#and he has had THE SAME PAIR of these sandals LITERALLY since before my sister was born. so like. OVER 14 years at this point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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BLACK&WHITE (part 3)

A/N: woo part 3!! things are getting exciting, drama is around the corner so i hope yall will enjoy this one! can't wait to read your thoughts and reactions!

PAIRING: long hair college!Harry X Mitch’s little sister!Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST

“I can’t believe you made me do this,” you grumble, as you fill up your profile with some of your personal details. You kind of swore you’d never have Tinder, it feels like a meat market, swiping left and right on guys while knowing they are doing the exact same thing, judging you from just a few photos and the words you wrote about yourself. That’s just not enough to sum up a person, but others don’t think the same way apparently, because basically every single guy from school is on this goddamned app according to Bonnie.

This whole thing started out from Bonnie telling you about her horrible date she met on Tinder. She went on and on about how the guy ate like a literal toddler, but luckily she just took it as a joke and you guys had a laugh. But then she asked about your dating life which is like nonexistent since you’re still longing after Harry, the only guy you know you shouldn’t have feelings for, but you just can’t help it.

You couldn’t tell Bonnie though, you still don’t feel like you’re ready to share this secret with her, but then you didn’t have anything to tell her in the department of boys and she wouldn’t stop bugging you until you downloaded Tinder. Now here you are, sitting at your desk as Bonnie is helping you to set your profile up, babbling about how you two could even go on a double date if you find two competent men on the app. Though you doubt that.

“Make that picture the first one, you look so hot in that!” she cheers pointing at the photo that was taken at the party after your graduation. You wore a nice lilac dress and sandals, you got a blowout that morning and it was still holding up well, the red lipstick you chose to wear was an exciting addition to the look. You really did feel pretty and you like the picture too.

“And now what?” you sigh when your profile is finished.

“Now you just go through the guys and swipe on them, see if you get any matches!” she smirks at you playfully.

Bonnie plops down to her bed and you turn around in your chair, hesitantly hovering your thumb over the screen before finally checking out the first profile that pops up.

The guilt that grips your chest is upsetting and not even only because of judging people from just their looks and a few emoji’s in their bio. No, it’s mostly because if you matched with any of these guys, exchanged messages and they were to ask you out on an actual date, you wouldn’t be able to say yes truthfully. Because there’s only one person you want right now, but he is kinda off limits even though you’ve been non-stop texting with him these past weeks.

“Oh!” you stop, squaring your shoulders.

“What is it? Did you find someone you know?” Bonnie jumps up in excitement.

“No, but… I think I have my first match?” Turning the phone you show her the screen with the ‘It’s a match!’ sign along with your and the guy’s profile picture.

“It has begun! You are officially on the market, my friend!” Bonnie sings, but you just shake your head laughing. You’re not entirely sure if you want to be on the market, well only if one particular tall, long haired, tattooed guy wants to take you off said market.

Thursday afternoon Harry spends hours in the library, working on a paper he knew would be a pain in the ass if he left it to the last minute, so he decided to just start it early and not screw himself over. Hunched over a pile of books and his laptop, he got a head start on the paper, though he still has a lot to work on the assignment when he decides to head back home.

School has started over a month ago and he has gotten into a sort of routine with his days, a routine that’s nothing like the one he used to drive. His first year of college he went to at least two parties a week, always had rendezvous’ with girls around campus that would end up in a quickie either in a toilet stall, in a random dorm room or his room.

He flinches thinking about the kind of person he was. Even though the girls came to him willingly, it was always empty and meaningless and for a while that didn’t bother him. But those times are over.

“Hey guys,” he murmurs his greetings walking into the house. Some of his mates are in the living room watching TV, someone is cooking in the kitchen and normally he would love to join them but he feels like he would rather just be by himself for now. However those plans are thrown out the window when he walks into his room and finds an unwanted guest.

Georgie Whitaker is lying on his bed as if she lived there, owning the place. Sprawled out, scrolling on her phone with a bored expression until Harry walks in. Smirking to herself she sits up, her dark red locks bouncing around her frame messily, but it’s the kind of mess that’s for sure intentional and she spent hours styling her hair in the morning probably.

“What are you doing here?” he growls, stepping to his desk, throwing his notebooks to the pile there, setting his laptop to the only clean space on the surface, the rest is covered in books, wrinkled papers and other school supplies. He might have been a party animal through his years in college, he never pushed it to the point where he would neglect his school work, it always came first and he still lives by that. Unlike some of his friends who go through college with one notebook and a pen, he puts time and effort into his education.

“I’ve missed you,” she coos, her legs dangling from the side of the bed, her skirt riding up dangerously high on her thighs and she knows that.

“That doesn’t mean you can just come into my room whenever you feel like it. Who let you in?”

Harry knows he’ll have a little chat with his house mates about who they are letting into his personal space when he is not home.

“You didn’t mind it when I showed up last year,” she purrs, ignoring Harry’s question. “Now you don’t even answer my texts.”

“That should be a red flag to you, Georgie,” he mumbles under his breath, still moving around the room, trying to ignore her presence, hoping that she would give up and leave.

Georgie used to be one of the few girls Harry spent more than one night with, but it was nothing romantic. They both needed relief and sometimes it was too much energy to find a girl, chat her up and bring her home and even then, it wouldn’t be granted that it would be good. Georgie and Harry hooked up for the first time last year on freshmen’s week, and they ended up repeating it a week later. From then, they had a silent agreement that if one called, the other would be there, they were using each other in a consensual accord.

The last time Harry saw her was a few weeks ago but he did everything he could to avoid her. Georgie started texting and calling, clearly desperate to get back to their old habits, but Harry lost interest a while ago, but it seems like the girl couldn’t take the hint.

“Thought you were just busy,” she shrugs. “I’ve heard that you haven’t been too welcoming with girls lately. What’s the matter, H?”

Standing from the bed she walks up behind Harry, placing a delicate hand on his back that slowly slides over his shoulder and up his neck but before she could reach his face he grabs her wrist and spins around, his eyes flaming at the girl in front of him.

“The matter is that you and every girl like you think that I owe you something. Like I live to be your toy. But I’m done with the little games. And I’m done with you.”

He is towering over Georgie, the expression on his face clearly a warning for the girl that he doesn’t wish to be played with now. The way his eyebrows knit together, the fire in his eyes and how he clenches his jaw, he appears powerful and almost scary. If only they were in a different setting and in less clothes, Georgie would almost find it exciting, but not now.

She yanks her hand out of his grip and takes a step back. She doesn’t like to be treated like this, she doesn’t like it when things don’t go her way, but there’s nothing she can do.

“You’ll be coming back to me, Styles. Begging and on your knees,” she hisses, but her warning does nothing to Harry.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Georgie,” he grunts, dismissing the hurt girl who rushes out of his room like it was on fire. The faster the better, Harry thinks.

Harry lets out a long breath pinching his nose, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. To be honest, he doesn’t want to deal with anything, except… except you. Lately you’ve been the only person Harry could think about even in his worse moments, he’s been checking his phone obsessively to see if he had new texts from you and there were evenings when he was lying in bed and couldn’t stop thinking about wanting to call you and hear your voice.

He reaches for his phone with the intention of texting you, just knowing what you’re doing would easily take his mind off of everything, then he hears Mitch’s voice coming from the hallway and it stops him. He’s been the only thing that’s been keeping Harry away from you, the guilt he feels every time they run into each other and Harry feels terrible because he’s been kind of avoiding Mitch lately. They used to study together, hang out on campus, go to see the movies Sarah didn’t want to watch with Mitch, binge watching series on Netflix… now all Harry does is making up excuses why he can’t do anything when in reality he is just trying to ease his own guilt for talking to you when Mitch told him to stay away from you.

He drops the phone to the bed and decides to clear his head in another way. Changing into sports clothes and putting on his favorite running shoes, he grabs his headphones and goes for a run.

It’s been quite some time he went for his usual routine, right around campus, running a few laps in the sports center and then heading home. He used to do this at least twice a week, last year, but this semester has been just way too busy for him to take the time.

Focusing on his breathing and keeping his pace steady he finally reaches the campus, only a couple of students lingering around since it’s getting late. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand as he heads to the sports center. The running track circles around the football field, there’s no practice today, though he spots another runner and when he recognizes the familiar figure… he stops in his tracks.

He came to this run to clear his head without bothering you, doing the right thing, yet, he is now staring at you in your tight yoga pants and hoodie, your hair in a bun high on your head. You’re wearing a wireless headset and suddenly Harry just needs to know what music you listen to while running.

Harry needs to take a deep breath as his eyes linger on your curves, the way your thighs and calves flex with every move, your heaving chest from the rapid pace you’re breathing and oh God… You surely are wearing a sports bra, but he can still see your breasts jumping up and down slightly and it’s definitely doing things to him.

Still breathing hard he walks closer, wondering how long it will take you to notice him. Leaning against a pole he folds his arms on his chest, the tip of his tongue running along his lips as you finally turn and notice him, stopping abruptly.

“Hey!” you call out, letting the headphone hang around your neck as you walk over to him.

“Didn’t know you like running,” Harry smirks down at you cheekily.

“Well, I gotta do something to keep myself going,” you chuckle lightly, still trying to catch your breath. “But I can see I’m not the only one.”

“Needed to air my head out, but I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

“Everything alright?” you ask concerned, taking in his figure, looking for signs that tell you why he was so keen on getting fresh air.

“Yeah, just… sometimes it’s hard to leave things in the past,” he words vaguely.

You want to ask him more, wanting to hear details, but he would have phrased it clearer if he wanted to share more. But it’s still obvious that he is keen on forgetting about something and you’re more than happy to help him.

“I know we both came out for a run, but… I’m kind of starving. Do you want to grab something to eat?”

Harry knows he should say no. He should tell you he wants to finish his run and then go home, but he can’t. He is itching to be with you, to listen to whatever you have to say. So pushing the guilt down he nods at last.

The pizza place at the edge of the campus is one of the most popular places during the day and since it’s open until two in the morning, students like to stop for a late night slice on their way home from a party as well. The time you and Harry wander in is kind of a dead time sloth, so there’s plenty of empty tables and no trace of the line that usually queues long to the cash register.

You both get your slices and you grab a bottle of garlic oil from one of the tables before sitting at the one at the window.

“So how is the friend-making going?” he hums, taking the first bite of his slice.

“Oh, it’s going well! I’ve met a few friends of Bonnie and they invited me out to the movies with them,” you beam happily as you sprinkle some of the garlic oil on your slice and bite into it.

“That’s great! See, I knew you’d be alright.”

“But it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t help,” you smile at him thankfully.

“How are things between Ruth and Erik?”

“Oh, they went on a date, but agreed that it’s better if they just stay friends, so… yeah.”

“And how about you?”

“Me?” you ask a bit confused what he means.

“Yeah, are you planning to go on dates?”

Harry beats him up for even asking right away. What was he thinking? Bringing up your dating life when he should be keeping his distance from you? There’s gotta be something wrong with his head for sure.

You’re surprised by the question, and you can’t deny that it swirled quite a few thoughts about why he might have asked, but you don’t shy away from answering.

“Haven’t been asked out on one for about two years,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.

“When was the last time?”

“Junior year, I dated this guy for a few months, he was a senior. But don’t tell Mitch, as far as he knows I haven’t had a boyfriend,” you scoff.

Because of your brother’s overprotectiveness, you kept everything and anything a secret you knew Mitch wouldn’t approve of and boyfriends were on the top of the list for sure. You’ve had two so far, one of them even met Mitch but you just never told him you were dating the guy.

“You didn’t tell Mitch?” Harry’s eyes widen in amusement as he stares at you over the table.

“How could I?” you laugh covering your mouth. “He was watching me like a hawk and even wanted to have a talk with every new friend I made. A boyfriend would have never survived him.”

“He was really that annoying?” Harry cackles.

“Yes! Do you want to know the worst of it all?”

“You know I do,” he smirks, chewing lazily.

“He even gave me the sex talk.”

Harry almost chokes on his slice and you can’t hold your laughter back as you watch him trying to regain his composure. It was truly in the top three most awkward moments in your life, having your brother talk to you about sex, but it doesn’t feel that bad right now, using it to make Harry laugh.

“He just sat down and talked about the birds and bees?”

“No, he was very straight forward, didn’t use any metaphors,” you chuckle. “Though I didn’t let him finish, ended our suffering when he started talking about STDs.”

“Oh God, I would die to hear this conversation!” he laughs, his head falling back.

“Believe me, I wanted to die right then and there,” you mumble into your pizza slice.

“So when did you have your first boyfriend?”

“Um, when you guys left for college. Dated this guy for a few months, but it wasn’t quite the match.”

“As soon as Mitch was out of the house, you jumped right into dating?” he chuckles shaking his head.

“I admit I felt a little more… free once he was off to college,” you grin at him.

“So then what about now? Do you like someone?” he asks, pretending to be unbothered when he is almost holding his breath, waiting for your answer. If you say that you actually do have a crush on some idiot from school Harry is not sure he can control his emotions.

“Uh, no. Not really. Haven’t had time to meet someone I might be interested in,” you answer clearing your throat to cover up your nervousness.

There’s a short silence where you both get to the end of your slice. Now that Harry has asked you about your dating life, you’re curious to find out more about his. Well, you know a few things about that already from the gossips and his reputation, but you’d prefer to hear the truth from Harry.

“So what about you?” you finally ask, watching him intently to see how he reacts to the question. You can tell he doesn’t feel too comfortable, but he answers anyway.

“Haven’t been on a date in a long time,” he admits, but you both know what this means. Just because he hasn’t been dating it doesn’t mean he’s been sitting around at home, playing UNO with his friends.

“I’ve heard a few things. About you.”

“Not surprised,” he chuckles bitterly, leaving the crust of his slice on the plate as he leans back and wipes his hands with a paper towel. “What do they say?”

“Just that you’re a ladies’ favorite,” you hum, but it’s not quite how you’ve heard others word it. The worst was when you overheard a girl call him a manwhore. You almost walked up and punched her in the face for talking like that about someone she probably doesn’t know and for what? Most likely because she didn’t get to have her way with him, Harry must have rejected her and now she is just jealous.

“I admit I’ve had my fair share of hookups,” he nods timidly. “But… I’m trying to change. It’s not what I want anymore.”

Harry’s eyes jump up to meet yours, as if he is waiting for a certain kind of reaction, something he fears to see, but is surprised when it doesn’t happen. Instead, you just smile back at him warmly, because all you have for him is hope and support because you believe in him, unlike many others around him.

“I think that’s good. That you want to change your old habits,” you nod reaching for a paper towel to clean your fingers from the garlic oil.

“Yeah? You think I can do that?”

“Of course,” you nod confidently.

“I think then you’re the only one to believe it,” Harry comments bitterly. Inspecting him you see the hurt in his eyes even though he is not looking at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. “I feel like everyone around me keeps thinking of the person I used to be and no matter what I do or say I’ll always be just my mistakes and bad habits.”

“Well, I don’t think that anyone is just black and white in the sense of being strictly good or bad. It’s never just this or that, there’s a spectrum and you can always work on yourself to move to a direction. In the past, you weren’t clearly just bad, it’s always a mixture, you did good things too and you’ll make mistakes in the past no matter how much you change. And if even after all the work you put into yourself someone doesn’t see the change in you or tries to make you believe you’re just your mistakes, you don’t need that person in your life.”

Harry stares back at you in awe, as if an angel is sitting right in front of him and he is kind of convinced that you really are one. But what he did to earn your presence in his life, he has no idea about that. What he knows is that right in this moment he can’t imagine his life without you.

Even though the pizza is long gone, you stay and talk, just whatever comes to your mind, both of you distancing yourselves from whatever you were trying to escape today. Getting lost in the conversation you barely even notice that the Sun has completely gone down and you’ve been sitting around for an hour at your table. Bonnie’s text snaps you out of your little bubble, asking if you’ve been murdered in the sports center or you’re just training for the marathon.

“I should head back to the dorm, I have some studying to do,” you sigh, though you want nothing else than to just stay with Harry.

“I’ll walk you back,” he nods, both of you standing from the seats you’ve been occupying for way longer than customers usually do.

“Oh, no need, I can just—“

“Y/N, I’m not letting you walk back to your dorm in the dark in those clothes,” he cuts you off, but you raise your eyebrows at his words, looking down at your outfit.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“Nothing it’s just… those pants are really… tight,” he breathes out, obviously avoiding to look into your eyes, but you catch him checking out your legs as you step away from the table.

“Well, they better be, it’s the only way body shaping pants can keep everything in place,” you scoff, the two of you heading out of the place.

“Body shaping? Why the hell would you need that?” he grimaces, holding the door open for you. Stepping out you definitely notice that it’s chillier than when you left for your run, but it’s still not that bad, though a nice hot shower will feel amazing when you get back to the dormitory.

“To shape my body, obviously,” you point out.

“You don’t need these, Y/N,” he shakes his head, pinching the fabric on the side of your thigh, along with some of your skin which makes you jump and giggle. “You look amazing either way.”

Wait, what was that? Did he just compliment you? Harry Styles just said that you look amazing with and without body shaping pants? This eerily feels like those daydreams you used to have about him in middle school, though those dreams ended a little more PG rated than how you’d want it now.

“Watch out, Harry. If you keep up with the compliments I might get the wrong idea,” you warn him as completely just a joke, though Harry’s alarm goes off.

He shouldn’t be complimenting you and he definitely shouldn’t be harboring thoughts like the one he has seeing you in those tight pants, but he just simply can’t stop himself. How could he when you hypnotize him with everything you do? At this point he’s convinced you have a spell on him, one that he has no chance of breaking, not that he wants. For the first time in so long he truly feels accepted and happy, in a place where he can be himself without judgment and you created that place for him. He wants to be selfish a little longer and keep this feeling close to his chest.

“There’s no wrong idea,” he whispers under his breath, thinking that you didn’t catch it, but you did. You very much did.

The walk back to your dorm is a bit quieter, you’re hung up on Harry’s comment and Harry is way too deep in his thoughts about you. Walking side by side, you feel like something is slowly shifting between the two of you into a whole new and unknown territory you haven’t touched on when it comes to Harry.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you smile up at him reaching the entrance of your dorm. You turn to face him as he stares up at the building, stuffing his hands into his pockets, a hint of nervousness showing in his features.

“It’s the least,” he smiles back, finally looking at you. Just as you open your mouth to say goodbye, a familiar sound rings from your phone, the notification to an app you’ve been learning your way around with. Not even thinking about the closeness of Harry you pull it out of your pocket and make the mistake of tapping on it, the Tinder logo immediately appearing on your screen as the app loads.

“You’re on Tinder?” Harry asks with wide eyes and your head snaps up to see him staring down at your phone.

“Oh, just… Bonnie made me try it,” you shrug awkwardly as the screen finally loads and Harry spots all the matches you have and a bunch of unread messages.

He can barely control the jealousy that bubbles in his chest. All these men not only find you hot but you also liked their profile enough to swipe right. Who are they? Are you gonna meet them? Are you talking to any of them? Do you like them? God, Harry just wants to snatch your phone out of your grasp to delete every match you’ve made so far and block the app forever. The thought of you with another man outrages and scares him. It can’t happen, no one can lay a finger on you, only him…

“So, um… so you want to date again?” he asks, trying his best to mask his disappointment.

“I-I mean I’m not trying to grow old alone,” you chuckle awkwardly and locking the screen you slip the phone back into your pocket. “I’m meeting with a guy tomorrow for coffee.”

At the mentioning of an already fixed date Harry starts fighting himself, he is so close to tell you that you shouldn’t go out with anyone else but him, that he wants you and can’t stop thinking about you… but he remains silent. Pressing his lips together into a thin line he just nods, taking a step backwards.

“Well, see you around, Y/N,” he sighs and you sense the change in him but it’s also clear he is trying to leave as fast as possible so you don’t keep him up though you wish he did.

“Bye, Harry,” you smile at him before walking up the stairs and getting inside the building.

Harry runs all the way back to the frat house, but not because he wanted to finish his workout, more because he was channeling his frustration through it and he got a lot of that.

No one comments on how long he was away when he gets home. He is dreading after a long shower hoping to clear his head since his run just complicated his thoughts even more, but as he is walking towards his room he finds himself stopping at another one. He knocks gently and waits for it to open as he hears shuffling inside.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Erik smiles at him, the sound of some kind of video game coming from behind him in the room as he steps out into the hallway.

“Can I ask you to do something?” Harry lowers his voice and digging into his pocket he pulls out twenty dollars knowing it will be more than enough to get him to do anything. Erik takes the dollar bills and nods as he folds them and shows them into his pocket.

“Sure.”

“I need you to have a chat with Mitch and just casually drop that you heard from Ruth that his sister is going on a date with a guy from Tinder tomorrow.”

He ignores the alarm in the back of his head though he is definitely not proud of ruining your date using your brother, but the thought of you with someone else is just unbearable. He keeps telling himself that he is doing this for your own sake, though he knows it’s just a terrible excuse for his jealousy.

Erik gives him a puzzled look, but doesn’t question his intentions, just nods and Harry is thankful he is not the nosy type to ask around.

“Got it.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry hums, patting his shoulder before finally heading into his own room. Just as he is closing the door he hears Erik knock on Mitch’s door, inviting him over to play with him and probably to drop the bomb Harry just handed over to him.

NEXT PART

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before-the-black-pearl · 3 years

Text

I made those modern Jack and Fitzy headcanons over a year and a half ago. I started writing a modern!AU fic since then so I developed the headcanons more and I wanted to share some of them. Keep in mind this may be a little different than what I present in the actual fic. I’m making some shit up on the spot.

So picture this: The young Jack Sparrow books taking place today and all the characters are in high school in Tampa, Florida, and the school is called...

Barnacle High School

Jack the “I was at the door when the bell rang” Sparrow:

He’s one of The Boyz🥶🥵😎 But like the stupid kind who thinks they’re better than everyone else.

He’s a troublemaker and creates a lot of mischief around campus.

Mischief includes but not limited to: pulling the fire alarm multiple times, drilling holes between the boys and girls gym locker rooms, defaced a bunch of textbooks with The Boyz drawing dicks on every single page, one time he snuck into the office and played pr0n on the schoolwide intercom speaker, a time he gave everyone “shits and giggles” (laxative and weed) brownies at a school dance and caused everyone to shit and puke all over the gym floor and it made the news,..... How tf isn’t he expelled?

Unsurprisingly he gets in fights. The fights are half of the time started by other students, but gets in trouble anyway.

Constantly interrupts the teachers to the point where they write him up or kick him out.

Sometimes fucks with the quiet kids like “Hey, mate, do you know what we’re doing?” “Can you like teach it to me?” “You can do it for me, right?” “Why don’t you ever talk, mate?”

He’s actually pretty smart but the teachers don’t like him and home sucks so he gave up.

Probably has ADHD.

Wears layers, like leather, denim, flannels, t-shirts, hoodies, jeans of various “tightness”, studded belts, many pairs of combat boots or knockoff timbs. Half his shit is from Goodwill.

Undercuts for dayyyzzzz. Think Coming Storm cut but the bottom is shaved off.

Still wears his nasty ass bandana even though the teachers always tells him he can’t wear it in class.

His makeup literally always slaps.

He likes to collect random things and sometimes puts them on his clothes or his backpack or in his locker.

Obsessed with dead things (furs, pelts, bones, stuffed animals, etc)

Has a fascination with the sea and likes the nautical aesthetic.

Bonus: Yeah he totally vapes.

Arabella the “Shut up and let me work” Smith:

She’s the “good kid” and sometimes the “quiet kid.” Jack definitely fucks with her in class sometimes until she pops off and they both get written up.

She’s an honors student and exceeds well in her classes.

She’d rather blend in with the crowd and not many students really notice her. She keeps herself contained in a small group of friends.

If she’s not with her friends, she’s probably in the library.

She’s really into Art and History.

Kind of a conspiracy nut and likes reading into urban legends and stuff.

Infodumps about her interests to Jack and he gets hella annoyed.

Jack sometimes follows her around and she gets hella annoyed but she gets sad when he’s not around.

Mediates between Jack and Fitz.

Jack and Fitzy fight over her. Jean has shown a little interest in her too.

She ate the “giggles” from Jack’s brownies. She got so fucked up she had a panic attack and left the dance really early before all the chaos began in the gym.

Kinda looks like she hasn’t really left 2015...like basic white girl with knit sweaters and cardigans, t-shirts and tanks, leggings, boots or sandals, etc. Sometimes also wears hoodies and jeans.

Headbands and beanies and cottagecore-like bandanas.

Yeah her makeup slaps too.

She works for her father after school at the Tortuga Tavern, formerly named Faithful Bride before it was forced to change to something more “PC.”

Fitzwilliam the “My uncle is the principal” Dalton (the third):

Basic snobby rich kid.

President of every “snobby kid club”; the Chess Club, the Key Club, the Student Council, and Yearbook.

Also an athlete and is in the school’s track team and soccer team.

Is in a clique with his equally snobby friends.

Yeah but he’s like hella proper.

He’s well educated and knows several different languages.

Hella ignorant about certain shit tho.

Big fuckin FLEXER with his expensive name-brand clothing and tech.

Lies about being friends with celebrities and online influencers and shit.

Ate one of the “shits” brownies....Just leaving that to the imagination until I make a one-shot.

Drippin’ Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Michael Kors, Coach, etc... Literally like full fucking tracksuits, knit sweater over button-up combo, fancy coats, name-brand t-shirts, jeans over hundreds to thousands of $$$, shoes costing almost as much as rent.

The pocketwatch from the books is a fancy golden $30,000 Rolex wristwatch.

Jack keeps taking his watch.

Wears his hair up in a manbun like it’s still 2015 and Jack keeps teasing him about it.

Yeah got like a brand new iPhone and and iPad and a really expensive laptop and an iWatch even though I already got a regular watch on my other wrist.

Jean the “I swear to god she’s like my sister” Magliore:

Y’all know it, he’s in the Anime Club.

Jean and Tumen are best friends, and in my story, foster brothers.

Likes video games and always has his Nintendo Switch with him.

Internet memelord and low key has “band kid” energy.

Always be sending Tumen or the “Barnacle Crew” group chat memes.

Being from New Orleans is a personality trait and is very enthused with his Creole roots and loves creole dishes.

He runs a foodie Instagram account with a large following. Self proclaimed foodfluencer.

Sometimes sells candy and chips at school. Gets in trouble for it.

Yeah he ate multiple brownies at the dance....

Jean has a cat Constance, named after his deceased sister, he brings to school hidden in his backpack.

Constance will literally eat just about everything, mimics human noises, and her expressions are very human-like according to Jean. Her traits are so much like his sister, Jean believes she is his sister born as a cat in a new life.

He made Constance her own Instagram account.

Jack HATES Constance. Constance LOVES Jack.

Hoodies, jeans, headphones, beanies.

His hair is the same but a bit shorter.

“Suspiciously quiet kid” Tumen:

The quiet kid sitting in the back of the class and drawing while listening to music.

He is also in the Anime Club with Jean.

Since Jean is into video games, Tumen is a weeb.

Jean is the only person he really hangs out with at school.

Tumen doesn’t have a phone in my fanfic but for the purpose of this headcanon and the group chat, he does have one.

He’s more of a “lurker” in the GC.

Jean’s #1 meme reactor.

He watches anime crack videos.

Tumen is the most “immature” than the others since he’s the youngest.

The only one who didn’t eat the brownies. Got interviewed on the news.

He takes pride in his Mayan heritage.

Has a random interest in geography and wants a career as a cartographer.

Anime t-shirts and hoodies galore.

Always has his hood up in class.

Teachers always telling him to put his hood down.

Tim “the newbie” Hawk:

He eventually transfers to Barnacle High.

I don’t have a full headcanon written for him yet.

Principal Lawrence Norrington:

Principal of Barnacle High.

Fitzwilliam’s uncle.

HATES Jack Sparrow.... Again how tf is Jack not expelled?

Brings his kid James to work sometimes even though the kid should be at school himself.

Jack sitting in the principal’s office in trouble again and James keeps bugging him. “Do you play Fortnite?” “No. Beat it, kid.”

Tia Dalma:

The school nurse.

Jack is buddies with her and he goes to her and pretends to be sick when he wants to ditch class.

Has crab parts in jars in the cabinets. No one questions it.

Joshamee Gibbs:

The janitor.

He’s in the Navy but he’s on off-duty employment.

Jack is buddies with him too.

He writes Jack fake doctors notes or signs permission slips or covers for Jack when he’s ditching, in exchange for booze Jack has at home.

He had to clean up the gym after the brownies incident ☹️

I don’t know how to write Davy Jones into this.

For the sake of this headcanon, it would be funny if Torrents was like a science teacher or something. Or if Madame Minuet was like an economics or math teacher. Or if Silverback is an English teacher. Or if Left-Foot Louis is a PE teacher and he’s all running in circles because he’s got two left feet lol.

Btw all these teachers HATE Jack 😂

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judediangelo75 · 3 years

Text

Kiss the Girl, Winger

Inspiration strikes yet again, thanks to Disney! Lol, if you don’t know “Kiss the Girl”, allow me to help.

-Disney movie version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrRbB-qUJfY

-Ashley Tisdale version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68-xSRHgxy0

I’m literally winging this so bear with me.

MC friend: David Willows ( @that-scouse-wizard ) (David is basically Judith’s best friend at this point, expect to see him OFTEN lol)

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

Talbott has no bloody idea how he got dragged into this situation.

But yet here he was.

Sitting with David and Diego on the Training Grounds. He was originally hanging out with David, training.

Judith and David had taken upon themselves to train their partners, especially since they were the main ones going into a dangerous profession.

Diego came to do some training himself and now they were taking a “break”.

By “break”, Talbott means talking about relationships and such. Talbott did his best not to look too uncomfortable, but it wasn’t working.

“I take that your relationships are going well,” Diego asked with an easygoing smile. Diego was too much of a “go with the flow” type of guy. Talbott can’t see him settling down with any one any time soon.

“Of course! I’m with the Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts, what more can a lad ask for,” David chuckled. Diego turned his gaze to Talbott, waiting for a response.

Talbott gave a simple nod.

“You sure there’s no lass that’s caught your eye, Caplan,” David asked. Diego let out a boasting laugh.

“Afraid not, friend. Diego Caplan isn’t so easy to be tied down. It’s fun to flirt and kiss any beautiful witch I want with no strings attached. Sample every flavor there is,” Diego smirked. David rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say, Diego. Being intimate with single person is pretty damn special in my opinion. There’s something indescribable whenever I kiss Mer. Doesn’t help she tastes sweet too. C’mon Talbott back me up here,” David argued.

Talbott felt his face flush out of embarrassment and looked away. David and Diego glanced at each other before looking toward the silent Ravenclaw.

“Tal, you good there mate,” David asked. Diego tried to lighten the mood.

“Surely Judith isn’t a bad kisser, is she?” David sent a small glare at the Hufflepuff duelist.

Talbott mumbled something under his breath.

“Come again, friend,” Diego said. Talbott fidgeted before sighing.

“I never kissed Judith before.”

Silence.

“How?!” David and Diego exclaimed.

“You two have been together for quite awhile now. Longer than David and Merula. How haven’t you kissed her,” Diego asked.

“Exactly! Judith has to be one of the most affectionate witches I know. And she’s head over heels in love you. How,” David stressed. The stoic Ravenclaw crossed his arms over his chest, face flushed red.

“I just never kissed her before...” Talbott wasn’t going to admit that he was too shy to do so.

David wasn’t wrong, Judith was indeed affectionate. It felt strange to be showered with attention and affection, but Talbott wasn’t complaining. He found it sweet.

And Judith did try to kiss him once.

He ended up jerking away out of reflex and confusion. He could still remember the slight hurt reflecting in her gold eyes before she offered a shy smile and an apology.

She never tried again afterwards. And he cursed himself for it.

Because it wasn’t like he didn’t want to kiss her. Gods know how bloody curious he was to know what’s it like.

How her full lips will feel against his.

What flavor chapstick she uses.

How it will feel melting against her as he allows himself indulge in the intimate act.

Will there be sparks?

Will it feel like his heart will race out of his chest?

Would he crave for more once they pull away?

So many thoughts invade his mind whenever he catches himself looking at his girlfriend’s lips.

Don’t get him started if she was wearing her signature deep red lipstick-

“TALBOTT!” Talbott was thrusted out of his thoughts and turned his attention back on the two Hufflepuff wizards sitting next to him.

“You guys said something,” he asked. David pinched the bridge of his nose and Diego shook his head.

“Kiss the girl, Winger,” they both demanded. Talbott blushed and glared.

“Before you say how we have no right orderin’ you around, while you are right, we can tell you want to. You were bitin’ your lip and scrunchin’ your brows as if you were imaging it. While all power to you, I much rather you not fantasize about my sister in my presence,” David said.

“As if you don’t kiss Merula whenever Judith and I are around,” Talbott huffed.

“Don’t change the subject! You want that experience. Just go for it,” David argued.

“Besides it’s not like she doesn’t know how to kiss. Andre was her first-OW!” David smacked Diego hard. He noticed the uncertainty that flashed in the Ravenclaw’s red eyes.

David knew Talbott was a bit insecure about himself, even though Judith had the biggest crush on him ever since they first met. He was there when Judith admitted that she fancied him when they were learning the Memory Charm with Professor Flitwick.

Judith may thought Andre was handsome, but she would never see him more than a friend.

Talbott had trouble believing that at the beginning.

Any mention of Andre and Judith in the same sentence would make him shut down.

And Diego was certainly not helping.

“Talbott, you know full damn well Judith only see Andre as a friend. Tonks was my first kiss and we’re just friends. If she really liked him, she would be with him. But she’s not. She’s with you, and literally sees no one else,” David said, staring the silent Ravenclaw dead in his eyes.

Talbott let out a shaky breath.

“You’re right... I just don’t want to disappoint her...” Diego snorted, earning a glare from both boys.

“Talbott, my friend. Are we talking about the same Judith? She values everything you do. You don’t have to do much to make her smile. I highly doubt you can disappoint her,” Diego said, watching their glares lessen.

Talbott coughed, trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks.

“You two make fair points,” he mumbled. David smirked.

“So kiss the girl, Winger...”

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

“This is a lovely day for a date, Talbott,” Judith chuckled as they walked along the shore of the Black Lake.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun was setting along the horizon. Talbott had taken them out to Hogsmeade, revisiting their first date spot. Madam Puddifoot had giggled seeing the pair again, serving them some cake and tea.

Lucky for him, conversation came easier this time around and there was no one there to crash their date. Talbott always enjoyed the sight of his little bird smiling sweetly at him.

Afterwards, they flew back to Hogwarts. Well, not before a few games of tag and chase along the way.

Eventually they reached their current destination, waling along the shore while holding hands.

They sat in comfortable silence on the boardwalk on the Boathouse, overlooking the water. Talbott kept stealing glances at his serene girlfriend, whose eyes were closed.

Her hair was mostly down, the sides being pulled back to reveal her face. Her face was makeup free, revealing her natural beauty.

Judith’s attire was rather simple. A short yellow dress with white flowers and white sandals. Her accessories were small gold hoop earrings and the key necklace he gifted her on Valentine’s Day.

‘Dear Gods, she’s so perfect that it hurts...’ he thought, drinking in the sight of the Hufflepuff witch being bathed in the sun’s loving warmth. A breeze gently pasted them, the sweet scent of coconuts and cocoa butter greeted the young’s wizard’s nose.

He felt dizzy with delight as he scoot closer to her. He knew he could have anything he could want from the Hufflepuff witch. His gaze fell to her full lips and he bit his lip.

“You’re staring...” Talbott flinched at the sudden sound of her voice. Gold eyes slowly opened, locking with his red ones.

“Something on your mind, my love,” Judith asked, delicately running her fingertips along the line of his sharp jawline. Talbott shivered at the barely there touch, leaning into it for a more solid sensation.

“Um...” Talbott felt the familiar sense of panic starting to creep into his mind. His heart began to race as he felt his palms turn a bit clammy.

Can he really do this?

Judith frowned at this, cupping his face in her hands so he can look at her.

“Hey, hey... it’s okay, Talbott. Talk to me,” she whispered. Her breath fanned over his lips, causing his heart to lurch in his chest. He can smell the faint sweetness of the cake she had earlier at the tea shop.

“I... I-I... I want to kiss you... Is that alright,” Talbott whispered breathlessly. He mentally slapped his forehead.

‘What the HELL was that, Winger?! Most wizards would’ve just went for it! Even those who do ask would’ve been much more smoother than that! Bloody hell, can the Giant Squid just grab me and pull me below. Ugh, this is so bloody-”

“Of course you can, Talbott.” Talbott was abrupted pulled out his self-berating thoughts at the simple sentence. Judith did her best not to giggle at the surprised and slightly lost expression on her boyfriend’s face.

“A-are you serious,” he asked, still feeling slightly panicked. Judith leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, which helped calm him a bit.

“Of course, bird boy. I was waiting for you to ask or make a move for awhile now,” she said.

“B-but I never kissed anyone before,” he blurted out. Judith’s eyebrows furrowed at this.

“I’m failing to see how that’s a problem...” Talbott sighed and looked away, feeling his face burn.

“I don’t want to disappoint you if I’m not good enough. I know this isn’t your first. Andre had that privilege,” he mumbled. Judith turned his head back so she can meet his gaze.

“Hey... just because this isn’t my first doesn’t mean this wouldn’t be special to me. And to be honest... I didn’t feel much from that kiss. You’re the only one I really imagined doing this with,” Judith whispered. Talbott slowly relaxed at her admission, wrapping his arms around her waist to bring her closer.

“I love you, little bird,” he said softly, angling his head so he wouldn’t bump into her nose. Judith giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, mimicking his actions.

“I love you too, bird boy... kiss me, please...”

Talbott couldn’t ignore that soft request even if he tried.

He allowed himself to lean the rest of way.

He kept the contact light, testing the waters. Barely there brushes that teased him more than he expected.

These went on for a few fleeting moments until one of them decided they wanted more. Lips gently parted and locked, seeking a sweeter taste.

The taste of vanilla and cake registered in his mind, causing Talbott leaned in more for the delicious combination.

Talbott sighed through his nose.

If he knew kissing his girlfriend meant being sent to heaven, he would’ve let Judith kiss him that day.

Her lips were just as soft as they looked. Plush and warm against his own.

The taste of her vanilla chapstick had him craving for more.

He never felt more at peace, giving into his little bird and this enchanting kiss.

He never wanted this to-

Her lips were gone.

A soft whine escaped the back of his throat as he blindly chased after her. A soft laugh snapped out of it as he opened his eyes to find the teasing glint in those gold eyes.

“That good huh,” Judith chuckled. Talbott grumbled, looking away. Judith outright laughed at her boyfriend’s disgruntled state.

“I’m just teasing... come here,” she giggled, pressing another kiss to his lips. Talbott perked up a bit, squeezing her closer.

He could get used to this...

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

Text

Farewell to Spooky Season, AHS Style: Lookbook no.12

Hi to anyone reading,

Happy belated Halloween!

I capitalise it because if I'm gonna recognise any day as sacred, it’s the spookiest one of the year! Halloween 2020 obviously hasn’t been as exciting as usual, parties and club nights being banned has meant there’s been far less opportunities to dress up, but I still managed to get out for the night before they announced the upcoming second lockdown and do a couple of spooky movie nights (and carve a pumpkin!)!

I originally intended for this lookbook to be last minute halloween costume inspo but I was lazy and didn’t manage to get it out on time-a lot of these looks minus the makeup and maybe an accessory or two could work on any day or night out so I thought I’d go ahead and post it now anyway. Celebrating the fashion moments of American Horror Story is something I’ve wanted to do for a while; it’s probably not the first show you’d think of for sartorial inspiration but Mr. Ryan Murphy has fucking fantastic taste in stylists and the first five seasons of AHS in particular, which I’ll be focussing on in this post, have given us SO many amazing looks. The man may be guilty of many things-subjecting us to the character of Will Schuester, trying to turn Richard Ramirez into a thirst trap, embarrassing everyone who raved about how good Scream Queens was when he wrote season 2-but costume related laziness is not one of them. We see more consistency in a Ryan Murphy character’s wardrobe than we do in their story arcs and I respect that because honestly, as much as I love joining in when it comes to ripping into his ability to cohesively bring an AHS season to a close when it airs, I’d probably be the same; if you put Lady Gaga in front of me and told me to write her lines I’d probably end up getting overly invested in what her character was going to be wearing in the scene too.

So! Enough Ryan Murphy bashing from me! I’ll get on with it! Starting with 3 season 1 inspired looks:

Murder House: Elizabeth Short, Tate Langdon and Violet Harmon

-striped jumper from caitlinlark on Depop, kick flare jeans from ellagray-

When it comes to reflecting on season 1 of American Horror Story, all I can say do is thank the internet overlords that Tumblr has moved on from the romanticising school shooters and wearing normal people scare me tops phase to instead collectively taking the piss out of the “GO AWAY, TATE!”, “YOU’RE ALL THAT I WANTTT! YOU’RE ALL THAT I HAVEEE!” exchange.

In terms of fashion *moments*, whilst season 1 doesn’t stand out as much as the seasons that come after, Violet and Tate’s wardrobes did give birth to a bit of a 90s grunge renaissance with their oversized knits and faded jeans and layering of textures. It did also give us good costumes in the form of Alexandra Breckenridge’s Moira O’Hara and Mena Suvari’s portrayal of the Black Dahlia, Elizabeth Short; unfortunately, I didn’t have a slutty maid costume lying around so I did the best I could at giving the outfit Elizabeth wears when she makes that fateful visit to the Murder House a modern, more party appropriate update.

In terms of season rankings, Murder House isn’t my favourite. It starts off really great but lulls a bit towards the end and I could never get behind Violet and Tate as a couple because you know, one of them is a school shooter who sexually assaults the other’s mum, and that’s a hurdle that I think most couples might struggle to get over irl. That being said, it was the season that started it all and showcased some of the most innovative writing and directing on TV, and it opened up a spot for horror on primetime television which as far as I know was kind of unheard of before then. Back when I first watched it, I had no idea what to expect not only because I’d never seen horror in a serial format but also because it seemed to be able to get away with the kind of storylines you’d expect network executives to fire people over. It introduced us to Jessica Lange and Sarah Paulson and Evan Peters and Denis O’Hare who would go on to make the show what it is today and more importantly, through Jessica’s glorious portrayal of Constance Langdon, provide us with an endlessly versatile meme format for this trying time.

Asylum: ‘60s Lana Winters, ‘70s Lana Winters, and Sister Mary Eunice McKee

-afghan coat from louisemarcella on Depop, red AA skater dress from julietramage, pink gingham co-ord from zshamim-

I think we can all agree: Asylum would’ve been a perfect series of television if it wasn’t for the completely unnecessary alien storyline. Like, I get that they fit in with the whole good vs. evil theme as a kind of non-biblical alternative to the idea of a higher, all-powerful being but there was already so much going on that it just wasn’t needed. Aside from that, I think the general consensus amongst watchers of the show is that Asylum has the best writing of any season and I think I’d tend to agree. It’s not my favourite because it’s too depressing to rewatch but if we’re talking the first time round, this is the series that had me hooked. Lana Winters?

Iconic.

Sister Mary Eunice? Iconic. The Name Game? Iconic. Remember when you couldn’t go a day on Facebook without seeing that one photo of Naomi Grossman as Pepper used as the go to “what I really look like” photo in one of those “expectation vs. reality” style posts on your newsfeed? Those were simpler times.

Because this season was mostly situated within the hospital, we didn’t get that many proper outfits but when we did, they were stunning; if I had to state my absolute favourite AHS character of the entire show I’d probably go with Lana Winters and the part her wardrobe played in her characterisation would 100% play a part in that. The late 60s/early 70s was such a wonderful period for fashion and through her character we get to see both of those explored a little. Of course there’s also *that* Sister Mary Eunice scene with the red slip dress and suspenders too which yes, could be a perfect halloween costume, but I also strongly believe should be a perfectly acceptable outfit for any day of the year.

Coven: Misty Day, Madison Montgomery, and Zoe Benson

-chiffon dress from rags_to_riches on Depop, pinstripe corset from hanpiercey, and tennis skirt from mollie_morton-

I hate to be a basic bitch but I have to say it: Coven is my favourite season of American Horror Story. Once you get over the complete waste of Evan Peters’ acting capabilities that resulted from the *choice* to have him play Kyle, the unnecessary rehash of the Evan/Taissa pairing from season 1 in what I can only assume was an attempt to capitalise on the popularity of the questionable Tate/Violet relationship, and the subsequent sacrifice of any interesting character arc we could’ve foreseen for Zoe Benson beyond her obsessing over a resurrected, non-verbal frat boy, it’s a perfect season. A supreme (heh) balance of horror, humour, and character drama, as well as the stunning aesthetics and forever quotable dialogue, make it my go-to season if I’m ever considering a rewatch. And if you disagree, let me jog your memory with the most mainstream (not to get all “normal people scare me” and suggest AHS is not a mainstream show, I literally just mean in the sense that even those who have never watched the show will have seen this) reaction GIF set any FX show has even spawned:

Buzzfeed employees had a field day, Emma Roberts enthusiasts (I mean me) finally saw her cemented as the pop culture icon Scream Queens has since showed us she deserves to be (because not enough people have seen Unfabulous, Nancy Drew or Scream 4) and the gays everywhere rejoiced at the year’s worth of meme fodder they’d been provided with. It was Madison Montgomery’s world and we were truly just living in it.

And the fashion! I mean, Stevie Nicks meets 21st century teenage witches! Come on!

Freakshow: Dandy Mott, Maggie Esmerelda and Elsa Mars

-olive green satin skirt from morganogle on Depop, headscarf from tonijordan, platform sandals from elliefewt, PVC skirt from bethpin_, corset top from sadieflinter, beret from house_of_erotique, flame detail platform boots from mad_rags_vintage-

When people talk about the declining quality of AHS, they usually point to Freakshow as the beginning of the end, but I have to completely disagree. I wasn’t a fan the first time round but on rewatch it’s probably the most emotional season of them all; no, there aren’t as many “horrifying” moments as in other seasons and Elsa is probably Jessica’s worst performance (which is still an incredible one by anybody else’s standards), however it makes up for it with the most sympathetic bunch of characters yet, and on the flip side, also one of the most amusingly depraved with Finn Wittrock’s Dandy Mott. Fans usually argue that the season went downhill once *SPOILER* Twisty the Clown was killed off but for me, he really primarily served as the catalyst for the far more interesting devolution of Dandy, who, imo, is the show’s strongest villain to date, rivalled only by Bloody Face. Then there was the episode Orphans too which made me cry buckets, the sole AHS episode to do so.

We got a lot of great fashion content in this season too: the theatrical opulence of Elsa Mars’ wardrobe, “Maggie”’s nomadic fortune teller costumes, and all those twee suits we saw Finn Wittrock in. Highly underrated if you ask me. It seems an odd choice for me to use Elsa’s Dominatrix look as an inspiration for one of my looks here when we have that Life on Mars performance outfit and all the extravagant robes Jessica got to waltz around in for reference buuuut I didn’t really have anything to do the vibrancy of either of those justice so I went with the black leather option which is much more me. Am I saying I moonlight as a dominatrix? Maybe. Lol, no. I wish. It’s not for lack of trying. WHERE ARE ALL THE GENUINE TWITTER PAYPIGS AT!? Your girl wants to insult creepy men and get some new clothes out of it xoxo

Hotel: Hypodermic Sally, Liz Taylor, and The Countess

-silk white bralet from xlibby_maix on Depop-

Hotel is another season that I liked a lottttt more upon rewatch, once I knew I was okay to tune out the (completely predictable and utterly nonsensical) Ten Commandments Killer storyline that so much of the season initially seems to hinge on. I love Chloë Sevigny but the fact that her and Wes Bentley’s wooden John and Alex Lowe are positioned as the protagonists at the expense of the far more interesting Liz Taylor, James March and Hypodermic Sally really does a disservice to what is an otherwise great season upon initial viewing.

The visuals this season are magnificent and I think if I had to pick one character’s wardrobe to steal from the entire cast of AHS characters, it would be The Countess (a toss up between her and Misty Day tbh, so I kinda just settle for low-key channelling both). No fucking idea where I'd wear any of her clothes to but I’d make it work. Liz Taylor and Hypodermic Sally have some amazing looks too-there’s just honestly so much to choose from; that being said, this post wouldn’t be complete without a specific ode to the vampire goddess Elizabeth Bathory, who is everything I want to be in life minus the murderous qualities:

Everything. EVER-Y-THING. LOOK AT HER!

Lady Gaga is really a fucking goddess isn’t she. And people were claiming before they’d even seen it that she couldn’t act? A patriarchal society doesn’t like women that can do it all. Just saying.

Anyways!

That’s it for now! I hope you enjoyed the post if you did read til the end! Sorry I couldn’t get this out before Halloween, I was typing and Picmonkey-ing madly from 2 in the afternoon on the 31st but I taking fucking forever to get ready and had to abandon all hope of getting it out on the day by 4PM. I’ve got so much content planned and it sucks because a couple of them are lookbooks which now feel completely redundant given we’re heading into a second lockdown, but maybe I should just do it anyway? The grunge inspired moodboard I just did seemed to get a good reception too so I’ve got some more of them planned.

As always, hope everyone is keeping well, and feel free to inbox me with any suggestions, queries or even just to say hi if you need someone to talk to! I check here quite a lot so I should see it. Lots of love to everyone in this time!

Lauren x

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magicflowershop · 4 years

Text

❁ every 12.30 pm

➳ timeskip!sugawara x reader oneshot

➵ fluff, heart-warming, cute kids

✿ you found a cute teacher in your niece’s school, so maybe picking up a kid from school everyday isn’t such a bad idea.

❀ // hi! i’ve been gone for so long and finally i finished this after weeks of letting it rot in my drafts,, i don’t wanna delete this bc it feels like i’ll foresaken my angel Suga so here i hope you all enjoy my first oneshot :>

word count // 3,257

of all days, you picked this day as the day to slack off.

there was no reason to doll up, you reasoned. this was your rest day. no plans were made and no places you needed to go, so you went and picked up your sister’s kid wearing your house clothes.

no biggie. a few blocks distance wouldn’t hurt your sense of insecurity. a kindergartener’s teacher also wouldn’t possibly judge how you look when you’re only out to pick a kid up from school.

today, however, was different.

everything became instinct. your fingers went up the center of your jacket, to zip it up entirely. your hands then reached down to your sweatpants, checking if you were wearing it the right way. to your hair, if there are hair strands that are where they’re supposed to be. everything became instinct so you don’t look so much like a mess

in front of this fine preschool teacher.

“i’m Futaba’s guardian.”

your throat let out the softest, shyest voice you could ever project. you found yourself shamelessly, and instinctively, acting cute in front of this fine preschool teacher.

how else were you supposed to react? his beautiful gray hair enticed you, with a fringe softly parted on the center of his forehead. his porcelain skin that put Snow White to shame, his round, brown eyes that reflected every star in the galaxy, and his smile that could win a boxing match against the sun. not to mention, the mole under his left eye definitely hit the mark.

“good afternoon, Futaba’s guardian-san.”

hearing his voice for the first time, you’re decided. it was a crush.

perhaps it was superficial of you. you claim to fall for a guy you don’t know only for the fact you found him cute. you thought looking at him, admiring him like this was enough however when his angelic smile brightened at the sight of the children waving bye-bye to him and him waving bye-bye back. when he went down on one knee in front of your sister’s daughter, politely asking her she has to stop playing with her classmates because you have come to bring her home. when Futaba spread her arms and wrapped them around his neck, telling him a lispy see you tomorrow.

how dare you face someone like him looking like this.

on the way home, you were dead-set on asking your sister to let you bring your niece home every schoolday. seeing him once was not enough. something about him gravitated you to wanting to see more of him.

you remember the name written on his nametag when you caught the last glimpse of him.

“Sugawara”

his name reminded you of grass fields, as it is what it meant. it was perfect for him. the aura he emitted was rather calming. people must like having him around for he’s a breath of fresh air. he really was a perfect kindergarten teacher.

“how was school, Futaba?”

your niece skipped as she walked, visibly excited to talk about her day. “it was really fun! my classmates and i had a tea party earlier! Futaba almost spilled the cup because it was too hot.”

“what about your teachers?” you wanted to smack yourself for squeezing information about a guy from your 5-year-old niece. it is a desperate move however, which else choice do you have?

“ah! Sugawara-sensei read us a beanstalk story before nappy time.” Futaba put a finger on her chin as if to think about what else happened. she had no idea how hooked she got you to listen to her story. “then, then Sugawara-sensei helped Futaba with her clay family!”

you then considered yourself lucky.

“do you like Sugawara-sensei?”

and pushed the topic about the man further, seeing the sparkles in your niece’s eyes and how she skipped even happier. “yes! yes! Futaba’s favorite teacher is Sugawara-sensei,” she declared and continued shyly. “he helped Futaba talk to her crush Kaito-kun.”

when you said you were dead-set, you are dead-set for real. what’s there to lose? kids love him, including your own niece. he’s beautiful. he has a gentle voice. he probably smells like daisies. you just have to befriend him and get to know about him some more before introducing him to your parents-

as a friend.

right?

“for what? did you find a cute guy there or something?”

it sucked your sister knew you too well.

that day, you invited yourself in your sister’s room the second she got home from work. the sly yet desperate move visibly annoyed the older so much that she knew you had something up your sleeve to even dare show up in her room.

“no. just that, it’s a good way to take breaks from the café. plus, i get to hang out with Futaba.” you explained as simply as you could, even though your sister literally can see right through your lies.

she hummed and replied with, “you never get out of the house unless it’s absolutely necessary. when i asked you to take Futaba home from school yesterday, you hated it because your break time from café is ruined. please. find someone else to fool, y/n.”

you soon admit that you truly are dumb. that, however, did not stop you from redeeming yourself to your sister; that being telling the truth and not exactly redeeming anything. you told her the man you set your eyes on in Futaba’s school. you jokingly told her it was love at first sight even though you never believed of something as ridiculous as such.

besides, your sister has no room to reject. you aimed at two birds with one stone. not only do you get to see more of the guy, but you will do your sister a favor of taking care of her daughter for free.

she sighed, finding no way to deny this. “i hate to say it but your timing is too good. i was thinking of finding a babysitter for Futaba since both of us are busy. but if you insist, who am i to decline?”

so this side job began the following day.

thirty minutes spared during your break before you engage yourself to war. you decided to spend those thirty minutes to rearrange yourself. you would rather not switch into your house clothes like you did yesterday, would you? this time, you chose carefully. you didn’t want to look like a floor rag but you didn’t want to look like you went there to go on a date either. even to contemplate whether or not you must add a little more blush on your cheeks to look lively.

you changed into a casual fit. a plain shirt, denim shorts and a pair of slip-on sandals. it was an attempt to not look like you were trying too hard. not with those clean ponytail and tinted lips.

“good afternoon, i’m Futaba’s guardian.” you told yourself a good job that you remembered to greet today.

but Sugawara wasn’t the one you directed that to.

he wasn’t around. you sneaked glances left and right to see if he was playing together with the other kids, but alas.

you walked home with Futaba, holding her hand. you try to match the child’s mood as she was very elated to talk about her day. on the other hand, you; Sugawara could have been busy. you can still see him again the following day.

the following days, you lessened your get up from your first attempt. he was present, but the greetings were the same as first day you met.

what the hell are you supposed to do now? do you start conversations? well, of course, you told yourself, since you’re the one who wants something from him. but how? what should you talk about? your day? his day? the kids? his job? what?

“thank you for taking care of Futaba.”

“hm? it is my job though.”

there goes your little motivation to initiate conversations with people you’re interested in.

you hear him chuckle at you, which added to the embarrassment you had from your statement alone.

today was parents’ day. the kids were asked to bring their parents to school to have a little meeting with the rest of the class. it worried you that Futaba only had you as her guardian to go with her, not her mother, but you see the kid in her high spirits since this morning you didn’t want to ruin that for her and apologize on her mother’s behalf.

you think this as you lean against the wall at the corner, until you notice Sugawara stood beside you. so much so, you spoke absent-mindedly.

you should have kept your mouth shut.

“is Futaba’s mother doing okay? we haven’t seen her since a week ago.”

or maybe you don’t have to keep your mouth shut after all. you turned to him, stunned. like, goodness, he’s starting a topic with you himself. how can you not be stunned.

“o sorry. is it a sensitive topic? i’m sorry-”

“no!” you said audibly. too audibly. you clamped your mouth, worried if you took the children’s attention away from the kids who are presenting in front. you continued in a whisper, while he still chuckled at you, “Futaba’s mom recently switched work schedules that clashes together with the kid’s school. she wasn’t allowed to take a leave today, so i’m here in her place.”

geez, were you talking too much?

“i see.”

you probably were talking too much.

“you two are siblings, no?”

“uh, yeah. we are.”

he nodded to himself, turning to the kids presenting again. a silent heave of relief escaped you while you leaned comfortably against the wall again. guess that was enough interaction for the day.

“i guess, we’ll keep seeing Futaba’s guardian-san from now on.” he gave you a gentle smile, leaning a bit closer to you from the half-feet distance.

“you don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“my apologies. what should i call you?”

“y/n.”

“y/n-san then.”

he gave you one last boyish smile before walking off to his station.

hold up.

did he just come here to ask for your name? did he trick you into telling him your name?

you and Futaba went home happily. literally, the both of you had a great day in school. here, you were giggling like a kid who just got noticed by her crush. but you could be wrong. it’s only natural of a teacher to learn one of his student’s guardian’s name. he cannot be interested in you.

on the other hand, he did start a conversation with you.

don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. you cannot help but still think about it.

the traffic lights flashed a green color.

days went on. you stayed as the one bringing your niece home safely every afternoon while the mother is busy. the relationship and trust you built with the child strengthened. your heart swell each time you see her jumping in joy whenever you show up after school. when you thought that alone will bring you happiness everyday, Sugawara greets you everyday with the same boyish smile.

each day pass, soon you become close friends. this made Futaba happy as you two are two of her favorite people.

until one day, the teacher called saying Futaba got sick.

worry engulfed you. you wondered what could’ve happened for the child to get sick, when she was fine earlier before her and her mother left together. could your sister not have noticed? or did it happen during school? more and more questions took shape as you frantically closed the café and ran to the school.

you rushed inside the nurse’s office, panting profusely. your eyes first caught your niece lying on the bed unconscious, and Sugawara sitting by the bed, placing a damp towel on her forehead.

“good morning, I’m Futaba’s guardian.”

Futaba’s teacher explained the situation to you. the kids were outside playing in the playground when Sugawara saw Futaba drenched in one hidden part of the garden. you see another kid standing beside the teacher. the kid gripped the hem of his shirt tightly as if he wanted to rip it off. the scowl on his face says enough of why he was here.

“i didn’t do it.”

the teacher continued, “ever since parent’s day, apparently some students have been picking on Futaba for not having her mother around.

“i’m terribly sorry. i’ve helped Futaba in ways i can. even i wanted to call you for this, but when i told Futaba i will, she begged me not to tell you because you and her mother are both busy with work.” she nudged the kid beside her, “isn’t there something you need to tell Futaba’s guardian?”

the kid averted his eyes. you figured there was no reason squeezing an apology from stubborn children like him. you kneeled before the kid to be at the same level as his eyes.

“what’s your name?”

he spent a few seconds quivering his lips before speaking, “Sora.”

“Sora,” you held his shoulder gently, looking into his eyes. “you’re very lucky to always have your mother by your side.”

tears formed in his innocent eyes.

you went on. “always remember to tell your mom that you love her, long as you still have her around, so she will stay. okay?” you finished, smiling at him as bright as you could.

Sora erupted into tears, storming off out of the nurse’s office and yelling his apology.

kids.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make him cry.” you reasoned, when you know full well you did it on purpose to put that kid into a guilt trip for messing with your niece like this. the teacher said it was fine, that she could’ve done it the same thing but a different way.

ignoring that, you turned to Sugawara, who you forgot was there the whole time, “i’m sorry for the trouble. i’ll be taking her home now.”

“i can help you bring her home.”

Sugawara stood up from his seat. this startles you because you also forgot you had a crush on him. you try to decline his offer, reasoning that your house is nearby and that you can carry a kid no problem.

but the Futaba’s teacher helped insist, “Sugawara-sensei should help you look after Futaba… uh, y/n-san was it?” you nodded, dubiously. “it was also said by Futaba that you’re working alone in your house with no one to help you. so please.”

you couldn’t decline when you saw Sugawara already carrying the kid behind his back. so you went home together with him, big deal. you felt embarrassed after getting your background get found out like that. guess Futaba is too honest of a kid, but not honest enough to tell her family that she was bullied at school.

“here will do.”

the two of you finally stood in front of your father’s café. the walk was silent, but you believed it was enough interaction for the day once more.

“you weren’t kidding when you say it was nearby, huh?” he said, looking through the glass windows.

“well. yeah.”

“that’s too bad,” he says, still carrying the kid on his back. he looks back to you. the smile appears again, “aren’t you going to open the door?”

you unlocked the doors. then, it hit you. what did he mean by too bad?

after taking Futaba up to her room and tucking her in bed, you went back down to the café where you found Sugawara idling about. “you can rest yourself on one of the booths. let me brew a drink for you.” you took your apron and hurried behind the counter. meanwhile, the man stood up perhaps wanting to leave.

“oh, you don’t have to make me a drink. i should be leaving.”

this confused you. really, what was that too bad for?

“you went all the way to our café. it’s only natural i made a drink for you.” you try and justify yourself. also, you already pressed the espresso machine. there’s no reason to waste a cup of espresso.

“if so, must i stay?”

this was the second to the last straw.

you stood there, one hand holding the ice scooper and the other holding a grande-sized cup, while staring at him straight into his bright eyes. those orbs must be telling you something. there should be a secret hiding within those eyes. for example, an answer to his question.

“do you want to stay?” you first broke the gaze.

“i’m the one asking you, y/n,” he said with a chuckle.

once again, you hesitated. “sure.”

the café flooded with silence while you made an iced latte for him. you trailed your gaze to the top of his head as he sat on one of the booths. concerns arise from the pit of your mind. nothing seemed to be happening. then, what is he here for? if he stayed, what will happen? is this all on purpose? should you put your guards up?

are the green lights alit again?

you put the iced latte on his table when he spoke. “i’m quite worried about Futaba with what happened to her.”

“well, she did a good job hiding the truth from us.” you say as you sat across him. “she’s a strong kid. i’m more worried if she will continue hiding her pain from the people who care about her.”

maybe you shouldn’t start such a touchy subject like this, yea? Sugawara landed his eyes at you but you avoided it and stood up. you have no idea what’s going on. if anything, this is not the right context of when something will develop. both of you just brought home a sick kid, for Pete’s sake. must you really take advantage of this?

“anyway, i’ll tell my sister what happened. she can help Futaba better than i-”

“i wonder if i’ll still see you every afternoon.”

his honesty astounded you. Sugawara’s pale face flushed from shame. guess he didn’t mean to say that. this means, if you weren’t getting ahead of yourself again, it’s how he actually feels.

you tried to lessen his embarrassment, “of course you will, who else will pick Futaba up from school?” so you played dumb.

“if your sister knew about the situation, she might switch her schedule.”

what was he trying to say?

“she can’t do that easily, you know.”

“there will still be a possibility.” he rested his chin on his palm, smiling at you, “which reminds me, i have been looking for a part-time job around here. is your café looking for more workers?”

“you wanna work here?” you ask as you went and flip the sign to open, since you’re already back for work.

“sure,” he picked himself up from the booth and walked towards you. “but i think i should follow someone’s footsteps first and make an impression. you know, you’re going to be my boss. i should meet you with casual clothes, not with a track jacket, sweat pants and unkept hair. what do you think?”

you flipped the sign to close. “are you mocking someone here?”

he tried to not make himself laugh at you. “i’m just saying i shouldn’t half-ass it if i’m looking for another job, y/n.”

“doesn’t sound like you’re actually looking for another job though?”

“i’m not,” he admitted. “i’m only looking for a reason to see you more. every 12.30 pm isn’t enough.”

the traffic lights said go. it is now 12.31 pm.

#walk in my garden #flirty suga is canon for me #watch me flourish this hc #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! drabbles #haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! x reader #sugawara #sugawara koushi #koushi sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara x y/n #karasuno

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 7 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: I don’t know if I can say this but this is one of my favorite chapters I’ve written and I’m so excited I can finally share it! it’s literally two people driving around but it matches the song I guess… I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading it! <3

-7-

“So Lemon thinks I’m dating you.” Priyanka used the home phone to call her friend the day after their night out.

It was almost noon and Priyanka’s hangover had abandoned her body after drinking a gallon of water and taking a long -long- shower. She was walking around the house with the phone in one ear and a half-empty cup of coffee in the other. Her parents were at her sister’s place, having lunch with the kids so she had the house for herself –and when you’re hangover no matter how much you love kids you do want to be alone.

Denali burst into laughter. “Does she?” Her voice sounded distorted after singing all night.

“Well, thank you for being so considerate and laugh at the possibility of dating me. At least you didn’t do it on my face.”

“It’s not that… I’m sorry. You’re gorgeous for what matters.”

“You’re still laughing.”

“It’s your telephone connection. But wait, are you going to tell her the truth?”

“Eventually, if she asks again… Until then, would you mind if I play dumb with it?”

“Priyanka, oh my God… You’re so silly.”

“Okay, I’ll take that. But let me be potentially unrealistic for a moment here… she might be jealous of you.”

Denali gasped exaggeratedly.

“Quit making fun of me, you bitch.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… This is just so entertaining for me.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“But the night ended up well for you two, right? Progress… character development?”

“She was drunk and called me Sprinky before I pushed her into a taxi.”

“I love Sprinky! Aw, you guys, pet names already.”

“That hardly qualifies as a pet name but…”

“Tomayto, tomahto, same thing.”

It really was Denali the one who lived in a fantasy world.

“I gotta go. I need to pick some groceries from the supermarket.”

“Okay, bye Sprinky!”

Priyanka clicked her tongue. “Bye. Bitch.”

Her mother had given her a list of things to buy since she was staying in all day and she said her lazy ass needed to do something productive, -she didn’t say it like that but that was what Priyanka heard when she was still wasted on her bed.

She had taken her car to the supermarket that was in the center of the city since it was the biggest one around. On her way there, she noticed the engine coughing a little more than usual but she downplayed it when the noises stopped.

The day was sunny and hot, it warmed her skin and made it glow as she drove to the location. She had grabbed a pair of denim shorts that were on top of her suitcase –luckily, since she hadn’t unpacked yet- but she had to dig some more to find an ombré knitted white and blue crop top she had brought, then complimented the outfit with a pair of sandals and vintage round orange sunglasses. After brushing her hair a little, she was ready to go.

She got to the store, picked a shopping cart, and wandered through the aisles with her mother’s list in her hand. She occasionally lifted her feet and slid with the cart when no one was watching. Then she got distracted whereas she was goofing around and almost crashed it on the cereal aisle, fortunately, no one saw that.

Well, almost no one.

“Jesus Christ you’re going to kill someone with that.”

Priyanka stopped in her tracks when she recognized the voice right away.

Naturally, Lemon was there to see her making a fool of herself.

She was there, looking unimpressed as usual with a shopping basket on the floor next to her. Lemon was wearing a NYC t-shirt in pastel yellow, pink and blue, a pair of mom jeans, and white chunky sneakers that made her a bit taller. She also had a giant pair of white oval sunglasses with black glasses on -Priyanka only suspected the reason behind that fashion choice- she had her hair wet but tied into pigtails and lip gloss, lip gloss was never missing with her.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Priyanka mumbled.

“Can’t say the same,” she sighed. “are you following me or something?”

The brunette scoffed. “You wished…”

“Then move aside I’m trying to get the Froot Loops.”

Priyanka looked up and spotted the colorful cereal box above her head. “But the real question is can you get the Froot Loops?”

“Oh, fuck you.” She almost pushed Priyanka off the way but the other girl moved faster.

Lemon had to tiptoe and jump a little to reach for the box and Priyanka enjoyed every second of it.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Lemon was surely grumpy that day, it was the hangover speaking.

“Not really.” She grabbed a box of Cookie Crisp. “I was wondering if you made it home alright after the state you left.”

“I did… thanks for pushing me into a taxi.” There was some of sarcasm there, Priyanka detected.

“Anytime.”

Lemon started walking and Priyanka followed her with her cart, at that point to mess with her some more.

“You still have that sweet tooth for the chocolate chip cookies…” The blonde observed.

Priyanka looked at the cereal she had chosen without giving it much thought. “I guess I do… You still like anything colorful and sugary.”

“Some things never change.”

But other things changed too much.

After roaming a little, at some point, they split and when Priyanka collected the rest of the items on the list she waited in line to pay for her shop. She saw the blonde when she crossed the automatic door with her grocery bags.

Priyanka slid the credit card and then left as well. She loaded the bags on the trunk, then sat at the driver’s seat and inserted the keys to turn on the engine. She tried a couple of times without significant results, the engine coughed a little and then when she thought she had it, it died again.

“C’mon girl, don’t do this to me now… I bought ice cream bars.”

The sight of smoke wasn’t a lovely view, to say the least. When she lifted the engine cover, she discovered it was worse than what she expected.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit… this is bad.”

She pulled her flipping phone from her back pocket and called her father who calmed her down but couldn’t do much in the distance; he suggested a mechanic nearby that could take a look at it.

Priyanka was losing her mind. She sat at the curb and buried her face in her hands.

“Looks like you could use a ride.” Lemon’s voice made her look at the girl.

“Not now.” She blurted out. “I don’t have time for your snarky comments so please refrain from saying anything you’d think is clever.”

Lemon lifted her sunglasses. “I’m not trying to get on your nerves; I’m legit offering you a ride.” Priyanka didn’t seem convinced. “Think for a moment, your groceries are going to go bad with the heat and no air conditioner.”

“The ice cream bars…” She was on the verge of tears. “Fine. Yes, I need a ride, would you be so nice and help me out?”

“Come with me, my car is around the corner in front of the drugstore.”

“Buying some aspirins?”

“Cut the slack I’m trying to do a good deed here.”

“For a change.”

They carried the bags to Lemon’s car around the corner and Priyanka raised an eyebrow as soon as she saw her car.

As expected, from all people, Lemon would be the one driving a sunny yellow Volkswagen New Beetle. They put the groceries on the trunk yet again and the blonde took a seat in the driver’s position, Priyanka sat on the passenger seat.

“A yellow car?” She questioned.

Lemon buckled up. “My dad gave it to me.”

“Your daddy bought you a pretty car? For real?”

She adjusted the sunglasses back on. “He felt guilty after getting re-married and I accepted it as a peace offering. Is that so terrible?”

“Of course…”

Lemon started the engine and moved the vehicle toward the roundabout, heading for Priyanka’s house.

“You have to turn right in the next street.” Priyanka indicated.

“I think I know where your house is.” Lemon murmured as she took a different way.

“Yeah, you could get there faster this way but you’re about to enter to a one-way street… on the opposite side.”

“Shit.” Lemon maneuvered her way out with a U-turn.

“Does everyone in New York drive like this?”

Lemon blushed. “This is my third time driving in town.”

“Did you drive all the way from the Big Apple alone?”

She shook her head. “Rita visited me there and then we traveled together.”

“You two get along for what it seems…”

“It took some time and adjustment. That was supposed to be our bonding trip but I’m pretty sure she secretly holds a grudge since I convinced her mother of making the bridesmaids’ dresses pastel yellow for the wedding.”

Typical Lemon.

“But her mother is nice, she makes my dad happy so I can’t complain.”

“What about your mom? How is she?”

“Christina is alright. She got signed by an important architectural firm two years ago and has been working non-stop since then. She dated a few men but nothing too transcendental. She still listens to ABBA on a daily basis and sings every song in the repertoire deliberately loud enough to embarrass me in front of people but she’s happy. She’s on a cruise right now having the time of her life probably, that’s part of why I’m here.”

“Good for her, good for Christina.”

“That’s what I said. I thought this whole thing of my dad marrying someone else was going to trigger her somehow but she’s proven me wrong when getting over exes is about. Maybe it helped a little that the woman her ex married is older than her but who knows.”

Priyanka chuckled.

Lemon turned the radio on, Give Me All Your Luvin played through the speakers.

It was nice, to get to talk with Lemon like that, forgetting all the fights and unresolved problems they had for a moment. If Priyanka closed her eyes for an instant she could almost picture them both chatting in Lemon’s room with the music playing on the radio and the smell of wet nail polish in the air.

But then, when she opened her eyes, she got back to reality in a world where they had missed seven years of each other’s lives. There was a time where she could tell exactly what Lemon was thinking of but now it was a different story, the blonde was inscrutable and Priyanka couldn’t predict her reactions or guess the words that would come from her mouth. There were many things she didn’t know about Lemon now.

“Do you like Rihanna?” Priyanka asked when they stopped in front of a red light.

“What?” Lemon turned her head. “What kind of question is that?”

The brunette shrugged. “A thought I had.”

“Of course I like Rihanna, what kind of monster do you think I am?”

“One that doesn’t like Rihanna… perhaps.”

Lemon laughed at how ridiculous the conversation was. She had to continue driving when the light changed to green.

“Rihanna’s first album came out seven years ago and she didn’t get the recognition she deserved until a few years later…” Priyanka explained. “so I never got to know if you liked her music and I’m asking it now because there are two types of people in the world, the ones who have the taste and the ones that are monsters and dislike Rihanna’s music.”

“Okay, I’m telling you I love her. In fact, open the glove compartment.”

Priyanka looked at her.

“Go ahead, open it.” She commanded.

She did as the girl said and when the glove compartment was opened, a pile of CDs boxes where revealed inside. The first of them was a copy of Loud by Rihanna and the next one Good Girl Gone Bad.

“I couldn’t bring all of them but I have a few of them here and others at home.”

“Fair enough.” Priyanka checked the other albums underneath.

The little collection included Circus by Britney Spears, Teenage Dream by Katy Perry, Survivor by Destiny’s Child, Overexposed by Maroon 5, The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani and Fearless by Taylor Swift –that last one was Rita’s, she explained- Priyanka inspected the CDs until she found one last album that was in the bottom of the box, it was a worn out copy of Spice World by the Spice Girls, nothing more and nothing less.

“Hey, this is the album you gave me before moving to New York, remember?” A smile grew wide on her face before the memory.

Lemon blushed till the tip of her ears. “I do… that’s actually the copy I used to have in my room… the one we listened to on my radio.”

“Is it?” Priyanka looked at it with admiration. The colors were a bit pale and the box had several scratches, it was clear it has a few years on.

“Yeah… the CD doesn’t work anymore but I still got it there.”

Priyanka looked at the blonde who had her eyes fixed on the road and her hands closed around the steering wheel.

“Why did you keep it?”

“Sentimental value.” Her voice tone was almost inaudible. “I guess I’m not that cold heart monster you think I am, right?” She sounded somber.

“That’s not what I said… I-”

“We’re here.” She announced when she stopped in front of Priyanka’s house. “I’ll help you with the bags and then we can go get the mechanic for your car.”

She got down from the car leaving Priyanka with the words stuck on her throat once again.

It was becoming a pattern now, right when they started getting along again or when they had a decent conversation, Lemon shut the doors and closed all the windows before Priyanka had the chance to break through her walls.

“Your house hasn’t changed at all.” Lemon observed when they walked in with the groceries.

“Ah, yeah. My mom didn’t fall for the charms of the Property Brothers.”

“Do you have the hots for Drew or Jonathan?”

Priyanka cackled. “I stand behind my mother’s beliefs in this one.”

They put the bags on the countertop, Priyanka rushed to place ice cream on the freezer and other products on the fridge before they got spoiled. Lemon folded the paper bags in the meantime.

“Do you have some water?”

“Yeah, here.” Priyanka threw a water bottle at her and the girl caught it in the air.

She opened her purse and took two aspirins and chugged them down with a water sip.

Priyanka just watched her.

“What?” The blonde asked.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m hangover, okay? Tequila is not my best friend… or vodka… neither of them.”

“That’s weird, judging by the way you drank yesterday you’d never guess.”

“Fuck off.” She drank some more water. “Now let’s go get the mechanic for that jalopy of yours.”

“Jalopy?” Priyanka gaped at her. “Excuse you, miss, but I paid that car with my blood, sweat and tears, and two part-time jobs.”

It was the car that was supposed to take her to New York, to Lemon.

“We should hurry then, I don’t know much about mechanics but the amount of smoke that engine released isn’t normal.”

“I know that.”

“Then, let’s go.” The aspirins probably were kicking in.

Before they left the house, Lemon stopped in front of the wall where Priyanka’s mother hung pictures of her and her siblings. In the past, there was a photo of the two of them in school but all over the years her mother probably had saved it just like Priyanka did with all the other Lemon memorabilia. The blonde cast an eye on a photo of the family’s matriarch with a group of children.

“Her grandchildren?”

“Yes, my nephews and nieces.”

“That’s cute… you’re an aunt now.” Priyanka recognized the softness behind her voice and it made her heart skip a beat.

They were back on the road again and Lemon followed the directions until they got to the mechanical workshop Priyanka’s father had suggested her to go. Priyanka explained the man in charge what had happened and then followed the girls with a tow truck.

Priyanka’s car was still where they had left it. It broke her heart to see it there in the streets completely abandoned.

The mechanic took his time to check the engine, he tried to make it work after adjusting some screws and move pieces Priyanka had never heard naming before. Lemon could’ve gone by that moment but she stayed with the brunette, she even shared her bubblegum with her when she noticed how stressed Priyanka was.

After thirty minutes, the man spoke with Priyanka. The diagnosis was not good and he explained that there wasn’t much for him to do. Priyanka felt the knot on her throat and the tears coming at any second. That was her car her baby… this couldn’t be the end of their adventures.

She was beyond surprised when she heard Lemon’s voice.

“But there must be something you can do about it.” She sounded assertive. “The chances are low but there are still chances, right?”

The man babbled some excuses about the car being old and even when it was in a good state; it was going to require some extra work.

“Then do the work.” The blonde continued. “That might look like a piece of junk for both of us but that’s her piece of junk and it means a lot to her so you will take it back to the workshop and do whatever you have to do to save it. Am I being clear enough?”

The man just nodded with wide eyes, maybe too scared to add anything else.

Priyanka was also speechless.

She watched the mechanic hooking her car to the tuck and then stared at Lemon.

“Thanks.” She blinked a couple of times. “That was amazing.”

“I’m sorry I called your car a jalopy.”

“She’s temperamental but it’s okay, I don’t think she heard you anyway.”

“I know you might think of me as this spoiled brat but don’t think I don’t understand what’s like to work hard to achieve something.”

“Thank you.”

“Now let’s go before that guy mistakes the junkyard for the workshop.”

“Hey!”

All was not lost.

That was what the mechanic had said once they left Priyanka’s car at the workshop. It was going to take a couple of days to have a better picture of the problem but maybe replacing some parts would make the difference.

Priyanka sighed of relief and almost hugged the man but then she saw the zeroes on the estimated budget for the repairs and decided to keep the hug for herself… she was more than thankful for having a job back in Toronto that would pay for the bills.

“Well, the good news is that she might live.” Priyanka announced when she got in the car with Lemon.

“There you have. He was just playing hard to get and I know about that.”

“Thank you, Lemon… for helping me so much today. You didn’t have to but still, you did.”

She started the engine. “You’ve done the same for me no questions asked.”

“Are you feeling better after the aspirins?”

“Yeah… I’m never drinking again I swear…”

“That’s a lie.”

“It is…”

“Do you even remember what you said? Last night?”

Lemon stopped in the red light. Her face was as pale as paper and she stared at Priyanka with big eyes, there was horror on them.

“What did I say?”

Priyanka started laughing.

“Priyanka, what did I say?”

The brunette ceased laughing. It was the first time Lemon called her by her name.

“You called me Sprinky and kept asking if Denali is my girlfriend.”

Lemon breathed again. “Thank God… it was just that…”

Priyanka was now puzzled. What else could she’d said?

“I remember that part, you never answered the question anyway.”

She sighed. “Denali is my friend. Just that… we’re friends. Are you happy now?”

Lemon kept driving, it became evening all of sudden.

“I don’t understand though, how did you get to the conclusion that we were dating? I mean, where did the idea come from?”

“Uhm… I’m friends with Kiara and Scarlett on Facebook…”

Traitors, both of them.

“Aha…”

“…and… well, sometimes a picture with you would appear… or pictures of you in nightclubs…”

“I’m so going to kill Scarlett. I told her not to post those…”

“I didn’t mean to assume anything but… I saw you and Denali together the other day and I thought… maybe…”

Priyanka took a deep breath.

“So you know… you know I like girls…”

She nodded.

“And are you okay with that?”

Lemon looked at her. “Why wouldn’t I? Of course I’m okay with that…”

There was a short silence between them, a part of Priyanka was relieved but she could feel her heart pounding.

“Don’t tell me that on top of you thinking that I dislike Rihanna you also consider myself to be homophobic or an ignorant asshole… that being the same thing.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Well, you’ll never have to question it again.” She sounded angry.

“I’m sorry… I take it back, you’re not a monster.”

Lemon’s face softened.

“It’s just… I think of Jan…”

Jan.

That name again, seven years after.

“Jan and her girlfriend Jackie are the one example of true love I have. My parents’ marriage didn’t work but Jan and Jackie… they are grossly in love, it’s disgusting and I love them so much.”

So Jan had a girlfriend… interesting.

“If they couldn’t be themselves and be together I would’ve lost all hope in love, to be honest.” She looked at Priyanka. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but do your parents know?”

Lemon was probably one of the only people who knew Priyanka’s struggles with her family by first hand; they had spoken about it so many times before but never specifically on that topic.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I told them a few years ago when my oldest brother was planning his wedding and they were trying to set me up with the son of their friends or something like that.” Priyanka tittered. “I told my mom first and she was more sympathetic, I had a long talk with her, lots of tears… then we hugged and she told me she loves me…”

Lemon did the unthinkable: she reached for her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. It was a small gesture; it didn’t last longer than a few seconds –she was driving after all- but for some reason, it made Priyanka feel much better.

“My dad… it was a different story. It took him longer to accept it and I believe he’s still digesting it so we don’t talk much about it. It was easier when I moved to a new city… It’s not like I had to need to hide who I am but there I could start from zero and be one hundred percent myself since the first moment.”

“I’m happy for you.” She smiled. “I really am.”

With all the resentment and the bickering, Priyanka had forgotten that Lemon could be sweet, that she could be caring, that she could be her friend.

A friend.

“So your friend Jan, she’s your roommate, right?”

“Yeah, the same.

“Is it Janice, Janelle, Janet…?”

“I’m quite sure it’s just Jan but even after these years they probably don’t even know my real name so it could be anything at this point…”

“And she’s dating Jackie.” Just to make it clear.

“They have the corniest love story that involves love confessions in carriage rides in Central Park, roses and singing songs under the starry sky.”

Priyanka almost choked.

“Exactly.” Lemon giggled. “They are a constant reminder I’m single as hell.”

This time, Priyanka choked for real.

At that moment, Lemon stopped the car, they had arrived.

In the distance, Priyanka spotted her parents’ car arriving shortly after.

Priyanka’s mom got down from the car and got closer to the unfamiliar car parked in front of their house meanwhile her dad put the car in the garage.

“Priyanka and… Lemon? Is that you?”

“Hello Mrs. Suknanan, it’s been a while.” She opened the door of the car and hugged Priyanka’s mom.

“I haven’t seen you in ages… You look all grown-up.”

“Don’t lie to her like that, mom.” Priyanka walked to where the little reunion was taking place.

Lemon rolled her eyes.

Here we go again.

“Are you staying for dinner? We’d love you to stay. I insist… I’m sure Priyanka would love it too.” She elbowed her daughter.

Traitors, even the ones you’d never expect.

“She wants to know if you’re staying for dinner…”

Lemon pulled one of her pageant full teeth smiles. “I’d love to, Mrs. Suknanan but I promised my dad I’d be back by now. Maybe some other day.”

“You have to promise it to me or Priyanka is never going to bring you back.”

“Mom! Leave her alone.” Priyanka wanted to hide under a rock.

“Actually, I’m the one who brought her tonight so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’ll wait for you to stop by next week, alright?”

“I’ll be here.”

Priyanka raised her hand. “Am I invited?”

“We’ll think about it.” Lemon grinned. “Mrs. Suknanan, always a pleasure to see you, please give Mr. Suknanan my regards.”

“I will, dear. Give your father my best wishes.”

“I surely will.”

Priyanka’s mom got into the house leaving them alone again.

“She’s so lovely… why didn’t you pick any of that?”

“Ha. Ha.” Priyanka exaggerated her fake laughter.

“As much as I know you enjoy having me as your driver, I have to leave now.”

“Thanks again for that. My car might live another day because of you.”

“I know.” Lemon seemed pleased.

“I’ll make it up to you… somehow.”

“I’ll think of something just wait for it.” She opened the door of her car and Priyanka closed it for her.

“See you around, Lemon.”

“I knew you were stalking me.” She started the engine.

Priyanka threw her head back and released a laugh. “In your dreams, doll.”

The brunette watched the sunny-side up vehicle getting away and then walked toward her house with a smile on her face she couldn’t erase.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #can1 #lemon #priyanka #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

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thecassadilla · 4 years

Text

Written in the Stars - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,328/AO3

Pairing: Kristanna

Love During Lockdown Series: Serendipity (Prologue)

Summary: Figuring out how to go on an in-person date during a time of social distancing would be a challenge for anyone. Luckily, it comes easy to Anna and Kristoff, who find a creative way to spend some time with each other amidst a pandemic.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m back again. If you remember, a few weeks back, I wrote a one-shot about Anna and Kristoff meeting during the pandemic because their deliveries got sent to each other’s addresses by mistake. I added that it had the possibility of being expanded, and ta-da! I’ve linked that fic above. I highly recommend reading that fic before this one, but you do you. I can’t believe I followed through, for the first time ever. This was interesting to write because, well, I had to imagine what an appropriate, in-person date would be like right now. This is going to be three or so chapters, but again, has the possibility of being expanded upon! I hope you enjoy it!

In the days immediately following their initial conversation, Anna found herself carrying her phone everywhere with her. She didn’t want to miss out on a single text from Kristoff. They hadn’t had much contact in the week since their chat - from what she had gathered about him, he definitely seemed to be on the shyer side; despite this, and the pandemic that was practically prohibiting them from meeting in person, she was hopeful that everything would work out and they would have a real opportunity to talk. There was just something about him and their interaction that was different, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

Suffice to say, when he called her out of the blue on Saturday afternoon, just over a week since they’d met for the first time, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

“Hello?” She answered, breathlessly.

“Hey,” he responded, and she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was smiling. “How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright, thanks for asking. Uh, so I know this is going to sound kind of weird, but I haven’t started my car in almost a month and I’m kind of worried that the battery is going to die,” he explained. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a car ride in a little while? I know it’s short notice and it would be bad social distancing, but -”

“Absolutely,” she cut him off, sounding a little too eager. “I can wear a mask if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No - I mean, you can bring it. I’m going to bring one, too, but you said you haven’t left your apartment in a while, right?”

“I haven’t left in almost two months,” she answered.

“Same here, so I think it would be safe? As long as we’re in the car, and you’re okay with it?”

“I’m totally fine with that,” she said, again fearing that she was going to come off as desperate.

“And...if you want, we can get take-out or stop by a drive-through or something? I know it’s kind of inappropriate, and ideally we’d be going to a sit-down restaurant, but...you know.”

“That would be wonderful,” she assured him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried about not impressing her, because it sure sounded like he was asking her on a first date. The situation they were in was certainly not his fault, though, and the fact that he was still trying regardless of that made her weak in the knees. “What time were you thinking?”

“Um, an hour or so? Or we can meet up later if that’s too soon?”

“No, that’s perfect. I’m dying to get out of this apartment and see a person other than my sister,” she giggled.

“Oh!” He said, sounding a little surprised. “Me too, except with my roommate.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, smiling. “Where should we meet?”

“By the entrance to the building?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll see you in an hour!”

“See you then,” he said, before hanging up the phone.

She was so excited that she wanted to scream. She immediately jumped off the bed and began to tear her room to shreds - she wanted to wear something that was cute but appropriate. She also didn’t want to have to explain why she was wearing a fancy dress to Elsa. After way too much time deliberating, she finally settled on a light blue romper with spaghetti straps and a pair of sandals. She didn't have enough time for a full face of makeup, so she settled on mascara and lipstick, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. Her hair hung down in loose waves cascading down her back, and she mentally applauded herself for taking a shower that morning. When the hour was about to draw to a close, she placed the mask over her face, grabbed her purse and cell phone, and excitedly bounded out of her bedroom.

She paused in front of Elsa’s door, knocking a few times with no answer. She peeked inside, and was thrilled to see that her sister was taking a nap and could not protest her departure. She decided that a text message would be appropriate, and gently closed the door to her room before practically skipping out of the apartment. As soon as she opened the door, a blast of hot air hit her in the face and she was immensely grateful that they were going to be sitting in an air conditioned car instead of going on a walk. Before she walked downstairs, she sent the text message to Elsa and shoved her phone into her purse - if she could help it, she wanted to keep it there the entire time they were together.

When she finally reached the entrance to their building, she could hardly contain her excitement. So much so that when Kristoff emerged from inside, she found herself approaching him with her arms wide open before she realized what she was doing.

“Oops, sorry,” she said, lowering her arms. “I always hug people after when I haven’t seen them for a while, but I guess we don’t live in that world anymore. Hi, by the way.”

Although she couldn’t see his mouth, she could tell from his eyes that he was smiling. She couldn’t help but notice how good he looked; he was dressed casually like her, wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt, but it suited him so well that she nearly found herself drooling.

“Hi,” he said back, his eyes still sparkling. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been doing as well as I can,” she answered. “I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind, though.”

“I feel the same way,” he chuckled, slowly starting to walk toward the parking lot. “I’m glad to be getting out for a little while. You look great, though; quarantine must be treating you well.”

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, walking alongside him. “You look great, too. And I feel the same way; my sister is starting to drive me up a wall.”

“It’s just you and her up there?”

“So it’s a little complicated, actually. She doesn’t actually live here,” she explained. “I had two roommates.”

“What happened with that?”

“One of them broke his lease, because his internship ended abruptly due to the pandemic, so he had to go back to live with his parents. And my other roommate has been quarantining with her boyfriend, but she took almost all of her stuff with her and she’s not answering my messages, so I actually don’t know if she’s coming back.”

“I don’t mean to cut you off, but this is me,” he said, motioning to a grey SUV. He unlocked it, and they each went to their respective sides. It was blazingly hot inside, as expected, and he put his keys in the ignition. “I’m honestly relieved that it started and I’m really sorry that it’s so hot in here, but it should cool off in a few minutes. You were saying?”

She pulled off her mask and he followed shortly after. “Yeah, so, my sister came to visit, like, a week before everything shut down and then she just refused to leave. It worked out since my other roommate moved out, but she’s driving me crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking over at her.

She slid the seatbelt over her shoulder and buckled it in. Cool air started seeping out of the vents, offering relief from the suffocating heat. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, but her anxiety is basically out of control. She’s a touch agoraphobic in general, and this is just making it worse.”

“That has to be really rough,” he responded, shifting the car into drive and slowly pulling out of the spot. “I mean, my roommate just sits around and plays video games all day, so I kind of lucked out in that regard.”

“I would do literally anything for her, but I definitely miss having a little freedom; she doesn’t even want me to go on walks, or anything,” she said, shaking her head. “Luckily, she hates Florida, so I think she’ll try to go home as soon as it’s safe.”

“Are you from Florida?”

She glanced out the window, admiring the clear blue sky and the palm trees. She had almost forgotten what the outside world looked like. “No, I’m actually from upstate New York.”

“Get out of here, so am I,” he said, excitedly. “What part are you from?”

Her face lit up. “Arendelle, it’s a small town near Saratoga Springs.”

“I grew up, like, half an hour from there. Near Broadalbin, in Fulton County.”

“No way! It’s such a small world,” she laughed. “What brought you here?”

“I’ve lived in Florida for a few years now,” he explained, focusing on the road. “I came down here for school. I’m becoming an architect, and I needed an internship, and that led me to this part of the state a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, it kind of got put on hold due to the pandemic.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she frowned. “I don’t know much about architecture, but it seems really cool.”

“It is,” he grinned. “But it’s a lot to talk about and I don’t want to bore you. What about you?”

“I doubt you would bore me, but to answer your question, I needed a change. I came out here for school, too, and loved it so much that I dreaded going home during breaks. So I got a job and found an apartment, and now I live here.”

“What did you major in?”

“I’m still working on my Bachelor’s, but elementary education. One semester to go.”

“You must love kids,” he assumed.

She nodded. “I do, I really do. I had a lot of amazing teachers, and I hope that one day I can leave an impact on someone in the same way my teachers left one on me.”

“Wow, that’s really thoughtful of you.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “I’m really looking forward to having my own classroom, someday.”

He found himself smiling at the sincerity of her response, but before he could say anything, she had already moved onto the next topic.

“What do you do for work?”

“Well, the internship was my job, for the time being. I quit my job as a waiter for the internship, so I’m currently unemployed.”

She nodded fervently. “Same here - I had a part-time front desk job, and the office had to close, so I got laid off.”

“This whole situation is just awful,” he responded, shaking his head. “To get back onto a happier subject - what do you love most about living here?”

“The weather,” she cooed. “I love the warmth and the sunshine. No snow or shoveling to worry about in this state.”

“That’s the one thing that I dislike about living here,” he remarked. “I kind of miss having four seasons. Oh, and I never want to be referred to as ‘Florida Man.’”

She burst out laughing, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, stop.”

“I’m serious! There are so many negative connotations,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but you’d have to do something dumb, like, stick your foot in a gator’s mouth to earn that title.”

“I don’t know, I feel like they’re handing it out willy nilly these days; any man who lives in Florida is officially a Florida Man,” he smiled, shaking his head. “In all seriousness, though, I do hope to move back to New York, someday.”

“I think I do, too. The distance has helped my sister and I grow as individuals, but I’d like to live closer to her. Not anytime soon, though.”

“I get that,” he nodded.

“So, what’ve you been doing to pass the time?”

He sighed. “I’ve been doing school stuff, mostly, but now that the semester is over, I’ve been watching stuff on Netflix.”

“Ooh, what have you been watching?” She asked, turning her body so she was facing him.

“Whatever gets recommended to me, honestly. I watched Tiger King -”

“Oh my god, me too! What a train wreck!” She exclaimed, before bringing both of her hands up to cover her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I totally cut you off just then.”

“It’s fine,” he said, glancing over at her. “I kept expecting it to get better, but it just kept getting worse and worse. Other than that, I’ve been watching a mixed bag of stuff. The Office, Parks and Rec, et cetera.”

“Literally, same,” she laughed. “I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube, too, because it’s interesting to see what other people are doing during quarantine.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “I haven’t even thought about how other people have been coping.”

“Almost everyone I watch has been doing the same stuff I see everyone on social media doing. Baking bread, renovating their houses, watching television. I appreciate people who are putting out unique content.”

“I’ll have to get on YouTube one of these days,” he stated. “What are you looking forward to most when all of this is over?”

“Gosh, I don’t even know,” she gushed. “Everything - I want to eat in a restaurant, again. And go back to Disney World, and to the beach.”

“You know, I’ve never been to Disney World.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he smirked.

“No way! We’ll have to go when it opens!” She declared, and then quickly backtracked a step, worrying that she was too forward. “Only if you want to, though.”

“I’m not opposed to going,” he chuckled. “It was just never high enough on my priorities list. I was actually supposed to go back in March, but then they closed. I’d love to go with you when they reopen.”

“Stop, I’m literally so excited now,” she said, unable to control her smile. “I’m not in a crazy rush to run there as soon as they reopen, but I literally cannot wait now.”

His lips curved upwards as well. “Me too.”

“How about you? What are you looking forward to?”

“Well, aside from going to Disney World, probably just things going back to normal. I miss simple things like going to the grocery store.”

“Do you like cooking?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I do. That’s another thing that I’ve been doing - practicing my cooking skills. You?”

“God, no. I love eating but I’m an awful cook,” she laughed. “I know how to make some really basic stuff, but I have a knack for burning everything. I’d say that I’m a better baker, but I don't think boxed mixes count.”

“At least you try. I’m pretty sure my roommate would live on microwaveable food and take-out if I didn’t live with him.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “My sister is no better, but we get by.”

“I’ll have to send some food up to you sometime; can’t have you two starving,” he winked.

“Stop, you’re too sweet,” she gushed. “I would love that, though. My sister on the other hand…”

He glanced over at her. “I notice that you talk about her a lot. Is it just the two of you?”

She paused for a moment before answering. “Yeah, it’s just me and her. Our parents passed away a few years ago, and we don’t have any other family.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry to hear that,” he frowned. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s okay; I’m actually kind of glad you asked,” she said quietly, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. “My sister and I don’t talk about them, really.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How come? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She shook her head. “Well, my sister had a lot of anxiety issues as a kid, and she became very closed off. They were concerned, but they didn’t really do anything to address it and we both suffered as a result. They got into the accident when I was fifteen, and she was eighteen so she became my guardian, but it was like I was living with a stranger at first. We got better, eventually, but she was a little overbearing and I needed my own space and that was when I moved down here for school. We just don’t bring them up, now. They weren’t bad people or anything, it’s just hard to talk about.”

He nodded along with her as she spoke, acknowledging what she was saying. “I get that. I’m really sorry that that happened, but I have to say - you’re incredibly brave.”

“Thank you,” she looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. “What about your family?”

“I was a foster kid who got bounced around, so I don’t really have a family. I’m still in touch with the family I was with the longest, but it took two other families to get to them.”

She gasped. “I’m sorry, that must’ve been so hard.”

“Well, a lot of good came out of it. It made me want to work harder, for one, but it also made me realize what type of person I want to be and what type of life I want to live.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Well, I want to have a family of my own someday. I just...want to be present for the people in my life.”

“That’s really amazing. You’re also incredibly brave,” she remarked, repeating what he’d just said to her.

“I guess we have a lot in common, then.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his arm. She hesitated, though. “You can say that again. But it’s a good thing, I think. Not to wax poetic, but we wouldn’t be here right now if all of those horrible things didn’t happen to us.”

“Very true,” he agreed. He pulled into a gas station, stopping the car at one of the pumps and turning off the engine. “Sorry, I just want to fill up my tank so we don’t break down somewhere.”

“No need to apologize,” she insisted, as he climbed out of the car and started fiddling with the pump. She was completely overwhelmed, but in the best way possible. This was easily the best date she’d ever been on, and she was hopeful that he felt the same way and that there would be many more dates in the future. Though it was a bit of an annoyance at the time, she was eternally grateful for the delivery drivers who’d messed up their deliveries.

“Alright, we’re good,” he announced, as he climbed back in and started the ignition again.

“Do you want money for gas?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “Where to next?”

She shrugged. “You’re the driver.”

“Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere and eat,” he offered.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“What’re you in the mood for? I know there aren’t too many practical options for eating in a car.”

“We could stop at that McDonald’s that was just down the street.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling away from the gas station. “I have nothing against McDonald’s, but if the circumstances were different, I would’ve preferred to take you somewhere much nicer.”

“I know,” she smiled. “But I’m not, like, disappointed or anything. I’m honestly having a great time.”

“Me too,” he responded softly. “I’ve really been enjoying talking to you.”

“I’m really glad that we’re on the same page. Also, I haven’t had McDonald’s in at least a year, so I’m super excited about that.”

“Is that why you suggested it?”

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But also because it’s close by and we don’t have to get out of the car.”

“If that's what you want, then I’m happy to take you there, but don’t worry about the distance. I don’t mind going somewhere else if -”

She interjected before he could finish his thought. “Nope, McDonald’s is great.”

“Alright,” he laughed. “Then to McDonald’s we go.”

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my first multi chapter fic in years #this quarantine is doing something to me #my writing

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suckasstakenames · 5 years

Text

Craig and Those Guys Week: Day 1 - The Beach 🏖

“You definitely brought the towels didn’t you Craig?”

“Yes Tweek, for the third time, you saw me put them into the bag.”

Five teenage boys cross the parking lot and make their way towards the beach. It was the weekend and this particular beach was quite the tourist spot, but it was one of the only days of the week in which all of the boys were free. They’d assigned this trip as their monthly event; an event that wasn’t just meeting up at the cafe or hanging out at somebody’s house.

Leading the group was a tall, slender boy. The tallest of the group. This was Craig. His beach attire was pretty basic; he donned navy blue swimming trunks and black sandals. He wore a beige bucket hat over his jet black hair, and covered his blue eyes with blacked out sunglasses. He was carrying a big beach bag, filled with all the essentials. Craig was their ring leader, the centre of the group. Whenever anyone else would talk about their group it would be referred to as his gang.

Trailing closely behind him was a noticeably skinnier boy; Craig’s boyfriend, Tweek. He too wore a bucket hat, white this time, and covered his bony torso with a vest of the same colour. He had untamed wild blonde hair, shooting out from underneath the hat in all different directions. His hand was fiddling with the bottom of his khaki swimming trunks, clearly on edge. His eyes were bagged, but he wasn’t a bad looking guy overall. Tweek’s anxiety around large groups of people meant that he was practically clinging to Craig for dear life.

Not far behind was a more boisterous boy, rambling about his friends’ sense of fashion. Clyde was a little chubby in build, but wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. He wore an open red shirt with a palm tree design on it, and on the bottom half…a pair of black speedos. He even accessorised with some aviators and a shark tooth necklace. He was clearly the most enthusiastic of the group; flicking his chocolate coloured hair in the wind whenever he sensed a female within range.

Next to him was Token, who didn’t try as hard on the fashion side, but still managed to pull off a pair of violet trunks and gold-rimmed sunglasses. He was assigned the role of carrying the parasol. His body was probably the most toned out of the group, but he was cool about it, and wanted to come across as casual as possible to his peers. But that was slightly difficult when you’re the son of a millionaire…and it definitely showed.

The last boy was a brunette, using his crutches to keep up a steady pace with his friends. His ochre coloured trunks were accompanied with a brown baseball cap and a grey t-shirt. This was Jimmy, who had a form of cerebral palsy, yet was one of the funniest guys in their town. He was wearing trainers and had no intention of entering the water at all, simply content with chilling out with his best friends.

The boys eventually reach the beach, finding a spot nearer the back that wasn’t too close to everyone else for Tweek’s sake. Token forcefully stuck the parasol into the sand and opened it, Tweek immediately running underneath. With the palest skin out of them all, he’d coated himself in 3 layers of sunscreen before coming out for the day.

Craig sets down the beach bag, whipping out a pile of folded towels, leaving a couple spare in the bag. “Take your pick.”

Tweek is the first to grab one; a simple striped design.

Clyde was next, opting for the one with the slogan ‘Cool story bro’ on it.

Token passed one to Jimmy that had fruit decorating it, and then took a basic blue one for himself.

Craig was left with the towel with an adorable looking cartoon shark on it, one of which used to belong to his younger sister Tricia. He didn’t seem at all bothered and laid it out next to Tweek’s towel.

“Alright so who’s coming for a splash in a little while?” Clyde enthusiastically asks.

“FUCK no. I’m not gonna be present while you awkwardly try to pick up chicks by the water.” Craig protests.

“Oh Craig,” Clyde tuts, “You should be more supportive of me!”

“Yeah well, I’m not supportive of those speedos.”

Token chuckles, “Again with the speedos…you really aren’t a fan are you?”

“Dude, look at him. He looks like a middle aged dad who flirts with teenagers.”

Clyde pouts, “HEY…at least I’m not flexing a damn fisherman hat!”

“Nghh, not cool Clyde! Don’t drag me into this too!!” Tweek contributes, awkwardly tugging on his hat.

“Firstly, it’s called a bucket hat. Secondly, fuck you. It keeps us cool.” says Craig.

“Appearance vs p-p-practicality. A truly difficult decision f-for sure.” Jimmy jokes.

“Who cares about how good you look when you’re frying to death?!” says Tweek.

“Chill out Tweek, we’re not frying! We’re just sun-kissed.“ Clyde teases. Token pushes him playfully, shaking his head and smiling.

Jimmy looks out over the crowd of people, stopping when he sees someone he recognises. An auburn-haired boy of their age was sat reading a book next to his mother, who was watching his father and younger brother throw a ball back and forth to each other.

“H-hey, isn’t that K-K-Kyle Broflovski and his f-family over there?”

Token squints his eyes in the same direction, “…oh shit, it is! Shall we go say hi?”

“What?! I’m not going all the way over there!!” Tweek protests.

Craig lies back on his towel. “If Ike sees Clyde he’ll just annoy him with pirate songs again.”

“I don’t need reminding of that you guys!!” Clyde whines.

“Kyle looks pretty bored…” says Token.

“Damn…and S-S-Sheila is looking pretty…th-th-th-thick.” Jimmy stutters, watching as Sheila rubbed herself with sunscreen.

“Gross Jimmy, put your boner away.” says Craig.

“Relax b-buddy! Only her m-mother could love t-that face.” he jests.

Token gets up, “I’m gonna go say hi, Craig come with!”

“Ugh fine but we’re not staying long.” Craig groans.

“Bring us back ice cream will ya!” Clyde declares, pointing at the ice cream van nearby.

“Anything for you, princess.” Token jokes, before helping Craig up by the hand and wandering off towards Kyle.

They quickly return with 5 ice cream cones, one with toffee sauce since Tweek likes toffee.

Obviously, Clyde had something to say about this. “Uhhhh, where’s my toffee sauce??”

“Go and get some from the van if you want it, you lazy twat.” Craig says, handing the cone to Tweek. Tweek smiles warmly up at him before thanking him. Clyde takes his cone from Token, pulls a sour face and sticks his tongue out at Craig before heading towards the van.

After not even 2 minutes of receiving his ice cream, Tweek has a sudden large twitch and accidentally drops the cone onto his leg. Clyde bursts out with laughter, while Craig grabs a spare towel from the beach bag and helps him to clean up.

“I will literally pay you half of my w-w-wage if you lick some of that.” Jimmy jests.

“WHAT?! Are you nuts?!” Tweek yells.

“That’s a comment I’d expect from Clyde, not you Jimmy.” Craig retorts. “Fuck off.”

“What if it was Token’s wage?” Clyde suggests.

“Not even for Token’s wage.” says Craig.

“You guys, my wage isn’t that much different than yours!” Token objects. He’s not wrong; he only earns about 3 or 4 more dollars than the rest of them. However he serves wealthier customers and the tips tend to be double, even triple the average waiter gets.

Once Craig finishes cleaning up a very embarrassed Tweek, and returns to the van to buy him a replacement ice cream, the five of them lie on their respective towels and sunbathe quietly in each others company. So quiet in fact, that none of them realise until 20 minutes later that Clyde had fallen fast asleep. Only when he suddenly lets out a loud snore, waking himself up in the process, does he attract the other’s attention.

“Jesus Clyde, scared the shit out of me.” Craig snaps.

“The heat must’ve knocked me out…” says Clyde. “I need to cool down…time for a swim!”

Almost instantly, as if he hadn’t just woken up, Clyde immediately springs to his feet and flings his shirt off. “Who’s coming??”

“I will. The water looks fresh.” Token gets up a little slower, taking off his shades and placing them on his towel.

“Tweek?”

“Ngh, maybe later…” Tweek replies. And by ‘maybe later’, he meant ‘probably not at all’.

“No worries bud.” Clyde reassures. “Jimmy? Oh yeah Jimmy said he wasn’t swimming today…Craig?”

The two standing look over to Craig, who’s very clearly pretending he didn’t hear them. Clyde bends over him, casting a shadow over his face.

“Craig? Yoohooooo?”

“What?”

“Are you coming swimming with us?” Token asks.

“Nah.”

Token rolls his eyes, exchanging a disappointed look with Clyde, before leaning in and whispering something into his ear. Clyde grows a mischievous grin and looks over at Craig, who is completely oblivious.

Craig is a slim guy and relatively lightweight, so it wasn’t a problem for Clyde and Token to grab him by the legs and arms and lift him up abruptly.

“Wh-? What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Taking you for a dip.” Clyde replies nonchalantly.

“I hate you both so much, fucking put me down!”

Craig wriggles a little in protest, his hat falling off in the process, but it’s not long before he gives in and simply lets the other two carry him over to the water.

Tweek and Jimmy laugh as they watch them go.

“Ngh…am I an unsupportive boyfriend if I just sit back and let them pick on him like that?” Tweek jokes.

“It makes a ch-change from Craig p-p-picking on everyone else, I suppose.” Jimmy shrugs.

They watch on as Clyde and Token count down from 3, and on zero, Craig is slam dunked into the water. He resurfaces flicking his hair and immediately targets Clyde by jumping onto his shoulders and sending him underneath the water. The antics continue as Tweek smiles from afar, happy and tranquil. Seeing his boyfriend and his friends messing around and having fun made him feel so relaxed and carefree, and distracted him from any worries he may have.

He sighs with contentment. At least he didn’t have to worry about being alone. His friends were always there for each other and supported each other an equal amount. And days like this just proved that the five of them were closer than ever.

—

#craig and those guys #craigandthoseguysweek #craigandthoseguysweek2019 #craig and those guys week #craig tucker #tweek tweak #clyde donovan #token black #jimmy valmer #south park #south park craig #south park tweek #south park clyde #south park token #south park jimmy #south park fanfiction #south park oneshots

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angelaiswriting · 5 years

Text

The Mantis | Clint Barton x fem!OC

[original picture found on: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings: Clint Barton x (non described) fem!OC | slight Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff | slight Natasha Romanoff x fem!OC

✏️ Requested by my moods

✏️ Summary: Larisa Efimovna Goncharova, sister-like friend of Natasha Romanoff and former KGB agent, is Clint Barton’s personal sexual fantasy and frustration. Ten years after the last time he saw her, back when he and Nat had chased her around Moldova first and Hungary later, he meets her again at one of Tony’s parties and both his memories and arousal come back full force.

✏️ A/N: good God, the fear I have at the thought of posting this :) HAHA This is my first time writing for both Clint and Natasha, so I hope they’re not too OOC. Larisa (the fem!OC of this story) is not described in anyway other than being a woman, so you can still imagine her however you please.

✏️ Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! (fingering, touching, dirty talk, all that jazz) The smut is both in the flashbacks (italics) and in the present, though it’s not full-on smut like my usual dirty stuff, but it’s still my dirtiest smut ever haha There’s also mentions of murder and on female sterilization. This is basically a long-ass slow burn (in preparation for part two I guess haha)

✏️ Word-count: 10,091 (good luck)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOU 💛

THE MANTIS

Clint hadn’t seen her in forever, ever since the Chișinău fiasco, which had been… too long ago to even accidentally think about it once or twice a year. He had never forgotten about her, though–he couldn’t have even if he had wanted to. He had been knuckles deep inside her and a breath away from coming in his boxers when she had looked up at him with those eyes, mouth hanging open as no sound slipped out of it.

But she had been behind enemy lines back then, before Nat found her again in the Hungarian outskirts and brought her on her side. ‘Back together again like in the old days,’ his friend had chanted, much to his surprise, with a smirk on her lips. For as much as he wanted to state the opposite, he still didn’t exactly know what the two girls’ ‘old days’ had been like. Sure, there must have been killing and spying and all that jazz, but, so far, he had never managed to tear the details of their private life out of Natasha’s mouth.

So good to see you, Nasha, he managed to read on the woman’s lips before he lost track of what language she was speaking with his friend.

He stared as the two women embraced, kissed each other’s cheeks and then clinked their flutes to cheer.

Those lips… Tinted in a deep-burgundy shade, they curled into a smile and did their best to remind him how close he had been to having them wrapped around something more than just his index and middle fingers.

Christ, Chișinău had been a fiasco on more than one level and that was for sure!

Did she really have to come?

Come.

Ha!

She had come hard around his fingers that night and to this day, Clint swore he could still feel the walls of her vagina clamp down on him. Much to his dismay.

Behind him, Sam whistled. It was low and long and it felt like a sting in his ears. “Who’s the doll with Natasha?”

“Looks like a doll. With a face like hers, no surprise she’s managed to trick so many people.” Clint chuckled low in his throat as he stared at the photo the file of their mission had been equipped with.

There was a girl staring back at him–skin like that of a baby, eyes like those of a doll, cold and glassy and ruthless. Emotionless. The same expression he had seen in Nat’s picture when he had been sent to get rid of her, the same expression that had made him fear she didn’t have a chance in his world.

Larisa Efimovna Goncharova had, at first glance, looked like the woman of his dreams and that of his nightmares both at the same time. Her face was pleasant to look at and deeper into the mission, Clint Barton would discover how pleasant to look at her body was, too. And yet, there were nightmarish shadows behind the grey of her eyes, crawling behind the stoic expression the photographer had eternalized on film.

Natasha hummed. She had just got out of the shower and droplets of water dripped down her hair and onto her shoulders when, body hugged by a tan towel, she exited the run-down bathroom of the even more run-down motel they had booked a room at. “Face like a doll, tongue like a bitch.”

“You know her?”

“Oh, yeah.” There was an amused smile on her lips when he turned to glance at her, a smile that seemed to go back in time. “Been my friend since the beginning.” Her breath hitched in her throat then and she shook her head slightly. “Or as much of a friend as we could be to each other. ‘Grew up with her’ is more like it. She had my back and I had hers.”

“Any chance this could compromise the mission?”

“Nah.”

“Wouldn’t call her ‘doll’ if I were you,” Clint answered back. He had learned that the hard way and while he was dying to see Sam go downstairs and get all beaten up, he truly didn’t want the guy to have a chance with her. He had unfinished business with the Mantis, one he would have been happy to see through.

His friend leaned against the balcony and pretended to scan the crowd of wealthy stuck-ups that had graced Tony Stark’s umpteenth charity party with their presence and wallets. “Looks like someone I wouldn’t mind having in my bed tonight,” he smirked and at the sight, Clint answered him with an exasperated eye roll.

“Careful, she might bite.”

Sam let out a long oooh that caught the attention of many a guest for a brief couple of seconds before they all went back to minding their business. “I’m all in for the kinky stuff.”

“In the literal way.”

“Even better!” The guy’s smirk spread wider and the glint in his eyes got more mischievous at that warning. Give him a chance and he would be strolling down the glass stairs to the lower floor to try his cards with her.

Clint had to unclench his jaw, which he had somehow been subconsciously tightening. “Do you know why they call her The Mantis?” He didn’t want to play dirty, not with his buddies, but this… This was beyond him. This wasn’t something he could control. It was something that was resurfacing after almost a decade of his best attempts at ignoring the matter and now that she was here, in the most revealing silk dress, with a slit that cut her side from hip all the way down to the stiletto jewel sandals she was wearing, he wasn’t going to let his chance at ending up between her legs–at finishing his unfinished business–slip away. “She lures men and then she kills them.”

“Can’t be that bad if she’s here now, can she?”

“Nat is still lethal; what makes you think she is anything but, now?”

They had been following Larisa’s traces for a couple of days when they found the first corpse.

A man in his thirties, who at first glance looked like the most boring rich ass you could find in good, ol’ Chișinău, had been found dead in his five-star hotel room. There was a single cut on his body and it traced a clean line across his throat, going from ear to ear. Stark naked, with an unused condom still on, he had been left with an expensive Rolex on his right wrist and a suitcase full of money in the bedside table.

“What? Admiring the job?” Clint scoffed. Sometimes Nat truly knew how to be weird: she was scanning the dead’s wound with the faintest of smirks painted on her lips and a hand on her hip.

She shrugged her shoulders and only turned to face him after half a minute. “Lara has always been the best at dramatic effects,” she said, pointing at the dead KGB agent left in a pool of his own blood on the otherwise pristine-white bed sheets. “They tried to make her stop, but I guess they never succeeded. She comes, she seduces you, takes what she wants, and then…” Natasha never finished her sentence, for its ending was clear. “I used to call her Номер Один–Number One. She was the best, even better than me.”

Clint stared at his friend for a while, contemplating the details she had just delivered, and chose not to twist the knife. It was almost as though all those little details were coming up slowly, one after the other, prompted by the random events they were–and soon would be, for their mission was far from over–facing on the way to their target.

They still needed to understand if the Mantis had taken anything from the crime scene, though, for anything could be helpful and lead them to her den. He told her that much, but Natasha simply laughed.

“Oh, she took something. Lara always does.” She was amused and looked around the room like a curious child trying to understand if what lies before her eyes is true or a mere hallucination. “I’m not sure if it can help, though.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because dear Agent KGB here is dead and unless SHIELD has some device that reads dead people’s minds, we’re done here.”

Clint had been staring at her ever since she had approached Nasha–and that was almost an hour, an hour and a half tops ago. And Lara was perfectly aware of it–she had almost counted on it when Natasha had sent her the invitation to that charity party. Not that she had legal money to give, be it clear; and even if she did have money to waste like that, she was sure she wouldn’t be willing to do it.

The opportunity to finally see her friend–her sister-like friend–, though, had been something she hadn’t been willing to let slip through her fingers. They had met sporadically ever since she had been arrested and then converted by SHIELD nine and a half years ago and while Nick Fury, who now seemed to control her life, did his best to keep the two former Russian spies away from each other, they always found a way to sneak around. And tonight’s event wasn’t any different, nor had been the preparation that had lead to it.

Nasha had met her a week before to go dress-hunting with her boss’ borrowed money, if so one could say, and Lara hadn’t been able to tell her ‘no’. She needed a day out with someone she could call a ‘friend’ just as she needed to be considered a person again and not just a weapon of global instability. Not that she had well known how it felt to be treated as a person, let alone as a woman: she had been an instrument of destruction first, a spy secondly, and third, the closest thing to a person she could have been without actually being a person. And in regards to being a woman, they had robbed her of the chance to feel like one ages ago.

But Clint… He had surprised her by playing her same game, back in Moldova. He had circled her like a predator, studied her moves, her tricks, anticipated her cards…

She had never been touched like that, neither by a man nor a woman. And while she had had far more important things to do–things she used to be paid for–, all she had been able to do was surrender as he tried to trick her into her capture. He hadn’t taken anything from her–he probably would have, had he been given the chance to, but she hadn’t given him the time to let him play her as he pleased, for she had managed to snap out of her dream-like state, his thumb on her clit, and she had hit him unconscious.

He had still managed to catch her, a couple of weeks later, and it had been then that she had seen Nasha for the first time after the death of their youth. And with the time she had been given in America–time to study who had once been her enemies, time to learn the little details about their lives and all their dirty secrets–, she had managed to come to a conclusion: where Natalya was, Clint Barton could be found, too, and vice versa.

This had been her hope. When she had chosen the champagne silky dress she was wearing tonight, she hadn’t planned on trying to seduce the man. Of course not. But she had been wishing to meet him again, to give him a nice, long look, and if fate would have it for her to relive in her memory even a second of what he had given her so many years before, she would go back home content.

And if anything, Clint Barton had been the first man to touch her that hadn’t died.

Lara had been expecting for someone to track her down. She had been in the business for longer than she could remember and she knew what to expect from people like herself. And even more so after going rogue: she had made sure to get rid of the people that had hurt and manipulated her in the Red Room, she had subdued the KGB agents and former agents that had kept her a prisoner to a painful death, and was now continuing on that path for the people that paid her enough.

It had never been for money, though. At first, it had been for glory. The Glory, with a capital G. It had always been an abstract concept made concrete by her child-like dreams: become the heroine of the story, defeat the Baba Yaga and her Zmey Gorynych, marry the prince, become the queen. The only thing she had gained out of all those killings was a name–‘the Mantis’, like the mantis that killed the males she copulated with.

She had been meditating on her non-existent glory when the man she later discovered went under the name of Clint Barton–or agent Barton when the truth got revealed–approached her. Her eyes had been scanning the crowd to find her next target, one she hadn’t been paid to kill for the simple fact that this was a personal issue, and so she had been caught by surprise by a hand on the middle of her back.

The music and chatter of the party disappeared from around her as all senses focused on that contact and on the calm breathing she felt on the back of her exposed neck.

Unknowingly to Clint, this had been a first. Too engrossed in her own personal revenge and bloodthirst, Larisa Goncharova hadn’t detected the approaching man like she would have had it been another circumstance.

“Lovely party,” the man said, voice low and sweet.

She could feel him behind her; his cologne tickled her nostrils even with her back staring at him. It took her a minute at most to calm her heart and to force it to match her even breathing before she turned around with a smile on her face. It was a smile she had mastered in her younger years, back there in the Red Room, the same smile she had often graced her friend Natalya with. “Not from Moldova,” she pointed out, “nor from Romania, are you?”

The man chuckled and his eyes seemed to sparkle under the lights of the rich crystal chandeliers hanging in the immense ballroom of the mansion. He clinked his glass with hers before speaking. “What gave me away?” he wanted to know and reverted back to English, hoping she did, in fact, speak his language.

Or, at least, she thought it to be his hope, for Clint knew almost everything there was to know about her.

“Your accent, the way you pronounce your Rs…” She shrugged, accent thick, taking a sip of champagne and never breaking eye contact. “And you look… foreign, like you’re not from around here.”

“Oh, is that so?” He cocked an eyebrow, head tilting slightly to the side as he stared at her and matched her smile with one of his.

Lara nodded, circling the rim of her glass with her forefinger, red nail polish glimmering in the lights of the party. She didn’t often wear red, it screamed like a stain of blood on an otherwise immaculate white shirt, but he loved red, Todorovsky. And if she wanted to get her revenge and make him pay, she had to make sure to play all of her cards and she had to play them right. But Todorovsky had yet to show up–if he ever would, tonight–and so she had time for a little distraction and fun.

And as she hooked her arm around his extended one, silently accepting his invitation to dance, she had no idea how huge of a distraction that was going to be.

“So, how’s Fury been treating you?”

Natasha was stunning in her sleek black dress. It put just the right amount of cleavage on display and left almost nothing of her legs to the imagination as it ended a few inches above her knees. She felt daring tonight and Lara knew it. It had been like that between the two of them, they had helped each other perfecting the art of male seduction ever since they had been given a chance.

“Sometimes I think he believes me to be a kid,” she snorted, leaning against the back of a leather couch to stand beside her friend. “Which is… utter bullshit, if you really want my opinion. But it’s also honestly better than I would have imagined when I let you handcuff me in Hungary, so it’s more than I could ask for.”

They both chuckled and they both kept silent as they emptied their flutes.

“Do you ever think of…” Nasha trailed off, gaze lost in the distance as she stared out of the huge window wall that gave on Manhattan Bridge.

“Of when you used to give me head? Oh yeah, all the time,” Lara laughed. She knew where her friend was trying to go, but she wasn’t ready to go back there yet, so she resolved on blabbering out the first thing that came to her mind.

Much to her relief, her red-haired friend laughed, throwing her head back and showcasing the sparkling necklace that hugged her neck like a choker. “Still the best head of your life, I hope.”

She playfully smacked the other on the arm as she noticed Clint staring at them from the corner of her eye. “Now, now, Romanoff, don’t flatter yourself too much. It was an eight on a scale from one to ten.”

“You can hide the truth from me all you want, but I know what the truth is…”

Lara shook her head in amusement and her gaze slid down her body and to the slit of her dress. She smirked, then, a sudden and childish idea popping up in her mind, and she moved her left leg so that it was more on display. In the distance, still staring at him from the corner of her left eye, she thought she saw Clint swallow as with a hand he adjusted the tightness of his tie.

It took her a moment to notice Natasha had picked up on something and when she looked up at her friend, she found her staring past her with a smirk on her face. It was a smirk she knew all too well: it was the first thing that had welcomed her back in her dorm when she came back from a successful training session when they were kids and it was also Nat’s natural response to her having nasty details to share.

“I’m glad you chose this dress,” she commented eventually, meeting her gaze once again. Nasha was like that: she always had plans forming in her mind, for she always knew what to look for in any situation, her expert and attentive gaze always centering the target. “I’ve seen many a man ogling you.” Her smirk got bigger then and she shrugged a shoulder. “A couple women, too.”

“Might be because I tried to kill one or two of the people present here in the past, might be the hitman charm.” A wide grin on her face, she innocently played with her hair for a few seconds before both women burst out laughing. “I’ve seen people stare at you, too. Hopefully, you haven’t found yourself in compromising situations with anyone here.”

Nasha simply smiled. She moved away from the couch to replace their empty flutes with full ones from a passing waiter before she glanced at her sideways, grinning a knowing grin. “Oh, I’m not the one who’s found herself with a SHIELD agent’s fingers up her pussy. And if it can help you, Barton is single and very much on the market.”

Lara only managed to gasp in half-mock shock as her friend walked away.

The stranger had managed to push her deeper into the mansion, past doors that should have been kept locked until he found a secluded-enough corner he could trap her into. And now, his lips and tongue on her neck felt like a cool bliss in the stuffy summer air.

Her hands were in his hair before she had the time to realize so, her head leaning back against the wall she was being pressed against. It was a nice change of scenery, seen as she was usually the one to kiss and lick and touch men to lure them into her trap.

The real deal was that the men she hunted were… She didn’t know. They wanted it fast and they wanted it now and as long as she got what she wanted out of it, she was alright with skipping the build-up. They did her as they pleased and in the process, she tore the intel she needed from them–in the recurring case where she needed a contact with them to grab what she wanted and her mission wasn’t just a clean killing.

But this…

Fuck.

This man’s mouth on her felt like heaven. It made her dizzy, her mind foggy, her legs boneless as he suckled marks in the crook of her neck, her chest rising and falling at an almost bruising pace following her ragged breathing.

Yeah, she could kill Todorovsky another time, she decided. There was time for that, while this… this could disappear into thin air if only she said no.

She tugged on his short, brown hair, pulled his head back until she could stare into his eyes and before she could think that this was the wrong decision, that she was stupidly falling into a trap, she kissed him.

Lara had never been kissed.

It wasn’t exactly true, for she had been kissed. It had never been like this, though. She had never kissed someone she didn’t plan nor want to kill, so this was as unexpected as Todorovsky’s absence at the party. It was slow and hungry and she could feel him pressing himself against her, settled between her legs, the gown of her dress bunched up into his fists as he slowly lulled his hips against hers.

She imagined that this was how his victims felt when she played with them like a cat with a mouse. And for once, her mind was devoid of any thought. There was just this American-sounding man, with his piercing blue eyes and his needy hands and his burning mouth.

And she loved every second of it. So much so that when he gently sucked on her tongue, she moaned long and low from the back of her throat, her skin suddenly on fire, her dress unexpectedly constricting as she fought to breathe.

Before she could fathom it, he had slipped a hand between their bodies and had caressed her core from above her panties. Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes shot open and when he found her staring, he shot her a smirk.

His face inched closer with every swipe of his fingers along her labia, caressing her through the dampening lace of her panties. And the closer he got, the clearer his breath on her skin felt, until he was lapping again at her collarbone. It was then that he slipped his hand below the hem of her lingerie and she gasped again when the fingertip of his middle finger pressed against her clit and he stopped his hand’s descent to massage her gently.

His touch sent her mind onto another astral plane, or at least this was how she felt at the moment. The last time someone had touched her like this had been at the Red Room Academy when Natalya had tried to teach her a trick or two. To have a man touch her like this, though… It was something else entirely, and even more so when said man sucked the skin below her ear with hungry lips and rocked himself against her thigh.

He was inside her before she could ask him to. First one finger, then two, and they stretched her muscles in the most mind-blowing way as he moved to stare down at her gaping mouth. She was too breathless to even whimper, let alone moan, and the glint in the man’s eyes at the realization was mischievous.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her lips, gently nibbling them.

She felt like she was going to faint, to pass out because the temperature of the room–or of her body–had spiked up too high for her to endure it. “Please, no,” she gasped. And it didn’t matter that she could come off as needy and whiny because as long as she was going to get it, then it would be worth it.

It wasn’t clear how they ended up there, then, but the man suddenly had two fingers in her mouth and she was sucking on them. It all helped in building her up and Lara could feel herself being shot up to the fucking Moon when his fingers curled a little more, pressing against that sweet spot that made her go crazy.

Before the man had any chance to actually comprehend how close she was to coming, she tumbled over the edge, her eyes closing as her head fell forward, his fingers ending up deeper in her throat for a second before he had the chance to remove them.

Then, just as she wondered how the fuck no man had ever done that to her, she realized she shouldn’t be doing this, not with this stranger that had crept up on her like he had, not when she should be killing someone else.

She hit him in the head before he had the time to slip his fingers out of her throbbing core and gasped when he fell to her feet.

“Lara, Steve. Steve, Lara.” Nasha’s voice brought her back to reality and all she could do was nod and show off a shy smile as all blood rushed to her cheeks: Clint was there.

The man she knew as Captain America stretched his hand out and it took her a second to realize it and to shake it.

“And I’m Sam!”

“Yeah, ignore him, he can be a pain in the ass.”

Lara chuckled at her friend’s words. In her defense, it should be said that she did her best not to, but it was impossible seeing the funny expression on the man’s face.

“I’m pretty sure you already know Clint.” Natasha’s smirk could have given her away, but no one seemed fazed by it as the assassin playfully squeezed Clint’s forearm.

She nodded. “Agent Barton.”

“Larisa.”

They shook hands and it took them longer than it should have to realize she was holding the hand he had used to finger her so many years ago. She averted her gaze and her eyes landed on none other than Tony Stark.

Fury had told him anything there was to know about her and she knew it. She still didn’t know why, exactly, he had felt like spilling all that information to the least trustworthy man in the whole Avengers squad, but she guessed it didn’t matter. What mattered, though, was that Tony Stark hadn’t personally invited her and had found her on his guest list only because Natasha had done anything in her power to put her on it.

“Miss Goncharova! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She was forced to shake hands once again and it was something she hadn’t exactly been used to before stepping through enemy ranks.

“I could say the same about you, Mr. Stark.” The tone of her voice was unsure and she nervously glanced at Nasha in search of some source of safety. “Enchanting party.”

“Nothing like what you must have been used to, though, I fear.”

Lara studied his face, focused on his half-smirk, on his perfect hair, and she did her best to avoid the glowing thing he had in his chest. “Different,” she admitted then, thinking back at Chișinău, “but not bad. Your guests are… charming.”

Her gaze landed on Clint again as she spoke the last word–not because she had intended to, but simply because the man was digging holes in the side of her face. And truth be told, she wanted to make sure he was staring because, sure as hell, she couldn’t take him out of her mind, not after having fleetingly seen in a month ago. He had been helping Nasha train some new SHIELD recruits and she had just so happened to pass by the gym facility. A look at him in his stealth suit and her breath had caught in her throat, much to her assassin impassibility.

“That’s one way to put it,” the man who had introduced himself as Sam chuckled.

She smiled at him, falling back into her usual silence.

It was weird to think of them as people, even after almost a decade spent working for them behind the scenes. She knew them as Iron Man, as Falcon, as Hawkeye. It wasn’t like with Natasha: they had grown up together, lived through the same experiences, earned nicknames and abilities side by side. She had always been Natalya before being Black Widow and she had always been Larisa before becoming Mantis. Even in the fucked-up system of the Red Room first and that of the KGB later, it had always been easier.

“Join us for a drink?” Falcon continued.

“Don’t let him sneak into your panties,” Nasha snickered in Russian and Lara saw Clint hold in a chuckle of his own.

“Who said I won’t be slipping into his?” she smirked, eyes fixed on Agent Barton as she followed Sam to the bar.

He had insisted on going to that stupid party on his own as Nat studied the tracks to find a way to get to the Mantis before it was too late and without her suspecting anything, but now, as he made his way out of the villa with a throbbing bump on the back of his head, he couldn’t but groan and curse under his breath.

It had been a childish mistake–going solo, that is. He had insisted: he could do this on his own, find out information without Natasha’s presence, which could endanger the whole mission if Goncharova sniffed even the faintest trace of who, exactly, was following her. It was too an important a mission: Fury had delayed it far too long and had sent the wrong agents on the field before agreeing on sending agents Barton and Romanoff. Natasha’s knowledge of the target could have come in handy, SHIELD’s director had reasoned, and it could have all come in handy, for she could lure the Mantis into a trap of her own.

But then Clint had seen Larisa’s picture, staring at him from the file of the mission, and he had thought–why not? Why not push his luck and see if he could get the upper hand using her same tricks?

He hadn’t expected her to fall apart before him like that, though, his hand inside her panties, her mouth wrapped around his fingers. He had stared into those ruthless eyes and had watched their stony façade melt away. A shiver had run down his spine and he had felt himself twitch in his briefs.

He had blacked out for a couple of minutes at most, probably, because when he had woken up on the floor of the room he had pushed the girl into, he had found himself to be its only occupant. There had been no tangible trace of his target’s presence–and no hope he could finish his business–, just a piece of toilet paper with a “I’m sorry” scribbled on it in a hurried handwriting.

“You look like a ghost,” Nat chuckled when he joined her in their motel room again.

Clint groaned, swiftly discarding his clothes as he walked in the direction of the bathroom. He was in no mood to talk, not with the feel of Goncharova’s tongue on and around his fingers. His lips were still tingling from when he had kissed her–her lips, her skin, her neck.

“I guess this means that she played you just right?”

He turned to stare at his partner as he stepped into the shower, his face set in a frown, too pissed and shocked to even acknowledge the woman’s grin. He grunted, drawing the curtain of the shower closed with a jerk of his arm before he let out an irritated ‘fuck, yes.’

There was an unspoken ‘I told you so’ in Nat’s expression, in her posture as she leaned against the frame of the door. She didn’t utter it, and he didn’t press for her to say it, but truth was, even if unspoken, it was there and it was true. Much to his pride.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he heard her say. “She tricked me, too, once.”

Clint didn’t exactly know why, but the thought of Larisa doing with Nat the nasty things he wanted to do to her had him hard in a matter of minutes when his memories when back to Chișinău.

The former KGB assassin, now SHIELD agent was standing next to Sam, far closer than he had deemed appropriate in an elegant situation like tonight’s, and he couldn’t help but stare. He stared at her hand, resting against his friend’s bicep, at her flirty smile, at her left leg, that she had moved between Sam’s in a seemingly innocent fashion. It was her bare leg, the one that was put on display by the slit in her dress, and he found himself following her flesh from hip to ankle with hungry eyes.

He didn’t know why he felt so drawn to her, why his mind kept going back to Moldova and to the things he had been doing to her before she hit him in the back of the head. He had so successfully managed to push her out of his thoughts, to ignore Nat’s lingering jokes on the matter, and now he truly didn’t know why it was all crumbling down to his feet.

Hers wasn’t the first naked leg he saw, her bare back wasn’t the first his eyes had fallen upon at one of Stark’s parties–heck, he had seen Nat naked plenty a time and it had never had that effect on him. For fuck’s sake, he had seen naked women all his life, but it was her hardened nipples he could see through the silk of her dress and it was those same nipples he was staring at with clenched teeth.

“You remember when I told you how I used to call Lara ‘Номер Один’?” Natasha whispered in his ear, her lips ghosting against his skin as she moved to stand by his side. “She was the number one in many things and fields,” she went on without waiting for an answer on his part and Clint slightly tilted his head to the side to look at her from the corner of his eye. “She started ballet at the age of three.”

Clint raised a brow. “Yeah?”

Nat nodded. “Her mother had been prima ballerina at the Bolshoi before she was involved in a car crash. Her dream died, but then she realized she had a daughter and that she could carry it to completion–become Russia’s greatest ballerina.”

“And you’re telling me this because…”

“Because I know what she’s doing,” the woman grinned. She pointed at Larisa with a jerk of her chin and she sipped from her new whiskey on the rocks. “She’s always been our Номер Один when it came to body language and how to use it–how to exploit it. Why do you think she became who she is?”

He turned his head to fully stare at his friend and when he didn’t answer, she let out a ringing laughter.

“Look at her and tell me what you see. Don’t be frugal on the details.”

Natasha knew what had happened at that party in Moldova, he hadn’t hidden the truth from her. He had told her every detail–or almost every detail, for some things are better kept private–and this was how she knew of the boner he got when his mind when back there.

“I see a wolf in sheep’s skin,” he muttered. He wanted to refill his drink, leave his spot by the window wall to avert his gaze from the woman of his nightmares and from his friend hitting on her, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Nat hit his shoulder. “Jesus, Clint! This is exactly how she tricked you in Chișinău! She studies her targets in ways that go beyond what a mission file says. She grows under their skin and when they least expect it, she strikes. KGB agents aren’t stupid; they didn’t die because they were too stupid to see what was coming. They knew what was coming because every single one of them knows why she’s called The Mantis.” She turned to glance at her friend, who was now laughing at something Sam said and she smirked. “Take that laughter, for example.”

Clint followed her gaze and focused on Larisa once again.

“What do you think it means?”

“That she’s having fun? That Sam cracked one of his stupid jokes?”

Natasha shook her head with a chuckle. “It’s all a play. She’s on stage and she’s delivering just what the audience wants to see.” She handed Clint her drink and let him have a sip. “It’s not Sam’s attention she’s trying to catch and from what I’m seeing,” she continued, turning to look him up and down, “she’s not failing.”

Clint’s brows furrowed slightly and it took him a moment to meet Natasha’s gaze.

“She’s just as wet for you as you’re hard for her,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders and he almost choked on her whiskey.

“What?” he coughed. “I’m not-”

“Black pants are great at hiding bulges, but they don’t hide them completely.”

He had to do his best not to look down and not to cover himself with a hand. Instead, he shot Natasha a burning glare as she kept on chuckling.

“She’s playing you and you haven’t even noticed.” There was a moment of silence between the two of them as their attention slowly but surely drifted back to the woman in question. “I’ll show you,” Nat went on, moving to lean against the cool window behind them. He followed suit and only then did she speak again. “She’s flirty, you see? Her stance, the way she tilts her head, how her lips linger on the rim of her glass. Her hand has slid down Sam’s arm a little, have you noticed?”

He hadn’t. He hadn’t noticed. He had been occupied by far more nagging thoughts to notice her hand wasn’t where she first put it.

“I’m sure Sam thinks this show is all for him. After all, her leg is pressing a little too boldly between his and the straps of her dress have slid along her shoulders a little more to reveal more cleavage. Her hand is slowly but surely following a precise path and before long, it’s going to be resting on his side.”

“You see all this in her stance?” Clint questioned, bringing the glass to his lips once again.

“I’ve seen her play this game plenty of times.” She shrugged. “Tonight’s different, though.”

“Why so?”

“She’s playing a double game,” she grinned. When she looked at her friend and saw his attention was still fully on the woman on the other side of the room, she chuckled. “She might be leaning closer to Sam than you would deem appropriate, but if you look closely, her body’s slightly turned our way. Now study her and tell me what she’s showing us.”

Clint sighed. This was a game he wasn’t in the mood to play. And to be fair, he hadn’t been in the mood for games for a while now. Larisa’s presence at SHIELD wasn’t exactly a secret: he had been the one who had brought her to Fury and he and Natasha had been the people who granted her a stay in the organization. Enemy spy or not, it was clear that she had skills, skills they might need and that would sure be useful in any mission they would put her on.

At the same time, it wasn’t a secret that Natasha had started to secretly spend time with her old friend, despite the prohibitions that had been put into place six years ago, when Fury finally released Larisa Goncharova from her cell. She never brought him along, despite knowing what she knew, and he had never asked. He had felt like he needed to get Larisa out of his system, and even more so when she had played him not once, but twice, but now that he had finally met her again…

Nat nudged him in the ribs and he was back to the present moment. “So?”

He swallowed.

“Tell me what she’s showing you.”

He would have blushed had his friendship with Natasha not been this close. “Her leg,” he said.

“What about her leg?”

“This is a stupid game.”

“It won’t sound this stupid when you’ll see her play it to trick someone else.”

“Fine,” he grunted. “Bare leg; she’s probably flexing her quad a little to show a more defined line. I think I can see the nude color of her panties.”

“It’s a thong,” Nat whispered in his ear and he shivered.

He moved his weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the stubborn constriction of his pants in his crotch area, and took another sip from her drink to choke the enthusiasm that was slowly making his body temperature rise. “She’s showing off her ankle and her foot, exploiting the line created by the high heel.”

“That’s right, Sherlock.” Nat nodded, but he didn’t notice such a movement. “Her legs have always been one of her best cards. After years of ballet, I guess she still knows how to use them to her advantage…” She grabbed her glass from Clint’s rigid fingers and took a sip. “Now let your gaze ride up.”

She had a thin, golden arm ring hugging the middle of her left bicep and for some reason, it was a jewel he had been trying his damn hardest to avoid all night. “The arm ring shows off her muscles.”

“But it still accentuates her delicacy and elegance,” Nat nodded in agreement. “What about her hands?”

“She’s not holding the flute by its stem.”

“What’s your reaction to it?”

He turned his head toward her. “I’m pretty sure you already know since you saw what’s going on between my legs, Nat.”

“You think I’m not dripping in my panties?” She snorted, amusement glinting in her sly eyes. “Which, by the way, I’m glad I wore. But now think of her as a posing mannequin and continue. How’s she holding that flute?”

Clint suppressed a sigh and turned the focus of his attention back on the former assassin in front of him. “She’s playing with it,” he guessed after a while. “She’s holding it close to the rim with just her fingertips so that she can move it around more freely. She’s… distracting Sam with its movement?” He saw Natasha nod from the corner of his eye and he went back at scrutinizing the Mantis. “The other hand looks light on his side, it…” He groaned. “This is so stupid,” he said and huffed, massaging his forehead with stiff fingers. “That’s the only physical contact on her part, so I guess it is to keep him grounded.”

“It’s making him believe she’s interested in his lame jokes,” Nat laughed, muttering a ‘poor Sam’ right after. “When you receive the training we received, you learn how to focus on more than one thing at a time. She’s aware of everything or close to everything in this room right now. She knows we’re staring and as a matter of fact, she’s opened her legs a little wider, pushing back on her right leg so that her left is more on display. Obviously, she’s aware of Sam talking to her, otherwise, she wouldn’t be answering back. She’s sensible to social norms and all that jazz, so she’s lulling both herself and Sam with the flute she’s lazily sipping from. She likes the background music, and if you notice…”

She gave him the time to give Lara a closer look before allowing him to finish her sentence. “Her head is tilted to the right and upward.”

“Yep,” she grinned. “She’s allowing the music to be the background of Sam’s words as she half-looks at him. She’s showcasing her neck this way and Sam is perfectly aware of it. And you are, too, even if maybe unconsciously. She has you both wrapped around her pinky.”

Clint stared at her long and hard, and the more his eyes roamed agent Goncharova’s body, the deeper he fell under her spell. His gaze followed the line of her throat, and his attention got caught by the lights reflecting on the line of diamonds hanging from her earlobe. It slid lower, then, down the column of her neck, the same neck he had taken his sweet time marking back in that Moldovan mansion.

“No necklace,” Natasha pointed out, snapping him out of his reverie once again. “This way, neck and cleavage are the focal point of any gaze that falls onto her. This is why she chose the low neckline of that dress. I’m pretty sure Sam is thinking about letting his mouth kiss and lick all that exposed skin. I mean, I would!” Her chuckle mirrored Clint’s before both fell into a comfortable silence that lasted a couple of minutes. “Now tell me about her tits.”

He gasped, turning to look at the woman by his side for a moment before turning his attention back to the scene they were analyzing.

“Don’t be shy, Barton. I know you’ve been staring at them the whole night.”

“No bra,” and he gulped.

“Why do you think so?”

“I can…” He closed his eyes shut for a moment, breathed hard, and then opened them again. “I can see her nipples.”

“They’re hard,” Nat pointed out, voice deep and smooth.

He fixed his tie, a thing he had been doing all night ever since he had spotted her. “Yeah. Might be cold.”

“Or turned on,” Natasha pressed. “But I’m ready to bet it’s because she’s both horny and chilly because of the air conditioner. And if you can see them from here, try and imagine what clever Sam is staring at.”

He followed Sam’s gaze and sure enough, when he wasn’t looking at her in the eye, his eyes couldn’t but fall back down on her chest. Even from this distance, Clint could see the outline and shape of her breasts, the way they swelled under that champagne-colored silk, the way the base of her flute seemed to dance across her silk-covered breast.

“This is like Chișinău all over again, but worse,” Nat murmured in his ear. “At least you had the chance to finger her back there…”

His head snapped to the side and he glared at her. “C’mon, don’t be a bitch, Nat…”

She laughed, amusement radiating off her whole body. “There’s one more detail you haven’t told me about, yet,” she continued when she finally calmed down. She pointed at her friend with the forefinger of the hand that was holding her glass and waited for him to answer.

With a sigh, Clint went back to the task at hand, stealing Nat’s drink for a last sip, the ice cubes clinking against his teeth. But the longer he stared at Larisa, the more lost he got. He made a mental list of what they had already gone through–bare leg, flexed quad, perked nipples, showcased shoulders, displayed cleavage… And even though he was focusing his hardest–not an easy task since all he wanted to do was walk up to her and slap her ass, whose curve was perfectly outlined by the dress she was wearing–, he couldn’t find anything.

“She’s staring at us,” Nat eventually confessed. “Well, she’s staring at you, Casanova. From the corner of her eye, look closely. All night, she hasn’t lost sight of you not even once.”

Clint swallowed hard–and slow, his eyes trailing up Larisa’s body and focusing on the side of her face. Her smirk grew wider and a heartbeat later, she had turned her head in his direction a little more, eyes twinkling in amusement and something more.

He stared as her hand, the one she had used to touch Sam, moved to her hair in the mock attempt to fix some loose strands behind her ear, head tilting downward when her clear objective was another one. Fingers dancing across her skin, she trailed a line down the side of her neck, the side of her chest, following the swell of her breast before hesitating on her hip, where the slit of her dress revealed the nude color of the strip of her thong.

“Now, now, Hawkeye.” Natasha’s voice tickled his ear when she murmured against his skin, awaking goosebumps on the side of his neck. “Wouldn’t want to come in your pants, now, would you?”

He was snapped back to reality, then, and swiftly took a step back from her as she let out an amused laughter, mischief glinting in her eyes like the light on Larisa’s earring. “Christ, Romanoff!”

“Look, I’m just trying to help two friends out, here,” she giggled, raising her hands, one still holding her glass, in mock surrender. “I know things you don’t,” she went on and the tone of her voice took on an aura of mystery and mischief.

“Oh, yeah? You sure I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He wanted to play her game, and desperately so, but it was clear to both of them that he didn’t have the slightest idea of what she was talking about.

Natasha nodded, moving a foot in front of the other and pushing her back off the window wall, her butt still pressed against the cool glass. Her gaze fell to the ground for a second before it met his again with renewed naughtiness and she took a step forward. “Let’s play a game.”

“You gonna saw my arm or leg?” Clint snorted. Part of him wanted to walk away, but another part of him, the same part of him that had allowed Larisa to win their match in Chișinău, wanted to stay. He wanted to see for himself what his friend was talking about, wanted to know the secrets she had apparently been holding behind his back.

It somehow stung to know that she kept some–little–things from him, but even then, it was more than normal. He would have probably been more surprised by the contrary. Friendship or not, he still had some things he didn’t feel like spilling to her, too.

He let Natasha move him around until he was facing Larisa.

“I want you to stare at her,” Nat said, standing behind him and slightly to his right. “Don’t move, just listen to me going, okay?”

He shrugged and didn’t answer. It felt like an innocent enough game, so he complied.

“She’s inside your mind,” Natasha spoke again after a while, hands gripping his shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. “I know it. I’m sure Moldova was your favorite mission.”

Clint snorted and shook his head, amused.

“I know the things you’ve done with her name on your lips.”

He unconsciously tensed then, his mind going back to the many nights, most of all at the beginning, after the fiasco in Chișinău and the success in Hungary, he had spent with his dick in his hand. It had been the first time a woman had slipped underneath his skin like that, the first time a woman had left him craving for more even though she had been a target to take down.

And so, he had come with her name on his lips many a time. It had wound down with time, sure, but good Lord…

He had had his suspects about Natasha knowing: there had been times where she simply threw him knowing glances, but she had never said a word, not before tonight. In the safety of his own hand, he had spent years thinking that to be his best-kept secret, and to now find out it wasn’t, was almost unsettling.

But the thing was, he had also walked in on Nat masturbating, too, so it wasn’t a taboo, not to them, not after the missions they had been sent on together.

“What you don’t know, though,” and he felt her move from his right to his left, her lips always millimeters from his ear, “is that she’s done the same.”

Christ.

Had someone asked him, Clint wouldn’t have been able to say why he kept that game going. He probably wanted to see how it went, how it ended, even though the pulsing in his crotch tried its best to pry him away from that room and into the privacy of a bathroom.

“She has touched herself plenty of times,” Natasha resumed, her hands sliding down his back and making him shiver. “I know because she and I don’t keep these things a secret between us, never have and never will.” A chuckle and then one of her hand squeezed his left buttcheek harshly, startling him. “She’s been replaying the things that happened at that party over and over and over again.”

Just then, Larisa glanced at him again and Clint found himself swallowing a gasp as Natasha’s fingers trailed along the underside of his buttcheek. Larisa smirked, almost knowingly, and Sam had to call her name a couple of times to gain her attention back. She never fully returned it, though, and Clint knew because he saw her keep her gaze on him from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sure her fingers never feel like yours,” Nat continued, lips ghosting behind the shell of his ear. “Yours are calloused from archery and training, while she keeps her skin soft like that of a baby. She’s always liked it a little rough, though, and oh boy, the way you fucked her up that night…” She sighed against his neck. “She usually doesn’t remember the men she lures or kills, they’re just faded faces in the back of her mind, but you… Jesus Christ, Barton, she’s never forgotten your ugly mug.”

“Fuck you, Romanoff.”

“I’m sure Lara would like it better if you fucked her,” she chuckled, hand slipping between his legs and lightly teasing the underside of his crotch. “Haven’t you been dreaming about this for ten years, now? Because fuck, she has.”

She moved away from him then. One second she was pressing herself up behind him, the next she was standing by his side, a devious smirk stretching her red-tinted lips.

He glared at her.

“What?” She shrugged, finally finishing the last sip of whiskey and bending to leave her glass on the floor. “I thought you could use a hand,” she grinned. “Obviously not yours, since you seem to only be able to use it to jerk off at the thought of her.”

“You are the worst friend ever,” he groaned, turning around to fix the crotch of his pants. He felt himself straining against them and he wasn’t proud to say that if only Natasha had kept up on her stupid, silly game, he would have come right then and there as it had almost happened in Moldova with Larisa.

She laughed and he scoffed at the sound. “You’re not gonna say that again in a second,” she whispered in his ear before Sam’s voice started to ring closer and closer.

When Clint turned around, his inhalation hissed in the lively air of the party: Larisa and Sam were standing in front of him. It was the closest he had been to her tonight and he could smell the flowery notes of her perfume when Nat pulled her even closer for a hug.

Lara never broke the eye contact she had with him and he felt his mouth go dry.

“Fuck, Sam!” Natasha squealed just then, moving past both her friends to join the newly-come man. “I need your help.” She didn’t give him the time to answer, question or react: she grabbed him by his arm and tugged him away from both Hawkeye and the Mantis.

Larisa and Clint stood a step from each other and they both stared as their mutual friend dragged the poor guy that had tried to hit on the new girl for the whole night away. It was only because they never lost sight of Natasha that they saw her turn around from the safety of the other end of the room and wink.

Clint lost all his chill, then, and simply stood there in silence, not knowing what to say or what to do. Lara was staring at him, studying the features of his face, the scratch that was still healing on the side of his neck, and then her gaze slid lower, down the tightness of his shirt and suit jacket before it landed between his legs.

He didn’t miss her smirk, nor the hissing sound she made from her nose when she held her breath.

“Lovely party,” she hummed after a while and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Those were the same words he had spoken to her that night. “Isn’t it?”

“Delightful.”

She smiled at that, a sweet smile that went beyond the ruthless killer he knew she was. She almost felt more… normal with her lips stretched like that. She looked like a woman he could find anywhere–on the bus, around the compound, at the movies, in his bed. That was the reason why he found himself smiling back, eyes trailing down her face and to her chest. Her nipples were still peaked, he noticed, and he subconsciously stretched his neck to the side as he tried to convince himself to pry his eyes away from that sight.

She cleared her voice then and she smirked when a light blush spread on his cheeks. He looked away.

“No need to be shy, Clint,” she moaned, taking a step closer and stopping right before him, their chests a breath away from touching. “It’s not like you haven’t already done far dirtier things to me than staring at my tits.”

Clint looked down at her and from such a close proximity, he could stare right through her dress and down the valley between her breasts.

“I’m sorry I had to hit you,” she went on, her breath tickling the skin of his throat, reminiscing that summer night of a decade ago.

He was suddenly suffocating in his suit and he had to do his damndest not to loosen the knot of his tie. “Yeah, it hurt like a bitch.”

She shot him a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I had someone to kill and you had decided to sneak up on me to pry me away…”

“You told me not to stop,” he bit back. His right hand had a mind of its own when it moved to the slit of her dress. He caressed her bare thigh, unconcerned by the people that could see him before he trailed his fingers higher up and hooked them underneath the band of her thong. He gave it a pull

She leaned closer and his hand slipped underneath the front of her lingerie, fingertips swiping over smooth skin–just like Natasha had said. “Who said I regret it?” she whispered in the crook of his neck, lips grazing his skin.

He gasped then, both at the heat radiating from her mouth and from his own hand slipping lower inside her panties and between her folds.

She was fucking dripping.

***

Oh wow, go me I guess HAHA *wipes sweat from forehead* This is THE longest one-shot I have ever written (and the most I’ve ever written in two days straight). There is most definitely going to be a Part 2 with smut and all, though, so keep around if this long-ass thing didn’t kill you and if you still want to know more.

This aside, please feel free to let me know what you think of this! As I said at the beginning, this is my first time writing for Clint (and Nat) and I could really use some suggestions or at least know if I’m painting them right :)

If you want to be tagged in Part 2, let me know.

Send Jesus

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask. Same goes for ‘Bratva’)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @mblaqgi

Bratva (people not on the lists but that might still be interested): @sweetvengeancee @kind-wolf + a couple of lovely people that showed interest when I asked: @flowers-in-your-hayr @pagan-geek-girl-4-life

#clint barton smut #clint barton imagine #hawkeye imagine #hawkeye smut #hawkeye x oc #clint barton x oc #clint barton #clint barton marvel #hawkeye marvel #angelaiswriting

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tatticstudio55 · 5 years

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Daenerys as an anti-Cinderella?

Another asoiaf/fairy tales meta

It’s always fun to wonder which fairy tales goes best with which asoiaf characters (especially the girls, for some reason). For Sansa and Arya, the references are overflowing. With Dany it’s… trickier. Only two – or maybe three – classic tales really fit. Two of those I’ve already talked about in previous posts (Thumbelina and The Fire Bird). There are some general “clues” pointing to Cinderella…

-Viserys, the Anastasia & Drizella duo to Daenerys’s Cinderella

-In ADWD, Cleon the “butcher king” of Astapor make a marriage offer to Daenerys and gift her with a pair of slippers, but

Irri slid the slippers onto Dany’s feet. They were gilded leather, decorated with green freshwater pearls. Does the butcher king believe a pair of pretty slippers will win my hand? “King Cleon is most generous. You may thank him for his lovely gift.” Lovely, but made for a child. Dany had small feet, yet the pointed slippers mashed her toes together.

-Cinderella is named as such for her habit of retreating close to the ashes-filled hearth once her work is done (from “cendres”, the French word for “ashes”). Bettelheim view Cinderella’s behavior as a product of sorrow and grief for her dead mother. For Dany, ash is also linked with sorrow and, first inverted trope, with the mother mourning her dead child:

She could feel the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her womb. Her son was tall and proud, with Drogo’s copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eyes shaped like almonds. And he smiled for her and began to lift his hand toward hers, but when he opened his mouth the fire poured out. She saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an instant he was gone, consumed like a moth by a candle, turned to ash. She wept for her child, the promise of a sweet mouth on her breast, but her tears turned to steam as they touched her skin. – Daenerys, AGOT

There’s also the “Queen of ashes” nickname Dany is sometime dubbed with (more so in the show) and the fact that Cinderella herself is a “queen” of the ashes, somewhat (hence why she’s called “Cinderella”).

-Mirri Maz Duur is an inverted fairy godmother to Dany.

But these are details. Overall, Dany comes off as the anti-Cinderella of asoiaf. This becomes especially apparent in ADWD, where she’s, essentially, a glorified slave to her duties who dreams of escapes with her “prince charming”, i.e. Daario. This all reach a culmination point when she goes to the “ball”, i.e., the grand reopening of the Daznak’s pit. Unlike Cinderella, who’d give anything to attend the ball, Dany would give anything to skip it:

“Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?” asked Missandei as she was washing the queen’s hair.

[…]

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself. – Daenerys, ADWD

Whereas the ball meant dreams and freedom for Cinderella, for Dany, it’s the perpetuation of a nightmare. They both present themselves at the event under a veil: a literal one for Dany,

“And over it, the long red veils.” The veils would keep the wind from blowing sand into her mouth. And the red will hide any blood spatters. – Daenerys, ADWD

A metaphorical one for Cinderella, garbed so elegantly that her step mother and half sisters don’t recognize her. This idea of disguise is interesting. For a start, it contrasts with Dany’s refusal to put a veil between herself and Astapor in ASOS. To borrow Clapton’s words on Dany’s white garments in the show, the purpose of the veil is to “remove herself (Dany)” from the situation. Dany’s choice of clothes is a mean of non-attendance, while Cinderella’s costume allows her to go incognito and enjoy the moment. There is the contrasts of colors: Cinderella wears an immaculate, pure white dress (at least in the Disney version), whereas Dany wears yellow silk and a blood-colored veil. Finally, in some versions, the ball attended by Cinderella is a masked ball. This could be significant, since the reopening of the pits prove to be its own kind of masked “ball” (and even more so in the show, where the sons of the Harpy creep inside the pits wearing literal masks):

At the base of the Great Pyramid, Ser Barristan awaited them beside an ornate open palanquin, surrounded by Brazen Beasts. Ser Grandfather, Dany thought. Despite his age, he looked tall and handsome in the armor that she’d given him. “I would be happier if you had Unsullied guards about you today, Your Grace,” the old knight said, as Hizdahr went to greet his cousin. “Half of these Brazen Beasts are untried freedmen.” And the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty, he left unsaid. Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.

“And untried they shall remain unless we try them.”

“A mask can hide many things, Your Grace. Is the man behind the owl mask the same owl who guarded you yesterday and the day before?

How can we know?”

“How should Meereen ever come to trust the Brazen Beasts if I do not? There are good brave men beneath those masks. I put my life into their hands.” - Daenerys, ADWD

Behind the drum marched Brazen Beasts four abreast. Some carried cudgels, others staves; all wore pleated skirts, leathern sandals, and patchwork cloaks sewn from squares of many colors to echo the many-colored bricks of Meereen. Their masks gleamed in the sun: boars and bulls, hawks and herons, lions and tigers and bears, fork-tongued serpents and hideous basilisks. – Daenerys, ADWD

In fact, some descriptions of the event, when taken by themselves, almost make it sound like there’s an actual ball happening inside the pit:

Across the pit the Graces sat in flowing robes of many colors, clustered around the austere figure of Galazza Galare, who alone amongst them wore the green. – Daenerys, ADWD

We could even dig further: dancing, in asoiaf, is often used as a euphemism for dying, or is used in scenes going heavy on the death-related subtext. What do people do in a ball? They dance. What do people do in the pits? They die.

“Barsena is very quick,” Reznak said. “She will dance with the boar, Magnificence, and slice him when he passes near her. He will be awash in blood before he falls, you shall see.” – Daenerys, ADWD

Cinderella’s ball is a dream and Dany’s “ball” is a nightmare, but both are woken from it, for the twelfth stroke of midnight will lift the charm. Fun fact, if I’m not mistaken, there were twelve fights planned that day: Khrazz, the Spotted Cat, a “Lysene youth with long blond hair”, an elephant, a bull, a mock battle, a folly with dwarfs, Barsena, a folly with old women and “three more matches”, according to Hzdahr… yup, that makes twelve. Each fight is a “stroke of midnight” for Dany, pulling her from the nightmare, urging her to wake up. At Barsena, she snaps. The charm falls, her carriage turns into a pumpkin and her gown into rags:

She lifted her veil and let it flutter away. She took her tokar off as well. The pearls rattled softly against one another as she unwound the silk.

“Khaleesi? ” Irri asked. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my floppy ears.” – Daenerys, ADWD

In her haste to flee, she loses a shoe:

“Let me go!” Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet. When she landed in the pit she lost a sandal. Running, she could feel the sand between her toes, hot and rough. Ser Barristan was calling after her. – Daenerys, ADWD

The aftermath finds her alone in the grass sea, wearing literal rags (again, not unlike Cinderella), in a dream-like state and wondering what just happened. Unlike Cinderella, Dany has no desire to relive the ball and would much rather stay where she is, with her rags and her animal companion. Both girls experience an unpleasant return to reality. Cinderella must go back to being a slave to her step-mother and half-sister, while Dany knows she must go back to Meereen (which doesn’t quite work out, but).

Yet for everything nightmarish about it, the reopening of the fighting pits meant something Dany deeply dreamed for and desired: peace. No more bloodshed in the streets of Meereen. The safety of her people. She wanted it and she got it, until the whole farce blew up in her face and the pit of Daznak turned into a pumpkin. I think that’s when she realized it: that the peace was never real, that Hizdahr’s “peace” was an illusion (as many before me have pointed out), a veil that got lifted with the twelve death blows of the pit.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf and fairy tales #asoiaf meta #cinderella

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fanficparker · 5 years

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Ocean Eyes | Haz mini series | Part 3

Pairing: (Strangers to Friends to Lovers!) (Imaginary Love Triangle!) (Accidental Adultery!) Harrison Osterfield x Reader

A/n: It was my first ever fanfic, I earlier posted it on instagram and so thought of posting it here too. It’s trash. Check my masterlist for other fics, one-shots & more parts. IT’S A MINI SERIES, SO THERE ARE A LITTLE MORE THAN USUAL TIME SKIPS. I HOPE IT ISN’T THAT ANNOYING *prays*.

Word count: 3.7K

Warning: Angst, Painful Misconceptions, swearing

Description: Y/n Y/l/n, a doctor by profession, loner by destiny, having just a little celebrity crush on a British actor Tom Holland. Her whole life changes when she accidentally bumped into a blue-eyed man on a rainy dark night, who was supposed to be Tom’s best friend Harrison Osterfield. What will happen when Harrison starts to fall for her? This celebrity crush on Tom is intended to create some drama ;)

Part 3…

“Was Haz just about to kiss me? Or it was just my imagination?” you mumbled to yourself after Haz left with Tom. You don’t want to assume something that actually never happened. At least you had him by your side as a friend and a companion. Spending this long time with him had made you fall for him already. But you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with the blue-eyed boy, just because of these feelings. You washed your face, and applied your chapstick, to get a refreshing look after all that crying.

You walked out, spotting him waiting for you. You had some great cocktails, talked to some people at the party, they all were lovely to talk with, you wondered that, you registered that were panicking in vain… Soon music started playing and everyone started dancing. The atmosphere was so cheerful that you felt a little bit shy showing your dance skills. You shyly held Harrison’s hand which he offered for dance. He didn’t start dancing slow, rather he grabbed your waist and pulled you with him to a high note song. As the music proceeded, the beats started to amplify, he started spinning you rapidly, but ensured that you always landed in his arms. You almost were clinging to him, due to his swift dance moves. You both couldn’t help, but laugh and giggle at your ’fun’ dance. Soon, Zendaya announced that it was time for getting into the pool. You were a bit nervous. Haz asked you to go to the pool first, but as you were hilariously nervous, you denied his offer.

“Haz, hmm. I don’t think I’m going into the pool”

“Oh, so you think I will let you back off this easy?” he showed an amused grin. “Huh? What do you me(an)?…” Before you could say anything else, he just picked you up in his arms and jumped into the pool carrying you.

“Oh gosh Mr Harrison Osterfield, at least you should have warned me” you yelled tucking your now wet hairs behind your ears, that stuck on your face. “It won’t be fun, if I would have warned you Ms Y/n Y/l/n” he laughed like 10 years old. You, Haz, Tom and others played for really long in the pool. By playing, it meant stupidly splashing water on each other. But was no doubt, super fun. You had a lot of fun there. You all danced more, had more drinks, had food, talked more and more. In short, it was an amazing day. It was finally the time to go home, and you were already exhausted. Tom went to his house so did everyone else. Haz and you went to his house. You felt so tired that you slept in the car itself.

“Sleepyhead, we reached home, get up” Haz shook your shoulders. In an extreme dizzy voice, with closed eyes, you replied “I can’t walk, good night” you yawned as your head rested on the car’s headrest. Seeing your childish behaviour, he couldn’t stop giggling. After like ten seconds of you not getting up, he finally decided to get you in himself. Without even saying any other word, he picked you up in his arms.

“What the fuck Haz, get me down!” you said waking up, afraid that maybe you could fall off. “Nope” with the ‘ope’ sound he playfully giggled, as you gripped his shoulders.

“Aren’t you tired of the party? How are you even lifting my weight after that exhausting party?” you questioned surprisingly as he carried you inside the house, unlocking the door. “I can never be tired for you,” he said with a soft tone, making you smile and blush at the same time. He reaches your room softly resting you in the bed, putting covers on you.

“Good night, Y/n” he whispered kissing your forehead. He switched off the lamps. walking away, when you grabbed his arm.

“Thank you for today, and sorry for all the nonsense crying, sorry” you pleaded as he looked at you. “It’s alright, it happens sometimes” he replied pressing his lips.

“If you want you can sleep here. I don’t mean it that way, I mean just… ” he interrupted you. “I get that,” he said tittering. And he got into the covers with you. You got closer to his chest listening to his heart beats when he pulled you closer, cuddling with you. It was nothing sexual, just very friendly and soothing. The sound of his heartbeats made you feel relaxed from the exhausting day, getting you asleep really soon.

•••

Next morning, you got up unable to spot Haz beside you. He woke up and left before you. You brushed your teeth, wore your spectacles and started walking down. You had a gut feeling like something good was going to happen. You reached near the kitchen seeing Harrison standing with a girl. Oh. My. God, if after all this you get to know that he has a girlfriend, then you would really faint Something good? Seriously my gut! You started walking towards them and cleared your throat and yelling “Good morning,” making both of then turn towards you.

“Good morning y/n” Haz greeted you cheerfully. “Yeah good morning.” the girl too greeted you with a big smile. The girl looked familiar.

“By the way, I’m Charlotte, Harrison’s sweet little sister..” she introduced making all your fear vanish away. “Adding 'sweet’ wasn’t necessary,” Haz said in an amused voice. You instantly remembered, seeing some of her pictures hanging across the house, plus on Harrison’s Instagram.

“OMG nice to meet you Charlotte, you don’t know how glad I’m to meet you,” you said trying not to look over-excited.

“ And I’m….” she interrupted you completing the sentence. “Y/n..of course, I know you it’s been an hour since I am here, and the only person this div is talking about is you” she giggled as a tint of red covered your face. “Hey, Y/n eat your breakfast fast and get ready, we gotta go to the mall for shopping” Charlotte squealed, making you confused. “Shopping, all of a sudden? I still have enough clothes”

“So, Haz didn’t tell you yet? and by the way, a girl never has enough clothes!” You gave her a tight-lipped smile. “And what hasn’t told me?” you asked her, but instead of her, Harrison spoke up.

“Hmm. Y/n I just wanna ask you… if you could come with me to the red carpet of Tom’s new movie 'Chaos Walking’, I have a small part in it…” he asked rubbing the back of his head.

“Me? Red carpet? Movie red carpet? With so many celebs?” you blurted out. “Come on Y/n, Haz never asks anyone, you should go with him.” she insisted. You were hell nervous and excited at the same time but acted calmly. “Hmm, as you both are insisting, I will go, it will be a new experience for me” Your answer instantly plastered a wide smile on Harrison’s face, and you could feel yourself blushing.

“Great, we will leave in an hour, get ready..! ” Charlotte squealed. All three of you ate the cereals, and you rushed to the bathroom for a shower. As you got to attend such a grand function, you properly washed and dried your hairs. You wore a comfortable casual outfit so that it would be easy trying dresses in the dressing room. You put on your contact lenses, took your credit card and started walking down. 45 minutes have already passed, and Charlotte was eagerly waiting for you.

“You are ready before time, great let’s go, and by the way, I don’t drive yet, so can you drive us y/n?” she asked seeing you.

“Oh yeah of course.” She tossed you the keys and you both walked out, just about you were going to shut the main door, Harrison showed up.

“Hmm, Y/n it would be great if you pick up something that’s black, cause my suit is black too…”, he said nervously shaking his head.

“Oh yeah of course!” you smiled wide, instantly pecking his cheek, running out of the house as your face became red as a tomato, not knowing that his face was even redder…

•••

You and Charlotte reached the mall, hunting for a perfect black dress for you to wear on the red carpet. Charlotte literally was so amazing to hang out with, she was so funny, so friendly and so open to you. You both had a lot of fun during the dress hunt, like grabbing ice-creams, egg rolls etc. Finally, a dress caught Charlotte’s eyes.

“Look, Y/n, that dress looks perfect!” she yelled in excitement, pointing her finger to a dress. Your eyes widened seeing that dress. “That’s dress is hell elegant, extremely amazing, and-and it’s not meant for me, it’s for models!” you backed off, trying to get out of the store, but she again pulled you in.

“Come on! At least try it! Please” she pleaded in a childish gesture.

“Hhuuhh!” you groaned as she handed you the dress. You went into the dressing room, the dress was so heavy, no doubt it had lightly weighted lacework on the top and quarter sleeves, but the bottom was extremely heavy, layered by at least 5 layers of the thick can-can, making the dress look really puffy and graceful. You couldn’t dress in that heavy dress alone, so you took the help of an employee, who got you dressed properly. You came out, only to see Charlotte jumping on her toes squealing.

“We are buying it! It’s finalllllll!! It looks so good on you!” You simply nodded, as you too liked that dress. The dress was a solid black, flowy evening gown, highlighted with beautiful lace word around the neck and sleeves, also the dress was priced decent, so you had no problem in buying it. You both then purchased matching sandals and jewellery. You even gifted Charlotte a beautiful bracelet that caught her eye, even when she argued. You finally got into the car, it was already 4 pm and the red carpet starts at 7 pm.

•••

Charlotte took you to her family stylist. You had never got ready via, a professional stylist, so it was new for you, but you found it quite pleasant. How can you not? You just gotta sit there peacefully, while they do the job. After a whole 2 hours of dress-up and styling, you finally saw yourself in the mirror.

“Woah! Is that really me?!” that reflection looked so different, from your normal simpleton look. “Someone’s gonna faint today!” Charlotte squealed behind you. You just looked down in embarrassment, knowing whom she’s referring to. “I don’t think I can drive in this dress,” you stated, as it was obvious. “Don’t worry, Haz will pick you up. I had already called him” Charlotte informed, smirking.

“What.! You called Haz to pick me up, I’m not ready to face him with this look!!” Charlotte couldn’t even get the chance to reply, as you heard a car horn. Most probably it belonged to Harrison. “Haz is here!” Charlotte smirked, as she peeped through the blinds. “Why am I getting so nervous to face him?” you asked yourself, even though you already knew the answer. You can’t even figure out, how all this escalated! You had a celebrity crush on Tom! How did you fell for his best friend then?! How can’t you? He has everything you wished your dream partner had. He’s so kind, he’s so soft, cute and hot at the same time. Not forgetting to mention how much he cares for you.

“Go out Y/n, else you guys will get late.” Charlotte got you out of your thoughts. You were worried, that what if Haz doesn’t approve your look? All you wanted was to impress him. You tried gathering some confidence and moved out, only to see Harrison standing by the car. His eyes widened at your sight, making you look at your feet, as your face was on fire. You moved your feet, walking close to him. You raised your head to face his perfect look, in that classy black suit and tie.

“You look amazing. Like a princess… queen… angel” he blurted out, raising the temperature of your cheeks even higher. All you hoped was that the concealer and makeup could hide your hilarious blushing state.

“Can’t be 3 people at the same time,” you said, trying to calm down.

“You look amazing too,” you said, smiling, as he smiled back and made his way to the car, letting open the door for you. As you both seated, he ignited the engine and started driving. An uncomfortable silence filled the car. His eyes were concentrated on the road, you can tell, that he was a little bit nervous as the loud sound of his breath could be heard clearly. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t say. You tried to break the silence.

“Black colour highlights your ocean blue eyes.” you genuinely complimented, making him turn his head towards you.

“Ta-that-thanks” he replied, his lips were shaking along with his legs, as his gaze again shifted towards the road. Never in his life ever, he was so nervous around someone. He had been in relationships earlier, but he never felt anything. But with you, he felt different, even though you weren’t his girlfriend. All he wanted was to simply ask you if you wanted to be his girlfriend? But he couldn’t. He has proposed two other girls in his life earlier, it was so easy then, but this was different. For them, it was a mere attraction, but for you it was love. Having you by his side for almost a month, made him feel so special. No matter how much tired he was after a party, no matter how much sad he was after been rejected in an audition, every time he saw your face, he couldn’t help, but forget everything bad happening around him. For more than a week he is planning to tell you, for more than a week he’s failing for the same, making him more lovesick. He was afraid that you like his mate, Tom. The person who was a lot more successful than him, the man who has much more fans than him, the man getting signed for more than eight movies in a major role in 2019. And he was still a struggling actor, just getting part in short films or some minor roles in movies. And after what happened in the last game of the pool party at Zendaya’s house, things only got worse for him, no matter he never talked about it yet. He couldn’t develop guts to ask you, he was afraid that you’ll reject him, for his best mate. He was afraid that it will even ruin his friendship with you.

He pulled the brakes, as he reached the destination. The guards opened the door for you both, as you stepped out. He slowly gave you his hand to hold, you accepting his hand made him a little relieved, but still, he was worried. Worried that you will see him and Tom both in the movie. Tom in a lead role and him in just a cameo. His thoughts were disturbed by the paparazzi clicking pictures of you and him together, your smile as you pose with him, making him a bit relieved again. Being part of a movie premiere was something new for you. You were so nervous before, but because of Harrison’s presence, all your nervousness vanished away. You saw Tom Holland and Daisy Ridley busy in questions. You met Tom’s family over there. His mom and brother Harry were there to attend the premiere too. All of you proceeded to watch the movie.

Harrison was sitting beside you, reading your expressions as you watched the movie. He tried to understand, how were you perceiving Tom and was waiting to see your reaction on his cameo too. You felt his gaze on you, making you turn towards him, smiling.

“The movie is really amazing!” you whispered to him. “Yeah, it is” he replied shifting his gaze again towards the screen.

“A… and how’s Tom doing?” he questioned, not looking at you.

“He’s doing great as always,” you replied smiling. He started softly tapping his feet, looking down, realizing that his cameo is just going to arrive. He regretted bringing you with him, he felt embarrassed, thinking what if you compared him with Tom. He was lost in his thoughts, extremely worried when you tapped his shoulder, making him lift his head to look at you with a 'huh?’ expression.

“Look it’s you!” you squealed, pointing your finger at the screen with the biggest ear to ear smile. He instantly looked at the screen, seeing himself and then back to you. Your eyes were concentrated on the screen, as you slowly clasped your hand in excitement. Your eyes were shining, mouth open in admiration.

“You did amazinggggg…” you whispered-yelled turning towards Harrison.

“You liked it?!” he questioned in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? I freaking loveddd it!!!” you gave him a side-hug, making his heart feel warmer, a big smile instantly plastering on his face.

“Thx” he replied, as he kissed your hairs softly. The movie was overall great. You all proceeded for the dinner. You, Harrison, Tom, his mom Nikki and his brother Harry settled across a table eating and chattering everything about the movie.

“You look really gorgeous Y/n, like if you could even get a lead role in a big movie!” Nikki appreciated your look.

“Thx” you replied, a bit shy.

“Yeah, mom’s right. You’re literally looking amazing Y/n.” Tom joined his mom to compliment you, making you more embarrassed.

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling. Harrison again felt that tightening in his chest, seeing you blushing at Tom’s compliment. It was obvious that he was over-thinking, it’s normal to get embarrassed, but he was afraid that he was a part of a love triangle. He was afraid that you liked Tom when he himself loved you. He wasn’t sure how his best friend perceives you, but he was still afraid of the thing that didn’t exist.

“Excuse me.” you excused yourself, as you felt your phone ringing. It was just a call from one of your fellow doctors. You stood up, walking out to take the call, ensuring you don’t disturb the dinner.

“So, how are you guys doing?” Tom questioned his best mate.

“Who? What doing?” Harrison replied, with a slightly tugged chin, in an oblivious state.

“Oh come on Haz, don’t act. I can see you and Y/n.” Tom raised his eyebrows, with a smug look.

“What?! Haz and Y/n are together.” Nikki almost yelled, making a tint of red cover Harrison’s face, thinking of the word ’together’.

“Nah, mom! I’m sure, he hasn’t even made a move. He’s a pussy.” Tom said, amuse filling his voice. “Don’t fucking swear in front of mom Tom!” Harry finally joined the conversation. “Like ’fucking’ isn’t a swear word,” Tom argued back. “Ugh!! You both don’t start now.” Nikki groaned throwing her hands on the table. “K” both of them stopped arguing.

“So when are you asking her Haz? ” Nikki questioned, as Harrison got flustered again.

“I-I don’t know,” he replied, he was relieved that Tom didn’t have that kind of interest in you, but he can’t say the same for you.

“As I said he’s a pussy” Tom laughed, pausing after half a minute, realizing that he was the only one laughing at his own joke.

“Come on Haz, tell her. Do you even like her?” Harry asked of curiousness. “Like her? Are you kidding me? I freaking love her!!!” Harrison replied with a little-cracked voice. “Then just go and tell her! ” Nikki pointed.

“I-I don’t know if she feels the same or not, you know I don’t wanna ruin our friendship,” he replied, pressing his lips. “How can you say, till you give it a try and as speaking of friendship, I don’t think she can ever be mad at you.” she comforted. “Thx” Harrison replied, still not completely relieved.

“You know I love her, more than anyone else. It’s so tough to confront someone. You are always afraid that you’ll lose them. I don’t wanna commit any mistake.” Haz said looking down, with his fingers continuously fidgeting, as Harry patted his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

None of them were aware that you were eavesdropping, and it was even more dangerous than you thought as you only overheard the last half of the conversation, totally oblivious to the fact that the girl Harrison was describing was you. You shouldn’t have overheard them, but you couldn’t stop yourself, as the word ’love’ slipped out of Harrison’s tongue making you feel vulnerable.

Now you were the one in pain, the one worried of the thing that didn’t exist for you, the love triangle, between you, Harrison and that mystery girl he was in love with. Your heart walls felt like clenching, making your breathing laboured. You were in love with this blonde-haired, blue-eyed man you bumped into in LA, weeks before. Imagining him with someone else, was too much for you to handle, after all, no-one ever made you feel like home, barring him.

Weren’t you a loner before you bumped into him? Wasn’t he the one who drove you out of all your physical insecurities? But these things no longer concerned you, cause you were already broken. You can’t bear to even know who’s he talking about.

You decided to leave.

Leave him!

You turned on your heels violently, rushing out of the dining hall. The loud click-clack sound of your heels grabbed Harrison’s attention, only to see you rushing out of the dining hall.

(TBC) (IT’S A MINI SERIES, SO THERE ARE A LITTLE MORE THAN USUAL TIME SKIPS. I HOPE IT ISN’T THAT ANNOYING, THX FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT, LOVE YOU) (PART 4 COMING TOMORROW)

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emionadventure-blog · 6 years

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Packing Chronicles: How to fit a year’s worth of stuff into two suitcases

Guys. I am five days away from getting on a plane with a one way ticket to Korea! Insane.

As you might have guessed, I have spent most of the last few weeks packing up my entire life into boxes and suitcases and essentially just emptying out my life here in preparation for life there.

You might be wondering how I narrowed down everything I could possibly need or want in a year into these bags. I was wondering that too, honestly. My solution was to read a ton of blogs of people who already did this (which was honestly kind of confusing because everyone says different things) and to pack and repack and re-repack my suitcases until I found a flow and narrowed it down to the essentials. I posted a video on YouTube of the random non-clothing items I’m squeezing in, but on here it’s gonna be all about the clothes.

From what I can gather, Korea has four distinct seasons with distinct weather, which is great because, where I live, so do we! So I already had a lot of clothes for cool, hot, warm, cold, and everything in between.

Let’s start with tops:

I’m bringing a fair amount of sweaters/sweatshirts because I read that a lot of times public buildings aren’t heated, and after three years of working in the inner city I’m used to school buildings being unpredictably cold or hot. So three cardigan style sweaters and three large pullover sweaters for work and four sweatshirts for everything else.

Then I’m bringing a bunch of blouse-y tops for work that are nice and breezy for when it gets hot because I think it might be very uncommon to have aircon in schools? It’s hard to tell...and it’s considered a bit immodest to have a lot of shoulder or chest showing so....thin fabrics are a must. And then just some long sleeve and short sleeve t-shirts to wear around and camis for layering. Fun fact: the mont dinosaur t-shirt was belonged to my husband when he was in 4th grade...

Moving on to bottoms:

I’m bringing one pair of jeans, three pairs of jean shorts, a pair of suede pants for winter, a pair of linen pants for summer and then all the leggings. Yes. That is four pairs of the same leggings (Express black cropped to be exact) because I cannot live without them.

And then literally just a ton of skirts. Apparently short hemlines don’t really raise eyebrows over there, even in a professional setting, but since I have clothes for an American school setting most of my skirts are maxi, but I also have two midi skirts (the blue one was made for my by one of my student’s mothers) and two pencil skirts.

I’m also bringing a bunch of dresses that can be worn in multiple seasons and two sets that are a little more fancy in case the need arises (the purple and green dress in the top left of the picture was made by the same student’s mother). And a mermaid sequin dress because I want it.

So, I don’t know if I’ll be able to join a gym or if my building will have one or what...but I’m also bringing all my workout clothes (well most), and then two bathing suits and some pjs.

I will have a few months before it gets really cold, but I have no idea if I will be able to fit into Korean clothes (5′2, 125 pounds..two inches shorter than their average but 5 pounds heavier! lol), so I’m bringing a warm vest and a wool coat and a giant fall sweater coat made by my mother-in-law. And then a bunch of scarves, including one I got in Russia, and two gloves and three hats, the owl one crocheted by my sister in law!

Shoes were even harder to figure out, because online accounts are so confusing about what sizes you can get in Korea, and on top of that many places require you to remove your shoes so super strappy sandals and heels are impractical. I’m a size 7-7.5, so I don’t have massive feet but I think that’s relatively big for over there.

So I’m bringing two pairs of sneakers, plus running shoes and hiking boots, snow boots, three pair of work flats, although I think I wear “inside shoes” at work, and a few pairs of heels.

And that’s it! I really don’t regret anything I’ve left behind and don’t feel like I want to bring anything else...of course I could keep packing and packing but this is a solid start!

Actually, there is one more thing I would pack if I could...

Check out my YouTube for a video talking about what else I’m packing that isn’t clothing...link in my bio.

Until the next adventure...

Emi

#epik #packing #moving #packing for south korea #epik program #moving to south korea #travel #suitcase #blog

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carlylexwheeler-blog · 6 years

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The Chaser I Seek

Summary: Muggle-born Anne Wheeler is thrilled when she receives her Head Girl badge in the mail the summer before her final year at Hogwarts, and so is Pureblooded Phillip Carlyle when he discovers he is to be Head Boy. Neither Phillip or Anne knows much about the other, except for what they have learned from afar. Phillip has been watching from the Slytherin side of the stands for years as Anne leads the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team to victory after victory. Anne, on the other hand, has listened to the whispers about the Carlyle family and their obsession with Pureblood lineage, and she knows along with the rest of the school that the Carlyles are instrumental in Voldemort's slowly gaining success.

Neither is prepared to be jarringly thrown together their very first day by a food-fight blown out of proportion.

As both students struggle to balance new responsibilities, they will begin to see new sides to one another-- sides that Phillip has been taught never to look for, and sides that Anne is not ready to explore. But with the wizarding world taking new steps every day towards war, Hogwarts must cling to unity stronger than ever... Especially the two students who are the face of it all.

Word Count: 1,173

Warnings: Language, Angst, A Lot Shorter Than Anticipated

Chapter: 9 of ?

Read it on Wattpad or AO3.

Playlist

Song of the Chapter: "So Close" by Ólafur Arnalds

Chapter Nine: The Order’s Translator

The Three Broomsticks was filled with customers the same way that it always was, the way that filled the tavern with the warm and homey atmosphere that made sure people kept coming back. The two Wheeler siblings were behind the counter, and as W.D. poured shots of Firewhiskey for a rowdy group in the back, he appeared to be listening to his sister intently.

When she took a moment to breathe, he took the chance to ask a question. "And what do you plan on doing, now that you've said this?" W.D. queried. His voice was soothing to Anne, mostly because her brother had never been the type to ask her loaded questions, only the kind of man who encouraged her to answer what she could without fear of judgment.

Anne paused in her task of wiping down the bar to levitate the shots over to the table. When the men saw them coming, a rousing cheer filled the room. ""I... " Anne began, hesitating. "I plan on honoring what I said. The both of us can continue to interact, but only in a professional capacity."

W.D. let out a careful nod, and his face gave nothing away as he turned to face his little sister. If Anne had a poker face then W.D. was a stone wall. "I know you trust me with your secrets," he said quietly, "which is why I want to trust you with mine. There's something I want to tell you, Annie." His eyes searched her face, and as he did the same she felt a pang. The grave tone of his voice caused her heart to race. Was something wrong? "Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

The name rattled around in her mind, but Anne could not find a matching meaning for it. "No," she answered carefully. "What is it?"

W.D. began to work on closing the pub's windows as the sun went down by using a nonverbal spell. Each one closed with a little 'thwack' to keep the cool breeze from penetrating too far into the Broomsticks.

"The Order," he began in a cautious murmur, "is a group founded to fight. Think of them as the parallel of the Death Eaters, but or the other side." Anne watched W.D.'s face in hopes of observing every inch. Though his voice was somber, his eyes held a burning passion that Anne had only ever seen in him when he was talking about Quidditch or Runes.

"I wasn't even aware that there was another side," she replied. The pub was so full that their voices were easily lost in the chatter, and Anne did not think that they would be overheard. "I thought it was just You-Know-Who against the wizarding governments."

"And that is what they want you to think," W.D. agreed, "how he wants you to think." A grim smile graced his lips as he continued. "But Barnum started the Order-"

"Headmaster Barnum?" Anne interrupted with incredulity in her eyes.

W.D. seemed thoroughly unphased by the question. That was how it had always been growing up-- Anne asked questions, and W.D. did the best he could to present the world to his sister in a logical, impartial way so that she could explore it herself to form opinions.

"No, Charity Barnum," W.D. replied. "Phineas is a member of the Order, and his illusions are excellent for causing confusion among enemies on the battlefield. But Charity's knack for nonverbal spellwork and quick aim make her possibly the fiercest duellist of our time, not to mention her talent for extremely potent, complicated defensive charms. She also knows how to keep morale among the Order high without undermining the gravity of our situation, and she is excellent at distributing resources. There is a reason that she is the Head of Slytherin."

Anne knew of Barnum's reputation as a skilled duellist, but she was shocked. Anne had assumed that the exhaustion in Professor Barnum's eyes had come from teaching duties. Now that she knew the blonde instructor was quite literally leading a rebellion, her respect for Barnum increased.

"Of course... That makes a lot of sense," Anne admitted, trying to hide the breathlessness of her voice. "But why are you telling me about this secret organization now?"

W.D. closed his eyes in an attempt to calm down, taking in a deep breath. "Because I joined."

For a moment, all was silent between the both of them. W.D. knew that Anne's mind was racing, and they both knew that when this happened, she needed time to compose her thoughts. When she finally spoke, she asked, "What does that entail for you?"

W.D. took her hands in his and moved her for a moment to stand behind the shelves of bottles. Anne tightened her crip, and before she knew it, she was holding him like she would fall if she let go.

"I mostly do intelligence work," W.D. answered as he gently rubbed circles into her palms. "I keep an eye and a running record on all travel in and out of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, and I do my best to investigate anything suspicious. I also monitor all clandestine meetings that take place here and report the discussions and their content back to the Order."

"You-Know-Who's operatives meet in the Broomsticks?" Anne repeated with massively widened eyes.

"It's the perfect place, especially for contacts located in the school, such as the children of Death Eaters who want to follow in Mummy and Daddy's footsteps," W.D. answered. He spoke about all of this with a familiarity that gave Anne the sense he had been hiding this, waiting to tell her for a long while. "I also do codebreaking of intercepted messages. A vast majority are in Runic languages as well as other magical lexicons, which the Death Eaters correctly assume very few can read. Makes me wonder what they would say if they knew that a Muggle-born was translating their communications."

W.D. tossed her a satisfied grin that allowed her to see the pride in his eyes. After a moment, Anne returned it. "You make me so proud, " she murmured as she squeezed his hands. "Are you safe.?"

"No one is, at times like these, but I'm careful," he answered in his deep, comforting baritone. "You would make a fantastic member, Anne... The fiight against corruption needs the bright, determined, and resilient, the people who can think on their feet."

"It's certainly something to think about," Anne admitted. She understood his passion now; even knowing about the Order had put a glowing ray of hope into her chest.

"Anne? W.D.?"

They glanced at one another, and then they were both off in their separate directions to continue the fight to stay on top of the pub's bustling chaos.

Ever since their conversation a few days ago, Anne had been doing her best to avoid Phillip Carlyle. She was currently rising dangerously late in the morning and skipping breakfast to avoid seeing him (and also to get more sleep, because, for someone leading a secret revolution, Professor Barnum assigns a lot of damn homework). It was not so difficult to avoid being near him in the day.

On the other hand, it was very difficult when she was rushing around the Common Room preparing for a date.

Awkward silence filled the room as Anne scrambled about, darting from the bathroom to her desk to her bedroom several times. Anne had donned an old but well-kept green blouse that exposed her shoulders and flowed like a tunic. She wore a pair of jeans and sandals, and her hair was loose and natural around her face. Anne had even attempted a bit of makeup, and with a pair of rhinestone earrings W.D. had given her, Anne did not think she looked half bad.

The Head Girl was in the bathroom when she heard the knock on the door. Carlyle looked up from his desk as she hurried to answer it, and she was immediately greeted with the sight of Swenson. He stood before her in khaki pants and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his short hair was neat as he gave her one of his perfect smiles.

"Wow," he said warmly as he looked at her. "You look amazing."

"You don't look too bad yourself," she teased back lightly.

He laughed, but then Carlyle was speaking and Anne stiffened. "Will you be back soon, or should I leave the lights on, Wheeler?"

"You can leave them on," Swenson replied firmly before she could say anything. "Good to see you, Carlyle."

"You, too." Neither was smiling.

Anne quickly tugged Swenson out of the Common Room, and then they were walking in an awkward silence. After a moment, he spoke up.

"What was that?"

She glanced over at the Keeper, whose brown eyes were locked on her own. "What was what?" she returned, hoping maybe he wouldn't push it.

"That tension," Swenson replied. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but she could tell that their exchange had bothered him.

"We had... An argument," Anne answered, glancing in his direction. "It isn't a big deal."

"Kind of seemed like it was," he said slowly, uncertainly.

"I promise, it isn't," Anne swore. "You wanted to tell me something at lunch today?"

Swenson perked up and reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it. "Right." He swallowed. "I was wondering if you might like to do this more often?" Her cheeks warmed, and before she could say anything, Anne had already started to nod. "How's next Friday for you?"

"Ugh, I can't. We have a planning meeting for the Seventh Year Dance."

"Sunday, then?"

"I've got to supervise detention."

"Tuesday?"

"Patrolling."

Swenson frowned and looked away. "I can't..." He stared and swallowed again, releasing her hand. HIs voice was gruff, but she could sense the hurt in it. "I can't help but think that this is about Carlyle."

Her gaze softened, and Anne stopped walking to take his hands. "Eli," she hummed softly as he looked down at her. "I swear, there isn't anything going on there. We're fine, I'm just busy." She paused. "How's Wednesday?"

He slowly allowed a grin to spread across his face. "Sounds perfect," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

They continued to walk, and Anne tried to shake the cobwebs of guilt from her shoulders as she laced her fingers with Swenson's.

#Anne Wheeler #phillip carlyle x anne wheeler #anne wheeler x phillip carlyle #anne wheeler fanfic #anne wheeler fic #carwheeler #phillip carlyle fanfic #carlwheeler #phillip carlyle #TGS #tgs fanfic #tgs fic #tgs hp au #the greatest showman #the greatest showman au #the greatest showman fic #the greatest showman fanfic

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stevedonnellyfaith-blog · 5 years

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A Visit to Pam (Post 97) 7-15-15

Natalie still gets the giggles whenever she thinks about the incident. Let me explain. Because I usually have to be out of the house so early in the morning for work, I am pretty meticulous about preparing my clothes for the next day before I jump into bed. Saturday night was no exception. We were staying overnight in a Maryland hotel and didn’t have to be at my in-law’s house until 10:30 Sunday morning to join the caravan to Mass, but I still had my two little piles of folded garments ready to go, when I received the auto-voice reveille from the Best Western BWI front desk.

That morning, for some reason, my socks were giving me trouble. After my workout, one of them seemed to be playing hide and seek with me, as I moved the second pile into position in the bathroom for my after shower adornment. After shuffling through my stack of garments for the third time, I finally retraced my steps back to my suitcase and found the sock about half way back up my back trail. Without further incident, I took my shower with my now recovered pair of socks at the ready atop my belt and shoes. Clothed but unshod, I woke Stephen and Natalie and began raking together our belongings into neat piles ready to be stuffed back into the appropriate piece of luggage for the haul to the checkout transaction. Worried about the schedule, I chivied my two roommates out the door, with orders to wait for me at breakfast while I began the full final cram of the pack up.

With everything in the bags, I went to recover the final essentials of my outfit in eager anticipation of my own turn in the buffet line. To me extreme aggravation, I discovered that now both my socks had left their perch on my shoe and belt pile and eloped to parts unknown. I checked under everything in the room and began to seriously consider unzipping one or two of the soft luggage pieces into which I had power stuffed everything from my rake up. I figured the dirty clothes bag was the more likely candidate and was busy size up the operation. Would some kind of head gear be advisable to protect me from the likely concussive force that would surely be unleashed like the boxing glove on a spring that knocks Wylie Coyote in the face at least once in each episode of The Roadrunner? Instead, choosing the cowards path, I just donned my shoes without socks. Not very stylish, but I supposed that I might pretend they were sandals for the two hours until Mass was completed and I was able to switch into shorts and a tee-shirt at Pam’s parents’ house for the drive back to Ohio,

About then Natalie and Stephen marched back into our room, saying that all the seating was full downstairs and that the line was too long anyway. Irritated by their lack of commitment to the concept of free breakfast, I prepared to invoke the ancient Donnelly tradition to rally my family back to the abandoned buffet. I implored both of them to perform an immediate about face. Then a non sequitur idea struck me full in the forehead.

I ordered Stephen to pull up one pant leg. I discovered that he was wearing a pair of socks that was suspiciously of the white variety. I had purposely packed him only black socks for the trip. The only pair of white socks available would have had to have come off my prepared pile. I had caught the felon with the goods on his person, quite literally.

Now came the difficulty of solving the equation that would result in my having a shovel-ready Styrofoam plate of eggs and sausage in front of me with the least possible expenditure of time and hassle. Rather than go through the trouble of swapping, I told Stephen to retrieve and surrender the pair of clean black socks I had packed for his use this Sunday morning. He procured and prepared to deliver the required merchandise, but then noticed that I was in the process of removing my shoes. In obvious consternation, he looked at my with an expression that was a Fro-Yo mix of confusion and offense. His very visage asked, “Why would anyone use someone else’s socks?”

As I stood idly contemplating a suitably painful end for the life of my oldest my son, I must have had a silly look on my face because Natalie erupted in a giggling fit that relieved the tension of the moment. For the rest of the day she breathlessly described the scene for each new audience while repeatedly interrupting herself with impromptu peals of laughter. Because she had no idea what led up to the great sock standoff, her story left everyone who heard it very confused as to what the little girl thought was so outrageously funny.

Other than the sock theft, we had a good visit. It was the first time that I have been back to Maryland since Pam’s funeral. Abby, Nick and Natalie made a short visit in June, but, for the most part, we have been very busy getting our life restarted here in Ohio. Work has mostly devoured my time since Stephen and I arrived. Nicholas and Abby have both been busy as well. Nicholas was working for some family friends that sell and distribute fireworks, kind of a dream job for him. Abby started a chemistry class with a full lab during the short summer session at a local community college within days of her arrival. She is also occupied with some office assignments at my sister-in-law’s dentistry practice. Summer vacation has been a Barbie-fest for Natalie as she has a willing best friend with similar interests living right across the street. Stephen and I also made our trip to Gettysburg last week. Summer is flying by.

So it took a while for me to meander back to Maryland where my marriage and family life began long ago under a bridge of swords and a shower of rice. My in-laws still live in the same house where I visited each weekend during my trips back from Rhode Island as Pam and I were completing our wedding preparations. The basement at 5110 Kramme Avenue in Baltimore became like an apartment to me over those several months. The Zauggs have made many improvements to the house in the quarter century since I was courting their daughter, but the basement is mostly used for storage now. They had a flood in their cellar several years ago and had to remove the carpeting. The odd mix of old and new in the basement mesmerized me for a good while on one of my forays downstairs to use the less popular of the two household bathrooms.

I stood there in the dark downstairs for several minutes while staring at the position on the back side of the staircase where a desk used to sit on which Pam and I used to assembly 1000 piece puzzles when we weren’t arguing about whether a cream or white color was more suitable for invitations. The desk wasn’t there anymore. I was disappointed. I wanted to the place as it was at the very second when Pam discovered the case with an engagement ring on the floor under the desk. Slyly I had asked her to pick up a non-existent puzzle piece that I didn’t really think I had dropped by her foot. She was delighted with the simple diamond and band and said yes to my proposal. I expected she would; Pam had dropped plenty of hints that our relationship had reached ring-time.

It was sad to be in the dark basement staring at the place where missing furniture had once sat. Things change and joy passes. After a while I ascended the stairs again having not found the wardrobe back into Narnia for which my subconscious had scanned my former living area. As I climbed I waved a silent goodbye to an old friend, the dated green couch that had accommodated me each weekend for those eight happy months an impossible tunnel ride back twenty-six years into the past.

That odd spiritually amputated feeling seems to be my lot in life, most of the time, since losing my bride to cancer two and a half years ago. Now back in Ohio, I drive around the streets of my childhood, adolescence and early adulthood with vague feelings of unrest, half recognizing houses to which I think I used to deliver newspapers on wintry mornings for customers long since moved. Mostly my memories are vague unscratchable itches. Houses have been painted, trees have grown, businesses have changed hands, buildings have been erected, and eighth grade classmates are receiving AARP cards in the mail. The venues of my youth no longer match the photographs that I find in the albums that my mother keeps in the sea chest coffee table in her living room.

I think that the scattered condition of my memories is a natural process which has been accentuated by the fact that our family has moved around way too much. The effect of all the moving coupled with Pam’s death is that the figurative pieces of my love for her has been scattered about the country with as if shot from a pneumatic stadium tee-shirt mortar. For instance, Nicholas and Abby drove miles out of the way to swing by our former house in Fort Wayne, Indiana on their way back across America. I would never have done that, as the closed front door would have been needlessly anguishing like a diabetic peering in to the window of an ice cream parlor or an old man returning to the scene of his engagement.

An admission: on my weekly drive to Mass I do travel mildly out of my way to pass by the house in which I resided from age five until my matriculation to USNA. There is always a part of me that wants to stop, knock on the door and ask to search the premises for the missing pieces of myself. I know that I wouldn’t find them no matter how long I looked. I also know that I would never knock on the door, because all I would find would be a house of other people’s stuff, while if I choose to just ride on by, my memory can remain vague but whole like a cheap snow globe of my childhood.

My life has become a little like one of the partially finished puzzles that Pam and I used to work assembling to pass our time while we waited to begin our life together in earnest. I think it is the same for everyone; some people may have done a better job of keeping track of their pieces, but by the time you reach fifty there will certainly be some permanently missing ones. Natalie’s puzzle was thoroughly scrambled at the age of seven and her pieces have been tossed about throughout the last three years. I expect that she will be eventually assemble a gloriously beautiful landscape as she progresses through adulthood towards the later period of her life when the pieces of her life begin to slide off the edge of the table for her again,

Certainly, we are not the only family that has suffered loss. As I drive my meandering path through the neighborhood where I grew up, I sometimes think about the other families that lived in this or that faculty house and when they departed for retirement or different schools over the nearly five decades of my father’s tenure at Western Reserve Academy. Two former faculty members died over Father’s Day weekend. Another faculty wife suffered a massive stroke in the last couple of weeks. She is unlikely to recover. I’m sure that many of the men and women with whom I grew up with also feel like their life’s pieces are begin removed and lost.

For me, my expectation is that I won’t be able to reassemble a complete and coherent life in this world. When I sat at the little desk with Pam, I was in the process of building my life. As I type from the guest room of my father’s house, I understand that time will slowly erode what I had thought I had put together so firmly. While I am no longer hope for wholeness on Earth, I do hold a guarantee that the pieces I am now missing will be restored in the many rooms of My Father’s house in the world to come. I’m not sure what that really means at this point. Will the little puzzle desk be present in the basement of my apartment in the new Jerusalem? I have no inkling, no expectation of knowing, and really I just trust in Jesus’ promise that I will be whole again. So I move forward to the best of my ability, assembling a new corner of the mosaic of my new life as the trailing edges of my old life seems to fall away into eternity.

#God #Jesus #The Holy Spirit #The Virgin Mary #grace #hope #faith #love #bereavement #joy #change #engagement #USNA #memories

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