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canyonmooningg · 1 year

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our song

pairing: ex boyfriend! harry x y/n

summary: harry approaches you at your senior prom

word count: 3k

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You watched from your seat at one of the many tables that lined the dance floor as a multitude of couples danced to the loud music blaring from the speakers. Your senior prom was in full swing, and while everyone was laughing and having a great night, you were sitting away from the crowd, zoning in and out of consciousness as your gaze landed on your ex boyfriend, dancing with his date for the night.

“Are you cold?”

The voice of your current boyfriend, Marcus, brought you back to reality. He had his coat outstretched to you, awaiting your reply.

“Huh? Oh, no I’m okay Marcus, but thank you. I would love a drink though”

“Sure thing, I’ll be right back!”

Poor thing, you thought. Marcus was a sweetheart, more so now that he was even willing to accompany you to your prom, despite being a few years older than you and well into college. You started dating him fairly soon after you and Harry broke up four months ago, and has been a great boyfriend in every way–the only problem was, he wasn’t Harry.

You and Harry had only been together for six months, but you tortured each other ever since. Heated glances from across the classroom, being put in the same groups for presentations, ending up at the same parties–no matter how much you wanted to keep your distance from him, he was always there. You were head over heels in love with him, and was devastated when he broke up with you, claiming he wanted to “focus on school” or his job or whatever excuse he gave. Still to this day you never knew why he ended it, but it broke your heart. Since then it seemed that your feelings for him never stopped, despite him dating girl after girl in the months since and you meeting Marcus. Marcus was a needed distraction from Harry-–the only problem was, he wasn’t distracting enough.

Your eyes found Harry and his new girl, Sarah, swaying to one of the slower songs the DJ played occasionally throughout the night. From the corner of your eye you could see Marcus coming back with two drinks in hand, one for him and one for you. Just as Marcus got to your table, Harry’s eyes met yours in an intense stare. As much as you wanted to look away, his eyes were almost daring you to stay on his. His eyes scanned your frame as he pulled Sarah even closer to him, her back facing you as they slowly swayed to the music. It was clear they were having a conversation, because you could see him smile at something she said, but his eyes never left yours. You felt a chill go down your spine at the feeling of being watched so intently and you shifted slightly in your seat, unsure of what to do. Fortunately, Marcus made the decision for you, as you were the first to break the stare when you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

“Here’s that drink, did you want to dance at all tonight?”

You felt bad for him, as you had been sitting most of the night. Dances weren’t really your style. Your feet would always hurt, and there were always so many people on the dance floor that your claustrophobia would inevitably kick in. You only went to dances to socialize with your friends, but tonight your friends were out on the dance floor with their dates, likely capitalizing on their last prom before they graduate. Your eyes flitted to where Harry was but he was walking off the dance floor and making his way to the DJ, probably to request some song Sarah wanted to hear.

“Sure, let’s go.” You took a final swig of your drink before leaving the table and making your way to the dance floor.

Finding a space between the other couples, you and Marcus began to sway with the music, his hands on your hips and yours around his neck. Yet again, as if he was haunting you, Harry and Sarah were right behind Marcus, and your eyes found his green ones once more. It almost seemed like he was angry with you with how intense his eyes seemed, but when his eyes moved down to your chest you realized it was not anger but longing. Suddenly the room felt very hot as you tried valiantly to listen to whatever Marcus was saying to you, something about his friend from work maybe? You had stopped listening long ago. You looked down to take in Harry’s black suit, with the buttons of his white collared shirt underneath slightly undone to reveal his staple gold cross necklace. You were just beginning to make out the twin swallow tattoos on his chest—the same ones you went with him to get immediately after he turned 18—when a new song started that had you frozen in place.

It was your song. The song he played for you every time he took you home from school. The song he played during your car makeout sessions. The song he played when you failed your math test and cried in his arms. It was the very same song playing in the background when he told you he loved you for the first time.

You felt incredibly overwhelmed now, and as your mind was racing with the bittersweet memories this song brought back to you, you noticed Harry leave a very confused Sarah and make his way over to where you and Marcus were. It was almost as if Harry forgot about Marcus’s existence completely when he approached you and lightly grabbed your arm and without saying a word, pulled you from Marcus, and pulled you tightly into his arms. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was a wonder you were still able to stand up.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as his arms held your hips impossibly close to his own. His eyes seemed to bore into your soul, and as the song carried on, his eyes flicked down to your lips. He seemed to get closer and closer and before your brain could catch up to what was happening in the moment, his lips ghosted over yours. You could barely breathe, and before he could finally press his lips to yours, you pulled back and came to your senses.

“What are you doing, Harry?” you asked breathlessly. You hated how easily flustered he made you, and how quick you were to abandon Marcus just because Harry wanted you.

“I’m dancing,” you heard him say with amusement. He leaned impossibly close to your ear and whispered, “This is our song, remember?”

His voice sent chills down your body and for a second you couldn’t form a single thought. The sheer proximity of his body to yours had you struggling to think clearly. Suddenly, you remembered earlier in the night when Harry had gone up to the DJ. You put the pieces together, and suddenly realized:

“It was you, wasn’t it? You requested our song” you said in an accusing whisper.

“Ah, so you do remember!” he replied tauntingly. “You’ve had my attention all night, I had to do something to get you in my arms.”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. Clearly he doesn’t want me if he was the one who broke up with me in the first place, you thought to yourself, getting more confused as you continue to sway with him.

“Harry, you were the one who broke up with me!” Has he lost his mind? You thought to yourself.

“Yeah”, he started, “But it doesn’t change the fact I still want you.”

By now, his face was so close to your own that you could feel his warm breath on your face, and the tips of your noses were so close that any movement forward and they would touch. He continued:

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I thought I could get over you, but I can’t, and believe me, I’ve tried.” He paused for a moment, searching your eyes for you to understand what he was trying to say. When it was clear to him that you still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you, he began again:

“Nobody can ever measure up to who you were to me, and” he looked at you earnestly as he tried to find the right words to say. “And, I was a fool for trying.”

Your head was spinning with his sudden confession. What is he saying? You thought to yourself. Is he saying he’s sorry? Is he saying he still loves me and wants to be with me again? Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, and that this is too little too late. But the other part of you–the part of you who has never stopped loving him despite the fact he broke your heart–is begging you to cave and take him back.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the feeling of Harry’s hand lifting up your chin to meet his eyes. He looks nervous, more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks at you, waiting for you to say anything in response to what he said. You manage to stumble out something while trying to calm your butterflies at the feeling of Harry touching your face.

“Harry, I–” you start, forgetting what you were going to say the minute you began. You try again. “I–”

“Y/N do you still love me?” Harry interrupted.

You couldn’t believe what he just asked you. Why was he doing this here? Right now? In front of everybody? Including our dates?! What is he thinking??

“Because I still love you, Y/N. Never stopped,” he rushed out anxiously. “I was afraid before, and thought maybe I was just obsessed with you and that it was a phase I would grow out of, and that it was better for both of us if I ended things before you got hurt, but–”

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“‘Before you got hurt’?” you threw his own words back at him. “Harry, I was devastated! You hurt me more than you could ever imagine! I loved you and you just left me.” You saw that Harry looked surprised by your sudden venom, evidently not expecting you to react this way, but you could see the sadness in his eyes that told you that he knew you were right.

“Of course I still love you, I never stopped loving you,” you continued, reaching your hand from around his neck into his hair, playing absentmindedly with one of his brown curls. “But if you were able to hurt me while you still loved me, how will I know you won’t do it again?” You say, softer this time.

Before Harry could respond, your song ended and the DJ came on the mic to announce that the next song would be the slow dance song. You immediately recognized the beginning sounds of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” and as Elvis crooned out the lyrics to what had to be your favorite song of all time, Harry brought his hand from your waist to the side of your face, cupping your cheek.

“I’m sorry for the hurt I caused you,” he started, looking intently into your eyes. “I guess I just want you to know how much I love you, and how every time I hear our song, or see a couple walking down the street, or even when I lay in bed every night, I–” he faltered. “I always think about you. I miss you so much, Y/N, and I guess…” he said, with his eyes beginning to tear up a bit. “I guess I just wanted you to know that.”

“Why now?” you ask. “Why are you only doing this now, when we’ve been broken up for months, and when I’m with somebody else and happy with them?”

“But are you?” he questioned.

“Am I what?” you reply, confused at what he could be playing at now.

“Are you happy? With him” he turned his head slightly to glance behind him to where Marcus now sat with Sarah, both visibly upset and annoyed at their night ending this way.

Am I happy with Marcus? You thought to yourself. He’s incredibly sweet, and kind, and while your feelings for him weren’t the same as they were for Harry, Marcus was stable and made you feel secure.

Your lack of response encouraged Harry to press on:

“Does he make you happy like I made you happy? Do you feel with him what you felt with me? Does he—” he swallowed and looked down to your lips for a split second before returning to look into your eyes with a desperate look. “Does he kiss you like I kissed you?”

Your eyes widen in shock and before you can respond, he cups your face in both of his hands and pleads, “Y/N please, just—” You notice that his eyes are glossier now than before. Is he starting to cry? You briefly think to yourself before he continues his thought, stumbling through his words. “Just, just love me please. I’m lost without you, and seeing you with him I– I just couldn’t watch anymore. I’m sorry for being an idiot. I h-hope you can trust me again and trust me when I say I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

By now his curls had fallen slightly in front of his face and a tear was threatening to run down his cheek. Seeing him this upset and feelings laid bare for you was overwhelming. It made the part of you that was still hurt after Harry broke up with you feel vindicated that he was crawling back to you in this way, but there is this small voice in your head that is getting louder and louder with each of Harry’s assurances of his love that was telling you that this just isn’t right.

“Harry, are you only doing this because you are jealous of Marcus? Because if this is just because you feel possessive of me then I don’t think—”

“I promise you, it’s not that” he interrupted. “Well, it’s not only because of that I guess” he chuckled to himself nervously. “I guess I just realized that if I spend every waking minute of my life only thinking of you then it means I’m ruined for anyone else, and you are the only one I’ll ever love.”

His confession had your heart fluttering and had you at a loss of words. Everything in you wanted to be back with him, but you couldn’t help but feel insecure that he’d change his mind in a few months and break your heart again.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind later” you whisper, cautious of how true his intentions were.

“I won’t, please…” his face inching closer to yours, now overwhelmingly close to your face.

For a moment, you almost close the gap and finally kiss him. After all, this is what you have wanted, right? You’ve been looking longingly at him ever since he broke up with you, have been jealous of all the girls he’d kiss in the parking lot after school, and haven’t given 100% in your relationship with Marcus simply because you were still hung up on this love you had with Harry that you saw as being perfect. So why were you feeling so uneasy?

You glance behind Harry’s shoulder, and see Marcus sitting down at your table with his head in his hands. In an instant, your heart broke. Marcus seemed so hurt at the prospect of you going to someone else, and it dawned on you that Harry actively tried to hurt you by flaunting all those different girls in front of you these past 6 months. Anytime you were anywhere near him, he made sure to put his arm over whatever girl he was with at the time and look at you intentionally, almost trying to provoke you or make you feel bad about yourself. Marcus would never do that. Everything he did was to help you and to make you feel like you were worthy of love.

Before Harry could lean forward any closer, you immediately pull back, and get your hands away from his neck. His eyes widened in surprise, almost as if he didn’t expect you to stand up for yourself.

“Y/N…” he tried.

“No, Harry” you interrupt him, full of clarity. “I’m not falling for this. If you wanted me, if you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have left me and you certainly wouldn’t have rubbed it in my face with every new girl you would wave in front of me. Goodbye, Harry.”

You left a confused and desperate Harry on the dance floor, and you could hear him call your name in a last ditch effort to convince you to come back to him.

You make your way to Marcus, still sitting at your table, and grab his arm gently. You softly say in his ear, “I have to get out of here, let’s go.” He looked up at you, with slightly teary eyes, in confusion.

“I thought you were going off with him,” he replied solemnly and glanced over to Harry, who was now off the dance floor and in a heated argument with Sarah.

“No, he and I are done,” you assured him. “He won’t ever get between us again, Marcus, and I’m sorry for letting it go so far.”

Marcus seemed to understand, and replied, “Let’s get out of here, and we can talk about it when we aren’t around so many people, okay?”

You remembered just how introverted Marcus was, and how he was probably stressed out the whole night just because of how many people were around. It dawned on you how much he had to step out of his comfort zone just to come with you tonight. Yet another reason why you made the right choice.

“Okay” you replied, latching onto his arm and glancing one last time at Harry, who was already staring at you with a defeated look in his eyes. You look back to Marcus and smile, and tell him:

“Lead the way.”

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Thank you for reading, please like, reblog, and comment if you liked it :)

-K

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #ex boyfriend! harry #high school harry #prom au #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #high school!au #jealousy #angst

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dogdayisgoodboy101 · 13 days

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prom au created!

@ask-prom-au-blog

I'll make one that has the canon critters soon!

#Prom au #prom au by me #smiling critters #smiling critters oc

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supernovajazzy-art · 1 year

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I re-created/re-drew one of Barbie's 1988 Valentines Days cards, but with my oc Olivia and Michael ❤️

#valentine #valentine's day #happy valentine's day #Michael Myers #halloween 1978 #oc: Olivia #oc x canon #canon x oc #prom au #slasher #slashers #digital art #Illustration #artists on tumblr #my art #supernovajazzy-art #teehee <3

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aelloposchrysopterus · 11 months

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Ballroom Dancing and Other Monsters

Bang hates fancy parties. She hates formal etiquette. She really hates anything where she can’t solve her problems with knives, ideally in someone else’s body. But she was going to suffer through — the horrors — prom because Violetta and Zeetha wanted to go, and she wasn’t going to be a lousy friend. (She also didn’t want Gil to go alone, which would have happened, since Agatha refused to go, Tarvek was going with Violetta, Xerxesphina was Colette’s date, and Zeetha had her mysterious boyfriend, and Klaus had told his son that he was going, whether he wanted to or not.)

Bang, above all, hates formal dresses. She’d called Tarvek to find an outfit for her. He’d thought she was going to try to kill him, but when it became clear that she’d kill him if he didn’t get her a dress, he made sure to find a very pretty one for her. It was a lovely cream with crimson beadwork on the bodice, spaghetti straps, an A-line full skirt, and a deep V-neck. She did have to admit that she felt pretty in it, even if it did make her vulnerable.

“Eep,” she yelped as Zeetha zipped it up.

“Thought you were invulnerable to pain,” Zeetha remarked.

“I’m not invulnerable to having all the air squeezed out of my chest!” Bang almost reached for a knife but stopped herself. Zeetha is a friend. She means well.

“Okay, Zeetha, try to murder me now,” Violetta laughed. She was in a deep purple off-the-shoulder dress with a tiered tulle skirt. Another Tarvek selection.

Zeetha obliged, yanking Violetta’s zipper up. She was wearing a golden mermaid dress that glistened in the light, with heels and bracelets the same hue of green as her hair. Tarvek hadn’t had any hand in her outfit; she’d picked it out herself. (He had almost been insulted that she hadn’t consulted him.)

“Are we ready to party?” Zeetha asked, rolling the r in a flamboyant manner. “Come on, the limo’s waiting outside!”

“The… limo?” Was not expecting this. Bang awkwardly laughed.

Zeetha rolled her eyes. “We’re picking up the boys in style, gals!” She grabbed Bang and Zeetha by the arms and yanked them outside, plopping them in the limo. “First stop, Tarvek!”

Tarvek was waiting for them when they got to his house. He hurriedly jumped into the limo — Bang could tell that he was worried about his father and his sister trying to stop him. His father was controlling to an extreme and his sister was… ill. She knew his home life wasn’t great, which was why she felt a twinge of guilt each time she stabbed him.

“Hey, Tarvek, if you need somewhere to stay tonight, my place is yours,” she said.

He jumped up in his seat. “Thanks! I don’t think I’ll need it, but thanks anyhow!” He was wearing a purple suit that matched Violetta’s dress exactly, with a purple and blue tie and a blue pocket square. The blue was Wulfenbach blue. Don’t say a thing. Let him pine on his own. He idly adjusted his cufflinks.

“So, Zeetha, who’s getting picked up next?” Violetta asked, fiddling with her amethyst necklace.

Zeetha smiled. “Gil, of course.”

“If he’s in anything other than green, blue, and purple, it’ll be a miracle,” Tarvek muttered.

“Oh, Tarvek!” Zeetha giggled. “Don’t worry. I made sure he got a suit. It’s black, with a cream shirt and a red tie and pocket square. It matches Bang perfectly!”

Tarvek breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Zeetha. A weight has truly been lifted off my shoulder.”

Bang suddenly realized that the beads on her dress were the same shade of red as Tarvek’s hair.

At Wulfenbach’s, Gil leapt out of the house in the suit Zeetha had bought for him, bounding into the car like an excitable puppy. He flopped down next to Bang, who noted that his new shoes were scuffed up already. Tarvek saw the exact same thing and tossed some black shoe polish towards Gil.

“You’ll need to open the window while applying that,” Tarvek said.

“You had this on you?” Gil asked, incredulous.

Tarvek shrugged. “A well groomed man is always prepared… your cuffs are sewn together, aren’t they?”

“It’s better that than Gil losing a cufflink again!” Zeetha retorted. “Remember when he did that in front of Queen Albia? The Baron was embarrassed for years.”

“Hey,” Gil rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who showed up in traditional Skifandrian attire to the wedding of one of Albia’s daughters and nearly gave her a heart attack.”

The siblings looked like they were about to punch each other for a second, but the situation defused itself. Good, that’s one more time I won’t have to patch up Gil’s outfit tonight. Zeetha slouched back in her seat as Gil rested his right leg on his left.

“Who’s next?” Violetta eagerly asked.

Zeetha tensed. “I hate to do this,” she said, “but please keep this under wraps. He’s a Jager.”

“What?” Gil turned to his sister. “Dad’s going to kill you! And how did you let the prom committee to give a guest pass to a Jager?”

She twiddled her thumbs. “I pulled some strings, and Dad doesn’t need to know about it. For what it’s worth, Mom approved. He’s a nice guy, not any fangier than I am, just, y’know, immortal. I met him at the MMA gym.” She sighed. “His name’s Axel Higgs.”

The car was silent.

“Zeetha has a boyfriend! Good job, girl!” Violetta yelled.

The mysterious Axel Higgs was picked up outside a defense contractor’s office headquarters. His suit was a distinguished ecru, with a pale golden shirt and a green tie and pocket square. He carried himself with an air of dignity and refinement. A man of many hats.

Nobody said anything when he entered the limo. He smiled at them. No fangs. He sat next to Zeetha, who silently wrapped an arm around him.

“Should we, uh, do introductions?” Bang asked.

Zeetha grinned a fangy smile. “Yeah, sure! Do you want to start?”

“Okay,” Bang said. “I’m Bang Dupree. It’s short for Bangladesh. I met Zeetha last year, I think, at a karate tournament. Our match was a draw because the refs stopped us before one of us killed the other.”

“Gil Wulfenbach, short for Gilgamesh. I’m Zeetha’s long-lost twin brother. Our parents are divorced, so I’m stuck living with our dad, who’s some high-up in the defense industry.”

“Violetta Mondarev. I met Zeetha in our film class. We were watching The Princess Bride and we bonded over the inaccuracies in the fight scenes and the poisoning scene.”

“Tarvek Sturmvoraus, Violetta’s cousin. I’m not really all that close with Zeetha — I’m a friend of Gil’s and I’m close with my cousin, so I run into her a lot, but we’ve never really hung out.” Gil blushed at “friend”.

“Axel Higgs, Zeetha’s boyfriend and Jager. I wish I could tell you more about me, but that’s unfortunately classified information.”

Violetta and Tarvek were waltzing respectably well. He’s an excellent dancer — of course he is — and she’d learned from him. She was holding her skirt up just right, and when she twirled, it was glorious. Tarvek’s pince-nez gave them the general impression of being a relic from the Victorian era.

Colette and Xerxesphina were dancing quite well, too. They were enjoying the quick tempo of the Viennese waltz, taking advantage of it to twirl about the dance floor in a modified grapevine step. This was neatly avoiding the question of who was really in the lead.

Zeetha and Higgs were in such a close embrace that it was a surprise they were able to move at all, but moving they were. Their technique was subpar, particularly when compared to Tarvek’s meticulous footwork, but they were in tune with each other in a way that almost no other couple was.

Gil and Bang, on the other hand, were miserably failing at dancing. It wasn’t just the waltz. The saraband had been such a disaster that Tarvek had broken etiquette to whisk Bang off to dance with her while Violetta attempted to instill the basics in Gil. It didn’t help matters that Gil seemed to have two left feet.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“I know,” he hissed back. “Could you at least try a bit harder?”

“Why should I keep trying when you’re the one who’s blundering the moves?”

Gil looked like he was ten seconds away from being arrested for attempted murder. “How about you think of this as a monster you want to kill?”

“Already trying,” she said. And it’s not working.

Later, they were all taking a break from dancing. Colette and Xerxesphina had gone off to “brush up their makeup”. More like “brush up on making out”. Tarvek was fixing his tie knot — his Eldredge had become asymmetrical, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Gil and Higgs were enjoying discussing Jager history.

This meant that Bang, Violetta, and Zeetha were sitting at a table, drinking Arnold Palmers and munching on cake, chatting a little bit as they pleased to. Zeetha was a bit pissed that her brother was monopolizing her boyfriend (“especially since he’s got his own boyfriend here, too”), while Violetta was complaining about how sore her feet were (“with him, it’s always aesthetic over function, and it’s not like he’s ever tried dancing in these shoes”). Bang was just fiddling with her straw, listening to her friends.

She was also the first one to notice the monster when it came crashing through the ceiling.

“Guys. Look.” She gently shoved Violetta and Zeetha. “Is that just me, or is that something we can fight?”

“Oh yeah,” Zeetha’s eyes glazed over as their classmates began screaming. “Let’s go fight this thing.” She snatched one of Violetta’s shoes and snapped the heel off. “It’s improvised weapons time!”

Violetta took her other shoe and snapped its heel off, while Bang took an entire table leg. Zeetha passed the other heel to Violetta to grab an entire chair. Violetta complemented her heels by taking a hair pin out of a nearby dancer’s coiffure.

The Fighting Girls Tea and Cake Society started running after the monster, ready to take it down.

Maybe formal dances aren’t all so bad.

Read on AO3.

#girl genius #my fanfic #girl genius event week #may 24 prompt #bang dupree #zeetha #violetta mondarev #gil wulfenbach #tarvek sturmvoraus #axel higgs #fighting girls tea and cake society #prom au

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magurosnacks · 1 year

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sketchbook dump

#magurkgk #prsk fa #mizuena #mzen #prom au #akiyama mizuki #mizuki akiyama #shinonome ena #ena shinonome #original character #oc art #sketchbook #traditional sketch

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hellcheerficdatabase · 7 months

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watch how you play

Author: OutlandishWhalesharks

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description:

Eddie stumbles into a crying prom queen luckily she has an idea of how to make the night better.

Hellcheer Anniversary Week Day one: Prom

Tags: alternate universe- no vecna, prom au, ish, Eddie has been crushing for a long time, Eddie is a sweetie, fluff, formal request to pop a cherry, Chrissy has been crushing for a while, mutual pining, their internal monologues are everything to me, smut, getting together, alternating POV, one-shot, status: completed

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frankenfaandom · 2 years

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I WANNA REQUEST MORE IF UR WILLING! Could you do like, prom Mary Goore x gender neutral reader?

Prom Mary Goore? Fuck yes.

Mary Goore x gn!reader

Sorry this took so long, I wrote most of it during the hurricane and then forgot to finish it until this morning. Also, as most of my mary fics go, yall aren't exactly together-together? More of implied and not confirmed. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Desc: mary/reader are seniors in HS, both 18/19.

You and Mary were total opposites. You showed up to class, did the minimum work to get an alright grade--you liked school dances, as stupid as it was.

But Mary? No, Mary was at school perhaps once a week if he could get away with it. Eventually, he couldn't get away, and he got expelled. So, there goes your lunch buddy. Hello, bathroom sandwich.

You hadn't exactly been dating at the time. But April came around, and it was prom season. It was all over Instagram, prom-posals and dress shopping on stories. Adds popped up relentlessly on David's Bridal and Windsor. It was a brutal season for you cause, A) you had no one to go with, and B) the only one you wanted to go with had zero interest in school dances. Mary Goore.

One day he'd picked you up after school and you did homework at his house, every two minutes you'd sigh dramatically and wait for him to ask "shut the fuck up or tell me what's wrong."

And that he did!

"Dude, if you don't-"

"I'm sad!" He scans your face for sarcasm, but none is found, just pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

"...Should I even ask why?" He retorts, slouching back in his recliner. The thing was old, and there were too many springs and things popping out of it. It wasnt a suprise when you found out he'd stolen it from the side of the road in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Yes. You should. And then you can help me on not being sad." You say matter-of-factly, biting the clicker on your pen. You eye him, waiting.

"Okay. Fine. Why are you sad?" You pounce quickly, forgetting your homework as you sit down on the armrest of his seat.

"Have you ever heard of this little thing.. it's very lowkey, kind of underground..."

"I am not going to a school dance with you." He glares up at you, but your pouty face makes his expression soften.

"Pleaaasseeeeeeee..." You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him into your chest. "I want to experience it. I only get one prom, and everyone says it's awesome--so, obviously it's gonna be a shit show." Mary grimaces at your words. "And you know how much I love to invite you to shit shows." You grin.

"Oh yeah, like your AP art show--OW-" He winces as you slap his arm, hard.

"Fuck off with that. This is all I ask. I'll never ask for anything ever again. Ever!"

"Doll, we both know that's a big fat fuckin lie." He rolls his eyes, but brings his arms up to half-ass hug you. "But fine. You owe me... like, wear something skimpy underneath."

"Dirty dirty, Mary Goore." You giggle, kissing the top of his head messily. "Thankyou thank you thank you!" You know he's joking about the skimpybunderwear, but you're already mentally going through which panties to wear. Will you even wear a bra? Probably unnecessary-

Mary brings you out of your excited thoughts with a pinch to your thigh. "You're thinking too hard. You'll get wrinkles." He rubs the crinkle between your eyebrows, stifling a laugh.

"Hey, don't make fun of me. Those are hereditary." You grin.

A couple weeks pass, and, yeah. Yeah, prom's tonight.

"I feel fucking stupid." And he looks fucking stupid with that sexy devil's lock and the suit you'd picked out. You try not to laugh, giving him what you think to be a reassuing smile.

"You look fine. Weird, cause, duh. But I think you look handsome as fuck." You walk closer, fixing his.. absolutely terribly knotted tie. You'd be surprised at how many knots he tied before realizing it was all wrong. Like, 5 too many.

"You're talking out of your ass." He snorts, scowling toward the mirror. "Seriously though, this feels ridiculous. Feels like I'm trying to be someone I'm not, you know? I thought we were done with that." He gets serious for a moment, and you frown.

"...Then let's fuck it up." It was a cheap suit from some Catholic thrift shop down the street named "Holy Trinity" or something, so, Mary was more than pleased to tear the thing up. You can see it in his eyes.

"You mean it?" He grins, almost like a kid who was promised another bowl of icecream. You nod, of course you mean it.

"Fuck it up, Mare. Here, let me help you." You grab the sleeve, ripping it clean off. A gasp leaves your mouth, accompanied by a wide smile. Damn, didn't expect that to work so well.

Mary grins, making a little excited sound before grabbing the other sleeve and attempting to take it clean off like you did--failing miserably. He doesn't let it defeat him though, and he tries a second time, succeeding.

"I got an idea." You run to his room. You basically live at his house, so you know every nook and cranny in his closet. Finding what you wanted, you bring it back out to him excitedly.

"We can mix and match. Put those sexy skinny Jean's back on and I think we can make this work." Another hour of getting dressed, and you're both wearing completely different outfits.

Mary walked out of the house with a deep red button up, a black tie with Jason's mask on it, those sexy skinny jeans and some nice loafers. On top, he added his special sleeveless jacket. Yeah, that didn't add to it much, but he insisted, and he was hot regardless of being fashionable or not.

Soon you arrived, parked, and walked inside... a little late, but no matter. It was.. fucking lame, that's what it was. There were friend groups dancing together, girls grinding on guys and vice versa. It felt like middle school all over again, you grimaced ten minutes in when the two of you sat at a table stuffing your faces.

"The food isn't even that good." You whisper yell over the terrible taste in music. The DJ will play justin bieber every once in a while, like, 2012 JB which is acceptable. But by the time he plays Havana thrice? You're pulling Mary out the back door to the karaoke room.

Some girl is singing her heart out on stage while her friends are basically whispering into the microphones, but blonde chick in the middle's having the time of her life. You wait, watch until it's too cringy to bare, and then Mary pulls you back inside.

You feel terrible for dragging Mary with you... and spending like 50 bucks on his ticket. He looks almost miserable, awkwardly standing around because he absolutely doesnt belong. But neither do you, so, you tug at your sleeves before going up to apologize.

But Mary stops you, grabbing your hands. "Hey, the music's lame, the food's kinda shit. But let's dance. You're only 18 and a senior once. You said it yourself," He's shouting over the music, grinning ear to ear. "let's just say fuck it and fuck it!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself. "Fuck it!" You race him to the dance floor, grabbing him and flinging each other around. You hit quite a few fellow dancers as you jam, but nothing quite matters like Mary's smile. He's enjoying himself at a place he swore he'd never be, surrounded by people and teachers he swore he'd never see again.

The hours flew by faster than you thought, and soon you were among the last crowd of Prom-goers. The DJ relays a message on the intercom, letting everyone know that the last dance will start shortly and then everyone needs to go home. Happily, Mary takes your hand as half the people leave the dance floor to go find their respective dance partners.

He bows as the music stops momentarily. "Will you do me the honor and have this dance with me, doll?"

"Oh, but of course." You do a little curtsey before he kisses the back of your hand. "You flatter me, Mr. Goore.."

He drags you closer, wrapping his arms around your torso. "You look wonderful tonight. Like everynight." He compliments into your ear as you wrap your arms around his neck. You could feel your face turn a million shades of red.

"So do you, Mare. Silly, but quite adorable." You say, quietly as the music. Was this happening? Slow dancing with Mary at prom, this was real? It feels like a dream you'd wake up from in the morning and immediately laugh at how absurd it was.

But it isn't a dream.

"Thanks for forcing me out." He says after a long moment of swaying, heartbeat impossibly fast. "This place is lame, but you made it so much better." Your cheeks flush again at how close he is to your face, his lips in your ear and his cheek pressed to yours softly.

You pull away, heart beating. Mary looks down at you curiously, wondering what you're doing--and that's when you kiss him.

He kind of stiffens, before his arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you closer. It's a soft kiss, softer for one Mary Goore. He pulls away shortly, opening his eyes again.

"Did you-?"

"I did-"

"Well-" You both say in unison, before you both burst out in a fit of giggles and laughter.

"I.. meant it." You say quickly, hoping to get the first word in. "I like you. I like your lips, your smile. Your eyes. I like your "fuck it" attitude. Your voice, oh my~" You dramatically swoon in his arms.

Mary pinches your back, stopping you with a flustered grin. "Okay, okay, I get it, I get it."

"I like you, Mary Goore. Can I kiss you again?" Mary unmistakably turns pink again, pupils visibly widened.

"I would like that." He nods, but he's the one connecting your lips again. The kiss is sweet, longer than the last, but still somehow... chaste and gentle.

"I like your lips, too." Mary starts, bringing a hand to your cheek. "I like your smile. I like the way you laugh at the stupid things I say. I love that you brought me here--" He caresses your cheek. "--I love... everything about you. Now, can we get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

#mary goore x reader #beloved mary #mary goore/reader #mary goore #mary goore headcanons #prom fic #prom au #frankenfaandom fic #ask #frankenfaandom asks #goore is still a delinquent #i ended up writing smut for this but decided to scrap it bc it sucked #regardless #i like how THIS turned out :)#mary goore being himself #soft mary for the soul #soft mary goore #hes in love your honor

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