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lokiprompts · 2 years

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What the Hel is a Valentine? - GN On Shot

Summary: Loki doesn't know what a Valentine is....will his ignorance screw up his chances with you?!

Warnings: Bad jokes. Pure fluff.

Words: ~2600

“Do you have a valentine for tomorrow?”

Loki looked up from his book, his tall frame perched in the quiet library of the Avenger’s Tower to see you looking back down at him. The library was the God’s sanctuary; a quiet place away from the craziness that is the Tower. It was a place of peace and more importantly, a place he spent with you. Many nights he would sit in the library with you, content just to sit in silence. Your company was always welcome, and he would sneak glances at you. He loved how your small hands delicately grasped your chosen book and how your legs curled underneath you. But his favorite moments were when he caught you stealing your own glances at him.

When Loki moved into the Tower, he gravitated to your immediately. You were another loner within the Tower. Someone new and had yet to develop trust from the rest of the Avenger’s. It also helped that you never shied away from him. You laughed at his jokes, a melody he found himself craving every day, and you valued him. Loki’s opinion and thoughts mattered greatly to you and honestly, you could listen to him all day and the prince knew it.

And you’re radiant. Enchanting. Breathtakingly beautiful, even.

That, paired with your sweet and kind personality, made it very easy for the Trickster to fall for you. But every time your relationship was questioned by the rest of the team, you always insisted you were just friends. While Loki cherished the role of being your friend, it was painful to be constantly reminded of that was all he would ever be. Why would he even humor the idea of it being any other way? You were absolute perfection, the light of his world, and he was a sort of reformed villain, someone who the world determined cannot be trusted…a monster.

So, Loki would have been much more intrigued by your question if not for one thing.

He had no idea what a valentine is.

Out of all the things that Loki hates, feeling like a fool was pretty high on his list. Feeling like a fool in front of you, however, might as well be right at the top. There were many times where you would playfully tease him when he lacked knowledge of Midgardian culture. One time, you ran to him and asked Loki if he ‘wanted to hear the tea’, but it confused him to no end.

“You drink tea, not hear it.” Your giggle fits left him feeling like a fool.

It was all in good fun, but deep down and much to his surprise, he just wanted to impress you. Whenever he needed to learn about something, he made it his mission to study it and become well versed in whatever topic it was. And when it came to topics, he had no idea about? He used his silver tongue and simply faked it. At least until he could learn more about it and save himself from further embarrassment.

So, without even thinking, he came up with a quick, confident sounding answer to your question.

“Of course, I have a valentine. In fact, I have several. Why do you ask, Dove?”

He was hoping he could get more information from you, but all he saw was a look of hurt wash over your face. It lasted for only a moment, but it was there, and Loki saw it. Clearly, he chose the wrong answer, and he felt the familiar pang of guilt in his chest. You mumbled a quiet, ‘just wondering’ and left the library, leaving Loki alone with his thoughts and one question on his mind.

What the Hel is a Valentine?

There was only one other person in the Tower that Loki could trust with his lack of Midgardian knowledge. They never judged him and in fact, they always tried to help him learn more whenever the chance arose.

Loki sought out the Spiderling.

Peter swung open his door after Loki anxiously knocked in succession and without breaks on his door.

“What – Oh, hi Mr. Loki. What’s up?” Loki made the executive decision to invite himself into Peter’s room and the spiderling just closed the door. This was a regular occurrence. Loki tossed himself on Peter’s bed, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically.

“Spiderling, what is a valentine?”

“Oh,” Peter looked shocked, definitely not expecting this question out of all things, “It is what you call the person you spend Valentine’s Day with.”

“And what, pray tell, is Valentine’s Day?” Loki groaned; a bit exasperated that Peter didn’t already explain that part.

“It is a holiday. It’s all about love and spending it with the person who you care about. You can spend it with friends and family, but it is mostly about being with whoever you’re involved with. Whoever you’re dating.”

Loki shot up from his spot on the bed as soon as he heard the explanation. A day of love? Were you asking if he had a valentine so maybe YOU could be his valentine? That would explain why you were so hurt. Oh, he is such a fool! He threw himself back down on the mattress below him and cried out in frustration.

“Um…. Mr. Loki…what is going on? Why are you asking about Valentines?” Peter shifted uncomfortably, still standing at the end of his bed that was taken over by a god.

“Y/N asked me if I had a Valentine and I told them I had several.”

“Oh, good for you, Mr. Loki!” Oh, he is clueless. Loki adored the spiderling, but sometimes his naivety drove him to the brink of madness.

“No, Spiderling. I don’t have a Valentine. I just found out what it is, remember? Y/N asked me, and I didn’t know what to say and so I just said I had one,” Loki let out a long, shuttered breath, “I think they wanted to ask me to be theirs, but I ruined it.”

“I’m sure you can fix it, Mr. Loki.” Peter sat down next Loki, “Just do things a Valentine would do!”

“And what would that entail, Spiderling?” Loki sounded so defeated, but Peter’s cheerful and hopeful attitude was starting to make its way into the God’s heart. Maybe he could turn things around.

“Usually, you go on dates with your Valentine, but maybe you can just do nice things for them? Something that shows that you care? Oh! You can get them gifts too. Valentine’s day is all about chocolates and flowers!”

Loki hummed thoughtfully, before slapping the young man on the back and unceremoniously teleporting out of his room.

“Glad to be of help.” Peter mumbled. Meanwhile, Loki had to focus on making plans for Valentine’s Day.

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The kitchen was a disaster. Eggshells and pancake batter covered the counters and even, somehow, got on the ceiling. Loki had the best intentions. He knew you liked pancakes, loved them even, and so he wanted to surprise you with fresh and fluffy batch in the morning. There was only one problem.

He’s never made pancakes before.

He spent many mornings with you, watching as you made them for the team. He thought he paid attention well enough to your technique. You made it look so effortless, but he was discovering that he may have been much more distracted by his overwhelming crush for you. Just as he burnt another batch of pancakes, he heard your voice and some of the other team member’s floating down the hall.

There was so way he was going to let you see this disaster of a breakfast. With a wave of his hand and a green flourish, the mess was gone and there was no evidence left of his failed attempt. He slumped down on a stool at the kitchen island, head in his hands.

“Better wake up, Mischief, you have a day full of Valentines.” You teased, but the hurt was apparent in your eyes. Little did Loki know, you were crushing on him in return. You thought he was incredible. Every time he used his magic, you were impressed, and he never failed to make you laugh. The team was skeptical of you as a new person, but they blatantly mistrusted Loki. Yet, whenever you were alone, Loki would show you a different side of himself. Someone who was soft, even sweet. And he was ridiculously handsome. You would get lost in his eyes constantly, literally losing your train of thought mid-conversation. He teased you endlessly about it.

Sometimes you would catch him looking at you as you read together, a soft smile on his face. Then, there were the times when you talked for hours on end about anything and everything and he just had that look. That look of utter adoration and affection. It made you believe that your friendship with the God of Mischief could be more than just a friendship. But your heart and your mind always told you that you weren’t worthy. You weren’t worthy of a prince, let alone a God.

So, when you heard he had a valentine for Valentine’s Day, you weren’t surprised. Of course, he would have multiple suitors. You never missed the lingering looks of men and women whenever you left the tower. Even with knowing you could never have a romantic relationship with Loki, you were still crushed. Why did you even ask? You cursed at yourself and your curiosity. What could you say? You were an emotional cutter.

Your playful teasing was the best cover you had for your broken heart, but still, you didn’t trust your emotions to show. You left the kitchen without another word. Loki racked his brain about what else he could do to convey his feelings. What was the point? The way you left the kitchen in such a rush made him worry that he could be doing all of this for nothing. Yet, there was no way he could continue the way he is. By the end of the day, either you were going to be with Loki, or you were going to break his heart.

The risk was worth it to Loki.

A sly grin started to creep on his face. He knew what he had to do. With a puff of green, he vanished.

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You left the kitchen as quickly as you could, wiping the corner of your eyes where tears started to gather. Damn, your emotions. You just wanted to go to your room and drown yourself in a gallon of ice cream while viciously heckling Rom Coms. Opening your door, you slowly closed it behind you and pressed your back against it with a sigh. Then you saw it.

Your quaint apartment was now a florist shop. There were flowers of all different colors and kinds literally everywhere. It was a miracle you didn’t knock anything over. You carefully made your way through your living room, stopping periodically to admire the flowers and inhale their heavenly scents. When you stopped at each batch of flowers, you checked carefully for any notes and any clues about who brought you these flowers. But there was nothing. You knew who you wanted it to be, but your heart couldn’t dare to hope.

A soft knock interrupted your thoughts. Quickly, you made your way through your own personal meadow and swung open the door.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dove.”

Loki stood in your doorway, dressed to the nines in an amazing all black suit that had your eyes shamelessly glancing up and down his tall frame. His hair was freshly washed, letting his natural curls dangle on his shoulders. You smiled at the fact that he remembered how much you adored his curls. But what really surprised you was the huge bouquet he had in his hands that he was offering. Wait, he was holding them out to you!

The god watched the realization wash over your face. He was the one that filled your apartment with flowers. Immediately, you became skeptical. He was the God of Mischief after all.

“What is going on, Loki? Why did you fill my apartment with flowers?”

“Well, Dove…Can I come in?” He looked down at his feet, suddenly very sheepish. You always saw him confident and playful. But now? He looked so unsure, so small despite the fact he towered over you. You moved to the side, silently giving him permission to enter.

He conjured a vase for the flowers he had with him and managed to find a space for them on the already overfilled coffee table.

“Do you like the flowers, Dove?” His eyes shifted around the room, avoiding looking at you. You caught onto his game immediately.

“Loki, spill it. Why did you get me all these flowers? I thought you had plans with all of your Valentines?” You sneered, remembering his boastful comment. The walls of your heart were building up higher and higher each minute that passed by.

“Yeah…. about that…” Loki let out a long sigh, “There are no Valentine's.” Your mouth was open so wide in shock; you were sure you caught some flies.

“What are you talking about, Loki?!”

“I just said that because I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure what a Valentine was, honestly, and I didn’t want to look like a fool in front of you.” His eyes never left his shoes as his admission lingered in the air. There was an uncomfortable silence between you both for what felt like an eternity.

Then you laughed. And you laughed hard.

Loki’s eyes shot up to you, his brows furrowed on confusion as you doubled over in a fit of giggles.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you!” Loki said, throwing his arms up in exasperation. You wiped your eyes as soon as you regained control of your body, but you couldn’t help but let a few chuckles slip by as Loki scowled at you.

“I am sorry. I couldn’t help it. That doesn’t explain to me why,” You bit your lip, suppressing another laugh and Loki rolled his eyes, “..ahah…why you lied about having Valentines?”

The scowl left Loki’s face as he took long, calculated steps until he stood right in front of you. His hands ghosted over the sides of your arms for a moment, contemplating, until he finally let his palms caress your skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. He studied your face with soft, yet intense eyes that were filled with nothing but adoration. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he debated what to say to the person he adored that was finally, finally in his arms.

“Dove, I care for you greatly. I adore you even,” Your breath hitched, and you stared at him in disbelief, “You are so incredibly bright. Your mind and your heart captivate me every day. You truly are the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on and I want nothing more than to celebrate this day of love, Valentine’s Day, with you and hopefully for many years to follow.”

You blinked at him as your heart crawled up your throat and started to hammer away. He liked you. Loki liked you! You were stunned and at a loss for words. As time went by, you saw this uncertainty and fragility in his eyes as you both stewed in silence. So, you did the first thing you thought of.

You kissed him. Hard.

He let out a squeak of surprise and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. He was so adorable. Before you knew it, he melted into you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you in close. For those few moments, you got lost in each other and when you finally broke apart, breathless, you knew this was going to be the best Valentine’s Day of your life.

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Tag List: @lokisprettygirl @theaudacitytowrite @lostgreekgod

#loki fanfic #loki fic #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki #loki fluffy drabble #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #valentines day #valentines

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pa1nkill3r · 3 years

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"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."

#george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #oml this is long

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irenedubrovna · 3 years

Text

A post regarding Euphoria for the benefit of myself and basically no one else

So, it really bothers me when people say Euphoria is groundbreaking, progressive media. Here’s a dissection of why I don’t think it is, because this is what I feel like doing at work:

The character of Rue is objectively great. She by far receives the least overt sexualization, and is treated neutrally in terms of active sexuality. She’s treated like a normal teenage girl with mental issues and an addiction to drugs. She falls in love with a girl who she pines for and places on a pedestal. The reason I think she is written this way is because she is a Sam Levinson proxy. She written with gender ambiguity and with little regard to the experiences she’d go through as a black gay female, probably because Sam Levinson has no insight to that aspect of life. Her performance is heightened of course by Zendaya, who breathes unique life to the Sam Levinson’s artistic extension, and without her performance this show would not get even half the acclaim it gets. Attribute that to Zendaya of course, because the director has done little to deserve this acclaim.

The rest of the females, sans Lexi, are pornified to a disgusting extent, not only due to the fact that they are supposed to be underage, but also because their existence as people is treated as being absolutely secondary to their sexual appeal. They are foremost presented in terms of their relation to sex. Cassie, Maddy, Jules, and Kat cannot be removed from their sexuality without disrupting the plot or their journeys in relation to the plot. Why are the females so intrinsically linked to uber fetishized versions of female sexuality, or uber fetishized versions of blossoming female sexual identity?

Maddy is presented not only scantily clad 90 percent of the time, but also dressed in a precariously unattainable sexual fashion. At any given time she is styled to look straight out of, simultaneously, a high fashion editorial, and a “barely legal” porno. She is airheaded and profane, and promiscuous, her mannerisms dictated by the adult films she’s “studied” in order to project an image of perfect hyper sexual femininity. She’s complacent in becoming a prototypical housewife because it will earn her a comfortable place as a trophy wife. She has no aspirations beyond that. So, let’s unpack all of that. Maddy’s role in the show is mostly passive. The most active thing she does in the plot is revenge fuck a man in the pool of a party. Nearly everything else she does in the show that is plot relevant is of someone else’s volition. Even less of what she in the show is related to anything other than a man. She is abused and then pressured into framing another man for said abuse. She has no agency as a character. The only notable difference to this rule is when she takes drugs at a carnival, knocks a pot of chili over, and calls her ex’s mom a cunt. Removed from her active sexual life and carefully cultivated aesthetic, she’s a trite stereotype of an unambitious girlfriend who gets treated poorly. I see people call Maddy iconic, but if she wasn’t gorgeous and well dressed, I doubt anyone would even think twice about her, let alone create fancams and Instagram pages dedicated to her. She exists as a plot device, and as pretty set dressing to build up the shows aesthetic. Her emotions are not well explored, her motivations are sexist, and she is often there to be demeaned, objectified, or to say a bad word. The most damning part of her involvement in this show is her episode where it is stated that she, as a fourteen year old girl, lost her virginity to an adult man, and it is stated she was in control of the situation. This is a dangerous thing to say about a character, to any audience, but especially a young one. To imply that a precocious young girl was in control during her first sexual encounter with a much much older man implies things that frankly border on rape apologist ideology. This show states this unflinchingly and with no further elaboration. If there’s one thing that tells you that Euphoria is a bad show, let it be that. Also, if there’s one thing that tells you about Sam Levinson as a person, and the way he views girls and women, let it fucking be that.

Jules is a young trans girl. She also likes to have sex with men as a means to “conquer femininity”. Scratch that, she likes to have degrading sex with older men in order to “conquer femininity”. This mindset is shown to be toxic, of course, but I think the problem with this idea in general is that there’s no deeper exploration for what this mindset means. It implies that she believes women are the sum of their intrigue and degradations. This mindset I can only assume would be a cultivation of dysphoria and internalized misogyny, which this series is absolutely not prepared to address in a tactful manner. Jules is a teenager with mental illness, trauma, and is undergoing an identity crisis. There’s something powerful in her character, something worth saying, however we only get trimmings of those meaningful things, and are ultimately left with a hurtful depiction of a trans girl because all of her musings on womanhood and identity are incomplete, and they fail to reach beyond the surface of their thesis statement. She wears colorful clothing, is overtly feminine and artistic in her presentation. Everything about her screams insecurity over her own womanhood. That is the crux of her character. Now, I think we should ask ourselves, is trans person who is insecure about their identity peak representation? Is this what trans people deserve? Is it “groundbreaking “? If this show was run by someone else, I might be inclined to say that there’s nothing insidious about this, but this is the guy that made Assassination Nation, so I think we know what he thinks of young women, the way they should be portrayed (that is, for the capitulation of a man) and realize his inclusion of a trans woman in his cast is no more meaningful than the inclusion of any other woman. Women to him are made to be categorized and should, at the end of the day, be easily palatable for the capitulation of a man. The device of having Jules being interested in older men and rough sex for identity reasons is transparent. Trans women are exploited and objectified with a similar fervor to cis women, the caveat being that they are “a forbidden fruit” of sorts to straight men. Jules is sissified, her presentation fetishistic. Her role in the plot is more involved. Her relationship with Rue is sweet, though toxic on both sides. She is ultimately betrayed, blackmailed, and snowballs into something of a manic episode, all well portrayed by Hunter Schafer, but I don’t think her inclusion in the show absolves it of any of its many sins.

Let’s talk about Cassie. Cassie is the Eurocentric beauty standard exemplified. She is the blonde haired blue eyed girl next store, and her boobs are of course always on display. She is notably promiscuous, something I say right off the bat because that’s how she’s introduced, as a so called slut through the words of the devil (Nate Jacobs). She is a girl with daddy issues, which we are all familiar with at this point. Her sexual boundaries begin and end at the whim of her partner. The terms of her consent are much like the terms of consent of many young girls brainwashed by society and the rising tide of degradation porn: everything is alright as long as you provide them comfort and affirmation afterward. You can touch them roughly without asking, you can use them as a tool to affirm your masculinity. This is the way men prefer their women now: just broken enough to say yes to anything they want. It’s become a joke at this point. Men like girls with issues, but only the ones that will feed their own desires. Cassie Howard is meek. Her inclusion in the plot I suppose ties to themes of drug addiction and how it divides and destroys the people you love. It doesn’t show what it does to her beyond shaping her sexual encounters, which is no surprise. Overall I’d say Cassie is in this roster of females as the most traditional categorically, in relation to how men view women and further how they sexualize them. She has a relationship with someone who doesn’t really love her. That mostly what she does here. Gets used. Doesn’t drive the plot or conflict much. More pretty set dressing. More aesthetics. How this show consists of so many women but is driven so much by men is unsurprising, and, again, very enlightening in the grand scheme of things.

Lastly we touch on Kat. I’d like to begin with the fact that self actualization through sexual exploration, in a show run by a man, is just a cloak for a woman to gratify the audience with her sexuality. Regardless of whether or not she is plus sized, this is overt objectification. She is on this show to be sexy. Beyond that, the fact that a minor using sex work as a form of liberation is disgusting. Whether or not she is portrayed as “owning” her sexuality is negligible, and speaks to the same mindset discussed with Maddy. Minors cannot fucking consent to sex, sexual acts, or anything within the confines of such. It’s crazy that this occurs with two different characters in such a similar way. It has echoes of “Well, she looked older..” and “Well, she wanted it..” or “She’s advanced for her age”. Never, not once in the events of the series is there meaningful introspection on what doing this kind of thing does to a minor. Moreover, these acts are explicit, and made clearly for sexual gratification. None of these things are absolved by the fact that she’s plus sized. If anything, her body type is fetishized in this context. It’s also another case of a “good girl to bad girl” transformation, which are archaic and, of course, sexist. With the rise of adult websites targeting minors for explicit content, this is even more reprehensible. Once again, in terms of representation, is this really what speaks to you as progressive? Groundbreaking? A girl gains control of her own narrative by having sex with lots of men. She gains control by being sexy. She gains control by dehumanizing and objectifying herself. No she doesn’t. Media controlled by men will tell this story to you thousands of times, don’t listen because she’s bigger than a size four.

ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE UNDERAGE. ALL OF THEM HAVE EXPLICIT SEX SCENES, EVEN THE SEXUAL ASSAULT IS MADE CINEMATICALLY PORNIFIED. THESE SHOTS ARE MADE TO BE OBJECTIVELY SEXY. THIS IS NOT A CASE OF SOMEONE CREATING SOMETHING FOR THE SAKE OF REALISM. IT IS ABOUT MAKING SCENES THAT SPEAK TO A MALE AUDIENCE. THAT CATER TO THE MALE GAZE. ARGUE WITH THE WALL.

I won’t go further into the plot, other characters, or the structure or the episodes for sake of brevity, but I felt compelled to air my thoughts on this to the void. I can only hope I was critical enough that Sam Levinson will one day see this and cry because another bad feminist thinks something that he made sucks

#euphoria #I don’t even think anyone will read this but #it’s just not good #sorry #anti euphoria #anti Sam Levinson

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops

Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!

Message From: Gracie

ANNA HOLY SHIT

Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldn’t fix everything.

Message To: Gracie

Wtf did I do

Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousin—and favorite person, if she was being honest—but very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.

Message From: Gracie

DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???

Message To: Gracie

Wow thank you so helpful

Message From: Gracie

Skip to 2:45 bestie

A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loops’ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.

“Come on,” she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didn’t even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a café? What kind of cosmic joke was that?

She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?

As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.

The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as ‘Sirius’—it was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.

She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, part…fuck it, who was even counting anymore?

Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Grace’s suggestion. I’ve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this once…

Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.

“—have you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?” the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Loops said with a smile. “Mostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.”

“Really? What’s your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Their creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.”

“I have it saved to my phone,” Sirius added.

One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.

“Do you have a favorite creator?”

The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loops’ smile was genuine. “I don’t know about a favorite, but there’s this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and they’re hysterical. I saw one the other day about—god, what was it again?”

“Every time I smile when people mention Harry,” Sirius answered around a laugh. “Can you blame me?”

Anna didn’t hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. “Holy fuck,” she blurted after a moment of silence. “Holy fuck.”

“—subscribed?” The man’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Of course I am!” Loops said. “You think I’m passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?”

A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

You’re famous!

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh

“They know me,” she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loops’ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasn’t, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341—no, 3,052—followers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.

And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.

Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.

In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.

Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why I’m dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.

Hi Loops. I’m Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancé). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.

She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.

Message To: Gracie

If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved

Message From: Gracie

Will do

OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP

Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #anna #grace #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ocs #hattie #lion pride

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sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Lunch break at last.

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“Babe, dinner is ready!”

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”

He really was too good for this world.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #doctor steve rogers #doctor steve rogers x wife reader

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

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Twelve Months - Good Omens fanfic

Happy 31st Anniversary of Good Omens! :D

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have posted a slightly-sad, slightly-sweet Wake the Snake fic on AO3, because our demon has been napping for a whole Twelve Months, and sometimes Angel gets a little lonely!

Thank you all for another fantastic year in this fandom!

Twelve months.

Aziraphale pushed open the door to Crowley’s flat, a simple shopping bag tucked under his arm.

The lights were still off, the curtains drawn in the awful empty room he called a study. Nothing had changed.

He passed through the enormous, rotating section of wall and into the solarium. This was still bright—many of the plants flourishing despite being unattended so long, despite clearly not having enough water. A few had started flowering. They waved their branches at him as he entered, perking up eagerly.

The angel waved back, but first he peeked into Crowley’s bedroom.

He was still where Aziraphale had left him, on his last visit a month before. Bright red hair spilled across black pillows, grown into a stringy mop. Duvet pulled up to his messily-bearded chin. One hand curled up beside him on the bed.

Still asleep.

With a sigh, Aziraphale crossed over to the plants, who greeted him excitedly, unfurling their newest leaves, a few vines hanging down to brush his face.

“Hello, my lovelies. How are you all doing? Look at you, grown at least a foot since I saw you, I’m sure. And you! What beautiful pink buds. Very impressive.”

He didn’t think Crowley would approve of how he spoke to the plants, but the poor things had been so distraught on his first visit, straining to keep upright, trying to hide their yellowing leaves. So much healthier now, much happier for just a bit of attention. He picked up the watering can and gave them all a quick splash. He didn’t know how much water each needed, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“You keep it up, dears. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Picking up his shopping bag again, Aziraphale headed down the hall to the kitchen. The kettle sat on the island where he’d left it, and he quickly refilled it and set it to boil. While he waited, he pulled his latest creations from the bag: a small pumpkin spice cake from a recipe he’d been perfecting since fall, a lemon coconut cake, and a few apple cinnamon muffins.

Two plates—a muffin for each, a slice of the coconut cake for himself and the pumpkin spice for Crowley.[1] The rest went into the refrigerator, where they would never go bad or stale.

Aziraphale put the plates onto a tray, along with forks and napkins. Next he found two mugs and pulled the little tin of his second-favorite tea out of the bag just as the kettle boiled.

For himself, a teaspoon of the expertly blended leaves, steeped for exactly three minutes, resulting in a pale brown tea with a slightly spicy aroma. For Crowley, he dropped a tea bag into boiling water and let it sit until it was almost black.[2]

He carried the tray back to the solarium and selected a bright red-and-gold tulip that was nearly vibrating in its eagerness to be noticed. A moment to assure the other plants that they were still doing fabulously—particularly a self-conscious little succulent that had rather drooped over the winter but was making a fine recovery—and he once more headed into Crowley’s bedroom.

Crowley had rolled over, and now sprawled on his back, sleeping soundly. He’d apparently kicked a bit, too, as the blanket had slid down past his stomach. Aziraphale smiled as he set the tray on the chair he’d brought in some months ago and got to work.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, dear,” he started cheerfully, carefully rearranging the objects on the little bedside table. “I have a few things for you again, I hope you don’t mind.” Just enough space to slide the mug and the little plate. Perfect.

“I received a package from Tadfield again. Everyone wrote a note and then gathered them all together, really quite clever. They’re all doing well, if a bit bored.” The table was nearly overflowing with little items now, brought in by Aziraphale to cheer the place up. Framed pictures of their human friends, quarantining with their families, clustered in one corner so tightly you could hardly see them anymore.

He pulled the latest out of the shopping bag. “Anathema has started a garden,” he explained, pausing to show the photograph to Crowley’s sleeping form. It showed the witch, kneeling outside her little cottage, working on growing several rows of herbs. “I got the impression she was off to a rough start, but she hopes to send us some mint in the next package. Although Newt warned me not to expect too much, as they’d already forgotten which patch is mint and which is oregano.” He set the picture with the others, and slid the potted tulip alongside it. “I’m sure she could use some advice from you, when you’re ready to share.”

“Nnnnh.” Aziraphale spun eagerly, but no, just Crowley shifting in his sleep again, rolling onto his side.

The angel paused to pull the duvet back up to Crowley’s chin, tugging it straight and smoothing a hand down his back. In a way, his friend was nearly unrecognizable, with that hair and ridiculous beard, but in another way looked the same as ever. That was always Crowley’s way, of course, constantly changing yet somehow always the same.

He lingered, taking in the shape of that face, leaning close, lips hovering above his cheekbone—

Aziraphale pulled back, quickly digging into his bag again. “Oh! Ah, the, um, the children have been making projects for their art class. This past month was sculpture, and they sent us some. Look!” He pulled out four little figures of oven-baked clay. “Ah, young Wensleydale has made a very clever model of a train car. Brian’s is…abstract.” He turned the next a few different ways. “And Pepper’s is, ah, either a very complex symbolic representation of the Patriarchy, or…a troll, I think.” They just fit on the edge of the table, all in a line, a very mismatched tableau. The fourth, on the end, was the best, in Aziraphale’s opinion. “Adam made a little Dog, and it’s very well done, don’t you think?” The canine figure posed with one leg raised and head cocked, ready to play, but the shadow it cast was just a little too large, too ominous, for such a small creature.

With a sigh, Aziraphale shifted the row this way and that. “I sent a letter to Warlock, over in America, but haven’t heard back since Christmas. I believe they’re very busy with something. Politics. You know how it is.” When the Dowlings had left England, they’d planned to return for a visit the following summer. A global pandemic had had other ideas.

“In any case, that just leaves Tracy and Shadwell. I understand he’s decided to hate the concept of literacy this month, so no word on how his war with the squirrels is going. And Tracy has declared she will spend the summer making a fairy garden. I thought her sketches looked very promising, and she promised to send us an update in June. I’m sure you’ll find it charming.”

“Hrrrrm.” Crowley sank under the duvet, nestling down a little deeper. Aziraphale smiled, settling into the chair with his plate and mug.

“Things are loosening up again,” he explained, taking a bite of cake. Delicious, if he said so himself. Sharp and not too sweet. “People are getting vaccinated, shops opening up. It’s really a lovely breath of fresh air, at least when you’re not wearing a mask.” A long sip from his mug, then he held it, fingers tapping. “It’s been nice walking through the park again, just in time for the baby ducks. And that record shop at the corner, they’ve had some wonderful new additions. Which reminds me.”

Putting aside his mug, Aziraphale dug through the bag again and pulled out a handful of square plastic cases. “They had a whole shipment of those little records the Bentley likes. Modern music. I picked out the ones with the rudest names. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.” He pulled out the first disc and placed it atop Crowley’s phone. The device blinked in confusion a few times, then obediently copied all the music.

“Of course, it’s not all good news.” He stacked the rest of the discs atop the phone and returned to his tea. “Reopening means the customers are coming back. Yesterday, this one individual spent almost an hour browsing the same three shelves. And then he tried to make off with one of my books.” Another long sip. “Granted, he offered to pay, but still. What sort of establishment does he think I’m running?”

Aziraphale paused, waiting for Crowley to respond, not that he ever did. The demon’s eyelids moved a little, but no more.

Sighing, Aziraphale turned to his muffin. “You know, many times in the last year, I’ve wished you were there. Particularly during reopening phases. You could have posed as a customer, and then I’d be able to tell people I was at the capacity limit. Oh, and the people who would call to try and buy my rarest books. Collectors, or so they claimed, but then they just turn around and sell to anyone for twice the price! I’m sure you’d have some biting things to say about such people.” He smiled at Crowley’s sleeping face. “I’ve missed that, and your jokes. Rather more than I expected to.”

When his plate and tea were finished, Aziraphale set them on the floor and reached again into the bag. “Now, I have been attempting to teach my computer how to use the internet. I think it’s going quite well. Adam and his friends gave me a ‘homework assignment’ to find articles on recent news events, and I made the most wonderful discovery. Did you know that humans now share their news through humorous pictures? I printed out my favorites to show you.”[3]

He flicked through a few. “Ah, to start with, a few months ago there was this American politician with amusing mittens who showed up everywhere for a few days. It was extremely droll.” He leaned closer, holding them up for Crowley to see. “Ah, a few more from America. The murder hornets arrived, though by that point everyone had forgotten them. The election became increasingly confusing, and it all ended in a parking lot. For a little while everything was ‘This-or-That Total Landscaping,’ and before that everything was cake.” He showed a few extremely clever illusions. “I did try to make my own, but couldn’t manage it without miracles, which I felt was cheating.”

Really, leaning like this was starting to strain his back. Aziraphale shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to share his pictures. “Ahhh. Also for a time everyone’s calendars were stuck on ‘March.’ And then earlier this year, a group of people learned how the stock market works, but sadly not how to spell it. The whole situation seemed very much like the sort of thing you’d be involved in. And…Oh, this angel from a television show was sent to Hell for…reasons.” He glanced at the shape beside him. Crowley had curled in slightly, pressing against Aziraphale’s back. “Yes. Various reasons. And then this musician, I suppose, went on his own. Both had many people extraordinarily upset.”

The next few images would really tickle Crowley, if he could actually see them. “The biggest news is that a large ship got stuck sideways in that canal in Egypt. Stopped half the world’s shipping for a few days while they dug it out! I’m sure you would have liked that very much. Exactly your sort of trouble. The humans were all very excited.”

The final photo was another of the ship, an image Aziraphale had made himself, printing out a blank version and writing on it in felt-tip pen. The hull of the enormous ship was labeled, “An eternity putting up with the tedious bureaucracy and frequently conflicting commands of my superiors until I begin to doubt my own judgement and sanity,”[4] while the small digger working steadily beside it was “Crowley.”

Aziraphale watched the demon beside him, not really expecting a reaction, certainly not getting one. He reached over, brushing brilliant hair back from Crowley’s forehead. “I think you’d have had rather a lot of fun last year. Or perhaps you’d have been upset you could only watch from a distance. Or…”

He’d leaned much closer than he’d intended, hovering just above Crowley’s forehead.

“Well!” Aziraphale stumbled to his feet. “I suppose that’s just about everything.” He picked up the tray from where he’d rested it on the floor, starting to re-load it with everything he’d brought in. Crowley’s cake and tea sat untouched, as always, but Aziraphale wouldn’t dream of skipping them. “We’re all very optimistic for the summer. Two months and everything should be just…just tickety-boo. Perhaps we can go for that picnic soon, if…yes…”

They’d made such plans for 2020. All the things they would do now they were free. Plans, and other thoughts carried in their minds, possibilities that would play out in their own time. Not too fast, just a slow, steady exploration of everything they could be…

“Well. Pleasant as that idea is, best not to—to plan too much, as the previous year made fools of us all. I just…” He turned away from the tray and watched Crowley sleep, hands clasped before him. “I miss you terribly. And I wish…very much…”

He picked up his shopping bag. One item still inside. The same one he’d been carrying for months, trying to find the courage to bring it out.

With a shaking hand, he reached in and drew forth a soft hand-made doll. He’d spent much of the winter on it. Simple white cotton for the head and body, wooly curls for the hair, and stiff white lace for the wings. Dressed in waistcoat and bowtie made from Aziraphale’s favorite tartan.

He still wasn’t sure why he brought it. He’d stitched several little toys, particularly a lovely black-and-red serpent with gold button eyes that had watched him from the sofa since November. But this, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, this one was for Crowley.

“I, ah…” He shuffled closer, doll clutched in both hands. “I made, um…” Back to the edge of the bed, one hand fumbling across the duvet. “…thought you might like…”

Crowley’s face stood out in stark contrast to the pillow, pale skin and bright hair. Aziraphale wanted to drink it in, memorize every detail, to hold him over until next month. The curve of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. His lashes flickering as his eyes moved. His lips, pursed ever so slightly…

“Bless it, Angel, are you going to kiss me or not?”

Aziraphale gasped, pulling back from the bright gaze of slit-pupil eyes. “You—you’re awake!”

“Nnnh. Half.” Crowley shifted, head moving across the pillow, eyes threatening to shut again. “Wouldn’t miss your visit.” One hand reached out, plucked the doll from Aziraphale’s unresisting fingers. “For me?”

The angel nodded. “If…if…you like it…or I could—I could just…”

Without a word, Crowley pulled the doll under the duvet and curled up, tucking it under his chin, a faint smile on his lips.

“If you were awake you—you should have said something! I’ve been going—going off like a fool all this—oh!” Aziraphale could feel his face turning hot as he recalled a few times his tongue had been a bit too loose for propriety.

“Mmmmmh.” The golden eyes were shut again.

“Crowley?” No response. “Crowley!” Aziraphale scowled. “Anthony J. Crowley, if you’ve fallen asleep again, I swear, I’ll—”

He’d do what? The angel fumed, but what could he really threaten? To stay away? Never.

“Alright then, I suppose I’ll see you in June. I’ve had several new requests for extremely rare manuscripts and I need to go pen some responses reprimanding these vultures for their cheek. I can—”

“You can stay.”

He spun around. Crowley had one eye barely cracked open. Gently, he pulled back the duvet, showing there was just enough space for Aziraphale beside him.

“I…I couldn’t.” But he stepped forward, not back. “I have business tomorrow, things to—”

“Just tonight then.”

His fingers brushed the mattress and pulled back as if burned. “You—you don’t really mean this, you’re just talking in your sleep.”

“Nah.” Crowley settled the doll by his pillow, making space. “Why else would I give you my key?”

“I…to…water the plants?”

“They take care of themselves.” Crowley held open his arms, eyes shut once more. “I missed you, too.”

Well. What could he say to that?

Aziraphale took off his shoes and slid into bed, into Crowley's arms. They wrapped around him gently as Crowley wriggled closer. “Mmmm. Y’r softer than the doll.”

“Oh.” He’d been called soft many times, generally as a way to imply he was a failure as an angel. But just this once, it made him feel rather pleased. “Soft is good?”

“Verrrry good.” Crowley twisted a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to rest his long limbs, and finally settled curled up against Aziraphale’s chest, tucked below the angel’s chin with a leg hooked over his knees.

The angel smiled. “And you’re…you’re noodlier than a stuffed snake. Err…”

A chuckle, just a stirring of breath across his throat. “Can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” Crowley nuzzled against his shoulder with a sigh. “Good night, Angel.”

Aziraphale swept the brilliant hair back again and bent down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s forehead. A soft, gentle kiss that made his friend smile a little more broadly. “Good night, my dear.”

Crowley drifted off again, burrowing close, as the angel continued to gently tease the back of his hair. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps tomorrow's work wasn't so very urgent. Perhaps a bit of rest would do him good. And perhaps...

Well. Don't plan too much. But for the first time, Aziraphale felt a bit of optimism about the coming summer and its possibilities.

“Sleep well, Crowley.”

[1] Crowley had invented pumpkin spice, and Aziraphale assumed he must like it. In truth, Crowley despised it, and regretted every autumn how it took over the entire world. He missed apple cider season. [2] Aziraphale had suspected since the early 1950s that Crowley secretly took his tea with several lumps of sugar, but would continue to pretend he didn’t know until Crowley confessed. Considering current circumstances, that was unlikely to be any time soon. [3] Aziraphale’s fax machine, revived after over three decades of disuse, had been somewhat confused to be asked to perform any task at all, much less to print memes onto photo paper with perfectly balanced color; but like the plants and Crowley’s phone, it couldn’t stand to disappoint the angel. [4] It was possible he hadn’t quite mastered this new form of communication.

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer.

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family.

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other.

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him.

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him.

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her.

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first.

“Yes.”

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family.

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?”

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail.

“No.”

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?”

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.”

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else.

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house.

“I’ll be home around midnight.”

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.”

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.”

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.”

“I’ve been doing fine.”

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.”

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother.

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.”

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?”

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head.

“I could say the same thing.”

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again.

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.”

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.”

“No.”

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?”

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance.

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else.

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans.

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party.

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped.

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare.

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even.

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared.

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water.

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.”

“How is it different than any other party?”

“It just is.”

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.”

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still.

“We need to get you home.”

“Clarke invited me.”

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.”

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?”

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed.

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.”

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness.

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player.

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?”

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?”

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.”

“Full ride?”

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.”

“No, that’s smart.”

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex.

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.”

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand.

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.”

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled.

“Anya Woods’ sister.”

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?”

“Yeah.”

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted.

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.”

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction.

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy.

“I told you I’d stop by.”

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening.

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.”

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words.

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?”

“As okay as can be.”

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all.

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair.

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured.

“Kind of.”

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.”

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.”

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“You moved on quick, huh?”

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.”

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?”

“Yup,” Clarke nodded.

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished.

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it.

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest.

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch.

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.”

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.”

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.”

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned.

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.”

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.”

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.”

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt.

“It was stupid.”

“Do you feel better?”

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered.

“I don’t feel better at all.”

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek.

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered.

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.”

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed.

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer.

“I wouldn’t ever.”

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.”

“Okay.”

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

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enigma-im · 3 years

Text

Sixth day of Christmas...

Trope: Sex Pollen (NSFW) Relationship: Alien x Human Word Count: 4,639

Living in a science station on a barely explored planet may sound like the start of a horror story. For me, it's a dream come true. To study life on a dwarf planet with a single colleague is the total isolation I crave. It's a real perk that my coworker is such a sweetheart. I've spent countless trips trying to keep my cool around cocky narcissistic scientists whose only goal is to make some profound breakthrough. My coworker this time isn't even remotely like that.

Aziraphale is a Silphurs, a cold-blooded species that has nearly a reptilian look to them. With their horn-like spikes that protrude from the back of their head and long smooth tails, most people quickly label them as lizards. Though they lack scales, to my surprise. When Aziraphel first began working beside me I was fascinated by his smooth dark leathery skin. I promptly weirded him out the first week as I appraised him like a prized pig. It was a habit I slowly grew out of.

Together we work in isolation upon dwarf planet Xena, studying the flora and fauna of this little island in space.

Today we are looking at a new flower that's been popping up around the lakes. It's a small pink crocus looking flower, fit with a thick stem. The wildlife has been swarming these little buds and it's stirred up quite the mystery for Aziraphel and I. with the coming of 'spring' the flowers have sprouted very quickly.

"So you say the mammals have been eating them," I ask, looking at the potted plant.

"Birds too. Though the insects have kept their distance," Aziraphel explains.

I hum in thought," the first plant we found that insects aren't fond of."

Aziraphale plucks a petal off the flower, taking it over to his station. I continue to exam the bud, looking at the roots through the container. All week we have been watching this plant in the wild, utterly fascinated by its attractive properties.

"Could it be the nectar? It may be a tasty treat for the animals," Aziraphel asks offhandedly. I shrug, stepping over the bin holding the plant. Leaning over I give the flower a sniff, admiring its sweet scent.

"Smells like the honey candies my mother use to give me," I say.

"really? I thought it smelled rather musky," he says over his shoulder," I can smell it from here."

I take another whiff, doubling down on my honey candy choice.

"Olfactory senses are a bit different between you and me, it seems," I joke," yours being about a hundred times better than mine."

He scoffs, picking off pieces of the petal," it's a miracle your people survived this long with clearly insufficient senses."

I snort, walking over towards him," bold coming from someone who can't hear when the microwave goes off." he throws a glare my way, his smile ruining its seriousness. I snicker, walking around to begin looking at the cells of this attractive plant.

Staring down in the microscope I take not of the plant cell, watching the cell wall break from the solution I added. The proteins break apart, spilling out the cytoplasm. The organelles follow, breaking at they come in contact with the solution. As I watch, a bead of sweat rolls into my eyes. I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my coat, groaning at the heat.

"Hey, I know you're cold-blooded and all but I'm dying over here," I call out. I hear him swivel out of his chair and walk over to the thermostat.

"it's only 70 in here, I thought you agreed that was the optimal temperature," he passes me a teasing smile. I swipe at my head again, reaching back and pulling my hair up. Fanning myself with my hand I look to him.

"Well, I'm sweating up a storm over here," I answer.

"don't think you're getting sick, do you?" he walks over. He presses his palm to my head, I relish in the cold. "You're burning up," he reaches down to my cheeks," you're all red." I can't help but turn in his palm, stealing his cold for my own. He doesn't let go, pressing his palms flush to my skin.

"Only this one time will I admit that being cold-blooded has benefits," I press his hand against my forehead.

"fine by me, I get to steal your warmth," he smiles," but I can't stand here all day, I'll get you a cold rag."

I watch him walk away, uncomfortably warm immediately. He grabs and wets a rag, looking strangely appealing as he does. His clothes hug is slim frame well, his pants framing his legs nicely. As he catches me staring I turn away embarrassed. He walks over and places the cold rag on my head. The instant relief nearly makes me groan.

"thank you," I hold the rag for him.

"No problem. Do you want to go back to you're room," he asks, pressing his palm to my cheek again.

"no, no," I shake my head," I'm just a little warm, I think I'll make it." he hums, not really agreeing.

"if you say so, but if you feel worse I'm forcing you to go to your room," he scolds. I roll my eyes, swatting his hand away.

"Ok, mom," I joke," I promise I'll stop working if I get worse."

We get back to work, standing on different ends of the room. I put up my hair and keep the rag on the back of my neck. Sweat soaks through my shirt after a bit, dampening my hair. It's hard to focus on work, losing my breath once in a while. My heart feels like it's racing and I'm prone to dizzy spells when I walk too far. I try to power through.

I sit at my desk, dropping my head to the back of my chair. I try to use the rag to cool my face but it has begun to warm up. Frustrated I toss the useless towel to the table. My heart bangs against my chest and I can't seem to catch my breath. I feel wrong, dizzy, and incomplete. A dull ache begins in my lower stomach, migrating further south till I feel like I'm throbbing. I don't understand this new need, an empty feeling that's starting to make me panic.

Aziraphale walks over to check on me, already concerned as he spots me.

"Are you alright, you do- whooaa," he recoils from my desk, covering his nose. I watch him fidget by the door, looking lost between running and staying put. It's kind of cute.

"What's wrong," I lull my head to the side. He startles, snapping his eyes to me.

"Uh, it just smells rather musky in here," he answers, selecting his words carefully," I think you're sick."

I try to sit up, groaning as I do," yea, I don't feel too well. I should probably go lay down."

"g-great idea," he fidgets," do you, uh, need some help?" I try to wave him off, leaning forward out of the chair. As I stand I sway. I catch myself on the desk the same time Aziraphel grabs at my hips. His cold hands burn through my clothes like a block of ice. It's sharp and intoxicating. I groan, dropping forward against his chest. His body is freezing against my scorching skin, I can't help but run my hands over his neck, cuddling my cheek against him. I feel him gulp.

"Terri," he squeaks," w-what are you doing?" I can't pay attention, too focused on touching every visible bit of him. He is all I can think about, all I need. A small part of me is dying of embarrassment but the comfort is all I can think about.

"Cold," I purr under his jaw. My hands reach up under his shirt, touching his flat stomach. My insides throb as I feel him up, wanting more from him than just his cold skin.

"Terri," he yelps," t-this is- I can't-" he whimpers at the end. His hands grab at my shoulders, not really pushing or pulling. I continue, lifting his shirt to his chest. Pressing my forehead to his sternum I begin pressing soft kisses to his pecs. His leathery skin is so divine, soothing me like nothing else. I crave more, demand more.

Aziraphale is flustered at all the attention, bumbling like a fool as he tries to figure out what to do. He finally tugs me away, taking a step back with a deep breath.

"Terri, what is going on with you," he pants," this isn't like you."

I actively try to fight back the urge to jump him, focusing on staying put. Looking at him becomes too hard that I have to turn away.

"I-I don't know," I say between breaths," I'm so hot and bothered that I can't think straight."

"are you, uh," he hesitates," aroused?"

I snap to attention," excuse me?"

"Sorry," he jumps," it's just you smell…so good." his voice drops at the end, a rumbling purr. The sound shocks straight to my clit, nearly bringing me to my knees. I whimper, fisting the fabric of my pants.

"D-don't do that," I whine," you'll kill me if you do that."

"Sorry," he rubs at his face," let's just get you to your room and you can take a cold bath."

I weakly nod.

He helps me to my room, keeping a distance until I sway. Every time his hands touch me I'm nearly undone, falling into his arms and fighting back the urge to kiss him. It's a long walk to my room.

We make it to my room where we stand around awkwardly. He stays by the door but he doesn't look like he wants to leave. His fingers fidget with his shirt, picking at the ends. I'm hyper-focused on every move he makes, my muscles thrumming with energy.

"Well, I'll leave you to it and try to find out what's wrong," he shifts back and forth on each leg," yes, g-goodbye"

Seeing his back sends a wave of panic over me, forcing me into action. I jump for him, snatching him by the shirt and tugging him towards me. In a haze, I grab his face and force his mouth against mine. It's forceful and harsh, his teeth nick at my bottom lip. At this moment…it's intoxicating.

I pull back, looking at his wide-eyed face. He looks at me, scared and excited. I huff.

"Don't go," I beg. He nods," will you help me?" he nods again.

I tug him into the room, him closing the door behind himself. We stare at one another, the calm before the storm. Quickly I jump on him, wrapping my arms and legs around his body. I pull him into another kiss, grabbing at the spikes on the back of his head. His hands hold the back of my thighs, eagerly trying to kiss me back. It's clear he has no experience with this, just following my lead the best he can. Either way, it's making my lower stomach ache.

He fumbles his way to the bedroom, bumping into the bed with a grunt. I'm dropped onto my back, him crawling on over me. I tear at his clothes, petting at every newly revealed inch. He tries to get my shirt off but he's just getting in the way. Frustrated, I push him off and onto his back. I straddle his hips, throwing his shirt off in a rushed frenzy. He sits back and lets me work.

I crave to lick every bit of his chest, nibbling and sucking the cold leathery skin. My hips grind against him, feeling a hard protrusion poking at me. There's so much I want, I need, to do to him. I kiss up his body before slanting my lips against his. My tongue peaks between his lips, startling him. He timidly presses his against mine, groaning as I twirl mine with his.

I don't notice one of his hands sneaking between us. Only when he slides his fingers into my pants do I whimper in his mouth. He palms at my crotch, getting his bearings before he slides between my lips. The curious prod to my engorged clit makes my back arch. His gentle poke is nearly enough to break me apart. He slides the pad of his finger over me, I tear myself off his lips and bury my head against his neck.

"P-please," I huff and puff. He pets me, paying attention to my little nub with laser focus. I writhe and wiggle, whimpering and whining near his ear. My body feels on fire, ready to burst with minimal attention. A few more swipes and I'm crying out his name. I'm grinding hard into his hand, forcing his touch till I get my fill.

As my bucking slows Aziraphel tries to take his hand back. I flatten my body against him, trapping him with a growl.

"Do you feel better," he whispers, his trapped hand petting at my stomach.

" a-a little," I trace my nose under his jaw," it's still too hot." he hums in thought.

Before I know it I'm twisted on my back, Aziraphel between my legs. His eyes are focused, calculating, as he reaches for my pants and tugs them down my legs. Tossing the clothing aside he lays on his stomach between my legs, staring at my soaked cunt. I flush at his attention, aroused and nervous at the same time.

"What a-are you doing," my stomach twitches as the urge to buck towards him is strong. He grabs my hips, holding me still as he studies me.

"I have an idea," he mumbles. I whimper as I take in the whole sight, Aziraphel laying between my legs without his shirt. He tears his eyes from my pussy to me, softening slightly at my debauched face. His thumb pets at my hips as he gives me a sweet smile. I whine again.

Aziraphale looks back to my cunt, lowering his head and taking a tentative lick up my seam. My back arches as a moan tears up my throat. He takes another more confident lick, touching at my entrance and clit. I feel dizzy. More certain he presses his lips to mine and laps at my cunt. I wriggle and buck in his hold, clenching my eyes shut against the pleasure. It's hot and lava-like. His tongue is warmer than his body but cold to me. It's erotic and holy to my needy cunt.

I peek down at him, watching him eat me out. His thumb still pets at my hips, adding a small bit of appeal alongside his mouth. His eyes are closed, pleased hum vibrating into his tongue. He seems to enjoy this as much as me, his tail lazily swinging back and forth down the bed. Watching him is enough to push me over the edge, reaching down and grinding his head against my crotch. He groans with me, nearly purring as I shout out my pleasure.

He stops as I fall back into the bed, releasing his head in favor of fisting my hair. I take a moment to catch my breath, watching the lovely sight of him crawling back over me. He pets at my thigh, rubbing soothing circles against my skin.

"You feeling better," he asks. I shrug, getting distracted by the throbbing tent in his pants. The thing moves with every breath, begging me to grab him with a single-minded focus. I reach for his belt, trying to tug him forward. He swipes my hand away.

"No, we aren't doing that," he scolds," I got to let myself have some morals here. I'm already taking advantage of you." I pout, ready to try to persuade him. He distracts me with a finger between my legs, prodding at my entrance before sinking in. I grunt, damn near purring as he adds another.

The day is spent in utter bliss. He takes good care of me, not leaving me wanting for too long. He keeps his pace till I'm passed out in the sheets, feeling cooler than I did earlier. It seems all it took was some beautiful orgasms to soothe this beast.

I wake up the next morning alone, feeling sore but sated. I don't know if the fact that I'm alone should be good or bad. Heading off to the bathroom I try to convince myself that's it's for the best. I don't even know how I'll face him today, remembering how I jumped him like some uncontrollable whore.

The morning in the lab is…tense. He tiptoes around me and I can't help but do the same. The conversation is kept so single sentence answers. We both try to stay out of the other's way, even making up excuses to be on the opposite side of the room.

I sit in my little cubicle with my desk, trying hard not to look out to the lab and watch Aziraphel. It's a losing battle. I watch him walk by the crocus flower, pausing for a moment. He leans over the bin and takes a tentative sniff. He chuffs, scratching at his nose.

"Terri," he calls out," I think I figured something out."

A bit too eager I hop out of my chair and head over to him. My body thrums slightly the closer I get. Before I can stop next to him he grabs me by the shoulders and guides me away from the bin. I allow him, confused all the while.

"We should put the flower in a contained area," he suggests, meeting my eyes for the first time today. My thoughts come back to now, caught off guard by his suggestion. d "What," I ask. He flusters a bit, looking over to the flower then back at me.

"Well, you see," he stumbles, petting at the back of his neck," I think.. Perhaps the…" his shoulders sag. "The flower kind of smells like how you did yesterday and I'm almost convinced it's what made you sick," he finally spits out. I gawk at him, thinking back on yesterday's events. That morning I took a whiff of the flower, not thinking much of it, and shortly after started getting symptoms. It's a fair guess, perhaps even the correct answer.

"I think you might be right," I huff in amusement," it explains why the animals have been eating it. Spring is mating season."

"I feel rather silly now having to lock away a plant," he laughs," a rather potent aphrodisiac to mammals and birds. Makes sense why it didn't work for me." I chuckle along with him, it dying off back into an uncomfortable silence. It's clear he's uncomfortable with what happened yesterday. Hell, I am too. But there is no reason we can't be adults about this.

As we awkwardly shuffle in place, I speak up," hey, about last night. I'm sorry I came onto you like that, I put you in an uncomfortable position."

"No, no," he waves his hands," don't need to apologize, you couldn't help it. I know that wasn't really you and I won't hold that against you."

"yea," I fiddle with my hands," we can just pretend it didn't happen, and go on like before." he nods, looking to the floor in thought. With the situation settled I'm left a bit lost for what to do.

"yea," he still nods," I don't think I can do that." I startle at his words, a cold feeling sinking into my gut.

"W-what," I stutter. He looks up from the floor, seeming rather serious.

"I want to pretend that what happened didn't happen, more for my sake than yours. I'd like to be able to look at you and not see your face twisted up in pleasure as you cum on my tongue. It would be easier if I didn't, but at the same time…I really want to see that face again, " he takes a step forward," Terri, I liked what happened yesterday. I liked doing that thing with our mouths, I liked touching you and holding you. I hated how it came to be and I hated how you didn't have a choice, but I loved doing those things to you. I would give anything to do it all again, with actual consent and want from you instead of that drugged up lust. I want you, Terri, I really want you."

His confession feels like being punched in the gut. It's not what I could ever expect from him. We've worked together for nearly a year now and not once did he hint at wanting to be more than friends. We have a good relationship working together and I'd dare say I enjoyed his company. Now…now everything is different. I can't look at him as a coworker or even a friend. Even now all I can see when I look at him is his face buried between my legs, eyes closed and humming in bliss.

"I don't know," he takes a step back," a lot happened yesterday and you may honestly want to pretend it didn't happen. I can respect that and go on if it bothers you. I didn't want to agree if there was a chance to…never mind, I'm sorry." I watch him turn around to retreat, fidgeting and scolding himself. The sight plucks at my heart.

Taking a few rushes stepped forward I grab him and tug him around. I cup his cold cheek and drag him into a sweeter kiss than our first. He's still untrained and uncertain but he gives it his all as he wraps his arms around me. His attempt is cute, pulling a smile up to my cheeks till I have to part.

I pet at his cheek," it's called a kiss and I would love to do more of those with you."

His sharp teeth peak through his lips," a kiss. I'm a fan."

He tugs my against him again, twisting us and lifting me onto the table. I'm didn't expect to consummate our choice now but I'm not going to argue. He smirks up at me, fitting himself between my legs. Before he can go in for another kiss he glances off to his left. I follow his gaze to the flower.

"Nope," he picks me up off the table, taking me to another end of the lab," I'm not doing that again." I bark out a laugh, teasing the edges of his spikes as he sets me down on another table. He quickly pulls me back into another kiss.

Our rush is exciting, though less frantic than yesterday. He discards my shirt, not paying any mind to my breast as he pets down my stomach and licks at my shoulder. His fingers pluck at my pants buttons, tearing them down to my ankles as I frustratedly tug at his shirt.

With him distracted with my cunt I finally get to grab at his crotch. He throbs in my hand, his cock mysteriously wiggling. Curious, I pull him out of his pants. I'm excited but confused with what I see.

His bright red cock is writhing in my palm, the tip twirling around my fingers. It looks like it came from a slit, emerging from his body eagerly. I squeeze him, fascinated by the pre leaking out his pores. He shutters, slapping his hands on either side of me.

"Please," he whimpers," I couldn't relieve myself last night and I may go mad if you try to tease me now."

I snicker at him, tugging him gently forward and nudging him against me. Letting him go and wrapping my arms around his shoulders I leave him to lead. He takes a breath, reaching down and grabbing himself. We both watch as his tip pokes and prods till it finds my entrance. His cock makes me shiver as it begins to wiggle frantically inside me. He pushes on, seething as he bottoms out. He shutters, letting out a shaky breath as our hips touch.

"what blessed torture is this," he pants, almost wheezing. I bite back a snicker, petting at his head in support. He shutters again.

His hips begin to buck, moving in short little bursts before growing in length. The feel of his cock is blessed, something I've craved since yesterday. He begins to plow into me, a wet slap sounding from where we meet. My thighs feel sticky, the thought of it not being only my slick passes by. An odd little tingle starts deep inside me, growing the more he slams into me. I gasp, tugging him close as a sudden burst of pleasure shocks up my spine.

Aziraphale licks up my neck, rumbling with a growl as he clenches my hips. He ups his tempo, shocking my body to attention. I cry out into the lab, nearing my end with the sudden fire growing because of him. My stomach clenches, sitting at the blissful peak for almost too long. It almost hurts when I cum, clenching around his still pumping cock.

"Shit," he digs his nails into my hips. He bucks into my fluttering heat, milking me for all I'm worth till he barks out a cry. His face buries against my neck as he cums, fluids puddling on the table. He pumps a few times before stilling inside me, his cock pulsing with his release. I pet at his back and kissing him on the cheek. He shutters more, taking a bite of my neck. His hips buck some more, surprising me with his movement. He continues to pulse, more fluids showering my insides.

"Are you still cumming," I ask in awe. He doesn't answer. His teeth dig into my skin along with his nails.

I sit back and let him take his fill, a little glad when he finishes. He releases my neck, giving it a lick before leaning back. Our eyes meet and I can see the content in his smile. He looks happy, sated, and cute. I pet at his cheek.

"You didn't warn me about the mess," I joke. He scoffs, pulling out and watching his cum leak out of me.

"It didn't occur to me," he answers. Reaching forward he thumbs at our mixed fluids, grabbing a bit and bringing it to his mouth. Licking the drop off he hums. "delicious," he smirks. I push at his shoulder, chuckling as I hop off the counter. He helps, keeping me steady.

I look back at the counter, wincing at the cum dripping off the edge. "Little glad it's just the two of us here," I half-joke.

"I might be glad too," he wraps his arms around my waist," could work with fewer clothes now."

I shake my head, amused with his suggestion. There's no way I'll be doing that but it's a little flattering that he would want to see me naked again. I grab his spikes and tug him down for a kiss. He growls, tugging me closer, and palming my rear. His tongue laps at my lips, delving into my mouth with the smallest bit of acceptance.

"You wanna go again," he mumbles against my lips. I hum, petting up his chest.

"I think we should move the flower before we try anything else," I answer. He pouts, looking behind himself to glare at the cursed plant.

"Yea, probably have to deal with that," he grumbles.

"yea, I'm not allowed near it," I shrug. He twists back around, grinning down at me.

"I prefer you not drugged, thank you very much," he kisses my forehead," this is way better than yesterday anyway."

I hum with a big goofy grin on my face.

Yea, I liked this way better.

#12 days of christmas #12 tropes for christmas #sixth day #Enigma-IM #exophilia #monster boyfriend #alien boyfriend #pollen

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zoellajulien · 3 years

Text

come upon morning

(Peter Parker x Reader)

angst - words: 2.1k

OPEN ENDING BELOW

"Alright! Enough from you!" Your friend laughed loudly as he smacked your other friend in the back of the head, turning to face you. "It's your turn. Give us all the details!"

You shifted awkwardly, laughing and rubbing your arms for comfort. The conversation happening between your group was on the subject of 'the ones who got away', which you all had experience in. "Fine, fine. Just be quiet and sit down!"

A hush fell over the room as you opened a book and pulled some photos out of the page. Curiosity spread as the photos were passed around for everyone to look at.

"Why do you keep these on that page?" One friend asked, looking over your shoulder at the highlighted text.

"I keep them close to a quote on it. It says 'you'll always be mine, in the back of my mind. I'll look for you in my next life.' I found this quote when I was in a dark place, and it reminded me of him. Because that's how I'll always feel." You explained to them, passing another picture around.

In the photo, the boy had a straw taped badly to his head with a ridiculous smile spread across his face. His nose was wrinkled too, adding to the joyous atmosphere the picture captured. His brown curls were splattered across his head and face in a mess, along with a hastily put-in butterfly clip. You felt warmth blooming inside you while looking at it. Your friends laughed at the picture, pointing out various (but positive) things about him to one another.

"What are you doing? You look ridiculous!"

"I'm a unicorn! You should be a unicorn too!"

"Wait until Tony sees this. No- I am not sticking a straw to my forehead like a crackhead!"

"Psh, you don't know what you're missing, then!"

"That boy was my whole world. We were best friends before we lovers, but we always did everything together. One time, we both failed an exam on accident, and celebrated! We drove around for hours just because." You reminisced.

"Dude, one kid sitting next to me was all 'I got this in the bag! Studied all night long!'" Peter chuckled, pushing his curls from his face with the hand that held yours. He pushed his lips against your knuckles softly.

"Are you serious? Dude, if you can't even pass the exam, then everyone else definitely failed. Their ego was 100% bruised afterward, I'm sure of it." You snickered, blushing as your eyes cast over his form. His skin glowed from the kiss of sunset colors. "Hey! Careful! You almost hit that bird! Ugh, your driving is the worst!"

Peter's laugh brought a smile to your lips as you teased him, knowing full-well you drove much worse than he did. Poking his side with your finger to tease him more, he squirmed away and began to make faces.

"Oi! I'm trying to keep us alive! Stop that!" He snickered.*

"I hope you know that we are absolutely not listening to this song! My turn to control the cord!" You cheered, snatching his phone away.

"What? No! I'm the driver, I control the music!"

"In your dreams, Parker! And don't take your eyes off the freaking road, you health-hazard of a human being!"

"Oh, please! I drive better than you do! And either way, you know you love me!"

"That, yes, that is very true. I can not deny that." You giggled with a happy sigh.

"What else did you guys do?"

"So much! We went on great adventures and vacations together but also enjoyed simple moments. One day, I was frustrated with everything so I started crying on the kitchen floor when the empty pot slipped from my hand." You laughed at yourself, shaking your head. "He came in with a sympathetic heart and dumped a bunch of pots on the floor. At first, I got even angrier. Because, hello, that was a huge mess! But then he started constructing them together on a mat and grabbed two dowels for the both of us."

Peter cursed when he saw your form, panicking slightly as he tried to come up with a solution to fix the sad mood you owned. The poor brunette had come in, more than ready to defend you from an attacker, after being alerted to the crashing sound of a pan hitting the tiled flooring. Trying to think quickly on his feet, he leaned past you to pick up said fallen pot along with a large group of others.

"What are you doing? I swear to god I will smash your face into the cabinet if you think I'm going to clean this up."

Peter wordlessly grabbed your hand and placed the dowel in your hand, kissing each finger as he twisted them into a fist. He reached up and brushed a piece of hair away from your face, smiling sweetly at your confused face.

"What do I need this for?" You questioned, still slightly irritated.

"What? What was he doing, exactly?"

"We actually started playing them together, on the floor. He cheered me up in less than an hour. I went from crying in frustration to crying from laughter." A blush crept its way up your body as a love-sick smile made its appearance.

Crawling on the floor, Peter gently pulled you by your empty hand next to him. A whine of protest escaped your lungs, but you eventually gave in and looked at the pots in front of you. He reached around you, his arms controlling yours. He began beating the wooden sticks against the metal and copper pots.

"I love you! I love you! My darling!" He sang out dramatically, badly playing out an improvised tune, hiding his smile when he noticed you were forcing one to hide. "My darling! She's oh-so-beautiful!"

Laughter bubbled within your chest and escaped into the air around the two of you. A smirk made its made to your boyfriend's lips at the achievement of making you happy. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before continuing his actions.

Eventually, he moved and sat beside you, using his wooden stick to bang on the pans. He laughed after you made a pun referring to the pots, shaking his head in amusement.

"Come one, sing a duet with me."

"Nooo."

Peter began singing loudly but slow enough for you to try and match his lyrics. You were pretty sure the two of you were bothering the neighbors at this point.

A bubble of snickers filled the room after someone mentioned just how in love you seemed to be even after he left.

"You see, this big teddy bear of a human being loved to travel, so one day he showed up outside my job and picked me up. We ended up driving for a long time until we had a picnic underneath the stars. I taught him a bunch of the constellations."

"Peter! C'mon, tell me where we're going! You're boring me!" You joke, shoulders shaking in laughter when you do.

"No! You can't know yet! It's called a surprise, babe!" He protests, taking one hand off the wheel and easing his foot off the accelerator. Using the empty hand he has, he pokes your side once safely stopped at a red light.

"Ugh. You're a pain. I hope you know that." You paused for a few minutes before saying: "Are we there yet?"

"We are literally still driving! Relax!"

The drive continued for another hour or so before you pulled up onto a hill that sat beside a glistening lake. By that time, it was well past midnight. You would have fallen asleep if Peter's energetic and proding, literally, personality. He sang loudly to you and was constantly poking you in the ribs, although gently.

"We've arrived! I hope you're hungry!"

After the picnic, you rested by his side, enjoying the comforting kisses he left across your face. "I love you, but I'd appreciate it if you would pay attention to my lesson!" You whined*

"Alright, Teach. What do you have for me to learn? Not math, I hope." He replied in turn with a broad smirk.

With a sharp eye-roll, you sat up, taking his finger, and pointing it at the sky. "Big dipper." You drug it over to a separate spot. "Little dipper."

"I like this lesson. Teach me more."

"He sounded amazing. What happened to you two?"

"The part of him yearning for adventure became too difficult to ignore, and he knew he needed to go. Of course, he offered for me to come with him, but my parents refused. They told me how my focus was to be on where I was going in the future, so their force kept us apart." You set down the Polaroid picture to pick up another one, this one of a car. The brunette sat on top of it, clearly singing and dancing. "The night he left was a hard one for us all. His aunt and mentor came over so we could all wish him goodbye. I was angry at my parents, but they were right. My future was very uncertain with him, especially since he didn't know where he would be going."

A stray tear made it's down your cheek, dropping onto the hoodie of his you wore. Your friend wrapped an arm over your shoulder.

"Eventually, after he packed his car for the journey and his weeping aunt gave him one last hug, I was called over. I opened the door to be closer to him and sat, looking at him. His cheeks were damp with tears, as were mine, but we smiled. He put his hand into mine and kissed me, so softly, as if I were glass."

"You look beautiful today, you know. Is that dress new?" Peter's fingers danced up your arm to cup your cheek.

"I bought it just for you, for today. I wanted you to see me looking my best, so you can remember me this way when you go."

"I still don't know if I want to go." He admitted, ducking his head before looking back into your eyes.

"You have to. You need to go because your heart is calling." You whispered, reluctant to admit the truth as much as he was. "And you don't have to be scared, because I will always be with you along this journey." You placed your hand on his heart.

"He pleaded for me to go that night, to go with him. I told him I couldn't, that it wasn't an option."

You set down the picture while standing, grabbing one from underneath a flipped-over picture frame. One of your friends picked up the frame and felt anguish at seeing the picture inside the glass.

The same boy the conversation was about sat somewhere, clearly in a place with bright lights. He wore a white, short-sleeve top that ended with the picture. His eyes were blood-shot, curls messy as can be, but a smile sat across his lips, despite being clearly in pain.

"This noise is going to be the death of me, I swear."

"Kid, you've got a lot more fighting to kill you right now than the lights. At least try to act concerned for yourself." Tony's voice strained, dry from tears. "They are probably the smallest problem you have as of now."

"Don't say stuff like that. Please." Your voice croaked, all the tears you had now gone from crying them away. "It can't be like that. No."

"That picture was taken a few months before he left. This one is a copy of the photo he took with him." You explained, showing it around. "I loved him so much, you know, and he loved me too. I could tell since he had some much trouble leaving us. But I knew he had to go."

In the last photo sat you both, side-by-side, asleep. One of his arms draped over your side while he spooned you from behind with his face buried into the skin of your neck. You had hair flopped over one eye and one hand tucked into his dangling by your front. The two of you had corresponding colors on your nails, a bright red. It had been his idea after a tired sleep-over reached well past two in the morning. It was a fond memory of yours.

Your friend pulled you tight to his chest, noticing the balance you were struggling to keep between sobbing or staying straight-faced. Eventually, the tears came out, but a smile stayed on your lips as you remembered Peter.

You remembered his laughter that was always accompanied by his contagious smile or smirk. Also on the list, you remembered his ability to sweet-talk you into sneaking out to see him on nights he wasn't 100% busy. However, you also remembered how he left you, leaving a longing feeling that turned into unheard wishes.

You just wish his departure had actually happened like that.

taglist: @rorybutnotgilmore @petersasteria @elios-timotea

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nothingbutimagines · 3 years

Text

Lock and Key (Steve Rogers)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Platonic!Avengers x Reader

Warning: Cursing, fluff, lots of pining and some playful banter

Summary: Tony throws a holiday party and decides this year, he would have all attendees play a game. Women have a lock, men have a key, and everyone has to find their perfect match. While everyone has random keys and locks, Steve and Y/n are the only ones matched on purpose.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: I was really sick Dec. 18th to the 20th, so this is out now, along with Natasha Romanoff fic and the Avengers fic I had planned for those days as well. Happy holidays and I hope you are all doing okay and are staying healthy and safe! We are getting so close to Christmas and Hanukkah has come to an end.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

“Alright, everyone,” Tony took a step up on a chair, his ring tapping the champagne flute in his hand as he spoke, “if you would turn your attention to Ms. Pepper Potts over here, she will be helping us coordinate a little game.”

“Did you guys know about this?” You asked quietly.

You glanced over at the group of Avengers you stood with, studying everyone as they shrugged or shook their heads before turning your attention back towards Tony.

“Now, women will collect a lanyard with a lock while men collect a lanyard with the key. The objective of this game is to get to know everyone here and find your perfect match. That is, key and lock wise. Who knows? Perhaps you may find love.” Tony chuckled softly. “Now, Ms. Potts is very excited to have coordinated this game for all of you, so have fun and let her know how wonderful she is. Thank you.”

Tony took a step down from his chair as the crowd that had formed around him dispersed, now moving to crowd around Pepper and her table as she handed out keys and locks to everyone.

“Come on, Y/n, let’s go.” Wanda took your hand in hers and had begun dragging you towards the table.

“No, Wanda, I think I’m going to sit this one out. I hate games, you know that.” You shook your head, dragging your feet on the floor as Sam and Steve walked up beside you.

“I wouldn’t resist if I were you,” Steve stated, glancing down at you, “everyone always finds a way to rope you back into these things. Trust me, last time I tried to avoid one of these games, it ended up with Sam kicking my bedroom door down just to drag me back out here.”

“That’s why you have to pick better hiding spots. They always look in your room first.” You replied, giving him a small smirk. “I’d tell you where I’m going to hide, but I’d have to kill you since I’m not about to take you with me.”

You turned back around as you made your way down the line, now moving towards the front. You slipped your hand out of Wanda’s and held it out to Pepper, ready to take your lock from her.

“Y/n,” Pepper smiled, placing the lock into your hand, “here you go. Have fun, okay?”

You nodded awkwardly as Pepper winked at you, confusing you with the gesture as you walked away with Wanda, pulling the lanyard over your head and allowing the lock to fall back into your chest.

“I have a feeling Tony’s the one who picked this stupid lock and key thing.” You said, following Wanda as she walked away from the crowd. “There’s no way Pepper thought of the stupid innuendo herself.”

“Oh, for sure. You know Tony probably made sure they have matching locks so he can get some tonight.”

You laughed. “I have no doubt about that.��

“I’m going to go mingle, okay? I’m hoping that cute guy that’s been eyeing us from the bar over there is the key to this lock.” Wanda smiled, toying with the lock around her neck as she spoke.

“Okay, have fun. You’ll meet me after this for coffee, right?” You asked softly, grabbing a hold of her arm as she turned away.

“Of course. Okay, I’m going to go. Bye.” Wanda spoke quickly, anxious to get over to the bar as she quickly kissed your cheek and scurried off.

You watched as she walked towards the bar, a bounce in every step as she made her way around a few people to the man she had been eyeing since you both had arrived. You chuckled as she gave you a bright smile before turning away, leaving you to observe the room until you found the courage to talk to someone.

“I see she’s left you already.”

You turned to see Steve walking up beside you, stopping once you were shoulder to shoulder. You toyed with the lock dangling from your neck, bouncing it between your fingers as you looked down at it before glancing up at him.

“Yeah, you know how she is, always the more sociable one. I don’t mind, though. Gives me less witnesses when I finally sneak out of here.”

“That makes one of us,” Steve responded before taking a sip of his drink. “I can’t get Sam off of my tail so I can get out of here. I always feel far too old for these little social games.”

“I mean, technically you are.”

You watched as Steve opened his mouth to speak before closing it as someone tapped your shoulder lightly. You turned on your heel, coming face to face with a man you didn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” You asked softly, trying not to be annoyed as you were interrupted.

“Hey, I’m Adam. Can I try my key in your lock?” The man shifted on his heels, holding his key up.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Sure.” You nodded, giving him a shy smile as you looked back at Steve, who was giving you a bit of a face.

You held the lock out to Adam, who took it in one hand and pushed the key in with the other, attempting to turn it but only coming up empty.

“A damn shame. It didn’t turn.” You shrugged.

“Yeah, thanks.” Adam nodded, awkwardly pulling his key from your lock and allowing it to fall back on your chest. “See you around, then.”

“Yes, see you.” Steve interjected, giving the other man a small wave as you turned around, fully facing him once more.

“Okay, thanks. You didn’t have to make it awkward.”

“I definitely was not the awkward factor in that situation. ‘A damn shame?’ Really, Y/n?”

“I didn’t know what to say!”

“I’d hate to be the guy who turns your lock. You’re probably going to say something like ‘wow. glad that happened,’ but in that super monotone voice you do when you’re utterly disappointed.”

“I do not have a monotone voice when I’m disappointed. I like to think I am a great actor.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You can keep thinking that, but it doesn’t make it true.”

“Well, at least I don’t always let my eyebrows do the talking.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever encountered a mirror before, but your eyebrows are very expressive. More than your words, honestly.”

Steve rolled his eyes, frowning slightly. “That is not true.”

“You’re eyebrows are frowning more than your mouth right now!” You cried, pointing to his brows.

He instinctively brought a hand to his head. “I’m walking away now.”

You grabbed his arm as he started to walk away, leaning back in an attempt to give yourself more leverage.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean it! Don’t make me stand here alone for weird men to approach me.”

Steve looked down at your hand gripping his sleeve before averting his eyes back to yours and down at your hand quickly, making it seem as if he had never done it while he shook his head, as if he was attempting to shake the thoughts of you from his mind.

“I’ll stay, but only if you agree to buy this round of drinks.”

“It’s an open bar.”

“Not if you tip the bartender.”

You dropped your grip around him, letting your hand fall to your side. “Okay. I’ll be right back, just stay here.”

You turned on your heel, finding yourself bouncing in a similar fashion to how Wanda had done earlier, making your way up the steps to the bar, your back to Steve now. You leaned against the cool wood frame of the bar, balancing on your toes as you attempted to wave down the bartender, coming up empty.

“Here, let me help you.” Bucky said, coming up beside you, waving down the bartender as he spoke, “Hey, man!”

The bartender walked over, drying his hands off with a towel as he looked between you two.

“How can I help you both?”

“I’ll take two jack and cokes, thanks.” You smiled softly, pulling out a couple bills from your bra and putting them into the tip jar.

“Make it three.” Bucky spoke up as the bartender nodded, walking off to put the drinks together. “Now that I got his attention for you, I think it’s only fair for you to let me try my key in your lock.”

“Wow, Buck, very classy. I sure hope your key fits in my lock.”

“Oh, don’t give me your little attitude. It may work on Steve, but not me.” Bucky joked, grabbing your lock from around your neck as he grabbed his key and looked up into your eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you in any weird way. I’m just nervously awaiting the answer as to whether or not you are prince charming and your key is my glass slipper.”

You watched as the key didn’t even fit into the lock halfway.

“Damn. Looks like I won’t be taking you home in a rolling pumpkin.” Bucky chuckled as the bartender came back and put your drinks down in front of you.

“Oh, if you would only be so lucky.” You giggled softly, picking up the two drinks for you and Steve. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you for coffee after with me and Wanda, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” You smiled, kissing his cheek lightly. “If I were you, I would try your key in her lock. Bye, Buck.”

You bit your lip, smiling to yourself as a small smile spread across Bucky’s lips. You then made your way down the stairs, watching as Steve and some woman spoke, trying their turn at their lock and key before the women walked away, clearly disappointed by the lack of any outcome. You approached Steve quietly, slipping his drink in his hand as you moved to stand in front of him.

“I take it you broke a heart there?” You asked as Steve raised his brow.

“My key didn’t fit and the poor girl wanted to force it in. She was very determined to jimmy the lock if she had to.” He replied, chuckling as he took a drink from his glass. “I saw you and Bucky weren’t compatible, huh?”

“We’re like trying to force a square block into a circular hole. I’m not surprised we didn’t fit, even with this stupid game of chance.”

“For two people who aren’t compatible, you sure did make sure to kiss him.”

“Are you jealous, Mr. America?” You asked, a smirk on your face as you tore your gaze from the party to look at him.

“It’s Captain America to you.” Steve corrected. “I’m not jealous, just observing.”

“I don’t know if I am convinced, but I’ll take your word for it, since it is Christmas and I’m feeling generous.” You smiled to yourself, taking a drink from your glass as you swayed a bit.

“You’re not funny.” Steve rolled his eyes. “But, be ready, someone’s coming up.”

“Is he cute?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, unless you think Sam is cute.”

You turned around as Sam walked up, glass in hand as he smiled. “I see you two have decided to set up camp over here. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to leave yet.”

“Oh, trust me, I want to, but the men await. Or should I say, I’m awaiting all the men to come talk to me.” You replied, a playful smirk on your lips.

“Well, might I suggest getting away from the frowning and towering man over you, since he seems to be scaring everyone away.”

“Steve, naturally, is my bodyguard. He keeps the weird ones away.”

“If anything, he’s scaring the decent ones away since they probably think he’s your boyfriend.”

“Goddammit. Steve, when Sam leaves, you should too.”

“I’m not leaving. You keep everyone away from me, too.” Steve replied, his voice stern as he spoke.

“Ugh. You’re like an overprotective and annoying brother sometimes.” You groaned as you examined the rest of the party, making eye contact with a red haired man who was also examining you.

“Ooh,” Sam winced, making a bit of a pained face at Steve, “you just got brother-zoned.”

“You know, you’re a bit of a brat. Someone has to put you in your place.” Steve retorted, turning to you as he ignored Sam’s comment.

“The only time I listen to men is in the bedroom, and I don’t see you ever taking up that role.” You replied, your tone snarky as you took a swig of your drink. “I don’t have to sit here and deal with you, you know. Now, if you two idiots will excuse me, there is a gentleman over by the Christmas tree who seems to have an eye on me.”

You finished your drink quickly, shoving the glass into Steve’s hand before wiping the corners of your mouth as you walked away, still able to hear Sam’s loud laughter as you approached the sharply dressed man you’d left the two for.

“Hi,” You smiled, holding your hand out for him to take, “I’m Y/n.”

“Hey, I’m Evan.” The man took your hand, shaking it before you pulled away.

“Nice to meet you. I couldn’t help but notice you eyeing me from over there.” You reached out and grabbed the key that was dangling from around his neck. “Do you mind?”

You chuckled as a light pink dusted his cheeks and he shook his head quickly, almost enchanted by your every move as you smiled and picked up your lock in your hand. You pulled him forward a bit, as you tugged the key and slid it into the lock, only for the lock to barely move. You sighed, pulling the key out of the lock roughly and allowing it to fall into Evan’s chest.

“Well, shit. I thought that was a perfect match.” You frowned slightly. “I guess I’ll just return back to the party then. It was nice meeting you.”

You turned on your heel to leave, only for the rugged man to place a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look back at him.

“Hey, wait.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper as he shoved his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my card. It’s got my personal cell on the back. You should give me a call sometime.”

You took the card and smiled, bringing the small bit of card stock up to your lips and tapping it to them lightly.

“I think I just might. I’ll see you around, Evan.”

You gave the man a small wink before turning back around and making your way to Steve and Sam, who were watching you intently. You smirked at the two, chuckling as you flicked the card at Steve, watching as it bounced off his chest and he caught it.

“Well, well, would you look at that. I just got a man’s number without his key even working. He’s a real estate banker, too.” You gloated lightly. “I’d like to see you two idiots catch a big fish like that.”

“I don’t think I have the right size tits for that,” Sam joked, “but maybe Steve might be a good contender.”

“Are you calling me fat, Sam?” Steve gave the other man a confused look.

“No, Sam’s just saying out of the two of you, you’ve got the huge mommy milkers that could get you a man.”

“I don’t think I want to know what that means.” Steve shook his head, glancing away from both you and Sam before looking back down at you. “I’ll tell you what, if I can get a girl’s number on the first try, you have to let me hide with you in your hiding spot.”

“You guys can’t leave in the middle of a party.” Sam attempted to interject as you spoke over him.

“Deal. But, if you don’t get the number, I’m leaving you behind and if anyone asks, I met someone.”

“I doubt anyone will believe that.”

“Well then you make them believe it, Steven.”

“Fine. We have a deal, right?”

“Yes, now go get a number or I’m leaving.” You replied, holding your hand out to Steve as he took it, allowing you both to shake on it.

“Wish me luck.” Steve nodded, walking off towards the bar as you and Sam watched, both of your arms crossed over your chest.

“Do you really think he’s not going to get someone’s number?” Sam asked, glancing over at you as you watched Steve intently.

You tore your gaze away from the scene unfolding between Steve and another woman at the bar. You looked over at Sam, who you had now realized was more observant of your antics than you thought.

“No, I know he is. I’m not an idiot, I know plenty of women find him attractive. I’ve seen the fan accounts dedicated to him online.”

“Why don’t you just accept the fact that you, like so many others, might also find him attractive?”

“Because I don’t. Why do you care about whether or not I find Steve attractive anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s weird that you two have been weirdly pining over one another for the past few months and now that we have to play this game where we may or may not meet someone new, you two are dead set on not playing more than normal and haven’t even tried to see if your key and lock fit together?”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Steve speaking first.

“Looks like you lost here, L/n.” Steve gloated, placing a napkin into your hand. “Time to pay up and get us the hell out of here.”

You crumpled the napkin in your hand, not even checking to see if there was truly a number written on it as you glanced at Sam before looking back at Steve. You picked up your purse off the table behind you and slung it over your shoulder before turning to Sam once more.

“We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“Yeah, if you even make it to coffee with us later.”

“Goodbye, Sam.” You rolled your eyes, giving the man a small and playful shove before linking your arm with Steve’s, guiding him away from the other man. “Now that we’re done with all that, I’ve got some shrimp and hors d’oeuvers in purse and a desire to know how you got that woman’s number so fast.”

Steve chuckled as you guided him around the small crowds of people and towards the elevator.

“If you must know, I found out she was a marriage counselor from Natasha. How she knew that, I don’t know, but I told her that you and I were married and our marriage was on the rocks.”

“You did not!” You gasped, leaning back a bit to look at him as he pushed the elevator button.

Steve nodded, a pleased look on his face. “Oh, I most certainly did. And you know what she said about our fake marriage?”

“Do tell.”

You followed him onto the elevator, slipping your arm out of his as you hit the button to the floor of your hiding place before you leaned against the elevator wall. You watched as he turned to you, leaning against the wall across from you, a large smile on his face.

“She said we were in desperate need of not only counseling on our communication, but an update in our sex life as well.”

“She did not!”

“She did. She said we seemed like we’ve had a dry spell for years. And you know what I told her?” He chuckled, his hands moving to the bar behind him, resting on it. “I told her she had no idea. So, she gave me her number and the number of a tantric sex counselor. So not only do you owe me your hiding place, but some of that food you stole as well.”

“Steve Rogers, if I truly was your wife, I’d have your head on a stick for talking about our marriage like that.”

“Well, thank god you’re not. You’d be too much to handle.”

“As if. You’d probably poison me. I have a feeling under this nice guy facade there’s a killer”

“I would gladly poison you, but not because I’m a killer, it’d be because you made me a killer. I’d probably tell you I’d done it, too.”

“I’d probably still drink it if you did.”

You both started laughing as the conversation between you died down and the elevator came to a stop on your designate floor.

“Come on, my hiding place is just down the hall.” You waved Steve to follow, stepping off of the elevator and into the corridor.

“Where are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been on this floor.” He asked, following close behind as you walked down the dimly lit hallway.

“It’s the maintenance floor. There’s nothing really up here besides the machine room and empty offices and closets.” You explained, opening up one of the doors and slipping into the room. “See? Just an empty office. I mean, it’s not really that empty since I put some furniture in here.”

Steve looked around as you turned on a small lamp that rested on a desk by the door and you shut the door behind you.

“It’s nice.”

“It’s lame, I know, but no one would ever guess I was hiding up here. Except for maybe Nat. She tracks everyone because if the NSA can do it, why can’t she?” You retorted, taking a seat in a chair as Steve mimicked your actions. “I just come up here to get away from everyone sometimes or because I hate Tony’s parties.”

“I know what you mean. I still go to the same gym in Brooklyn that I’ve been going to since I first got out of the ice to get away.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you asked to try my lock?”

Steve went silent for a moment, gazing into your eyes with a strange gaze. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“Well, Sam asked why we hadn’t tried and I didn’t have any answer.”

“Of course he did.” Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to know if it fit.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not going to get into all of this with you, Y/n.”

“Will you at least let me try your key in my lock?”

“No.” Steve shook his head, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as you watched his every move intently. “I don’t care to know if it works.”

“Well, I do.” You replied sternly. “Just give me the key. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“It doesn’t fit.”

“And why is that bad? It’s just a game, Steve.” You insisted, opening and closing your hand at him as you held it out, ready to take his key.

“It doesn’t feel like just a game, okay?”

“Why? Because you have a little crush on me or something?” You replied jokingly. “Just give me the key, Steve.”

“Here,” He took the lanyard off and shoved it into your hands, obviously bothered. “If it’ll keep you from asking so many questions, just take it.”

“Okay then...” You muttered, trailing off as you put the key into the lock, turning it with ease and the lock falling open. “It fit, see? No need to lose your shit about it.”

“I wasn’t losing my shit.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Steve insisted, glancing over at you with a hand on his neck.

“Uh, yeah, you were. Which is weird because you thought this game was stupid like twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well twenty minutes ago I wasn’t sitting in a room with the girl I’ve had a crush on for the past year as she acts like she hasn’t realize how much I like her!” Steve exclaimed, jumping from his chair as you sank into yours.

“Oh.” Your jaw dropped a bit as silence fell between you both. “I see.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed, resting his hands on his hips as he threw his face up at the ceiling and avoiding your gaze. “We can just forget about it, it’s not a big deal.”

“I think it’s pretty hard to forget the guy you like telling you he likes you too. So much so that he was avoiding a stupid party game.” You replied, rising from your seat as you took the few steps towards him, causing him to gaze down at you finally, making eye contact.

His hand rose to your face, his thumb running along your cheekbone as he bent down, kissing you softly before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours.

“I just realized Tony and Pepper probably made us have matching pieces.”

“Oh, you think?” You laughed, mocking him a bit. “Just don’t think about it and kiss me.”

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ithinkilikeit-reactions · 4 years

Text

NCT 127 “They realise they love you”

NCT 127 masterlist Group Masterlist

Not requested, but I needed some fluff in my life ♥

Taeil:

(I’ve been so attracted to Taeil lately)

It started off with simply sitting in the same room and listening to music as you both worked on your computers. But it progressed quickly, singing along to the random tunes on the radio. Moving on to standing and dancing around to them, quite horribly.

Grabbing onto Taeil’s hand and spinning into his chest, making him laugh. You couldn’t help but do the same as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Taeil tucked his face into neck and started swaying you back forth, slow dancing to fast music because you could.

Taeil realised he could be as weird as he wanted with you and that you were just as weird him and he loved you for it.

Johnny:

(I am mad that this hoody is not in my posession)

Walking between the aisles, Johnny was looking for you attentively after he found the drinks he was looking for. He spotted you in an aisle, standing on your toes and reaching for something on the top shelf. You were just too short to reach.

“Need help?” He asked, placing his drinks in your shopping cart. “That would be great.” You answered, smiling at him. He reciprocated a cheeky smile before crossing his arms. “Hmmm, tell me that I’m the best man in the world first.” You snorted at his words, needing to stifle a laugh. “You know what, I got it.” You told him, placing your feet on the lower shelves to reach the item you needed. Jumping down with it in your hands, you shook it at him triumphantly making him laugh.

You weren’t shy to put him in his place with his bad jokes when you needed too and you were completely dependant on him, it made him absolutely love you.

Taeyong:

“It’s going to be a late night again.” Those seemed to be the words you had been hearing a lot lately, but it didn’t bother you. You were understanding that his job wasn’t like a regular 9-5 job, you knew that when you said you would date him. This time wasn’t any different for you, you accepted it and simply watched your show until you were tired.

However it was diferent for Taeyong this time, he felt guilty for not being there and it was evident when he came home to find you simply watching your show. Taeyong walked over to you and hugged you tightly, catching you off guard. “Thank you for always understanding when I need to work. Thank you.” He felt the need to tell you, even if it was out of the blue.

He realised every time he came home to find you still there, he loved you. He loved that you understood and that you never blamed him for his schedule.

Yuta:

Yuta was feeling the need to be productive, tidying up the house slightly and doing some of the general housework while you were out. But when he got to your room, he found some interesting reading material. It was all about Japan, recipes, popular things to do, important culture information. This was normal, but what stood out to him were the sticky notes placed on the pages. Places he had mentioned being fun and food he had mentioned being good had little notes written by them.

“Oh you found my book.” You remarked, looking at him from the door frame. “Yeah, what are all these notes?” Yuta asked with a smile. You moved to sit down by him and took the book from his hands. “These are places you have talked about, things you said you enjoyed doing and eating. Because well, I want to learn about what you love and what you enjoyed doing and stuff we can do and try together in the future.” Your words made Yuta smile even wider.

You wanted to know about his interest, you cared enough to study on these things and make future plans. He loved you for it.

Doyoung:

The little projector in his room was perfect for movie dates, broadcasting your movie onto his wall as you both laid in bed and watched. Doyoung’s commentary was witty, the movie not really being that good... quite bad actually and deserving some harsh commentary.

There was a lul in the film, making you slip your hands under the hoodie he was wearing, not for any other reason than he was nice and warm. Doyoung knew that and accepted your touch. “This acting is so-” He stopped midsentence once he looked at you. Seeing that all you needed was his body heat to get you to fall asleep. His lips curled up into a smile and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

It was a small action of dependency on your end but it made Doyoung’s heart swell. He loved that you were started to depend on him, because well, he was depending on you too.

Jaehyun:

The record store had music playing softly in the background when you both entered. It really had a nostalgic feeling, old records filling the racks and old band posters lining the walls. You both spread out through the store, taking your time to look at records and cd’s. You were great at spending time together but not necessarily needing to be right next to each other.

Jaehyun looked at you from across the store, simply watching you flip through the records with a little smile on your face. You looked up and locked eyes with him, waving softly once you noticed he was staring. Jaehyun laughed to himself and looked away, only to find himself staring at you once again. This time you were oblivious to it and simply flipping through cd’s.

You always caught his attention, you were effortlessly beautiful to him even doing the bare minimum. It was something he loved about you.

Winwin/Sicheng:

Sicheng had noticed you had been studying something over the course of the last few weeks. That your nose was stuck in your books and it was clearly a subject you were interested in. one day, curiousity got the better of him and he couldn’t help but flip through your study books.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were learning Chinese?” Sicheng asked you, holding your books. “I was going to surprise you. I know you’re more comfortable speaking Chinese and I want you to be completely comfortable with me.” You said softly and you could see his ears turning red. “That- I- I want to help you then! Be your teacher!” He stuttered, trying to hide how happy it made him.

You wanted him to be incredibly comfortable with him, you wanted to be able to communicate on the fullest level and it was something he really cherished.

Jungwoo:

“Shhh you don’t want to wake anyone up.” You said, looking at Jungwoo’s face as you tiptoed through the dorm. “You shhh, this was your idea.” He laughed and you raised your fingers to your lips, trying to stifle your own laughter. You both made it to the kitchen and turned the lights on. Jungwoo went to the fridge and opened it quite agressively, a bottle of juice rolling out and hitting the floor with a loud thud.

You both couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, your adventure for a midnight snack being nothing short of a disaster and comical. Jungwoo grabbed what he was originally looking for from the fridge and handed it to you to turn around. “What are you two doing?” Taeyong asked, arms crossed and staring at you both. “Nothing.” Jungwoo quickly said, brushing past the older male and sending you into giggles. Once you both reached his bedroom with your snack you broke out in a fit of laughter.

Jungwoo looked at you as you settled in his room, still laughing. He loved that he could make some lighthearted trouble with you. He loved that he could laugh with you.

Mark:

You had been considering asking him for the longest time, but you knew Mark was very busy and probably didn’t have the time too. But you still wanted to learn, so you finally took the step. “Mark... can you teach me how to play the guitar?” You asked, holding his guitar by the neck gently. The question caught him off guard, making him look up at you with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn how to play.” Mark said, gesturing for you to sit by him.

“I’ve been wanting too, but you’ve just been so busy. I didn’t want you to feel like you needed too.” You explained, allowing the guitar to rest in your lap. Mark wrapped his arms around you after moving the guitar. “I mean I don’t need too, but I want too. It would be really fun to play together.” Mark said and you smiled not being able to contain your own excitement. “Ahh thank you!” You hugged him tightly, making him turn pink.

He loved how excited you got over small things and how eager you were to learn something new. It was just so endearing to Mark.

Haechan/Donghyuk:

You had both made yourselves comfortable, laptops and gaming computer ready to go. It was you and Donghyuk vs. Johnny and Jaehyun and you were both not planning on losing. “Y/N’s like impossible to kill!” Johnny said in frustration and you simply laughed, bouncing around the map happily. Donghyuk laughed, taking out Jaehyun as you swiftly did the same to Johnny.

“There we go! That’s my baby!” Donghyuk cheered, knowing that the fact that you two won meant that you wouldn’t have to pay for snacks that night. Annoyed, the two older guys left to go pick up the order while muttering things under their breath. “I keep telling them to stop challenging us as a duo, but they don’t learn.” You said, settling into Donghyuk’s bed. He joined you with a small laugh and rested his head on your chest. “You’re right, we’re just too good.” You both laughed and allowed your fingers to toy with his hair.

In that moment he realised that you and him had so much in common, even in teasing it made him realise he was head over heels for you.

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

Text

8 Anti LO Asks

1. as a mythology buff, i honestly think it was really weird of rachel smythe to take Hecate, a goddess who helped Demeter search for Persephone after she vanished and heard her screams and shared in Persephone and Demeter's joy after reuniting... and then just make her into Hades's like... total bro who plays aggressive matchmaker to h/p to the point of trying to break up Hades's current relationship. but honsestly i refuse to believe rachel smythe did literally any research before making this comic judging by how she depicts the mythology she's taking inspiration from so honestly im not suprised

2. I don’t know if anyone on here has discussed this, but LO very much plays into the idea of “good victim vs bad victim”.

A “good victim” has suffered many things, but despite it they still remain cheerful and happy and pleasant, they do not put others out or lash out at them even if they are triggered, they do not become petty or angry or hold onto negative emotions. They, in essence, “get over it”. Thus, the narrative rewards them: they get many friends, a love internet they’re happy with, and a happy ending. This is what Persephone is. She’s the “good victim”. Despite her many hardships, we know she will not suffer in the end. She will get everything she wants and more.

Then there is Minthe, the “bad victim”. They too have gone through many hardships, but they’ve become cold, angry at the world, they lash out and have trouble opening up and connecting to others, they even hurt others, themselves victims to the toxic pain they can’t get rid it. They do not and have not “gotten over it”. Thus, the narrative punishes them, even when they try to better themselves. It’s never good enough. These characters often are lonely, the cast are large do not like them if not outright hate them, and they more often than not end up dead. This is what Minthe is. She is not a pleasant person, she’s a victim of a manipulative older man and a cruel, unjust society and system, and we know how her story ends. It’s in pain, her maiming/possible death framed as a joke and not even a genuine hint of sympathy towards her fate. She was a “bad victim”, she “deserved” what she got.

Now, you only often see this in fandom, since the actual works that deal with victims of trauma and how they react will often try to give more nuance to every shade of victim they may have on cast, but it’s very disturbing to me that Rachel seems to eagerly play into this idea, like she gets joy out of punishing a victim she created and watching them suffer even more at her hands. It’d be one thing if she kept Minthe a shallow, one dimensional character who was just evil for the sake of it, fine, but her showing us her actual complex nature and the very real struggles, trauma, and manipulation she went through, especially at the hands of our supposed “heroes” of the story, just to have her demise framed as a win for Persephone and a joke for the audience to laugh at? That’s highly disturbing to me. It’s one thing for fans to act that way, but the writer themselves? It’s very dark, to say the least.

3. "I'm invested in working with fairy tales and folklore for my next project" oh no no no oh god please no. Fairy tales have been through enough hot takes and modern "betterments", they really don't need Rachel "Apollo is bad, actually" Smythe to add to it

4. Quick question

Greek Mythology is mostly incest.

So what if someone who is actually good at writing and storytelling and consistent artwork

Kept it in

For example Zeus and Hera arguing like the married couple they are

And Hera uses older sibling card

With Zeus dumbfounded face

I don't know why but I want it but would it be weird since it's incest

Most fanfics always keep it out. Just keep it in if you want it to be closer than the actual methods you know

Hera is youngest daughter of Cronus and Rhea and older than her brother Zeus, who was also her husband.

I want to do it but like I have no clue how to start a webtoon so you know💀

5. Oh god, Hades not needing therapy because Persephone's "love" is enough? To quote my lord and savior Kennie JD: "not the p*$$¥ being therapy!"

6. uuuuuh sexual trauma warning.?

So I was writing a comment on the "Re: bpd" ask and i had a realization about persephone

She reminds me of how I was about the idea of sex

I'm demisexual and have sexual trauma and the idea of sex excited me but I wasn't able to like, do it. Me and my partner would mess around but because Mctrauma i couldn't do it cuz I hadn't exactly worked through my trauma and i wanted to get through that because i was finally experiencing sexual attraction.

Kinda reminds me of Persephone. The problem is at that point it had been 6-7 years since my trauma occurred and persephone's happened like last month.

Considering how everyone talks about persephone being a self insert i think Rachel has some things to work through

Also made the realization literally as im typing that Rachel's attitude towards asexuality could be because she's demi and doesn't fully understand what that is or means

becuase if you're ignorant enough you can 100% end up describing demisexuality as "being asexual and then like, slowly turning gay."

this ask weirdly personal so fuck it this is gonna be anonymous feel free to delete if it makes u uncomfy

7. That’s also a part about Hubris Rachel clearly doesn’t get: it was always committed by rich, often people in high authority, NEVER lowly farmers or the poorest of ancient society. They always knew better. Niobe was a queen! Minos was a king! Arachne was the rich, spoiled daughter of a really successful merchant. Sisyphus was a cunning king. The trojan war was kicked off by royal drama. The list goes on and on. You have to notice these things and genuinely study the myths or you become like Rachel, who seems convinced the poorest people would be stupid enough to not only defy their bosses, but the gods themselves? They would be the last people to do such a thing! They don’t have the ingrained sense of entitlement and arrogance like the rich and powerful to even dare act like that towards the gods, as is the case with hubris. Because of this, Rachel ends up creating a narrative that the rich and powerful (literal GODS) are the real victims to those cruel, uppity poor people, going as far as to say in comic they deserve to be slaves for hades’ benefit and they’re wrong for ever hating Persephone for, you know, murdering them because she had a bad day! They should know their place! It’s absolutely insane that she doesn’t actually seem to realize what she’s writing. Unless she does, which is an even bigger issue, and shows a really dark look into how she views the world and society and how it should be run. It’s all a bad look.

8. Have you seen the "The demon, is here in the room right now?" meme

Welp, that's literally Persephone and her "feeling"

I legit saw that video about a dude faking a mental illnes (and seeing a demon that made him do bad things) after he commited a crime and that was so cringy and I can't stop thinking about Persephone confessing her AOW like that

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lo art

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

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Remus Lupin x Reader Smut- Full Moon Aftercare

Gif not mine :)

Waking up with the sheets cold beside you had become an occurrance you were used to every month since your secret relationship with your Dark Arts Professor had started. You use the term 'secret' loosely however as your dorm friends all knew what was going on and you were 99% sure all of the staff faculty were aware and just hiding it from the ministry but still, the idea of a forbidden relationship only made it that much more exciting. You'd fallen for him the second he walked through those classroom doors in his cardigan you now steal at every opportunity possible and finding out during you final year at Hogwarts that your feelings were reciprocated was one of the best days of your life. Being 18 your choice in boyfriend was technically legal but whilst you were still a student and on Hogwarts grounds you could never be truly 'official', else the ministry would take Remus' job in a heartbeat- of course it wasn't ideal but for now the both of you were happy to settle with stolen hidden kisses and sneaking to Lupin's dorm of an evening without getting caught out by some worms like Malfoy and his goons.

You rolled over to his side of the bed and laid your face into his pillow, breathing in the scent you missed the night before. Looking out the window you could see it was still the early hours of the morning and knew it wouldn't be long until a blanket clad man was going to walk through the door. Full moons were a tough time for the both of you- albeit Remus clearly suffered a lot more- with your boyfriend returning back from a hard night each time and you patching up any wounds that he obtained on his travels with a bar of his favourite chocolate resting on the bedside counter. This month's was no different as you got up and gathered the first aid kit Remus left at the top of his wardrobe and a pair of his comfiest pyjamas and waited on the end of the bed for him to come through the door.

Barely 10 minutes had passed and you heard the shuffling of your boyfriend's heavy footsteps coming down the hall; you stood to meet him at the door.

"Hey" You smiled sadly as Remus all but limped through the door. He gave you a weak smile in return and softly kissed your cheek before practically collapsing on the bed behind you. "Rough night?" You joked with a side smile as you sat beside him with his pyjamas in hand. You'd almost asked him once why he only hid a blanket out in the forest rather than a spare set of clothes but after seeing him struggle even wrapping the threaded material round his bare frame by himself you cut yourself off.

"Darling you have no idea." He winced as he attempted to sit up, fresh cuts and scrapes getting shifted with each movement. You smiled sympathetically at him as you helped him get into his pyjama bottoms (secret Lupin insight, underwear is a big no after a change, the waistband is far too tight around his aching bones) and passed him a square of the dark chocolate that he'd been eyeing up since he saw it on the counter. You noticed the large cut that was going down the underside of his arm and nodded your head towards it, grabbing the first aid kit.

"Okay I'm sorry, this is going to sting quite a bit at first but just remember it'll be worth it in the end; you'll feel a lot better." You apologised, as you used an alcohol soaked cotton pad to clean the wound before bandaging it up. A small, pain-filled laugh sounded beside you and you turned in confusion.

"Sorry.. I know you're trying to help and I love you for it. You just.. reminded me what I said on the first night you stayed here." He chuckled.

"Remus John Lupin amidst your pain from a bloody long night did you really just answer me with a 'that's what he said' line? You're such a child sometimes." You laughed.

"You know you love me for it Y/N."

"Of course I do Professor." You couldn't help it sometimes, honestly you couldn't. In your defence, after having him as a teacher for so long you just became accustomed to calling him professor when talking to him. Sometimes in private you did it on purpose, especially after seeing the reaction it got out of him when you did it accidentally during the first few weeks of your relationship- let's just say you're not allowed to use any such title in class with Remus anymore.. you'd trialled 'sir' for a while but apparently any such term towards him leaving your lips turns him back into a horny teenager. Apparently even in pain it had the same effect."Y/NNNN" He moaned softly, hanging his head down to try and avoid eye contact with you. You followed his gaze and noticed his half-hard bulge poking at the striped trousers.

"Remus I'm so sorry, it was an accident I swear." You apologised profusely. The two of you had learned very early on that Remus' transition come-down effects him sexually too. The two of you usually have to wait at least 3 days before being intimate with each other as the change causes Lupin to be incredibly sensitive and sometimes even in pain until he fully feels like himself again. It becomes difficult after the first day as his libido skyrockets after a full moon event, neither of you were quite sure why. Sometimes Remus would try to push himself too far but with the mixture of his aching body and the oversensitivity he deals with in his trousers the moment ends fairly quickly with a shout of pain. You'd vowed to make it up to him massively each month if he could hold out the three days because you were always worried that you would hurt him if you tried too soon- that's if he doesn't hurt himself first of course- and the promise was "definitely worth the wait" according to your partner.

"Shh it's okay. I just-ah need a minute." He winced again as he shifted his weight to lay against the headboard of the bed. You nodded and laid beside him, resting your head against his shoulder and lightly kissing the base of his jaw in apology. The silences were there but it wasn't awkward as you frequently tried to talk to him to take his mind off his growing erection (clearly his mind was doing the opposite). The minutes ticked by and nothing seemed to help. "I'm sorry Y/N, you're probably exhausted getting up this early to help me out. I won't be offended if you want to go back to your dorm to get a proper sleep, I'm afraid I wouldn't be such a good host wincing like a kicked puppy every time I take a deep breath. Besides, my uh- problem, shall we say, doesn't appear to be getting any better." He spoke, realising his half-hard erection had grown in the last few minutes rather than going away. The last few weeks you'd been spending a lot of your time studying for your final exams so the two of you didn't really have time to have sex as you were constantly busy. It annoyed you, of course it did, but Lupin understood completely knowing how much your studies meant to you. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't pleasure himself each time in the shower fantasising your previous sexual endeavours and now found his mind wandering back to the old memories as he felt his cock twitch.

"I'm not going anywhere unless you really want me to. It's technically my fault you're even more uncomfortable." You shifted from your position to face him a little more. " And don't you ever feel bad about me getting myself up early on these days to make sure you're okay. I'd drive myself mad if I just stayed in my dorm room knowing you'd come back here by yourself. I love you and I want to help you out as much as I can. I knew what I was signing up for in this relationship when it started and I'm not going to back out." You confessed. Remus gave you a soft smile in return and leaned himself to kiss the side of your head, words often failing him when you speak to him like this as he'll never understand how he got so lucky with such an understanding, loving person. He stifled a noise that sounded a mixture of pain and pleasure at the sensation of his trousers rubbing against him. "Can I at least try to help? Please?" You asked, moving to rest your hand on his upper inner thigh. "I'll go slow and if you tell me to stop, I'll stop." From the corner of your eye you could see Lupin stifling a laugh. "Another flashback?" You grinned. "That's not going to help this go anywhere." You teased, gesturing to the tent in his trousers.

"One of the best." He answered with a smile. He was in pain, there was no doubt about that, but he felt guilty accepting your offer, almost like he felt he was using you breaking your 3 day rule. You moved your hand to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and looked at him for approval.

"It's probably going to hurt at first but just focus on me and I'll try to make this as easy as I can." You whispered. With a soft nod given as consent you softly put your hand in and wrapped your fingers around his throbbing cock, hearing a sharp intake of breath and a quiet wince from the man beside you. With your spare hand you turned his face towards yours, pressing your lips against his as your other hand slowly made a steady rhythm, causing the older man to eventually moan against your mouth. Your movements were slow. Careful. As you twisted your hand as it reached the head, pre-cum dripped down your knuckles as Remus slowly came undone below you.

"I love you Professor." You turned your head to whisper in his ear as you kissed and licked down his jaw and neck. Your voice did things to him that he would never be able to explain. It usually embarrasses you but knowing it was one of Remus' biggest turn ons you decided to treat him on this occasion, willing to do anything to make this easier for him. "I especially love how your big cock fits in my hand so perfectly, like you were made for me." You moaned breathlessly in his ear as you picked up the pace with your hand. You felt Lupin's big hand come round in attempt to lift your shirt but the pain in his arm stopped him. "Calm down Professor. As much as I'd love for you to fill me up right here and now we need to wait, then you can have me any way you want to remember? Use me as your own personal sex doll over and over until you pass out of exhaustion." You bit his earlobe.

"P-Promise?" He managed to breathe out, any pain he was feeling long gone by his new distraction as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"I'd want nothing else sir."

"Fuck Y/N." He swore, moving his head into your shoulder and biting the bit of flesh he could reach. You moaned in response and moved your other hand down towards the front of your own trousers, beginning to rub circles on your swollen clit that had been dying for your attention. "Oh you're such.. a naughty girl Y/N." He teased lowly seeing your actions. "MY naughty girl."His deep voiced words caught you off-guard as you squeezed tighter onto his member, flicking your thumb over the top of his sensitive head as you felt him come close to the edge.

You moaned deeply and pushed two fingers inside yourself, matching the pace of your other hand as you turned your head into Remus' and kissed him deeply.

"I'm almost there." Remus breathed between the kiss, fisting his hands into the bedsheet, angry he felt too weak to be able to touch you properly. "Come on darling, cum with me." He encouraged, fighting back his own orgasm as he watched your hand work steadily on yourself through your trousers. He didn't have to tell you twice. With a few more twists of your hands and pumps of your fingers the two of you came undone, moaning each other's names as you reached your high.

"Feeling.. better?" You teased breathlessly as you grabbed one of the spare cleaning cloths and wiped you both down.

"You could say that." He smirked, slowly letting himself sink down the bed until he was laying completely. You joined him and rested your head on his chest, careful to avoid any fresh bruises. His fingers lazily danced against your hip as you yawned beside him. "Thank you." He spoke sincerely, turning his head to kiss the top of your head.

"For accidentally turning you on and tossing you off when you really needed to sleep? You're welcome." You joked, nestling closer.

"No- well yes actually, for that too-" He laughed. "But more-so for being here every time I get back after a full moon like this. It's nice knowing I'm not coming home to an empty bed every time. You make it almost bearable. I really do love you Y/N, more than I could have ever imagined loving anybody."

"I'll always be here for you to get back to Remus, unfortunately for you you're now stuck with me. I love you too. Now let's go to sleep, you need your rest." Lupin opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, practically reading his mind. "I spoke to the other professors earlier this week and they've agreed that after seeing me practically hanging out my arse every day after a full moon that I could take the day off to be with you, providing I catch up with the work within a week." You spoke.

"You're truly an amazing woman Y/N, I believe I'd be lost without you."

"You haven't heard the best part yet. I even managed to convince Snape to agree to the deal, with the agreement that I would go to his classroom once a fortnight to make the potions with him that I miss and do a timed essay that the rest of the class don't have to do. I'm more than happy with that as it counts towards my potions studying but I didn't let him see that and let him believe it was some kind of small punishment."

"One on one time with Severus in his classroom eh?" Remus began. "Should I be concerned? That is how we started off after all." He joked. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. Whilst Remus sounded as though he was kidding you could always see the underlying insecurities in his eyes, constantly worried you'd leave him for anyone that didn't have his 'condition', constantly thinking you deserved better- even if it was Snape...

"I'd never leave you for anyone Remus, especially never Snape."

"Oh? And why's that."

"He doesn't like chocolate. Immediate red flag." You grinned, slowly rubbing your fingers along the raised scars that patterned your boyfriend's chest. Another thing he was hugely insecure enough. The first few months you were dating you learned he was even trying to use make-up to hide the ones on his face but you managed to convince him that scars made any man sexier, but the ones on his chest and torso were the ones he hated most- hell, the first few times you had sex he kept his shirt on and then when you finally convinced him to take it off you'd have to be in the dark. But doing little things like now, tracing the map of pink and white lines across his body, memorising every inch of him made him feel better. He let out a small laugh and managed to roll over onto his side and take you under his good arm for a hug, appreciating the smell of your shampoo under his nose as he kissed your head. He really did strike it lucky with you and he loved you more than anything in this world but being here and treating him like you do, Remus finally found himself doing something he never thought he could again. He was starting to love himself.

#reader insert #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp #harry potter imagine #Remus Lupin #Remus Lupin x reader #Remus Lupin x You #Professor Lupin #Professor Remus Lupin #Professor Lupin x You #Professor Lupin x reader #Harry Potter x you

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hotdogct · 3 years

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under the same sky ||| teaser

“An age where you feel like you could love anyone, where you put everything on the line for the smallest of things. Eighteen. Adults say that it’s an age where we laugh if a leaf tumbles by. But back then, we were more serious than any adult, more intense, and had our strength tested...That was how our eighteen was beginning.”

-Sung Shi-Won, 응답하라 1997.

Synopsis: 1999. Amongst the sea of white raincoats and balloons belonging to Club H.O.T. you befriend Kim Jungwoo - a boy with a secret - who immediately fills your world with vivid color. With the new millennium approaching almost as quickly as high school graduation, your heart belongs to one man only: Kangta. And as his own future looms in the distance, Jungwoo can’t decide if merely idolizes the man, or if he wants to be the next Kangta.

He is certain of one thing, however: he is absolutely smitten by you.

Pairing: Student!Jungwoo x (f) Student!Reader

Genre: late 90′s!au. fluff, slice of life. friends-to-lovers, angst-ish. painful ending, you’ve been warned. 💀 Word Count: 10k++++ (teaser: 1.5k) Release Date: ???

Snoopy0219: how am i going to find you tomorrow! Snoopy0219: should i sing out ‘baaa baaaaa’ like i’m looking for a sheep in a pasture?? Baabaakangta: hahahhahahahahhahahaaaa please Baabaakangta: would you actually?? Snoopy0219: ;) you underestimate me Snoopy0219: do you have a pager?? lets exchange numbers Snoopy0219: or you could dress up as a sheep hehe Snoopy0219: that would be one way to have kangta notice you!!! Baabaakangta: >:( not. funny. Baabaakangta: i’ll be wearing a cow print hat, i’ll have a snoopy related gift sitting outside my bag?? Snoopy0219: okay!! i’ll go up and down the line ‘baa baaaaaaa’ing until i find you!! ^__^ Snoopy0219: see you tomorrow, sheep!!!!!!

You nervously look around as you settle into your spot in line, in no immediate rush to sit down on the hard concrete. While there weren’t many others amongst the crowd, it dawns on you you aren’t the only one sporting a big, fluffy, cow print bucket hat. Thinking back to your conversation with Snoopy the night before, you pull the small dog plush you had bought as a gift for your new friend out of your drawstring bag, making sure it would be visible to anyone passing by.

Time slowly passes once you sit. At first you’re eager to fidget with your pager - sending a quick ‘8282’ to Snoopy, checking nervously every few minutes for a reply. Eventually the device vibrates in your lap, notifying you that she was on her way. The atmosphere was getting livelier by the minute, with fan groups dispersed neatly all around the perimeter of the arena, identifiable immediately by the color of their balloons and raincoats. Fan club leaders equipped with bullhorns led their respective contingents in song and chants, a preview of the many performances to come later that evening. Club H.O.T. was no exception, with girls going up and down the ever-growing line handing out support goods and spare white balloons, while ‘Hope’ played on repeat through a boombox towards the front of the queue. When you first arrived, the unexpected fervor of fanchants made you flinch, but after a couple of minutes you found yourself joining in, mindlessly adding your voice to the collective.

All of your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t much time for your mind to ruminate anxiously about finally meeting Snoopy face to face. Nothing about her had seemed dangerous - which is why you extended the invite in the first place. On the very slim chance that she turned out to be a creep, she’d be insane to harm you in such a crowded place. You weren’t really worried about getting along with Snoopy - you knew that wouldn’t be a problem from your extensive chat logs. Rather you were terrified of what she would think of you - if she would even want to be your friend after meeting you in person...

“Baa baa?”

Your pulse increases rapidly, hearing the agreed upon saying that you and Snoopy had laughed about last night. But when you stand up and turn around to get a good first look at your new friend, your jaw drops open.

Standing before you, scratch that - above you is a...boy? He towers over you, black hair with messy overgrown bangs that surely had to impact his field of vision, framed in contrast by the hood of his standard issue white raincoat. His features were round - expressive eyes, button nose, full cheeks and chapped lips, currently pressed together and curved upward in a smile. He blinks once, twice, tilts his head slightly to the side, much as a dog might.

“Baa baa? It’s me, Snoopy.”

Unbelievable, you think to yourself. It takes you a moment to find your voice amidst the living nightmare you suddenly were inhabiting, but you knew you had to be assertive and stand your ground.

“Did she really send her brother to prank me?! Get lost.”

If the boy was insulted, he sure didn’t look it. He was unfazed - the same soft smile remained on his face despite your hostility, as if he was aware of something you weren’t.

“Sheep, it’s really me, honest.”

“Prove it.”

You regret your words the moment they leave your mouth. Without hesitation or warning, the boy swiftly closes the gap between you two, his face too close for comfort as it grazes past your own; his hot breath tickling your forehead, cheek, and finally your ear, where he whispers:

“I know aaaaallllll about that dream you had the other day, the one where you ran into Kangta at the convenience store and then, you know...~~’

Stunned into silence, cheeks-practically-burning-off-of-your-face-they're-so-red, you resist your immediate urge to slap this guy across the face, the nerve of the pervert…! Instead you thrust your arms out, making contact with his chest and successfully managing to push him away. He stumbles two, three steps back, his hands up in defense.

“T-that was in confidence, you jerk!” you stutter out, looking down at the ground and praying your beet red cheeks would calm down sooner rather than later, covering them with your hands.

The boy laughs - rather loudly, melodically, and pulls a pager out of his back pocket. Seconds later, the telltale notification lands on your respective device. The sharp features of your face softened slightly at the realization. Snoopy, he really was...

Lifting your head back up, you scan the boy standing in front of you over once, twice - this time taking notice of his lanky frame, narrow shoulders, tiny waist. Certainly non-threatening, but you’re still skeptical.

“I’m really sorry, it was never my intention to mislead you. Let’s start this over.” the boy clears his throat, and then bows, softly. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Snoopy, but since that hasn’t really worked out...you can call me by my actual name - it’s Jungwoo.”

“Uh-huh, Jungwoo. Is this how you pick up girls? Chat them up on Club H.O.T. and then-”

“I wasn’t lying about my love for H.O.T.!” He interrupts you, hands waving wildly in the air. “I think they’re the coolest!”

At this he steps back and begins dancing the all too familiar choreography for “Candy”, singing out loud to the chorus timidly. You dimly recall Snoopy Jungwoo mentioning the hours he would spend learning each new dance routine, and the effort clearly showed - his movements bright and sharp throughout the chorus. You could’ve sworn he was defying gravity when he jumped - you had never seen someone so lightweight on their feet before.

And yet your expression was unreadable - mind a blur on account of the entire situation unfolding in front of you. Jungwoo notices this as he finishes, the smile dropping from his face as he catches his breath. Silence falls briefly between you both.

“...you really think I’d travel all the way here from Gimpo for a joke?”

There was now a tinge of sadness apparent in Jungwoo’s voice, and guilt washes over you in a sudden, cold wave. You can feel his eyes on you, the weight of your initial cruelty and skepticism like a hundred stones in each pocket.

“I love dancing, I love singing,” he continues. “I genuinely think H.O.T. are the best, are the coolest. I’m studying to be an engineer - I love school, I get good grades. Why can’t I enjoy both things?” When you fail to come up with any semblance of a retort, Jungwoo sighs, shifts his weight back and forth on his hips.

“That's why I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s why I’m here now. If word got out back home that I was a card carrying Club H.O.T. member...” he fishes around for his wallet in his back pocket, fumbles through the card slots until finding his membership card, showing it to you with shaky hands, “I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

There, printed in clean handwriting, was his name: 김정우.

You believed him by now - honestly you had the moment your pager went off while he was standing right in front of you. Snoopy, Jungwoo - whatever they wanted to call themselves - was your friend. What difference did his gender make, anyways? With a firm mental reminder to not share any of your dirty daydreams about Kangta going forward, you decided to finally drop your guard. It was time to have some fun.

“Some advice?” Jungwoo looks up at you upon hearing your voice, in the middle of putting his membership card back in his wallet. “If you don’t want your friends to find that card, maybe don’t carry it in your wallet.”

Jungwoo struggles for a moment before figuring out you were screwing with him. Once he puts two and two together, it doesn’t take long for his boisterous, musical laugh you heard minutes prior to fill the space between you and him, head thrown back to the late afternoon sky. It was now his turn to feel flustered - although his cheeks seemed to take on a much more flattering pink tone to them when embarrassed, a trait you were quickly envious of. An unspoken concession occurs between the two of you as you sit down.

To Jungwoo, however - it felt much more like falling.

authors note: my first ‘big’ fic!!! my baby!!! she’s very much still a work in progress, but after nearly 2 months of wanting to commit to writing something longer and then sitting on my bum lol. this is what i’ve got so far, but i do have a full outline and i’m chipping away at it day by day. any kind of feedback or general excitement for this would be so appreciated 🥺

#kim jungwoo #jungwoo #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #kim jungwoo fanfic #jungwoo fic #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo fanfic

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literaryfic · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/?  Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV)  Rating: Explicit  Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Italian Mafia, (i know nothing about the mafia so this will be very inaccurate!!!), basically vincenzo & cha-young being mafia bosses in italy

 Summary: When Vincenzo Cassano came back to Italy, no one expected to see someone by his side. Or how Cha-young and Vincenzo became the head of the Cassano family. a mafia couple au inspired by a discussion with @ourgalaxybangtan @ghostrights & @whovie-reloaded

Vincenzo had been handling most of the family business since their adoptive father’s health had started to decline. As the consigliere of the Cassano family, he was Fabio’s most trusted man, his advisor, his lawyer but also his second-in-command.

It hadn’t been easy, all these years, to climb the ladder. He wasn’t a native, he wasn’t blood, and so not many people had welcomed him at first. That’s why he had to become ruthless, so that no one could deny his authority or even dare to try. He had killed and tortured many men, broken their minds and their bones, burned their flesh and cut off their limbs, ashes and screams trailing behind him. If he wasn’t proud of the blood on his hands, he was at least proud of his work. All the hours he’d spent training, fighting, preparing, scheming, studying, all his efforts to erase Park Joo-hyung from the face of earth had paid off. The scared, weak little kid was gone, buried with all his other victims. ‘An eye for an eye, and then some’, Vincenzo lived by that, and he would stop at nothing except killing the innocent. There was no doubt he was the best at what he did and anyone who did not respect him feared him enough to not threaten him. His success was the Cassano family’s success, yet he knew that members of his own clan would not hesitate to have him killed if they could. Two clear factions had formed in the past five years, those who supported Vincenzo as the next head of the family, and those who supported Paolo, his brother. Paolo and Vincenzo had never gotten along, and Paolo’s inferiority complex and jealousy grew deeper every time his older brother had to clean up after one of his rushed job. Paolo had a particular taste for violence. Whereas Vincenzo killed and tortured because he had to, Paolo got a kick out of hurting others, be it children, women or elders. He loved to assert his dominance, to feel almighty. Vincenzo didn’t think himself much better than him, (regardless of the reasons behind his murders, he’d probably killed way more than him), but he wanted Paolo to be punished for his sins. It was only a matter of time before some influential family members whispered plans of assassination and of ‘restoring the rightful heir’ into his ear. Paolo was an angry, frustrated man who wasn’t particularly good at his job, an easy puppet to control. He’d been watching them carefully but he knew that as long as his father was alive, no one would dare to touch him. Back then he had thought he would take care of them when it came to it, become the head of his family, and continue to rule the underworld. Then, the incident happened and everything changed. He hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks, his victims’ screams haunting his dreams. He started avoiding mirrors, his reflection taunting him. He barely ate anymore, and Fabio had reminded him to get a grip. So he had done just that. He drank himself to sleep or took sleeping pills, and he went on. He knew, however, that he could not go on like this much longer. He had to get out before he buried himself next to Park Joo-hyung and all the others whose lives he’d taken. He’d started to plan his escape secretly. He would wait until his father died, staying loyal to him as long as he was alive. When the time came, he knew Paolo would try to kill him. The power struggle between them would start as soon as the head of the family would die, but instead of destroying his opponents, Vincenzo would seize the opportunity to leave. He would go back to South Korea, get the gold and leave to an island, where he would spend the rest of his days. The death of his previous Chinese client was perfect timing. As expected, Fabio, his boss and adoptive father, had named him the next head of the family in his will. It came to no surprise to most members, but murmurs spread quickly, “Can you imagine? A foreigner, as the head of our family? What has the world become?”. After wrapping things up in Italy, Vincenzo promised himself to never return, throwing away the key to the graveyard of his sins. …. There’s no going back from this, he thinks. Vincenzo is still holding Cha-young’s face, unable to look away from her lips, still wet from the kiss. Her pink cheeks, her smeared lipstick, the freckles under her fondation. Her. Hong Cha-young. His heart is soaring in his chest, all the emotions he had desperately tried to silence erupting all at once. There was no point in denying it, he had fallen in love with her. All he could do now was break his own heart, hoping it would heal. …. He realises he can’t live without her after she gets injured. They’re trying to get more information on Jang Han-seok’s paper company, and this time they’re trying to prove that some of the transactions made to European bank accounts were bribes. They’re breaking into none other than the Minister of Economy and Finance, Cha Do-won’s house. Miri had made sure to deactivate the security system and cameras, and Vincenzo was in charge of securing the place while Cha-young searched for the secret ledger the Minister kept hidden in his office. Cha Do-won was making a speech right now, and they had assumed most of his personal security would be with him. Vincenzo had quickly incapacitated the few men around the house and Cha-young looked for the ledger. After a few minutes, she found a hidden drawer in his desk. There it was, a thick documents labelled 'Accounts’. Subtlety wasn’t one of his strong points, apparently. They were about to leave when suddenly, a dozen men started to raid the place. Vincenzo fought them off as best as he could, and he was grateful that Mr. Lee barged in to help. They thought they had them all beat, and so Vincenzo made a mistake. He turned his back to the door to look for Cha-young, who he thought was behind him. “Vincenzo!”, he heard her shout his name. He sees her across the room, about to get struck by a man. He rushes to her and knocks him out quick enough. “Oh my God”, she says, “Did you see that? I almost died! He had a knife as well, and I dodged it, and then I ran—”. She keeps rambling while they get out of the house and into their car, clearly in shock. She’s getting paler as time passes, and he only notices the blood that pooled on the seat when she tries to get out of the car. She was stabbed, but the shock and adrenaline had prevented her from feeling any pain. “Oh”, she says, looking down at her wound. Vincenzo jumps out of his seat and rips the bottom half of the T-Shirt he’s wearing. “I don’t think now’s the time for that, Darling.” Even in a life-threatening situation, Cha-young is joking around. Vincenzo’s mind stops, he feels paralysed by fear, the fear of losing her, of her dying in his car, because of him. He pushes those thoughts away as he holds the fabric to her wound. “Hold this, as hard as you can.” The rest of the car ride to the hospital is a blur of running red lights, speeding in between traffic and repeating “Hong Cha-young, stay with me.” Vincenzo had faced death everyday for the last 20 years. He had killed, had seen people kill and had almost died countless of time. “There’s no limit to fear”, he’d once said to Jang Han-seok’s informant. Only now, waiting for Cha-young’s surgery to be over, does he understand what those words truly mean. During 6 hours, Vincenzo pleads and begs God, the devil, anyone willing to listen (Don’t take her. Everyone but her). He makes empty promises (I’ll do anything. I’ll stop hurting others, I’ll disappear from her life) and meaningless threats (Don’t you dare take her. I’ll kill you, too). In the end he doesn’t know who answers his prayers, and what promises seals the deal, but Cha-young wakes up and he doesn’t care. He holds her hand, stays by her side, and vows to never leave her. He starts to plan for an escape route shortly after that. In case they can’t stay in South Korea and need to take off. First, he thinks of Malta, or another island. But they would need to go somewhere they have allies, somewhere with an easy access to emergency money and resources. Italy. He contacts Luca and sets everything up, a two bed-room apartment, two bank accounts, and everything they could ever need like cash, some guns, and a car. “Consigliere, will there be another person with you?”, Luca asks. “Hopefully it won’t come to that”, he avoids the question. He knows he promised not to come back, but some promises need to be broken out of necessity. He needed to make Cha-young was safe, at all cost. His brother’s betrayal had made it easier. He’d been caught in the crossfire of their fight against Babel, killed by Choi Myung-hee in order to frame Vincenzo. But they had proved his innocence, and sent back his corpse in Milan. After Fabio’s death, Paolo hadn’t been the best replacement, and after he was killed in South Korea, they’d put in charge one of their cousins who had neither Fabio’s experience, nor Vincenzo’s mastermind. The family was in a crisis, which didn’t go unnoticed by their rivals. Soon, business started to slow down, their clients stolen by the competition and their allies started to switch teams. Money ran low. For that reason, Vincenzo didn’t run into much opposition when he came back. Most members and people in their business thought he had killed Paolo after he’d unreasonably followed him to South Korea and tried to finish him. Paolo only left disappointment and resentment behind him, and so no one missed him much. What they had not expected, however, was for Vincenzo Cassano to come back with someone.

#vincenzo #vincenzo fic #chayenzo #chayenzo fic

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