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oilivia · 3 years

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dating the Haikyuu boys as.. zodiac sign stereotypes

a/n: it seems this year i’m all for trying new things and making weird banners. i’m honestly not sure if anyone else did it before, i tried looking it up but i haven’t seen any posts.

this is pure fluff and a bit of crack, headcanons of some of the Haikyuu boys as their respective zodiac sign based solely on my experience with said signs and their personalities.

don’t take this too seriously please! but if you want to come for my head, my asks are open.

Characters: Yuuji Terushima, Satori Tendou, Koushi Sugawara, Tooru Oikawa, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Koutarou Bokuto, Atsumu Miya, Tetsurou Kuroo, Keiji Akaashi, Tobio Kageyama, Rintarou Suna, Kiyoomi Sakusa

CW: fluff, some crack, mentions of kissing and sex (but nothing explicit), PDA, sun sign stereotypes, my own interpretation

Wording: 1.3k

♡ Aries - Yuuji Terushima

spontaneous dates. 3 am “u up?” calls. play fighting. running naked on the beach at midnight.

“Be ready in 10, we’re going on a picnic.” You take a look at the clock, Saturday, 2:14am. He’s there in 7 minutes, not 10, grinning as he watches you sneak out of the house. “I brought pancakes” he announces as he takes your hand and pulls you into a kiss. An hour and a short climb later, you’re lying in the grass at the top of a hill, watching the way the stars dance above your heads.

♡ Taurus - Satori Tendou

leaving you the last bite. netflix & chill. massages. sleeping in on the weekend. fine chocolate and good wine.

The delicious smell of your favorite food fills your nostrils. The room is dark aside from the candlelight, an open bottle of wine resting on the table. “I thought I’d do something special for you, I know you had a long week.” You giggle - any excuse for Tendou to treat you like a princess. Was that a chocolate cake on the counter? You hummed with appreciation when you felt his lips place a sweet kiss on your cheek.

♡ Gemini - Koushi Sugawara

driving around town. making out for hours. late night chats. singing at the top of your lungs. sexting

“Can I open the window?” you ask with an innocent smile. He chuckles “Can I stop you?” You roll it down, your head poking out. The cold air of the night hits your face as you sing at the top of your lungs. Your eyes are fixed on Suga’s, ear to ear grin on your faces. You mess up the lyrics, throwing you both into a fit of laughter. “You’re so pretty” he says as he ruffles your hair when you get back in your seat.

♡ Cancer - Tooru Oikawa

stargazing. breakfast in bed. saying “i love you” too soon. taking care of you when you’re sick. cupping your cheeks as he kisses your nose.

“What’s so amusing?” you question, raising an eyebrow. “You just look so cute when you’re angry.” You scoff, turning your head to hide your smile. It was just like him to say something stupid and then tease you when you got angry. He knew you couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he made that pouty face “Buy me another ice-cream if you want me to forgive you for dropping this one, Tooru.” “Anything for you, sweetness!”

♡ Leo - Wakatoshi Ushijima

fancy restaurant dates. surprise gifts. compliments. weekend trips. taking pictures to remember your smile.

“What are you hiding?” you smirk, your hands reaching for the small box Ushijima holds behind his back. Your eyes widen when you open it “How did you know?” “I noticed you looking at it when we went out. Let me see how it looks on you.” He takes the necklace, fingers gently brushing against your soft skin as he clasps the necklace around your neck. “You look perfect,” he states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

♡ Virgo - Koutarou Bokuto

laughing until you cry. good morning kisses. cooking together. picking you up and throwing you on his shoulder.

You let out a startled cry when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and lift you up “Gotcha!” he laughs in your ear as he holds you tight, even as you struggle to escape “Kou, put me down” you demand, your tone amused - you were used to his antics. “Only if you give me a kiss first, I haven’t seen you in forever” he pleads as he turns you around “If by forever you mean this morning.” He bends down, eyes to your level, as he waits for you to close the gap and kiss him.

♡ Libra - Atsumu Miya

flirting and teasing. making out in the club. playful pranks. dancing in the living room.

Not even the nights when you wouldn’t go out were boring, not with Atsumu. You sit on the couch as he watches a volleyball game, your eyes glued to a book. He changes the channel and hears your favorite song play. He grabs your hand “Dance with me,” he’s smiling, a wicked glint in his eyes. Could you refuse? You get up, your feet carrying you across the living room floor as you dance. Soft kisses find your lips whenever you giggle.

♡ Scorpio - Tetsurou Kuroo

passionate kisses. falling in love with your eyes. finishing each other’s sentences. fight and makeup. watching the sunset.

“Move faster, old man, we only have 15 minutes left till the sun sets” you tease with a grin. He sighs audibly, feigning an exasperated look “Carry this old man to the top if you’re so enthusiastic!” “I’ll leave you here then, Tetsu-” you squint your eyes before you start trekking again. He’ll catch up eventually, he couldn’t be that tired. “Hmm, if that’s how you want to play” you hear him snicker “Last one to the top carries the backpacks!” he exclaims as he starts running, almost passing you before you join in.

♡ Sagittarius - Keiji Akaashi

playing devil’s advocate. forehead kisses. talking about the universe. dancing in the rain. exploring each other’s hobbies.

Your fingers brush as you reach for the same book. “Please, go ahead” Akaashi says, soft smile dancing on his lips. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly” you reply in an excessively polite tone. You gasp, feigning outrage when you see him take the book from the shelf. “It’s for you, miss” he hands you the volume as he plants a kiss on your forehead, only to pull it away from your grasp with a chuckle. “But I think you can wait a bit more, let me buy it for you, love” he takes your hand, heading for the front of the bookstore. Leave it to Akaashi to make you fall for him all over again.

♡ Capricorn - Tobio Kageyama

power couple. expensive gifts. dark humor. overseas trips. playing with your hair. inner wrist kisses

“You look breathtaking!” Kageyama compliments you when he sees you dressed for the party. “I will need to keep an eye on you, don’t want anyone to steal you away.” “As if anyone could,” you smile when you see him drink in your image, his eyes scanning you head to toe. “But we should get going, unless you want us to be late” “Let them wait, I want to admire my princess”. You feel your skin getting hotter at his words. Maybe you could be late this one time.

♡ Aquarius - Rintarou Suna

blasting music. buying snacks in the middle of the night. foreign movies. aesthetic pictures. witty comebacks.

You stopped running, hand on your stomach as you laughed, struggling to catch your breath. “Rin, wait” you shout, prompting Suna to turn back and look at you. “What? Can you still run? The store will close in like 4 minutes. Want me to go ahead?” You start laughing harder at his confused expression, watching his brows furrow deeper. “I forgot the store’s open 24/7 now, they changed it last week.” “Are you trying to tell me we sprinted for no reason?” “Bonding experience?” He starts chuckling as well, pulling you into a kiss “Bonding experience.”

♡ Pisces - Kiyoomi Sakusa

roasting each other. falling in love at first sight. neck kisses. midnight strolls. showering together. doing your skincare together.

You feel your body shift and you open your eyes, only to realize Sakusa is carrying you. “You fell asleep on the couch, I’m taking you to bed,” he whispers as if afraid he’d shake the sleepiness from your eyes. “But I haven’t taken off my make-up, Omi” you mutter as you wrap your arms around his neck lovingly. “I’ll take it off for you after I tuck you in, I know how you do it,” he presses a kiss on your forehead as you nuzzle your head against his neck. “I love you so much, Omi” “I love you too”

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

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Tommy doesn’t know who Queen is and Steve goes on a quest to get Tommy to listen to all different types of music. Billy gets dragged into the shenanigans. The three of them start hanging out together when Steve falls asleep, but he has a super bad nightmare. (I think they were probably drinking or smoking weed or both before. Which made the nightmare worse.) Then comes cuddling with Tommy choosing the music and light teasing.

i love this so much. they’re all musically ignorant in one way or another anyway. lemme just sprint with this now :)

---

He was just trying to get his history books, it wasn't his fault that their lockers were right next to each other. Or that Tommy was apparently living under a heavy rock.

“I’ve never heard of Queen, unless you’re talking about the Queen of England or some shit. Other than that, I’m at a loss.” Tommy was yapping to one of Carol’s friends. Sarah? Betty? They all looked the same honestly.

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of Queen?” Steve hadn’t actually really meant to just start abruptly start speaking to Tommy again, but here they were. In the hallway. Around nosey onlookers. And Sarah-Betty who was definitely staring and definitely not happy for the intrusion.

Tommy grinned boyishly, “Talkin’ to me again, Harrington?”

Steve didn’t let up, “You haven’t heard of Queen? Freddie Mercury? Brian May? They’ve been all over the radio for years, man.” Tommy died down a little with the snarky attitude, but the flare was still there through the dilution.

“I don’t know, Harrington. Guess I have too many people around to pay attention to the radio much anymore.” Tommy crossed his arms and Steve almost gave up as the bilious emotions started up towards the boy again.

Steve shook his head, “Meet me at my house tonight at 6. I’ll order in and I’ll show you myself what Queen is. ‘Kay, Tom?” Now that really took the other aback.

“It’s been, what, a year?” Hands on his hips just as Steve was doing, “All of a sudden you’re interested again?”

Steve looked him in the eye and nodded, “Six o’clock on the dot, Tommy. Be there!” he pivoted on his heel and blended in the crowd.

He had the pizza box and the stereo up and ready to jam long before the bell rung. Only three minutes late. It was honestly a record for Tommy, Steve knew for a fact that Tommy had the worst time management skills. Which also made Steve a little on edge as he opened the door. He wasn’t actually that surprised to find Billy Hargrove right there beside Tommy. Both grinning in their own devilish manners.

Steve vamped them with the most unimpressed look he could produce and traveled back inside, “Well, come on!” he ordered impatiently.

Billy spoke up first as they entered the living area, “Nice place, very...” he seemed to contemplate a moment as he examined the vacant side tables and mantle, “Modern.”

“Tell me about it,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get beer,” he started making his way towards the kitchen. “Pizza’s on the coffee table, don’t make a mess.”

When he returned there wasn’t any mess on the floors or furniture, but Tommy had enough sauce on the corners of his mouth and cheeks to slather a whole slice itself.

“Oh, Tommy,” he sighed and grabbed a napkin to clean the sauce before it dried. Billy and Tommy stared like owls but Steve ignored them and instead focused on putting the first cassette in. “Now listen, no one gets to speak.” He pointed to the table, “You have free food and drinks, so indulge me,” he took his own seat on the floor between them. A Night at the Opera.

“Well this is eerie,” Tommy griminced and bit into another slice. His face lifted a moment later as the song changed gears, “Oh wait, no I change my mind, this is cool.”

“Have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye Feel good, are you satisfied?”

Steve looked at Tommy and found him already looking back.

Billy coughed, “Next, Pretty Boy?”

“Bicycling on every Wednesday evening Thursday, I go waltzing to the zoo”

Tommy swayed with the steady smoothness, “I like this one, I like it a lot.” Billy’s thigh brushed and planted against Steve’s shoulder as they watched Tommy tap along. The touch sizzled excitingly.

“I'm in love with my car Got a feel for my automobile Get a grip on my boy-racer rollbar Such a thrill when your radials squeal“

Tommy’s face pinched just a little, nose wrinkled cutely, ”I don’t know about this one. Sounds like a song Billy might appreciate a bit more. WIth Margo and all that.”

Tommy smiled at Billy and Steve felt something churn in is tummy, “Margo?” he tilted his head back so it rested on Billy’s knee in order to look at him.

Billy sighed and tilted his own head back to take a sip of the beer can he'd been working on, “It’s my car’s name, after my dog when I was a kid.” Steve shifted back so he was facing the stereo again after nodding once.

“Oh, you're the first one when things turn out bad You know I'll never be lonely You're my only one And I love the things I really love the things that you do“

Tommy immediately smiled at the opening and his foot made its way from nudging him happily to resting in Steve’s lap, “This one is my favorite.”

“Really?” Steve and Billy asked simultaneously. Steve turned his head painfully fast and they stared in mutual shock. They were quick to get over it though and both went back to waiting for Tommy’s decisive nod. His eyes were closed and calm in enjoyment. So, Steve forcefully settled whatever Billy had stirred and did the same, back rested against both boy’s shins comfortably.

“My sweet lady Though it seems like we wait forever Stay sweet, baby Believe and we've got everything we need“

“That one was...interesting,” Tommy commented.

Billy snorted as Steve smiled, “I’d say.”

“I feel like dancing in the rain Can I have a volunteer? Just keep right on dancing What a damn jolly good idea“

Tommy smiled sweetly through the that one, Steve felt as though he didn’t need to ask why.

“I dreamed I saw on a moonlit stair Spreading his hands on the multitude there A man who cried for a love gone stale And ice cold hearts of charity bare“

“How come they are so short and so long at random? It’s weird,” Tommy leaned forward and grabbed another beer, condensation dripping onto Steve’s bare knee.

“Sometimes things are more difficult to interpret,” Billy answered. Steve leaned a little more into them as he felt his hips settle.

“Oh, back, hurry back Please bring it back home to me Because you don't know what it means to me Love of my life“

“That was kinda sad,” Billy was the one to say something between the track then.

Steve agreed, “Yeah, a little.” He felt eyes on his head but gazed instead on the slight glow to the stereo.

“Take good care of what you've got My father said to me As he puffed his pipe and baby B. He dandled on his knee Don't fool with fools who'll turn away Keep all good company“

Steve felt a leg press firmer into his shoulder and he laid his head on it, above him Billy sighed just above being silent, “How was that one, Tom?”

Tommy didn’t answer for a moment, “I’m not sure. It sounded good.” The feet in Steve’s lap crossed themselves jitteringly.

“Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low“

“That one was freaky,” Tommy sat forward in awe, “But it was also awesome.” Eventually the last cord divvied out, all of them lazy with alcohol and sleepy with muddled calm that none of them had felt in a while. Although, Steve already was sleep on Billy’s knee. He didn’t get the chance to regret the beer he’d consumed before he was overrun with horrific, viney tunnels and humongous monsters. Screams of people he knew and cared for. Dustin, Nancy, his parents, Johnathon, El, Lucas. But what had him waking up in a bolt, yelping and screaming, was the one’s from Billy and Tommy. The pain those ones harbored, the ones that made Steve tremble too much to bare.

Heavy hands grasped his shoulders and softer ones held his face when he came to. He closed his mouth and the wailing stopped just as it had reached his ears.

“Steve! Steve- sh, it’s alright, Stevie,” Tommy’s voice filtered in subtly and he thought he heard a breeze from behind.

“We should get him to bed,” Billy said and the warmth from behind Steve was suddenly gone. He didn’t know what he must of done, was too out of it, but suddenly he was in someone's arms and being coddled.

“It’s okay, Pretty Boy, we’re still here.”

And then they were in a bed, and his room by the looks of the plaid and blue walls. He had two bodies on either side, and while the comfort he felt was something he couldn’t recognize. It was something new and he felt he should feel overwhelmed by all the sudden figures beside him. But instead he felt relieved and willingly open to allow these two boys in with limited hesitation. What a change in events. Truly.

“Talk to us, Stevie,” Tommy whispered in his ear.

“Have you heard of Blondie?” he whispered a bit hoarsely.

“No. Unless that’s Billy.”

“Add that to the list of things Tommy needs to learn about.” He got a slight tickle above his ribs in response from Billy. Steve held in his laugh as best he could but Billy didn’t stop the movement until he finally coughed out a yelp in protest. He tried his best to portray a steady glare in return but it didn’t quite work. “What about The Smiths?”

“Nadda.”

“Tears for Fears?”

“Mmm,” Tommy finally came into clear vision for Steve to see, even in the dark, “Maybe, maybe not.” He was grinning like the dumbass Steve knew he was. And then he was gone.

“Wah-?” he almost whined. Almost.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” there was a clicking sound, “I’m just trying to culture you up a bit. Gotta keep you calm so we can actually get so sleep.” He laughed loudly when he seemingly found something. Tree branch arms coiled around Steve’s waist and he couldn’t be bothered to tell Billy off as the warmth radiated into his skin and heart.

Tommy came back while the Eurythmics, of all people, made some sort of soft noise through the room. And Tommy’s own hands somehow managed to sneak their way past Billy’s and just barely grazed his ass. The blanket bundled them all together and Steve felt as though he finally had the loves of his life in sight. That definite path made for him. Finally and just maybe.

send me headcannons!<3

#stranger things #asks #kegboys #steve harrington #billy hargrove #tommy h #tommy hagan #this sucks #but i’m tired so that’s like a partial excuse #thank you for the ask!#sorry it’s not the best

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wherevermyway · 3 years

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we’re professional. (1/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter one: sophisticated series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. word count: 4,807 also on AO3

originally posted: 17 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Minho brings up an interesting proposal while celebrating the second year of his professional arrangement with Changbin.

“I can’t accept this.” The young, blue-haired man at the opposite side of the table of a middle-aged brunette pushes an open envelope back across the table. “It’s too much. You’ve already given me so much this month, I couldn’t possibly accept anymore.”

“Changbin,” the brunette smirks, bringing the crystal glass of wine up to his mouth. “Please, don’t insult me. I’m not offering this just off the cuff. Besides, it’s not just cash that’s in there.”

The bluenette frowns, bringing his gin and tonic to his mouth, taking a careful, prescribed sip as he watches the older man cautiously. He lets the gin burn its way down his throat before he sighs. “It’s sex, then. That’s what you want, Minho?”

“No.” Minho’s expression quickly turns serious and slightly sour. “Not at all. I told you when we first started this arrangement that this wouldn’t turn sexual.”

“Right.” Changbin cocks his eyebrows up in response, his tone somewhat sarcastic. He brings the glass up again, tilting it and his head backwards, letting the ice slink down and hit him in the nose as he finishes off his drink. He sets the glass down on to the table, ice settling with a soft clink, before he rolls his eyes up and frowns. “What’s all this for, then?” The young man rolls his wrist around, bringing his chin down to his right hand. “You’ve really gone all out for this date.”

Minho softly smiles, then mimics Changbin, mirroring him in the way that he places his head in his left palm. “It’s been two years, officially.” He makes eye contact with a server somewhere off in the distance, and nods upward.

“Two years, eh?” Changbin tuts. “Surprising that neither of us have gotten sick of each other, nor found other people to spend time with.” He takes in a quick breath, then flashes his teeth with a lazy smirk. “Sure you’re not getting serious with me yet?”

The older man opens his mouth to speak, but quickly recedes his statement as a lanky waiter confidently struts over to the table. “Hyunjin, could you please bring me the bottle of Clos D’Ambonnay I have in the back?”

“Of course, Mr. Lee,” the blond waiter nods his head once with a polite smile before he makes his way back to whence he came.

Changbin squinted, knitting his brows together as he shook his head once. “You own this restaurant, too, don’t you?”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t necessarily say own it, no.” Minho hums, bringing his index finger in between his teeth as he ponders. “It’s a partnership with an old colleague of mine, Chan; you met him at the Vivace Vancouver exhibit over the spring. He had that dreadful red hair, the one where you said he looked like he got electrocuted and then spray painted by an angry ex-lover.”

The younger man’s eyes go wide as he tries to hold back his laughter. “Oh my god,” he sighs, “I remember that. How do you forget something so audacious, is that even possible?” He regains his composure and rests upright against the back of the chair. “In my defence, though, I was two glasses of Chianti in when I said that. Please tell me that his hair isn’t that horrible shade anymore. It was so bad.”

Minho smiles widely and softly shakes his head. “No, no, god, no. I met with him the day after and told him that he needed to go back to see my stylist immediately and never go back to the hellspawn that butchered his hair.”

“Apologies for the interruption, Mr. Lee,” the lanky waiter from before returned, presenting a black bottle before he placed it on top of the table. “As requested.” He placed well-crafted champagne flutes in front of both Minho and Changbin.

“Hyunjin,” Minho tutted as the waiter grabbed the bottle, “I’ve told you several times that just ‘Minho’ is fine.”

The blond waiter half-smiled as he wrapped a hand towel around the cork, deftly wiggling it off with a muffled pop. “And I will tell you each time,” he poured some of the champagne into Changbin’s glass first, “you will always be Mr. Lee when I’m at work.”

“You’re too stiff,” the brunette gently pushed his glass towards the blond as he set Changbin’s glass down. “I know that Chan — sorry, Mr. Bang — is strict with all of you, to maintain a pristine image,” Hyunjin picks up Minho’s glass and bites his lip as if he’s holding back commentary, “but you’re still in your prime. Bend the rules a little while you can get away with it.”

Changbin watches the way Minho’s eyes flutter around from the glass to Hyunjin, catching himself getting caught up in the way the light sparkles against his brown eyes, the way his eyelashes paint shadows on his irises. He doesn’t mean for every detail to be etched into his memory, but there was always something about remembering the details of Minho’s soft face that warmed him. If it were any other world, any other person, perhaps he would be catching feelings.

This arrangement, however, was strictly professional. There was no room for feelings.

Hyunjin sets the bottle back down onto the table. “Sure thing, Minho,” he sarcastically scoffs as he wiggles his shoulders in some sort of strange dance of mockery. “Would you like an ice bucket to keep this chilled?”

Minho shrugs, seemingly indifferent, but his expression turns a bit more serious. “I suppose. Don’t worry about us, though. Tend to the other customers first — we’ll be here for a while longer. A bit of champagne slowly warming won’t be the end of the world.”

“You got it, Mr. Lee,” Hyunjin says, tipping his index and middle fingers off of his forehead in some sort of joking salute before he spins on his heel and walks off to another table.

Minho grabs his champagne flute and flashes his teeth at Changbin. “Sorry about that, love, I’ve just gotta give the staff here trouble every now and again.”

Changbin blushes as he picks up his champagne flute, bringing it close to Minho’s. “Don’t apologize.” He tries to restrain his embarrassment, still mentally replaying the way that Minho called him ‘love’, desperately trying to get the sound to imprint upon his memory. “Anyway,” he lifts his head from his palm and stares directly into the brunette’s eyes. “Two years? I can’t believe it’s been this long since I met you.”

“Your ‘arranged: in black’ series captured me, Changbin, what can I say?” The older man tilts his head to the side, tugging his lips into a smile. “I still think about it every day.”

“It’s hard to avoid thinking about it when all four pieces are hanging behind your bed, wouldn’t you say?”

“Suppose that’s fair,” Minho bites his bottom lip as he avoids laughing. “But, wow, two years. Two very eventful years. To think, you were a scraggly sophomore two years ago when I met you. You really kind of fit the ‘starving artist’ stereotype back then, hmm?”

Changbin’s eyes subconsciously darted down to the maroon tablecloth. He avoided thinking about his life before he met Minho, since it wasn’t something he was overly fond of. Sleeping for a couple of hours a night after a late dishwashing shift at the restaurant, waking up before dawn to run to his part-time barista job, then somehow getting to class just in time to nearly doze off mid-project sketch, all to repeat it again the next day. The chronic sleep deprivation painted him in an ashy grey, and he perpetually smelled of instant ramen and coffee.

No. That was in the past.

He shuddered at the thought of his past life. It was stressful, and he was thankful that Minho came along and offered him some kindness. Most art students either came from wealthy families, or lived in the same shoes that Changbin did. The ones that weren’t from wealthy lineage would probably stay under the poverty line for the rest of their lives, but at least they would be happy creating things that came from the depths of their soul.

For some, it was worth the sacrifice. He knew what he was getting into when he was accepted into the visual arts programme at the University of British Columbia, and he was prepared for the pain and agony it would cause him for the small chance he could make it big while doing something he loved.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s soft voice pulled Changbin from his memory. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded his head a couple of times, almost as if he was willing himself to be calm. “Sorry, I just kinda got distracted. Thought about when we first met and kinda got transported back in time.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it definitely was far from the truth.

The older man softly smiled and nudged his champagne flute forward. “Well, here’s to two years of whatever the hell this is. Here’s to however long we have left and to wherever we may go next.”

Changbin smiled, turning his chin slightly inward as he tapped his flute against Minho’s. “I like that. To whatever the hell is next.”

“‘Whatever the hell is next’,” Minho smiled as he brought the flute up to his lips. “That’s a good one.”

They didn’t get to the bottom of the bottle of champagne until about a half-hour past closing. It had been two years of the same company every Tuesday and Thursday night, and usually most Fridays and Saturdays, yet they still found new things to talk about each time they met. “You’re still so foolishly young and in university,” Minho would scold Changbin over the phone, “so go out and get hammered at a stupid house party and I’ll come by tomorrow and help nurse you out of your hangover.” Minho was really a sweetheart, even if he didn’t want to date and was, to quote Minho himself, ‘emotionally unavailable’.

It had been two years, and Changbin still didn’t fully understand why people were so pressed on calling Minho heartless.

“And so,” Changbin took a sip of water from his glass, setting it down a bit roughly, some of the water sloshing around and splashing on to the table, “I had to sketch a live model, right? Turns out Seungmin makes a horrible model at two in the morning, but we thought the idea was brilliant.”

Minho loudly cackles, throwing his head back and clapping his hands once in front of his face. “You had just gotten done downing several shots at the bar. What made either of you think that sketching in charcoal was a good idea?”

The younger man folds over, resting his head in his palms as he tries not to collapse on to the floor in laughter. “The project was due on Monday! And, hey, we got it done, and I somehow got a decent grade in the end.”

“Ah,” Minho leans back into his chair as he looks up to the wall to his left, smiling as he wipes a tear from his eye. “I’d love to scold you for that, but the truth is, I can’t. I did the same things in uni ten years ago.”

Changbin rests his chin against the back of his hand, languidly smiling as he watches Minho get lost in memories past. These moments that they shared, where they were just so plainly human — not a famous artist, not a struggling art student, but simply Minho and Changbin — these were why Changbin never sought out another partner. It was unconventional to most people, especially those his age, to have such a hands-off relationship, but it just worked for them. Sometimes, the things that came off the most discordant could somehow still find a way to harmonize, and that was what they did.

“You know, you didn’t totally open the envelope,” Minho points at the middle of the table with an open hand, as if he were guiding Changbin back to the thick paper.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders and bashfully looked away for a moment before staring Minho down. “Come on, Min,” he lowers his voice a bit, “I don’t need to know how much you’re giving me, at least not now.”

Minho dismissively waves his hand before nudging the envelope back to Changbin. “It’s not just money, love, I promise. Nothing too domestic, either. Just,” he pauses, bringing a finger to his chin as he looks up at the ceiling, “I suppose it’s partially a token of my appreciation? Yeah, that sounds right. A way to tell you I’m thankful you’ve stuck around for so long, even with all of the weird shit we’ve gone through. There’s more to it than that, but that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“I dunno, you’re making this feel like a real relationship,” the bluenette sarcastically mumbles a bit as he gingerly picks up the envelope, squinting a bit at Minho. He opens it, then pulls out a few plastic-like polymer bills: some green, some red. His expression quickly shifts to confusion when he comes across papery stationary, the textural difference causing a nerve to spark up in his arm. Stationary. A letter? He pulls the light grey paper out of the envelope, eyeing Minho as he opens it. “Really? Getting awfully boyfriend-like on me, Min.”

“Oh, come on, just read it,” the older man tuts, rifling through the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I promise, it’s not as sappy as it looks.”

Changbin plucks his glasses from the table, wiggling the temples to fit just behind his ears, then clears his throat. He tries to swallow down the smirk on his face as he mocks Minho’s intonation and speech. “My loveliest Changbin,” a laugh creeps up from his stomach as he reads on. “Every single day, I wake up and I see your ‘arranged: in black’ pieces, intricately framed behind my bed, and I’m taken aback by the fact that your mind knows no bounds when it comes to expressing creativity.” The younger man peers over the sheet again, studying the somewhat bored, slightly flustered expression on the elder’s face.

“So I had a couple of glasses of wine while writing, I got a bit sentimental.” Minho flutters his lips as he rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist. “At least it’s not as bad as last year’s letter.”

Changbin smiled, but quickly brought the paper in front of his face to hide the subtle reddish tint growing on his face. “I usually don’t like keeping my own work, as you know,” he continued to read off of the letter, still avoiding eye contact with Minho, “but the graphite portrait of you, asleep on my bed from your last bout of finals — it holds a special spot in my heart. I love seeing it every time I enter my closet. It’s like there are little reminders of you scattered across my apartment, and across my heart.”

Oh.

There was a warmth that blossomed and grew in Changbin’s abdomen. The warmth reminded him of ivy hanging off of old buildings, quickly encompassing and embracing everything within its reach. It was a strange sensation, and it gave him pause before he continued reading the note.

Perhaps this was more than sentimental.

Perhaps Changbin was reading too far into things again.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice pulled the bluenette from the cavern of thoughts he had recessed himself into. “Where did you go?” His tone was firm, distracting Changbin from the fact that Minho had interlaced his fingers between the younger man’s left hand.

This was something they always did. Minho was always touchy-feely, even if it didn’t progress past shirtless embraces as they slept next to each other, or walking hand-in-hand. The way the pads of Minho’s fingertips softly caressed the back of his hand, though, made things seem different. Special.

“Your closet.” Realizing he had spent too much time losing himself in between the grooves of Minho’s fingerprints, Changbin sputtered out some words to barely form a coherent thought. “You reminded me that I still have one of your Burberry hoodies lost somewhere in my apartment.”

Minho furrowed his brows for a moment, trying not to get caught up on how distant Changbin’s response was. “The oversized black one? You know I don’t mind if you keep it, Bin.”

“It was nearly a thousand dollars, Minho.”

The older man scoffs and rolls his eyes a bit, bringing his left hand up to the table, a small brown box of sorts covered up by his palm. “Well,” the brunette squeezed Changbin’s hand a bit, causing them to make eye contact, “when you’re done reading that letter, I’ll be sure to avoid telling you how much your ‘anniversary’ gift is.” Minho winked as he ended his sentence, right when Changbin was thinking about saying something in protest.

“Minho,” Changbin whines, drooping his shoulders a bit as he frowns.

“Changbin,” Minho teases a bit as he mockingly whines in response. “Trust me, it’s not just me spending money aimlessly. It’ll tie into the idea I have in that letter. You know, really make some of those tabloids make us look nice and get off our backs for a while.”

The younger man bit his tongue and scanned his eyes down the letter, trying to find the last spot he had read over. Across my apartment , reading the words caused his hands to sweat, across my heart, made his stomach clench. Domestic and soft, exactly what they were, but also, somehow exactly what they were not. He continued reading off the letter, but his memories started creeping up during the empty gaps between sentences.

There was the callous bite to Minho’s tone during their first real meet-up. “Our arrangement is for mutual gains: you’ll be able to live comfortably, and I’ll get the press off of my back. You won’t be a starving artist, and I’ll no longer be ‘Minho, the Heartless’. We’re professional boyfriends: all of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings.” His bony hands felt cold, like ice, when they shook hands to confirm their arrangement. Changbin had felt in over his head then, but he knew he didn’t have anywhere else to turn.

In contrast, there was the night that Changbin had recently stayed over at the end of October. They had gotten back shortly after one in the morning after celebrating Minho’s thirty-first birthday with a handful of his friends and several well-renowned professional artists and gallery owners. Sure, Changbin had been Minho’s quote-unquote “boyfriend” for the night, but it benefitted his art career a bit, just to branch out and connect. None of that had mattered, though, because the best part was when they had gotten half-undressed and passed out on Minho’s duvet together, giggling about how some of the attendees thought ‘artist’s birthday’ meant ‘licence to dress as insanely as humanly possible’. The one-on-one time was always what Changbin looked forward to the most: that soft, personal connection with another person on such a raw, human level.

That was the weekend he borrowed Minho’s black, oversized Burberry sweater to wear home. Changbin lied earlier. He knew exactly where it was: curled up next to his wall in his bed. The soft scent of bergamot and mandarin of the Dior Sauvage that Minho wore on his wrists and in the divots of his clavicles had slowly started to fade into hints of vanilla and sandalwood. While he knew that his arrangement with Minho wouldn’t last forever, he wanted to live in the moments that made him feel like he was in a true, caring relationship. He had a friend in Minho, he truly did. It would probably hurt like hell when they eventually decided to move on from their agreement.

We're professional. Changbin would remind himself every night as he curled up into Minho’s sweater, remembering the way Minho’s arms felt warm on his back and on his shoulders, how soft his manicured fingers were when they fit perfectly in between Changbin’s. We are not real boyfriends. The sweater would catch his inevitable tears as he lost himself in the confusing haze they had painted themselves under. Business dynamic. This was the price he would pay to get into the elusive elitist art world. Strictly professional.

Even if it cost him his sanity.

“Did I just read that correctly?” Changbin’s voice was alarmed, and he frantically re-read the words on the paper before darting his eyes around nervously. Minho smirked as Changbin leaned over the table, dropping his voice to a just-audible whisper. “You want to do what to get the press’ attention?”

Minho grabbed the ashy brown jewellery box from the table, letting go of Changbin’s left hand. He opened the box and his expression flattened. “Exactly what the paper says, Bin.” Inside the desaturated box sat a contrastingly bright, rose gold band.

It was a ring embedded with actual fucking diamonds.

To anyone else, this would be serious. ‘Call your parents, scream at your best friend, even at two in the morning’ levels of seriousness. However, Changbin and Minho were not ‘anyone else’. They were in their own strange, unique bubble where the rules of modern society did not apply to them.

“How about we graduate from professional boyfriends to professional fiancés?”

Like most Sunday mornings nowadays, Changbin woke up to the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. Minho may have travelled to fancy galleries across the world and tried extravagant blends of coffee during his tenure, but he would always fall back on Starbucks’ blonde roast for his morning routines. “Why bother going through all of the effort of getting my hands on something overly fancy from Europe? I have yet to be let down by this one, and it’s been over ten years since I started drinking it. Why stop now?”

The logic made sense, really, and the coffee wasn’t bad.

“The Vancouver Sun’s already got an article out,” Minho excitedly muttered under his breath, setting a ceramic mug down on the nightstand closest to Changbin. He stared at his phone as he made his way back around the bed, causing the mattress to sink as he sat down. “So many people are speculating, like it even matters. If they had really been following me these past two years, they’d know better.”

It was too early for this. Minho was always business as soon as he woke up: endearing in theory, terribly annoying in practice.

Changbin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he rolled onto his back, sleepily glaring up at Minho. “You’re loud.”

“And you’re hungover,” the brunette quipped, not looking away from his phone as he smiled at himself. “Drink your water and your coffee, love, you’ll feel better.”

“Whatever,” Changbin grumbled under his breath as he sat up, reaching over to the nightstand. There was a sheen on his left hand that caused him to momentarily lose his breath. Shit. He drew his hand into his face to stare at the ring he had conveniently forgotten about overnight. It felt like nothing before he noticed it, but now that he was staring at it, it felt like the ring was going to cut off the circulation to his finger. It felt like a boa constrictor was tightening around him, making it hard to breathe.

Changbin had every intention to pull himself away from the suffocation of the ring. Instead, he found himself trying to count each small diamond wedged between the two layers of rose gold. A sudden dip right behind him and an arm around his waist literally pulled him from his thoughts. “Min!”

“It’s pretty,” Minho gently grabbed Changbin’s hand, tucking his chin into the younger man’s shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d like rose gold, but I know you hate gold, and silver’s too simple for you. For a fake engagement ring, seems pretty convincing, hmm?”

As much as he doesn’t want to, Changbin sinks into Minho’s embrace. Blame it on the fatigue, he figured, but found himself surprised that the older man didn’t pull away. For the shortest of moments, it almost feels like they’re meant to fit together like this. “It’s expensive,” the brunette whispers, “to no one’s surprise, so please don’t lose it.”

The younger man squints in disapproval. “How much was it?”

“It’s impolite to ask a fiancé something like that, you know,” Minho huffs a bit dramatically as he feigns irritation.

Changbin, however, seems plenty irritated for the both of them. He rolls around, mere centimetres away from Minho’s face as he frowns up at the older man. “It’s a good thing this is all fake, then, right? How much was it?”

“Bin,” the brunette’s expression falters as he cocks his head to the side. “It’s not important, I don’t understand why you’re so—”

Changbin desperately wants to stay this close to Minho, to drown in his embrace and the warmth of his touch. Professional. Fake boyfriends, fake fiancés. “It’s just for show, I know. Since it’s fake, though, you shouldn’t have a problem telling me, right?” There’s a layer of hurt in his voice that he knows he can’t hide. He dips his chin into his chest and closes his eyes, desperate to make this all just stop and go away. Something about this, though, just felt too real, too close to an actual relationship.

What the fuck were they doing? All of this had to cross some sort of unspoken relationship rule somewhere, right? The blurred lines between what was real and what was fake in their arrangement was causing Changbin's head to spin.

Minho doesn’t seem sure about how to handle the situation. The moments pass by in silence until the older man takes in a deep breath, then he wiggles his index finger under Changbin’s chin, tilting his face upwards. “Hey,” he quietly demands, “look at me, Bin.”

So, the bluenette does as requested. He stares into Minho’s eyes and instantly softens.

“If it bothers you that much, I can go out and get something simpler.” Minho’s voice quivers a bit, almost like he feels how uncomfortable Changbin is. “I just… I don’t know what I was thinking when I went out and I got this one. I looked around with the agent for over an hour, and then that one just caught my eye, just as things were looking hopeless.”

Suddenly, Changbin’s hand is in Minho’s again, and the older man stares at the band with purpose, rotating the younger man’s hand around freely. “I guess I put in a bit too much of a personal flair on this. I really prioritized what I figured you’d like before the importance of keeping up the façade that this is all fake.”

They both stare at the ring for a moment, then look at one another. Neither of them moved, neither of them breathed as they stared at each other with shared panic, concern, worry. There was an unfamiliar emotion that lingered at the back of their gaze, but it was hard to place. Changbin hadn’t felt anything like this before. He was equal parts nervous, nauseated, and lost.

If this were like the romantic comedies that Changbin and Seungmin would watch while hungover, this would be the part where Minho would roll on top of him, say something like “fuck the rules, I just want you”. They would cry and kiss and roll around the sheets together. There would be a swell of uplifting orchestral music in the background, indicating that fate had given its blessing on the couple.

This wasn’t a movie, though. This was fucking reality, and there was nothing but tension in the air and a yearning in the bottom of Changbin’s stomach. Their situation was complex and convoluted and it was going to end in heartbreak for him, and only him. Really, he had no one to blame but himself.

Our arrangement is for mutual gains. Minho’s voice was so loud.

We’re professional boyfriends. It was sour.

All of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings. It hurt as it echoed in Changbin’s head, but Minho’s voice was all he wanted to hear.

Feelings.

Feelings?

That’s when it hit Changbin: he was falling for Minho — Minho, the (supposedly, yet to be proven) Heartless — and he couldn’t stop himself, no matter how stupid he knew it was. Perhaps the most terrifying part of this, though, wasn’t the fact that Minho didn’t feel the same way.

No, the most terrifying thing was that Changbin couldn’t tell if Minho was actually interested in him or not. Minho always felt strongly one way or another. For them to sit here, struck dumb in silence, was unnerving. The silence meant uncertainty.

It meant possibility.

#we're professional #skz fics #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minbin #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

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allmidaddies · 4 years

Text

party favors for you.

There was a soft wooshing sound and then a small piece of crumpled up notebook paper bounced off of your glasses, falling onto the table in front of you. Before you could ask any questions there was another woosh of air and a second piece of paper hit your nose.

Mat’s snicker gave him away as you lifted your head, glaring at him and lamely attempting to throw the paper back at him.

“Stop it.”

“But I’m bored,” Mat pouted in protest, leaning back in his chair. He had his feet stretched out so that they could rest against the chair that was beside you, wilted autumn leaves stuck to the bottom and now all over the floor. You had tried to get him to move his feet so you could put your backpack there but he was a stubborn pest. And it was really hard to argue with him when he looked as cute as he did. His hood was tugged up around his neck and the joggers he was wearing had fit maybe a size smaller than he should have purchased but you were not complaining.

The straw in his hand was undoubtedly the tool he was using just a few seconds previous. In fact, he was loading it up again as you watched him.

“You should really study, our midterm is on Friday,” you said, reaching out and snatching the straw from his unsuspecting fingers.

“Hey!” Mat began to protest, reaching over the table to grab it but the stern look he received from the girl sitting just a table over from the two of you in the library made him sit back in defeat. You smiled proudly, throwing it in the trash can that was just within your reach.

“You,” Mat said, a grin on his face, “Are no fun.”

His fingers came to run through his soft hair as it fell over his forehead.

“I don’t think that’s true,” you hummed, turning your attention back to your laptop, reaching blindly for your coffee. It was a bit late in the day to be having an iced latte but you needed it. You were copying the notes you had taken in class into an organized study guide, attempting to give yourself a chance at passing the upcoming exam. Which, by the way, Mat was also supposed to be studying for but instead he had been making tiny spitballs for the last thirty minutes.

You and Mat had met only a few weeks ago. The first day of fall term he sat himself down in the empty seat beside you in your 8 am business law lecture, later on nominating himself to be your partner for the term long project.

“Is this seat taken?” A low, rough voice to your left asked. It belonged to a tall, tired boy who had a coffee cup dwarfed by his large hand, tufts of dark brown hair sticking out from the hood he had tugged over his head. He startled you, your mind still foggy as your own coffee hadn’t quite kicked in yet.

“What? Yeah, no-” you stumbled over your words, “Sorry, I meant, no, no one is sitting there. It’s all yours.”

The boy standing over you grinned, chuckling to himself as he dropped his backpack onto the ground. You didn’t miss the logo that was printed on it: UVIC Hockey 13. Interesting. You didn’t know any hockey players. To be quite honest you didn’t know any student athletes at all. Sure you recognized them but personally you couldn’t call any of them friends.

“Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet, eh?” He asked, nodding towards your drink. You smiled, laughing softly,

“No. And I’m not entirely convinced that this is going to be enough.”

“Mat, by the way,” he stuck his hand out to you by means of introduction.

“Y/N.”

His hand was warm and calloused, engulfing your own as he shook it firmly. His eyes lingered on your face for a moment before he pulled his attention away to retrieve his laptop. You couldn’t help but peer over at his screen to see that his background was a picture of him and a few of his teammates, dressed and ready for a game.

“So hockey?” You asked softly. You were well aware that there were not many students in the classroom yet and you didn’t need anyone eavesdropping your conversation.

“Yeah,” Mat said and for a moment you didn’t think he was going to say anything else but then he looked over at you again, a bright smile on his face.

“You a fan?”

“I try to keep up but if you asked me to name five players on my favorite team I couldn’t tell you,” you admitted. That was the thing you hated about men who liked sports. They always wanted you to pass some sort of unspoken test before you were deemed a legitimate fan.

“I won’t make you do that,” Mat laughed, “But I will ask who your favorite team is.”

“I know I should say the Canucks since they’re the closest team but it’s actually the Islanders,” you confessed, mindlessly opening your laptop and creating a new folder for your class.

Mat started laughing, it was muffled as he pulled his hoodie over his mouth to silence himself but it earned your attention.

“What? Are you going to tease me for my team choice? I know they haven’t made it to the finals in like two decades but I am loyal to my team,” you defended.

“No,” Mat spoke through laughter, “You just-you must really not keep up much.”

You furrowed your brows, feeling slightly offended.

“I was drafted by them,” Mat said. There was no cockiness or ego behind his words, only humor from the situation. You were an Islanders fan and yet you had no idea that you were sitting in your 8 am lecture with their first round draft pick.

“Oh my god you were!” You exclaimed, your voice carrying and receiving looks from the other students in the room.

“Sorry,” you mumbled against your palm as you covered your mouth, “Sorry I guess I didn’t recognize you. Your hair was shorter...and you had less facial hair.”

You gestured towards the faint stubble he had going on, his hand subconsciously coming up to scratch it.

“Well it’s been a few years,” he shrugged.

“I’ll be able to tell my dad I sat next to the Mat Barzal in my lecture and I let him borrow my laptop charger,” you said. It was Mat’s turn to look confused,

“Laptop charger?”

“Your laptop is going to die,” you said, nodding towards the icon that showed he only had about a 9% charge.

“How do you know I don’t have a charger?” Mat asked, eyeing you closely.

“Do you?” You challenged. Mat frowned, his voice dropping,

“No.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and digging for your own,

“You men are so predictable.”

II.

The past few weeks had been nothing but cold and wet so when the sun decided to come out for the weekend you had suggested to Mat that the two of you go grab coffee and breakfast. It was already three weeks into the term and you were anxious to get started on the project you had been assigned in your shared class.

On the second day of lectures your professor had asked everyone to pair up so that you could get started on the case study project he was assigning. Mat had leaned over and asked which case you wanted to do before you even had the opportunity to glance around the room. Not that you were opposed to working with him, you just hadn’t expected him to choose you to work on the project with. Given the fact you had only known him for a few days.

It worried you a bit that he had such a busy schedule with hockey games and practice, not allowing the most flexibility for working on a big project. So, he had told you this weekend he didn’t have any games and just a few afternoon practices. Your suggestion for a breakfast study session had been met with much resistance on his part but you were not taking no for an answer.

Despite his unwillingness to be up before ten am on a weekend, he was early to pick you up. And now the two of you were sitting on the sidewalk downtown, each with coffee and breakfast sitting before you.

Your nose was buried in your laptop, unaware that Mat was staring at you. He had his laptop open, a pen between his fingers that he was mindlessly twirling around as he admired the way the sun was hitting your face. The bun you’d thrown your hair into tilted to the side, baby hairs blowing across your forehead in the breeze.

It amazed him how motivated and studious you were. He was motivated when it came to hockey but he struggled to remain focused on his school work for more than an hour at a time. And he always saved everything for the last minute. When he had chosen you to be his partner for this assignment he hadn’t done so with the intention that you would shoulder most of the work but with his busy schedule he couldn’t help but fall short more often than not.

It made him feel bad because you were so nice and so sweet, assuring him that it was not a big deal and you didn’t mind.

“So,” you spoke up, snapping Mat from his trance. He blinked twice, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of that?” You asked, speaking slowly and looking at him inquisitively. Mat blushed,

“I wasn’t listening.”

“Mathew,” you frowned. He gave a sheepish smile,

“I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

“Excuses, excuses, Barzal,” you teased, sitting up and reaching over to flip open his textbook.

“I was just saying that we should do something like this case study,” you repeated. Mat nodded, watching your fingers dance across the page as you spoke. He was listening this time. Everything you said sounded so intelligent and he didn’t understand how you could absorb and interpret some of the information so easily. He could read the same passage a hundred times over, only to feel more confused as he went while his eyes begged to fall shut. But you, he could listen to you talk about piercing the corporate veil all day long.

“Honestly,” Mat chuckled, “You know better than I do. I don’t know how you understand any of this stuff.”

You laughed, taking a sip of your coffee,

“The same way you can look at the plays your coach tells you to run and understand what the hell he’s talking about. And then execute it. It just takes patience and practice.”

Mat rubbed his hands over his face, sitting up straighter,

“Okay. Explain it to me again. Like I’m twelve.”

“Like you’re twelve...or like you’re four?” You grinned, earning an eye roll and a laugh from Mat as he threw his napkin at you.

“I’m not that stupid,” he pouted. You smiled, looking at him for a moment. His hair was falling over his forehead, the sun making it look shinier than usual. Even though it was a little chilly, he was still in just a grey t-shirt but it complimented his skin tone and fit across his shoulders like a dream.

“I didn’t say you were stupid, Barzy,” you said, “Because you’re not. You’re just wired differently. Maybe business law isn’t your calling, but hockey is. And that’s why you got drafted, and that’s why you’re going to play in the NHL once you’re done with your time here. And until you go, I’m going to help you pass this class.”

After only knowing him for a few weeks you still felt a punch in your gut every time you thought about him leaving for New York. He said he didn’t know when he might call his college career quits and you dreaded the day it came. Even if he was a pain to study with, and you were doing most of the heavy lifting on this project, you enjoyed spending time with him.

And when you watched the smile spread across his face you couldn’t help but think he enjoyed spending time with you too.

III.

You were planning on pulling a late night at the library. There was no upcoming deadline for anything but you wanted to get ahead on some classwork. With Halloween the next weekend you didn’t want to have any homework preventing you from having a fun weekend of dressing up with your friends and going out to the bars.

And just as you were settling into your market analysis coursework your phone started ringing. Obnoxiously loud for the quiet floor of the library.

“Sorry,” you whispered to the students who glared in your direction. You scrambled to silence the ringing before looking at the name that was flashing across your screen.

Mat Barzal

Confusion crossed your features. Didn’t he have a game tonight?

“Hello?” You answered quietly, getting up and moving away from the tables so as to not distract the other students.

“Hey can- why are you whispering?” Mat asked, a quiet laugh falling from his lips.

“I’m in the library,” you said. Mat almost rolled his eyes. He should have known. You were always at the library. He told you every day that you studied too hard, to which you always retorted that he just didn’t study enough. And while Mat couldn’t exactly argue with that he did believe you spent too much time with your nose buried in your studies.

“Oh…” Mat trailed off.

“Why? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a game?” You asked.

“Yeah but I left my airpods in class today and I need them so I can go do my thing. You didn’t happen to grab them, did you?” He asked, his tone hopeful.

“Oh! Yeah! I figured I’d give them back to you tomorrow,” you said, “But I have a feeling you need them now?”

“Uh…” Mat hesitated, “Yeah… but if you’re studying I don’t want to interrupt, it’s okay.”

“Mat,” you laughed, “I can bring them to you. I’m not going to let this superstition be the thing that makes you guys lose tonight.”

Mat laughed, thinking back to a few days before when he had explained, in great detail, all of his superstitions. One of them being his ritual of sitting on the bench and visualizing for at least twenty minutes before every game prior to getting ready.

“You’re an angel,” Mat sighed. Your heart fluttered at his words but you pushed the feeling away,

“Just tell me where to go. I can come now.”

The cold October wind pierced right through the UVIC hoodie you were wearing as you walked to the arena. In all honesty you weren’t sure you had ever been to a hockey game apart from the one you had come to with your dad during Family Weekend your freshman year. Long before you knew Mat.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs that led into the basement, towards the locker rooms, you found Mat. He was leaning against the wall, waiting for you. There was a hat covering his hair and he already had KT tape running up his thighs, which were largely exposed by the compression shorts he was wearing.

“You are a lifesaver,” Mat said, wrapping you in a hug as you handed him the small, white charging holder. Your arms found their way around his waist, feeling his hard muscles beneath your fingers.

“I tried catching you after class but your legs are much longer than mine,” you teased, looking up at him. He still hadn’t released you from his hold but you didn’t mind. He smelled good, and his hoodie was soft against your cheek.

“I really appreciate this,” Mat said. He paused like he might say something else. You leaned back to get a better look at his face, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Well,” Mat said slowly, “I was just thinking since I already interrupted your studying you should just stay for the game.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was a long walk back to the library. And there was less than an hour until the game started. If you texted your roommates you were sure at least one of them would come and sit with you. They had listened to you gush about Mat for nearly two months now and you were sure they were dying to see him in person.

“You don’t have to,” Mat said quickly, noting your hesitancy. It made his heart drop just a bit but he tried not to let it get to him.

“No, it’ll be fun,” you assured him, catching the hint of sadness that flashed through his eyes.

“And if you hang around after the game we can get food or something,” Mat said. You couldn’t fight the smile on your face as you nodded.

“Okay.”

“Is that all it takes?” Mat laughed, “A promise for food?”

“Maybe,” you grinned, leaning into him once again. Mat hugged you tighter for a second before releasing you.

“Okay, well I need to go...do my thing...but I’ll see you after?”

You nodded, backing away slowly until you hit the door,

“Good luck superstar.”

Mat laughed, shaking his head,

“Thank you.”

It had been a long time since you had watched a hockey game in person. When you were growing up your family would go watch the Canucks whenever the Islanders came to town. College was certainly a different experience but you were so focused on Mat you hardly noticed anything else.

“Will you stop drooling?” Maria laughed, bumping her knee against yours. Two of your roommates had come to your rescue, accompanying you for the game so you didn’t have to sit alone.

“I’m not,” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder. You didn’t doubt that there were other girls around who couldn’t keep their eyes off of Mat either. Someone as attractive as him surely had no problem getting laid so it wouldn’t surprise you if you weren’t the only girl there to see him.

Even though most of Mat’s free time was spent with you, you didn’t know what he was really doing when he claimed he was busy. And you tried not to let it bother you. Especially since you were just friends, project partners really.

“He definitely left his airpods on purpose,” Kate said, leaning over you so that Maria could hear her too.

“He did not,” you scoffed. The thought had definitely crossed your mind. How did he even forget them? They had been sitting right there on the table when he said bye to you after class. And how did he not notice they were missing all day? Your lecture was at 8 in the morning. These were all questions you had been running through since you sat down on the hard bleachers.

Kate and Maria shared a glance but they didn’t say anything more. They didn’t get the chance because you were practically jumping out of your seat when Mat scored a goal, allowing UVIC to take the lead.

And you swore you saw him look up at the stands, his eyes searching for you, a smile spreading across his face when he spotted you, just as his teammates attacked him with hugs.

“Definitely on purpose,” Kate mumbled.

After the game Kate and Maria slipped off, telling you they’d see you at home. “Or not!” Maria had shouted as you started to make your way back down to the hallway Mat had told you to meet him in.

You tried to tell yourself that him asking you to stay for the game meant nothing, but there were butterflies in your stomach at the prospect of getting food with him afterwards.

“Hey,” Mat’s voice startled you, just as it had that first day of class. He had just emerged from the locker room, back in his suit he had been wearing before the game.

“Nice goal,” you smiled, accepting the hug he pulled you into. The entire thing felt so domestic and you wished you got to do this all the time.

“I had extra luck in the stands tonight,” Mat grinned, his eyes scanning your face. For a moment it looked like he wanted to kiss you but his teammates burst through the doors.

A chorus of “Good game Barzy!” ruined whatever soft moment the two of you were having. Mentally you cursed each of the shaggy haired boys that came through the hall but you didn’t miss the looks they were all giving Mat as they passed. He kept a protective arm around your shoulders, as if he was afraid one of them might try and steal you away. Gently you curled your fingers around the material of his suit jacket, earning his attention once again.

“So what’s that for?” You asked, nodding towards the object he was holding in his free hand. Mat’s cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t the post game glow.

“It’s a puck,” he said, “I saved it for you. You know, for your first hockey game.”

He handed it to you tentatively and you let your fingers brush over his as you took it from him,

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him before a teasing grin took over your features, “But this isn’t my first hockey game. I thought you knew that.”

Mat rolled his eyes playfully,

“I know. But, it’s your first game coming to watch me play.”

You had no argument for that and your body felt warm as you brushed your thumb over the face of the puck.

“Is this the one you scored a goal with?” You asked quietly. Mat opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, though the blush in his cheeks and the way he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly told you that it was. Before he could muster up the words his coach came out into the hallway.

“Good game tonight Barzal,” he said, his eyes falling to you for a moment. There was a question in his expression but he didn’t say anything, simply giving a nod and a goodnight to you both before he disappeared and the two of you were alone again.

You decided to save the awkward conversation for another time, glancing up at him again,

“Let’s go get food, yeah?”

IV.

After your unofficial post game “not a date” date with Mat you didn’t see him for a while. He was on a week-long road trip to some schools out of the conference on the east coast. It didn’t mean, though, that you weren’t still in touch with him every day.

Mostly it was you sending him snapchats, complaining about how boring the lecture was without him making side comments the entire time. Even though your notes were much more thorough without his distractions.

But, it was also him begging to FaceTime late in the evening after games because he couldn’t figure out how to do the homework. Oftentimes it wasn’t even for the class you were taking together. His accounting class was giving him a major headache and he turned to you for help rather than taking advantage of the athletic tutors he had access to.

“Mat you know there are people who are paid to help you right?” You teased, propping your phone up as you sat at your desk. Mat rolled his eyes,

“You could be one of those people, and then you could get paid to hang out with me.”

“But I would also have to put up with other people who are not you and I don’t want to do that,” you said. It was a silent confession but you weren’t sure if Mat picked up on it.

“So I’m special?” Mat grinned. It was your turn to roll your eyes,

“Don’t get a big head on me now, Barzal.”

You half expected him to text you to hang out or study when they got back into town on Saturday but when he didn’t you let your roommates convince you to go out to the bars with them. As bad as your crush on Mat had become, you needed to see what other options there were in your college town.

Which is why you were now donning a lace bodysuit and jeans, leaning against the bar as the ice melted in your now drained glass. The pickings were...slim. All you’d had a frat guy come occupy the barstool beside you for nearly twenty minutes, explaining to you the importance of brotherhood, and it wasn’t until his girlfriend came and dragged him away that you could get him to leave you alone.

She had apologized profusely, saying he tended to talk too much to strangers when he was drinking. You told her not to worry about it.

All you really wanted was for Mat to be the person you came out with on the weekends. You had a strong feeling he was a good time when he was drinking.

As if you had manifested his presence into your life, a figure moved into your peripheral that looked all too familiar.

“So you have a life outside the library,” Mat’s voice was low and teasing in your ear, sending chills down your spine. His hand was pressed against your lower back and you leaned into him, turning your head so you could look at his face. His skin was glowing from the heat of the bar and the drinks he had undoubtedly consumed before running into you.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to find me,” you smirked, finally turning and pressing your palms against his chest. The t-shirt he had on did little to separate your hands from his hard chest. The thought of what he was hiding beneath his clothes had you squeezing your thighs together. Especially when his hands dared to travel lower as he brought you into him further.

“Let me get you a drink,” he said, nodding towards the bar. You nodded, glancing back towards your friends to see them giving you thumbs up. You flipped them off before turning all of your attention back to Mat, falling into conversation with him.

“So, your coach finally gave you guys the night off?”

“About time,” Mat groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“Well I’m glad you’re out, I’m starting to think you spend more time inside that rink than I do inside the library,” you teased.

“Which is saying a lot,” Mat pinched your side playfully. The bartender set down your drinks but before you could even swallow the sip you took of whatever he had ordered you a hand gripped Mat’s shoulder, yanking him to turn around.

“Hey Barzal!”

Some drunk guy stumbled in front of him and Mat faced him as you watched over his shoulder.

“What the hell?” Mat asked, stepping back to avoid being crashed into as the guy’s body swayed heavily.

“You’re a stupid son of a bitch!” The guy said, pointing a finger at him. Your brows furrowed and you made a move to say something, never one to hold your tongue when you were drinking, but Mat caught your waist and pulled you back behind him protectively.

“You fucked my girlfriend!” The guy said, “I know you did and you think you’re gonna get away with it but you’re just some stupid hockey player and I could kick your ass.”

You tried to ignore the feeling of jealousy that crept into your chest at the thought of Mat hooking up with someone who wasn’t you. But you highly doubted Mat would ever be a home-wrecker. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Maybe you were naive to think it but you had a pretty good idea of who he was, and it wasn’t that.

“I didn’t fuck your girlfriend,” Mat scoffed. He wanted to say he hadn’t been fucking anyone since he met you but he wasn’t about to announce that to the entire bar.

“I don’t know if you’re been smashed into the boards too many times but you did you toolbag,” the guy said, giving Mat a sturdy shove to the chest. Mat was very obviously taller, stronger, and broader than the guy in front of him but the alcohol in the man’s veins was not allowing him to realize that.

“I don’t even know who you are or who your girlfriend is,” Mat laughed, “But I promise I didn’t screw her. I’m not that desperate.”

“Excuse me?” The guy chuckled darkly, “What did you just say?”

“I’m not so desperate to get laid that I need to fuck girls with boyfriends you idiot,” Mat said, rolling his eyes. It was clear this guy wasn’t going to let it go even though Mat knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Your eyes went wide as you watched the drunk guy shove Mat again. This time Mat retaliated, nearly knocking him on his ass with a single push. Mat turned to take your arm and guide you outside but just as his fingers grazed your wrist your eyes went wide.

“Mat!”

A beer glass connected with the side of his head, the contents spilling all over your shirt and jeans before shattering on the ground at your feet. Mat reached up to touch his cheekbone, his fingers coming away bloody. His eyes went dark and he turned back towards the asshole who had thrown it. With no warning Mat swung, knocking the guy to the ground.

“You better consider yourself lucky that this is all I’m handing you tonight,” Mat said as he leaned over him, “Don’t try to start shit with me again unless you have your facts crystal clear.”

“Mat,” you tugged his arm, pulling him back and ushering him towards the door. There was blood running down the side of his face where the beer glass had broken the skin. It was already beginning to bruise as he took the bottom of his t-shirt and dabbed it gently.

“Don’t touch it,” you tugged his hand away from his face. There was irritation in your tone and Mat came to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he said. You halted, turning to look at him. You’d made it to a street corner, the noise of the bar now in the distance. All that illuminated the area around you was a single street light but you could make out the guilt in his eyes.

“Mat it’s not your fault,” you said, softening your tone.

“But I shouldn’t have done that,” Mat nodded back towards the bar.

“Maybe not,” you shrugged, “But he was the one who threw a fucking beer glass at your head. What were you supposed to do? Give him a hug?”

Mat laughed softly, stepping towards you again and draping his arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go back to my place and I can clean that up for you. And we can come up with a cover story to tell your coaches.”

Once you got back home you pulled Mat into the bathroom across from your room. Your roommates were still out so the house was quiet as Mat leaned back against the counter. He stripped himself of his t-shirt, complaining about how the beer had made it sticky.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he said quietly. You barely glanced at him, afraid seeing him shirtless would be too much to handle.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said again. Mat sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Seriously, Mat,” you said again, setting the hydrogen peroxide on the counter, “You don’t need to apologize for something you didn’t do.”

Mat was quiet as you stood between his legs. His hands ghosted over your waist, chills spreading across your arms as you tried not to think about how close you were standing to him. You dabbed at the cut gently but Mat still hissed in pain all the same. Out of reflex, his grip on your waist tightened. The pads of his thumbs brushed over the exposed skin of your midriff causing your breath to catch in your throat.

Mat glanced down at you, an overwhelming urge to kiss you beginning to take over.

“Thank you,” Mat said quietly.

“For what?” You asked, dropping the cotton ball in the trash and putting neosporin on a bandaid.

“For everything,” Mat sighed, “I feel like you’re always helping me when you don’t have to.”

You stared down at your hands, the admission on the tip of your tongue. You wanted so badly to tell him how you felt but the fear of scaring him away and losing the friendship that you had held you back.

“I don’t mind,” you said, finally looking up at him. Gently you placed the bandaid over the cut, your eyes meeting his for a second. He wanted to say something, you could tell. But he didn’t. Instead, he simply placed his hand on the back of your neck and brought your forehead to his lips, leaving a soft kiss there. Your eyelids fluttered closed for a second before you pulled yourself away from him,

“I’m going to go change. You can stay here tonight if you want.”

+ one

You were pacing nervously, fingers tapping against your chin as Mat watched you closely.

“You’re going to wear down the carpet,” he teased gently. You stopped, turning to face him. It was clear in your expression that you were not in a laughing mood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. The two of you had been in his room for the past hour, writing up what you were going to say in the final presentation. You had put together the powerpoint slides with some help from Mat a few days earlier and now it was the night before the presentation and you were an anxious mess.

“I can’t do this presentation, Mat,” you said, fidgeting with your hands.

“Why not?” He asked.

“Because,” you said, your voice cracking, “I’m so bad at presenting. I get nervous and I forget my words and I just go blank. I feel hot and nauseous and like I’m going to pass out.”

Mat nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees,

“So it makes you anxious?”

You nodded. It felt stupid. You were in college and you still couldn’t stand in front of a group of people and talk about something you had spent the entire term becoming an expert on. There wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about this case but as soon as you stepped in front of the room you knew you would forget everything. And not just everything about the project, everything you had ever learned in your life.

“Just look at me,” Mat said, “Don’t look at the class. So we lose a few points on eye contact. I don’t care. The rest of the project is so good it won’t matter.”

You laughed dryly,

“See that’s the problem, Barzal.”

Mat furrowed his brows. You rolled your eyes,

“You make me nervous.”

“Oh.”

Mat looked at you again. There was panic in your eyes, both from the presentation and from the confession.

“How about I just do the presentation? I don’t care. You basically did the entire project and I don’t mind standing in front of the class and presenting,” Mat shrugged. There was a small sinking feeling in your stomach when he didn’t address your comment but you decided to deal with that later.

“Really?” You asked, “Are you sure because-”

“You just write up what you want me to say and I can do it,” Mat assured you. A huge weight lifted from your shoulders as you sat down beside him again, pulling his laptop into your lap and opening a new word document.

Mat watched you closely, vaguely listening to the words you were speaking. Had you just confessed that you like him? As in...you reciprocated the feelings he had been hiding for nearly ten weeks now? He wanted to ask you about it but the last thing he wanted to do was give you more anxiety right before this presentation.

Later, he promised himself, later.

A heavy arm draped across your shoulders as you stepped out into the brisk December air. Frost covered the ground, causing you to pull your coat around your body closer.

“Good job,” Mat said, smiling down at you.

“Thank you so much for doing that,” you said, mirroring his expression.

You had just wrapped up your business law class, presentation now complete. Mat had taken the lead, giving you just one easy slide so you could get credit for being there. It may have been cheating the system a little bit, since all you did was introduce yourself and the case, but you didn’t care. You spent the rest of the presentation watching Mat, feeling proud at how well he did considering just a few months ago he was afraid he wouldn’t even be able to pass the class.

Granted, you had written the majority of the presentation, but he still managed to answer all the questions your professor had asked with ease and the same amount of detail you would have given.

“You’re more than just a pretty boy, Barzy, I’m impressed,” you teased, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know what excuses I’m going to use next term to get you to hang out with me,” Mat sighed dramatically. You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“I’m always open for study dates, even if they aren’t for the same class,” you said. Immediately after the word date left your mouth you wanted to take it back. After Mat had said nothing of your small confession the night before you didn’t want to scare him away.

“Oh!” Mat said, breezing past it, “That reminds me.”

“Hmm?”

“I owe you, you know for practically carrying this project all term and sitting through more hockey games than you probably wanted to,” Mat said, referencing the fact that after that first game you had found yourself going to home games more often than before. If just to see Mat for a few minutes afterwards when he walked you to your car.

“Mat I told you I don’t mind,” you said.

“Then you won’t mind me buying you a coffee before your next class,” Mat said easily, “You have time.”

This was true. You had a final at 11 but it was only 9:16, presentations having wrapped up quickly.

“Don’t you have practice?” You countered. Mat shook his head,

“Not until tonight. Schedule is different during finals.”

“Okay,” you conceded, letting Mat lead you to the shop just off of campus.

You ended up sitting in the shop for longer than you intended. Time seemed to disappear whenever you were with Mat. He had been telling you some dramatic, ridiculous story about their last away game, laughing until your sides were aching. It made you want him even more. But you were starting to think that maybe friends would have to be enough.

You glanced down at your phone, realizing you only had thirty minutes until your final.

“I have to go,” you said, interrupting Mat. His face dropped.

“Does this mean I’m not going to see you until after the Christmas break?”

Fuck. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“I don’t know, I leave on Friday,” you said. You gathered your things, feeling your heart sink as Mat set both your empty cups on the dish tray.

“I don’t leave until next week,” Mat said, “We should do something.”

You tried to resist the smile that toyed at your lips. It was a good sign that he wanted to see you even though your project was over.

“You can teach me how to ice skate.”

“You don’t know how to ice skate?” Mat laughed as he pushed the door open, holding it for you.

“In my defense my parents never took me,” you said, holding your hands up in surrender.

“Lucky for you I have the keys to the rink so I might be able to arrange a lesson,” Mat said.

The rest of your walk back to campus was quiet, both of you deep in your thoughts.

Mat didn’t want to leave for Christmas break without telling you how he felt. And if you didn’t feel the same way it wasn’t like you still had to finish your project together. But, if your lingering gazes and the hockey hoodie of his that was in your closet were any indications, he had a pretty good feeling that you felt the same way.

Just as you reached the business building again, snow started falling from the sky. It was catching in Mat’s hair and on your eyelashes so he pulled you underneath the covered walkway. You still had a few minutes to spare and the last session of classes wasn’t out yet, leaving the two of you alone.

A palpable tension formed between the two of you as you rested back against the brick wall, watching him shake snow from his hair.

“C’mere,” you laughed, tugging his wrist so you could run your fingers through his hair and dust the snow off. Not that it mattered much since he would have to step out into it in a few minutes. Your eyes lingered on the faint scar he had just below his eye. It was almost completely healed and the bruise was mostly gone. Mat watched you closely, his chest nearly brushing yours as he stood with his feet on either side of your legs.

He felt that overwhelming urge to kiss you that had come over him the night after the bar. Jis eyes were trained on your face, admiring every detail. He reached up gently, brushing the snow that had caught on your brow. His thumb grazed over your cheek bone and he felt you lean into his touch ever so slightly.

As soon as your hands dropped from his hair, Mat caught your chin between his forefinger and thumb and leaned in to kiss you. Though you were already practically chest to chest you melted into him further, palms coming to rest against his chest. Your fingers curled around the lapel of his coat, wanting something to hold onto. Something to ground you in the reality that this was actually happening.

Mat pulled away first but he rested his forehead against yours, not wanting to go far,

“Tell me if I’ve got this all wrong, but I really, really like you. And it’s not just because you help me all the time. I just like being around you. And I can’t help but think that maybe you like me too.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words,

“Why do you think I’m so eager to help you, Mat? I’m a nice person, but I wouldn’t do these things for just anybody.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ There’s not a lot of people I would walk all the way across campus from the library to the arena for, just to give them their headphones,” you laughed.

“Are there a lot of people you would say yes to a date with?” Mat asked cautiously.

“Depends who’s asking,” you teased.

“I’m asking,” Mat said. You tugged him down to you by his coat, lips ghosting over his,

“For you...anything.”

Mat grinned, closing the gap. This time his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, tangling with yours as he pulled you into him even more. Your arms draped around his neck, tangling in the hair at the back of his neck.

When you pulled away you were both breathless, wide smiles on your lips.

“You should go take your final,” Mat said.

“It shouldn’t take me long,” you said, “Will you wait for me?”

Mat didn’t have any finals left to take and his practice wasn’t until 7 that night. If you were willing to spend the rest of the day with him he would gladly take you up on that offer.

“Okay,” he smiled, “I still owe you a few favors.”

You breathed a laugh, shaking your head,

“You don’t have-”

“But I��m going to,” Mat interrupted, “I plan on making them all up to you. And then some.”

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

Text

WhatsApp, Part 16. (Steve Rogers x reader)

Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you.

A/N: Inspired by the song Turn Me On by Cheat Codes and Dante Klein. Like, fuck it up, Kenneth. Fuck it up.

Warnings: SMUT. BITCHES, IT'S FINALLY HERE, OMFG, EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM.

Word count: 2.4 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @songforhema, @mikariell95, @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

Read the rest here: Part One Part Two Part three Part four Part five Part Six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen Part fifteen

If you like to have your readings in order :): H E R E

The following morning, you really did call to your office and took a fucking day off, because you really needed it. Your headache was killing you - but you were happy when you remembered what happened last night. Yeah, your legs weren't working like they used to normally, but you were on cloud nine.

Bucky's shit-eating grin was shining on his face as Deena and Sam both handled him twenty bucks in cash. You've really done it and Steve reacted. You expected to end up that night with a kiss - but Steve gave you a few good rounds and he went down on you without any hesitation. You couldn't even count how many times you came that night.

And even if your whole body did hurt and you were tired, you knew you could take more of him.

So you laid in your bed with a lazy smile on your lips, your hand leaned into your crossed forearms as you watched Steve swinging his ass dressed in jeans in a rhythm of a fast song. It was an interpreter from the concert you were on the last night, you could really tell. That sweet Greek god was preparing your breakfast and he was as happy as he wasn't in a long time.

His body and smile felt relaxed and truthful, his body was itching with the finest pain he ever felt. Oh man, sometimes it was good to be eager - and to DEFINITELY love sex. He was one hundred percent sure that he loves sex.

Being seventy years in the ice wasn't an excuse for not learning some new techniques in case they were needed; including new types of speaking, some physical attributes, clothing style and of course, the modern styles of making love.

The missionary was outdated - now, there were much funnier things to do in the bedroom.

Both Steve and Bucky knew that, so their research was fairly good in this matter. And they were good students.

A woman's body was the most beautiful instrument in the entire world when you knew how to play it - Steve knew that since the fucking forties. And you sang for him the entire night.

You had some messy memories of the night, but Steve remembered every single detail. He knew that you curl up your toes when you liked what he was doing, that you were praising him when he touched the right spot and that your collarbones were visible when your body tensed up as you orgasmed with loud moans.

He was eager to test everything out, to learn more about your physical side; to learn how to please his baby girl the best way he could.

It was pretty obvious that from that night on, you two became a couple in a relationship. You were his doll and his baby girl just as he was your big guy. And you lived for all of that.

“That’s who we're listening to now?” - You chuckled as you heard Salt and Peppa’s famous lyrics “let’s talk about sex” in that EDM remix. - “How come?”

“It happened to be my new all-time favorite. Might have one or six reasons” - Steve answered in a singing voice and you giggled, sitting up. He smirked, punning on the events of last night.

"So, how you're feeling?" - He smiled sweetly and leaned down to give you an entire plate of fried eggs. You accepted, covering your body in a blanket.

"I haven't felt this good for a long, long time." - You leaned closer to kiss him, Steve gladly accepted that his huge palm traveling on the smooth skin on your neck, caressing you with love. - "And thank you for breakfast. I can't even say how hungry I am."

"My pleasure, really." - He winked at you. You ate in silence, but with sinful grins on your faces. You were looking like a muse - he never saw such a beautiful thing until that very morning.

He was having a happy grin on his face. It was all his work - your happy smile, the blissful look in your eyes and the slight pain in your body.

"The best fucking breakfast ever." - You kissed his shoulder, hummed and smiled, resting your head on Steve's body. He had a body of a God, you wanted to take a picture of that bod, just to look at it when feeling down. You knew it will make you curl your lips into a smile every time he'll have a chance to show his abs. - "And you're the best fucking soldier."

"Oh really, missy? What makes you say that?" - His hands smoothed your hair and he pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. You curled to his side like a little kitten, almost purring with love.

"Well, you're handsome, gentle with me, emotional, hot and so good with your tongue." - You sighed and slowly smoothed his chest with a nail of your finger. - "You have many qualities that I can name, but I can think of different ways of you showing me."

Your lips invited his body to lean into his, slowly kissing his neck down with your eyes closed. You felt him tense up under your touch when you brush his nipple teasingly; so he was the sensitive one. You liked that.

"What are you doing to me?" - Steve took your jaw and brought his lips to yours as he slowly leaned down, pressing your body to the mattress.

"Making you wanna love me." - You whispered with a wicked smile and caressed his cheeks, down to his collarbones and wide shoulders. Jesus fuck, his back was something you knew you will never have enough of.

"I already do, kitten." - Steve sat back up and undid his belt, looking you in the eyes with dark eyes. You were ready to come at his simple command. - "But now I'm going to show you." - He gave you a brief look when he lifted up boxers. You swallowed and almost rolled your eyes to the back of your head. Jesus that man was a piece of art.

As they say, the most innocent looking ones are the kinkiest ones. Thank God, that happened to be the truth.

"What the fuck have you done with Captain Rogers?" - You sighed dramatically and caught your breast without further thinking.

"Was that a bad language word?" - Steve's hand replaced your on your breast, his fingers were playfully playing with your nipple. Oh God, that made you moan playfully. You minx. - "I might know some ways how to make you forget this kind of words."

"Here's my man. Promise me that you'll be my Captain in the streets." - You ached your back as his lips praised your belly with sloppy kisses. Your hand was messing up his perfectly cut hair. - "But my animal in the sheets."

"Oh, I can promise that, ma'am." - He hummed into your skin and with that, his tongue circled slowly around your clit. At that moment, your headache was long forgotten as you made a long, sweet sound with your eyes happily closed. You were smiling as Steve carefully caressed your inner thighs down to the pit under your knee, his eyes closed as he flicked his tongue directly on your sweet spot.

Sometimes Steve stopped those blissful motions to suck on that spot, making some wet sounds. You were caressing your breasts as he continued, but you stopped when his eyes winked at you. You felt somehow guilty, but Steve, his lips and chin wet from your pussy, just chuckled.

"Continue with that. It's hot." - He pleaded and you circled your fingers around your hard nipples. You could but diamonds with that; and you had no idea how hard it made his cock. - "I will go to hell for that, you she-devil. This is just too much for me to handle."

With those words, he dived back between your legs and you screamed in pleasure. It was more common to guy praise his girl, but you were kindly taking that privilege.

"Such a good fucking boy, making me feel so good." - You bit your lip and started to feel as the muscles inside of you come clenched. Steve could feel as you jumped a bit because of all that stimulation, so he decided to put his fingers in use as well.

That was almost too much for you to take. Steve had fingers of a skilled pianist, long and flexible. So when started to curl them inside of you, you only rolled your eyes backward and tried to find your breath. It was nowhere to be found.

Your body started to tremble and you couldn't control it at all. Your thighs were squeezing Steve's face in your sweet valley, and as the passion took over your body, and when you came, with his name on your lips, you almost choked him a bit.

When it was all over, your body just relaxed and you looked into the ceiling. Holy fuck, Steve Rogers truly had a golden tongue and you needed that tongue all day and all night.

"I hope that you don't think that it's over, do you?" - Steve's voice chuckled next to your ear. He sounded like a predator, slowly cleaning his chin with the back of his palm. - "I have a whole lot of cure for your swearing with me."

"Oh, baby. I think you're making the punishment for yourself because all of that will make me swear even more." - You smiled lazily and kisses him, while he giggled out of his jeans. He was laughing and let his tongue passionately dance with yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. - "Trust me that I'll have such a fucking dirty mouth, baby boy."

And with that, he pressed your body into the mattress as he slid inside of your cunt. The premiere when you almost couldn't take the full length inside was far inside of you; you were slowly adjusting to him and this time, it was way pleasurable than in the night. You couldn't help but make some erotic sounds as he started to pound into you and peppered your neck with sweet kisses and gentle bites.

But most of the time, his eyes didn't leave your face. He closely watched every little emotion crossing through your eyes, how you opened your mouth more and wider before leaning your head backward. You were such a masterpiece to him.

Steve tried different positions than the night before, different rhythms and different angles with his pelvis. He was a playful, dirty boy when his goal was having you breathing, moaning mess in the shortest time he possibly could without you coming for the second time so soon.

It took him some time to come as well and you felt so warm and smooth in the inside that he didn't want to stop. But he loved as you caressed his body and praised yours. That self-love was a huge turn on for him to say at least.

"I think I can't anymore." - You squealed in the middle of his firm, quick tempo. Steve laid you on your side, having one of your thighs circled around his hip as he kneeled on his knees and his dick was pounding into you from some angle that made you go wild. He felt fucking huge. - "You make me fucking come again, Rogers. Jesus fucking Christ."

"Try to think about your words, missy. I have a whole day for you and you can make hard any time." - Steve leaned down to kiss your shoulder. He was sweaty as well and it was no wonder to you. Steve was pounding into you like there was no fucking tomorrow.

"No, I will be a good girl, just snuggle me for the rest of the day. I beg you." - You straightaway screamed the last sentence since you came again. Mr. Rogers's magical dick. That was your favorite thing on the whole planet from that exact moment, you've decided. Period.

After a few last pounds with little growls, he came as well. Since he remembered almost everything you've ever done, he knew it was safe to come inside. At least that's how Steve understood the science of hormonal pills.

Steve watched your lazy smile and closes eyes with a loving gaze. Those feelings were something that only he was able to make you feel and Steve was proud of it. And you loved the style he was fucking you, it was wild and you could feel that Steve was having fun.

"Baby, I'm tired. Come here, hug me and snuggle me. You have to do it since you practically destroyed my body." - You let him slip out of you and slowly crawled under one of your blankets. You were basically falling asleep on the spot.

"But you liked it, didn't you?" - Steve asked as he laid behind you, slowly snuggling his chest to your back. You both looked as the snowflakes slowly fell down from the sky. It was a magnificently calm view.

"I will show you how I loved it the next time I will be able to stand on my feet." - You laughed lazily. - "You might take a few days off that superhero life because you will have to take care of the mess you made out of me."

"Gladly, kitten. I will gladly take care of you. But go to sleep now, we'll take a bath as soon as you wake up. I promise." - Steve pressed his lips to the crook of your neck and nuzzled his nose into your hair, smelling it shamelessly.

Steve Rogers was sure that heaven had to smell like that. Otherwise, he didn't want to go there - he would follow you to the deepest hell for that matter.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #mcu #captain america #steve rodgers imagine #whatapp #marvel cinematic universe #let’s talk about sex

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frizz22 · 4 years

Note

Can you do a Hilda/Dr.Cee prompt where Hilda finds out she’s pregnant over the winter holidays and she tells Cee first but, Ambrose figures it out before she has a chance to tell anybody else? Thank u!

Okay, since I received two Hilda/Cerberus pregnancy prompts, I combined them. Hope you don’t mind :) Read on ao3

Prompt 1 above ^^, Prompt 2: Can you do a fic where Hilda tells Doctor Cee she’s pregnant with their first child after taking a pregnancy test?

“Oh, oh dear.” Hilda breathed, staring at the card in her hand.

She shouldn’t be surprised; she was a midwife, after all, and had recognized the symptoms some time ago. It was just, she and Cee had never discussed it.

Marriage, yes. It’d come up a few times since they’d learned that because of his incubus Cerberus would have a lifespan well into his late 200’s, possibly early 300’s.

Incubi, unlike demons such as the devouring worm they encountered in Jesse Putnam, were generally lazy in any aspect unrelated to sex. Once they claimed a body, settled in, they didn’t like leaving it. To prolong having to find a new body, the incubus extended the life of whatever vessel they inhabited; keeping it healthy.

So, yes. Once they’d learned they’d have more than a few decades together, the two of them had, on occasion, probed the possibility of a long-term future together. Nothing serious, of course, just a casual mention here and there; and certainly, no mention of children.

But this, this changed things.

“Pregnant.” She whispered, looking at the card again and smiling widely despite her worry. “I’m pregnant.” A giggle escaped her, and Hilda placed a hand on her stomach in awe.

Then she blinked. How was she going to tell Cerberus? Biting her lip, Hilda hurried upstairs from the basement where she’d hidden away to run the test in private and started making plans.

~~~

She’d considered, and thrown away, many options.

Something hidden in one of the beloved books at his store. A onesie, a pacifier, baby shoes or something else baby related placed on his pillow before they went to bed. A card. Wearing a shirt that said, ‘bun in the oven’. Simply blurting it out like they both had done when they admitted to not being fully human.

None of them felt right, for one reason or another. And then, then an idea came to Hilda and it couldn’t have been more perfect. Grinning, she made for the kitchen.

A whispered spell unlocked the bookstore door for her, and Hilda nudged it open with her foot; making sure to cast another spell to relock the door once she was through.

Cerberus rounded one of the bookshelves, confusion creasing his brow. When he saw her, though, his face brightened. “Hilda, darling, what a lovely surprise. What are you doing here? Here,” he stepped forward and took the box she’d been carrying from her arms.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Hilda exhaled a little shakily. “Oh, just trying out a new cake recipe, thought you might be my guinea pig.” She replied, shedding her coat and coming to a stop at the counter where Cerberus had placed the cake.

“Oh, you know I’m always willing to taste test your cooking and baking, Hilds.” Cerb grinned, reaching over the counter for plates and forks. “Not that it ever needs testing, everything you make is delicious. What flavor do we have… today…” he trailed off as he opened the box. Clearing his throat, Cerberus looked at her. “Trying a new design too, Hilds? For one of your and Zelda’s midwife clients?” He asked, peering back into the box where a pacifier shaped cake sat, brightly colored with icing.

She blinked, not having realized the design could be interpreted as anything other than the obvious. “Actually, love, the design… it’s, it’s for me. I’m trying to tell you that, that I’m pregnant.”

“You’re,” Cerberus swallowed, “you’re pregnant?” He repeated, hand running through his hair, eyes wide.

Suddenly unsure, Hilda nodded, worrying the ends of her cardigan sleeves. “Yes. And I realize we’ve never talked—"

A whoop of laughter interrupted her, and Cerberus swept her up into his arms and whirled her around the shop. “You’re pregnant!” He exclaimed breathlessly when they stopped; his hands on her hips to steady her. “Hilda, this, this—" he kissed her excitedly and cupped her cheeks. “I love you.” He grinned, kissing her again.

Before Hilda could reply, Cerberus’ eyes went wide, “wait here,” he instructed, dashing away from her.

Taken aback, Hilda took a tentative step after him. “Cee, love?”

He hurried back, eyes cheerful and a wide smile on his face. “Hildegard Spellman,” he dropped to one knee and opened a box. “Will you marry me?”

Turtle dove hearts. He’d, he’d gotten her turtle dove hearts.

Tears in her eyes, Hilda nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

Beaming, Cerberus set the box aside and pulled a ring out of his pocket and slipped it onto her finger before standing and hugging her hard; face buried into her neck. “I love you,” he mumbled into her skin, “so much.”

Hilda clung to him, “I love you too.” She murmured, pulling back slightly to kiss him as well. “You, you got the hearts.” Her voice wobbled a little, but Hilda didn’t care, she was so happy.

An amused huff escaped Cerberus. “Of course I did, Zelda told me if I was going to propose I had to do it properly. Though,” his fingers brushed the ring now sitting on her finger, “I couldn’t help but include the mortal way too.”

“Zel—, Zelda knew?” She managed, taking Cerberus’ hand and leading him to a couch in the back alcove of the store.

Lifting a wry brow, Cerberus nodded. “She threatened me with a gruesome death, a resurrection, and a repeating cycle of horrendous deaths and being brought back for the rest of my life if I hurt you. But yes, she knew. She helped me get the hearts, not like I could go to the Greendale supermarket and pick some up.” He teased, pulling Hilda into his lap, a hand coming up to rest on her stomach. “I had it all planned; nice dinner, dancing, fancy speech… all the works. But I, I didn’t want to wait.” He tipped his chin up and kissed her. “I cannot wait to be married to you, Hilda. I cannot wait until we’re a family.” His hand pressed a little more firmly against her stomach and Hilda shook her head and laced her fingers into Cee’s hair as she kissed him again.

And just before their lips met, Hilda murmured, “I can’t wait either,” before sealing her mouth over his.

~~~

A few hours later, still floating in air, Hilda walked into the house, humming to herself; Cerberus unfortunately having to stay behind at the store for a little longer to finish cleaning up. It was no matter, plans for the wedding, the nursery, names for the baby and more floated through Hilda’s head keeping her happily occupies until her fiancé came home.

Scrunching her nose delightedly at the title, fiancé, Hilda moved into the kitchen to make herself some tea. Now that she’d confirmed her pregnancy there were a few herbs she could mix into her tea to keep her and the babe healthy as well as ease the nausea she’d started to feel in the mornings.

The kettle had just begun to whistle when Ambrose waltzed in, pecking her on the cheek as he passed. “Hi Auntie,” he greeted, rummaging in the fridge and emerging with an armload of food. She shook her head at him indulgently until he snagged a cup and tried to pour himself some of what was left in the kettle.

Unsure what else to do, Hilda smacked his hand. “Not for you.” She scolded lightly, giving him a smile to take the sting out of the rebuke.

Smiling crookedly at her, Ambrose took a bite of leftover meatloaf. “Come on, Auntie.” He managed through a mouthful of food. “I just need enough to wash all this down.”

She smacked his hand again, taking the kettle away. “None for you.” She repeated, more sternly this time. “If you want some there’s another kettle in the cupboard.”

Ambrose groaned playfully. “I don’t need a full cup. Just a swig. Come on Aunt Hilda!” He reached for the kettle and she spun away from him. Brow furrowing, he tried again, and she once more backed away.

“You can’t have any, I don’t know what’ll do to you!” The words flew shrilly from Hilda’s mouth before she could stop them, and she squeaked and pressed her lips together to prevent it from happening again.

Eyebrows flying up, Ambrose opened his mouth in confusion only for it to snap close. “What’s in the pot, Auntie?”

Floundering, Hilda waved one hand vaguely. “Nothing.”

Her nephew was clearly unconvinced and could all but see the wheels already turning in his head. “Something in tea, something you can have but I can’t…. not even a mouthful…” He muttered aloud, eyeing her suspiciously. Then Ambrose’s jaw dropped. “Aunt Hilda! Are, are you preg—"

She clamped a hand over his mouth. “You hush.” Hilda glanced around but Zelda and Sabrina were nowhere to be found. Her reaction only solidified the idea though. Ambrose’s eyes wide above her hand. Sighing, Hilda removed her hand. “Yes,” she hissed. “But don’t say anything. I only just told Cerberus and we want to bask in it a little bit before telling everyone. Please, darling, I—"

Ambrose cut her off with a hug. “Of course, Aunt Hilda. I’m so happy for you two. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” He kissed her cheek sweetly and made off up the stairs with a wink.

Slumping against the counter in relief, Hilda poured the rest of her pregnancy tea down the sink before she had to have the same conversation with anyone else. At least Ambrose hadn’t seen the ring… she’d never have gotten rid of him so easily if he had.

It wasn’t that she wanted to hide these things from her family; she knew they’d be overjoyed at each piece of news. She just wanted to process it all, a lot had happened in the past two days, all of it amazing, but still, a lot. Hilda wanted to let it sink in, let the joy defuse entirely through her body before she had to share it with anyone other than Cee.

Grinning to herself, Hilda took her tea and made for the parlor, already mapping out what pattern baby blanket she wanted to knit.

#caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #hilda spellman #dr cee #dr cerberus #hilda x dr cee #hilda x dr cerberus #ambrose spellman #mentions of #Zelda Spellman #sabrina spellman #netflix #writing prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #AO3 fanfic #ao3fic

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jonsateaparty · 5 years

Text

Let’s Analyse The Heck Outta This Playlist

I have listened to every single song in the Game of Thrones: The End Is Here playlist and hooo boy do I have shit to say.

Looking at all the songs, I found that I could seperate them into different categories. The categories were songs which fit certain characters or houses, or songs which fit the white walkers or war in general. There were also quite a few love songs, some of which could be easily interpreted as jonsa. Below the cut I’ve put together all the songs in their categories with some lyrics for each song and any notes I made while listening.

HOWEVER since that shit is loong, I’m gonna add a preemptive TL;DR for some categories of interest before the cut.

JONSA

Overall, there were six songs that I could recognize as jonsa. The themes of these songs were that of a passionate and loving romance, with the occasional tinge of forbidden love and having to wait for their lover. These songs were also very, very blatant in their connection to jonsa. With most of them, jonsa was honest to goodness the only GoT interpretation for this love song. I really was shocked listening to how blatantly jonsa this playlist is guys.

J0NERYS

There were three songs in the playlist which I could call j0nerys songs. One of these songs I could argue belongs elsewhere and only there was one jonsa song that was ambiguous enough that it could be attributed to j0nerys. My absolute favourite song of these three is the song Little Monster by Royal Blood. In this song, a man who refers to himself as a wolf is the lover of someone who he calls Little Monster and betrays her. Yeah. They really went there.

D4NY/TARGARYEN

Three songs that are definitely about her, but I suspect a few of the “general” war songs are about her as well. Why, you say? Because Dark D4ny LIVES in this playlist man. These songs, which are mainly about fire and “black wings” (Drogon, anyone), talk about someone mad with powerlust, a “bitch” coming to take you to hell, and being haunted by demons in the fire. DARK D4NY IS COMING AND MY BODY IS READY FOR HR GLORY

STARK

In contrast to songs about fire being full of madness, the four “wolf” Stark songs that we get are about being free and victorious. One song in particular talks about the “Wolves of Winter” getting the better of someone who has “fits of paranoia”, someone who sees themselves as an exception but without people supporting them, they’re going to lose. Like. Holy shit.

TARGBOWL

Now, most of the other songs are either about the Greyjoys/Lannisters, generic war songs, power or dead things. However there is ONE war song that I think heavily implies targbowl. This song is called Go to War by Nothing More and seems to be about two groups of people who were once on the same side going to war.

That’s it of particular interest, however if you want to see a list of all songs and all categories, plus some lyrics and notes, check out under the cut!

Potential Jonsa Songs

Girl from the North Country – Bob Dylan - If you go when the snowflakes storm/When the rivers freeze and summer ends/Please see if she's wearing a coat so warm/To keep her from the howlin' winds Note: This song is either about Arya or Sansa. I honestly cannot see this song being about Arya, this is about a traditionally feminine girl with long hair. I say this is jonsa because I literally cannot think of any other thing this could be about.

Howlin’ for You – The Black Keys - I must admit/I can't explain/Any of these thoughts/Racing through my brain Note: Can’t explain their reasons (maybe because they shouldn’t be having them), wolf references, bird references? Very jonsa. Also could be general stark or gendrya.

Sister – Prince - My sister never made love to anyone else but me/She's the reason for my, uh, sexuality Note: OMG this SONG. Although this could also be about Jaime/Cercei… but considering that’s over, I’m going with jonerys. Especially since there’s a song about wolves right after…

Devil’s Spoke – Laura Marling -I might be a part of this/Ripple on water from a lonesome drip/A fallen tree that witness me/I'm alone, him and me Note: Honestly the only concrete reason I put this here is because I ship jonsa. It could be any ship. Also the first verse makes me thing of the Winterfell Godswood.

Winterlong – Niel Young - I waited for you Winter long/You seem to be where I belong

Furr – Blitzen Trapper - I brushed the leaves off of my snout/And then I heard my mother shouting through the trees/You should have seen that girl go shaky at the knees/So I took her by the arm

Potential J0nerys Songs

Mama Kin – Aerosmith - Well you've always got your tail on the wag/Shootin' fire from your mouth just like a dragon Note: Those line, plus the whole “Mama” thing makes me think this is jonerys. It could also be jon? I guess?

Little Monster – Royal Blood - I'm your wolf, I'm your man/I say run little monster/Before you know who I am Note: A song about a “wolf” in a relationship with a “little monster” who plans to betray them? HMMMMMMMMMMM.

Be My Fire – The Blue Stones - Baby, be my conjurer/And I'll hold you dear/Baby, be the visions in the night/And wait till morning light for you/To disappear

Dany/Targ Songs:

Sleep Now In the Fire – Rage Against The Machine - The world is my expense/The cost of my desire/Jesus blessed me with its future/And I protect it with fire.

Her Black Wings – Danzig - Demoness calls/The bitch is come/For those who wait/Cross the breach in hell Notes: I’m guessing another Targ song, what with the “black wings”.

Fire – Barns Courtney - Ghosts and devils come a-calling/Calling my name oh, lost in the fire

Stark Songs

Wolf Like Me – TV On The Radio - Got a curse I cannot lift/Shines when the sunset shifts/When the moon is round and full/Gotta bust that box, gotta gut that fish

Wolves of Winter – Biffy Clyro - We are the wolves of winter/We live in a kingdom of blood Note: Holy fuck the implications of Dark!Dany in this song!!!

Dire Wolf – Grateful Dead - In the timbers to Fennario, the wolves are running round/The winter was so hard and cold, froze ten feet 'neath the ground.

Killer Wolf – Danzig - I'm the wolf/I'm the one you want/I'm the killer wolf

Potential Targbowl Songs

Go to War – Nothing More - I don't know what you had in mind/But here we stand on opposing sides/Let's go to war Note: Holy FUCK, this song seems to really foreshadow targbowl. It’s not a generic war song like some of the others, and it’s not about dead/evil/cold wars. This song seems to be about people who were on the same side then turned against each other.

White Walkers/war for the living songs

Immigrant Song – Led Zeppelin - How soft your fields so green/Can whisper tales of gore/Of how we calmed the tides of war/We are your overlords

The End – The Doors - Of our elaborate plans, the end/Of everything that stands, the end/No safety or surprise, the end/I’ll never look into your eyes again

Cold Cold Cold – Cage The Elephant - Doctor look into my eyes/I've been breathing air but there's no sign of life/Doctor the problem's in my chest/My heart feels cold as ice but it's anybody's guess

Burn the Fleet - Thrice - In this dark night we stand or fall/We are kings now, or nothing at all/Check your armor; Light up your torch

Dead Skin Mask – Slayer - Graze the skin with my finger tips/The brush of dead cold flesh pacifies the means

General songs

Seven Nation Army – The White Stripes - Don't want to hear about it/Every single one's got a story to tell/Everyone knows about it/From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell

War – Grandson - War up north/And war down south/Everywhere is war

Let Me Live / Let Me Die – Des Rocs - Tears don't stop the fire/It's killing time/Back from the dead/See your eyes, got nothing left/Kiss me, I am the colder Note: This is a song of ice and fire. This. Is A. Song. Of. Ice. And. Fire.

POWER – Kanye West - Life is a trip, so sometimes we gonna stumble/You gotta go through pain in order to become you Note: I’d call this a general song but this came right after a song about wolves so make of that what you will 😉

Let’s Have A War – Fear - Let's have a war/So you can go and die!

Powa – Tune-Yards - Rebel, rebel, no/Lightening dances in my head

No One Knows – Queens of the Stone Age - We get some rules to follow/That and this/These and those/No one knows

The Time Is Now – Atreyu - Flying high above the world/It's a new life, it's a new mind/And I will never fall Note: A Time for Wolves anyone? Especially since this comes right after a wolf song…

Rise Above – Black Flag - Jealous cowards try to control/Rise above, we're gonna rise above

Alternative Ulster – Stiff Little Fingers - There's nothin' for us in Belfast/The Pound's old, and that's a pity/OK, so there's the Trident in Bangor Note: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Sickbed of Cuchulainn – The Pogues - And you heard the rattling death trains as you lay there all alone/Frank Ryan bought you whiskey in a brothel in Madrid/And you decked some fucking blackshirt who was cursing all the Yids

Power – AJ Ghent [j-ent] - You wanna take me down/But I won’t bend

Toxicity – System of a Down - You, what do you own the world?/How do you own disorder, disorder

Here’s Your Future – The Thermals - God reached his hand down from the sky/He flooded the land then he set it on fire

Love is Blindess – U2 - A little death/Without mourning/No call/And no warning

Greyjoy Songs

Flugufrelsarinn – Sigur Rós - Ég næ ekki andanum og þyngist við hverja öldu/Mér vantar kraftaverk/Því ég er að drukkna – syndir (I can not breathe and I am heavier with every wave/I need a miracle/Because I am drowning- sins) Note: Lots of talk about the ocean/rivers/boats along with despairing over your sins and struggling to be better and repent. If that isn’t a fucking Theon song I don’t know what is.

Bottom Of The Deep Blue Sea – MISSIO - The sweet surrender of silence forces me to live alone/Locked and loaded, where the hell is peace of mind?/I wait on you inside the bottom of the deep blue sea

Wave of Mutilation – Pixies - You'll think I'm dead, but I sail away/On a wave of mutilation

Jon Songs

Born for Greatness – Papa Roach - No we’re not nameless, we’re not faceless/We were born for greatness Note: This could be generic, but this gives me heavy Jon vibes

EDIT: @ward--runa pointed out to me that this song suited Jon better.

Mother – The Amazons - Friends wanna kill me/But I give them all my loving anyway/If God won't forgive me/I'm not the only one to make amends

Lannister Songs

Listen to the Lion – Van Morrison - All my love come tumblin' down/Oh, listen listen/To the lion

Hot Blood – Kaleo - You wanna prove you're the better man/You wanna reach for the things that nobody can/Oh all you need is to break away, yeah/Just keep telling yourself there's no shame Note: This was either Jaime or Jon for me, but I settled on Jaime. Partly because this came after a string of what I think to be Cersei songs. Also The idea of being a better man, “love is gonna get ya”, “turn your back, you’re a broken man”, “shake your hand”.

Gold Lion – Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Gold lion's gonna tell me where the light is

Cersei Songs

Queen – Perfume Genius - Don't you know your queen/Gleaming/Wrapped in golden leaf/Don't you know me Note: This gives me Cercei vibes but I honestly don’t know…

Cruel – St. Vincent - So they took you, and they left you/How could they be casually cruel? Note: ??? Maybe another Cercei one?

Crown of the Ground – Sleigh Bells - Set, set that crown on the ground and-ah

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #game of thrones #anti-jonerys #anti-daenerys targaryen #dark dany #villain dany #jon snow #sansa stark #jonsa meta #sort of?

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tarotdeckshuffle · 5 years

Note

Hey there :) Can I request a headcanon of the chocobros with a s/o that wants to go ice skating? I need some fluff in my life

Then fluff you shall have, my friend! Your request has made me want to watch Yuri on Ice, for like the millionth time.

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen, @jophinabean

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Noctis

Is hesitant to go, because he’s sure he’ll make a fool of himself.

But how could he say no to you?

Especially when you make that face!

He is on his butt more than he’s standing upright.

“Just like you’re stomping”

Takes that waaay too literally.

It’s adorable how hard he’s trying.

You hold his arms, helping him glide along the ice.

He is so embarrassed,

But he is also having fun.

Eventually, he tells you to go ahead and skate and he’ll go along the wall or something.

Because he just wants to watch you.

The way you move, like you’re gliding through time itself, is just…breathtaking.

He feels like a child again, watching fireworks for the first time.

His forgets where his body is and just watches you.

You may be showing off a bit.

You conclude to a grand applause.

Or at least one from Noct.

You laugh as you meet in the middle of the rink.

He was to waddle there.

You’ll never truly understand how amazing you are to him.

Prompto

Abso-freaking-lutly will try something new with you!

Will admit he’ll fall, a lot, but that’s ok if you’re doing it together.

If you know how to skate, he’ll be cool with that.

You can teach him!

WILL SING HISTORY MAKER THE WHOLE WAY TO THE RINK

Interpretative dance and everything.

At the rink, he’s super into learning.

He’s trying his hardest.

Laughs at the first few falls.

But starts to whine as the bruises get bigger.

Is cheering when he doesn’t fall.

And is always complimenting you.

This is so natural to you!

He actually picks up the skill pretty fast.

Wants to race.

But really loves seeing everything you can do.

“Oh, oh! Can you do one of those spinny jumpy things?”

Everything you show him is applauded.

You skate around, arm in arm, enjoying the moment.

He is so in love with you!

And so proud of you!

He’ll never be able to say just how much…

But he will try to explain it to you, anyways, over hot chocolate.

Ignis

Of course he’ll take you.

It sounds like fun!

This man totally knows how to ice skate, already.

Just look at him! He’d be a gorgeous figure skater.

Being on the ice with him feels so natural.

The two of you skate a mesmerizing dance together.

Always in each other’s arms.

Moving as one.

You feel the music course through him into you.

Moments are joyous and thrilling!

And at times, sensual.

He is utterly entranced by you.

Never has he moved so seamlessly with someone.

You flow through his hands as you move gracefully over the ice.

The whole experience leaves him at a loss for words.

You’ll HAVE to do this again.

If you can’t skate, that’s ok!

He has so much fun teaching you!

His hands are always in yours as he shows you how to glide over the ice.

His words are gentle and instructive, helping you fall less.

But when you do fall, he’s always there to catch you.

He leads you into a simple dance.

Spinning you around, always in control.

It’s intoxicating to watch him move over the ice so gracefully.

But it’s even better to be in his arms so much.

He’s the kind of person you want to keep up with, to be beside.

So you’ll want to do this again until you can skate with him.

Until then, you’re both content in this moment together.

Gladio

Sure, he’ll take you!

Anything active is cool by him.

Has been skating before, but not in a long time.

He’s clumsy on the ice at first, but he remembers how to.

He knows the basics, mainly, how not to fall.

May have played hockey in high school.

Would know a lot more then.

If it’s your first time, he’ll be at your back to always catch you.

Always congratulating you when you get it.

He loves how much fun you’re having.

Loves to “warm your face” by stealing kisses.

If you do know how to skate,

He’ll be totally entranced by how graceful you are.

Wide, childish eyes.

He will try to keep up,

But will let you have the spotlight.

Totally wants to try a lift.

You teach him now to be more graceful on the ice.

How to move with greater ease.

And he loves being the student.

You could lead him anywhere!

You’ll both be sore and tired for days to come,

But today is filled with warm laughter on the ice.

Ravus

If he doesn’t know how to skate, he will not want to go.

Absolutely hates being embarrassed.

But it’s not far fetched to think that he does know.

He fights with such grace that it could translate to the ice.

He’ll meet you at the rink, wanting to practice before you get there.

He feels like he’d die if he embarrassed himself in front of you.

You watch him practice when you arrive, not wanting to disturb him.

He is a spectral vision gliding through the rink.

Gray along white.

His hair is tied back, but stray pieces flutter with the momentum.

He’s dressed in a heavy sweater,

The first you’ve seen him wear it.

He stops, seeing you.

“Will you join me?”

He helps you onto the ice.

If you don’t know how to skate, he’ll help you.

He’s not a great teacher, but he’ll try to show you.

He’s incredibly patient with those he loves.

You can’t remember a time you got to be in his arms this long!

He’s always so busy,

But here, he won’t leave your side.

If you do know how to skate, he’ll be amazed!

“You have far more grace than I…”

He’ll laugh as you literally skate circles around him.

But you’ll take his hand and pull him into your routine.

It’s nearly impossible for this man to give up any control,

But he’ll try.

He’s clumsy with you because of this.

So take simple steps.

It’ll be like a ball but just for the two of you.

If he does fall, he’ll want to die.

Anger starts to swell,

he tried so hard to avoid ruining this for you.

What must you think of him, now?

But it’s your unexpected love that cools him.

You stop and hold out a hand to him, reminding him that it happens to everyone.

He pouts, realizing how stupid his flash of anger was.

“You’re perfect.” You say, falling to your knees to kiss him.

“And you truly are an angel.” He’ll say, staying down just to kiss you.

Ravus doesn’t know why you love him, but he has to be the luckiest man alive for it.

Luna

Yes! She wants to go!

She is totally ready to learn something new and fun!

But she may also already know how to, especially if Ravus knows.

If you’re learning together, moments are filled with laughter.

You both fall together.

Helping each other back up without judgement.

If you know how to skate, she’ll gladly learn from you.

She’s an amazing student.

Always complimenting you, as well.

She learns quickly.

By the end of the day, you can do a simple routine together.

She just wants to be in your arms.

If you don’t know how to skate,

Well, just imagine how amazing a teacher she is!

She’s so gentle and kind.

It’s wonderful.

But if you can both skate,

It’s a joyous dance for the ages.

Quick paced before slowing down.

Hot breath on necks.

Lips yearning to kiss.

Before pulling away for a lift.

The two of you glide along on icey wings.

Ardyn

Why do you want to do that?

But…alright, he’ll go.

He’d do anything for you.

Doesn’t know how to skate.

Would rather just sit on the ice, now, thank you very much.

But you’ll pull him back up,

Taking him by the hand so pull him along.

He’s so in love with you.

From the way you teach,

To how graceful you are on the ice,

To how perfectly your hand fits in his.

He’s a gracious student, learning quickly.

But no, you can’t let go.

He will purposefully fall if you do.

He’ll do anything to have you all to himself.

If you’re both learning, he’ll laugh the first time you fall together.

But, yes, he wants to leave now.

He doesn’t like his suave persona being broken.

But he’ll stay because you’re enjoying yourself.

He’d do anything for your smile.

Even this.

Nyx

Sure, he’ll take you!

But he’s never gone.

But he loves to get out with you, especially to try new things.

Breaks into laughter at how bad the two of you are.

Is just utterly enjoying this moment with you.

If you know how to skate, he’ll just want to watch you.

He’ll say he’s learning from the expert,

But really, he’s just admiring you.

The way you move is utterly beautiful.

But he’s more thinking of getting you home and to himself.

Cor

He’ll go, but only for a light skating.

He’s too old to go around for days on end with a bruised butt.

It’s a night skate.

And you go around the rink in easy circles.

Everything is quiet and peaceful.

Neither of you is great at skating.

He can barely keep his balance.

But it’s romantic to be holding on to each other like this.

He loves looking down in to your eyes.

Neither of you know how many laps you’ve done,

All you know is each other.

This moment is soft and still because everything is perfect.

Aranea

Can ice skate, what of it?

It’s not really her thing, though.

Sure, she’ll go with you.

But don’t expect much out of her.

She’s not a great teacher, if you can’t skate.

But she catches on pretty quickly that it means she gets to hold you the entire time.

She she can pull you down into her arms easily.

If you do know how to skate, it starts out as a race.

You’ll skate, side by side, without holding hands at first.

Until she loosens up, taking your hand as you pull her into a routine.

You’ll do silly tricks, not caring about the music, just to surprise her.

And she’ll do even more back.

She never really liked skating, but it’s much better with you there.

139 notes · View notes

hopesong7 · 4 years

Text

LENS Ch.2

Summary: Sometimes, the universe aligns, and you make friends with a stranger. Sometimes, that stranger is actually multiple people and life just got a bit more interesting.

Genre(s): Fluff, Comedy, lil bit of Angst (Maybe)

Contains: Things that make me feel fuzzy, photography, social media, things I know nothing about but have googled extensively, and the power of friendship.

Word Count: 1369

Note: Finally starting the interaction with the boys! Starting with Tae, because we stan smol crackheads who like art, okay. Also, it just kinda worked out like that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Coffee had been the right choice.

You felt for the poor guy in front of you, honestly. While the Barista spoke Japanese and a bit of English, he apparently spoke neither. He did speak Korean though, judging by the muffled commentary he was providing alongside his charades. You could work with that.

“Excuse me,” You greeted the pair, the english rolling of accented but understandable. You turned to the boy, “Hello, my name is ______. I can translate for you, If you would like?” He frantically nodded his head, rambling off his order. You nodded and turned towards the relieved Barista. “He would like a hot chocolate, please. Might I add on an iced coffee?” She nodded and you withdrew your wallet. The boy behind you seemed to realize what you were doing.

“Ah, there’s no need!” You waved him off, grinning behind your facemask.

“It’s no problem. It would be nice to speak Korean with someone for awhile, if you don’t mind? My friends have left me stranded,” You joked. He nodded, following you to some seats nearby.

“Thank you,” the boy said, giving you a bow.

“It’s cool, seriously. What brings you to Tokyo,” You asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Me and my friends are headed to Hong Kong, but we had some stuff to do here first,” he explained. You nodded, laughing a bit at how evasive that answer was. Adjusting your facemask, you watched as he did the same. The two of you made eye-contact, hands frozen over your faces, before dissolving into laughter, the tension dissipating. “Why’d your friends leave you stranded?”

You placed a hand over your heart, “Ah yes, abandoned I tell you.” He snickered, motioning for you to continue. “You see, stranger, we dined in Wonderland and then they left! For an hour, our trio was king. Then Haru left, called away by her bossy boss. Eun-ha just abandoned me for the airport,” You gave a dramatic wail, much quieter than you wanted, but loud enough that a nearby table gave you an odd look. Your new friend seemed amused, choking on air as he curled into himself.

“Ah, I see why they left,” he joked, making you snort. You shook your head, giggling as you thanked the waitress for your drinks. Standing, you grabbed your camera bag, and his head lifted in interest. “You do photography?”

“Yep, and the occasional video. Photography though,” You gave a sage nod. He hurried out the door after you.

“Have you been doing it long?”

You shrugged, “I guess, yeah? I only started doing it professionally a few years ago. Always loved taking photos though.” You watched as he eyed your camera. “I’m going to take a few photos tonight - night photography is the bomb - if you want to join?” He nodded eagerly. You tried desperately not to equate his demeanor to that of a puppy, but those eyes were a weapon.

You lost the battle.

Spotting a street corner with just the right view, you tugged him over. “Okay,” you muttered, checking your camera over. “Alright, you seem nice, so I’m going to trust you. Please don’t drop my baby, she’s precious.” You nodded as he cradled her with reverence. He seemed a bit awkward, not completely used to the features as he turned it this way and that, but definitely not a newbie. “Take a few photos,” You urged.

“You don’t even know my name?”

“You don’t know mine either, but if it makes you feel better, I’m ____.” He gave you a blank look. “Please don’t drop my camera,” you added.

“I’m Tae-” He stopped, thinking for a moment. “Just Tae.”

“Okay then, Tae-ssi, if you would kindly point the camera that-a-way,” you instructed. “Now then, have you ever taken photos at night before?”

“No?”

“Sounds like you aren’t sure, so I’ll interpret that as a solid no. Alright, whenever you take a photo during the day, there’s a ton more light, right? So when you take a photo, the shutter speed on your camera is like, fractions of a second. There’s so much light, the camera doesn’t need lots of exposure time. Like how we see better in the day, make sense?” He nodded, brows furrowed as he watched you fiddle with the camera. “So, when you take a photo at night, your camera needs longer to pick up the light, so to speak. More exposure time, which means instead of super fast photos, it takes a bit longer. It’s not too hard to deal with when you get used to it, but,” You finished adjusting the tripod, “If the camera moves, the photo becomes blurry. Hence, our friend the tripod.” You guided him, helping him set up the camera.

“It’s like when our eyes adjust to the dark,” He clarified.

You nodded, “Exactly.” He danced around the camera, eyes sparkling, and you grinned. It was always nice seeing someone appreciate something they loved. The fact that it was something you also adored was a bonus. “Alright, you’re obviously pretty into photography,” You stated, grabbing his attention. “You ever consider doing something about that? I’m not saying professionally,” you cut him off, having heard the intake of breath, “but as a hobby or something.”

“I guess? I’m pretty busy, but it's really cool.” The longing look he gave your camera spoke for itself.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you my Instagram and if you have any questions, you can message me.”

“Really?”

You shrugged, “Why not?”

“Thank you- Ah, what do I call you? I was born in ‘95.”

“I’m your Noona then,” You cheered. “1994 for the win!”

Tae bowed low, “Thank you, Noona!” You flushed, flapping your hands. You weren’t sure, not with your facemasks still on, but you had a feeling you were on the receiving end of a particularly cheeky grin. Speaking of facemasks, with your hands no longer full, you lowered yours to take a sip of your coffee. You regretted getting iced, feeling shivers wrack your spine.

“Aish, I should have gotten hot chocolate like you,” you huffed, cheeks puffed up in a pout. Tae took that moment to look back up from the camera, freezing when he saw your face. “What?” You wiped your lips self-consciously, “Is there something on my face?”

“What’d you say your Instagram was, Noona?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. Maybe you shouldn’t mention that you were distracted by his cheeky demeanor? “It’s _____Byeol.” He seemed to redden quickly, and you watched in fascination as his ears turned pink and then a glowing red. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, I just, wow! I follow your Instagram already,” he exclaimed. “Your photos are so-” He gestured wildly, excitement dancing in his eyes.

You grinned, “Really! That’s so cool! Wait, what’s yours? I can follow you back!” The deer-in-headlights look was back, you noticed with amusement.

“It’s, uh, it’s a secret?” You raised an eyebrow. “btsofficial,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s BTS Official,” He repeated sheepishly. You watched as he lowered his face mask, a boxy smile on his face.

“BTS Official?” He nodded. You bit your lip, BTS, BTS… Where had you heard that? You snapped your fingers, “You guys did that one song, Dope, right?” The song had been popping up on your recommended for a while before you caved. “It’s pretty good! House of Cards is more my vibe, but yeah, I know you guys.” You shot him a smile, watching as his shoulders sunk in relief. You could understand why he had hesitated to introduce himself, being an idol and all. “Wait, you aren’t going to get in trouble for hanging out with me, right?”

“Um, No?”

“Your bandmates know where you are?” His blank stare was all the answer you needed, making you chuckle. “Text them, let them know you're alive! Your poor Hyungs,” you chastised mockingly. He fumbled with his phone, fingers tapping at the speed of sound. You watched as it began to vibrate in his hand, Taehyung shooting you a look of wide-eyed panic. With a sigh, you grabbed his phone, catching sight of the contact name before you answered.

“Wai-”

You smirked mischievously, “Hello, is this the, uh, God of Destruction?”

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luninosity · 6 years

Text

Here, have a piece of the story in question! I think maybe I’ll put the first bit up on AO3 tomorrow or Friday, then, if there’s interest!

Day one. Los Angeles at fifteen minutes before six in the morning. The Raven Studios lot, and a make-up chair. The first make-up chair, on the first official day, not a test or an exploration.

Jason patiently closed eyes for an airbrush, a sharpened eyeliner pencil, gentle blending. Opened them and regarded himself in the mirror.

Another person looked back, a strange hybrid self. Captain Stephen Lanyon’s slightly longer hair, courtesy of extensions, enough to pull into a gentlemanly queue. Lighter in places than Jason’s own dark brown: still brown, yeah, but kissed by the sun, by salt, by shipboard naval life. The airbrush had sun-kissed his skin as well; he was tempted to touch it, but knew better. Cherry Khan’s hands danced around him, working her spells; he’d liked her calmness ever since the first trial run. They got along; he was glad to’ve met her, part of Jillian Poe’s crew.

He met his own gaze, through mirror-gleam and make-up. Still his eyes. Still his clothes, at least for the moment: jeans and a casual red shirt, simple and uncomplicated.

He liked to think of himself as uncomplicated. He was: an action hero, big and justifiably proud of muscles, generally goodhearted, appreciative of his family and his grandmother’s marinara sauce.

He didn’t feel uncomplicated right now. This role, this chance, this future: he wanted to grab onto it with both hands and cling. To prove that he could be that other self. Someone who could do more than kick and punch and shout angrily at evildoers.

He wanted to tell stories. To tell this story, history-drenched and rich as velvet and deeply textured with the lives of two men loving each other, as men had throughout the past.

He wanted to do this story justice. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to impress Colby Kent and apologize to Colby Kent. They’d not spent any real time together—a table read or two, a few emails from Colby wearing the producer hat and checking on a detail or two of Jason’s contract—and Jason’d been gnawed half to death by guilt.

He wasn’t really a dick. He hadn’t meant to hurt Colby. He’d been having a rough day, chased in circles by desperation and inadequacy, and he’d said stupid words in the hallway, and Colby’d heard him and then not been able to look at him, and—

And Colby and Jillian had cast him anyway. That was the part Jason couldn’t figure out.

“A bit more brightness, I think,” Cherry murmured, and one slim finger dabbed a mystery potion under his eyes. “And don’t fret so much. Is it first-day jitters, then? Or something else? Maybe…a boy?” She lifted eyebrows at him; Jason laughed. “Tell me all about it if it is. All the details.”

“Sort of a boy,” Jason agreed obligingly. True, for a given interpretation. “It’s not like that, though. Just that I said something dumb and I haven’t been able to apologize. He’s probably not even thinking about it or me—” Also likely true; Colby must have much more interesting thoughts to occupy his time. Fabulous parties in that luxurious apartment. New ways to spend that A-list income. Guys flinging themselves his direction. Everyone adoring him.

“—it’s just, y’know, it bothers me,” he finished. “But at least I look great, Cher, thanks.”

“You’re lovely, dear.” She patted his shoulder. “And I’m sure if you apologize he’ll forgive you. Especially with those big pretty eyes. I’d forgive you.”

“Thanks more?”

“I could think of a few more things to do with you, if I was at all interested in the eggplant crowd.” Cherry patted him again. Her partner Diana was a chef, Jason knew; they’d chatted about the proper layering of lasagna and Jason’s family’s recipe early on. “I’m sure your boy could, too.”

“He’s not my anything. It’s not…” He sighed. “It’s not like that.”

“Of course it’s not,” Cherry said, “you’re only obsessing over something dumb you said and whether or not he’s thinking of you,” and poked a pencil at his eyebrow.

It wasn’t like that. It’d never be. Colby might’ve agreed to work with him, the in-role chemistry might be fantastic, but Colby couldn’t look at him. Found other people to talk to after table reads. Sent proper businesslike emails that always sounded vaguely British in tone and phrasing, as if that childhood training remained inescapable.

But Jason remembered the way that hand felt in his. He’d seen those glorious eyes upturned and gazing into his. He’d seen Colby Kent flinch, an ephemeral specter of genuine vulnerability. He’d wanted to help then; he wanted to now.

He didn’t even know why. They weren’t friends. Colby couldn’t need him.

But some tiny wistful part of his heart hoped Colby had someone, among that sea of admirers. Someone who’d see him. Someone who’d be there for him.

Jason’s heart wished it could help. Not even because Colby Kent was gorgeous and talented and a daydream come to life. Just because it did not like the idea of someone being unhappy, and particularly that someone being Colby, who would choose a co-star based on what’d be best for the film, regardless of personal discomfort.

Jason, eyeing himself and his newly shaped eyebrows, knew he should be thinking of his own role. Slipping into Stephen’s skin. Preparing for a soundstage and a ship’s deck, the movie-magic half-built version. Conversations with Leo Whyte, playing his loyal lieutenant. Later, that afternoon, one conversation with Colby. A moment in which William Crawford, Viscount Easterly, had dared ill health and parental anger to slip onto Stephen’s ship and say farewell. They would not touch, not even kiss, in a space filled with crew and pre-departure bustle; but they would take each other’s hands, briefly, and they would know.

Jason, who’d taken Colby’s hand once, understood. Intimacy stolen out of public view. A commitment made sweeter by the ache of restraint. By the brush of skin to skin, laid bare.

Colby’d chosen. Had put his hand into Jason’s, given the invitation.

And Jason needed to stop remembering, imagining, wondering. For one thing, he didn’t have the right. For another, those imaginings were starting to cause certain effects in his jeans, a fact simultaneously hot and potentially embarrassing and startling. He knew what he liked, as far as sweetness and surrender actively forthrightly given; he could not remember a time when he’d gone achingly hard from the memory of a touch of a hand.

Dammit. He had to stop thinking about Colby Kent. About wide blue eyes with their unusual darker outer ring of color, about the sparkle in them when saying Captain like a dare, like a tease—

“Good morning!” Cherry chirped to someone behind his shoulder. “What’re you doing in this early, sugar, you’re not on set until this afternoon!”

“I can’t come by to say hello to my favorite artistic genius?” That voice. Oh god, that voice. Amusement in ancient castles. Sunlight over stones. Arthurian mythology by way of Southern California. Jason sat frozen, thanking God and Cherry for concealer that’d hide flushed cheeks.

Colby went on, “I’ve also bought pastries for everyone. There’s more on the cart outside, but I thought I’d bring this box over. I know they’re nothing as good as Di’s, but perhaps still good enough to begin the shoot with? And—oh, Jason! Good morning. Would you like some sort of apple tart? Or a cinnamon…well, I don’t know what that is, but it’s definitely got cinnamon in.”

“Um,” Jason managed.

“I’ll just leave these and get out of your way.”

“No you won’t,” Cherry said, picking up something round and chocolate-dipped. “Colby, darling, tell us exactly everything from Maureen Hart’s engagement party last month. Did she really invite all her exes? And did Skylar Mason really get drunk and fall into the pool, because the tabloids are saying so, but I know someone who worked on all five seasons of Vampire High with him and said he was the sweetest nicest boy—”

Colby, who of course had been invited—Mo Hart’s engagement party invite list had comprised most of A-list Hollywood, several billionaires, and a prince or two, and decidedly not Jason—perched on the edge of a second chair and said willingly, “No, as far as I know he only tripped over someone, there was hardly any room to breathe even up on that rooftop patio, and I’m very sorry but I didn’t properly count the number of exes, though I did see Brett Claremont gazing longingly at Lindsay Miller, and she seemed to be looking back?” and they disappeared into a discussion of glamorous film-star hook-ups and break-ups and whether Lindsay should take Brett back, for a good twenty minutes.

They seemed to forget that Jason existed. That was fine. Jason was busy getting breath back. Forcing blood into other parts of his body.

Colby, he noticed, tended not to lead a conversation. Answering questions, smiling, happily responding to whatever Cherry wanted to know and apologizing for not knowing some answers, but definitely reacting instead of directing. Being exactly what she wanted of him.

Jason did not know what to do with this information.

He watched Colby Kent some more. Colby, even dressed casually, came in layers. Comfortable-looking but stylish pants, not jeans. A blue cardigan over a button-down shirt, even at six in the morning. The cardigan was buttoned also. Jason thought about that for a minute, too.

Colby might just be one of those people who couldn’t stand to look unkempt. Considering the motion of those hands, the half-messy swoop of dark hair that fluffed outward more on one side than the other, Jason wasn’t sure. Something about the sleeves and the buttons suggested armor. Something about Colby’s smile suggested steps across ice: not shy, not afraid, but aware. Conscious of each reply, as if making sure it was what would be desired.

Colby’s hair was longer now as well. William needed to have dramatic windswept Byronic locks, good for pensive longing beside a library window or winding a lover’s fingers through. Colby hadn’t done extensions, though; that was all his hair, soft and dark and rumpled from the early morning.

Jason’s fingers, without regard for Jason’s brain, wanted to go over there and rumple it more.

“I’m so sorry,” Colby said, turning his way. “We’re neglecting you. It wasn’t even that good a party; I only went because, well, they invited me, and I didn’t want to be rude and say no. I left early, in fact, and went home and found a book. Have you had any pastries? This one’s got blueberries and some sort of creamy center. How are you feeling about this morning? Have you been practicing all of Stephen’s nautical terminology?”

You went because they invited you and your popularity with the media, Jason thought. You probably bought the most expensive item on their gift list, too. And then went home early. With a book. He said, “What book?”

#actor regency fic #fic in progress #my fic #kernezelda #esaael #thebestpersonherelovesbucky #clashfanusa #for you guys

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swiftbejeweled · 6 years

Text

My thoughts on the Junior Free Dances below:

Karina SIDARENKA / Maksim YALENICH (Belarus): I missed these two so I’ll catch up on them later haha.

Viktoriia AZROIAN / Aleksandr SIROSHTAN (Armenia): Oh, honey, what is that outfit? You’re 15 not 60. I don’t actually dislike their concept, I think it has a certain charm to it. But their connection is just incredibly awkward. Skating skills not the best and I’m not sure I like the music change. Definitely some interesting lifts in there though.

Alice ROGATNIK / Yehor BARSHAK (Israel): Again, I really like their choreography. And her flexibility and elegance are wonderful. I get that their edges aren’t great and twizzles are still far apart and they might not be the fastest, but I think they’re likeable. They seem to have a good partnership.

Tatjana BUNINA / Ivan KUZNETSOV (Estonia): Okay, she looks like a flamingo and they don’t match lol. Again, individually they’re not bad, together it gets a bit awkward. I did not feel secure having him do that ambitious lift with her lol. She still has all the expression and he has none lol. They’re not bad, and still very young, but they have a long way to go. It was so cute how she was nearly crying when they finished.

Mira Isabel POLISHOOK / Deividas KIZALA (Lithuania): Igor darling, why are you stealing all of VM’s music this season? Pilgrims on a Long Journey? Really? They were very pretty though and I do like them. I love the combinations of blues, even if it is a little Chock/Bates at the Olympics. They are very sweet and likeable though. Definitely the most expressive so far. I’m just a bit distracted by the music choice.

Sasha FEAR / George WADDELL (Great Britain): Again, still think she’s better than he is. And I don’t feel the inventiveness from them at all. It all feels a little too Torvill/Dean, kind of P/C and not in a good way. I want to see something new and fresh, not the same things a million times. I don’t think I’ll remember any of this performance.(Just realised Romain coaches them, so the P/C comparison feels right lol.)

Lila-Maya SECLET MONCHOT / Renan MANCEAU (France): WOW. That was a mess. The opening was weird. His twizzles died in the 3rd set. And then they collided and crashed. YIKES. Disaster. I’ll remember this one, but not for good reasons.

Lara LUFT / Asaf KAZIMOV (Germany): Ooh, that dress is not flattering. Some of this is nice. But I still find them boring. It was nice, but nice is the only word I have for it. The music change was...odd. It didn’t flow from the first half at all. I felt like actually they should’ve started with the first piece of music and used Say Something at the end.

Natalie TASCHLEROVA / Filip TASCHLER (Czech Republic): Yaaaas, let’s get some Imagine Dragons up in here. I’m finally interested. Chasing Cars, an interesting transition of music there. I love these two. You can tell they love the music they’re skating to. What they lack with skating skill they make up for in performance and passion and innovation. Such a shame about his fall. But I continue to love what they’re bringing more than most of the other couples.

Francesca RIGHI / Aleksei DUBROVIN (Italy): Are...are these two a couple? I thought I saw a kiss there and there was a ‘charged’ moment before their Rhythm as well haha. It would certainly make sense as to how they can make the simple stuff look so passionate. They have great chemistry. I think they’re better at the soft romantic stuff than the faster pace where they start to lose it. That’s probably something they need to work on. They definitely played to their strengths with this free. But they have a great foundation to build on here.

Ekaterina ANDREEVA / Ivan DESYATOV (Russia): I definitely liked this more than their Rhythm dance. I still don’t feel like they’re the best fit as a couple though. She’s very aggressive and eye-catching and he feels a little lacklustre in performance. I don’t feel like it works. I feel like they’re telling completely different stories with their bodies. It’s a shame because their basic skating is good, but there’s also something about it that’s messy and frantic.

Ashlynne STAIRS / Elliott GRAHAM (Canada): Well, this dress is miles better than yesterdays! I still feel like there’s a bit of a disconnect for them as a couple, but I think I heard that they’ve not been together that long so it’s understandable. I sometimes feel like she’s trying to lead. They look much better apart than they do together right now. The last section of music was the most fun and definitely showed them off the best.

Irina GALIYANOVA / Grayson LOCHHEAD (Canana): It’s our second ‘A Thousand Years’ of the day haha. She’s definitely the better performer, but they look good together as a pairing. They have a nice elegance and softness. Good deep knees and speed. They have some potential for the future, for sure. I would’ve liked the choreography to have evoked more emotionally because the music choices were definitely telling a story that wasn’t quite translated. I think they deserved more points than their fellow country-team.

Yana BUGA / Georgy POKHILYUK (Azerbaijan): Not really a fan of the music choice again. Their skating skills are really wonderful. They’re very strong and committed. I’m just not at all interested in the concept.

Oona BROWN / Gage BROWN (USA): Don’t thnk I didn’t spy the MR lift you little babies! Haha. I love these two. So well timed, so sharp, so much skill at such a young age. I love them. HOLY CRAP THAT PART CLOSE TO THE ICE WAS INSANE. I’m so sad they fell. SHE WAS LIFTING HIM. God, I LOVE LOVE LOVE THEM. THAT SCORE WAS A TRAVESTY.

Darya POPOVA / Volodymyr BYELIKOV (Ukraine): We resume our scheduled programming of boring routines. Sigh. Yes, technically good. Also, not really inventive either. The high scores for them and Azerbaijan annoy me. It’s the P/C effect.

Arina USHAKOVA / Maxim NEKRASOV (Russia): Well, at least this was more interesting than some of the others. Twizzles were great. Fast and sharp (if a little messy in its aggressiveness?) There are plenty of Russian teams I’ve preferred over these in the Grand Prix circuit so far this year. I also, do not get the concept of this program at all haha. I think that score is inflated.

Avonley NGUYEN / Vadym KOLESNIK (USA): They’re very pretty skaters and I like their musical interpretation more in this routine. But there’s something about their partner work that just doesn’t work for me? She grabs his shoulders a lot and I don’t know why but I really don’t like it. I feel like she hardly ever holds his hand but is always holding his upper arm or shoulder. I don’t see them do very much proper dance hold. I do like the concept of their free and they had some beautiful lifts in there though. They lack some of the sharpness of the Russians but they also didn’t have so much aggression as to lose the delicate elegance.

#lois watches junior ice dance

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the-poutine-routine · 6 years

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Have you talked much about Valse Triste? Could be fun to go back to their first senior fd!

Ok… let’s do this *cracks knuckles* *plays vm spotify playlist*

Hi anon! I mean I’ve mentioned Valse Triste I think...? But never have I ranted about it in great detail, so... um yeah... I guess I’ll do that now.

Overall thoughts:

I think as a whole Valse Triste was super fitting to who Tessa and Scott were as skaters at the time. The music had both a sense of levity and of maturity that matched the situation of being a couple of kids thrown into a competition with a whole bunch of seasoned ice dancers. I guess the main thing that stood out to me as they performed was- to steal one of the commentators’ phrasing- how automatic they look. Even after skating together for only ten years (I know, it’s such a short amount of time), they fall into hold together so easily, they always know where the other is on the ice. Moreover, they look so prepared, they go through all the elements so smoothly and precisely as if they never have to even think about what’s coming next.

They look like they have something to prove.

So I love Valse Triste, it’s probably one of my favorite programs of theirs (that’s a lie, they’re all my favorites). I guess I see it as almost a pre-cursor to Mahler. It has the same sort of mood that I can’t quite find the words for right now... a brightness and joyfulness but with the faintest undertones of melancholy (damn, I sound like a pretentious asshole).

It’s almost like with Mahler they’re just a couple of kids dancing, showing the world what they’ve got; while with Valse Triste they’re just a couple of kids dancing, showing the world that they have something to give.

Initial notes on the limitations of my analysis:

Normally I like to give my overall thoughts (see above) at the end of these nonsensical rants, but this got insanely long and in depth (and illustrated) so I’m adding a break.

ALSO, normally when I’m doing analyses it’s from a specific competition and I’m comparing vm’s scores to another team, however, with this one, I’m not really out here arguing that Tessa and Scott were lowballed, so more than anything, I’m comparing them to themselves at present. I’m not saying that they were better or worse at any given time (although obviously Valse Triste was more than ten years ago, so they did make a lot of improvements from them until 2018...)

And, as always, I am no ice dance expert so everything that I say may or may not be complete and utter bullshit.

Oh, one last thing! I get super in depth about the program and all its elements yadda yadda, but then I have a blurb about why IJS isn’t that great of a judging system at the end so that might be worth while to read even if you don’t care about the rest of my rambling soooo yeah...

Ok hi! Hope you’re doing well!

Anywho, here’s the video that I watched. I used Worlds because, in theory, that should be their best skate / the best representation of the program as a whole.

Ok, so here’s the protocol:

The judging, base values, component scoring, etc. have all obviously changed quite a bit since 2007, however I’m too lazy to re-learn IJS based on the 2007 system, so we’re just going to have to make do with my knowledge of the 2018 system. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Technical Element Scores (aka me blabbering incoherently because I wrote this part after doing PCS and my brain no longer wants to be organized):

The first thing I noticed about the TES when looking at the protocol was that while vm got everything called (because they’re freaking legends. Oh my god.), they didn’t have super great GOEs. I guess this kind of makes sense, particularly in the lifts you can kind of see them setting up for them rather than letting them flow with the program.

I think to give this entire shit show of a post a bit more organization, I’m going to break each element down by type and give some quick, spur-of-the-moment, rapid-fire thoughts. Kapeesh?

Lifts:

I think it’s interesting how accurate of a representations Tessa and Scott’s lifts can be to the timeline of their career. The lifts in Valse Triste are all very low to the ground. Tessa has her head almost touching the ice in the straight-line lift, for example.

While the strength and balance needed to execute the lift are very obvious from looking at it, it’s not big or reaching outward like good ol’ cunniliftus or the curved lift from Prince and Moulin Rouge do. However, this isn’t a bad thing, it’s actually more fitting with the program and with who they were as skaters at the time. While they were spectacular ice dancers even back then, they also were just a couple of kids. Having huge lifts in this particular program probably would not only not fit musically, but also almost make it seem as if vm were trying too hard... if that makes sense? (Sorry, it sounds like I’m throwing shade, I promise I’m not, I really do like the lifts and think they’re perfect given the program).

Step Sequences:

Although this isn’t necessarily a technical attribute, I guess what stood out to me most about the step sequences were their confidence. They execute each turn so exactly, there’s no long drawn out edge going into them, every thing about the step sequences ooze self-assuredness, sort of like they’re saying “We’ve practiced this ten trillion times. We know what we’re doing. We’ve got this.”

Spin:

Honestly, I don’t have all that much to comment on this. A spin is a spin is a spin. What I notice more than the spin itself is the transition into and out of it, how quickly they execute it, and the speed with which they move out of it.

Twizzles:

Again, not much to say here... they’re twizzles... Scott does get a bit off on the second one but somehow manages to save it and come out at the same time as Tessa which is pretty amazing hehehe.

Program Component Scores:

Obviously, little baby 2007 Tessa and Scott had a bit of work to do before they became the Ultimate Ice Dancers Supreme™ that they are now, so there component scores were all in the 6-7 range (which is still pretty darn respectable), rather than maxing out in the 9-10 range like they did (crying that I have to use past-tense) in their later career.

Skating Skills:

Honestly, they’re fine? I mean yes they’re very good, but they still do have some work to do. I don’t know… they have very good edges and extensions as per usual, but they do seem to lack a bit of the up-and-down smooth knee bend movement that is super representative of Canadian skating and that they have boatloads of later on in their career. On a bit of a tangent, however, areas in which they do need to improve their skating skills almost lend themselves well to the program (the power of negative space, eh?). They add to the sense of innocence and youth of the program? As in as much as I love the Valse Triste, I think a lot of its meaning and pizzazz would not at all be fitting to a present day vm.

Linking Footwork / Movement:

So I’m going to equate this to the part of the score that’s now called “Transitions” because… yeah… I just am, I’m assuming it’s more or less the same thing. The transitions were actually one of the main things I noticed upon my re-watching of this program. I don’t want to say that their transitions were simpler than they are now, per se, as that makes it seem like they were bad back in the Valse Triste days, but they kind of were… simpler. Rather than using turns and footwork to link together elements, Valse Triste more used crossovers, mini lift-like moves (Tessa looping a leg over Scott, etc.)

and body movements to move from one element to the next. Now, in some ways, this is nice- especially as someone who is not an expert on every. single. ice. dance. element. (particularly those from 2007)- as it really accentuated … oop, writing pause, Come What May just came on and I need to take a sec to look forlornly into the distance … OK SO it really accentuated where each element ended and another began. However, if we’re thinking about flow, which is something that every program really should have, more full? (that’s a weird word, I know) transitions help the more modern vm programs to seem a lot more cohesive than much of their earlier work.

Choreography:

I know that technically on the protocol sheet, “Performance” comes before “Choreography” ties in to what I just blabbered about regarding transitions so… Ok so yeah, not going to lie to y’all, I’m not really a huge fan of Marina-esque choreography. She uses a lot of hops (brief side note: apparently vm got criticism for using hops to pick up speed, but this was literally part of the choreo. What gives?) and pauses as transitions which not only breaks up the elements and takes away from the cohesiveness of the program as a whole, but also doesn’t always make sense given programs with particularly um… ethereal… music, such as Valse Triste, or Mahler, or Seasons.

That being said, something that the choreography does do very well, is being matched appropriately with the music. Although some of this obviously plays into the “Musical Interpretation / Timing” score, the fact that specific body movements or elements were chosen to go at certain points in the program as the mood and temp of the music evolves is very telling of a well-choreographed program. A prime example of this is how the circle step sequence (starting here) is set to a much more lively piece of the music, which makes sense choreographically as they are required to complete multiple turns in quick succession.

Performance & Interpretation / Timing:

So, I’m just going to lump these two together because I’m lazy, because I can, and for reasons that I’ll explain in a hot sec. As always, I think Tessa and Scott did a stellar job of performing this program. Something that they excel at more than probably any other team ever…? is portraying characters and I think this program is a prime example of that. They make use of every body movement and ensure that everything is timed perfectly with even the smallest accent in the music.

Ok so sort of a choppy transition here, but in skating, I am kind of a huge fan of facial expressions (which doesn’t necessarily make sense, as I’m totally one of those people who will beat someone up if they say that figure skating isn’t a sport, but that’s besides the point). The video is not the best quality because like… 2007… but even without being able to see specific minute details of either of their faces, you can tell that they are emoting. For example…

…here you can sort of see their faces and what they’re doing with them which is great, obvs, but more than that you can almost tell the emotion that they are feeling / portraying from their extensions and from their overall body language / movement. They really emote through their entire beings which is a skill that many ice dance teams don’t even come close to doing.

The limitations of IJS:

That hot sec that I mentioned in why I lumped Interpretation and Performance together? That one? Yeah, that hot sec is right now.

Ok, so, one of the things I struggled with in trying to separate out each specific program component to look at is that any skating program is meant to be viewed as an entire entity. Yes, there are individual elements and individual components that all make up the program, but any skater and choreographer worth their salt (is that a saying? I don’t know) will try to add some sense of musicality and flow to a program, whether it be through having a storyline for the program or simply having certain movements that tie everything in the program up in a neat package from beginning to end.

This being the case, it’s really hard to look at a program and parse out which movements are part of choreography, what pieces are thought up by the skater themself as part of the performance, etc. So… yeah it was hard.

Another thing to note is that judging bias is a real thing. In this case I don’t think any biases necessarily came from judges being paid off or playing favorites or anything, but simply due to expectations. It’s not even anything to do with vm themselves, but with every newer senior team. First of all, when a team is placed higher in world rankings, they will skate in a later group at Worlds. This means that in the later groups there is a much higher expectation for the teams to do better and thus when a newer / lower ranked team is particularly good, the judges might be blindsided a bit and not give them that high a score simply because they did not expect that team to be good and consequentially do not see them as good (psychology, anyone?).

Another result of being in an earlier group is that the judges and tech panel aren’t going to want start right off the bat by giving all +3 GOEs and 10.00 component scores. There needs to be somewhere for the scores to go throughout the competition. So pretty much the earlier teams might be scored particularly harshly as they are pretty much setting the bar and being a baseline off of which all the other teams are going to be judged for the rest of the competition. (I mean technically, teams aren’t supposed to be compared to one another but like………)

Wow wow wow ok you made it! Yup, that was very long and probably made no sense and had like twenty different moods because I skipped around while writing it, but maybe you thought it was worth the twelve hours it took you to get through it? Probably not...

Anyway, thank you so much anon for inspiring my ranting :)

#Anonymous #anon #ask #rants and stuff #valse triste #tessa and scott #analyses #wow #I hate that I just wrote this whole thing #If I put this much effort into the rest of my life #...I could be so successful #ok #well have a nice night all!

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onestoryonehour · 6 years

Text

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Scene 41 [A Rewrite]

INT. JORDAN APARTMENT, CHARLESTON, NIGHTTIME

The youngsters approach the apartment door, hearing ethereal trap hip-hop beats through the door. It filled the room as they entered, along with the scent of a savory dish and toasted bread. The apartment was simple but filled with a sense of luxury by beautiful Afrofuturistic and African diaspora artwork that lined the walls. The washer and dryer were going but some clothes were hanging themselves up on a rack. The vacuum cleaner was at work but no sound escaped it, thanks to a brilliant silencing spell. In the kitchen, chaos ensued. A knife was chopping vegetables, the dishes were washing themselves and placing themselves onto a drying rack. At the stove, a beautiful young black woman, Amana, was swaying sensually while moving her wand in an upwards spiral on beat with the music, performing a spell to get a simmering pot of gumbo to self-stir. She was barefooted and wearing a slightly-sheer robe that revealed the outline of a lace bodysuit underneath. Ashur is blown away. Ham is uninterested, and eager to go back out. He walks over to a window to look out at a street lined with beautiful historic houses. Sauda purposefully slams the door, which startles Amana.

AMANA: Damn, Dada, no need to be extra. (She cups her hand and turning it counterclockwise as if turning a knob, lowering the volume. She sees Ham and Ashur and gasps excitedly). Sauda! I have NEVER seen you bring a boy home, and now you bring two? Sis!

SAUDA: Don’t get the wrong idea. Y’all, this is my little sister, Amana. Girl, do you mind? (Gestures toward Amana’s unapologetic display of skin)

AMANA: (Rolls eyes, tying the straps together at the waist, somewhat closing the robe) Well, you didn’t tell me people were comin’, so don’t give me that. You’re lucky I made enough gumbo for everybody.

Sauda walks over to the stove to waft the scent of the gumbo.

AMANA: So you gonna tell me who they are?

SAUDA: The one on the left’s Hami. He broke a fundamental MACUSA law—

AMANA: (excited) Oh, so he’s a bad boy?

SAUDA: Yeah, and the other is Ashur, he’s a non-vessel--

AMANA: (suspicious) A non-vessel? Dada, what’d you do?

SAUDA: (suddenly defensive) Nothin’! Long story short, Ham’s trying to get his siblings out of foster care and imma help him out.

Ashur loses his balance for a second and Amana walks over to help him onto the couch. Sauda and Ham look over, also concerned.

AMANA: Oh, he doesn’t look so good. I know that feeling, especially after reading too much about Trump on Twitter.

(Reads his aura)

Oh, your stomach’s uneasy. You sit here, hun, I’ll make you some ginger tea. (flicks her wand to turn on the burner underneath the kettle)

(Reads his aura)

Aww, another editor rejected his pitch for a new black comic book character. Man, I know the feeling, seems like the longer non-people of color stay in those roles, the less opportunities we’ll get to make something new and relatable.

Ham watches Amana from where he was looking out at the street.

HAMI: You’re a Reader?

AMANA: Yeah. Y’all Northerners talk funny, though. It’s soda, not pop. Sweet tea, not iced tea.

ASHUR: Wait. Are you forreal reading me? How are you dragging me when you just met me?

AMANA: (laughs) Not that kind of read. Every person has energies, which I consider sparks of light, and they kinda arrange themselves into images that I can interpret. As for what you were thinking when you saw me dancing, well…it’s not the first time a dude’s imagined that. Let me get you that tea.

Ham looks back out the window, concerned about his siblings, hoping that they weren’t doing anything magical and exposing themselves.

Amana flicks her wand. A mug, looseleaf tea, an infuser and a sugar cube assembles together and the boiling kettle lifts off to pour water into the mug. Amana performs the same upward spiral movement while bopping her head to the music to stir the tea. The mug floats gently over to Ashur and hovers until he takes it by the handle.

ASHUR: (mesmerized) Thank you.

AMANA: Sure.

Amana performs a spell to levitate bowls and spoons out to set the table. The bread comes out of the oven, slicing and buttering itself before also going over to the table. The pot of gumbo floats over to the center of the table and the ladle begins spooning gumbo into each bowl. Ashur is both fascinated and scared.

AMANA: Dinner is served. (To Sauda) Bitch, you’re not getting Chik-Fil-A, I made you food.

SAUDA: Quit Reading me!

AMANA Quit being so damn basic. Now that was me dragging her, Ashur.

ANGLE ON HAM, his hands on the windowsill, which he was opening to escape out of.

AMANA: (Doesn’t notice this) Hami, are you cool with gumbo? You’re not vegetarian are you? Or vegan? If so, the only thing I got are basil leaves.

They all look over to Hami, who begins laughing uneasily while closing the window and stepping away.

HAM: Not vegan. I’ll have some gumbo.

Sauda looks over at Ham, suspicious of his seemingly inconspicuous attempts to leave. Ashur is already seated, setting his empty mug down, which immediately lifts off to the sink to get washed. He watches it go and turns back, laughing. Amana sits across from Ashur.

AMANA: (Reading Ashur’s aura) You’re definitely not vegan. Have you ever had andouille sausage straight from Louisiana?

Ashur shakes his head but rubs his hands together, ready to consume the meal. Amana beams at him. Sauda notices the empty seat across from her.

SAUDA: Ham, you won’t be any use to your siblings if you don’t eat something. Join us. My little sis is a great cook.

Ham is still standing close to the window, hesitant to stay. His stomach growls at the sight and smell of the gumbo and he surrenders to her request.

***

Characters:

Amana (Queenie)- “A faithful and loyal warrior”, Swahili

Sauda (Tina)-"Dark and beautiful”, Swahili

Hami (Newt)- “Defender, protector", Swahili

Ashur (Jacob)- “The one who accompanies”, Swahili

***

For today’s writing exercise, I decided to write something from one of my favorite films, but made it from the perspective of four young African-Americans. I changed the terminology for muggles and magical beings to “non-vessels” and “vessels”, respectively, to make it little more unique. I had a lot of fun with this one. -LM, author

Time: 1+ Hour

Prompt: Fantastic Beats and Where to Find Them, The Original Screenplay by JK Rowling

#short story #writer #onestoryonehour #screenplay #black girl magic #harry potter #fantastic beasts

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impalaanddemons · 7 years

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Enterprise Crowd - Part 4

Summary: These are the adventures of Reader, a Lieutenant Commander assigned the Enterprises IT engineering team. Her biggest flaw? Her temper.

Wordcount: 1700ish?

A/N: This week in “Enterprise Crowd”: Regrets and hangovers are had. People get hit in the face. I could also not find a gif that fit, so I skipped it.

Warnings: hangover, general cursing, f bombs

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

There were a few minutes of blissful ignorance until revelation hit you. It was nice, warm and snuggly and your body hadn’t yet started to try and collect last nights debts from you, instead cushioning you in a warm fuzzy feeling of post-intoxication. A stubble brushed over your shoulder, a pair of lips kissing you gently. A rough hand traced the line of your shoulder idly, caressed your back and landed on your ass, gripping it gently. He earned himself a purr from your lips for this - his hand knew exactly what it was doing there. Firm and slightly massaging and just overall nice. The owner of said hand sighed softly, his lips now brushing against your ear.

„Tha’s nice“, mumbled an all too familiar scottish voice right there and with that memory came flooding back. „Woah.“, you exclaimed and froze at once. „Fuck.“, you yelled then and leapt forward, out of the bed, only to get your foot entangled and land face forward on the floor were you then moaned in pain. „Shit, what…“ The scotsman sat up, rubbing first his eyes and then his temples. „Lass…“ he muttered, still half asleep, forcing his eyes open in an expression of equal parts hangover, disbelief and smugness.

In that moment your bodily functions lined up to collect overdue debt - you could practically feel your liver texting Doctor McCoy in agony. Your stomach revolted and dizziness hit you in the face like a hammer. „Ugh.“ you got up on shaky feet, staggered over to his bathroom and emptied the content of your stomach into his toilet at once, your hands clenching the white synthetic material.

„I really hope that’s not because ya woke up next to me“, his voice said somewhere behind you. You tried a clever retort, but the situation being as it was you settled for using one of your hands to flip him off. „Yer a bullhead“, he muttered, at which you managed to gasp a „Fuck you“ in-between gagging. „Ye phrased that sentence differently just a few hours earlier“, the scotsman responded but had the general decency to blush. The retort you had expected - what you had not expected was the sound of his feet shuffling closer and him crouching down next to you then. You had not expected his rough hands on your shoulder, collecting strains of your hair from your face with a stern expression and pulling them gently back as you once more gagged - now exhausted, with tears streaming down your face as it often happened when one was in such a position. „I’ll get a hypo from the Doctor“ he said and you felt his hand gently rubbing your naked back. „I …“ you took a deep breath. „Don’t need a hypo.“ You didn’t dare to get up either, though, since you were pretty sure your situation had not improved one bit. „For once, don’t argue with me, lassie. I’m gonna get ya a hypo.“ „I’m .. not.“ „Ya are.“ He got up, left, and after hearing him shuffle things around for a second he was back again, wrapping a blanket over your shoulder. „Cannae have one of my officers freeze do death while ‘am away. Dinnae run away.“

„You what?“ Bones seemed downright gleeful, while Chapel was shaking her head in open disapprovement of McCoys behavior. „Just gimme the hypo, Doctor McCoy.“ The black haired men got up from his chair, walked over to a cabinet and started filing through a couple of dozen different drugs in there. „I should come over and have a look at her, if it’s that bad. She’s probably got a bad case of intoxication.“ „No. Doctor … „ the scotsman sighed and ran his hand through his hair. A night of too much alcohol and bad choices made him look older then he was. „She’s fine .. just a little .. ah … hung over.“ Bones produced a hypo from the cabinet and turned around, brows furrowed. „I should send a nurse with you, I should also,“ he pointed at Scottys neck now, „have a look at that scratch. It should at least be disinfected.“ The scotsman looked surprisingly uncomfortable and shifted his shoulders in discomfort. „Tha’s really not necessary, Doctor.“ he answered, took the hypo given to him and fled medbay. Christine threw the Doctor a reprimanding look, which he answered with a shrug. „You can’t blame a man for trying, Chris. I had hoped to see his back in all it’s glory. After all we’ve heard from that party …“

To your general lack of surprise you did not feel better when your commanding officer returned. Instead you sat in an corner next to the toilet, wrapped in the blanket and waiting for the next opportunity your stomach would use to take sweet revenge on you. You had of course considered and even tried fleeing the scene of the crime, but you didn’t make it out of the bathroom before you succumbed to your hangover again. He walked over to you with a determination not easy to disobey. Defeated, at least for the moment, and with your cheeks now burning with fire you were surprised by how skillfully he applied the hypo to your arm. And within a minute your head started to clear enough to not feel like being punched in the face anymore and the nausea retreated to a somewhat tolerable level. Bless the Doctor. „I’ve never seen ya silent for such a long time, lassie.“ „I’ll get back to hating you in a second, just give me a moment.“ you growled, refusing his hand and clawing your way into a standing position again. Once you had pulled yourself up you wrapped the blanket closer around your naked body, which prompted him to turn around. „We…“ the word had left your mouth before you could keep it back, prompting you to grab your trousers and your red shirt hastily. „We…“ he answered and as you glanced over your shoulder, he had still turned his back to you. From what you could see of his profile his jaws were clenched and his expression torn between .. whatever. The next thing he heard was the ‚swoosh‘ of his doors.

It was very much possible to walk the walk of shame on the Enterprise, but you only discovered so the next morning, when you walked down to your office freshly showered, in fresh clothes and with a scarf around your neck to cover the hickeys. You could feel eyes quickly turning away and then turning back to you the moment you passed and sudden realization hit you that you and Mr. Scotts make-out session on the dance floor had attracted a certain attention, as well as did your ‚sudden‘ disappearance together. Your cheeks were burning when you entered your office, still feeling sleep deprived and quickly getting a cup of coffee before you hid behind a PADD. Vance and T’Sai where already there but had the decency to not speak a word. In Vance case you knew this would only last for a very short time. You stared at your PADD, ignoring a message there, when Vance raised his voice gleefully. „Morning, Y/N“ Not in the mood for niceties you just shrugged and muttered something under your breath that could be interpreted as everything. „So…“ So it begins, you thought, shifting deeper into your chair and behind your PADD without answering. „You did the Dada with Mr. Scott, huh?“ Your face could not possibly get more scarlet then it was right now. T’Sai lifted both her eyebrows, as to which Vance gladly expanded: „The vertical Tango? The old in-and-out?“ As T’Sais expression grew more confused by the second, your cheeks explored deeper notes of red. „You held an amorous congress?“ He was definitely enjoying this, while you started contemplating the quickest way to behead another person. „You buried the weasel? You took the ship to Yorktown?“ „I am going to murder you, Vance.“ T’Sai shook her head as she watched the human display of bickering. „You took it to Warp 9?“ „YES!“ you exclaimed frustrated, lurking over your PADD with crimson cheeks for a second only to see Vance cackle. „Yes,“, you added, after taking a deep breath and watching your Vulcan crew mates expression grow ever more confused. „We had sex. Can we now please let the topic .. die?“ Silence fell between the three of you and you went back to stare at your PADD. Wonderful, non invading, sil- „I am wondering though“, it was of course Vance who broke the silence not more then thirty seconds later. „I am wondering too, Vance.“, you answered and put as much ice into your voice as humanly possible. T’sai carefully moved the more delicate parts of her work inconspicuously off the table. „Like when you were at it…“ Vance continued unfazed. „Is it possible to throw a PADD hard enough to bang someones head in?“ you continued your own line of thought. „How did you call him?“ at that you stared at him in utter disbelief, now openly considering your options for homicide. „You sure didn’t call him Montgomery, that just does not flow“, he continued, lifting his PADD as if carrying a shield. You could actually see T’Sai move her mouth silently from the corner of her eyes. „Monty?“ he eyed you suspiciously, now getting slowly up from his chair while you did the same. He sported a flashing grin that would’ve made Captain Kirk envious. „Scotty?“ he continued, parrying a flying wrench with his PADD and ducking behind his chair. „That’s not it, then.“ he paused for a moment, evaluating his options. „Lieutenant?“ you looked around you, grabbed a pencil and threw it - very easy to evade for him. „Sir?“ he offered, then stopped at the expression that flashed across your face and the deep red that followed it. „Oh - my -„ the crimping tool hit him right in the face, earning you a satisfying ‚Ouch‘ in return. “Fuck you, Vance.”

Only later that night, when you lay awake and stared at the ceiling of your room, did you allow your mind to wander through the events of the night of the party. Gritting your teeth you turned around this way and that, before grabbing your PADD from your nightstand and accessing that message from earlier.

„Let’s talk? - Scotty“

You sighed one sigh of a thousand this evening, before you typed an answer.

„Okay. - Y/N“

Maybe half a minute passed, tiptoed away through the room when a new message arrived.

„My place? Now? - Scotty“

For a moment you hesitated, but then got up and slipped into last days uniform.

„Okay. - Y/N“

You grabbed your last bottle of Scotch, just in case.

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inawickedlittletown · 5 years

Text

Walking The Wire (166/167)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Sixty Five

“I’m a really big fan,” Peter said.

Thor was really really tall. He was also more muscular than Peter had expected when standing up close and yet there were his biceps. May was right about them being something to admire because they were huge. All of Thor was kind of just big. Even, it seemed, his personality. Maybe that just came with the territory of being a god.

“I’ve been told that, Peter son of Stark,” Thor said. “You have your own fans, I hear.”

“Um, I guess so--”

Sam next to Peter chuckled. Peter glared at him. The reception was in full swing. There was music playing -- something from the eighties because Quill had decided that he needed to have some input with the music but no one really seemed to mind. His dad and Steve were dancing. Everyone was still eating or finishing up and Peter had finally had his chance to meet Thor. At last.

“So is it true that only you can wield the hammer? Well, the axe now?”

Thor nodded. He didn’t seem at all bothered by Peter talking to him and asking questions.

“Only someone worthy can lift it,” Thor said. “Would you like a try?”

Peter shook his head at once. Eyes wide. “No. No. I don’t think I could--”

Thor chuckled. “All the Avengers tried once. Your father came close.”

“My father? Really? What was he wearing the armor while he tried or something?”

Thor chuckled. “Not that father. The other one.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I could see Steve maybe being able to do it.”

It would have been fitting, too, Peter thought. Steve was probably worthy.

Peter asked Thor about the other Asgardians and how they were settling into Earth and it was nice to listen to Thor explain how different “Midgard” was to his home planet. But it seemed like his people were settling in fine.

“They have Valkyrie, she’s a good leader,” Thor said. He motioned towards the Asgardian that was currently playing some sort of drinking game with Rocket and Quill.

He talked to him for a while and Thor seemed entertained by Peter even after Dr. Banner joined them. Peter was also quite star struck by the mild mannered Bruce Banner and Peter had a whole lot of questions to ask him that were more science related and he could tell that Dr. Banner was curious about him and his powers.

“You’ll just need to stop by my lab sometime, Peter, I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about.”

“Yes. Definitely. I’m so down for that.”

He only left them when he spotted Ned waving him over. Ned and Michelle were sitting with May and Pepper and Happy. It was in many ways the most normal table at the reception. May still got on really well with Pepper, and they were mid-conversation when Peter approached the table.

“Hey,” Ned said, “were you just talking to Thor? That is so cool.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, it kind of was. He’s very different but nice.”

“So, the crush will remain alive and well,” Michelle said with a smirk.

“It’s not a crush,” Peter muttered. “I kinda -- no, it’s not important. Are you guys having a good time?” He pulled a chair from another table to sit down between them.

“We are,” Michelle said. “I am. This has been -- I never expected to go to anything quite like this.”

“Nor I,” May said, but she was smiling.

“It’s a crazy world the one that Tony Stark inhabits,” Pepper said. “Never a dull moment. I don’t know how Steve’s going to deal with it.”

Bucky happened to be passing at that moment and he stopped. “Stevie is just as much of a mess, that’s how. They’re kind of perfect for each other.”

They really were. When Peter looked for them, he spotted them at their table and they were talking to each other. Steve laughed at something and his dad smiled and there was just so much love and fondness in their eyes when they looked at each other. It was kind of amazing to see two people so in love.

---

When we met, I didn’t see you. But when I started looking, I couldn’t stop seeing you. You make the world brighter, Tony Stark, and I selfishly want to keep you forever. You gave me a home, a family, and a future. I love you. I will always love you.

---

The whole of it was a success. Tony had had a few doubts with the rain and then with Pepper having the bad news that their DJ cancelled. But in the end, everything turned out fine. As Friday predicted the rain stopped and then Peter Quill had stepped up and dealt with the music and somehow nothing went amiss. He and Steve were married and Tony was happier than he could ever remember being.

All his friends -- his family -- had come. Scott and his ex-wife, wife’s new husband, and daughter. His girlfriend Hope and the Pyms. Clint and his brood. A lot of the people that Tony actually respected from SI including Agent and Sharon Carter -- although she wasn’t really Shield anymore these days. All the of The Avengers. The Guardians of the Galaxy. T’Challa and Shuri. Even Strange and Wong had shown up. Fury and Maria Hill had made it and Carol had returned from space just in time.

“This everything you wanted?” he asked Steve as they slow danced.

Steve was a careful dancer, wary of stepping on Tony. Wary of skills that he thought he didn’t have even though he moved more like a dancer than a fighter when in the middle of battle. It was a matter of how he seemed to overthink his every step. He didn’t trust himself.

“You are everything I wanted,” Steve whispered. “This is just nice -- having everyone here.”

“Sappy. You’re getting sappy in your old age, husband.”

“I am not the oldest one in this relationship, husband,” Steve said.

Tony tutted at him. “Just because you were in ice,” Tony whispered back. “Something I will always be grateful for.”

“Is it everything you wanted?” Steve asked.

Tony shrugged his shoulders and he spun them, looking around at the other dancing couples. Clint and Laura. Scott and Hope. Natasha was trying to get Nebula to dance with her to not avail. Gamora was over in a more secluded area with Quill. Then there was everyone else mingling around them. Pepper and Happy laughing at a table with Rhodey. He spotted Peter with his friends. Thor was talking to Shuri and Tony would have loved to know how that was going. Then, he spotted May talking to Bruce.

“Yeah. You at my side. All of our friends. Our son.”

Steve’s eyes met his. “Our son,” he repeated.

Tony kissed him, chaste and quick. He pressed their foreheads together. “Steve, you jumped off a cliff to bring him back to me even though you had no idea if you’d survive it because you love him just as much as I do. He’s yours too.”

Steve smiled and nodded. They’d discussed it before a few times,but it was nice to bring it up again. “Yeah, he is. We talked about it before the ceremony.”

“Of course you did. He loves you too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t think I needed to hear it from him, but when he said it, it was one of the best feelings in the world.”

Peter laughed from the table he was at -- joined by Bucky and Sam -- and for a while Tony just watched him and he remembered once not expecting to ever get to meet or be a part of Peter’s life at all. But he had met him and formed a relationship with him. He’d brought him back after Thanos snapped him from existence.

Steve kissed his temple and pulled at his hand. Tony followed, walking beside him towards Peter who immediately got up and hugged him first and then Steve, staying between them for a moment once May got out her phone to take a picture.

“Be sure to send that to me,” Tony said.

“Of course,” May said.

When Peter moved away, again, Tony drifted closer to Steve, pressed against his side. Peter glanced back at them and Tony just smiled at him and then looked to Steve again. He was so so lucky.

---

I once thought I’d be alone forever. I didn’t think I’d ever even meet my son much less someone I would want to share him with. Not until you, Steve Rogers. There are no words to describe the relief I feel at having you at my side. This is for as long as the universe allows and even beyond that. I love you.

---

The rest of the night went well. There were speeches at some point and Peter could tell that Bucky had gotten into some of Thor’s Asgardian mead because he seemed a little drunk when he gave his.

“Super soldiers aren’t supposed to get drunk, are they?” Ned asked.

“No. Not unless it’s alien mead.” He motioned towards Thor and the other Asgardians.

Rhodey had given a best man’s speech too -- a more coherent one. Peter really intended to spend more time with him and ask him about stories about his dad when they were both in MIT because he knew they had to be good. And despite officiating the wedding, Pepper had had a few things to add to Rhodey’s speech as well. Peter was just glad that he didn’t have to make one.

All in all, the wedding was perfect. It was towards the end of the night that his dad got up to talk.

“I want to thank everyone for being here. It’s been a long few months for a lot of us but the world is finally set right and we can only hope that it will remain so. Today I married the love of my life -- a man for another era entirely and one I’ve loved and hated my entire life. He brings out the best in me and I hope I do the same for him. And I’m just glad I get to share this with all of you. With my friends, my teammates, and our son.”

He paused them, to glance around at everyone.

“My dear husband and I are going to take off, now, but the party can keep going. There is a lot to celebrate and plenty of cake.”

Before leaving, his dad and Steve stopped where Peter was standing with a plate of cake.

“Have a good night,” Peter said and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Don’t be cheeky, child,” his dad said.

Peter hugged his dad first and then Steve.

“I’m really happy for you,” Peter whispered.

His dad kissed the top of his head. “Love you kid. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

The party kept going after they left. Thor and the other Asgardians were still drinking. Quill kept up his playlist and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Peter spotted Natasha dancing with one of Clint’s kids. Scott was dancing with his daughter. It was cute.

“This was nice,” MJ said. “Thanks for the invite.”

Peter nodded. “I’m glad you came. Did you--” he motioned at the dance floor, “did you want to dance? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t, but there’s really nothing else to do and I think May said we’d be leaving soon too so--”

MJ grabbed his hand and Peter trailed off, his eyes widened and when he looked at her she just laughed and then tugged him along.

“You ramble a lot,” she said.

Peter didn’t know what song was playing because it was something too old for him to actually know, but it was soft and easy to dance to even if it still made him just a little nervous when MJ turned to him. But moments later, his arms were around her waist and her arms were over his shoulders and as nervous as it made him, MJ felt good in his arms. She smelled like something flowery.

It felt like the moment lasted mere seconds but also forever and when it was over and Peter pulled back, he smiled at her and she smiled back.

“That was...that was nice,” Peter said.

“Yeah…”

It was awkward. Everything was just so awkward. It was lucky that Ned appeared then and he clapped Peter on the shoulder.

“Good, found you two. May thinks it might be a good time to go.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “Yeah, sure.”

Although his dad and Steve were going to some fancy hotel for the night and Peter had had the option to stay at the compound with Bucky and Sam and the rest, he’d decided to spend the night with May instead. He hadn’t gotten to see much of her since the first time he went to see her and it also meant spending a bit more time with Ned and MJ on the drive to Queens.

May had insisted on driving instead of letting Happy pick her up or letting Doctor Strange bring them over through a portal, but Peter didn’t mind the drive. They found her soon enough. She was talking to Happy and Pepper and Peter was surprised to see how weirdly cozy they looked.

He gave Pepper a hug and high fived Happy and then said his goodbyes to Natasha and Bucky but only because he saw them as they were heading out. He wasn’t sure how much longer the party would go for, but everyone still seemed to be having fun.

“It wasn’t as overthetop as I thought it was going to be,” May said as they set out.

Peter shrugged. “Pepper and the wedding planner had a lot to do with that. Also how fast they had to arrange things.”

“Well, it was nice,” MJ said. “I had a great time.”

She met his eyes and Peter ducked his head and then they all got into May’s car. Ned told them all about how he’d managed to talk to Sam for a while and how cool he was and it was easy to let Ned just fill the silence.

The topic of conversation drifted away from the wedding to other things eventually and everything just felt normal. MJ even tried to bring up decathlon.

“We’re not even in school right now,” Ned said. “We don’t have to worry about it.”

“I just want us to do well, Ned, and as captain that falls on me. All I’m saying is that Peter can’t slack off because of his spiderness.”

“Hey! I went to all the practices last year.”

“He did,” Ned said.

After they dropped off Ned and MJ, Peter leaned back into his seat. He was actually feeling quite tired from the day and he wasn’t expecting for May to want to talk to him about anything.

“You know, for a while there I hated that you knew the truth,” May said. “I didn’t trust Tony Stark to really know what was best for you. I figured he would take you away. I guess, well, he sort of did. But he also didn’t keep you away and after Ben -- I’m really glad you get to have him be your father. Your dad. And from the state he was in when you were gone, I know that he loves you and that he needs you just as much.”

“May, I--”

May reached over and grabbed his hand. “You have a big family, actually, and I’m really glad you do.”

Peter nodded, thinking about everyone at the wedding. Most of them he could consider family. A big superhero family and some of them weren’t even human.

“I guess I do,” Peter said.

---

“I don’t even want to know how much money you spent on this place. Especially when we could have just gone back to the tower seeing as no one is there.”

Tony just chuckled. Steve had been nagging him about their post-wedding plans since he’d learned of them earlier in the day, but Tony wanted to end the night in style by which he meant with a surprise.

“I really love hearing you put down all my romantic plans,” Tony said, but shot Steve a grin.

“I just don’t think it’s necessary,” Steve said.

Tony nodded. “I kind of figured you’d feel that way. But have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you riled up over something that doesn’t even matter?”

Although Tony was in the driver’s seat, it was Friday that had control of the car and so Tony felt entirely safe turning to look at his new husband. “I did something a little crazy,” he said.

Steve’s suit looked as pristine on him as it had in the beginning of the night and the way he looked at Tony was with a warmth fondness rather than any real annoyance. They were both so sappy and in love and it was kind of disgusting.

“Crazy how?” Steve asked.

“Crazy as in, Peter is right, and we do deserve to have a honeymoon. Even a small one. And if we do it in another time, then Peter won’t have a chance to get into any real trouble.”

Steve shook his head. “Tony, you’re...where -- no, when are we even going?”

“Any time you want. Anywhere you want. As long as we’re together.”

“Together,” Steve said. “I like the sound of that.”

Epilogue

#peter and tony #peter and tony fic #mcuwriting #mcu fic #iron dad #iron dad and spider son #stony #stony fic #marvel

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