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stylesharrys · 2 months

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Hot Distraction [Bisexual!Y/N]

Y/N breaks up with her girlfriend and Harry helps take her mind off things.

A/N: had this idea in my drafts for months and months but I never really got round to writing it. Anyway, here you go darlings, enjoy <3

Warnings: dom/sub relationships, unprotected sex, kissing, teasing, swearing, spanking, dirty talk, anal (fingering)

WC: 2.8k

Harry has no idea what to do. He’s never seen her cry before and he doesn’t know if he should give her a hug or try to make light of the situation.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Harry’s even more confused than he was before. He’ll never ever understand women’s emotions. And by the sight before him, he doesn’t think he ever wants to.

“S’okay, petal. It hurts now but it’ll be a distant memory in a few weeks time.”

She scoffs at him, at his sorry attempt to cheer her up. Y/N doesn’t need or want pity. She wants to warn off all women and whore it up for a little bit.

If she’s honest, the breakup has been a long time coming. They’d only been together six months but things weren’t the same as when they first met.

Alora was a beautiful woman, funny and kind. But the first few times of fooling around were a lot more exciting than six months in, where her sex drive seemed to just vanish.

Y/N has thought that perhaps she was the problem. Maybe she craves sex too much and too often and that’s the issue. She also thought that maybe she secretly had a fear of commitment and that’s what made her more than okay with Alora calling things off.

She knows now that’s not the case. Alora was seeing other people behind Y/N’s back. Given, they never really spoke about being exclusive, but Y/N had just assumed that if Alora was seeing other people, she’d have the decency to let Y/N know.

And now, she’s about ready to swear off all women.

She stands from the sofa, wiping the tears from her face and taking a shaky breath. There’s no way in hell she’s going to ruin her Friday night sobbing over another woman. No fucking chance.

“Do you have plans tonight?” she asks Harry, chin raised as she acts unbothered by her situation.

Harry shakes his head. “No, why? You wanna go out?”

Her lip is taut between her teeth as she considers the proposition. A night out could be perfect – sex with a hot, random stranger will most definitely take her mind off things.

She nods, once. But it’s like Harry can smell the hesitation. He squints at her, leaning forward in his spot on the sofa.

“You’re not just wanting to go out so you can have a one night stand, are you?”

“No!” her voice is high-pitched, a dead giveaway that that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

Harry huffs, closing his eyes for a moment. It’s no secret that he’s got the hots for Y/N. He’s always found her incredibly attractive. But in the two years he’s known her, she’s only ever dated women.

He doesn’t think there’s ever even been an instance where she’s acknowledged another man. Harry notices her sheepish expression and his tummy knots and twists.

“If you were into guys…” he mumbles out, more to himself but it still reaches Y/N’s ears and she frowns.

“I am.”

Harry’s head snaps up, staring at her in bewilderment. “You are? I thought you were gay.”

Y/N laughs softly. “I am… slightly. I prefer men usually, but women are just softer and more attentive I find.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, a cocky smirk on his lips. Bingo.

“That just means you’ve never been with the right guys.”

His voice has grown deeper, sultry. And the entire mood of the room has changed. There’s a tension in the atmosphere, one they’re both awfully familiar with but never with one another.

“Is that so?”

They’re dancing on a tight rope between friends and something more, neither too sure who’s going to fall first. It feels naughty, wrong. So wrong to allow this tension, these thoughts.

But there’s nothing inappropriate about it. They’re both single, consenting adults. What would it matter if he kissed her? If she kissed him back? If he spent an hour between her legs and had her creaming all over his cock?

“And from what you’ve been telling me, wasn’t you getting frustrated that Alora was too vanilla?”

Heat rises to her cheeks at his words. Harry moves closer, tips of his fingers ghosting are her bare thighs, the hem of her baggy t-shirt barely covering her knickers underneath.

“Something tells me, you don’t want something soft. You’ve just never been manhandled the way you want, so you’re taking the easier route.”

Y/N has never felt so seen in her life. “Isn’t that right, pet?”

She grows shy under his words, feeling small and vulnerable and her little panties are fucking soaked.

“Maybe,” she squeaks.

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold, eyes dark and lustful. His gaze never leaves her face as he stands in front of her. His tall build towering over Y/N’s.

“Personally, I think you just want to be a good girl…”

His hand finds her face, gently caressing her jaw as he speaks. When her eyes flutter closed absentmindedly, she hears Harry tut before her.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, puppy.”

Her eyes open, wide. All doe-like and fluttery. It awakens that hunger deep in Harry’s stomach – one full of need and desire.

“Y/N… d’you like it when I call you puppy?”

She nods, so innocent and sheepish. It has Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. God, she’s going to be the death of him.

Y/N’s nuzzling her face into his hand, eyes heavy but open, like she doesn't want to be scolded by Harry. He pouts down at her, a look of sympathy in his eyes and Y/N’s never felt so warm and safe.

“My poor petal, all touch starved and needy.”

It’s like a flip has been switched within her. She’s no longer that bubbly and bratty girl he’s always known. She’s soft and quiet, desperate and eager to please and Harry is stretching out his boxers.

“Go in your bedroom for me, puppy. Want you naked with your legs spread.”

He places a gentle kiss to her lips, barely offering a taste of what’s to come. The act has her heart leaping before she rushes to her bedroom to rid herself of any clothes.

She’s never allowed herself to look at Harry in the way she is now. She always told herself that friends are only friends and never to indulge in anything else with them.

Y/N can admit that she’s always found him attractive, always enjoyed his company and mayb often stared a little too long whenever he was topless or when the veins in his arms and hands were that little bit more visible than usual.

She supposes he’s always had some sort of chokehold on her, something she’s never thought too deep about. But now, she can’t get out of her head. Laying naked on her bed, legs spread as he approaches her bedroom door.

She’s pulsing, cunt hot and leaking. God, she doesn't remember the last time she felt this turned on, this excited, this ready to submit completely.

Whatever he wants, she’ll give him. Whatever he offers, she’ll take.

Harry eyes her as he enters her bedroom, gaze focused on that weeping little cunt. He’s holding his breath, fighting back a wanton cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so sexy in his life.

Y/N watches with glossy eyes as he tugs his t-shirt over his head, the ripples of his golden skin exciting her more. If he’ll let her, she’ll happily lick the expanse of every single tattoo adoring his body.

She’ll do anything. Anything.

Her hips begin to squirm as his thumbs loop into the waistband of his shorts and boxers, anticipation getting the better of her. Harry notices, pulls his hands away and raises a brow.

“I don’t remember saying you could move.”

Y/N’s body stills, blood running cold. Her lips are pursed into a thin line – “I’m sorry.” Her words come out shyly, like she’s embarrassed to be told off.

Harry tuts, no longer interested in pulling himself free. Instead he moves toward the foot of the bed and climbs up on his knees, sitting between her shaking thighs.

Y/N’s chest is heaving in excitement, bottom lip gnawed between her teeth. Harry reaches for her left thigh, gently massaging the soft and supple skin before raising his hand and dropping it again in a harsh smack.

She shrieks at the unexpected impact, brows knitted as she bites back a moan.

Oh, he wasn’t fucking around.

“If you’re sorry then you’ll lay on your tummy and take your punishment.” He flips her over before she has chance to register his words. Flat on her stomach, hands held behind her back, Harry takes her in.

He lets his hand caress her hips for a moment, trailing down to her bum and he smoothes over the skin. “And I don’t want to hear a fucking sound.”

He spanks her once, her entire body jolting. Y/N buries her face into her pillows, suffocating any desperate moans that beg to be cried. She keeps quiet, eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Harry spanks her again, harder this time. His hand print is left on her supple skin and he groans to himself. He spreads her cheeks apart for a moment, allows himself the sight of her dripping cunt, eagerly trying to clench around something.

“Look at you, puppy. So wet and good for me.”

Smack.

Smack!

Her bottom is sore, stinging as he finally relents. There’s tears in her eyes as she struggles to compose her breathing. She’s not brave enough to admit she almost came from her punishment.

Harry takes a moment to admire his work, how raw her pretty bum is. Her skin is beginning to rise in the form of his handprint, sore and tender. He holds her hips, thumbs rubbing along the stripey lines of silvering stretch marks on the sides of her bum.

“Pretty puppy, did so well for me.”

She coos at his praise, fingers wiggling in an attempt to feel him. Harry chuckles, leaning down to pepper kisses to her bum and up her spine. He fools her with his kindness for a moment, allowing her body to relax under his touch.

But when his lips reach her neck, he grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her head up, teeth nipping at her jaw and nosing at her ear.

“Now you’re going to be a good puppy and let Daddy fuck your pretty little hole, okay?”

Y/N’s cunt throbs at his words. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck, she can’t get it out of her head. Harry releases his hold on her hair, her face dropping back into her pillows as he clambers off her.

He strips from his boxers and shorts, thick length smacking at his lower tummy as he clambers back onto the bed again. Harry’s hard, painfully so and Y/N wants nothing more than to lay on her back and watch him work his way around her body.

But he doesn’t allow that. Instead, his hands find her hips and he’s hoisting her bum in the air, back arched and chest to the mattress with her face buried in the pillows.

The sight is mesmerising and Harry can’t look away. Pretty pussy all wet and plump. The tip of his cock slides through her slit and Harry lets out a shaky whimper. A noise that does not go unheard by Y/N, who’s jaw slacks at the sound of it.

She’s eager for more, gagging for his cock. She’s never felt so submissive in her life, so willing to be used as a fuck toy. And she never would’ve pegged Harry for the type.

Y/N supposes he does possess a lot of dominant qualities. Whenever he speaks, all eyes are on him. Whatever he says, it’s always respected. And when Harry doesn’t like something, nobody challenges him.

It’s been right in front of her the whole time. They’ve both been so blind.

“So pretty, baby. Look at you.”

The praise goes straight to her head. She’s woozy and needy and thinks she might fucking cry if he doesn’t fill her with his cook soon.

“Daddy’s good little puppy. Want me to fill your little hole, baby? Want Daddy to fuck you so hard you can’t even remember your name?”

Y/N’s too deep into subspace to respond, but that’s not a good enough excuse for Harry. He strikes down on her sore bum again and she shrieks, nodding feverishly.

“Yes, Daddy! Please, I’ve been so good.”

The sound of her begging is something Harry will never let himself forget. Her body responds to every tiny touch he offers, she keens for him. For more.

Lining himself at her hole, Harry pushes forward just enough to allow her half of his length. A wanton cry escapes her lips, muffled by her pillow as her body tenses.

Harry gives her little time to adjust to his length, sheathing himself further into her tight hole until he bottoms out.

Y/N struggles to stay quiet, struggles to not reach for him, to touch him. Harry reaches for her hands again, pulling them behind her back and holding her in place by her wrists.

“You’re fucking soaked, puppy.” He praises, breathless at the sight of himself tucked deep inside her.

Harry begins to rock his hips, slowly at first until he finds a comfortable pace and her ass jiggles with every thrust he gives. Y/N’s cunt grips him like a vice, obscene noises filling their ears and Harry decides he wants to hear more.

“Wanna hear you, puppy. Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

Y/N is wailing the second she’s given permission, wild and desperate and begging for more and more and more.

Harry’s thumbing at her puckering asshole, softly smoothing over the taut skin as Y/N begins to buck her hips back into him. He’s seething through gritted teeth, struggling to keep himself together as he gently pushes his thumb into her tight hole.

“Yes, Daddy! Please… please….”

She’s incoherent as she tries to speak, words still muffled and gurgled. She can feel him in her stomach, filling every inch of her body and subconscious mind. As if she exists solely for him, for his pleasure.

“My sweet girl, taking me so well. Look at you, puppy. All dumb for my cock.”

Harry’s thrusts get harder and faster, his thumb lodged deep in her ass as he fucks into her. Y/N’s arousal soaks his pubic bone, skin slapping and gruff moans echoing through.

She can’t stay quiet, not even if she tried. Moans are tearing throug her throat with no sense of hesitancy, her entire body being rocked as Harry pummels into her.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, jaw slack, she’s close. Her cunt begins to tighten around him, desperate to mild him dry for everything he has to offer. And Harry can feel it – he feels every little squeeze she gives him, every spasm of her slick pussy.

His spare hand smacks down on her bum in quick, constant successions, his pace impossibly faster and the breath is knocked from her lungs.

She can’t see, can’t think, can’t hear. It’s like her soul has left; experiencing eternal bliss for the first time in her life. But she feels Harry’s fat cock twitch between her walls, she feels the stinging bite of every spank, she feels her coil begin to tighten and pull.

“You gonna cum, puppy? You gonna cum all over my cock?” Harry pants.

She’s nodding, unable to find her words. It takes her a moment to catch a breath. “Please,” is all she can manage to whimper out, her entire body on fire.

Harry spanks her again, eager and hot moans bubbling from his chest. “Cum, puppy. Make a mess on Daddy’s cock.”

Y/N’s entire body begins to tremble relentlessly, a high pitched whine falling off her tongue as she explodes around him.

Her arousal coates his cock and stomach, squirting out the best it can with Harry’s length still shoved in her cunt. The sight of her squirting all over him has him seeing stars, and he’s quick to pull out, coating her back and bum in thick ribbons of arousal.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

He’s a panting mess as Y/N’s hips fall onto the mattress with a soft thud. He watches her body move gently as she catches her breath, listens to the soft pants that escape her plump lips.

Only now does he realise, he’s yet to kiss her the way he’s been dreaming. Harry crawls beside her, brushing the hair from her face and she’s quick to nuzzle into his touch.

He moves closer, his lips encapsulating hers in a soft and tender kiss. Both their eyes flutter closed and their mouths work in unison, gently. Y/N never knew she’d crave the taste of someones lips until Harry pulls away and rests his forehead against hers.

“Have a nap, puppy. You’ll need your energy for later.”

thank you for reading, i'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on this one 🥺

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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due to some Enid and Wednesday art I was spurred into watching it and if you're accepting requests (I got really excited seeing you write for it and didn't scroll down too far) could you write something where Enid meets an introverted new girl and they're just smitten with her immediately?

if someone like her came up to me and wanted to be friends I'd just. follow her sunshine to the end of the rainbow man. gay arrow to the heart. also fluffy werewolf gf is such bonus

The moment you stepped foot on school grounds, you were physically sickened with anxiety and dread, your throat closed in on itself as your stomach decided to loose all forms of appetite. You didn’t want to be here but through threats and force, your parents made you attend Nevermore in hopes of gaining a tolerable level of control over your powers that had only became a problem in recent memory. That was what they wanted you to believe but you knew about their ulterior motive of riding you from the house you cooped yourself in and actively engage with others of your age and situation.

You awkwardly stood at the entrance hall like a sitting duck, waiting to be shot, looking about the grand room that smelt as old as it looked as you waited for your poor unfortunate tour guide to arrive. Throughout the duration of your wait, You must’ve been either bored beyond belief or lost within the chaos of your mind because by the time you stopped counting the individual specs of dust that coated the picture frames along the the walls; A pretty blonde girl with the tips dyed in a kaleidoscope of colours and prettily painted nails was stood before you with a beaming smile.

How and when she had gotten there, you weren’t sure but you weren’t exactly against the idea of a really pretty blonde girl with an equally as pretty smile showing you around school. It certainly beats be lead by a pervert or someone with a penchant for passive aggressive comments in your books, so who were you to complain? “Hi!” She chirped and you immediately felt the cold crushing grip of anxiety ease up at the sound of her warm, serene voice as the tension in your shoulder muscles fell back into a relaxed state. “Hi…” you trailed off, not use to being a conversation starter nor continue one long enough for people to develop in getting to know you more.

You preferred to follow then lead…also you had a definitive weakness for extremely pretty girls. “I’m Enid Sinclair and if what principle Weems tells me is right, then you must be y/n.” It was obvious that Enid has a talent for having to talk for a multitude of people who don’t want to exhaust themselves in idle conversation or have no capacity to speak whatsoever. Which was a bonus for you, seeing as social interactions were never your strong suit, however Enid didn’t seem to be the most observant of a person’s character; You on the other hand had a knack for keen observation which meant that your style of approach subconsciously adjust itself when within proximity of certain people of certain caricatures.

“I am y/n, that is she- I mean me.” Your little awkward slip up made Enid smile and you swore you felt reality as you know it take a step back to observe her beautiful, beautiful smile. ‘God how much more enteral could this girl get.’ You wondered internally as she fell in pace with you whilst giving her tour of the school that you were barely paying any attention towards because firstly, how could you when someone as pretty as her was walking so closely to you and smelling that good? It made no logical sense! You believed at one point that your mind was playing cruel tricks on you becuase whenever you attempted to give yourself a little space from Enid; Only for the girl to move just a little closer to you that the fabric of your purple striped blazers were rubbing up on one another.

You even had to check you pulse at one point to make sure you hadn’t accidentally died and gone to heaven. “Oh I forgot to show you the coolest part of Nevermore!” Your breath caught in your throat as Enid grabs ahold of your arm and redirects you down the hallway past several ongoing classes; past the quad where some students were huddled together, actively skipping their least favoured lessons to let themselves loose. “Hey Enid! Hey new kid!” One of them called, a boy of quite moderate height, a nice smile and a beanie that rests atop of his head. “Hey Ajax!” Enid called back cheerfully, her grip on your arm tightened as she pulled you closer to her side which only proved in making your brain short circuit at the contact. “This is y/n, I’m just showing them them around school!”

“Hey there.” You awkwardly waved at the boy who waved backed vigorously. You had to admit, while Ajax may lack social awareness skills, he was certainly making his way up on your short list of people to go to should you ever feel lost amidst the chaos that you were soon recognising this school to be. “Well have fun you two and don’t run headfirst to the lake fully clothed. Take it from me, it’s super cold dude.” Ajax advised but before you could ask where that penitent fact came from, Enid began to drag you away once more. “He’s high.” She whispered in your ear, her warm breath brushing against your skin, causing your breath to stifle at the closeness, “they all are, actually.” She adds as she looked back at the quad as it began shying away into the background.

“Ajax seems nice.” You offhandedly mentioned. I know right!” Enid squeals excitedly, “sooo nice in comparison to my dorm mate, she’s a real ‘wow is me’ type.” The blonde must’ve seen your apprehensive stance and grimaced, “as bad as I make her out to be, she’s really cool and I think you’d both will get along just fine.” Enid attempts to rectify your view on Wednesday, already having caught on the fact that you weren’t going to be keen towards certain people at Nevermore. She could tell that you’d warm up to the likes of her and Ajax overtime which meant that you’d get along well enough with Xavier, however his popularity might be a drawback for you; Wednesday on the other hand, in Enid’s opinion, was the perfect for someone like you.

“Why? Is it because we both come across as unapproachable or too uninteresting to get to know on a deeper level?” You scoffed, “Yeah sure, we’ll get along just fine.” You added sarcastically as you looked away from Enid to hide the hurt in your eyes at the insinuation that the prettiest and most kindest girl you’ve ever met was throwing you away, to becoming someone else’s problem. You should’ve known that you could never trust a pretty face, no matter how kindly they acted; for it will always be a farce. Enid pulled herself away from your side and moved in front of you, putting her hands on your shoulders as her hurt expression mimicked your own.

“I didn’t mean it like that y/n. It’s just that you and Wednesday share similar qualities that I thought you’d be better off being better friends with someone who understands you rather then someone like me…” the blonde trails off, saddened that you couldn’t help but feel the urge to comfort her, you hated being the reason she frowned and you’d found yourself wanting to make her smile that bright smile again, anything. “If it’s of any value to you but as far as I’m aware, we already get along quite well…don’t you think?” You smiled softly at her, resting your hands against Enid’s shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly as you watched the emotions in her eyes shift from upset, confusion, then realisation, and finally happy.

“You really think we could work?” She asked as a smile crept up unexpectedly upon her lips that you had to snap yourself out of staring at them for longer then a friend should. “Oh most definitely,” You hummed in agreement and at that, Enid squealed happily before roping you into a crushing hug, her cutesy giggles purposely finding their home right in your ears as you stiffly moved your arms across her waist. “I’m so happy right now y/n, you have no idea!” She cried, tightening her grasp on your blazer as you rest your heads against the others shoulder. “If it’s anything akin to how I’m feeling right now, then I think I might have some idea.” You replied, a smile growing on your face as you stayed in each other’s embrace; You might actually get use to Nevermore.

#enid sinclair fic #enid sinclair fanfic #enid sinclair x you #enid sinclair imagine #enid sinclair x reader #Enid sinclair imagines

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chocolatehouse · 1 year

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i’m rewatching the witchfinder because of course i am and i have thoughts

-- arthur knows about merlin’s magic. period. done deal. did you see him when the woman confessed? (for one he was standing BEHIND his throne in shadows like batman which is hilarious) he IMMEDIATELY says how it might’ve been a truck of light, arthur would’ve known merlin’s with whatever group he was with and knew and wanted to stop the whole deal before it begun (also even if he didn’t know of it he definitely doesn’t agree with uther’s laws and isn’t afraid of magic)

— also uther??? that man is biased against magic(and grudgingly likes merlin). when aredian said it was merlin and he would need to search his room, if that were ANYONE else uther would’ve just killed them. no room searching necessary and uther trusts aredian (“he’s a trusted ally”) so why would he need any more than his word? yet he asks MERLIN, or at least looks towards him, and doesn’t say anything to aredian until merlin gives his consent to his rooms being SEARCHED NOT FUCKING RANSACKED (i’m still mad about that) then tells aredian to do so

— aredian walks into the room “i smell it, uther, the magic, i smell” 👃🏻🪄🪄 arthur “that’s definitely NOT because i fuck magic in my spare time” like seriously WHY did they make that scene so weird i mean yes aredian’s trying to be intimating but magic having a smell is a bit suspicious (of what i don’t know it just is)

— arthur was WATCHING merlin and saw THE moment when merlin snapped and i love that like yes pay attention to your boyfriend then him bringing him to see gaius? yes arthur break the law for your boyfriend (but seriously arthur wouldn’t have left merlin and gaius alone so was he just standing right outside listening to their whole conversation about magic?? if he didn’t know about the magic he certainly does now)

— gwen KNOWS morgana has magic. when aredian goes to question morgana then gwen goes to merlin saying “i’m worried, merlin, she’s close to breaking point” that’s vague enough to make merlin think she’s talking in general but ummm that’s sounds an awful lot like gwen knows because THEY ARE GIRLFRIENDS

— we deserved more gwen and merlin being badass besties and solving crime and breaking laws

— like father like son, apologies are like toads in their throats. remember way back when when merlin arthur’s like “i’m umm sorry that wasn’t fair of me to sack you” then uther trying to apologize to gaius whew it was hard to watch like you are the KING you are FEARED and your stuttering over an apology?? and gaius did NOT hold back

— this episode was super interesting because it’s the first time we see uther falter with magic. i know he’s not a good person by a long shot but he’s always just ruthlessly and without hesitation condemned people with magic but now it’s worse. because now we know that uther knows what he’s doing is wrong but he still condemned gaius to death. he’s too stubborn to change and when the laws become biased to people close are when they become so much more dangerous and yeah uther could’ve tried to change like he told gaius that something would change

— gaius and merlin making fun of aredians face when he puked up the road was amazing and i love them so much

anyway if you read this whole thing, why? and here’s a picture of our favorite gays because look at their smug little faces

last thing THE TENSION in the photo below whew damn how the entirety of Camelot didn't know they were fucking is beyond me

#bbc merlin #merthur #morgwen #gaius #uther pendragon #arthur pendragon #merlin #merlin bbc #ramblings #headcanons #merlin headcanons

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 2 years

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Con Man's Daughter (8)

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 7.5) (Here) (Part 9)

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Thought about it and decided that Damian and Marinette and Raven in a love triangle is a small fun idea (Hello, @summerfox1988)

The beginning: Raven has a slight crush on Damian > Damian has feelings for Marinette and is in denial of it > Marinette is straight out flirting with Raven who is oblivious that she is flirting.

Progression of the Love ‘Triangle’:

Marinette: one day thought about how her best friend Damian is hot and panics because she likes Raven. It’s fine to like two people at once but one of them is her best friend and she doesn’t want to ruin her friendship with him. She had to walk out of the room due to the sheer number of butterflies in her stomach when she saw the two of them together and how cute both of them looked, especially playing with her various pets who she had left with Damian while she dealt with her half-siblings who are literal demons (story for another time). Certified bi disaster mess. Her father is of no help, laughing at her hopeless crushes and no, she isn’t going to fabricate a scenario where she traps all of them in one place so she can tell both of them that she likes them.(A lil bit of foreshadowing) At least, uncle Chas and aunt Z were better help. For now, she is going to maintain her distance until she can get her shit together enough to confess.

Damian, still enjoying the river of denial, finds out that the funny feeling he gets when he sees Marinette flirting with Raven is jealousy but comes to the conclusion that he likes Raven and Marinette is his competition. He actually started to like Raven as more than just a friend as he hung out more with her. He feels a little bad for Constantine since she keeps leaving the room everytime she sees the two of them together and, dare he say it, sad that she isn’t around as often and inviting him out on one of her adventures. It hits him while he was patrolling in Gotham with Nightwing that he had a crush on Marinette too. Causing him to misfire his grapple but luckily his brother saved him from falling into the horrid smelling dumpster.

Raven on the other hand, after getting over her jealousy of Marinette because of her closer relationship with Damian, has a quick gay panic and finds that she actually does like-like Marinette that way. The Constantine girl had worn down her defences and Raven was more fond of her than she was willing to admit. It hits her when she notices that Marinette hasn’t been visiting her lately and that she misses her and the way Mari made her feel when she was around. (Mari was spending the week in Amity Park which is rumoured to be one of the most haunted town in America.) One of the Titans casually reveals to her that Marinette had been flirting with her the entire time. And Damian had been hanging out with her more often which she was happy about but Marinette wasn’t around as often.

There is a betting pool on who ends up with who. There is definitely lots of pining and high tensions that makes everyone in the JL frustrated.

It all comes to an end with a mission. The three ended up trapped together for 48 hours in some pocket dimension Marinette opened at the last minute so they could escape but she and Raven were both too drained to open it again to the real world.

Feelings are revealed. At the end of the 48-hours, they all avoided each other for a few days to come to terms with everything because all of them are terrible with emotions. Also they have to deal with a world-ending crisis.

They decided to meet up and talked it out after some encouragement from friends and family.

The next day, the three of them are seen at Andre’s ice cream cart, getting ice cream.

More chaos ensues when everyone in the JL thinks each of them is two-timing the other but nothing is confirmed.

It gets cleared up when Marinette walks in holding both Raven’s and Robin’s hands to a JL meeting and announces that they are dating.

Everyone loses it. The winners of the betting pool were Nightwing, Oracle and Zatanna. John had betted on Marinette and Raven because liking demons (or half-demon) is somewhat of a family trait and he didn’t think that Demon in a title counted.

—---

Damian: Hello?

Mari: Great, Damian, by any chance do you know the best way to cover up a crime scene?

Damian, pinching the bridge of his nose: What did you do, Constantine? And I hope you didn’t forget that it’s date night.

Mari: For the record, it was an accident. A bloody and messy accident. I think I am going to be late for date night. By the way, do you know any dry cleaners who will ask no questions? This shade of red won’t hide the bloodstains as well as I hoped.

Damian: I will ask Todd for you, he probably knows how often his jackets get so much blood on them. Back to the accident, did you accidentally kill someone.

Mari: Oh, they were already dead. The ghoul was just impersonating them. Those were always so messy to kill.

Damian, sighing heavily: What do you usually do with the bodies?

Mari: So...usually I kill ghouls in dark places, deep underground, catacombs mostly. There was this one time in the forest. I just leave the body there to decompose on its own because people don’t happen to find the body until a long long time later. This time….it’s in an apartment building where its previous victim lived.

Raven, walking into the Titans living room with some snacks: Is that Mari? Did she forget that it’s date night?

Damian: How do you know it’s her?

Raven: You have a face that you make when she gets herself into trouble.

Mari, over the phone: Rae? Can you tell our boyfriend to help me? Better yet, portal him to my location.

Raven: Turn on the speaker, Damian, To Mari: Depends. What did you do?

Mari, nervously laughs: I may have...killed a ghoul and it was messier than I had intended and now the apartment looks like murder scene.

Raven: Why don’t you get your father to help you

Mari: No. Absolutely not. He will be mad that I took on the ghoul by myself. Look, just portal Damian over and help me clean this up before nosy neighbours come and investigate. I will owe you guys one. I can do this all on my own but the faster this place is clean, the faster we can go back to our scheduled date-

-----

As Marinette rambles on, Raven mutes the call and looks at her other partner. Mari worriedly asks why they aren’t answering when it got quiet on the other end.

“Some days I can’t believe we are dating this disaster.” said Raven.

“At least we will never be bored. And we knew what we were getting into when we both said yes. You do remember who she is related to?” replied Damian.

“Yes. How unfortunate that she inherited those traits. So...are we going to help her?”

“Might as well. Don’t want our girlfriend going to jail on murder charges.”

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

Mari turned around to see her partners, stepped into the puddle of blood while she was rolling the body up with the carpet.

Damian told them each what to do. Mari gets rid of the body while he and Raven clean up the crime scene.

“Thanks, guys. I will make this up to you, I swear.”

“You can by letting us pick the movie for tonight.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror as she knew what her partners wanted to watch. “No. Please no. I beg of you.”

“Yes. We are going to watch Miraculous Adventures of Lady Rouge and Chat Noir.” Damian said with a smirk.

“No. Anything but that movie.”

“Why do you hate it so much?” Raven asked as she used a spell to dispose of the innards of the ghoul.

“They made it without my knowing. There are so many things wrong. For starters, they didn't even get my suit right.”

“A few inaccuracies in the costume is a common mistake in the film industry.”

“Well, then that costume was the biggest mistake in the history of movies. Ladybug, they even changed my freaking name for no reason but kept it in the movie title, I call false advertising. Anyways, Ladybug is a normal girl with a normal life with a big secret which is wearing a plain, boring polka-dotted skin-tight suit that showed how well-toned she is, and she doesn’t wear anything else to cover it up. Is it practical? Probably, given how many superheroes have a preference for it, no offense to your brothers, Damian.”

“They can take the criticism.” he replied, getting the cleaning supplies out.

“Back to my point on that suit, where is the flair? Where is the dramatic applications that comes with a coat or maybe a cape? If I ever get my hands on that suit, I am going to burn it in the flames of hell. It’s too simple and plain for my taste and it’s a stupid excuse for horny males to stare at a nearly naked girl. How come Chat Noir has a near identical costume in the movie and I don’t even have my coat. It’s like my signature look. Stores ran out of red coats after the first month I showed up. Plus what even is the plot? It made no sense-”

She continued ranting as she finished rolling up the body and dragged it through a portal to who knows where to get rid of the body.

Damian and Raven shared an amused grin as they continued cleaning up the apartment. They were definitely going to see that movie.

-----

(I have only played poker, specifically, a few times….on the computer and watched a youtube video of it.)

One weekend, a ten-year-old Marinette was sleeping over at the House of Mystery while her parents were going on a trip somewhere and John was looking after her.

She woke up in the middle of the night and went to get some water. Instead, she dropped into the middle of her father’s poker game with a few other special guests like the Demon Etrigan.

She sleepily bumped her head against his arm and he patted her hair in acknowledgement.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna. I want to watch you play.”

“Okay, one round and back to bed, you little rascal.”

Marinette giggled as the other players cooed or rolled their eyes at the father and daughter duo. A few were confused about John having a little girl in his house.

John had betted a hefty sum and the others were hesitant on calling. They weren’t sure if John was confident to win or bluffing like he usually do.

That is until Marinette in her innocent voice said, “Why don’t you have any good cards, Daddy? I thought you said you were good at poker.”

Everyone else raised their bets.

John sighed deeply before in a dad voice explained, “Sometimes, sweetie, you make people think you have good cards even though you don’t have any by betting really really high. That’s called bluffing. Sometimes, you can even double-bluff them into thinking that you don’t have any good cards when you have great ones.” he said as he revealed that he got a hand better than the others.

“What?!” all the other players exclaimed.

“Trickery!” A demon stood up and exposed its blades.

“Come on, mates. I can’t believe all of you fell for my ten-” “Nearly eleven,” Marinette injected, “-sorry, my nearly eleven years old daughter’s first con.”

“If she wasn’t your daughter, I would have snapped her neck for her deception, Constantine.”

“I would like to see *yawns* you try.” Marinette yawned again and rubbed her eyes.

“No taunting the demons and off to bed with you, lady luck.” John said as he nudged Marinette towards the stairs.

“You owe me half of the winnings.” She flashed them an all-too-familiar infuriating grin before racing up the stairs.

—--(Time skip to years later)----

21 years old Marinette is playing poker with other Justice League members in her Lady Rouge suit.

The others had folded.

Marinette with a very good poker face due to her mask was against a very confident Green Arrow with lots of money at stake as her father sauntered into the room, a cigarette hanging off his lips, completely disregarding the no-smoking rule of the Watchtower.

John looked over her shoulder to see her cards. “One of these days, I am going to have to ban you from poker because wearing the Ladybug miraculouses for a long time gives you too much luck and everyone and their mother loses everything to you everytime.”

Marinette snickered. “You are such a sore loser. I can still win Ladybug luck or no.”

“Well, I wish the rest of you sorry lot the best of luck.” he said before continuing on his way.

Green Arrow looked less confident at John Constantine’s words. “I fold.”

“Hai! Told ya that I would still win Ladybug luck or no.” She reveals a very bad hand, making Green Arrow screamed in outrage and cursed a storm.

Marinette smugly collected her pot, “To anyone who says that I am cheating because I wore magic lucky earrings for two years. I am currently wearing the bad luck ring to counter it for a fair game. Zatanna or any other magic user other than John can confirm.” She said, gesturing her head towards the magician who was watching them play.

Zatanna nodded to confirm and not mentioning the many tricks Lady Rouge had deployed so far to cheat. Like father like daughter. Plus she promised 10 percent of her winnings if the magician kept quiet. Green Arrow was rich, he will get over it.

—---

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha, @laurcad123, @pale-lady-dreamer, @frieddonutsweets, @demonicbusiness, @iloontjeboontje, @plantsarefun06, @khneltea, @avs17, @imarivers8, @tieronick2411, @bookwalmartav, @intoomanydamnfandoms, @paradoxaloccurance,

(Part 9)

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #damian x marinette #marinette x raven #raven x damian #damiraette #biodad! john constantine

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casspurrjoybell-18 · 1 year

Text

Mutual Desire - Chapter 24

*Warning - Adult Content*

Damien arrived at his destination some forty minutes later.

After parking his car, he took the elevator and went down to the top floor.

He spotted a door that he opened and that brought him to the roof.

Far from him, he identified the imposing figure of a man who was likely Nabokov.

Or perhaps that of a hitman hired by Nabokov?

No, it was definitely Nabokov.

Damien could now recognize the man from miles away.

Just like his particularly distinct voice.

Damien swept away his absurd paranoid thoughts that his nervousness was the cause of and he began walking towards Nabokov.

As he approached gradually, Damien took an overall look at the illuminated rooftop.

A few meters away from Nabokov was a long table that seemed to be jam-packed with food from what Damien could see from where he was.

And a few meters from the long table, another smaller one was placed with two chairs.

Nabokov had literally turned the roof into a small buffet.

Damien didn't know what to conclude of this entire spectacle that presented itself to him.

Why did Nabokov do all this?

For a gay man?

The Russian man stood majestically, staring at the resplendent view that Manhattan was offering him.

He appeared like the king of the city by the way he stood at ease.

He was far too close to the very end of the roof, that Damien had the disagreeable impression Nabokov was on the verge of making a suicidal move and fall from the rooftop.

When he stopped walking, the exquisite smell of food on the long table rose to Damien's nose.

Nabokov was standing a few inches away from him, his back opposing Damien, having no idea that the nervous man was standing behind him.

Damien didn't move and remained silent, hesitating to make his presence known.

Seeing Nabokov so close to him now made him have second thoughts about whether this dinner was a brilliant idea after all and if he was armed to confront the man.

In fact, he had never stopped doubting that.

But it was now too late for Damien since there was no turning back.

So he gathered the little courage he had left and finally spoke.

"Hey," Damien let out high enough to be heard.

Nabokov turned around and a slight smile appeared on his face.

This grin procured a warm sensation in Damien's belly.

"Good evening, Damien."

Nabokov took a few steps towards Damien, his inquisitive eyes all over the man, his smile now gone to make room for his impassibility.

"I'm happy you could make it," Nabokov said, his voice strong and deep.

Damien didn't know what to say to that.

He couldn't tell whether Nabokov was sincere or not, especially with that typical indecipherable expression on his face.

But he had forced this dinner to happen, so there surely had to be a little truth to it.

"How did it go with your friends?"

It was the first time Damien noticed that Nabokov seemed to want to make small talk.

A talk that was inevitable anyway, since during dinner it was obvious the two men would need to converse.

They couldn't simply eat in silence and then go each in their separate ways.

Life wasn't that easy, unfortunately.

But what exactly could both men discuss throughout the night?

Damien had no idea.

Perhaps he should start by engaging in a discussion regarding the inexplicable and senseless reasons behind this dinner in the first place, since Nabokov was clearly a homophobic asshole.

"Hmm. It went well. It was a bowling night," Damien whispered.

Damien folded his arms and lowered his head.

"You're quite well-dressed for a simple bowling night."

Damien raised his head and saw Nabokov smiling with genuine amusement and oddly, Damien couldn't help but return the smile.

The two men scrupulously observed each other in breathless silence as the joyous expression on their faces gradually dissipated and a slight tension took place.

"Come, I hope you like Asian food."

Nabokov headed to the long table and Damien followed him closely.

He took two plates and delivered one to Damien, who took it, thanking him in a murmur.

Damien now knew Asian food was Nabokov's favorite dish since the table was full of it.

Damien had the impression Nabokov had burgled several restaurants.

The food on the table could feed about twenty people.

Damien carefully watched Nabokov make a selection of the savory dishes that he then added to his plate.

The Russian then turned to Damien, who quickly directed his attention from Nabokov to the table where he pretended to observe the many delicious meals.

"Difficult choice?" Nabokov's unmistakable voice was cheerful and Damien smiled again.

His nervousness seemed to dissolve a little and he slightly relaxed.

It helped that he maintained a reasonable distance between him and Nabokov.

"Too many choices," Damien replied with a chuckle.

Indeed, there were too many excellent choices.

One question kept appearing in Damien's head.

Why did Nabokov do all this?

This question burned his lips and Damien was overly eager to emerge it from his mouth but he wasn't sure he had the courage to do it.

After a few seconds of quickly looking at the dishes, Damien finally chose a small portion of food.

He wasn't really hungry and his anxiety made him even less eager to fill his nervous stomach.

The two men took place after selecting their dish.

Nabokov was seated opposite to Damien and this position didn't delight him because Nabokov was directly in his field of vision.

Damien turned his head, giving Nabokov his profile, looking at Manhattan as a whole.

Damien had little need to pretend to look at the sight since the picturesque scene in front of him was actually sublime.

The beautiful skyscrapers lit by the lights were beautiful to watch.

"Wine?" Nabokov's commanding voice brought Damien's attention back on him.

Nabokov held a bottle of wine in his hand.

Damien nodded, his gaze deliberately fixed on the bottle of alcohol to avoid Nabokov's.

Damien thanked him and took a taste of the delicious wine, still dodging Nabokov's gaze.

He turned his attention back to the landscape.

"This view is so beautiful," Damien whispered with a meager smile.

Damien always had a soft spot for breathtaking landscapes.

The site he was looking at reminded him of his first trip in Italy with Nick.

During the trip, he could spend several minutes riddling the many splendor scenes of the country's landscapes without ever getting bored.

There were really sites in this world that had the ability to leave you speechless and Damien was a sucker for that.

He continued watching for a few more seconds but finally turned his head when he sensed a gaze on him.

Nabokov's eyes were all over his face, consuming him without shame.

Damien smiled nervously and timidly.

"What?" Damien asked softly.

Nabokov shrugged slightly and smiled too.

"Well, nothing."

This answer didn't satisfy Damien.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

As soon as Damien questioned the man, he bitterly regretted it.

He sensed that he was going to get an answer that would only lock him into a trap or worse, that would lead to a sensitive subject he didn't want to talk about.

"Like what?" Nabokov questioned him in return.

An opening to shift the subject had been created, but piqued curiosity was much too strong.

Damien wanted to know the reason for this intended stare on him.

"I don't know. You were looking at me... longingly. "

Another raised eyebrow from the Russian and Damien apprehended what he was about to say.

"And? Is that a problem?" Nabokov asked, continuing to question Damien.

Was it really a problem?

No.

But it was uncomfortable to say the least.

But Damien doubted Nabokov gave it a shit about that.

Maybe that was his aim goal.

To make Damien uncomfortable.

"No," Damien simply replied, realizing the sudden tension that his question had generated.

The silence returned as Damien lowered his head, looking at the food he still hadn't touched.

"You know what I noticed that's so interesting about you, Damien?" Nabokov said, piercing the silence.

Damien Clark jerked his head, a raised eyebrow illustrating his confusion.

"Interesting?"

Alexander Nabokov leaned his back on the chair, lifted an arm and positioning it at the top of the chair.

He then forced his right foot on his left thigh.

He was now sitting very casually but his eyes were just the opposite.

They were perceiving and intimidating.

"Sometimes you're not shy to look me straight in the eyes but then other times, you'll flee my gaze like the plague. I always want to know why."

Damien let out a slight nervous laugh that lasted a second.

He took his fork, suddenly interested in the food on his plate.

He began playing with the food and pricked it with the fork, clearly an act of anxiety that allowed him to have no eye contact with Nabokov.

"I really don't have a clue what you're talking about," Damien let out, looking at his food, as he was speaking to it.

"Really?"

Looks like Nabokov and Damien can't have a normal conversation.

"Yeah, really," Damien retorted a little sharply. "You are clearly imagining things and see what you want to see."

Damien knew Nabokov was right and this fact ate him from the inside.

But he couldn't allow let Nabokov know that.

Damien took a bite of his dish hoping this gesture would prevent Nabokov from emitting a comment and he would see that Damien had no desire to talk but to eat, though Damien was far from hungry.

"So, it was just me imagining things in the limousine the other day, when your eyes were begging for me to kiss you?"

Damien thought his heart was going to come out of his body and he was going to choke on the General Tso chicken he was chewing on.

He wanted to pinch himself to assure this conversation was in fact taking place.

"What? What are you talking about, Alexander?"

Nabokov sighed softly and rested his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his hand.

"Come on, Damien. Let's talk frankly here. We're both adults you and I and I can see that you're attracted to me."

Damien took a sip of his wine, as his features tightened and an anxiety attack seemed to want to take place at any moment now.

"I can't say if I am yet but what I know is that you intrigue me enormously."

Damien felt a flush of heat running through his body.

He ran both hands over his face and sighed.

"Unbelievable. You're deluding completely," Damien mumbled, as if he spoke to himself, his gaze shifted to his plate.

"Damien, I know if it wasn't for your boyfriend, you would have let me take you the other day with no issue. And believe me, I wouldn't have let you go, not without having completely satisfied you."

Damien's manhood vivified quickly and he laughed nervously.

He placed a hand on his forehead that he began to scratch.

His body inevitably betraying him and reacting to the Russian's words but he didn't show any of it display on his face.

He couldn't allow it.

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frogtanii · 3 years

Text

memories were a fickle thing. oikawa was never one to dwell on the past but recently, that’s all he’d been doing.

ever since most of the house suddenly... removed themselves from meiko, tooru had had more time on his hands than ever before.

he filmed his videos, maybe went to go pester iwaizumi a bit (when he didn’t have his hands full with management), and then waited for that one day a week where he got to let loose for a bit and drop his inhibitions.

ky��tani and yahaba were the best companions for the job — kyō was intimidating and mean looking which scared away any creeps and yahaba tended to be funny and sarcastic which alleviated any possible tension that could’ve crept up.

all in all, they were a great trio, perfect for distracting one another from whatever was going on in their lives.

of course, they had to deal with kyōtani’s inadvertent panty-dropping but with a couple of snide remarks from tooru and yahaba, they were golden.

oikawa enjoyed his time with them, because when he was out there, in the club surrounded by his friends and other drunk, sweaty people, he didn’t have to think. he didn’t have to remember.

he didn’t have to think about why meiko seemed to be so keen with his best friend and not him. he didn’t have to remember the countless times he cried himself to sleep because he just wasn’t good enough, why wasn’t he ever good enough??

but now, the object of his pain and inferiority was coming with him, invading his last safe haven where she didn’t exist. his escape door was closing and as dramatic as he felt, he knew that this would be the end of something, something he genuinely cared about.

tooru sighed, his eyes falling upon his face in the mirror. he looked great (obviously), but something akin to regret and fear swam in his brown orbs.

ugh. that’s so not what he was going for. more glitter?

of course, the answer is always more glitter. digging through his makeup drawer, oikawa pulled out one of his more extensive (and expensive) eyeshadow palettes along with his blending brush and opened it up, spreading a hefty amount of turquoise glitter across his eyelid.

a loud knock sounded at his door, jolting his hand and sending a streak of pigment smearing across his cheek. “fucking hell,” tooru muttered, placing the brush and eyeshadow down before opening his bedroom door.

out in the hall stood meiko, clad in a way too short, way too slutty, hot pink dress, uneven fishnets, and 6 inch stilettos that she could barely walk in.

internally, oikawa was cringing at the foundation crumbling by her bright red lipstick and the concealer flaking around her black eye but he kept it together, too tired to deal with her bitching about his response to her appearance.

instead he stepped aside to let her into his room, her eyes trailing all over his (clearly superior) outfit as she stumbled into the doorway.

“is that what you’re wearing?” oikawa suppressed his eye roll at the question as he nodded, moving back towards his mirror to wipe off the stray glitter from his cheeks.

meiko scoffed, plopping down on his bed like she owned it while running a hand through her tacky extensions. “okay but isn’t the glitter a bit... much? like, you aren’t gonna get girls that way,” she tittered, tapping her acrylics on tooru’s 800 thread count bedsheets. “like, i love the lgbt or whatever but you look like super gay.”

oikawa tensed in front of the mirror for a split second before reaching down and grabbing his lipgloss just to spite her. “oh do i? funny how i just happen to be a member of the lgbt or whatever and just so happen to also be attracted to men. funny how that turns out, huh?”

he could hardly keep the venom out of his voice, earning him another annoyed scoff and an eye roll. “i said no offense.”

no, you didn’t, tooru thought, but he didn’t bother voicing this, knowing that in the end it didn’t matter. he could never be just the guy she wanted (macho, tall, big arms *cough cough* iwaizumi) and to be frank, he was kind of tired of trying.

“are you ready to go?” he asked, pulling on a couple rings and throwing on his chains and necklaces. a quick glance over to miss newborn deer revealed her picking her thong out of her ass and he internally groaned.

this was going to be hell.

“this is hell!” oikawa yelled over the music to his two companions while meiko was conveniently lost to the bathroom — something about needing to “refresh her smell” before meeting kyōtani.

yahaba gave him a concerned look while kyō made an understanding hum, gazing out onto the dance floor with his drink in his heavily tattooed hands.

if kyōtani wasn’t one of his best friends and unfortunately entirely straight, oikawa would’ve definitely hit that and he completely understood why meiko wanted to but kyō was a hard nut to crack. he rarely took women from the club home with him because although he didn’t seem like it, he was a hopeless romantic, a sucker for domesticity and a ring on a finger.

tooru was once like that, long before meeting meiko. he wanted to be with someone he was comfortable with, who he didn’t have to worry about anything with so he could just focus on the little things but as time went on, he became more and more cynical.

everyone who wanted to be with oikawa, wanted to do so for his looks or his fame and once he finally found someone who he thought would actually be the one, she was pulled away to be with other people (he wasn’t enough to keep her).

“hey,” kyōtani’s gruff voice knocked tooru out of his thoughts, kyō’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “you think too much. stop.”

oikawa couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face, earning him a small smile from his fuzzy headed friend. kyō was a man of few words but he always knew exactly what to say to get tooru out of his head.

a gift, truly.

actually this whole place, these people were gifts and he wasn’t going to allow meiko, the wicked bitch of the west, take it away from him. not if he had anything to say about it.

besides, if anyone could crush meiko’s spirit, it would be none other than kyōtani kentarou.

℗ poker face

a gift, truly

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - well! this ended up wayy more kyōtani heavy than i originally planned but i’m lichrally in love w him??? i couldn’t Not but anyways!! in case u didn’t gather it, oikawa is bi!!! v hot v sick && thus officially begins his arc!!! don’t forget to feed me <33333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @babierin • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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nicknellie · 3 years

Text

Anonymous requested: Alex has a really bad day. His anxiety playing up and just things generally going wrong. It’s the end of the day Willie and Alex are having a sleepover and are in bed. Alex breaks down and Willie comforts him.

Okay, I love this so much, thank you for sending it! I really hope I did it justice, I always enjoy writing Alex’s anxiety and supportive Willie. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to writing it, life got in the way. Thank you for the request, anon!

TW: anxiety, homophobia

All the Love in the World

From the moment he woke up, Alex knew that it wasn’t going to be a good day. He knew it because he could barely find the strength to open his eyes and when he eventually managed it he wanted nothing more than to close them again, curl in on himself and stay there in bed unmoving for the rest of the day. He knew it because he was exhausted like he hadn’t slept in days, his mind racing to catch up with his body but not quite making it. He knew it because he felt sick to the stomach and his head was buzzing with indescribable tension and nerves.

Alex had days like this sometimes. Days that just didn’t feel worth it. Why should he get out of bed and get on with his day if his head was spinning, his eyes watering, his breathing hitched, his hands shaking? It was a day where his anxiety was needlessly heightened, overpowering from the moment he woke up, a dull ache in the pit of his stomach reminding him to worry. Reminding him that anything and everything had the potential to go wrong. Reminding him that it would feel like his fault.

On days like this, Alex just wanted to stay in bed. He hardly felt like he could move, let alone carry on with his day like there was nothing wrong, suffer through talking to people and put on a brave face. He wanted desperately to pull the bedcovers up over his head and lie there in the dark with nothing but his own company, but he knew he couldn’t. If he tried, his parents would come upstairs and force him out of bed anyway. They’d make him go to school, ignore all the warning signs, tell him to get on with it.

So, with more effort than it should have been, Alex dragged himself from the bed, rubbed his tired eyes, and made himself get on with it.

He opened up his chest of drawers to find something to wear but was quickly reminded that he’d forgotten to do his laundry. He cursed himself, remembering that his mother had told him to bring his clothes down the night before and he hadn’t done it. His alarm clock told him that he definitely didn’t have enough time to put on a wash – he’d have to wear clothes that hadn’t been washed.

Reluctantly, he fished yesterday’s t-shirt and a pair of jeans from his wash-basket. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, he knew that; he’d only worn each thing once, they weren’t stained or dirty and they didn’t smell bad. He knew that nobody would even bat an eyelid. But the feeling of putting on the slightly crinkled clothes, cold against his skin, made him cringe. It was like he could feel the dirt against his skin, though he knew there wouldn’t be any. There was something painfully uncomfortable about it but he didn’t have a choice.

Feeling itchy all over, an uncomfortable humming sensation spreading through every inch of his body, he opened his bedroom door and he made himself get on with it.

Breakfast was waiting for him in the kitchen, as where the rest of his family. Alex sat down and poured himself a bowl of cereal, his father skimming a newspaper to his right, his mother frying something on the hob, and his little sister Lily wearing more of her cereal than eating it.

“Morning, Alex,” his father said, peering at Alex over the top of his glasses. “You’re up late. What took you so long?”

“Don’t know,” Alex mumbled with a shrug. He kept his eyes on his food, not wanting to engage. If he bothered trying to talk to his parents today he knew it wouldn’t end well.

“What was that?” his father pressed, slapping his hand where it rested against the table. Alex winced and withdrew it into his lap. “Speak up.”

“I just woke up late,” Alex said. He hoped it would be enough to shut his father up, but he knew that was wishful thinking for a day like today.

“Don’t you take that tone with your father,” his mother scolded, not bothering to look at him as she did so. “It’s not his fault that you can’t pull yourself together in the morning. That’s on you, Alex.”

Just like everything else, he thought to himself. It wasn’t a surprise that his parents were being so hard on him – that was pretty much routine by now – and on a normal day he could cope with it. But today didn’t feel like a normal day. Today felt like he could feel everything too much and was completely numb at the same time, like he had a million thoughts whirring through his head but his mind was totally empty, like he was going to cry but didn’t have enough of himself present to make any tears flow. So he just ignored it all because what else could he do?

“You should start running in the mornings, Alex,” his father suggested, folding his newspaper and setting it down, crossing his arms over his chest. Alex could feel his stony eyes boring into his head, but he still didn’t look up. “If you want to keep your place on the cross-country team then you need to start putting some actual effort in. Although I’m surprised they still want someone like you on the team anyway.”

Alex felt tears well up in his eyes. He couldn’t do this today. He couldn’t.

He said nothing, but clearly his dad wasn’t happy with that. “God’s sake, Alex, you’re really going to cry at that? What is this, some pathetic attempt to convince us you really are what you say you are? You think acting like a prissy little girl is going to make us think you’re queer? Christ Almighty, Alex, you’re not. My son is not gay. Man up. You’ll never get anywhere in life if you’re a goddamn emotional wreck.”

He wiped at his eyes, hoping it was discreet, knowing it wasn’t. A quiet sob escaped him but it sounded loud as a scream in the tense silence of the kitchen. He heard his mother tut, his father scrape his chair back and stand up, and even Lily’s giggles subsided as she realised that her big brother was crying.

“I wish I didn’t have to call you my son,” his father said. The disdain in his voice rattled around in Alex’s head, echoing over and over like some cruel broken record. A moment later, the door slammed and Alex was left alone with his mother and sister.

“You know not to upset him, Alex,” his mother told him. “He’s very stressed with work at the moment, he doesn’t need you and your nonsense adding to it.”

“Sorry,” Alex said, voice hoarse. His mother didn’t reply.

He opened his eyes – he didn’t know when he’d closed them, but the light in the kitchen was far too bright when he opened them again and he fought the urge to shut them – and looked out of the kitchen window. It was pouring with rain outside, wind heaving trees this way and that, the clothes hanging on the washing line at risk of blowing away.

“Can I have a lift to school please?” Alex asked. “It’s raining.”

Alex’s mother peered out the window herself, groaned at the drenched laundry on the washing line, then turned back to Alex with a sour look on her face. “If you’d got up on time then maybe I could have taken you. But no – your father’s got to work and I’ve got to get Lily ready for school. Make your own way there.”

“It’s hell out there,” Alex protested weakly.

His mother picked Lily up from her chair, the five-year-old covered in Coco Pops and with a huge smile on her face, looking so unlike her bitter mother that it was hard to believe they were related at all.

“You’ll be fine,” his mother said. “You’re going to hell anyway.”

Without another word, his mother left the room, Lily waving at Alex over her shoulder. Alex hung his head, rubbing his knuckles against his temples, trying to ground himself, trying to think. Maybe he could get a lift from one of his friends, he considered. But his house wasn’t on the way to school for any of them and he didn’t want to annoy them by making them go out of their way to get him. Besides, they’d probably just tell him to walk. It wasn’t like the school was that far away, it was only a little rain. He wasn’t that pathetic, he could handle getting a bit wet. What did it matter?

He shook his head to clear his addled thoughts, finished getting ready for school, found an old coat and headed out into the rain. He just made himself get on with it.

Even though the walk to school was short, it wasn’t made easy by the rain. It blurred most of his vision, soaked any part of him that wasn’t covered by the coat – within three minutes his jeans were plastered to his legs and his face was numb with cold. At one point, a car drove past his and sent an icy puddle spraying up at him like a tidal wave. He spat rainwater out onto the pavement and wished for the rain to subside, just for a little bit. Of course, it didn’t.

When he finally arrived at school, he pulled his coat off and shook out his wet hair like a dog. A group of girls beside him shrieked as the water splashed them, but he didn’t have the energy to apologise. He just made his way to his locker, trying to move quickly as if that would make the day go faster, get it all out of the way.

He arrived at his locker and saw Luke waiting for him there, a bright smile on his face that disappeared as soon as he saw the state Alex was in.

“Bro, you’re a mess,” he said as soon as Alex was close enough to hear him.

“Thanks,” he deadpanned.

“Did you walk here? Dude, it’s practically a storm out there.”

Alex shrugged, trying to play it off like he didn’t care. “So? A little water won’t hurt me.”

“You’re shivering,” Luke pointed out. “And you’re soaked. Dude, you can’t go around in wet clothes all day, you’ll get sick. And you’re a nightmare when you’re sick.”

“It’s fine,” Alex said dismissively. “I might have some sweatpants in my PE kit. I’ll wear those.”

“Why did you walk anyway?” Luke asked, leaning against the locker beside him.

“My parents couldn’t take me.”

Luke’s expression morphed into something Alex was too tired to identify. There was confusion in there, concern, maybe a bit of anger. None of it made sense to Alex though, so he opened up his locker so he’d have somewhere else to look.

“I would have taken you,” Luke said, clapping Alex on the back. The touch made his skin crawl and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and dispel the grim feeling that had settled between his shoulder blades. “You should’ve just called.”

“My house isn’t on the way for you,” Alex pointed out.

“So? You know I would have come for you, Alex, don’t be dumb.”

Alex’s heart sank. Was that what he was? Did Luke really think he was dumb for not calling him? Though Alex was starting to feel a little stupid himself. What had he been thinking? Had he really let his stupid anxieties get to him so much that he’d misjudged his friends so harshly? Maybe he was as stupid as Luke said.

“Alex,” Luke said softly, pulling him back down to Earth. “Don’t get lost in your own head, buddy. Okay? Just go and get changed. You’re fine. I’ll see you in class, bro.”

He headed to the changing rooms, not really paying attention to anything going on around him and hardly remembering the journey once he got there. Hurriedly, he pulled his waterlogged jeans off and tried to brush any lingering water off his legs, but it was impossible. He settled for being a little bit damp and pulled the joggers on. They were a thousand times more comfortable than the jeans, the first bit of good luck he’d had since he woke up. As he left the room, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and felt something in one of them.

It was a small scrap of paper. He didn’t remember putting anything in his pockets, so he pulled it out to inspect it. He recognised the handwriting immediately and for the first time that day a smile tugged at his lips.

I love you!

Willie’s messy scrawl filled most of the page, surrounded by tiny love hearts. He must have slipped it into Alex’s pocket the last time he’d been wearing these joggers. It made Alex’s heart flip, remembering that Willie was somewhere in the school and this note was proof that he loved him. Somewhere nearby, Willie was wandering the halls (or more likely skating through them and being sent to Principal Lessa for it yet again) and Alex would get to see him soon. That, he knew, would brighten even his darkest days.

For a moment or two he let himself be happy. He’d see Willie and everything would feel fine. Willie had that effect on Alex – just one moment together could force any worry out of his mind.

But then he realised that it was a Friday. The one day of the week where his timetable clashed so awfully with Willie’s that they had literally no chance to see each other. They didn’t share a breaktime, they didn’t share lunch, there was no chance they’d even pass each other in the halls. Any hope Alex had held dissipated like air from a burst balloon. He was back to feeling like today just wasn’t worth it.

Without thinking, he pulled his phone out and quickly texted Willie, asking if he could sleep at his house that night. It would be good for a lot of reasons – he would have to spend the evening with his parents, he’d get to hold Willie for as long as he wanted to, and all the day’s stresses would finally leave him and he’d be free. All he had to do was get through the day.

Willie replied quickly, saying of course Alex could sleep over, he’d be looking forward to it. It was something to be happy about, Alex knew. Something for him to look forward to, to be excited by. But his anxiety got to it before his excitement could – what if Willie forgot, what if he changed his mind, what if Alex was somehow made to go home instead? All of a sudden his mind was buzzing again, a thousand possibilities being hauled through one by one, each less likely but more troubling than the last.

Just as he started considering the possibility that Willie had only said yes as some cruel joke, that their whole relationship was built just to embarrass Alex, he knew he had to stop. He knew he had to force himself to concentrate on something else, ignore every curse his brain threw at him. The school bell rang, signalling the first lesson, and Alex made himself get on with it.

School was decidedly not good. In his first lesson, Alex was surprised by a maths exam he’d completely forgotten to study for. His head was swimming the whole time and he only answered four of the questions, leaving the rest blank or filled with scribbles and half-finished equations. In his second lesson, the teacher asked for homework to be handed in, and Alex realised he’d left his on his desk in his bedroom. The teacher threatened him with detention which made Alex’s heart beat so rapidly that he could feel the blood pulsing in his neck. The only reason he got out of it was because it was the first time he’d ever left his homework and luckily the teacher was feeling kind.

But his third lesson was the worst. He arrived with most of the class long before the teacher, and all the other students were so loud. They were laughing and shouting and throwing things around, making so much noise that Alex wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and shut his eyes and stop moving. It was physically painful and he couldn’t take it. Before the teacher had even arrived, Alex was out of his seat and heading as fast as he could to the toilets.

He locked himself in a cubicle, leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor, hands covering his eyes. His breathing came out in ragged strips, burning his chest. Hot tears were leaking down his cheeks and every time he wiped one away three more replaced it. He couldn’t feel his legs, if he had tried to stand up he knew they wouldn’t have held him. His hands were shaking so violently that he had to press them harder against his face to still them, knowing he’d probably leave a mark. Every time he moved felt like an excruciating amount of effort.

It felt like it would go on forever.

By the time he regained feeling in his legs, his hands stopped shaking, his eyes weren’t watering and his breathing was even, he had missed the entirety of his lesson. He forced himself up from the floor, feeling disgusting as he realised that the floor of a school toilet was probably one of the most unhygienic places on Earth. But he checked himself in the mirror one last time, ignored the receding blotches on his face, and headed to lunch.

The rest of the day passed largely without incident. He wasn’t hungry, so spent most of lunch pushing food around his plate. Julie, Reggie, and Luke gently encouraged him to try and eat something, but they left it alone when he told them he couldn’t. His final lessons dragged on and on, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that soon it would be just him and Willie and he could forget the dreadful day he’d had.

He met Willie at the entrance of the school after his final lesson. The rain had cleared and there was a tiny hint of the sun peeking through the clouds, glinting on the wet pavement. Alex’s heart swelled when he saw Willie waiting for him, skateboard in hand, hair tucked under his helmet, beaming. He walked over to him and didn’t bother saying anything before pulling Willie into the tightest hug he could.

Willie chuckled in his ear, gripping him with just as much force. “Miss me, hotdog?”

Alex could only nod, burying his face into Willie’s hair.

He felt Willie press a gentle kiss to his neck. “I missed you too. But I’m here now. Just us two.”

“Just us two,” Alex echoed.

The further away they walked from the school, the more Alex’s heart lifted. Hand in hand with Willie, he listened to him talk about his day, ranting about the cool stuff he’d learnt in history and showing him photos of the latest project he was working on in his art class.

“Recognise this guy?” Willie asked, swiping onto a picture of a portrait. The guy in the picture was laughing, his head tipped back and his eyes closed, blond hair fallen over his face. The background was dark, dotted with twinkling lights in every colour of the rainbow. Alex felt himself smile, in awe of Willie’s talent, loving him more every second.

“That’s me,” Alex said quietly.

He knew exactly what picture Willie had used as a reference. It had been taken when the two of them had gone to a carnival for the night – Alex had been laughing at Willie, who had somehow managed to get candyfloss all over his face while eating it. The portrait version captured the pure elation and giddiness Alex had been feeling at the time perfectly, better than the actual photograph had managed. He had no idea how Willie could paint the way he did, like the paintbrush was an extension of his arm, natural and easy.

There were no words to describe the way Willie made Alex feel, so he settled for, “I love you.”

Willie blushed daintily and squeezed Alex’s hand, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I love you too.”

They arrived at Willie’s house soon enough. Luckily for Alex, he kept plenty of clothes at Willie’s as well as a toothbrush and a pair of drumsticks, so he didn’t have to go home and grab anything before coming. The two of them changed into more comfortable clothes (and if Alex stole one of Willie’s hoodies rather than simply using one of the three he kept there, that was his own business) before deciding to be lazy and tuck themselves into Willie’s bed together rather than heading all the way back downstairs.

Alex had planned to try and be fun that evening, for Willie’s sake. He didn’t want to be boring and quiet, letting his bad day get to him when he was with Willie. He wanted to have fun and be fun, not the moping emotional wreck he felt like. But it was easier said than done. Sure, being with Willie had already cheered him up immensely, but when he finally got to rest for a moment he thought he might break. The weight of the day caught up with him, every crushing thing his parents had said, every bitingly cold raindrop, every loud noise in the class he’d skipped. He felt as tired as he had that morning when he’d pulled himself from the bed.

He couldn’t make himself be fun that day.

“What are you thinking about?” Willie asked, running a hand through Alex’s hair. The touch was soothing and soft – it tore down the final remnants of Alex’s resolve.

He cuddled up close to Willie, laid his head on his shoulder, and he cried.

Willie didn’t say anything. He just looped his arms around Alex’s back and held him close. He gently stroked Alex’s hair, rubbed small circles on his back, pressed the occasional soft kiss to the top of his head. That was what Alex loved about Willie – there was never any pressure, Willie would let Alex do what he needed to in his own time. If he needed to cry his eyes out for some impossible amount of time, Willie would let him and he would hold him while it happened.

Eventually he calmed down enough to speak. Releasing the tears had left a hollow feeling in his stomach (though that might have had something to do with the fact he hadn’t eaten since breakfast). He felt guilty, selfish, like he should have just bitten his tongue and kept his emotions inside.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, throat dry.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Willie told him reassuringly. “I don’t mind. I just want to be here for you.”

“You don’t want me to explain?” Alex asked. Usually when he broke this way people demanded an explanation from him, made him tell them everything he was thinking, forced him to move too quickly and too far. But Willie, of course, was different.

“Only if you want to,” Willie said. Alex propped his chin on Willie’s shoulder, angled so that he could look him in the eye. All he saw was honesty, adoration, care… things he wasn’t used to seeing when he was in such a state. But he knew he could always count on Willie to show him exactly what he needed.

He took a deep breath and slowly he told Willie everything. He told him how he’d felt awful since the moment he had woken up, how his parents had only made it worse, how the rain had dampened his mood, how he’d found Willie’s note but been crushed when he realised he wouldn’t see him. He told him about the failed test, the missed homework, the panic attack in his third lesson, eating nothing at lunch and how he was dreading the next time he had to go home.

And all the while, Willie just listened. He never interrupted, never offered an unhelpful opinion, never told Alex he was being silly. He just listened until Alex was finished.

“Look at me, Alex,” he said then, voice low. Alex did as he said. “None of this is your fault. Please tell me you know that.”

Tears brimmed in his eyes again, but still Alex nodded. He hadn’t known it before, but he believed everything Willie said. It Willie claimed it wasn’t Alex’s fault, then it wasn’t his fault.

“Your bad days will come and go,” he continued, wiping a stray tear away from Alex’s cheek. “But they’ll always be followed by good ones sooner or later. You can stay here with me for as long as you need to and I promise I’ll try and make every day as good as it can possibly be for you. You are loved, Alex.”

Alex sniffled weakly. “I know.”

“Maybe today did suck,” Willie said, “but look at where you are. You made it through. You got through this awful day. You’re still here, Alex, you’re still fighting. You did that all by yourself – I wish you hadn’t had to do it alone, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but you did it. I’m so proud of you. You made it, that’s what matters. You made it and I love you.”

Though he didn’t feel like he had a lot of strength left, Alex leaned up and kissed Willie’s cheek gently. He didn’t feel like he could speak, so that was his thank-you. Willie beamed at it, and Alex felt his spirits lift. He laid his head back down on Willie’s shoulder and nestled further into the bed.

“I mean it, Alex,” Willie whispered. “I’m proud that I get to call you my boyfriend.”

Alex had no idea how to reply, so he didn’t. He knew Willie knew that he loved him in return. That night, the two of them fell asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing, wrapped in one another’s arms, holding each other with all the love in the world.

93 notes · View notes

deafmatteo · 3 years

Text

CREATED: 22.02.2021

LAST UPDATED: 22.02.2021

TOTAL WORKS: 16.

(currently DAVENZI only. more ships/dynamics will be added as they’re written).

ONE-SHOTS — 1K+

HUMMING BIRDS NEVER STILL | 2.3K WORDS

( 21.04.2019)

Fuck.

Here he was, Matteo Florenzi, a closeted gay and in love with someone who didn’t even want him. And now, the girl who was in love with said guy that Matteo was also in love with was going to spill his secrets like a blood-bath.

Leonie still holds a lot of hostility towards Matteo for breaking her best friend's heart.

WARNINGS: forced outing. non-descriptive transphobia.

THE SUN’S FADING LIGHT. | 2.5K WORDS

(26.09.2020)

“Matteo?” David’s voice was muffled through the door, pulling Matteo out of a restless sleep to a barely conscious state of consciousness. He blinks slowly, lifting a hand to rub over his eyes and turns his head to face the door. David stands in the doorway, a fast food bag in his left hand and the largest size drink in his right. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of Matteo and the unpleasant smell greeting him. It smelt exactly like you’d expect; a depressed boy who hadn’t showered in ages mixed with spoiled food and the general untidiness of his room. David stepped over piles of dropped laundry, careful not to step on the cups that loitered all over the floor or any of the garbage. David wasn’t sure how Matteo could produce so much garbage in the days that he’d be left alone? He barely left his bed and yet, his room looked like a scene out of a horror film.

WARNINGS: depressive episode. implied suicidal thoughts. negative thoughts about eating.

YOU’RE THE ONLY REASON WE RHYME | 2.3K WORDS

(27.01.2021) —DEAF MATTEO SUPREMACY

David waved his hand in front of Matteo’s face before he moved to press his palm against Matteo’s flamed cheek. Matteo caught his gaze and stared intently at the swirling dark irises of brown and he knew that he was digging himself a grave that he did not need to lie in. Matteo let David pull him down and they settled back into the same position as before; Matteo curled into David’s side, his head resting against the curve of David’s armpit with David’s arm wrapped around him tightly. There was a slight difference and that was David’s phone in his free hand and Matteo’s on David’s chest. Matteo hadn’t realized his phone had been moved from the night table but he knew that David was swift like that.

I love you.

The text popped up on Matteo’s screen and he couldn’t help but to smile. Even when he had his blips of moments where he was worried that David would grow tired of him, he always proved to Matteo that he didn’t tire easily.

WARNINGS: internalized ableism.

LOVER’S QUARREL | 1.2K WORDS.

(02.02.2021)

Don’t you think you’re overreacting, bro?” Jonas’ sharp inhale was the first thing that Matteo heard but David’s scoff of offense followed shortly after. He moved to lean closer to Matteo, coming in view of the camera and softening the tension between the headphone wire and Matteo put down the controller, giving David the most innocent expression he could muster up completely. He kept his blue eyes wide, pale lips curled in a slight frown. He knew David’s weaknesses and this was one of them. Although, judging by his boyfriend’s expression, he wasn’t doing a good job.

alternatively: matteo calls david bro and david isn’t too pleased.

WARNINGS: N/A

DON’T LEAVE ME TONIGHT (OR EVER) | 2.7K WORDS

(02.22.2021) — DEAF MATTEO SUPREMACY

"Let me grab my hearing—" Matteo started, beginning to pull himself off of David but was cut off by David tightening his grip around his waist. David pulled Matteo back flush against his chest, shaking his head. Matteo maneuvered himself to look at David with a confused expression, head tilted ever so slightly. “I just want to be able to talk to you.”

David pressed the tip of his finger against Matteo’s button nose, shaking his head again. Matteo narrowed his eyes as he tried to read David’s facial and body expressions for clues as to what David was trying to say.

His boyfriend was sprawled out beneath him, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist and a finger from his free hand pressed against his nose. His face was relaxed, eyes swarming with the same love that Matteo felt exploding within his chest but the eyebags beneath them told Matteo that they were both feeling exhausted. Then it clicked.

“You just want to be with me.”

“You, not who you pretend to be.”

WARNINGS: depressive thoughts. internalized ableism.

DRABBLES — LESS THAN 1K

(yes the official definition is less than one hundred words. no, i don’t respect it. — star = prompt)

NOT DEAF MATTEO.

a. (send a word & ship)

i. davenzi + baby ☆

ii. davenzi + comfort. ☆

b. timeless — david talks about his parents.

DEAF MATTEO SUPREMACY

a. auditory processing disorder ☆

b. matteo is a tease. ☆

c. david’s had a rough day & he just wants a kiss. ☆

d. david says the fridge is making too much noise. matteo disagrees. ☆

e. clingy morning david.☆

f. matteo listens to his favourite genre of music.☆

g. matteo is a picky eater. ☆

h. matteo bullies david & claims it’s payback for being hearing. ☆

additional note: if you would like to see pieces of random writing, often from abandoned and/or incomplete fics, the tag writing snippet is what they’re tagged under. if you want to see random headcanons for both old gen & new gen, the tag crack headcanons is where to see them!

#deaf matteo supremacy #druck #davenzi #connor talks!#matteo florenzi #david schreibner #matteo x david #druck fics

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heyitssmiller · 4 years

Text

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 10: You’re Shrimp-ly Amazing

This is it! We’ve officially reached the end of this story! Thank you so much to everyone who’s read and kept up with this - I really hope you enjoyed all the cooking and pining and fluff. @lumosinlove Thank you for letting me run away with your characters and go completely overboard! You’ve created such wonderful characters that I can’t help but want to write about <3

Tag List: @peanut-in-the-goal @whataboutmyfries @raxelle-nite-in-gale @heyoitslysso @spookydiyharrypotterbat

Masterlist for Chop It Like It’s Hot

Leo stopped in front of Logan and Finn’s apartment door and fished his keys out of his pocket, flipping through them until he found the key to their door - he had a key now.

He had barely opened the door before he was tackled by both of his boys.

“Peanut butter.” Finn said happily, face buried in Leo’s chest.

Logan looked up at him with bright, happy eyes that were crinkling at the corners. “God, we missed you.”

Leo smiled excitedly and let them lead him inside the apartment. “Missed you - mmph.” He stopped talking as Logan surged up and kissed him, cradling his jaw in a calloused hand. Leo felt the tension leave his shoulders and kissed back, hands on Logan’s waist and sneaking underneath his sweatshirt. When he finally had the air to breathe, he finished his sentence. “Missed you too.”

“Stop being a Leo hog.” Finn grumbled good-naturedly, stepping in to give Leo a long, lingering kiss that left him speechless.

“Welcome ho – I mean, welcome back.” Finn said. “We made dinner. And before you make that face, it’s a recipe from Celeste. We even called her while cooking to make sure we were doing everything right.”

I love you two.

Leo didn’t say it out loud – none of them had. But hopefully soon. Instead he said, “Sounds perfect. What’s for dinner?”

“Hey, y’all, and welcome back to Cajun Cooking! A lot of people have requested that I do this recipe, so today we’re making shrimp etouffee. This is a Louisiana classic and there are a lot of different recipes out there but this is my mama’s recipe, so it’s very authentic. You can also use crawfish in this recipe, but mama always used shrimp because she knew a shrimp fisherman and could get a better deal.” Leo smiled at the camera set up in the kitchen, then looked over to his boys.

“Today we’ve got some familiar faces here to be my sous chefs for the day and help me out. If you watched the last season of Worst Cooks, then you’ll definitely recognize them.”

Logan and Finn stepped into view. Logan waved awkwardly while Finn gave the camera a mock salute. “Sup.”

“So first, we’ve got to start with preparing our fresh shrimp.” Leo said, holding up a shrimp that hadn’t been deconstructed yet. Finn made a disgusted face at it. “Start by grabbing your shrimp and just take the head off. You should feel where the head ends and the rest of the shrimp begins, so just grab there and pull.”

Logan and Finn shared a look of mild horror. Leo, like always, was unfazed.

“Next, hold where the legs are and peel back on the outer shell until you’re left with the soft shrimp meat on the inside. The legs should come off at the same time, too. Now be sure to save those shells! We’re going to use it for the shrimp stock later on. Make sure you pull the tail off, too.” He looked over at the other two. “Sound good?”

“Um…”

“It’s not so bad. I’ll do it with you.” Leo slowly showed them how to do it again, then motioned for them to get started.

“These look so gross.” Finn said, hesitantly holding a shrimp by the tail. Logan smirked and grabbed a shrimp before slowly bringing it closer to Finn’s face, those beady little eyes staring into his soul. Finn shrieked and scrambled backwards while Logan and Leo laughed.

They all got started on preparing the shrimp. Leo still did over half of the work, but he got to watch the other two grimace and flinch as they worked, which was pretty entertaining.

“While they’re finishing up, I’m going to show you a quick and easy way to devein shrimp.” Leo said, grabbing a de-shelled shrimp. “Start by making a slit along the middle of the back with a small knife and pull the dark vein out. Most people just rinse the shrimp under cold water to clean them, but sometimes this isn’t enough to completely clean the shrimp. In Japanese cooking, they actually clean shrimp with potato starch. The potato starch absorbs the smell and dirty particles from shrimp really well, so that’s what I usually do. Just grab some potato starch and rub it all over the shrimp and then rinse it all off. See how dirty the starch gets as you scrub the shrimp? That’s some clean shrimp right there.”

Leo looked over at his boys, smiling softly as they meticulously deveined shrimp. “How are we doing, sous chefs?”

“No one told me that shrimp shells can be sharp.” Logan said, sending him a playful glare. “Also, these are really gross.”

“But it’s going to taste so good.” Leo cajoled with puppy dog eyes that were proven to consistently work on Finn and Logan. Logan sighed, lips twitching as he fought a smile while Finn just melted.

They all got back to work deveining and cleaning shrimp until they were all done.

“Next we’re going to make our shrimp stock. If you guys could chop half of an onion, celery, and two garlic cloves, that would be great.”

Logan grabbed the vegetables while Finn grabbed two knives.

“And please don’t cut yourselves.” Leo hastily added with a grimace. “I taught you knife-handling, please tell me you haven’t forgotten it.”

Logan leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You worry too much, baby.” Then his eyes widened and he glanced at the camera guiltily. “Shit. We can edit that out, if you want.”

Leo didn’t even have to think about it. He reached over and tangled his fingers with Logan’s. “I’m fine with it if you are.” He glanced over at Finn, who had stopped chopping his onion and was looking at them with teary eyes. “Finn?”

“One of these days,” He said with a laugh, “I’m gonna make the onions cry.”

The other two laughed with him, shuffling over to hug him. Logan reached up and wiped away the tears. “You’re ridiculous.”

Finn shrugged. “Yeah. But I’m happy.”

“So are we.” Leo said, unable to contain his smile. “Ready to get back to cooking?”

***

They had invited people over to eat all the shrimp etouffee at Logan and Finn’s apartment after they were done recording. So sure enough, at six o’clock on the dot, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Come on in!” Logan called as Leo added more Tabasco to the pot and Finn watched as people piled into their apartment.

This. This was what he wanted for the rest of his life. His boys next to him and his friends in the living room talking loudly over each other.

This was home.

Dumo, Celeste, and the kids were the last to enter. Dumo made a beeline to the team to try and break up the bickering that had started up while the kids immediately swarmed Logan, clamoring for attention.

Celeste smiled apologetically. “Well, this is chaotic.”

“It’s nice.” Leo said, quickly sampling his dish. “Much better than an empty apartment.”

She hummed sympathetically, resting her arms on the kitchen counter separating them. “I remember that. Having hockey player partners who travel all the time is tough, isn’t it? And to be long distance, too.” She whistled lowly. “Have you considered moving?”

Leo looked over at Logan listening patiently to the kids and Finn washing dishes at the sink and couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Yeah I have.” He laughed in disbelief. “Is that crazy? We haven’t even known each other for a year.”

She shrugged. “Are you happy?” At Leo’s nod, she continued, “Then who cares if it’s early by society’s standards? I, for one, know those two would be over the moon if you moved in. They pout when you’re gone.”

He laughed fondly. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask you this for weeks now and it just keeps slipping my mind. Could you share your jambalaya recipe? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you made it.”

“Well…” Leo winced. “It’s actually a family recipe. We don’t want everyone to get their hands on it, you know?”

“I mean, we’ll be practically family soon enough.” Celeste teased. Leo smiled so broadly that those dimples could’ve been seen from space.

“Give me your chocolate cake recipe and it’s a deal.”

Celeste laughed loudly and looked over to Logan, who was shuffling over with Katie clinging tightly to him. “I like this one.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “He’s a keeper.”

“Yo, are we ready to eat yet?” Pots shouted from the living room. “Kasey gets grumpy when he’s hungry.”

“Do not.” Kasey grumbled.

“We’re ready.” Leo called. “Hope you boys like some spice.”

“Even if you think you do, brace yourselves.” Finn added. “Leo’s got a heavy hand with the Tabasco.”

“Because it tastes good on everything.”

Logan squinted at him. “Does it, though?”

“Do you want me to prove it?”

“No.”

***

They arrived at the rink early, still blinking sleep out of their eyes and yawning and leaning into each other for warmth.

“You ready to skate?” Finn asked, leading the way to the equipment room.

“Sure. I’m probably a little rusty, though. I haven’t skated since high school.”

Logan closed the door behind them, giving Leo a curious look. “Why’d you quit?”

Leo sighed. “I was a gay kid in the south. Hockey’s not known for being very accepting even when you live in more tolerant places. But in Louisiana…” He shrugged and grabbed a pair of skates in his size. “It wasn’t worth it, no matter how much I loved to play.” Looking at their sad expressions, he hurried to continue, “But it’s fine. I don’t regret it. I found where I was supposed to be, and I love what I’m doing. And I wouldn’t have met y’all if I hadn’t gone to culinary school.”

“It’s still not fair.”

“No,” Leo agreed, moving to stand in front of Logan. “But now kids in the same situation have you two and Cap to look up to. And that makes a world of difference. Now, are we going to skate or not?”

Logan and Finn lead him to the locker room, where they grabbed their own skates, and then down the tunnel to the ice. They all laced up their skates and glided out onto the ice.

“See? Not too rusty.” Logan said, leaning forward to look at Leo on the other side of Finn. “I’m sure you’ll do fine at family skate.”

“Thanks for inviting me, by the way.” Leo said, quickly adding, “It’s just… I know we haven’t been together all that long, but y’all mean so much to me, so being able to get to know your friends and family is –”

He trailed off as Finn skated in close and kissed him oh-so-gently before leaning back and running his hand tenderly through the gray tuft of hair at his forehead.

“I love you, Peanut.”

Leo sucked in a breath and stared at him.

“We love you.” Logan amended, joining their little huddle.

Leo smiled softly, his heart feeling like it was overflowing. He grabbed both of their hands in his. “I love you, too. God, I love you so much, you have no idea. I’m so glad you two got signed up for that show.”

“Dumo and Celeste, the accidental matchmakers.”

Finn grinned. “We should bake them a cake.”

“We can do that.” Leo agreed. “We’ve got nothing but time.”

And with that exciting new prospect they continued their skate across the ice, hand in hand.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #chop it like it's hot

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jiminsfault · 4 years

Text

❥ pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥ genre: non-idol!au, nc17 / fluff, the tiniest amount of smut, a bit of crack, romance

❥ word count: 7.5k

❥ summary: Jimin wanted to play matchmaker and you fell right into his love trap.

❥ warnings: a lot of sexual comments, Reader has a fixation on hygiene?, Jimin is gay, side Yoonmin (it’s not really much but present), sexual tension, Jungkook probably has a Noona kink, use of korean honorifics (only a bit), Reader is super awkward, Jungkook is gonna steal your heart, more sexual tension, Jungkook knows tiktok, making out, kisses, it gets heated a bit, a lot of love, shy boy!Jungkook, more love

❥ thank you for this great header heathy! @shadowsremedy uwu

“Hey, uhm. Could you…,” Jimin started his sentence next to you, lying on your couch, “would you go on a date with me?”

You just sipped on your glass of coke, hearing this, you almost spat it out. With wide eyes you turned towards him and couldn’t keep your mouth closed, once you gulped the drink down. “No?” He asked, seeing your reaction. His tone was questioning and he had eyes just as big as you had.

“No. What the fuck, Jimin? Why would I go on a date with you? Like, ever,” you rolled your eyes, looking at him with disgust. Not to misunderstand, Jimin was handsome and funny, always there for you when you needed him. He encouraged you to go out and meet people and sat through movies with you, when you needed to cry about the boy who broke your heart.

But that’s exactly why you wouldn’t ever go on a date with him. Jimin was your best friend ever since high school, when he sat down next to you, a new student from Busan and just moved to seoul. He didn’t know anybody but when he sat down next to you, you smiled at him and explained to him what the class was about. Ever since then, you both were like paper and glue, sticking together for whatever troubles you had. You know too much about the guy, couldn’t ever see him in a romantic way. Plus, he’s gay, so.

Jimin rolled his eyes, too, sitting up and throwing all the crumbs from his chips onto your couch. He’s going to be cleaning this. “No you dummy, not like that. Just accompany me out with two guys and-”

“I will not have a foursome with you and some random dudes you found on Grindr!” You screeched, holding your pointer finger up and successfully stopping him from speaking.

“Can you shut up for a second? I don’t ever wanna see you when you get down and dirty with someone. You can keep that for yourself, I already had to find your vibrator,” shaking his head, he shuddered at the memory, “that was enough trauma.”

“I’m trying to tell you, it’s kind of like a double date. Except, the two dudes don’t know that yet. I really wanna fuck this one guy but he didn’t get the memo so he invited his friend when I said we could meet up sometime.” Another eye roll while he threw a chip up in the air and caught it with his mouth. He continued to speak, while chewing, making you cringe at his disgusting behavior. “His name’s Jungkook, the friend of his. You’re gonna come with and distract him from me and my snack. I just want some alone time to make him my sl-”

You held your hand up again, looking away. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “Fine, okay. If I come along, what’s in it for me? I have to spend my evening with some rando, getting him away from his friend? What if that dude doesn’t want to be alone with you?” Your face gave your doubt away, looking Jimin up and down.

“That’s the thing, Y/N. He doesn’t know that he wants to be alone with me yet. After that evening, when he realized what good of a catch I am, he definitely won’t get enough of some good alone time.” You scoffed, when he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Reaching forward, you snatched the bag of chips from him and ate some yourself. “And what’s in it for you, my sweet darling? Jungkook’s fucking hot, too. I’d want to bite his ass, but he’s straight as an arrow.”

He fake pouted, shortly after his devilish smirk came out because he could tell that you were considering it. “Do you have a picture? I’m not gonna let you trick me like last time,” the trust you once had in him to hook you up with someone was long gone after he told you he’d found the man of your dreams, until the guy turned out to look like he drank beer for fifty years and hadn’t showered for much longer.

“No, but I can describe him?” You tsked, standing up from the couch and going to the bathroom. Jimin could lie to you all he wants, you’re not gonna waste your time with this. “C’mon! Help me get some ass! Please!”

You snickered as he wailed in the living room, already having decided to help your friend out a little. But he didn’t need to know that just yet, teasing Jimin was too much fun.

“So you’re sure this guy won’t be a creep?” You checked back in with Jimin for the nth time. He could never be trusted when he was trying to get into some dude’s pants.

“Yes, Y/N. I’m a hundred percent sure and if I’m lying, you can absolutely cut off my balls and serve them for breakfast, yeah?” It was laced with humor and he side eyed you from the passenger's seat in your car. Breathing out, heavy with annoyance, you nodded.

This couldn’t be the worst, you supposed. “What happens if you and your twinky hit off and y’all wanna leave? Am I supposed to stay with this Jungkook guy?”

“He’s not a twink, Y/N. You’ll see, Yoongi is really nice!” His voice reached high ends and you scrunched up your nose. Even though you dressed up in a deep blue dress that was bordering on mid thigh, with your favorite heels, comfortable but still chic, you were full of doubts. Yes, a movie with Jimin and additional possible friends would be nice, but the risk of an unhygienic or rude date is still present.

“I can smell your worries,” Jimin said. You looked at him quickly and saw that he was watching you intently. “Jungkook really is a nice guy. He’s younger than you but he got his manners. And he’s a smart one,” he went on about your date for the rest of the way to the cinema and once you parked the car, he finally stopped talking.

“If you’re lying, prepare your balls,” you threatened, looking at him with sharp eyes. He nodded with a smirk and jumped out of your car.

You followed him, linking your arm with his after he waited for you and together you walked towards the entrance of the cinema. Inside, the entrance hall was bustling with people buying tickets and snacks, walking to the assigned rooms to watch movies. Children were running around and groups of teenagers filled the ticket box office.

Jimin already went to complain about how long they’d have to wait but then a guy approached. He had black hair, was about the same size as Jimin but had a bit of a smaller frame. His face was feline like and he seemed to know exactly who to talk to. “Jimin?” His voice sounded when he was only a few steps away and with a happy noise, your friend let go of your arm and fell into the arms of the man.

“Yoongi! How are you, where’s Jungkook?” He blabbered quickly, laying his arm around this Yoongi’s shoulders. Now that you thought about it, you never asked how Jimin met this guy. When they were closer to you, you smiled at Yoongi and introduced yourself. He seemed a bit shy, shrinking into Jimin’s frame when he greeted you. It was cute and suddenly you knew exactly why Jimin was so keen on meeting him.

“Jungkook is getting us popcorn, one sweet, one salty because we didn’t know what you guys preferred. Also drinks, I hope coke is fine?”

Jimin and you both agreed and once the both of them started conversation, you started to look around more. They seemed to get along well, why were you even here? And where is this Jungkook? The snack checkout was still full with people and considering the lack of knowledge you had about his looks except ‘he’s handsome’, your searching was hopeless.

You decided to grab your phone out of your small purse, checking the time only to see that the movie should start in about ten minutes. “Guys, why don’t we buy the tickets? We’ll miss the start if we wait longer,” you trailed while you still looked at your phone, overlooking the messages a group chat sent.

“Already taken care of,” a smooth voice announced from behind you. It caught you off guard, so you shrieked a bit and clutched your hands to your chest. A giggle was heard and shortly after, the person to the voice stood next to you, hands full with popcorn and drinks. The two men across you, still in conversation, took a drink each, Jimin holding a popcorn bag as well. “You must be Y/N, yeah? I’m Jungkook,” he said. Once you finally looked at his face, he was quite tall so you had to look high up, you saw a very handsome face.

He had perky and cute lips that seemed strawberry pink, a small mole underneath and his smile was cheeky and adorable. With his smile came bunched up cheeks and his eyes seemed to carry his happiness. The light brown hair was partly over his forehead, a small gap let you see a bit of his eyebrows, strong and dark. His frame was wide, muscly it seemed. He was wearing a jeans jacket with a white shirt underneath and ripped pants that hugged his wonderfully thick thighs. Was he a god or something?

Everyone noticed your quietness and to cover the awkward pause in conversation, Jimin laughed and went in to hug Jungkook. “Nice to see you! Yoongi told me a bunch about you. This here is Y/N, she can be a bit shy around new people,” he made show to hold your shoulders and make you look at him. Your cheeks glowed up with heat and an embarrassed laugh made it out from between your lips.

“It’s fine, I’m sure we can get used to each other inside,” Jungkook said with a friendly tone and you were glad that this was all that was needed for the small group to get moving. Jimin trailed in front with an arm draped around Yoongi’s waist and he looked back to wink at you. “C’mon, don’t wanna miss the ads, huh?”

This Jungkook really had an effect on you like no one else did. For god’s sake, you were older than this guy and you acted like a schoolgirl. Get a grip, Y/N!

With a heavy intake of breath, packing your phone back into your purse, you walked towards the three that were already a bit up the stairs. Arriving next to your date for the evening, you looked at his side profile. “Should I take something from that?” Pointing to the drinks and the bag of popcorn in his arms, you kept looking at him, between glancing down to make sure you didn’t miss the final step and walked behind Jimin and Yoongi. Did they even know which room the movie was playing?

“I got it, thanks,” he said, smiling down at you. Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “You’re a year older than me, right?” His question confused you a bit, after not much conversation he brought up age in an awfully weird way.

“Uhm… yeah, I think so? Jimin said I’m older than you, so,” you shrugged your shoulders and looked in front of you, walking through the doors of hall D. You saw your friend and his company walking up towards line 47 and they sat down on seat 4 and 5. “Do I go past them or do we sit here?”

You pointed at the seats 2 and 3 and looked at Jungkook. He scrunched his nose and you could see his eyes smile again. Nodding his head to the seats you were pointing at, he sat down shortly after you did too. He sat next to Yoongi, which made you be the furthest from your friend and slightly on edge. Jimin said he’d be with you until you were comfortable, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to be on your own with Jungkook.

The room was already dimmed down, the ads weren’t playing yet, so it was still relatively bright for a cinema. “Which popcorn do guys have?” Jimin asked from the end of your small row. Jungkook grabbed one popcorn and held it in front of you, looking at you with a grin.

“Find it out?” You gulped, raising your hand to grab the flake, but Jungkook held it closer to your mouth, making you open your mouth and taking it from his fingers with your lips. They touched the tips of his fingers briefly and you felt a spark of warmth in your belly, as well as your face. He still looked at you closely and didn’t waver from your face, meanwhile you looked sideways towards the screen to avoid his eyes. You munched the popped kernel and licked your lips.

“Salt,” you stated, shyly looking at the still smiling man who now nodded. Jimin could’ve just tried his own popcorn to find out that they had the sweet one. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at your lap. Why did he tell you to dress up? Jungkook was only wearing a jeans jacket and Jimin himself wasn’t that dolled up either.

Gnawing on your lip, you blended their voices out, only to be poked at your shoulder. You looked over, noticing that Jungkook probably tried to talk to you. “Is salt fine with you?” You nodded, calming yourself down. Right when he put your drink in front of you to have it, the lights got turned off.

“Oh no, now I can’t see the holder,” you murmured more to yourself. You clumsily tried to place your drink into the round plastic on your seat to your left but almost dropped the cup. Hissing out a curse, you tried again but failed. Suddenly you saw through your peripheral vision that Jungkook moving next to you, leaning across your body and taking your cup from your hold, finding the holder and sitting back into his seat. Stunned, you were glued to your place. Your breath was quick, Jungkook smelled nice and the way he leaned over you and completely covered you made you a bit unconcentrated. The advertisements started blaring out of the speakers but people were still talking, chewing their snacks and slurping their drinks.

“Noona,” Jungkook suddenly murmured right next to your ear. You felt his breath on your cheek and his presence was so hard to ignore. “Are you fine? You seem uncomfortable,” he continued, voice laced with obvious worry.

You looked to your side, making his face out with the light of the screen in front. It was close but he kept his distance once you faced him. “I’m a little nervous,” you whispered honestly. “And I’m overdressed.”

He giggled cutely, looking at the screen for a moment, where a movie trailer was now playing, but turned back to you. “Maybe a bit,” he admitted. He paused, seeming to think about his words. “But you look really pretty, Noona.”

He turned his head slightly to the side and smiled at you, fumbling around with your purse in your lap and avoiding his gaze. The cinema filled even more up and before the advertisements were fully over, there sat a man right in your viewpoint. A very tall man. You huffed, going left and right to see over his head, but to really see something, you’d have to lean over Jungkook. Taking a glance at him, he was casually talking with Yoongi and Jimin, they had picked a conversation up while you were busy. Munching a bit on the popcorn and sipping from his drink, he looked almost cute, wouldn’t he be so attractive that you couldn’t cope. His jeans jacket was still on and he spread his legs, slouching a bit in the seat to get comfortable. You usually hated it when men took up space like this. Jimin constantly did it to get on your nerves and if you would have half a mind, you’d see that he’s doing it tonight as well. Something about the way Jungkook made it look like changed your mind. It was suddenly not as gross, you’d rather get a personal feel for the meaty legs and the man was so attractive, you were sure his body had to be as well.

With a quick look to his side, he noticed you stopped squirming. But when he looked at the head in front of you, he could tell that it still very much blocked your view. Rasping his throat to prepare, he leaned over to you and came close, “do you want us to switch seats? I can probably look over him.” You jumped, slouching into your form and when you looked to your right, you saw that Jungkook was ready to stand up.

“No, it’s fine,” you whispered, laying a hand on his wrist that was nearest to you. He looked at the contact and you spluttered, realising your touch. He looked up, the dim lighting making it hard to really read his expression. With an audible sigh, he gave up the advance of switching seats, but still wanted to help you.

“Excuse me, Sir?” He leaned forwards a bit. The man in front of you turned over and looked at him, demanding what was the problem. “My girlfriend can’t really see with you in the view, would you mind scooting up the row two seats? It doesn’t seem like more people will come.”

You covered your face, wanting to disappear. Jungkook couldn’t just talk to a stranger like this, calling you his girlfriend. But to your surprise, the man nodded, smiling friendly and saying that he figured it should be alright, switching seats and then checking back that everyone could see. With gaping eyes, you looked to your seat neighbor and shook your head slowly. He grinned at you and leaned back, starting a conversation over how great he is, sarcasm obvious in his tone, but you still agreed wholeheartedly.

The movie started, the lights got even lower and you finally could lean back and relax. Until you realized one crucial thing, Jimin lied to you once again. The little fucker would get some nice bruises once you were done with him, he picked out a horror movie without telling you. In fact, you thought you were here to watch a family friendly animated movie, not something about dead dolls. He probably just wants his twink to be scared and hide in his arms and yet you have to suffer through it.

You tried to hold in your screams and whimpers at the first scary scenes, but Jungkook still noticed the stiffening of your posture and the small shrieks you let out. Without you even really noticing, he pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “you scared?” Nodding, you looked at him with terror in your eyes and he chuckled deep in his chest. You felt it through his jacket, your shoulder at his front. At the opportunity, you looked at the men next to Jungkook. Yoongi was laying in Jimin’s arms, hiding his face in his neck when the screen gave away jump scares and shrill noises.

“You can hold onto me, if it helps?” Jungkook suggested. At this point, you were willing to try anything. So you clutched onto Jungkook’s upper arm, pulling him a bit in front of you to hide behind his shoulder when the music started to build up.

As you left the movie hall, credits rolled and popcorn collected, you staggered out into the light and took in a big breath of air. You survived. Never in your life had you regretted meeting Jimin this much, the guy still had the nerve to laugh at you and mimic your shocked eyes. Yoongi giggled next to him, seemingly more attached than before the movie and you asked yourself if you really were needed to give them privacy.

“I think I’ll go to the bathroom, too. The ride home will be long,” Yoongi trailed, pointing behind him as he started walking backwards. Jimin nodded, waving cutely and turning back to you. Jungkook attended the bathroom as well, which made you wait on them now.

With a cheeky grin, Jimin looked at you expecting. “So? What do you think about Jungkook?” Rolling your eyes, you walked away from him, in search for the nearest chair to sit on.

“Jimin, I have an assumption and if I’m right about it, I’ll kill you.” The seriousness in your tone made him press his lips together and look at you. “You and Yoongi know each other well enough already, yeah?”

Your friend tried to avoid looking at you, moving from foot to foot and laughing nervously. “Well,” he started, puffing his cheeks with air. “We do know each other, but we don’t fuck! Yet. He never took my flirting seriously, which is why he invited a friend when I asked him out.”

He looked at you with puppy eyes, making you sigh. “But there was more behind me joining tonight, right? This seems like a setup.” Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you looked behind Jimin to see when one of the others came back. Your friend bit his lip, slowly nodding.

“Y/N, I know Jungkook, so I know that he’s such a great guy for you. When Yoongi said he’ll bring a friend, I asked him to bring Jungkook,” he admitted. “Getting you out of your room has been hard enough for a few weeks now, but you rarely meet guys. You always cry about your ex and that you’d never find the right one, so…,” he trailed off.

“So you took it into your own hands and made me come here, dolled up like this? You chose a horror movie, how cliché of you. The seats?” The wild guesses made Jimin squirm, you catching his plan head on and exposing him.

“Give him a chance, Y/N. He saw pictures of you and I told him a bunch, he thinks you’re really cute and Yoongi probably listens to him swoon about you right now! Nobody takes this long for a wee.” You laughed weakly, not knowing what to think of this.

Exhaling, you looked at Jimin for a long, quiet pause. “He’s really cute,” you said with finality. He made a show of fist bumping the air and congratulating himself. “But you can’t just play matchmaker with me.” The guilty look was back on again, puppy eyes and wobbly lip.

“Y/N, but you like him, right? Will you see him again?” He said in his baby voice. You laughed at this, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “No, really, will you?”

You had to think about that. Jungkook was handsome, smelled good, his hair seemed washed. He looks like he’s hygienic and he was really nice to you as well. Funny, in his own way and he helped you out multiple times. He flirted with you, too. It was a good date, after the awkward beginnings you felt comfortable and he was ready to protect you from the scary figures on screen. While contemplating all this, you bit on your lip and looked at your feet, not noticing the arrival of your company.

“I think I will, actually,” you started, raising your head until you saw Yoongi next to Jimin and realized Jungkook’s presence next to you. For the nth time tonight, blush rose to your face and ears, averting your eyes.

Jimin, not getting enough of teasing you tonight, started to smirk at his newest plot against you. “Hey, why don’t I come back to yours?” He turned to Yoongi, wiggling his eyebrows twice and laying his hand on his date’s waist. He made a noise of thinking before checking in with Jungkook, agreeing to Jimin’s suggestion afterwards. With horror in your eyes, you saw Jimin wave at you and Jungkook, faking worry and playing his act of, “I hope it doesn’t bother you to drive with Y/N?”

Watching the two descend down the stairs, heads disappearing, you turned to look at Jungkook, who already watched you. “What do you think you will?” The question seemed like he waited the whole conversation out to ask and you couldn’t keep eye contact with his intense stare on you.

“Ah, just… Jimin asked if I’ll study tonight!” You exclaimed, moving to jump off the chair but Jungkook stood in front of you, blocking the way.

“Did you enjoy tonight enough to meet me again?” He asked, his voice a tone darker than it was before and when you looked up at him, you couldn’t focus on just one feature of his. His broad frame covered you completely once again and his smell invaded your senses. Feeling a bit dizzy, you put your hand on his biceps. He felt your apprehensiveness and held you by your waist to support you.

Being shy about this kind of thing, you looked down and nodded quickly. “Yeah, I…,” you started, looking up again and being assured with the way his eyes didn’t waver from your form, “I’d really like that.” He smiled, nodding slowly and helping you get down from the high chair.

“So, can I ask you for your number, then?” He was blushing a bit himself, touching his ear when he waited for you to tap your digits into his phone. He promised to text you soon, said he couldn’t wait to meet you again and asked you all kinds of questions to find out what date idea you liked most.

In the end, he had a few ideas that he wrote down and said he needed some more time to think about it. You giggled at his cute behavior, asking him to lead the way for his place, once you were in the car. He helped you navigate and thanked you for getting him home, wishing you a good night and a safe drive back to your place. You nodded and reminded him of texting you, hearing a ping only moments after he closed the car door to walk the driveway up.

Checking your phone, you chuckled when you saw a message by an unknown number, ‘how soon can you see me again?’

It turned out to be very soon, actually. Just the next week, Jungkook organized a date for the two of you, keeping it a secret where exactly he’ll be taking you. He told you to wear casual clothing, just a simple outfit and no heels. He teased you to not overdress again and you actually screamed. Getting your point across that it was Jimin’s fault was hard when Jungkook was cocky enough to assume you wanted to lure him in.

But on the same friday, Jungkook picked you up with his truck, greeting you with his bright smile and congratulating you on the fitting clothes. He received your famous eye roll and off you went, onto the road.

The ride wasn’t long, Jungkook assured you that it’s around the city and that it’ll be fun. You decided to trust him, waiting to arrive wherever he takes you. Talking to him came easy, over the last week you texted a lot and got acquainted enough to be comfortable around him and tell stories to fill the car. His music taste was exceptional and he promised to make you a playlist soon.

When he turned the corner into a parking lot, you looked around. “Where are we?” You asked, confused because there was no obvious sign hung on the house you were in front.

“You’ll see,” he said, smile steady on his face as he left the car and walked towards the house, your steps close behind him. Jungkook rung a bell, next to it was a handwritten name but the door opened quickly, not giving you time to figure the letters out.

“Jungkook,” you said quietly, looking at him from where he stood three stairs above you. He looked down at you with a quizzed face, leaning his head to the side. “This isn’t some spooky stuff, right?” You furrowed your brows as you hesitated.

He let out an airy laugh, “no, don’t worry, Noona.” He winked at you, not very smooth since he ultimately blinked but it was cute, so you let it slide. Just opening your mouth to repeat the response to the title he used, that you had messaged him a few times now, he mocked in a high tone, “it’s just one year!”

You shook your head, following after him as he walked up two floors. “Pottery?” You asked confused once you saw a sign on the door you halted in front of. He didn’t include that in any of the ideas over the last week, so it took you off guard. Not pegging him for the type, you looked at him as he opened the door that was left open by whoever owned this.

“Yeah, pottery. Jimin told me you never tried it, so I figured we could learn something,” he trailed, walking inside the open room where a register stood with a woman behind and a few people walking around. “Hello, I called,” he greeted the woman behind the desk. “Jeon Jungkook?”

The receptionist nodded, making a noise of understanding as she scrolled through the computer in front of her. “Yes, there it is. Room 3, it’s right to the left once you lead the hallway.” He nodded, looking where she pointed and after you greeted the woman yourself, the both of you walked towards where she instructed.

“C’mere, you’re so slow,” Jungkook teased as he looked back at you and stood in the room. You grumbled something about your short legs, he couldn’t hear everything, but laughed his heart out at your grumpy face.

“Do we do this alone? Aren’t we getting instructions on what to do?” You threw into the almost empty room. There were stools and round tables, you figured they were where you could do the pottery. On the side of the room was a table with already made cups and bowls that were drying and next to them sat black plastic boxes. “What’s in these boxes?”

Before he could take a guess, you walked to them and opened one, seeing clay inside. “Ooh, so this,” you grabbed a clump, “is what we use?” He chuckled at your many questions as he sat on one of the stools in front of a table.

“Bring it here and let’s do this,” he grinned. Taking the clump, you dropped it on his table and went back to close the door, figuring that you really wouldn’t have an instructor. You sat down on the other stool, scooting it closer to Jungkook to watch what he was doing. “My knowledge about this is limited to tiktoks and youtube videos, I’m just saying,” he warned, serious look on his face until it cracked.

He dipped his hands in a water bowl that stood next to him on the floor, tapping the chunk of clay and applying pressure. When it worked, both your eyes were wide and you made a sound of amazement. After he made a high pole, he pressed it down and used his thumbs to make a hole and rounded his hands to cup the outside, bringing it into a circled form. “I’m making a cup!!”

You continued watching him for a bit and then decided to get working yourself, getting clay from the boxes and patting the mass, forming it up, pressing down but…, “my clump doesn’t like me.”

You looked over at Jungkook with a pout and presented the flat cake of wet clay, a small dent where your thumbs sat. He giggled, standing up and putting his chair next to yours, much closer than before. “Gimme your hands, let me lead,” he said, holding his hands, that were full of clay, in front of you and waiting for your smaller ones. “Now that I’m thinking of it, we should’ve covered our clothes with something,” he thought out loud. It broke the tension that started to build and let you laugh about him freely.

Now that he leaned over your shoulder and held your hands in his to help you form the clay, it seemed like the spinning mass was playing just a side character. His incredibly good scent rose up to your nose again, filling your thoughts of him and his much bigger frame. The way he leaned over you and you felt his hair tickle your ear, sometimes feeling his cold earring on your cheek when he leaned even more in, was intense for you. Thinking was hard when all your brain could process was him.

Just when he managed to archive the cup form, your thoughts stopped being foggy, brain clearing up a bit. “Look at us, we’re out here making cups! Look at this,” he almost roared, excitement clear. His arms were tight around you and he wiggled you with him, holding your hands in his, all full of clay. You cheered too, trying to turn your head to look at his smile. But suddenly, he seemed even closer, immediately looking into your eyes and you gulped, feeling the heat rise to your neck and face. You stuttered back, making him stand up and removing his arms from around you.

“We should uhm, wash our hands,” you said, stiff and shy. He nodded and added that the hour was almost over and you’d need to be out of the room anyway. “What about our cups?” You asked, puppy eyes on display and almost speaking in a high, watery tone. He chuckled, assuring you that he can get them once they call him. When you left the room, you not only found a washroom but the woman who owned this place. She greeted you and asked if you had a good time, mentioning that they will put your cups out to dry and can either pick them up or come and paint them too. With hopeful eyes you looked up at Jungkook and without even seeing your pleading face, he agreed that you definitely had to paint them.

Once she left to remove your cups from the tables and set them out to dry with small name tags in front of them, you and Jungkook left to wash your hands. The restroom wasn’t gender seperated, since the house was originally meant to be actual living place. So there you stood, both incessantly rubbing your hands to get rid of the clay.

Jungkook got done much quicker than you did, not in the mood to make your skin sensitive so you rubbed carefully along your skin. “I don’t think I can get it off,” you pouted. “My skin will hurt if I scrub them too harshly.”

He took your hands in his and started carefully smoothing off the partially dried clay on your fingers. Once he was sure that your hands were clean again, he turned off the water and dried both your hands with the towel, patting your skin rather than rubbing even more. You held back a coo, finding it incredibly adorable of him to take care of you this way. When he looked up from your hands, your eyes met and the tension from back in the pottery room was building again.

“Y/N, would you hate me if I said that I really want to kiss you right now?” His voice was held quiet, considering that other people could request the washroom as well. You shook your head twice and scooted closer to him. He wore a small smile and reached down, taking one of his hands from your still towel wrapped ones and holding the side of your face and neck with it. His thumb caressed your cheek and he switched from looking into your eyes, down to your lips.

After a final moment of giving you the chance of declining, he closed the distance and kissed you softly. There was barely any pressure for the first few seconds, until he moved back and licked his lips, kissing you again but much more determined.

You reciprocated the kiss immediately, filling all your senses with Jungkook and not getting enough of him. An eager, tiny moan slipped out from your lips when he pulled off for a short moment, turning yours and his own head a bit as not to clash noses. He chuckled breathily into the kiss and let his hand roam to the back of your nape, getting you closer to him. He let go of your hands completely, taking the other one and holding you softly by the waist. He took a step forwards, leading you blindly against the sink and the kiss grew desperate. Your breath turned heavy and you couldn’t hold back from pressing against his lips more. Laying the towel down behind you, you grabbed at Jungkook’s shirt around his waist and held onto him. A whine slipped past you when he tentatively licked against your bottom lip, asking for more but still taking it without thought right after.

You both flinched when somebody knocked against the door, calling, “could this be hurried up a bit?” Jungkook looked at your face with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, eyes wide for a moment before he broke out into his wide smile again. He held your face with one and your hip with the other hand still and leaned a bit back to give you space to breathe.

“We’ll be out in a minute!” He exclaimed loud enough to be heard outside and looked back at you. “You’re okay?” His eyes held something in them but you didn’t have time to analyze it, nodding and turning to hang the towel up where it’s supposed to be. He took your hand in his, surprising you and opening the door. A middle aged white woman stood in front of the door, giving you both a judging look before Jungkook said, “that clay sure is tough to get off, huh?”

After that you left, laughing about the woman’s face and praising each other for the cups you made. Jungkook suggested milkshakes and burgers after you drove for a little and happy with the idea, you agreed.

After the food, not definable if it was more lunch or dinner by the time you were eating, Jungkook dropped you off at your place, wishing you a good almost night and saying that he’ll text you when he’s home. You blushed as you asked him to close his eyes and went in to plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyebrow jumped up at the contact and when he opened his eyes again, he grinned. You waved after you closed his door and turned around to walk into your apartment complex, smiling widely.

“Did you guys fuck tho?” Jimin asked you, hand raised and flopped over when he stood in the doorway with his weight on one leg and his hip popped out. His lips were pursed and he raised his eyebrows in expectation. You laughed lightly, shaking your head.

“No, we just,” you bit your lip, “kissed.” It was clear he didn’t buy it but he let it slide. Nodding multiple times, he walked over to the couch and flopped down.

“So, I assume you fell for my little trap, huh,” he grinned. “I was right about thinking you guys would work out, he’s the right amount of gentleman for you.”

He was right about this, you did enjoy Jungkook’s company and you started regularly texting and meeting up, sometimes just casual without the whole pressure of a date around it. He stole some kisses from time to time, always grinning too cute to get scolded for it and secretly, you loved getting attacked with his smooches when you least expect it.

“When is he gonna ask you out? What’s he waiting for?” Your noisy best friend opened up his snacks, throwing some into his awaiting mouth and chewing obnoxiously. You shrugged your shoulders, walking from the kitchen isle to the couch and joining Jimin.

You snuggled into the couch, next to him, watching a movie, when the door bell ringed. “Did you invite someone?” You looked up at Jimin from where you rested your head on his shoulder. He shook his head, watching you as you got up to see who was at the door.

The peephole revealed that Jungkook was standing in front of your door and you never opened it this quickly. “Gukkie! What are you doing here?” You squealed, falling into his arms. You weren’t expecting him at all, haven’t seen him for a week now and missed him the most. He chuckled, putting his arms around you and kissing your head.

“Had to visit the baby,” he talked into your hair, beaming in the affection. Giggling, you looked up, chin on his chest and grinning. “Hyung?” He asked, wide eyes and pitched voice.

Jimin greeted Jungkook back and they fell into small talk, you taking the opportunity to get some drinks, you and Jungkook’s selfmade cups for each of your drinks and a store bought one for Jimin.

The cups were painted white by your request and once they dried you and Jungkook were able to paint them as you liked, making it your fourth date at the time. You painted the cups for each other, making it a surprise but both ended up with an equally cute design. Jungkook painted your name in his squiggly handwriting and added a heart next to it, painting a smiley and flowers. On his cup you painted colorful swirls on one side and on the other one you painted two stick figures representing both of you.

Once you sat back on the couch, Jungkook between you and Jimin, the teasing started. “Cute show you guys gave me, is there gonna be more later?” Jimin’s eyes were glinting with mischief.

Instead of laughing like you did, Jungkook slapped Jimin on the back and grinned stiff, “you could also just leave?” They both laughed overly exaggerated at it and slept each others backs, until Jimin took Jungkook’s head underneath his arm and rubbed his hair quickly, creating heat.

“Respect your elders, Jungkook. But you’re right, I should go,” he looked up in thought, “Yoongi is probably missing me,” he swooned. After standing up and pushing Jungkook into the couch one last time, he hugged you and took his leave right after.

Jungkook took a sip of his drink and tsked at how Jimin left his untouched, smiling at his cup like he did every time he was over and you gave it to him.

“Ah, my plan worked well,” Jungkook smirked, placing the beverage back on the table in front of the couch, leaning back into the comfortable pillows and looking at you. “Let’s cuddle, c’mere.” His voice turned soft regarding you, opening his arms and inviting you with a wiggle to his brows.

“Why are you here, Guk?” You murmured after a short moment. He exhaled and sat up a little, rasping his throat.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” he said, very serious but the corner of his mouth moved up on his own. “Can we play Mario Kart?”

You blinked at him, bursting into laughter. “This is a very serious matter, Y/N. ” His face was stern, looking at you with no hint of humor.

“You made Jimin leave so we can play a video game?” The question wasn’t really in need of an answer, but Jungkook nodded anyway.

“You can be Peach and I’ll be Mario,” he said as he stood up and searched the drawers of the TV table for the remotes.

“Why do I have to be Peach? I always play Toad.” At this, Jungkook turned around abruptly and shook his head.

“No, that wouldn’t make sense,” he said. He was confusing you and your face made that clear but he was too busy with checking if the remotes had batteries in them, turning on the console and picking out the game of his desires.

“What are you trying to archive with this?” You giggled. “Why can’t I play my usual character?”

He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes up to think. “Okay, well… let me word it differently.” He walked towards you, still sitting on the couch, and placed the two remotes to his side. Sitting opposite of you with crossed legs, he bit his lip and looked as his fingers as he pulled on his sock. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said timidly, looking up at you to catch your reaction.

You smiled, because it’s simply Jungkook. He could always act like the annoyingly confident guy but he’ll never hide how shy he really could be.

Nodding, you breathed, “yeah,” and squealed when he took you into his lap with a smile. “But can I still be Toad?”

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if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years

Text

Check Ignition: Part VIII

The Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person requested and I dove into headfirst

First part // Previous part // Next part

Send me requests for other fics, ideas for this one, opinions, whatever! My apologies if the quality seems to have one downhill; I'll be doing minor edits for the sake of readability when I have a good chunk of free time.

“Shhh, guys, leave it,” Jens said. Everyone’s comments died on their tongues. Zoë and Moyo herded the superfluous students from the room and left as well, shutting the door behind. Moyo almost clapped a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it in favor of a saddened smile. It didn’t really help. Robbe wasn’t sure if they ended tonight on good terms.

“We’re going to bed early,” Aaron suggested. “We have to get a jump on those damn exams.”

“Leave it,” hissed Jens.

“I was just saying, we’re—”

“Leave it.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Robbe. “We’re going to bed early.” He hadn’t realized how angry he was all week until faced with its culmination. And now—now he was tired. Stupid and single and tired.

There were still no sheets on his bed; he hadn’t gotten around to doing anything with them. He could perform a cleaning spell on the mattress if it got too bad in their absence. Whatever. Robbe couldn’t be bothered to rifle through his trunk for a cleaner blanket, so he crossed the room and grabbed the one off the fourth bed.

Motherfucker. It smelled like Sander. He really couldn’t win, could he? Robbe threw the blanket to the decimated floor and curled up without any covering at all.

“He wasn’t that attractive,” said Jens, breaking his own rule. “Had to get those roots done again.”

Robbe clamped his pillow over his ears. “Shut up.”

“We haven’t been to Hogsmede in a while. Might be nice to go tomorrow. The four of us.”

Hogsmede. Robbe’s eyes burned.

“I need to stop at Honeyduke’s,” Aaron agreed. “It’s Live It Up week.”

“I’d fancy a pint at the Three Broomsticks.”

The Three Broomsticks. Robbe was not going to cry over this. It brought him back to Sander explaining their fake love story to Zoë, all the little accurate details, all the possibility… that’s all it was. A story. You don’t like me. He cast the Muffliato charm across his four-poster before the tears started flowing. Once they started, they didn’t stop until morning.

“You don’t have to tell us a thing,” Jens said. “We understand.”

I want to, Robbe thought. He rolled over and faced the wall for the remainder of the night.

***

As much as he would love to hardcore sulk, Robbe had never been that kind of person. Sander was gone. They weren’t even together for that long, so there wasn’t much sulking warranted. He took Saturday and Sunday as unofficial off-days before exams, in that he spent them with Jens, Moyo, and Aaron, pointedly not talking about Sander. They did not go to the Three Broomsticks. Jens passed a whole afternoon in Honeyduke’s, attempting to sample every flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor beans.

Okay, Robbe sulked. But not hardcore.

Robbe resolved that one Monday he would snap out of it in time to guard his outstandingin his five classes. What should he do? What had he learned? He could start there. Starting there was something.

1. He should never drop a class for someone he wasn’t really dating.

Robbe’s Potions exam was the first on Monday, and he went into it grossly unprepared, despite hours of common room studying. There was a large difference between reading theory and enacting what it said. Plus, a lot of his library time focused more on Sander’s eyes than on the written material.

Everyone else chopped up their beans and sprinkled them into their brews without difficulty. Robbe couldn’t remember how many he should use. In the end, he dumped a whole handful in completely whole and stirred counter-clockwise. How much could it hurt, anyway? He left fifteen minutes before the exam period was up, and the Potions master did not bother to stop him. The Drought of Living Death he prepared could probably kill the whole class, Britt and all, even if not in the way it was meant to.

Why had he stopped attending in person? What could Britt have done to him? It hit him—she probably knew the dating thing was fake from the beginning. Sander might have planned it all out to make Robbe look like an idiot.

That wouldn’t account for that night in the workshop.

Fuck that night in the workshop.

Sander waited outside the Potions classroom, his back on the wooden doorframe. Britt would be done soon. It didn’t give Robbe any satisfaction to brush by Sander without speaking—or at least, not until he saw Sander rubbing his arm in the aftermath. Robbe must have hit him with the door.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder, hoping it sounded blasé.

It could have been anyone there, he thought. Sander wasn’t special anymore. Then he went to his bedroom and stared at the wall over it.

2. He was not straight.

The specifics were, as of yet, unclear. He was in love with Sander, which meant he liked boys, but he’d kind of liked Noor too. Not romantically. Or even sexually. But like, he enjoyed her company.

Sometimes.

He wasn’t in love with Sander anymore, though, definitely not. Robbe figured if he told himself that at least four to five times a day, it might become a little more accurate. Two weeks was too short a time to fall for someone.

After all this, he needed to get Jens alone and lay it all on at once. Bad phrasing be damned. The boys began packing their belongings on Wednesday, after a mostly uneventful Transfiguration exam (Moyo turned his cockroach into a pair of earrings that still moved their spindly antennae—he seemed satisfied). They would leave on Saturday afternoon. Aaron tried a simple cleaning spell, Scourgify, and ended up scattering his belongings to the four corners of the castle. He scurried away to pack the rest manually, Moyo at his heels to help.

Jens and Robbe were alone. Robbe was ready to talk about it.

“Why is Moyo always here?” asked Jens, in a way that made it sound like he was breaking the tension.

His plan failed, of course, because Robbe was already speaking. “We have to talk about something.”

They stared at each other. Jens blinked.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” Robbe began. “I wanted to, but it was always so complicated.”

“Uh, sure, okay.” Jens shoved a crumpled shirt into his trunk, followed by a pair of ripped slacks he could never wear to class again.

“This thing I had with Sander… it was fake to him. But, well, uh, to me—”

Jens nodded. “I know.”

Damnit, no.

“Jens,” Robbe tried a second time, “I’ve realized some things about myself recently. They kind of explain other things, from earlier, so…” He switched tactics. Who knew how long until Moyo and Aaron returned? “Do you remember when you and Jana broke up? How you found out about what’s-his-name and—”

Another shirt in the trunk. Some more destroyed pants. “Yeah.”

“Cool. So um, you should understand that it was—” It was never this awkward to talk to Jens before. Jens was supposed to be easy. Robbe folded his shirts by hand, like his mother did, and placed them carefully in his own luggage as he thought of how best to phrase this. “I did it on purpose. She was gonna tell you and I—well I said—”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know things about myself now. Learned them. From that. and this.” Here it came, the big jump. Even though Robbe knew Jens, Aaron, and Moyo outlined a whole plan to get him and Sander together, he still worried about what they’d say when confronted with the reality of it. “Jens, I’m—"

“I know.”

No, that wouldn’t work. Again, “Jens, please, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Robbe, I know—”

“I don’t want you to know!” Robbe flopped a shirt down harder than he intended. “I want you to let me say it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gay. That’s who I am. With or without Sander. Okay? I need you to understand that it’s like that with or without him.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you know. You’re my best friend.”

“Okay,” said Jens. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Jens closed his trunk on top of some clothing that spilled out the sides. He sat down on it to close the latch. Then he reached out and gathered Robbe into the tightest hug ever. It wasn’t nearly everything that Robbe wanted to say, but it was some, and Jens didn’t run away from him. Sexuality crisis, somewhat had. Robbe was sure there would be more later.

3. You don’t like me.

Robbe’s final exam was History of Magic. Luckily, his cramming paid off. He breezed through the questions on the first and second wars faster than any of his peers and was out the door within thirty minutes.

Most students were trapped in their classrooms for another half-hour or more. Empty corridor stretched in all directions, and Robbe didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day. He knew where he wanted to go.

Sure enough, his astronomy tower perch was vacant. Bright sunlight dyed the campus in shades of yellow and gold, made the upper turrets appear as drawings from a children’s book. Robbe noted in passing that someone had collected Sander’s picnic blanket from its forlorn position on the roof. That made sense. Filch himself must have cleaned.

From overhead, soft music played. Robbe was sure he was hallucinating. He sat down on the sill.

Oh fuck, maybe not hallucinating. Noon cast a shadow of someone above onto the roof below.

Sander’s blanket wasn’t where he’d dropped it on night one because Sander sat on the overhang above the window. He had it splayed across the shingles, a compact player oozing the final lines of that same damn song on a loop, his wand gripped in his hands.

Robbe couldn’t escape him. Couldn’t escape how he felt about him. He could bring it under his control if he made it look purposeful.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t you have class?”

Sander startled.

This was a mistake. Never mind. Robbe should go.

He leaned even further out the window for a better view of Sander’s setup. A stack of textbooks balanced precariously, end on end, held aloft by a complicated charm of some sort. A quill rolled down the roof and stopped as if by an invisible wall. Sander had created a bubble for his things.

“Cheers to exams,” Robbe said, a bit louder. Sander did not look at him. The music cranked itself up to mask Robbe’s voice—perhaps it was spelled to muffle all noise Sander did not want to hear. That wasn’t fair. “This is my spot.”

“You said you didn’t want to be friends,” said Sander. He didn’t sound upset. Why did Robbe expect him to be upset?

“Can you turn down the music?”

“Britt’s going to join me.”

“That isn’t really what I asked.” Robbe wondered if interactions like this would ever stop hurting. But he didn’t feel as bad as he felt last week. Or on Friday night. Maybe the finality of a no was all he needed to move on. He recalled Sander’s speech word-for-word, mostly the end. You don’t like me.

It hit Robbe in a moment of irrational bravery, when Sander’s music dialed up in volume. Their first night in the astronomy tower, together, illuminated by Britt’s wand. The CD playing in the background. Sander knew what he was wearing on a specific double-date on a specific day—there was no denying something existed between them.

And to have Sander talk like that, say it was nothing… it wasn’t nothing, not to Robbe, and Sander needed to hear it.

So he said it. No introduction, no nothing. “I liked you.”

The Major-Tom-planet song quieted. Definitely some kind of magic there.

“I liked you so much,” he said again. Now that it existed, now that it was said, there was nothing to stop him from continuing. “You can’t tell me I didn’t.”

One of Sander’s quills rolled to the edge of the bubble, only this time, it dropped out and fell the length of the tower.

“We made it up, we agreed,” Sander whispered. “I’m sorry.” He slid down from the roof, landing beside Robbe on the sill, then jumped to the floor. His belongings trailed behind him in a floating line.

Robbe stood his ground and blocked the staircase. “It’s not your thing to decide.” His voice softened. “I liked you. So that’s that. And it’s done.”

Sander scuffed the floor with his shoe.

“Good. You never have to see me again.” Robbe pointed down the stairs for dramatic effect. “I have class. Bye.”

He felt lighter than he had all week when he descended the staircase. Any lighter, and he would have missed it when Sander said, “I liked you, too.”

4. He was a jerk to Noor.

Robbe sought her out on the train home, abandoning his friends in their own little compartment. They had plenty to discuss without his involvement. Pranks and whatnot. The usual. Noor was alone in a compartment near the back of the train, a dozen or so scrolls of parchment dispersed around her. She wrote on one with a broken quill.

She wasn’t a bad person. Robbe should have just told her. The least he could do was tell her when everything was over.

“Hey,” he said, taking the seat across from her.

She looked up, surprised. “Hello.”

“You seemed like you could use some company.”

Noor blushed. “No, I—Britt’s sitting elsewhere, and I have a lot to do.”

“With Sander,” Robbe supplied.

“What?”

“Britt’s with Sander.”

“Oh, um, actually—”

Robbe wasn’t in the mood for the nitty-gritty details of whatever Britt and Sander had going on. Obviously it was toxic. Not his problem. Besides, this conversation was for Noor’s sake, not his own.

“Listen, about me and him,” he said. “I need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to lead you on.” He hoped it wouldn’t get awkward. The extent of his recent planning was pretty much just say it without warning and hope it works out.

“I don’t read smoke signals,” said Noor curtly. She set her quill down on the seat next to her, ink stains bleeding into the cushioning. “But I get it.”

“No, it was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Awkward silence. Robbe wasn’t built for prolonged chatter with anyone besides Jens, Moyo, and Aaron. The girls’ group was the exception, and only when Jana and Zoë were present. He fiddled with the beginning of a hole in his yellow sweater.

“I suppose I should apologize too,” said Noor, after a while. “That was fucked up, to say he’d get bored of you. I was a little—well, you know.”

“If it helps,” Robbe said, “you were right.”

Noor frowned. She sat up in her seat, and her parchment fell to the carriage floor. The sweets trolley passed by their sliding doorway without stopping—its driver could likely sense the tension. Robbe explained, “He’s back with Britt.”

“No, he isn’t,” said Noor. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Jana said—”

“Who would know better: Jana, or me?”

Robbe fumbled for something to say in response. Actually, now was a pretty good time to get out, before the topic became any more serious. He said, “He broke up with me.”

“It wasn’t for Britt. She helped him through some stuff, sure, but everyone knows that train’s come and gone.”

“I guess I’m just boring,” Robbe said.

“Bullshit.” Noor picked up her parchment again. She dipped her quill into her ink and began her writing anew, on whatever mess this was. Robbe couldn’t read fucking cursive. “I don’t believe it. Britt says he adored you.”

Robbe didn’t know what to make of that. There was no way he could segue into his next point, which was, of course, that their dating arrangement wasn’t real in the first place, especially after something so honest from Noor. He gave a bullshit excuse, something about chasing the sweets trolley, and got the hell out of there.

***

Robbe said goodbye to Moyo on the train platform. Jens and Aaron lived close enough that their parents parked in the same general vicinity, meaning that they could walk over as a trio. Robbe considered awaiting Sander on the platform as well. Every time he learned something new about Sander’s behavior when he wasn’t there, he got more and more confused. What fake relationship could be convincing enough to have Sander’s ex lamenting its reality?

The boys shared idle gossip on their way to the parking lot. Nothing substantial. Robbe’s head was too full of thoughts, most of them Sander-related. He wasn’t angry, or upset, or tired right now. How did knowing one little thing from Noor make a difference in his overall mood? They split off to their respective parents with casual goodbyes and a promise to write at least once during the holidays.

“Hey,” called Jens, just as Robbe opened the shotgun side.

Robbe turned back, his rucksack swinging off his shoulder. He swiped a hand across his eyes.

“Were you in love with him? Actually?”

They spent two weeks together. Two weeks, plus months and months of pining from afar that couldn’t count for much. It was supposed to last longer. What had Sander said, that day after their date? He wanted it to continue through the holiday break. And now, nothing. Robbe summarized this feeling the only way he knew how: “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

He climbed into his mother’s waiting car, and with that, it was Christmastime at the Ijzermans house.

#sobbe #wtfock #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #hogwarts au #fake dating #fanfiction #sobbe fanfic

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girlboss-molina · 3 years

Text

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 2: A Tale of Punches and Pancakes

AO3 Link

Words: 9389

-----

Alex POV

...

The jet ride was nice from a glance, but insufferable for Alex. His wish to leave his anxieties in Tambor? Yeah, he knew that was bullshit. As the miles passed, his stomach bubbled and knotted more and more until he had no room for the small wrapped chocolates in the dish at the back of the plane. The fluffy clouds seemed to taunt him with their serenity, making him feel out of place with his disgust, anxiety, and anger.

Why, why, did he have to be put in an arranged goddamn marriage when he was nineteen? The gods hated him, for sure.

He was back to considering options in his fake-your-death-to-get-out-of-it plan when Luke finally broke the silence.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Have a guess.” The sarcasm in his voice was tangible.

“Yes?”

“Have another guess.” Alex barely smiled at Luke’s laugh. “I just… I hate this. Julie’s awesome, dude, she’s one of my best friends. But I don’t want to marry her.”

“I feel you,” Luke responded. “I really, really want to get you out of it.”

“Thanks.” Alex went back to staring at the clouds.

…

As the plane touched down, the rumbling shook up the nerves in Alex’s stomach, and he had to shut his eyes and focus on his breathing and the feeling of Luke’s hand on his. He did his best not to crease his vest as he leaned over, holding on tight.

When he felt the motion in his ears stop, he carefully opened his eyes, relieved when he wasn’t nauseous. Of course, he couldn’t get rid of the anxiety.

They’d landed in the runway behind the Dahlia palace, and thankfully, the small amount of vision he had out his plane window only showed the back of the palace and, on the other side, the tall, forested mountains in which he and Julie had run around in many times when they were younger. The scene was calming, and settled his nerves.

As the doors opened, sending a crisp blast of cold Dahlian air in his face, the familiar smell of petrichor and honey reminded him of when he and Julie would run for hours, climbing trees as high as they could, despite Ray’s constant warnings and pleas for them to be careful. How simple it would be, really, to run out the plane door and across the runway until he was back, surrounded by the branches. It would be a nightmare, of course; he barely knew how to make a fire, which was definitely a skill he would need if he were to survive on his own in the cool Dahlian climate. Surely he could figure it out, though. It couldn’t be that hard. And the motivation of not having to act straight for the rest of his life would certainly help. He wondered just how fast he could run-

He was jolted back to reality by Luke excitedly hitting his shoulder.

“Your highness, as your Royal Best Dude™ I am legally required to get you up and moving so that you don’t start spiraling. Plus, I’m hungry.” Alex rolled his eyes and laughed despite himself.

He wasn’t going through this alone.

…

He should’ve expected the cameras, really. But the bright flashes startled him as soon as he stepped out of the plane, and he had to quickly struggle to compose himself. He gave small smiles and respectful waves, walking across the long runway to the limousine waiting for him. He would be making a round past the palace gates before formally entering the palace from the front. So he climbed into the lush leather seats, with Erik and Luke right behind him, and sat down, squeezing his hands into fists and then running his fingertips over the indents from his nails.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he tapped his foot. He wouldn’t admit it, but the feeling of Luke’s and Erik’s hands on his shoulders helped. A lot. Tension melted away from him, and while he was still nervous, he somehow managed to stand and steadily walk out of the limo, a smile breaking out on his face as he saw Julie.

Alex wasn’t sure why he was surprised at how beautiful Julie was, there really was no paralleling her beauty. And yet, his heart swelled with pride at seeing her elegant violet dress, embroidered with dahlias.

“Alex, why the hell do you walk so fast?” asked Luke, breathing heavily and trying to keep up.

“I’m gay. Next question.”

“That’s fair.”

As he ran to Julie, Alex was so caught up in the euphoria of seeing his friend in person that, for a moment, he lived in a world where the paparazzi wasn’t a thing. But he didn’t care. Julie saw him and ran through the gardens, a huge grin visible from hundreds of feet away. She ran to him, her gown flowing in the breeze, and as soon as they were within a few feet of each other, Julie jumped and Alex let out an “oof” as he caught her in a hug, spinning around and laughing.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, and Alex nodded.

“Yeah, you too! Even though we, you know, FaceTimed last night.”

“Eh, details. Besides, the press wants a happy reunion.”

“Fair.”

“How was the plane ride?”

“Amazing,” Alex said. “Nothing better than being on the edge of a panic attack while you’re thousands of feet in the air.”

“I’ll fight your anxiety,” Julie decided. “Tell it to meet me behind the Denny’s tonight.” Alex snorted.

“I’d rather you didn’t punch my brain. I kinda need it.”

“Do you?” Alex gasped in mock offense.

“Okay, rudeness aside, I think this is the part where we walk around the garden and pretend we don’t know there are photojournalists hiding behind the bushes.” Julie nodded and took his arm.

As they strolled around the gardens, the aroma of flowers settled some of Alex’s nerves. He never turned around to make sure Luke was there, but he somehow knew. It was the Royal Best Dude™ telepathy, probably. And Erik was probably bringing his suitcase up to wherever he would be staying. So, Alex did his best to relax and hang out with his friend.

“Ava’s going to be ascending soon,” he noted. “She’s pumped. Though I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to let a twenty-three year old run a country.” Julie laughed.

“I’m happy for her! And I’m sure she’ll be fine. She knows how to party, for sure, but she’s also responsible. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’ll let my anxiety know.” Julie burst out laughing, and Alex soon followed.

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ava Mercer of Tambor,” Julie said. “It has a nice ring to it.” Alex nodded.

“Yeah. I’m excited for her, too. All jokes aside, I think she’ll make a great queen.”

“Definitely.”

A few moments passed, including Julie gently picking a rose from the garden, one with a pale pink coloring, and sticking it behind Alex’s ear. When it wouldn’t stay, she scrunched her nose and carefully tucked it into the breast pocket of his vest.

“You look absolutely dashing, your highness,” she said with a fake, posh accent. Alex giggled and rolled his eyes.

“You’re a dork.”

“I know.”

…

His room was really something.

After he and Julie had finished their walk around the gardens, they’d given each other cordial bows (of course tied with a friendly wink, because they were just Like That), and Erik had shown him up to his quarters. Luke followed, and Alex noticed his cheeks were considerably red.

It was chillier in Dahlia than it was in Tambor, though, and Luke had never been Plus, a breeze had flown in during the last ten minutes of their walk, on which Luke was shadowing. He was probably flushed from the cold air.

He was down the hall from Julie’s room, in one of the guest rooms he’d used when playing hide-and-seek with Julie when they were kids. But it had been completely refurbished, since he would be staying there for a few months.

The soft carpet was a creamy tan, and the large, full-length mirrors let in sunlight that cast gentle shadows from the posters on the giant bed, which was adorned with blue sheets and pillows, with gold and pink accents. The dark, forest green walls gave the room a soothing effect, and the twinkling fairy lights were like fireflies in a meadow. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, glittering with diamonds and gold. A mahogany record player sat on a media table, along with wireless chargers for his phone and laptop, next to the sliding door that led to a huge bathroom. The tiles were light tan and grey, peppered with flecks of quartz that shimmered in the light. A giant tub sat near a tinted window, as well as a vanity with a majestic painted mirror. The shower could’ve fit his entire bed.

Even though he wasn’t keen on marrying Julie, he wouldn’t dislike his stay here.

“Dude,” Luke whispered. “Your room is awesome.”

“I know, right? Definitely nicer than my room in Tambor.”

As Alex went to his giant suitcase full of neatly folded clothes, beginning to tuck them into drawers and onto hangers, Luke helped out.

“So,” Alex began, breaking the silence. “How are you liking Dahlia so far?”

“It’s great! Kinda cold, but I’ll get used to it. And… Julie seems really nice.”

Alex definitely didn’t miss Luke’s blush when he mentioned the princess, and his lips raised into a smirk.

“Yeah, she is. You should get to know her at dinner tonight.” Luke cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

“You good?”

“Totally,” he insisted, though his voice rose an octave and Alex couldn’t suppress his laugh.

“Sure.”

…

The dinner was incredible. Platters of roast beef sat next to giant bowls of mashed potatoes, and the bread appetizers were soft and delicious. And, even though he was legally allowed to have alcohol based on Dahlian laws, he thought better of it, instead filling his glass with water. He noticed that Julie did the same.

“Not a fan of wine?” he asked.

“Nah, not really. It always gives me a stomachache.”

“Same.”

Alex went back to his food, before noticing a man around his age eyeing him. He had dark hair and was dressed in a red vest and dark grey shirt. He seemed quite kind, if the small smile on his face had any say.

“That’s your brother, Reggie, right? I think I’ve only met him once.”

Julie followed Alex’s gaze. “Oh yeah! You would get along great, I think.”

“Cool.”

…

Before dessert was brought up, everyone in the grand hall got to mingle for about twenty minutes and let their food settle. Alex let Julie introduce him to Reggie, with whom he immediately hit it off.

“No way, you play the drums?” Reggie asked. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’m no good.”

“Yeah, I do! You said you play bass?”

“Yep!”

“That’s awesome, dude.”

Their conversation lasted a bit longer, and Alex felt confident that he and Reggie would be good friends, especially because of his lighthearted demeanor, and their bro-hug before Alex was pulled away to talk to another nobleman.

He was bounced around like a ping-pong ball, being chatted up by guest after guest. Soon, though, he needed some air, so he searched to room for King Ray.

“Your majesty?” he asked, jogging over. Ray turned to him and gave a warm smile, shaking his hand.

“Hello, Alex. You can call me Ray. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. I was just wondering if I could sneak out the back for a moment? I need some air.” Ray laughed.

“Of course, son. I told them to give you some space,” he noted, guestering to the nobles, “but I doubt they were able to contain their excitement.” Alex nodded, grateful for Ray’s chill vibes. “Try to be back in ten minutes?”

“Of course.”

Ray nodded and patted his shoulder, and Alex stepped through the back door of the grand hall, grateful when he didn’t see anyone. He took a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of his vest.

A voice caught his ear.

“-yeah, don’t worry, Alyssa. The mousse is in the refrigerator-”

Alex whirled around, searching for whoever had spoken, but before he could…

WHAM.

A cold rush of air blew from behind him as a door opened, and someone ran into him.

Hard.

Alex stumbled forward, trying to catch himself but to no avail. His momentum swung him forward, leaving him on the ground.

“Whoa!” he started, looking at the person who’d ran him over, and…

Oh fuck, he thought. He’s hot.

“Agh, sorry, I really need to watch where I’m-” the man cut off, his cheeks flushing. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, your highness.” He scrambled into a bow, and Alex blushed.

“No, you’re good, bro.”

Alex got a good look at him, and felt his cheeks flush. He had long, silky brown hair that fell over his shoulders in waves, and smooth brown skin that had darkened in a blush. His dark eyes were kind and playful, adorned with long eyelashes.

Alex inhaled slowly, trying to ignore the rising gay panic.

“Are you okay?” the man asked.

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks. Just trying to clear my head. Until you, you know, tried to crack it open.” To Alex’s surprise, the man giggled, and holy fuck, if he wasn’t already adorable, that would’ve been the tipping point. Creases folded at the corners of his eyes, and his perfect smile turned lopsided as he laughed.

“I did pancake you, huh?” Alex tried to laugh, and the man cleared his throat. “Sorry. Oh, uh, I’m Willie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Alex reached for his hand. “Alex,” he greeted, still hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Well, I’d better make sure we’re clear to bring up dessert. But I’ll see you around, your royal pancakeness,” Willie said with a grin, spinning on his heel and going back to the kitchens. Alex nodded, even though he was already gone.

-----

Julie POV

...

As soon as Alex’s plane touched down, Julie couldn’t hide her excitement. She rushed through her photos, and as soon as she could see him, she took off running, a huge grin on her face. The silky fabric of her dress flapped against her shins, and she sprinted even faster, ignoring the goosebumps on her arms.

As soon as she reached him, she jumped into the hug, laughing as he spun her around. They might have FaceTimed the day before, but it just wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. He was one of her best friends, and the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in so long was frankly biphobic.

But as she spun around, finally opening her eyes, Julie caught sight of Alex’s guard. She’d never formally met him, and she’d always thought he was cute, but wow.

He had deep hazel eyes and pale skin, cheeks flushed from the cold, his wavy brown hair neatly styled, with a touch of personal flair. His chiseled jawline cast a shadow on his neck, and his biceps were visible through his dark jacket. Julie tried to look away and focus on her friend, because now was the literal worst time to develop a crush on someone she barely knew.

Not that she had a crush on him, or anything.

Julie forced those thoughts out of her head, and scolded her stupid heart for fluttering when she caught his gaze. She turned back to Alex, laughing when he insinuated that photojournalists would be hiding behind the bushes.

“Ava’s going to be ascending soon,” Alex told her. “She’s pumped. Though I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to let a twenty-three year old run a country.” Julie laughed, silently agreeing.

“I’m happy for her! And I’m sure she’ll be fine. She knows how to party, for sure, but she’s also responsible. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’ll let my anxiety know.” Julie burst out laughing, soon followed by Alex.

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ava Mercer of Tambor,” she said, letting the words flow off her tongue. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“Yeah. I’m excited for her, too. All jokes aside, I think she’ll make a great queen.”

“Definitely.” There wasn’t a doubt in her voice, either.

Julie had met Ava when she was eight. Ava had been thirteen, and was the coolest thirteen-year-old ever, in little Julie’s opinion. She vaguely remembered hanging out in her room with her, and thinking she was just the coolest ever. Then again, she was an eight year old. To an eight year old, all thirteen-year-olds are cool (or gross, but we don’t talk about that).

Julie walked with Alex, chatting about random things, including plans to get out of the arranged marriage, each more complicated than the next. Julie couldn’t stop herself from laughing when Alex brought up his temptation to just run into the woods with no supplies or survival skills, and just be a gay forest cryptid. She was quite fond of it, to be honest.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any plans that didn’t involve either faking their deaths, or something treasonous, neither of which would be good. At least, not in anyone else’s opinions.

…

After Alex went up to his room, Julie did the same, and immediately flopped on her bed, finally allowing herself to process her thoughts about, well, everything.

God, she wanted out of this marriage. She knew Alex did as well. They’d talked about it endlessly over FaceTime, texting, and just now, in person. But neither of them could come up with an actual plan or a good enough reason to halt it. Because, you know, the people actually getting married never get a say.

Plus, it did not help that Alex’s guard, who she’d learned was named Luke, was really cute. She furrowed her brow. She’d never even had a real conversation with the guy. Not that it mattered, of course. She remembered when she was fifteen and had already decided that Nick Danforth-Evans was a sweetheart, even though she’d only had one real conversation with him.

But this felt different somehow. She couldn’t help but feel like Luke was actually really nice. She just got those vibes from him. She cursed her stupid heart for making her feel things. No, Molina. There’s no such thing as liking a cute guard.

It didn’t work.

She stared at her ceiling, watching flecks of dust float around the air, and jumped when Flynn and Carrie walked into her room without knocking. It wasn’t like she actually expected them to knock, but she’d zoned out and the sudden sound took her by surprise.

“I know that look,” Flynn said matter-of-factly. “What’s the crisis about?”

“What isn’t it about?”

“Uh uh, don’t try to deflect by answering my question with another question,” Flynn scolded, and Carrie bit back a laugh.

“I just…” she searched for an excuse. “I love that Alex is here, but I don’t want to marry him,” she said, remembering that the best lies were based on the truth. “And he’s gay, so I know for a fact he doesn’t want to marry me. Plus, you know. We’ve expressed that multiple times. And I know there’s really nothing I can do about it, because it’s all arranged, and bitching about it does nothing to help, but honestly? I’m just feeling bitchy.”

“As you should,” Carrie agreed, to Julie’s surprise. “If anyone deserves to be a little bitchy, it’s you. I mean, come on. You’re a teenage girl who never actually got a normal life because you’re frickin’ Princess Julie Molina, heiress to the throne of Dahlia. And you’re stuck in an arranged marriage with one of your best friends, and neither of you want it, but you can’t actually change it. I’d be bitchy too.”

“Thank you for summing that up,” Julie deadpanned. “But… it helps. Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“She’s right, Jules,” Flynn agreed. “Be the bitchy bisexual you deserve to be.” That elicited a laugh, and Julie couldn’t help but leave the smile resting on her face.

“Alright,” she decided. “We have self-defense in half an hour, so we should get ready.” Flynn nodded and pulled Julie off of her bed, leading her to the giant walk-in closet, searching the hundreds of options, but steering clear from the gowns.

Flynn and Carrie must’ve known she needed cheering up, because they sarcastically suggested the biggest, poofiest gowns Julie owned, tied with a tight shawl and the wobbliest heels imaginable. Julie laughed despite herself, especially since she could barely walk in the shoes they’d picked. She was also taller than six feet, which was a plus, but she would pick stability over height any day, especially when she was going to practice kicking people’s asses.

Eventually, she settled on flexible black leggings with a purple stripe going down the outside of each leg, and a simple white tunic that starkly contrasted her dark skin. It was fitted but she could move easily in it, stretching into a backbend to make sure.

She sighed and allowed Flynn and Carrie to take either arm and lead her downstairs to the training arena.

…

The training arena was a huge room, the floors completely covered in mats, aside from the giant gymnastic trampolines at the far corner and the running track that traversed the perimeter. On the far side opposite the trampolines were sets of weights and treadmills, as well as other equipment like bars and benches. Punching bags were hung sporadically around the martial arts area, which was also used for tumbling and floor routines.

Lady Athena gave a smile as they walked in, soon followed by Reggie and Mira. Lady Athena was a tall, muscular woman with silky black hair that was always in a high ponytail. Her bronze skin glittered with sweat, and her two-piece athleisure outfit left her chiseled abs on display.

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands. “Reggie, since you’re bigger, you’re with me. You four, pair up and practice your hand-to-hand skills. Remember the blocks we learned last week.” Julie nodded and paired with Flynn, immediately getting into position.

“Head’s up,” she warned with a smirk, before lunging with a punch that would’ve hit Flynn square in the chest if not for her catlike reflexes. She knocked Julie’s hand out of the way, and Julie had to twist to avoid Flynn’s counterattack, letting herself lean backwards. But when she almost fell, she used it to her advantage, hopping backwards onto one hand and spinning, tripping Flynn by kicking her feet out from under her. Before Flynn could recover, Julie pounced over her, grabbing her shirt collar and pulling her fist back, ready to attack. She didn’t follow through, obviously, but she knew she had good form.

“Well done, your highness,” praised Lady Athena. Julie blushed.

“Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Flynn grumbled, and Julie laughed. “Rematch?”

“You’re on.”

…

Julie had defeated Flynn four times to two, and was feeling very confident. It must’ve helped, exercising, because her worries about Alex and Luke were far away as she battled Carrie and then Mira. Or, they were until a certain brunette guard walked in the room in a sleeveless shirt and shorts that showed off his muscles.

She shouldn’t have let herself get distracted, though, because in her haze, Mira managed to throw her off balance and win their round.

“Hah! That’s two each!” She outstretched her hand, which Julie gratefully accepted, pulling her up.

“Good job,” she said, still distracted but keeping her eyes far away from Luke.

“Hi, is this the self-defense lesson?” Luke asked, and Julie could no longer ignore him.

“It is,” Lady Athena confirmed. “You’re Prince Alexander’s guard, correct?”

“And certified Royal Best Dude™,” he added with a grin that was so adorable it made Julie flush. By some miracle, nobody noticed.

“Alright, why don’t you train with Reggie? He can show you what we’re working on. I need to go make sure nobody’s going to throw out their back at the weights.” With that, Lady Athena stalked off, her ponytail swaying behind her.

Luke walked over to Reggie, and Julie did her best not to stare as Reggie guided Luke, and they began sparring. Luke was surprisingly agile, but he was too enthusiastic, reaching for every possible blow, not realizing where he left himself vulnerable. But his puppy eyes when Reggie defeated him were too cute.

Julie cleared her throat and turned away.

“Tiebreaker?” Mira nodded, and they went to sparring. Julie ducked and dodged every hit of Mira’s, even getting in a few herself, but she was thrown off when she heard Luke laugh, a musical, joyful sound, and Mira took advantage of her momentary slip, finally beating her.

“Yes!” Mira jumped and pumped her fist, then helped Julie up.

“Nice job!” Julie grinned with the words, high-fiving Mira.

“Alright, break time.”

Julie walked to the edge of the wall where she’d left her water bottle and towel, almost choking on her water when she heard Luke’s voice behind her.

“Your highness?” he asked shyly. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.” Julie smiled and outstretched her hand, shaking Luke’s. “I’m Alex’s guard, Luke.”

“Hi! You can call me Julie,” she said with a smile, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too! Oh, by the way, great job during your fights. I saw your takedown on the other girl, the one with the braids.”

“Oh, that’s Flynn.”

“Cool. But yeah, I saw your fight, and that was really impressive. I doubt I could spin on one hand like you did.”

Well.

If Julie hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now. At least Luke’s cheeks were only red because of the intense workouts.

“It took me forever to get that move right,” she admitted. “I only just got it down, if I’m being honest. I still slip up sometimes, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he complimented. And oh, his smile really was a beautiful thing.

“Alright, break time’s over,” called Lady Athena. “No more flirting.” Julie’s stomach dropped, and she inhaled, a denial already on her tongue, before she realized that her coach was looking at Flynn and Carrie, who were chatting animatedly, both blushing.

She practiced a bit more with Carrie, doing her best to ignore the boy next to her. When the class finally ended, she hurriedly thanked Lady Athena before rushing up to shower.

Letting the hot water wash over her, she pondered how the hell Luke had wiggled his way into her heart so quickly within one conversation.

Was she being brainwashed into liking a guy she barely knew?

Was this some elaborate trick that whatever higher being existed had orchestrated as a ploy to get her out of the arranged marriage?

… And more importantly, would it work?

The thought made her laugh. Not that she didn’t slightly believe this was all some sort of elaborate trick to get her to commit treason and fall in love with someone she wasn’t supposed to, but it was funny nonetheless.

…

After she’d done her best to set the record for hottest, soapiest shower possible, Julie wrapped herself in a towel, massaging peach lotion into her skin, the scent matching her shampoo. As she rubbed it into her hands, she imagined what it would feel like holding Luke’s hand, before quickly banishing the thought away to the depths of simpy hell.

This was worse than she thought.

She changed into her evening gown for the dinner, allowing Mira to lace up the back. It was all navy blue, a long strapless dress that reached her ankles, with a see-through tulle layer over top that went up to a sleeveless halter neckline, leaving the rest of the tulle layer to flow down neatly over the rest of the silky dress, which tightened at the waist. Tiny diamonds had been sewn into the tulle at her waist, high in concentration before gently tapering off the lower in the skirt they went.

“Okay,” Carrie said, walking in with Flynn beside her. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, damn. That dress is fine.” Flynn nodded enthusiastically.

“I know, right?” Mira said excitedly. “I actually helped tailor this one! It was one of my favorites to make.”

“And for a good reason,” Julie agreed. “Mira, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Not quite,” she said, turning Julie towards the vanity. “I’m thinking we do something simple but elegant for your hair?”

“I vote for that,” Flynn interjected.

“Sure!”

Mira set to work, combing through Julie’s hair with her fingers. Julie closed her eyes. She’d always loved the feeling of people playing with her hair, and as Mira wove her dark locks into two thick braids that soon joined together, letting the rest of her hair poof at the base of her neck, Julie was transported back to her mother’s room when she was five. She remembered the feeling of her mother braiding her hair like it was yesterday, the gentle tugs and nimble fingers on her scalp. It wasn’t the same with Mira, of course, but it was refreshing and comforting at the same time.

“Hey, Jules?” Flynn called from her closet.

“Mm?”

“Mind if I steal that asymmetrical dress for tonight? The jade one,” she clarified.

“Feel free!”

The dress in mind was a slim-fitting jade green dress that reached her knees, but the hem was cut asymmetrically, leaving one side longer than the other. It had golden ribbon-like threads spun around it with no particular rhyme or reason, and a built-in sash made of pale, spring green tulle roses. The thin straps showed off her shoulders, and when Flynn walked out with it on, Julie noticed Carrie blush.

“Dude, you look awesome,” Julie complimented. Flynn twirled, letting the light play off of the shimmery fabric.

“Thanks!”

Mira finished doing Julie’s hair, and held up a mirror for her to see. Julie admired the thick, smooth braids that gently rejoined at the base of her neck, letting the rest of her dark curls loose in an elegant fashion.

“It’s amazing, Mira! Thank you so much.”

“Of course! And thank you for letting me do it,” she said with a giggle. “Your hair is so fun to style.” Julie blushed.

…

The dinner was rather uneventful, thankfully. Julie wasn’t sure if she would’ve had the energy to constantly be answering questions. Instead, though, she got to introduce people to each other, and relax and eat, and try to keep her eyes away from a certain hazel-eyed guard.

She was grateful for the relatively simple task.

-----

Luke POV

...

Luke had heard about the self-defense classes in the training arena, and he was itching to get moving, so he changed into workout clothes and headed down there.

The spiral staircase was wide and glittered with colored glass, the silver banisters gleaming in the light. He trailed his hand down it as he made his way down.

When he reached the training arena, he closed the door behind him and went to set down his water bottle and towel- but not before noticing Julie.

At the self-defense class.

Thankfully, she didn’t see him. He hung back for a moment, watching as she sparred with another girl with long braids. The way she moved was incredible, like water flowing in a current, unpredictable and smooth. Of course, if anyone asked, he was most certainly not admiring it. He could silently appreciate her skills, though.

As she dodged hit after hit, throwing her own blocks and blows, it looked like the girl with braids had gotten the better of her, but as Julie leaned backwards, she hopped and - holy fuck - caught herself on one hand, spinning around in the air like some sort of ethereal breakdancer, and knocking the other girl’s feet out from under her, before pouncing, grabbing her shirt collar, and pulling back her fist, before freezing and laughing.

Whoa.

So not only was she a wicked beauty, Luke realized, she was a human wrecking ball, too.

He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the beautiful badass in front of him, tuning out Lady Athena’s praise in favor of clearing his head before approaching to join. Not that it worked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Julie. The other three girls (and the guy, if he was being honest) were all stunningly fit and agile, but there was something about Julie that enchanted him. The way she was always smiling even in the middle of a training fight, how, even when she was defeated, she brushed it off with a laugh, how she was light on her feet like a cat as she dodged and spun, how she was needlessly extravagant with her self-defense and yet somehow always made it work. Maybe that’s just what princesses were like; even when defending themselves against possible attackers, they had to be as beautiful as ever.

Of course, right now, Luke knew she didn’t look how she normally would, in her silky gowns and expertly styled hair. Now, she wore matching athletic clothes and had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, with some strands coming out in a sweaty frizz. And yet, that somehow just made her even more breathtaking. Even when she was sweaty and working out, she managed to look like an angel.

An angel who could easily kick his ass, he remembered as she pulled the upside-down-one-handed-breakdancer move again, this time on a redheaded girl he didn’t recognize.

Before he could stop himself, he approached Lady Athena.

“Hi, is this the self-defense lesson?” He asked the woman.

“It is,” Lady Athena confirmed, and he nodded.. “You’re Prince Alexander’s guard, correct?”

“And certified Royal Best Dude™,” he added with a grin. He would never let go of that title.

“Alright, why don’t you train with Reggie? He can show you what we’re working on. I need to go make sure nobody’s going to throw out their back at the weights.” Luke nodded again as Lady Athena walked away.

He walked over to Reggie, shaking his hand.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” he introduced with a smile. Reggie shot one back.

“Reggie!”

“Nice to meet you! So, do we just… fight? I’m not sure how this is run here compared to in Tambor.” Reggie laughed.

“Yeah, pretty much. You good at hand-to-hand?”

“I’m not bad,” he admitted. “But I’m no expert.” He couldn’t help looking at Julie. “Is she always that much of a badass?” Reggie followed his eyes to Julie.

“Pretty much,” he said with a laugh, and Luke dearly hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Good to know. In that case, if I introduce myself to her, how scared should I be?” He asked it with a smile and a joking tone, but he was actually a bit nervous. But, you know, just because he now knew that she could kick his ass seven ways to Sunday.

No other reason.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Reggie assured him. “She’s actually really nice. I’ve known her since she was eight,” he explained. Luke nodded, grateful for the reassurance.

“Alrighty then,” he said, hopping into a fighting stance. “Let’s get cracking.”

…

By “let’s get cracking,” he was hoping he wouldn’t be cracking his ego, but he was sorely mistaken. Reggie didn’t seem like it, but he was really strong, and really good at fighting. Luke was more agile than him, and strength-wise he could compare, but the Dahlian style of fighting was so different from the Tamborian style. They were similar in many ways, of course; they had the same moves and strategies. But the ways they moved were so different, the ways they executed their moves had an uncanny grace and deadliness.

He did his best, reaching for every blow he could, trying to get the upper hand. And, to his credit, he won a few rounds. But he accidentally left himself vulnerable most of the time, leaving perfect opportunities for his opponent to strike, because Of Course He Did.

When they called for a break, Luke wiped his forehead with a towel, grabbing a drink of water. Then, he swallowed the lump in his throat and approached Julie.

“Your highness?” he asked shyly. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.” Luke tried not to blush when she smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Alex’s guard, Luke.”

“Hi! You can call me Julie,” she said with a gorgeous grin, and Luke knew he was a goner. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too! Oh, by the way, great job during your fights. I saw your takedown on the other girl, the one with the braids.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he mentally kicked himself. Not smooth, Patterson. What if she thought he was creepy?

Thankfully, though, she smiled.

“Oh, that’s Flynn!”

“Cool,” he said, relieved. Nice and smooth, Patterson. “But yeah, I saw your fight, and that was really impressive. I doubt I could spin on one hand like you did.” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck nervously, and he couldn’t help but feel accomplished when Julie’s cheeks flushed. Of course, his were probably just as red, but hopefully he could blame it on the workout.

“It took me forever to get that move right,” she admitted. “I only just got it down, if I’m being honest. I still slip up sometimes, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he complimented with a smile. And it wasn’t a lie, either.

“Alright, break time’s over,” called Lady Athena. “No more flirting.” Luke cleared his throat, getting ready to insist that he wasn’t flirting, before he realized that Lady Athen was looking at Flynn and another redheaded girl, who were chatting animatedly, both blushing. He sighed in relief.

As he went back to sparring with Reggie, zoned out but fighting just as well as he was before, maybe even better, he pondered Julie’s abilities. How did she manage to be so beautiful, so graceful, and yet so kind and badass? It shouldn’t have been possible for any one human to do that all, much less a teenage girl who was already juggling the responsibilities of being a princess.

Julie was, Luke realized, even more incredible than he’d ever thought possible.

…

All throughout the dinner, he was trying not to stare at Julie. Her dress was absolutely gorgeous, and the way she flitted around the room like a butterfly was absolutely ethereal. Tie that with the diamonds sewn into her navy blue dress that looked like fading stars and twinkled in the light, and she looked like she was wrapped in starlight. He knew it was appropriate for that star of a woman, but still, he thought it should’ve been illegal for anyone to have that effect on him.

His cheeks were red, and he stared at his plate, inhaling the scent of roast beef and mashed potatoes, along with the aroma of warm bread from his appetizer.

Even with the cool air of Dahlia and his thin shirt and suit vest, he was still sweating. He was absolutely gone for a girl he’d only had one conversation with, a girl he’d only known for a maximum of five hours.

A girl who his best friend was being forced to marry.

That was the worst part of all of this. His best friend, who would never be in love with Julie no matter how good of friends they were, had to marry her because of goddamn international relations, and there was nothing he could do about it. And, a selfish part of him thought, it means you never had a chance. He shoved the thoughts out of his head, hating the lingering ache they left in his heart.

Not that he would’ve ever had a chance anyway. She was a beautiful, badass princess, and he was just a guard she didn’t even know.

-----

Reggie POV

...

As soon as the plane landed on the runway behind the palace, Reggie smiled at Julie, letting go of her hand as she readied herself.

He understood her worry. No matter how close you are with someone, being set to marry them - especially when you didn’t want to - was daunting. Of course, he’d never been through the same thing, but he was always an empathetic person, and he could practically feel his own sister’s worry and ache.

He saw Prince Alexander walking to the gardens, and smiled when Julie broke into a grin, running to him. He twirled rose petals between his fingers, letting out a small laugh when she jumped into Alex’s arms. He didn’t want to seem like a helicopter brother, though, so he went back inside, leaving Jules with Prince Alexander.

When he stepped inside, he nearly ran into Ray.

“Whoa, sorry!” Ray laughed.

“You’re perfectly fine, mijo. Everything okay?” Reggie sighed.

“I’m just worried for Julie. I’ve never really gotten to know Prince Alexander, and-”

“I’ll stop you there,” Ray said. “Believe me, I know what you mean, and if I could stop it without huge consequences, I would. But Alex isn’t someone you need to worry about. That boy is one of the sweetest, kindest people I’ve ever met,” he assured him. “And while I know neither of them want to get married, I know that they’re both mature, and good friends.”

“Thanks,” Reggie sighed. “I just wish I could get her out of it, you know? I mean, that’s my little sister.”

“I understand,” the king agreed. “But unfortunately, there isn’t anything to be done other than let Alex settle in.” Reggie nodded glumly. “Hey, wasn’t there a progression you wanted to show me? On your bass?” Ray clarified. Reggie immediately lit up.

“Yeah! Julie and I have been working on a song called Icarus, and she’s got a killer piano melody worked out. I went off of some of her chords and found a super cool progression on my bass that adds a really nice line underneath hers, and it sounds-” he did the chef’s kiss thing with his hand- “divine.”

“Alright, well now I’ve gotta see it!” Reggie’s grin lit up even more and he ran to his room, followed by Ray, who was jogging behind him.

Reggie’s room was huge, the walls painted dark blue. He’d always found the color soothing. He snatched his red and white bass guitar from its stand, spinning on his heel as he ducked under the strap, letting it settle by his waist.

When Ray met him there, Reggie grinned, plucking the strings animatedly until he remembered the notes. He didn’t bother grabbing his phone to try and find them from wherever he’d written them down in the endless scrolling of his notes app. Soon, though, his chaotic ADHD brain remembered, and he began excitedly plucking specific notes in a rhythmic pattern, his fingers stretching to reach each fret as he hopped from the E string to A, then G back to E and D. He smiled even brighter when he saw Ray grinning and tapping his foot to the beat.

“So, it kinda just goes like that, until we get to the chorus. Then, I come in with a little…” he slid his finger down the string, letting the note slide down before he hopped back into the rhythm, the same notes as before, but ordered differently, giving a new feel to the music.

He hopped around, spinning as he played his bass, humming the lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds super cool, mijo!” Ray exclaimed, one eyebrow furrowed, as was custom for him whenever he was excited. Reggie hopped up and down happily, fixing the cuff of one of his sleeves.

“Thanks! Julie and I are gonna try to record it. I’m trying to learn how to play the drums, to add a steady beat, but I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it soon.” Reggie beamed. “I’m so sorry, mijo, I have to go. I’d love to hear more later or tomorrow, though!”

“Okay,” Reggie said. “Bye!” He continued playing marking down cool progressions he found, and just hopping around to get out his wiggles.

…

At the self-defense class, he sparred with Lady Athena. Sometimes he would spar with Julie or Flynn, but even though she was no doubt better at fighting, he was also bigger, and she was paired with Flynn.

Lady Athena was amazing at fighting, and Reggie got his ass kicked most of the time, but he was able to win a couple rounds, which he was quite proud of. Lady Athena complimented his form, and he had no doubt that he would be gathering serotonin from that compliment for weeks. Even then, though, he got plenty from seeing his badass little sister master her insane breakdance-style move, with which she completely demolished Flynn in a few seconds. His chest swelled with pride when she won.

Soon, though, a man named Luke entered the studio, and Reggie definitely didn’t miss Julie’s blush when she looked at him. She might’ve been supposed to marry Alex, but it wasn’t like either of them wanted it. Plus, he was always down for a little treason, especially if it was with Julie.

Lady Athena paired Luke with Reggie, perfect timing for her to go check on some of the other people in the arena.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” the man introduced with a smile. Reggie gave his trademark grin.

“Reggie!” He outstretched his hand, and Luke shook it.

“Nice to meet you! So, do we just… fight?” Luke asked. “I’m not sure how this is run here compared to in Tambor.” Reggie laughed. He’d never sparred with anyone from Tambor before, so this would be fun.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You good at hand-to-hand?”

“I’m not bad, but I’m no expert.” Reggie followed his gaze as it shifted over to Julie. “Is she always that much of a badass?” He asked, clearly in awe.

“Pretty much,” Reggie replied with a laugh, grinning at Luke’s blush.

Simp.

“Good to know. In that case, if I introduce myself to her, how scared should I be?” Luke was fiddling with the hem of his shirt by that point.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Reggie assured him. “She’s actually really nice. I’ve known her since she was eight,” he explained.

“Alrighty then,” he said, hopping into a fighting stance. “Let’s get cracking.” Reggie grinned and reciprocated, taking the first strike.

The first thing he learned was that Luke was very opportunistic in his fighting style. He went for nearly every possible blow, even if it meant leaving himself vulnerable. Reggie, of course, took advantage of this. He had to make sure his new friend (and sister’s possible future treasonous boyfriend) knew he could protect people.

Luke pouted, and Reggie couldn’t help but admit that he had adorable puppy eyes.

He helped him up, laughing. A few more sparring rounds passed, and Luke turned out to be quite adaptable. He found ways to get past Reggie’s blocks, and even put some up himself. Soon, they were evenly matched, and Reggie was impressed. Although, he soon found that he could get in another blow by telling a horrible joke, then striking when Luke laughed.

He thought it was pretty genius.

…

The dinner was rather uneventful. He did, however, get to meet Prince Alexander, which he was very happy about - even more so now that he was confident in Ray’s assurance that he was a good person. They’d chatted about politics and whatnot, before both admitting that they were bored. Somehow, the conversation strayed to music.

“No way, you play the drums?” Reggie asked excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’m no good.”

“Yeah, I do! You said you play bass?”

“Yep!” He beamed, making a mental note to ask if he wanted to see, sometime later.

“That’s awesome, dude.”

“Thanks!”

They talked for a little while longer, before Alex was pulled away to talk to some other Dahlian nobleman whose name Reggie kept forgetting. Plus, Alex seemed tired; unsurprising, given the long day he must’ve had.

Reggie eventually settled down and ran through his thoughts.

He knew he couldn’t protect Julie, not like he wanted to. Plus, she didn’t need protecting, he’d come to realize after Luke’s “badass” comment at the training arena. Julie Molina wasn’t just a badass in self-defense, she was also a badass in every other sense of the word. She was a teenage girl, the heiress to the Dahlian throne, juggling her academic lessons and royal lessons, along with making time for her friends, free time, and she managed to (usually) get enough sleep. She was a complete badass who didn’t need protecting.

She needed support, instead. That was something Reggie could do. He could be by her side every step of the way, no matter how hard it got. He was her brother, and he loved her more than life itself, loved every crooked smile, every curl of hair, every eye roll after one of his famously bad jokes. She didn’t deserve any of this, but by God, he’d do his best to make it bearable for her.

-----

Willie POV

...

After lunch, the burn on Willie’s hand had calmed. Rather than the angry red mark it was earlier, it had shrunk into an annoyed red streak. Still a nuisance, but he didn’t really care.

As Willie whipped the mousse, his mind strayed to Prince Alexander.

What was he like? Was he as cute in person as he was in photos? Probably, Willie decided. Photos never fully captured someone’s beauty unless they knew what they were looking for, and that was always more of an emotion. Photojournalists aimed for lighting and composition. There were always emotion in the photos, yes, but they never actually got to see the people in the photo.

He wondered if he would get to meet him. Would it go well? Would he like the bread he’d so carefully baked? Would he enjoy the mousse cake he was whipping up right now? All of these questions whirled around in Willie’s brain as he whipped the mousse, letting it become airy and fluffy. Sprinkles of cocoa powder dusted the counter next to his mixing bowl, but it was fine. It would all get wiped up later.

He grabbed a tub of fine cinnamon, sprinkling in a pinch for a little bit of kick. It was barely noticeable, but it gave the mousse an extra depth that it normally would’ve lacked. He’d never told anyone his secret, despite prying from Lilian.

Sprinkling in a tiny bit more to account for the large batch, his thoughts wandered again.

How was Princess Julie dealing with all of this? Willie had never had a real conversation with her, but she seemed to be very well put-together. She managed everything so well, at least from the outside. Though he knew better than anyone that, no matter how organized someone may seem, there’s always a storm underneath.

Willie finished up, putting plastic wrap over the mousse and sticking it in the giant refrigerator, before taking off his apron, washing his hands, and heading for the door.

“Willie?” Called Alyssa from behind him. He turned around, walking backwards.

“Yeah? I’m just going on break.”

“Did you finish making the mousse?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Alyssa,” he said, walking out the door. The mousse is in the refrigerator-”

WHAM.

Willie let out a slight “oof” as he ran into the person in the hallway.

He stumbled, catching himself before he fell, though not as gracefully as he would’ve liked. He’d fared better than the other person, though.

“Whoa!” The man said.

“Agh, sorry, I really need to watch where I’m-” Willie cut himself off, his cheeks flushing as he realized he’d just ran into Prince Alexander.

Well, so much for making a good impression.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, your highness.” He scrambled into a bow, and blushed.

“No, you’re good, bro.” Willie was taken aback by the casual response, but he wasn’t complaining.

Willie finally got a good look at him, and wasn’t at all surprised when he found that he was even more stunning in person.Of course, it made it a whole lot harder to hide his gay panic.

He had blonde hair that was expertly styled, and a crisp, blue suit vest with minimalistic gold embroidery that brought out flecks of blue in his eyes and highlights in his hair. His muscles were defined and visible through the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and even when he was frazzled after just having been knocked over, he still looked as handsome as ever.

“Are you okay?” Willie asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks. Just trying to clear my head. Until you, you know, tried to crack it open.” Willie couldn’t help himself from laughing, and dearly hoped it wasn’t the wrong move. But the prince had a small smile on his face and pink dusting his cheeks, so he had a feeling it was okay.

“I did pancake you, huh?” He tried to laugh, and Willie nervously cleared his throat. “Sorry. Oh, uh, I’m Willie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Willie outstretched his hand, delighted when the other man shook it. “Alex,” he greeted, still blushing a little bit, which could be chalked up to the embarrassment of being plowed over. Willie was worried things would get awkward soon, so he searched for an excuse, hating that he had to leave.

“Well, I’d better make sure we’re clear to bring up dessert,” he said. “But I’ll see you around, your royal pancakeness,” Willie added with a grin, spinning on his heel and going back to the kitchens, hoping Alex hadn’t noticed his internal gay panic.

…

“Well, that was a quick break,” Alyssa pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” Willie agreed, not fully listening.

He’d fucking pancaked the prince. Prince Alexander Mercer of Tambor. And Willie, despite his constant hoping for a good impression, ran him over because he wasn’t even watching where he was going.

How the hell was he such a mess? And even more, how would he ever be accepted by literal royalty who was way too cute to even exist?

Willie shook his head, letting his hair fall over his shoulders, ignoring the feeling of Alyssa’s eyes on him as he walked into the giant refrigerated room, grabbing the huge bowl of chocolate mousse and scooping it into a piping bag, grabbing some of the chilled cakes.

His hands were steady and meticulous as he gently piped the mousse onto the cakes, making a thick layer on top of each, then lifting into a swirl that peaked in the center, adorning each cake with a bit of wafer and chocolate. He set each one on a tray, waiting for Alyssa to pick it up. Plating was her specialty, because according to Lilian, any time Willie did plating, it ended up “chaotic” and “messy” and “unorthodox.” Personally, he thought it was cool. But, not everyone could have taste, he supposed.

…

Later that night, as he wandered into his small room in the chefs’ quarters, laying down on the soft bed, his mind wandered to Alex. Despite constantly being on the news, he was a mystery, an enigma, a puzzle Willie had the urge to solve. What were his interests? His desires? His hopes, his dreams?

Of course, he would never be able to act on his feelings about the prince, how adorably awkward he was, how gorgeous he was in any outfit, no matter the style, how even in one simple conversation, Willie had become so enamoured that he wanted to know everything about him. Not in a creepy way, of course, but in the way one wishes to know someone they’ve just met, who intrigues them to no end.

That night, his dreams were haunted by a familiar face, a shy smile, and a piercing set of bluish eyes.

#bwya tag

25 notes · View notes

florbexter · 3 years

Note

Blume, I think Thara is a chaotic king, but apart from that he's a bit too "perfect". I want Frong to see his vulnerable side or his dark side so they can be on more equal terms.

I think it’s true that, for now, we haven’t really seen a vulnerable or dark side of Thara beside him opening up about his father but it was, again, in the context of him comforting Frong. I thought long about what his dark side could be and I hope you like this little story ^.^

Darkness is just an illusion || [AO3 Link]

Thara felt the pulse of the man under his fingers, the nervous flutter, spiking, the rate faster and faster the more pressure Thara put on his neck. He was bigger than Thara, almost a head taller, but there was sweat on his temple and his eyes showed fear.

It was a paradox, Thara thought, or maybe not. Someone who put drugs in other people’s drinks was a coward, the scum under the scum, not someone who would stand his ground. He had tried to argue against Thara’s accusations but the little bottle they had found in his jacket and Bohn who had seen him putting the stuff into Boss’ drink wasn’t something he could go against.

Bohn was ready to go for blood and the way he had his hands around the man’s collar was threatening, the way he yelled into his face and it seemed weird, Thara thought, that he didn’t seem to realize that Thara had his hand around the man’s throat. A little more pressure there Thara thought and stared at his own fingers. A little more pressure and there would be unconsciousness. Easy as that. He knew exactly where to—

“P’?”

Frong stood in the door that led to the corridor they were all assembled in, next to him a short woman with dyed red hair, it shone like a halo with the light behind her coming from the main room of the bar. She looked petit, but her eyes were fixated on the man against the wall and it was a mixture of murderous intent and tightly contained rage.

“P’?”, Frong said again and his eyes laid on Thara’s hand. Thara wasn’t sure why he didn’t immediately snatch his hand away. Maybe it was the voice in his head that wasn’t satisfied with the outcome of this. That this was his to deal with.

“Did they call the police?”, he asked, and the bar owner looked over to him briefly. Two men, giants, tall as well as broad appeared behind her.

“We are going to take care of him,” she said, and as Bohn wanted to argue Frong seemed to have enough of the situation and took both of them by their arms and dragged them with him.

“I wasn’t done with him!”, Bohn yelled and Frong let go of his arm to push him softly away.

“Boss is throwing up,” he said and nodded towards the gathering of their friends around Boss. His complexion was damp and ashy, he visibly shook and was bent over a bucket. It didn’t take more for Bohn to switch from angry to concerned and he quickly walked away.

Frong’s other hand was still around Thara’s wrist and it was the same hand he had had around the man’s throat and he stretched his fingers, startling Frong into looking down.

There was a frown between his eyebrows, but no disgust just concern, and Thara felt the need to say something. He didn’t even know what he would say. An apology, an explanation? But before he could open his mouth Frong looked up again and tugged him along.

“You should look after Boss. Duen has already called an ambulance.”

And just like that, a switch flipped inside Thara and he took over Boss’ care until the paramedics arrived.

At the hospital, he handed the little bottle over, so they would know what they were dealing with, and during all of it— During reassuring a distressed Mek that everything was going to be okay. During explaining to the ER doctors what happened. During the hours of waiting for the drugs to flush out of Boss’ system, during all of it Frong made sure to stay as close to Thara as possible. Whenever they stood or sat next to each other he touched him. He entwined their fingers, put his hand on Thara’s shoulder, pressed their thighs together or even just laid a warm hand on the small of Thara’s back.

Frong didn’t avoid touch. They had held hands or had greeted each other with a peck on the lips in public often enough that Thara knew he wasn’t against public display of affection, but this level of tactile contact was new. Not that Thara was complaining.

He just was confused.

Frong had seen him choking that guy, right?

They waited until they were told Boss was okay and that he would stay overnight. Bohn and Duen went first to pick up some clothes for Mek and Boss, followed by Ram and King, and when they climbed into a taxi Frong asked him softly: “Are you okay?”

And maybe he should have waited until they weren’t in a car together with a stranger but Frong’s calmness irked him.

“Not really,” he murmured and looked down when Frong intertwined their fingers on the middle seat. He didn’t retreat his hand.

It was grounding.

“Yeah… that was frightening what happened to Boss. It was luck that Bohn saw what happened.”

“Yes,” Thara confirmed slowly, “and…”

Was Frong being oblivious on purpose?

“You saw what I did, right? It wasn’t that dark in the hallway.”

Frong threw him a look and nodded. He started to caress Thara’s hand with his thumb and looked ahead again.

Thara felt his heart in his throat because he knew Frong wanted to say something. Had he just concealed his concerns?

“It’s nice,” Frong said and the little movements of his thumb on Thara’s hand was almost hypnotic. He tilted his head, and the street lamps of Bangkok illuminated his face in an uneven rhythm. “Maybe not nice… but reassuring.”

Thara raised an eyebrow. “Reassuring that I,” he quickly glanced towards the taxi driver and bent to get closer to Frong and murmured, “reassuring that I almost choked someone?”

“Do you mean that instead of almost you definitely defended someone? That you put a stop to someone being hurt?”

“I wasn’t…” But he couldn’t end his sentence as they stopped at the curb of Frong’s dormitory and the driver turned towards them to collect his fee. Thara hadn’t even realized that Frong had told him the address of his residence.

+++

“You make it sound nicer than it was.” Like he had been some hero. Frong looked at him through his reflection in the mirror, toothbrush in his mouth, and just raised an eyebrow. Yeah. Maybe continuing their conversation while Frong was unable to answer wasn’t the best idea, but he needed to say some stuff without Frong trying to dismantle them.

“I was ready to hurt that man! Ready and willing.” He heavily sat down on the toilet seat. It was a very small bathroom so he essentially blocked Frong’s way who could either step over Thara’s legs or sit down on his lap. He did neither. He turned and leaned against the tiny sink.

“I’m a med student,” Thara said and willed Frong to understand, “I’m not supposed to want to hurt someone.”

Frong continued to brush his teeth and seemed to wait for Thara to say something else but everything that had been in his mind was gone. Because in the end, it boiled down to him not being allowed to have those urges. It doesn’t matter how he voiced it. It was wrong.

“Let me ask you this,” Frong said finally and put his toothbrush back in the holder next to Thara’s. “If they brought the man in now, and you would work in the emergency room, and he was injured… would you help him?”

“Of course,” Thara said because that wasn’t the point and—

“You would treat him because you want to be a doctor because you want to help people regardless of what you already know about them… I think it’s allowed for you to be a human being and feel human emotion especially when your friends are involved. No one wants you to be a robot. You will have to make tough decisions soon enough, don’t beat yourself up about this.”

Thara sighed and stared down at his hands.

“Do you think they ‘took care of him’?”

Frong shrugged and pushed against Thara’s legs with his own until Thara made space for him to stand between them.

“It’s a gay bar. In the end, even if they called the police, we always have to look out for us ourselves, right?”

Thara mhmmed and put his forehead on Frong’s stomach, which was surprisingly comfortable for the sixpack-situation going on under his shirt.

“What did you mean with reassuring when we were in the taxi?”, he asked, because that had sat in the back of his mind since Frong had said it. Itching and irritating.

He felt how Thara bent a bit over him and put his hands on his shoulder, massaging the tension in Thara’s back with gentle strokes.

“It’s reassuring that you have vulnerable moments too.”

“I’m plenty vulnerable,” Thara murmured. What was Frong talking about?

“You like to solve my problems, yes, but that doesn’t mean that you are as vulnerable with me as I’m with you.”

“It’s my j—”

“If you were going to say it’s your job, I will kick you out. I’m not your job.”

Thara pressed his lips together. He wanted to say that. He felt responsible for Frong, for his wellbeing, for his happiness.

“I’m part of this relationship, too,” Frong murmured and the tone of his voice told Thara that he had wanted to say this for a long time now. “You can be vulnerable with me.”

Thara knew that. But it was hard.

He breathed in, smelled the bar on Frong, the aftershave he used, a bit of the minty toothpaste. Took another deep breath and tried to breathe the tension out.

“I wanted to hurt him so badly,” he finally whispered, a broken sound, the words more slurred than pronounced and Frong was still bent over him, like a warm cage of reassurance, his hands on Thara’s back and the warmth seeped through his shirt.

“I know,” he murmured. “Me too.”

end

#florbexter writes #my engineer the series #tharafrong #established relationship #canon divergence #ao3 link #hurt/comfort

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birlcholtz · 4 years

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any bittyholtz headcanons👀

holster knows he’s big ok? and he realizes pretty quick his sophomore year that bitty is Not Great at handling large guys coming at him quickly. so out of consideration for this tiny frosh, who is cute but holster can also tell is scared shitless by ransom and holster being their loud selves, holster tries to be conscious of bitty and respect his space (and also not yell too much around him because who knows what specifically bothers him)

and the great thing about ransom and holster being best bros for so long is that holster doesn’t have to explain what he’s doing to ransom, ransom just kind of matches him and that’s that

and holster is delighted every time bitty opens up a bit more and relaxes a bit more around the team, and when he comes out to ransom and holster holster internally is like oh. oh of COURSE. of course big loud jocks who talk about hooking up with women all the time and check people really hard on the ice bother him. duh holster

but holster would NEVER hurt someone for being gay that’s a huge asshole move and he feels it is Very Important That Bitty Knows That Holster Would Never Hurt Him. why does he feel it’s so important?? that’s a question for later holster isn’t a whole ‘analyze my feelings’ dude

so holster actively makes an effort to be around bitty in a non-threatening way. by a couple of months into spring semester they’re very comfortable around each other, comfortable enough that bitty jokes about their size difference and at one point he literally jumps into holster’s arms (who catches him on instinct) and then holster is like oh my god i’m holding bitty. oh my god he’s so small but so muscular. oh my god his hair smells so nice oh god oh fUCK

there is literally so much more under the cut. (send me ur headcanons for rarepairs/qpps!)

bitty, for his part, was initially very wary of ransom and holster for exactly the reasons holster figured out. it also doesn’t help that ransom dresses like a preppy frat bro and holster dresses like a messy frat bro. they’re both frat bros and bitty takes a long time to warm up to them.

but what does help is the way holster always lets bitty know he’s there before he gets too close (sometimes bitty is in the zone in the kitchen and doesn’t notice things like his teammates entering), and the way he doesn’t friendly-punch bitty like he does ransom. or jack. or shitty. or even lardo honestly nobody’s safe. except bitty is.

holster is also definitely responsible for putting some of bitty’s favorite songs on the kegster playlist and bitty definitely finds out and his heart warms a little more

and once bitty’s come out to ransom and holster and they don’t treat him any differently or weirdly and still profess their love for him when he bakes things without a single no homo, bitty finds himself hanging around with them a little more?

ransom likes to study in the attic without distractions so that means that bitty and holster wind up spending a lot more time together and listen. bitty can’t spend that much time with holster without noticing that the guy is a) extremely tall b) ripped and c) has an excellent jawline. and bitty is only human y’all

when he plays music in the kitchen holster will always dance (and sing along if he knows the words, or enough of the words to get them wrong in a funny way because bitty’s laugh sounds like angels singing and okay yeah holster is smitten)

holster Cannot make pies because he cannot touch pastry, bitty forbids him from trying before he even asks because his hands are too warm and he’ll fuck it all up. (holster, internally, is pleased bitty’s noticed. bitty, internally, is like fuck was that too weird) BUT if holster is in there he usually gets dragged into stirring things or chopping things or handing bitty sticks of butter from the fridge and basically whatever he can do without fucking up the pastry

and a while after that holster is like hang on wait it’s been a while since i realized i had a crush on bitty and it has Not gone away should i like. i don’t know. fucking tell him i’m into guys or something like that?? that would be smart

this is more how they get together than a list of headcanons LMAO i always get distracted and this is so fucking long omg

so he’s like rans. how do i do this. and ransom is like you should blast gettin’ bi from crazy ex girlfriend and holster is like weird. i love it.

other things holster does to subtly let bitty know he’s bi: loudly discuss his plans for going to pride that summer, make a lot of bi puns and hope one of them lands, show bitty funny posts from the lgbtq+ samwell student group on facebook

eventually bitty is like . hm. holster is either a VERY supportive ally. or he is trying to tell me something. and after the 80th bi meme post from the facebook group he’s like holster. hon. are you trying to tell me something

and holster is like YES. I AM BISEXUAL and bitty’s like oh that’s great!! (internally: can i climb him like a tree yet)

and then bitty’s like well thanks for telling me! and holster is like uh yeah! (because listen he’s good at wheeling but he is SO bad at wheeling bitty because this isn’t just someone cute he found at a kegster u know??? it’s BITTY and holster kind of wants to sweep him off his feet but in like. a gentlemanly way that won’t scare him)

when holster relates this interaction to ransom ransom is like oh my fucking god holster you could have told him and holster is like yeah and i did not for some fucking reason???????? ransom. i’m dumb and ransom is like no you just caught feelings

(bitty, to shitty: hey so uh. if a guy aggressively hints he’s into guys for like. a month. and then when i ask him straight out he tells me he’s bi. what does that mean. and shitty’s like i mean i wouldn’t know unless i know the guy?? but i wouldn’t ask u to tell me bc like. hes gotta choose who he’s out to u know and bitty’s like yeah i mean u know him but maybe i’ll ask him who else he’s out to bc i need some advice and shitty is like hell yeah)

the next day, bitty’s like holster are u out to anyone else?? just bc the team seems kinda. hetero. except for me. and holster is like oh yeah rans knows and shitty knows. also johnson. and jack if he’s not stupid because i’ve definitely had guys stay over. but mostly just the guys in the haus yeah

then they go to murder stop ‘n shop and buy baking ingredients. holster carries a metric fuck ton of flour and butter and pretends he doesn’t notice bitty staring at his arms (but he might flex just a little more than necessary)

so bitty’s like EXCELLENT. and then he talks to shitty again and is like IT’S HOLSTER AND I’M SUPER INTO HIM WHAT DO I DO and shitty’s like hooooo boy. and then HE’S like well uh. holster doesn’t like. feel the need to formally come out to people usually like the way he told me was by just telling me about a guy he hooked up with last year with zero context or warning? like i don’t know holster as well as, like, rans, but he definitely wants you specifically to know that he’s bi.

and bitty’s like intriguing. i’m gonna go combust now. and shitty’s like cool catch ya later.

so then bitty decides there’s only one way to find out if holster’s into him. and it’s not asking him, what the fuck?? no obviously not. it’s wearing very short shorts and touching him a lot and watching him to see if he blushes or gets flustered. bitty may not be a blunt or forthright person when it comes to hitting on people but he can at least make it impossible for holster to try and hide any feelings he may or may not have.

so rip holster is what i’m saying. but he also observes how much bitty is still watching him-- usually when bitty is doing something like wearing very short shorts or dancing at a kegster or flinging himself into holster’s lap-- and he’s like HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. because also holster is like way more experienced with like. relationships in general? like he’s familiar with what someone flirting with him looks like. so he’s like alright well if bitty wants to make me suffer i’m going to make him suffer too. (’rans can i borrow your skinny jeans’ ‘is this so you can get back at bitty’ ‘yes it’s important’ ‘yeah sure whatever’)

holster knows he’s jacked, he just has to make sure bitty knows it. he also knows that bitty is comfortable with holster standing pretty close to him now so he’s going to use that to his advantage since holster is also tall as Fuck. (obviously he doesn’t do anything creepy like stand right behind him or smth but like. if they’re talking. holster is gonna get just a little in bitty’s space just so bitty has to look up at him a little. is this partially because bitty has really nice eyelashes? yeah)

basically what i’m saying is once holster decides to get back at bitty all hell breaks loose. literally nobody else in the haus can deal with the sexual tension when they’re in the same room. bitty is now pretty sure that holster is into him. shitty texts bitty saying ‘can you please bone for the love of god’. for good measure shitty also texts holster saying the same thing. he’s so tired but also this is hilarious

like it gets EXTRA. bitty and holster can both bend and snap and they DO. holster intentionally spills water on his t-shirt to make it cling more. when he sits at the kitchen table doing work bitty comes by and leans over his shoulder to see what he’s doing and if he brushes holster’s neck a little as he does it, well, that’s between them. at one point holster and bitty are both standing at the counter washing dishes and holster starts chirping bitty about not being able to reach the top shelf and asks if he wants to stand on a chair and bitty’s like hmm or you could just carry me. and holster almost has a conniption and it gets even worse when they finish washing up and bitty’s like oh great the counter’s all cleared off! and hops up and sits on it and that gets his face a little closer, vertically, to holster, who is suddenly aware that bitty is wearing very short shorts AGAIN, which like, seem to have become his uniform, and that when bitty sits like that holster can barely see those shorts, that’s how tiny they are, and it looks like bitty’s just sitting there in a shirt and nothing else and holster’s brain supplies a LOT of images once he thinks of that and hoo boy.

and holster’s like how can i get back at him. and bitty’s sitting right next to the hanging cabinets so holster grabs some of the plates from the drying rack that look dry enough and goes and stands *right* in front of bitty. like he’s not actually brushing bitty’s legs where they dangle off the counter but if he stepped forward like. half an inch. he would be. and they make eye contact for a second and then, without moving, holster starts putting plates away.

and bitty is like oh my fucking god WHAT else do i have to do (he doesn’t say this out loud) and then when holster’s done putting away the plates and it looks like he’s going to go grab more bitty just. wraps his legs around holster’s waist and pulls him in (and holster is like holy FUCK because he knew bitty’s legs were strong but not THAT STRONG HOLY SHIT) and at this point there’s really nothing else for them to do but make out at the kitchen counter and that’s what they do. (bitty does, in fact, climb that man like a tree)

okay so some actual headcanons lol. you thought you knew bitty was a clothes stealing fiend?? you were wrong. he absolutely is but you just didn’t know how much. does holster still have literally any of his sweatshirts? probably not honestly

the only way bitty will sit on the green couch will be if holster is sitting on the green couch and bitty is sitting in his lap because that way he can avoid any actual contact with the couch

when bitty makes anything with blueberries in it holster steals some but he also feeds bitty some because he’s mushy like that

they continue to go to extreme lengths to try and get each other flustered in public. shitty is so tired.

they share playlists constantly and even more of bitty’s favorites find their way onto the kegster playlist

when bitty moves into the haus holster is in his room c o n s t a n t l y. he just likes the space ok??? there’s lil reminders of bitty everywhere and of course if bitty is there too then that’s just the BEST

the puck bunny halloween costume physically murders adam birkholtz

#bittyholtz #fun with rarepairs #omgcp

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