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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa5 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxr @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresix @thysagclub

#mgk smut #mgk fanfic #mgk imagine #mgk #mgk x reader #mgk aesthetic #machine gun kelly #imagine #fanfiction

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cheerypining · 3 years

Text

Appearance HCs (Brothers)

I've seen some comments ab how I draw the boys and wanted to get it written out how I percieve their designs! Do forgive how disorganized these are ;;

Lucifer

I'll admit, I don't draw Lucifer often, but I do have at least some thoughts ab him!

No visible blemishes, but considering how much he works I always assume it's a makeup thing, so when I draw him he tends to look very tidy and perfect, but I hc that he has dark circles that he tries to cover up.

I'm sorry but I can't in good conscience believe his height in the chart. He gives me petite muscular vibes. I tend to give him some kind of discreet heel.

He has the ghost of a six-pack, you only see it if he really flexes.

He's one of those people that has a soft face, but makes up for it with like, terrifying eyes. His expressions completely transform his face.

Speaking of expressions, I imagine he's very expressive regardless of the face he's making.

Mammon

Perfect skin. He doesn't try at all. No blemishes whatsoever.

All slim and lean muscle, none of the bulging muscles someone like Beel would have but he has obvious shape to him. No six-pack for Mammon. He's slim straight down to his fingers.

I will say, this man has very nice legs. He runs a lot for various reasons, most of them not exercise.

This man is PETITE and he dresses for someone slightly larger than him, almost everything he wears fits loose on him. It makes him look smaller.

Even when he's mad, he's the least threatening person in the room. He's strong and he's tough but he's not much of a fighter. He doesn't really have an angry face or if he does, it's not a good one.

Resting sweet face

White eyelashes. They wouldn't show on a lot of people, but they stand out against his skin. His eyelashes are very full, eyebrows are on the slimmer side though.

Leviathan

He's not particularly tall, but he is skinny, which gives him the appearance of being lanky without being obscenely tall. Long in every aspect, face (to a degree), hands, legs etc.

Slim muscle, but not much. He's a good swimmer, sure, but without the aid of his powers he isn't winning any athletics competitions.

Extremely pale. So pale. He has the faintest dusting of freckles that pop up when he goes outside, but he usually sunburns before they come out much.

Appears shorter than he is because he has horrible posture. When he gets angry he stands at full height and you'd swear he grows a foot taller.

Dresses very lazily. If it isn't comfy he won't wear it. If he goes out he makes an effort but at home he's always in that jacket and it's a 50/50 chance he's wearing some kind of sweatpants.

A lot of people describe him as having a bowl cut, but I disagree. I had the same hair as him and it'd be disingenuous to say he had one lol! I see his hair as an overgrown version of a decent haircut. He probably has to be dragged out to get his hair cut.

Asmodeus

Pale in a healthy way, lots of healthy color to his skin. Tries to limit the coverage of makeup on his face because he's proud of his skin. That 3 hour skin routine pays off, ok??? Almost always has some kind of light color on his lips.

"Dude, your brother is gnc af"

He has a strong body but less like the others, it's clear he does a lot of yoga. He's very flexible and well-toned.

He almost never has the same hair style. Even if he has braids two days in a row they'll be different kinds of braids.

His eyelashes aren't particularly full but they're very nice. He doesn't usually wear any kind of mascara. However, Asmo tends to touch up his eyebrows, they aren't very prominent.

Always posing in case someone takes a picture.

Beelzebub

Beefy. BEEFY. It's canon and y'know what, I agree. He's ripped. He looks very soft, but the moment he moves or flexes a muscle, it's clear how defined each muscle is. All of his muscles are practical, no bodybuilder show muscles.

He's also huge. His hands are gigantic. He may not be 7ft tall, but between his presence and his general size, he is a very big boy.

Very soft but very masculine. He isn't a big square, but everything on him is defined. Somewhat round face.

He has wild eyebrows that Asmodeus picks at incessantly and though they aren't too big, his eyebrows are very full and prominent.

He gets a lot of sun, brings out the odd freckle or two.

Cuts his own hair, styles his own hair.

Always has little knicks on his hands and arms.

Belphegor

You can't convince me that he doesn't have raccoon eyes. Permanent dark circles.

The babiest of faces, he's very cute. Unlike Mammon he can be very intimidating. Looks like he could kill you, would kill you.

He's a little on the squishy side but nothing much. There's muscle somewhere because he works out with Beel, but it's hidden in a layer of chub. He has a bit of a belly but everyone just finds him cute.

He stares a lot and blinks less than he should. His eyes are the kind you can feel on your back when you pass by. 50/50 on whether or not he has heavy eyelids at any given time.

Looks grumpy. Is grumpy.

Also has overgrown hair, it gets long pretty fast, but Beel cuts it for him when he cuts his own hair.

He's good at tidying his hair but always has that one odd spot that didn't quite get tamed after he woke up.

Satan

Tidy, tidy, tidy. He's always fixing his clothes and hair. His teeth are obnoxiously white but he doesn't smile with them often. His hands can feel very rough because he washes them constantly.

His hair is cut regularly, it's always fresh and tidy. He never has any facial hair or shadowing on his face. His eyebrows are well-manicured, though he won't talk about it he spends a long time getting ready.

Wears a bare minimum of makeup, nothing obvious.

Wears glasses but not as open as he should. The glasses are definitely square.

Nothing he owns is currently fashionable but he doesn't like to clothes shop so he holds onto them. Lots of colors that don't really look that good on him.

#obey me #swd obey me #obey me headcanons #my headcanons #om headcanons

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theolsentimes · 3 years

Photo

Getting Ready for the CFDA Awards with Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen

Mark Townsend got the sisters ready at Ashley's New York City apartment, and snapped exclusive pics for us along the way. By Hannah Morrill (Harper's Bazaar, June 2014)

Starting from the top row and going down, left to right on each row: 📸 I: “The girls always argue about who gets to do makeup first, because they like to let their hair air-dry. Last night, Mary-Kate won, and Ashley ended up going first. This is Mary-Kate with makeup artist Ana Marie.” 📸 II: “I blew out Ashley’s hair with a few drops of Dove Dry Oil and a mixed bristle Spornette brush, which is the only kind of brush I ever use with them. The white bristles pick the hair up from the root and push it into the shorter natural bristles, so you get volume and that really smooth finish.” 📸 III: “I know this is a weird picture, but if you look closely, you’ll see tiny bits of hair on the floor. I hadn’t given Ashley a real haircut in over a year, so I took off about an eighth of an inch. It’s what I call a ‘dusting.’” 📸 IV: “Ashley was feeling a little under the weather, so she was having matzo ball soup during her blowout. When I was done, I swirled it into this set with a duckbill clip and moved on to Mary-Kate.” 📸 V: “When I got to Mary-Kate, her hair was a little damp but mostly dry. And I had this leftover piece of black velvet ribbon from Ashley’s hair at the Met Ball. We knew the hair needed to go up because of the gorgeous Sidney Garber earrings she’d be wearing. I crisscrossed her ponytail with the ribbon, and pinned it up into this bun.” 📸 VI: “The girls are very visual, so I always take detail shots with my phone to show them rather than forcing them to see in a mirror. The first time I did the ribbon, Mary-Kate and I agreed it was too perfect. The third time was the charm. She also has a five hair pins rule—and I stuck to it!” 📸 VII: “Even though I’d given Ashley the most gorgeous blowout, I knew her hair needed to go up, too, since she was also wearing insane Sidney Garber earrings. This is my ‘Oh crap, I need to hurry’ face.” 📸 VIII: “I decided to braid Ashley’s long hair and then twist it up into a low bun. She loves hair that looks like it’s falling out, so I ended up using about 27 hair pins to get it right.” 📸 IX: “Here’s Ashley’s finished look. We never like things to be too symmetrical or perfect or smooth. That’s the girls’ whole aesthetic, in the clothes they design, and the style they’re drawn to.” 📸 X: “It was a Nirvana White kind of night. Here’s Ashley’s rollerball right from her purse—the last touch before she walked out the door.” Elizabeth and James Nirvana White Rollerball, $22, sephora.com.

#Mary Kate Olsen #Ashley Olsen #mary kate and ashley #mark townsend #dove #elizabeth and james #nirvana white #gallery #behind the scenes #CFDA

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

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What about Sander who is the dance partner of Robbe’s sister, but when Robbe comes pick her op from the dance studio, he meets Robbe. Sander ends up teaching Robbe how to dance because it will be his prom very soon so he would be able to dance with a girl from his school, but eventualy it will be Robbe and Sander going to the prom together and Robbe will show his footwork on the dance floor while spinning Sander around his finger

“How do I look?” Noor shakes her hair from underneath and everything sits perfectly right under her sharp jawline. Her haircut is so blunt and pitch black and Robbe can’t imagine anyone else rocking it as good as she does.

“So perfect.” He answers honestly and she looks at him through the mirror in front of her, blowing him a kiss and Robbe smiles at his older sister. She really is ridiculously beautiful, Robbe can’t even believe it.

Her makeup is very bright for tonight, almost neon-ish with the eyeshadows and the bright pink blush, so edgy like everything else Noor does. Robbe has a feeling that if it isn’t for her to be the brightest person in the room, Noor wouldn’t even want to go. She likes to dress up and be original and weird in a way, but again, she can rock it like very few others could.

“Not that it matters, really…” She complains, sitting closer to the mirror to put some red lipstick on. Britt and her are still in that weird grey area, Robbe guesses. They went out to talk yesterday but from Noor’s behavior and lack of interest in talking about it with him, he imagines not much changed.

“She’ll be there and you’re kinda hard to miss so I’m sure things will move tonight. Or you will. Finally make a move.”

Robbe tries to keep looking at the computer screen, editing the vlog Jens is waiting for him to send back later today - Jens can be extremely chill about everything but he’s weirdly professional about these videos - but it’s hard to ignore when Noor is staring at you, almost piercing through him so he looks up at her again.

“Look who’s talking. I invited Sander to go to prom with me just so you can stare at him up closer, hoping he’ll finally make a move, any move, a word would be a good start.”

“Shut up.” Robbe closes his laptop, feeling his cheeks get red instantly, his work here is done and Noor doesn’t need to see him blushing because of her close friend yet again. He just needed to keep her company, watch her put on her silky and bright purple dress and do her make up, make some small talk to keep her entertained for the long hours of preparation.

“You’ll talk to him today, I don’t care what it takes.”

Robbe leaves her bedroom door open behind him and rushes to his room, thinking that he should take a shower, be a little more presentable when Sander gets here to pick up his sister. He looks at himself in his bathroom mirror and he feels so stupid and small. He’s too skinny, too small, this long hair that Robbe has no idea what to do with it. It’s impossible to understand how he and Noor are related, made by the same two other beautiful and confident humans.

Before his shower, Robbe puts a bunch of clothes on display on his bed, trying to put together the perfect outfit.

Everything now seems too big, too old and worn out. He decides for the black sweater he stole from Noor that fits him perfectly - that’s why it’s basically brand new, because Robbe thinks it’s too fitted any other day - and his usual black jeans that don’t seem too old. He can’t risk a last minute homemade haircut so he decides to keep it long and natural, messy as usual.

There’s no way Noor will let him get away with hiding in his bedroom tonight so at least he has to try to look decent when the time comes.

Sander adjusts his button-up shirt and runs his hand through the front, trying to get rid of any wrinkles, looking up to not get caught overthinking when someone opens the door suddenly for him.

He was expecting someone else, so he’s left with an open mouth and no words coming out of it when he sees Robbe right there, leaning against the door, trying not to trip with how quickly he opened either.

“Hi…” Sander breathes out, knowing he’s making a fool of himself but unable to stop it.

“Hi...hm, come in.” Robbe opens the door wider and Sander walks in, standing next to the door to wait for Robbe to close it.

“Hi Sander!” He hears their mom screaming from probably the kitchen and he looks in that direction for just a second, not wanting to waste his time when Robbe is looking so beautiful right in front of him, with nobody else close enough to interrupt them.

“Hi!” His voice sounds even worse the second time so he presses his lips together, putting his hands inside his pockets, standing on his tiptoes and then on his heels.

“Noor should be coming down soon…” He nods his head and keeps looking at Robbe. He looks too good for someone that’s just staying inside for tonight.

“You’re going out too?”

“Me? No, no...I have to work on some things for Jens’ video so...yeah.”

Of course he’s busy doing something for Jens. Sander looks down and nods his head, happy he’ll be able to get shitfaced with Noor - and probably Britt - and not think about fucking Jens.

“You look handsome.” Robbe says in an almost whisper and Sander looks up over his lashes, closing his hands inside his pockets.

“Thank you. You look good too for someone that’s staying inside on a Friday night…”

Robbe smiles shyly and Sander imagines himself stepping closer, holding his face and finally just kissing him, for hours, hopefully.

They’re only two years different in age but Robbe looks so angelic, so not deserving of the mess Sander is. And of course he’s Noor’s baby brother, so no matter how small the age difference is, it still feels like Robbe is even younger because he’s Noor’s favorite person in the world and she’s not afraid to treat him like a baby.

The thing Sander would do with that boy…

Noor comes down the stairs almost like she’s reading his disrespectful thoughts about her little brother and Sander feels like he was caught so he looks at her, trying to apologize in his thoughts even though he didn’t do anything wrong yet.

He knows Noor would be happy if they just did it already, kissed and got together like they want to. At least Sander thinks they want to, and he’s been almost sure about it for a year now. Noor tells him that Robbe has the biggest crush on him over and over again and if it was only up for her approval or not, she would be so happy to finally see them together but it still feels like he shouldn’t.

It’s just not that easy to make it happen, it’s safer to keep it platonic. Sander wants Robbe to make a move if he wants to because Sander doesn’t want to pressure him to do anything, to make a choice if he feels like there’s nothing to choose, if they shouldn’t be together.

“You two are so weird.” Noor complains, rolling her eyes, standing next to Sander, calling for her mom to come say goodbye already. She holds his hand in a weird way, no fingers intertwined and the three of them know it means less than nothing but Sander still has to hold himself back from explaining, telling Robbe it means nothing.

“Are you going to take the pictures of us?” Sander asks quietly and Robbe looks at him and then at Noor, laughing sheepishly.

“I guess so.”

“Don’t worry, Robbie. I’ll take good care of him and bring him whole later.”

He laughs and Sander smiles, keeping his eyes on Robbe to watch his full reaction, hoping he won’t disagree. He only nods his head and that’s all Sander needed to make this the best night of his life already. Robbe didn’t correct Noor, didn’t say anything against it and that’s all Sander needed for now.

Sander doesn’t mind early mornings most of the time. His sleeping schedule is not the healthiest, he’s sure but he’s happy he’s getting his solid seven hours of sleep every night, it doesn’t matter if sometimes he goes to bed at 2 or if he wakes up past midday, as long as he slept seven hours, he feels good, safe. It’s been working for him, at least.

Robbe is still asleep and Sander smiles, carefully lying back down next to him, moving slowly on the bed to lie on his side, putting his hand under his cheek, watching Robbe sleep with his mouth slightly open, a hint of dry drool on the corner of his lips, his hair a lot shorter than two years ago, but getting longer, with the curls turning outwards around his face.

It’s finally the big day. The day Sander will go to Robbe’s prom as his date. It’s an inside joke that he’s both Noor’s and Robbe’s date and Sander adores Noor, really, but this is so much better.

He planned the perfect day for them, to celebrate Robbe finally being done with school, but they have the morning free so he’s in no rush to wake up his boyfriend.

While waiting he can hear the rest of the house slowly waking up, the muffled footsteps of their fluffy socks to go downstairs, the wood creaking in every step and Sander is happy they are at the very last floor of the house, away from all the chaos.

Noor is probably the last one to wake up and even though she’s on the second floor beneath them, Sander can still hear her electric toothbrush as she hums a happy song and he hears the stupid laughters of her and Britt trying to be quiet while probably making out in the bathroom with the door open.

Sander sighs, snuggling closer to his boyfriend and Robbe finally gives a small sign that he might be half awake. The thin lines on his cheek appear and he also pushes his hips and the rest of his body follows, resting right in between Sander’s arms, his warm breath hitting Sander’s bare chest directly.

“So you’re awake…”

It takes a long but not heavy second for Robbe to answer with his eyes still very much closed, “For a minute.”

He wraps his arms around Sander’s waist, low whines slipping out of his mouth as a silent complaint of how little Sander is helping him move his body closer.

“It’s still kinda early, you can sleep a little more.” He finally gives in, wrapping them both in a mess of heavy and comfortable limbs tangled together, making sure they’re both still covered by Robbe’s weighted comforter.

“I was dreaming about you.” Robbe leaves a trail of soft kisses from the angle between his collarbone and neck all the way behind his ear.

“Yeah? What was I doing? If you’re allowed to tell me that…”

Robbe smiles against his neck, putting his head back on his pillow, finally opening his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight clearly ignoring his closed yellow curtains completely.

“You were extremely impressed by my dance moves.”

Sander snorts and that makes Robbe’s head instantly move to look up at him.

“What?” Robbe tries not to smile too.

“Your dance moves?” Sander lifts his eyebrows, playing with the curls cupping Robbe’s ear. They’ve only been together for a few months, but Sander is sure Robbe has absolutely no dance moves.

“I’m a good dancer, Sander!”

“Cutie, I love you so much, but there’s no way you can dance. I can’t dance either so it’s fine! Were we dancing well?”

Robbe doesn’t answer, but he’s still looking at Sander, his eyes moving to see every inch of his face.

“What?”

“You said you love me. Very much.”

Sander opens and closes his mouth. He said these words so many times in his head he completely forgot they never said it out loud.

Everytime Robbe laughs wholeheartedly, or when he snuggles closer to Sander when they’re ready to go to sleep, when he’s actually hearing Sander go on and on about Bowie or art in general, when Robbe is brushing his teeth still half asleep every morning, when he opens his arms wide, sitting in front of Sander on his bike, when he’s a very talkative drunk.

Everytime Sander stares and thinks about how much he loves Robbe. He thought he had said it out loud before.

“It’s not a lie…” He tries to go the easier route first to test the waters, now too aware that he said that he loved Robbe and he didn’t hear anything back yet, still playing with that one curl and Robbe holds his face carefully with one hand, making Sander look in his eyes, “I love you, Robbe. I’m not afraid to use these words lightly with you.”

He doesn’t doubt that Robbe loves him back, it would be impossible to think that when Robbe looks at him like he’s doing right now.

With his soft eyes going even softer, brighter, pressing his thin lips together, smiling so wide that every line to his dimples appear, a bright pink starting to pool on his cheekbones. And Robbe has this thing he does unconsciously that’s between a purr and a pleased whine that he does often when he’s this close to Sander. He gently touches Robbe’s dimple with his fingertips, drawing a line to his ear like he’s trying to make Robbe open his smile wider.

“I love you too, Sander.”

He looks at Robbe and just takes the moment in, hearing him say it back, it feels amazing, but also so very normal. He knew Robbe felt it anyway. It feels like sunbeams during a blue-sky-winter-morning.

The morning breaths don’t bother him when he kisses Robbe, turning his body a little to rest over Robbe’s naked chest, slipping his arm down, trying to lift the heavy comforter so he can fully go under it when the door is wide open out of nowhere.

“My baby is graduating!” Sander looks over his shoulder while quickly taking his hand from under the comforter to find Noor at the door holding a trait with their breakfast, Britt right behind her, smiling shyly, both of them wearing very similar and small pajamas, the same haircut, and Britt follows Noor inside, both of the girls sitting on Robbe’s bed, almost pushing him to sit up right away, ruining every plan Sander had of giving Robbe an early and very nice graduation gift.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe #noor bauwens #britt ingelbrecht

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years

Text

let’s save the world

season one, episode five

five hargreeves x reader

summary: finally explaining what was going to happen to luther, as well as making a deal with the handler

trigger warnings: cursing,

word count: 6k

flashbacks are in italics

a/n: i’m sorry that this one took a bit longer than all the other chapters, i’ve just been busy with a bit more schoolwork lately lol. but i hope you enjoy it! i had fun writing it *3* plus it’s the longest thus far, so maybe that makes up for the time gap lmao

you couldn’t remember how long it’d been since you got stuck here. years. lots of them. years since you had last seen five- seen anyone at all. the seasons changed and all you were doing was surviving. it wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, but you were too afraid to just give up and die. so you kept going, hoping that one day you would escape this nightmare or just fall to the ground, the life finally drained from your body.

most of the days were spent alone. you remember the day you first saw another living being. a dog. a beautiful german shepard. you weren’t sure how she had survived the apocalypse, but you didn’t care. she was like a ray of light beaming down on you after you had been left alone in the dark for too long, the pitch black being all you remembered, until you saw her.

she was named miracle, for obvious reasons. she stayed with you throughout many years, as she had been just a few months, at most a year old. in the hot summer, where ashes blew through the air in the wind, you found her some of those doggy goggles, to protect her eyes from the smoke and ash. in the winter, when it was freezing cold and snowing almost every day, sometimes to the point of not being able to travel at all, you would wrap her in as many blankets or put as many clothes made for dogs that you could find just to keep her warm. sometimes, you even carried her for hours, sometimes even a whole day. you swore she was the reason you kept your strength- both physical and mental.

she had been your delores. but you didn’t fall in love with her, of course- and she was actually a real, living thing. you were extremely lucky to have found her.

when she inevitably died and you were left alone again, you were beginning to think it was the end of your days. your hair had grayed, and you felt tired. tired of searching for your next meal, for a place to take shelter in a storm or a blizzard that was impossible to navigate.

you were ready to give up at that point. your fear of death was dwindling. you had given up hope of finding five again. who knew where he was? if he was dead? if he had went back to your time and totally forgot you? every once in a while, he would pop up in your mind, and you would think about him for hours, just wondering. but never hoping.

you remember the day you got everything back. it had started with fear, but ended with you getting a nice haircut, a shower, and some new clothes. the world was even kind enough to give five back. you thought it was all a dream and you had finally died, but you hadn’t.

it was when you were walking, yet again. your hiking pack that you were lucky to have found slowed you from all of the weight it held, but every last bit of that burden was important.

you thought you were seeing things at first, when you noticed the figure of a woman in the distance. you had pulled your pistol out of the holster resting against your thigh, prepared to shoot if it happened to be real. you didn’t know what it would be. a monster, some other survivor who may try to steal your supplies- you didn’t know, but you also didn’t care. if it was living, it was a threat.

as you got closer, the hand gun clutched tightly in your hand, you saw that it was a woman. certainly, she hadn’t been surviving in this apocalypse like you had. she was well groomed, hair in perfect curls with makeup done to perfection and a nice dress adorning her body. no, this was your eyes playing tricks on you. it was impossible for her to exist.

you had finally gone truly insane, after all these years.

you had awoken to a pounding headache and a terrible pain in your thigh, groaning as you buried your face into the pillow beneath your head. there was a conversation happening around you, but you tuned it out, trying to focus on the pain slowly dulling and everything you felt around you.

you were laying on a bed, that much was obvious. another obvious thing you noticed was the fact that your arm was wrapped around something- or, someone.

finally lifting your head, you squinted as you saw five’s back to you. your arm had been wrapped around his waist. sitting up, you quickly remove it, feeling a bit of heat on your face which you ignored.

“finally, you’re awake.” five interrupted the exchange between him and luther, turning to look at you as you scooted to sit by his side, running your fingers through your messy hair to fix it up.

after yawning softly, you nod, “i sure am.” you mumble, thankful that the pounding in your head had dimmed to a slight ache that you could easily ignore. your leg still felt like it was on fire, but you felt that you could suck it up and deal with it for now. “what’re you guys talking about?”

luther seemed serious, and you had a feeling you already knew, you just needed some confirmation. “the end of the world.” he states simply, and you nod, your suspicions correct. “so the eye’s a dead end?” he questions, handing the glass back to the boy, who nods.

before you can even get a word in, the door slams open, causing you to practically jump out of your skin, standing from the bed as diego storms in. “you have any idea what you two did?” he questions loudly, and just before he can do anything to either of you, luther grabs him, his feet dangling over the floor. he yells at him to put him down, but he doesn’t back down, waiting until he calmed down.

“wanna tell us what the hell you’re on about?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed as you take your seat once again, fully awake now from the scare.

diego looked at the two of you, the anger he held clear. you would be scared if you didn’t have the ability to burn him to a crisp, but, you did. “these two have been pretty busy since they got back.” he points a finger at you guys accusingly, and you roll your eyes, “they were in the middle of the shootout at griddy’s, and then at gimble brothers, and when those guys attacked the academy, they were looking for them.”

“actually, i wasn’t a part of the gimble brothers one. that was all him.” you wave a hand in five’s direction, but it doesn’t change the fact that diego is pissed. “and either way, it isn’t of your concern what we’ve been doing.”

“it is now.” diego breathes heavily, shaking his head, “they killed my friend.”

now that, you weren’t totally expecting. sure, the commission was ruthless and did whatever it took to carry out a mission, but how did his friend get into the middle of all of this? luther turned back to look at the two of you, urging you to explain.

sighing softly as he looked to the floor for a moment, five gave them what they wanted. “they work for our former employer.” he begins, lacing his fingers together in front of him, “a woman called the handler. she sent them to stop us.”

nodding slowly, you lean back on your hands, “soon as your friend got in the way, they were fair game.” you shrug.

“well, now they’re my fair game.” diego speaks lowly, “and they’re gonna pay.” he turns to leave, already making his way to the still open door.

five tries to stop him, explaining that it would be a mistake, which you fully agreed with due to the extensive training all the assassins went through at the commission. he didn’t listen, simply closing the door behind him.

it was silent for a moment, before luther spoke again. “former employer?” he questions, an eyebrow raising, “what's this really about? and don’t give me the ‘it’s none of your business’ crap, okay?”

“it’s a long story.”

the woman waved. you still couldn’t believe this. it took you all these years, and you thought you would be able to keep your sanity, yet here you were.

“who the hell are you?” you yell out, slowly walking towards her, the pistol still ready to fire if she tried something. if she was even real. which wasn’t possible. “tell me why i shouldn’t shoot!”

“i’m here to help.” she tells you simply, also walking forward with the both of you stopping a few feet away from each other. you wanted to keep enough distance in case she had some sort of melee weapon, or if she made a move, you could shoot and run. “if you shoot me, you wouldn’t hear the offer i’m about to make.”

your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you gesture for her to continue, which she does. “i work for an organization. the commission.” she begins, taking off the shaded glasses that she wore and sticking them in the pocket of her dress. “we are tasked with the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals.”

lowering the gun a bit, you purse your lips. “what the hell do you mean?”

“sometimes people make choices that alter time.” she explains in more simple terms, crossing her arms, “when that happens, we dispatch one of our agents to... eliminate the threat.”

hearing that, you’re immediately on guard again, raising the pistol in a heartbeat. she waves a hand, chuckling as she dismisses what you had thought. “no, no, you misunderstood. you’re not a target, y/n.” you don’t remember giving her your name, which worries you, but you ignore it for now. “i would like to recruit you. i’m offering you a job.”

lowering the gun, you drop it to your side, not knowing what to say for a moment. that doesn’t matter, because she does.

“we’ve had our eye on you for a while, and you have potential. survival skills, fire manipulation... we’ve even found another like you, who’s been here for just as long.”

your eyes widen at the mention of another who’s been here, and your heart leaps. “five?” if he was actually alive after all your hope was gone... you didn’t know what you would do.

“well, what a surprise, you know him.” she smiles, “it will be a happy reunion, then. but, you will have to give five years of service, after that your contract will end. you’ll be able to retire to the time and place of your choice.”

you had many questions. you could feel your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of being able to get out of this nightmare, to see five again. looking at her, you don’t even think. “i’m in.” you tell her breathlessly, and she grins at your agreement.

that was how you became one of the best assassins at the commission. a decision you weren’t sure you regretted or not.

“we were partners.” five tells him after explaining everything about the commission, even how the handler had found him. you didn’t bother with your story. it was practically the same. “the whole time i was trying to find out the right equation to get back. to stop the apocalypse. save everyone.”

looking up from the floor, where you had been lost in thought being brought back to those times, you clear your throat. “when he figured it out, we broke our contracts. but of course he got the equation wrong.”

rolling his eyes, five hits your arm. “so you two were hit men?” luther questions, earning a shared nod of confirmation. “well... you didn’t just kill anyone, right? you had some code?”

“no code.” five tells him, “we took out anyone who messed with the timeline.”

“what about the innocent people?”

“that was the only way we could get back here.” you mutter, your gaze fixed on the floor as you played with your fingers.

luther seemed surprised. “but that’s murder!” he contests.

“jesus, luther, grow up.” five responds, and you could tell he was starting to lose his patience with him. “we’re not kids anymore. there are no good guys and bad guys. there’s just people, living their lives.”

you purse your lips, “when the world ends, those people die.” you add on, your tone softer, “including your family.” luther looks at you, quiet and still taking in everything. you sigh softly, “time changes everything.”

the tapping of chalk against the walls was something you had quickly learned to tune out over the past few hours. at first, you wanted to rip your head off because of the constant sound, but staring out the window at everything outside helped take your focus off of it.

when the scribbling stopped, it was easy to notice, even if you weren’t listening in the first place. it’s a hard thing to explain. the difference between the sound of something and choosing not to hear it and the absence of that sound was just... different.

“i think i found something, delores.” five mutters to the mannequin, and you roll your eyes as you stand and move to look up at all the equations that now covered the wall.

crossing your arms over your chest, you try to make sense of everything, but it’s way too complicated for you to understand- plus it was scribbled everywhere over the wall and you weren’t sure what gave him what he needed. “sure, tell her but not me.” you grin as he turns to look at you.

“it’s a habit.” he says simply, shrugging and looking back to the blackboard the equations littered.

footsteps out in the hall catch your attention, and you turn to see luther standing in the doorway, just as confused as you by everything on the walls. “what is all this?”

you move to sit on the bed next to where five stood, sighing softly. “a probability map.” he still looks just as confused as before, and you nod, “i understand just as much as you do, buddy.”

“a probability map of what?” he questions, looking to five for the answer now. that much you hadn’t cared to ask. you figured he would explain it when he figured it out, as that was just how he was.

he continues to mark different things on the map, only taking a glance towards the large man. “of whose death could save the world. i’ve narrowed it down to four people.”

of course he had found some way to get a clue on what might stop the apocalypse. he was just that smart. “so, you’re saying one of them ends the world?” he asks, and you and five both sigh in exasperation.

“no, luther.” you lay back, looking at one of the equations by your head and trying to understand at least a little bit of it. “he’s saying their death could save the world. they probably don’t have anything to do with the actual event.”

the man breathes out an “oh.” watching for a moment, before leaning in slightly. “i’m not following.” he mumbles, and you roll your eyes.

“the slightest change in what happens can alter the outcomes in the time continuum.” you explain, glad that you understand one thing as you sit back up to look at him. “the butterfly effect, basically.”

five nods, motioning in your direction. “exactly. all i need to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and, well-” he finally turns to look at him. “kill them.”

apparently finally finished with the complicated map, he gets off of the bed and places the chalk on the small table beside it, grabbing vanya’s book he had been using for notes and presumably writing the names down.

luther moves to look at the four circled, eyes squinting a bit. “milton green.” he reads off, looking to the younger- well, younger looking, “is he a terrorist or something?”

“i believe he’s a gardener.” five corrects, setting the book down once he was finished and reaching under the bed, pulling out a gun and pulling the zipper to open it up.

“wha- this is madness.” luther says, turning to look back to him, his eyes widening when he saw the gun, “where did you get that?”

he glances up at him, “dad’s room.” he picks the gun up, examining it. “similar to what i used at work. nice shoulder fit, reliable.”

“you can’t-” luther stumbles for words, surprised by what five was planning to do, “this guy, milton, he’s an innocent man!”

you groan softly as you stand up, looking up at the significantly taller man. “it’s basic math- to five, at least,” you shrug your shoulders, “his death could potentially save the lives of billions of people. he’d be dead in four days anyway. the apocalypse won’t save anyone.”

“we don’t do this kind of thing.”

“we are not doing anything, luther.” five argues, glaring at him, “i am. with y/n’s help, of course.” you smile slightly.

luther was clearly not going to back down, and you were beginning to get annoyed. he was wasting precious time. “i can’t let you kill innocent people, no matter how many people it saves.”

five shrugs, “good luck stopping me.” he turns to leave and you do the same, but luther is quick to try and do exactly that, grabbing delores and holding her out the window.

when you turn to see what he’s doing, you cringe, “not a good idea.” the gun is already pointed at him. sure, it was a bit overkill, but when it came to delores, five was ready to do anything. you still weren’t sure why, especially when you were back here and he had actual people around him. years of sanity were lost, though, so you assumed that was why he hasn’t gotten it back.

“i suggest you put her down.” you lace your fingers together, rocking on your heels slightly. you definitely didn’t want to see five blow his brother’s brains out over a mannequin.

luther doesn’t seem phased by the threat. “put the gun down.” he counters, nodding towards him, “you’re not killing anyone. don’t make me do this. it’s her or the gun.”

ultimatums. you’ve always hated them. what good was making someone choose between two things?

when five didn’t choose, luther didn’t hesitate in moving to throw the fake women, and the gun clatters to the ground as five jumped to save her. luther had moved towards the gun, quicker than you thought he could move. when he picks it up, you sigh softly. this time, five working on that map, luther stopping you two. you couldn’t get that time back.

“i can do this all day.” luther states, and you roll your eyes as you snatch the gun from his side.

he moves to grab it back from you and you glare at him, “don’t even try it. unlike your brother, i won’t hesitate to shoot you.” you take a few steps towards the bed, putting the gun back in it’s case after unloading it.

five was having a weird, tender moment with delores. honestly, you felt like you shouldn’t have been in the room to see it. “i know you’re still a good person, five.” luther tells him, while you zip the case back up. “you wouldn’t have come back here to save us all if you weren’t.”

you hated him, but the monkey man had a point. of course five didn’t care about the whole world. he just cared about his family. who wouldn’t want to save the people they grew up with?

“you’re not alone. we can help you.” well, that kind of hurt your feelings. it was as if you didn’t exist to him.

five sighs, looking back towards him. “there is one way.” you whipped your head towards him, slightly surprised. what was he thinking? “it’s close to impossible, though.”

“more impossible than what brought you two back here?” he raised an eyebrow, and you looked down at the plain covers on the bed, tapping your fingers against the fabric for a moment as you thought.

maybe it would work.

the car rolled to a stop on the old, empty road. you sat in the back, in the middle of the seat, leaning forward with your elbows resting on your knees. your foot tapped against the floor, almost without you realizing it. you were paranoid. this could get the both of you killed, if it all went south. you just had to hope that it didn’t

“i never enjoyed it.” five states, causing both you and luther to look at him in confusion. the whole ride had been silent, which you found incredibly uncomfortable, but maybe it was just the anxiety. “the killing,” he explains at your confusion, “i was good at my job, took pride in it. but it never gave me pleasure.”

pursing your lips, you look to your foot, which continued it’s tapping. “it would take a freak to enjoy that job.” you mutter, shaking your head and sighing softly, “i’m sure some of them did, though.”

five nods slightly, glancing back at you for a moment, “i think it was all those years alone.” he theorizes, “solitude can do weird things to the mind.”

tell that to delores.

luther hums slightly, “yeah, well you were gone for a long time. i was only on the moon for four years, but that was more than enough.” you never would have thought you would actually have something in common with the monkey man. sure, your experience was much worse, but he knew what you felt all those years ago. “it’s the being alone that gets you.”

there’s a moment of silence, before luther speaks again. “well, do you think they’ll buy it?” soft moment over, apparently, as he pats the case that sat between them. it was close enough in resemblance to the commission cases, so you assumed from far away, it would be believable.

“well, they’re desperate.” five tells him, and you nod, though they don’t see it since neither of them were looking towards you.

“losing that case is like a cop losing his gun.” you tell him, sitting up slightly, “the commission finds out, they’re in deep shit. plus they’ll be stuck here without it.” you shrug.

luther pulls the case to his side, “i should hold it. in case they try to make a move on you.”

five hesitantly nods, “okay, but be careful.” he tells him, “i’ve lived a long life. you’re still a young man, you have your whole life ahead of you. don’t waste it.”

you can’t help the short laugh from what he said. seeing who looked to be a thirteen year old boy tell a man in his late twenties, maybe, you weren’t totally sure, to not waste his life. it was hilarious.

his eyebrows furrowed together, five looks back at you. “what are you laughing at?”

a grin on your face, you shake your head, still giggling a bit. “nothing. just so wise beyond your years, five.” you laugh even more as he rolls his eyes, leaning back into the seat as you calm yourself.

once you had gathered yourself, you noticed the car that was coming towards where you guys had parked along the side of the road, and you sighed softly. fun time is over, now to get back to business.

you all got out of the car as they drove past and parked a little ways away. the wind blew your hair into your face and you quickly pushed it away, scrunching your nose up as you watched them get out of the car, their masks on.

“if this all goes sideways,” five turns to tell luther, also catching your attention, “tell delores i’m sorry.”

rolling your eyes, you slap his arm, “c’mon, mannequin lover. nothing will happen. hopefully.” you shrug, sticking your hands in your pockets and quickly moving to meet the other two half way, him quickly following behind you.

as you got closer, five motioned to the masks covering their faces. “are those really necessary?” he asks, and without saying a word, they both take them off, throwing them to the side. if you didn’t have to make a deal with them, you would shove a piece of glass in their leg, show them how it feels. but no, right now you have to play nice.

“where’s the case?” cha cha asks, getting straight to the business.

sighing, you shake your head. “that’s how you’re gonna start?” you raise an eyebrow, glancing back to where luther stood, “you know, we can leave, get back in the car and drive off.”

the woman is quick to pull out a gun, and you roll your eyes. these recruits, always so quick to resort to violence. “you won’t even get halfway.” she threatens, and you simply roll your eyes.

“maybe. but as i’m sure you already found out,” five speaks, his eyebrows raising slightly, “my brother is not your average giant.”

hazel leans to the side slightly towards her, “he’s right. dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up.” your lips press together at the mention. you definitely did not get right back up. well- you did, but you were actually injured, unlike the larger man.

“he’ll smash your precious briefcase before you can even take him out.” you imitate an explosion with your hands, quietly making the sound that would accompany it. they didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“probably us too, right?” hazel speaks again, motioning with the gun he held, “so how do we help each other out here?”

of course, five was ready to tell them what you two needed. “get in contact with your superior. we need to have a chat, face to face.”

cha cha looks slightly confused by the demand, tilting her head to the side for a moment, “about what?”

“what does it matter to you?” you raise an eyebrow, “you need the briefcase, so just do it.”

she purses her lips but sighs, shaking her head. “just don’t tell her about it.”

five shrugs, “fair enough.”

finally putting the gun she had pointed at the two of you down, the woman turned around, walking over to an old pay phone along the side of the road near where they parked. hazel followed, but didn’t turn his back on the two of you, and you did the same as you followed five’s footsteps.

when you got back to the car, you stood next to five, who leaned against the hood of the car. luther moved to stand next to the two of you. “what happens now?” he questions, all of your gazes trained on the commission workers who stood by their own car after getting in contact with the boss.

“now, we wait.” five tells him, one of his hands stuck in his pocket.

it felt like hours that you stood there, just having a staring contest with the two contracted to presumably kill you both. it was really only a few minutes, and the silence that hung in the air was broken by the sound of a light melody playing in the distant, and all of you finally looked away from each other to look for the source.

having to squint slightly, you saw an ice cream truck in the distance, slowly making it’s way towards you. why the hell would an ice cream truck be in the middle of nowhere? you knew it wasn’t the handler, so you didn’t know what or who it could be.

when it got closer, you saw klaus at the wheel, a grin on his face as he waved at all of you. you managed to catch a glimpse of diego in the seat next to him, and your confusion only grew.

“what the fuck? why are they here?” you ask, watching as the truck sped up a bit, “how did they even find out where we are?”

before you can get an answer, the two assassins had already lifted their guns and started shooting. eyes widening, you swung the car door open, as it was the closest and first thing you thought of, jumping behind it to avoid the bullets. a sharp pain shot up your leg and you hissed slightly, but ignored it.

after only a second of the shots ringing out, everything went silent. you had your knees to your chest, head tucked between them and your arms, and you were totally confused from the sudden pause.

“shit.” you muttered to yourself, not wanting to lift your head and see what had happened, “did i die? am i fucking dead right now?” you weren’t ready for death yet. you thought you were, but you are certainly not.

your cycle of thoughts was interrupted when you felt someone yank at your arm, and you jumped slightly, finally lifting your head from it’s place. you sigh in relief when it’s five, “you’re not dead.” he deadpans, and you roll your eyes as you grab his hand to pull yourself up, wincing at the burning of your thigh.

once you were up, you turned to face the music and see what the hell had happened. your eyebrows furrowed when you saw that everything was... frozen.

slowly walking by five’s side towards the two adults stuck in the air, you glance at him for a moment. “are you sure?” you mumble, before another voice cuts in.

“neat trick, right?” you both turn and your shoulders slump as you see the same woman from all those years ago, when she felt like a savior, taking you out of the apocalypse. as the two of you take a few steps towards her, she takes the glasses she wore off, holding them in her hand and having that same, awful smile on her face.

“hello, five. y/n.” she motions to your thirteen year old selves, “you two look good. all things considered.”

sighing silently to yourself, you decide you’ll let five do the talking for a bit. “it’s good to see you again.” he speaks, and you look to the road as you scrunch your nose up. it definitely is not.

“feels like just yesterday i met the two of you.” she hums, and you roll your eyes to yourself, “of course, you guys were a bit older then. congratulations, by the way,” she points to you guys, circling her finger a bit, “on the age regression. clever of you. threw us off.”

you snort, “if only he had done that on purpose.” you grin, sticking your hands in your pockets as you glance to the boy, who was clearly annoyed with you. “he got the equations wrong, if you can even believe that.”

“i just miscalculated the time dilation projections.” he shakes his head, “not like you could have done any better.” you shrug your shoulders, not having an argument for that. he was absolutely right on that front, because you sure as hell didn’t understand a single thing he ever did with all the crazy equations and probability maps and everything like that.

the handler waves her hands to the side, “you realize your efforts are futile.” she states, putting her hands behind her back, “so why don’t you tell me what you really want.”

“put a stop to it.” you say almost immediately, lacing your fingers together, “the apocalypse.”

she shakes her head slightly, “you realize what you’re asking is next to impossible, even for me.” her eyebrows raise as she speaks, “what’s meant to be, is meant to be. that’s our raison d'être.”

five lifts the hand gun he had been keeping close, his expression showing no emotion whatsoever. “how about survival as a raison?” he raises his eyebrows in a mocking way, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips.

she isn’t threatened by it, dismissing it. “i’ll just be replaced. i’m but a small cog in a machine.” she twirls her finger, “this fantasy about summoning your family, five, to stop the apocalypse,” she starts to step closer, and you stiffen slightly, “it’s just that. a fantasy.”

the handler manages to make you so angry without even genuinely insulting or seeming rude in any way. she says everything in such a light voice that you would expect to be saying anything that’s only kind, but she said the opposite. small jabs at you two without outright calling you out.

“i must say, though,” she continues after a moment, continuing her slow steps, “we’re all quite impressed. your initiative, stick-to-itiveness... really something.” she smiles slightly, “which is why we want to offer the both of you new positions back at the commission. management positions.”

five is just as muddled as you are by the offer. there must be some ulterior motive to this. “sorry, what was that?” he raises an eyebrow, letting out a small, breathy laugh.

she straightens slightly, “come back to work for us. it’s where you belong, we both know it.”

“didn’t work out too well last time.” you assert, tilting your head as you raise your eyebrows. you weren’t about to agree to something like that. unless five seemed to have some idea about it being a good idea, you wouldn’t do it. not in a million years.

the woman seems set on getting you back, though. “but you wouldn’t be in the corrections department anymore.” she explains, expressing with her hand, “i’m talking, the home office. best health and pension, and an end to all this travel. you two are distinguished professionals in,” she looks the both of you up and down, “school uniforms.” she chuckles.

finally being only a few feet away, she pushes the gun five held down. “we have the technology to reverse this process.” she tries to convince, “you can’t be happy like that.”

five’s jaw is slightly clenched as he stares right into her eyes. “we’re not looking for happy.”

her smile is soft, but you feel like she’s trying to deceive you- she always gave off that vibe, though. “we’re all looking for happy.” she looks between you two, “we can make that happen. you guys can be yourselves again.”

five lets out a short breath, finally fully putting the gun down, “and what about my family?” he questions, gesturing around to his siblings who were still frozen in their place.

“what about them?”

you can’t help but glare at her, “you know what. he wants them to survive.”

she takes a deep breath in, looking over to luther, his arms raised in the air with the fake briefcase in hand, before to the ice cream truck, where klaus sat in front of the wheel, his eyes wide, and diego looked to be in pain or as if he was cursing for some reason. she finally looks back to five. “all of them?” she questions, and you hold back another eye roll.

“yes, all of them.” five tells her, stating the obvious.

she nods, starting to put the sunglasses back on, “well, i’ll see what i can do.” she then holds her hand out, an eyebrow raising from behind the shaded lenses, “do we have a deal?”

the boy grabs your hand, ready to accept, but before he can, you glance to the side. “wait.” you hold a finger up, pulling away and walking towards the two corrections recruits. they both watch as you grab the gun that hazel had dropped when the truck had hit them, pulling the magazine out of it and throwing it as hard as you can to the side, before doing the same with the now unloaded pistol to the opposite side.

as you start to head back, five notices the bullet that had been frozen as well, heading in luther’s direction. silently, he walks towards it and moves it so it wouldn’t actually hit him.

you two meet back in front of the handler, hands already reaching for each other as you take a deep breath to prepare yourself for what would happen.

the next moment, you’re all gone, time continuing on it’s own.

taglists

main: @horrorklaus

tua: @rasberrymay

five: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo

let's save the world @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @academy-umbrella @xplrreylo @ohmyitsfaith @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @fandomfreakff

if you’d like to be added to any taglists, just ask!

#tua x reader #tua #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #series #reader insert #lstw #let's save the world

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malfoysstilinski · 4 years

Text

hair cuts | JJ MAYBANK

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

SUMMARY: y/n is in desperate need for a haircut before her job interview and jj might be the only person who can help her.

WARNINGS: curse words

A/N: i’m sorry if you have braids or afro-textured hair or anything like that, normally i would try and make my imagines exclusive for everybody, but this idea sprung on me and i had to write it :)

You’d been rushing around all morning despite the fact that your job interview wasn’t until 1pm. You’d done your best to straighten your hair and wear some natural makeup, picking out your nicest clothes and shoes and spraying the perfume Kiara bought you for your birthday last year.

Everything was going perfectly, you just needed to get to the Chateau so that one of your best friends could drive you up to Figure 8. Money was tight so you needed this job at one of the cafes-- that way you could afford driving lessons and other things like an updated wardrobe or the backpack you’d been eyeing up in one of the store windows for a while now.

JJ had offered to steal it for you, but you’d warned him you would kill him if he ever turned up on your doorstep with it. To be fair to JJ, he’d never been caught stealing anything, but the last thing any of you needed was him running in with the police again.

“Hi, guys!” You squeak as you step through the open door of John B’s home.

Your voice came out high-pitched due to nerves, earning a sympathetic look from Pope who was making food in the kitchen. John B was stumbling out of his bedroom still half asleep and JJ and Kiara sat on the couch, a box of leftover pizza on the blond’s lap.

“Hey,” JJ greeted, his voice muffled from the pizza in his mouth as he jerked the box towards you, but you shook your head. “You look nice.”

You smiled wearily and released a sigh of relief, smoothing down the black dress you were wearing.

“You’re gonna kill it, Y/N,” John B yawned as he shoved his face in the fridge, producing a carton of orange juice. “They’ll love you.”

“You think?” You asked worriedly.

“Of course!” Kiara stood from her spot, running her hands across your shoulders. She reached out and grabbed your hair. “But Y/N, I don’t mean to panic you, but when was the last time you cut your hair?”

Your face contorted into an expression of panic. “I don’t know!” You grabbed your hair back. “Last year? Why?”

“Your split ends are getting bad, babe,” Kiara frowned. “If you want I can trim them quickly for you--”

“Kie, your shift starts in five minutes,” Pope interjected, causing the girl’s eyes to widen.

“Shit!” Kiara rushed to grab her bag off of the couch and fling it over her shoulder. Before she left she grabbed your arm and squeezed it. “Ignore what I said. Your hair looks lovely, and I’m sure they won’t even notice a few split ends. I gotta go. Good luck!”

You watched with a frown as Kiara dashed off, playing with the ends of your hair absentmindedly. Pope pulled your hand away.

“I don’t even notice, Y/N,” Pope shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah,” JJ shook his head. “I’m pretty sure that shit’s only stuff Kie would pick up on. Your hair looks fine.”

“No,” you stress. “Kie’s right. I knew I had split ends, but I didn’t think they were that noticeable! If Kie noticed then so will my interviewer, most likely! God, I should have got a haircut--”

“Hey, hey,” John B placed a hand down on your shoulder. “Calm down, Y/N/N. Why don’t you quickly trim it now?”

You scoffed, looking at him incredulously. You seriously wondered about the three boys sometimes. They could be so clueless.

“As if I could cut my own hair!” Your voice began to raise with your panic. “They’re going to think I’m lazy and poor and that I don’t look after myself--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” JJ cooed, standing up from his spot and grabbing you by your arms, forcing you to stare into his eyes. “Don’t panic. If you’re really that worried about your hair then I can cut the ends off for you.”

JJ’s suggestion nearly made you laugh out loud. You weren’t entirely sure if you trusted JJ with scissors, let alone JJ with scissors by your neck and in your hair only an hour before a job interview!

You contemplated your options, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

“If it makes you feel any better, JJ cuts my hair sometimes,” John B grinned. “And he’s only messed up, like, twice.”

“Dude!” JJ whined.

“Oh God,” you breathe, eyes wide.

Somehow, in the next five minutes, you find yourself outside on John B’s porch, your interview clothes hanging over the wooden banister to keep clean. One of JJ’s large band shirts is hanging off of your frame as you sit on one of the deck chairs, growing increasingly nervous as you heard JJ rush around in the kitchen, looking for the pair of scissors he supposedly cuts John B’s hair with sometimes.

Pope had cleared off to go help his father with some work and told you let him know how the interview went. You had your hands clasped in your lap, nerves eating you up as JJ finally made an exclamatory sound from the kitchen, emerging with scissors and a grin on his face.

“Voila!” He pointed them at you before he went around behind you. He pulled all of your hair out from where it had been tucked between your back and the chair. “Welcome to Maybank’s Hairdressers,” JJ mimicked a poor French accent. “You will be happy to know you are Maybank’s second ever customer.”

“Happy?” You grimaced.

JJ made a noise. “Yes, happy!” He started to brush through your hair and you had to admit that it felt good. “Even happier when you find out your are the first female customer!”

You swallowed thickly. “JJ...”

“Okay, okay,” he put his normal voice back on. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ll take good care of you.”

The way he said it sent shivers down your spine. You squirmed slightly in the chair before JJ’s large hand landed on your shoulder, warning you to keep still. It took him a minute longer to brush through your hair before he grabbed the scissors again and started to silently work everything out. You could tell he was concentrating as hard as he could.

When you felt and heard the first snip you gasped out loud. JJ chuckled from behind you, his voice deep right next to your ear.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you. “I have the perfect hands for cutting hair. Never shake, nothing. ‘Suppose it comes from shooting.”

You would have nodded but you didn’t want to cause JJ’s scissors to slip. You sat tensely as you felt him snip snip snip more hair away, taking his time. You could imagine he probably had his tongue poking out in concentration, taking a step back every now and then to make sure it was straight.

“Beautiful,” he kept muttering under his breath every now and then.

His hand came up to the hair around your face and he brushed it back behind your ear with his slender fingers. You felt his breath against your neck, making you shiver. It wasn’t a secret that you liked JJ, and it wasn’t a secret that he liked you back-- the two of you just didn’t know about the other’s feelings yet.

You closed your eyes as he brushed the hair back, your neck exposed. You nearly jumped in your seat when you felt a pair of lips press themselves gently just beneath your ear. His hands gently squeezed down on your shoulders and he leaned back.

“Done,” he whispered.

You felt like your legs could of gave in as you stood up. You sent him a nervous smile and JJ scans you over. Your hair looks like it did before, just about an inch shorter and a whole lot neater. You pull it forward so it sits in front of you.

“It looks good,” JJ says as if he hadn’t just kissed your neck less than a minute ago. “You look good. Especially in my shirt.”

“JJ...”

The blond boy took a few steps forward and cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to face him. His blue eyes stared into yours to ask for permission and you nodded. That was all it took for JJ to lean down and crash his lips against yours, his hand moving to tangle into your hair. You pulled away breathlessly a minute later.

“Good luck with your interview,” JJ whispered, pecking your lips one last time.

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outerbanks imagine #obx kiara #obx jj #obx pope #obx john b #obx #obx imagine #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine

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killingkueen · 4 years

Text

There’s Snow Place Like Home*

*the back of the pawnshop

Merry Happy, @silwenworld. How nice to reveal myself; and with a present, too!

summary: Two dumdums get snowed in, and when the heat goes out they have to get creative about staying warm.

rating: E

AO3 link

The door to Game of Thorns opened, pulling Belle from her current paperback. Any pique she felt vanished instantly when she saw who entered.

“Mr. Gold, hello.” She straightened, tugging at the ends of her sweater. She wished she’d had time to put on lipstick that morning. Or any makeup. She just bought a new thing of mascara, too.

“Miss French,” he greeted. His smile was polite, and short lived; Gold turned his attention to the shelf of vases her father had moved closer to the door last week.

Belle tried not to deflate.

“What can I help you with today?” she asked. He was wearing the dark blue shirt, the one with the subtle paisley. It was her favorite, and not because she had a near-matching dress, the lace just as deep and swirling.

Mr. Gold picked up a square vase, also blue. He turned it over, but to check the price or the construction, she wasn’t sure.

“I was thinking of a bouquet, today,” he said to the glass. “Something red, perhaps.”

Belle appreciated the sharp line of his jaw, and how it cut such a nice silhouette while he spoke. “We have carnations, or amaryllis. Those are always nice.”

He made a sound to indicate he was listening, but didn’t turn to look at her. Belle’s shoulders drooped, just a little.

“We also got a new batch of roses, but I remember you ordered those last time.”

He set the vase down, careful not to jostle the shelf. It was a simple movement, his hand placing the glass on the wood, then letting go. His fingers were long, steady, clearly used to handling delicate things. She wondered if he approached everything with such confidence, such assurance that he knew how to touch, handle, and care for. Was he as good with people as objects?

“The roses will do,” he said.

“Roses, right.” She blinked, torn from her fantasy. Her face felt hot, and she hoped her blush wasn’t obvious.

For fuck’s sake, Belle, she chided herself.

She reached for the order pad by the register and hoped she could get through the interaction without embarrassing herself further.

She could not.

“They’re my favorite, you know.” She smiled at his still turned face.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned.” His voice was dry, bored.

Belle looked down at the pad. The stubby pencil rubbed against her finger.

“They’re nice flowers,” she couldn’t help but add. When Gold said nothing else, she asked, “Would you like the vase, too?”

“No, thank you.”

He approached the register, and Belle absolutely did not look up. She refused to watch the sway of his hips as he walked with his cane. He was so fluid and elegant. Not that she was watching him now. But she did risk a peak as he approached, catching the glint of his gold-tipped cane, the nice burgundy of his tie. She had a belt that color, or near enough. It would look good with her blue dress.

For a wild moment, she wondered what he’d do if she leaned over the counter and kissed him. Would he stumble back, shocked? Would he—kiss back? Perhaps lace his hands in her hair while hers tugged at his lapels, urging him closer, taking the breath from his lungs—

A sharp trill emanated from Mr. Gold’s pocket.

Belle looked down, quickly, her face hot.

Gold sighed, reaching into his pocket. He made a face at the caller ID. “Add the amount to my account,” he said, hitting a button and silencing his phone. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss French.”

“I’ll bring your bouquet to the shop, then,” she said to his back, as Gold left the store. “You know, when it’s ready.”

The door closed, and she watched through the window as Gold lifted the phone to his ear. He walked away, and Belle noticed it was snowing, the white flurries delicate and large as they fluttered through the air. The sidewalk already had a neat layer.

With an aggrieved sigh, she dropped her head onto her folded arms. Gold was always looking elsewhere, always interested in the thing just over her shoulder. And when he was looking at her, it was always with a bored, if polite, expression, as if she was just a placeholder until the next exciting thing caught his interest.

Belle wondered what she could do. A new dress, perhaps. Or a haircut. Or maybe, when she delivered his bouquet, she could enact her fantasy and grab the pretty bastard by his tailored suit and just—lay one on him. Kiss him until they were both out of breath and gasping.

It would be great up until he reported her for assault.

Belle sighed. She penciled in Gold’s account number on the order pad, wrote roses, red. She hadn’t asked how many he wanted, so went with his last order: one dozen.

At least she could make his bouquet. She’d pick the best flowers, and tie it all up in a neat bow. And maybe, when she dropped by his shop to deliver it, she’d be able to strike up a conversation. She had asked him about the Tiffany lamp on his counter once. It had been a nice surprise when he’d had a lot to say.

If the day was slow, she could have the roses ready in the afternoon. Seeing him twice in a day—she was going to be spoiled.

Gold did very well in not slamming the door behind him as he entered the back room of his shop. As aggressive as he was in pulling off his overcoat, it was with a controlled shake that rid it of the snow that clung to it. He spared a thought to the weatherman, who had been threatening a storm all week, but it had yet to materialize.

This was supposed to be the day he’d finally do it, he thought. Yeah, right. He ran a hand down his tired face. Every trip to the flower shop was predicated on This Was the Day. Every chance he had at seeing Belle French, every time she caught his eye, whether at the diner, or the pharmacy, or when she’d peek between the slats at the bordered up library—he'd feel something rise in his chest, a warmth he couldn’t explain, the desire to throw himself at her feet.

“Let’s go for coffee,” he wanted to ask. “Have dinner with me,” he’d beg, if he had to. “Come to bed,” he’d let himself think, only in the dark shadow of his bedroom, behind his locked door, under his blankets.

This was the day he would have, too, would have prostrated himself there in her father’s shop if only Regina hadn’t interrupted with her phone call.

“Please give me any amount of your attention and I will be yours until the stars turn to dust,” was on the tip of his tongue, and it would have made it out of his mouth if only his damn phone had been on silent. Damn the mayor and her contracts.

The thought had no teeth, though. No real oomph behind it.

Gold could barely look at the woman without being blinded, let alone open himself up for rejection and ridicule. And if not ridicule, horror, or even—disgust. It would be the worst kind of shock, he knew, to realize that he, Beast of Storybrooke himself, was interested in sweet Belle French.

Gold sighed, feeling hollow, hopeless. His keys and cell phone clattered as he dropped them on his workbench.

At least he got flowers out of it.

Whether he took them home or kept them by his register, each arrangement was the perfect spot of color, eye catching and lovely. Seeing them kept Belle’s smile close, not that he needed the reminder.

He liked the idea of Belle putting together his bouquet. Of her choosing each bloom with the utmost care, each petal counted and preened especially for him. Perhaps she sealed the bow with a kiss. It was a heady thought.

Ridiculous too, of course. Pure fantasy. It was better than the truth, which was that flowers were chosen from whatever available, wrapped in tissue paper and plastic and tossed his way without another thought beyond how much should be added to his balance.

That made it sound like the French’s did subpar work. Gold fiddled with the space heater knob, turning it up with a thoughtful frown. Regardless of his opinion on the patriarch, the arrangements coming out of Game of Thorns were nothing short of exceptional.

The true reality was each bouquet was professionally done, and handed to him with a smile from Belle herself that could never mean what he wanted it to.

Perhaps one day, if he was very brave and Belle was in a charitable mood, he could ask for more of her time and she’d agree.

The day passed slowly. The shop was open, but bereft of customers, which suited Gold just fine. The heater at his feet buzzed, his pen scratched across the thick paper as he looked over his accounts. A world his own, there in his backroom.

Gold had just put on the kettle for tea when the bell jingled. Not bothering to hide his annoyed frown, he swept the curtain aside, stepping into the front. It vanished instantly at the site of Belle, backlit and glowing.

The round of her cheeks were as red as the roses she clutched, their heads peeking out from the shiny gold plastic they were wrapped in. Her hair was a shining, glistening halo of curls that spilled down her shoulders. She was effervescent, standing at the door of his shop, unnatural in her beauty.

He blinked with the realization that the world outside his shop was white; completely blanketed in snow. It glowed in the burgeoning light of the street, a white darkness.

“Miss French,” he greeted, shaking himself. Speaking of snow, a fair amount had entered with her. What wasn’t clinging to her clothes had been tracked in on her boots, which looked quite solid and nothing like her regular heels, thank goodness.

“Did you walk here?” he asked with a disapproving frown.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, stomping her feet and trying in vain to keep the mess to his welcome mat. “Dad had already left with the van on a large order for the hospital, and I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. The storm picked up quick!” The red in her face, embarrassment or the cold he couldn't be sure, made her eyes shine. They were such a lovely blue.

“But, I’m here now,” she said quickly. “And look, your flowers made it.” To prove it, she marched up to his counter, laying the bundle down for him to confirm.

Said bundle was flat from being held against her chest for the single mile that separated their shops, and the wrapping was encased in snow, quickly melting. The roses themselves looked to be in good enough condition, if a little shaken.

“So they have,” he agreed softly. He tapped the counter, a wisp of an idea forming.

Belle smiled. “I could have waited until tomorrow,” she admitted. “But it was snow today and I thought—I mean slow. It was slow, probably because of the snow.” The red this time was definitely from embarrassment. “Anyway, I thought it’d be nice if you had your flowers to get you through the blizzard.”

She was adorable. Gold hoped his face wasn’t too dopey.

He noticed when she pulled her coat tighter against her, and saw she wasn’t wearing a scarf, didn't have a hat.

Gold kept the front of his shop just a tad too cool to be comfortable in winter in order to encourage the good townsfolk to state their business and get out. Coming inside was not the relief from the storm it could have been.

Ah, yes. There was his idea, turning into a plan. The universe had thrown him a bone.

“You’re not intending to walk back?” he asked carefully. “You barely made it as it is.”

“Oh, well.” She at least had gloves on, but they didn’t look thick enough for Gold’s liking. “I already closed the flower shop. I was going to walk home when I finished here.”

Gold tried to keep the eagerness from showing on his face. The house she rented with her father was twice as far as Game of Thorns, and in the opposite direction. On a nice day, the walk was pleasant. With a blizzard raging? Unthinkable.

He told her as much.

“I guess I could ask Dad to swing by to pick me up,” she said, digging out her phone and tapping on the screen. “You know, whenever he finishes with his delivery.”

“Great idea.” Gold lifted the bouquet, keeping as much as the melted snow on the wrapping as he could; he didn’t want to waste anytime cleaning, not when he finally had Belle all to himself.

“I think the storm will stop soon, anyway,” she said, ever the optimist. “How much longer can it keep up?”

Knowing Maine, easily for the next week. “Come on then.”

“Sorry?”

Gold was halfway through the curtain, roses snug in his arms. They’d perk up when they were submerged in water, rather than swimming in it. “Come warm up. I have the space heater on.”

“In the back?” Her eyes were wide.

Had he overstepped? He couldn’t think how. “I put the kettle on to boil. Should be ready any moment now.”

She took a hesitant step forward eyeing the curtain as if it hid a trap door. “I mean, if it’s okay.”

“I insist. Come have a cup of tea.”

He held the curtain to the side, happy when she stepped ahead of him.

Today was the day, after all.

The first thing Belle noticed was things. Shelves stuffed full of boxes and baubles, careworn tools and rolls of fabric. The worktable took up a fair amount of space as well, with an aisle just because enough for a slim man with a cane to walk through.

The second thing she noticed was a bed, no larger than a twin, tucked away in the corner. She bit her lip, filing that detail away for much later.

The sound of Gold stacking what looked like his account books caught her attention. He pulled out the chair that was closest to the heater, beckoning her to sit.

“How do you take your tea?” he asked, opening a cupboard and taking out two cups with matching plates.

“Straight, please,” she said, stuffing her gloves in her coat pocket, before peeling it off and draping it over the back of the chair.

Belle tried to look around with her greedy little eyes, but her attention was drawn to Gold, his fluid movement as he did nothing more than carefully scoop tea into a strainer ball. Even him pouring the hot water into the teapot, an elegant porcelain piece with a long sprout and blue feathering, was captivating. The packet of chocolate chip cookies that were spread out on a plate caught her attention too, albeit for a different reason.

“Am I forgetting something?” he asked, noticing her gaze on him.

“No, no,” Belle said, not looking away.

In no time at all, the tea was poured, a cookie nibbled, and Mr. Gold was sitting next to her on a stool he pulled out from under the bench.

The silence wasn’t overbearing, but she still looked around a little desperately, trying to find something interesting to say.

“What were you reading?” Gold asked.

“Reading?”

“This morning, when I placed my order. You were holding a book.”

“I was,” she said, feeling warm. It wasn’t from the tea. “It was A Christmas Carol.”

“A classic,” he said, eyebrows raised.

From there it was easy. Talk of the book moved to talk of the movies, turned to which adaptation was the best one. As it turned out, they both agreed that the Muppets took it, hands down.

Belle rubbed the handle of her teacup, the porcelain warm. She felt lightheaded, if she were honest. The dim light of the back room, paired with the quiet burr of the heater, the quiet burr of Gold’s voice, the full force of his attention, finally, after all this time—it was too much. He was gazing at her with a softness in his eyes she’d never seen before, and it was all much too much. She felt she might float away.

So of course, that was when Belle’s coat chimed. She wanted to groan when Gold cleared his throat, looking away.

Pulling out her cell phone, she saw the message was from her father, asking where she was. Oh. Lovely.

“Dad made it home,” she said with forced lightness.

Gold frowned. “Home?”

“I guess my message didn’t send,” Belle said, knowing full well she hadn’t actually sent one. “Must have, um, the network?” She shrugged, giving up on lying quickly. “But it looks like Dad went straight home after his delivery.”

“I see.”

Her phone pinged with a new message, and her stomach dropped at what it told her. “He says it's really nasty out. Couldn’t get the van all the way up the street, so he legged it the last two blocks.”

That wasn’t the best news. It was, arguably, quite bad. She could feel her plan backfiring in real time.

“It sounds unsafe, to ask him to come,” Gold said.

The only thing she could give him was a tight smile.

It had been a simple thought, if a little impulsive: pretend that she was stranded here at Gold’s shop, in the middle of heavy snow. When it became apparent her father wasn’t coming, she’d ask oh-so-sweetly for a ride home. Gold was a gentleman. He wouldn’t refuse. That she was sitting nice and toasty in his backroom with no prompting from her proved as much.

Her plan wouldn’t only have extended her time with Gold, but also been the perfect opening to ask him out to dinner as a thank you.

“Er,” she said, looking lost. Belle hadn’t considered just how bad the storm was.

“Miss French,” he said, clearing his throat again. He had the look of someone trying to deliver bad news as delicately as they could. “I’d drive you home myself, but if your father’s van can’t make it through this snow, my Cadillac certainly won’t, either.”

“I understand.” She had done this to herself. She accepted that.

“I apologize,” he said, and to his credit sounded like he meant it.

“It’s not your fault,” Belle said, rallying herself. She pushed her chair out, ready to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Gold asked, alarmed.

“Home. Looks like I’m walking after all.” Belle reached for her coat, surprised when Gold’s hand closed over hers. It was dry and warm; she felt a pleasant thrill shoot through her arm.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m wearing boots.”

“I don’t care if you’re wearing skis strapped to rockets, you’re not going out there.”

Belle blinked at him, but didn’t move, not wanting to sever the contact. “What do you suggest then?”

“Staying here,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“For how long?”

“However long it takes for the storm to clear. Mr. Tillman will be out to plow as soon as it stops. I’ll drive you home when it’s safe.”

Taking advantage of Mr. Gold’s goodwill for a cup of tea was one thing. Forcing his hand to shelter her for hours was something else entirely. But there was a part of her, quite a large part, that wanted to press her advantage. And he was offering.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to put you out,” she hedged.

“Miss French, I insist.” He licked his lips, tugging gently on her hand. “It might not be the most comfortable option, but it’s better than getting lost in a blizzard.”

“I guess you’re right,” Belle said, sitting back down.

“Yes. I am,” he sniffed. “Glad we agree.” From the look on his face Gold hadn’t expected such quick acquiescence, but wasn’t going to complain.

“For the record,” she said, smiling. “I’m quite comfortable.”

Surprised pleasure bloomed across his face. “I’m happy you think so."

“I do. Thank you, Mr. Gold, for letting me stay.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said quickly. “You don’t want to be out there.”

“Really,” Belle agreed. “I mean, how much longer can this last, right?”

It wasn’t the first time either of them alluded to such a thing that night, but it must have been one time too many.

The lights above them flickered for a breath of a moment, then cut out.

Because of course they did.

“Ah,” Belle said into the sudden darkness. She wondered if Gold heard her over his cursing.

“No, don’t move, please, just. Stay there,” Gold said, his chair scraping against the hardwood.

“Wait,” she said, scrambling to turn on the flashlight app on her phone. “Here, so you don’t trip on something.”

In the light, she could see one corner of his mouth lift. “I know my way around the shop, my dear, but thank you.”

He turned, illuminated as he brushed the curtain aside. She heard the tap of his cane as he walked to the front. There was a clock, somewhere to her left, that ticked down the seconds he was gone.

The curtain signaled his return. “The whole of main street is out. Probably most of the town, too.”

Belle made a noise to show she was listening.

“I, um. I think we might be here much longer than a few hours,” he said. Belle hadn’t realized how many whirring, buzzing things there had been in the pawnshop; between the generator, the lights, the space heater, even the mini fridge that Gold had kept the milk. When it all cut out, they weren’t just left in darkness, but complete silence. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing, and the clock.

“Yes,” she said into the stillness. “I think you’re right.”

“Please, just take the cot.” Gold said for the hundredth time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Belle said for the hundred and first. “What will people say when they find out you froze to death in your own shop?”

“I have my coat. It’s not that cold.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering.”

She could do no such thing. Gold sighed, feeling weary. They’d been arguing for the last twenty minutes at least.

It hadn’t taken long for the cold to creep in after the power went out. Bundled up in their coats, they’d used the rest of the hot water for a last bit of tea, and neither one complained about their dinner being the rest of the biscuits.

When the question of sleeping arrangements arose, Gold thought it was obvious: Belle could take the bed and the nice blankets, and he would watch over her, stalwart and uncomplaining.

The stubborn woman was hearing none of it.

“I can survive a night in the chair as long as I know you’re taken care of.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a glare, “but not very practical.”

Practicality had nothing to do with it. The candles flickered on the table. He kept a handful in his cupboards for this very situation, and it helped Belle to save her cell phone battery if they should need it when the service came back on.

He stared at the flames. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d be much more comfortable if I were warmer,” she shot back. She had at least made it as far as sitting on the cot, boots kicked off and feet tucked underneath her. “We’re small people. We can both fit.”

They couldn’t, not unless she were wrapped around him like a scarf. It sounded like a dream to Gold, but he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking it was what she actually wanted.

“You’ll sleep easier if it's just you on it.”

“If you refuse to share with me, then I’ll stay at the table with you.” She patted the quilt underneath her. “We can share the blankets. Wear them like cloaks.”

“No.”

“Really, Mr. Gold.” A pout had begun to pull at her lips. It was cute enough to kiss away, which was exactly why he’d stay where he was, thank you. “Think of my toes.”

“Your. . . toes.”

“Yes. They’re so cold right now, I think they might actually fall off. And you’re sitting there, miles away, doing nothing about it, when you could get on the bed with me, and keep me and my toes warm.”

“It might help if you got under the blankets, first.”

“And if they fall off,” she said, ignoring him, “I will sue you for damages.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. “Sue me?”

“What would the town say then, hm? Mr. Gold being taken to court because Belle French can’t wear heels anymore.”

That would be a tragedy all on it’s own. “You seem under the impression I give a damn what the town thinks of me.”

“What about what I think? I’d be very upset with you.”

“Unthinkable,” he murmured. The pout was back, her lip protruding. Gold’s resolve was slipping. It was bloody cold in the shop. His hands felt like ice, he couldn’t feel his feet at all. It would be warmer on the bed with two, he knew that much.

“Please share the bed with me?” Belle asked, going in for the kill. Her eyes shone in the candlelight. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but there’s no sense in either of us being cold tonight.”

Endless moments passed. How did she get her eyes to shine so brightly?

“Alright,” Gold said.

If he thought she was shining before, it paled in comparison to the smile that lit up her face.

She stood when he did, pulling back the blankets. She shimmied out of her coat, too, laying it over.

“We’ll be warmer if we use the coats as extra blankets,” she said innocently, reaching up to help him out of his. “Keeping them on will suck away body heat, not hold it in.”

While she spread his coat over hers, he removed his suit jacket, laying it over the back of the chair. If they needed it, it was within reach. His belt and shoes soon followed.

When he looked at the cot next, he was greeted with Belle, tucked in and holding one corner of the coverings up, ready for him to slip in next to her.

He could deny her nothing.

After blowing out the candles, he settled in.

The weight of the blankets was pleasant, especially with the added coats. It couldn’t compare to the weight of Belle, solid and warm.

Gold shifted to his back, Belle happily curling around him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His arm came around to rest in the hollow of her back.

“Is this okay?” she asked, rubbing her face against him.

Tentatively, Gold ran his hands up her spine. She sighed, snuggled closer.

“It’s perfect,” he decided. Gold didn’t know why he had resisted for so long.

Belle sighed again, deeper, sinking further into his arms. Her leg hooked around his, twining together, her thigh brushing his groin.

Ah, right. That was why.

Maybe he could convince her to go back-to-back. Or he could turn to his side, let her be the big spoon. Now that was an excellent idea.

Her hand, delicate and soft, touched lightly on his shoulder. “Is this still okay?” she asked.

It was agonizing torture. “Yes.”

A pause. “It’s just, you’ve gone rigid.”

He huffed, willing his body to relax.

“It’s fine,” he said.

They lay together in the dark, simply breathing each other in. The clock on his workbench dutifully whirred on, and the soft but distinct tickticktick pulled him into a sort of trance.

Belle began to rub circles into the fabric of his shirt and he felt himself sink further. He could smell her floral shampoo. He nuzzled her, gently, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

“Gold?” Belle asked, breath blooming against his neck.

“Hm?” he hummed. His eyes were closed. He didn’t remember doing that.

“What would you say if I told you that skin-to-skin contact is much more efficient to staying warm?”

Her limbs tightened around him as if she was sure he’d leap from the bed and away from her. He didn’t want to do that, though, even as what she was asking sunk in.

Gold swallowed, afraid of being too honest in the dark. “I suppose I would accuse you of trying to seduce me.”

He felt her relieved sigh. “Would it work?”

“You’re doing a great job of it as it is.”

Her breath staggered. Her hands played with the buttons on his shirt, but didn’t slip them through their eye holes.

“And do you want to be seduced?” Her nose mapped a trail from behind his ear along his jaw, and he was about to combust.

His answer was to grasp her hair at the base of her neck and pull her towards him. He overshot, his aim terrible in the dark. Her lips landed on the edge of his top lip, brushing the curse of his nose.

Still holding her close, he flipped them, so he was above her. He cradled her head, his hands combing through her lush hair. Oh, yes, much easier to kiss her like this. Belle agreed if her happy moan was anything to go by; that and the way her legs parted, allowing him to rest against her fully.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he whispered into her ear, reveling in her shiver.

“I want you, Gold.” The words had barely left her mouth before he was kissing her again.

“Silas,” he said. “My name is Silas.” Belle ran her hands up his arms, her fingers sinking into his hair.

“Silas,” she breathed. “I want you so much.”

He kissed her, hard, tongue demanding entrance that Belle happily granted.

If the night was spent only kissing and maybe heavy petting, it would have exceeded Gold’s expectations by a considerable degree. Belle clearly had other plans, though, as he found out when her hands touched his bare chest.

He jolted, her cool hands searing as they touched him. The minx was adept at unbuttoning a shirt, he’d give her that. She was also proving quite skilled at undoing his trousers; they pushed them down his thighs together, Gold leaning a little to the side so he could get the leverage to kick them to the end of the cot.

Now that he was bare, it seemed only fair that Belle be next. Gold grasped the end of her sweater, pushing it up, up, up. When he threw it down to the floor, she hissed at the cold air as it made its way into their cocoon. It was worth it for the wide expanse of warm skin he now had to discover. Fuck, she was soft.

Gold’s hands clutched at her sides as he mouthed her breasts, the nipples already tight buds.

“Silas,” she moaned, thrusting her chest up. While his mouth was occupied, he peeled her leggings down as far as he could reach without outright sitting up. She took the hint, kicking them to the end of the bed to join his trousers.

Gold adjusted the blankets, making sure they were covered, and that Belle was warm underneath him. She panted, breath heavy as he kissed across her collar bone. He trailed down to the top of her chest, mouthing at the hollow at the swell of her breasts while his hand trailed to her cunt.

Her core was molten.

“Fuck,” Gold hissed, feeling the wet heat of her.

“Please, Silas” Belle said, bucking her hips into his hand. “Fuck me.”

Cock in hand, he guided himself into her. If he thought she was hot on his fingers, it didn’t come close to her wrapped around his prick

“Oh, Belle,” he moaned, lost.

They set a slow hard rhythm; not wanting to displace the blankets, Belle angled her hips up, cradling Gold while he rocked in and out.

Pulse by pulse, breath by breath, he had never felt so good. Belle raised her knees higher, allowing more of him to sink inside her. Her breath hitched when he hit a good spot. He hit it again, harder.

Silas kissed her along her neck, wet sucking kisses that landed in time with his hips. He wished he could see her, wanted to memorize the look on her face and he gave this to her. The dark brought into focus the sure touch of their wandering hands, the vice of her cunt as she took him.

“Are you close, love?” he asked, gaining speed, his thrusts becoming shallow. His hand sunk down to just above where they joined, rubbing her clit as she moaned in his ear.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she said, words breathy. She kissed his jaw, hands weaving into his hair, pulling as she clenched—as she came—as her legs wrapped around him beseeching him to follow her.

He could deny her nothing.

She woke in the night, the room dark and cold. Silas was a furnace next to her, his arm stretched across her ribcage keeping her anchored. She smiled, wiggling against him, relishing being so close to him.

Silas’ heart was steady and strong beneath her ear. Sweet music. Belle turned her head to kiss him there, over his heart. She trailed her nose down, to the side, finding his nipple. She kissed that, too. Then closed her mouth over it, sucking.

Silas grunted, but didn’t wake. A final lick, and Belle moved downwards, further into their nest.

Boney and warm; his hip, she thought. Belle kissed it, regardless.

Silas hummed, shifting slightly. Belle kissed him again, moving further down, and a little to the side, until her lips met with a wiry patch of hair.

“Belle?” he asked, voice muffled and heavy with sleep.

In answer she licked him, just over his pubris. The muscles jumped, and she felt his shudder.

“Belle,” he moaned. The sound pulled at something deep in her belly. “Please.”

“Hm?” she asked, kissing back the way she came, away from his curls.

His moan this time was agonized. “Your mouth, sweetheart. Please.”

“My mouth?” she asked, innocently, nibbling on the spot just below his tummy, sucking the skin into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, hips jutting.

Belle licked him. Another kiss, another suck. She breathed him deep, the whole of him. That she could make out her own scent dried on his skin had heat pooling low in her belly. They tasted so good together.

“Belle, please,” Gold tried again. “Put your mouth on my cock.”

She hadn’t expected him to ask. In reward, she stopped her teasing, using her hand to grasp and position him before taking him past her lips.

Their moans mixed together; his from the sweet heat, hers from the perfect way he filled her. What a discovery, that they fit together perfectly no matter the circumstance.

Next when she woke, the lights were still off, the cold no less harsh as it nipped at her nose. She could see the morning sun peak through the single window signaling a new day and a break in the storm.

Belle tried not to grumble as she rolled over, burrowing under the blankets and pressing her cold nose into Silas’ chest.

He shook with a silent laugh, and she wondered how long he had been awake.

“Good morning,” he said, pressing a kiss to her crown. His voice was scratchy in that unused-sleepy way, and it made Belle’s toes curl.

She could get used to waking up to this. She wanted to get used to it very much.

A buzzing from the table made her pause. She turned her head, sure she knew the source.

“Your cell phone,” Silas confirmed. “It keeps going off.”

She kissed his chest, right above his heart. “You didn’t wake me.”

“You’d have answered it if I had.”

Belle made a noise of agreement, even as she made no move to leave the cot. Or more accurately, leave the circle of Silas’ arms, which were wrapped around her snugly, one hand rubbing patterns into her lower back.

“Someone will be by to dig us out, now that it’s morning,” he said.

He sounded less than pleased, which pulled a smile from her. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

His response was immediate. “Of course.” He wet his lips. “Perhaps, ah.” His hair was tangled on the pillow, and there was a nice hickey forming on the curve of his neck, another one just under his collarbone.

He looked ravaged, ruined; very thoroughly and happily debauched.

“Perhaps?” Belle hooked her leg around his thigh, her heel touching the back of his knee. She felt his cock stir in interest.

“Perhaps, I mean, if you wanted to…”

Belle bit her lip. They were naked, still wrapped around each other after a night of the best sex she had ever had, and he was too shy to ask her out on a date.

It really put her stargazing into perspective. They’d work on it, she decided. They had the time.

“I’d like to do this again,” she told him, catching his eye. “In less pressing circumstances."

He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, voice sweet and hopeful. “Let me make you dinner.”

Belle had only just pressed her lips to his when her phone gave a particularly judgmental vibration. She left the blankets long enough to snatch it from the table, before she tucked herself back next to Silas, who welcomed her back happily.

She awakened the screen to see she had 7% battery left. Just enough to tell her father she was safe and warm, and that she’d be home in the afternoon after plenty of time for the snow to settle and Tillman to plow.

And a few other things she chose not to mention.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle secret santa

57 notes · View notes

haikyu-hoe · 4 years

Text

Love From Abroad

Tendou Satori x reader

one shot, fluff

this is one of my first times writing, so feedback is appreciated! dm for requests :)

hope you like it!

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You’re an exchange student in Japan and today is your first day at Shiratorizawa Academy. You’re a second year. You’re quite nervous but you’re confident that you’ll make friends.

When you get to class, the teacher asks you to introduce yourself to the class.

“Hi i’m y/k, i’m from [your country] and i’ll be joining for the rest of the year”, you say with a shy wave.

You sit on an empty seat beside a black haired girl with cute chubby cheeks.

“Hi i’m Elen”, she says with a timid smile.

You smile back at her and the lesson begins. This is harder than the classes you had at your previous school but you think you’ll get used to it. After all, you’ve always been pretty smart.

At lunch you sit with Elen and a few of her friends from your class and they’re all super nice to you and even offer to give you a tout after classes end. You of course accept this offer gladly since you kinda got lost this morning...

During the tour, they show you many things.

“Here we have the library, over there is a place where you can study and there’s 3rd years to help you and over here is the sports wing”, explains Lin, one of Elen’s friends, a short girl with brown, wavy hair.

“Thanks for the tour! I really appreciate it”, you thank them with a big smile.

They then leave to walk home but you decide to stick around a bit more. As you wander in the corridors you get to the sports wing Lin talked about. Curious about how big it might be, you walk down the main corridor. You can hear balls thudding and smashing on the walls inside one of the gym. You push the door shyly and go sit on a bench with other spectators.

“Their volleyball team is pretty good... Well i did hear it was what they call a powerhouse school so...”, you think, kinda zoning out.

One of the players, Ushijima, seems to be the star of the team. But he’s not the one you’re looking at. A red haired funky boy caught your eyes. He’s so charismatic and his bandaged fingers just look so hot...

You listen closely and finally catch his name: Tendou Satori.

After practice ends, you get up to leave but someone shouts behind you. You turn around to see a black haired boy with a choppy haircut and... TENDOU?!

“OI!!”, they say enthusiastically.

“h- hi?”, you ask, unsure if they’re really talking to you (even though there’s no one around anymore).

“I’m Goshiki and he’s Tendou”, says the black haired boy. “That over there is Shirabu and that, of course, is Ushijima. Are you new around here? I don’t think we’ve ever seen you around before.”, he says with a bright smile.

“Yeah i’m new I just transferred from [your country]. I’m y/k by the way!”, you reply, holding out your hand.

Goshiki shakes it while Tendou just looks at you with some weird smile that is somehow so attractive?

“Y/k huh... want me to walk you home?”, Tendou says while getting extremely close to you.

“Sureee”, you say. “But aren’t you tired from practice?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll replace my stretching!”, he says happily. He then grabs his bag, puts his arms around your shoulders and guides you to the exit.

“He sure is a people person huh”, you think. You’re kinda lost in your thought but you catch a few things he’s saying. He’s a 3rd year in class 2, and he’s a middle blocker. He then goes on about the other team members and fun facts about the school.

“Soooo tell me about yourself nowwww”, he says with that weird smile again.

You blush a bit and scratch the back of your neck and reply “Well i’m new to everything here, but i made a few friends in my class. I’m in second year, class one. The team was really amazing today by the way”, you try to be nice to him.

His smile widens at those last words and you walk in a comfortable silence back home. You thank him and walk inside.

“fuck...”, you mutter to yourself. It didn’t even take a full day for you to be completely in love with this strange volleyball player.

[time skip]

The next morning, you hurry up to school so you can look at the gyms before going to class. You catch a glimpse of Tendou, but of course he doesn’t see you.

At lunch, you tell Elen and the others all about last night. Lin is especially excited and Akira even lets out a little squeal. They convince you to go to practice again tonight.

When you get to practice, you quietly sits on the spectator’s bench but Tendou still notices you and smirks at you with a slight wink.

Luckily he quickly turns back to the game so he doesn’t see you blushing like a tomato. Watching him is fun but you can’t wait till practice is over and you can talk to him.

At about 5 pm, he finally gets out of the boy’s changing room and walks up to you.

“Heyyyy~ were you waiting for me?”, he says in a teasing tone while raising one eyebrow.

You blush a bit and lightly punch his arm.

“Why would i wait for such an idiot” , you say with a smirk. He pretends that your words are breaking his heart and then laughs. You had heard him laugh before but never that way... it was so carefree, so... adorable...

On the way home, he catches you staring at him, lost in the admiration of his perfect self.

“you ok y/k?”, he asks.

“ye- yeah sorry”, you reply quickly and start looking in front of you.

“soooo are you free tomorrow” he suddenly asks. You most certainly didn’t expect this. Does he mean as a date?? Maybe he juste want to hang out, i mean you barely know each other right?

He looks at you amused by the confused look on your face and his grin gets wider. He lets out a little chuckle before adding “yes, as a date y/k”

You blush heavily. It’s no use trying to hide it, you’re like a volcano about to erupt.

“yes! I mean um of course”, you reply nervously. You scratch the back of your neck, something you do each time you’re nervous.

“Great” he says happily, in a sing-song voice. “I’ll pick you up at 11 alright?” he adds.

You nod your head. God what will you wear?? Will you hold hands? Kiss even? What will you guys even do? All these questions keep you awake that night but you still fall asleep after a while, so happy about that date.

[at 10 the next morning]

You wake up, grab some quick breakfast and jump in the shower. You have to look perfect for this. After carefully planning an outfit and doing your hair and makeup, you hear the doorbell ring. Your heart starts beating faster.

You open the door to see a casually dressed Tendou grinning widly at you. He’s wearing black ripped jeans, adidas shoes and a hoodie that matches his hair colour. It’s so weird seeing him without his school or volleyball uniform.

“hey y/k~ you look...” he looks you up and down while blushing before continuing. “...great. You look great.”

You just blush as he takes your hand and drags you along with him.

“where are we going, Tendou-kun?”, you ask in a shy voice.

As a reply, he simply smiles at you and whispers “you’ll see”.

Impatient to know where you’re going, you try to get him to walk faster. But Tendou is not in a hurry at all, and since he’s stronger than you, you have to follow his pace. No matter how much you whine, insist and plead, the red-haired noodle boy refuses to reveal where you’re going.

After about 20 minutes you get to a 50’s themed restaurant. The inside is amazing with its vintage jukebox, checkered floor, coca cola adds and Marylin Monroe posters on the walls, retro booths and milkshakes on the menu.

You sit down on a booth by the window and order a milkshake. You share it with two straws, and when you both lean in to take a sip, your faces get so close they almost touch... Tendou’s breath feels warm close to your lips.

He then leans back and crosses his arms behind his head and just stares at you.

“Why did you agree to come today, y/k-chan?”, asks Tendou. He looks eager to receive an answer but he also looks like he’d rather not know in fear of being disappointed.

You give out a light chuckle before answering.

“because i wanted to, of course! You’re the nicest guy i’ve met and ever since I first saw you play i knew you were special.” you reply calmly before taking another sip.

He blushes like mad but then leans in to take a sip too. As you both let go of the straws, he lifts your chin with one finger and lightly kisses your lips. You’re chocked at first but you kiss back after a few instants.

He suddenly breaks the kiss and leans back. He looks out the window, nervously scratching his crimson hair. You start to wonder if maybe he regrets it...

“y/k i’m sorry that was so sudden i should’ve asked please forgive me i didn’t mean to-” Tendou starts talking saying quickly but you cut him off.

“tendou.” He finally dares to glance at you. “i’m glad you did. And i hope you’ll do it again” you whisper the last part but he still hears you. It’s enough to put a gigantic grin on his face. He leans in closer to you over the table and rests his chin on his hands.

“Then would you mind if we did something next weekend?” he asks while raising an eyebrow.

“i’d love that, Tendou-kun”, you reply.

For the following week, he walks you home each night but nothing really happens. You just talk and laugh, realizing how much you love him.

When the weekend comes, you get butterflies in your stomach as you get ready in the morning. Tendou should arrive soon, so you have to hurry.

When the doorbell rings, your heart does a loophole. Tendou is standing on your porch, in his cute casual clothes. He winks at you after saying a sexy “hey” and grabs your hand to bring you to another mystery place.

As you walk, you can only focus on his hand in yours... his fingers are so long, his palm so huge... but it’s their perfect temperature that makes them so wonderful. And god let’s not get started on his eyes and hair...

Time goes by so quickly when you’re with him, so before you know it you’ve reached your destination.

“we’re heeeereeee!” sings Tendou.

It’s a wonderful park with a small pond in which several koi fishes are swimming. A few ducks also swim around them and there’s lovely benches all around.

You sit on one of them and rest your head on Tendou’s shoulder. You can’t see it but his whole face lights up at this gesture.

“say, y/k-chan” starts Tendou. You turn your face to look up to his. He takes both your hands in his before continuing. “would you let me be your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks flush bright pink as you reply “of- of course Tendou-chan!!”

He smirks before kissing you softly. As seconds pass, he kisses you more and more roughly until you both run out of breath.

He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world while you’re both trying to catch your breath.

He cups your face softly and puts his forehead on yours. You look tenderly in each other’s eyes, before Tendou finally speaks.

“thank you y/k-chan... i feel so comfortable around you, you make me feel so lucky, so... so... so happy. I hope i’ll feel like this forever and that it’ll be reciprocated” he says as his eyes fill with water.

You raise a hand to wipe his tears as you reply “I’ll stay as long as you need me, Satori. You’re so dear to me, i’ve never felt this way before” you sweetly replying.

He blushes at the fact you used his first name and closes his eyes to appreciate the moment. When he opens them again, he leans in close to hug you tightly and as he does so, he kisses your neck.

When you part, he kisses your lips tenderly and you can feel him grin slightly. You stay in the park until the sun starts going down. He then walks you home like a true gentleman, putting one last kiss on your soft lips.

~the end~

#anime #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#tendou x you #tendou satori #tendou fluff #tendou x reader #tendou oneshot #tendou fic #tendou fanfiction #tendou fanfic #tendo satori #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fic #anime fic #anime fanfic #shiratorizawa #guess monster

43 notes · View notes

2-player-game · 4 years

Text

Critical role Mighty Nein relationship headcanons

Jester Lavorre

• Very very touchy and clingy

• Like she loves you so much

• Never wants to leave your side

• She was definitely the one to ask you out, she almost cried when you said yes.

• She sometimes brags to others about having such a wonderful s/o

• She loves to play with your hair and it's even better when you mess with hers

• Buys you so many pastries

• You better be prepared to bake with her on free days

• Expect a lot of gifts from her. She loves to spoil you.

• Jester is known to be great at cheering people up in her own special way! So if you're ever feeling down, she'll pick you right up and make you feel better!

• Tickle fights are a must. Sometimes she'll just walk up to you in a tavern or inn and tickle you.

• You two often cuddle. Like a lot. When you do her tail wraps around you and she snuggles into your neck or literally just anywhere close. Beware of her horns though. They make the experience a lot less enjoyable.

• Overall: 10/10 girlfriend, would date 100%

Mollymauk Tealeaf

• Molly is a very flirty individual, so he definitely asked you out with some kind of pickup line or convinced you.

• This man absolutely loves to flirt and tease you. Just to see your reaction. He finds you adorable.

• Please hug him, he loves physical touch. And he becomes touch starved sometimes, so he'll need a hug, or even just to hold your hand.

• No matter how many times he'll flirt with a bartender go get a free drink or he'll jokingly flirt with another member of the nein. He loves you. He really does and he could never imagine losing you. Please don't leave him.

• He's like a human heater, so whenever you're cold cuddles or even just a hug is the best.

• He loves to do tarot readings for you or even just tell your fortune. It's a delight to watch you in surprise on how accurate

• Cuddles are similar to Jesters, they're absolutely wonderful, his tail wraps around you. He holds you close and it's warm and soft and lovely. But his horns and dangly earrings and jewelry get in the way.

• He loves to take you to parties or special events to see you dress up. But you look beautiful in anything!

• Loves to spoil you, you've been looking at that nice necklace in the shop? Boom, it's yours. Always wanted to try this dessert? He just bought it and you're sharing it with him now. It's amazing.

• He cares for you so much, you have to put up with his cockiness, his panic attacks over his memory, his many nightmares and just him. He's grateful for you and loves you so so much.

• Best boy needs some love, love him even with his flaws, his scars, his pain.

Nott The Brave

• Nott much to say here, an absolutely wonderful girlfriend

• She loves to steal little trinkets and gifts to give to you. Most are really shiny some are just cool things she thinks you would like.

• She loves it when you pick her up, like just putting her on your shoulder, or swinging her around. It's just amazing.

• Hugs are a little difficult if there is a height difference, but they're always appreciated.

• She loves it when you play with her hair. From braiding it to just running your hands through it is absolutely wonderful.

• Going on dates can be difficult. So most 'dates' are just seeing who can steal the best item from a shop. Most of the time Nott wins though.

• One time she made a flower crown for you. That's not too important but I just think it's cute.

• She's absolutely adorable and craves attention a lot. She's rather touch starved.

• If you're ever hurt, no matter what's going on she'll help you as quick as she possibly can. Doing whatever she can as long as you don't die she'll be fine.

• If you love to cook, then she'll BEG for your cooking whenever she has a chance too. No matter how bad she loves it either way. Especially when you cook her some meat.

• You really mean a lot to her. No one other than Caleb has been so nice to her in a long time.

Fjord

• Please wear this mans clothing. He finds it really cute. He'll never admit it.

• Fjord loves to take you on dates near the beach or water. If you're up for it even on a boat or swimming in a lake.

• If you can't swim prepare to be taught for as long as it takes. Even if it takes days to even get you in the water this boy it determined to let you see he beauty of the ocean.

• Though he believes you're much more beautiful than the ocean

• He loves it when you compliment him. And he returns compliments with whatever you prefer, gifts, affection, or more compliments. It's up to you.

• If you like to ride in boats, he likes to take you to a lake, get an open boat and just spend the night in that small boat. Sometimes you two fall asleep on the beautiful lake. Some nights you stay up and watch the sun rise.

• You better believe he plays with your hair, it calms him down so much and it's wonderful. Have a shaved head or no hair at all? He just holds your hand and traces shapes on the top of it instead! Still calming and great!

• Soft morning kisses are everything to this man. Especially when he's just woken up and he's greeted with a lovely kiss from you.

• Cuddles take time to work out, he's always a little stiff at first but soon eases into it and accepts his fate before never wanting to leave.

• Your first kiss with him was a little weird at first with his teeth and all and he's always a little awkward with that stuff. But it ended up being amazing. It was probably an accident or you initiated it.

• This green boi will love you forever and never wants to lose you. He doesn't trust anyone more than you.

Yasha

• As you may know, Yasha is very tall and strong, which is absolutely wonderful.

• She loves to pick you up, or just embrace you in any way she can.

• Before you two actually started dating she was really awkward and sometimes even blushed around you. It was honestly adorable to watch her fumble her words and try to speak to you.

• If you're on the weaker side she's really gentle with you and does everything in her power to not hurt you.

• If anyone is every mean to you like in a serious way and it's hurting you she will go into rage mode and stop whatever is going on.

• Really soft and kind to you. Very very soft. And probably does your makeup if you wear it.

• Most likely wants to adopt a cat with you because they're lovely and can also be great hunters. But if not Frumpkin will have to do.

• Compliment this woman, please. She really needs to feel special. She'd really appreciate it!

• Cuddles are amazing, she just holds you tightly and makes you feel safe. It's always very calmly to be in her arms.

• She's actually a pretty good kisser, but it takes some time for her to actually initiate the kiss and let her become a little more dominant.

• Once bought matching necklaces and you refuse to take it off.

• If you're up to it she would absolutely love to train with you, if not you could at least stay for moral support!!

Beauregard Lionette

• Beauregard is definitely a wonderful girlfriend when you look at it.

• She has lean muscles, so they're not tough or firm, great for cuddles!

• She's strong like Yasha so she can pick you up and just hold you or hug you and spin you around. Strong girls are the best.

• Train with this woman. Please. She loves it. The second you get too hurt though she's ready to heal you or do whatever she can to make you feel better.

• This girl protects you as much as she can. She never wants you to leave her side, she needs you to be safe. It scares her sometimes what could happen to you.

• Sometimes you trim up her undercut and make it look more professional and just give her a haircut in general.

• If you're ever severely injured in battle, she'll blame herself for not being there to protect you.

• You have to reassure her and kiss her and hug her a lot just to make her feel better.

• Spoil Beau and you'll have her for the rest of her life, she's never been spoiled before and it makes her feel special. She'll return the favor with love.

• She could truly never imagine losing you, and if that did happen she would never feel whole again. She loves you more than she loves herself.

Caleb Widogast

• This relationship took some time to form, like a long time. Caleb's shy nature and fear of caring for people doesnt work well when he gained a little crush on you.

• Once it did happen, you were very patient and did everything in your power to make Caleb more comfortable.

• Frumpkin absolutely adores you. Whenever Caleb saw that you were sad or if you were injured he would send Frumpkin over to cuddle with you.

• When you two start to get very close, he loves to read with you, or do book trades. He'll give you an interesting book while you struggle to find a book he hasn't read yet. It's a struggle sometimes but it's the best

• This man gets very flustered when you surprised him with affection. A quick peck on the lips when he's not expecting it? He goes completely red in the face and stutters a lot.

• He tries to clean himself up a little if you don't like the way he smells. But that won't stop him from being dirty.

• Some days he doesn't think he deserves you and you need to reassure him that you love him no matter his background, no matter the way he looks or his personality because he's truly the perfect person for you.

• If you don't know magic, but want to learn it, Caleb would absolutely love to teach you! And if you do know magic, you two could nerd out about it together!

• Caleb has some trouble when it comes to physical touch since he's not sued to it.

• Whenever you hug him, he'll become super stiff before you tell him that it's okay and he calms down a little. He tries to do better but he's just not used to it, so be patient with him!

• Holding his hand is the best way to calm him down or put him to sleep on those sleepless nights where all he wants to do it read or study. Holding you close late at night is one of his favorite things to do.

• If you wear his clothes expect him to get really flustered, he finds it absolutely adorable because most of his clothes are really big on him or they're ripped or destroyed.

• Sometimes when he's next to you while reading he'll fall asleep on your shoulder and you are now stuck in that spot until he wakes up.

Caduceus Clay

• Very soft, what can I say? He's absolutely wonderful.

• Makes you tea, like almost always.

• If you like gardening? Perfect, this boy will make a portable garden for traveling, or when you settle into a home you two basically have a farm.

• No scratch that you guys definitely have a farm, including animals, and a mushroom/moss garden.

• He loves it when you pet his head or play with his hair, he leans into your touch and smiles softly.

• He often hums little song when you two are cuddling. It's very soothing.

• He likes to set up little picnic dates with the food you two grow. He's so pure and it's honestly the cutest thing ever.

• If you're ever sick, he knows exactly how to make the medication to make you feel better! He will do anything in his power to make you healthier and keep you going!

• He gives really nice hugs, it's like he puts energy into these hugs and they can immediately cheer someone up.

• If you want to he really wants a family, but if not he respects your opinion and is fine with getting some more animals as family because they're still wonderful.

• Whenever he makes a new kind of tea you're always the first one to try it with him.

• He's truly a wonderful boyfriend, 10/10. Please love him he could never lose you.

446 notes · View notes

emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

Text

Seeing Green

When your dad forces you to come to a movie premiere with him, you get more hatred than you bargain for.

“Do I have to go?” You groaned, “can’t Grandma be your date again or something?” Your dad shook his head as he struggled to tie his tie in the mirror of his bedroom. It was the Los Angeles premiere of his newest movie, and normally he flew out one of your aunts, Scott, or your grandparents to be his date. But suddenly you were watching him try on a suit that supposedly matched a set of dresses he wanted you to wear because for some reason, he was determined to make a father-daughter date out of it.

“Nope. She didn’t want to fly out last minute since they’re watching your cousins for the weekend already. Go ahead and start getting ready and I’ll leave the dress on your door,” he instructed. You wanted him to believe that the only reason you didn’t want to go was because it was last minute, but that was a bit of an exaggeration. You didn’t want to go because you absolutely dreaded what the world would say. They already looked at you with sympathetic eyes because of who he was, and because of the situation with your lack of a mother. But lately, since you were getting older and couldn’t pull off the cute kid look anymore, things were getting harder. The press was suddenly watching you. If you gained a few pounds and your dad posted a picture of you, they were watching. If you got a bad haircut, they were watching. If you were doing anything except being Chris Evans’s perfect daughter, they were watching you. And you hated it. You just wanted a normal night in with your family, but that was obviously not happening.

“I hate you,” you joked in response. Your dad just chuckled.

“Yeah, I love you too.” You walked away and started getting ready, taking a long, hot shower before doing your hair and makeup. A blue, floor-length dress with flowers on the skirt was hanging on your doorknob by the time you were ready, and to no surprise, it fit perfectly. Your dad had people come measure you every time you grew a single inch just so that you always had clothes that fit properly.

“You look beautiful,” your dad insisted as you walked out of your room, carrying your heels so you wouldn’t have to put them on yet.

“I’m only going if you promise to buy me Fatburger after,” you responded, crossing your arms over the dress. It was pretty, but the chest area was definitely itchy. You much preferred one of your old t-shirts.

“I will buy you all the Fatburger you want,” he chuckled. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“You’re welcome. I guess it looks stupid if you’re alone.”

“I hate going to these things in general, you know that.” That was definitely a lie; he was a people person. He loved any kind of human interaction he could get. And he was fueled by all of the positivity that came out of it. That was another reason you were dreading going – you didn’t want him to know what people were saying about you, even if it took everything in you not to go cry to him about it.

You just didn’t respond – you scrolled through your phone and took a few funny pictures to send to your friends until the car got there. The entire time, your dad was coaching you like he hadn’t made you go through media training when he got you your first phone and let you get social media. You knew who not to engage with. You knew not to wander off unless you were with someone from the theater or from his management. You knew to walk a few feet behind him until he asked you to stand beside him. You knew all of that already. It didn’t stop the anxiety, though, when the car pulled up to the Dolby and you saw the massive crowd. You fiddled with your phone until it was time to put it into the small bag you brought.

“Okay, how do I look?” Your dad joked as he prepared to get out. You just gave him a thumbs-up and watched as he got out first, then came to your side and got you out of the car. You tried to ignore the cameras, sucking in your stomach, trying to stand taller, making sure your hair was on the right side of your shoulder. You watched your dad work the carpet like he was born to do it, which he was. And then he held out a hand and you walked toward him, taking his hand.

“Smile, babe, you look gorgeous,” he insisted. So you did. He walked up to the area where fans were allowed to wait and you stood beside him, watching him sign autograph after autograph.

“Who’s this?” One reporter asked Chris as he signed autographs.

“My daughter, Y/n,” Chris smiled back at her. “Y/n, babe, stand here.” He instructed you to stand closer to him as he started walking again. You could feel the anxiety building up when you saw more reporters, but your dad knew how to get you through it. You grabbed onto his hand and finally followed him into the theater. It wasn’t quiet in there, either, and you could feel yourself going into overload as you got your first social media alerts of the night.

“You okay?” Your dad asked you, squeezing your hand. You nodded. “Alright. I’m gonna go say hi to some people. Seats should be reserved in there so you can go ahead and sit down.” You nodded again and brushed past him, walking into the screening room and sitting down. You opened your phone to see a few headlines containing your handle.

Chris Evans takes daughter Y/N on date to the Dolby!

Chris Evans’s Daughter is All Gown Up!

The first few weren’t particularly terrible. They were just pictures of you that had somehow already made it online. But then you noticed the people were actually mentioning you, and that was where it got bad.

Is he really so desperate to take her? Yikes…

Literally forgot he even had a kid...

If only she wasn’t ugly af

You could feel the tears coming to your eyes and shoved your phone back into your purse, putting it on the ground beside you. The last thing you wanted was for your dad to see any of those, and thankfully he didn’t check Twitter very often.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked as he finally took a seat next to you.

“Yeah,” you lied, “just a little overwhelming.” He put an arm on the back of your seat as you waited for the movie to start. It was a good movie, one of the best he’d been in. At least in your opinion. The role had been really hard on him and he played it so well that you could barely even believe he had been able to come home at the end of the day without it affecting him. But the entire time, your attention kept getting pulled to the messages you had seen earlier. You ended up shaking your leg so much with anxiety that your dad put his hand on it to make it stop, only removing it when you mouthed to him that everything was fine. You were just worried that they would multiply and get worse and worse and worse until it was impossible for them to ignore. You didn’t want him to be ashamed of you, but some twisted part of you thought that maybe the internet could convince him to be.

“I’ll meet you back at the car,” you said as soon as the movie ended. You stood up shakily, grabbing your purse, and only then did you realize how hasty you were being. Your dad, poor guy, was confused as hell.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t feel good,” you lied. “I’ll meet you back at the car.”

“Text me when you make it there. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You felt like you were going to throw up as you walked out of the theater, past the cameras that wouldn’t stop taking worthless pictures of you, and one of the security guards directed you to the car that was waiting to take you and your dad back home.

Made it to the car, you texted him. He responded with a thumbs up, which meant he was too busy to text. Another alert popped up on your phone and, exactly like you were worried about, your mentions were flooded with comments. So many of them were nice – saying you looked just like your dad, saying that you were so pretty, but others were terrible. And those were the ones that got you. They got you so hard that you were sitting in the back of the Tahoe, crying all of your makeup off. You didn’t even realize you were letting it all out until you heard the door open and your dad got in, immediately noticing something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “Are you sick?” He extended a hand to check your forehead, and you just swatted it away.

“People are just fucking mean,” you responded, half frustrated. He must have notice because he didn’t comment on your bad language one bit.

“Give me your phone,” he ordered. You did, unlocking it for him, and he scrolled. He chewed on his lip as he did, looking from your crying figure to the phone and back again. And eventually he just shut it off and put it back on the car’s floor. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to.

“You realize these are people who are just bored, right? They’re bored so they’re picking on you?” He sounded angry, but he played it off well.

“But…”

“They’re just jealous of you, that’s all. They’re being mean because they can, and you’re letting them.” You sniffled a little. His voice softened and so did his face, and he quickly took your hand and squeezed when he realized he wasn’t helping.

“Then why do I feel so bad?”

“Because. You have to stop letting these people get the better of you.”

“But…”

“No buts. Promise me you’ll just stop looking at these? Or at least taking them seriously? I don’t want you to think any of these matter because they don’t. Stop crying over people who don’t even know you.”

“Thanks, I’m cured,” you grumbled. You tried to smile, but another tear fell from your eye.

“They’re just seeing green, honey. They’re just pissed ‘cause they don’t have a cool dad like me.” You laughed this time, letting your dad pull you in for another hug. “Now. Are we still getting dinner, or are you going to let the internet convince you we shouldn’t?”

Hope the person who requested enjoys!! ❤️

#chris evans x daughter!reader #chris evans x teen!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff

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uncloseted · 3 years

Note

I want to offer a counterpoint to your discussion on lookism. Of course, objectively speaking, some people are more attractive than others. But there are things that most attractive people must do in order to appear attractive. I would consider myself an essentially attractive person. I'm not a "supermodel" by any means, but I have been told i am attractive and am often perceived by others as attractive. But I also put a certain amount of effort into my appearance, and if I didn't, I don't think

Anonymous asked:

I would be perceived this way. For example, I get my hair trimmed and cut in a flattering way every several months. I have a skincare routine. I exercise, drink plenty of water. I wear clothes that are flattering; I have a unique sense of style. I wear a little bit of makeup, not a lot, but enough that it makes me look good. Without mascara, I think my eyes look small and tired. And most women that are perceived as relatively attractive must do the same things that I do, otherwise we look plain

Anonymous asked:

This is part three...So while I think lookism is absolutely real, there is an amount of effort pretty much everyone must put into their appearance in order to be perceived as attractive. There are a few exceptions to this, but for most women, some effort must be made. I know very few women who are attractive that go completely bare faced on a regular basis. And when it comes to men, most of them must workout, lift weights and groom themselves well to be perceived as attractive.

I agree, to an extent. I mentioned this phenomenon in my previous post on this topic:

"culturally, we have this assumption that people can become “more beautiful” if they just “put in the work” or “invest in themselves”. We have this idea that ugly people are ugly because they’re not making the choice to “invest” in their appearance."

But we vastly overestimate how much "putting in the work" actually makes a difference. Getting a haircut, having a skincare routine, exercising, styling yourself, wearing makeup... these are things can improve your attractiveness, but not by very much. Even studies of cosmetic surgery find that those changes don't significantly improve a person's perceived level of beauty. If you're someone for whom those things work and make you feel more confident in yourself, great! But then this conversation isn't about you.

Not everyone has the privilege to be able to easily "overcome" how they look. If you're someone who's facing systemic discrimination for how you look, "putting in the effort" isn't going to change that. This idea that we can "work" to be attractive also ignores that certain, difficult-to-change traits are often at the basis of looks discrimination. If you're a person with a facial deformity or visible vitiligo, for example, you're likely to be discriminated against on the basis of your looks, even if you have the perfect hair-skincare-makeup-outfit-workout routine going for you.

More importantly, I think this whole conversation is kind of tangential to the actual issue at play here. Whether or not you can "achieve" physical attractiveness, changing your appearance should not be a requirement to be treated as an equal member of society. Women should not be required to wear makeup or stylish clothes in order to be taken seriously in their workplace. People of color shouldn't be required to make their hair look "more attractive" (read: white) for it to be acceptable in workplaces or in school. Trans people shouldn't have to "pass" in order to be safe from violence. Poor people shouldn't have to spend money they don't have on cosmetics they can't afford in order to "look presentable". People shouldn't have to be conventionally attractive to get a fair trial and fair sentencing, or to make as much money as their co-workers. Nobody owes the world physical attractiveness (especially not when it means looking young, thin, white, rich, straight, cis, able-bodied), and the fact that we value it so highly is a real problem with real impacts on the lives of actual people.

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alias-b · 4 years

Text

sins of my youth. 001

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hey!!! I'm definitely not giving up on LFTM, I've had this story whirling around my brain and it's been pulling at me for a while. Hoping I can slow down, care for myself, and juggle both fics at my own pace. Thank you guys for reading and for being so supportive. I hope everyone who enjoyed WTL also enjoys this fic, it's a totally different direction. I'm excited to share it! I'll tag warning in each chp like I always too. TW: Light bullying, hints at an inappropriate relationship between a teacher/student, and teenage jerks.

Chapter 1: Fast Times

A blaring bell trilled. Lunch time. So close and yet so far. Scrambling high schoolers like zoo animals clamored into the cafeteria. Knocking shoulders and bouncing around. No one really cared about knowledge today, the last day of school before winter break began.

1984. Coming to a close.

“Evie!” A hand rose to wave. One pink scrunchie around the elegant wrist. Heather Holloway. Cute as a button smiling there. Hands pulled headphones down to acknowledge her. Evangeline Fenny. Best friends since the sandbox and now seniors. “This stupid day is dragging.”

“It’s killing me.” Evie whined to herself, settling her beat up lunchbox on the table. Red and blue pattern, scribbled all over with song lyrics in black marker. “Mrs. Stockard fell asleep at her desk, I wanted to die.”

“She snores so loudly.” Heather sparkled when she laughed, sweeping her hair back into a high ponytail with her scrunchie. Evie held a mirror up for her to see out of habit. “Thanks.” It was particularly louder than usual. Teens pregaming the parties to come over the two week vacation.

“Going skiing with the folks this year?”

“No, they’re going up to the cabin and I’m staying home after Christmas.” Heather unpacked her lunch, carefully organizing it. Evie pulled a regular PB and J out, amused.

“Sushi?”

“My mom’s going through a phase.” Heather poured herself a bit of soy sauce and plucked up chopsticks.

“Your rich is showing, Heath.” Evie giggled when a foot kicked at her under the table.

“Trade you a piece for half the pear.”

“Deal.” They switched. Evie tucked some unruly dark curls aside, sitting back.

“So...there is a party tonight. Loch Nora. Bunch of schools.”

“Which ones?” Evie’s brow rose.

“Ridgemont will probably crash, but who cares. It’s winter break, we’ll go and have some fun then crash at my place. Eat chips, make fun of them, and pass out like we always do.” Heather bounced a little. “C’mon, Evie. I’ll pick you up and we can walk from my house.”

“I’ll think about it.” That meant yes to Heather. She grinned, reaching across to pat her friend’s arm playfully.

“It’ll be fun.”

Evie just whined and crunched on her pear, brows scrunching. Parties weren’t the same since the incident. But, she picked the popular, social butterfly for her closest friend.

The two couldn’t have been any more different.

Heather Holloway. Rich girl from Loch Nora befriending Evangeline Fenny, a Cherry Lane girl, in preschool. They switched beaded hair ties and the rest was history. Bonded over music and fashion. Heather was classically stunning as if she jumped off a magazine.

Students used to make snide comments. That Heather kept Evie around because she made her look prettier. Sweet Heather shut that down. Loudly. Whenever the subject came up. Evie Fenny was a bigger girl. Plush. Fat. It wasn’t a dirty word. She was a strange and pretty teen who carried herself too high to be bothered with comments.

Water off a duck’s back was the saying.

Used to be she hid herself under big sweaters, tunics, and flared jeans. But, that was before the incident. Afterward, she came to school with a new haircut. Louder makeup. Even louder, fitted clothing. Flaunted the hourglass and caught eyes on her hips swaying. Sat next to Heather at lunch as if nothing had changed. Red glossed lips only smiled and the student body took to her. Those who stayed angry burned alone.

Thick skin, no pun intended.

“If that asshole Tannen shows up, I’m dipping.” Evie decided with one breath.

“I’d say that I’ll protect you, but you made your point last year.”

Ah, the incident.

“I’m never going to live that down.”

“It was legendary.” Heather beamed, crushing her fist into her opposite palm. “Bam. Prick went down. My friend is Wonder Woman. Super Bitch.”

Evie broke to laugh, eyes rolling.

“Truthfully, I don’t recall it all.”

That was a lie, she remembered every second of it. Sometimes her knuckles warmed at the thought.

“I just...didn’t think you had moves like that. Your mom is basically Dolly Parton. You don’t even like violence. You squirm during horror flicks. You love your cat, your guitar, and all plant life...and you beat the hell out of Ridgemont’s golden boy asshole quarterback.”

It did earn Evie some Hawkins’ fame. Ridgemont was their main rival. The Bulldogs. Football players found a soft spot for the teen.

“Don’t tell my mom she’s Dolly Parton, that’ll go straight to her head.” Evie joked, popping her water bottle open to drink. Heather’s big eyes lifted behind her.

A flood of cologne wafted before two fingers tugged a curl. Little harder than they should have. Water choked to spill onto Evie’s chest.

“Whoops, you got all wet, Fenny.” A tongue clicked. Billy Hargrove slid around the table. All his glory. Heather plucked up a napkin to offer it.

“Watch it, Hargrove.” She huffed down at herself. The yellow tee tucked into her jeans was soaked through.

“Girls can’t help it around me, I guess.” He had one hand in his pockets and another cradling his silver lighter. Flicking it open and closed. Eyes narrowed. “Polka dots, huh. I had you figured for florals.”

“You’re an asshole.” She covered her damp shirt and bra with her striped cardigan. Thick fall colors warmed her skin. Noted the fact that he'd thought about it.

“Whatever you say, Ivy.”

Billy knew her name. They were neighbors. Unfortunately. Right down to sharing the same space between their bedroom windows. She’d had dinner at their house. Susan Hargrove was new and eager to make some friends and Ms. Fenny was eager to be friends with everyone. Perfect match.

Evie glared up at him. Fucking Adonis.

“Heather, you going tonight?” He ignored his neighbor and leaned over with one palm on the table, back to Evie as he sat down to flash that darling smile.

“Maybe.” Heather gestured with her chopsticks.

“I can work with maybe.” He acted like the girl behind him wasn’t there. Frankly, Evie was used to being invisible. It was better than being bullied. Most days. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe you apologize to my friend and say her name right.” Heather winked at him.

“Who?” Billy stood and turned, mocked some surprise. “Oh. Evangeline. So quiet, I forgot you, chica.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a jab at her mixed heritage or him just being a smartass. Billy rolled her name off his tongue like it was a joke. Like it wasn’t a real word. Blue eyes alight at her stony expression. Sly and alert.

The California transfer vibrated after leaving the basketball team before the season ended. Word was that he was persuaded to leave after some fight with Steve Harrington. Billy was a strange one too.

Often, he seemed lax when he was alone like the world didn’t matter. Other days, he was rocking and quick on his feet. Hungry and itching for something. Anything. It was a scary look on such a pretty boy. You could never gauge where his mind was. Where it would go next.

“Evangeline.” He sounded out again even slower. “Your mom lose a bet?”

“It’s a poem.” She replied flatly, sitting back to cock her head at him. Billy snapped his fingers to point.

“Sounds like the name of some chick whose man died in her arms.”

She huffed at him, leaning in.

“...That would be what the poem is about.”

“Fucking depressing.” Billy tapped his chin. “I got it. I’m going to call you, Angel. I won’t forget that.”

“You are not calling me-”

“Trying to compromise with you, Fenny. You cast the first stone.” Billy flicked his eyes to Heather. “Bring your friend with you to the party, Heather. Some guys like angel cake.” He winked and slunk off to his band of merry assholes. This school worshiped him. Kissed the ground he walked on since he started in fall.

“What a fucking slimeball.” Evie grumbled to herself, stuffing trash aside to ball it up. Thought about tossing it at Billy's big head. Heather gave this conflicted look as if to say, but he’s cute, right?

“Ignore him.”

“Bad enough his family moved in next to me.” They packed up their lunches. “God, I want a smoke so bad.”

She didn’t keep the habit up just to save her singing voice. Her mom picked up cigarettes only after the divorce last year. Smoked out her window and hid it, but Evie knew. No judgment there. Better than other habits moms pick up after divorces.

“I’ll pick you up at seven tonight?” Heather walked out with her after the bell rang.

“Yeah, I’ll see you in fifth.” Evie turned to go to her locker and stuffed the lunchbox away. Grabbed a book to hurry to class. History. Three more periods left. Students fidgeted around her.

“Hey, Evie.” Steve Harrington batted his eyes at her. Friendly enough these days after he left the popular cliche and broke up with Nancy Wheeler. Sometimes having your heart stopped on made you nicer. Not always. “You, ah, do the paper?”

“All six pages.” Evie set it on her desk. “You?”

“I made an attempt.” It was strange because Steve never gave her the time of day before this year. Maybe the guy was lonely. He tapped his pencil and the chatter quieted when their teacher walked in. Late as always.

“Class, pass your papers to the front.”

“Hopefully they don’t come back with red wine stains.” Robin mumbled behind her, one leg crossed up so she could draw on the rubber side of her sneakers. Evie caught a snort, taking the papers to pass them along. “I like the jacket.”

“Thanks. New haircut?”

“My own dad didn’t notice.” Robin beamed.

“Psst, Evie.” A note flicked on her desk. Tammy Thompson. Pretty girl, kind of shy. “To Steve.”

Evie considered herself a professional middle man for lovesick note passing. Discreetly, she gave it to Steve, head cocking. He furrowed his brow upon seeing it, but wrote back.

Whatever the reply, it made Tammy’s shoulders fall.

AP Biology was next. Teacher treated it like his kingdom and didn’t pose much of a challenge because he was disorganized as hell. Evie was relieved to share the class with Heather.

Billy, Tommy, and Carol also had it too. Hargrove bitched for a week about how the other science classes had no openings. Strange because he wasn’t an idiot. Still got his work in and maintained a B average. Probably due to his dad. Neil Hargrove seemed like a real hardass. And all of Cherry Lane had heard him and Billy arguing at some point.

Evie might have also witnessed some more physical spats through the windows.

She figured it was why Billy hated her. She knew something about him. Something he hid because it made him feel smaller. He caught her eyes once and barked nastily before taking off in his Camaro. A gust of smoke.

She never brought it up.

Dads could be real assholes.

“Watch the movie. Fill out the worksheet.” Their teacher was as ready for this day to be over as the students were. Lights went down. Yawns followed. Evie propped her elbow up on the high lab table she shared with Heather, doodling new lyrics between answering questions.

A crumpled paper hit her hair. Stuck into brown curls. Heather turned back to glare at Tommy shrugging with a sleazy grin.

He was no artist. Evie smoothed it for a wide, big lipped and breasted caricature of herself. She drew on it and scribbled a note back. Smiling sweeter when she flicked it at his chest. Carol and Billy leaned in on either side to see Tommy’s expression sour because Evie gave him nothing.

“You got my hair all wrong.” She’d written. Fixing it for him.

Billy snorted and turned back to defacing his textbook.

“Bitch.” Tommy muttered to himself, tossing it away. Evie finished her sheet, dug for her compact to reapply a lip color. Caught Billy behind her. Intent on whatever vulgar drawing his mind was concocting. Blue eyes flicked like he’d been aware of her this entire time.

The mirror snapped shut.

** ** **

Study hall. Last period of the day. Most kids who had it were skipping out early during the hour. Slipping away one by one through the library. Evie was one of those kids.

“Leaving so soon, Miss Fenny?” The smooth as silk voice lowered, startled her enough to drop her notebooks and folders.

“Fr...Mr. Bowers.” Evie dropped before her English teacher standing so close to her. Second period. Been in Hawkins three years teaching the junior and senior classes. Fredrick Bowers. Dream of a man to all the teen girls. “Sorry.” She bit her bottom lip, eyes lifting to see him and his shadow blocking the light from touching her.

“No, I’m sorry, Evie. I figured you’d heard me coming.” Sky blue eyes centered on Evie there before he came to one knee. Helped her gather lose papers strewn about.

Mr. Bowers had a name and face all the teen girls drew little hearts around in pink gel pen.

Evie thought she saw those same cartoon hearts bubbling up behind his back. Popping like gum. Styled toffee blond locks, trimmed mustache, and groomed side burns. A simple patterned shirt tucked into fitted slacks with the sleeves rolled up. Never a tie. Something groovy about him that stuck from the seventies. Mid thirties and hell of a smile.

Evie tucked hair aside, displayed her blush in full view obscenely when he flashed those sparkly whites at her. Eyes crinkling.

“I’ll warn you next time.”

Her heart plucked like a song when their fingers brushed. Dashing and broad. A Jane Austen character come to life. Enough to make any young girl melt. And how quickly she did.

“Next time.” Evie gave this scoff. Pulling her notes close as they both came to their feet with hard intent eyes.

"I wanted to give you something. A book to read over the break." He pulled it from his leather messenger bag and peered around.

"An assignment?" Evie sparkled at him so he was lighter.

"No, it's just because I believe you're so clever and mature. I think you'll read it with an open mind and we can talk about it like we talked about all the others. It's complicated material. I, ah, really shouldn't be giving you this book." He offered it. "But, there were quite a few I wasn't allowed to give you. After that chat we had over The Crucible. I'm just so fascinated by what you think."

"Lolita. I know what happens in this one." Evie peered at the battered title. Rough paper between her fingers, it was clearly an old copy. She peered at his chest instead of his eyes. "We-"

"Don't you miss talking? You know. Last year. Someone who knows what you're going through. I want all my students to be comfortable around me."

"I am comfortable, we..." Evie glanced as someone passed far down the hallway.

Bowers helped her after her dad left. A shoulder. A confidant. A crush that... She felt her heart close in on itself.

"I thought you said we couldn't anymore."

"I miss you." He whispered that. Lush and blunt. She barely heard it. Eyes snapped up.

Someone missed her. Someone wanted to listen. Someone who saw her depth.

His wife left him before he came to Hawkins. Evie learned a great deal about her too.

"I won't tell, I never do." She hid it away into her bag, matched his tone. "We can...talk. Not here."

"Good." He swallowed. "I just think you blossom under guidance and support. I always knew you were one of those girls."

Evie blushed again. Eyes on her shoes.

“I wanted to say I was impressed with your paper as well. As always.” Fredrick gave her arm a pat and left his hand there. Fingers pressed into the knit fabric of her cardigan. His lip twitched.

“Good. That’s…I’m glad.” Evie’s eyes flickered over stormy blue ones, swaying. Lashes gave a dreamy bat. “I was thinking, ah, about you when I wrote it.”

“Really, you should speak up in class more.” Fredrick gave her one subtle squeeze and dropped his hand. “All those funny poems you shared last year.”

“My songs.” Evie corrected softer and he only smiled to nod.

“Right.” An idle step backwards before he leaned over her. A great deal taller. The shadow crept over her eyes this time. “You have a Merry Christmas, dear. And speak up again in class, Evie. You know I love to hear from you.”

A sensation like a fizzling sparkler glowed in her belly. Out her spine. Spread over skin.

“I know.” She giggled at him, peering around. “Merry Christmas, Mr. B. We'll talk.”

“Small town, I’m sure I’ll see you out and about.” A wink and he was gliding off. Shoulders back and chest perched high.

“You might.” Evie swooned against her locker. Watched him go. Gasped a breath into her lungs. Swept all the clouds aside to fill her backpack with work. He made her feel so special, like no one ever could.

“Anyone...” She sang to herself, “who knows what love is...” Fingers plucked up a final book. Evie hummed and thought of small cartoon blue birds spinning around her head as she went into the restroom. Washed her hands and lingered to see her reflection.

Evie was in a strange place. In and out of her skin. Torn between love and hate for her body.

Usually, it just took a brave face. Her dad always used to tilt her chin and tell her to put on her bravest face before leaving home.

She hoped the one she chose was convincing.

Her mom would always spin her favorite Bible or Dolly Parton quotes. Which helped on occasion even if she wasn’t sure which source the words came from half the time.

A sigh. This was her flesh. She’d live in it as best she could. Dreamed herself into something better.

Footsteps hurried down the hallway until the door shoved open. Humming cut.

“Hargrove!” She gasped, dropping her messenger bag. “Billy, you can’t be in here!”

“God damn it, Fenny. You again?” Billy skidded to hush her. Pressed them back into the wall. The heat of his body engulfed her frame, standing a good few inches taller. “Do me a fucking solid. Hide this for me.”

Billy had no sense of boundaries because he was stuffing a baggie into her front jean pocket.

“What are you doing?” She seethed at him, smacking his arms off her to put some distance. “Get off me!”

“Don’t say a word. Got it?” Billy lifted a finger with an intent look. Smelled of leather and his heavy cologne. Hairspray too. It all overshadowed the cigarette scent. He smoothed his tee out and turned to see the door. Scrambling like a spider, Billy jumped up on the toilet, threw his messenger bag outside, and pulled himself up. Wiggled his way out.

Evie heard a thud and groan.

“What the fuck?” She whispered, more so to herself as he disappeared. Hands pulled what was clearly concealed weed bundled up several times and bagged from her pocket. “Shit.” More footsteps before the door burst as she shoved it away.

“You see that Hard-grove kid?” A thick accent asked. Security guy. Useless.

“Uh!” Evie pulled her bag up. “Who?...This is the ladies room! Can’t a girl have a moment here?”

“Sorry!” He cringed away before she jumped into mushy period talk. It always worked.

Evie rolled her eyes and marched out to find Billy. Casual as can be, he tossed his bag into the trunk of his car and stilled to light a cigarette. Grumbling, steps hurried up the hill.

“Asshole!” She tossed the weed at his chest, made him catch it awkwardly and stuff it into the trunk with a hiss.

“Keep a lid on it, will you?” He slammed it shut. No one was around to see them.

“Don’t do that shit again.” She pushed into him to go, Billy’s big hand wrapped around her wrist. Tugged her square into his chest. An unkind grin swept.

“I had you figured, didn’t I? You didn’t say anything.” Billy blew smoke into the air, plucked the cigarette out to flick it with his free hand.

“Let go.” Evie huffed. “I would have been in deep shit too for that.” She wiggled and pushed at his chest.

Billy flicked his bright eyes over hers. So brown they looked black in winter. He never noticed that she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks like he did. Pale for a girl with darker features. Indiana falls and winters must have taken the color right out of her. Looked like a lot of the mixed gals he knew back home.

Big curls. Soft and curvy.

Angry at him over something he did.

There's no place like home, he figured.

“You’re so weak.” Billy laughed at her. Took another drag. “They told me you freaked out on a guy last year.”

“You want to be next?” She twisted away from him and turned. It wasn’t a real threat. He’s seen her tend to plants like they were humans. Feed neighborhood cats and nurse her own. Old black cat with not long left. Little fucker was always creeping him out from her bedroom window. Constantly staring with huge green eyes like it knew something Billy didn’t.

“Babysit your own weed.”

“You walking home?” Billy was relentless, voice lifting.

Evie huffed and turned.

“What, are you going to say I probably need the exercise? My bike chain broke.”

“Christ, I was gonna offer a ride. Figured I owed you for saving my damn weed and my break. Not like it's out of the way.” Billy turned to open the passenger door. “Quit being a drag and get in. I don’t bite hard...unless asked.”

“You’re such a creep.” She eyed him there. Wondered how he stayed warm in a tee, jeans, and leather jacket. “Not waiting for Max?” He gave this annoyed look.

“She’s going out with her stupid friends, not my problem today.” Billy got in, gesturing. “At least close the door if you’re not coming. I went through the effort to open it for you.”

“What a gentleman.” Sarcasm.

Evie came back toward his car and debated it. Smelled like it might rain with the sky turning grey. And she really didn’t want to walk in these shoes. Rationalizing it, she slipped inside and shut the door. Settled her bag in her lap. Even buckled up. Billy revved the engine and skidded to speed out without a second glance.

“You going to the party with Heather?”

Evie peered at him watching the road with this hard look on his face. Ghosted a smile. Bingo.

“You’re being nice to me to get to Heather, huh. You know you’re not the first guy to pull this. Could have just asked me about her.”

Crystalline eyes flared up at her face.

“What? Dorky chicks like you turn me on, too.” He replied rougher, not bothering to watch the road.

“Wow. Spread it on thick, Hargrove.” She turned from him.

“I always do.” He hit a hard corner. Christ, he drives fast. “I got a shot?”

“She thinks you’re cute.” Evie shrugged. Far too used to this. Eyes slid to his profile. Wild curls still golden on grey days. The boy glowed. It was absolutely insufferable. Leaves whirled by, brown and dead. A smile crossed her face. “Listen. Since you’re saving me a walk. I’ll help you.”

“Help me? I don’t need your help, I just wondered if she was gonna show.” He scoffed, turning on Cherry Lane.

“You want to know what Heather likes. It’ll help you.” She crossed her arms, nearly flying forward when he screeched to a stop in front of his house. Billy shot her a look, filled with pride. “You got a pen and paper, bud?”

He snatched her bag, tore a page from her notebook and dug into his glove box for a pen.

Ass. She hugged it back to her chest.

"Talk."

“Okay.” A breath. “The thing about Heather is she’s a romantic. Jane Austin girl. Pride and Prejudice. If you can quote that just once like Mr. Darcy, she’s yours... Well? Are you writing?”

Billy did a double take and huffed, grumbling. He actually marked it down.

“Mr. Who?”

“Your life amazes me.” She chuckled. “Darcy.”

“Got it. Darcy. I’ll ask Susan about that shit, she’s a reader.” He muttered, tongue sweeping out before he scribbled.

“And she loves museums. First date ideas. Milkshakes. Cheese fries with jalapenos. Cheeseburger gal. Chinese from that corner joint. Always spicy. Easy picks.”

“A girl after my own burning heart.” Billy felt her peer at him again. Lips lifting with this expression he couldn’t read. Blinked her big eyes and went on.

“Definitely loves to snuggle in with something scary even though they freak her out. Must be a curiosity thing.”

“Any excuse to get close to someone, I like it. This is gold, Angel, go on.”

“You know, I think that’s all I got for you.” Evie turned to get out, sighing. That was just a little evil. “Billy.”

“What?” He shut his door and turned from her.

“Thanks for the ride.” She moved to go toward her house. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Billy didn’t reply. Just watched her go into her house before he dug for another smoke.

“Mom?” Evie called. “I’m home.”

“I’m in my room, sweetheart!”

Ramona Fenny was a spirited woman, went by Mona to the neighborhood. A girl of the 60s. Built like Dolly Parton with a pumped hairstyle to match in sleek dark brown, almost black. She worshiped the woman. Looked like she could have modeled atop a cake.

A church going girl who used prayer to get her through the divorce. Never pushed it on others, not even Evie. Too busy pushing other things. Like the free days she lost having her daughter young. She liked what worked in life and this worked for her. Liked the pretty side to things.

Mona was a sunny side up sort of mother.

Best friends with Claudia Henderson as they both went through divorces which was not in God’s plan. Evie liked Dustin, she babysat him on occasion and he was a good kid. Bullied like her.

Mona owned the favored hair salon in town. Worked long hours with a team of women and ran a tight ship. Did hair for all the social elites so she knew everyone and all the hot gossip. And did she love that detail the most. Evie helped out with reception during vacation time. Liked the extra cash.

“I was going to go to Heather’s later, there’s a party.”

“Oh, have fun, baby.” She pushed her kid to go out. To live. To be smart. Never asked her to call. Not out of trust for Evie, she couldn’t be bothered. Never imagined her daughter would be up to mischief.

If only she knew.

Sometimes, Mona keyed in when it suited her. Understood when Evie’s likes and dislikes changed. When she asked to not go to church anymore because it didn’t help her after her dad walked out. Ramona was understanding as long as you didn’t bring up things like depression and anger. There always had to be a way out. Turn the other cheek.

Evie knew her mother always thought the best.

“Great.” Evie crossed to steal the hair brush, helped her mother out with the teasing. Dyed rich and dark locks that used to be a mousy brown. Dark eyes like her daughter. Evie didn’t look like her father with his brighter features. Her lush hair and russet eyes. Thick brows. “You going out? All dressed up...”

“Just into town, couple of errands.”

That was something that changed a week after her dad moved out. Mona’s style revamp. She was a woman of the sixties and seventies and that came back full force. Styled and pumped up like she was walking out of a Nancy Sinatra music video. Men around town noticed it and the woman certainly speculated.

But, her daughter had a style change too after the incident so it must have run in the family.

“Better?” Evie eyed the glittery rings sitting in a ceramic dish. They looked like gumballs there.

“Touch of hairspray and I’ll be right as rain.” Pink manicured nails came up with the can. “Take cover, baby.”

“Got it.” Evie disappeared in a waft of spray. Stole an ice cube from the freezer to crunch it out of this habit she picked up when dad was gone. Cool and melty between her fingers before she swallowed it down. Felt the bulge tense all down her throat. Another followed. Teeth straining to crack it like glass. The chunks went down a little less smooth as she looked for real food and shut the fridge instead.

Evie went into the bedroom to see her old cat on the pillow. His head lifted. Skinny and balding. Blind in one eye.

“How’re we doing, my handsome boy?” Evie dropped her bag and crossed to pet him. Purrs erupted, whiskers twitching. “Bourbon, my darling.”

A scratch of a meow rasped.

“Yes, I love you too. I’d kiss you if my lips weren’t done up.” She smacked her lips and stood. “Outfit.” Clothing pushed around. Her room was a small, intimate space. Few pictures and purple curtains. Desks covered in song lyrics, trinkets, and needle felting projects.

Evie held up garments to the cat, but he was no help. Just purred there like a motor boat. Settled on a black top with some sparkle and a magenta wash denim jacket. Jewelry was a must, she preferred earrings that were huge acrylic hearts. Bourbon had gotten into the window to watch the window across the way.

Billy wandering shirtless and damp. Muscles red and bulging like he’d done a quick work out

“Yeah, not today, my sweet.” Evie plucked the cat from the window and reached to close the blinds. Billy caught her. Winked and licked his lips slower. She made a face at him. Utterly loathing and not impressed at his peacock way of navigation. “Ew."

The blinds snapped down, leaving Billy to laugh there. Evie carried her purring cat out, chiding.

"Don’t make his head any bigger than it already is.”

~~~~

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