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cher-rei · 3 months

Text

afterglow- pt.7 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter is privileged with working alongside the liverpool fc marketing and public relations team, while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, workplace romance, fluff

[wc: 4.6k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 8]

notes: it's the way that I've hinted at another fic in this chapter and then another one in chapter 8... I love interconnecting my series' ughhh

spamjam._. added to their story!

"here's one for you," jude spoke from his position on the hotel suite couch to gain your attention as you unpacked your things. "bro went from liking her posts to flying her over just for some moral support."

you rolled your eyes as he read out the tweets which he had been enjoying for the past ten minutes now. the way that twitter was rioting over the situation was utterly amusing— from your post on Instagram to jude stating that you were sharing a hotel room. they were having a blast by coming up with theories as to how this even came about.

yes, jude only happened to follow you on instragram at the beginning of the year but that was not the reason you knew each other at all. if it were then this situation would be very awkward. as he would say, "luckily for you, you had the privilege of knowing me before I became the equivalent to ryan gosling."

you wouldn't exactly call it a privilege but whatever made him sleep at night. funny enough, you two met at a football match when you were still in high school. it was strange to see a 17-year-old actively engage in conversation with some random 14-year-old just because he said she was screaming too much.

that wasn't the last of your accidental meetings, however, the next was a few weeks later when your parents invited some friends over from birmingham— and lo and behold who just happened to be the son of those friends.

so here you were at 20 and 23, closer than ever but keeping it as low-key as possible.

you proceeded to listen to jude comment on each tweet, each one funnier than the last. "I swear some of these people have got to be fbi trained." he shook his head and you hummed in response, nearly jumping up when jude yelled out in shock.

"listen to this one," he turned from his position on the couch to look at you in front of the bed. "in early 2023, jude followed jamie back on Instagram and 6 months later she got her job as liverpool's p.r manager. hours later after the announcement the entire squad followed her back, the first of them being trent. jamie and trent have been seen together a lot from then on and she's even tagged him in multiple of her Instagram stories. now what do we know about trent? he plays for england. who else plays for england? jude. where is jamie right now? in barcelona with jude."

you were left dumbfounded, jude staring at you with his eyes wide and obviously impressed. "well that's one way to connect the dots I guess." you shrugged your shoulders, "they're not wrong but they're not quite right either."

a scoff left jude's mouth and he got up from the couch to look out the ceiling-to-floor window looking out at the city. "trent's not the middleman here though. like dude you and I aren't dating so there's no need."

he was right, there was no need for a middleman. it was just pure coincidence but obviously people wouldn't think of it like that. "and I thank the lord for that every single day."

he pulled a face, "stop being dramatic. I'm not that bad and you know it."

you hummed out in debate, getting your things so you could go and shower. "I mean judging by your lack of female interaction--"

before you could finish a pillow was hurled straight at you causing you to yelp out, getting ready to days for the bathroom before he could throw another.

"I talk to woman!" he yelled out after you and you laughed a little louder than intended which prompted him to get another pillow.

"female reporters don't count jude!"

you slammed the bathroom door shut just as he threw the pillow again, a loud thud echoing through the room before it dropped to the floor along with jude's hands. he huffed out in frustration, complaining for a good few minutes before he came to a conclusion that made you double over in laughter.

"just for that, I'll be keeping my eye out for interns from now on! if I marry a reporter one day I'll make sure not to invite you just out spite!"

your first morning in barcelona consisted of nothing but peace. the view you woke up to was breathtaking, definitely the most beautiful sunrise you had ever seen. you took your time getting ready before breakfast and made sure to put together the best outfit you could manage seeing as it was rare that you got to wear summer attire.

jude shot you the most confused look to date when he saw your top. he hit you with the "woman stopped wearing corsets decades ago so I'm a bit confused as to why you're torturing yourself right now."

it took a bit to explain to him that you weren't suffering at all, but he still didn't understand and left it at that so the two of you could head to a restaurant for breakfast. every step you took your eye was caught by something more beautiful than the last, your heart strings tugging in the summer heat.

"I've made up my mind. I'm coming to visit you every three months."

jude didn't oppose the idea and instead encouraged it, saying that he needed a bit more company. everything was recorded, you had your phone out and your camera for double the footage, talking to the camera as you carried on with your day.

"do you really have to film everything?" jude asked from across your table at the outdoor seating area of the restaurant as you waited for your breakfast.

you made a sound at the back of your throat and continued to go through the footage you had so far. "unlike you, I have a social media presence and people enjoy the content that I put out okay?"

"uh huh." his eyes wandered over you silently until he was told to check your instagram story, and of course he reposted it being the absolutely amazing friend he was and not because he was in any way forced to do it...

spamjam._. added to their story!

"I don't think anyone understands how crazy it is to hear jude speak in spanish so casually." you turned your camera to look at jude opposite you, adorning an expression of offence.

you suppressed a smile. "this is the same boy who asked me if 'lethargic' was an actual word or if I made it up by the way."

that hit a nerve for him and he put down his fork, and pointed a finger at you while explaining the pointlessness of the word and just how stupid it was. "who uses the word lethargic jamie?" he raised his hands waiting for an answer.

your laugh could be heard behind the camera, obvious judgement in your tone as you teased him. "people who have a vocabulary level that exceeds year 6."

jude shot you an 'oh really look' clearly not buying your reasoning. "just say that you're tired," he grew a bit more defensive and you tried to speak over him but he continued on. "it's never that deep."

you laughed again, telling him that he literally just proved your point. you could feel the stares that you were getting from people passing by— just trying to enjoy their peaceful thursday morning without two idiots arguing about words.

the banter went on for a bit, the camera now set on the edge of the table so that both you and jude were in the frame, tension heightened as you debated. he shrugged his shoulders eventually, "lethargic is not that big of a word either. it's just unnecessary--"

your eyebrows raised, "--oh really?"

he nodded in confirmation, as to say that it was obvious and that he wasn't an idiot. so you did the only correct thing at the moment which brought a wave of nostalgia to wash over jude who couldn't help but laugh.

"spell lethargic then."

he hesitated for a moment, wondering if you were being serious. "go on then, prove me wrong." you urged him, and obviously, he took up the challenge because jude bellingham was not a quitter.

"L I--"

you cut him off with a proud smile, "wrong!"

"L A--"

"wrong!"

by now jude was dumbfounded, immediately reaching out for his cellphone to google the absurd word only to find out that it was spelt with an E. you hummed happily as he complained once again, saying that spelling it with an E didn't make any sense.

"jude victor william bellingham," you began with a smile and he shook his head. "one of real madrid and england's star players at the age of 20 yet he can't spell 'lethargic'."

the rest of the day played out smoothly— sightseeing, shopping till jude's entire backseat was covered in bags, a trip to the beach and using jude as your personal photographer and videographer. now that was what you called a vacation.

the last stop the two of you were going to make would be a small picnic to wrap up the evening seeing as jude would be at practice all-day tomorrow before the match later that evening. either way you wouldn't be alone because jobe would be flying down the morning, so you were more than excited to pick him up at the airport.

your picnic blanket was set down on the grass at a park, and once again the scenery had you gawking. the sunset was to die for, the atmosphere was chirpy yet peaceful and in all honesty if this was your last moment alive you wouldn't have any regrets.

you let out a content sigh, "if this is what being a wag is like then I might have to hit up victoria beckham for some pointers."

jude let out a laugh from beside you, watching silently as you pointed your vlog camera to the sky— moving it from side to side as you took in the scenery.

"I mean you have some good candidates, and you're already in the industry so it's just up to you." he nudged you on the shoulder. "make the move jamie."

a sigh escaped your lips at the fact that he was right. everything was played out in your favour and you needed to use it to your advantage. "I'll dm colwill when we get back to the hotel."

jude doubled over in laughter at your comment but you kept your attention on your camera, settling it down in front of the both of you. "he's younger than you."

you shrugged your shoulders to dismiss his note. "age is just a number or something."

that made you both smile but for two completely different reasons. jude found it funny whereas you were washed with an unfamiliar feeling, your mind flashing back to yours and trent's midnight mcdonald's run when he said the exact same thing.

that remembrance made you keep a mental note to call him later, just to see how things were holding up on that side.

the conversation picked up again when you shut off your camera. and of course, it took the emotional route at the hour of vulnerability. it hopped from family to work to comfortability in your respective situations in a matter of seconds.

it was nice for jude to have this time to talk about stuff like this, you knew he appreciated moments like this where he could express himself more freely without a language barrier or slight anxiety.

when he first left for madrid you remembered the five-hour conversation you had over the phone because he couldn't fall asleep, too unsure and unfamiliar with his surroundings to be able to settle in. with that, you made sure to check up on him daily before bed.

time zones didn't stop you and never would, especially with someone you considered family. jude and jobe were easily younger brothers to you— jude being the irritating younger brother who acted as if he were older than you and jobe being the sweet younger brother that needed constant affection.

you cared for them both dearly, making time to see each other whenever you could when you schedules were free.

"so you found the apartment?" jude asked and popped a grape into his mouth while he listened to you talk about your move out of your sister's house.

maya and noah were moving to london at the beginning of next year, which just so happened to be two months from now. which honestly was a great idea and you were super excited for them, but it was the househunting the was an issue for you because you were so picky.

you weren't too worried about the rent, the main issue was the interior so you took it upon yourself to do some drastic redecorating when you found one. and in four months it was ready, the only thing it was missing was you.

you nodded happily, "I can move in whenever I'm ready."

your answer made jude smile. be knew just how excited you were to finally move into a place of your own because all you'd been doing was saving up. "which is..."

"which is before christmas. and I have a little surprise on the way as well," you retorted in excitement but jude's thoughts immediately went to pregnancy and you could see it on his face, judging by how quickly his eyes dropped to your stomache.

the sun had fully set now, the air beginning to chill but not in a way that had you shivering, but in a way that made you feel relieved. basking in the atmosphere took your mind elsewhere, a glimmer of something in the back of your mind flashing.

your stomach dropped at the memory. one of the many that you've recently.

"we have to go to spain." the glee in your voice bounced off the walls of the bedroom, back to the bed where you and your boyfriend were lying.

he chuckled at your antics and the way that your grip tightened on his torso, his fingers lightly tracing your shoulder. "we'll go anywhere you like baby." he kissed the top of your head.

you looked up at him with doe eyes. "really?"

michael flashed an adoring smile, the same one that showed just how smitten he was for you. you felt a chill run down your spine at the touch of his fingers on your cheeks. "I'd do anything for you."

your throat stung at the memory, something that weighed so heavily on your chest. moments where you two promised to build a family together resurfaced, where you promised to always be there for each other, but this time accompanied by a bitter taste.

you'd accomplished so much these past few months and he wasn't there to witness it like he said he would. there weren't any flowers or handwritten cards with a hug that made you melt. you could still hear his voice sometimes and the way he would speak to you so gently.

at your graduation you could barely enjoy the moment because while being onstage you saw his face in the crowd, an unreadable expression and the words "I'm so proud of you, love" floating aimlessly through the air.

everything he ever said to you was now floating aimlessly through the air.

judebellingham

jobebellingham and 4 245 223 others liked this post

judebellingham had to go back to the hotel like thrice for her to get changed [tagged: spamjam._.]

see all comments below

jobebellingham please never take selfies again

→ spamjam._. agreed

→ judebellingham you're both walking to the stadium I don't care

vinijr ❤️🔥 [liked by judebellingham]

spamjam._.

liked by liverpoolfc and 2 345 234 others

spamjam._. 🌼

see all comments below

jobebellingham it's like you couldn't have waited for me before doing all this 😃

→ spamjam._. we're going to be together all week bro chill 🙄

liverpoolfc jamie come back, the kids miss you 🥲

→ spamjam._. they're lying

trentarnold66 you owe me a mcdonalds run when you get back [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. yes sir 🫡

Ibrahimakonate 🙊❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

curtisjr my gf says you're beautiful 🙄

→ spamjam._. gf?? curtis call me right now istg!!

levicolwill okay supermodel🙄❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. check your dm's

"there's my favourite boy!"

you had your arms spread for a hug as you watched jobe walk up to you with a sheepish smile. you could tell that he was a slight bit embarrassed, but gave in anyway and dropped his bags to embrace you.

he had grown a freakishly large amount since the last time you saw him— towering over you would be an understatement and it took every bit of you not to feel overwhelmed, but how could you when he was so freaken cute??

a shy chuckle came from jobe as you continued to hug him, your arms tightly wrapped around in torso. "you can carry on when we get back to the hotel, people have places to be."

that wasn't good enough of an excuse for you. "they can let me have my moment."

when you got back to the hotel, jude wasn't there as suspected but all your bags were already packed for tomorrow morning's early flight back to madrid. the rest of the day was spent just relaxing in the hotel room and catching up as usual because you didn't want to waste your energy and fall asleep half way into the first half of the match.

"I can't believe I'm about to watch barça and madrid play," jobe commented as he scrolled through his twitter feed.

you two were settled comfortably on the couch set with snacks and the t.v playing as background noise. when you didn't reply he looked up from his phone, only to see you glued to your own with a lopsided smile.

it was unlike you to ignore him, even if it were by accident so it raised some suspicion. he kicked your thigh in an attempt to gain your attention but it didn't work, your fingers typing away at the keyboard for whatever reason. he didn't want to be one of those brothers and take your phone right out of hand and see what had you so interested— that was jude's job.

so instead he resorted to kicking you over and over until you eventually got irritated and yelped out in pain. "jobe my leg," you groaned and began to rub your thigh that he'd been taking hits at.

when you looked at him again his expression had changed, his lips slightly parted in shock. you asked him what the issue was and all he could manage was a scoff of disbelief. there'd only been one other instance where he'd seen you act like this before, and he tried to forget it at most.

"who are you talking to?"

jobe wasn't one to pry and you knew that, and when he did it was out of genuine concern. you cleared your throat awkwardly. "just a friend."

his eyes narrowed at your answer, knowing he caught you. "you don't have friends." in no way did he mean to offend you by saying that, because it was true and as clear as day. he knew you too well, maybe you could hide things from jude for a bit but with jobe it was different because everything came out unintentionally.

a sigh of defeat escaped your mouth and you set your phone down on your lap. "this is a situation my friend is in right now. you're not going to ask any questions okay?"

jobe nodded his head eagerly and sat upright so he could pay more attention. and just like that, you found yourself lost in the explanation and you were sure you nearly namedropped at least thrice but jobe remained attentive and gave his word when needed.

"I mean if they aren't dating then there should be nothing wrong with you--"

you gave jobe a look and he immediately retracted his last word.

"your friend. your friend, not you," he corrected sheepishly and you nodded.

he thought the idea was dumb. you could've just said that you were talking about yourself and he wouldn't have bugged you... that much. "your friend isn't overstepping any boundaries by the sound of it. so she should just go with the flow--"

you couldn't believe that you were taking relationship advice from an 18-year-old right now. this was your lowest. "--whatever happens, happens."

whatever happens, happens.

his advice genuinely seemed to shift some gears in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a bear hug. so that's exactly what you did. "have I ever told you how much I love you?"

the question made him stifle a laugh, the boy tightening his grip around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. "I want to say yes but no."

you slapped his arm jokingly. "you're my favourite brother too. but don't tell jude."

"how can I not??"

#footballer imagine #fanfic #footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #footballer x you #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold x reader #football imagine #liverpool x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #afterglow trent alexander arnold #jude bellingham #jobe bellingham #cherrei rambles #cherrei writes #writers on tumblr #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold

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woodchipp · 1 month

Text

"her actions have shown [how much she cares]" not being backed up by any of her actions throughout the game aside, this summary gets even funnier if you take a closer look at what kicks off the plot of One Day Left - Sunny, Kel and Hero confronting Aubrey at her house.

I have Things to say about that scene, both in terms of how it relates to Aubrey and to the game's writing in general.

Right off the bat, the game uses a milder version of "hell" right before inexplicably making Aubrey use the word itself. Something like

AUBREY: ...! AUBREY: Wh-What are you guys doing here?! AUBREY: GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!!

would've worked just as fine, in my opinion.

This game had three editors, by the way.

When pressed, the first thing Aubrey says about the incident at the lake is a straight-up lie in an attempt to diminish the severity of her wrongdoing. No, her watery eyes aren't going to convince me she's genuinely sorry.

1) Here it is again. Instead of owning up to her behavior at the very least, she continues trying to make the incident seem less severe than it actually was.

2) You "didn't mean to" push Basil into the lake even though he was obviously standing right at the edge of the pier? And you knew he was incapable of swimming? You're a fuckwad.

Accident or no accident, he was in active danger of dying. You chose to argue with Kel on the pier since that was more of a priority to you than trying to save your close friend.

And then she tries to reduce the severity of what she did for the third time! Sure, she does seem to apologize afterwards

but then immediately falls back on deflecting blame, which makes the apology come off as insincere.

Really, I would've preferred Aubrey being upfront about being a prick. Her incessant attempts to blame everyone and everything but herself for her choices don't make her complex because the game speedruns her redemption and we don't get to see her growth, which is also why said attempts become very grating after a certain point.

Aubrey isn't the only character I take issue with here, though.

1) Hero. My dude. Your own brother accused Aubrey of nearly killing another friend of yours. Aubrey confirmed said accusation. And you still dismiss it as a harmless squabble like the ones they had in their childhood days??

Either he's also stuck in his childhood mentally or he's just - and I'm not going to mince words here - a moron.

2) I love that Hero's reaction implies he still doesn't seem to take Kel seriously. You'd think he'd try to be more mindful of his little brother following that furious outburst, but nope. He still seems to view Kel as a rash little child he has to rein in.

One could argue this is meant to show that the charscters are flawed, and in a better story, I'd actually be inclined to agree. I like the idea of Hero struggling to move on from his role as the group's "dad", and I'd have liked if the story forced him to understand he can't keep playing their dad with a situation much more complicated than a "typical Kel and Aubrey fight". Likewise, Hero's perception of Kel as an impulsive, bratty kid persisting to the present day and causing friction with Kel himself would've made for an interesting conflict.

Of course, this isn't a better story, so after Kel and Aubrey's reactions, Hero's shallow peacemaking is promptly (and conveniently) forgotten when he notices the last bunch of missing photos.

Peak writing, everyone!

This game took six years and $200,000, by the way. No, I won't stop mentioning that.

My sister in Christ you are literally wearing her fucking headband. You were also given some of her other clothes, it seems.

If Aubrey's problem was about having nothing to remember Mari by, it's null and void to me because she clearly does have more than just the photos. Not only that, but this also comes off as the game trying to use Aubrey's grief as an excuse for her treatment of Basil, which is disgusting for reasons I shouldn't need to explain.

(oh, and Sunny's just Standing There. he doesn't contribute anything to the conversation at all. he could've been removed from this scene altogether and nothing of value would be lost. the main character of all time, truly)

#omori #omori game #omori aubrey #omori kel #omori hero #omori sunny #omori basil

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transsexualunderground · 1 year

Note

SYCORAX IN: DAY OF THE DIESELS

i really want to hear about sycorax!!!

Oooh aight aight!

This one is my DOTD AU, because, as much as I like bringin' back ol' unhinged D10, this movie's got some major flaws, yet major potential, too. And look, Percy's got friends other than Thomas.

Enter Sycorax, a slightly-pretentious, dramatic, artistic, silly little Shakespeare fan of a BR Class 12 that lost their wheels in an accident and got tiny little narrow gauge Co-Co bogies slapped on 'em. They work on the UHR, which, is a whole can of worms to explain on its own.

The UHR, or the Ulfstead Heritage Railway, is an absurd little heritage railway going in and around Ulfstead, and is linked up to the Skarloey via a long, straight, boring line with one water column in the middle (until a Little Caesar's is installed, long story). Not to be confused with the Estate Railway, as this was built using Mid Sodor track, and is basically me taking that portion of rail shown in Toby's Discovery and adding to it.

(And It Was At This Point He Realized This Post Would Be Very Long, Because Now He's Recapping the WIP Because He Is Convinced He Won't Finish a Script Version After He Finishes This Outline-Thing)

Anyways. This one's about Sycorax, who I've decided has a few different levels of envy (the closest thing to engine gender envy and envy of his claw, mostly) when it comes to Diesel 10, yet, also an intrigue and a desire to meet him. With a claw like his, you could do a multitude of things Sycorax yearns to do, and most of that boils down to creative endeavors.

So, this is a tale with D10 written a bit closer to his personality in TATMR (campy ridiculousness yet being genuinely menacing), with some splashes of his DOTD tendencies in there (the scheming! the manipulativeness! I think TATMR Diesel 10 is very capable of this, but I'll tap into DOTD D10 a little more for this, too.) Also, Splatter and Dodge are 'Arry and Bert Headcanon Antics. Because once, a friend of mine came up with the HC that 'Arry and Bert are Splatter and Dodge because model reuse. (Diesel 10 gets to call them "Barry" now instead of "Splodge." Seems like they had a competence upgrade in general but they can get silly with it, too.) (While I'm at it, I gave Pinchy its semi-sentience back.)

Now onto the actual plot, it follows quite a few of the beats from DOTD except with less of the friendship envy and fire antics (at least in my planning, I need to set up how we get to the fire in the climax).

Diesel introduces Sycorax to Diesel 10 at the Dieselworks, which now have narrow gauge tracks for Plot Reasons, Sycorax finds themself in sheer admiration of Diesel 10's claw and Vibes and his appreciation for the arts (see: that sculpture Pinchy made in TATMR. I like thinking he has a comical amount of knowledge about art, specifically sculpture, and also, @sudriantraveler's "Diesel 10 is a theater nerd" concept is an absolute blast) and of course that makes them a good pawn for all this, in a slightly different flavor to Splodge Barry, because part of this is keeping Sycorax in the dark about how shitty this is gonna be.

So D10 gets Sycorax aboard, and it's time to go steal a crane from the Steamworks. Who better to get into theft, though, than She Who Pranks, aka Forsythia, Sycorax's fellow narrow gauge engine! (She's a steam engine, which, IMO, makes this even funnier.) Sycorax doesn't fancy themself a thief anyways, they think they'd suck at it. So they promise that their affiliate would be more than happy to do this. She is. But then she proceeds to ask her coach Nicolas and some trucks to give her a bump of a lifetime to send her to the Steamworks. This isn't what Sycorax planned, and they have to drag her to the Steamworks anyways. (She isn't too happy about this because she's getting separated from Nicolas for this, but she can handle it.)

Sycorax brings Kevin around, and they suggest the diesels perhaps postpone the raid of the Steamworks until nobody's going to be there, but Diesel 10 is willing to take hostages. He's already taking the building hostage, after all. Sycorax is opposed, but is coaxed into going with it. See indented excerpt.

When they return with their stolen crane companion, Sycorax explains, “Apologies that took so long, Diesel 10, but my… affiliate, she stupidly decided to get to the Steamworks via being sent there to have damage taken care of, and I was sent to bring her there. The good news is, though, that I have brought this crane. Very important. Didn’t… you say something about storming the Steamworks earlier? Can the operation even wait until she’s done?” “We’ll just have to storm the place with her in it.” “We’re going to… what, now? Truth being told, I never did ask why we’re trying to take the Steamworks… What’d they do to us?” “Have a crane,” Diesel 10 says. “Your brevity truly is the soul of wit,” Sycorax responds in a way that’s hard to read as genuine or sarcastic. “Not really. We’re using it as a bargaining chip. We give the hat guy his Steamworks and whoever's in there back, and we get our better Dieselworks.” “...hostages, Diesel 10?” “If you don’t like it, you should’ve backed out with the cranenapping!” “That was willing on all parties’ accounts, Diesel 10! We can’t just take unwilling hostages! Albeit, knowing Forsythia, she’d love to be there amidst a takeover, but what about everyone else that’s there?!” Diesel 10 is annoyed that they’re questioning him now. “We’ll deal with them later. We’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

They lead the charge, and all hell breaks loose. Sycorax sits back and watches in realization that this is... not a good thing at all. Diesel 10, instead of joining in the mess, hangs back for a bit to try and manipulate Sycorax a bit more. It doesn't really pull through, and Sycorax just says they'll... catch up with the others in a moment. Diesel 10 begrudgingly leaves them to their devices, and we get the moment that really shakes things up for Sycorax.

Sycorax does stay put for a moment, watching Diesel 10 as he goes off on his own... only to watch him start ripping things up with his claw. Sycorax realizes his claw is a claw of destruction and not creation, and after a lovely little monologue, they declare that they won't let this become a tragedy, and they go to think about how to right their wrongs.

But we get a cut to the absolute CHAOS happening down at the Steamworks. Forsythia got put into a crane and is just swinging around and spinning. This is the best hostage situation she's ever experienced. Someone explained what was going on to her and she just embraced it, as one does.

Enter Wesley, who is literally just a steam engine here to bring some stuff over really quickly. He observes the chaos, isn't sure what's going on, and needs to figure out where to put this stuff, so he manages to muster up a loud, almost commanding "HELLO THERE!"

Everyone looks at him like this:

At least, they do until Syth swings down asking what Wes is doing here, explains the situation very casually (much to Wesley's bewilderment), and assures the others that he'll comply with the hostage situation nonsense. Everyone goes back to their business, and Wesley decides if he's going to be stuck here he may as well find someone to have a good conversation with. See indented excerpt.

“Cousin Wesley! Fancy meeting you here! Have you come to join the party?” “What party?” Wesley asks. “Oh, you know, the diesel takeover of the Steamworks!” “The… the WHAT?!” “Yeah, uh, now that you’re here, you can’t really leave, but, I’m sure it’s fine, because this has been the most fun hostage situation of my life.” "You know this guy, Forsythia?" a diesel asks. "Yeah, yeah, he'll comply with staying around for a while, I'm sure. The party's back on, everyone! Wooo!" She swings off and the chaos starts again. "Well, darn. Guess it's time to try and have a good conversation with… someone who makes alright conversation." Then it cuts.

Meanwhile Sycorax is still pondering how to fix this, so far from their own railway.

...and when we cut back to the Steamworks, Wesley and Paxton are having a nice casual chat about that time Wesley ran into some geese, before it's revealed his crew went to get the Fat Controller. Aw shit. Cue the model era theme!

He puts a stop to this nonsense, explains there were already renovation plans for the Dieselworks, 'Arry and Bert make some comments about how that kinda throws things for a loop (in classic Splatter and Dodge dialogue fashion) before D10 tells them to shut up, and he explains that there's just been a misunderstanding, and then Syth busts in with a "oh, so that's why you sent Sycorax to steal who then sent me to steal?" from above, much to TFC's utter confusion.

"Shut it, you two," Diesel 10 mutters before clearing his lack of throat and focusing on TFC again. "Then, clearly, there's been some misunderstanding here, I assure you. We don't even have a working crane back at the Dieselworks, we thought action was necessary." "Oh, so that's why you sent Sycorax who then proceeded to ask me for help stealing a crane?" Forsythia says, dangling from the 'bove. "Forsythia? Whatever are you doing up there?" the Fat Controller asks. "Having a good time, Sir, but that aside, Diesel 10 said he'd keep anyone who entered here by chance or was already here hostage as a bargaining point, so the diesels ensured I was safely within this. Luckily for me, this thing is VERY fun to swing around in. I'm… not going to get into too much trouble for this, am I?" "How come we never put the other one in a crane, then?" a diesel just offhandedly asked. "You guys were way too distracted by your shenanigans. Rookie mistake," Forsythia tutted.

TFC gets everyone back on topic, saying that he needs any accurate accounts he can get out of Forsythia and Wesley, he needs Diesel 10 to go bring back Kevin, and he needs everyone else to start cleaning up this disaster. But D10 ain't fond of that.

Diesel 10 approaches the Fat Controller with his claw. Snapping and snapping and spanning at Sir Topham, but he stands his ground. Pinchy keeps snapping, closer and closer until… it draws back. "Pinchy. Pinchy, buddy, you can't be doing this now. Why are you acting like you don't wanna do this?" Pinchy makes a gesture akin to shaking one's head and cowering back. "Pinchy." Then Pinchy hits Diesel 10. "I HATE IT WHEN YOU DO THAT!" Sir Topham gets himself out of harm's way in case Diesel 10 manages to get Pinchy to listen, but it’s more “out of range” rather than “backing away,” y’know? "Diesel 10. I need you to bring back the crane,” he says. "You want your dinky little crane back? Fine. I’ll give it back." He goes outside.

Cue Diesel 10 getting even more menacing.

We cut back to Diesel 10 heading to the Dieselworks. "Pinchy, I get it. Maybe you just need to warm up a bit before getting messy. And I know just the way to prove our point." As it's starting to turn out, it was never about the Dieselworks. It was about Diesel 10 wanting to abuse his power over others. "We'll let them have their crane back alive, or in pieces. Then they'll listen."

Leave a violent diesel and a clumsy crane in a place with flammable materials, and what do you get?

A fire, of course. Never quite sorted out how exactly it happens, but it does.

Sycorax sees the fire, startled. "Rails below and sky above… that's not normal engine smoke, is it? It's a lot bigger! There's a fire!" They and their crew kick it into high gear. Their aim is to see if they can do anything about it and then get help. Sycorax sees Kevin just staring at the fire in horror and snaps him out of it with a, "Kevin, what are you doing? You need to get out of here!" "Diesel 10's trapped! He was trying to get me with his claw, but then he started a fire!" Kevin exclaims. “There’s not much we can do except call for some firefighters. Come on, Sycorax, we must hurry," their Driver says. "There’s something else we can do!” Sycorax exclaims. "Kevin, go get help! Driver, there's a fire extinguisher in the building! If it's safe to get it, we can get Diesel 10 out even quicker!” And luckily for everyone involved, they can get to it because the fire hadn't spread to the front yet. The two rush into action, putting out enough fire to get to Diesel 10. Having realized there’s two tracks here, Sycorax’s driver has gotten a cable to tie these two together for a bit so Sycorax can pull him out of there in case he can’t move himself. He could’ve probably but… proactivity. "Sycorax?! Are you stupid? There’s a FIRE. What are you doing?" "Helping you. Kevin's getting the firefighters." "And you didn't just leave me for them to save?" "Every second counts in an emergency like this, that's why it's important to get out of it as soon as possible! You're lucky I even remembered the fire extinguisher that’s inside! Now hurry!” The two get out, and the fire crew of Belle and Flynn arrive. The two stay out of the way.

And then we get the final bit from this WIP, one I'm especially fond of.

“Thanks for getting me out of there, I guess,” Diesel 10 ends up saying. How are you supposed to react to someone saving your life? Nobody does that. Especially not when you're Diesel 10. “Let this be a lesson to you, Diesel 10. Your ambition could have been your downfall. I know this fire was your doing, and, goodness, you even tried to bring harm to Kevin! ‘Tis ironic that I found myself saving you after I had renounced this entire thing and wished to make things right, but that doesn’t change the fact that my opinion of you has changed drastically." We get a shot of Diesel 10's expression. This situation is clearly some sort of uncomfortable for him. "...and I shall let this be a lesson to myself, too," Sycorax adds. "'Tis not wrong to admire another's traits, but to idolize someone else without knowing their character? That would be my true folly, had I not realized it any sooner. They say never to meet your heroes, Diesel 10. I think I know why." "You speak like you came outta the sixteenth century," Diesel 10 complains, because cracking one-liners whenever shit goes wrong is kind of his thing. Sycorax half-laughs.

There's some Sycorax dialogue here and there in this WIP I'd like to improve, because they're a wonderful character that's in constant flux between using whatever's up-to-date in terms of words and random older terminology. I could definitely see them slipping into a "tis" and "thou" sort of mood during all of this, though, makes sense when you're getting morally contemplative.

So, yeah, that's Si:DoTD.

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takeshitakyuuto · 10 months

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Trigun Book Club Update: The Inevitable

So some of you may have noticed that I haven’t posted any updates lately. That’s because I went on vacation for a few weeks and didn’t have my laptop with me (where all my Trigun volumes are stored). I was planning on reading ahead and scheduling them to post on time, but who would’ve thunk that the few days before going on vacation are spent prepping for the vacation (I’m being sarcastic, but I did bite off more than I could chew). Seeing my vacation coming closer and closer, I knew this update was coming. I wondered if it would happen before I even started and I wondered if it would happen once I finished volume one and saw what I was getting myself into. So here’s the thing: I’m dropping Trigun. This will be my last update, but I really wanted to thank you all for reading with me and truly making my time with this manga way more enjoyable than I ever would have expected.

Trigun is not a series that I ever would have picked up without outside influence. I’m very good at knowing what I’ll like, but that comes with the downside of not stepping out of my comfort zone all too often. This was very outside of my comfort zone, so once again, I thank you all for that. I’m not good with action, and even though I really did like the story and characters and all those juicy themes and motifs, I’ve been feeling lately like going through all the action and “boring” parts (I’m probably the only one who’s ever thought that) aren’t exactly worth the payoff. When I’m five volumes into a series and still wondering when it’s gonna pick up, it’s time to accept that the problem isn’t the manga; it’s me. And I would never call Trigun a bad series! I truly do think that it’s a wonderful series, it’s just time to accept that it’s not for me. I’ve completed my yuri duty. So many Trigun fans gave This Is How You Lose the Time War a shot, so I gave Trigun a shot, and I’m glad I did, even if it didn’t really work out.

This might sound counterintuitive, but another reason I’ve decided to drop Trigun is because I’m having a great reading month this July. I think I’ve read more books this month than I’ve ever read in a single month in my life. My reading spreadsheet is worn down to a nub! This is the first time in the few years that I’ve been learning Japanese that I’ve read two volumes of manga in a single day and both had time to do other things and not felt like my brain was melting at the end of the day. So anyways, I’m enjoying what I’m reading so much that I’d rather not force myself to read something that I’m dreading picking up in the first place. Plus, I’m already participating in two other book clubs this month where we’re reading series that I know and love (No. 6 by Asano Atsuko and Sasaki and Miyano by Harusono Shou for everyone at home wondering). Once again, thank you all for encouraging me to pick up something that I otherwise wouldn’t have. It’s been a blast reading with all of you.

Now that I no longer have to avoid Trigun spoilers like the plague, I’ll probably go through and see who followed me during this book club and follow some of you back. Additionally, I don’t talk much about manga on my tumblr (outside of the occasional HikaNatsu rambling), but if you’d like to keep up with what I’m reading and recommending, I have a MyAnimeList that stays pretty up to date with my manga readings, and an instagram (@ nobodysmanga) where I post things more like reviews and recommendations. And lastly, I leave you with a manga recommendation: read The Summer Hikaru Died by Mokumokuren. The first volume just got released in English earlier this summer! Actually wait, it would be funnier if I recommended a yuri manga. Read Whisper Me a Love Song by Takeshima Eku, it also just got optioned for an anime coming in January!

#trigun bookclub #take a shot every time i use a parenthetical #queueing this and hoping i forget i did so tomorrow #i really did enjoy my time here and seeing everyone's thoughts and comments im just not enjoying the books

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early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

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Meeting and Dating Blaise Zabini

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- It’s hard not to know who Blaise is, but you don’t actually meet the boy until your sixth year at Hogwarts.

- Like most girls in the school. You probably had a crush on the regal looking pureblood but you didn’t have the courage to approach him; especially not after hearing stories of him turning down other girls coldly.

- It wasn’t until a party that you’d end up crossing paths with the boy and find yourself thrust into his life.

- Okay, so maybe you’d attended said party primarily because you knew he was going to be there. So what? You didn’t expect anything out of it; though you could still dream, but surprisingly enough, something did come out of it. You met him, not saw or bumped into accidentally, no, m-e-t. Met.

- Technically, you met a few Slytherins, particularly ones in Draco’s gang, mainly because Gregory Goyle had struck up a conversation with you before his friends joined the area you were seated at.

- Throughout the night, you keep sneaking glances at the boy who seemingly couldn’t care less about your presence. It isn’t until your friend comes to retrieve you and the two of you go into the crowd to dance, that his eyes finally seem to lock on you.

- Blaise is hard to please so sparking his interest is an accomplishment in of itself. You may not think that he likes you due to his nonchalant behavior but believe me, even being allowed to be in his presence or having a few words spoken to you is big deal with Blaise.

- The start of your relationship with the boy is going to be filled with uncertainty just because of the way he is.

- One thing leads to another and the two of you wind up kissing at a party which becomes a sort of regular thing, the two of you kissing that is. And you’re dating, right? The fact of the matter is: you don’t know.

- Blaise is a confusing person. He’s stoic, he’s cold, he doesn’t really show interest in anything, and because of that, you aren’t even sure if he really likes you or if he’s just toying with you. He’s not particularly loving, he’s never asked you out on a date, so what are you?

- Parties seem to be your good luck charm because everything between the two of you seem to happen at them. So yeah, you attend another one of them with the boy, or rather, you end up sitting together at another one of them.

- Another boy comes up to you and asks if you want to dance and since you’re doing nothing besides awkwardly sitting next to the boy you were in love with, you stood up to follow him.

- Blaise; who had been watching the exchange intently, almost immediately pulled you back down and tugged your face to his, stealing your breath away in a deep kiss. And that’s where part of the confusion comes from, because it seems as though he only really wants you when someone else does ...which gives you an idea.

- You show interest in someone else. It seems so stupid, doesn’t it? It’s such a simple thing and yet, it works. You tell Pansy that you’re interested in someone and her being her, let’s it slip to the others when you’re not around. Then, you make a point of glancing over at the boy a few times, strike up a few friendly conversations, and voila.

- All of a sudden, Blaise is much more present in your life. He’s sitting closer, he’s talking to you, actually talking to you, and trying to get your attention on him rather than the boy who you were “crushing on” whenever they were nearby.

- Then it happens, you’re walking down the hall one day and the boy is on the other end of it; the boy you’ve now sort of become friends with since you’ve taken to talking to him, and Blaise, along with the others, are sitting in the courtyard which is beside and between you and the boy.

- You and the boy wave when you catch each other’s eye and you’re about to go over to talk before you’re interrupted by Blaise appearing in front of/beside you. He’s as smooth as can be as he asks if you’ll go to Hogsmeade with him and you can barely contain your giddy excitement as you agree.

- He wraps an arm around your shoulder, stealing a glance at the boy before leading you out into the courtyard to sit with him and his friends.

- The two of you have your first date at the three broomsticks which becomes the talk of the school. You do your best to ignore the eyes and the whispers, you’d prefer a little privacy but being the center of; mainly positive, gossip feels kind of exhilarating.

- And just like that, everything’s fallen into place.

- There isn’t a ton of pda in your relationship, he’s just not that kind of person. He prefers to keep his affection behind closed doors, though he does show a little subtle softness from time to time.

- Like when you sit next to him and he wordlessly flips his hand, keeping his eyes trained on whatever they had been previously and waiting for you to slip your hand in his open one.

- He lives for you kissing him on the cheek ...but he’ll never let you know that. You’ll just figure it out from the way he squeezes your hand every time you do.

- Hand kisses.

- Kisses on the corner of the mouth.

- Funnily enough, he’s more likely to make out with you or keep his hand on your thigh; nearly up your skirt, than he is to hug you in public.

- Deep, slow kisses. This boy could convince you to do anything with a single kiss. You practically get drunk off of them.

- Intimate snogging.

- He finds the height difference between you two to be quite amusing and enjoys watching you struggle to kiss him. He won’t move to help you in any way, standing completely still until you finally give up. It’s only then that he finally leans down and kisses you himself, usually cracking a smile before or after he does so.

- He likes just laying back and staring at the ceiling while you lay on his chest. He finds it soothing to hear your breathing and feel your weight on him.

- Him twirling your hair absentmindedly.

- Laying your head in his lap.

- He tends to just call you by your name; particularly when you’re in public, occasionally throwing in a y/l/n every now and again almost instinctively. But when you’re in private, he does let a few angel’s, darling’s, and princess’s slip.

- As we all know, Blaise is a fairly unbothered person. He doesn’t particularly care about anything so it’s sort of fun to watch him be so unfazed by nearly everything that happens. Other times though, to be entirely honest, it’s rather annoying.

- There’s almost always a serious look on his face which makes you being all affectionate with or teasingly babying him even funnier. God, the withering stare he can give to someone while he allows you to tease him. It’s deadly.

- Gifts. He’s a wealthy pureblood: money and gifts are their love language.

- He definitely gets you a very specific and intricate necklace, bracelet or ring that he is subtly adamant about you wearing wherever you go. It took you a bit of time to realize it was a promise “ring” of sorts.

- Being made fun of; somewhat delicately because he likes you.

- People watching and people watching. Expect a lot of eyes on you, most people are rather surprised that Blaise has finally found himself someone who fits his criteria. And on the other hand, the two of you like to sit and watch drama unfold around you.

- A lot of the time, the two of you just do your own thing in the same area. He’s a very low maintenance boyfriend.

- Hanging out in your dorm. Everyone in your room has pretty much just gotten used to him being there, so much so that they’re more surprised when he’s not sitting on your bed and giving them a silent nod when they enter.

- He’ll begrudgingly let you take him pretty much wherever you’d like. He secretly likes when you drag him into some Hogsmeade shop since it gives him an excuse to be there without appearing less ...above everyone else.

- Dates at Madam Puddifoots. He just wishes that the place wasn’t so ...pink. He always looks out of place with his regal scowl and dark, posh clothes.

- Having dessert together.

- Attending parties with him, whether they be Slughorn’s or his mothers; or just your peers.

- Being right by his side whenever you’re out in public. He likes knowing where you are and being able to lean down and whisper something in your ear whenever he feels like it.

- Being escorted to class; if it doesn’t completely put him out of his way.

- If you weren’t aware, Blaise has a bit of an ego, so he likes when you take pictures of him. If you don’t have his photo framed by your bedside, do you even love him? That being said: he will laugh at you for having his photo framed; but won’t let you get rid of it in any capacity afterwards.

- He knows that he’s good looking so your compliments rarely ever phase him. Even so, he does still enjoy them, mainly because he’s rather vain.

- Blaise is a wealthy, pureblood who was raised by a single mother; and her rich husbands who died under mysterious causes, so one can assume that he’s had those old gentlemanly manners instilled upon him. Mainly out of habit, he’ll open doors, pull out chairs, and/or help you down from steps; which is probably what he does for his mother.

- Speaking of his mother, I think of her as being a very glamorous, sort of old hollywood-esque woman, always calling people darling and having people wait on her hand and foot. I can see her taking you for manicures or shopping, teaching you the ways of being a woman because your mother obviously didn’t.

- Staying at his home during breaks or over the summer. His mother is usually off doing her own thing; killing rich men for their money, and they certainly have enough rooms so you’re nearly always welcome.

- Be prepared to be around Draco and his gang a lot; at least or especially if you’re a Slytherin. The blonde boy likes his minions and enjoys looking popular.

- Blaise doesn’t have a very high opinion of anyone; even when it comes to his so called friends, but he does; obviously, like you. You sort of take him being with you as a compliment in itself and smile whenever someone mentions how he’s so hard to please.

- Having to stifle a laugh at his general distaste and offhanded comments about his “friends”, or rather, about Draco. You can’t help but find it funny when he says something in annoyance about the blonde as he goes to leave your dorm to meet him.

- I feel like he’d have a fondness for conniving/bitchy people or behavior. He’d find it amusing to see you come up with a whole dastardly plan or make some mean comment to him about someone else. He’d especially think it’s funny if you’re otherwise a typically sweet person.

- Don’t mention muggle things around him unless you want a fight or a look of contempt. He’ll ask where you “heard about” such things and/or chide you for talking to some mudblood, deciding he needs to keep a closer eye on you from now on to make sure you “keep the right company”.

- He’ll definitely be moodier and colder towards you if you don’t cheer for him at his Quidditch games, or when you don’t keep up your end of your daily rituals; like meeting him after a game or class. He feels betrayed in a stupid, juvenile way and may get jealous if your reasoning; at least, partially includes another boy.

- Even though he thinks that he shouldn’t be what with how handsome, rich, and charming he is, Blaise is a pretty jealous person. He wants you all to himself so when you’re with someone else, he just can’t help but be a little ticked off. His responses will range from making out with you, suddenly acting cold, interrupting and scaring them off, or scolding you for spending time with them.

- He’s really not that protective of you. Sure, if you wound up in the hospital wing or someone really upset you, he’d probably scare the life out of whoever was responsibly by simply being near them, but he isn’t going to be constantly watching over you.

- There’s going to be quite a few fights in your relationship, Blaise doesn’t communicate particularly well and never wants to admit what’s bothering him so chances are, you’ll have to confront him about his rude behavior. Other times, you’ll have to make it clear that he can’t dictate who you talk to, since he’ll probably try to keep you from being around muggleborn or halfblood witches and wizards.

- He knows how to keep a level head and can be incredibly stubborn when he wants to be so you either give up and just walk off; to which he may or may not refuse to let you leave, or argue with him for a while until he finally concedes. He’s a bit of a conniving little shit as well so he’ll probably throw in a “I’m only trying to do what's best for you” which he does actually believe most of the time but nevertheless, he’s still perpetuating wizard racism.

- A lot of the time, you’re gonna have to be the bigger person and approach him first for him to actually apologize or for you to otherwise make up. I can see him being petty/spiteful so if you were in the wrong or if he doesn’t think he did anything wrong, you may have to put in some work for things to be patched up.

- He doesn’t pull out the I love you’s very often so when he does, it really makes your heart race and your stomach erupt with butterflies.

- I don’t see him as being incredibly traditional but I do see him as someone who expects to marry and then provide for you. But hey, maybe you want to live a scandalous life, one with him marrying old rich witches while making love to you and funding your life together on the side. Regardless, he won’t tell you that he wants to marry you but everyone will expect it to happen and tell you that much.

#blaise zabini imagine #blaise zabini headcanons #blaise zabini headcanon #blaise zabini imagines #harry potter imagines #harry potter headcanons #hp headcanons #hp headcanon #hp imagine #hp imagines

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bokutosworld · 3 years

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then and now | kuroo t.

pairing: kuroo tetsurō x f!reader word count: 1863 words, fluff! mutual pining! warning: manga spoilers, with mention of kuroo’s timeskip occupation summary: always the bridesmaid, never the bride. you thought your time would never come until someone from your past comes along and brings up something you’ve long forgotten. OR where you and kuroo make a silly marriage pact and he shows up after years apart to make it come true.

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.”

The church bell tolls, white doves are released, and joyful cheer and applause erupts from the crowd as the newlywed couple steps out from the cathedral. The now husband-and-wife gaze at each other full of love, and it is a sight guaranteed to make one envious and long for that same kind of affection.

But to you, it’s a scene that you’ve seen so many times that it already feels like a short film played on repeat. For the past year, you’ve lost count of how many weddings you’ve attended – whether as a guest or part of the bride’s entourage – that you’ve acquainted yourself with the workings of the event.

Heck, you’ve even memorized the readings of the priest that if they ever need a replacement, you can be the stand-in and officiate the program.

However, this wedding was different. Your best friend of more than fifteen years is the one who walked down the aisle, and you’re more emotional than you expected you’d be. Earlier in the morning, she woke you up, feeling sentimental, and demanded a pep talk. It was laughable because, more than her, you thought it was you who needed that assurance as you sent off your childhood friend to a new journey in her life.

The whole ordeal felt surreal and somehow, a tad more personal, because it wasn’t just any bride – this was the same girl you grew up with, the one you’ve seen in diapers, the one who held your hand in the playground, the person who you always ran to for boy troubles. Watching her exchange vows and rings felt like a coming to life of a scrapbook page, a long-awaited dream that you’ve talked about together in sleepovers where none of you really slept.

It made you wonder if you will ever march down the same aisle towards the waiting arms of your beloved.

---

“What a wedding, huh?”

The hotel reception was no different to the ceremony that took place prior. This time again, you wore the bride’s maid-in-honor hat and only after making sure that everything – that included the food, drinks, and entertainment – were in place did you take your place on the table and chatted with your old friends from high school.

The conversation started off with comments on how grand, intimate, and special the ceremony was. They talked about how it was wedding season, counting just how many of their schoolmates have already been wed. And before you knew it, eyes were on you and you had an inkling of what would follow.

“So,” Yoshioka, your former student council president, turned towards you. “You’re the only bachelorette left in our batch. We’re just curious.”

You laughed awkwardly, “No, please don’t expect a wedding invitation from me anytime soon. I’m still happily single.” The smile you wore felt strained, but whether the other girls recognized it or not, they chose to not comment further.

“Besides, it’s a great source of joy for me just being able to see you guys get married.” Noticing that the lights have begun to dim and focused on the spot on the stage, you clapped your hands, “Now, let’s just enjoy Yukie’s wedding, alright! Look, they’re coming out.”

As soon as the couple walked to the floor for their first dance, you heaved a sigh of relief and slumped in your cushioned chair. They moved gracefully as one across the dance floor, seemingly lost in their own world as they gazed deeply in each other’s eyes and swayed to the tune of the love song.

You thought back to the conversation earlier and weirdly, you felt a pang inside. Truth is, in every wedding you’ve attended, you can’t help but feel wishful. You consider yourself successful in almost every aspect of your life but sometimes, it can feel dejecting when you return home to an empty apartment at the end of a tough workday.

A part of you craved to make that little girl’s dream come true of wearing the wedding dress that you’ve designed, staying up all night for a bridal shower, and walking down the aisle to where your lover was waiting.

When the couple’s first dance ended, the host entered the stage and the program officially began. You could only hope that hours would pass faster.

---

Two hours into the reception and you can already feel the shots kicking in your system.

It wasn’t a really good idea downing five straight shots of tequila. At first, you thought it would quell your nerves, make you let loose and be the funnier version of yourself as you stepped to the podium to deliver your congratulatory speech to the couple.

In retrospect, it looks like the drink did its job as you managed to emit laughter and emotional tears from the crowd as you reminisced on your relationship with the bride, recounting the story of how she fell deeply in love and decided that he was the one.

But now, hunched in your seat with head on your hands, you were seemingly tipsy and all you could think about was escaping outside for some fresh air.

So, you did. When the groom’s best man took the stage, you saw this as an opportunity to quietly slip to the balcony.

Shutting the door behind you with a quiet thud, you eyed the empty balcony and sat towards the nearest bench. The surface was a bit cold as the city was now ushering the season of fall, signaling the arrival of long nights and chilly evenings. You shivered slightly and tucked your coat closer to your body as you stare at the darkness.

You don’t know how long you’ve been outside until you heard the door open and in came a tall, attractive, and oddly familiar man. His face held a warm smile as you noticed that his gaze was directed towards you.

“Long day?”

And it was only until he stepped closer and stood in front of you, the moonlight illuminating his face and accentuating his features, that you realized who he was.

“Tetsurō?!”

When was the last time you saw the Kuroo Tetsurō? You racked your brain for your last encounter with him and your memories point to your high school graduation. All of a sudden, you felt small and your surroundings became hot as you stood in front of him. Your former childhood neighbor. Former best friend. Former crush.

Not that he had any idea about that last item.

“I thought I saw you earlier before the reception started,” he made himself comfortable on the bench, patting the space beside him to urge you to sit as well. “But it’s been so long since I last saw you so of course I thought I was hallucinating. Then you gave a speech on stage – which by the way, I thought was awesome, you’re still as witty as you were before – and my suspicions were confirmed.”

You were breathless. Speechless. What were the odds that your reunion with him would be at a wedding?

“Did Yukie send you the wedding invitation?”

His laugh echoed in the darkness of the night, “Yeah, she did. It was nice to see familiar faces again.” He stared back at you, “I missed everyone.” I missed you, he wanted to say.

You hummed in agreement and without realizing, the two of you engaged in a comfortable conversation with Kuroo leading just as he always did. Being charming just as he always was. Telling you stories from the part of the past that you didn’t know. Catching you up with his present where he now works in the sports promotion division of Japan Volleyball Association.

A small part of you was relieved to know that Kuroo was doing well and successful just as you always hoped he would be. Years of no contact with the boy that stole your heart from day one certainly left you lonely. You wouldn’t say it out loud but he was part of the equation of why you still haven’t tied the knot. It was silly but you always thought that no one could measure up to him.

Absentmindedly, you started fiddling with your fingers, a habit you’ve formed when you were feeling cold, and Kuroo noticed. And just as he always did back then, he enveloped your hands with his and brought them to his lips to blow warm air on them.

“That better?”

Your heart threatened to flutter, “Yeah, thanks.”

After a long while of silence, Kuroo spoke. “I see there’s still no ring on your fourth finger.” He was now nonchalantly stroking your hands, letting his fingers slip in yours.

You coughed nervously, averting your eyes from his deep ones. “Well, I haven’t really found anyone.”

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” Oh no, be still my heart, you thought.

Kuroo went on, “Remember that silly pact we made on the night before graduation?”

Your mind takes you back on that evening when you and Kuroo were sitting on the rooftop, away from the noisy crowds and drunk soon-to-be college students. This was your thing, enjoying the calmness and admiring the stars spread out in the night sky.

That evening, you and Kuroo talked about the uncertain future that lied ahead. That evening, you bared your soul to him, letting him in on your worries and you fell apart in his comforting presence. He, as always, acted as your anchor, assuring you that he would always be your biggest supporter and that he’d always cheer on you even from afar.

That evening, with the two of you drunk on the excitement and the many possibilities for the new chapter of life, he brought up a proposal.

“I have a crazy idea.” Kuroo linked his pinkie finger with yours. “If we’re still single and not yet married by the age of 35, I’ll find you and we’ll get married.”

Swept away in the moment and the thrill of the idea, you agreed and sealed the proposal with a harmless kiss.

“You still remember that?” You questioned, not expecting him to actually remember that silly pact. Not expecting him to be holding on to that agreement.

“Sometimes, I wonder where we could be now if I just manned up and asked you out that night instead of pulling that act.” He holds your gaze, careful as he brings a hand to cup your cheek. “I’ve liked you for the longest time. And if you’re still available, if you’ll still have me, I am yours.”

“But we’re not yet 35, Kuroo,” you teased. He chuckled and playfully shoved you before bringing you in an embrace.

“I’ve decided years ago. You’re the only one for me,” he pulls away. “I’m sorry it took me a long time.”

And that night, it wasn’t only your best friend that went home feeling the happiest girl in the world.

Because there was Kuroo who was ready to make up for lost time and give you a reason to look forward to your trips back home.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kuroo x reader #haikyuucreations #haikyuu fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu one shot #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x you

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that.

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck.

ello loves, part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn

Part 1

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry. She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in, but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #eventually both of those will bop up #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #feedback pls ❤️#me putting this uo at 12:30 am oops

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wiltingofthewhitelily · 3 years

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{Hetalia Platonic Ships Week 2021} Day 5: Partners in Crime - Latvia & Moldova

A/N: Submission #5 for @hetaliaplatonicshipsweek!

Sooo I was originally gonna do Sealand and Latvia for this one (or just a submission with these two in general), but then I thought this scenario would be funnier for a reason I'll talk about in the next paragraph sooo yeah. Plus, I like to think that Latvia and Moldova probably grew pretty close to each other during the Soviet Union days, seeing as they were the two "little ones" I suppose. (Although, in general, I do feel like Latvia would've hung around Estonia and Lithuania more, seeing how his age and maturity level are much closer to theirs than to Moldova's. But anyway.) I don't know...I just wanna see more content with these two cuties just being friends with each other ok??

For this one, two of my hcs are joining forces to create one (hopefully) pretty humorous little fic. These hcs are: one, Latvia is a pretty big prankster; and two, Moldova is a goody-two-shoes and is lowkey a tattletale (though not in a malicious way at all; he's just trying to be good). I do honestly really like the end result of this one, though I think I got a little carried away with this story and may have made some of the characters a little ooc in the process, sorry 'bout that lol.

Ok, enough with this long ass author's note and onto the fic-

»»————-　➴　————-««

Latvia raced to the back of a chair, crouching down low and hiding behind it while also trying to hide his intense giggles. He watched as Ukraine went up to the pot in which she'd been cooking some soup—the same soup where Latvia had dumped a spoonful of spicy sauce in beforehand.

The woman did just as the Latvian had wanted her to—she picked up a spoon and dipped it into the pot to do a small taste test. The curly-haired boy bit his lip as he watched. Soon enough, she set the spoon down hurriedly, let out a noise that was halfway between a yelp and a surprised whistle, and shortly after began to cough lightly.

Latvia had to place his face between his knees to silence his laughter, his small body beginning to shake. Any sort of enjoyment he could get in this hell house, he would one hundred percent strive to get—and pulling small pranks like this on all the residents inside of it was just what he needed to accomplish that.

Soon, Latvia heard tiny footsteps and then a voice: "What's wrong, Sestra?" Moldova.

Ukraine let out another whistle and answered, "I don't know, the soup was really spicy for some reason." Latvia almost let out another snort at this, but caught himself just in time.

The teen heard a few more words of soft chatter and then footsteps coming up close behind him. Then, a pause. Latvia could already tell it was Moldova and got a bit nervous. The little boy tended to be, for lack of a better word, a bit of a tattletale—he was afraid the child would somehow find out what he'd done and go rat on him.

Sure enough, Latvia heard Moldova pull the table curtain back and crouch down to Latvia's level. "What are you doing down here?" he immediately asked curiously, sitting down on his knees as well.

Latvia turned to him and put a finger over his lips, trying to tell him to quiet down a little. "I'm hiding."

"Why are you hiding?"

Latvia bit his lip. "I...did something."

"Did what?"

He internally grumbled. The kid wouldn't let up now, would he? Latvia thought it might be a little okay to tell Moldova—he was, admittedly, kind of eager to show off what he'd done, to somebody. Even if it wasn't that big of a prank (especially compared to some of the other masterpieces he'd done in the past), he still thought it was funny. Plus, he could probably easily stop Moldova from tattling—all he figured he'd have to do was give him candy or something. "Okay—I put some spicy sauce in the soup Ukraine was cooking. As a prank." He bit his lip to keep from letting out a big laugh.

Moldova was much less amused—in fact, he looked more confused than anything. "Why?" he asked, brows furrowed.

Latvia didn't really know what to say; he just shrugged. "...Because it's funny."

"But that's bad," the boy pointed out, his tone turning a bit stern.

The teen sighed. "Yeah, I know...but it's funny."

Moldova gave Latvia one more quizzical look before slowly standing back up. "Ses—"

Latvia caught him, pulling him back down and covering his hand over his mouth. "Moldova!" he whisper-scolded through gritted teeth. "No."

Moldova looked over at Latvia, eyes wide. Finally, the teen released his hand from his mouth. "Latvia," he asked, "why did you do that? I only wanted to tell Sestra."

"No!" he responded. "It's a prank—you can't just tell her."

Moldova cocked his head to the side. "A prank?"

"Yeah—it's supposed to be funny."

"Funny?" the little boy asked. "I like funny things. Pranks aren't supposed to be bad though, are they?"

Latvia looked up. "Well, kind of. I'm technically not allowed to pull them—but I do anyway." Despite himself, he giggled a little at this.

Moldova blinked. "Why?"

Latvia placed his palm up to his cheek—this kid really asked a lot of questions, didn't he? "Because it's funny."

"Well, I wanna have fun too." Moldova sat for a few moments, looking down, as if thinking. Then, he pursed his lips and motioned for Latvia to come closer, to which the teen did. "...I kind of wanna try a prank, just a little one," he whispered into his ear. "Not one that's too bad, though."

Latvia contemplated this a bit. It would be fun to have a small partner-in-crime to his mischief—especially one as young as Moldova, whom he could hopefully mold and shape to be his sort of sidekick. He grew a little smirk. "Okay."

Moldova gasped in delight and clapped his hands. "Yay! What should we do first, Latvia?"

Latvia rubbed his chin, before getting a good idea. "I've got it." He grabbed the Moldovan's small sticky hand. "C'mon, let's go."

»»————-　➴　————-««

"Okay, so you have to be very quiet before he comes—got it?"

"Mhm!" Moldova replied obediently, grinning from ear to ear at the older boy.

The two had placed one of Moldova's stuffed bears—the one that said I love you! when the stomach was pressed—on a seat at the dining room table, where Estonia was about to sit, as he was in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee and a newspaper. The hope was that he would be surprised by it and jump out of his seat. Nothing very exciting, Latvia knew that—it was mainly because Moldova had been very picky about what kind of pranks he wanted to pull, as most of the ones Latvia suggested were deemed 'too bad.'

The two boys watched from behind the door in the small office across from the dining room in anticipation. Soon enough, Estonia walked in and was about to sit in the chair he always sat in, the one containing the bear. He flopped his newspaper and prepared to sit down. Once his butt hit the bear, it activated that sickeningly-sweet high-pitched voice: I love you!

Startled, Estonia immediately sprang from his seat, gasping; he spilled his coffee all over the floor and his newspaper tumbled to the ground.

Latvia and Moldova began to cackle at this hilarious sight (still trying to keep their voices down, which was difficult); Latvia held out his hand for a high-five, which Moldova gladly accepted.

Estonia must've heard this, as amidst wallowing in the mess he'd just made, he crept over toward the door of the office, poking his head into it and seeing the two boys. He cocked an eyebrow. "...What are you two doing in here?"

Latvia was about to make up some petty excuse before Moldova spoke first: "Haha! Haha!" he exclaimed, still giggling. "You got pranked!"

Estonia was still a little confused until he realized: they must've set that bear down purposefully on the chair (he already figured Moldova had done it, though he'd thought the little boy had just accidentally left it there after playing with it). He then put his hands on his hips and grew a bit of an angry look on his face—they'd made him spill coffee on the floor and ruined his newspaper, for crying out loud! "Well," the Estonian began, "hate to say this, but you two are gonna be the ones to clean up the coffee."

Latvia had been laughing right along with Moldova, though when he heard Estonia say that he immediately grew a cross look as well. "Aw, no fair!" he argued. "You're the one who spilled the coffee! You clean it up!"

To his surprise, little Moldova backed him up. "Yeah, you clean it up, Estonia!"

Latvia looked down at the small boy and he couldn't help but crack a smile despite himself, thinking it was quite cute how he was mimicking him.

Estonia gave the two an annoyed glare. Latvia backtalking him wasn't really that out of the ordinary, but Moldova? The kid who literally asked every morning if he could take out the trash? Okay, now that was ridiculous. He groaned and, now out of options, he turned around and shouted, "Ukraine!" If there was anyone who would back him up and make the two clean up the mess, it was her.

Latvia clicked his tongue and immediately jumped up to run after Estonia, already complaining. Moldova hurried up and followed him, parroting him again.

Soon enough, the trio had all stormed over to Ukraine, who was sitting in the living room reading a book. She set the book down and got up as she began to hear their complaints, throwing her hands up in the air. "Goodness, what is going on here?" she asked.

Estonia shifted his glasses and began to speak, now gaining his composure and standing up straight (Fake, Latvia thought to himself as he saw this): "Latvia and Moldova tried to pull a prank on me," he began. "They sat one of Moldova's bears down on the chair—you know, the one that Russia bought for him that says I love you when you press on its stomach?—yeah, they sat that one down in the chair and I sat in it; it scared me and I jumped and ended up spilling coffee everywhere." He cleared his throat and concluded, "So they made me spill the coffee, therefore they should clean it up. But they won't."

"Oh, please. We didn't make you spill the coffee," Latvia protested loudly. "That's ridiculous."

Estonia began to argue back with Latvia, before Ukraine stomped her foot lightly and demanded, "Quiet!"

The two teenagers obeyed. Ukraine stood with her hands on her hips then, her face angry as she turned to Estonia. "Latvia and Moldova pulled a prank on you and made you spill a cup of coffee," she repeated crossly. "Yeah, I really believe they did that."

"But the—" Estonia began to say before Ukraine interrupted again.

"They act like they didn't do it," she said. "Especially Moldova. Look at him! How could you blame a little kid for such a thing?"

The group turned their eyes toward the said boy, who had his arms folded, eyes widened, and lips pouted, looking as innocent as ever (even though he'd been a more-than-willing accomplice, of course).

"But!—" Estonia said, before sighing, deciding it was pointless. Then, Ukraine went to the laundry room, picked up a mop and a bucket, walked back, and handed it toward Estonia. The bespectacled blond sighed again, taking it and going into the dining room to clean his mess. All the while Latvia was standing behind them, his hands tightly clamped over his mouth to avoid rolling on the floor in laughter. Moldova stayed just as he was, analyzing this interaction curiously and carefully.

Ukraine stood in the doorway between the living room and the dining room, watching Estonia. In the living room, Moldova watched Latvia closely. "Are you about to laugh?" he asked, tilting his head a little to the side as he looked up at the teen.

Latvia took his hands away for a brief moment, biting his lip, before nodding vigorously.

Moldova paused for a few moments, still staring at Latvia, before asking, "Is it as funny as when you put that spicy sauce in Sestra's soup?"

Moldova had said that loudly, loudly enough for Ukraine herself to hear; the woman turned around slowly, giving Latvia the same look she'd just given Estonia a few minutes prior.

Latvia stared ahead in absolute shock, feelings of dread mixed with anger simmering through him. Oh. My. God. Moldova truly hadn't learned anything, had he?

»»————-　➴　————-««

Soon enough, Latvia was in the dining room alongside Estonia, helping him clean the mess on the floor—it had gotten practically everywhere, apparently (how much coffee did Estonia seriously drink?) and it was very sticky. So, in short, it was not too fun to clean up. There was also the newspaper to worry about, which had its papers scattered all across the floor too.

And where was Moldova at that moment? Sitting at the dining room table, munching on a batch of cookies Ukraine had baked for him and drinking cold milk. A long milk mustache got caught on his top lip more than once, with every time Ukraine quickly dashing over to clean it up with a napkin.

Fun for him, Latvia thought sarcastically as he swept his mop through another stain. Whatever happened to partners in crime? He guessed telling the truth and mint chocolate cookies tasted more appetizing.

#hetalia #hetaliaplatonicshipsweek #hetalia event #hetalia fanfiction #fanfiction #aph latvia #aph moldova #hws latvia #hws moldova

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magics-protector · 3 years

Text

Mountain Sound

Soulmate AU: Soulmates have one song that connects them - when one soulmate listens to it, they both can see each other.

The Song: Mountain Sound - Of Monsters and Men

(which I think fits Merlin absolutely perfectly)

Spotify, Apple Music, Youtube

A small kind of crack fic from my Everlast series - which will start up sometime this week because it’s Reading Week and I finally have time to write it!

With a soft sigh leaving her lips, Y/N fell into her chair, dropping the books she carried down onto the table. A long start to an already long day, if you asked her.

First, she had to help Jack get his hand out of a cookie jar (because apparently her adopted little brother couldn’t just ‘magic’ his way out of it). Then, her Uncle asked her to “help” with work on Baby’s engine - and by “help” she meant that he made her stand there while she held all his tools and wasn’t allowed to touch the engine itself.

Not that she could complain. It was nice having everyone home for once - not that it was going to last long. Hence the reason for all the books. A new day would bring new cases and as always, Y/N was responsible for research - being her father’s daughter had it’s disadvantages in that way.

Speaking of her dad, he sat across from her, eyes trained on the laptop in front of him as he searched and typed, falling into the same pattern quite easily. Pulling her knees up to her chest, Y/N opened the first book on her pile and began to research - so it seemed Dragons were the big enemy of the day.

As she read, Y/N started to notice writing she hadn’t seen in over a year. Language she hadn’t seen since she disappeared. It was the old language of the Druid People. Something she had learned to read over the years.

As she read on, Y/N noticed the old phrasing of the common Soulmate connection: “Songs and stories of different melodies and tunes. That is what shall lead thy heart to its destiny”.

“Huh, well that kind of sucks.” She said, meaning to think it but it just came out.

Sam pulled his head out of his computer and looked up. “What sucks?”

Y/N looked up from the book, motioning to the page. “The language in this book. It talks about the soulmate connection. You’d expect it to rhyme, but it doesn’t.”

A laugh like breath came from Sam as he shook his head. “Not all old texts have to rhyme, you know?”

Y/N scoffed with a smile. “I know that. I just think it would have been funnier and more romantic if it did.”

Then Y/N’s smile faded. “Hey, Dad?”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he looked down at his laptop again.

“What was your song? You know, your song with Mom?”

Y/N could see Sam tense at the question. Y/N had known for so long that her parents were in fact soulmates, but Sam never talked about her. The memory of Will was almost to painful for him to remember. Not the relationship itself, but what happened to her.

He shifted in his seat, looking down as he nodded before he stood up, moving around the table to sit next to Y/N, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “It was Rebel Rebel. That was our song.”

Y/N turned her head, her face shocked. “Your song with Mom was Rebel Rebel? Dad, I did not take you as a David Bowie fan.”

Sam chuckled, moving closer to the edge of the chair and placed Y/N’s head on his shoulder. “He grew on me, only because of your mother. She loved to listen to his stuff. Rebel Rebel may have been our song but I can still remember her screaming the words to Space Oddity like there was no tomorrow.” He moved his head to look down at her, placing a small kiss on her head. “You remind me of her. Everyday I can see her in everything that you do and I know how proud she’d been if she could see you.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “Have you ever tried to see her again? Maybe if you listened to the song again you’d see her..”

“It doesn’t work like that, Bug.” Sam chuckled sadly. “Your mother has been gone for a while. I don’t think it’s possible to see her again until I get to her myself.”

Y/N could sense that the conversation was getting to him, so she stopped. She would have much gathered leaned in and enjoyed the moment, which is what she did.

“Woah, didn’t realize we were interrupting a moment.”

Sam and Y/N looked over to the archway of the library where Dean walked in, followed by Cas and Jack.

“Where the hell have you been, Dean?” Sam shook his head. “I called you like an hour ago to help with research.”

Dean scoffed, taking Sam’s old seat. “Yeah, well, I had to pick these two up from the Gas Station.” He pointed at Cas and Jack with his thumb. “And what’s this about research? You two obviously aren’t doing any - OW!”

Cas whacked Dean across the back of his head. “Don’t be rude, Dean.”

Dean didn’t argue, he couldn’t argue with Cas, so he just grumbled.

Y/N giggled as she watched her Uncles interact - it was honestly so surprising how long it took for the both of them - well mainly Dean - to come to terms with their connection.

“Hey, Dee?”

Dean looked at Y/N with a hum.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your song?”

Dean sat up, leaning back in his chair while Cas took a seat next to him. Cas had a smile on his face while Dean gave off a rare cross between a smirk and a smile. “Well, that’s easy. It’s --”

“You Shook Me All Night Long.” Both Dean and Cas said at the same time, which made the both of them smile at each other.

Y/N nodded her head, almost as if in agreement. “How did I know?” She giggled.

Jack smiled too - he hadn’t found his song yet, but he was waiting, knowing he’d find it one day. He looked over at his ‘sister’ with a curious face. “Why do you ask, Y/N? You’ve never been interested in Soulmate songs before.”

Y/N felt all eyes on her. She thought for a moment, before she answered. “Well.... I kind of want to find my song.....”

Dean looked at his niece with that bothersome uncle look. “I thought you had no interest in finding them.”

Y/n looked down at her hands, rubbing them together. “But I did. At least, I’m 99% sure I found him.”

Everyone’s faces erupting with smiles and cheers - Sam gripped her tight in a side hug. “That’s amazing, Y/N!”

“What’s the kid’s name?”

“Where’s he from?”

“What’s your song?”

Y/N put her hands up to stop them.”Woah! Woah! I never said I found my song. I just said I think I found him.”

Cue the confusion. “But,” Jack tilted his head. “if you haven’t found your song, then how do you know?”

Y/N took a breath before she stood up, walking towards a pillar of the archway and leaned against it. “I just feel it.” She laughed with a smile. “When I was with him, it was like.. nothing else mattered....” She shook her head. “What we went through was a lot for two people to handle, but with Merls, it was like.... it was like we could take on the whole world and no matter what the outcome was, as long as I had him, I won.” She seemed so lost in the memory, so lost that when she came back she went pink with embarrassment and she held her arms. “If that makes any sense....”

Sam, Dean and Cas looked at each other with knowing looks. “Well then,” Dean said. “Looks like we have a song to find. After all,” Y/N looked at her uncle in confusion. “We don’t want to leave him waiting.”

*******************************************************************************

“Ugh, this is hopeless!”

Hours and hours of music and nothing. They tried it all - Bon Jovi, Hozier, My Chemical Romance, Lana Del Rey and countless other bands and still nothing.

The team sat there for hours, playing music from Dean’s collection, random bands they found on YouTube, but nothing was working.

Y/N slumped in her chair, defeated. She ran her hands over her face before she stopped and sat up quickly. “Wait!” She looked at her dad. “Dad, you said you weren’t very fond of Bowie but Rebel Rebel was your song with Mom. How did you find it?”

Sam sat for a moment, his hand over his mouth as he thought, before his eyes went wide. “There was something that connected it to me. I would see the record or hear it faintly on the radio and that’s basically how I found it.” He leaned forward to pull his laptop towards him. “Is there any song that just stands out to you, Y/N? One that you can think of without hesitating? Like you’d see the album and feel a pull?”

Y/N thought for a moment when her eyes went wide. She raised her head slightly and mumbled under her breath.

“What?”

She looked up at her family. “Mountain Sound. It’s a song by Of Monsters and Men. I’ve never really thought about it til now, but there’s something about it.”

Sam quickly typed it into his search engine and pulled it up, handing it and the headphones over to Y/N.

With shaky hands, Y/N put the headphones on and started the song and it was like the world had stopped. Swirls of gold filled the void in the archway capturing her gaze and she smiled. Those golden swirls soon started to form the shape of a man sitting with a book on his lap. That man, Y/N knew him better than anyone did. Tears pooled in her eyes as her smile grew wider. “I knew it.”

Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack all smiled. They did it.

As the swirls finished forming the boy, Y/N moved to the floor, carrying the laptop down with her as she moved closer to his form. The boy seemed to enticed by his book until he looked up and over her way. He looked around hearing the music himself and then he looked at Y/N and a smile broke out on his face, tears in his eyes.

“Y/N?” His voice was eery, but that was normal for this kind of thing.

Forgetting she was in the presence of her family, Y/N laughed, tears streaming down her face. “Hey, Merlin.”

The young Warlock smiled, lunging forward to touch her, and through the power of their song, he hugged her for the first time in over a year. “I never thought I’d see you again, My Love....” He lamented.

Y/N held him close. “Takes a lot more than a glassy portal to keep me away from you, you Cabbage head.”

Merlin pulled back, but made sure to keep a hand on her shoulders. “Where are you? We looked everywhere for you. I thought Arthur was going to take off my head if you weren’t found.”

Y/N looked up at her soulmate and smiled. “How badly did you irritate him this time?”

With a look of pride, Merlin answered. “I going to be honest, I nearly had the Knights turn on him.”

“Pft, hahaha! Merlin! You can’t just lead a coup against Arthur! That’s my job!”

Merlin laughed, he laughed so hard that he leaned forward and turned, resting his head on Y/N’s legs. “Honestly, to be fair, it wasn't his fault. All those Lords had been quite vocal about their disapproval over your rescue mission. I thought Gwaine was gonna tear off someone’s ear.”

Y/N giggled, playing with Merlin’s blackish brown locks which had grown out since the last time she saw him while her other hand ran over his cheek, where a small stubble had grown as well. “I wouldn’t put it past him to do that.”

“No. But I think the others would have let him if Arthur hadn’t been in the room.”

Y/N looked down into his eyes and smiled. “It’s just nice to know I’ll have a huge welcoming when I get back.”

Meanwhile, as Y/N and Merlin continued to ramble and talk away as the song repeated and repeated over and over again, Sam and the rest of Team Free Will decided to leave Y/N alone with her soulmate and as they left through the back door, Sam watched as Y/N smiled the brightest smile he’s ever seen. Silently, he vowed that he’d make sure Y/N got back to wherever she had disappeared to.

#BBC merlin #bbc merlin imagines #soulmate #soulmateau #soulmate au #spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #bbc merlin x reader #merlin #merlin x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #castiel winchester #jack kline #jack winchester #destiel

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g0ldengubler · 3 years

Text

chapter 9 ~ ...and the after party

A/N: i’m baaaaaccckkkk! i hope u guys enjoy this chapter and expect 10 coming soon! also thank you guys for almost 600 followers! that’s insane i love u guys🥺🥺 get ready for the one shot coming right after this ;) (also i will fix this so it has the keep reading part sometime this week i’m on my phone lol)

Category: smut (NSFW18+)

CW: use of cannabis, hangover, lots of smut at the end.

Word Count: 2598

✨masterlist✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were awoken by the feeling of arms wrapping around you as the pounding in your head grew. Taking Spencer's hand, you covered your eyes thinking it would calm it down a bit as you thought back to last night. You couldn't remember much, but you did remember feeling happy and content, being surrounded by people you could actually call family and not feel the need the hold back anything about you. You remember feeling free, whether that was the alcohol talking or not. You've only known Spencer and the team for only a short time, and through that, you've gotten to know Spencer at, what felt like, a deeper level. That was something you never really could do or feel, growing up - to feel like you belonged.

Carefully moving his hand back to where it was before, you let your eyes flutter open as the pounding got worse. You looked around the room to see that you and Spencer had taken the couch and you were the first one awake. You saw Emily and Jj passed out on the floor, their heads on pillows and blankets wrapped around them. You figured that Garcia and Morgan were asleep in her room, as the two couldn't take their hands off each other last night, and Hotch had passed out on the recliner, his snoring being the loudest of them all which didn't surprise you until you realized you got wasted with your boss. You chuckle softly to yourself, knowing that this would be one hell of a story to tell in the future, hell maybe even tell Seth when you got back.

You felt the body next to you shift and looked to your right, seeing a sleepy Dr.Reid rubbing the sand out of his eyes. As he shifted the weight of his body onto his elbow, he smiled when he saw you before putting a hand on his head.

"How much did I drink last night?" He asked.

"Good morning to you, too." You said before leaning over and kissing his forehead.

Spencer wraps his arm around you and pulls you in closer. As the two of you talked about what you remembered, everyone started to wake up one by one, joining in on the conversation. Garcia came in before Morgan woke up and made everyone tea and gave each one of you some advil for the headaches.

"Where did Rossi go?" asked Jj.

"Rossi already had an Uber ready to pick him up from the bar," said Hotch, "I just checked my phone and he had texted me when he got home."

"Anyone up for food?" asked Emily, "I'm starving!"

"Anyone have any plans today?" asked Garcia.

Everyone shook their heads. "I haven't even thought that far since we got back from Michigan." you said.

''Good! Because I already had something in mind."

"You always do, baby girl." jokes Morgan, which made everyone chuckle to themselves.

She looks around the room as an evil grin grew on her face. All but Morgan were confused. "Ok, no," he says, "I don't think anyone would want to do that, especially Hotch."

"What wouldn't I want to do?" asked Hotch, looking even more confused than before.

Morgan sighs before speaking, as if he didn't want to say this in front of him. "Garcia has been wanting everyone over for a "proper smoke sesh", not like the last time. She's been like this ever since she got these new hemp blunt wraps."

"They're healthier than normal ones," she said, looking a little annoyed with Morgan, "they're better than getting leftover tobacco and nicotine in your system."

Hotch sat there for a moment, sipping on his tea while thinking about it. He put his thumb under his chin and his index finger on top, going through the scenarios and the pros and cons. "I mean," he spoke, "Jessica still has Jack over at Hershey Park from their weekend vacation, and I wouldn't have to be back until tomorrow...."

"...So is that a yes?" asked Emily.

There a was a pause for a moment, and in that moment you could feel the unnecessary tension in the room.

"...yeah I'll stay for tonight," he confesses, "but we do NOT talk about this with anyone else. I haven't smoked weed since college."

"Didn't you go to law school, though?" asked Spencer.

"How do you think we got through law school?"

Everyone cheered jokingly and laughed at the fact that their boss was getting high with them. Never did you think that within the beginning of your time with the BAU, you came at a time where the whole team was given their first uninterrupted, paid vacation that desperately needed, and was able to find love and do things you didn't think they'd do. You knew this night was going to be even more interesting than last night.

____

Something about getting high with others made you feel it more than usual. Could've been because it's more fun with more people, but that train of thought faded into the fog of your brain as your attention shifted to the cards in front of you. That night, Garcia had rolled the blunt and everyone passed it around until it was a roach, Hotch having a coughing fit at one point, but she had made her way to her room after and had the box of Cards Against Humanity in one hand and a bong and grinder in her other. Spencer cracked up the most out of all of you when Hotch had his coughing fit, you couldn't tell what was funnier.

As Changes by David Bowie played in the background, you were enjoying your own little version of the game. Whoever lost the round had to take a bong rip, and boy was Hotch having a rough night as he couldn't seem to get a win.

It came to the final round, and you and Spencer were tied on 9 black cards. The black card was, 'When I was tripping on acid, ____ turned into ____', and it was Jj's turn to pick. She luckily narrowed it down to two cards, one of them being yours. As she read them allowed, you noticed that she laughed at yours a little more than the other one. She ended up choosing yours and you cheered that you won the game, deciding that you wanted to take a victory rip. As you exhaled without choking, you caught Spencer out of the corner of your eye rolling his, which you pretended to ignore.

You lay back on the couch afterward and snuggled into Spencer as he wrapped an arm around you. Everyone talked amongst themselves, eating the snacks that were placed out on the coffee table. You felt Spencer lean in as he whispered, "That's not how you were last time," he said "you were completely gagging."

"Are you just jealous that you choked when you took a bong rip?" You teased. You knew where this was going, but you hoped that he had a plan and where to go.

Spencer looks around the room before leaning back to your ear. "Where it all started," he said, "follow 5 minutes after me and if anyone asks you're going to the bathroom, clear angel?"

You simply nod as you watch him get up. You pretend to look at your phone, keeping your head down, but you would look up a little bit to watch him stumble his way. After five minutes you get up and head to Garcia's room, where you see Spencer spread out on the bed looking up at the stars, just like that night.

"Well well well," You said after shutting the door, "someone looks spaced out." You sit next to him on the bed, where he sits up on his shoulder.

Spencer pushes a strand of hair out of your face smiling. "Nice one," he says, "but I'm going to be honest, I think we should skip all the foreplay."

He pushes you down on the bed as he gets on top of you. You felt the air leave your body as his lips went straight for your neck, devouring the blank space. "I need you so bad, y/n," Spencer says breathless, "it was hard hiding myself after in front of everyone as you took those rips. I couldn't stop thinking about pounding you."

"Well get to it then, daddy." You said as innocently as you could, palming him through his pants.

That was the push he needed. He quickly ripped off your jeans with your panties going with as you ripped him out of his. You saw his cock hit his stomach and you couldn't hold in your moan. Spencer quickly covered your mouth shushing you. "I know they have Bowie going on repeat, but I don't think it'll cover our beautiful voices, however. Can you be a good girl and try to be quieter?"

Muffled, you say yes. Spencer moves you up higher on the bed so your head could rest on the pillows. He doesn't even tease your entrance as he pushes all the way into you. Your jaw hits the mattress as you let out a silent scream. He wouldn't even let you adjust as he quickly moves inside you.

"Fuck daddy it feels so good!" You moan out.

"You're so fucking tight, angel...And so wet-fuck...You like being fucked like a slut, hm? You like getting pounded into the mattress like this?"

"Yes yes yes yessss!"

He leans down and lifts your shirt up, showing that you weren't wearing a bra as your tits glow in the moonlight. He tsks at no bra before letting it slide and attaches his mouth to your right nipple. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he flicks your nipple with his tongue, intoxicated by the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

Shortly after, you felt the pressure in your lower stomach start to drop and you tighten your grip around his cock and he lets out groan.

"You getting close, angel?" He asks.

"Please let me cum daddy, please please please!" You beg.

He grabs the headboard with his left as he used his right for support, pounding you even harder and harder. Your grip on him tighten even more, making him tilt his head back at the friction.

"Cum for me angel, be a good girl and cum so hard all over my cock."

You throw a pillow over your face in fear of the other's finding out. You felt like you were screaming at the top of your lungs as he helped ride out your orgasm, but he didn't stop. He kept going at it, railing you to the mattress. You could feel yourself getting more and more sensitive as he kept going at it. You looked up to see him still holding onto the headboard as he throws his head back in pleasure. It was so hot to you that you felt yourself getting close again.

"Ca-I can't...take it daddy!" You whimper out.

Spencer looks down at you and gives you an evil grin as he chuckled to himself. "You can...and you will." He shuts his eyes tight and almost lets his jaw fall open as he felt you grip tightly to his cock again before saying, " I'm so close angel. You want me to cum in you?"

"Yes daddy pleeeasssee fill me up with all your cum!" You moan.

With a few more hard thrusts, they started to get sloppy as you felt him coat your walls and heard him moan and groan in your ear, cursing under his breath. Spencer falls on top of you as he finishes, trying to catch his breath. He falls to the side of you and watches his cum pool out of you.

Spencer's POV~

"You did so good, y/n," I say breathlessly, leaning down and showering her body in kisses. She immediately snuggled herself into my body, forcing me to wrap an arm around her. I think she knew the sex was great, and she told me she loved getting fucked like that, but I could tell she was falling as the vulnerability was starting to peak through.

"Hey," I say as I pepper her cheek in kisses, "You were such a good girl. Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Your pen?"

"Can you clean me up for now," She asks in a small voice, "I'm ok. Just let me try to stand first."

As she goes up to stand, she falls right back down to the bed. I tried to holding in my laughter as she kept trying before stopping her. "It's ok, let me go get something to clean you up and then we'll go back out there, ok?"

"Thank you Spence." She says, trying to hold back tears of embarrassment. I reach over and wipe a tear away from her face.

As I shut the door behind me to get a wipe from the bathroom, I noticed that everything was quiet. Too quiet. Not being able to find wipes in the bathroom, I slowly but casually (or as casually as I could act) walked to the kitchen. I couldn't even make it there as I froze where I stood in the living room, eyes darting on me with a few small grins poking out. I look at his team, as they look right back at me. It was Hotch who finally broke the tension in the air and started cracking up. No words, just laughter. Soon everyone else joined in, myself only giving small giggles and chuckles.

"You heard?"

"You're full of surprises, kid!" said Emily.

"That was you in there?" Morgan asked jokingly, "You. Pretty Rickey. You were saying all of that shit....Why do I feel like I need to learn from you now?"

That made Hotch laugh even more as he burst into another fit. Everyone looked over to him, some confused, some worried.

"Is he ok?" I asked.

Jj pats the top of his head and shook hers. "He'll be fine, he's gonna pass out any minute now."

"Where's y/n? Is she ok?" asked Garcia.

"Yeah she umm..." I was trying to think of the words to use but finally I just came out and said, "...Do you umm..have any wipes, Garcia? She's ok, she just uhh...can't get up without falling back on the bed."

As I gave my classic white, awkward smile, Garcia shook her head and told me she would take care of her. She grabs an ice pack from her freezer and then went over to her purse and grab a packet of baby wipes. She walks over to the hallway before stoping in front of me, making me nervous.

"Did you really have to have rough sex on my bed?"

"I mean, you and Morgan proba-"

"Never mind, just don't talk about it again."

She walks off pass me hurrying to y/n's aid. I look over to Morgan and he just chucked, motioning me to come sit next to him. I walk over and sit down, Morgan handing me the joint they were passing around. Hotch had finally passed out like Jj had said, and Emily put the music back on. I knew there were a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but I decided to save them for tomorrow as I continued to enjoy the night, waiting for y/n to come back out so I could hold her close and give her all my love after ruining her like that.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Of New York ~ Mark Tuan

A cold hand slipped into yours as you began to walk along the busy streets of New York, the air was a lot cooler than you had imagined, with your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck to match the attire of most of the people you passed. The feel of his hand sent a shiver down your spine as you squeezed his palm to try and warm him up a little bit too.

Throughout the day it had been bitterly cold for you both, but as it neared the evening, and various displays of lights began to light up around the place it only added to the cool temperature. Whilst Mark stood beside you, pretending to be warm, the red tinge to his cheeks told you a different story.

“There’s a store over there, why don’t we get a drink?” You suggested, pointing to a small cabin at the end of the street.

Mark glanced across, his eyes lighting up as he saw a couple walking away clutching to cups of hot chocolate. “It can’t do no harm to go and explore.”

You pulled him through the gaps in the crowds to the cabin, grabbing your purse from your coat pocket and buying two of the largest size hot chocolates they sold, passing the first to Mark before taking one for yourself.

The two of you settled on a bench in the park whilst you let your drinks cool for a few moments, looking out across the city. Since you were little, you’d dreamt about spending a Christmas in New York, it was a story you’d told Mark too many times, but he was always more then glad to listen and see the way your eyes always lit up.

Your day had mainly consisted of exploring, with the weather so cold the two of you continued to walk around to try and keep yourselves warm, a bit of shopping, a lot of food, and albums worth of photos to take back home, the two of you had made sure to make the most of your trip.

And of course, Mark had absolutely loved helping you fulfil your dream. He wasn’t always sure if he was going to make it happen as he always got so busy this time of year, but with the help of the company and his friends he managed to find the time to fly you out. As he watched you take a sip from your drink, noticing the glisten in your eye, he was beyond happy that he did.

With your day so full, you didn’t think there was much more that Mark could do for your day, but as you finished your drinks, he pulled a photo out of his pocket, sliding it across the table to you. You picked it up and turned it over, seeing a picture of the Rockefeller tree.

“How do you fancy seeing the real thing?” He asked, as you let a squeal.

It was the one place you’d always wanted to visit at Christmas, nowhere did Christmas quite like New York, especially the Rockefeller Center. You didn’t even give yourself time to respond, grabbing his hand encouraging him to lead the way for you both.

“I can’t believe you organised for us to go,” you smiled, holding tightly onto his arm as you walked through the streets. It was heaving with tourists like yourselves, but neither of you seemed to mind, just enjoying having each other’s company.

The walk wasn’t too far for either of you as you soon spotted all the lights before even getting too close to the tree itself.

As soon as you were in front of it, you had your phone pulled out, snapping a photo. “It looks so much nicer than any photo I’ve ever seen of it. Look how big it is too, I wonder how much time they put into making this every year?”

“I bet they spend hours on it when it attracts so many people,” Mark mused from behind you, placing his arms around your waist, “it’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be, it makes me feel tiny.”

“I wouldn’t like to be the person doing the decorations at the top,” you chuckled, staring up to the tip of the tree. “It’s just so beautiful, I’d say it’s the perfect place for us to take a photo together.”

With that, Mark spun you around as you flipped the camera on your phone, holding it up. As your finger pressed to take a photo, you felt a chilled pair of lips press to your cheek, followed up by a nervous giggle. “Let’s take another, just in case that one didn’t turn out right.”

“You’re only saying that because now you’re nervous. Let’s see it, I’m sure it looks good,” you smiled.

And as you clicked on the photo to enlarge it, you couldn’t help but chuckle. You had the widest smile on your face as Mark’s lips rested against your cheek, his eyes were tightly shut, with strands of hair covering them slightly that had fallen from his beanie.

“See, you look handsome,” you complimented, saving the photo before Mark could argue any longer. “Maybe we should get it framed when we get home, it’s the perfect little keepsake for us to remember this trip by,” you suggested, watching as his head nodded back at you.

“Have you had a good time here?” He questioned, resting his chin onto your shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to give you everything that you wanted to do whilst we were here, but I hope it was still magical for you.”

The whole trip had been a massive tick off your bucket list, it didn’t matter how much or little you did, just being in New York meant the world to you. And spending it with Mark, certainly was the icing on top of the cake.

“If you had the slightest clue of how many of my dreams you’ve made come true on this trip, then you’d know that I’ve had the best time ever. I can’t thank you enough for bringing me.”

His lips pressed to your cheek once more, “I had the best time too, I’m glad I got to be here with you.”

The two of you turned back to face the tree, feeling the breeze of an ice skater fly past you both. Your attention was quickly drawn to how effortlessly she moved, you only dreamt of being able to do what she did. Mark caught on too to your eyes following her around, the gasps of amazement that came from you every time she spun or leapt.

His hands tapped against your waist, bringing your gaze up to meet his eyes. “There was final surprise I had for the two of us,” he whispered, nodding towards the ice rink. “How do you fancy getting on and having a skate around too?”

Your voice shouted a little louder earning a few stares from the people around you, wrapping your arms tightly around Mark’s neck. He held onto you securely, blushing as your head nodded immediately in response to him.

“Shall we head round, the slot we have is soon?”

“Just when I think this couldn’t get any better,” you hummed, following his lead to the hut of the ice rink, queuing up behind several other couples and families. “How did you manage to keep this a secret? You’re usually terrible at keeping things from me?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure how I managed to keep it a secret either, but when I was looking at things to do, I saw so many things that said skating at Rockefeller Center. Plus, it looks pretty romantic, and I’ll do anything to get a kiss from you.”

Your eyes rolled, hitting lightly against his padded chest. “You didn’t have to bring me here to get a kiss, but you’ll certainly be getting plenty for bringing me here.”

“As long as one of us doesn’t end up in hospital, I’ll hold you to that,” he chuckled, “I can’t remember the last time I skated, so I’m not feeling particularly confident.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to hold your hand,” you assured him, intertwining your hand with his. “And if we do fall, it’ll just make it even funnier to look back on.”

“If you promise not to laugh at me, I’m sure we won’t have a problem,” he teased, “and if you do laugh at me, rest assured that I will definitely find a way to get back at you, especially when you least expect it.”

Your smile only grew as you made your way closer down the line and onto the rink. “I won’t laugh, I promise. Just as long as you don’t fall!”

“Just hold me hand and keep me upright, that’s all you have to do. Just getting off of here in one piece will be quite the achievement.”

“You’ll be fine, just trust me, I’ve got you…”

---

Masterlist

#got7 #got7 imagine #mark tuan #mark tuan imagine #mark #mark imagine #got7 scenario #got7 reaction #got7 one shot #got7 drabble #got7 fluff #mark tuan drabble #mark tuan scenario #mark tuan reaction #mark tuan one shot #mark tuan fluff #mark scenario #kpop #kpop imagine

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pitaparka · 4 years

Text

you’ve got a friend in me

request: ur writing is so good i love ur fics :’) can u do a confessing feelings kiss with jj

summary: jj tries to watch Toy Story with you and takes you on a walk down to one of the old playgrounds in the outer banks

pairings: jj maybank x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: healthy family dynamics. i'm ur dad now.

a/n: this is super fluffy and i love swings ;) big loveeee

“This is worse than I remember it being,” you comment, and JJ stares down at you in his lap.

“What? The cinematic masterpiece that is Toy Story one isn’t good enough for you?” He says, and you turn your attention back to the screen.

“It’s just Toy Story, and sorry to burst your bubble, but… It’s… ugly,” you comment with a chuckle, and he gasps.

“How dare you. Get out of my house, I’m kicking you out,” he says, and stands, ejecting you from his lap onto the floor.

“Ow!” You cry playfully, staring up at him in disbelief.

“This is my fuckin’ house,” you say to him.

A loud, “Language!” comes from the kitchen, courtesy of your father. JJ stares at you with wide eyes, and you both break out into giggles. You sit down next to him on your couch, resting your head on his shoulder, him resting his head on yours. The movie plays on. You feel JJ sigh softly. You’re both comfortable with each other there.

Your dad pokes his head into the doorway.

“Hey! No touching! Ten feet apart. You on that end, you on that end,” he chides, pointing a spoon covered in red sauce at the two of you. You shake your head and sigh, scooting away from JJ.

“I don’t want you even looking at each other. Move over more,” he says to you, and you do, moving to the edge of the couch. He’s still not satisfied.

“More.” He says, and you glare at him.

“Do you want me to just go to my room, and JJ can stay here, and we can just text each other about the movie?” You say. He ponders it and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not like that, dad,” you say. You can practically hear the disbelief on his face. JJ readjusts himself in his seat.

“It’s not like that dad,” your father mocks.

“Yeah, it wasn’t like that with your mother and I. Look what happened. A baby. A house. A dog.”

“We don’t have a dog.” You say, wondering if he’s lost his mind already. At such an age, too.

“What’s on the couch over there?” He says, pointing the spoon at JJ, and you gasp.

“Dad!” You cry, but JJ seems to find it a lot funnier than you do.

“That’s cruel sir. That’s cruel,” He comments playfully, and your dad smiles at him.

“He’s kidding JJ,” your mom says, smacking your father on the shoulder and poking her head into the living room now too. No privacy in this house.

“Are you staying for dinner?” She questions. JJ puts his hand on his heart and looks at her with love in his eyes.

“Ma’am. It would be my pleasure to eat your cooking.”

“I’m the one doing all the cooking!” Your father exasperates, gesturing to his apron.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s doing any cooking,” you mutter under your breath for JJ to hear, and he smiles at you, all round cheeks and tight lips.

“The attitude is unreal,” your dad jokes, going back into the kitchen, leaving the two of you to the movie once more.

It takes you a few minutes and some comments that go unnoticed to realize JJ isn’t watching the movie. He’s staring at the screen, but he’s thinking. Hard.

You scoot closer, tossing a cautionary glance over your shoulder. Your dad is at the stove, out of sight, tending to some pasta.

“What’s up?” You ask, and he puts on a fake smile for you.

“Nothing,” he replies. He goes to stare at the screen again.

“Really? What just happened?” you question, and he looks at you quizzically. You cover his eyes with your hands.

“What just happened in the movie?” You quizz, and his shoulders fall.

“Buzz and Woody just did that thing. They got kidnapped.”

You remove your hands from his face and tuck your feet up under you.

“You’re not even watching it. What’s the point of keeping it on,” you say, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“No, I wanna finish it!” He whines, racing to grab the remote before you do. He gets there first, and tucks the remote underneath him, effectively changing the channel to some home renovation show.

You smile and throw your hands in the air. He rolls his eyes, taking out the remote and turning off the TV.

“What do you want to do then?” He says, putting the controller back on the coffee table, next to the centerpiece your mother loved oh so dearly, no matter how ugly it was.

“I want you to tell me what’s up with you,” you say, resting your arm on the side of the couch.

JJ glances toward the kitchen, where your parents worked away, cooking and washing dishes for that night’s dinner.

“Let’s go on a walk,” he suggests, popping off the couch, bounding over to your door.

“Okay?” You question, and getting up, you pop your head into the kitchen.

“We’re gonna go on a walk,” you say, and your parents stare at you with accusations written all over their faces.

“Okay,” your father starts, “But no hand holding. You’re both old enough to know how to cross the street by yourselves—actually, stay on opposite sides of the street, you on one side, him on the other—” as your dad rambles on, your mother smiles at you, waving you off. You grin, practically running out the door. You meet JJ outside, and as you both turn to go, your dad pops his head out the window.

“Don’t talk to strangers! Stranger danger!” He cries, and is pulled back into your house, presumably by your mom.

You push JJ off and you both start running nowhere, in no particular direction toward no particular place, JJ leading.

You both stop on a side street, panting, small pogue houses surrounding you, covered in greenery, the setting sun painting the empty street a golden orange.

JJ smiles at you, then stands and keeps walking. You follow behind him until you can catch up.

‘Where are we going?” You ask, but JJ doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look back at you. He’s walking into the sun.

“JJ, where are we—”

You get cut off, by JJ taking off again, and you sigh, before you yourself take off into a run, then realize that JJ is sprinting.

“JJ!” You cry, breathless.

“Slow down, asshole!”

He stops at the end of a street, waiting for you, breathing heavily, bent over, hands on his knees.

“Language,” he says, as soon as you’re next to him, “we’re near a school,”

He gestures to the mother and child on the crosswalk sign, then crosses the street without looking. On this side of the island, it’s darker, the sun obscured by trees and the school, eclipsing the playground JJ was hopping the fence of. You cross the street more carefully to join him.

You find him on the swingset, waiting for you. Once he was small enough for it, but now, his knees are bent and he’s crouched down into it, swinging slow and low with his feet planted on the ground. You smile as you take a seat next to him.

“The fuck is wrong with you,” you question, and he leans his head against the chainlink metal holding his seat up.

“Do you really want to ask that,” he says, before launching himself into a full swing.

You watch him push himself back and forth getting higher and higher up into the air with each kick.

“JJ,” you say, but he ignores you. He’s trying to go as high as the swing will let him. You’re afraid it’s going to snap, or he’s going to go too high and fall right out of it. Your feet stay on the ground as you swing yourself leisurely back and forth.

“JJ,” you say more sternly, and he laughs up in the air, high on adrenaline. He takes one look at your cautious face and catapults himself off the swing at the highest point, jumping into the wood chips that would most definitely find their way into both of your shoes for the walk home. The sun is even lower now.

He sits in the chips, knees pulled tightly into his chest, staring at you, a hyena grin on his face that you’ve grown accustomed to.

“You should try that,” JJ comments, but you keep swinging. You used to do that too, when you were younger. It makes your heart hurt to think you’ve outgrown it, so you push yourself just a little bit higher.

JJ sits next to you again, still in his seat. He grabs the chains on either side of him, twisting back and forth.

“Your family is really nice,” he says, out of the blue.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m… I’m lucky to have them—”

“I don’t want to be…” JJ cuts you off, trails off.

“I want it to be like that,” he says, and you’re confused. The sky is blue. Mosquitos will start to come out soon, but you’ve only been out for a little bit.

“What?” You ask, and he stares at you. You drag your feet in the wood chips, a little divot under both your swings. There’s only two of them. You remember racing to them after school with your best friend, hoping to get one before the other kids got there.

“I want us to be like that,” he says, and you’re dumbfounded.

“Not like your family, or your parents… well, kind of, but like… ah, I’m stupid, don’t listen to me.”

“What do you want us to be like, JJ,” you say, and you’re surprised at how low your voice is. You stare at your sneakers and one of your shoes is untied.

“You said…” he starts, and you can feel him looking at you, “You said it wasn’t like that. When your dad was like…” he trails. He traces nonsense patterns into the ground with the tips of his sneaker.

You take the opportunity to look at him. His eyelashes are long, and you lick your lips looking at his.

“And you want us to be like that,” you finish. JJ shakes his head.

“I’m fucking stupid, don’t even listen to me,” he says.

“I just thought your family was nice and…” he cuts himself off, and you place your hand over his, which is still holding the chain link metal keeping him off the floor.

He looks at you. His eyes are unsure.

You realize the ball is in your court.

You reach over him, grabbing the other chain from the swing, and it takes more effort than you realize to face him, so you get up and stand in front of him.

You’re taller than he is when in the swing. The sky is a dark blue now, and it paints JJ’s face, his sculpted sharp features. The edge of his nose and the cut of his jawline and the way he looks like he’s about to cry.

So you can’t help it when you place your hands on his again, and you lean down, and he leans up, and you smile, before you kiss him for the first time.

He slides his hands out from under yours, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

When he pulls away, he places his forehead on your chest, his head moving with your breathing.

“I wanna be like that too,” you murmur into his hair. He holds you tighter for a second, and you rub his back.

He jerks back when he gets bit by a mosquito, pulling his arms away from you to slap his forearm.

“We’re gonna get eaten alive,” he says, and you back up.

“You ready to go home?” You ask, and he extends his hand for you to take. You pull him out of the swing, and the two of you walk back to your house, hands intertwined underneath a twilight sky. You don’t let go until you reach the front door.

In his seat, JJ’s foot brushed yours, and you smiled at him. He was scoffing down pasta like nobody’s business, your mom gleaming at how he loved her cooking, your dad’s concentration on his own food, almost as vivacious as JJ.

You rub your foot back over JJ’s. He knows what it means, because he stops eating to smile at you, for a brief, almost imperceptible second.

For now, you could be his family.

#jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outerbanks #jj maybank x you #outerbanks #outer banks #outerbanks imagine #obx imagine #obx #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #fluff #request

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