#oh actually it was pre-high school cause my dad used to play them when he drove me to school too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

outerbankies · 3 years

Note

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

Text

Okay but like I feel like Diego is the kind of person to flirt with really bad pick-up lines and Klaus is just Not Having It

featuring: Diego being a flustered Mama's boy and Klaus being a disaster dumbass and the two of them being completely in love with each other anyway

DISCLAIMER: None of the pick-up lines are mine, but the responses and ensuing shenanigans are :)

(there's fifty of these so buckle up kids :) sorry not sorry <3)

seriously though some of these are really bad

#1: He A Snack

Diego: Baby, you belong in the vending machine because you’re a snack.

Klaus: Diego you know I’m claustrophobic.

Diego: Don’t you mean Klaus-trophobic??? *finger guns*

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I want a divorce.

#2: I’m From Hell

Diego: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Klaus: I’m a veteran addict and abuse victim who can see ghosts, Diego.

Klaus: Everything hurts.

#3: Animal Puns

Diego: *points to TV screen playing the Discovery Channel* Hey Klaus.

Diego: You’re my otter half.

Klaus: Diego those are meerkats.

#4: Stars

Diego: The stars are beautiful tonight.

Klaus: Yup.

Diego: You know who else is beautiful?

Klaus: Ben.

#5: Get Out Your Handcuffs Mister

Diego: You’re under arrest… for stealing my heart.

Klaus: Diego you got kicked out of the police academy like five years ago, just give up.

#6: Bad Boys

Diego: *leaning against the doorframe like a moron* So. I hear you like bad boys.

Klaus: Diego you cried because you accidentally stepped on a bee last week.

Diego: Well yeah but -

Klaus: You held a funeral for it. You made us all speak. You had Allison fly in from California. It was a fucking bee, Diego.

Diego: … I wear leather?

Klaus: So does every other kid who shops at Hot Topic. You’re not special.

#7: Prince Charming

Diego: Your knight in shining armor is here -

Klaus: One, that’s a turtleneck, not armor.

Klaus: Two, you’re covered in blood. That’s the opposite of shiny.

Klaus: Three, you smell like dead fish. Go take a shower.

#8: Chemistry

Diego: Did we have a class together? Because I could’ve sworn we had -

Klaus: Chemistry? Yup. Also English and math and foreign languages and history and like every other fucking thing because we grew up in the same sadistic boarding school, Diego.

#9: The Store Can’t Just Give Away Things For Free. That’s A Terrible Way To Run A Business.

Diego: I like your pants.

Klaus: Thanks. I got them out of a dumpster. And yes, you can have them 100% off.

Diego: *voice cracks* Really?

Klaus: No.

#10: Boyfriend Material

Diego: My jeans are made of -

Klaus: You’re wearing leather pants Diego.

Diego: Okay but -

Klaus: So they’re made of leather and they’re not fucking jeans.

#11: Digits

Diego: I lost my phone number. Can I have -

Klaus: None of us have phones, Diego.

Diego: I can… buy us some?

Klaus: Fine. I want my number to be 1-420-420-4201.

Diego: Baby no.

Klaus: *pulling out the puppy dog eyes* Pwetty pwease?

Diego: Fine, but mine’s gonna be 1-696-969-6969.

Klaus: I love you so much. Marry me. Have my babies.

#12: Love At First Sight

Diego: Do you believe in love at first sight or -

Klaus: If I did I’d have already fallen in love with a lot of hot ghosts.

Diego: - should I walk by again?

Klaus: You’ve been pacing for the past ten minutes, Gogo. I think if it was gonna happen it would’ve by now.

#13: You Have Fine Written All Over You

Diego: Are you a parking ticket? Cause -

Klaus: Diego I can’t drive.

#14: His Eyes Are Green Not Blue You Dipshit

Diego: Your eyes are an ocean, and I’m lost at sea.

Klaus: ... can’t you, like, hold your breath forever?

Diego: *blinks* Baby, I love you, but you’re ruining this with our childhood trauma.

Klaus: Well since you’ve refused therapy I just thought this was the next best option.

Diego: I take back what I said about loving you.

#15: Math Is Dumb And I Wish School Would Stop Teaching It

Diego: Are you a forty-five degree angle?

Klaus: Actually, because humans have non-linear body shapes, it’s impossible for their specific angles to be measured -

Diego: Are you high or have you been defiling Five’s books again?

Klaus: *blinks* Why can’t it be both?

Diego: *rethinking life decisions*

#16: Baby I’m All Yours

Diego: Do you have a name?

Klaus: Klaus.

Diego: Or can I call you mine?

Klaus: I mean I prefer “baby”, but sure.

Diego: *super wide eyes* Really?

Klaus: *melts into a puddle of glitter* Yeah, Gogo.

#17: (Not) Bookworms

Diego: Thank god I brought my library card. Cause I’m here to check you out.

Klaus: *through a mouthful of waffles* God isn’t real. We all die and rot beneath the earth to be eaten by maggots. There is no such thing as a higher power.

Klaus: *swallows waffles and takes a really loud slurp of an orange juice and chocolate milk combo*

Klaus: Oh, and the library’s closed for renovations til, like, Christmas so you’re outta luck, sorry.

Diego: I thought you met god? Little girl on a bicycle?

Klaus: Her? Nah, only Satan’s got that much sass. Plus, that wasn’t heaven.

Diego: And you know this how?

Klaus: *squishes Diego’s face with both hands* Think about it. Do you really think dear ol’ dad’s in heaven?

Diego: Can you let of my face please?

#18: Bad Move, Buddy

Diego: Are you a pre-historic fossil? Cause you’re my missing link.

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you just call me old?

Diego, backing out of the room slowly: What? No! No of course not! No, obviously no, absolutely not -

Klaus: *releases savage war cry*

Diego: *runs for his goddamn life*

#19: I Rate This 0/10

Diego: Are you from Tennessee? Cause you’re the only -

Klaus: I don’t know where I’m from. I’m an orphan.

Diego: Oh… I know, baby -

Klaus: And the piece of shit that adopted me lived in New York anyway. We’re in New York right now actually. Do you need a geography lesson? I think Pogo’s got a map -

Diego: Klaus.

#20: Oh Shit

Diego: If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

Klaus:

Klaus: *tears up* I’m nothing?

Diego: Oh no. No no no. No, baby, you’re not nothing, don’t cry, I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby - oh my god please don’t cry -

#21: You’ve Got Everything I’m Searching For

Diego: Is your name Google? Because -

Klaus: Diego. For the last time…

Klaus: My name is Kimberly Linda Aerealia Ulysses Saffron Hargreeves the Twenty-Fourth. I don’t know why I need to keep explaining this to you -

Diego, kissing him quiet: You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?

#22: Don’t Make Bets You’ll Lose, Luther.

Diego: Luther bet me a hundred bucks I couldn’t talk to the prettiest person here. How do you wanna spend his money?

Klaus: Drugs.

Diego: Baby -

Klaus: *beams* Nah, I’m just kidding. Stuffed giraffes.

Diego: *grins* For Five?

Klaus: *nods* For Five.

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego: He’ll hate them.

Klaus: Exactly. Let’s go.

#23: Deja Vu

Diego: Have we met before?

Klaus: Yes. Obviously. Are you also high?

Diego: No -

Diego: Wait, you’re high?

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: No?

#24: Such An Optimist

Diego: Are you a time traveller?

Klaus: No, that’s Five.

Diego: Cause I think you’re my future!

Klaus: *stares blankly*

Diego: No? Nothing? Nada?

Klaus: In the future we’re all dead dipshit.

Klaus: Because. Ya know.

Klaus: THERE’S A FUCKING APOCALYPSE COMING.

Diego:

Diego: Okay then.

#25: Please Go To The Hospital.

Diego: Are you my appendix? Cause my stomach’s fluttering and I think I should take you out.

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you drink water from the fish tank again?

Diego: *turning green* Luther dared me to okay???!!!!

#26: Suicidal Tendencies

Diego: Hey gorgeous -

Klaus: Let me guess. I should drop dead?

Diego: What?! No! Baby -

#27: Infinitely On The Naughty List (And Not The Good Kind Of Naughty List (If There Is One I’m Asexual I Don’t Know))

Diego: Are you Santa Klaus? Cause you make all my wishes come true.

Klaus:

Klaus: You have five seconds to run.

Diego: *already two streets away* Fucking shit -

#28: You Can’t Use That Every Time We Have An Argument, Tony.

Diego: Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist right?

Klaus: I mean, there’s one in the corner of our living room right now, so I guess?

Diego:

Diego: *squeaks* You - you can see dinosaur ghosts?

Klaus: I mean, there’s a chance that thing Ben’s petting is just a super deformed ostrich, but yeah, I think so.

Diego:

Diego: *tearing up* That’s so cool.

#29: A Whole New Kind Of Thirst Trap

Diego: I’m thirsty. But guess whose body is 75% water?

Diego: *smirks*

Klaus: *frowns*

Klaus: Hold on, I know this one…

Diego: Klaus -

Klaus: *snaps fingers* Oh, I know! Luther!

Diego: *horrified* What the fuck Klaus why the fuck would you say that -

#30: What A Tragedy

Diego: You must be a campfire. Because you’re super hot and I want s’more.

Klaus:

Klaus: Diego sweetheart, you’re allergic to marshmallows.

Diego: *tearing up* I know.

Klaus: You wanna hug, baby?

Diego: *crying* Yes please.

#31: That Can’t Be Allowed

Diego: Don’t tell me if you want me to take you out to dinner. Just smile for yes, or do a backflip/somersault/counter-spin gymnastics combination for no.

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: *does a triple flip and lands perfectly on the top of the bar counter*

Diego: *turns bright red* That was h-h-hot.

Klaus: *beams and jumps down into Diego’s arms bridal-style*

Klaus: *kisses his cheek* I know, baby.

#32: Merry Christmas

Diego: You’re the reason Santa started the Naughty List.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: *pouts*

Klaus: No fair! He told me last week I was on the Nice List!

Diego: What? Klaus? What does that -

Diego: OH MY GOD KLAUS IS SANTA DEAD???!!!!

#33: I’ll Keep You Safe, Honey.

Diego: I lost my teddy bear. Will you sleep with me instead?

Klaus: *pulls out a stuffed tiger*

Klaus: He got lost in the kitchen. Don’t worry, I rescued him for you.

Diego: *takes soft tiger*

Diego: *voice cracks* Oh. Thanks.

Klaus: *kisses his forehead* You’re welcome, baby.

#34: Excuse Me?

Diego: The only thing your eyes haven’t told me is your name.

Klaus, internally: Shit. What if he finds out I stole like five of his knives and all of the cookies last week?

Klaus, externally: *blinks*

Klaus: Um… Stefonopolis?

#35: I Am Not Apologizing For This One

Diego: If you were a steak, you’d be well done.

Klaus: But I’m so unique…

Klaus: I talk to the dead, Diego.

Diego: Okay…?

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: So wouldn’t I be medium rare?

Ben: Ooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#36: Leonardo Da Vinci Was Arrested Multiple Times For Homosexual Activity.

Diego: Is this a museum? Cause you’re a work of art.

Klaus: *dancing to the soundtrack of High School Musical 3* Actually Five took me back to Italy once. Leonardo da Vinci and I had some fun.

Diego:

Diego: Oh my god. Seriously?

Diego: *looks up picture of Mona Lisa, now titled Mona Klausa*

Diego: How the fuck -

#37: Why Would You Say That Though

Diego: Am I sleepwalking? Cause I’ve only seen you in my dreams.

Klaus: *sitting on the counter and eating a donut in one bite* Are they dirty?

Luther: *chokes on a pickle*

Diego: Oh my god no -

Diego: Well sometimes -

Diego: I mean no of course not -

Luther: *praying to whoever’s up there to just kill him already*

#38: Be Safe Kids!

Diego: Can you hold this for me?

Klaus: Sweetie, you need to wash your hands.

#39: Apocalypse Averted!

Diego: If looks could kill, you’d be a weapon of mass destruction.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I thought that was Vanya.

Diego:

Diego, panicking: Holy shit Klaus you can’t just say things like that -

Vanya: *crying from laughter*

#40: Attractive

Diego: Do you swallow magnets? Because you’re -

Klaus: *shoves him up against the wall*

Klaus: How did you find out? Who told you? Was it Ben? I swear to god I’ll kill him -

Diego: *squeaks* What?

#41: First You’ve Gotta Propose Diego

Diego: Wouldn’t we look cute on a wedding cake together?

Klaus: Diego. Did you buy me a cake?

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: I’m waiting.

Diego: Right sir yes sir right away sir -

#42: He May Not Be A Kitten But He Is As Soft As One

Diego: If I followed you home, would you keep me?

Klaus: I’m homeless, Diego.

Diego: What? You are? Oh no, baby - you can come stay with me?

Klaus: *looks up from Disney Princess coloring book and raises an eyebrow* Is your bed available?

Diego, blushing: Ye-yeah, b-ba-baby. Whe-whenever you-u w-want.

Klaus: *smiles*

Klaus: *takes Diego’s hand*

Klaus: Okay.

Diego: *dies a little bit inside (in a good way)*

#43: It’s Just You.

Diego: Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Klaus, blushing: I -

Five: DIEGO. THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

#44: ‘Scuse Me, Mate?

Diego: You know, penguins mate for life. Wanna be my penguin?

Klaus: Eh. I’ve always been more of an iguana man.

Diego:

Diego: What?

#45: You Look Like… Antonio Banderas With The Long Hair.

Diego: How’s the most beautiful person in the world doing today?

Klaus: *buried in a Vogue magazine* I don’t know I’m not Antonio Banderas.

#46: What The Fuck Klaus

Diego: Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.

Klaus: *hands him a Candyland board* Here. I stole it from Pogo.

#47: You Dumbass

Diego: I hate my last name. Can I borrow yours?

Klaus:

Klaus: We have the same last name, Diego.

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: Fuck you’re right -

#48: Okay But Diego Would Make A Great Aladdin Though

Diego: I’m not a genie, but I can still make your dreams come true.

Klaus: *wrinkles his nose*

Klaus: You can get me a pink elephant with jaundice?

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: What the fuck Klaus -

#49: HELLO

Diego: Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?

Klaus: I don’t just have random knives on me Diego, I’m not you.

Diego: So you are happy to see me?

Klaus: I mean you just interrupted a very riveting episode of Sesame Street, so… we’ll see.

#50: It’s Always Best To Start With The Truth.

Diego: I love you.

Klaus: *beams* That’s all you had to say, darling.

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Life on Stage - Sam Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Life On Stage

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Requested: by an anonymous reader

Word Count: 1,139 words

Warning(s): mentions of John Winchester

Summary: (Pre-Show) Sam wanted to be normal, so he decided to audition for a play at one of the many high schools he went to. Through that, he found someone to help him... truly help him.

Author's Note: I remember this distinctly because why did they just casually mention that Sam was a part of theatre and then just never talk about it again? I like to think it was his attempt to rebel and live a "normal life" before he could actually leave his dad.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

I took a deep breath before walking over to Sam, the boy who had been cast opposite me in Our Town. He seemed sweet, a little closed off, but sweet nonetheless.

"Umm, hi," I said awkwardly.

Yeah, 16, not a great age for my self-esteem so it's not easy for me to talk to someone that I perceived as cute.

"Hi," he smiled at me, making my heart beat out of my chest.

"I just... Sorry... I thought I'd properly introduce myself since we're gonna be seeing each other a lot," I explained. "Plus, I know you're new so it'd probably be nice to have a friend... or just someone to talk to, y'know?"

"Yeah, thanks," he replied. "Well, I'm Sam."

"(Y/n)," I grinned, shaking his hand. "So, I don't know if you're busy or not but there's this diner that a lot of kids hang out at. Do you wanna go? We can talk about the school or the show or... anything?"

Jesus Christ, I'm an absolute mess. He probably was scared of me.

"Sure," he nodded. "That sounds great."

"Cool," I said. It was a Friday, so that's why I was offering it. "Umm... wanna go now?"

"I was hoping," he replied.

"Right, right, duh," I chuckled. I turned around, leading him out of the auditorium and through the halls. I felt like an absolute idiot.

We walked through the front door. There was an impala waiting there, rock music blaring from its speakers. I looked over when I heard Sam sigh.

"My brother," he explained quickly. "Just... Give a second and then we can go."

He jogged over to the car, leaning into the passenger window to talk to his brother. After a minute, he took a few steps back and his brother drove off.

"Sorry, had to tell him he didn't need to drive me home," he said. I nodded, saying that it was okay. "Where's your car?"

"Oh, I don't drive to school," I shrugged. "Everything is pretty close by."

Sam nodded.

"Come on," I said before starting the walk to the diner.

We spent the afternoon in a booth together. We ate and talked. He told me about how his family moved around a lot, how his brother and dad weren't excited about his role in the play, and how his mom died when he was just a baby.

I shared my family's story with him. The same small town my whole life, my dream to pursue acting, and always feeling the need to be the top in class so I could live up to my parents' standards.

After our afternoon together, Sam offered to walk me home.

As we walked down the road, still talking about anything and everything, I slowly reached over and brushed my hand against his. When he didn't pull away, I intertwined our fingers completely.

We looked at each other before both blushing and looking away.

We got to my gate and I went to walk inside, saying a quick goodbye. I stopped a few steps from my gate. He hadn't gotten far.

"Sam," I called, walking back over.

He looked back at me, meeting me at the gate.

I leaned up and pressed my lips to his gently. He slowly kissed me back, touching my waist gently. It was like he was scared I would break. Like he was scared he was going to break me.

I pulled away after a minute and basically whispered against his lips, "Break a leg at rehearsal tomorrow."

Sam chuckled, looking away and blushing, "You too."

I walked away again, turning back to wave at him before I went inside. I looked out my living room window, chuckling at the sight of Sam silently celebrating outside my gate.

--time skip--

"I don't think they're gonna come," Sam muttered.

Over the rest of rehearsals, Sam and I had a classic high school romance. Innocent and sweet and a dream come true. I tried to encourage him, slowly getting him to open up to me and tried to tell him that his dad and brother might come to the show.

I wanted to believe that they'd care about something Sam thought was important. Dean seemed to care so much for his brother, I was sure he'd care.

"It's okay," I wrapped my arms around him. "I'll treat you to dinner after the show, okay? Somewhere nice. My parents have a reservation and are already set on meeting you anyway."

"Okay," Sam nodded. He kissed my head. "We need to get ready."

I nodded, kissing his cheek, "Break a leg."

"Break a leg," he replied.

After the show, Sam was about to go get as cleaned up as possible. Stage make-up was impossible to get off on the first night but he was gonna try.

"(Y/n)," he said, causing me to stop before I went to change. He pointed at the bouquet sitting on his table. "You didn't have to do that."

I looked at them. It wasn't a super small bouquet but they didn't look store-bought. They looked like the flowers were from someone's garden and then tied together with string. I smiled.

"Sam, those aren't the ones I bought," I said. "I bought some. My parents were gonna give them to you. Those aren't them."

"What," he asked.

I walked over, there was a slip of paper in the string, "Sam."

He grabbed the note, "Good job tonight, Sammy. Probably will get you an Oscar. - Dean."

I wrapped my arms around him. He looked so happy knowing that his brother had been there for him.

"I told you he'd show," I mumbled. He chuckled. I looked up, seeing tears in his eyes. "Sam?"

"I... I didn't think he cared," he said. "It's just... It's nice to know that there are other things on his mind than the family business."

I leaned up, kissing his cheek, "Maybe if you can find him, we can drag him to dinner with my parents."

"I'll... I'll try."

"Okay."

I finished getting changed and cleaned up. I walked out to see my parents waiting for me. I saw Sam in the corner, holding the flowers his brother had gotten. His brother was standing in front of him.

Finally, I saw both of them start walking back. I happily waved at Sam.

"So, is your brother joining us," my mom asked Sam.

"If you'll let me," Dean replied. My parents nodded.

"Thank you," Sam said to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean tried to shrug off the whole event, but you could the genuine smile on his face.

He was happy that Sam was happy... even if their dad didn't have the nerve to be there.

In a matter of minutes, I grew to admire Dean's protectiveness over his brother... and he seemed to admire my commitment to his brother.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

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folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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naminethewriter · 3 years

Text

Overdue Confession

Day 3 and before midnight! Hell yeah 🥳 This story involves so many things I actually don’t know a lot about: drinking (I don’t like the taste of alcohol), American schools and Guys and Dolls. Sorry for any inaccuracies 😅 Have fun! 💙💚 @intrulogicalweek2021

Here on Ao3

Masterpost | Intrulogical Week 2021 Masterpost

Characters: Remus, Logan, Janus, Roman, Virgil, Patton

Relationship: pre-romantic Intrulogical

Rating: G

Words: 1,025

Summary: Some secrets are revealed while playing Never Have I Ever.

“Never have I ever… won a science competition,” Janus said with a smirk. Logan rolled his eyes but took a drink from his beer. As did Remus.

“When did you win a science competition?” Roman scoffed.

“Middle school. You were busy with your production of Guys and Dolls, as were mom and dad and I didn’t feel like bringing it up,” Remus shrugged.

“Oh.” Roman shrunk in on himself and a heavy silence hung over the group until Janus reminded Virgil that it was his turn.

“Fine. Never have I ever been a hall monitor.” Patton, Roman and Logan drank while Remus high-fived Virgil who was grinning after getting half the group. “Your turn, Pat.”

“I should have thought of something before, shouldn’t I?” He giggled, probably the most drunk so far. Not because he had to drink a lot but because he had the worst tolerance out of all of them. Logan pushed Patton’s glass of water in his hand while taking a sip of his own.

“Oh! I got it! Never have I ever been the lead of a play.” This time the twins and Janus drank. Now it was Roman’s turn. He took a look around the group while thinking. His eyes lingered on Virgil who was smiling mischievously.

“Since our local Emo Overlord hasn’t been hit in a while, let’s go with… never have I ever committed a crime.” Virgil stuck out his tongue but obediently lifted his beer. Predictably, so did Janus and Remus. However, no one was expecting Logan to drink as well.

“Nerdy Wolverine!?” Remus practically shouted. “What crime would a goody two-shoes like you commit?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“The law is not infallible.”

“Here’s to that!” Janus laughed and raised his glass. He was the only one drinking wine instead of beer. Roman tried to stop him but to no avail.

“We’re not talking about some minor traffic violation, right?” Virgil jumped in, curiously eyeing Logan who shook his head.

“No, I have never gotten a ticket before.”

“Fucking priss,” Remus scoffed. Logan glared at him.

“Can we continue the game now?”

“You wish! Spill the beans, pocket protector! What did you do?” Roman asked, very eagerly. Logan was about to protest but he could see that everyone else was just as curious.

“Very well, if you insist, I shall explain.” All of them leaned a little closer and Logan sighed. “I’m sure you all remember Mr. Crockford, our math teacher from high school, correct?” Everyone nodded.

“The one who went insane, right?” Remus asked with glee. Janus elbowed him in the side.

“Insane is probably a bit exaggerated, but I know what you are referring to and yes, I’m talking about him. And I might’ve” – Logan adjusted his tie (that he was wearing despite this being a casual get-together) – “caused that incident.”

“You WHAT?!?”

“Explain!”

“I said I will, please calm down.” The twins that had jumped up in excitement settled back down and Logan cleared his throat before continuing. “In our junior year I had him as my AP math teacher and in one exam he deducted me points for not using the right brackets which was just due to my handwriting and not because I actually made a mistake. He refused to listen to my attempts to explain. So I decided to correct the mistake myself.

“I don’t know if you can recall, but my uncle is a locksmith and his son Dexter went to out school as well. It wasn’t hard to convince him to help me make a copy of Mr. Crockford’s office door key. So one night, I snuck in and used his computer to correct my grade.”

“Sneaky, I love it,” Remus grinned. Logan continued, unperturbed.

“I must’ve been a bit careless because the next day I overheard Mr. Crockford loudly proclaim that somebody had to have broken into his office because his stapler was not where it was the day before. I knocked it over and thought I placed it where back where it belonged. But there were no signs of a break-in, so he was dismissed. He was absolutely furious and that gave me an idea.

“For the next couple of months every few days, I would sneak in, rearrange somethings and leave. Mr. Crockford tried in vain to convince the other faculty about somebody messing with him but they chalked it up to him getting old and having memory trouble.”

“I remember him freaking out on time in class because a pencil wasn’t where he left it!” Patton exclaimed. “He turned completely red in the face, demanding from us to tell him who took it. Turns out it just rolled of the table. His reaction makes a lot more sense now.”

“Didn’t he get fired for punching a student?” Virgil asked. Roman nodded, but Logan shook his head.

“I don’t know the exact details but he snapped in class one day and apparently threw a chair so hard it broke. He was fired shortly after.”

“So you used psychological warfare against a teacher just because he gave you a bad grade once?” Remus questioned, starry-eyed.

“Don’t be preposterous. That incident was merely the catalyst. You know as well as I do that Mr. Crockford was known for his cruelty and unfairness towards students. I’m well aware that he made both Patton and Virgil cry on several occasion as well as make Remus doubt his intellect. I regret nothing.”

Everyone stared at Logan in awe. They liked to joke that he was a cold-hearted robot and even if they knew that wasn’t true, it was rare to see him act to compassionate and take risks for the sake of others. Janus looked kinda proud while Remus was full on blushing.

“Holy shit, I think I just fell for you all over again.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to blush, staring at Remus with wide eyes who didn’t even seem to process what exactly he just said. Roman threw his hands in the air.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’ve been trying for month to get him to say something and that’s how he ends up confessing?!”

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

Text

you want me; part 2 [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Era: Pre- Apocalypse Warnings: Language, Fluffy Angst. Summary: The years have gone by and finally you had the opportunity to give Negan a taste of his own medicine. A/N: AGAIN THANK YOU @jinxeee you have such a brilliant mind, gosh I love it! I hope I did you justice. I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS! Safe to say, I love jealous Negan. Read Part One Here.

The years had passed and thankful you managed to escape the hell that was Negan’s torment for a few years at college but now you were back and everything seemed to fall straight back into the same routine. The familiar scurry in the house as your parents scrambled to put up ridiculous decorations and unnecessary fret over the organisation of the snacks. Though this party was your parents' way of celebrating your graduation, you noticed none of the fuss was pushed in your direction, no instead you were left to make yourself up and look presentable. You had convinced yourself while that you were away, your feelings for Negan had simply vanished claiming it was a stupid school girl crush but the nerves that lingered told a different story. Allowing your hair to fall perfectly straight and putting on the nicest dress you could find, you made your way down stairs hoping you were old enough to not get a how to behave lecture from either of your parents.

As people spilled in, you thanked as many as you could before you b-lined for another beer not baring to hear yet another “You’re so grown up now” or “I remember when you were in diapers” it was almost like torture. You allowed the small of your back to rest against the kitchen counter top and pressed the glass bottle to your lips, savouring the bitter taste as it ran down your throat.

“There she is!” Your whole body tensed at the sound of familiarity. Your eyes darted in the direction from which it came, Negan. God you forgot how handsome he was, how he held himself with such confidence, it made you choke a little on your beer before you shot him a soft smile.

“Y/N this is Tiffany!” a small framed woman who looked fairly similar to every other girl he had ever brought around appeared from behind his back. The name caught you off guard a little, allowing a small smirk to crease the corners of your lips. Putting the bottle down you reached out for her hand and gave it a light shake.

“It’s nice to meet you Tiffany!” your eyes finally met with Negan’s as you pulled away, the joke wasn’t lost on him either. You managed to tone out most of what she was saying before she excused herself, leaving you alone with the man.

“Well, can’t say I'll forget her name!” You felt your heart skip a beat when he chuckled at your joke. As you turned back to your beer you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of his eyes all over you. “So, you still not settled down?” you poked a little, his hand resting on his heart mocking your jab a little.

“Are you still chasing guys who are far too old for you?” his jab actually did hurt a little, your cheeks turning an obvious pink shade as your eyes escaped his gaze. You allowed your hands to cradle your face and let out a small groan at the mention of your adolescent actions. The moment fell silent for a short time until you looked back up at the tall man, leaning on the island in front of him… that famous smirk still plastered on his face.

“Yeah, thanks for being so nice about that – Oh, wait!” you shot Negan a look, though a smile graced your lips before you reached for another drink. The man didn’t say a word, his eyes soaking up your new curves. He was seeing you in a completely different light and it scared him a little.

“You’re a lot different now” he uttered, his words almost classing as a whisper, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes settled on your hips, causing you to freeze in your tracks. The way his voice deepened despite how quiet he spoke sent you wild, you felt 17 again. Your thoughts raced as you peered up at him. He looked at you the same way you used to look at him, so much hunger and longing. Finally you had the upper hand.

“Finally grown up enough for you?” Negan could note the way your attitude almost immediately changed. Holding yourself with so much confidence despite how fast your heart was beating. You watched his smirk fall from his face, completely taken back by your new found power. You slowly creeped your way over to him until your bodies pressed together, your lips meeting with his ear “Never gonna happen, kid” you mocked, feeling him quiver slightly at the feel of your breath on his skin causing you to laugh a little. You made your way past him into the main room where most people gathered, doing your best to keep occupied, though it usually involved being told about a time you did something rather embarrassing when you were 4. For the rest of the night you did your best to avoid him, only every so often shooting him the best seductive look you could possibly throw his way without someone questioning you. He was like putty in your hands now and you planned on having fun tormenting the older man. Pay back if you will.

A couple of days had passed, you tried not to think about Negan or how you acted that night despite how brave you looked, the second he left your house your knees almost gave way. Today was a quiet day, no one was obsessively fluffing pillows or polishing mirrors, instead they were out you’re not entirely sure where but you took full advantage of the free house. Wearing nothing but an oversized band shirt that your dad used to own, over your underwear and binge watching some T.V show that seemed decades old. You groaned at the sound of the door bell ringing, having finally got comfortable under the thin blanket on the sofa. It took everything to get up and answer the door but you were glad you did. Once the door swung open, you saw Negan there holding some sort of screwdriver but he looked nervous, you found it kind of cute. His eyes widened at the sight of you, how you managed to pull off such an effortless look and still be incredibly sexy, he’ll never understand.

“urr, is your dad in…” you let him sit in silence before turning your back on him and walking into the house, he followed as you expected and closed the door. Leaning against the banister you couldn’t help but smirk as you watched him fumble with the screwdriver. “It’s your dads, I'm just returning it!” he quickly retorted. You hummed in his direction, nodding slowly before reaching out your hand to take it from him.

“Well, i’m not sure he’ll need it” you started as he handed the tool to you, you ran your fingers along it before biting down on your lip “Considering he bought a new one a few years back because you never returned it” Your eyes now met his, not daring to miss his reaction. He shifted on his feet a little before flashing you that devilish smile, pushing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. You didn’t allow his gaze to fall as you watched him intently but before he could reply the sound of the door opening caught his attention. He took a few steps back at the sight of your parents' return but you didn’t move, your eyes never left his.

“Negan, what are you doing here?” your father shouted out, holding onto a couple of brown bags packed with groceries.

“Just returning your screwdriver dad!” you called out finally letting your eyes peel away from him. Your dad shot you a confused look as your mother rushed past you holding bags of her own.

“Thanks but- you can keep it. I got a new one!” he replied quickly before following his wife into the kitchen. You couldn’t hide the smile that wiped across your face, it almost felt permanent. You held the screwdriver back out to him, and let out a small chuckle as he took it from you.

You heard how large the lump in his throat was by the sound of his gulp, oh how you loved this feeling, you couldn’t help but think that this was the exact way he felt watching you get jealous over the many girls he introduced you to. You followed your dad into the kitchen shortly after and leaned up against the side, making sure your shirt was raised just high enough that it exposed the length of your legs and teased the fabric that kept you modest. His steps were slow as he followed behind you, biting down so hard on his lip he was convinced he’d draw blood soon. He’d never felt so vulnerable before, completely and utterly your play thing. His eyes snapped towards your mother as she filled the silence.

“Well since you’re here, would you like to join us for dinner?” You listened to his slight stutter, turning down the offer which caused you to scowl a little.

“Oh come on, you were JUST saying how much you loved my mom’s cooking!” Peering over your shoulder at the man, winking in his direction.

“Great! We’re having chicken!” she announced before nudging your father “Greg will keep you company until it's ready” You watched as both men left the room, finally standing up right as you attempted to help your mum put away the newly bought food. “And you, go put something decent on for crying out loud.”

Time for dinner had come and you purposefully chose the chair directly opposite Negan, now wearing a shirt that was practically see through; it was so thin and a skirt that just stopped before your knees. Laying as far back in your chair so you could reach his legs with your feet letting your bare toes explore his ankles and running up the hem line of his pants. Watching him squirm was entertaining enough for you, every so often stabbing some food onto your fork. Listening to him attempt to string a sentence together while your dad quizzed him on pointless things until everyone’s plates were clean. Your mother started to gather the dishes together until Negan offered to do them, saying something like it was the least he could do.

“I’ll help” you sounded eager but it didn’t register with your parents like it did Negan. You pushed yourself away from the chair and followed him into the kitchen. “I’ll dry, you can clean. '' You spoke softly coming up behind him, lightly pressing your body against his to push past him and grab a towel. The two of you remained silent most of the time, every so often you’d lightly brush your fingers against his hand as you took a plate or glass from him until you had finished the chore. You turned to leave the room but your body collided with his, his hands laid flat on your hips to steady you, your eyes finally meeting with his making you aware of how incredibly close your lips were to his. His heart raced at the feel of your hand lightly pressed against his chest, the quietest tune hummed from your lips for a moment as you trailed your fingers down his shirt, your curiosity getting the best of you in that moment. The sound of your mothers heels clicking on the wooden floor was enough for Negan to push you away, attempting to act as natural as he possibly could.

He didn’t stay very long that night, in fact as soon as your mother walked in, he said thank you and left. You scolded yourself for allowing the moment to get far too heated, for not controlling yourself better and figured you needed reinforcements. Another day at Y/L/N household, another gathering. It was game day and you knew for a fact Negan would be there, he never missed game day with dad. So you invited over your friend Derek, he was hot enough to make the man jealous, of course you updated Derek on the situation so he didn’t get the wrong idea, you had enough on your plate after all.

Your steps seemed a little too preppy as you pulled Derek down the stairs behind you, your hair purposefully ruffled to give off the illusion you had been up to no good. The sound of your giggles immediately caught Negan’s attention, he watched as you paraded your new little toy around the living room, introducing him to everyone there until you finally reached Negan. You could see the vermillion glow escaping his cheeks as you approached him. “Negan, this is Derek.” Your words never sounded so teasing, biting down on your lip a little.

“Nice to meet you Eric!” Negan’s snappy response only caused the hellish smile to creep onto your face. The interaction was short but god it tasted so sweet to watch Negan take a huge spoon of his own medicine. You made a point to flirt with Derek at any moment you got while the first half of the game played out but eventually you needed to go grab a drink. You left all the men in the living room to enter the kitchen but on your way back someone caught your arm, Negan caught your arm. At first you were shocked, a little taken back by the grasp he had on it until you saw the look in his eyes. You could almost see everything he wanted to do to you if you looked deep enough.

“What sort of game are you playing” he hissed at you, as quietly as he possibly could, his anger only fuelled your smile.

“What are you talking about?” your words seemingly innocent but your eyes screamed mischief. He pulled you a little closer, allowing an unsatisfied smile to soften his features.

“You think your little boyfriend will make me jealous?” his laugh represented something fiendish. “I'm gonna make you want me so bad that you’ll come crawling on your knees” you allowed a small moan to pass your lips as he spoke your eyes fluttered slightly not able to focus on much more after that.

Negan did everything in his power to get you to swoon after that day, he seemed to make an appearance almost every day, doing something to push you further towards the edge but you always knew how to counteract it. You didn’t know what he thought would happen when your parents invited him over to test out your new pool, the way he purposefully lounged around in nothing but shorts, tight shorts that was in fact you’d even caught your mum staring every so often. When you had finally had enough you began to strip off your clothes beside him, making sure he could see every bead of sweat that ran down your faux tan. You stood in the middle of the garden, now only wearing the skimpiest bikini you could find in your collection, you heard Negan clear his throat suddenly as you bent down to retrieve the sun block from the small table that stood between your lounger and his. He admired the way you managed to fill out the small amount of fabric on your body as you slowly turned to him.

“Could you get my back? '' You whispered, now standing over him, you found it funny how he rushed to stand up, taking the tube of sunblock from your hands. You turned around awaiting his hands to touch your bare skin and when it did, you allowed a small sigh pass your lips, quiet enough so only you could really hear it. His touch was gentle and almost tickled a little as his hands ran across your shoulders. His heart was racing a little too fast for his liking, scared he might pitch a tent any second he called out to your dad, telling him about the new job he landed as a P.E teacher. Once his hands had finished exploring every inch of your back, you turned into him a little, the back of your hand lightly grazing his crotch. “Thanks Sir” you whispered before laying back down on your lounge chair, relishing in your victory.

The next day your parents packed up their suitcases to ‘escape the real world’ for a few days, leaving you all alone in your house, which was perfect. A little TLC was in order for you, you had the nicest bath you’d ever had, you ordered your favourite Chinese food and if the night couldn’t get any more perfect the 1996 Romeo and Juliet was on the TV. “either thou or I or both must go with him” you whispered into your chow mein in unison with the TV suddenly jumping at the sound of the door bell. You reached for the remote and paused the movie before throwing your blanket off and heading towards the door, smoothing the silk nightgown against your skin.

You were pleasantly surprised when you opened the door to find Negan stood there, his hands buried into his jacket pocket. “My dads not here” your words teased, your eyes inspecting him. He managed to push past you and make his way into the house whispering I know into your ear as he did. Clearly puzzled you closed the door and turned to face him, your brow bone cocked waiting for the reason for his unexpected visit.

“I'm here to see you” his words seemed slightly rushed as he nervously paced the hallway. You shot him yet another look, not satisfied with his answer. “We need to talk” he finally spouted, your hands crossed at your chest, the cocky arrogance taking over as you did.

“About?” attempting to course the words out of his mouth, squinting your eyes appearing oblivious to his demands.

“Us, this – whatever this is. I can’t keep playing cat and mouse with you!” You couldn’t hide the smug look from your face, watching the man plead with you.

“Us? You think because you got a boner rubbing sunscreen into my back that there’s an us?” you teased, adopting the same attitude from the girls who used to tease you at school. Negan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he just shook his head at you as you stood there, all high and mighty.

“Why are you being so cold!” he hissed in your direction, your nostrils flaring at his assumption.

“I'm cold?” you hissed right back stepping a little closer to him, pushing your index finger into your chest as you spoke. “Like you didn’t do this to me? I was kid Negan, there’s better ways to let someone down. You didn’t have to break my heart and drag it through your pile of bimbos” Finally you snapped, all the anger from every visit you had to endure as a teen bubbling to the surface. Your chest heaving slightly as you watched the man take a step back from you.

The silence crept up on you, both too far into your own thoughts to even speak. Negan shook his head, leaning himself against the wall behind him before breaking the silence with a cold laugh.

“So… you did all this as some sort of revenge?” his words were quiet as he stared up to the ceiling but you were quieter. “That was your big plan. Make me fall for you so you could just throw me away” his words broke in the grasp of lump that hung in his throat. His eyes slowly meeting yours, he thought you resembled that of a deer in a headlights in that moment, your eyes were glossy from the fresh tears that had yet to fall.

“make you what?” you croaked, any confidence or arrogance completely flushed away by his words. He didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. You slowly walked towards him, practically tip toeing. “Make you what, Negan?” you asked again, standing much more closer to the man. He pushed himself from the wall, closing the gap between you both. His chest swelling in your face as your eyes followed the zipper of his jacket until they reached his hazel eyes. His hands slowly cupping your face as he lent down, his lips almost touching yours.

“Fall for you” he whispered before you pushed his lips against yours. You couldn’t hold back this time, not after that. The way his hands ran through your hair only made the kiss much more desperate, your hands finally finding the back of his neck. You had dreamt of this moment for years, night after night but none of them compared to the real thing, the way your heart protruded with love for this man. The butterflies dancing in your stomach now that they have found their purpose.

He pulled away for a moment, his lips still hovered yours, his eyes taking in your expression, the way you seemed so at peace right now in his hold. “No more games.” He whispered, his lips occasionally grazing against yours, only making your longing for them grow. You just nodded as quickly as possible before pulling him back into the kiss, feeling his smile grow on yours.

#jealous negan #negan x y/n #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all! So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

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cause & effect || chapter 4

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. to say you’re surprised is an understatement. but, for some stupid reason, you agreed to it.

warnings: f!reader, alcohol

wc: 2.1k

m.list | ch. 3 ↞ ch. 4 ↠ ch. 5

You sip the hot sake with a grimace. It’s not bad per se, just… different.

For a restaurant whose whole gimmick was hot sake, you’re surprised it clashes so much with your meal. But at least it brought you a little warmth.

Kuroo’s having as strange a time as you are. Each sip of his sake is accommodated with a grimace. Somehow, it makes him look a couple years younger.

Your legs are tucked under the futon attached to your table, but admittedly there’s not much room. Kuroo’s legs are far too long and the kotatsu much too cramped.

“Give me some room, would you?” You grin, nudging him with your knee.

“Oh, sorry,” Kuroo chuckles, adjusting himself.

This isn’t the first fake date you’ve been on with Kuroo. Well, they weren’t dates – not technically. The purpose of them was to get to know each other better; something you’d both agreed was important if you were going to pull this whole thing off.

You’d never really thought about it before, but there’s a lot of mundane information shared in relationships. Things you might not think to mention to other people, or even things you haven’t told anyone else. Not that you were saying any of that to each other – you just need to be convincingly close.

You are going to meet his family, after all.

“So,” you sigh, setting your cup on the kotatsu, “you lived with your dad, your grandmother, and your grandfather?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

“And I need to stay on my toes around them?”

“Oh yeah,” Kuroo grins. “Chances are they’ll tease the hell out of you if they get comfortable enough.”

“Great,” you chuckle.

“You’ll be fine,” he smiles. “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“You sure?”

“Chances are they’ll tell you you’re too good for me.”

“Maybe I am,” you smirk, taking another sip of sake.

Kuroo scoffs. “Brutal!”

You’re not sure if he can tell you’re lying. He’s handsome, clever, and witty enough to be entertaining. You’d feel lucky to have a guy like him look your way.

Oh well, you think as you place your hands in your lap. You’re quite happy to keep that thought to yourself. There’s no good reason to feed a man’s ego.

He stretches his arms above his head, groaning. You swear you can hear his bones cracking.

“You sound like an old man,” you grin.

“Look, it’s not my fault the human body is badly designed.”

“Ah, so it’s not your fault for not looking after it properly, hm?” Perhaps he has a point. But you have to make your own fun these days.

“I’ll have you know I take very good care of my body, thank you very much.”

You’re not sure if he intended it to sound so flirtatious, but you blush anyway.

“Your bones say otherwise,” you muse.

“I won’t stand for this abuse,” he grins, standing up. “You ready?”

You follow suit, scampering after him as he approaches the cashier.

As always, he pays. No matter how hard you try to protest, he just smiles and says he feels bad for taking up your evenings.

You don’t know a casual way to say that you actually enjoy these outings.

Your solution is just buy him fancier coffees in the morning.

Kuroo deals with the transaction in the same smooth and charming way he always does, and you’re sure he’s definitely made an imprint on the dear cashier’s memory.

It’s only late afternoon, but the sky is already darkening. The trees that line the street are speckled with fairy lights, already glowing like candles in the dim twilight.

You gaze at them with a tiny sense of wonder. You’ve heard the theory that people made winter a time of celebration to give them something to pull through the dark and the cold for. Maybe that’s true – but there’s always such beauty to be find during wintertime, even if it feels like the tip of your nose is about to fall out.

Fairy lights in a tree are so small, so inconsequential, and yet so human.

You shake your head. That’s the sake talking.

You turn to Kuroo to say something.

He’s peering at you intently, eyes roaming your face.

You blush, unsure what to make of that look. Is there something on your face? “Everything okay?”

“The lighting’s good here.”

You frowned. “Huh?”

Kuroo fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a step towards you and hovering an arm above your shoulders.

“You all good to take a photo?” He asks, and it clicks.

“Oh! Right!” You nod, almost a little too fervently. “Sure.”

He smiles, slinging his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him, tilting your face to what you believe to be your best angle.

Sure, these photos are technically ‘fake’, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look your best.

He snaps a couple of photos of the two of you before opening his gallery. The two of you take a moment to observe the handful of images.

The two of you may not really in a relationship, but you’re sure these photos could fool you.

You point at one of them, nodding. “That one looks good.”

Kuroo chuckles, adding it to his favourites. “Thanks.”

He smiles and slips his phone into his pocket as he steps away from you. You miss his warmth more than you should.

“Have they liked the photos?” You ask.

“Loved them,” he grins.

You know Kuroo’s been sending them to his family – with your permission, of course. It’s partly to satiate their desire to intrude on his love life, and also to make it more believable when you finally meet them. You have half a mind to save them to your own phone with how cute they are.

“Oba-chan’s been joking about putting them on the wall.”

You snort. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“She’s desperate,” he grins.

“She must be, if she’s considering omiai.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Ah, she’s just worried about me. She doesn’t want me to be ‘married to my work.’”

“Are you?” You ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, God no.”

You laugh as you dig your hands in your pockets.

“I’ve just got a lot going on,” he explains. “I don’t have the time to date.”

“Really?” You tilt your head at him. “You kind of strike me as the kind of guy who’s content to just go home and play dating sims all night.”

Kuroo reels back, a hand on his chest. “You’re joking.”

“I thought you were single because you had some digital waifu or something.”

Kuroo stares at you with an expression of absolute horror. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“I’m just teasing,” you giggle, hopping down the street. “Okay, so if you’re not cuddling up against a body pillow of a scantily clad anime women during those lonely nights, then what do you do with your spare time?”

Kuroo scoffs, shaking his head as he jogs to catch up with you. “Well, I catch up with my friends a fair bit. Oh, and I’m part of a hobby volleyball club.”

“You play?” You look him up and down. Now that he’s said it, it makes perfect sense.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I take good care of my body,” he grins.

Another glance and you realise – yes, actually, he appears to be taking very good care of his body. Those shoulders look a little broader than you’d first thought.

“Is that why you applied for your job?” You ask. “Personal interest?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

Interesting. “Have you always played?”

“I’ve played for as long as I can remember,” he grins. “Believe it or not, but my high school team actually made it to Nationals. With me as their captain.”

“Wait, really?” You look up at him with wide eyes. Now that was certainly unexpected.

“Sure did.”

“How far did you get?”

Kuroo furrows his brow for a moment. “I think it was something like the top 16?”

“That’s… pretty impressive,” you admit. Your knowledge of sports is perhaps a little lower than might be expected of someone in your position, but you digress. Top 16 in the entire nation is definitely something to be proud of.

“Glad you think so,” he grins.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you pursue it professionally?” From your perspective he certainly has the build for it. And if there’s one thing you’re sure of after working next to him for a while now, it’s that he’s clever. A trait that seems to be surprisingly useful on the court.

“There were some real monsters on the teams we faced,” he says, voice languid as ever. “You know about Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio, right?”

You nod. Even if your understanding of the sport itself wasn’t particularly advanced, you were well-aware of the top players. That, at least, you’d made an effort to stay up to date with. Also, a lot of them were unfairly attractive – making that task a bit easier to stick to than some of your others.

“We faced them at Nationals,” he glances at you, a new glint in his eye. Maybe it’s nostalgia.

You shiver.

“That genuinely sounds terrifying.”

Kuroo grins. “It was. Oh, and you know Bokuto Koutarou, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Well, we were friends in high school,” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most mundane piece of information you could receive. “Our teams often practiced against one another.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “No way.”

“I have several embarrassing photos of him to prove it,” Kuroo chuckles.

He’s so confident about it that you have no choice but to believe him.

“You have to introduce me to him,” you say, voice a little more desperate than you’d like.

“Why?” Kuroo flashes you a wicked grin. “Got a crush?”

“No,” you roll your eyes, praying your cheeks aren’t turning too red. “He just seems… nice.”

“Nice and… attractive?”

“Shut up!”

“I’m just saying, he’s technically single—”

“Aren’t I supposed to be your fake girlfriend?” You knock him with one of his shoulders to little avail. You stumble back a bit from the impact. He stays completely still.

Kuroo cackles a little louder than usual. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Who knew you were so annoying?” You scoff.

“That’s on you,” he smirks. “You’re the one agreed to this.”

“It’s a hell of my own creation,” you mumble.

“Should’ve read the fine print,” Kuroo teases.

You have half a mind to glare at him to keep this going, but a question pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, so…” You press your lips together, frowning. “You didn’t pursue professional volleyball because of people like Bokuto?”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side with a pensive expression. “Sort of,” he shrugs. “I guess I just felt like I didn’t have the same passion for the court that guys like him did.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I just realised my talents would be better applied elsewhere.”

“So… in marketing?”

He grins, glancing at you. “I just think that volleyball has the power to really connect people.”

You tilt your head at him.

“When I first moved to Tokyo, I wasn’t great at talking to people,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But, because of volleyball, I found a way to… feel more comfortable opening up to people.”

The thought of Kuroo Tetsurou of all people being shy strikes you for a second. It’s hard to picture – but only for a moment.

“So,” he continues, “I want to make it easier for kids to get into this sort of thing. You never know who it might help.”

You smile to yourself. Once again, he’s being cute. And he doesn’t seem to have any clue.

“What about you?” Kuroo asks. “How’d you end up there?”

“Oh, it was just the first place that took me in,” you shrug.

He snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just sent out my resume to a bunch of places and they got back to me first.”

“Oh, wow,” Kuroo grins.

“Sorry it’s not very romantic,” you blush, glancing at him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It sounds very reasonable.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle.

In all honesty, part of you had expected this whole ‘fake dating’ thing to be a bit of a burden. The thought of pretending to like someone a lot more than you actually do sounds draining.

But it’s not hard to like Kuroo Tetsurou. In fact, you think he’s quite pleasant company. This whole charade shouldn’t be much trouble at all.

You dutifully ignore the thought that, if this were a real date, you’d absolutely ask him if he’d like to go on another.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #cause and effect by rowan

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thelastsarahbender · 3 years

Text

ben and shelton friendship headcanons

ok so when they first met as wee lads and were introducing themselves shelton was like “oh your name is blue? thats my favorite color :)” and it has always stuck with them. whenever anyone asks shelton his favorite color he and ben do a smug little nod at each other.

shelton would always come up with made up languages for them to talk in that they would forget within a week. they’d run up to lorelei and yell shit like “arf narf schmig schmarf!” and she’d go “am i having a stroke?” and they’d all laugh about it.

obviously it was ben’s duty as the older friend to teach shelton every swear word he knew. they would go to the other side of the island and scream them at ships passing and then lose their minds laughing.

they had their first kisses on the same night. shelton and hi were invited to an end of eighth grade pool party and took ben with them. some truth-or-dare-style shenanigans went down by the pool shed, and both shelton and ben ended up getting kissed at different points during the night. on their car ride home they were whispering to each other “bro you will not believe what just happened!!!” while trying to keep shelton’s dad from hearing.

they would constantly take old electronics apart and try to put them together again, which actually taught them a lot. however, they got into a lot of trouble for taking apart something that ben’s dad was actually working on. one of the few times in ben’s life that he was grounded in the pre-tory era.

during shelton’s freshman year he and ben had their lunch period together. they would always eat outside under a tree on the corner of campus and play music or talk. the next year everybody has lunch together, but both of them kind of miss those quiet lunches.

when ben’s parents were splitting up, ben would sleep over at shelton’s house constantly. usually none of the boys had sleepovers because it was so easy just to go back to their own houses, but for a few months ben was on shelton’s floor every other night. he never wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t want to be by himself, and shelton understood. they’d just sit quietly and watch cartoon network together.

ben started growing way before shelton did, and shelton had always been a tiny kid, so there were a couple of years where they were pretty comically mismatched. when they were thirteen and twelve ben was five foot eight and a hundred fifty pounds and shelton was four foot ten and ninety pounds. shelton grew a lot the summer before high school, and while he was still smaller than ben, it at least didn’t look like ben was his babysitter anymore.

they went to the dealership together when they were getting their first cars and took forever each time. despite spending hours deliberating both of them got ripped off.

ben heard about exposure therapy somewhere as a kid and was like “oh that’s how to get shelton to stop being scared of spiders!” pulling a spider out of his pocket and handing it to shelton did not, in fact, cure shelton’s fear. it did cause a bigger rupture in their friendship than the gamemaster debacle, though.

they have to wingman for each other because neither of them trusts hiram to do it. they are both atrocious at it though. like their odds would be so much better if they did not help each other.

their music taste is similar enough that they’re the only ones allowed to have the other’s aux cord. if hi and tory want it they have to use force.

#virals #the other day i got SO emotional about their friendship for some reason #sorry for leaving you out hi but i'm on a ben and shelton lockdown

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bulkyphrase · 3 years

Text

Everybody & the Avengers Team

I've got a new fic rec list for you!

The stories in the "X & the Avengers Team" tags focus on one person's relationship to the Avengers team as a whole. Courtesy of AO3's tag browse and Excel, here's a ranked list of the top 20 most popular pairings:

Tony Stark | 2470 total, 240 OTP

Peter Parker | 2255 total, 85 OTP

Steve Rogers | 602 total, 56 OTP

Loki | 387 total, 26 OTP

Natasha Romanov | 308 total, 35 OTP

Clint Barton | 268 total, 46 OTP

Bruce Banner | 244 total, 15 OTP

Thor | 209 total, 7 OTP

Avengers Team | 174 total, 24 OTP

James "Bucky" Barnes | 156 total, 7 OTP

Wanda Maximoff | 143 total, 4 OTP

Phil Coulson | 105 total, 9 OTP

Darcy Lewis | 91 total, 6 OTP

Matt Murdock | 60 total, 8 OTP

Sam Wilson | 53 total, 5 OTP

Nick Fury | 41 total, 5 OTP

Harry Potter | 40 total, 0 OTP

Pepper Potts | 31 total, 1 OTP

Vision | 29 total, 2 OTP

Stiles Stilinski | 25 total, 0 OTP

In chart form, if you like charts:

Notes:

The numbers after the names are the number of stories tagged with that ship. OTP means the number of stories where that is the only relationship tagged on the story. Numbers are accurate as of July 2021.

Story Recommendations

For your reading pleasure, included below is at least one fic rec for each pairing except the crossovers from non-Marvel fandoms (apologies to Mr. Potter & Mr. Stilinski). Most are gen fic, and even in the ones with a romantic pairing, romance is not the focus.

Tony Stark

As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration by petroltogo (Teen, 8949) tumblr: @tonystarktogo

Standing inside his penthouse, listening to Rogers, Barton and Banner explain to Fury how they just happened to stumble over the Tesseract on a routine security check of Stark Tower’s roof and wouldn’t you know, they’ve managed to fight off the looming alien invasion before it could really start and secure the missing overpowered nightlight is one of the most surreal situations Tony has ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

Peter Parker

the worst field trip ever by shrill_fangirl_screaming (Teen, 3420) tumblr: @i-am-having-an-emotion

"We're on a field trip," Peter said. "To here. And Tony decided to be our tour guide and absolutely embarrass me, so can you please help get him under control?"

Which is how Peter Parker, architect of his own destruction, ended up with not one but two superhero pseudo-dads being annoying on his school field trip.

Steve Rogers

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (Teen, 11022) tumblr: @galaxythreads

That seems about right. He doesn't know how he knows that, though. He does have vague memories of an annoyed fondness at finding peanut butter in some sort of jam. Thor's doing, because he doesn't see the point of using two knives when one works just as fine. He knows that. How does he know that? He knows all those little details, though, almost innately. How can he know these strangers so deeply?

Everyone else below the cut!

Loki

Proprietary by TheThirdMarauder (Teen, 7639)

No, Loki simply wants the Avengers conquered. The details of whom, how, and when matter not. Unless, of course, said details interfere with Loki's plans. Then, well, then none can fault him for protecting his own interests.

Loki has always been exceptionally good at lying to himself.

Natasha Romanov

What Girls Are Made Of by enigma731 (Teen, 4613) tumblr: @enigma731

She rolls her eyes but does as he’s indicated, using his shoulders to leverage herself up onto his back, her arms around his neck and her legs hugging his waist.

“You know,” he says blithely, “this isn’t really what I tend to picture when I think of a hot girl riding me.”

Natasha groans, deciding that if his sense of humor gets them arrested, she’ll kill him herself. “Just go.”

Clint Barton

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (Teen, 4221)

With a normal person, this might count as blackmail material, but a) this is a case of mutually assured destruction if ever there was one, and b) Fury is immune to embarrassment. Not just in the regular, Tony Stark way, either, oh no. Things that could possibly end up being embarrassing to Fury get somehow warped and changed until they go from mortifying all the way over into useful and/or good for his image. It’s like a superpower.

Carrying Clint’s small child self around on his shoulders more than once has probably already hit the interagency rumour mill as an example of Fury’s innate awesomeness: good with rocket launchers and small children.

Also available as a podfic!

Bruce Banner

They're Not Wrong by Trumpeteer34 (Teen, 10163)

As Tony began to pace around the hole in the road to keep himself from shooting repulsors at the nearby buildings in a fit of rage, Thor began to study the nearby area. There was no sign of either the Hulk or Bruce Banner beyond the crater. The surrounding area, aside from the rubble of the fight, held no clue as to their friend’s location.

“Guys, he’s gone,” Tony growled into the communicator on their private line, drawing Thor out of his darkening thoughts. “Someone tranqed him and took him. He’s gone.”

Honorary mention goes to the Responsible Science series by @letteredlettered - the stories don’t have the "Avengers Team & Bruce Banner" tag, but they could, and they are amazing. The best Bruce Banner writing I've ever come across.

Thor

Fortunately, I Am Mighty by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 3062)

Steve was the first one to speak. “Are you okay?”

Thor nodded. Which was a bad idea, as it turned out, because now there were little gray lights flashing in front of his eyes. “I’m fine.” Absolutely everyone narrowed their eyes, and he added, “But, uh. Could we possibly not get back in the car just yet?”

Avengers Team

Civil Wasn't by onward_came_the_meteors (General, 7123)

"We're having an ideological conflict here," Tony stated with disbelief. "Are you telling me you still want to go out to dinner?"

"It's a standing engagement, Tony," Rhodey reminded him.

"Not you too—"

"We already had to reschedule from Friday when Natasha was..." Rhodey frowned. "What were you doing?"

The question was directed toward Natasha, who shrugged and said, "Spy stuff."

James "Bucky" Barnes

You Know How I Feel, aka, The Adventures of Bucky and Muffy the Dinosaur by ifeelbetter (Not Rated, 4511) tumblr: @ifeelbetterer

“As you may have heard, Bucky Barnes, a.k.a. The Winter Soldier, recently rescued a tiny part-robot dinosaur during the Avengers’ battle with Dr. Doom in Antarctica,” the other newscaster explained. “Pictures of Barnes and the dinosaur were posted on twitter by fellow Avenger, Clint Barton, a.k.a. Hawkeye, and immediately made Barnes’s new pet America’s sweetheart.”

“Her name’s Muffy,” said Steve."

Wanda Maximoff

and the woman was young again by Mira_Jade (General, 3669)

Tony Stark called them the Cap's Kooky Quintet, and sometimes the term amused her – causing her to lift a sardonic brow where someday a smile would truly smile. She enjoyed the presence of comrades – true comrades – and she enjoyed the way their minds wove and bound together about each other to fluctuate against her senses as one. There was something soothing about being in their midst, and even when their loud and brash ways – their painful Americaness - rubbed her raw and drained on her, it was ever the knitting of their minds that soothed those moments over, and made them inconsequential.

Phil Coulson

Coulson's First Day of School by storiesfortravellers (Teen, 3055)

Coulson looked up at him. “I like drawing pictures with Mr. Rogers. I like having tea parties with Ms. Potts. I like it when Dr. Banner reads me books, and I like it when Natasha teaches me things. And I like when you play with me. You do really good voices when we play action figures. And you’re the only one who lets me do stuff like jump off the high diving board at the pool or eat three cupcakes or play tackle with kids at the park.”

Clint didn’t realize that. He was pretty sure that meant that he was doing something wrong.

Darcy Lewis

Beginner Yoga for Dummies (Darcys) and Sad Hobos by chailover (Teen, 3434)

Darcy had a theory: crazy attracted crazy, working kind of like gravity. It was pretty much her explanation for her life after Thor. And if she had thought the type of crazy Thor attracted was bad, be it Loki or the Warrior Three and Sif, or the dark elves and the Convergence, it was still nothing against what the Avengers manage en masse.

Matt Murdock

Double Blind by smilebackwards (Teen, 2381) tumblr: @smilebackwards

Stark snaps his fingers. “You can’t see half of my inventions. This explains so much about you and why you’ve never been properly impressed by me.”

“Does it?” Matt says, ambiguously.

Sam Wilson

Bystander by scribblemetimbers (Teen, 52029)

“I just want you to know,” Sam says loudly, cautiously raising his hands, “That I’m very poor and very sleep-deprived and literally the only thing you can kill me for right now are my notes.” He pauses. Wait. On second thought: “Please don’t steal my notes.”

“I’m not—I’m not a mugger,” Not Mugger rasps out, and for all that he looks about to keel over and die, the man actually manages to sound offended.

Nick Fury

Bedtime Story by dixiehellcat (Teen, 2532) tumblr: @deehellcat

Fury snorted. “I have to check in with the duty officer. I’ll be back in, let’s say twenty minutes. I expect all of you to have whatever your pre-bedtime routines are completed, and be in here pajama’ed and ready to be read to.”

He tapped the book under his arm, then left with the usual dramatic swish of his long coat. Bruce scratched his head. “Did…he just say be ready to be read to?”

Pepper Potts

Pepper and the Avengers (Which She Knows Nothing About) by rebelmeg (General, 6696) tumblr: @rebelmeg

The Avengers, that mismatched group of hurt and heroism, was one of the most important things in Tony Stark’s life. So, naturally, Pepper had made them an important part of her life too.

Vision

039. Intoxicated by aimmyarrowshigh (Teen, 100) tumblr: @aimmyarrowshigh

It might be nice to fit in, just this once. To lose a bit of composure.

Vision floated over to the refrigerator and, with some timidity, pulled off a magnet. He stuck it to his forehead.

#marvel fic rec

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aswallowssong · 4 years

Text

I’m Fine

In which Spencer is once again hiding the fact that he doesn’t feel well. The Big Kid Squad conspires to play a sneaky game from James’s “nerd-camp” to get their youngest to cooperate, but as most things do when you’re seventeen, it blows up in their faces. It’s okay though. James Blake is the dad no one expected him to be.

This drabble is based in @themetaphorgirl‘s Patron Saints AU (Patron Saint of Lost Causes), which is AMAZING and YOU SHOULD READ.

Read on AO3

------

In retrospect, they all should have seen it coming. It tended to start the same way. The eye rubbing always came first, as if the nine year old was trying to physically remove the discomfort sprouting there. Then there was the lack of chatter; the quiet that was so unlike their youngest member that even Emily and Dave started to get uneasy, instead of enjoying the fleeing silence.

By the time he hit the stage of general grumpiness and irritability, everyone knew exactly what was going on.

Spencer got sick all the time. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t surprising.

It was, however, really starting to bother the Big Kids that he would vehemently deny, deny, deny until he was melting down, and someone was physically scraping him off the floor.

And that was how they found themselves having a pre-movie night “Big Kids” meeting in the lounge while Derek, Penelope, and JJ kept Spencer distracted. Their youngest had almost thrown a fit when Hotch had said that no, he couldn’t stay with them, and no, they couldn’t just pretend he wasn’t there. He’d been assured that Penelope needed him for a very special craft, and while he’d pouted and grumbled, he hadn’t melted down. Not yet.

“I can’t do this,” Emily said, toying with the bracelets on her arms. “I can’t tiptoe like this all the time.”

“It’s not all the time,” Hotch said defensively from his spot on the floor, “It’s just when he’s being… you know.” He gestured vaguely, making it very apparent he didn’t quite know himself.

“When he doesn’t feel well,” Alex said gently, shifting her position on the couch to press closer to James. She hated when Spencer struggled, and judging by the way he’d become more and more irritable over the last two days, the weekend would be a struggle in and of itself.

“He’s literally sick all the time!” Emily shot back. “I love him, you guys know I do, but really? He could say something before he’s a ticking time bomb of grumpy, crying illness.”

“I don't know,” Dave said from his place in the armchair, “He’s made it pretty clear he just wants to be left alone.”

“Yeah, and we see how well that goes,” she countered.

Hotch sighed loudly, running a hand down his face. Spencer had ended up in his bed the night before, sometime around three in the morning, and he’d been too tired to confront the issue then. He’d have done it once he woke up, but by that time the child was gone.

It was made very clear at breakfast when Spencer denied that it had even happened that they were really in for it.

There was quiet between the five of them for a minute before James said thoughtfully, “Well. We could have him play.”

“Absolutely not,” Alex said as Dave quickly shook his head and said, “Not a chance.”

Hotch and Emily exchanged a look before Hotch looked to James.

“I’m lost. Play what?”

“There’s this game the three of us play called I’m Fine-”

“Spencer is way too smart for I’m Fine, Jamie.” Alex said, shifting away from him to look him full in the face.

James raised an eyebrow.

“You and Dave and I play I’m Fine. We have for years. He might be a genius, but no one is too smart for I’m Fine.”

“What the fuck are you all going on about?” Emily asked, arms crossing over her chest.

Dave chuckled quietly. “I’m Fine is a game James made us start playing Sophomore year that he learned from some girl at his nerd summer camp.”

“Hey!” James said, though he didn’t look offended. He was grinning. “Going to HOSA camp was cool! Kit taught it to our whole camp crew, and you guys like I’m Fine, so don’t bash.”

“Please,” Hotch said, just a bit loudly. “Will someone explain this game? And how you think it’s going to help with the Spencer issue?”

The three seniors looked at each other for a moment before Alex gestured, sighing quietly.

“Go ahead, Jamie, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

James already had a grin on his face.

“Okay! When I was at HOSA camp between Freshman and Sophomore year - shut up, Dave! - I was on a crew with the girl named Kit from Vermont. She was in the healthcare pathways track at her high school, and none of that is really all that important, but she taught us this game they play in her cadre.”

“Which,” Dave said, one finger held in the air to cut off James mid-thought, “Is objectively not actually a game.”

“It is a game!” James defended. “There is a winner and there’s a loser. And there’s rules. How is it not a game?”

“I don’t care!” Emily said, hands gesturing wildly in the air as she grew more agitated. “Just keep going. We aren’t going to have them distracted very much longer.”

“Okay, okay,” James said, “so basically here’s what you do.”

It took a few minutes, but once James had laid out the rules, Alex shook her head gently.

“It only works for the three of us because we all agree to play. We’ve all agreed to play for years now. It’s more of a pleasantry anyway. Spencer’s too smart, he’ll see right through us.”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said, “Spencer is really competitive. And, he’s nine. He’ll probably miss the part where it’s only sort-of a game-”

“Hey!”

“And he’ll think he can trick us.”

“Or he’ll think he’s smarter than us,” Emily said, “He already does most of my homework. There’s no way he’ll be willing to admit we can outsmart him. And he’s been saying he’s fine for days, it’ll be easy to get him to say it again.”

They all looked to Alex, and after a moment she nodded, fiddling with the bow that had started to slip out of her hair.

“Okay. We can try, but if this doesn’t work, you all need to figure out another way to get him to admit he feels terrible. I don’t want this to end with a meltdown.”

James grinned, squeezing her upper arm gently, victory already in his eyes.

“Oh, this is going to work. You’ll see.”

-----

“I don’t wanna watch Toy Story,” Spencer whined. His voice was raspy, as if it physically pained him to grumble about the offending Disney movie.

They’d only gotten the Baby Squad back ten minutes before, and Spencer was in full-grump mode. He had pouted when Alex suggested he cuddle with her on the couch, insisting that he “wasn’t a baby” and “I want to sit on the floor!”

That’s exactly where he was, back pressed against Dave's armchair. His blanket had been retrieved by Alex and was on the couch, but when Hotch had offered it to him he’d nearly taken the older boy’s head off.

“It’s JJ’s turn to pick, and she wants to watch Toy Story,” Alex said patiently, frowning while looking at how pale he was under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the seventh floor lounge.

“But we watched Toy Story twenty three days ago!” He whined, louder than before. Dave noticeably winced at the sound.

A piece of popcorn flew across the room and hit Spencer just above his left eye. “Then when it’s your turn after JJ, don’t pick Toy Story,” Derek said, smirking just slightly at his own joke.

“But I don’t want to watch it at all!”

JJ rolled her eyes, but otherwise seemed unbothered by what was happening. She knew Spencer was sick. She knew the Big Kids would fix it. And she knew that Buzz and Woody didn’t really care about the grumbling nine year old behind her.

Hotch, however, raised an eyebrow, watching Spencer with new intensity.

He did genuinely look terrible. It wasn’t them being overprotective, or Emily being agitated. Spencer had been avoiding them all day, and now that they had a good look at him, it was easy to see why.

The baby of their group was as white as a sheet, save for the fever red flush across his cheeks. He was shaking too, though it was unsure if that was from the grumpy rage he was sending towards the TV, or because he was trembling as fever chills snaked up his spine. How the shadows under his eyes were so dark, considering he was out like a light when Hotch had found them sharing the older boy’s mattress, could be anyone’s guess.

There were probably things the others didn’t notice that James would, what with him so desperately and intentionally trying to become a doctor someday. That’s why James was the cornerstone of their plan. They just had to get all the right conditions.

“Spencer,” Hotch warned gently as the younger boy whined about Toy Story for probably the seventeenth time, “You’re being rude. JJ is allowed to pick whatever she wants.”

“I’m not! Toy Story is a stupid pick! She picked it last time!”

Hotch sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. He turned to make eye contact with Alex, and when he nodded, she got up from her spot on the couch.

She quietly knelt next to Spencer, right at the foot of Dave’s chair, and spoke just a bit louder than she normally would when she was trying to calm him down.

“Baby, are you sure you don’t want to come sit on the couch?”

“I’m not a baby, Alex!” Spencer whined, like a baby. “I wanna sit here on the floor! Like everyone else! You aren’t bothering anyone else!”

She worried at her lip for a second before sighing, turning to face James, and finally nodding.

“Spencer…” She said even more gently, pressing further when James nodded back, and moving to push his bangs off of his forehead, “are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine!” He shrieked, trying to swat her hand away.

Bingo.

Alex backed off as James leaned forward from his position on the couch.

“Hey, Spence,” he said gently.

James had a totally different approach to Spencer than the rest of the Big Kids. Alex had agitated him, but when he turned to look at James, his body language softened. James was goofy and usually didn’t treat Spencer like a baby, so he was the perfect candidate for their pseudo-intervention.

“What?” Spencer asked, though his tone was still harsh. It wasn’t as aggressive as it had been with Alex, though, so James pressed on.

“Do you want to play a game?”

There was a moment in which Spencer was quiet before his nose scrunched, squinting up at James with suspicion.

“I… I don’t…” He started, resolve almost cracking before any plan needed to be enacted at all. Then, there was a loud yell from the offending movie. Spencer sighed angrily, rubbing at his eyes fervently. “Anything is better than Toy Story.”

“Great,” James said evenly, “so you’ll play?”

“What game?”

The Big Kids seemed to collectively hold their breath, waiting for James to explain and hoping it wouldn’t all blow up in their faces.

Penelope and Derek had lost interest in the television, much more interested in what was going to happen now between Spencer and the Big Kids. JJ didn't seem to mind that no one else was watching, shoving handfuls of popcorn in her face and minding her own business as Woody and Buzz bantered back and forth.

"It's called I'm Fine,” James said simply.

Spencer squinted further, as if the glasses were doing nothing for him.

"That sounds stupid,” came his raspy whine, and Hotch audibly sighed.

Emily's eyes widened a bit, glancing to where Dave was sitting, and then to Penelope, who was swatting at JJ’s arm in an attempt to pry her attention away from the movie and onto the battle that was clearly unfolding right in their very lounge.

Alex's arms were crossed, lips pursed. She wore an expression that showed exactly how happy she was about the whole situation, and she was only going to be satisfied once it was all over and Spencer was cuddled in her arms.

"You haven't heard the rules yet. It's... a brain game," James offered, not at all affected by Spencer's tone and demeanor. If anything, he seemed to soften more to it.

Spencer shifted on the floor, clearly uncomfortable but not willing to move from his defiant choice.

"It is?"

"Sure. I'll tell you the rules and you can decide if you want to play me."

Now Spencer sat forward on his haunches.

"I'm gonna play you? In a brain game?" He sounded unimpressed as he rasped his skepticism.

Dave snorted from behind Spencer, not trying very hard to mask his amusement, but James still sat, unphased, and simply nodded at the grumpy nine year old in front of him.

"Yeah, you're gonna play me in a brain game."

"Okay, I like winning. Tell me the rules."

James sat back a little, biding his time. He knew the longer he waited Spencer out, the more tired he would get, and the easier the game would be.

"Well, the game usually starts when someone says "I'm fine," after someone else asks if they're feeling okay."

Spencer's eyes flashed with suspicion again.

"But I am fine."

"Right. That's what you said. So now, the game starts. Normally the person who asks if you're sick get's to play with you, and that's Alex, but I figured you'd maybe want to play with me instead. Is that what you want?"

Spencer looked up at Alex for a moment, seemingly weighing their intelligence against one another in his mushy, grumpy fever brain.

"I'd rather play you."

"You wanna play me?"

Spencer's eyebrows tugged together.

"I just said that."

"You have to say it officially. No take-backsies."

Spencer stared at him for a moment with the sort of incredible distaste that can only come from an ill child.

"That's stupid."

"Spencer. Rude," Hotch reprimanded gently, but James held a hand up.

"No, it's fine. Those are the rules, Spence, stupid or not."

Spencer rolled his eyes and sighed in a huff.

"Fine, yes, James , I want to play you and not Alex."

James grinned, nodding and humming quietly.

"Great. So here's how we play. I get to guess up to five symptoms you might be having, you know, because I think you're feeling pretty crummy."

"I'm-"

"I know, you're fine. That's what you said, anyway. So I get to guess, and if I get three right, you have to give in, and let mama over there in on how you're really feeling."

Spencer seemed to deflate, arms crossing around his midsection, paling further if possible.

"But I'm... fine." He frowned, seeming to not quite understand what was going on.

"Right. So that's the other part. If I get three or more wrong, we'll all leave you alone. You're fine. We'll let you be."

James sat back fully on the couch now, done with his part. Now it was up to Spencer to take the bait.

All eyes were on the nine year old, even JJ's, as he fidgeted and rubbed at his eyes roughly. He finally looked up at James and said, "You have to get three?"

"Yep. More than half."

"And if I win... you'll all leave me alone?"

The question was clearly more directed at Alex and Hotch, his eyes even darting up to the older girl nervously.

Alex nodded, head dipping towards James.

"If you win, we'll all leave you alone. But if Jamie wins, you have to let go, baby," she said gently, words feather light on the top of the thick, tense air that now blanketed the room.

Spencer now narrowed his eyes not at James, but Alex.

"I'm not a baby," he said with an air of finality that would have been intimidating if it wasn't obvious now that he was most certainly trembling.

"Great," James said, "ready to start?"

"Start?"

"Well, ready for me to guess, I guess."

James tilted his head in a way that was searching, but not confrontational. It took a minute, but Spencer gave the smallest nod.

Hotch, was quite frankly, amazed that Spencer was so competitive that he was about to let himself be called out. He also took a small moment to be thankful that Spencer was nine years old, and not fourteen, and that even though he was a genius, he really only had the processing power a nine year old's brain development could offer.

"Okay, so I'm going to guess that you have a fever, based on flush and shaking alone. If you don't, I’ll be more concerned, actually.”

When Spencer frowned and curled into himself slightly, eyes downcast, James offered a small smile. He shifted on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “You can come up here if you want.”

Spencer shook his head quickly, and then stopped with just as much force. Everything was too bright and the carpet was too scratchy on his fever-sensitive skin. He was cold, too, even though he was already wearing a sweater of Hotch's that absolutely dwarfed him. His stomach hurt and his head hurt and everything hurt and he just wanted to be held.

But he wasn't a baby. They always treated him like a baby and he could handle himself just fine. He was fine.

He shut his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before he spoke in a weak voice.

“No. I want… I want to be on the floor. I’m not a baby.”

“I’m not a baby, and I’m not on the floor,” Emily offered, and Spencer didn’t even open his eyes to respond.

“Emily, you can’t solve basic trigonometric functions, you are a baby.”

Derek masked his laughter by clearing his throat, and Penelope by shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth, but Dave laughed at Emily’s annoyed glare openly.

James didn't break stride for a second. "I'd also guess you've got a headache. You're rubbing at your eyes."

"I can't see well. I always rub at my eyes," Spencer whined defensively, though it was obvious some of his resolve was starting to crumble.

"Not like that, you don't," James said softly, "How am I doing?"

"I don't want to play anymore," the younger mumbled, tightening the arms he had wrapped around his midsection. It was an obvious attempt to self-soothe, and James shook his head gently.

"I'm going to say my first two guesses were right then."

There was quiet for a moment, everyone trying to decide what the next ten seconds would bring.

What happened was not what they expected.

James got off the couch, moving so that he could sit down cross legged on the floor across from Spencer. He kept his posture open, mouth tugging into a gentle smile.

"Can I have my next guess?" He asked, gently tipping his finger under Spencer’s chin to bring his head up.

Spencer took a shaky breath and looked up to meet James's eyes. Slowly he nodded, eyes already beginning to well with tears.

James gestured to Spencer's arms tightly clasped around his midsection, eyes kind and voice gentle, as if he was apologizing.

"Your stomach’s sick, isn’t it?"

That did it. The tears in Spencer's eyes absolutely poured down his cheeks, a loud wail bubbling up from his chest as he let all the walls he'd tried to keep up crumble around him.

He flung himself not at Alex or Hotch, who were both now standing, ready to move. Instead, he flung himself into James. His thin arms latched around James's neck, face burying in his shoulder as his body was wracked with sobs.

James heard Alex hum behind him, surely wanting to comfort Spencer herself, but holding back. Spencer’s wails were choppy and gasping, those of a much younger child than even he was, and there was nothing the group of teenagers could do as they watched him fall to pieces in James’s arms.

James appeared to be unphased. He simply gathered their youngest more securely against himself and stood up, careful to keep a defensive hold on the hysterical, and very warm child

"Shh, shh," he shushed quietly, falling to a slow rock-bounce he'd seen Alex perform before, one hand gently rubbing across Spencer's bony back. "It's okay, bud. I know.”

There was a moment in which no one moved or made a sound but James and Spencer. JJ had long since turned off her movie, and the fear of agitating Spencer’s meltdown was far too high for anyone to intervene. Alex, who was visibly upset as she watched her baby sob into someone else’s arms, moved to step in, but Hotch’s arm came up across her chest, his head shaking just slightly in order to dissuade her.

“You’re okay,” James was saying quietly, his voice barely audible under Spencer’s shuddering sobs.

He shifted his arms tighter around the child, glancing over to where Alex and Hotch were positioned. Hotch took a step closer.

“Do you want me to-” he started, but James shook his head, giving a weak smile.

“No, no it’s alright. We’re just going to go calm down.”

There was a beat in which he raised an eyebrow, clearly asking a kind of permission of Spencer’s surrogate parents. They both nodded quickly, watching with surprised expressions as James took even steps out of the lounge, Spencer wrapped around him tightly.

The silence continued for almost a minute before Derek said bluntly, “What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea,” Penelope said, eyes still locked on the door.

“I do,” Emily said, flopping back on the couch and reaching for the popcorn bowl. “Spencer got his meltdown, and I’m Fine just became my favorite game. Give it, Jayje.”

-----

James walked Spencer up and down the hallway for a while, letting him cry and wail himself hoarse while James held him close to his chest. He’d known Spencer hadn’t felt well for a few days, but Emily was right in saying that Spencer was sick all the time. He easily had the worst immune system of anyone James knew. If he’d known the meltdown coming was going to be this catastrophic, he might have made an attempt to intervene sooner.

A few doors in the hallway opened, confused or annoyed faces glancing at James as Spencer cried on. They shut as soon as James set a laser-like glare on them, daring them to say something to either him, or his tiny charge.

“Okay, Spence, okay,” he said gently as soon as the crying lost its angry quality, only left sounding sick and sad and desperate. “Shh, okay kiddo. You’re okay.”

It took a moment for the cries to quiet, not dying entirely, but no longer rupturing his eardrums.

“There you go,” James cooed softly, hand still rubbing along Spencer’s back. He felt the shuttering turn back into trembling as his breathing evened back out. “Good, good job. Good job, Spence. Let’s get you in bed, okay?”

Spencer sluggishly nodded against James’s collarbone, the death grip around his neck slackening. James walked them down to Hotch’s room, knowing that the RA had his own bathroom. Spencer ended up in there a lot of nights anyway, he figured, so Hotch wouldn’t be mad. Hotch couldn’t be mad at Spencer if he tried.

James only let go of Spencer once he set him down on Hotch’s bathroom counter, flicking on the light and taking a small step back to take in the boy in front of him.

There were tear tracks still running down Spencer’s face, which was a color between stark white and pale gray, save for the deepening flush across his cheeks, ears, and crawling down his neck. His eyes were swollen and red from the tears that still fell, even though they had slowed. He was shaking as chills overwhelmed his tiny frame, causing him to gasp quietly every so often.

James frowned with empathy. He hadn’t been that sick since the flu season before, but it was a hard feeling to forget. Plus, he didn’t know if he’d seen Spencer look that awful in a while, either, and the shaking child in front of him was breaking his heart.

“Okay,” he said gently, “what do you say we get you out of your uniform and into… I can go get your pajamas, or, uh,” he thought for a moment, glancing out the door of the small bathroom and into the bedroom, still dark as he hadn’t thought to turn on the light. “I can find you one of Hotch’s shirts?”

Spencer’s hands palmed his eyes and he shook his head slowly.

“D’n le’ve,” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper, eyes half-lidded.

“Okay, then we’ll do that. Here, stop rubbing at your eyes. Let’s…”

He trailed off, never having been in Hotch’s bathroom, and not knowing what he was going to have to work with. He didn’t think about if Hotch would be upset with him rifling through the tiny medicine cabinet, or taking the washcloth on the counter to wet under the tap.

“Come here, kiddo,” he said gently, pulling Spencer towards him a bit as he gently wiped off the boy’s face, cleaning the tear tracks and hoping to do something immediate for the fever he felt climbing steadily just by being in close proximity again.

In time he got Spencer out of his uniform, into one of Hotch’s large cotton tee shirts, and nestled under the covers of the RA’s dark bedroom. James sat down on the edge of the bed, pressing a palm against Spencer’s forehead.

“So, can we talk about it?” He finally asked. Spencer curled into himself, pressed against James’s side.

“Do we ‘ave to?” he rasped, looking up with glassy eyes.

James nodded a bit, giving Spencer a gentle look. “Yeah, we do. I won, remember?”

Spencer cast his eyes down at the blankets, one hand twisting weakly at the fabric. He sighed before he said weakly, “I d’n feel good.”

James let out one small chuckle. “Yeah, I can see that. Can you be more specific for me?”

He squirmed. “D’n feel good at all .” Little hands twisted in fabric, big tears creating dark spots on the already dark pillowcase. “Since We’sday, I guess.”

James opened his mouth to prod again, but Spencer kept going, voice going in and out and squeaks and rasps in a way that would have been comical if it didn’t sound painful.

“M’ head ‘urts. ‘N my throat ‘n my stomach.”

“Sinuses?” James offered. Spencer was perpetually sniffling.

“No. S’a habit.”

“I know, just checking.”

“I…” he sighed, a sharp tremor shooting through his body and cutting him off in a whimper. “I feel… wrong. ”

James nodded, running his hand gently through Spencer’s short curls. It was the moments that Spencer let himself be vulnerable that James remembered just how young he was. Just how little, and fragile. How much help he really needed.

“I know, kiddo. I know.” He adjusted the washcloth that he’d laid on Spencer’s forehead, not missing the way Spencer leaned into the touch. He took the moment of vulnerability while he had it. “Can we make a deal?”

Spencer’s eyes had flitted closed, but he nodded gently.

“Mhm.”

“I don’t really care if you tell Alex and Hotch when you don’t feel good. Really. I know how they can be, I get it. But I want you to tell me, okay? Maybe if it comes from me, it’ll soften the blow from them, huh?”

For a second, James thought Spencer had fallen asleep. He thought about getting out his phone and calling Alex. She was no doubt pacing the floor until she could gather Spencer in her arms. He reached for his pocket, but found his wrist being grabbed by weak, spindly fingers.

“‘Kay.” Spencer mumbled quietly, shifting so that he was closer to James, nearly in his lap. “Can… not yet.”

James read between the lines, moving his hand from his pocket and shifting back so that Spencer could lay between his legs, his tiny body curled in on itself, head resting just below James’s heart.

It was at least an hour later when the door cracked open, two figures stood in the doorway: one tall and lanky, the other small and dainty.

Hotch and Alex.

Spencer was sleeping, body twitching and shivering ever so slightly as the fever worked its way through his system. James had been counting breaths, wondering when he should find a thermometer or call someone or shift from under the kid. He just hadn’t been able to bring himself to move him at all, even when one of his legs had been asleep at least twenty minutes.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Alex moved quickly, perched on the edge of the bed in a moment.

“Hey.” She matched his level, eyes wide and worried as she looked at her sleeping boy. “I, um. Can I… I have Blankie.” She held up the blanket that was normally life or death. “I’m surprised he’s sleeping without it.”

“So was I, but you should have heard him in the hallway. Basically screamed himself to exhaustion.”

She shifted, looking down at her lap.

“Trust me,” she said, “I did.”

“Cry?” He asked, knowing her far too well.

“Course I did. Can I have him?”

James nodded quickly, the two of them moving in perfect sync to get Spencer off of James and into the arms of Alex. Spencer seemed to relax further in the arms of his assumed mother, then further still when James draped Blankie over the top of him.

With Alex wrapped in her own world, a hand gently trailing through Spencer’s hair, eyes locked on his small frame, James found himself taking a step away. Letting them have their space.

He turned to look at Hotch, who looked stressed in his own right.

“Sorry I invaded your space,” James said quietly to the other boy, “I just thought, well, this is where he comes at night when something isn’t right.”

“No,” Hotch said, “I’m glad you did. I’ll keep him here tonight so I can watch him. He looks rough.”

“Yeah. I um, I found that washcloth in your bathroom, but I had no idea where anything else might be.”

Hotch shrugged.

“Thermometer’s in the bedside table. We use it enough, you know, so I keep it close…” He tilted his head slightly while peering over at Spencer, a confused look passing over his face. “Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Hotch said quietly. His eyes didn’t move from Spencer. “I should be sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I… thank you for doing that. You were really good with him.”

James looked at Hotch a little closer, really seeing how tired the junior looked. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and in the dark of the bedroom, it showed.

“Hotch, really? Of course. We’re all trying to keep this kid alive. You don’t have to carry it all.”

Hotch hummed, rubbing lightly at his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Yeah… yeah right.”

James clapped him on the shoulder gently, taking a deep breath of his own. His own eyes turned to watch the way Spencer seemed peaceful now. Sick, but peaceful. He would be alright. They’d take care of him.

“You okay?” Hotch asked.

James gave a humorless chuckle, nodding and glancing at Hotch with a very small smile on his face.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes looking less worried as they flicked back to Spencer. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

#themetaphorgirl #patron saints of lost causes #fanfic of a fanfic #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #we love playing in someone else's sandbox #Brenna writes things #or at least she tries #sickfic #James Blake is the best dad #Spencer needs a hug

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ridiculousyoungicarus · 3 years

Photo

i wanna hide the truth, i wanna shelter you

a love letter to luxor’s zander driskell

I want to start off with a disclaimer that there’s a bunch more pre-Luxor content on this one compared to the girls’, but with Zander it felt extremely important to explore that aspect. There’s a note on the section where I’m finally playing him in the roleplay due to that, but anything before that point is before I started playing him in the group. Anyway, I’m proud to present a 3 hour Zander playlist, come help me judge him for the amount of references to his dad and Ches throughout this entire playlist.

Yet again I’d like to thank Lex for help throughout this process, and warn everyone that the usual Zander trigger warnings are all over this playlist (mental health, violence, abuse / child abuse, etc etc). Anything additional is noted on the sections.

‘cause i had a fire, passion and desire. now all i require are circuits and wires | pre-luxor:

zander before attending luxor additional tws: potential self harm (breathe me)

iRobot (Jon Bellion) [ I was a human, before you killed me and ripped my heart out. ] // Breathe Me - Acoustic (Jonathan Roy) [ I think that I might break and lost myself again and I feel so unsafe. ] // Tell Me Why (Taylor Swift) [ Why do you have to make me feel small so you can feel whole inside? Why do you have to put down my dreams so you're the only thing on my mind? ] // Weight Of Living, Pt. II (Bastille) [ All that you desired when you were a child was to be old. Now that you are here, suddenly you fear you've lost control. ]

happiness is beautiful to see, won't you box it up for me? | sophomore year:

zander’s sophomore year at luxor, and the introduction to one ches elswood. additional tws: bleed out can be extremely uncomfortable to listen to with the whole, bleeding out theme. please skip that song if you feel you need to

Cop Car (Keith Urban) [ You were thinking that running for it would make a good story; I was thinking you were crazy as hell. ] // Don't Trust Me (Phillip Phillips) [ So when I say I'm okay, don't trust me. ] // Burn Out (Imagine Dragons) [ Oh, give me strength, and give me peace. Does anyone out there want to hear me? ] // Crawling (Linkin Park) [ This lack of self-control I fear is never-ending. Controlling, I can't seem. ] // Bleed Out (Blue October) [ Will I bleed out? I gave it all, but you can't stop taking from me. And way down, I know you know where to cut me with your eyes closed. ] // Don't Sing the Blues (Bohnes) [ I was ridiculous, young Icarus. I flew too close to the sun. ]

do you remember all the plans we made? | helena:

a section dedicated to zander’s relationship with helena additional tws: sex (carry your throne), alcohol (tonight I wanna cry)

Carry Your Throne (Jon Bellion) [ If you're lost in this darkness I'll carry your throne. No, I won't let it swallow you whole. ] // Snake Eyes (Mumford & Sons) [ It's in the eyes. I can tell, you will always be danger. ] // Halfway Gone (Lifehouse) [ You were always hard to hold, so letting go ain't easy. I'm hanging on but growing cold. ] // The Promise (Andy Black) [ Tell me what ever happened to the love we gave, the promise that we both betrayed. ] // Tonight I Wanna Cry (Keith Urban) [ And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control, but I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain. To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain from my eyes, tonight I want to cry. ]

i say one day the valley is gonna swallow me whole, i feel like a photo that's been overexposed | junior year (‘18-‘19):

junior year of high school, fairly self explanatory additional tws: smoking (antisocial)

Flaws (Bastille) [ You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground. Dig them up. Let's finish what we've started. ] // Battle Cry (Imagine Dragons) [ Just one more time before I go, I'll let you know that all this time I've been afraid, wouldn't let it show. Nobody can save me now, no. ] // 12 Rounds (Bohnes) [ I'm coming home, I've got some things to say. My gloves are on and my shoes are almost laced. ] // Novocaine (Fall Out Boy) [ Don’t mind me, I’m just the son of a gun. So don’t stop, don't stop 'till your heart goes numb. Now I’m just numb, I don’t feel a thing for you. ] // Machine (Imagine Dragons) [ 'Cause I've been wondering when you gonna see I'm not for sale. I've been questioning when you gonna see I'm not a part of your machine. ] // Antisocial (Ed Sheeran feat. Travis Scott) [ So antisocial, but I don't care. Don't give a damn, I'm gonna smoke here. ] // Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea (Fall Out Boy) [ Seems like the whole damn world went and lost its mind and all my childhood heroes have fallen off or died. ] // Never Going Back (The Score) [ I'm never gonna follow just because they say so. ]

consign me not to darkness | summer 2019:

the summer after the merge, where zander is stuck at home working for lance additional tws: alcohol (if you’re going through hell)

Two Evils (Bastille) [ I'm the lesser of two evils or am I tricking myself nice? ] // Man or a Monster (Sam Tinnesz feat. Zayde Wølf) [ When you look at yourself, are you a man or a monster? ] // DNA (Lia Marie Johnson) [ Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you. ] // Broken Crown (Mumford & Sons) [ So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down I'll never wear your broken crown. I can take the road and I can fuck it all away, but in this twilight, our choices seal our fate. ] // If You're Going Through Hell {Before The Devil Even Knows} (Rodney Atkins) [ I've been deep down in that darkness, I've been down to my last match. Felt a hundred different demons breathin' fire down my back. ] // Mud On the Tires (Brad Paisley) [ 'Cause it's a good night to be out there soakin' up the moonlight. ] // Pray For You (Jaron And The Long Road To Love) [ I pray your brakes go out runnin' down a hill, I pray a flower pot falls from a window sill and knocks you in the head like I'd like to. ]

but all the scars they prove that i fought my way through so, i always keep 'em showing | senior year of hs (‘19-‘20)

finally, the point in the timeline where zander is actually getting roleplayed by me. includes summer camp fun too

The Silence (Bastille) [ Tell me a piece of your history that you've never said out loud. Pull the rug beneath my feet, and shake me to the ground. ] // Stand Up (The Cab) [ Yeah, all of my demons are kicking and screaming but I'll never leave them behind. Yeah, maybe I'm crazy but don't try to save me, 'cause I've never felt so alive. ] // Only One (The Score) [ Tell me how it feels to know I'm not a puppet under control. I cut the strings a long time ago. ]

running from the devil, but the devil takes hold | fall & winter 2020:

a new school year, increased disdain for his father, a certain set of posters, and the start of realizing there may be something wrong with him.

Gold (Imagine Dragons) [ But now you can't tell the false from the real. Who can you trust? When everything you touch turns to gold. ] // Just Like You (Three Days Grace) [ You thought you were standing beside me, you were only in my way. You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you. ] // Bad Blood (Bastille) [ All this bad blood here, won't you let it dry? It's been cold for years, won't you let it lie? ] // Middle Finger (Bohnes) [ But I refuse to let you make me feel like I can't fly. Not only will I soar again, I'll own the fucking sky. ] // American Beauty/American Psycho (Fall Out Boy) [ You take the full, full truth, then you pour some out, and you can kill me, kill me or let God sort 'em out. ] // Homecoming King (Andy Black) [ You're standing there with the homecoming king; turn the silver spoon into a diamond ring. Can he make you disappear without anyone noticing? Yeah, fuck the homecoming king ] // Monster (Imagine Dragons) [ I'm only a man with a candle to guide me, I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me. A monster, a monster, I've turned into a monster. ] // Animal I Have Become (Three Days Grace) [ Somebody help me through this nightmare I can't control myself. Somebody wake me from this nightmare, I can't escape this hell. ] // Gallows (The Score feat. Jamie N Commons) [ Been turning my back on the sun these days, trying to walk the line but I'm losing my way. ]

i'm sifting through the sand, looking for pieces of broken hourglass trying to get it all back but it back together | spring 2021:

continuing to take a good look at his mental health, a desire to improve, and an appreciation for his support circle. additional tws: sex/masturbation mention (All Time Low)

All Time Low (Jon Bellion) [ I've been trying to fix my pride but that shit's broken, that shit's broken. ] // Bishops Knife Trick (Fall Out Boy) [ These are the last blues we're ever gonna have, let's see how deep we get. The glow of the cities below lead us back to the places that we never should have left. ] // Demons (Imagine Dragons) [ They say it's what you make, I say it's up to fate; it's woven in my soul, I need to let you go. Your eyes, they shine so bright, I wanna save that light, I can't escape this now, unless you show me how. ] // I'll Be Good (Jaymes Young) [ I never meant to start a fire, I never meant to make you bleed. I'll be a better man today. ] // The Anchor (Bastille) [ You were the light that is blinding me. You're the anchor that I tie to my brain. 'Cause when it feels when I'm lost at sea, you're the song that I sing again and again. ] // Ungrateful Eyes (Jon Bellion) [ Still lost, still feel depressed like I'm try to find a way in. I'm trying to figure this out, but my God I'm so human. And so I turned to my sister and smiled and asked this question, “all we wanna know is where the stars came from, but do we ever stop to watch them shine?” ] // Rise Up (Imagine Dragons) [ The darkness right in front of me, oh, it's calling out, and I won't walk away. ] // Bless The Broken Road (Rascal Flatts) [ Every long lost dream led me to where you are, others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars, pointing me on my way into your loving arms. This much I know is true, that God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you. ]

#musing ( playlists )#no chains won't hold me down ( musings )#violence tw #Smoking tw #alcohol tw #abuse tw #child abuse tw #self harm tw #blood tw #stabbing tw #bc implied

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thompsborn · 4 years

Note

Can I get 👉👈 a Flash centric one shot 👉👈 for the song shuffle thing 👉👈

you were good to me by jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler

leavin' isn't better than tryin'

growin', but i'm just growin' tired

now i'm worried for my soul

and i'm still scared of growin' old

you were good to me

and i'm so used to letting go

but i don't wanna be alone

you were good to me

god only knows where our fears go

hearts i've broke, now my tears flow

you'll see that i'm sorry

'cause you were good to me

you were good to me

[send me a character/ship/dynamic/etc. and i’ll put my music on shuffle and write a drabble/one shot based on the first song that plays!]

actually i’m gonna wait to take more shuffle song requests until after i finish the ones i still have in my drafts!!

i was debating how i wanted to approach this and then earlier today @peachy-keener sent me messages about flash x harley which i already lowkey shipped before but now,,,,,,,, But Now,,,,,, they live rent free in my brain. but this is flash centric!! this is less harleyflash and more PRE-harleyflash. also post endgame.

the ending is abrupt and not good but i genuinely cannot figure out how i want to move forward so that’s the end! that’s it!

(it isn’t stated explicitly, but peterxnedxmj)

tw: rough childhood implications for harley, descriptions of neglectful parenting and verbal abuse, cycle of abuse, getting kicked out of the house, loneliness. it’s a hopeful ending though!! even if it is abrupt and not very good!!

Flash meets Harley Keener after the worst morning of his entire fucking life.

They’re going back to school, because of fucking course they are—barely two weeks have passed since Flash reappeared on the steps leading up to MoMA, tripped over his own two feet in his haste to get a grip on his bearings, and prompty slips on a step and lands nose first into the concrete, a crunch filling his ears. The public hasn’t even gotten a full release about what the hell happened—just a basic press conference, where Steve Rogers, clad in stained sweatpants and with bags under his eyes, a side of him that the public has never seen, handed his shield over to a teary eyed Sam Wilson and promised transparency and honesty, the entire story from start to finish with nothing held back, as soon as they recovered enough to give it all.

Flash doesn’t want to go back to school, except for the fact that he definitely does, if only for the chance of semblance of normalcy.

Everything is different now, after the snap. Or, the re-snap—second snap, the return, the blip, whatever the hell people are calling it. He doesn’t care about what it ends up being called. He just knows that nothing is the same, now.

His sister wasn’t one of the ones who lived those five years, crumbled to ash (dust?)just like Flash did, and he despises the meer idea of Jesse staring down at her hands in terror while watching them disappear and him not being there to at least offer comfort, or something, but he’s selfishly grateful, as well. He didn’t miss a second of her growing up. She’s only thirteen to his sixteen, after all—had she lived, he would have come back to his baby sister being a year older than him, likely a completely different person, like all the shells of people he’s seen on the streets, shells that only ignite with life when they find the person they lost. Christ, Jesse could have been one of those shells.

Thinking about it makes shivers run down his spine, his stomach churn.. He hates it. He hates how close he was to losing that.

God, he hates them—his parents, or the sorry excuse of parents that they are. He hates that he’s coming back from being dead for five years to a step-mom and a step-dad, both of whom clearly despise the fact that they’re expected to help raise these two kids who are just lost and terrified and trying to adjust. They both moved to bigger houses—that are, at the very least, still in the same neighborhood and no more than a ten minute walk apart, making it a bit easier to handle when, inevitably, Flash gets shoved into his father’s care while Jesse is lovingly enveloped into their mother’s arms.

Their mother, who seemed to care at least a little bit beforehand—always kept bandaids and juice boxes in stock, just because he had a tendency of scraping his knee in elementary school and always wanted a juice box when he got home. Sometimes, she would brush fingers through his hair and promise that she loved him, even if she knew she was awful as showing it—even if she, willingly or not, would always love her daughter more. She had not loved him like a mother, no, but like someone who at least gave a shit about his general well being.

Something—well, again, everything—has changed since before, because his mom never even looks at him anymore, barely manages a glance in his general direction whenever he happens to be nearby, which has been a lot, because the custody battle—which, of course, his father paid great money to make a priority in the courts, and then blamed Flash for because of how far he had to dip into his wallet to make it happen—has taken most of the two weeks, even though it was that first day he was shoved into his father’s house, like they knew what they wanted, like it wasn’t going to be a battle until Flash and Jesse themselves spoke up about how much they didn’t want to be separated.

Of course. More things to blame Flash about.

Which his father—and his wife, Trudy—both do. Something they like to flaunt in his face at every hour of the day, like it isn’t bad enough that he put up a fight and still ended up separated from Jesse, like he isn’t about to go back to school with a still-healing broken nose and living in a house he doesn’t know in a room that was clearly never supposed to be his and—

He wakes up the day he’s supposed to go back to school and stares at an unfamiliar ceiling and none of the posters that he had up before he disappeared, an alarm clock that must have been invented while he was gone blaring obnoxiously in his ear. It immediately sets his teeth on edge, makes his shoulders tense.

Maybe, he hopes, school will be familiar.

But everything has changed.

The school, itself, isn’t completely different, of course—classes are where they’ve always been, even if the names on the desks have changed; bathrooms are still pretty gross and have that high school bathroom smell that, for the first time in existence, he’s kind of glad to come across, if only because it makes him feel like it’s still 2018 and he’s going to walk out the door and see faces that he actually know.

He opens the door and a tall blonde guy walks into it—nose first, of course, whips his head back with a yelp and brings a hand up to poke at his nostrils, looks down a moment later and frowns at the crimson shining on the tips of his fingers, and then looks up at Flash.

Instead of anger, he grins, all crooked and boyish, and says, “Hey, we match!”

“We...” Flash trails off, confused; this guy doesn’t even sound like a New Yorker. Has the normal New York accent changed, too? The dude sound souther, for fucks sake. “What?”

Bloody fingers point at Flash’s face—actually, really, at his nose, still bandaged. “That. Noses, y’know? Pretty sure that just broke mine, so—”

“Oh, god,” Flash groans, head dropping to his hands. “Please tell me you’re joking, man.”

Stupidly, the guy pokes at his nose again—this time, at the slightly noticable crook towards the end. He sucks in a sharp breath, winces, and says, “Well, it ain’t feelin’ all that great...”

Flash groans again. “Of fucking course I just broke someone’s fucking nose. Of course.”

“Uh...” The guy frowns, glancing down as a drop of blood falls on the tip of his shoe. “S’alright. You didn’t do it on purpose, so—”

Instantly, Flash chokes on a stupidly bitter laugh. “Not like that’ll matter,” he murmurs.

“So,” the guy goes on, either not hearing Flash’s interjection or choosing not to react to it, “I don’t see what the problem is, here.”

“Of course you don’t,” Flash says, laughing again. “No one—” he stops, brows furrowing as he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, shouldering his backpack with a sigh. “C’mon.”

The guy doesn’t follow when Flash starts walking. When he looks back, the guy is visibly confused. “Why am I following you to a random place, and why are you looking at me like I’m the one who’s being weird right now?”

“The office,” Flash says, instead of providing, like, a real answer. The guy looks even more lost, even looks over his shoulder like Flash is talking to someone else entirely. Flash sighs. “I just broke your nose, man. We have to go to the office so you can get it checked out and tell them what happened. Call home, too, probably, since you’re pretty sure it’s actually broken.”

The guy tilts his head. “We?”

Flash’s frown deepens into a grimace. “Yeah.”

“I think I’m a bit confused, here...”

Groaning once again, Flash gestures down the hallway, in the direction he had been trying to walk, and says, “We need to tell them—”

“That I walked into a door?”

“That I broke your nose!” Flash exclaims.

The guy crinkles his nose before immediately flinching and smoothening it out. “You opened a door. The door that broke my nose because I walked into it. That’s not your fault.”

Flash stares at him, beyond confused and borderline incredulous, but he’s also tired and he doesn’t know this guy or most of the people currently attending this school and his dad married a woman who hates him and his mom also apparently hates him now, too, and he’s living in a guest room that he knows was made specifically for Trudy’s parents to visit them and Jesse doesn’t like mom’s new husband (Flash doesn’t know his name; he wasn’t introduced to the guy and was always lost in his head whenever the judge occasionally brought it up during the custody ordeal) and she misses living together but she’s becoming less and less bitter every day, gushes about how much mom spoils her and peppers her face with kisses and cries while blubbering over how much she missed her and, Christ, no one missed him!

No one. No one wanted him to come back.

“Whatever,” he tells this stranger, no longer seeing the guy, no longer caring.

He doesn’t look back when he walks away.

Harley Keener—as Flash later learns, since he apparently has fifth period with the guy—is, of course, friends with Parker.

Parker, who Flash will never admit to admiring, will never vocalize how jealous he is of everything that Peter has, greets Harley with a small smile, and maybe, if Flash hadn’t instantly scoffed and looked away, he could have noticed the look of understanding and grief that the both of them wore.

Though, he can’t deny, seeing someone he actually knows makes things easier. Or, at least, it does for a few seconds, until he sees the way that Leeds is quiet, staring down at his hands a lot, looking at Parker like he’s looking at a gravestone, glancing at Jones, who is damn near stoic, with pain in his features. Until he notices all the ways that they’re different, too.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, tastes copper, and doesn’t pay attention to the teacher—who he doesn’t fucking know.

Nothing is the same, he thinks.

Not a single god damn thing.

Flash finishes his junior year with no friends, bimonthly weekend visits with his sister, and so much anger burning in his veins that he spits insults at anyone who crosses his path, people who don’t get it, who will never understand.

“You’re a fucking hick that’s probably here on scholarship,” Flash snarls when Harley tries to interfere a verbal beating of a random kid who looks like he isn’t old enough to drive just yet.

Harley’s eyes harden, and his nose—not as straight, now, as it once was, a constant reminder of the break that healed just a little bit wrong—crinkles. He looks conflicted about the situation, and Flash knows that Harley has, for the past few months, been nothing but a kind stranger that tries to talk to Flash in the halls, who always asks how he is and how his day is going and doesn’t even deflate when Flash acts like it’s a hinderance, because Flash doesn’t know how to accept kindness, to react when someone seems to give a shit about him.

Jesse cares—loves him, of course. But Jesse is making friends at her school, and she’s adapting in a way that Flash can’t seem to do.

Harley is a person, a random person, who shows interest whenever he has the opportunity to talk to Flash. Who acts like, maybe, he might kind of care, too.

“Do you think anyone gives a shit about you?” Flash asks—seeing Harley’s face in front of him, sure, but his words are directed at only himself, unable to accept the idea of a stranger caring about him. “You’re nothing,” he says. “You don’t fucking matter, alright? No one fucking cares!”

And then, Parker—in a blur of motion, something awful and protective battling on his face—is standing between them. His teeth are bared like an animal, eyes burning, as he spits out, “Do not talk to him like that.”

“Peter,” Harley tries, voice weak.

Having none of it, apparently, Parker ignores his protest, tells Flash, who is shellshocked by seeing Peter genuinely furious for the first time since tripping him in the halls as freshman, “I don’t give a shit what you say to me, Flash, I’ve put up with it for years, but you do not talk like that to—to anyone else, but especially not to one of the only family members I have left!”

A wounded noise rumbles from Harley’s throat, but Flash—Flash is furious. Because, really, at least Parker has people—he has an aunt who is a better parent than either of his have ever been, friends who are so loving and protective that it feels like they’re in love with the guy ninety-nine percent of the time, and Harley, too? Harley, who has tears in his eyes and Flash doesn’t know if it’s because of his words or Peter’s, who reaches forward and yanks Peter back towards him. “Peter,” he says again, more forcefully now. “It’s fine, dude. Let’s just go.”

Parker sets his jaw and glares at Flash like his life depends on it. Flash, of course, decides to open his fucking mouth and says, “Sure, just go back to people who probably hate you—”

He doesn’t know where he’s going with that, but he doesn’t get the chance to before Ned fucking Leeds steps in front of him and swings.

He starts summer with another broken nose.

Sure, he deserves it—but it sucks, nonetheless.

At the start of senior year, Harley approaches him and, for some reason, apoligizes

“What?” Flash says—the only that that comes to mind, sometimes standalone, sometimes followed by an even more incredulous the fuck?

“M’sorry,” Harley repeats. “Pete shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that, and Ned—Christ Almighty, he’s a sweetheart, but him and Michelle would do anything for Pete, and when they thought you were sayin’ that shit to him, there wasn’t nothin’ that could’ve stopped ‘em.”

Flash frowns. “Dude... what the fuck?”

Harley mirrors his frown, tilts his head to the side. “What? Am I not makin’ sense?”

“You’re apologizing,” Flash says. “To me.”

Slowly, Harley nods. “Yeah, I am.”

Flash shakes his head. “Why?”

“‘Cause you weren’t sayin’ that shit to me and Pete, that’s why,” Harley answers, almost matter of fact and simple. “I know it.” All Flash can manage to do is shake his head again, not understanding what the hell Harley is talking about, until Harley glances away, brings a hand up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, and murmurs, “I mean... I get what it’s like, saying somethin’ about someone else that you really mean about yourself... y’know?”

He doesn’t have any semblance of control when his features go blank, when his shoulders are drawn up, defensive, disbelieveing. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Harley smiles. He smiles. “Yeah, I know what it’s like to play stupid, too. Seriously—I get it.”

No one gets it, Flash thinks.

He doesn’t say it. Or anything, really.

All he does is walk away.

He walks away later that day, when Harley tries to approach him. He turns tail and bolts the second he sees blond hair in the distance, whether it’s Harley or not—does this for days, and then weeks, and then—

And then Harley stops trying to approach him.

Flash doesn’t get why that fact makes him heavy, his brain a taunting repetition of knew that no one cared, knew it, knew it, knew it.

Oddly enough, it hurts more than usual.

He graduates.

No one is in the crowd for him—his mother planned a vacation with her husband (still nameless, since Flash doesn’t care enough to learn it anyway) and Jesse that just so happened to line up with graduation. Trudy and Harrison stopped acknoledging him entirely a few months after he came back, unless out of absolute necessity and usually with scathing commentary that burn every single time.

A few people clap for him—and he knows, once he sees that it’s Harley and Peter and Ned and Michelle, that he doesn’t deserve it.

Too nice, all of them. Acting like they give a shit.

Always too damn nice.

It hits him, after he gets kicked out.

Hits him, suddenly, how badly he fucked it all up. How he took an opportunity that he didn’t deserve and pushed it away. Harley had wanted to be friends, had cared, whether Flash understood why or not, and Flash had been awkward and unsure and ruined everything.

He sits on the curb with a suitcase. Only one, because it’s all he had time to pack before being shoved harshly onto the streets.

Though he wants to, he doesn’t cry.

It’s a miracle that the number hasn’t changed.

It’s an even bigger miracle that Harley, apparently, never deleted his number after what happened, after obtaining it only because he had prompted Flash about wanting to join the Decathlon team and asked if he could text him questions about it later that day, before—

Well. Before, but after. Before Flash destroyed what he didn’t even gave, but after everything shifted, changed, began to hurt.

Miraculous doesn’t even begin to describe the slightly hopeful tone when Harley answers and, without hesitating, asks, “Flash? You there?”

Doesn’t deserve it—god, Flash should be getting spat on right now—but he needs it, now more than ever. Holding his phone tighter, he stammers out a shaky, “Y-Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

Maybe his voice gave it away. Maybe the fact that he’s reaching out at all. Maybe Harley just knows. Flash isn’t sure the how about it, only able to focus on making his tongue cooperate with him as he breathes out a broken kind of, “I’m sorry, I—about everything, but I—I have no one else to call and you were—the only one, y’know, who was—who was nice to me—”

There’s a faint jingle. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Flash whispers, trying to blink through the tears that suddenly fill his eyes, swallowing roughly. “I just—I started walking, once it hit that I didn’t know where I should go, and I—fuck, I shouldn’t have called.”

“‘ey,” Harley says, tone—firm, angry. “I dunno what you’re thinkin’, but I’m the best person you could have called. I’m on my way, okay?”

Flash closes his eyes. “You shouldn’t.”

“Well,” Harley says, “I’m not turnin’ around.”

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t, untill Harley steps out of a car wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt that’s inside out. Then, of course, he sobs.

Then, of course, Harley cares, like he never should have, and hugs Flash.

Jesse is the only person who has ever hugged him. His mother, almost, when he was really young, but—but no one else. No one.

In Harley’s arms, he melts.

#my writing #still dont know the ship name for peternedmj bc im idiot (:#harleyflash #peternedmj #idfk

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lesbian-deadpool · 5 years

Text

Its Begining To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Natasha Romanoff X reader

Modern AU

Words: 1,980

Warnings: Nothing. Just some family fluff.

Request: Nope.

Summary: To you, there's no better way to spend Christmas, than with your beautiful family.

A/N: Surprize!

(Not My GIF)

***

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go;

Take a look at the five and ten

It's glistening once again

With candy canes and silver lanes aglow

Every corner you turned, all you could see was a gaggle of Christmas festivities.

Decorations strung up around every entrance, be them wreaths, garlands, bright twinkling lights, or something else entirely. Used to entice people inside, get warm, maybe spend a little.

Who could blame them, really?

You could count at least twenty Christmas trees, in this block alone. Either outside or in the store's windows. It really was that time of year, huh?

With flakes of white slowly drifting to the snow-coated ground, you couldn't disagree, that it was nothing short of breathtaking.

More so to you. Thanks to your red-headed wife walking in front of you. Each of her hands clasped around one of your children’s so that they wouldn't wander too far. Listening intently to what the had to say.

The view looked like a Christmas card. One that mad personally for you.

“Hey!” Natasha called over to you. Smiling because she knew all of the thoughts running through your mind. It was almost scary sometimes, how well she could practically read your mind, “Are you almost done dazing out, over there? Your son wants a piggyback ride.”

Smiling yourself, you jogged over to where your family was waiting for you. Scooping your son, from where he stood, holding his mother's hand. Hoisting him up and onto your shoulders.

“How’s that, instead?” you asked the giggling boy. Your hands moving to hold his legs, so he wouldn't fall.

Luka nodded down at you, his small hands threading into you snow-speckled hair, as you began walking again. With Natasha beside you, your daughter on her hip, still babbling away.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be

On your own front door

You finally arrived at your destination. Placing your son onto the ground, you watched as both he and Ana looked in every direction of the mall. Not straying too far from you and Natasha. Smiling, you knew you taught them well.

This was a sort of tradition for your little family. You would schedule a day where you had to run a few light errands, and take the kids out with you. And as a reward of sorts, you would take them to a few shops they wanted to go to. But in actuality, this was your’s and Natasha’s way of seeing what to get them for Christmas, whilst also having a nice family day out. Then buy the gifts a few days later.

It was quite a good tradition if you did say so yourself.

“I want to go tho the Leggos!”

“I want to go to Build-A-Bear!” They excitedly spoke at the same time, turning to face you.

Laughing, you raised your arms to calm them down slightly, with Natasha giggling beside you.

“Okay, okay. We’ll go to any place you want.”

“But how about we start at the closest place?” Natasha suggested, “That way we’re not walking back and forth?”

They nodded excitedly, and then you were off to the first, of many shops.

A pair of hop-a-long boots and a pistol that shoots

Is the wish of Barney and Ben;

Dolls that will talk and will go for a walk

Is the hope of Janice and Jen;

And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again

“When do they go back to school, again?” you asked Natasha, who was busy washing the dishes, them passing them over for you to dry them.

She laughed. “You really can’t be telling me that you can’t wait until they go back to school.”

“No...” you said honestly. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to have a break from ‘em sometimes. But I can’t get enough of them. Of you.” You nudged your shoulder against hers. “Our family. It’s like heaven to me.”

Natasha paused, to stare deeply into your eyes, totally captivated by the honesty and devotion shining in them.

“It’s like heaven to me, too,” she whispered.

That was all you needed before you leaned in to give her a love-filled kiss.

“Eww!” A high pitched whine sounded behind you, pulling you and Natasha apart, “Kissing’s gross.”

You looked over your shoulder to see your son standing in the kitchen doorway. His little face scrunched up in disgust.

“Okay, I take it all back,” you mumbled to your wife. Who scrunched her nose up playfully at you, nudging you back, slightly harder than you did.

Turning to Luka, she playfully backfired a, “You’re gross.”

He laughed and ran from the room, calling out to his sister, “I just saw them kissing!”

“Eww!” Came her far away voice.

You turned back to your chore, Natasha handing you another freshly clean plate for you to dry.

“I hope you know, we just scarred him for life,” you joked.

“Well, parents are supposed to scar their kids. It’s all in the job description.”

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go;

There's a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well

It's the sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow

“Mom, look!” your son yelled for Natasha. Pointing at the magnificent tree standing in the hotel you were walking past.

“Yeah, honey,” Natasha spoke, bending over to pick up the fast-growing, six-year-old, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Luka nodded his head, still in awe at the bright tree. Smiling lovingly as the child, Natasha rubbed her nose into his cheek. Causing him to tuck his head into his neck, and away from his mothers loving, but tickling, ministrations. Giggling as he did. Natasha soon joining him, with her own laughter.

God.

You couldn’t believe just how lucky you were to have this in your life. Your wife. Your son. Your daughter.

In your eyes.

You were the luckiest person in the world.

“What about you, Ana?” You asked the girl in your arms. Noticing that she hadn’t said anything. But being too distracted by the image of your wife and son in front of you, to notice her also starring in awe at the tall tree. Watching as the bright lights, slowly twinkled away.

Smiling, you already knew the answer to the question you were about to ask, unable to hide the humour in your voice, you asked, “Do you like the tree?”

The four-year-old nodded her head vigorously. Mouth open and still staring at the tree.

The laughter finally erupted from your chest, Natasha glanced back, smiling at you and your pre-occupied daughter, as you kissed Ana’s hair.

They were gonna love the tree lighting ceremony, you were on your way to right now.

Oh, and were you right.

With Anastasia still in your arm, the other wrapped around Natasha’s waist, as she held your son on her hip. You watched the Mayor of New York City light the tree up.

While the kids watched the grand tree, covered in bright multi-coloured lights, and the just as giant snowflakes, projected onto the surround in buildings, in absolute wonderment. You placed your chin on your wife's shoulder, moving to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Natasha replied, looking at you over her shoulder. Her eyes nothings short of loving, when suddenly her lips were on yours.

The kiss was short and sweet, but no less perfect than the first you ever shared. And all the others after it.

“I love you,” Natasha said.

“I love you, too.”

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas;

Soon the bells will start

And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing

Right within your heart

The carpet rubbed against your jeans from your spot on the floor, as you twirled a giggling Anastasia.

You had just finished dinner when Natasha had dragged your son up to dance to the record playing in the background, you following soon after with your daughter.

Both you and Natasha were kneeled on the ground, as to dance with them better. You had chuckled when you first saw that your wife and Luka were around the same height when she kneeled, while you were still a head above Ana. Natasha threw a playful glare over her shoulder when she heard your laughter, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

The warm glow from the fireplace settled in your bones and all around the room, giving it an almost heavenly glow. Making the colourful lights on your poorly, albeit still perfect in yours and Natashas opinion, decorated tree shine brighter.

Getting to your feet, you picked your daughter up and span her in the air, before placing her down gently. Leaning over to whisper in her ear, you asked, “You wanna go dance with your brother?”

Ana smiled and nodded, before taking off towards her big brother, pulling him from your grinning wife. All the while you walked towards them.

Offering Natasha your hand, once you were by her side. She gratefully accepted it, allowing you to pull her to her feet and into your arms.

And so there you stood. Arms wrapped around one another, heads resting against each other, and swaying side to side, as you watched your kids dance around each other.

“Thank you,” Natasha spoke so only you would hear.

“For what?”

“For giving me this life. Our kids. Thank you for loving me- Us, so much.”

“Baby,” you cooed to the red-head in your arms, placing a delicate kiss on her red hair, “I wouldn’t have my life any other way. Thank you, for giving me this.”

Natasha leaned up, capturing your lips in a long heartfelt kiss. Only being pulled from it when the kids bound into the sides of your legs, grinning up at you.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be

On your own front door

Natasha came into the living room, plopping down beside you on the couch after the kids had finally fallen asleep. Placing a peck on your cheek, brandishing a present onto your lap.

”Merry Christmas, baby.”

You looked up at her, confused. “But you already gave me my gift.”

”Yeah well, this is something a lil’ extra.” She smiled.

”What is it?”

”You’ll have to open it to find out.”

Pursing your lips you tried to hide your smile. Tried.

Natasha watched intently as you reached for the thin black box, with gold ribbon added as decoration.

Lifting the lid up, you peered inside pausing at what you saw.

Slowly, you reached for the contents. Unable to tare your eyes from the little window that held two thin pink lines.

”It worked?” you asked, choked up. Holding the pregnancy test up in your hand.

”It worked.” Natasha nodded, tears springing into her eyes.

The box fell to the floor, and the test landed behind you on the couch, once you gently pounced on Natasha. Kissing her in earnest, as she lay below you. Pushing all of the love you had into that one kiss, feeling her do the same.

Natasha broke away from you with a gasp.

”I love you.”

”I love you, too.”

Pushing against your chest, Natasha stood up, dragging you behind her. And towards your bedroom.

”Come on, “ she ordered gently, her voice turning sultry, “You have one more gift to unwrap.”

You groaned.

“Whatever did I do to deserve you?”

Throwing you a smirk over her shoulder, Natasha span around, giving you one last tug, attaching your lips together once more. And closing the bedroom door behind you.

So it's Christmas once more

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU #merry christmas and happy holidays

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tracle0 · 4 years

Note

hello hey hi and a splendid saturday to you, I come bearing a question for the wip4 gang and that question is: what is each of their most significant memories? additionally, are there any memories they would jump at the chance to get rid of? ok bye please have an excellent day \o/ (and before you yell at me I'm going to sleep now I swear)

I’m glad that when you even LOOK at me you think ‘oh sleep time’ I am Pavlov and you are my dog and this metaphor is stupid I will answer your question now

I’m gonna... assume this is uhh pre-story question because I know for a fact that at least three characters would change their answer to at least one question if it was post-story. My house, my rules.

Keaton’s most significant memory is p r o b a b l y the time when he was in year 12 (17), and he was called to the head of sixth form office. He’d been at this school since year 7 (11), and had realised he was trans in year 8 (12/13), and had then been fighting for the right to use his bathroom ever since. This had previously resulted in punishment. In year 10 (15), he made progress, being allowed to use the disabled bathroom, but he wanted the men's bathroom dammit.

Anyway, called to head of sixth form, assumed it was related to that issue. Pessimistic about the whole ordeal.

Turned out there was another student in like year 9 who had come out as trans as well, and the school had gone ‘UHHHHHHHHH LET’S DO BETTER THIS TIME’ so Keaton, being the only other trans student in this rural Norfolk school, was assigned as her... mentor??? I guess?

He was half like ‘fuck y’all’ and half like ‘I will not let this young woman go through the same shit you all put me through, I will guard her like a HAWK’. He was still not allowed to use his bathroom, but he makes her fight a little easier; she’s allowed to use her bathroom in year 10, after he left. They still meet up every now and then for coffee.

Memory to be rid of: First day on a Professional Set, he walked backwards whilst taking a tea order and fell into a bin. Terrible first impression. He still got jobs afterwards, but sometimes people will be like ‘oh yeah I’ve heard of you you’re the bin guy’ and he wants to punch them.

This is getting long already I’m gonna put the rest under a cut

I know you’re here for Mika so I’ll go to them, most significant memory: probably his first pride? He didn’t intend to go to pride, but he was in the city on the day of pride and just walked past all these rainbows and flags and people being so open and proud and themselves. He was maybe fifteen, and had been having those fun Gender Feels that you try and hide at age fifteen, because you’re only fifteen and most people tell you you’re not old enough to know anything about yourself, yknow?

Someone gave him a flyer at one point, and when he got back to his Ultra Christian Household, he hid it and would read through it some nights. When he had it memorised, he started to explore more about queerness online. He’s the guy who can tell you all about LGBT history due to this research. This was only done in the city on the library computers, where his trail couldn’t be tracked. It gave him some sort of start for labels, some sort of safe space, some sort of New Approach to everything he’d been feeling.

Memory to be rid of: last day in Ultra Christian School. He was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school and it wasn’t awful until he was about fourteen, at which point he started to grow his hair. They told him to cut it constantly. He was punished for it. He kept the hair.

It got bad but it wasn’t until he was about seventeen that it really buckled; first real notable psychotic episode. He told people, they were convinced it was some sort of possession, convinced he’d sinned, convinced of all these horrible things about him and drove him out until he could ‘act normally’ again. He did not go back.

In all honesty, the second he turned 18, he took his savings from various dead grandparents and a part-time job, bought a second-hand (maybe third-hand) camper-van and left home.

He goes back for Christmas only.

Mooooving on, Lynne! Who I do not talk about enough; she’s also part of the documentary squad, and actually the reason the whole squad exists. Producer and director, she’s very cool okcoolthanks

Most significant memory: That one time she was thirteen and her parents had officially declared their divorce. She was living with her dad and it was really, really weird and she was not enjoying it. Divorce is a big deal to some families, and this family was one of them, and she was really unsure about her entire future.

Cue Mika, young and mostly obedient, kicking down the door (not literally) and kidnapping her (again, not literally) to come pick blackberries with him (very literally). They stayed out until the sun went down in early Autumn. She forgot about the divorce for a small amount of time. They ended the day eating fish and chips straight from the paper whilst sitting in a tree and talking about nothing important at all.

They made jam out of the blackberries the next day. It was gross. Both of them refused to admit it was gross.

Memory to be rid of: She went camping one time with friends from school. Lynne is Muslim and so did not go to Catholic school with Mika, they just lived near each other, and so school friends went ‘hey we’re going camping you should come’ she did come.

It was a mess. They were fifteen and determined to drink, and English peer pressure to drink is weird, so she did take some drink but didn’t drink it. Someone threw up on her tent and blamed it on her. No-one bought any food or water, the only thing she was able to drink was lemonade bought for mixing and that had ants in it within two hours.

She woke up first and left them all there, then walked home because she was meant to be lift-sharing. It took an hour and a half. She preferred that to being in the car.

That group wasn’t her only group of friends, but it was her main group, so things were awkward for a while.

Moving on from Documentary Squad, Percival! Percy Percival who I wish I could call Percy because it’s so much easier to write.

Significant memory: winning an art contest when he was like. Eleven. Really living the high-life, ol’ Percival. It was a city-wide contest, with various age categories. He was part of the 11-18 clump, which put him at a disadvantage, but he still won. As a reward, his art was replicated on a mural in one of the shopping malls in town, and he got some fancy vouchers for a fancy art shop in the city.

Winning the art contest made him go ‘oh wait I’m actually good at this thing I really like doing I should learn how to do that more’ and you could barely pry him away from his sketchbook from that point on.

Those vouchers were stored away until he was 14 and doing art GCSE, at which point he bought a nice sketchbook and oil paints. He’s now very good at oil painting. I hate him for being good at oil painting. Oil painting SUCKS.

Memory to be rid of: I’m torn between three and they’re all similar so I’ll go for all of them.

#1 - losing an eye to Abby’s experiments. You read the lil short story I think (I know I checked just now) - she’s a very kind and loving sister who sometimes moves his body parts around. One time, he lost an eye and went blind for a few weeks. He had nightmares about it for months. It was very painful.

#2 - losing a finger. To Abby’s experiments. It was the middle finger on his left hand and it didn’t go back into place quickly enough - now it’s always numb and discoloured. Good news is he’s right-handed and not a musician so no worries about losing dexterity on that hand.

#3 - losing two ribs. To Abby’s experiments. There’s a very clear trend here. She wanted to try moving things she couldn’t see around. She moved two ribs away. She decided it was more dangerous to put them back. Now they just have two of Percival’s ribs lying around.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

On that note, final person, this is very long. Abby! She’s fun. Most significant memory;

okay the word ‘significant’ has caught me off-guard several times cause like wow how do you figure out significant memories for people. I don’t have just one, yknow? But I think I know one for her.

She’s the eldest out of her and Percival and, for a while, people wanted her to set an example for him, which she tried to do, but she wasn’t good at what people wanted her to be good at. She’s good with people. She’s good at very specific parts of biology. She’s good at psychology. She’s not good at school and tests.

So, when Percival started to beat the standards she set for him, her parents almost... egged competition on. Played favourites, compared the two siblings. Nobody really noticed what she could do, they only cared about what she struggled with. And the parents were rarely around to help out with what she was struggled with. So she struggled on and tried to keep her head high.

Cue a family wedding, she was snooping around the snack table at the reception and overheard her parents talking about her. And how they were almost disappointed in her. How they were annoyed that she couldn’t be more like Percival, honestly, what did they do wrong?

She got bitter. She pretends she doesn’t care but she’s bitter, and with no parents around to lash out at, she lashes out at Percival, who isn’t even aware. Good times. Not good times. Significant times.

Memory to be rid of: Honestly? Probably hearing her parents talking about her at the family wedding. It stings.

A n y w a y this was extremely long I like going into detail with short stories, if you read this far then thank you I appreciate it I will give you a feather from my feather collection. Probably a swan feather. I have a lot of swan feathers.

#wip4 #keaton #mika #lynne #percival #abby #all five of them wowza #'hey trade are you doing sts should you answer the other questions in your inbox'#I should but I won't I'm going to sleep soon but thank you for asking #this was fun! thank you logan this was helpful and fun and now I know more stuff about the characters

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