. I remember when I filmed ‘The Greatest Showman’ I didn’t know many of the actors personally, so we had to go out together and do press all while being almost strangers. It was a bit nerve wracking.” Zendaya smiled at you fondly, she was like an older sister to you during this whole movie-making process, she constantly had your back.

“Yeah, I mean I’ll probably be in a situation like that at some point, but for my first lead role it’s nice to be working opposite a friend.” You smiled back, finally deciding on the red, sequined dress.

You both sat and worked through the makeup process in comfortable silence.

“So you and Tom…” Zendaya broke the silence and looked at you with a smirk on her face.

“What?” You looked at her with a dumbfounded look, before nervously laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, (Y/N/N).” She poked your arm and laughed, “He’s literally obsessed with you.”

You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. A movie star, and very famous movie star at that, obsessed with you? You? Impossible.

“Yeah no, sorry but you got the wrong girl, babe.” You sighed, pulling out your phone to snap and selfie with her for your instagram story. You quickly snapped a pic of the two of you, her kissing your cheek, leaving a small, faint lipstick mark. “I mean it’d be nice,” you back tracked, “but I’m sure that’s just my wishful thinking.”

“What wishful thinking? I thought you were a pessimist?” Zendaya chuckled, taking her own photo with you to post later.

“I am, but I can’t help but indulge a bit.”

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Before you knew it, you were back in London, staying in a rented out flat for the next three to four months. Harrison was kind enough to come over to help you set up a work space, but he also offered you to spend most of your time at his place. Since Tom was in New York, doing interviews about the new Spider-man movie and having meetings with the Marvel Cinematic Universe team to try and gauge his future in the MCU, he wouldn’t be around for almost a month, so Harrison offered up Tom’s office when you needed to go over a scene by yourself and wanted a place that was already set up.

The days of filming seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Most of your scenes were with Harrison, and he was the perfect scene partner. He rarely messed up, but if he did then he was quick to use it as an opportunity to improvise. His skills weren’t as well honed in like Tom’s, but it was obvious that their style ranged from a similar source.

The main thing about this movie that you were excited, but extremely nervous for, were the two sex scenes. The first one is at the beginning, where the two leads give in to each other for a night, then there's some implied stuff in between, and the last one is when the two leads part ways for the final time at the end of the movie. The first one had to be rough, fast, and needy, whereas the second one was direct to be more slow, thought out, and sensual.

Both were extremely stress-inducing to film. Harrison had also never done any scenes like this before, so he was on the same boat as you. Thankfully you had an amazing director and stunt coordinator to work with and with the help of other crew members, the scenes were mapped out so that it wasn’t too much improv or guessing on your part.

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The first intimate scene you shot actually happened to be the one at the end of the movie. That scene was more tame and dealt with more emotional subtexts than physical. Since you filmed that one first, you went into filming the next one with more confidence. It only took a few days to get the first scene down to perfection, so with this newfound confidence, it shouldn’t take too long to get the next one done.

On the days you shot intimate scenes, you only needed to wear the costume you wore before the scene and then you changed into a robe with nude underwear underneath. The bits with the outfit on before were already shot, so the director called a 30 minute break until you could begin shooting the actual sex part.

You were standing by the snack table, eyes scanning the table for any more muffins leftover from breakfast. The robe you wore made your skin prickle whenever a draft came onto set.

Just as you had found the muffin you were looking for, a pair of warm hands covered your eyes.

“Guess who!” An all too familiar warm, British accentuated, voice called.

You turned around in his arms, effectively nudging his hands from your face, and soon you were met with the warmest hazel eyes. Eyes that you missed so much this past month.

“Tommy!” You squealed and thrusted yourself into him in a hug. He immediately reciprocated it and wrapped your body in warmth. “What’re you doing here?” You asked once you let go of him.

“Harrison gave me the location so I could come watch you film. I just got home, like, two days ago.” Tom eyed you up and down, not realizing what little you had on. “Um—are you wearing anything under that?” He pointed up and down your figure.

“Nope, today and tomorrow we’re scheduled to film the sex scene.” You said casually, doing a silly twirl. Tom gulped.

“A s-sex scene?” He choked, “I didn’t know you guys had one.”

“Yup,” you smirked, “two actually, this is my first one ever, Haz’s too, I think. Well actually, we filmed the sex scene at the end of the movie last week.”

“Yeah… t-that’s cool.” Tom smiled weakly.

Right as you were about to continue your conversation with Tom, an arm swung over your shoulder and pulled you close. Harrison smiled at the both of you. He wore a similar robe to yours, except he left the front open. His plaid boxers on full display.

“Don’t listen to her, Tom. She’s a natural.” Harrison pinched your cheeks. Tom clenched his jaw at the comment. He knew Harrison hadn't meant to imply anything with it, but he couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning behind the otherwise innocent compliment.

You giggled and pushed his hand away, “Only ‘cus my scene partner is so darn cute.” You retaliated, poking and tickling his pecs.

This kind of goofy banter was normal between you and Harrison, but Tom hadn’t seen either of you in so long. He also had never seen you two interact so fluently with each other. He watched the interaction with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along and shrugging every once in a while to seem like he was paying attention. In reality though, he couldn’t pry his thoughts away from how close you were to Harrison.

“Ok everyone! Places! Let’s wrap this scene up and put it to rest today!” Your director called. You and Harrison smiled and waved goodbye to Tom. Harrison pointed to a chair in the room that had a nice view of the set where Tom could watch. Tom nodded and walked over to the chair, enthusiasm for watching you work completely dissipating.

The scene started off rough right off the bat. The second the director said ‘Action!’ you and Harrison were practically pouncing on each other. Harrison had you pressed up against the wall and you were both breathing heavily. He was leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collar bones. Your moans, which Tom always imagined to sound like music to his ears, sounded too real for his liking. But no matter how much he tried to look away, his eyes were glued to the two bodies moving fluidly with one another.

“Cut! Cut!” The director yelled, effectively ending the scene. You and Harrison pulled apart and he gave you a peck on the cheek, as in saying ‘good job’. “That was good, but Harrison,” The blonde nodded, awaiting further instruction. “You gotta be a little rougher, hm?”

Harrison nodded along with the critique. “(Y/N)?” the director moved his attention to you, “would it be okay if Harrison marked you up? Just a few hickeys to really sell the illusion. We can do without, though, if you feel uncomfortable.”

Tom overheard the interaction and internally hoped that you were too uncomfortable for that, but deep down he knew you would do it. You were never the type to stray away from a challenge.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded, chest still heaving from the scene. You looked at Harrison. “Is that okay with you?”

Harrison nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, you guys have been working at this scene for days now, but he’d never been rough enough to leave marks. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t invigorate him.

So the scene started from the top, you pressed up against the wall, all your weight shoved between the flimsy wall of the set and Harrison’s strong arms. Harrison did exactly as the director required, leaving noticeable dark spots across the top of your chest. Unlike your previous moans, which had just been for show, this new roughness in his actions tore real moans from your lips.

Tom sat uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he picked a different day to visit you on set. He shifted around, watching twin moans pull from both you and Harrison’s throat. He watched as you nipped at Harrison's ear as he faux thrusted into you. The jealousy that had pitted itself in his stomach soon turned to self-loathing. You looked really into the scene, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He knew you were a great actress, but he couldn’t believe that this was all acting. In his eyes, he believed that some part of you must wish that this was real. And part of you did like this scenario, but you wouldn’t have picked Harrison to be opposite you in this little fantasy.

Your moans and Harrisons both grew louder, leading up to the climax as scripted. Tom, not wanting to watch anymore exited the set quickly before he could watch the scene end.

You and Harrison finished up, gaining applause and praise afterwards from the director and crew members on set.

“Where’s Tom?” You asked, scrambling back into your robe and smoothing out your now roughed up hair.

Harrison, now noticing the absence of his best friend, began to feel a bit guilty. He knew Tom had a thing for you, maybe he should’ve told Tom not to visit set today.

“Um, (Y/N)?” He mumbled, pulling you aside slightly.

“Yeah?” You still looked around for Tom a bit, heart sinking when you realized that he must've left without saying goodbye.

“I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” Harrison began, drawing your full attention, “but Tom really likes you. He always downplayed it, so I didn’t realize how much, but I think watching this scene might’ve upset him a bit.” Harrison looked towards the exit, no doubtedly where Tom left through, out into the parking lot.

“Oh—oh!” You gasped, feeling terribly for having put Tom in such an awkward position. “I didn’t know he felt the same.” You whispered, smiling softly to yourself. Guess Z was right after all. You pulled away from Harrison, “I’ll go talk to him.”

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Tom didn’t go far. He still wanted to be there to support you; he didn’t want to come off as a jealous prick, but he couldn’t keep watching that intimacy between you and his best friend. He sat on the curb outside of the building the set was built in. A few people passed him going to their designated buildings on the lot, but he didn’t pay any mind to them, too lost in his thoughts. He needed to tell you sooner rather than later how he felt. No time to be a pussy anymore.

“Tom?” You walked up next to his sitting figure, still only in a robe, tightly wrapped around you. He looked up to acknowledge you, mumbling a soft ‘Hey.’ before looking back down, trying to collect his thoughts and courage. It’s now or never.

You sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Harrison told me something interesting in there,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “about you.”

Tom’s head shot up, and he looked at you with frantic eyes, only imagining the worse. There were too many things Harrison could’ve told you about Tom to sully your image of him.

“Whatever it was, he's a lying prick!” Tom rushed out.

You giggled, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, his dark hazel eyes boring into yours.

“That’s a shame then,” You shrugged, “considering I like you too.”

Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, before looking back at you, doing a double take.

“Wait, what?”

“Mhm, yeah.” You said casually, standing up. “But since Harrison’s a liar then I suppose he was wrong.” You teased.

“No!” Tom grabbed your wrist and pulled you back next to him, but his aim was a bit off and you ended up in his lap. “He lies about a lot, but not about this.”

You smiled at him, “I should hope not, considering I’m crazy about you.”

Tom couldn’t help the smile that beamed across his face, but then he noticed the marks left on you by Harrison. Remembering why he was insecure in the first place, he looked away.

“What about Harrison?” He asked. You looked at him utterly confused. Tom caught on and explained further. “You looked like you were really into that scene with him.”

You giggled and pinched Tom’s cheek, turning it red. “I’m an actress, you idiot.”

Tom scoffed, “I know that. It’s just— I didn’t realize you could fake that kind of love.”

You looked at Tom’s downcast face. You leaned in and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. You nipped and sucked softly, leaving a nice, dark pink blotch that would go away in a few days under his jaw and he whimpered softly.

“I’d never fake that kind of love with you.” You grabbed his face, holding it gently in your hands. “I’d never have to.” You whispered, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and sweet.

Tom pulled you closer, resting a hand on the small of your back, kissing back fervently.

The short make-out session being cut short by the door to the set bursting opened. Harrison rushing out, now dressed in slacks and a white button up for the next scene you needed to shoot that day.

“(Y/N)! Hair and makeup need you.” You lugged yourself off of Tom’s lap, promising to talk to him after you finished for the day. You went back inside, jokingly blowing a kiss to Harrison on your way.

Harrison stayed outside and sat next to Tom.

“Did she confess first?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Yup.” Tom smiled happily, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick he saw you put on earlier.

“You owe me 10 pounds then, you wimp.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Tom groaned, promptly pulling ten pounds out of his wallet and handing it to Haz.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #harrison osterfeild fluff #harrison osterfield #platonic!harrison osterfield

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cerebrumrott · 3 years

Text

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Demon Form Head Canons

Lucifer

Is not shy about sharing his demon form in the slightest.

More than happy to show off his wings for you and every compliment and awed look you give him just strokes his pride.

He gets taller in his demon form, not by more than a few inches but its enough to have you craning your neck to look him in the eyes.

His horns are not nearly as sensitive as some of his brothers but he still quite enjoys when you pet them.

Specifically likes it when the base of his horns are scratched, he could just melt into your hands.

His wings are prone to molting when he is stressed and seeing as he is stressed almost all the time. It's fairly common to find black feathers around the house.

When Lucifer later finds out that you had been collecting his discarded feathers in a small vase in your room he can’t help the blush on his cheeks having forgotten the entire reason he went into your room in the first place.

Seeing as you are so entranced by his feathers you might as well help him preen when he is molting.

It is totally cause he wants you to just have a nice collection, not because its a massive boost to his ego to have you doting over him.

Straighten his tie and flatten out his collar. Even if it doesn't need it. These little gestures will leave him flustered and blushing.

Mammon

His horns, due to their peculiar shape, are extremely sensitive. To the point where just blowing on them sends a tremble racing down his spine.

Pressing a finger between the grooves or into the center of the horn's spiral will have him practically howling from the sensation or more accurately leave him a stuttering and flustered mess.

Despite being essentially shirtless in his demon form. Mammon is like a walking heater. Just standing next to him for too long can cause you to break into a sweat.

If you were to ever trace the white lines that cover his torso he would just stop functioning entirely.

He would of course vehemently deny any such claims stating that, he was simply… thinking… about things… shut up.

Mammon is also extremely ticklish and with so much exposed skin from his questionable choice in a shirt. Do with that what you will ;)

His wings are restless, always flickering, fluttering or some variation of the two.

The only time they had ever truly stilled was when Mammon had agreed to let you touch them for the first time. In that moment as you ever so carefully ran your hands over the thin membrane of the wings, they didn't so much as twitch under the touch.

While his wings aren't necessarily sensitive to touch they are slightly delicate, being as they are made from a thin leathery membrane.

Leviathan

He also gets taller in his demon form by a few inches. Though due to his terrible posture you are likely to not notice.

He regularly sheds his antlers each year and grows back new ones.

He used to be extremely self conscious while his antlers regrew due to teasing from his brothers but after hearing how much you liked them they were now a point of pride for him.

I can also totally see an MC who collects his shed antlers like, it's 2 am and Levi texts them like ""Hey normie you want my old antlers I know you asked about them before so...""

Leviathan would get such an ego boost from it though. His face growing reed each time he walks into your room to see his old antlers nestled about the shelves like decor.

His tail also sheds its skin every so often (like a reptile would) another reason as to why he is always showering or taking a bath.

On that same thought, Levi has to take daily soaks in either the shower or tub to keep his skin from drying out or getting irritated. Being in the sun for too long can also irritate his skin.

Uses this as an excuse to not go outside despite there being no sun in the Devildom.

Both his horns and his tail are rather sensitive to touch. Though he loves the idea of you petting them his self consciousness prevents him from ever initiating such a thing.

The markings on the side of his neck are also highly sensitive. Running a hand or dragging your nails over them sends shivers down his spine every time.

Satan

Not only does he get taller but he also physically bulks up in his demon form. Its hardly noticeable under the sweater and boa he wears but on close inspection you can see the defined lines of his muscles straining under the fabric.

Similar to Lucifer, his horns are not all that sensitive. Though the area where they connect to his head are very mush so.

Satan is not shy in the slightest about asking MC to pet his head when he is in a bad mood and needs someone to stop him from doing something potentially stupid.

Satan often subconsciously purrs when he is happy or content.

This habit may have stemmed from his obsession with cats

His tail for the most part is hard and senseless, though the green end is softer and more pliable like cartilage. It is also extremely sensitive to both touch and temperature.

This is why he keeps his tail wrapped around his leg to protect it from being accidentally trampled on or whacked.

Since his tail extends from his lower back rather than the base of his spine the exposed skin surrounding the base of his tail is extremely sensitive and ticklish.

Asmodeus

Asmo of course loves any kind of affection, especially if it is coming from you of all people.

The tips of his horns that are pink in hue are extremely sensitive to touch. He is not shy about asking you to touch him obviously but you would note that he does get extremely flustered when you do so without having to be asked.

Asmo will just melt into your touch if you walk up to him and just randomly cup his face or pet his horns.

When he is especially flustered the pink hue of his horns will even darken

His wings are velvety and soft to the touch. He loves to have kisses pressed to the soft membrane of the wings.

The easiest way to turn him to putty in your hands is to go straight for his wings. They are his weak spot.

It's really little affectionate things that get him going. Adjusting the metal chain of his scorpion brooch, pushing a stray piece of his bangs back into place, even something as simple as picking a piece of lint off of his jacket has him beaming with affection.

I don't see Asmo as getting to experience these little things as often as the more prominent things that come with his sin. So when you go out of your way to make sure he does get to experience these little things he falls hard and fast.

Beelzebub

He physically bulks up when he transforms. If you thought he was shredded normally wait till you see him in demon form.

His horns are extremely sensitive, almost like little antennas. Turns into the biggest puppy when you rubs his horns. Just all smiles and happiness from him.

Sometimes he will even rub your cheeks together so his horns brush against your hair.

He is a bit hesitant when it comes to his wings being touched just because of their nature. It's not that he doesn't trust you it’s just when he gets excited he unconsciously buzzes his wings.

If he were to catch his wing on your hand and rip it he would feel bad for making you think you hurt him. In reality it does not hurt him all that much, akin to like a paper cut or bad scratch.

Beel is really just a big push over for you, scratch him behind the horns and he will just become the biggest lap dog.

Belphegor

His horns and tail are not sensitive but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to pet him.

After he falls asleep to you petting his horns one afternoon he now demands that you do this at least once a week. If you don't he will bother you until you cave to his wishes.

Also loves to have the fluff of his tail brushed / petted, although he would never admit it outright. His brothers already think he is spoiled so how would they react to knowing he has you pampering him each week? Braiding his tail hair and brushing out the tangles while he snoozes.

On the rare occasions he can’t sleep or when he is awakened from a nightmare he will seek you out and ask you to pet him so he can get to sleep. There are many mornings you will wake up and just find Belphie in bed next to you curled around his pillow with his face buried in your shoulder.

He promises to pay you back later though. Totally...

The cow spots on his neck are extremely ticklish, to the point he borderline passes out from wheezing so hard when Beel tickles him there.

Bonus:

Diavolo

He is much, much larger in his demon form than he is when he appears as human. He is normally tall but like this he is borderline massive.

He tends to keep his wings folded into his sides due to their large span. Though is more than happy to show them off to you when prompted.

They are thick and velvety to the touch, the metallic jewelry that covers the tops of them a cold contrast to the warm skin.

He adores any kind of attention from you, more than content to sit and chatter about whatever comes to his mind as you sit beside him or stop him petting his wings.

He bent down once so you could see his horns and as a joke lifted you off the ground while you were holding onto them. He laughed so hard you thought he was going to drop you on your ass.

His horns are not sensitive in the slightest, hence why he has no problems with decorating them with tight metal pieces akin to a piercing on a person.

Diavolo is a super loving guy normally and this holds true to when he is in his demon form. So whenever he gives you a hug you end up smothered in his pecs. Not that your complaining.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never say it aloud but he very much enjoys when you spend time just running your fingers ever so softly over his horns. Their unique shape and varied textures can leave you entertained for what feels like hours but in reality you love the soft expressions you can pull out of the normally stoic butler.

Loves having soft kisses pressed to the joints of his horns.

His tail is his one weak spot as once one learns what certain movements mean. You can always tell how he is feeling.

The unbridled joy you feel well in your heart when his tail begins to curl up upon seeing you letting you know he is feeling the same way has you biting your lip to hold yourself back from running into his arms.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x mc #obey me demon brothers

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

in every lifetime, fred x reader

request: from @fredweasleyismyking91: I just read your George soulmate au and I’m obsessed. I love soulmates so much and that one was amazing. I’d love to read a Fred soulmate if you were ever up for it!

prompt: soulmate au in which characters have specific phrases their soulmates will say to them written on their wrists like tattoos—they will now know they are soulmates until the first one speaks the phrase

A/N: literally losing my shit. thank you for this request and for your kind words. reader is american and i made this after the war bc i do not live in a universe where my poor freddie doesn’t survive—I JUST LOVE HIM, ALRIGHT? also, sorry this is insanely long but it’s worth the read, i hope?

You stared blankly at your wrist in the middle of a very crowded, very bustling Diagon Alley. London was not at all what you’d expected. You peered quickly at the words. Won’t cost you a dime.

You thought it was silly, at first, the words your soulmate will speak to you, tattooed on your body. It looked absolutely ridiculous. It looked like the absolute dumbest quote in the history of the world. You found it to be quite annoying, really. When your parents told you what it was, you nearly snorted. You were just a young child. It sounded like the silliest thing in the entire world to you.

But as you grew older and more curious, you searched Ilvermorny for a glimpse—maybe your soulmate was here? It’d make the most sense, of course, for him to be prancing around the American wizarding school somewhere, close by—you weren’t planning on leaving America after graduating, anyway. But there was no one—not a soul—who gave you that feeling of hope, that feeling of… that must be him.

Oh but your friends absolutely loved to play that game. Picking and choosing, glancing anxiously at the phrases on their wrists, peering admiringly at your schoolmates and deciding which ones they’d like to spend the rest of their lives with, how they’d finally find them, when it would happen—at least before the age of twenty four—well, that’s what your parents had said, anyway. Your friends’ phrases were, to your dismay, much more sophisticated and seemingly more exciting and well—a bit more special than yours. Won’t cost you a dime. Absolutely bogus.

This game they were playing was, of course, based mostly on looks and not at all on personalities, but rather just their dreams and what they so desperately wished their lifetime of love would look like. Plus, you were all still so young, all they wanted to do was have a little fun, didn’t they?

So they dated, even though these people hadn’t said the words they yearned for. No reality had seemed to set in yet. Not one of them had found their soulmate. You supposed, watching them, you could do the same thing. But what was the point in dating someone you knew wasn’t the person you’d spend your life with? You opted out. You just wanted to wait for him. He’d say the words when the time was right. It would all be worth it, wouldn’t it?

As the years went on, you did seem to mostly forget about the words on your body, fading lightly. In the bustle of your busy life, it wasn’t something you necessarily tried to focus on, like all of the others around you, searching faces in the crowd, desperately trying to find the ones. When it’s time, it’s time, you kept telling yourself. But the fear that you’d never actually find him did nestle itself in the back of your mind—you never, ever, ever let yourself touch that thought. Not even a little.

You were rapidly approaching the age of twenty two. You’d finished Ilvermorny, began your studying to eventually be able to teach there, and tried to not focus on what everyone else seemed to be so obsessed with.

And on your twenty second birthday, you were offered the position of a teacher—not at Ilvermorny, no, but at the wizarding school across the pond. Yes, you were moving to London.

It was terrifying and exciting and exhilarating at the same time.

And so you packed your things, said farewell to your parents, and ended up in a very tiny, one bedroom apartment in the middle of London, just a few streets down from Diagon Alley—the bustling street where all witches and wizards went for their school supplies—and you supposed, professors, too.

Well, you knew what you needed to do.

Which brings you to now.

Somebody bumped into you while running through the street. “Sorry, love,” they said, and were off in a flash, barely noticing the shift of your body on the middle of the cobblestone. And then, a flash of light, and a ton of rain.

Was London notorious for its rainy days? You didn’t know, this was your first time here, of course. And where on earth was your umbrella?

As you’d dreaded—back at your half unpacked apartment, probably collecting dust at the bottom of one of your many, many boxes that still needed to be unloaded. Brilliant.

You ran into the store nearest you, quickly running through the flash flood, soaked to the core—your long hair dripping along the carpet. You didn’t know what to expect when entering the shop, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

It was probably the most colorful room you’d ever seen in all your life. Bright hues of orange and green and purple and red made the shop seem even much bigger than it was—loads of toys and supplies were making many sounds that seemed to reverberate off of the walls. Students and children and parents alike were chattering animatedly and peering admiringly at all of the inventions that were stocked very highly on the shelves. It was rather bustling, indeed.

“Looking for anything in particular?” a cool voice asked. When you turned around, a red haired man in a brown suit looked at you with wide eyes. “Bloody hell—get caught in that rain, did you?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” you told him. Was he the owner, perhaps? “Do you have a restroom or something I can wash up in?”

Another man who looked exactly like him sauntered over and asked his twin, “Georgie, I’ve just—lord, you alright, love?”

Love? Does every man in this country call women that? Not quite like America. Still, you couldn’t help but grin a little. “I’m fine—just wondering if you have a place I could dry off, maybe—”

George, the first one, said to you, “We’ve got dry towels—let me go and fetch them for you—”

“Believe there’s a sweatshirt in the pile of clean laundry too, mate, if you want to grab that,” the second one said.

You shook your head and said, “No, no, I’m fine, really—I live just up the way—just a towel will do.”

“Nonsense,” he told you, motioning for you to follow him. “C’mon, we’ll make you a bit of tea to warm you up,”

Okay, so, definitely the owners. They seemed so young to own such a successful shop in the middle of the busiest street in London. They couldn’t be older than twenty two, twenty three? How on earth were they handling all this chaos?

You’d learned a lot in your short time at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It was a prank shop, basically, run by two boys who, although adults, did seem to love acting like children. Born and raised as two kids who wanted more than anything to continue making people laugh, even in the darkest of times, they’d hatched this plan at the mere age of five, and they’d not once teetered off track. Not very pleasing to their mother, you learned, who’d spent her lifetime watching over seven mischievous children, but she’d softened when she’d realized how well off they were, especially after the war you’d heard all about when you were back home.

As you pulled your still damp hair back into a high ponytail, you said to them both, “Well, thank you both very much—not exactly how I’d imagined my first day in London to be, but—I appreciate you taking me under your wing.”

With a swift goodbye as George was pulled away by customers, he told you, “Visit soon!” The other man stood in front of you with a concerned look in his eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

You laughed softly. “I promise, yes. Thank you…”

“Fred,” he said, taking your hand in his.

You bit your bottom lip. “Y/N...well, thanks, again—I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so,” he said and winked. Was he seriously flirting right now? You glanced quickly at your wrist, taking a deep breath in. Was it him? Probably not. There were millions of others in Europe. You were strangely sad at the thought. You barely knew this guy. And who knew? Your soulmate could still be back home. Fred brought you back to reality when he asked, “Visit soon, yeah?”

You scratched the top of your head and grinned at him. “Yeah, soon...have a good night.”

And so your first night in London hadn’t gone exactly as planned. But what did you expect, really? Chaos. Always.

You were met the next morning with sunshine flooding through your apartment and boxes that needed unpacking. You groaned at the thought. Instead, you made your way into Diagon Alley again, this time determined to be able to shop more of the little stores in the sunlight, not having to escape the street due to flash flooding.

It was hot. You were surprised how hot it was. Your pale green sundress swung at your sides, and you pulled your long hair into a side braid to get it off of our neck. And as you’d assumed, the street was incredibly busy. But you didn’t seem to mind. You loved the bustle of the city.

You clumsily tripped over the cobblestone in your sandals, bumping hard into someone next to you. Looking down at their feet and regaining your composure, you said, “I’m so terribly sorry—”

“Back again, are we?”

It was Fred, the man from yesterday. He was smirking at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Well hey, Fred.”

His raised his eyebrows at you, seemingly impressed with the fact that after one brief meeting, you could tell him and his twin brother apart. “Impressive, honestly, nobody can really tell us apart except our mum,”

You smiled and glanced down at your shoes, biting your bottom lip.

“Listen, I’m about to grab a bite—and you certainly look like you could use a bit of a break,” he glanced down at the many bags you had in your hands, “care you join me?”

You went against your better judgement. Two days in a row you’d run into this man you barely know, and you’d already managed to have his sweatshirt, towel, and a pair of sweatpants in your apartment, and now he was inviting you for a bite to eat. An adventurous few days you were having, indeed. The field day your friends would be having with this information—

“Okay,” you told him, pushing the thought away and following him across the crowded street where he grabbed your hand and cut through very busy traffic.

“So,” he asked when he finally stopped walking. “Favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Chocolate chip cookie dough,” you said immediately, not even thinking on it.. “And you?”

“I dunno,” he said truthfully, cocking his head to the side and looking up at the sky. “It changes daily. Ready?”

He pulled you closer towards the shop you were in front of, and when you looked up, you noticed a sign that read: Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

Confused, you asked, “This is the bite you meant?”

“Yeah,” he told you matter-of-factly, reading your face for any sign of amusement. “C’mon, America, don’t tell me you’ve never had ice cream for lunch before.”

You smiled at him. America. What the hell—it was adorable, and you were nearly melting into a puddle in front of him. What were you doing? It was the accent, it had to be—and that red hair. God, the things your friends would be saying—

You pushed his arm softly and told him, “I shall have you know that I have definitely had ice cream for lunch.”

“Good,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and pulling you inside. “Let’s go, then.”

And after this second day in Diagon Alley, your afternoon meet up with Fred for ice cream from Florean Fortescue’s became a daily thing. It was addicting, this ice cream—absolutely nothing like you’d had back home, and thank goodness Diagon Alley was so large, because you were able to walk off those calories in a heartbeat.

As the summer dragged on and the impending school year drew nearer, you’d kept returning to the street—of course, for your school supplies, yes, but also to see him. You’d find yourself, every so often, glancing down at your wrist, looking at the silly phrase, wanting to forget about your soulmate altogether. You found yourself covering it with bracelets and watches, hoping that Fred would never see it and never have to ask about it.

You’d spent many afternoons in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, as well.

It proved to be very difficult to leave every evening, actually.

What were you doing?

You needed to draw yourself back. You needed too. You didn’t want to end up heartbroken, in a foreign city, before starting a new job in a new place with new people. It was a disaster in the making. You needed, more than anything, to protect your heart.

And so just a couple of days before the start of term, you slowly made your way into the shop, ready to tell Fred that you wouldn’t be seeing him for a long time, as term was about to begin, when he met you at the front of the store.

“Y/N! Glad to see you this morning,” he said brightly, coming round the bend of the back end of the store. “Now, when you get to Hogwarts in four days time, remember to tell Minerva McGonagall how fond you are of me and George—I reckon she’ll be so pleased you know us,”

You cocked your head to the side and placed your hand on your hip, smiling sweetly at him. “Why do I have the feeling that she’d actually be less than impressed at that?”

Pretending to fall backwards, Fred told you, “I’m heartbroken you think that, Y/N,”

I’m just heartbroken, you thought dramatically, shaking the thoughts from your head at how absolutely overly emotional you were being. Ridiculous. “Freddie listen, I—”

“Ooh, we’ve got just the thing for your classroom—it’s bloody brilliant, c’mon, you have to take it—it’ll be a good luck present, on us, yeah? C’mon then, won’t cost you a sickle,”

Begrudgingly, you followed him to the back of the store, when your heart stopped.

He laughed then, shaking his head and laughing to himself. “You’re from the other end. Reckon I probably should’ve said, ‘won’t cost you a dime’, is that way they say in America?”

And just like that, your head shot up and muscles tensed. That moment of reality. It was like you‘d gotten the wind knocked out of you, just as your parents told you. “Oh my god, what did you say?”

You watched Fred stop in his tracks, glance down at his wrist, and turn slowly back towards you, in the middle of a crowded store. Your heart and mind were racing, and it took every single ounce of you to restrict yourself from nearly jumping on top of him—

“It’s you,” he said, as if the entire world around the two of you had stopped abruptly.

“Get the wind knocked right out of you?” you asked him, pointing to his wrist and to yours.

He looked down at your hand and then back at you. Did he have tears in his eyes? “Yeah,” he said breathlessly—and then, that silly sarcasm. “I knew it.”

You actually laughed in the surprise of the moment. “You did not!”

“Well, I hoped,” he admitted. “I reckon you did, too?” He smiled sweetly at you. Yes, you’d hoped, too. He knew that. He could see it in your eyes from the moment you met one another, when you were rain soaked and shivering from the cold in his very busy store. He was in love with you right then.

Teasingly, you said aloud, “A British prankster. All my life I never pictured my soulmate as a British prankster.”

“Can’t say I ever pictured my soulmate as an American girl who’d end up working at the school I grew up in,”

You asked him jokingly, “Are you disappointed?”

Beaming at you, he replied, “Definitely not disappointed, America.”

It was really difficult to not turn to complete putty in his hands when he was so goddamn charming. It was inevitable.

You stood there, both peering at one another, wondering—what happens next?

And what kind of soulmate would you be if you didn’t ask him, “So can I kiss you now? I’m dying, here,”

And what kind of soulmate would he be if he didn’t tease you, “Well, yeah, darling, what the bloody hell are you waiting for?”

His lips were soft and warm, and it felt like you’d kissed them a million times before. He was your soulmate—in this life, and in any and every other lifetime there was—it would always be him—this confident, flirtatious, silly red headed boy who loved, more than anything, to bring a smile to people’s faces.

“Well thank bloody Merlin the two of you finally figured it out.”

George came down the steps from upstairs and wrapped his arms around the two of you. Up on the top floor, you saw another red headed boy and girl, who you knew must’ve been Ron and Ginny. Or was it Bill? Or Percy? Or Charlie? Guess you’d have time to figure it out. They both smiled at you.

“You knew?” you and Fred both asked George at the same time.

George chucked, “Yeah—it was really obvious, actually.” To you, he kissed you on the cheek and said, “Well—welcome to the family, officially! So, when’s the wedding? Kids on the way yet? Mate, you know mum is absolutely going to flip her lid when she hears the news—”

You choked back a laugh. Intertwining your fingers in Fred’s, you said to them both, “That’s a lot of steps we’ve skipped, there,”

And as he jokingly pushed his twin away, Fred turned back towards you, wound his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your temple as you draped your arms across his shoulders. His lips were pressed to your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine when he said, “I can’t wait to share all of them with you, my love.”

tag list: drop me a message if you’d like to be added: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @fredweasleyismyking91

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated lovelies :)

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley reader insert #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #hp imagine #hp fanfiction #harry potter imagine #fred weasley soulmate au #soulmate au #soulmate aus #bye #pls dont let this flop omg it took me D A Y S

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onthepyre · 4 years

Text

cats

the second part of this is basically what i did last night but connor is a lot braver than me. anyway.

Evan does this at least once a week.

He gets home, and for whatever reason, whether it be the smile Connor gave him during lunch that lasted a bit too long or that romantic-looking restaurant he walked by on the way home, he's feeling sappy. And he walks straight to his room, lays down on the floor, and listens to Cavetown.

The amount of time Evan spends on the floor is directly proportional to how many times he caught Connor looking at him during science class. Sometimes he counts; the record so far is 23 times in one class period. He spent two hours on the floor that day, staring at the ceiling.

As soon as he's home, he's settled on his carpet with the soft sounds of a guitar playing in his headphones. It's peaceful, quiet. There are only a few things that Evan thinks about, and number one on his list is how much better it would be if Connor was here.

His heart talks about Connor a lot. His mind objects, but Evan's heart seems to beat with his name. Connor Murphy Connor Murphy Connor Murphy. Evan never gets tired of it. His heart talks about Connor's hair, his eyes, his smile, his hands-

Don't get him started on Connor's hands.

Evan has watched Connor draw before. The style of his art matches him well. It's sharp, fast, messy, perfect. But when he's drawing, Evan watches Connor's hands rather than the piece.

They're fluid. They glide.

Connor Murphy does not glide. He stomps, he runs, he marches, but he does not glide. But when he's drawing, his hands float. They look the same, as angular as Connor himself, but they're different. Softer. Evan figures Connor's face is the same, but he's always been too focused to look.

Evan often considers what Connor's hands feel like. They look strong, but Evan is certain they're lighter than they seem. He wonders what it would be like to hold Connor's hand. Is he one of those people that would hang on too tight? Would he barely touch Evan's hand? Would he be grossed out by Evan's sweaty palms?

Evan also, more tentatively, thinks about Connor's hands on his face. In his hair. Looped around his waist. These thoughts, of course, are more focused on where Connor's mouth would be at the moment, but there is attention to his hands then, too.

And Connor's mouth. Of course. His lips are always chapped and often bleeding because Connor picks at them when he gets bored and Evan knows this because he stares at Connor during French class and he knows Connor hates French. Connor bites his lips a lot, too. It isn't meant to be nearly as swoon-worthy as it makes Evan feel, but it nearly breaks him every time Connor chews on his lip. Evan's fairly certain this is something he does when he's bored, too, although it might be a nervous habit.

Connor has a lot of nervous habits, from what Evan's seen. He spins his pen, taps his foot, braids little strands of his hair — the list goes on. Evan knows each and every one of them.

——

Connor has his own sort of ritual. After begging Zoe to stop at Tim Hortons so they could get coffee, he sits at the window in the den and watches Law & Order SVU. He had never seen it until Zoe showed him the John Mulaney bit about Ice-T and now he's addicted. It's a problem.

Unbeknownst to either, Connor's SVU marathons are the equivalent of Evan's Cavetown sessions. Evan thinks about Connor and Connor thinks about Ice-T. And Evan. Mostly Evan.

Connor has a thing for the way Evan talks. He knows that Evan himself hates it and most of the school thinks he's annoying, but Connor thinks it's adorable.

Evan has to say exactly what he wants to say, and if he messes it up, he will start over. He messes up a lot. It doesn't help that sometimes his tongue catches on words and he gets stuck on a certain sound and has to go back to the beginning of the sentence. It takes active listening to understand what he's saying but it makes Connor melt.

That's the thing that makes Connor think so hard. He's supposed to be the mopey badass, the scary emo, the aloof rebel-without-a-cause. He has a reputation to uphold, even if it's less punk and more school shooter (okay, less punk and more sad). He may be openly bisexual, yes, but he shouldn't be falling for a tiny tree-obsessed nerd.

And the fact that Evan of all people is the one his heart decided on is, well, bad. Connor's too worried that Evan isn't into him to do anything other than stare and Evan can't take a fucking hint. Connor may think his cluelessness is cute, but it's also really inconvenient. Connor thinks a lot of things about Evan are cute but inconvenient.

Evan is really, really good at accidentally blocking people's paths and then moving out of the way at the same time the other person does, thus blocking them again. Evan hates it and Connor thinks it's funny. If it goes on for long enough, Evan starts blushing, and Connor starts falling apart.

And oh my god, when Evan blushes. It's not like it's uncommon, Evan is both awkward and incredibly aware of it, but Connor still thinks it's adorable. It brings out his freckles and colors the tops of his ears pink. If Evan is especially embarrassed, he'll try to hide in his hands, but his fingertips are always tinged with the same rose-colored mortification.

Connor's thoughts drift as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through instagram, but Evan is still there in the back of his mind. He's always there, no matter what Connor is doing. He spots Evan in the shadows created by the trees in the backyard; sees Evan's worried smile on his mother's face; catches himself doodling Evan's silhouette in the background of drawings. Evan, Evan, Evan.

Connor's phone buzzes in his hand as he scrolls past a collection of Bee Movie memes. He opens the message, noting it's from Evan.

hhey

He's still typing, but Connor replies anyway.

whats up

The typing bubble disappears for a moment, then pops back up

what r u duing

Connor takes a moment to grin at the misspelling before he responds.

watching svu

do u eanna come see cats with ne

uhh?? no but absolutely yes im coming, what time

theres a show jn half an hour

cool see you then

Connor tucks his phone into his pocket and pulls his hands through his hair. He's going on a date. With Evan. But it's not a date, his mind says. Connor ignores it.

He's out the door in no time, stopping only to grab a half-eaten bag of twix and shove it in the pocket of his hoodie.

——

Evan arrives at the theater before Connor does, and sits down next to a claw machine after buying his ticket. He thinks about texting Connor, but his energy for starting conversations is nearly gone — he barely stuttered his way through asking for a medium popcorn, so he's decided to recharge for a bit while he waits for Connor.

Connor bursts through the door a few minutes later, then stops to look around. He breaks into a smile when he spots Evan, who lifts his hand in a tired wave. Evan watches Connor talk to the woman at the ticket booth, then the man at the concession stand. He approaches Evan with a bag of Sprees in his hand.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi."

"I know Sprees are the worst, but they're the only food that seems to last past the previews, so." Evan nods, trying to hide the already partially eaten bag of popcorn sitting next to him. "Well, shall we?" Connor reaches down to pull Evan up from the bench. Evan smiles as thanks, but Connor doesn't let go of his hand. His mind moves at the speed of light, even though there are only two thoughts in his head: Connor Connor Connor and hand.

Connor holds onto him all the way to the screening room, where he tugs Evan into the back row. He drops Evan's hand as they sit. Connor drops the Sprees into the cupholder on his left and pulls out the Twix, which he starts inhaling immediately.

When the movie starts, there's only one other person in the room: an old man in the front row, who Connor insists is Andrew Lloyd Webber himself, and it's not an issue if they talk because Webber started this whole fiasco and deserves to hear their "critiques."

The moment the first cat appears on the screen, Connor is laughing. "Why does she have boobs?" he whispers.

"Connor!"

"If they're going to give her boobs, she should have six, not two."

"Connor, talk quieter!"

"Are we supposed to be attracted to the cats?"

Defeated, Evan drops his face into his hands while Connor cackles next to him.

They make it to Rum-Tum-Tugger without any other mishaps, but as soon as the new cat starts singing, Connor loses it again.

"Why is he wearing a fur coat? That's terrifying!"

"What?"

"You'd be scared if you saw someone wearing a coat made of skin." Evan looks over at him with a desperate expression on his face.

"Connor, please," he begs, "let's just… let's appreciate cat Jason Derulo."

Connor nods, still wheezing, and calms down a bit. Until cat Jason Derulo whips off his fur coat in a display of his cat muscles.

Connor drops his head onto Evan's shoulder. "I can't do this," he says through a fit of giggles.

But Evan is more focused on the fact that Connor's head is on his shoulder oh my god. And Evan hears Connor's foot tap, tap, tapping on the floor. Nervous habit. And once again, Connor's hand finds his.

"Gotta ground myself. Make sure we're not dead, y'know." So Evan, with as much bravery as he can muster, squeezes Connor's hand. And Connor squeezes back.

But Connor doesn't move. He stays there, his head on Evan's shoulder, his hand in Evan's hand. And Evan can't focus on the movie anymore. He eventually picks his head up to laugh at Mr. Mistoffelees, but Connor hangs onto Evan's hand for the rest of the movie. He's soft, softer than Evan expected, and evidently doesn't mind his sweaty palms, so Evan doesn't complain.

As the credits roll, Evan gathers the bits of courage he has left and look over at Connor. "Is, uh, was this, like a date? Or did I, um, completely misinterpret what's- did I misunderstand this? B-because-"

Connor cuts him off. "Do you want this to be a date?" He's quiet, much quieter than normal.

Evan's voice is even smaller when he answers. "Um. Yeah." He stares down at his free hand, trying to avoid the one Connor still has a firm grip on.

"Great. Then it was a date." Evan can hear the smile in Connor's voice. He looks up, and Connor is beaming, and Evan can hear his foot tapping the floor again. And Connor's hand is on his jaw and Evan is leaning forward and their lips are pressed together.

It's different than Evan had imagined. Slower. Gentler. But he's kissing Connor Murphy and Connor Murphy is kissing him back.

Evan is the first to pull away. He knows his face is a bright shade of pink, but he doesn't really care. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

"Oh, uh, my mom's here." He thinks he sees Connor's face fall for half a second, but he isn't sure.

"Oh. Alright. See you soon."

Evan leans over and pecks his cheek. "Thanks."

#treebros #deh #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #connor x evan #pining evan #pining connor #just a lot of pining #cats #lowkey just me projecting but its fine #kissing #holding hands #kinda sappy #june's writing

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hermannsthumb · 5 years

Note

i have a soft spot for phone sex stuff, so like hermann buys his first vibrator and drinks maybe a little too much to build up the nerve to use it and ends up calling newt bc "his voice calms him" but that may or may not have just been an excuse to get newt on the phone

i love this so much.......idk if its meant to be a prompt but (winking emoji)

also this is pretty e-rated LOL i kinda just jump right in under the cut. 18+! beware! here are some pining pen pals

Masturbation, for Hermann, has always been a largely perfunctory affair. Stress relief. Part of a routine, relegated to furtive strokes with his hand and some discount body wash in the shower once or twice a week. He doesn’t make a big show out of it. He doesn’t use anything but his hand. His fantasies are rarely even that elaborate (he doesn’t allow himself anything that elaborate): the gentle touch of the hand of another man (nameless, faceless, messy-haired and reckless), the recollection of the young man (twenty-one) he’d kissed on a date when he was twenty, and as of recently, Newton. Newton smiling; Newton laughing; Newton allowing Hermann to ruck up his t-shirt and stroke his hand down his soft, soft chest, teasing him gently, touching him in return.

(Hermann has one printed photograph of Newton, sent along with his friend’s usual weekly correspondence some months ago: round stubbled cheeks, thick glasses, mischievous smile, freckles. Hermann has other photographs of Newton saved to his phone, pulled from various social media sites—Hermann is not obsessed—as well, a single video of the man bookmarked in his browser. Newton is very pleasing to look at.)

In fact, these recent fantasies about Newton are part of the reason why Hermann is ruminating over the whole idea of masturbation in the first place.

They’re becoming a problem.

Lately, all Hermann can think about is Newton. His routine is entirely shot. He doesn’t bring himself off in the shower anymore—or, he still does, but it’s in addition to other occasions on which he brings himself off. He masturbates in the mornings, after he’s had a wet dream about Newton (which are distressingly frequent). He masturbates at night, when he can’t get Newton’s latest correspondence out of his head. And it’s true, the fantasies Newton stars in are fairly mundane, scarcely even that erotic, but they’re becoming less so each time. Hermann stroking a hand down Newton’s chest becomes Hermann toying with Newton’s nipple with his fingers, his teeth, as Newton squirms underneath him. Newton smiling and laughing becomes Newton beckoning him close, begging, breathlessly, for Hermann to touch him, to kiss him, to undress him, to—well.

It’s the reason for Hermann’s current state of near constant sexual frustration. It’s also the reason for why—after years of relying solely upon his fist—Hermann has finally caved in and bought himself a vibrator.

It’s fairly small. It’s fairly discrete. Smooth. A nice shade of dark purple. Enough settings that Hermann won’t get bored with it. (And it was on sale.) The packaging it came in was discrete, too: a simple black box, with not even the company’s name written on the side. It didn’t mean Hermann wasn’t still mortified when he opened up his mailbox and found it shoved in, neatly, alongside a few bills and a new letter from Newton, and hurry up to his flat as quickly as possible with it tucked under his arm.

The letter lies, unopened, on his bed. The package lies, opened, next to it. Hermann lies next to both, vibrator in hand, stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, wondering how on earth he can possibly mentally boost himself up for this.

His solution is to break into a bottle of brandy his brother sent him for his last birthday and have a drink. Or two. Enough so that the overwhelming buzz of anxiety making his skin crawl is replaced with a calming static instead. A more gentler buzz. The vibrator’s buzzing, too, though Hermann hasn’t touched himself with it yet. He’s merely holding it a few centimeters from his face, considering it.

In his peripheral vision, Hermann catches sight of Newton’s letter. Newton.

Maybe Hermann could use the vibrator on Newton. Maybe Newton would like to watch Hermann use it on himself. Maybe Newton would use it on Hermann. Maybe he would start by pressing it to Hermann’s chest, and trail it down, down, past his pubic hair, past his prick, nudge Hermann’s legs apart…

He should call Newton. That seems like an excellent idea, frankly. The line is ringing before Hermann even realizes he’s fumbled with his cell phone and dialed Newton’s number (and before he can second-guess himself). The line continues to ring. He hasn’t considered time zones; it’s late for Hermann, but Newton may still be lecturing.

Newton picks up before Hermann can talk himself into hanging up. Hermann switches off the vibrator. “Hey, Hermann!” Newton says. He sounds delighted. Warmth flushes, pleasantly, down Hermann’s neck, to his chest, to pool in the pit of his stomach; his erection begins to stir to life already. Hermann is very easily wound up, and he is very easily unwound.

“Newton,” Hermann says.

“Hey!” Newton repeats.

“Newton,” Hermann says again.

“Uh, yeah,” Newton says. “It’s me.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You okay, man? You sound...tired.”

“Yes,” Hermann says, quickly. “I needed—er.” He stares at the vibrator. “...Well. Your voice calms me.”

Newton laughs again, a little louder. “It calms you?”

Hermann was tipsy, but he’s begun to sober up, fast, and now he wonders, perhaps, if this wasn’t a very good idea. He flushes for an entirely different reason. “Please forget I called,” he sighs, and makes to hang up, but Newton says “Wait!”

Hermann puts the phone back to his ear. “Are you upset about something?” Newton continues.

“Not exactly,” Hermann says. He thumbs the vibrator. “A bit nervous.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

For a moment, Hermann debates making up a problem. Something to talk through with Newton. Instead—the brandy giving him a bit more courage, the possibility of Newton reciprocating any advances he might make too alluring to turn down—he throws caution into the wind. “I bought a vibrator,” he blurts out.

Newton drops his phone. At least, that’s what it sounds like: there’s a rush of air, a loud clatter, and then Newton swearing, loud, as he presses it back to his ear. “Jesus, Hermann. You bought—”

“A vibrator,” Hermann says.

“I heard you the first time!” Newton squeaks. “Why are you telling me?”

He’s flustered. The notion pleases Hermann, oddly, especially seeing as Newton hasn’t hung up on him in a fit of embarrassment. (Maybe it’s not as one-sided as Hermann has always feared.) Hermann switches the vibrator back on. He decides to play coy. “I’ve never used one before,” he admits. “I’m not quite sure what to do. I thought you might’ve.”

“Why—” Newton splutters, “you think I’m—I’d know—”

“You seem the type,” Hermann says.

“Oh, boy,” Newton says, still in that same, high little squeak. “Okay. Uh. Well. I do. I have, I mean. But.” There’s a noise, as if he’s readjusting his cell phone. When he speaks again, his voice is significantly more hushed. “I’m kinda in my office right now, dude. At campus. If I wasn’t—”

“I’ll be fast,” Hermann says. “I usually am.”

Newton swears again. “Holy shit. Uh. Okay.” Another small rustling noise. “Okay. Okay. I locked the door. Uh.” He laughs again, far more embarrassed. “I usually start at my, uh, chest. Then work down.”

Hermann presses the vibrator to one of his nipples; the resulting sensation, and the knowledge that he’s doing this at Newton’s command, makes his whole body shudder, a moan slip from his lips. “Ah.” He slides it over to the other and draws out the same response, only this moan is a little louder.

“Jeez,” Newton says, weakly. “Then. Uh. It depends on what kind it is. Sometimes I just kinda—press it to my dick for a bit.”

Hermann slicks his hand up with a small bit of lubricant (also new, ordered alongside the vibrator at the website’s recommendation) and gives himself a few light tugs. Just enough to slick himself up there, too. He pulls his briefs down, neatly, around his thighs. He tucks his phone under his ear. He presses the vibrator to his erection.

“Oh,” he gasps, almost instantly, “oh, Newton—”

“Sorry,” Newton wheezes out, “I gotta—” He swears, again, and then Hermann hears his breathing going harsh, labored, coming out in sharp pants and trailing into little whines. Newton is touching himself, Hermann thinks; Newton is touching himself to Hermann. Hermann switches the vibrator up a setting.

He’s overwhelmed by it all very quickly: the vibrations travelling through his prick, making his whole body tingle, Newton’s whimpering moans in his ear (Hermann, holy shit, oh, wow), the very thought of what Newton must look like on the other end—his cheeks flushed red, his eyes screwed shut tight behind his glasses, his teeth digging into his pretty pink bottom lip to keep from being too loud, to keep from drawing attention to himself, hunched over his cluttered desk with his hand shoved down his jeans. If Hermann were there—if Hermann could touch him (or, better yet, kiss him)...

Newton comes first, with a low, keening whine; Hermann quickly grabs a wad of tissues with the hand not clutching the vibrator and presses it to himself to catch his own release. His phone tumbles to the mattress. He drifts, pleasantly, into the fuzzy, lethargic lull of his afterglow—the best of any orgasm he’s ever had before—and only comes back to himself when Newton’s pants turn to low swearing once more, audible even from where Hermann’s phone rests. Hermann rolls to his side to press his ear to the receiver. “Holy shit,” Newton says, with a little giggle. “Holy shit, Hermann. Ha. Wow.”

“Mm?” Hermann says. He realizes he’s neglected to switch off the vibrator. He reaches out a hand to do so now; his limbs feel like lead.

“That was,” Newton says, “uh, hot.”

“It was,” Hermann agrees. He smiles lazily, though he knows Newton can’t see it. “Thank you.”

They’re both quiet. “You wanna do that again some time?” Newton says.

“I’d like that,” Hermann says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #not sfw /////////#Anonymous

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yandere-musings · 5 years

Text

Yandere Kaoru Seta

Anonymous asked: OMG YOU WRITE FOR BANDORI?! Can you write yandere headcanons for either Yukina or Kaoru? They're my best girls! I love your writing! Thanks!!

***

Awe thanks! I'm going with Kaoru on this one because she's my best girl and its her birthday tomorrow. if any of my followers play, hmu and I'll add you! I play on both the ENG and the JP servers.

Yandere Type: Delusional, Obsessive, Clingy

• Who would have thought that the legendary Haneoka Highschool Theater Prince would finally fall in love, and with a regular student no less! You were just a helping the theater club carry props to the stage for an upcoming performance, not expecting to actually meet any of the actors. But to your surpsie, one of them was actually there helping set up. You had come in to deliver a variety of fake flowers for the decorations and a large bouquet of roses for Kaoru who would be playing the love interest. You wandered up past the swarm of fans crowding her and nervously cleared your throat and stepped closer to get her attention.

"Um... excuse me? You're Kaoru Seta right? I was asked to deliver these flowers to you for the next performance. Where did you want them?" you asked nervously.

• Kaoru's red eyes grew wide in awe. It could have been the demure way you got her attention, or maybe it was how the stage lighting made you look almost angelic, or perhaps it was how the roses in your arms framed your figure perfectly like you were a living renaissance painting. It could have been any number of those things, but one was for certain. In that fleeting moment, Kaoru knew that it was love at first sight. She was completely dumbstruck, mouth agape in shock as another actor came over and helped you with the flowers. She watched in awe as you unloaded your arms, her mouth still agape. It was clearly some kind of destiny that you had met- and on the stage no less! Just as quickly as you walked into her life, you left. Kaoru's heart was pounding. Such an amazing, fleeting moment. It truly was fate! Kaoru vowed to make you hers. Even though she didn't so much as know your name, Kaoru vowed to stop at nothing to make you hers.

• Athough Kaoru has many fans and potential suitors, none of them compare to you. She needed to know everything she could about you. Sadly, seeking you out was a lot harder than she anticipated. In a school for the talented or genius, you were actually rather average. You didn't stand out much compared to the other students. Nobody had any idea who you were when Kaoru tried describing you for leads. Not to mention she also had to compete with her fans flooding her everywhere she went. When she finally does catch a glimpse of you, Kaoru is overcome with emotion. Suddenly she breaks into a run to close the distance between the two of you. Quickly grabbing your hands in hers, she stares into your eyes with a huge grin across her face. She was wheezing from her run and from the adorable confused expression you wore.

"There you are! I've been looking for you since the day we met," she proclaimed before standing up straight and giving you her most charming smile.

"As the great bard Shakespeare once said, 'who ever loved that loved not at first sight'? I beg of you, please be mine!"

•Regardless of what your answer was to her passionate confession, Kaoru is still determined to sweep you off your feet. She goes around to all your classmates, using her charm and influence to learn all she could about your hobbies, grades and preferences. Kaoru's fanclub was albeit a little jealous, but overall supportive of her sudden new fascination with you. Even if you insist on telling everyone that you aren't romantically involved, nobody believes you. How could they? Its clear that you're in a relationship when she pulls you into such a intimate embrace and spouts sickeningly sweet words to disprove your claims.

"It's alright my precious darling, you have no need to be shy! I don't mind sharing our love with the world! That way, all will come to know that your heart is taken."

• Kaoru was at your side as often as she could be. Personally escorting you to each class, tagging along when you leave campus with friends and even walking you home after school. And by that, I mean she follows right behind you until you get to the front door. Kaoru will stand there and wish you goodnight as you struggle with your keys in a rushed attempt to escape her intrusive gaze. Unfortunately, this now means that she knows where you live. Kaoru isn't a violent criminal by any means, but she wont hesitate to break into your home to steal things. Nothing you'd notice, but stuff that would mean the world to her. Over time, she will collect enough to build a shrine dedicated to you.

• Kaoru's princely personality doesn't stop on stage, no no. She will bring you flowers, extravagant gifts and shower you with all sorts of flattering compliments. Its naturally overwhelming to suddenly have so much attention on you, especially from someone as dazzling as Kaoru. So if you ever get agitated from her constant praise or snap at her, she will just smile at the fact you're giving her any kind of attention. She won't take offence of course- something else must be bothering you! Maybe something in school or your personal life is weighing heavy on your mind. No matter! Kaoru is happy to help in any way she can, and if she isn't able to do it herself, she will find someone else to do it (under her supervision of course!) Now, as far as Yanderes go, Kaoru is very passive. She's honestly believes that you love her, but are just shy. She won't react as violently as most yanderes, but she will manipulate those around her to isolate you or chase them away. If anything, when she does threaten those around you, its all the more terrifying because its so unexpected and out of character. Kaoru will warn them nicely that if they ever so much as speak to you again, they will never actually speak again.

• Powerful declarations of love before or after every performance, both as an actor and as the guitarist for Hello Happy World. And you better believe that she will write songs for you as well! Kaoru enjoys singing to you, love songs clearly being her favorite. But your voice is so much better. Anytime she hears you speak, she's hypnotized, latching on to every word you say. And if its directed at her, she's in heaven. One day, she dreams of kissing those very lips that she loves to stare at. But she won't rush it. No no, the fleeting moment of your first kiss must be savored. Besides, Kaoru knows that you will have plenty of 'firsts' together once you accept her love.

• Even if you remind her that you aren't actually dating, she will just smile and laugh. You're so silly! Of course you aren't dating! You were soulmates after all, there was no need for courting when you're meant to be together. None the less, she will still proudly declare that you are lovers to anyone who's willing to listen. She makes a very convincing case no matter what you do or say. She's big on PDA, loving to shower you in love so that everyone can see that you clearly are a couple

• Somehow, despite your best efforts, she manages to get your phone number. Kaoru loves leaving you long winded lovey-dovey messages, both via text message and on voicemail. Kaoru will lavish you with affection. Expect lots of random kisses and embraces, in private or not. She loves how flustered you get when she does. Even if you don't have school, Kaoru will always manages to track you down. You could be out shopping or wandering around town and she will 'randomly' bump into you. She can't wait until they day you go out with your family so she can properly meet her future in-laws.

• She knows all of your likes and preferences, altering her own to be more akin with yours. Kaoru is dedicated to proving her love through grand gestures or doing things that will win your favor. It makes it hard to dislike her when she cooks and brings your favorite meals for lunch, writes songs for you, buys you anything you spend time browsing in a store or compliments you on something you were insecure about. That coupled with the constant pressure of others to recirpocate her love makes it harder and harder to reject her. But that's exactly what Kaoru wants, for you to be so captivated by her that it parallels her own love for you. She honestly believes that you want to be with her, but that you're too embarrassed to express it just yet. She understands that she needs to be patient with you but she just loves you so much that restraining herself is difficult.

• She's not above kidnapping you. Kaoru adores you, yes, but if you continue to deny her advances when you're clearly meant for each other, she will begin to wonder why. She will seek out her dear friend Kokoro, venting to her rich friend over how badly Kaoru wants to be with you and have your love. Kokoro will be moved to tears by the passion in her voice, seeing how much her friend truly loves you and wants to make you happy. By the end of the Day, the Tsurumaki Secret Service agents will have you gagged and bound somewhere hidden away. Don't worry, Kaoru will be sure to take good care of you. She will happily decorate the room she keeps you locked in, continuing to gift you with all sorts of presents. And once her career as an actor or guitarists take off, she will ensure that you want for nothing. Even if you scream and fight back now, Kaoru knows you're only struggling to adjust to your life together. She knows it will all be worth it in the end. Any crime commited in the name of love can't be too bad right?

#yandere kaoru seta #kaoru seta #yandere bandori #yandere bang dream #bang dream #bang dream girls party #yandere x reader

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stereksecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @peanutbutter-jelly-fish!

*****

“Derek, I need you to be my date!”

Ummm, okay. That’s a bit unexpected.

“Stiles…we’re already dating. We have been for a year now, or I did misread the situation?”

“No no no…wait, it’s been a year?!”

Derek just lifted a brow in his normal condescending way and continued to wait for Stiles to get his shit together and explain just what the hell is going on. As always, it doesn’t take long.

“Okay, I’ll get back to that later. But I need you to be my big bad alpha boyfriend at this wedding that’s coming up. Like all badass and broody, but lovey-dovey. I need you to just pull out all the shots.”

“And why are we doing this?”

Stiles tried to hide his flush, but Derek could read his face like a pop-up book by now.

“You’re trying to show off aren’t you?”

Stiles chuckled nervously and he started wringing his hands, like he was afraid of the answer. Derek has never had a problem with Stiles’ antics. At least, not recently, but right now something seemed off.

“Stiles, what’s really going on?” Derek asks, walking towards Stiles to grab his hands and keep them from moving so much.

There was a slight tremble to Stiles’ fingers and Derek was beginning to get a little worried. This was so unlike Stiles.“Okay, before you get mad, just know that I love you, and only you.”

Well that’s worrisome. He takes a huge breath, holds it for a few seconds, and then everything just falls out in a tumble of words.

“There’sThisWeddingAndMyFriendInvitedMeButShe’sMarryingMyExAndHeAlwaysSaidI’dNeverFindAnyoneElseAndIWantToShowHimThatHe’sWrong…”

Derek was definitely not expecting, well…any of that. Honestly, he can feel himself growing angry. No one talks to Stiles like that, Derek will not stand for it. Especially since Stiles is one of the kindest, smartest, most amazing people Derek has ever known. For that douche to make Stiles self-conscious? No. Not okay. Not at all.

“Okay, first of all, I love you too,” Derek says, caressing Stiles’ cheek, “and second of all, I’ll be your date for this fuckers wedding only because I want to rip his throat out. With my teeth.”

A small smile lights up Stiles’ face, and he lets out a huge breath, his shoulders drooping with relief. Derek pulls him into a tight hug, crushing him into his chest. Stiles just chuckles, hugging him back just as tight.

That night, in bed, Derek made sure to let Stiles know just how much he loved him, and Stiles definitely appreciated it.

Sunlight streamed in through their bedroom window, that soft warm glow of the early morning sun casting a beautiful light on Stiles’ smooth, pale skin. This is Derek’s favorite part of the day. The way the sun glints on Stiles’ hair, accenting the auburn hints in it. The way his face is completely relaxed and open, trusting. Derek never thought he’d have this, let alone with Stiles, but now that he has it, he’ll do anything to keep it.

The blanket lays just over the swell of Stiles’ ass and Derek grins at the small bruises lining Stiles’ back, evidence of all of his love from last night. He reaches a hand up to trace the outline of Stiles’ hip, his finger brushing the edge of the blanket, and smiles at the memories of their first time sleeping together. Stiles had been coming down from a 48 hour research bender, functioning only off of caffeine and 5-hour energies. His caffeine addled brain had completely erased Stiles’ already tiny brain-to-mouth filter. Stiles had confessed his love and obsession with Derek, not even realizing it until after Derek called him out on it. They’d ended up in bed not soon after, but it wasn’t at all sexual. Stiles had been so tired, he’d passed out almost immediately, but Derek hadn’t minded.

Now though, now he can rarely keep his hands off of Stiles. Wolves are tactile creatures, and werewolves are not any different. Derek loves the feel of Stiles’ skin under his fingers, loves the feel of his legs wrapped around Stiles’. He definitely loves the way it feels to cuddle up to Stiles after making love for hours into the night. He pushes his nose into Stiles’ shoulder, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and sugar. He relishes the way Stiles moves even closer, unconsciously baring his neck more. It’s rare now, but it still shocks Derek sometimes how much blind trust Stiles puts in him. Stiles is his anchor, and he is Stiles’. They fit.

Derek usually goes for a run in the mornings, to waste time before Stiles wakes up, but this morning is different for some reason. He can’t seem to let him go. He tightens his grip on Stiles’ waist and pulls him even closer, wrapping his leg around the back of Stiles’ and if Stiles were awake, he’d call him a “big wolfy octopus” or something like that. Derek secretly liked the pet names, but he’d die before admitting that to Stiles. He’d never hear the end of it.

Stiles mumbles something in his sleep, and then he peeks through his lashes at Derek, a smile set on his face.

“Morning cuddle-wolf.” Okay, maybe he didn’t like all of the pet names.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Oh, you know, amazing as usual,” Stiles whispered, leaning up to kiss Derek gently on the lips.

“Good,” is all Derek said, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face even if he wanted to. “Get up and shower and I’ll make us some pancakes.”

At that, Stiles was wide awake, sitting up in bed grinning at Derek like he’d hung the moon.

“Fuck yes, I love your pancakes!” Stiles tripped climbing out of the bed, the blanket wrapped around his ankles, but that didn’t slow him down.

His determination was too strong. Derek definitely stayed just long enough to watch Stiles skip naked into the bathroom, and then he went downstairs to start on breakfast.

He’d just gotten everything set up on the counter, organized and neat just like he liked it, when Stiles came bounding down the stairs in nothing but his boxers like a child on Christmas morning. “Let’s do this thing!”

Derek just chuckled, handing him the eggs and the mixing bowl.

It’s amazing how focused Stiles can get when he wants to help with something. Derek can see him, out of the corner of his eye, sticking his tongue out as he measures precisely 2 cups of flour. Derek finds it adorable, so he tells him.

“Umm, excuse you. I’m not adorable. I’m a big, strong, man who loves to make sure everything is just right.”

“Yeah. Adorable.” Derek is only slightly shocked at the handful of flour he gets to the face.

Stiles thinks it's hilarious, if the wheezing laughter coming from next to him is anything to go by, so Derek grabs a handful of the flour from Stiles’ meticulously measured bowl, and tosses it in Stiles’ face. Stiles just laughs even harder, and soon Derek is joining in, and then they’re both collapsed onto the kitchen floor struggling to breathe through their laughter.

The kitchen is an absolute mess, flour coating literally everything within a five foot radius, but Derek can’t bring himself to care, because Stiles is smiling so hard and so beautifully. They both turn to look at each other at the same time, a look of adoration covering Stiles’ face and Derek didn’t even realize he’d moved until he was right on top of Stiles, looking down into Stiles’ eyes.

“I love you so much. You know that right?”

Stiles just nods, and then his hands are drifting up into Derek’s hair, warmth blossoming in Derek’s body, and then they’re kissing, slow and gentle, but perfect in every way. Derek settles down between Stiles’ legs, no hurry to their actions, just slow movements and gentle hands.

“You know…this is gonna be a bitch to clean up.”

They both just bust out laughing, in no hurry at all to do anything but fall in love just a little bit more.

“Stiles, you can not wear a trash bag to your friends wedding.” Three times now, Derek has had to get Stiles back on track to buying suits.

Three times. In thirty minutes. It’s only a little bit ridiculous. Stiles huffs as he throws down the huge plastic bag he’d found, and pouts like a 5 year old who didn’t get the toy he wanted.

“She’s lucky I love her,” Stiles mumbles under his breath. Derek just rolls his eyes and moves on to the next rack of suits.

He’s impressed by all of the options they have here, aisles upon aisles of different colors, styles, and even accessories to accentuate the suits. He’s even seen a few 20’s style vest suits that would look amazing on Stiles, but Stiles refuses to try them on.

“This would go so much faster if you’d participate you know.”

“I just don’t see the point in buying an expensive ass suit that I’m only gonna wear once for my freaking exes wedding!”

“Actually, this is your Best Friend’s wedding, and maybe I just want to enjoy looking at your ass in some of these suits.”

Stiles’ shock only lasts a few seconds before his face lights up with a mischievous smile that almost makes Derek regret what he said.

“Are you saying you like to look at my ass, Hornywolf?” Okay, he definitely doesn’t like all of the pet names.

Stiles stalked towards him, and if Derek didn’t know any better, he’d say Stiles was a born wolf, his gaze predatory and determined. “I think I stated that pretty clearly, actually.”

Stiles was right in front of him now, almost eye-level with him and Derek’s heart beat just a little bit harder. Stiles was hot when he acted like a wolf, and he knew it absolutely turned Derek on.

Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest, his long fingers strong and sturdy over Derek’s beating heart.

“And which suit, exactly, did you have in mind?”

Derek could feel Stiles’s hand moving further down his chest and the world narrowed down to only that one feeling.

“Your birthday suit obviously.”

“Well c’mon then, Sourwolf. I think they have an amazing selection of those near the restrooms.”

Derek let himself be dragged behind Stiles, their hands intertwined. Dammit he loved this man.

A week later, after finally successfully picking out a suit for both Stiles and Derek, they were getting ready for the big day. Stiles seemed nervous and shaky. Derek wasn’t sure if it was because of the wedding in general, or if it was because he would be facing his ex again after five years, but he tried his best to be supportive.

He made Stiles’ favorite breakfast, minus the mess this time, thankfully, brought it to him in bed with a cup of Stiles’ favorite juice, and then gave Stiles “the best damn blowjob ever.” It was turning out to be a pretty good day, considering the circumstances.

“Babe, are you almost ready?”

Derek was fixing the cuffs on his suit, pulling the arms taut, when Stiles walked out of the bedroom, fully dressed in the vest suit Derek had chosen for him. And dammit if it wasn’t the most gorgeous thing Derek had ever seen. Red really is a great color on Stiles. Derek had chosen the darker option, not wanting Stiles to stand out too much. He had his jacket slung over his shoulder and his other hand tucked into his pocket, and Derek was happy to see that Stiles’ ass really was just as amazing in that suit as he’d thought.

“Holy fuck, Stiles.” That was all he could say. Almost speechless as he gawked at the way Stiles’ hips looked, at how low and tight the pants rode. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms, so he runs up the stairs and does exactly that.

“You look amazing.”

“So do you, Der-bear. Drop dead gorgeous if I do say so myself. You chose well, young Jedi.” Stiles chuckled at his own joke and Derek leaned down to kiss him on the lips, soft but insistent.

“You ready to go?”

Stiles took a deep breath, his chest rising then falling as he let it out, and then he nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Derek didn’t know what he’d expected, but this definitely wasn’t it.

“It’s a bit extravagant. Who is this best friend again?”

“Her name is Taylor. We grew up together, but she doesn’t know that Brad and I had a thing together in college. It was kind of a secret.”

They took their seats in the backyard, the huge mansion they walked through only the beginning of the extravagance. Outside, there were hundreds of lanterns set up around even more foldable chairs. Flowers decorated every inch of the backyard and Derek could barely breathe through the aroma. Derek turned to look at this ‘Brad’ and he could see nothing that Stiles would like in this guy.

They both chatted over the music, judging all of the wedding guests, and pretending to care about what was happening around them. It wasn’t until the bridal music started playing that they started paying attention. When Brad turned towards the backdoor of the mansion, he made eye contact with Stiles and froze, anger written on his ugly face. Yeah, Derek really didn’t understand why anyone would like this guy.

Brad’s eyes flicked between him and Stiles. His face showed shock, and possibly a bit of jealousy, but mostly shock. His eyes were wide and confused, and Derek just smirked, giving him a two-finger salute. Stiles laughed.

Derek dropped his arm over the back of Stiles’ chair and leaned in close, scenting Stiles’ neck and relishing in the little breathy moans that escaped Stiles. Suddenly, Derek’s plans got adjusted.

Taylor walked out of the house, gorgeous in a long, skin-tight dress with a trail a mile long. Derek had to admit, she was a sight to see, but nothing could compare to the way Stiles filled out his suit.

Derek ignored the festivities in favor of messing with Stiles, speaking dirty words for only Stiles to hear, and enjoyed the flush that ran up Stiles’ neck. Time really flies by when you’re not paying attention, and soon the crowd is standing and applauding. They break apart to join in the clapping. At least Taylor looks genuinely happy up there.

“Let’s go get some drinks.”

“Great idea Der-bear.”

Derek and Stiles are the first to leave the yard, but soon the guests follow, all gathering inside the mansion for the reception. Derek and Stiles are on their second set of drinks by the time the newly wed couple walks into the room, and it's time for another round of applause. It might be the drinks, or the wolfsbane Derek slipped into his drink to at least feel something from the alcohol, but he was feeling rather bold tonight. He pulled Stiles out onto the dance floor, automatically falling into step for the slow song playing over the speakers, and Stiles was absolutely glowing against him. And then that glow faded as Brad and Taylor started walking towards them.

Derek just tightened his arm around Stiles’ waist, wanting to make sure that Stiles knew he wasn’t alone.

“Stiles! I’m so glad you could make it!” Taylor was way too chipper, and completely unaware of the tension between the rest of the group.

“Of course I made it. It’s your big day! We always talked about this moment,” Stiles said, but Derek could hear the slight tremble in his voice, the only indicator that he was anything but calm.

“Well thank you so much for coming! And please, introduce me to this handsome man next to you.”

Stiles chuckled. “This is Derek, my—

“—his fiancé.”

Shock painted everyone’s faces, but most of all Stiles’.

“Fi-fiancé?”

“Well...if you’ll have me,” Derek dropped onto one knee, right in front of every single person at the reception, pulling out a small, velvet box. He grinned up at Stiles, secretly reveling in the look of extreme confusion on Brad’s ugly face.

Taylor squealed in joy next to him and Stiles grinned ear-to-ear at her as she bounced up and down.

“Of fucking course I’ll marry you!” Stiles practically throws himself at Derek, his long limbs wrapping around Derek. Derek’s face hurts from how hard he’s smiling.

A loud applause sounds through the room and Derek realizes that the entire wedding reception has stopped to witness Derek’s proposal. Take that Brad.

Their kiss was one to rival the movies, and their wedding was one to rival the stars.

***

#peanutbutter-jelly-fish #stereksanta15 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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distant-rose · 6 years

Text

Playing Off Foul (1/2)

Notes: I’ve been working off this idea for awhile. I just needed to get it off my chest. I have so much baseball!Killian crap in my WIP drawer and it needs to see the light of day. A special thank you to @welllpthisishappening and @katie-dub for being my support system and for encouraging me to write this nonsense. My apologies to fans of the Arizona Diamondbacks and Carmelo Anthony. My shade is nothing personal. Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t know anything about baseball, only that her son Henry is obsessed and works as a ballboy for the New York Yankees. She has no interest in it, that is until her son gets whacked with a foul ball and she comes face-to-face with the player that hit it - Killian Jones. Rating: T+ Word Count: 4,600+

When it came down to it, Emma blamed David.

Though it had been Neal who had introduced Henry to baseball, it had been David’s fault that he became a Yankees fan. Since the moment he learned that Henry was interest in the sport dubbed “America’s Favorite Pastime,” Emma’s brother had taken to bringing her son to every baseball game he could afford and spending the rest of his money on more merchandise than their tiny two bedroom apartment could afford.

It was David who had told Henry about the ballboy job opening at Yankee Stadium and like a fool, Emma had allowed her teenager to apply. She didn’t think he would get past the application review but two weeks later, Henry had gotten the call in for an interview which was followed by an official job offer and a celebratory dinner at Fazio’s. She wasn’t been sure how was more excited about it - Henry for having an opportunity to meet his heroes and get paid for it or David who now had an inside man on what was really going on in the Yankees’ locker room. Emma had been less enthused about it.

Though the team that spent half of its games on the road, the stadium seemed to have constant need of Henry and it wasn’t uncommon for him to come stumbling back into the apartment at one or two in the morning on a school night. Furthermore, the players had an habit of giving him more money in tips than Henry knew what to do with on top of earning an whopping $21.50 an hour. Emma nearly blew a gasket when she find out one of the players had given her son a thousand dollars to keep quiet about some girls coming into the locker room for a “private tour.” She didn’t want their boorish behaviour and outrageous spending habits rubbing off on her son. She already had Neal to contend with, she didn’t need to add a bunch of immature rich assholes to the mix. However, there were silver linings to Henry working at the ballpark. Being a ballboy required him to be on top of his grades and it kept him out of trouble for the most part. More often than not, his Saturday nights were spent cleaning bases and polishing cleats rather than going to parties. She also no longer had to worry about Henry asking for money to hang out with his friends since he made more than enough to fend for himself. Another added cherry was that nothing pissed off her Diamondbacks loving ex more than knowing their son was working for “the Evil Empire.” Still, Emma didn’t like it.

She especially didn’t like it when she saw “Yankee Stadium” on her caller ID when she was in the middle of a honey-trap operation to catch a guy who had been charged with credit card fraud.

“Hello? Is this Mrs. Swan?” It was a voice she didn’t recognise but he sounded vaguely nervous.

She bristled slightly at bit at the misnomer. “It’s Miss Swan and yes, this is.”

“Right, sorry, Miss Swan, my name is William Smee and I’m a clubhouse assistant manager over at Yankee Stadium. I’m calling in regard to your son-“ “What happened?” Emma cut him off in a clipped tone.

“There was an accident. A foul ball caught him unaware and he was knocked unconscious. An ambulance was called and he’s on his way to Bronx New Lebanon.”

Fear spiked up her spine as he spoke but she tapped it down, immediately going into crisis mode. She couldn’t afford to get hysterical. Henry needed to keep her cool. Before Mr. Smee even finished his last sentence, she had picked up her purse and was shrugging her coat back on.

“How long ago was this?”

“Twenty minutes ago. We wanted to make sure Henry got immediate attention and was looked after before we did anything else. His health is our top priority and rest assured, Miss Swan, the organisation is willing to pay any medical bills or anything-” “I literally do not care,” Emma cut him off again. “Just give me the address.”

“It’s on Tiffany Street, I believe, ma’am.”

Emma got up, so focused on the situation with Henry that she had forgotten all about her “date.” She turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Emma hissed when his grip was a little more forceful than necessary, fingers digging into her skin.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked rudely.

“My son is in the hospital. I need to go.”

“You have a son?”

“Yes. He’s fourteen and was just in an accident at Yankee Stadium. Now, let me go.”

“Look, Emma, I don’t know what your malfunction is but I know a lie when I see one. You’re wearing an old ass dress and false stones after all. How about you sit down and actually give me a chance. I’m a really nice guy with some cash to burn.”

“Listen, dude, let me go and I will forget about this.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do me, sweetheart?”

Emma let out a short humourless laugh. This guy didn’t realize how lenient she was planning on being. When she heard Henry was in the hospital, she had decided that she would let this skip go and focus on her son. Now, she wasn’t going to be so generous. On top of being a massive credit scam artist, he was also an asshole and she wasn’t going to let that fly.

She pulled out her cuffs and attached one to his wrist faster than he could blink. He stared at his wrist dumbfounded while she attached the other end to his seat. When he tried to take off, Emma tripped him. She watched in smug satisfaction as the chair landed on top of him. She placed a heeled foot on top of it to keep him in place as she took out her phone once more and called her brother. He picked up after the second ring.

“Is Henry okay?” He asked immediately, not even bothering with pleasantries.

Emma blinked in surprise. “You know about that already?”

“Yeah. It was just on ESPN.”

“Shit.”

“Where is he? I saw him get pulled off. He okay?”

“I’m heading to Bronx New Lebanon now,” Emma replied, applying more pressure on the man beneath her foot. “I need a big favor though. I need you to pick up a Mr. James Graves from Piccola Cucina.”

“On it.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” The skip growled.

“Hey! You had your chance!” She snapped back. “You should have just let me go and see my son!”

The maitre d’hotel came over with a cautious expression, holding his hands up in front of him as if he was approaching a wild and dangerous animal. Emma flashed him a smile in hopes of defusing some of the tension. He gave a tentative one back.

“Is everything okay here, Miss?” He asked nervously.

“Hi. My name is Emma Swan. I work for Nationalwide Bail Bonds Agency. This gentleman, and I use that term loosely, missed his court date and there’s a warrant out for his arrest. There’s an officer on the way. I needed to leave like twenty minutes ago because my kid is in the hospital. So, no. It’s not okay.”

The maitre d’hotel’s eyes went wide and he glanced between her and the man underneath her boot a few times, looking entirely unsure on how to handle the situation. Emma sympathised. This wasn’t the type of joint that was used to rough clientele and this wasn’t normally the sort of spot that Emma would bring her skips but James Graves had insisted on this spot, probably in an attempt to impress her into sleeping with him.

“I’ll going to talk to someone...I will be right back…”

“I’ll be here,” Emma muttered bitterly, taking out her phone and glancing at the time. She didn’t want to leave Henry alone in the hospital.

“You could still let me go...and see your kid...and I will be willing to forget all about this…” James Graves wheezed from under her.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You had your shot, buddy. You blew it. Now, you’re going to hang tight until Officer Nolan comes.”

The maitre d’hotel returned four minutes later, two large stocky men flanking him. Both were wearing black shirts and white aprons that were covered in grime; the customary mark of someone who works in the back of a restaurant. Neither of them looked happy, both eying Emma’s skip with disdain.

“Miss, I know you need to leave so I talked to some of the boys in the back who are willing to babysit your friend until the authorities arrive so you can get to your son.”

It was the nicest thing a stranger had ever done for her. She gave them her first genuine smile of the night.

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an eye on him. Go see your boy… and perhaps come back for some eggplant parm when you’re able.”

With her skip issue settled, Emma raced to where she had parked her car. Her eyes nearly bulged when she saw a parking ticket tacked to her windshield but it was nothing she couldn’t sort out with David later. It was just another annoyance and one that she needed to set aside until she saw to Henry.

The drive to the Bronx was as painful. It was as if the some unmerciful god knew how stressed she was and decided to add to it. FDR Drive was backed to hell with bumper-to-bumper traffic. She watched in frustration as the ETA on her Waze app crept up minute by minute, screaming against her steering wheel. If only she had gotten a Hummer instead of a Volkswagen Bug, then she could just crush everything in her path and be with her son already.

It took her nearly an hour and twenty minutes to get to Tiffany Street and then another ten minutes to find parking before resigning to put her car in an overpriced garage that only took cash. The men at the lot were unsympathetic to her plight. They rolled their eyes at her explanations, telling her to that the local convenience across the street had an ATM and to come back when she could actually pay them.

Needless to say by the time she finally got into the hospital, Emma was in a foul mood and was ready to go to war with anyone who got in her path. Her anger must have been plastered all over her face because anyone who saw her gave her a wide berth and the nursing staff seemed to shrink under her gaze when she demanded to know where her son was. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She just wanted to know her kid was okay.

She was led down the hall by a harassed looking nurse who was trying very hard to make small talk with her but Emma was having none of it. The nurse stopped towards the end of the hall and gestured to the last room, mumbling something about seeing to other people. She paid the woman no mind though.

She was surprised to hear laughter coming from her son’s hospital room. It wasn’t the laughter of a teenager but rather a grown man, one she didn’t recognise. Frowning to herself, she entered the room to find her son sitting up in bed and playing cards with a stranger.

Henry’s face brightened when he saw her.

“Mom! You made it! Did you get your guy?”

Emma didn’t acknowledge the question. Her attention was focused on the man sitting at her son’s bedside. He appeared to be the same age as her and dressed in the most expensive pair of sweats that she had ever seen. The New York Yankees logo was emblazoned across his chest and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms. He had messy dark hair and well-manicured stubble that seemed to enhance the line of his jaw. He was giving her a tentative smile and brushing his hands against his knees nervously. In the back of her head, Emma acknowledged he was incredibly attractive but she was more concerned with who the hell he was and why he was in her son’s hospital room.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Mom!” Henry sounded scandalized.

“Ermmm…” The man ran one of his hands through his hair. Emma noted the massive scarring that seemed to encompass webbing between his thumb and index finger and seemed to radiate in angry lines across his knuckles. He stood up and held out his other hand for her shake. “Killian Jones.”

She didn’t take it. Instead she crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Henry let out a loud groan and looked like he was about have a fit.

“Mom! Are you kidding? He’s the best second baseman in the league! He has the highest on-base percentage and leads the AL in stolen bases! He’s, like, one of the top twenty best hitters! How do you not know who he is!”

Emma glanced back at the proclaimed baseball superstar and squinted a bit. Now that Henry had mentioned it, he did look a little familiar. She was pretty certain that he had seen his profile on her son’s bedroom wall. Though, he looked more intense on the poster than he did in real life. If anything, he now looked awkward and embarrassed. Killian’s face flushed under the praise and he took back the hand he had held out in order to scratch behind his ear.

“I’m pretty sure Jose Altuve would disagree with you on the best second baseman thing.”

“Okay, maybe not the best second baseman but you’re up there. You have an insane record in double plays and you play for the best team in baseball,” Henry conceded, picking up the deck of cards that had been scattered across his rollaway table.

“I appreciate the show of team spirit, Henry.”

“Okay, I get it,”she said, cutting into the bizarre display of male bonding that was happening in front of her. “What is he doing here?”

Both Henry and Killian looked uncomfortable at the question, the two of them exchanging glances. Emma felt her stomach tying itself in knots. She had a feeling she was not going to like what they had to say.

“I just wanted to make sure your boy was okay…” Killian replied slowly, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. “...and you know, make sure that there was no hard feelings or anything…”

“Excuse me?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Killian. It was a foul ball. I should have been paying attention more.”

“Perhaps but still, I would never forgive myself if anything bad had happened to you.”

“You’re the one who hit my kid?!” She hissed, looking at him with murder in her eyes. She was five seconds away from decking him in the face.

Killian seemed to sense her aggression because he put his hands out in front of him in surrender. “Not intentionally! I promise!”

“Right,” she replied in a clipped tone before turning to her son. “Do you mind if I borrow Mr. Baseball here for a moment so we can have a...chat?”

Emma wasn’t certain who looked more nervous, her son or the professional baseball player who was shifting in place like a guilty toddler.

“As long as you promise not to kill him… if he dies, we, for sure, won’t make the playoffs this year.”

“Glad to know that’s all my life is worth to you, Henry.”

“Just being honest.”

She gestured for Killian to follow her out into the hallway. He followed her but she could see the clear reluctance that embodied his stride. He reminded her of the children who sat in front of the principal’s office, waiting to be screamed at. She closed the door behind them, so Henry wouldn't listen in on their conversation. She leaned against it, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looked startled by the question. “I already told you. I’m here for your boy, Mrs. Swan.”

“You say that but I know how you assholes work. Everything with you is image. Henry keeps a tight lip on what happens in that locker room but I know that you and some of your buddies pay him to keep quiet about the nasty shit that goes on in that.”

“Pardon?” His lips formed a thin line. His nerves were giving way to irritation but Emma didn’t care.

“You heard? I’m not an idiot. You‘ really not here out of any concern for my son. You’re here to cover your ass and keep up your good guy image. I will not have you use my son as a publicity stunt.”

“Publicity stunt?” He repeated. He looked positively offended by her words. “Listen, Mrs. Swan-”

“It’s Emma. Not Miss Swan, especially not Mrs. Swan,” she cut him off. “I’m not married. Everyone at that fucking stadium always assumes I am. It’s annoying.”

“Alright, alright, fine, Emma,” he conceded, looking more frustrated. “I’m not here for a publicity stunt. Do you see cameras? Reporters? Any media specialists?”

“No,” she admitted.

“That’s because no one knows I’m here. Especially not any reporter. If anything, I’m in big trouble because I skipped media. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here except one of the base coaches and only because he asked where I was going.”

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?”

“Most definitely,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“Then why are you here?” she whispered again.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it to you but I genuinely like your son, Mis-Emma. He’s a nice kid. He’s always got a smile on his face and never complains or asks for anything except what else he can do...some of the ballboys after a while try to cut corners or try to go out partying with the team but not Henry… he’s been with us just for this season and it feels like he’s always been there…If he had been seriously hurt…” Killian paused, rubbing his hand over his jaw and looking distressed by the very idea. “...I was serious when I said I would never forgive myself.”

Emma studied him for a moment, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt slightly guilty about accusing him of using Henry in such a way when he seemed so earnest in his attachment to her son.

“I didn’t want him to take the job,” she admitted. “He’s got enough going on… And now this...”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, slightly startled. “What?”

“Henry told me you were apprehensive about letting him work in the clubhouse… he thinks you only allowed it to piss off your ex.”

“Henry told you that?”

“I don’t think you understand how closely your son works with the team, love. Like I said, he’s a good kid so I tend to gravitate towards him instead of the others...we talk a lot about things...from freshman baseball tryouts to his writing...”

“You know about Henry’s writing? Henry doesn’t talk to anyone about his writing, not David, not his father.”

“Well, I think he’s more open with me about it because I’m admittedly a Babylon Five and Stargate Atlantis junkie so he’s more comfortable sharing things with a fellow nerd… from what I understand your ex was quite disparaging of his Doctor Who obsession...not that he has much taste, considering he’s a Diamondbacks fan.”

“You’re a sci fi nerd AND a professional baseball player?”

“They aren’t mutually exclusive,” he teased. “What? What did you think we only watched ESPN or Fox Sports or something?”

“Honestly, yes.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and smiling at her. Her breath caught a little and her stomach did annoyingly flips that it hadn’t done since high school. She was stunned how she went from wanting to murder him for hurting her kid to literally squirming at the sight of his face. She needed to get a hold of herself.

“We should probably go back in,” she replied. “You know, so he doesn’t think I murdered you and the team’s playoff chances…”

“Probably a good idea.”

Henry looked anxious as they opened the door, craning his neck to see past Emma. His shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw Killian, alive and well, behind her. She couldn’t help her snort of amusement.

“Did you honestly think I was going to kill him?”

“With you anything is possible, Mom. You did almost run over Carmelo Anthony that one time..”

Killian’s eyebrows rose as he regarded her with a look that was equals concerned and amused. “You almost ran over Carmelo Anthony?”

“That’s not my fault! He was on his phone and walked in front of my car!” Emma defended. “He’s lucky that I have amazing reflexes and was able to stop in time or else he would have been out for all of 2016.”

“I think at that point Knicks fans would have thanked you. I’m pretty they were trying to get rid of him by then. He was a cancer to the team,” Killian responded with a smirk.

“You follow basketball too?”

“I follow most major sports, love. Except maybe golf. But that’s because I firmly believe if you can drink and smoke while playing it, then it isn’t a sport,” Killian remarked.

“Babe Ruth used to eat, drink and smoke between innings,” Henry teased.

“That’s because Babe Ruth was a baseball god and could do whatever he wanted.”

“If you say so.”

Killian gave Henry a light shove in response. He sat down in his original seat and picked up the neatly stack cards that Henry had been fiddling with.

“Do you want to play another hand?”

“Only if Mom deals in,” Henry smiled.

“I can play,” Emma responded, taking another chair and sitting next Killian. She miscalculated the distance between them, causing her knee bump against his. Emma was vaguely surprised when neither of them pulled away from the accidental contact. “As long as I get the official story of what happened.”

Henry’s face turned red and ducked his head down, focusing on the cards Killian was dealing.

“Okay….so with foul balls, we’re supposed to give them away to fans. And when we say fans, they mean to give them away to the little kids. You know? The four to ten-year olds. Anyway, there was this family and they had two kids and the older kid really really really wanted a ball....so I gave him one and the other kid who was maybe three, I think? I’m guessing he was three, anyway, he threw a big tantrum and I just wanted him to be happy and have a good time so I decided to give him the next ball that came our way...So that’s what I did. And this kid, I don’t think he understood that you’re supposed to keep it because he threw it back on the field...The long and short of it is that I was supposed to be paying attention to the batter. You’re not supposed to do anything but watch when someone is in the box because of safety reasons but the kid threw the ball and I went to pick it up...and the next thing I knew I was on the ground... So really, it’s not Killian’s fault, Mom. It’s mine. And I’m probably going to lose my job over it.”

“You’re not going to lose your job over that, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Things like this happen. You’re not the first and you probably won’t be the last ballboy to get hit.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” he responded, picking up his cards.

Emma was more focused on her son than on the card game, looking at him in concern.

“What did the doctor say?”

“That I have a mild concussion. They did tests and say I should be okay, but they want to keep me overnight for observation,” Henry shrugged.

“They did tests!?”

Tests and an overnight in the hospital? She could only imagine what the hospital bill was going to look like. She highly doubted her crap ass insurance plan would do much to cover the costs. She was going to be paying this off all year. She could feel it.

Killian seemed to sense her distress and played a hand on her arm. She jumped slightly at the contact.

“I’m pretty sure the organization is going to foot the bill, love. And if they don’t, I will. You don’t need to worry.”

“We’re not a charity case,” she snapped.

“I didn’t say you were. It’s just the right there to do.”

They didn’t talk much after that, instead focusing on the card game that they had started. Henry was pretty much sweeping them both but Emma had a sneaking suspicion that Killian was losing on purpose, trying to make Henry smile and laugh. It was strange to see someone interact with her son like this outside David and Neal. It did funny things to her insides.

Killian stayed with them past visiting hours, using his charm and clout as a professional baseball player to keep the nurses from kicking them out. It wasn’t until his agent, an imposing woman in a well-tailored pantsuit, came and pulled on the back of his sweatshirt, did Killian leave. Emma didn’t know who was more upset, she or Henry, that he was going.

“You’ll see me sooner than you think,” he told Henry, ruffling his hair a bit and causing the teenager to scowl at him. “You’ll be working at the clubhouse again before you know it and we still have to work on your swing. If you’re not a starting baseman by next year, I will eat my shoe.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Henry replied smartly.

Killian’s eyes cut to Emma, smile softening. “Will I be seeing you around?”

“I don’t know, do you plan on whacking my son in the head again?”

“Hopefully not,” he chuckled, ducking his head a bit.

“Then maybe…”

“Just maybe?”

“It’s better than no.”

“Too true,” he chuckled. “Well, I look forward to maybe seeing you around.”

Henry hit her in the shoulder as soon as Killian was out the door, smirking at her. “You were flirting with Killian Jones!”

“What? I was not!”

“You were too! And he was flirting back! I saw you!” he crowed. “Wait until Uncle David hears this!”

“You’re not telling Uncle David anything because nothing happened!”

“Suuuuureeeeee Mom.”

“Shut up,” she said, giving him a light shove back. “And you should be resting.”

“And you should have gotten his number.”

“Henry. Sleep.”

It turned out that Emma didn’t have to ask. Next afternoon there was a large package outside their apartment, containing a large display of flowers, a personalized New York Yankees jersey with ‘Swan’ on the back, a pack of baseball cards and an index phone with a handwritten message: Just in case, you want to make that maybe a certainty, give me call: 212-921-2012 - KJ

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfiction #cs fanfic #playing off foul #my fic #my shit #I love baseball #laura and I are gonna form the 'killian jones in pinstripes coalition'#yankee!Killian #baseball!Killian

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dontchange-youregorgeous · 6 years

Text

Dear John, from the couch

It’s funny how retrospect can hit a person. Laying on this couch is almost surreal considering all of my favorite memories were made here. I remember lying on this couch watching all of my favorite movies with you, I remember the first time I heard you sing was right here- you made me a playlist of songs for Valentines Day. I remember that raspy laugh and smile that just radiated light. I remember that day we spent snuggled up on this couch, the stale sunlight shining through the window. I remember watching the dust dance in the rays and listening to your heartbeat while your fingers entangled in my hair. This is one of the only times silence never made me uncomfortable. We were just in the moment then, enjoying each other’s presence and just slowly melting into each other. I remember you broke the silence by asking, “You have a lot of medical problems, don’t you?” There was silence for a moment when I realized you were able to hear my wheezing, it was winter after all, my worst season. It hurt me to hear your voice that way. There were hints of pain and the purest level of concern I ever heard. I couldn’t get myself to speak, I knew my voice would crack, instead I just nodded. You simply brought me closer and whispered, “ Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

That memory will always haunt me. I know now that I should’ve taken more care of you. We were two sad kids then. We both had storms raging inside of us and that brought us together in the purest of ways. You showed me the cuts on your arms and I kissed each one. I know that may have seemed like a cliche, but I hope you know that gesture was made simply to remind you that when you’re feeling low enough to want to hurt yourself that you will remember that you are loved. I wanted to be the safe space you were for me because for the time we were dating, I didn’t feel the need to find solace in sharp objects. I was happy. It might’ve been naive of me because I was who I was, the hurt weak girl I was, maybe I watched too many romance movies but I wanted to be enough to give you hope to make it through.

I knew that you were still going through storms I couldn’t even imagine. I tried to be there and I sent you as much reassurance as I could. I sent you love poems. In fact, that was the only things I could write about when my pen touched down on paper. I remember how the look in your eyes changed. I remember you needing to smoke a lot more often to get your stress out. I was still trying to be and do enough for you.

Your last words to anyone were to me. “I miss you”. You died alone. Your biggest fear. I still hold myself accountable for you; for losing you, for not being enough or doing enough to protect you and certainly for not keeping my half of the bargain. If there is an afterlife, then you know I’ve tried and failed time and time again and even that, alone, broke my heart each time I woke up knowing I failed you again.

It’s been years, by June it’d be four years. I still think of you. Every time I hear one of those songs from your playlist I cant feel my heart wince. I have the memory of you in your casket burned in my memory and it makes me want to scream. I talked with one of our mutual friends recently and she said she had dreams about you. In the dream you asked her to take care of me. I often wonder if that dream was really caused by your spirit or if that was just her pity poking through from her subconscious. But as more time goes on I can’t help but to wonder if that dream really was because of you, considering that’s what everyone said. That I needed to be taken care of in honor of your name. There were nights I could have sworn I heard your laugh in my room, early mornings without a spec of sleep. Another night of overthinking every word, every action of mine. Trying to find a solution to a problem that could no longer be fixed. I remember being mad at you, you didn’t tell me your thoughts went to ending it all. You didn’t tell me anything and I used to constantly wonder why you didn’t trust me enough. I used to find solace in nature, but if I go into the park now, I need to be careful of where I go- I’d see the tree that held me when I couldn’t hold myself up anymore and absorbed my tears, I’d remember that area we sat on the picnic tables and you smoked a cigarette with battle torn eyes and apologized for smoking in front of me. I remember walking through here that January where you held me on our bench and asked me to be yours.

Two days after I found out you left this world, your childhood friend Alex reached out to me. He hadn’t heard from you in days but had a hunch something was wrong, something serious, and searched for me on the internet until he found my facebook. He asked me to call him so he could get some insight and I filled him in on the call from your aunt on that day. I was destroyed but he made it a daily ritual to call me, to see how I was doing, and honestly I’m not so sure how he was able to do it, but he made me laugh. He told me about the “emo cut” bushes, your dedication to guitar hero, and that ridiculously fat caterpillar in the woods. He helped me remember the person you were rather than obsessing over the memory of you in your resting place. There were times I’d be tearing myself at the seams begging myself for the courage to keep going even though my blood was already pouring down the side of the roof and running down the gutter like rain and he’d call. Hearing his voice alone was my saving grace. He has this way of making me feel like everything will be alright and somehow making me believe it would. We’d talk till 4 am daily. I remember him telling me about the promises he made you. One of them was to take care of me because you loved me. He wouldn’t tell me the rest to this day I still wonder.

Four years later and I can see pictures of you, although my heart sinks a little, I can smile again. Alex helped me realize that I can handle thoughts of you in a different way, I could think of you how I used to- an island of secrets and be torn apart by all the things left unsaid, or I could be grateful for the memories you’ve given me, like all the ones we’ve made on this couch, and smile. I’m grateful for you for bringing me the happiness you did, for all the poems and inside jokes we’ve created, and I’m thankful that you fought off your own mind for as long as you did.

Four years later and now I’m completely in love with Alex. Back then after long nights on the phone, we’d hang up to go to bed and I’d sigh. I knew I had feelings for him and for how he made me feel, but I felt guilty. How could I have fallen for your best friend, especially when he had similar mannerisms to you? I hid my feelings out of fear of losing the only person that made me feel sane and out of respect for you. I tried to move on from him and in turn I hurt others because he was always on the back of my mind and honestly I didn’t take relationships all too seriously after you. I know I’m responsible for those actions I took, but loving you and losing you in the way I did really made me cynical about love. But as always, he was always there as a shoulder to lean on, the best advice giver and the only person on Earth who knew my depressive, destructive side and always stuck around. He brings me peace when all I want to do is scream, he’s why I now know a future is possible for someone like me and he’s the reason why the scars my body possesses are nothing more than that. He’s the only man in the world for me. It took me so long to realize it, but he’s always been able to put me at ease, to see through my bullshit and be there for me throughout it all- even with my darkest of times he lights the way and always has. I’m thankful you had a friend like him as long as you did.

Love always,

Kayla.

#failed attempt to write again #.writers block is hard #all the things running through the old noggin #dear john #john rosati #suicide #suicide awareness #writing

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riverofmemoriesft · 7 years

Text

. Obsessive Impulsive . 3

Full Summary: “‘I’ve been trying to find you alone for weeks, but you’ve been avoiding me.’ He clicked his tongue, as if scolding her. 'I tried approaching, but you always had someone with you to give me nasty words and looks. They turned you against me, Miss Levy.’"

Pairings: Gajeel x Levy

Warnings: I strode for a darker fic again. This is not for sensitive readers. Violence, stalking, etc.

Author’s Note: This is a very, very twisted gift for Bubbles, who has not been allowed to so much as read a single chapter. This will update every other day.

"Oi. Shorty."

She ignored him. Instead, she shifted Lily in her lap so that he could see the book they were sharing. He tapped the page and she turned it, eyes scanning the page with eagerness. Lily snorted in her lap, but said nothing about what she was doing: ignoring Gajeel.

"Shrimp," he tried again.

She didn't react. Levy finished the pages and waited until Lily tapped before turning it again so they could finish the chapter before Gajeel lost all patience.

"Levy!" he growled, bristling.

Lily tapped, Levy turned, and Gajeel ripped the book from her hands. "Hey!" she snapped, immediately diving for it and upsetting Lily, who hissed in annoyance as he ended up on the floor of the train compartment. Levy wasn't even sure how Gajeel was moving. Usually, the dragon slayers would be nearing unconsciousness.

"Stop ignoring me," he rumbled, glaring at her. She glared back.

"No." she retorted. "Not until you apologize."

"I ain't got anythin' to apologize for!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"Let me know when you're done fighting," Lily muttered, agitated. He left the train compartment, leaving the two glaring adults alone. Levy held her hand out for her book, but Gajeel kept it aloft. His piercing gaze glared at her and she glared right back.

"Give me," she hissed, "back my book, Gajeel Redfox."

"Not until you're done poutin' like a kid!"

She puffed up in anger. "Now you're making comments about my height?"

He swore under his breath and then, hoping to distract her, spat something out in the Draconian language. She paused, struggling to figure out what he'd said, but came up blank. She narrowed her eyes at him. Neither moved, staring one another down.

"What'd you say?" she said finally.

"None of your business," he hissed, "shrimp."

She tensed. "You have three seconds to give me back my book, Gajeel," she threatened softly. He didn't move. "One...two...three."

When she said "three", she scribbled a word in his face. He sputtered, dropping the book. She caught it, glaring as he waved the smog out of his face, wheezing and coughing. "What the hell?!"

"I told you," she huffed and then flopped back to wait for Lily to come back.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck I did?" Gajeel demanded, scowling. "Why are you so pissed off, woman?"

"First off, stop cursing," she told him. She studied her nails, frowning. She'd broken one trying to get her book back… "And two, I don't appreciate being told by other people who or what I deserve. I decide what I deserve. And if I decide that I want something or someone who you think is beneath me, thank you for your concern, but too bad."

He blinked, squinting at her. And then he gave a wide grin. "You're pissed about what I said?"

"Yes, Gajeel," she muttered. "I'm pissed about what you said. Because I don't like how you put yourself down and think yourself beneath me." Her hazel eyes sparked with anger. "So shoot me."

He rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. "So fucking dramatic," he grumbled and then grimaced. He'd wrapped his arms around his stomach after she'd retrieved her book and now he looked sick.

Levy gave a groan, exhausted with his attitude. "Look," she said patiently, biting the inside of her lip to keep from smacking him upside the head. "Gajeel. You crucified me and my team. No, I'm never going to forget that." He flinched, looking somewhat irritated with her for bringing it up. "That's not something anyone forgets. I'll have nightmares for the rest of my life. But," she stressed, seeing him ready to just throw himself out the window, "I can forgive. I can't forget, but I can forgive. You've proved yourself. Time and time again, you've proved yourself, and you've become someone I'm proud to claim as one of my closest friends."

He blinked once. "...you…" He didn't finish his words, sputtering for a few moments as he contemplated how to respond, but Levy didn't give him the chance. She merely lifted her book back up in front of her face and practically hid behind it.

Neither said a word the rest of the way home.

The next morning found Levy contently lazing about the guildhall, pleased to be home. Gajeel hadn't shown up - he'd abandoned her at the train station the previous day, actually. Bastard. She chewed happily on some breakfast, digging in while scanning through some translations, hoping he'd show up at some point to teach her some more Draconian.

A body sliding onto the bench beside her caught her attention. Levy glanced up. "Lucy!" she said cheerfully. "Hi!"

Lucy flashed her a smile. The dark-eyed blonde set a cup of tea on the table. "Hey, Levy. I heard you went with Gajeel and Lily on a job? Natsu's been complaining about how Gajeel took the job he wanted us to take."

"It's probably a good thing," Levy admitted, "that he didn't grab it for you guys. It took two seconds, but with Natsu...he would have wrecked the town."

"No he wouldn't," she protested and then paused when Levy lifted an eyebrow. "...fine, okay, so he probably would have destroyed a lot." Lucy made a face. "But not intentionally."

Levy giggled and then set her pencil down, yawning. "Anyways, I did go on a job with Gajeel...I didn't do anything useful though. Just dealt with the people for him before and afterwards. I got asked on a date while I was there, but...that guy turned out to be weird, so…"

"You got asked out?" Lucy leaned closer. "Details. Now, Levy."

Levy rolled her eyes and then propped her chin on her open palm. "I got asked out, yes. His name was Elroy and he was pretty good looking to be honest, but…" She faltered, remembering how Elroy had proclaimed himself better for her than Gajeel, as if he'd known what she needed. "He was too pushy. He said that he was better for me than Gajeel after Gajeel told him were were dating to get him off of my tail for me."

Lucy furrowed her brow. Where some would have focused on Gajeel's action, Lucy recognized what Levy was worried about, and Levy loved her for it. "Interesting. Good job on not doing anything with him. Natsu would have decked him."

Levy's lips twitched. "Gajeel got right up in his face. I thought he was going to commit murder, to be honest."

"I wish he had," Lucy muttered, earning a snort from her friend. Levy twirled the pencil she'd been writing with, frowning at the translations she'd been doing. She could barely focus on them, her mind shoved full of concerns about Gajeel and Elroy's strange behavior. After a moment, she mumbled, "I'm worried...I hope Gajeel's not too angry with me."

"He can't stay mad at you," Lucy laughed, "he just pretends to. Don't worry, Levy. He'll show up at the guildhall soon and do his usual grouchy thing where he storms around, finds a corner, and stares at you until it looks like he's stalking you."

Levy's lips quirked. She'd noticed him watching her, too. It made her feel happy to know someone was keeping an eye out for her. "Are you and Natsu going to take a job soon, Lucy?"

Lucy made a face. "Yes. He wants another monster job, but I told him he wasn't allowed to go taking things down until he could prove to me he can get away with not destroying anything. I told him he can take monster jobs without me or take a calm, flower-picking one with me. Up to him."

"Aw," Levy crooned, "he doesn't want to do it without you!"

Lucy sighed. "I swear, if his head wasn't attached to his body…oh! Gajeel's here. See? I told you, Levy."

Levy flushed and became very interested in her translations, aware of the crimson gaze that studied her for the briefest of moments with a nerve-wracking intensity and then moved on. Lucy snickered and Levy turned even redder, elbowing her. "Shush!" she hushed.

"All I'm saying," Lucy hummed, "is don't miss out because you're too chicken to ask him out."

"Look who's talking, Miss I-Don't-Want-To-Ask-Natsu-Out."

It was Lucy's turn to flush scarlet. "Hey, this is about you!"

"Not anymore it's not! Anyways, Natsu's trying to get your attention." Levy pointed at the pink-haired fire mage, who was glaring at Lucy now after waving at her for the past few minutes. Lucy threw him an apologetic look. Levy grinned when the annoyance he wore softened into warmth. Lucy bid Levy a quick farewell and left to see what he wanted, taking her teacup with her.

Smirking, Levy turned her attention back on her translations - only to be interrupted when a gruff voice demanded, "Oi. Levy."

Wanting to throttle Gajeel for interrupting, she arched a brow at him with exaggerated patience, pencil in mid-air. He stood before her table now, hesitant. "Yes, Gajeel?" she said with false sweetness, glaring a little.

He scowled at her expression and then grunted, "Y'want to learn Draconian or not, woman?"

"Oh!" Levy forgot her anger and beamed, waving for him to sit. "Yes!" She pushed her work away. The Council could wait - learning a new language was so much more interesting and fun! Especially one that very few people spoke.

To her surprise, he flashed a quick grin and then crossed his arms. "Let's hear those sounds. Shorty."

She stuck her tongue out and repeated them perfectly.

#fairy tail #fanfiction #obsessive impulsive #riverofmemoriesft #gajevy #gajeel x levy #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia

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supernatural-squadd · 7 years

Text

Growing Younger

Winchester x Sister!Reader

Imagine playing against the witch who takes and gives years depending if you win or lose in a game of poker against him. You're playing for Dean's years.

Warnings: Light language, some pranking at the end brother fluff

A/N: This was really fun to write. I know I've been writing a lot of Sister fics, I'll be posting some different ones soon as I get some ideas!

Forever tag list: @Freaksforthewin , @thewinhunter, @cambriacaneatnoodles, @brokennoone ,@youtubehelpsmesurvive , @chrisevansthedoritobastard , @winchesters-favorite-girl , @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @godh8salyssa

Curses. Witches. Spells. The whole ordeal, it just gave you chills. Especially after that one time that you were stuck in a bad position and ended up being on the wrong side of a deal. Dean, had gone and been a dumbass who tried to get the Mark of Cain off. You didn't know why the hell playing cards with a witch and purposely losing to loose some years of life was the answer, but he did it. Only, he lost more years her bargained for. When an old, grey haired man walked into the motel room that was rented for you and your two brothers, the first thing you did was grab your gun and aim it at him.

“Whoa! Calm down! I've been through enough tonight, I don't need to add being shot to the damn list,” there was something about how they talked. But one look into his candy apple green eyes and you knew who it was.

“Dean? You look- different…” switching your gun back to safety, you couldn't help but chuckle a little bit.

“Yeah, I went and got a haircut. Of course I look different! I'm as old as Bobby!” the yelling took the breath out of Dean, making him sit down and catch his breath.

“Watch it boy,” the old(er?) man behind Dean wheeled in the front door which was wide open. “Lookin’ good son,” the three of you, Sam, Bobby, and yourself, couldn't help but laugh.

“Bad date?” Sam couldn't help but pitch in. Not everyday your older brother ages like there's no tomorrow. At the rate he was aging, there may not be a tomorrow for him.

“Ha ha ha, shut up,” in each ‘ha’ Dean gave off, a short wheeze followed it. Making you laugh once again.

“How many years did you loose, old timer?” even as you spoke, you giggled. He wasn't amused.

“I initially gambled to lose twenty years, but somehow a few drinks later, twenty turned to forty,” wait, was he serious? “Added with twenty…” okay he was screwed with a capital ‘S’.

“You lost sixty years? You're already thirty you moron! And the way you down greasy foods like it's air, you won't live much longer,” the tone in your voice was like he always did to you when scolding you back in the day- wait, last time he scolded you was yesterday...this age thing was messing you up.

“Oh good, you can count and calculate,” the old man sitting on the bed tried to raise his voice but couldn't, wheezes came out.

“Make sure he doesn't move, he might give himself a damn aneurism,” grabbing your coat, you headed towards the door. Nobody bothered asking what you were doing because it was obvious, you were getting your brother back to being your brother instead of your grandpa.

“I want to make a deal,” the witch before you listened intently. “I'm 26- you take a certain amount of my years and when I win, you give them back to Dean and all the ones he lost,” he laughed at you.

“That hardly seems like a fair trade, sweeten the pot,” rolling your eyes and scoffing, you realized this wasn't going to end well for you. Dean sooooo owed you.

“Every year I gain, you get. I'll stay that age forever. So...we got a deal, or what?” by the pleased look on his face at your offer, you could tell he was all in. Of course you won.

You deserved a beer. Too bad a two and a half year old couldn't drink beer…The boys and Bobby opened the door to be greeted by the witch who held you in his arms. Nobody questioned anything. Dean was himself, and well- you weren't. He set you down and you did ran barefoot over to your oldest brother.

“Bean!” you had no idea what had just happened, it was like any other day in your life, and this all seemed normal. “Shiny,” the tiny hands connected to your body reached for his Samulet. But he pulled away.

“No, we don't touch that,” it was like he had to teach you everything all over again. “So uh, any ideas on how to get her to the right age again? I'm not going through the toddler stage a second time…” every word he said was just like nonsense to you. Big sentences that confused you.

“Why not?” Sam walked I've and took you from Dean. “I forgot how cute she was as a little kid,” as if on cue, both of your hands reached up on both sides of his face, grabbed a handful of hair directly from the root, and pulled.

“Still think she's cute? I don't know about you, but I'd much prefer the annoying adult brat child instead of this one,” Dean cracked open a beer, sitting down at the table.

“Well until we figure something out, looks like we're stuck with her like this,” wheeling over to you, Bobby reached upward and took you from Sam, setting you in his lap. “We can take turns babysitting and whoever isn't scheduled, looks for a cure for this,” he continued taking while you were busy playing with the wheels on his wheel chair, trying to copy what his hands did.

24 Hours In

Well your first night as a kid again was interesting. Sleeping situation was a problem at first, but Dean insisted Sam shared a bed with you. He must've remembered your potty problems at bedtime at this age because you wet the bed, and on Sam, in your sleep. Nobody was amused. Well Dean was, until the smell hit him. As punishment for his little prank, Dean got to bathe you. He'd forgotten how sensitive your stomach was to water either a little too hot or too cold for you, which ended with you throwing up on him.

“Forget the water has to be the same temperature as her body?” Sam poked his head in the door at the sound of Dean making a gross sound and you crying.

“Shut up, can you take her so I can shower and get this crap off of me?” It was like an endless cycle of them using you for pranking each other.

Bobby was busy doing research so he wasn't around to see it. He's probably treat them like the children they were acting like...and watching.

48 Hours In

Sam was off helping Bobby and Cas with research so it was just you and Dean at the bunker. The worst time of the day was coming up: Nap time. Dean had tried everything to get you to go down just for an hour at minimum, but had no luck. He set you in the room, you cried until he came back. He left the door open, you cried until he came back. Put the TV on for you, guess what? You cried until he came back. Finally he realized there was no way in hell you were sleeping unless he was laying besides you, just like every normal nap time you had back when you were supposed to be this age.

Reluctantly, Dean crawled under the covers with you in his bed, seeing as your pillows were wet from tears. Instantly your tiny body snuggled directly into his. He was laying on his left side and had you facing him, holding you into his chest.

The pointer finger on your right hand began twirling what hair it could from his head around your finger. “Fre-tels.” you half yawned the words.

“What?” pulling you back a little, he looked into your sleepy eyes that were barely even open.

“Fre-tels.” your hand pulled away from his strand of now messy curled hair and placed an open palm on his right cheek. “Fre-tels.” he couldn't help but smile.

“You want to play the freckle game?” a sleep nod was all he got in return. Crying took a lot out of you. “Start counting then, Princess,” bright green and hazel mixed eyes opened in front of him as your pointer finger from the same hand that was once on his cheek, extended in a crooked way.

“One.” the finger landed directly on one of his freckles. He repeated what you did, only his finger landed on your face counting out loud as you did.

“Two.” you found a freckle placed on his chin. It was the only one there, all alone in that one section on his perfect face. Only able to be seen up close. He returned with his own second freckle right on the tip of your nose. You giggled a little as he tapped it.

“Tree.” he made his own giggle as you mispronounced the next number. By the time it was your turn, you were our cold. This game always worked before, looks like nothing changed.

1 Week In

Both your brothers continued switching back and forth on babysitting duty. Cas wasn't trusted enough to be in charge of a young child so he didn't get to watch you on his own. Bobby constantly worked at finding you a way out of this mess so he never watched you.

Today was Sam’s turn. Dean had left a few hours ago and the Rapunzel Disney movie you guys had just finished was over.

“Punzel braids.” sitting on the bed with your feet dangling down onto Sam’s shoulders who sat on the ground, you reached for his hair. He must've sensed you were going to grab hold because he moved. His head was pretty tender since you'd been de-aged and had an obsession with yanking on it.

“No, Y/n. We don't touch brother's hair,” he turned around to look at you but was greeted by the biggest set of puppy dog eyes he'd ever seen. “I forgot you learned that from me…”

An Hour Later

“Well it took a week, but we finally found a-” Dean stopped talking at the site of the tangled and knotted rats nest resting on Sam’s head. With a very happy kid sitting behind him making it worse with all sorts of tools: a fork, hair brush, tiny pink clips, a few hair-ties, hair spray, and a straightener you thought was working but wasn't even plugged in.

“Glad we found a way to reverse this because...I don't know how much more of this I could take,” the sound of your humming was in the background as he spoke. “By the way, I might need help brushing this out…”

Later The Next Day

You were back to your proper age, everything was normal again. Well….

“I'm so sorry again, Sam...kids huh?” a sheepish smile played on your lips as you set down his salad you'd made.

“Well now when we want him to get a haircut, we know how to make it happen,” Dean walked by, brushing the short hair on his younger brothers full head of hair.

“I swear, I'm getting back at you for this, Y/n,” oh he would hold his promises. And he did a pretty good job too. He had short hair, and you had bright blonde hair instead of your beautiful black natural color. Family problems caused by witches...

#spn #supernatural #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #dean winchester #dean Winchester imagine #Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #winchester sister imagines

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