#I have an orange and black flannel that pairs really nicely so throw that on over on and pair with skinny jeans docs and a beanie
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i hope whoever designed these shirts at hot topic knows they are loved (by me specifically)
#They are genuinely my favorite shirts to wear#I have an orange and black flannel that pairs really nicely so throw that on over on and pair with skinny jeans docs and a beanie#And I'm set for fall#(<- a lie I wear them consistently no matter the season. It's very funny during Christmas shopping or in the heat of Valentine's season)#My posts
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Cabin Fever (Dabi x Reader)
Pairing: Dabi x Reader
Genre: Fluff, pwp
Prompt: Winter with Dabi, sweater, flannel
Summary: Dabi and you get away on a mini vacation in the mountains and end up inside due to the snow.
Word count: 1,384
Tags: @rintomoj @yamichxn @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak
a/n: My winter entry for the Seasonal Love Event being held by my Discord server! This is just fluff without too much plot, but I hope you guys enjoy the little bit of coziness it might give you~ Stay tuned for the other entries by my friends!
Seasonal Love Event Masterlist
"I hate to be that kind of boyfriend, but what's the point of this?" Dabi trails behind me, boredom visible in his entire expression.
"Because it's our anniversary?" My eyebrow quirks up. "Don't be rude."
"Right."
His last word earns an elbow in the chest from me. "I thought you would've liked spending time all alone with me, considering you're always complaining about your friends constantly butting in."
"Yeah, but did we have to go all the way into the mountains?" His eyes dart around cautiously. "It's a little too secluded for my taste."
"What, are you scared you might cause a fire?" I unload more of our bags out of the trunk. "And as long as we're laying out gripes, it's not fair that you can be out in winter in just that stupid flannel and not be cold."
The man glances down at his black and blue flannel shirt, unbuttoned to reveal just a white T-shirt, a stark contrast to my coat-and-beanie attire. "You can thank my quirk for that." His long arm slithers around my shoulders, his natural warmth a welcome hug to cut through the cold seeping through even my heavy winter coat. "I could share it with you, maybe in more ways than one."
"Ugh, you and your greasy comments." I shove him away, before quickly pulling him back in when the warmth regretfully withdraws. "You can't go a day without making an innuendo."
"Isn't that why you're with me in the first place?"
"No, I'm with you despite that." I hit his chest and carry the bags into the cabin in front of us. "Hurry up and help me take in the rest of the bags, we have a lot of unpacking and stuff to do.
Eventually, we get ourselves settled into the cabin. My uncle usually rents these cabins to other couples, but I asked him when it was available for us to get away from the city for a bit. Work was getting a bit hard for both of us to take - obviously Dabi's work is much more demanding on him - so we needed to get away.
"It's a pretty small place, cozy I guess." He came back after touring the small cabin in its entirety. "Big enough for just the two of us."
I'm unpacking some of the plastic utensils and plates we plan to eat using. "Yeah, my family sometimes vacations here. There were nine of us the last time, so some of us slept on the floor."
"Well," his scarred limbs slither around me again, "At least now there aren't seven other people to bother us."
"Dabi, I swear, do you have anything else in your thick head?" I hit him with a plate and shove him away. "There's a grill and fire pit in the back, we could probably have a little barbecue to ourselves tomorrow night."
His low voice hums right next to my ear. "I don't know if you checked the weather, babe, but apparently we're due to get a lot of snow tomorrow."
My jaw drops and I whine out, "You're not serious! Damn it! Well that plan's down the drain now."
"And we'll have to do something else to warm ourselves up..."
"GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER ALREADY!"
His raven hair shuffles as he throws his head back in a throaty laugh, leaning back against the fridge to look down his nose at me. He's enjoy this teasing a little too much. It's normal for Dabi to be a flirty little shit, but he must be more charged up at the thought of us being all alone in a house in the mountains together. Where no one can probably hear us.
Now that I think about it, that makes sense.
"If I knew your hormones were gonna go into overdrive being alone, I wouldn't have planned our weekend like this, we could've gone to an amusement park or something." I move away from him into the living room.
"It's not such a bad thing though. Might as well take advantage of our situation, right?"
"Dabi!"
~
The next night, the two of you were stuck in the cabin, the snow storm outside raging on despite your vacation plans. Wind howls outside as it rushes through the swaying trees. It was a good thing my uncle left a few decks of cards and some board games so we wouldn't be terribly bored out here, probably for when he rents them to others.
"Your turn."
I look up from my phone and down at the board game. Gathering the dice in my hand, I make my next move. "I took some nice pictures today, wanna see?"
He scoots next to me, his pinky finger catching onto the long sleeve of my sweater as I flip through my gallery. "That one's nice, send that to me."
"I really like that one too," I smile gleefully. That picture was actually my favorite; it was one I took at dawn while Dabi was still sleeping. The barren trees glistened in the approaching golden light of the rising Sun. The entire sky and lake reflection was bathed in a marriage of pinks and oranges, fighting the dark blue at the edge of the photo while the ice on the branches twinkled as if stars. "I think it's gonna be my new phone background for a while."
"Or you could sell it and make some money off it," Dabi suggests, picking up the dice from where they landed after my toss.
Usually, I would rebuke him for such an idea, but the thought of making a few bucks off my amateur photography is tempting. "Maybe, I'll think about it. Or I'll just print it out to hang in the apartment."
I notice Dabi had left his thick flannel draping over the couch messily. For the love of everything good. "Babe, at least hang your stuff up in the closet." I pick up his clothes and hang it in the closet by the door, retrieving my own jacket from there to hang over my shoulders. My fingers were a tiny bit cold from the weather outside. Although the heat was on, it wasn't up to my standards as someone who's generally always cold.
"You still have that?" It's almost teasing, but there's the slightest bit of pride and affection behind his teal eyes resting on me.
"Of course, you never let me return it," I bite back in a similarly playful manner before snuggling back next to him on the floor.
Dabi and I first met by chance in the city, waiting for the bus. I was probably shaking like a leaf next to him, to the point where I knew I was becoming a minor annoyance to him due to my chattering teeth. To my surprise, he shed his down jacket and draped it around my shoulders.
I was quick to protest and refuse it. "No, it's okay, I don't want you to be cold like that."
That day, he was wearing just a black hoodie. "Nah, it's fine. I'm hot blooded anyway."
Ever since that day when we started talking, I realized this man didn't wear a jacket at all, not even in the dead of winter on the most frigid days. When we would go on dates, he would wear one just in case I got cold. It warms my heart to this day that he would even think of such an affectionate gesture.
Dabi's bare arms wrap around my body. "If you were cold, you should've told me, I would've warmed you up myself." His head rests on mine as he says innocently, "In more ways than one."
"Get away." I shove his chest, but he remains strong.
"You wouldn't push away your human heater, you love me too much," he chuckles, placing a kiss on my temple.
I hum, simply basking in his warmth. "Isn't it funny how you ended up dating someone who's perpetually cold?"
He casually shrugs again. "At least my quirk has a non-destructive purpose, I guess."
Although he says it so uncaring, I know his own warm affection blooms in his chest at the thought of us being matched because of our opposing qualities. "Opposites attract, huh?" I breathe, tracing the staples on his hand as he pulls me closer into his space, eliminating any distance between us.
"Not really. You do have a fiery temperament, sometimes when-"
"Shut up!"
#dabi x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#dabi fluff#mha dabi#bnha dabi#gender neutral reader#dabi imagine#dabi scenario#league of villains#lov dabi#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#seasonal love event
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that damn american ᶠᵒᵘʳ
you seem different
DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco shows y/n the room of requirement, and she realizes she likes him more than she thought
PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader
WORD COUNT ⌙ 1.6k
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four
chapter four, i hope you all enjoy! let me know if you do :) also gonna rec some some songs from the playlist
f**kin’ love songs - awa and 505 - arctic monkeys
“i’m a slytherin prefect y/n, if we get caught, i know how to lie. but flitch is an idiot squib so don’t worry. now shut up and follow me.” draco grumbles.
your newest friend has proved to be surprisingly fun. in the last three weeks he’s taken you on countless adventures and tonight is no different. this evening, he’s showing you the room of requirement.
for the whole day, he’s been impatient and ready to show you this room. you can’t blame him, you were practically bouncing off the walls all day too. it left april and sophie a little annoyed as you refused to take them along. but you’ve found it was best to hang out with draco alone, or else he gets moody.
“here we are. now, think about the room, envision it, be specific in what you want.” draco tells you.
you do as you’re told and after a minute you see a door form in the stone.
“this is amazing..” you mutter, tracing the handle.
draco grins, “well, go in.”
you open the door and step into the room, draco right behind you. you’re amazed, the room is exactly as you thought. exactly.
“is this your room? really? you could have made it anything and you make it your bedroom. i knew i should’ve picked.” draco chides.
“oh shut up. i thought you’d like it. you’ll probably never get to see the real one. and now we could do what all friends do, have a sleepover.” you say, hugging his arm.
“fine, but i expect to be shown around.” the boy retorts, stiffening a little at your touch.
you nod and let him go, making your way to the far left of the room.
“this is my desk, where i cry over summer work, mindlessly scroll through twitter, and read. i once snuck a boy over and he begged to fuck me on this desk. of course, i couldn’t do that to her, and i told him to leave.” you chuckle, stroking the wood.
“i didn’t need to know that.” draco grimaces.
you shove him, “next is my shelf of plants. these are my babies and i swear to god if they’re not being watered while i’m gone i will hex my mother. which reminds me, i should text her.”
“right beside it is my picture wall. it’s kind of embarrassing, i have super old pictures up there. i should warn you, april used to dress like a farmer.”
draco pauses at the pictures, looking at them all.
“who’s that?” draco asks, pointing to and old picture of your grandparents.
“my grandma and pa. i think they were seventeen in this picture.” you reply, looking at your grandparents smiling young faces.
“that’s cute that they were together even then. my mother thought that pansy and i would be like that, but pansy is too, well, pansy.” he mumbles.
you smile at him, “whatever you say draco.”
he sits on your bed, “i’m being serious, i have someone else in mind.”
your eyes bulge and you look at him with a smirk, “and who might that be?”
he rolls his eyes, “i would love to tell you, but i’m not ready the tell the loudmouth american.”
“i can keep a secret!”
“i’ll tell you when the time is right. for now, i want to learn how to google.”
it takes an hour. a full hour just to explain the concept of google to draco. throughout the process he keeps asking stupid questions.
‘you’re sure there’s no magic involved?’
‘you can learn anything from this?’
‘what do you mean i can’t search that?’
like you said, stupid questions.
but it didn’t really bother you. it was nice seeing the platinum haired boy learn about modern living. and it was even nicer to see him begin to enjoy yet another muggle invention.
you stare at him at he types in a search, his eyebrows furrowed and hair unkempt. he looks different than the boy you first met. almost happier and more carefree. his pale complexion has some sun from the countless hours the two of you have spent at black lake. his fingernails are also now coated in a layer of light green polish.
“stop staring at me.” he grins, turning his face toward you.
“i can’t help it.” you say, fighting back a smile.
his cheeks turn a light pink shade, “and why is that, l/n?”
“you seem different.”
“is that bad?” he asks.
“no, it’s actually really nice.”
draco bites his lip and looks back down to the computer, “i think we should head to bed, don’t you think?”
you nod your head and close the laptop, placing it on your nightstand.
“did you bring pjs?” you ask him, reaching under your bed for your own bag that holds your sleepwear.
“um, no. why would i have brought them? i didn’t know i was sleeping here, l/n.”
you stick your tongue out at him, “i think i have some of quinn’s old clothes in here. hold on.”
you rummage through your drawers, trying to find clothes to fit draco, until you finally come across an old wampus annual bake sale tee and some black and orange flannel bottoms.
you turn around, only to find your friend shirtless.
your mouth opens, ready to tease him.
“oh please, i can’t sleep in a shirt.” he groans.
and you can’t help but to look at his chest and torso. he’s so muscular and lean. but before you let yourself be sucked into fantasizing about your friend, you throw him the pj bottoms.
“i’m gonna change in the closet, you can stay out here. just let me know when you’re done.” you say, rushing into the closet.
you change quickly, but stay inside for a bit longer, thinking about draco.
your sweet, sarcastic, quidditch loving, spontaneous dickhead of a friend. and it’s then you realize that draco is not just your friend.
you actually like the guy.
and you’re about to share a bed with him.
this should be great, but you’re too scared to ruin the friendship between the two of you. the one you’ve worked so hard for.
when draco shouts that he’s done changing you quickly compose yourself and slip into your bed, right beside him. he turns off the lights with a simple flick of his wand and eases next to you.
“you don’t snore, do you?” he asks.
you feel his legs, wrap between yours and for a second you forget to answer.
“oh um, shit, i don’t know.”
he huffs and pulls you into him, pulling your curls away from his face and onto the pillow.
“goodnight draco.” you whisper, suddenly deathly aware of the close proximity between the two of you.
he rubs your back, “goodnight l/n.”
__
when the you wake up, draco is still beside you, arms around you and face nuzzled into your neck.
it takes a few minutes but he finally wakes up, separating from you.
you miss his flushed face as you go to the closet to change, and he doesn’t pay attention to your stuttering each time you look into his eyes.
“i have to study for charms today. i’ll see you after lunch though, i think blaise wants us all to head to hogsmeade.” draco says, as the two of you slip out of the room of requirement.
“alright, sounds good. i’ve been meaning to try butterbeer.” you smile, avoiding eye contact.
when the two of you enter the common room, you’re greeted by april and blaise, who are playing a game of wizard chess.
“hi y’all! did you have fun last night?” april asks, staring down blaise’s king.
“um, yeah. it was really cool. i’ll have to show you and soph sometime.” you say, taking a seat on the armchair.
“merlin april, hurry up, you play like my grandmother.” blaise chuckles.
the dirty blonde smirks at him before making a move, “checkmate, zabini.”
blaise gives her a smile.
“come on zabini, let’s head to the library. i have a bloody charms essay due.” draco tells him.
blaise rolls his eyes, “sure, but i don’t know why i need to come.”
draco scoffs, “if you want to do your essay with crabbe then be my guest, i was just trying to be nice.”
blaise looks over to the fire, where crabbe is burning the tip of his wand. the brown eyed boy scratches the back of his neck before getting up and following draco out of the common room.
“he’s so cute.” april breathes out, staring at the door the boys left out of.
“zabini?” you ask, confused.
“yes girl. and he’s so funny. and sweet. i told soph last night that i wanted to take him out on a date. and i think i’m gonna,” she looks at you, eyes begging. “will you pretty please double date with us this evening at hogsmeade. sophie said no.”
you furrow your eyebrows, “i’d love to but i don’t have anyone to take along.”
she gives you a deadpan look.
“what?” you question.
“you’d take draco. i know you’re just friends, but if you talk to him i’m sure he’d be fine with it.” she says.
you sigh, “i’ll ask, but no-”
she interrupts you, “oh thank you honey! i love you y/n.”
you don’t tell her about your crush on the grey eyed boy. even though you’re dying to get it off your chest.
but it’s probably for the best. he said himself last night that he has someone in mind. and what good would it do telling him, it might ruin the friendship. even if he did like you, there’s only so much time in a year until you’re back in american. i just couldn’t work.
even if you really want it to.
‘fucking great.’
#—myfics !#Draco Malfoy#draco lucius malfoy#draco fanfiction#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco x y/n#draco x female reader#draco x you#draco malfoy series#draco x american! reader#draco x ilvernmorny! reader#draco malfoy x slytherin#draco x reader series
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Apple Picking Leads To Apple Pie
Title: Apple Picking Leads To Apple Pie
Fandom: Kingsman
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x British!Reader
Author: @sheerfreesia007
Words: 2,429
Warnings: Fluff, British slang
Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite
Author Notes: So this was a request for some apple picking and apple pie wholesome goodness with a British reader and our cowboy boyfriend. I gotta say I loved writing this it was so fun! I hope I did all the British slang correctly. I even looked up some others to use.The apple orchard/farm I described in here is an actual place that my parents used to take me and my siblings to when we were younger to go apple picking. The place is called Demarest Farm and it’s up in Hillsdale, New Jersey. It’s a really cool place. Feedback is always appreciated!
Gif Credit: Google
The sun was slowly creeping higher and higher up into the sky as you lazily stared out the open window. The cool crisp morning air breezes in through the window and you breathed in through your nose taking in the smell of autumn in the States. A low country song singing about redneck life played over the radio that your chauffeur had turned on as soon as you had climbed into his truck. Turning your head you look over to Agent Whiskey silently. He was dressed in a red and black plaid flannel and a pair of dark wash worn blue jeans.
Ever since Kingsman had come back to the States to visit their brethren you and Whiskey had been attached at the hip. He had claimed that the last time Kingsman came to the States they didn't have a pretty agent like you with them and he wanted to get to know you better, plus he was a sucker for a pretty lady with a British accent. You had at first been apprehensive but Eggsy had assured you that Whiskey was a proper mate and that it'd do you some good to be around the charming cowboy.
So that was how you found yourself in the cow boy's truck on your way to an apple orchard. It had been while you were out at the pub with all of them that the conversation of seasonal activities had come up. Whiskey had been shocked and appalled that you had never been apple or pumpkin picking and had vowed to rectify that slight. You had just thought he was being nice but when he turned up at your hotel room with hot chocolate in hand you had found out that he had been deadly serious.
"You know you didn't have to do this." You said kindly from your seat as you stared over at him.
"Nonsense darling! I like going to the local orchard and it'll give you an american experience that you've never had before." He said happily as he patted your jean clad thigh lately. "Besides I like that I get to share this with you." He admitted sheepishly. The satisfied smile that burst onto your lips caught his attention and you watched a blush creep up his neck.
Turning back to the window you silently watched all the orange, red and brown leaves on the trees blur past as Whiskey stepped on the gas. It wasn't long before he was turning to pull into a large gravel parking lot that had a medium sized farmer's store and a large red and white barn. The parking lot was only half full and you surmised that that was due to the early hour. You stayed in your seat as Whiskey pulled his truck through the parking lot to a gate where there were orchard employees standing waiting with clipboards. Whiskey slowed to a stop and rolled down his window.
“Mornin’ Jack! How many bags this year?” asked a friendly elderly woman who had bright white shocking hair that was pulled up into a ponytail.
“I think we’ll do ten this year.” Whiskey said as he looked over towards you and you smiled nodding your head at him. The woman handed him a bundle of paper bags and he passed it along to you so you could set it on the seat between you. Then you watched as he began driving up the dirt road that ran along the long lines of orchard trees in the quiet morning.
As the truck climbed higher and higher on the property you could see all the orchard trees laid out in almost perfect rows and you were taken with the beautiful scenery around you. It wasn’t long before Whiskey pulled his truck into one of the rows and parked his truck at the end of the row. You opened your door and slid out of the truck leaning back in to take the bundle of bags with you. You shivered a little in the cool morning air and flicked up the collar on your down filled vest. You had dressed in a pair of dark wash blue jeans, a red and blue plaid shirt over a white tank top and a down filled vest over that. A pair of gray suede boots protected your feet and you had a navy blue knit hat in your pocket in case you grew cold.
Moving to the back of the truck you watched as Whiskey pulled out a large wooden pole with a clawed basket on the end of it, as well as a rather large red wooden wagon, a small cooler and a small ladder. He set the wagon down on the ground and tucked the small ladder and cooler into it before he locked up the truck and turned to you.
“What’s that for?” you asked curiously as you nodded to the pole.
“It’s an apple picker. It’ll help us get to the ones up top.” he explained and you nodded with a twitch of your lips. Whiskey then began walking down the row looking critically at all the trees.
“So have you really never been apple picking before? Or were you just humoring me when I asked you to come with me?” Whiskey asked as the two of your moved along the row of trees. You were just quietly taking in your surroundings as you walked just letting the quiet of the orchard and nature consume you.
“No I wasn’t just humoring you. I actually haven’t been apple picking before. I’ve always wanted to just never got around to it.” you explained to him as you continued on down the row.
“Yeah Eggsy had this look in his eye when he offered you up to come with me. So I wasn’t sure if how do you guys say it ‘taking the piss’?” Whiskey said amicably as he stopped in front of a tree and eyed it contemplatively.
“Of course he did. Don’t mind him Whiskey, he's a tosser.” you said with a soft scowl on your face and Whiskey looked over at you with a confused smile.
“A what?” he asked curiously and you laughed softly.
“Idiot, he’s an idiot.” you translated for him and he burst out in loud laughter.
“Well you got that right sweetheart.” he said knowingly and you grinned over at him. Whiskey then angled the wagon so that it wouldn’t roll away from the two of you before he pulled the ladder out and set it up against the tree. “Alright sweetheart let’s get to work. Avoid the ones that look like they’re rotted or bad.”
“I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to pick a good apple Whiskey, you muppet.” you snarked at him with a grin as you began to open up the paper bags so you could put the apples into them.
“Of course I didn’t mean to insinuate-” he began to apologize and you laughed softly.
“That time I was taking the piss.” you quipped to him and he smirked at you before he moved towards the tree with the apple picker.
The two of you worked well together and soon enough you were working on your third tree. Whiskey would work on one side getting the apples up at the top while you worked on the other side using the ladder to get the ones you could reach. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, and you learned and shared things with the cowboy that you had only shared with Eggsy, Merlin and Harry. It was just easy to confide in Whiskey and it seemed the same for him as he told you about his past and his family.
You were standing by the wagon grabbing a water bottle from the small cooler and taking a sip. As you were pulling the water bottle you spotted movement out of the corner of your eye along the row of trees below you. Turning your head you saw a female doe and her fawn watching you and Whiskey curiously.
“Whiskey! Look!” you hissed over your shoulder at him as you stared in awe of the animals. They were so elegant looking as you watched the doe’s ears flicker and her nose twitched as her eyes stared at you silently. You moved slowly so as not to startle them but you wanted to get a little closer.
“Don’t sweetheart there’s apples all along the ground.” Whiskey warned softly and you waved your free hand over your shoulder at him dismissively. Just as you took another step you felt something roll underneath it and you squeaked in surprise as suddenly you fell backwards onto your arse.
“Bloody hell!” you shouted loudly into the air as your arse hit the ground harshly and you groaned feeling the fallen apples digging into your body. A loud bark of laughter came from behind you and you scowled softly. Your eyes darted over to the doe and fawn only to see them quickly scampering off away from you. “Falling arse over tits for deer. If Eggsy or Merlin hear about this they’ll be chuffed.” you muttered lowly and heard Whiskey’s warm chuckle from right behind you and you whipped your head to see him looking down at you affectionately. “Not a word to either of them cowboy. Understand?” you threatened ineffectually as he laughed loudly again before holding his hand out to you to help you up.
“Scouts honor sweetheart. But I gotta say watching you fall over apples onto your apples will be a sight I hope to never forget.” he says still chuckling at you.
“Get stuffed Whiskey.” you snip at him as you stand and he bursts into laughter again. He dusts you off and smiles down at you warmly.
“You were still cute when you fell sweetheart so don’t worry.” he reassured you and huffed before throwing your middle finger up at him and he laughed. He helped you over the apples back to the wagon and you shook your head at him when he grinned. “C’mon I think we got all ten bags filled. Let’s head back and I’ll get us some apple cider and a candied apple to ease your bruised ego.”
“That sounds smashing.” you said gratefully and you folded up the ladder and placed it back in the wagon that Whiskey had a hold of and the apple picker.
“So how was your apple picking date with Whiskey, luv?” Eggsy asked with a shit eating grin on his face as he sat at the small dinner table in your hotel. You were currently cleaning up the small kitchenette in your hotel after finishing up all the baking you had done today.
“You’ve lost the plot haven’t you?” you retorted and Merlin snorted softly as he turned the page to the morning paper as he sat across from Eggsy.
“No, no I haven’t. It was a date. Did you snog him?” Eggsy asked before he winked at you and you flipped him off making him burst into happy laughter.
“Children.” Harry admonished softly as he stepped into your hotel room. “Whatever you’re baking smells heavenly.” he complimented you and you grinned.
“I’ve got two pies cooling on the rack now. But there’s apple turnovers just done cooling over here for you lot.” you explained. Eggsy was quickly standing from his chair and you shook your head at his eagerness.
“Who’s the other pie for luv?” Eggsy asked cheekily as he took a bite out of the apple turnover he swiped from the rack.
“Bugger off you prat.” you snapped at him and he grinned widely as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “For that you get none now, you twit.” you said haughtily as you pointed a finger at him.
“Oh come on luv!” Eggsy said as you moved to place one of the pies in a container that would keep it safe as you traveled. You also slipped in two plates and some silverware.
“No. Harry, don’t let him touch the pie.” you instructed him and he nodded with a soft smile as you moved out of the hotel room and down to the car that Statesman always had waiting for any of you just in case.
You knocked at the office door and waited silently holding the pie container in your hands. A few moments later the door opened and you smiled over at Whiskey who looked at you confused for a second before his eyes fell to the pie container and he grinned. Opening the door wider he moved to the side and let you come in. Striding in you easily moved over to his desk and set the container down on it.
“So what’s this?” Whiskey asked curiously and you smiled at him.
“Well it’s a bit of a bribe.” you explained underhandedly.
“A bribe? Sweetheart I can’t be bought.” Whiskey admitted warningly with a soft smirk.
“Everyone’s got a price, Whiskey. And I just so happened to learn that you love homemade pie.” you said knowingly.
“And who’d you hear that from?” he asked as he moved to sit in his desk chair across from you.
“Champ of course.” you said offhandedly as you began to pull out the still warm apple pie. You placed it in front of Whiskey and watched as the agent stared in awe.
“Goodness that looks delicious.” he complimented and you preened silently at his praise. But when he pulled the silverware from the container you quickly swiped up the pie away from him. His head shot up to stare at you in confusion.
“My terms are that what happened at the orchard will never reach Eggsy’s ears. Understood?” you demanded and Whiskey’s eyes darted over to the pie before they fell back on you.
“You’re a devil woman to be tempting me with pie like this. Yes, yes fine. I won’t tell Eggsy about you falling on your apples at the orchard.” He teased you and you rolled your eyes at him before setting the pie back on his desk. Whiskey quickly plated two slices and dug into his. The loud groan he let out was sinful and you looked up at him with your fork hovering over your open mouth. “Hell sweetheart. If I knew you baked this well I’d have asked you out on a date to the orchard long before.”
“It was a date?!” you cried out in shock. Whiskey grinned over at you as he took another bite of his pie as his eyes danced with mirth.
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we’re reeling through the midnight streets
royality, multichapter, ao3
roman and patton have grown up in small town maryland, where people are shitty and the only people they really have is each other. one, fleeting night they decide to runaway together and even if it is a horrible idea, neither finds it in themselves to care because they're together. and when they're together, anything is possible.
chapter 1: you’re a werewolf and i’m a full moon (3,754 wc)
warnings for this chapter: underage drinking, drunk driving (nothing happens but still), use of the q slur and the f slur (shitty football player :/)
Patton could say, with full confidence, when Roman walked into his freshman year English class in the middle of the semester, that was the moment he started to believe in the idea of love at first sight.
Roman Prince stood at 5 feet 10 inches tall, wore a flannel too big for him that screamed ‘i stole this from my dad’s closet’, had an award winning smile, eyes like a forest where the sunlight leaks in through the leaves and there’s a house calling out to you that is oddly welcoming .
“I’m Roman Prince, what’s your name?” And his voice warmed the skin like the sun on a beautiful autumn day. Patton could feel his heart skip a beat. Roman tilted his head and Patton remembered he’d asked for his name.
“Patton,” He sputtered, “Patton Sanders.”
“It’s nice to meet you Patton.” Roman said, grabbing his book from the bag at his feet.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Patton mumbled, head in a daze. Roman eyed him then leaned in.
“Do you want to show me around? I get lost fairly easily.” Roman asked, the smile on his face was easy, effortless. Patton only nodded. After class, Patton showed Roman around campus and where each of his classes were. During lunch, Roman found Patton and decided then and there they would be friends.
Three years later, as fall break approached for their Senior year, Roman and Patton were best friends. Really, they didn’t have any other friends but neither saw why they would need to be friends with anyone else, they had each other and that was all that mattered.
“Two weeks off, what are we doing?” Roman asked Patton, who sat in the driver's seat of his old pickup truck. Roman sat in the back, the top half of his body hanging in through the little partition window that separated the trunk and the cab.
“We could go to the drive in.” Patton answered, chewing on the straw of his Capri Sun.
“We always go to the drive in.” Roman whined, “We should do something fun, something we haven’t done before.”
“There’s not a lot to do here, Ro.”
“There has to be something…” Roman said, his sentence trailing off. He brought his thumb up to his mouth and gnawed at the skin around his nail as he thought. His face lit up with a realization.
“Halloween is this weekend, there has to be somebody throwing a party!” Patton furrowed his brow.
“How are we going to go to a party when nobody invites us?” Patton asked, folding his arms over the back of his seat and resting his chin on top.
“I’m sure people will post the address on their Snapchat, I’ve seen people make stupid flyers and put them on their story.” Roman said. Patton opened his mouth and then stopped himself. Roman softened his expression.
“What’s wrong, Pat?” Roman asked while moving Patton’s hair from his face.
“It’s nothing.” He answered quietly.
“If you don’t wanna go that’s fine.” Roman told him, but Patton could notice the way his friend’s face dropped a little. Patton would do anything for Roman, even if it included driving him to a stupid Halloween party where he knew they’d stick out like a sore thumb. It made his friend happy and that was all Patton wanted.
“No, it’s fine I think we should go.” Patton said with a smile. Roman gave him a questioning look. “Seriously, it’ll be fun going to a real life high school party.” Patton reassured him. Roman shone his thousand watt smile and Patton knew there was no way he could ever say no to him.
That Friday, quarterback of their objectively awful football team, Tyler Smith posted a horribly made flyer advertising a Halloween party at his house. Roman excitedly showed Patton who had honestly warmed up to the idea. There was no harm in some stupid, stereotypical teenage fun every now and again. The advertisement stated it was a costume party, which meant people would vaguely dress up as something while looking hot as fuck. Roman insisted on wearing matching costumes, which meant he went as a vampire and Patton went as a werewolf. The vampire costume consisted of fake fangs, a white button down shirt with poofy sleeves that had the first three buttons open, black, skinny pants, and an air of seductive, homo eroticism that all vampires seem to have. Needless to say, Roman pulled it off well, a little too well in Patton’s opinion. Meanwhile, Patton wore one of Roman’s huge flannels that had rips in weird places, a pair of loose, black, torn to shreds pair of jeans, hiking boots, and black eyeliner on his nose and upper lip that semi- resembled a muzzle.
“You look so much more attractive than me.” Patton complained as they looked at themselves in the mirror. Patton was already a pretty small kid, measuring up to 5 feet 6 inches (sometimes when he measured himself he swears there was another half an inch, Roman says it's just wishful thinking). He looked even smaller swimming in Roman’s clothes.
“It only seems that way because I’m hot, you’d be described more as cute.” Roman said and pinched Patton’s face. He pouted and crossed his arms, which Roman argued made him look even more cute, and his face went a little red at that. They left Roman’s house and arrived at the party around 8. They walked; there wasn’t that much distance between houses and they both planned on drinking, so no driving.
As soon as they walked into the house they heard the dull pounding of some song with the bass too high. People crowded each other, leaving almost no room to walk. Patton grabbed Roman’s hand instinctively, making sure they wouldn’t get separated. Roman still had a problem with getting lost even after three years. They quickly maneuvered their way into the kitchen where plastic cups the perfect size for shots sat next to way too much alcohol. Mixers were set out along with normal plastic cups. Roman poured two shots of Smirnoff and handed one to Patton. They downed the shots and each made a face of utter disgust. Patton coughed and grabbed a water bottle that sat on the counter. Roman rubbed his back as he sipped on some of the water. Patton poured himself half a cup of Orange Juice and filled the other half with some kind of vodka while Roman poured himself another shot. This wasn’t their first time drinking but it was the first time so many people in the room were drinking alongside them. The two left the kitchen, Patton holding his Screwdriver with both hands and Roman nursing a White Claw. They moved to the music and talked about something stupid.
“Woah, never thought I’d see this.” Someone said next to Patton’s side, “The Patton Sanders at a house party?” Patton looked over to see Remy Sullivan, the closest person to a friend he had outside of Roman.
“Hey Remy!” He yelled over the music with a grin.
“Sup Babes.” They greeted, placing an arm around his shoulder. Roman eyed them up and down, he never did like Remy, Patton never quite understood why.
“I’m drinking.” Patton informed them, holding up his drink as proof.
“That you are.” Remy responded with a chuckle. “How much has he had?” They asked Roman.
“Not a lot, but he’s not very tolerant.” Roman replied and took a long sip of his drink.
“Are yall gonna be ok getting home?” They asked.
“We walked, and I’m not drunk so yes I’m sure we are.” Patton responded. Remy gave a nod.
“I’ll be right back.” They said before leaving in the direction of the kitchen.
“Why don’t you like them?” Patton asked Roman, who choked on his drink by surprise. He hit his chest as he got done coughing.
“What made you think I don’t like them?” He asked, looking away from his friend.
“You always get annoyed when they’re around.” Patton said and leaned against him, “Are you just jealous someone else likes talking to me?” He teased. Roman knocked him with his shoulder.
“I’m not used to sharing you.” Patton looked up at Roman’s face, which held a redder hue than usual. Patton smirked and hugged the blushing boy’s middle.
“You love me.” Patton said, drawing out the word love. Roman rolled his eyes and pushed Patton off.
“You’re impossible.” He said with a smile as Remy walked back over with six jello shots.
“Two for each.” They said, handing Patton and Roman their two. Patton clinked his with Roman’s, then Remy’s and took them at the same time. He shook his head as they traveled down his throat in an uncomfortable way. He stuck his tongue out once they were fully swallowed. He downed the rest of his Screwdriver as a sort of after wash that just added to the gross taste in his mouth.
“You’re gonna be miserable in the morning.” Roman said and plopped his chin down on Patton’s head.
“But I’m gonna have fun tonight so it’s worth it.” He retorted and grabbed Roman’s White Claw, taking a sip before he could stop him.
“Get your own.” He said, snatching the can away from Patton, who walked into the kitchen to do just that.
One White Claw later, Patton stumbled when he walked into the backyard with Roman, who was on his second can after finishing his first and three more shots of straight vodka. Suffice to say, both boys wouldn’t even come close to passing a sobriety test. They heavily sat on the back porch and leaned on each other for support. Patton laid his head on Roman’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around the other’s so they could hold hands.
“You’re my favorite person.” Patton said matter of factly. Roman tilted his head so it was resting on top of Patton’s.
“What a coincidence, you’re mine too.” Roman said, closing his eyes. They sat in silence, soaking up the night air that cooled down their faces. Alcohol and a full house made for a very sickly warm feeling. Patton looked around at the surrounding people. There weren’t too many people outside, mostly couples who came out to get some privacy. He rubbed his thumb across Roman’s knuckles, his way of communicating that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Roman placed his free hand on top of their intertwined fingers. His way of saying ‘i feel the same’. There were many things unspoken between them; the longing glances, the way their hands ached if they were not being held together, the way Patton’s face warmed if he looked into Roman’s eyes for too long, the way Roman couldn’t sit still until his touch was on Patton in some way; all of this was to never be acknowledged, in the same way an eclipse is to never be looked at with the naked eye. Their love too precious to be recognized, as if noticing it would scare it away like a rabbit in a flower garden. Patton didn’t mind, he could be content just admiring from afar.
“It’s those fucking weird gay kids.” Patton’s ears perked up at the sound of someone doing an awful job at whispering. “How the hell did they even get in here?”
“I don’t know but they need to leave.” Someone whispered back. Patton felt Roman’s hand tighten around his own.
“Excuse me?” A girl’s voice grabbed their attention. They looked up to see Tyler’s girlfriend, Katie, standing above them, a very forced smile on her face.
“How can we help you?” Roman said, his voice painfully fake.
“We’d appreciate it if you two wouldn’t do that.” She said, making a face and gesturing to their hands. Roman rolled his eyes.
“And why is that?” He asked, voice full of annoyance.
“Because it’s not pleasant to look at.” She said.
“Seeing you and Tyler make out at lunch is also not pleasant to look at but yall don’t seem to care.” Roman argued back. Tyler stepped in.
“Listen guys, I don’t want a couple of queers at my party.” He said, getting straight to the point. Roman stood up, dragging Patton up with him in refusal of dropping his hand.
“What the fuck did you just call us?” Roman stood face to face with the football player.
“Would you rather I say faggots?” He said, leaning close to Roman’s face. Patton yanked Roman back just as he was about to headbutt him.
“Roman, come on let’s just leave.” Patton said, pulling him towards the fence that led to the sidewalk.
“Patton I can’t just let him talk to us like that.” Roman said, pulling back.
“Roman, please it’s not worth it, the dude is a football player.” Patton pleaded. Roman gazed over at Tyler then back at Patton and sighed.
“You’re right.” He conceded, letting Patton lead the way out. They walked along the sidewalk, stumbling every now and again. After wandering for a bit, Patton pulled Roman over to a little park and set him down on a swing and hopped onto the other. They sat in silence, the breeze causing them to sway. After a few minutes Roman spoke.
“I hate this stupid hick town.” He kicked the wood chips underneath his feet. Patton nodded in agreement.
“This place sucks, I can’t wait to leave.” As Patton said this Roman’s face lit up and he looked over at Patton.
“I have an idea.” He said eagerly, twisting the swig so he was facing Patton more.
“Another one of your brilliant ideas?” Patton said in amusement. Roman bumped his swing to his.
“Yes, another one.” He paused, probably for some sense of suspense, “I think we should run away!” He said wildly. Patton let out a nervous laugh, which Roman scowled at.
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly.” Patton bit the inside of his lips.
“Where would we go?” He asked, humoring the other.
“New York, of course.” Roman replied as if it was a ridiculous thing to ask.
“Money?”
“I’ve got a lot saved up! All the money I earned from that stupid lifeguard job I worked over the summer went right into my savings.”
“How would we get there?” Patton asked desperately.
“We could drive your truck, she may be a bit beat up but she’s still got an adventure in her.” With each question Roman answered more and more passionately.
“Our parents?” Patton grasped at one last straw, one reason to stay.
“My parents don’t give a shit about where I go,” Roman pointed to himself and then to Patton, “And your dad wouldn’t even bother.” Patton mumbled an ‘ouch’, because even if he was right it still hurt. Patton wracked his brain for some reason to say no, but a look in Roman’s eyes, which pleaded for him to say yes, made him stop. He knew there were plenty of other reasons; their education, shelter, where the money would go. But Patton ignored those and grabbed Roman’s hands.
“Let’s do it.” He said and before he could take it back Roman jumped up and hugged Patton as tight as he could. He pulled away with the biggest grin Patton had ever seen. Despite logic pointing in the opposite direction, Patton felt like he made the right decision. They ran to Roman’s house, where they snuck into his room. He took out his dumb fangs and slipped off the shirt, replacing it with a big t-shirt. He opened his closet and emerged with a suitcase.
“How long have you been planning this?” Patton asked, a little breathless.
“Too long.” He said before pushing Patton out of his room. He closed the door behind him and they carefully exited the rest of the house. They walked a few blocks over to Patton’s and climbed into his room from his window. He gathered up his essentials; his most worn clothes, a toothbrush, a couple books he’d been meaning to read, and his electronics. He stuffed them into a duffel bag he used mostly during play season to bring in extra costume pieces or props. He went over to his piggy bank and shoved it in, they’d count the money up later. He snatched his car keys from his desk and they slipped back through the window. They stuck their bags in the small space between the seat and the back of the cab. Patton wiggled his body out before starting the car.
“Let’s stay at that Motel 6 just outside of Mayberry.” Roman said. Mayberry was a few towns over from where they lived, which wasn’t too far from the Maryland Pennsylvania border.
“We’re gonna stay in a room you’ve definitely had a hookup in.” Patton said with disgust.
“Yeah, probably but it’s familiar.” Roman said, plugging in his seat belt. Patton made a face but turned on the car and reversed out of his driveway. Roman connected his phone to the aux cord and put on songs that could only be described as ‘coming of age movie’ music. Roman sang along to most of them and Patton tapped the rhythm on the steering wheel. Within an hour they were in Mayberry. Patton stopped at the first gas station they found. He unclicked his seat belt and grabbed some money from Roman.
“Be safe.” He said as he handed the money over. Their hands lingered longer than they needed too. They pretended not to notice. Patton walked into the little building where a man around the same age as his father sat behind the counter. He walked over to the cold drinks and grabbed two waters, they needed it. He placed them on the counter.
“Just this?” The cashier asked.
“20 on 2 please.” Patton said and handed him the money. He grabbed his change and stuffed it in his pocket before he could put it in the little charity jar that sat on the counter like he would usually do. They would need to keep as much money as they could.
“Thank you.” He said in lieu of a goodbye and grabbed the water bottles. He walked over to his truck and threw the waters inside. Roman grabbed one and drank about half of the bottle in one go. Patton filled up his gas tank. The night surrounded him and even though he probably should have been scared he wasn’t. Things felt strangely right. Maybe it was the stars that shone in the sky above them that could actually be seen, or the shadowed silhouettes of the trees, but Patton felt calm. He hung the gas pump back up and entered the car.
“Do you want me to drive?” Roman asked. Patton looked over at him. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, along with the effects of the alcohol, Roman looked extremely tired. He was sure he looked just as worse for wear.
“Nah, I’ve got it, it's only a few minutes away.” Patton said and turned on the car. Roman relaxed back in his seat and sipped the rest of his water. Patton opened his own bottle with one hand while he pulled out and onto the road. Roman didn’t turn on music, letting the radio play on whatever station it was set to. They shortly pulled up to the parking lot of the Motel 6 and Patton parked right in front. They each unbuckled and walked into the main building. A woman sat behind the desk.
“Hello.” Roman greeted, “We’d like a room please.” He said with that lazy smile that Patton couldn’t get enough of. She looked between the two of them and then turned around to grab a key from the wall.
“Room number 5.” She handed them the key, “That’ll be 25.” She said as she typed something into a boxy computer. Roman slid over the money and grabbed the key. She took the money and placed it in a makeshift cash register. The two muttered thanks and went to the car. Patton pulled around to their room. They grabbed their bags and opened the door to their shelter for the night. Motels always get a bad rep for being gross but their room was actually very clean. Of course, there were probably a million unseen germs on every surface but Patton couldn’t find it in himself to care. He dropped his bag on the side of the bed and plopped face down onto the mattress. He lazily kicked off his shoes and shimmied his way out of his pants, only using his legs. They got caught at his feet and before he could slip them off by kicking, Roman pulled them off for him. He joined him in the bed, laying on his back. Patton turned his head towards his friend. His hair was growing out, and looked like a mop on his head. His face looked calm, relaxed. He still held a small smile on his face.
“You know how you said you were hot earlier, like before the party?” Patton asked. Roman looked over at him and smiled wider.
“Yes, are you going to say you agree?” He winked. Patton rolled his eyes.
“No, I was actually gonna disagree.” He said. Roman let out a noise of offense. “Ok yeah, that sounded bad, what I mean is I think you’re pretty, not hot.” Patton corrected himself. Roman’s face turned red and he turned his head back to the ceiling.
“I disagree.” He said, hands fidgeting as they rested on his stomach. Patton reached over and hooked their pinkies together. They laid like that for a while, letting the exhaustion of the night catch up to them.
“This was a good idea, right?” Roman whispered. Patton looked over and saw Roman already staring at him. Patton looked into those eyes; they seemed to say you’re safe, I’m here and nothing will hurt you. Or maybe that was just Roman’s entire presence.
“I think it is.” Patton replied in a similar hushed tone. They slept on that bed that night, so similar to the way they would at sleepovers, but just different enough to be noticeable. Roman had turned on the shitty, old TV as some background noise to fall asleep to. Patton looked around the room until his eyes landed on Roman’s sleeping form. In this entirely foreign place, with Roman curled up next to him, an old rerun of Friends playing from a low volume from the TV, Patton had never felt more at home.
#royality#roman sanders#patton sanders#remy sanders#sanders sides#sanders sides fic#yes this is the fic i wrote h*gh#i listened to ribs multiple times while writing this#giving me euphoria and life is strange type vibes#am i projecting again bc i hate my small conservative town ? yes#me and my friends talk abt running away a lot but its not a probable thing#so i write abt it instead with my comfort characters#also yall who read the tags know too much about me#its a treat
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Fluffy February Day 4 - Halloween
Phew! I’m a little late, but I managed to make it while the day’s still here. This is day four of @fluffyfebruary and the prompt is Halloween.
Chapter 4: I’ll Be Yours
Pairing: Butch DeLoria/Male Lone Wanderer
Summary: During a Halloween party, Susie suggests that the group of teens play spin the bottle. Jamie isn't one for parties, isn't even one for socializing if he's honest with himself, and he definitely isn't excited to play this game. But Butch has been looking at him all night, and something in his heart tells him this might be different.
Ao3 Link
“Thanks for helping, Jamie,” Amata says from where she’s perched at the top of a step ladder hanging colorful streamers along the ceiling.
Jamie smiles up at her from his own task of making Halloween-themed snacks, “of course.”
She climbs down the ladder and brushes her hands off on the pants of her vault suit, looking up at her handiwork with an approving nod. Orange and purple streamers hang in delicate loops from the ceiling. Hanging among them are dainty origami bats – all handmade by Amata and Susie. They even found some old Christmas lights and strung them up along the walls, hoping that when the main lights were turned off it would create some kind of spooky atmosphere, even if they were red and green.
They’re preparing for their first ever Halloween party as ‘adults.’ Now that everyone in their class was eighteen, Amata had finally gotten her dad to cave and allow them to throw a party at the Mack’s apartment, since it was one of the largest. How she managed to pull it off, Jamie has no idea.
He finally finishes icing the last of his ghost-shaped cookies and walks over to join her, letting out an impressed whistle. “Looks great!” he says, and she smiles at him.
Susie and Wally walk out into the living room from the hallway – they’re wearing freshly pressed vault suits that are tailored a bit closer to their bodies than the normal ones, the blue and yellow fabric even more vivid than usual. Susie’s platinum hair is poker-straight and pulled back into a ponytail with a cherry red bow. Her lipstick matches the bow’s color perfectly. Wally’s hair is plain, but neatly combed – they look nice, but if Jamie’s honest, he doesn’t see how it’s supposed to be a costume.
Amata seems to think the same. “So… what are you guys going as again?” she asks, a sheepish smile on her face. Wally rolls his eyes and elbows Susie.
“I told you they wouldn’t get it!”
“Oh shut it, we just have to do the thing!” Susie pulls at her brother’s arm, who groans in response.
“FINE.” They both look at Jamie and Amata with their cheesiest smiles - Susie’s looking much more genuine than Wally’s – and give them a thumb’s up.
“Uh…” Jamie doesn’t see how that’s supposed to clear anything up for them.
“We’re Vault Boy and Vault Girl!” Susie snaps, crossing her arms. Wally huffs and shakes his head before walking over to the couch and plopping down, reaching into the pumpkin-shaped plastic bowl on the coffee table to shove some chips in his mouth.
“I could tell!” Amata says, trying to appease her. “You look great, Susie! I love the lipstick.” She grabs Jamie’s hand and twines their fingers together. “We have to go get our costumes ready now, but we’ll be right back. Party starts in thirty, right?”
Susie nods, changing into hostess mode once again. “It looks really good in here, by the way. You did a great job, Amata” She smiles and then says, as an afterthought, “uh and Jamie, too, I guess.”
---
Back in Amata’s room, she and Jamie busy themselves with changing into their costumes. Amata is dressed to the nines in a slim-fitting black dress with emerald green accents that she had sewn herself with her mother’s old machine. She has a pair of elbow-length black gloves made from leftover pantyhose and a pearl necklace around her neck that Jamie found in the lower levels of the vault. He kept the details of where he found it to himself. Her costume is pretty close to looking exactly like the original Mistress of Mystery, they've just taken a few creative liberties.
She’s sitting at her vanity, applying her makeup and curling her hair when she asks, “so, are you excited?” Jamie puts down the comic he’s reading and sits up on her bed. He’s already changed into his outfit – just a simple flannel, some jeans, aged brown leather boots that his dad had stowed away in his closet for some reason, and the closest thing they could find to a ten-gallon hat, which is currently around his neck and hanging at his back. A plastic pistol and a makeshift paper holster sit beside him.
“Yeah,” he settles with, trying his hardest to sound convincing. It’s not that he isn’t excited, he’s just nervous. He’s already kind of a social outcast, which is bad enough. What’s even worse is that Butch will be there, which was fine and normal, except for the fact that it wasn’t because just a last week they’d technically had their first kiss down in their hideout, which Jamie had freaked out over and literally ran away from, and then proceeded to pretend it never happened. Outside of work they’d been too busy to hang out recently, so this will be the first time he sees him in such a casual setting since. It’s not like he can ask Amata for advice – she doesn’t even know he’s friends with Butch for one and she’s unlikely to approve, and what if she asks about their hideout? It’s too risky, not to mention humiliating!
“Jamie!” Amata is snapping at him, a soft smile on her face. He blinks and laughs, feeling out of breath despite the fact that all his talking was in his head. What a mess.
“Hah, sorry. Just thinking. I’m kinda nervous, but you know how I am with people.” He shrugs, picking at his nails. Amata walks over and ruffles his hair.
“Hey, it’ll be fun!” she says, trying to sound encouraging. She takes his hands in hers and pulls him off the bed. “But if you get overwhelmed just let me know, we can just come back here and listen to something on the radio – I don’t mind.”
Jamie smiles at her and pulls her close, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of her head. Man, he missed her.
---
It’s been about an hour and the party is going pretty well. The lights are all off aside from the string lights, which, as Amata predicted, create a pretty nice ambience. Everyone is chilling out and listening to music and talking amongst themselves. A few people are playing board games and enjoying snacks, some are dancing.
Jamie’s nerves have calmed a bit – Wally had the brilliant idea to bribe Stevie to leave them some beer, which Jamie is sipping on contentedly from his seat on the couch beside Freddie and Amata.
Everyone’s costumes turned out great too, Jamie thinks. Freddie came as a werewolf – he’d ripped the arms off his vault suit and used grease paint to draw brown hairs all over himself. He’d even given himself a little black dog nose and glued paper triangles to a headband that could pass as ears. It’s a little messy, but he put effort in.
Paul decided to be a vampire and he’s dressed almost as well as Amata, in a fancy white shirt, black slacks, and a tie – probably the same clothes he wore to prom. He has a long black and red cape wrapped around his shoulders. The fake teeth he’s wearing keep popping out of his mouth when he laughs, and Jamie grins at the sight of him fumbling to catch them across the room.
Butch is next to him, laughing his ass off, flask in hand. Apparently, he’s supposed to be a Greaser – he’s wearing his Tunnel Snake jacket and his hair is slicked into its usual pompadour. The only difference is he’s swapped out his vault suit for a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, which he says are classic. He meets Jamie’s gaze from across the room and smirks, sticking his tongue out at the other boy. Jamie looks away quickly, his face red.
Christine is across from Amata on the other couch, chatting with Susie. She’s dressed in a long white sleeping gown with matching slippers. On her back, she has small, handmade angel wings. Their puffy feathers occasionally fall off and stick to every surface, leaving a trail all over the apartment wherever she goes.
Susie turns the radio down a bit then stands and claps to grab everyone’s attention. “Alright, ghouls and gals,” she giggles to herself, “I think it’s about time we started the real party!” Jamie quirks a brow at her and can’t help but notice Amata’s peeved expression.
Everyone who wasn’t already near the couches crowds around and Jamie jumps when he feels two hands clap down on his shoulders. Butch is leaning over the back of the couch, grinning down at him.
“Hey, Nosebleed,” he says with a smirk, leaning closer to his ear. “Cute costume. Who are ya, Calamity Jane?” He tips Jamie’s cowboy hat down into his face playfully.
It’s supposed to be a jab. They don’t typically act friendly in public; something still just feels off about that and they aren’t ready for their relationship to change that drastically. This feels different, however, and Jamie can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips. He hadn’t spoken to Butch all night, he wasn’t sure if the other boy would want him too, but somehow this felt like an invitation.
“Nice costume yourself,” he taunts. He can still feel the heat of the other boy’s body against the back of his neck even as Butch pulls away and stands up straight again. “You supposed to look like a knock-off James Dean?”
Susie clears her throat, shooting Jamie an impatient look. “Anyway, as I was saying,” she continues, the giddy smile returning to her face as she holds up an empty beer bottle. “We should play spin the bottle!”
Butch groans from behind him. “Come on, Susie, that’s such a kid’s game.”
Susie sticks her tongue out at him. “If you could let me finish! We’re going to play it with seven minutes in heaven rules, obviously. This isn’t middle school. We’re adults now.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “So, whoever it lands on gets to go into the hall closet. That more grown-up for you, Butch?”
Butch shrugs, “I guess.”
“I think it sounds fun!” Christine chimes in.” It’s harmless, anyway. Come on, let’s just play. Who knows if we’ll ever be allowed to have a party again?”
---
After moving some of the furniture and grabbing a few pillows for them to sit on they’re all crowded in a circle on the rug in the living room. Jamie is still next to Amata, then Freddie, Wally, Christine, Butch, Susie, and Paul. There’s eight of them, so the odds would be even, but Wally is related to both Christine and Susie – which he continues to complain is unfair.
“Oh shut it, Wally. If it lands on us, just spin again.” Susie snaps and sets the bottle in the middle of the circle. She leans back on her knees, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, actually, there’s two choices. You can either kiss whoever the bottle lands on in the circle publicly,” Christine interjects with a low ‘ooooooh’ and leans closer to Butch, who grins.
“Or!” Susie continues, “you can choose to go into the closet for seven minutes.”
Jamie’s gut twists uncomfortably. He really didn’t want to play this, anyway, let alone when he might be forced to watch Butch slobber on someone. But he’s here for Amata and for his dad, he guesses, who said it would be good for him to behave like a well-adjusted and social teenager for once.
They’re a few spins in and nothing incredible had happened. Wally spun on Susie twice before landing on Paul and the two went into the closet with their handheld games to pass the time. After, Christine landed on Freddie and chose a kiss – which was more of an awkward peck on the side of the mouth than anything else.
Butch rubs his hands together before leaning forward to spin the bottle, making eye contact with Jamie for a split second and shooting him a wink. Jamie’s heart leaps into his throat and he splutters mid drink, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a small cough.
The bottle spins around the circle once before slowing. For a split second, Jamie thinks it’s going to land on him, but it keeps going achingly slow past Paul and… lands on Susie. Christine claps, Amata wolf whistles, and Wally spits out a half-hearted threat about Butch touching his sister. Jamie sees Butch’s smile fade when he looks at Susie, but he catches himself quick and shoots her his most charming smirk.
“How’s about we hit the closet, babe?” he says, laying the greaser schtick on extra thick tonight. Susie blushes red as her bow and stands with him. They hold hands and both go down the hall and into the closet, the door closing softly behind them. Once they’re inside, Christine sets the egg timer they have to seven minutes and the murmur of conversation breaks out among the small group once again.
“How are you doing?” Amata nudges him gently. Jamie didn’t realize he’d just been staring at the bottle, his shoulders tense. He lets out a long sigh and shakes his limbs loose, leaning over to bump their shoulders together.
“I’m fine. This is fun, huh?” He says, trying to convince himself more than anything. He stares at the egg timer, trying not to imagine what could be happening in the closet. He looks back over at Amata and sees her smiling at him, a soft sadness behind her eyes – almost pity. Was he really that obvious?
“I’m gonna get another drink, want one?” he asks, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Amata just lifts her bottle that isn’t even half empty, a sheepish smile on her face.
“No thanks.”
Jamie walks to the kitchen. He rubs his eyes, his face already feeling warm. He’d only had two, maybe three beers. He definitely isn’t even close to being as drunk as he was when he and Butch… he shakes the thoughts of that night out of his head, dropping his empty beer bottles into the garbage can with a bit more force than he’d intended.
Before grabbing another beer, Jamie pours himself a shot of vodka for good measure. Butch must have brought it from his mom’s stash. It burns like hell going down and Jamie almost gags – how could anyone drink this stuff?
“Yo, Jamie!” He hears Freddie call for him and he grabs his beer and heads back to the circle. Butch and Susie are back. Her lipstick is smudged and she’s fixing her ponytail while whispering excitedly to Christine. Butch doesn’t look much better – his hair slightly mussed up and a bit of cherry red still spread on the corner of his lip. Jamie thinks he might be sick.
The timer goes off just as he sits back down, and Paul walks out of the closet with Amata. He’s scrambling to put his vampire teeth back in his mouth, his cape crooked around his neck, and Amata’s face is flushed when she sits next to Jamie. He can’t help his snort and she slaps him on the shoulder.
“It’s your turn, spaz.” Wally says, kicking the bottle his way. He looks pissed, glaring at Butch. Jamie wonders if they’ll fight later because he played tonsil hockey with his sister. He almost hopes they do, just so Butch can get his ass kicked like he deserves.
Jamie reaches forward and gives the bottle a half-hearted spin, just wanting to get his turn over with as soon as possible. It twirls and lands immediately on Butch. He feels like he’s swallowed a rock.
Butch let’s out a theatric groan, “I ain’t kissin’ you, Nosebleed, so let’s just go to the closet and get this over with.” Jamie’s face is on fire and he slams his beer down on the floor.
“Get stuffed, Butch!” It’s my turn, not yours, so I choose what we do!” Butch quirks an eyebrow at him and barks out a laugh, joined by everyone in the circle – aside from Amata, who squeezes Jamie’s hand reassuringly.
“So, you’re sayin’ you wanna kiss the Butch-man?” Jamie thinks he’s going to die, then. Or kill Butch, and then die. Like a murder suicide. Him and his stupid fucking mouth; he didn’t even think about how that would sound.
“N-No!” Jamie practically yells, his voice a squeak. “Fuck you!” He stands, crossing his arms. “Let’s go, closet then. Get this over with before I kick your ass.” He storms to the closet. Butch gets to his feet and follows him with a smug confidence that Jamie wants to beat out of him.
Suddenly remembering who he’s dealing with Wally says, “Hey! No fighting in my closet. You get blood on my dad’s coats and I’ll pummel you both.” They both turn and simultaneously flip the other boy off before shouldering their way into the closet and slamming the door.
It’s more cramped inside than Jamie expected it to be. Darker, too. The darkness is perfectly fine with him – he doesn’t even want to look at Butch right now. Though, that doesn’t last long as his eyes adjust.
“Hey, Nosebleed,” Butch whispers, his voice and his smile infinitely softer than they were a moment ago. They’re close, really close and Jamie’s head is swimming. Their knees bump when they move and the heat of their bodies radiating through the small space is almost suffocating. He can just make out the details of Butch’s face – the handsome slope of his nose and the playful quirk of his lips. He tries to stay mad, but it’s hard. He wants to kiss him so bad.
“Fuck off,” Jamie breathes, but his aggression is lackluster. Butch’s breath is warm against his face and it smells sweet, like mint. Butch chuckles softly.
“Aw, you’re mad at me?” he coos, leaning in closer and practically pressing Jamie against the opposite wall. “You know I was just kidding, Jamie. C’mon, they don’t know what we do.”
Jamie gulps, wondering if Butch means them just hanging out together or if he’s referencing something more. “As if I’d take Susie’s sloppy seconds ,” he hisses, determined to hold his grudge. Ok, so maybe their first kiss did mean something. He’s pretty sure they’re both drunk again, but they definitely aren’t wasted like before – there’s absolutely no way for Butch to pass whatever happens off as a mistake later. IF something happens.
Butch pulls back a little and looks almost hurt. “Hey, it’s just a dumb game,” he says, tilting his head to try and catch Jamie’s gaze, who refuses to look at him. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, okay? You know how much of a crybaby she can be.”
“Well, I’m not a crybaby, so you can keep it in your pants,” Jamie snaps and crosses his arms, shooting Butch as convincing of a glare as he can manage. The other boy just rubs the back of his neck, his posture suddenly a bit more closed off.
“Dammit, Jamie, ya know that’s not what I mean!” Jamie’s heart is thundering in his ears and his chest is so, so tight. He swallows thickly. He does know what Butch means but fuck it if he isn’t going to make the other boy work for it.
“Maybe I don’t,” he states matter-of-factly. Butch clicks his tongue in annoyance and shoves his hands in his pockets. Jamie can feel the distance between them growing further and he panics, desperate to cling to whatever moment they’re having here.
“What do you want?” he asks finally, his voice barely a whisper as he offers Butch this olive branch. The intensity he finds in Butch’s gaze when their eyes meet almost knocks him over.
“You.” It’s a single word, spoken so softly that Jamie almost can’t hear it, but it steals his breath away, nonetheless. He doesn’t even stop to think when he reaches forward and grabs the lapels of Butch’s jacket. He pulls him close, his eyes closing as their lips crash together in a clumsy kiss. It’s just as good as the last, the other boy’s lips warm and inviting as he returns the gesture with enthusiasm.
Butch grabs the back of Jamie’s head, knocking his silly cowboy hat to the floor, and curls his fingers into his hair. Jamie grins into his mouth when Butch nips his lower lip and he grabs the collar of his shirt, playfully shoving the taller boy against the opposite wall.
“Ow!” Butch hisses when he hits his head off the shelf above them, pulling back for a second to make sure it wasn’t too loud. Jamie’s face goes white.
“Oh god, sorry!” he whispers, letting go and pulling back in embarrassment. Butch just laughs.
“S’fine,” he mumbles, unable to stop smiling. He reaches out and pulls Jamie close again, silencing the other boy’s concerns with his lips.
They continue like that for a while, breathless and excited, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths and their arms holding them close like their lives depend on it. It really does feel like heaven, Jamie thinks, an excited laugh escaping his chest.
They could have stayed there forever, lost in their own little world, but they’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the other side of the door. “Time’s up! You can leave hell now.” Wally is laughing out in the hallway.
Butch and Jamie jump apart, their chests heaving and their lips pink. Butch just grins at him, blue eyes shining with mischief. “Should we pretend we were fighting?”
Jamie laughs. “Sure, but that means you’ll have to admit that I won,” he teases, picking up his hat and turning to leave. Butch grabs his wrist and tugs Jamie back to him. There’s a very serious expression on his face all of a sudden and he's biting his lip like he's thinking before he reaches out to tilt Jamie’s chin up. He leans down and presses one more open-mouthed kiss to his lips and it feels almost desperate. Jamie’s breath is stolen away again, at least whatever was left of it, and when they part, he just stares, dumbfounded, at Butch’s adoring smile.
“Whatever you want, Nosebleed.”
#fallout#fallout 3#fluffyfebruary#butch deloria#lone wanderer#male lone wanderer#butch/m!lw#fanfiction#fanfic#spin the bottle#mlm#fluff#kissing#jay writes#fluffyfeb
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Flower Shop Mayhem
Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader
Summery: On a rainy afternoon you get the oddest flower order ever.
You have worked at your families floral shop since you could remember. You have spent your days growing flowers and making arrangements. It was a pretty boring job up until that day.
The door to shop opens with more force than is necessary and in stomps in a tall and rather angry looking Serpent. No… not a snake, a person...well… a gang member… Oh dear….
You recognize Sweet Pea from school and reputation alone. You have one class in which he sits in the back brooding and you sit rather far away from him.
He stomps his way up to the counter, dripping water onto the floor from the onslaught of rain outside, and slams his hands down on the counter and snarls out, “I need a bouquet that says, ‘fuck you.’”
You blink owlishly at him for a moment, completely surprised by not only his request but his presence.
“Okay…. Like… for an enemy or like an ex girlfriend?” you ask hesitantly and obviously confused.
“Enemy.”
“Okay… umm… well…” You think for a few moments and you notice the way he sighs impatiently.
“How about Monkswood?” you say as you come out from around the counter and make your way to a purple flowers, “It means ‘hatred.’”
“Perfect,” he says with a growl, “What else?”
You chuckle as you skip over to the buttercups, “These mean childish! And orange Lilies mean pride, disdain and hatred!”
It was an odd request, but it is definitely the most interesting and fun request you had gotten in a very long time.
“Oh! And peonies! To the Victorians they represented anger!”
You glance over at him and he looks significantly less angry than he did when he walked in, perhaps even a little amused.
“Yeah, sounds good, I don’t really know anything about flowers…”
“That’s okay! Should I ring these up for you?”
He nods as he follows you back over to the counter where you arrange them into an arrangement and at his request put them in a vase.
“So who are these for?” you ask, feeling far more comfortable with the guy standing before you, now that he doesn’t look like he’s about to kill you.
“This asshole kid that stabbed himself in the leg during a fight the other night. We all got hauled into the police station for this fight and accused of stabbing this guy when he’s the one who did it. He’s at the hospital, so I figured I would send a subtle message.”
“Wait… he stabbed himself? That boy scout guy… What’s his name? Dilton?”
“Yeah… That guy,” the anger in his voice is back.
Sweet Pea takes a few bills out and hands them to you and you finish ringing him up.
“Would you like me to deliver them for you?”
He seems surprised, “Umm… sure… but doesn’t that cost extra?”
You just shrug, “My parents own this place so it doesn’t really matter to me. I do the deliveries anyway…”
“Oh… well thanks then,” he gives you smile and you are amazed at how handsome he is when he smiles.
You blush and look down at the ribbon you are tying before you mumble out a ‘no problem.’
He hangs out for a couple of hours while he waits for the rain to stop, it’s not like it matter, there aren’t any customers since the weather is so bad anyway.
The next morning when you make your rounds around the hospital you make a point to inform Dilton that a rather large and imposing man in a leather jacket sent the bouquet.
“He seemed really… murderous… when he came in… I don’t know what you did to piss him off, but you should probably stay far away from the Serpents for awhile…”
He just nodded anxiously before he swallowed the lump in his throat and stared uneasily at the flowers.
The next few days are uneventful until you walk into your History class and sitting on your desk is a bouquet of flowers. They were bright and beautiful full of roses and amaryllis. A card is situated just above the flowers on a pick. You pluck it from its post and read it.
‘These reminded me of your smile,’ was written in a beautiful script.
No one fessed up to the flowers that day, but you loved them all the same.
The following week another bouquet shows up, but this time in your English class and this time they are sunflowers. A bright yellow display is sitting on your desk along with the next book in a series you are reading. You are surprised to find written on the inside of the novel is a message.
‘I can’t have you getting bored. What would I do without my favorite florist?’
You hide your blush as you read the note and giggle at the bouquet in front of you.
Once again no one claims the gesture, but you don’t care. You have a feeling you know who it is anyway. .
Another week passes and on a particularly rainy day a purple arrangement is sitting on your desk with a coffee beside it. The hydrangeas wink back at you and written on the coffee cup is your message.
‘I honestly had no idea what to get you… We’re going to have to fix that soon.’
You take a sip of the coffee and while it isn’t what you usually get, it’s delicious all the same and you enjoy it during your math class.
It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve received an arrangement from your secret admirer, and you have to admit you are a little disappointed. You chide yourself for your excitment and everyday that passes you feel your hope falling further down. On Friday, you had given up completely when you walk into your last class of the day to see a bouquet of gladiolus and an envelope with a movie ticket inside.
‘Sorry you haven’t heard from me in a while. I was trying to get the nerve to ask you out. So… Meet me at Pop’s? 6:00 on the dot.’
The card, like all the other messages before it, isn’t signed.
You sigh as you gaze up at the clock, the class you are in could not go any slower if it tried. Eventually, you are making your way home and rushing up to your room to get ready. You hope your intuition is right and it’s a certain Serpent.
You gaze into your closet and start pulling an assortment of things out. It takes all of ten minutes for your bedroom to filled with dresses, skirts, jeans and tops. You groan in annoyance as you throw yourself onto the pile of clothes.
“Damnit,” you curse to yourself as you glare up at your ceiling.
You end up settling on a pair of jeans and a nice top with a jacket over it. You throw your shoes on and head out the door. You end up being about five minutes late since it had taken so long to decide what to wear. When you do reach the diner you recognize a few cars from school, but no motorcycle. You heave a sigh to calm your nerves and head into the diner. Glancing around you see a single rose at an empty booth and walk over to it. Fear grips your heart, ‘what if he left?’ is the only thing echoing through your head.
You pick the rose up in your hand and attached is no card or any indication of who it is. You feel your heart sink.
‘I’m too late…’ you think in defeat.
A tap on your shoulder has your turning around to see Sweet Pea holding a bouquet of well… sweet peas. You giggle as you take the bouquet from his hands and notice that he seems nervous.
“I didn’t think you would show up…” he says with a hesitant grin.
“I thought you left…” you murmur with a blush.
You both smile at one another and take a seat at the booth.
“I love them…” you say with a shy smile as you gaze adoringly at the flowers in front of you.
“I looked it up… I know they technically mean departure but since that’s my name I figured it was appropriate.”
You laugh at the irony of the meaning, “I’ll forgive the meaning because it’s you.”
He sends you a boyish smile of his own and you notice he isn’t wearing his telltale Serpent jacket, just a dark blue flannel over a black henley and a pair of dark wash jeans. He looks good.
“So what do you think about the movie choice?” he asks before the waitress walks over and gets your drink order. You notice he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands as he fidgets with the napkin.
“I’m really excited! I’ve been wanting to see it!”
He seems to relax at hearing your enthusiasm.
“Good, good…” he says with a nod.
You lean forward suddenly, “You know I’m dying for a chocolate malt… do you want to split one with me?”
He sends you a smirk, “Anything you want babydoll.”
You roll your eyes at the nickname, “Really? Babydoll? Is that the best you can do?”
He shrugs innocently, “I guess you’ll just have to wait to find out.”
You shake your head with a soft sigh, but it’s only to hold back your grin.
“So whatever happened with that kid that stabbed himself?”
It’s his turn to roll his eyes before he launches into a story, “So there is this new kid, Jones… such an asshole… “
You giggle to yourself as you listen to him explain what has been going on for the last month complete with voice changes and animated gestures. You burst out laughing at several parts of the story, much to his amusement, and interject every now and then. You feel yourself getting transported back to a rainy afternoon a month ago, when the angry Serpent stomped into your flower shop and demanded the oddest bouquet order ever. You feel yourself relax and you know without a shadow of a doubt this is the beginning of something beautiful.
#sweet pea#fluffy sweet pea#sweet pea fanfiction#sweet pea x reader#sweet pea romance#sweet pea x you#sweet pea x y/n#Flowershop#au#flowershop au#riverdale#riverdale imagine#riverdale imagines#riverdale serpents#reader insert#southside serpents
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(Art’s by hes-per-ides, edit: link to template by spell-struck)
Abigail Eliza Jenings
November 13, 1992
5′8″ slender/athletic build
mid-shoulder blade curly red hair, dark blue eyes
----
INFODUMP:
*She’s Irish by heritage, mostly from her dad’s side. And since she looks stereotypically Irish--crazy curly red hair, blue eyes, freckles EVERYWHERE--kids in school(especially secondary school, but junior wasn’t kind either) used to tease her to see if they could get a rise of the stereotypical temper, too. They called her “Abby the Red” both for her hair and how red her face would go trying to ignore them. Bonus round, called her “Gabby Abby” when she talked too much.(there was a really low threshold on “too much”)
*As a result, she has iron-clad self control. Even if no one’s given her any crap for anything like that since secondary school, she’s careful to always be polite, professional, not slack off from any assignment--school or work--she has to complete, etc.
*Also hates the nickname ‘Abby’ as a result of said teasing, not super crazy about ‘Red’, either. No one gets away with the former, only her college roommate(so far; Felix miiiight turn out to be another exception) has gotten away with the latter.
*Despite not having a choice a couple times, she doesn’t swear. Like, ever. If other people want to, whatever, she’ll roll her eyes but deal with it.
*Doesn’t really drink much, either. This is not to counter any stereotype, she just doesn’t like how most alcoholic stuff tastes. Tina can, occasionally, coax her into a single fruity drink that she then nurses for approximately six hours before finishing off.
*She and her mum have a really good, close relationship, despite how often Rebecca’s away for work. There’s lots of phone calls etc even if they can’t talk for long and Rebecca can’t really say anything about work.
*Loves cats. She had a grey and white one named Rascal until a few months pre-game, but the poor thing was old and she had to put her down. She’ll probably get another cat eventually, but she’s not ready quite yet. She’d had Rascal since she was about ten, she needs a little longer to grieve before replacing her.
*Absolutely, totally 100% shot Adam. Both regrets it and doesn’t. (Hey, she warned him.)
*Quickly moving toward being besties with Felix, which is good; she needs a friend like him who gets her to loosen up and let her sarcastic side out to play more often. Tina tries, bless her, but since they work together, AJ’s still reluctant to completely let her hair down.
*Cares about people, always quick to offer comfort or leap to the defense of others, whether physically or otherwise. Empathetic almost to a fault.
*She has a couple old flannel workshirts of her dad’s that she wears to be comfy when she’s lounging around her apartment. They have his initials sewn into the inside of the collar. Since his first name was Aiden(purely h/c), that means his initials are her initials and it’s always made her feel closer to him. Wearing those shirts feels like she getting a hug from him, and she’d give up every other article of clothing she owns before parting with one of those shirts.
*Loves to read.
*Coffee fiend; likes just a little flavored creamer in there so it’s sweeter but she can still taste the coffee.
*Is allergic to strawberries
*Her apartment is extremely cozy, comfy furniture, lots of pillows, and one whole wall in her bedroom is bookshelves. They’re full, with books laid on top as well as lined up like they’re “supposed” to be.
*Has a frankly ridiculous and yet still-growing collection of throw pillows. She loves them, and really, it’s partially Tina’s fault--she keeps giving them to her as birthday/Christmas presents. AJ’s favorite, though, is the one her mum gave her as a house warming present when she first moved into her own apartment. It’s blue with a hummingbird embroidered on the front and is the perfect size to cuddle when she’s reading or watching tv or whatever.
*Despite their very limited interactions, Bobby makes her skin crawl and she hates people who exploit others’ pain/misfortune for their own profit, so she thinks he’s a weasel and a snake(no, wait, that’s an insult to weasels and snakes everywhere) and he’s one of the very, very, very few people she’s not sweet as apple pie to.
*Will kill for raspberry chocolate muffins.
*Has a ladybug tattooed on the inside of her left ankle
*While when given the choice she tends to wear button-down shirts(usually solid colors, but occasionally patterned), nice jeans, and a waistcoat--sorta nice and professional but still casual--she sticks to Doc Marten boots for shoes. She has two pairs, one’s black and the other very dark blue. She’s had the blue ones since she was seventeen or eighteen so they’re very, very beat up but still going strong. She’d probably call them her favorite shoes. (three guesses what she was wearing when Murphy grabbed her, bc I am that mean) She likes them for the durability and comfort, sure, but also bc the soles are thick enough it gives her another inch of height, and there’s something about that magical shift from 5′8″ to 5′9″ that makes people take her more seriously.
*Wears an Italian charm bracelet, with links for her birthstone(orange topaz), each of her parents(a gladiolus for her dad, a white carnation for her mum), when she joined the police force(squad car) and made detective(a badge), her interests(a cat and a book), and Tina bc they’re friends(Gerber daisy). She adds a crescent moon between Book 1 and 2.
*Always has a hair tie around her wrist, even if her hair’s already up, bc you never know when you’ll need another one.
*She loves photography and has a really good eye for it. It’s never been more than a hobby, but it was a pretty serious one for a while in college, and she still looks at everything through that lens(pun intended :D) (also she’s just artistic in general, but more on that–potentially–later >:3)
*After photography,her primary artistic outlet is pencil sketches. In recent years it’s been largely limited to doodles in her notes when she’s bored or stuck working her way through a problem, but she’s still pretty good.
#abigail jenings#the wayhaven chronicles#look i got it done!#i forgot to write down/screenshot her stats from her first game#so this is a combo of spitballing and running her through a couple more times as close as possible to what i could remember#(okay maybe took some different flirts with nate on purpose#a girl gets CURIOUS)#and tbh for her it's less charming vs intimidating and more charming vs awkward#twc
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Forbidden Fruit → Peter Parker
pairing: fratboy!peter x reader
warnings: swearing. use of alcohol. fluff!
prompt: he was desired by many but wanted you.
The probability that you’d be at a college party on a Friday night over studying? It wasn’t likely. Now, the same situation with a very persuasive friend? Consider it done because here you were, fishing through crowds of fratboys and sorority girls to find her, the one you came with. You were annoyed to the fullest because your only condition to Bella was that she wouldn’t leave your side. And she lied. Now you knew not to trust her. Actually, you been knowing that. So this was on you.
You tried not to step on any toes, muttering apologies as your attempts failed. Not that they minded, they were too fucked up to notice.
“Bella!” you shouted, gently grabbing her arm before she could escape from your vision. She wasn’t hard to miss anyway, she had bright orange hair.
“Oh hey Y/N! Did you want a drink?” she handed you her red solo cup. “It’s just jungle juice, taste it!” while you were weary, you were also relieved that you had found her. You took a sip of the drink, blinking a few times in surprise.
“This has alcohol in it?” you were shocked. All you could taste was juice. You noticed the limes and strawberries floating around. Bella nodded her head.
“I know right? Gage makes such great drinks. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” Bella tugged at your hand, pulling you through the dancing bodies. You wondered how the house wasn’t foggy from the body heat, maybe the AC was on?
Bella moved quickly, swiveling in between bodies and dodging dance moves. You however weren’t so lucky and ran into a wall, Bella’s drink splashing all over your stomach.
“I’m so sorry,” okay, maybe not a wall.
“No, it’s cool.” you rose on your tiptoes to relocate Bella who’d clearly not noticed losing you.
“Here, I can show you the bathroom. If you wait too long, it’ll stain.” the voice muttered again. Your eyes quickly flickered to him. You could barely make out his facial features. It was a black light party for fucksake.
“U-uh, sure?” you cursed yourself for being so willing. He gestured for you to follow him, moving slowly through the thick crowd. It was easy to navigate behind him, his curly brown hair standing out.
You shut the door behind you, the mysterious man waiting right outside the door. Running straight to the sink, you turned on the faucet and let it run before pulling off your shirt. You tried dabbing the material, hoping for the stain to move out of your shirt. You cursed under your breath, no progress.
“Jesus,” a voice called as the door shut. Your eyes widened, you hadn’t even heard the door open. You were met with the boy from outside- er, who was now in the bathroom. His reaction seemed to match yours as he quickly turned around to face the corner. “Fuck, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you had your shirt off, the hallway just got a little crowded.” his cheeks heated up in embarrassment.
“N-no, it’s okay!” you stammered, still quite shocked. “I actually uh, made the mistake wearing a white shirt. It’s stained.” you couldn’t help but nervously laugh.
“I, can lend you my flannel? It’s the least I could do, it’s my fault your shirt is stained.” the brunette offered.
“You don’t have to do that, I ran into you.” but he was already sliding off his blue flannel, holding it out behind him, not wanting to disturb your privacy. You stood behind him, pulling the material from his hands as you pulled your arms through. You buttoned up the middle buttons and tied the strands at the bottom, so it’d at least be intact, leaving your chest exposed to avoid swoob. “Thank you.” you said softly, scaring the boy. He hadn’t realized you were this close.
“I’m Peter.” he told you, peaking over his shoulder, seeing you were finally situated.
“Y/N, sorry again, for all of this.” you stammered.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for. And, I know who you are. We have American Literature together.” Peter was just as flustered as you were. The way you’d styled his flannel made him sweat. You definitely had worn it better. The top of your chest was slightly exposed. You looked stunning.
“Oh shit, we do?” you blinked a couple times, leaning in as you recognized his face. “Oh shit, we do! Well, uh, it’s nice to finally meet you.” you flushed.
“Do you uh, wanna get a drink with me?” he couldn’t deny how yummy you looked. He didn’t even try to hide it, he was gnawing on his bottom lip right in front of you. You couldn’t help but bat your lashes innocently as you nodded your head, pushing your way out of the bathroom. And Peter followed you like a lost puppy.
You didn’t go home with him that night. He was the youngest in his fraternity, and that made him weary of other people’s intentions. He was untouchable. That was what he was known for. It’s what made him lusted over. Unlike his brothers in Alpha Kappa Psi, he was more reserved. That didn’t mean he hated partying, oh no, he loved to party. His intentions with women and men were different from his brothers.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna go out tonight?” Bella frowned as she’d seen you pick up your laptop for the fourth time that night.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I have to write an essay, it’s due this on Tuesday and I haven’t even started the rough draft.” that was half a lie. You started a small portion of the first draft, but you were still way behind. And your essay was due the following weekend.
“You’re such a buzzkill,” Bella commented, letting you roll your eyes. “Don’t wait up, okay?” you nodded your head in response. You could hear the door moving to shut. “Oh hey-“
“This is where I can find Y/N, right?” the soft voice murmured. You perked up a bit, eyes not leaving your screen as you typed.
“Y-yeah,” Bella was shocked for words, jutting her thumb back, letting the man push through your room.
“Hey,” Peter’s voice made your eyes flicker up. He sported a black v-neck and a pair of blue and yellow sweats, repping his fraternity while silver chain hung around his neck. He looked gorgeous, not to mention, he didn’t do much with his hair; instead of it being nicely slicked back, his curls were tousled around.
“Peter, what are you doing here?” you sat up as he pushed your door shut. You happened to look just as beautiful. You wore a lavender bralette, outlined with lace, a pair of yoga pants and Peter’s flannel. You had it completely unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. He didn’t make checking you out discreet at all.
“Your sorority sisters let me in the house and said your room was up here,” Peter said sheepishly with a blush. “I wanted to see if you were okay. I didn’t see you in American Lit today.”
“Yeah, I emailed Rostershire about today and he said he had everyone work on their essays. I asked him if I could work on it in my room because it was my only class and I’m super behind.” you rambled, standing up as you set your laptop aside. “You were worried?”
“Y-yeah, of course. I walked you to your place one night, and then I don’t see you the next day?” the brunette was flustered, thinking you were demanding an explanation. But you were just thinking out loud. His whole face flushed when you gazed at him with a small smile. He was different when he was sober, more shy and introverted.
“Shame you didn’t have my number to text me to see if I was okay,” you playfully flirted.
“Well, it’s not completely a shame. I got to see you, didn’t I?” and maybe his game wasn’t too shabby either. He was oblivious that he was flirting; believe it or not, he was pretty suave.
The next day, Peter showed up at the front of your porch, waiting for you. He wanted to walk you to class. It surprised you to say the least, you weren’t expecting him to be this... interested in you.
Winter rolled around and he still followed you around. And he didn’t make bold advances either. They were simple and small, they made you so warm that you could melt the snow. Like one morning, you were shivering your ass off as you walked through the snow. Yeah, you were bundled up for the weather, but you’d always been sensitive to the cold. Peter tugged the beanie off his head and pulled it over yours, making sure to cover your ears. The gesture alone had melted the icicles forming over your cheeks. It wasn’t long before you started returning them. Grabbing his hands and stuffing them in the pockets of your hoodie, your smaller, warmer hands gripping onto his colder ones. It was about halfway through December and winter break was just around the corner, everyone at school knew you and Peter were a thing. His frat brothers would give him shif about being tied down too early, having not experienced life. Peter was just fine by your side though, he didn’t have eyes for anyone else, he was too enamored with you and learning about you to be bothered with someone else.
“So, my brothers are throwing a party on Friday. I was wondering if you wanted to go as my date.” Peter was a bit hesitant to ask you. He knew parties weren’t exactly your thing. He had to go to parties without you (you insisted), and while he had a good time, he missed the feeling of your skin.
“Okay.” you said without blinking. Peter waited for a ‘but’, yet it never came.
“Wait really?”
“Yeah, I finished my last final today. I think I can handle some fun.”
“YEAHHH!” a scream blew through your ears as a boy from another frat had passed you, running around with his shirt off.
The second you stepped in, Peter’s eyes were stuck on you. He wasn’t the only one. You wore a pearl blue bodycon dress; you looked classy, yet ready to party. Suddenly, Peter’s frat brothers understood why he was only interested in you.
“Hi baby,” you had stumbled on the last few steps to Peter. You already smelled like alcohol, you must’ve pregamed with Bella. You were also overly affectionate (with words and touches), not that he complained.
“Hi Y/N, you look stunning,” he tucked your hair behind your ear. Peter really got a good look at you. The thick diamond choker lined your neck perfectly, it sparkled at every angle, if you didn’t have everyone’s attention when you walked in, you were sure to now. Your hair was pulled up into a ponytail, not wanting it to be a bother when you went dancing.
“Me? Have you seen yourself? Baby, you’re looking fine.” there it was again. The little petname that sent him over the roof. He wasn’t sure if he’d missed something or it was because you were drunk, he liked hearing it anyway. He sported a black button up with tiny white dots scattered everywhere. He left the top button undone, mostly for you. The silver chain didn’t go missing with this look, as well as an apple watch, rich boy things. He wore black jeans to match. He stuck by you the entire time. Even though it was you following him around, he let you hold his hand or grab his bicep.
Peter actually handled liquor pretty well. There wasn’t ever a moment in which you questioned if he was sober. You, on the other hand, were making up for the time lost spending time studying and aceing every single final thrown your direction. You weren’t shitfaced, thank god not yet, but you were not sober; you were at the sweet spot of drunkenness, where you were so comfortably drunk, you wouldn’t even have a hangover. So you stopped the drinks from there.
“Peter,” you frowned, leaning against his arm as you two took the loveseat. He immediately stopped conversing with friends to give you his attention.
“Angel,” he said back.
“C-can I hold your hand? Mine feel lonely.” you made grabby hands for extra effect. Peter couldn’t help but grin at your cheesiness, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together. He kissed your knuckles, noting how soft your hands were compared to his.
Peter held your hand the entire night, when introducing you to his friends, when grabbing you a water. If he let go, it was only for a brief second. You were just as needy for affection as he was and he was down for it.
“Peter?” you called out again. Once again, he finished his sentence and glanced at you. You were worried that you were interrupting his conversation, so instead of using words, you hugged him, stuffing your arms under his. He could feel the contrast between his warm arms and your slightly colder ones. He could hear you hum in satisfaction. He held you with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding his rum and coke. He let you tangle your fingers with his jewelry.
Peter was the forbidden fruit, everyone knew that at this point. He didn’t like hooking up and was even hesitant about making friends, it’s what made him the most lusted for man on campus. He wasn’t oblivious to that fact, it made him more timid and aware of everyone’s intentions. For the first time in months, a girl had approached him. Months because everyone knew who you were to him, even if it wasn’t official, you were his girl and that was that. You recognized her. She was in your communications class, her name was Bianca. You weren’t sure if she was blind or just bold. She openly flirted with Peter, anyone who couldn’t hear the conversation could tell. The hair twirl, the smile and giggle, all of it. Right in front of you as you were curled up in his chest. Bold, she was. Peter was polite though, not giving into the flirting and not being rude. You were waiting for the moment she realized you were there. Or maybe she knew, she was just being ignorant. You were itching to make your presence known.
“Well, I’m actually here on a scholarship. I happen to be really good at basketball.” Peter explained.
“Oh yeah, I know, I’ve come to games to see you play. Are you teaching any classes or anything? On basketball, I mean, I’d really love to get into it.” Bianca shamelessly flirted. Peter didn’t know how to respond. You were annoyed, but he was in complete shock that she’d flirt with him in front of you. Was this how girls were?
“W-well, I-“ you gripped his jaw with one hand, your other hand tightly gripping his shirt as you tugged his jaw in for a kiss. It was spellbinding, tasting the plump lips he’d been daydreaming about for almost an eternity. He’d watched you speak with your hands for months now, but his attention were always on your mouth. Your lips were perfect in comparison to his thinner ones. Peter’s hand caressed your side, pulling you close to him. There was no one else but you.
When you pulled away, his eyes were still shut, his mouth slightly ajar as he slowed his breathing. When he opened his eyes, you couldn’t help but beam at him. Those were the brown eyes you were head over heels for. Bianca was long gone at this point. She was embarrassed and scurried away.
“Let me guess, your lips were cold?” Peter slyly grinned as he snickered at your scrunched up face. You could only shake your head and giggle, nuzzling your face in his neck.
“No, you just looked cute.”
“Baby, I am just your reflection.”
#also: i wrote the first half and then i went thru like a depression n then continued on w the second half#sorry it it’s all over the place :(#peter parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#alia writes
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Flutter and Fall
Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides
Pairings: Prinxiety
Summary: Virgil doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he wonders if you can fall in love with a moment.
AO3 Link
Virgil adjusts the lens of his camera. He kneels on the ground to get the perfect angle and tries his best not to move suddenly to startle the butterfly he’s attempting to capture. It’s a monarch, the orange of its wings popping out vibrantly against the worn concrete of the water fountain it rests upon.
Click.
He checks the image to be sure. Beside him, his cocker spaniel turns her head as if to sneak a peek. Virgil obliges.
“Whaddya think, Shadow?” he asks for her valuable critique.
Shadow sniffs the camera and licks it once. Virgil laughs and nudges her head away.
It’s a busy Saturday at the park. Lots of people are there taking advantage of the sunshine weather, either strolling down the paths, playing frisbee in teams, or sitting together along the benches. There’s even a group doing a yoga session over in the grass. With as crowded as it is, Virgil thought he’d be more nervous.
But the weather’s nice, his dog’s fur is soft as he pets it, and the shot he just took is stunning.
It’s a good day.
Virgil scans the area for another picture to take. There’s a couple of elderly ladies chatting on a bench a few yards away from him. Shadow keeps trotting over to them to check on them, and Virgil already has a few shots of them cooing over her as they talked to him about pets they’ve owned. They’re sweet, and though Virgil doesn’t know what their relationship to each other is, he knows undoubtedly that they’ve known each other for many years.
It’s fascinating to know the people behind the pictures he takes. Almost as interesting as never knowing who they are. Some of his favorite ones to take are candid images of strangers caught up in the wonders of daily life. He doesn’t speak to most of them, unable to bring himself to take the initiative. Never has been able to really. But it’s a comfortable place to be, standing behind a camera and capturing a moment in time of people who could be anything.
As Virgil pivots around slowly, he notices a man in the distance sitting on one of the wooden benches by himself, arms stretched across the backrest. His head falls back to drink in the sun’s warm rays.
Virgil steps in his direction, drawn to the relaxed posture and the way the light makes his tan skin glow. The older women’s chatting voices are left behind him as he strays away. Shadow trails his steps as she tends to do.
He doesn’t get too close. He stops under the shade of a maple tree, lifting his camera to zoom in on the figure.
The man’s legs, swathed in dark jeans, are crossed. Strong arms are exposed up to his elbow where the sleeves of his red flannel button-up are rolled up. Although he’s not smiling and his eyes are closed, Virgil can tell he’s wonderfully content.
Click.
The first image comes through crystal clear. Leaves blow in the wind, giving the picture a touch of the fall season. The man’s handsome figure sits just a tad low and to the left, an intentional decision on Virgil’s part to frame the right with another maple tree whose leaves are tinged in blushing hues.
He steps to the side to change the angle, to bring the bench center stage.
Click.
A few more shots go by before Shadow trots off towards the man. Virgil stiffens, watching the next part play out through his camera.
His well-intentioned cocker spaniel plops herself right beside the man’s leg and proceeds to rest her head on his thigh like it belonged there. An eye opens. The man tilts his head down to find his new companion. He brings an arm down to lay against her back, scratching at the black and white fur of her neck. There’s a spark of kindness mixed with amusement gleaning in his gaze. A fond smile plays at his lips.
Click.
Pleased with herself, Shadow slides away from her new friend to run back to Virgil, her tail wagging furiously as if to say, “He pet me! He pet me!” Virgil sees the way the man watches his dog return to him. He clearly notices Virgil aiming a camera right at him, taking pictures without his permission. Virgil swallows momentarily. Apologies race through his mind as the man tilts his head once more but this time to the side in a way that makes the light kiss his cheekbones. And with how his hair is tousled from the breeze and traces of the fond smile still linger, Virgil can’t help himself.
Click.
The image is gorgeous, his expression and the setting making the tone soft and peaceful. Virgil isn’t brave enough to look away from the camera yet, and so he stares through it and sees how the man leans an elbow on the back of the bench, propping his cheek elegantly on a fist. His ankle rests on the other leg’s knee, the overall stance laidback yet inquisitive.
Click.
He changes position, stretching one leg out while the other he brings up, limb bent and foot fixed on the seat of the bench. His fingers intertwine over his stomach. His eyes are dark and somber, like they have a story to tell.
Click.
It’s not until he swivels to the side, bringing his legs up to lay along the length of the bench and looking at the camera dramatically, that Virgil realizes that the man is posing.
A bubble of laughter escapes Virgil.
Click.
Whoever he is, the stranger is a natural. He knows how to shift his body in accordance to the lighting. Knows how to use the setting to his advantage. And while some takes are serious and look straight out of a high-end fashion magazine, others are playful and performed only with the intention to make Virgil laugh.
The man wears a broad grin as he stands, wasting no time in gathering a pile of leaves in his hands and tossing them up in the air above his head, carefree. Shadow barks and sprints back over to him to dart around his legs. He welcomes her, chuckling and throwing up more leaves for her to chase.
There’s an energy there reminiscent of childhood. That time marked by simplicity and finding wonder in the little things. There’s joy in the way he spins around, heart unburdened by the worries of who might be watching or what they might think. None of the usual uncertainties matter here, because it doesn’t matter that they don’t know each other. A connection is formed, just from being alive in the same place.
It’s achingly nostalgic. A reminder that this instance is fleeting, but that happiness will visit once again.
The man holds his arms out to the camera. To offer an embrace to the photographer? Or a gesture for him to join in the excitement? It’s beckoning all the same.
Virgil doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he wonders if you can fall in love with a moment.
Click.
His name is Roman.
He’s laying in the leaf-covered grass, Shadow nosing around him eagerly, her whole body practically wagging at this point.
Virgil had walked over, any hesitance before now long gone. He’s sitting in the grass beside him.
“Is she usually this enthusiastic?” Roman giggles as Shadow licks at his face.
“She’s friendly,” Virgil hums, holding out a hand. She bounds over to him and suddenly realizes her true calling as a lap dog. Panting, she gazes up at Virgil, and it’s hard not to see the love there.
“She’s adorable,” Roman says, smiling at the cute scene. “What’s her name?”
“Shadow.”
“Like from Homeward Bound? I loved those movies as a kid! Wasn’t that a golden retriever though?”
Virgil shakes his head with a laugh. “Nah. I mean, I know the movies you’re talking about. But that’s not why. She’s mostly black. Plus, she follows me around everywhere.”
“Like a shadow.”
“Yeah.” Virgil scratches at her floppy ears and she leans into his hand. “I was over at a friend’s house one day. And the door was left open, and she waltzed right in from outside and plopped down by me. My friend had never seen her before.”
“She didn’t have an owner?”
“Not that we could find. I don’t know why, but she wouldn’t leave me alone, and my friend said I had to take her in, so here we are.”
“She found you,” Roman says, eyes sparkling. “She chose you.”
Virgil tries to frown as he averts his gaze. He’s only somewhat successful. “Or maybe I just smelled like pizza or something.”
“Mmm, pizza. I could go for a pizza right now,” the other muses, twisting a leaf around in his hand. “How about it?”
“How about what?”
“Care to join me?”
If Virgil still held his camera at the ready, he’d be sorely tempted right now. Roman has moved to lay more on his side, head propped up on his arm. A small leaf clings to his hair, and the accessory makes him look nothing short of endearing.
Virgil focuses too deliberately on petting Shadow. His fingers brush through the dog’s fur, silky smooth.
“Why?” he asks, because he’s used to wondering about the people behind the pictures he takes. Not the people interested about the man behind the camera.
“Because I want you to,” Roman answers. He holds the leave he’d been fiddling with out to Shadow. She sniffs it, then bites to hold it before dropping it on Virgil’s leg and forgetting about it.
Ironically, Virgil’s never liked anyone taking pictures of himself. There were better images out there to freeze in time and remember.
But the way Roman looks at him, it’s like he sees something worth preserving.
There’s a warmth in Virgil’s belly and a giddy fluttering of nerves inside him. “Are you . . . asking me out?”
A slow grin spreads on Roman’s face. “If you’d like me to.”
The fluttering dances in his chest, erratic and insisting. Virgil hugs his dog closer to himself. “How do you even know I’m gay?”
“You could be anything,” Roman agrees, not dissuaded in the slightest. “That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?”
“I could be a serial killer.”
Roman sputters, so completely alarmed and confounded that Virgil can’t help but lose himself in a stream of laughter.
“Well, I suppose you could be, Mr. I-need-to-ruin-the-moment,” Roman says, a grumble to his tone that’s betrayed by the hints of humor in his expression. “But I personally am trying to stay optimistic here.”
“Hm, sounds rough.” Virgil smiles. Roman is looking at him, shaking his head as if to say, “I’m so done with you.” It’s unfair because no matter how he looks, Virgil keeps thinking how handsome he is. “Are you actually a model?”
The frustrated look is gone and Roman’s grin turns cheeky. “As much as it delights me that you think so, no, I am not.”
“What are you then?”
“Hopeful,” he says, voice a saccharine dreaminess that makes Virgil want to melt on the spot.
Just for that, Virgil rolls his eyes, points at Roman, and tells his dog, “Get ‘em.” She immediately obliges, jumping up to tickle Roman’s face with licks.
In the end, Virgil says yes to pizza. They go out to eat, sitting at an outside table while they talk about anything and everything, Shadow laying across their feet napping. Roman manages to convince Virgil to show him the pictures he took. After all, most of them are of him anyway.
“These are amazing,” Roman breathes in awe, flicking through the different images. “Can I have these? I’ll trade you.”
It’s not the first time someone has wanted to pay Virgil for their pictures. But trade?
“What am I trading for?” Virgil asks and braces himself. There’s a mischievous glint in Roman’s eyes that Virgil is starting to recognize.
“Your pictures for my number?”
Virgil turns about ten shades of red before punching Roman’s bicep lightly. “You smooth bastard.”
“I’m not hearing a no.”
Virgil mutters in complaint.
He hands over his phone regardless.
Tag list: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie (let me know if you want to be added or removed from my general tag list)
#sanders sides#prinxiety#virgil#virgil sanders#roman#roman sanders#heartwarming#fluff#with a side of dog#just like the customer ordered#writing#fanfiction#flutter and fall
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All of them. Every single fall themed ask at once. Lets see how you like it. (love you)
Whatever. Something to do in bio. Love you too boo.
Lantern: (how did you meet your best friend?) I have three. For Evan, they said something about the flannel I was wearing. I didnt like them that much to start out, they were too bubbly for my taste. For TJ, I was friends with his best friend in 6th grade. She left and I didnt have any friends so J tried to become friends with him and Angel. I loved him, he was so sassy and cool. For Kass, the asshole who's making me do this, it was 6th grade science. I didn't know what to call them and spent the entire year trying to figure it out but being too afraid to ask. They were actually pretty cool. Idk what all of their initial opinions of me were.
Frost: (if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say?) Quit pretending you're an adult, itll just hurt you. Let yourself dress masculine, it's ok to do that. And it's ok to like girls like you do, dont be afraid to express yourself.
Maple: (is there a hobby/skill you've always wanted to try but never did?) Yeah, I always wanted to be on a little league football team when I was little.
Harvest: (what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?) Dean winchester. Because I am just..... basically him if he wasnt raised in an environment with toxic masculinity *cough cough* John *cough cough*
Fireside: (if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?) Flannel, band tees, everything would be from the Mens section. Some binders for masculine and nb days and lots of mens skinny jeans. Also David Bowie Vans, pride converse, and combat boots.
Cider: (a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?) Idk. For a period of time I hated coffee, I dont mind it now.
Amber: (share an unpopular opinion that you may have.) Oof. Um, christians aren't necessarily bad, the ones we all know of are because they hide behind the bible to hate people.
Fog: (how well do you think you'd do in a zombie apocalypse scenario?) Either really well or terribly. I'd either let then get me, or wear a medieval suit of armor and just walk through everywhere boss mode. And Costco.
Jack-O-Lantern: (if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose?) Ruby rose.
Spice: (have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?) Yes. Mine. Creepy baby handprints in the basement. In keeping the spirits occupied with my old Barbies.
Orchard: (share one thing you'd like to happen this autumn) Oh, that's hard. I think I'd want a partner so I dont go into winter depressed like I always do.
Crow: (which school subject do you have an aptitude for?) Math or English? Does choir count? Idk
Bonfire: (describe your dream house) Idc that much. As long as it has a library and multiple bedrooms, and the people I care about loving with me/nearby
Cinnamon: (if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?) Either Ireland in the medieval times as a knight, or the 70s in Europe or the US.
Cranberry: (what is one physical feature you get complimented on?) Annoyingly, my boobs. Apparently they're big and nice, whatever. Recently, my hair though. I just cut it short.
Maize: (share the weirdest encounter you've had with a stranger on the street.) Last year, I was at the mall in a bathroom and an older woman (idk maybe 60?) came up to me and said "I'm either having a drink or I have to pee. You're living the golden years kid, not me." In hindsight I think she was just quoting John Mulaney at me, but it was weird to me when it happened.
Quilt: (how do you take your tea or coffee?) Tea, chai and Irish breakfast are my favorites, I really like green tea though. It has to be sweet though, I can't stand unsweetened tea (theres my mom's Texan coming out)
Pumpkin: (do you think that humans are inherently good or bad?) Neither, I think people are born blank slates and our experiences shape everything about us.
Moonlit: (are you a neat or messy person? Is your room/house orderly?) Hahahaha, what's a floor?
Flannel #1: (have you ever gone on a bad date?) No. I've only ever been on one date, and I thought it was pretty good. I dated one person who was an asshole but that's it.
Cocoa: (if you could have any type of hair, what color and cut would you have?) Probably my natural color (light brown, easiest to dye), cut short, but curly in texture instead of this wavyish shit.
Ghost: (is there someone that you miss having in your life?) Yeah. I mean she isn't dead, but my 6th grade best friend. I miss her.
Pumpkin spice: (what is your drink of choice?) Mt Dew, Dr. Pepper, or tea. But it has to be sweet.
Wool socks: (what is something you look forward to in fall?) If I lived anywhere but where I live this would work, my wardrobe is actually fitting for the type of weather. Coolish, with some breezes, and crisp. Warm sometimes. My flannel is great for that, but stupid Colorado snows nearly year round.
Falling leaves: (you're stranded on a desert island and here's the twist: what three things do you NOT bring with you?) A boat so I can live in solidarity, thank you very much, anyone that's homophobic, transphobic, antisemitic, racist, etc, and peanuts.
Smelly candles: (what's your absolute favorite scent?) Fredh baked apple pie 🤤
Big sweaters: (do you prefer the cold, warmth, or a perfect in-between?) I'm practically a living heater. So cold weather.
Halloween: (if you could dress up as anyone/anything and pull it off absolutely flawlessly, who/what would it be?) Idk if this counts, but whatever gender I currently identify with (nb, feminine, masculine, in between). If that doesn't, then Jensen Ackles.
Cozy blankets: (where do you feel the most safe and at home?) With TJ. He's my family.
Hot tea: (when was the last time you kissed someone?) July 21st at around.... 5 or 6am?
Flannel #2: (what's your favorite day of the year? Is there a reason it's your favorite?) I don't really have one.
Chilly air: (what's your least favorite and favorite type of weather?) Is it weird that snowing is both my favorite and least favorite type of weather depending on the time of year?
Scarves: (if you could only wear one outfit for the rest of your life, what would it be?) My pair of black ripped guys skinny jeand with my dark blue distressed flannel and my wolf shirt.
Apple cider: (if you could throw a party and invite absolutely anyone, who would they be?) All of my close friends, plus the one I haven't seen in forever that I miss too much, and Misha Collins.
Haunted houses: (what's your scariest memory?) It was a dream I had when I was 5 that I remember in perfect detail. When I find the time I texted it to Kass I'll make a post with a screenshot of it.
Fuzzy boots: (if you could live in any year/era, which would it be and why?) See cinnamon above
Thanksgiving: (what is someone/something that you're most grateful for? Any particular reason?) That's hard. Can I say my best friends? That's only 3 people. And because they're always there and care about me and I love them.
Black friday: (what is one thing, if anything, that you would sell your soul to own?) The rights to be the writer of a Supernatural sequel.
Apple picking: (if you could go anywhere, where would it be and why?) Ireland. Castles. About 60% of my heritage. Green.
Corn mazes: (do you have any secret talents/abilities?) Not secret ones
Hay rides: (if you could pick absolutely anything to be your form of transportation, what would it be?) A 1967 4-door black Chevrolet Impala. Obviously.
The color orange: (do you have a specific song that reminds you of autumn? What is it?) Yeah, a few. Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood, Trees by twenty one pilots, Smithereens by twenty one pilots, Californication by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Snow (Hey Oh) by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blackbird by The Beatles, Perfect by Ed Sheeran, Castle On The Hill by Ed Sheeran, Heartbeat by Carrie Underwood, and What I Got by Sublime. To name a few.
Windy nights: (if you could go to any concert whose would it be?) Live Aid lmao. If they dont have to be alive then Queen, if they do then either Ed Sheeran, twenty one pilots, or Panic!
Holding hands: (do you believe in soulmates?) Kinda? I think I want to. I think you feel it at one point, if you meet someone you love that dearly. But idk, maybe I'm just being stupid.
Kass, thank you. And I hate you.
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“Neighbors” ( Johnny (NCT) Fluff/Drabble)
Title: Neighbors
Featuring: Johnny (NCT) X reader
POV: 2nd
Summary: Your annoying neighbor is throwing yet another party. This time you lose your patience.
Requested by @to-move-on-means-to-grow! <3
Your body ached with every step you took out of the office; it had been a long day, and a long week now that you thought about it. You were usually off on Saturdays, but half the office had taken the day off and you were one of the only people willing to come in. The only solace was that your boss let you go home a little early.
It wasn’t until you started the walk home; grocery bag in one arm, purse on the other, that you remembered it was the weekend before Halloween, meaning most people would be having parties tonight.
You had been invited to a few, and had politely declined using work as an excuse, but mostly because you just didn’t like parties. Halloween was fine, one of your favorites actually, but just because people put on costumes didn’t make it any less of a party, filled with awkward social interactions, loud music, and too much alcohol. Instead, you stopped by the grocery store for popcorn and candy, and planned to spend the rest of the night in watching a horror movie marathon on TV.
You started to walk up your drive and paused, seeing orange and black balloons tied to your neighborhood’s mailbox. He was having a party, and you groaned at the thought. You lived in a duplex, and the neighbor you shared the space with had been the bane of your existence since you moved in.
Johnny seemed nice enough at first and that was the problem. He was too nice. He was charming and attractive and he had a lot of friends, which meant his side of the duplex was a constant spot for parties, get-togethers in the front yard during the summer, and just general noise. You’d gone over on multiple occasions to tell him to quiet down, and he always just smiled and told you it was “no big deal” and that you could stay if you wanted to, man.
You never thought you’d turn into the crotchety old neighbor from your childhood, but as an adult you valued your alone time and your peace. You were introverted, to be sure, and living in such close proximity to such an extrovert was making life difficult.
It being Halloween weekend meant this would not just be a lowkey, kick-back kind of party, and you found yourself already angry at him even though he hadn’t done anything to you. Yet.
You trudged inside, plopping your grocery bag down on the counter and mentally running through a meditative mantra.
He will not disrupt our night. Everything will be fine. We’ll turn the volume up extra loud if we have to.
You started to feel better, jumping into a long, hot shower and throwing on the more comfortable PJs you could find. You made yourself a simple but delicious one-pot dinner and had a glass of wine with it. After surfing the net, getting caught up on social media and emails, you made your way to the couch with a fluffy fleece blanket and your popcorn and candy and flipped on the TV.
All was well.
An hour later, it started.
First it was the music, so loud the bass thumped through the floor. You tried to ignore it, turning up the volume on the TV. Bela Lugosi as Dracula was about to get his first victim, and you focused hard on the old black and white, trying to ignore the increasing voices.
Then it just got louder, with random yelling and cheers. What the hell were they doing over there?
It had been awhile since you’d willingly talked to him, and you didn’t want to be that neighbor, but you knew you were about to be that neighbor.
You didn’t care that you were in your flannel PJ pants and tshirt, hair tossed up into a bun. You threw on your slip-on shoes and a hoodie and marched across the lawn to the other porch. You could see the shadows inside and feel the vibration of the music, knowing you couldn't be the only person in the neighborhood annoyed, but being the only one who had to share a duplex with him.
You tried knocking, but no one heard. Then you rang the doorbell. Then you rang it again. Soon you were incessantly pressing the doorbell until the front door swung up.
Johnny was, ironically enough, dressed as Dracula. He had a cape, with the red-lined high collar, and he pushed his dark hair back as he opened the door. When he saw it was you, he smiled, and you saw a convincing pair of fangs.
“Hey!” He said in an excited tone, despite you standing there in your PJs with your arms crossed, glaring daggers at him.
“You’re being pretty loud.”
“Uh yeah, it’s a party.”
You huffed. He was going to make this hard, and you didn’t have time to play games.
“Look, I’ve had a long day and I-“
He cut you off, opening the door wider and speaking over you.
“You wanna come in?”
“What? No.”
“Why not?”
You didn’t know if he was purposely being dense to bug you or if he was really just this clueless.
“As I was saying, I’ve had a long day and I’m just trying to relax. You think you could be a little quieter?”
“I mean I could try but,” He looked back at his friends and laughed. “I can’t make any promises. Why don’t you just come over?”
“Johnny,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve invited me to exactly 300 some parties.”
He nodded.
“And how many of those have I actually shown up to?”
“One.”
“Right, when I first moved in here.”
“And you didn’t have fun?”
“If I’d had fun I would ha-“ You stopped yourself and took a breath. “Look, can you just turn it down?”
He laughed. “If you wanna sit in your apartment and have a shitty attitude go ahead, but I’m having a party.” He shrugged. Your jaw went slack in surprise, then you narrowed your eyes at him and turned on your heel without another word.
When you got back to your apartment, you slammed the door shut a little harder than intended. You felt hot with anger, that he’d have the gall to speak to you that way. You didn’t want to be the person raining on everyone’s parade, but he was noisy and inconsiderate most of the time, and tonight was no different. Couldn’t he take a break, for someone else’s sake?
You packed yourself up in the blankets, grumbling to yourself, turning up the volume on the TV to an almost deafening level. You didn’t want to, but you were being spiteful even if he definitely couldn’t hear it.
The night wore on and you managed to get through the rest of Dracula. You thought about axing the idea of watching more movies and just going to bed instead, but your doorbell pulled you out of those thoughts.
You peered through the peep hole and saw Johnny standing there awkwardly, without his cape. You rolled your eyes as you pulled the door open.
“What.”
It sounded harsh, but you were still upset.
“Hey uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes, and you scowled at him. What game was he playing? You’d never seen him act unsure before.
“Yes?” You asked impatiently.
“Can I come in?”
When he looked at you, it was genuine and intent, and you realized this was the first time you’d ever made prolonged eye contact with him before, and also realized how pretty and doe-eyed his gaze was. That streak of positive feeling toward him took you by surprise, and you shook it off, looking away.
“I guess.” You said, pulling the door open and stepping aside so he could come in.
“I just wanted to say sorry.” He spoke as soon as the door shut behind him. “I was really out of line.”
You sighed, starting to feel a little bad about your own attitude in the face of his sincerity.
“It’s fine, I do have a shitty attitude. I worked all week and then my boss made me come in at 7 am today and I never get a day off and I’m so tired and I just wanted to be away from everyone and-“ You stopped yourself, realizing you had launched into a full-blown rant and swallowed back the rest of your words, feeling a little mortified for unloading like that. When you looked at Johnny, you found him smiling.
“It’s cool, I get it. I probably should be a little more quiet. I was just excited about the party, that’s why I invited you over.” He leaned against a nearby wall. “ I mean, that’s why I invite you to all my parties.”
You tilted your head in confusion.
“I’ve been trying to get to know you for almost a year.” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders and looking at his shoes. He was embarrassed, to your surprise, and he looked cute while doing so.
“Get to know me?” You repeated, still not fully understanding.
“I guess I kind of have a crush on you, or whatever.” He laughed again. “I didn’t want to make it awkward by just asking you out, so I thought if I could get you to come to one of my parties it’d be easier. If you saw me at my best, around other people, maybe you'd say yes.” He shook his head at himself, “Instead I just keep repeatedly making myself look like bigger an bigger jackass.”
You blinked, shocked into silence. This was the last thing you expected him to come over and tell you. You never dreamed that he actually really wanted you to come over, you just figured he always did it to be nice, because he liked having parties and liked having as many people as possible.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, its not all you.” You began, and he finally looked up at you, standing up straight because he was interested in hearing your explanation
“I do find you a little bit annoying.” You said, half-smiling, and he let out a good-natured chuckle.
“That’s fair.”
“But, “ You continued. “Its mostly just that I hate parties. I mean, like really despise them.”
“Ooooh,” He nodded as he spoke. “ I just thought you really hated me. I kept trying to invite you over because I thought I’d eventually win you over, I didn’t even think that maybe you just weren’t into it.” He pushed his hand through his hair and you gulped at the sight.
“Man, I am not the most observant” He laughed at himself.
“No, you’re not.” You added, laughing yourself to ease the tension. There was silence then, letting all the new information sink in on both sides. Johnny moved like he was thinking of leaving, and you quickly spoke up.
“Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you.” You blurted out. “Like, outside of a party situation.” You added. You realized you had been pretty hard on him these last few months, and he wasn’t as bad as you initially thought.
Johnny looked toward your TV, the bowl of popcorn and bag of candy perched upon a bed of fluffy blankets.
“You wanna watch a movie?” He asked, and you looked where he was looking, then back at him.
“N-now?” You fumbled. “What about your party?”
He shrugged. “My roommates will handle it, people will be leaving soon anyway.”
You fidgeted, definitely not prepared for this but a little twitterpatted at the idea.
“I mean, if you really want to.”
“Yeah, lets do it.” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the couch. You looked down at where he held you, and blushed deeply.
You sat apart at a reasonable distance, the popcorn between you. Johnny sent a text to his roommates and few minutes later, the volume on the stereo went down. You never dreamed that a boy this cute would also be a lot more considerate and sweet. You had definitely not given him enough credit.
“What are you doing on Halloween?” He asked after awhile, tossing popcorn into his mouth.
“Hmm, nothing planned, really.”
“We can watch TV at my house, if you want. I’ve got a big screen.” He said, and grinned, trying to conceal your excitement.
“I’d like that.”
#nct scenarios#johnny scenarios#seo youngho#nct#nct 127#kpop fanfiction#kpop scenarios#fluff#drabble
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Broken Like Me (Part 20) - Never Broken
Summary: Dean and the reader have a quiet Saturday morning where the pair heal some old scars...
Masterlist
Pairing: Model!Dean x reader
Word Count: 2,000ish
Warnings: language
Two Weeks Later
You cocked your head as you stared at yourself in the mirror, Dean chuckling behind you as he walked out of the shower.
“What? Do you miss it?” asked Dean, trailing a finger across your forehead.
“No,” you said, not even able to tell there’d ever been a mark there. “S’just weird not seeing it anymore.”
“What about the rest of you?” he asked, trailing his finger over the scars you’d decided to leave.
“If people got a problem with the way I look, that’s their problem, not mine,” you said, smiling in the mirror at him. “Besides, I’ve been told guys dig scars. Especially this really cute one.”
“Oh, really? How cute is he?” asked Dean, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Like, super cute,” you said.
“Like, super cute?” asked Dean, making his voice higher, wrapping his arms around you when you started to giggle. “I do have one question for you though, honey.”
“I saved up for them all,” you said, Dean nodding. “But I only got rid of the couple. I know.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because you don’t care and you never have. I don’t care. I am pretty and these scars are just like the other ‘flaws’ I have like freckles or moles or that my legs are little bit more pale than the rest of my body. Who cares? If someone else does, it’s on them, not me. I like me,” you said, turning your head.
“I love you,” he said, giving you a hug.
“I love you too,” you said, kissing his cheek.
“I still get to see you in your fox hat though, right?” he asked. You laughed and nodded, returning to getting ready for the day.
You didn’t have any big plans for the September day apart from having Dean’s family and some other people over for a bonfire and cookout. You bought everything you needed earlier in the week and Dean had already chopped up some firewood the day before.
“Hey,” said Dean when you were sipping on your morning coffee, grabbing your hand. You followed him to your backyard, taking a seat on your padded bench on the deck, kicking your feet up on the railing, looking at the tidy yard with most of the trees already starting to turn pretty yellows and oranges.
“You got something on your mind,” you said. “Was it about what happened this morning?”
“Would you marry me?” he asked. He had a soft smile on his face, arm around your shoulders, his heart surely beating out of his chest. “I’ve sort of been hopelessly in love with you for a long time and I never came up with a good enough speech so I figured what the hell, I’ll just ask.”
“Yes,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder with a smile, staring up at him. Dean nodded and gave you a smile back, leaning over to give you a short kiss.
“Well if I’d known it was that easy, I would have asked months ago,” he said, resting his head on top of yours.
“You really have always thought I was beautiful, haven’t you?” you asked.
“I knew I was in trouble the second I saw you,” he said. “I thought it was a crush and then it started to turn into something else and I’m so glad you gave me a chance.”
“Me too,” you said, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. “You helped fixed everything that was broken.”
“See, that’s the funny thing. I never thought you were broken. You never thought I was. Together, I think we finally figured out how to help each other. We aren’t perfect but bad days aren’t so bad anymore,” he said. You hummed, taking a deep breath as you felt a warm fall breeze drift across your face.
“I love you,” you said quietly, his fingers dancing along your arm.
“I love you. So, so much.”
“So,” said Sam, wearing a shit-eating grin that night, sipping on a beer in the backyard. “I hear you two had a nice morning. As your soon to be brother-in-law, it’s officially my job to tease the shit out of you.”
“You do that now, jerk,” you said, whacking his arm, Sam chuckling as he handed you a beer, leaning back against the railing while Dean talked to a few people around the fire. “How long was he planning this?”
“Since your Europe trip,” said Sam. “He said something like he always knew you were the one but that confirmed it for him.”
“Confirmed it?” you said.
“Dean,” said Sam with a small laugh. “He didn’t want to ask unless he knew he was the one for you too.”
“Seriously?” you asked.
“You know Dean. He never thought he deserved you,” said Sam, giving Dean a smile across the yard, Dean cocking his head at both of you. “Totally a good thing you said yes since Carla flew all the way out here.”
“I should have realized he was up to something when he invited the entire family over for a party...plus my parents,” you said. “I don’t know if they’ll show. Last I talked to them, they were in Florida.”
“Of course we showed,” you heard behind you. You spun around, your dad in jeans and a flannel, your head tilting at the strange sight. Your mom didn’t have a speck of makeup on, wearing her own flannel and some black jeans. They set down a cooler near some of the others, your dad holding a bag of chips. “We brought snacks too.”
“You guys are...not dressed up,” you said, looking them up and down. “And you brought...beer.”
“Well, Dean did say it was BYOB which we didn’t understand so thankfully he explained it to us,” he said.
“We got you a little engagement present. Just a new mixer. You said your old one was breaking on you last time we talked,” said your mom, putting her hands on her hips. “We left it in the kitchen. The house looks cute. I like that painting you have by the door of the wolf and fox.”
“You actually came,” you said, both of them nodding as Dean walked over, Sam taking his cue to leave.
“Glad you guys could make it,” said Dean, taking hold of your hand. “It means a lot to both of us.”
“Well, your daughter only gets engaged once...hopefully,” said your dad with a nervous laugh.
“I went and talked to your parents awhile ago,” said Dean.
“You asked permission?” you asked, Dean nodding.
“I know Dean and I got off on the wrong foot,” said your dad. “But your mom and I got in touch with Dr. Bram not long after we saw you in England and he helped us find someone for us to go and talk to. When Dean called up and asked to talk a few months ago...by then I could see he was only protecting you back in that cafe.”
“We know it’s still strange but...your dad and I are done with traveling for a while. We got a new place in Kansas City so we’re forty minutes away. We want to see you more often,” said your mom.
“Yeah, that’s...I’d like that,” you said with a nod.
“Good,” she said, looking at your father. “Come on, we have to meet our in-laws at some point.”
“We’re gonna go be somewhere else, have fun!” said Dean, dragging you off, laughing when he looked back over his shoulder. “Sorry but I do not want to be part of that awkward conversation.”
“No, please, get us away from those four,” you said with a laugh, walking around the front of the house, nearly crashing into someone walking in through the back gate. “Sorry, I...Dr. Bram?”
“Hi,” he said, giving you and Dean each a smile, the man so strange looking out of his normal suit. “Party’s in the back I assume?”
“Yeah,” said Dean, Dr. Bram nodding. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Eh, normally I wouldn’t but I haven’t seen either of you for quite a while and this is strictly a friend visit. Didn’t I say something about you two turning out just fine without me?” he said, dragging a cooler behind him.
You raised an eyebrow as he walked into the backyard, Dean still laughing as he pulled you around and in through the front of the house. You followed him upstairs and to your room, Dean walking over to your fox and wolf, picking up the boxes at their feet.
“I thought maybe tonight would be a good night to look at these,” said Dean. You took the light blue one from him, Dean watching you.
“How old were you when you wrote this?” you asked, tugging off the blue ribbon.
“I think I was seven. I was old enough to write but that’s about all I can remember,” he said. You smiled as you peeled off the lid, turning away from Dean so he couldn’t read it.
I hope I’m wanted.
You put the box down and slammed the lid back on it, closing your eyes.
“What? I draw a silly picture or something?” he asked.
“No,” you breathed out. You shook your head a few times, biting your bottom lip. You crawled over and gave him a hug, Dean running a hand up and down your back.
“You’re scaring me, Y/N,” he said.
“Don’t be,” you said, moving your fingers through his hair, Dean leaning into the touch. “Because what you wrote down, I know you know that you are. It just hurt to see that you felt that way.”
“I guess I should look at yours now,” he said. You nodded, remembering what you wrote but still moving back for Dean to have privacy. You saw his shoulders slump and he moved the box to the side, turning to you with a smile.
“So…” you said with a shrug, Dean pulling you into his lap. “What do you think?”
“‘I hope he doesn’t think I’m too broken,’” said Dean, resting his forehead against yours.
“You never did,” you said, Dean nodding his head, pressing his lips to yours. “You hoped you were wanted.”
“I am,” he said, leaning back to look at you. “So are you.”
“I know,” you said, leaning in for a kiss. You could hear a loud laugh outside, more people arriving from the sounds of it.
“We should probably get back to our party,” said Dean, not moving an inch.
“Yeah, definitely,” you said, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Dean leaned up and kissed your forehead, lingering his lips there. “In a minute.”
“In a minute,” he said quietly, some music from outside drifting into the house.
“Would you dance with me?” you asked, Dean humming. You stood up and backed away from the bed, Dean twirling you around the room for a moment before pulling you into his chest.
“I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said, rocking you both back and forth.
“I can’t wait,” you said, Dean smiling back at you.
“Me either, sweetheart. Me either.”
@homeorbust @team-free-gallagher @waywardrose13 @dean-winchesters-bacon @deansgirl215 @booski91 @spnskinnyballs @gh0stgurl @newtospnfandom @hunterswearingplaid @jayankles @mlovesstories @roxyspearing @mirandaaustin93 @laceyn-1201 @rahma29417 @extreme-supernatural-lover @mrswhozeewhatsis @gallifreyansass @closetspngirl @ms-mags @jen-tiamo @atc74
#dean x reader#dean winchester#spn#supernatural#series#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#dean fanfiction#supernatural reader insert#dean reader insert#spn reader insert#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x#winchester#dean x#dean#au#dean series#spn series#supernatural series#dean winchester series#dean spn#dean supernatural#model!dean
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In Denial // A Theo Raeken story
Chapter 5
School went by like normal for a few days. Occasionally, the average student would be taken by the ghost riders. The population of Beacon Hills was diminishing by a very rapid pace. On Thursday, however, all of the teachers, principal and vice principal, and councilors finally went missing and school was finally shut down. The students knew something was wrong but couldn't quite figure it out. Coach was the only one who went to school on Thursday, and I know that because the pack was there.
"Where is everyone? What the hell is even this? Is there a holiday or something that I wasn't informed about?" Coach followed us down the halls as we walked to the library, desperate for answers on how to stop the wild hunt and the ghost riders.
"No, Coach, everyone is gone," Scott told Coach. "But, we are going to get them back."
"You better McCall. I'm not getting paid." And with that, Coach stormed off into his small office to do god knows what.
As per usual, we didn't come up with a plan that day Now, the Friday sun arose and my alarm clock jolted me awake. I leaned over the side of the bed to click it off. My eyes were still filled with gross morning crusties, which I generously rubbed off.
Downstairs, my dad was making breakfast for us. Just me and him again this morning. "Hey, sweetie. I'm making eggs for breakfast." He turned around from the stove and smiled at me.
"No work today?" I ask. He only shakes his head. There's barely anybody left to help. As the sheriff, he swore to protect the citizens of Beacon Hills county. Now that there is no one left, he doesn't have to.
"I'm going to go for a walk, dad," I shout from the living room after cleaning up after breakfast. I grab my canvas white tennis shoes and walk out the door. My dad knows I can take care of myself.
I jump into my car and drive to the woods where I usually take my morning jog. These are the same woods that Stiles dragged Scott to before sophomore year. I remember that day so well. Stiles wanted to find this dead body so bad. He was telling me about it all afternoon at home.
I enter the woods, following my same self-made trail. The trees sway to the soft summer breeze. All I'm wearing today is some black leggings, despite the summer heat, and a plain grey t-shirt from Stiles' closet. I love days like today where it's not too hot and not too cold. I brush my hand against the side of a tree as I walk past it. A laugh is forming inside my chest, something I haven't felt in weeks. The woods is where I feel free. Ahead of me, I see something on the ground, next to a big oak tree. As I walk closer, I notice it's a boy. He's curled up next to the tree, his back is facing me.
"Hey, are you okay?" The boy turns around revealing his face. "Theo? What are you doing?" He sits up.
"I have nowhere to stay." Now I feel horrible about saying I didn't care. He finally stands up. "Ruby, what are you doing in the middle of the woods anyways. It's not safe."
"I could say the same to you, Theo." He looks like a stray dog who's been kept outside in the rain. his once fluffy hair is now flat and soaking wet.
"I can handle myself." He walks past me in the direction I came in.
"Theo." He stops but doesn't turn to me. "Let me take you to my house so you can get some clean clothes and a shower. You look horrible."
On the car ride home, we say nothing. My dad left to meet Scott. At least thats what the note left in the kitchen says. I lead Theo upstairs and show him the spare bathroom that I call mine.
"Wait here." I walk into Stiles' room, which I haven't done in a few weeks. The room still smells like him. Everything is where it normally is. After my dad uncovered his room, we left the red strings up. They flow from one side of the room to the other, up and down, in all directions. They mesmerize me. I stand in the doorway admiring his detective board, his desk, and his bed.
I remember when Stiles and I were little, before mom died, we would sit on his bed and played action figures and Barbies. One time he lost his Batman figure and we looked for hours to find it. Turns out it was under his pillow the whole time.
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying not to let out a sob. Everyday we waste trying to figure out how to defeat the ghost riders is a day where Stiles is stuck somewhere. Somewhere probably scary.
I feel a pair of hands on my shoulder. They pull me away from the door frame, and one hand lifts off to close the door.
"Hey, it's okay." Theo says. He pulls me into a tight hug. I wrap my hands around his waist as he squeezes me tighter. He kisses the top of my head. I've never felt so protected, so safe.
No, I can't think that. I pull away and look him in the eyes. They shimmer from the bathroom lights that leak into the empty hallway. Which reminds me...
"You need a shower." He laughs.
"Well, now so do you." He walks towards Stiles' room again, opening the door. He lets himself in and picks out a shirt, a pair of jeans, a flannel, and some boxers. He shuts the door behind him and walks into the bathroom. Before shutting the door I hand him a clean towel, and he stops to wink at me. Then he closes the door and a few minutes later I hear the water running. I go back to my room and pick out some clothes to change into. I put on a pair of high waisted blue jeans, a soft, creme colored sweater, and a small gold necklace Stiles gave me last year for Christmas. I pull my hair down from the ponytail I had in and ran my hands through my hair a few times.
Theo takes a short shower, 15 minutes to be exact. When he's done, we comes back into my room, wearing the new, clean clothes. He carries his towel in his hands.
"Wow," He says.
"What?" I ask him as he sits on the chair next to my desk.
"You look... good." I blush.
"Thanks." I grab my purse filled with my phone, some lip gloss, my wallet, and extra hair ties. "Okay you're coming with." I grab his towel and throw it on my bed. Then, I grab his hand and pull him downstairs.
"Should I be wondering where we are going?" He says as I get in my car.
"Pack meeting." I glance at the clock in my car. It's only 11. The pack meeting is scheduled for 12. "But first lunch. I'm starving and I bet you are too." He nodds his head viciously.
"Yes please."
I drive into the parking lot of my favortie diner, Brandon's. My mouth is watering just thinking about some french fries. Thankfully, Brandon's is right outside of Beacon Hills, so there should be workers.
Theo walks ahead to hold the door to the diner for me. How sweet.
"Thanks," I say.
"Least I could do." He smiles.
"Ruby!" I turn to the counter inside the restaurant.
"Isaac!" I walk over to my friend Isaac who greets me with a smile as per usual. "How've you been?" I ask.
"Pretty good. You know, the usual. Who's thissss? You must be a friend of Ruby's." He turns his attention to Theo.
"I'm Theo, nice to meet you." Theo holds out his hand to Isaac, who shakes it. I've never seen Theo be so polite.
"Yes, nice to meet you too Theo. Anyways, you know the drill Rubs. Sit wherever, someone will help you shortly." I smile and wave goodbye to Isaac who waves back.
Theo and I find a seat near the back. We sit across from eachother.
"Who was that?" Theo asks.
"My friend Isaac. He used to live in Beacon Hills but lives in Orange county, which is only two towns over." He nods.
"Cool."
Our food arrives and Theo immediately scarfs it down. He probably hasn't eaten in days. My burger and fries turns out good as usual. When we are done eating, we drive to Scotts house. Everyone's car is here. The time on the clock reads 12:15. Crap.
"Okay, when we go inside they are going to be a little mad. But that's okay."
"A little?" He ask sarcastically.
"Okay, a lot. But... don't get mad because that will make things worse. You know how they are." He nods. "I need you. Even though I have to hate you." He frowns at that.
"You don't have to," he persuades me. But no, I have to stick with my pack.
"I do. Because your the bad guy. And I hate saying that but it's really hard to trust you. Actually, it's pretty hard for anyone to trust you."
"I know." He puts his hand on top of mine, which rests on the shifter in my jeep. "But, I'm trying to fix that. I need to tell you thank you." I smile. I put the car in park and take my foot off the break. Theo finally lets go of my hand. We both step out of the car and wal to the front door.
"Remember what I said?" I say, more of a statement than a question. He looks at me in understanding.
Chapter 5!!!! Wow okay I have the perfect plot planned and i hope yall like it. Chapter 6 will be up soon.
Xoxo-em
Wc: 1680♡
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Twelve Days of Drabbles Pt. 3
A/N: I have no idea if this is going to show up or not, but I’m going to continue to post my Twelve Days of Drabbles series! Hopefully the tumblr tagging issue is fixed soon! Until then, here is part three! On the third day of ficmas, yours truly gave to thee...undercover prep work, mistletoe kisses, and snowballs and fun by a tree!
Day Three: A Christmas Ball
Read Me on AO3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005620
Day One Day Two
Tag List:
@kissofthebadwolf @eurusholmmes @ourloveisforthelovely @pensysto @hankypranky
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You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little excited. You absolutely loved getting to dress up and play a character on hunts. You were quite convincing (thank you high school drama classes!) and in your line of work, the chance to get glam simply doesn’t come around very often. You didn’t let on to your excitement, though. The boys would never let you hear the end of it if they thought you actually enjoyed being “girly.” You rarely bothered with makeup these days, and jeans and flannels were easier to hunt in than dresses and skirts. This was going to be more than a little makeup and a nice dress, though. You were investigating some local disappearances of high society heirs and heiresses and had gotten a lead that whatever you were searching for would be staking out their next victim at some Christmas Ball one of the well-to-do’s was throwing. Sam had shaken his hair and batted his eyelashes at the right women and ended up with two tickets, offering you the perfect opportunity to stake out the room from the inside. To play the part, you had to look the part: and that meant hair, makeup, nails, jewelry, and a full length, forest green, taffeta ball gown with an off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline you’d found in a boutique and were absolutely infatuated with. You hadn’t worn anything this nice since your high school prom, and that dress had come from a secondhand store. The boys had already been seen by several of the attendees, so they were out of the question when it came to who was going to play your date. With Cas on Jack duty, the obligation fell to a particularly enthusiastic Gabriel.
You’d taken him shopping yesterday for a rental tux. Clothing shopping with Gabriel went about as you would have expected it to. The first three tuxes he tried on were simply to amuse you: a pinstripe zoot suit that looked as though it was actually from the 1930’s, an all-white getup with a bright green bow tie, and some hideous orange number you were certain he’d zapped in because there was no way in hell it had been in the store on a rack to be bought. Finally, you managed to smother your laughter and sternly reprimanded him into taking this seriously. He came out of the dressing room a few moments later in a well-tailored formal black tux, white button-up, and a handkerchief sticking out of his pocket that perfectly matched your dress. He glanced up at you through his lashes as he fixed the button on his sleeve, making your heart stutter in your chest and your breath catch. He must have noticed your reaction, because he quickly followed it up with a smirk and a wink. Blushing faintly, you rolled your eyes at him and bade him to take off his suit—“so we can BUY it, you pervert”—and left the store, package in hand.
***
You looked at yourself in the motel room’s full-length mirror. You hardly recognized yourself. Your hair was done up with curls and bobby pins with little pearls glued to them. Your face was classy and sophisticated, with earth-toned eyeshadow and deep red lipstick to compliment the dress you were in. Jody put her hand on your shoulder and smiled at your reflection.
“You look beautiful, y/n.”
You were only an hour from Sioux Falls, so Jody had graciously offered to help you prepare for the evening. Your skills were a little rusty and you knew, as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you’d have never been able to make yourself look the way you look right now. You appeared every bit the part of an uptown heiress on her way to a high-society Christmas ball. Jody had kindly offered you some beautiful diamond earrings and a pair of heels to wear with your dress on loan to save you the money of having to buy some.
“Which of these lucky men gets to be your escort for the evening?” She asked. Your face colored a little as you replied.
“Um, Gabriel.”
Jody’s eyebrows raised as she gave you a knowing look. The two of you had grown close over the years and she was the only one you’d confided your crush on the archangel to. Embarrassed, you looked away from her face in the mirror. She gently turned you by your shoulder and tilted your chin up to meet her eyes.
“He’s not going to know what hit him,” she said. As you blushed and began to brush off what she said she stopped you. “No, really. You look incredible. He’s a lucky guy tonight. And if he doesn’t see it, I’m positive there will be several other men there who will,” she added on at the end humorously. You laughed and she handed you your beaded bag containing your ticket into the party and a couple of innocuous-looking trinkets that doubled as hunting weapons in a pinch. You had the demon knife strapped to your thigh and you knew Gabriel would be able to pop in anything else you may need, should the need arise at all. You were going there tonight specifically to identify your target, not to engage them.
You heard two sharp knocks on the door. Dean’s voice immediately followed.
“You two about ready in there? You need to get going.”
“We’re ready!” You called as Jody opened the door to the view of the three men. Dean let out a low whistle as his eyes landed on you and Sam’s eyes widened.
“Wow, y/n, you look...wow!” the taller man said in appreciation, making you blush once more. Gabriel pushed his way in between the two.
“As eloquent as that was, Sammy Boy, I’m sure y/n looks—“ his eyes found you, shyly clutching your bag in front of him, looking up at him from below your eyelashes. His mouth moved as though to form the words to describe how you looked, but no sound came out. The sight made you smile, and your confidence rose. Jody gave you a subtle nudge in your back and it nearly made you miss a similar nudge Sam gave the gaping angel before him. You were glad you’d been the one to take him shopping for the clothes he had on, if you’d been presented with this sight of him, freshly shaven, hair meticulously styled in its familiar swoop, and a well-fitted suit to boot, you’d have been struck speechless as well. You could feel your heart beating faster and you knew he could hear it as his eyes met yours.
Dean clapped Gabriel on the shoulder and it seemed to reawaken him to his surroundings. “—lovely,” he choked out. He cleared his throat and straightened. Holding out his hand to you, he asked, “as your date for this evening, I wish to inform you that our car has arrived.”
Your eyebrow quirked as you took his hand. “Car? Did you actually order a car for us?” He smiled his familiar half-smile and responded.
“I may have conjured one specifically for our use.”
“A proper fairy godmother,” you teased, “do I get glass slippers and a crown, too?”
“No, but I can promise the car won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight. I strongly considered turning these two dunderheads into our chauffeurs, though.”
You laughed and didn’t even notice the indignant huffs from the two men behind you as Gabriel led you to the vehicle parked in the lot, an (obviously conjured) man in a crisp suit and hat poised next to an open door, waiting for you. You didn’t notice much else at all, besides Gabriel. You hoped he was more on top of his game than you were, because you might be too distracted tonight to do much investigating. The way he kept looking at you though, his jaw twitching and even swallowing hard once or twice, meant this particular hunt may be a little more difficult than you'd planned.
The door closed behind you and Gabriel situated himself in the seat to your right, barely close enough for his arm to brush against yours. You weren’t sure how tonight was going to go...but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to find out.
#waywarddaughterwrites#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fic#gabriel supernatural#archangel gabriel#gabriel#gabriel fic#gabriel x reader#gabriel x reader insert#gabriel reader insert#gabriel fanfiction#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean friendship#sam friendship#jody mills#jody friendship#twelve days of drabbles
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Countdown to Final Build: Day 22 ~SPECIAL~ You Will Be the (My) One
I actually have a post about the pair’s theme song here, so... how about doing something else for today?
Alright then!
You Will Be the (My) One
A Kamen Rider Build fic
Or: How Sento and Ryuuga elope, with the help of some friends.
An interquel to “Who are You Fighting For? (For Your Sake, Always)”
Pairing- OTP: Best Match (Sento/Ryuuga)
Warnings: Sexual situation, no actual smut.
Six months after Evolt’s defeat
“This is insane. They’re still talking about us,” Ryuuga groans, flipping through the papers. There’s an entire spread in the broadsheet festooned in their photos, mostly taken in secret by paparazzi as they went on dates or ran errands together, along with cutesy captions sent in by ‘shippers’.
His boyfriend looks up from his computer to read it from over his shoulder. “Well we did come out really publicly,” replies Sento, though his nose wrinkles at the stolen photographs. “This does throw a wrench in a works,” he frowns, absently twisting a ring on his finger.
Ryuuga smiles at the reflex gesture. He’s the one who gave Sento the ring, after all- not that anyone else knew. It was a simple thing, just a thin gold band without any embellishment aside from the engraving hidden under- ‘Best Match’. He’d only asked the previous week and neither felt inclined to bring it up with the others. After all, they didn’t even know if they’d be able to marry discretely like they wanted while they were still being hounded by the media.
Yes, that’s right. Ryuuga and Sento are getting married.
The legalities of it all is the easiest part. Civil marriages were already legalized for same-sex couples. The problem is, even just announcing the intention to marry as custom demands would guarantee their marriage becoming a media circus.
“You know, sometimes I wish what Katsuragi said was true,” Sento says.
“What?” Ryuuga asks, frowning. It’s been a while since Sento mentioned the other man residing in his head. Then again neither of them want to think about how the Devil Scientist is privy to everything that happens to them, even the parts that Katsuragi himself didn’t want to know.
“When I carried you off,” Sento says, slightly going pink- no doubt remembering what happened after. “He said we looked like we were eloping.” He pauses for a moment, fiddling with his ring again. “We could still do that.”
That… well, he never expected Sento to be the one to bring it up. “Where in the world would we elope to, though?” He asks. “We can barely get out of the apartment without getting hounded by paparazzi.”
“Well, we’d have to teleport to get away from those reporters,” Sento jokes, turning back to his computer.
There’s a moment of silence until Sento’s face lights up and he exclaims “That’s it!”
“Huh? You want us to teleport? How will we do that?” Ryuuga points out.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Kouta will help us.” Sento reassures, dialling a number on his phone.
“Kouta? Oh, you mean that Gaim guy?” Ryuuga asks. He does remember Sento telling him about meeting that guy, along with Emu’s friend Parad. That was the only Rider he didn’t meet properly out of suit.
“Yeah. Apparently all I have to do is call him and he’ll come.” Sento shrugs. When someone picks up on the other line, Sento speaks into it. “Ah, Kouta-san? This is Sento, uh, Build? Oh, you remember… yeah, I was wondering if you’d do a favor for me. Do you mind coming to see us? Oh, okay-“
Suddenly a flash of blindingly bright light appears in their apartment, making them look away to shield their eyes. When the light fades, there’s a blond guy in their living room, wearing gleaming silver armor and a white cape. He exudes an aura of power that makes Ryuuga’s hair stand on end and alarms go off in his his head.
“Sento,” he says, addressing his partner. “What did you need to talk about?”
“Wait, you’re that Kouta guy?” Ryuuga asks, as Sento remains in a silent shock. “What’s with that gaudy outfit?”
Kouta looks down on himself. “Not this again.” He waves his fingers over himself and the armor and cape disappear and turn into a flannel shirt, an orange vest and jeans while his hair turns black. Suddenly the gaudy man looks and feels about as ordinary as any other person. “Sorry. Certain people like forcing me to wear that when I travel. So what did you want to ask, Sento?”
Sento snaps out of his daze. “How did you get from your dimension to ours? You didn’t use the portal Mogami made, right? Does that mean you teleported?”
He nods. “The same way I managed to change my clothes just now,” Kouta replies, hesitant. “It’s... how do I say this?” He rubs his neck, looking embarrassed. “I’m sort of a space god, I guess.”
“A space god.” Ryuuga repeats. After everything he’d seen Evolt and even Sento do, nothing surprises him anymore. Except apparently a fruit-wielding Kamen Rider who was a fucking god. “And I thought we’ve seen everything.”
“Oh believe me, you haven’t.” Kouta laughs. “But why are you asking how I came?”
“We need to get away for a little while,” Sento says, grabbing the paper and holding it out to show Kouta. “The media’s been stalking us since we got together. We… we just want time to be alone.”
Kouta blinks at the centerfold, which was the very public first kiss they had right after defeating Evolt. “Uh. Oh wow. I guess congratulations are in order.”
“Yeah thanks, but more importantly,” says Ryuuga, “do you happen to know anyone who can marry us?”
“M-marry?” Kouta stammers. “Wait, you’re together?! Like a couple?!”
“Obviously!” Sento drawls. “But anyways, can you get us out? And do you know someone who can marry us?”
“Getting you out’s a piece of cake. But knowing someone…” reeling off, Kouta frowns, thinking. “Maybe Takeru? He runs a temple, and his friend Onari-san is a Buddhist priest,” he says.
“Good enough. I’ll get the bags.” Sento says, dashing into the bedroom.
“What? We’re leaving now?” Kouta flails. “You’re already packed up!”
“We were already planning to leave,” Ryuuga says. “But…” He points out the window, shifting the curtains back a bit.
“Oh.” Kouta says, seeing the reporters all sitting on the sidewalk outside, cameras trained on the windows and front door. A look of understanding passes through his face before he nods. “Yeah, let’s get going.”
They only wait long enough for Sento to carry their duffel bags out and carefully place his laptop in his knapsack. Before Ryuuga can urge him to go, Gaim snaps his fingers and the apartment vanishes in a flash of light.
Next thing he knows, the three of them are standing in a courtyard surrounded on all sides by Japanese-style building, and there’s someone screaming in terror in the background. The three of them stare at the yelling man for a moment before Ryuuga recognizes him.
“Onari! Calm down, will you? Geez,” chides a young man who runs up to him. When Onari (now bald and dressed like a monk) calms down, the guy looks up. “Eh? Kouta, and Ryuuga too?”
“Sorry for showing up so suddenly, Takeru,” Kouta apologizes. “But these guys insisted.”
Takeru tilts his head. “Uh, okay?” He looks at Sento. “So, is this guy Build?”
“Uh, yeah. Kiryuu Sento,” Sento says. “Nice to meet you.”
Takeru returns the brief bow. “Tenkuuji Takeru, Kamen Rider Ghost,” he replies. “So, what can I do for you guys?”
“We need you to marry us,” Ryuuga says shortly, not bothering with the details. “Please!�� He punctuates this with a deep bow, which Sento copies a millisecond later.
Takeru and Onari stare for a moment before yelling, “E-eeeeeeh?!” Onari falls over, landing on his bottom in his shock. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you guys,” Takeru adds hastily, “But what the actual fuck?”
Kouta sidles up to Takeru and whispers urgently into his ear, cupping a hand over his mouth. Takeru’s brows furrow together, nodding every now and then. Ryuuga can’t pick out what he’s saying, and neither can Sento if the quizzical expression he has is anything to go by.
Kouta moves away from Takeru, who is now grinning lopsidedly. Ghost claps his hands together. “All right then! I understand the situation. We’ll take care of it.” He looks to Onari. “Can you get the main hall ready? And while you’re at it, call the others too. We’re going to need their help for this.”
“Y-yes! R-Right away!” The priest jumps to his feet and hastily runs off, gathering his hems up so he won’t trip over them.
The next few hours are a blur as the temple flies into a frenzy for the preparations. Takeru whisks Sento away with Kouta while Ryuuga finds himself being tugged away by Takeru’s friends, Makoto and Alain, who help dress him into a formal kimono and fuss over his hair until he has to slap their hands away from it.
They lead him to a mirror and his jaw drops when he sees himself. He looks… Somehow more mature, taller and leaner than he actually is, and way more dignified. He looks closer at the kimono, and is surprised to see Build’s gear symbol embroidered where the family crests usually are. His braids were undone and combed out so his hair looks sleek and straight.
The blue-clad senior Rider smirks as he says, “You’ll knock his socks off when he sees you, Ryuuga-san.”
“If he doesn’t kill me with how great he’s gonna look in this kind of get up first,” Ryuuga admits. “He’s always looked good whatever he wore.” Be it baggy tees and ripped jeans or a dress shirts and slacks, whatever Sento wore he still looked gorgeous.
Suddenly Ryuuga’s heart starts to pound as he realizes that, yes, it was happening, they were doing this, there was no turning back. He’s marrying the man who saved him from his despair, gave him a reason to fight other than himself, freed him from Evolt’s influence and so much more.
Sento has done so much for him, and this is all he can do to repay him. To give his life to Sento, to devote himself to ensuring his happiness, to spend the rest of his days loving every part of him.
Alain nudges him gently, having dressed in his own formal attire with Makoto’s help and vice versa. “It’s time. You ready?”
Ryuuga nods, fiddling with his sleeve to make sure the ring was still hidden there. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Makoto and Alain lead him down a narrow hallway, across a Zen Garden to the main hall. The outside is appropriately decorated for a solemn but festive occasion, but the inside is concealed by the heavy wooden doors. He takes another deep breath before the two senior Riders push the door open and draw the curtains back for him to enter the shrine.
He sees Onari and two other monks at the front near the altar he walks to, along with two young girls in the gallery. When he reaches the front, Onari bows and shakes his hand in congratulations, which Ryuuga returns politely. Makoto and Alain join the two girls in the gallery, having closed the doors shut again.
It’s only a moment later when the doors swing open again, this time by Kouta and Takeru. The curtains part, and Ryuuga loses his breath. He’s right after all: Sento’s handsome in the black wedding kimono trimmed in white, the Dragon FullBottle’s logo embroidered in place of clan symbols. The obi accentuates his lean figure, and his hair is stylishly messy, framing his face perfectly. He gasps.
Sento’s eyes remain on him as he walks down the aisle, taking his place by Ryuuga’s side. “Hey,” he greets Ryuuga. “Wow. You look… You look beautiful.”
“You look amazing,” Ryuuga says in return, holding Sento’s hands in his.
Ryuuga loses track of time, barely hearing the prayers and chants Onari pronounces, because he’s too busy staring at the man who’ll soon be his husband. He smiles at Sento’s blushing face, averted from him, in pleased embarrassment. He almost misses Onari asking for them to exchange rings, if not for Sento saying, “Wait, can I say something?”
Onari frowns for a moment, before saying, “Of course, Sento-san. Please.”
Sento turns back to Ryuuga. “I wrote, you know, my vows or something. But I left it at home, so screw it. Here I go.” Ryuuga’s eyes widen as Sento continues. “When I made Cross Z for you, and gave your Driver, it was because I knew you needed it. I knew that you could be something more than a musclehead idiot, and all you needed was the right push. I knew you could be the hero Touto needed. But what I didn’t know… was that you’d be the hero I needed too.”
Ryuuga feels his jaw drop as Sento doesn’t stop talking. “It was you who reminded me who I was when I was in despair over being Katsuragi. Believed in me when I broke down over what I did with the Hazard Trigger. Sacrificed yourself to Evolt to save my life. I-“ Sento chokes. “I could be the one who saved the world, because you were with me… and that is why I was ready to sacrifice myself to Evolt to save you. I was ready to die, to save you… just you.”
“Sento…” By now, Ryuuga couldn’t stop the tears dripping down his face, and he could hear sniffles from the gallery too. When he looks toward them it’s not just the girls crying, either, though Takeru and Alain were trying (and failing) to conceal their weeping.
But Sento isn’t finished and continues to talk. “But now I realize that was a mistake,” he says. “I shouldn’t have given my life up to Evolt so easily… because then, I couldn’t give it to you. If my plan worked, that would’ve been the last thing I did for you… and it wouldn’t have been enough.”
He takes out the ring from his sleeve. “This ring… with this, I give my life to you, Ryuuga, for all of eternity. And I hope that this, my life, my love, will be enough to repay for everything you’ve done for me.” Sento takes Ryuuga’s left hand and slides the simple band onto his ring finger, then kisses the knuckle gently.
Ryuuga can hear the girls in the gallery swooning, and he barely manages to maintain his composure himself. He’s certain that he’s red with embarrassment from all the things Sento was saying about him. When Onari (dabbing at his eyes with his sleeves) asks him if he has his own vows to say, he replies with “How the hell am I supposed to top that?!”
“Just follow your heart Ryuuga!” Takeru cheers, with a cheesy smile on his face. The short haired girl slaps him on the wrist and pulls him down to his seat. Makoto and Alain flash a thumbs up, and Kouta nods encouragingly.
Confidence boosted by his seniors’ belief, and further by Sento’s radiant smile, he clears his throat to begin. “I remember the first time we became Cross-ZBuild. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever felt. But it was the best feeling ever, too.” Sento tilts his head in confusion so he explains further. “Fighting with you like that… giving you strength, helping you land the blows on Evolt, our hearts beating as one- there was nothing like it. I finally felt like that we were fighting together, and not just alongside each other.”
Ryuuga grips Sento’s left hand in his right as he continues. “Being together like that, literally inseparable, it made me realize how much I needed you in my life. Without you in it, I was nothing. If you’d left, I’d be nothing again. And I don’t ever want to be nothing again.”
Ryuuga bites his bottom lip. “That’s why I gave myself up to Evolt, when you were poisoned. If I didn’t have you in my life, it’s not a life worth living anymore. I just…” He starts crying in earnest, despite his efforts to resist it. “God, Sento… Aishiteru…Aishiteru,” he sobs, inwardly embarrassed at how much emotion he’s showing.
Sento comforts him by rubbing his wrist in gentle circles. “I know Ryuuga, I know.”
Ryuuga nods through his tears, and shakes as he slides the ring into place. “You made me everything I am today… so today, I give you everything that I am,” Ryuuga vows. “I am yours, and only yours, for the rest of our lives and beyond.” Sento smiles tearfully, even as he tries to wipe Ryuuga’s away.
“Kouta-senpai,” Makoto suddenly says, “Why don’t you bless their marriage?”
Kouta flails. “What? Why me?”
“You’re the space god, Kouta! Go for it!” Takeru teases.
Kouta rolls his eyes, stands and walks over to the pair. He clasps their joined hands together and frowns as he thinks of something to say. “Er, I guess… May you two have a wonderful marriage and a happy family, or something…”
He desperately turns to Onari, whose eyes were a virtual waterfall with how much he’s crying. The priest, blubbering through his tears, chants one last prayer to bless the couple before saying, “I-I now pronounce you h-husbands. L-ladies and g-gentlemen, Banjou Ryuuga-san and Banjou Sento-san!”
The gallery bursts into applause, then the other senior Riders jump over the barricade to congratulate their juniors. Holding hands, Sento and Ryuuga laugh as their free hands are shaken, their backs thumped. Makoto and Alain lead the way out the shrine, opening the wooden doors for Sento and Ryuuga to walk out of-
Then they’re greeted by more cheers and well-wishers, tossing rice and rose petals as they go down the steps hand-in-hand.
Ryuuga is confused for a moment, until he sees Hino Eiji’s familiar face, grinning lopsidedly, in the crowd. He scans the crowd again, finding Hojo Emu and Kisaragi Gentaro in their midst and realizes that their other seniors and their friends have come to celebrate too.
“You know what to do,” Takeru whispers in his ear, before he slides away to join the other Riders.
Ryuuga gulps. Oh yeah, that part. The binding kiss. But then it occurs to him that he and Sento have a magazine with their first kiss on the centerfold, and decides that this couldn’t be much worse than that. In fact, he thinks mischievously, maybe he can have a bit of fun with this.
“Sento,” he calls his husband seriously, putting one of his arms around Sento’s waist.
“Ryuuga, what-“ Sento barely manages to finish his sentence before Ryuuga dips him low, and kisses him slow and deep. Sento’s eyes widen for a moment, grabbing onto Ryuuga’s shoulder for balance, before his eyes flutter against Ryuuga’s cheek and returns the kiss with equal force.
When they part, they smile at each other even as Riders hoot and jeer at them. He looks down at his hubby fondly. “So you like being kissed like that?”
“Oh do I,” Sento dazedly replies. “Do that again later.” Then he smiles, sultry and provocative, as his voice drops to a bare whisper, practically purring. “Much, much later.”
“Sure,” Ryuuga says, already excited with anticipation. His mouth is already watering at the thought of undressing Sento and worshipping his partner’s body as he has done many times before. “As many times as you want.”
“But first,” Sento replies, voice rising again, “revenge!” And before Ryuuga knows it, Sento sweeps him off his feet, carrying him bridal style the rest of the way down the stairs to roaring approval, and his secret pleasure. Sento showing off his strength, he’s found, is a huge turn-on for him.
It is then that Emu steps forward, clasping Sento’s shoulder with a grin. “Time for the reception! Our treat!” he says excitedly.
“What? You-“ Sento and Ryuuga sputter.
“It’s okay,” Kiriya says genially, putting away his ever-present sunglasses in the pocket of his suit. “It’s a tradition amongst Riders to throw a party for their juniors when they’ve won their battles. Seeing as we’re unable to do that for you, this is the next best option.” He chuckles. “At least we got a Rider reunion out of it, right?”
And what a reunion it is. Food and drinks flow as the Riders and their allies make merry on the Ministry of Health’s dime, much to Ryuuga and Sento’s chagrin. Emu, acting as the host, helps them makes the rounds and properly introduces them to each Rider team. Ryuuga grows dizzy with all the names and Rider designations being thrown at him, while Sento takes it in stride and makes polite conversation about power sets and the like.
They’re introduced to Tomari Shinnosuke and Terui Ryu, the only other Riders at the party who are married. The two police officers congratulate them with their wives and children in tow. Sento’s immediately liked by both Shinnosuke’s son (a baby that somehow recognizes them as “Kamen Raidaaaa!”) and Ryu’s daughter, and it makes Ryuuga’s heart ache with longing.
Shinnosuke notices the look on his face and says, “You know adoption is probably an option for you two, right?”
Ryuuga blushes. “I- We’ve never even talked about it,” he says, even as his imagination runs wild with images of young children who call Sento papa and him tou-chan. He’s surprised by how much he wants that image to be reality.
Ryu chuckles. “You know, I didn’t think it could be possible to be any happier than when I married my wife. Then we had Haruna and…” he reels off, watching the little girl gasp as Sento showed off his Rabbit and Panda FullBottles, both cooing over their cuteness.
Sento must’ve felt his staring because he suddenly looks at Ryuuga. “Something wrong?”
“Nah,” Ryuuga reassures, putting away those thoughts for the moment. “Just thinking.”
Sento is eventually persuaded to say goodbye to Eiji and Haruna when a wedding cake appears on a rolling cart, along with two crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne resting in ice. The cake, which was from a bakery Hiiro apparently purchases his favorite pastries from, is a simple three tiered cake, covered in white fondant and icing. Instead of the customary bride-and-groom statuettes, the topper’s a strangely accurate rendition of them as Build and Cross-Z in the middle of an argument, yelling in each other’s faces.
He and Sento cut the cake (which turned out to be chocolate) together, then try to feed their slice to each other. Sento ends up with icing smeared across his lips, and Ryuuga with cake on his chin. After cake is a sip of champagne, before they’re allowed to sit and eat dinner.
Dinner is unsurprisingly simple, given how last-minute everything was planned. It’s Western cuisine, consisting of a pasta dish with herbs, roasted root vegetables, steak, baked salmon topped with cheese, a creamy mushroom soup and another slice of wedding cake for dessert. But because of the food shortages they had during the civil war, even the simple fare’s a rarity for the two and they all but devour their dishes.
The party goes on well into the night, but eventually everyone goes home, congratulating the newlyweds and leaving a pile of presents for them to open later. Takeru sends for a car to take them to a hotel- the joint gift of all the “main Riders”, so says Takeru.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Sento admonishes the younger Rider, watching Ghost’s team load their presents and other belongings into a van, which drives off ahead of the sedan they’re using.
“We wanted to,” Takeru reassures. “Both of you are our friends, and we’re more than happy to help make your day memorable.” He shoves them toward the car. “Now go! And I do not want to know what you’re going to do!” he says, laughing.
Tenkuuji Temple sees them off as the driver starts up the engine and drives off into the city. Ryuuga and Sento take the opportunity to peek out the windows, marvelling at how different the city was to the one from their old world. The bright lights almost hurt his eyes, and he’s amazed by how many people were still out and about at the hour.
After a twenty-minute drive, the car pulls up at a fancy, ritzy hotel with a lavish lobby covered in red plush carpet and lit with crystal chandeliers and furnished with Western pieces, making him feel incredibly out of place in his kimono. However, when he gives his name to the concierge, she brightens and informs them that their room was ready, their belongings having been brought there, and hands them the card keys without fuss. She informs them that they had the penthouse suite for the next three days, and gladly points out the hotel’s various amenities before directing them to an elevator that would take them straight to the top floor.
When they arrive at the room and open the door, both he and Sento are shocked by how lavish it is. “Holy crap. How- how much did they even spend on this?!” Ryuuga gasps in outrage.
The room is already bigger than the entire floor of their apartment complex, with several rooms all leading out to the main room, which was a combination living/dining/kitchen area. The presents they got sit, carefully arranged, on the coffee table, and there’s a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses on the kitchen counter- along with a note with various handwriting on it.
Have fun! And don’t forget to be responsible!- Hojo Emu
I don’t want to know what you’re doing, but have a great time! :))- Tenkuuji Takeru
Congratulations! I wish you both good luck in your new life together! <3 - Tomari Shinnosuke
Don’t be too crazy kids! Hahah kidding, do whatever you want to each other, as long as you tell no one else ;) - Kazuraba Kouta
I don’t know either of you, but you’re good guys, so I wish you both the best. - Souma Haruto
Marriage kitaaaaa! Congrats you two! Love for the win!- Kisaragi Gentaro
Congrats. I hope you make each other happy… and take it easy, ok? Don’t destroy each other’s pantsu~ - Hino Eiji
Many happy returns on your marriage. May it be long and happy. -Philip
Congratulations on getting married, kids. And remember- safe, sane and consensual! -Hidari Shoutaro
“What the fuck was that about?!” Ryuuga drops the note in shock, sputtering. “W-what were those idiots thinking?!” he yelped. “Even Eiji-san too!”
He’s so preoccupied by the thought of his seniors thinking of him doing those things that he doesn’t notice Sento backing him into the counter until his back hits the marble. When he looks up, Sento is looking dangerously, licking his lips in anticipation, eyes dark with desire. Ryuuga makes a choked noise in his throat as Sento leans, propping himself up on the counter and boxing Ryuuga in. “Why,” Sento whispers, in a voice that goes straight to Ryuuga’s groin, “are you opposed to such activities on our wedding night?”
“I- O-of course not,” Ryuuga stammers, heart hammering. He tries not to think about how badly Sento’s dominant side gets to him, but he’s failing miserably if Sento’s smug expression is anything to go by. His body’s already betrayed him, too. “It’s just…” He curses his sudden shyness as Sento’s hands start unfastening the sash around his waist.
Sento’s eyes soften. “Hey, c’mon Ryuuga. You up to this? Because I’ll stop if-”
“No,” Ryuuga groans, shuddering in pleasure as Sento’s hands part his kimono and under-kimono and caress bare skin. “Fuck, don’t stop.” Sento’s hands, lips and teeth wander, down and up his chest, shoulders and neck. He grabs Sento’s neck and the counter as he goes weak in the knees. “Kiss me, damn it.”
Sento’s smug smirk is back, entirely too pleased with how fast Ryuuga is coming apart (Ryuuga swears to himself that Sento will pay for it dearly) and complies, all while slowly slipping Ryuuga’s kimono off his body. The obi, haori, hakama and outer kimono land on the floor in a heap and all that’s left is the white under-kimono and his boxers, which are both hanging dangerously low on his body. “Damn it Sento, I thought you-“
“We have plenty of time,” Sento hums into his throat, leaving a mark that would surely be visible tomorrow. “You can debauch me later. For now… how about I take the lead?”
Ryuuga nods, unable to articulate anything else in his haze. Sento grins, hoisting him up and walking them into the bedroom with possibly the biggest bed Ryuuga’s ever seen in his life. He’s gently laid onto it by his husband, but not before his undergarments land on the floor, leaving him naked.
Sento, the tease, makes a great show of slowly taking off his clothes, making Ryuuga watch as more and more skin was exposed. He can’t take his eyes off him, Ryuuga finds, despite other parts of his anatomy begging for attention- though he’s pleased to see Sento is as turned on as he is. “Gods, Sento, what are you waiting for?”
Instead of replying, Sento pounces. And Ryuuga is putty in his hands, unable to do anything except writhe and moan and scream for more as Sento draws their lovemaking out. When Sento leans down to whisper obscene, erotic words and promises of love into his ear, Ryuuga can only reply with choked moans and nods.
Ryuuga clings to Sento, trying to draw him in deeper, so they can drown together in their own pleasure. And moments later, Sento whispers the command in his ear and Ryuuga lets go with a low moan that seems to reverberate into the rooms beyond.
Sento follows soon after, his arms giving out and he crashes into Ryuuga’s chest. “Ryuuga,” he sighs in euphoria. “That was amazing. You were amazing. Fuck.”
He could only nod, speechless. It’s easily the best sex he’s ever had. Well, the best he’s had so far.
After all, being married to him doesn’t mean Ryuuga’s be so willing to easily lose to Sento, right?
Ryuuga peers at him, then grabs his chance. In a flash he has Sento pinned down on his back, and he leans down to kiss down the column of his neck. Sento‘s eyes fly open, then squeeze shut as Ryuuga’s hands venture downward, too, and he smirks as Sento whimpers and squirms under him.
“Oh, sure, I can do that. I have a promise to keep, after all.”
#kamen rider build#kiryuu sento#banjou ryuuga#countdown to final build#otp: best match#kamen rider build fanfic
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