#tickets on my machine like just fucking help me
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today has been so evil so far if you go to sbux today you're going to hell
#for like 2 hrs straight i was up to my neck is mobile/cafe/delivery orders & everyone was up to their neck in their positions too#and at one pt our shift was on lunch so it was only 3 of us on the floor & bc my coworker was so swamped with food & front orders#the drip coffee wasnt being brewed & so i had to brew asap for a lady who had been waiting for a mobile order for a while#and so i was trying to do that asap and got the grinds in the filter at one pt so i had to regrind#and my coworker doing drive drinks was like 'whos doing cafe?? youre supposed to be on cafe???'#and im like first of all I'm technically only customer support but ive been planted at this station helping YOU out#which i did say all of that but ne ways shes all like '(our shift) told me you were on cafe I'm gonna have to talk to her about that' and i#was like dude im doing cafe but i had to rebrew our drip bc we're out of all of them!!! like listen to me!!!! and shes like im not mad at#blah blah like idgaf if you are im fucking clarifying the situation for you so you can shut the fuck up & let me do what i need to do i#fucking know ppl are waiting on their cafe orders that's literally what im working on if you just got youre fucking head out of your ass#you're pissing me off!!! i already hate working with your ass and you're making it worse#and whenever shed catch a break shed have the audacity to ask if i needed help seeing that i literally had a shit ton of#tickets on my machine like just fucking help me#or at least get some fucking ice or something stop repeatedly asking me & use your eyes#luckily the shift got back eventually & restocked stuff & just as i finally caught up it was my lunch time like......#fuck my stupid baka life as if yesterday afternoon with my whole car issue wasnt enough#also go to hell if you stand at the pick up station breathing down my neck for your order & cont to triple check drinks that are very#obviously not yours if the name is anything to go by!!!!#dl
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BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 10:32
You tell Bakugou once that you don’t know how to take the train home, and he almost blasted your ears off with semi-yelling (or full-on yelling at some point) insults.
“Hah?” He scoffs, eyes narrowing. This information is new to him, and a surprising one at that.
You? The nerd that always bested him when it came to academics, which pissed him off the first few months in U.A.? The person who was not only book smart but was street and people smart as well?
The whole goddamn package doesn’t know how to take the train?
Really?
He’s calling bull.
“What do you mean you don’t know how to take the train home? What kind of idiot doesn’t know that?”
“I just—“ you’re abashed and really don’t know what to say, “I didn’t really— I’ve never had the chance to take one until now!” For a consistent honors student, you can’t really have everything, can you?
“How’ve you been getting to school and back, then?”
“We had a driver—“
“Fuckin’ course—“
“But hey! Listen—in my defense—my schools were usually a walking distance from our house.”
“And now what? Gonna stand here and wait for a miracle to happen?”
You nudge his side with a frustrated frown (more like a pout, Bakugou thinks.) “Quit it, asshole.”
He backtracks briefly, though you could barely tell at this point. And it’s clear enough that he takes your words into consideration. It could be the fact that you actually look scared shitless right now, something foreign to your typical lax and carefree persona.
“C’mon.” Bakugou grabs you by the arm.
“Ow— hey! Where are we going?”
“You have to learn somehow, or else you’ll look fuckin’ clueless and dumb, nerd.”
You don’t argue because you really just wanted to get home, and while you could just call in your driver, you considered that this was important information that would help you in the long run. Besides, you do agree with Bakugou that not knowing how to commute like this is embarrassing, especially at your age.
“What’s this?”
Bakugou hands you a card. It’s decorated with a minimalist logo of Musutafu’s native flower, whose color is your favorite.
“An IC card,” he simply answers.
It’s cute, you thought. You noticed how the other commuters had the standard design, so Bakugou must've gotten it personalized to your preference. How thoughtful.
“You could’ve just helped me get a ticket, though,” you murmur. You fiddle with the card in your hand, glancing at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I’ll be using this card that often. It’ll be a waste.”
“Then try and use it as often as you can, nerd.”
“I’ll pay you back for this—how much was it?”
“Forget it.”
“Really, Bak—“
“Forget it,” he barks. “Keep up, you shitty extra. Or else you’d miss the last train to your station.” Bakugou starts walking, and you follow suit.
You can load your IC card at the ticket machines or the nearest ATMs. Different stations call for different ticket gates that obviously have different fares. The expiration of cards usually depends on what provider you got them from—
“What do I do now?”
You’re hesitantly in front of the ticket gate, with Bakugou on the other side. You’re like a kid who’s lost their mother in the mall.
“Just—“ Bakugou had to take a deep breath and not make a scene in the train station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, calling for all his ancestors to give him the strength to remain patient.
“Place your shitty card on the card reader. That’s it.”
You do as you’re taught, and you awed when the gates opened and let yourself walk through with a stupidly big smile on your face. “I did it!”
Bakugou thinks it’s fucking stupid of him to think that your enthusiasm for mundane things was cute. But fuck, something must be wrong with him because suddenly he feels a flurry of butterflies lodged in his throat, his heart beating ridiculously fast.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
He gives you directions, how to navigate through Musutafu without getting lost, and the basic stations you’ll be passing by to get to your station. He sees you type most of the things he says on your phone, and the way you were so eager to learn was a sight to see, really.
Boarding the metro, people were just as eager to get home as you two. So you two stood, not that there was much room to do anything about it.
“Hold onto the handle unless you want to fall on your ass,” Bakugou says. His tone is hushed to not disturb the other passengers. At least he followed basic commuting etiquette.
“It’s so beautiful,” you breathe out. The passing buildings were as huge as those of U.A.’s, if not bigger. With the golden hue of the apparent descent of the sun below the horizon, Musutafu just became more beautiful in your eyes.
He scoffs.
“What’s so interestin’ about a buncha tacky buildings? Never seen one before you came here?”
“Of course I have; they’re just not like this.”
Bakugou follows your line of sight, and he thinks about it carefully. He couldn’t see what you saw, but maybe it’s because he grew up looking at this scenery. It doesn’t amaze him as much as it did when he was younger, he concludes. To you, this was a first.
An experience that could become a core memory in this city. And he’s with you as you live through it. The thought causes a familiar feeling of pride to exude from his chest.
Maybe he’ll learn to appreciate more mundane things with you too in the future.
The train stops at another station, and the people scurry out. Once in motion, you were surprised by the speed when it took off, and the motion had you stumbling back. You stumble against Bakugou.
“What did I say about keeping a firm hold on the handles, you shitty extra? That’s what those are for.” Whether it’s by instinct or unintentional, Bakugou guides your hand to hold onto the support pole. He doesn’t let go, and you didn’t make a comment about it.
“Sorry! Still getting used to it,” you quietly laugh. “I hope the people here don’t think I’m really that inexperienced when it comes to taking the metro home,” you told him. “It’s embarrassing to think that I haven’t taken one until now.”
Bakugou thinks it’s alright because you were actually on set to learn. No matter what those other extras say or comment, no matter if they give you unimpressed glances, he’s there to grant them one of his own spine-chilling glares if they had the balls to do so.
A passenger who appeared to be around your age stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, you can take my seat. I get off at the next stop,” he says. You’re a bit hesitant to take the offer, but he reassures you that it’s fine. It’ll be an awkward death for you if you don’t accept it, because now he’s standing. “Please, I insist.”
Unknown to you, Bakugou had an obvious scowl on his face until the stranger left.
“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”
“Shut up, I’m not.”
“Jealous?”
“Hah? Why would I be—”
“Shh!” you kicked his shoe with yours.
“Quiet, remember?”
Bakugou rolls his eyes, still frowning. You hold his free hand, cheekily smiling when he tries to free it from your hold. And in the end, he lets you do whatever the fuck it is that you want, but he would never ever admit that he was jealous of some nameless extra. He’s too far into liking you to help you board a train, get you a personalized IC card, miss his stop two stations ago because yours was still three stations after his, but he doesn’t think he’d be vocal about it anytime soon.
He’ll leave it to you to confess.
Then again, you already knew.
Bakugou Katsuki would not go above and beyond like this for anyone else, but he unknowingly does for you.
SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugou fluff#bakugou drabble#bakugo x reader#bakugo fluff#bakugo drabble#mha x reader#mha fluff#mha drabbles#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha drabble#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#mha bakugou#bnha bakugou
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𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆
+ nagi seishiro x f!reader | wc 2.4k | content: fluff, high school setting!, some cursing
notes: this was something requested by an anon !! i realised this prompt was also done in my other fic whole except nagi was the second lead :’) also pleaseeeee excuse me if this is ass because i haven’t written in a long time T_T but i’m working on getting back properly !! <3
summary: he didn’t ask you out because he wanted to, yet nagi gets more than he bargained for in the end.
“so, um, nagi, why’d you ask me out all of a sudden?”
it’s kind of an awkward situation to be in, you think, as you look around the arcade, shuffling your feet beside where nagi’s seated, trying to win some tickets from what you can only assume to be a music machine.
when he’d asked you out on a date yesterday, you didn’t think he’d take you to an arcade, of all places. (then again, nagi asking anyone out is sort of unbelievable, honestly.) if you knew sooner (or if nagi had bothered to tell you), you wouldn’t have worn such a nice dress for today.
besides, you’re not even sure why you’d agreed. call your state half-flustered or whatever, because you heard that nagi seishiro of all people does not bother with human relationships much. you’ve only ever seen him interact with mikage reo anyway—and you’d just chalked it up to him wanting it that way. nagi had never shown interest in girls or romance or that kind of shit, so cue your surprise when he asked you out yesterday, when he saw you at the bus stop.
“hey, wanna go on a date tomorrow?”
you blinked at him, utterly surprised because that was the first time that nagi had ever spoken to you.
“um, where to?” (you were still malfunctioning over the fact that he was asking you out on a date.)
nagi scratched the back of his head, and you could faintly make out reo a few ways behind him, watching on.
“hmm, not sure, i’ll text you tomorrow morning?” he suggested, pulling out his phone. “what’s your number?”
okay sure, you could’ve asked for more details, but it was hard getting nagi to respond to you at all. you’re pretty sure he was gaming, that’s why.
“oh, ‘cause reo asked me to.”
that… was not the answer you were expecting. “reo asked you to?”
nagi has a bad habit of not elaborating. you don’t really like that, because you don’t like asking questions, but you can’t help yourself now. this is too bizarre for you to let go.
“yeah, something about how he’s sick of me playing games all day long, told me to go get a date, then he’d return me my switch,” nagi mumbles, and you can’t help but think that reo’s plan may have backfired, considering how he’s on a date and still playing games.
while nagi’s grey eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, you find yourself drawn to the way he’s sucking in his cheek as he concentrates, the way his bangs fall over his eyes and how his fingers can respond so quickly to the lines on the screen.
“you’re pretty good at this,” you tell him, getting lost in how well he’s playing. the points on the screen gets so high he’s almost nearing the high score.
for a moment, nagi’s distracted by how close you are to him; your hair smells like citrus and it’s really smooth. it’s also the only time anyone other than reo has been this close and you’re not anyone so he doesn’t really see why you’re able to steal his focus from the game.
someone like you shouldn’t make him notice things that aren’t about games or himself.
but you do—and he misses the first note since the start of the game, though he recovers fairly easily.
he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re in his class and you’re very pretty (now that he’s actually looking at you). you have a really cute laugh too, he realises, right when he wins the game and probably what’s a thousand tickets, with you rejoicing happily beside him.
“oh my god, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re jumping and giggly and nothing like how quiet you are in school and why does he feel a little giddy knowing that he’s getting to see this firsthand? this doesn’t make sense. “okay, move aside, teach me, i wanna do it too.”
nagi obliges. it’s a pain having to teach someone else compared to doing it himself, he gets to know, as you miss probably half the notes on screen even when he tries to tell you how to do it. hell, he’s not really a good teacher.
you win about 300 tickets.
“not bad for a rookie,” nagi comments as you grab your own pile and stack it in your shared basket. the neon red and blue flashes pretty against your skin. it makes you even prettier, he feels.
you raise a brow. “nagi seishiro, wanna play a bet?”
no, not really. but somehow, he can’t quite turn down a game when it’s from you.
“what’re you betting?”
you hold out the basket in front of you. “i’m gonna find a game where i can beat you.” your chest is puffed out, like you’re determined, like you really believe you can. “if i lose, you can decide my punishment.”
nagi blinks at you. you’re… weird. you make his heart beat faster than usual. it’s a little concerning. “and if you win?”
grinning, you wink at him, “let’s leave that to later.”
whatever possessed him to spend the entire day following you around the arcade and watching you fail, he doesn’t know. you’re pretty bad at everything compared to him, but it’s not really fair—he’s probably spent ten times as much of his days in the arcade than you.
have you ever even set foot in here before?
nagi observes as you try desperately to beat him in ddr. you fail, naturally. your feet coordination really isn’t that good, but it’s pretty cute how hard you’re trying. you’re still pretty even at the end of it, even when you’re sweating and some of your hair is matted against your skin. he keeps that to himself though.
throughout the entire day, nagi finds himself entertained by your persistent insistence to beat him at something. it’s funny how you’re awful at the arcade games. it’s also funny how you’re honestly trying. it’s really no use but here you are, sweating once again from shooting hoops.
your 64 versus nagi’s 154.
“wow, you’re really bad at all these games,” nagi murmurs when he sees your score. “wanna go somewhere else?”
you’re quick to open your mouth but it takes you just as quick to shut it, probably knowing you’ll never beat him. at least, not today. “fine, you win,” you say through gritted teeth. you’re a little prideful; nagi’s learning a lot about you. “what do you want?”
nagi seems to have forgotten your earlier bet. he just shrugs and tells you to choose what you want at the exchange counter.
“you don’t want anything?”
nagi looks at the prizes with such disinterest it makes you wonder what can interest a guy like him. he shakes his head, “i can get anything i want anytime anyway.”
(the underlying insinuation that coming to the arcade with him is your only chance to win prizes flies right over your head.)
but when nagi looks at your slightly disappointed face, he tries to backtrack. “i’ll let you know when i think of something i want since i won,” he says, looking away from you. “but you choose one of the prizes today.”
turns out it’s so easy to please you. just like that and that smile is back on your face.
you choose a big goddamn pink teddy bear by the way. nagi sighs as he leaves the arcade with you. it’s probably a character nagi doesn’t know. he’s judging you, but then you hug it and smile at him and he forgets what he’s thinking about.
“i know this was only because reo asked you to, but…” you mumble after you and nagi both finished eating dinner, sitting across from each other at the ramen shop. “it was fun.”
nagi’s not sure what this is. just a customary thing where you’re showing appreciation for the time you two spent together today? you’re looking away from him though, he’s pretty sure normal customs don’t dictate that. he’s pretty sure you’re supposed to look at him when you say that.
“why’re you looking away?”
you look at him in blank shock (an expression that he doesn’t know how to process—what’s so weird about asking you that?) before you smile helplessly. “you’re very weird, nagi seishiro.”
“what do you mean?” nagi’s clueless, in that nagi seishiro way only he can be.
a few seconds of silence pass when you try to make up your mind. it’s unnerving how big and wide his eyes are, especially when they’re focused only on you and nothing else. in the end, you manage with a shake of your head.
“it’s nothing,” you decide. telling him of your possible crush on him would not do any good, you guess.
something bugs nagi; he can’t understand what it is. he just knows something feels off but it’s not like he’s ever felt this particular kind of irk—he doesn’t know what to do.
when the time comes to leave the restaurant, nagi finds himself walking the opposite way to his home because you started walking first.
somehow, his feet follows you.
it’s stupid—walking this far away from the direction of his home is troublesome. it’ll be a hassle to get home when his bus is on the other side of the long gone restaurant. why is he walking you to the train station again when he’ll just see you next week anyway? you’re in the same class.
“oh, are you gonna take the train too?”
nagi blinks at you, drawing a blank at your question. he must’ve completely zoned out. did the both of you get here in complete silence?
“no,” he answers honestly. he doesn’t elaborate. as usual.
by now, that doesn’t surprise you. instead you just nod your head, a hesitance borne in the shuffling of your feet. “well,” you drawl out, dragging the syllable, somehow hoping this wasn’t the end of the night but it is. “this was a nice one-time date,” you settle for, smiling. you’re about to just say goodbye, but you bite on your bottom lip, contemplating, before you slip his phone out of his hand and slide the screen to the side, taking a picture of the both of you together, nagi looking at the screen in surprise and you winking beside him.
when you hand it back to him, you bite your inner mouth, trying not to grin. “in case reo asks for evidence,” you offer as an excuse. you totally didn’t want to take a picture with nagi. “he better give you your game back!”
nagi gets this fleeting feeling that he doesn’t know how to explain when he sees you smiling at him. like how you remind him of the color gray. not because it’s bland but because it’s his favourite color. you remind him of spring and the cool breeze and how refreshing it feels.
“it was a nice one-time date, nagi seishiro,” you chuckle before you turn around, ready to head into the station and probably never spend such time with nagi again. you’ll probably get over the sadness of what could’ve been pretty quickly. you think.
but just before you can enter, you hear the firm steadiness in nagi’s voice. “no.”
you whip your head around, not quite sure you heard him right. “no?” you narrow your stare a little, moving out of other people’s way as they push past you into the station. “as in, you didn’t like it?”
you hope he doesn’t mean it like that.
nagi looks away, earnestly processing it. it came blurting out of him, he didn’t even know what he said until he said it. “i won the bet and what i want is… this. again. with you.”
the implications of his words slowly sink in and it has you feeling giddy. nagi, the guy who barely cares about anything nor makes the time for anyone—is he actually telling you this? is he really saying he’d take you out more?
meanwhile, nagi’s feet stay firmly planted where he is, wondering why you make him feel like this, why you make him feel like he can’t get enough. you’re just… you. before today, he could honestly say you were insignificant. but just the way you are; how you speak, your smile, your laugh and your resilience—nagi likes it, finds comfort in it, somehow.
“then,” you say as you enter the station, face giddy with the excitement of something new blossoming. “i’ll wait for more dates with you, sei.”
the way you call him that makes his heart skip a beat and he’s left blankly staring at your figure as you retreat into the station, stealing his heart with you.
“fine, fine,” reo sighs. it’s two days later on a monday and reo grudgingly gives nagi back his switch. “so, what’d you two do anyway?” he asks, shifting his gaze between nagi and you, though you’re at the other end of the classroom, talking excitedly to your friends.
nagi’s attention quickly transfers to his switch, already opening up a game to play. “nothing much,” is all he offers, and reo’s beginning to think maybe it was more of a punishment for you than a date.
reo sighs again, ready to lecture nagi for being the worst date ever when he pulls up his phone to look at the time. but he accidentally takes nagi’s phone instead, unlocking it to find his own chat thread—to which nagi doesn’t even bother saving his name (reo side eyes him but nagi doesn’t even realise).
that doesn’t surprise him, but what does is when reo realises your contact is saved—with the icon being a picture of the two of you together. you must really be something to be able to make nagi do something so idiotic like this.
“oi, nagi.”
nagi only responds with a raise of his brow. he’s still clicking away at the controls. reo guesses it must be a racing game from those sounds.
“if you guys get married i better be the best man for being your matchmaker,” reo teases, his grin filling his face.
even though nagi doesn’t respond, the champagne pink that brushes across his cheeks is enough indication to reo of nagi’s feelings for you.
looks like he never needed to worry after all.
#bllk x reader#nagi x reader#seishiro nagi x reader#blue lock x reader#nagi x you#nagi seishiro x reader#bllk fluff#nagi fluff#nagi seishiro x you#seishiro nagi x you#nagi x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#nagi seishiro x y/n#seishiro nagi x y/n#nagi seishiro fluff#blue lock fluff#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n#૪ aeri’s fics !
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HEY TUMBLR!!
Guess who you know who fucked up xir paycheck math like never before!!
This particular brouhaha involves me buying concert tickets without realizing a different payment hadn’t yet come out, and I don’t feel comfortable being like “hey y’all, just give me money for my leisure.” BUT. I do have wares, if you have coin, to help me sew up the hole in my pocket.
Please allow me to introduce the CROSS-MY-HEART.
(Don’t mind my facial expression, I was staring almost directly into the sun in a couple of these.)
I first saw one of these in one of my mom’s crochet magazines in the early 90s, and have never seen one since. “Cross my heart” might have even been the name of the pattern, not the item, and this is merely an attempt to reverse-engineer it. But as you can see, this particular heavy shawl does in fact cross the heart, and buttons from the inside in order to adjust wherever you like. (You can also wear it inside out if you want to, but there aren’t two buttons, so it’s not as adjustable in that direction, and also the pattern will look slightly different.)
The cross-my-heart is ideal for times of year when a sweater or blanket is too damn hot and shirtsleeves or bare arms are too damn cold, and is spacious enough for free arm movement. I don’t have access to a wheelchair, but experiments with a kitchen chair show it should also be an ideal length to keep your upper half warm without getting caught in your wheels, if that’s a consideration for you.
The Pumpkin Spice Cross-My-Heart is made of allergen-free acrylic in a smoke-free, dog-free, cat-friendly home, and is available for $120 + shipping (provide an address for shipping calculations). Tips are accepted and appreciated, but not expected.
This particular cross-my-heart was a test pattern due to the whole “had to reverse engineer from something I saw when I was like five” thing, and as such will be entirely unique as I worked out row sizes and, uh, took so long that the entire colorway was discontinued. (Okay, Caron.) In light of this, rather than the usual 12” of extra yarn I normally provide in case of cigarette burns, teething puppies, sharp corners, etc., the Pumpkin Spice Cross-My-Heart will include 24” of spare yarn. I stand behind my work as quality, but also recognize accidents happen.
The cross-my-heart is machine-washable on the delicates cycle. DO NOT WASH WITH ITEMS THAT HAVE HOOK AND EYE CLOSURES, as the item features decorative barrel stitches.
Interested? DM me! Not interested but want to help me fix my mathematical screw-up? Reblog, and keep an eye out later this week for further items!
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Woven Wheel
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 4.3k
Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is taller than the reader, CW food, FLUFF.
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Thread the Needle Masterlist
CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6
You sit on Hobie's rickety chair, on your lap is his emerald bed sheet, your hands expertly stitch together the large hole on the side of the cloth. Eyes glued to what you're doing, you don't notice Hobie's piercing gaze.
He's crouched over to the other side of the room, fixing the wiring of his answering machine. Hobie watches your cherry earrings sway as you move your head to the side to inspect your handiwork. The bags under your eyes are more prominent than the last time he saw you. He sighs, fingers wrapping around the wiring of his answering machine.
Hobie should've been more persuasive at telling you to stay home and get some much needed rest. But you being you, you won the argument, telling him that it'll be your place too once you graduate so you should come over and help with the cleaning and fixing. With that you already won, but then you added the fact that he already used a ticket from your favour card. Rolling your eyes through the payphone's receiver as if he can see you, you tell him that you always keep to your word. He relents, the only thing he can do now is to make sure you don't get too tired, opting to give you the easiest job, even if he means he has to do more.
So here you are sitting in his sparse living room, mending his bedsheet, watching as James walks over to you. You smile politely to the blonde, making small talk.
"You're gonna burn a hole right through her" Ned appears out of nowhere, whispering right in Hobie's ear.
Hobie pushes him off, Ned cackles at his annoyed reaction. "Fucker"
"You look like a lovesick teen, just go fuckin' tell her, you idiot" Ned sits down to Hobie's level, whispering to him. "Seriously, go do it before someone else does" as Ned says this, you laugh at something James said, the blonde smiles sheepishly at you. "Also I need to see you two finally get together before I leave. I deserve that much after watching you two yearn for each other the entire time I've known you lot"
Hobie frowns at what Ned says, fingers twisting the wiring in his hands faster, he jumps when a sudden jolt of electricity shocks him, the wiring falling from his hand "Fuck!" He yells, holding and shaking his hands.
You perk up, attuned to his scream of pain, stopping mid conversation. "You okay, Hobs?" Handing the linen to James, speed walking the small distance towards Hobie's crouched form. "The hell did you do?" Crouching down, you hold his hands gingerly, massaging his calloused fingers. Probably the opposite of what you should do when somebody gets electrocuted.
"I'm okay, just a shock is all" Hobie stares at your hands gingerly holding his. You nod, still a little concerned.
Ned chuckles, Hobie stares daggers at his friend, shutting him up, a faint smirk staying on his lips. "Maybe you should let Yuri do that, she's good with that kind of stuff" Ned teases Hobie more.
"Let me do what?" Yuri enters the boat, a large box in her hands.
"I have it," Hobie grumbles.
You stand up, dropping Hobie's hands on his side, "oh, let me help you with that"
Ned stops you before you could get your hands over to the box. "Got it, y/n"
"I got it" Yuri lightly shoves Ned away, "I'm not a damsel in distress" she walks towards the pile of boxes on the side of the boat, dropping the large box next to the pile, "see, no sweat"
"When's lunch?" James pipes up, still holding Hobie's bedsheet.
"Mate, you barely did anything" Ned scrunches his nose, "you're right though, when's lunch, Hobie?"
You laugh, Yuri rolls her eyes, a ghost of a smile on her red lips.
"Bunch of leeches, the lot of you" he murmurs. Tapping you on your arm, "what do you want?" Hobie asks you.
"Pizza or fish and chips" Ned says before you could answer, a teasing smile on his lips.
"I asked her not you" Hobie huffs.
"I second that," James agrees, pointing at Ned.
"A coke too," Yuri adds.
"Christ" Hobie places his hands over his hips, "you good with either?" He turns his head towards you.
"A large coke for me, please" you add to the teasing.
"I expected better from you" Hobie narrows his eyes, you giggle at his expression.
—
The chair creaks from under you, finishing the last stitches on the bed sheet, you try to make conversation with Yuri. She sorts through the various boxes for some utensils to eat with. The men left a few minutes ago to buy lunch, leaving you and Yuri inside the Houseboat.
"So what are you gonna study?" You break the silence.
"Getting right to the point, huh?" Yuri teases but you take it too seriously, eyes widening, afraid that you might've offended her.
"Sorry, I didn't mean–"
"I was joking," Yuri stops her perusal of boxes, now looking straight at you with her piercing gaze, "you can ask" she chuckles, "seriously, don't apologize"
"Oh, okay, sorr–" Yuri raises a sharp brow, you backtrack, suddenly nervous from her stare, "right, so um, what are you gonna study?"
Yuri smiles, "Architecture, I know, it's a surprise, huh?" She gestures towards her dark clothes, combat boots and spiked denim jacket.
"Kind of? I mean look at me, do I look like a fashion student?" Gesturing towards your not so plain clothes, but still pretty tame from what you used to wear back in the day. You opted for a pair of bell bottomed jeans instead of your usual straight cut denim, your long sleeved blouse rustles slightly when a draft blows in. The detailed design of hummingbirds stitched on the collar of your shirt practically comes alive every time you turn your head. You're slowly trying to ease back to your usual self, following Danny's advice. And it actually works since you had a major breakthrough with your design a few nights ago. You're keeping it a secret, a little surprise for your model.
"You're a fashion student?!" She feigns surprise.
Chuckling, you see why her and Hobie are friends.
"I joke" Yuri winks, "I stopped tryin' to blend in a looong time ago" she crosses the small threshold, sitting in front of you on an equally rickety chair, "you look different, they stare, you look plain, they whisper. You can't bloody win. Might as well be myself out of spite, right?" she lifts her leg to cross it over the other. "Così va il mondo'' she sighs.
"Such is life" you translate, Yuri smirks, eyes twinkling.
"I see why Hobie likes you so much," she leans on the wooden table, elbows propped up, hand holding her chin. "You're not just pretty, but smart too, huh?"
Smiling genuinely at her, you take note of her freckles, dotting her face like stars, her septum piercing glinting in the low light of the lamp you've placed on the table.
The door to the houseboat swings open, the boys' bickering slices the silence inside the boat.
"Fuckin' told you to hold it on its side!" Hobie argues with James.
"I did! It slid down! I can't control gravity, Hobie!" James retaliates.
Ned enters the space first, he looks so out of it, face frowning, exasperated at his two companions. He holds a liter of coke in his hand, the other a plastic bag of something hot inside.
Yuri side eyes you, shaking her head at the men arguing, you chuckle. She stands up reluctantly, going towards the pile of boxes to take out the utensils.
You follow her lead, walking to meet halfway with the tired Ned. He hands you the bottle of coke.
"I feel like I've aged ten bloody years"
You chuckle, helping Ned place the food on the wobbly table.
"Wait, place it on the floor, that table's not stable enough" Hobie stops you, grabbing the soda bottle from your hands, he juggles it in between the paper bag he's carrying.
"I got it, Hobie" you take the bottle from his hand, " 's not that heavy, you're already carrying too much"
"Where do we eat then, doofus?" Yuri asks the question that's on everyone's mind, she holds plates of various sizes in her hands, mismatched spoons and forks placed on top of the ceramic, in her other hand are mugs, hanging precariously on her ring clad fingers.
"Well, idiot," Hobie retaliates, "the floor is your best friend" He sits down on the newly polished floor, the wood gleaming in all its glory. The paper bag almost spills over when he sits down, grabbing the top of the bag before the contents decorate the clean floors.
"The chips!" James dramatically yells.
"They're fine!" Hobie clicks his tongue, he taps the floor next to him. "Right here, y/n" he softened up when he said your name.
You don't waste a second to cross the space, dropping down next to him. You sit criss crossed, cradling the liter bottle like a baby.
"You need a dining table or at least a settee that doesn't give you tetanus when the spring pokes you" Ned unceremoniously sits down, adjacent to you, he yelps when hot oil singes his finger. "Where else are we gonna sit?" He licks the oil off his red fingertip.
"You gonna buy me one, Neddy?" Hobie gives you a box full of chips, you give him a small 'thank you'.
"I'll buy you one if you actually do what we discussed earlier" Ned replies. Hobie narrows his eyes, non-verbally telling him to shut up.
You look at Ned quizzically, he shrugs, handing everyone their share of fried fish. Your stomach grumbles at the sight. Everyone sits in a circle, the pizza box and soda lays in the middle of the group.
Yuri snorts, knowing what he meant. James opens the pizza box, the savory smell coating the small space. He quickly grabs a slice, gobbling it down.
"Bloody hell, use a plate at least. Were you raised in a barn?" Yuri grimaces, handing James a plate. He nods a thank you, mouth full of dough. "Here you go, love" she hands you a couple of plates and utensils.
"Thanks,Yuri" You hand the spare utensils to Hobie, Leaning forward to grab a slice.
"What's all this? You two best mates now?" Hobie asks, biting off a chip.
"You jealous? We're just lookin' out for each other. Ain't that right, sweets?" Yuri winks at you. You stop chewing for a hot second.
Ned guffaws while James laughs with a mouthful of cheese and sauce. Hobie rolls his eyes, handing you his makeshift glass so you could pour him a drink.
You pour him one while Hobie casually rolls your sleeves up to your elbows so you don't splash soda on it. The fizz rises up towards the edge of the mug. "It's not that cold anymore"
"I'll manage" Hobie thanks you by tapping his mug towards yours, it clinks when they meet.
"Best fish and chips in town, fuck I'm gonna miss this" Ned says.
"They have fish and chips in Richmond," Yuri scoffs, biting into the doughy pizza.
"I know they have fish and chips! But not this fish and chips" he shows his plate like a commercial, hand gesturing around his plate.
"They literally all taste the same" James quips, hand reaching for tissues.
"They would taste the same for you because you don't stop to actually taste it" Ned rebukes.
Their banter fades in the background as Hobie scooches next to you, legs kissing yours, "you want my slice?"
"Hmm? You don't like it?" You lean further into him, "is it the cheese?"
"Nah, I just don't like it" he leans towards you, further closing the already small distance, breath mixing in with yours. "It's too.." he tries to find the right word to describe it, "..gooey for me"
You snort at his choice of word "hehehe say it again"
"What's so funny about 'gooey'?"
"You saying 'gooey', big punk Hobie saying gooey is funny" you take the pizza from his plate, taking a bite from it. "Oh, you're right, it is gooey"
"Doughy, fuck that's the word I was looking for"
You giggle, "I think 'doughy' has the same effect as 'gooey'"
"You're very funny" Hobie stops for a second, unabashedly staring at your lips, he brings his thumb over to it, wiping at the corner of your mouth. You don't have time to react, freezing into place. "Sorry, you got sauce on it" he continues wiping, thumb grazing your lower lip. You stare at him, eyes wide, breath hitching in your throat. "Got it"
You clear your throat, "Thanks"
"Oi lovebirds!" Ned whistles to get your attention, Hobie glares at Ned.
"We're not dogs, what the hell do you want?"
"Pass me the hot sauce" Ned points at the packets near your crossed legs.
Hobie scoffs, tossing Ned the packets. It bounces off Ned's mug, almost falling inside his drink. Ned flips Hobie the bird as a thank you. Hobie lovingly answers the same.
The group munches on their food quietly for a few minutes, you relish in the peace. Until James burps. Yuri scrunches her nose, you hide your giggle with a bite of your lip.
"So, what are you planning on doing after you graduate?" Yuri bravely asks, her utensils clinking on the plate as she finishes eating.
"Getting right to the point, huh?" You tilt your head at Yuri, copying the words she uttered a few minutes ago.
Yuri smiles, "aye, you got me there"
Hobie watches the interaction, glad that you made friends with Yuri.
"Well there's this fashion house where an old friend of mine works at, that would be nice working with him. And it's right here in London so I don't have to go far" you wipe your fingers with a napkin.
"Think big, y/n! What's your ultimate goal?" Yuri pats your knee.
"She's right, go big or go home, eh?" Ned chides in.
"You guys are laying it on me, huh?" You shyly say.
"My da applied to the biggest radio station in London when he was younger, he never thought he'd even get accepted! Now look at him, the most famous radio host in the country!" James adds in the conversation.
"Wait, who's your dad?" Hobie asks.
"JJJ" James answers, huffing his chest in pride.
You all look at him surprised, Hobie slowly turns to look at you, mirroring the same expression.
"What the fuck? You're just gonna drop that insane lore just like that?" Ned looks at James, shocked.
"Yeah, and you know what?" James shifts in his seat, hand curling around his drink. "I'm not even gonna elaborate" he snickers, drinking loudly from his mug.
"I see the resemblance" you lean a bit to look at James closely.
"Yeah, just tape a mustache on him and he's a carbon copy" Hobie agrees.
"Let's shut the fuck up about him, yeah?" Yuri cuts in, James softly mumbles out a 'hey'. "You don't even want to tell us" Yuri points a finger in James' direction. "Let's go back to the topic at hand, y/n, what do you want to do after graduation?"
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Hobie places his chin on your shoulder, comforting you.
"Aye, you don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable telling us. I mean I am asking what your hopes and dreams are. It's a tall order." Yuri tells you.
"It's fine, really" you smile bashfully, "I– there's a fashion house in Paris, that I've been dreaming of working at since I was a kid. I guess that's what I want to do after." You fiddle with your thumbs.
Hobie watches the twinkle in your eyes, he smiles sadly at the prospect of you moving so far away from him, but he can't help but feel proud. He sighs, avoiding looking at your face, instead he stares at your discarded plate.
"Now that's the answer I was lookin' for"
"Thought you wanted to model?" James asks, looking confused in your direction. You tilt your head to ask him what he meant. "You two did go to a runway show, I thought it's because you wanted to model or something"
"Oh, that was for research" you answer.
Ned snorts "can't imagine Hobie at a runway show, especially him walking down on it" Ned shields his face with his arms when Hobie throws him another packet of sauce, this time aiming right for his face. It bounces off harmlessly, Ned sticks his tongue out. Hobie mumbles out a 'child', glaring at his friend.
"Mate, show us your runway walk!" James stands up, posing exaggeratedly.
"You first" Hobie lifts his head off your shoulder.
"I asked you first!"
"You asked for jack shit, fuck off" Hobie says flatly. You laugh at them both.
"Yeah, Hobie he did ask you first" Yuri grabs her plate to put in the sink.
"Why don't you do it then?" Hobie raises a pierced brow.
"Sure, If everyone does it" she leans casually on the kitchen island, a towel over her shoulder. "What do you say? You up for a little modeling?" Yuri smirks at you.
"Uh, no thank you" you stand up grabbing yours and Hobie's plates.
"I'll do it, I've got the physic for it" Ned stands up, cleaning up his station. "Let's clean this up, so we have the space"
"Let's goooo!" James grabs his dirty plates, quickly putting it in the sink.
"I've never seen him clean that fast" Hobie whispers to you, taking the plates from your hands. You smile at him, crouching down to take the empty mugs from the floor.
Once the floor gets cleaned (again) James hypes himself up, getting ready to walk. You grab your digital camera from your bag. Maybe if you assign yourself as the photographer they wouldn't notice you not walking with them.
You don't know if it's the sugar high from the soda or James' instigation but whatever it is they all comply. Yuri has a rare grin on her face, Ned punches Hobie's arm while he laughs loudly. James jumps up and down excitedly.
Hobie chuckles when you show him the camera, "go get a good angle of me"
"That's going to be hard" you tease. Hobie elbows your side lightly. Walking to the front of the 'runway', you crouch down for the best angle to take their pictures.
"Alright James! Go" Ned pats James' back.
James walks dramatically, hips swaying from side to side. Once he reaches you, he pouts, exaggerated. Pointing at the camera.
The flash goes off, James nods appreciatively, walking back to the rest of the group. Ned is up next, walking casually. He flips the bird at the camera. You laugh loudly, music to Hobie's ears. He's glad their shenanigans are making you laugh.
Yuri walks like she owns the place, hand on her waist, striking a pose at the end. She pauses for a second so you could take her picture, Yuri throws you a 'rock on sign' with her hand, it shows clearly in the grainy screen. She walks back to the laughing group.
Yuri grabs Hobie's shoulders, shaking him. "Your turn, Hobart!" She chuckles deeply, pushing him towards the starting position, "you better strike a bloody pose or you'll have to do it again!" The other two laugh at Yuri's teasing.
Hobie huffs, walking normally towards you. The instigators yell at him to do it properly.
"Hobie, you fucker! That's not how a proper model walks!" Ned exclaims.
He stops in front of you, the flash goes off, as you laugh at the picture you've taken. Hobie lifts you easily by your arm. You stand up, grinning at him.
"What are you doing?" You say, chuckling.
"You think you could escape? You gotta walk with me" Hobie throws his arm around your shoulder, cackling loudly.
You try to wiggle out of his hold. "Nooo!" Your smile betrays you as you try to hopelessly push him away. Yuri takes the camera from your hand, angling it to take numerous pictures of you two.
You laugh loudly as Hobie imitates (as best as he could) how a model walks, with you in his arms. The flash goes off in tandem with your strides, making it look like you're on an actual runway.
"Love it!" James cheers you on.
"Work it!" Ned adds, clapping his hands.
You stop at the end, grinning from ear to ear. Yuri keeps taking pictures, you're sure it's gonna run out of space soon enough, but it's well worth it. Hobie bends at his waist, grabbing the back of your knees, his other hand slides to your back, looping his arm across it, pulling you to his chest, lifting you off the ground. You yelp, quickly looping your arms to his neck.
"Hobie! What the fu–" click! Yuri captures the moment.
"That one's for the front page!" Yuri laughs, checking the picture on the small screen. James and Ned scooch closer to Yuri, peeking at the pictures. They laugh and smile at the pictures you've taken.
Hobie still holds you up, hands warm against your jeans. "You come here often?" He smiles down at you, eyes twinkling at your flustered face.
"I could strangle you right now" you quip.
"You're not tall enough" Hobie scoffs even though he has a smile on his lips.
"I literally have my arms around your neck"
"Kinky" he narrows his eyes at you, a smirk playing on his lips.
You chuckle nervously, "you can let me go now" you say despite not actually wanting him to let go.
"Nah, you look great in this angle" heat rises in your cheeks when he winks at you.
"Well you don't, you've got a bit of a double chin in this angle" you tease back, almost not getting the sentence out completely because of your laughs.
"I could just drop you, y'know"
"But you won't" you lean up slightly, pinching the back of his neck.
"You sure 'bout that?" He pretends to drop you, you gasp a bit, smacking your palm on his chest. He chuckles at your reaction. "I'm not gonna drop you" he fixes his hold on you.
"Yeah, but I'm getting heavy aren't I?" You grin at how he's trying really hard at carrying you.
"No" he lies, slowly putting you back on the ground.
"Mm-hmm, told you so"
—
You hum as Yuri gives you an unexpected hug goodbye, reciprocating the embrace, you pull away, holding her at arm's length.
"Watch us play at the concert?" Yuri asks you.
"Of course, I'll be there"
"Ohh, we'll definitely win then" Yuri goes in for another hug, squeezing you.
You and Hobie stand on the boat, watching them drive off in Yuri's beetle.
The sun slowly sets in the horizon, bathing the boat in its orange light. A breeze rushes past, hugging your coat tighter around you.
"You want a ride?"
"Ride?" You got distracted by the rays hitting his face just right, accentuating his sculpted face.
"Yeah, ride y'know, vroom vroom?" He acts as if he's revving his motorcycle's engine.
You laugh again, face hurting from all the smiling. "Are you trying to get rid of me already?"
"Never" he holds the crook of your elbow. "You're not too tired?" Concern on his face.
"A bit, but I'm not done yet with your bed sheet" you stand closer to him, the tips of your shoes kissing his. "Why do you have so many holes in them? I think I know what to get you for your birthday"
"I'm genuinely excited for new bed sheets" he rubs your arm, warming you.
"That's a sign you're getting old"
"Fuck off, I'm only a year older than you" he scoffs with no ounce of malice in it.
"Mm-hmm you're a homeowner now, how does it feel Mr. Hobart Brown" you lift an imaginary microphone to him. He finds your playfulness endearing, smiling softly at your good mood.
He plays along, leaning towards the invisible mic. "It'll be better once you've moved in"
You bite your lip, bashfully looking at him through your eyelashes. Moving the mic back to you "You've gone soft, can you tell us about that?"
Hobie sighs loudly, almost blurting out exactly why he's gone soft around the edges. He holds your wrist, pretending to talk into the imaginary mic "Well Ms. L/n, it comes with age" he surrenders just so he can hear you laugh wholeheartedly again.
"Knew it" You poke his chest. "Now, let me help you set up your bed. I can't let you sleep on the floor"
He bites his tongue at the innuendo that appears in his mind, "I'm not gonna sleep on the floor, I have a mattress"
"Yeah, a mattress that's on the floor!" You put your hands on your hips.
Hobie surrenders to you once again, at least he gets to hangout with you more. He's already getting ready for the screaming match when you two get frustrated with building the complicated bed frame.
—
You run from the metro station, legs straining, huffing, trying to regulate your breathing. Maybe it's a mistake to wear your new boots to the show, your heels clack against the hard pavement, increasing your chance of stumbling and breaking your ankle.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! You internally curse. You promised the band you'll be there for their final show, I can't believe I overslept! Please tell me they're not on yet! Regretting sleeping late because of your project. You shouldn't have made that complicated embroidery.
You skid to a stop, holding up your ticket to show the security guard. He nods stiffly, you practically run towards the side of the stage, dodging the growing crowd. You quickly gaze over the large stage, finding the staff still setting it all up. Yes! They haven't started yet! Smiling victoriously.
You stop, heels skidding to a halt, smile fading away when you see an unknown woman right next to Hobie, whispering closely to his ear, bare arms around his neck, fingers fiddling with the metal chain he always wears.
Oh
A/N: This chapter made me miss my chaotic OCs 🥺 Thank you for reading! Consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️
(please tell me if I missed any asterisks, they're placeholders for me during drafting. I feel like I missed some lol)
*pictures above are from pinterest*
#thread the needle chapter 5#thread the needle series#thread the needle#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#the kr8tor's creations#hobie brown#spider punk#spider man across the spider verse#x reader#atsv fanfiction#atsv fluff#atsv fanfic#atsv x reader#atsv hobie#hobie brown x fem!reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x y/n#spider punk x fem!reader#spider punk x you#hobie brown fluff#cw food#cw food mention#fanfic
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Curious Gazes: The 79th Venice International Film Festival featuring Dad!Harry
venice looks!
harry_lambert wants to message you!
A gasp left Chiara’s mouth as she stared down at her phone. The notification must have been a glitch, apps glitch all the time…right? Why would one of the most important stylists message her? All her worrying had her nibbling on her lip nervously.
She had to find out what he wanted. Swiftly her thumb swiped to accept the DM to reveal Harry Lambert’s message to her. Her heart leaped out of her chest once she saw three long paragraphs on her screen.
Dropping out of college to become a freelance makeup artist wasn’t something she planned on doing. Being in debt over school had her worrying about every little thing so she ended up quitting her third year at NYU.
Her parents did not take it well at first but over the years they’ve learned to support her makeup artist job, thankfully.
“Holy…sh—“
The blonde slaps her hand over her mouth as she continues to read the messages over and over to check if her eyes are deceiving her. Why would someone this important want to work with her? Even his client wanted to work with her…wait who was his client anyway?
In a hurry she taps to get onto Harry Lambert's Instagram page but her shitty Wi-Fi stops her.
With a groan Chiara stands up frustratedly and starts to walk in circles. Before giving up on her Wi-Fi she stubs her toe, stuffs her face with marshmallows and even makes crappy popcorn on her stove.
When her internet goes out she either falls asleep and prays it will be back on when she wakes up or she uses her neighbor's Wi-Fi. She would’ve used her neighbors connection but they’ve already yelled at her countless times for slowing down their internet.
So the most sane thing to do was go to a cafe and use up all their free Wi-Fi.
Harry Styles, Florence Pugh, Emma Louise Corrin, Alexander Skarsgård and even Y/N L/N. She almost let out screams at each picture of the celebrities and had to remember she was in a cafe full of people. Swiping back to her direct messages she clicks on the most recent one that had her in shambles.
Hii Chiara I’m Harry Lambert and I was wondering if you are free the first week of September? Me and my client would love to work with you…
Too jittery to read everything the hundredth time, her shaky hands type out a response. It took her about 20 tries to type a decent message without making it seem like she’s freaking out—which she still was doing.
Once she hit send, she shoved her phone in her back pocket apprehensively and rushed out of the cafe nervously. It felt like she was in highschool and just sent a risky text.
Instead on waiting on a message, Chiara does a bunch of things to distract her but nothing could take her mind off of Harry fucking Lambert messaging her.
While her hands were covered in clay and thinking about the business opportunity she may have, she felt a buzz in her back pocket. Almost instantly she shoots up from her seat and turns off the pottery machine. Everyone else in the room was too busy to notice a blonde rushing out of the building with a towel wrapped around her hands.
“Yes!”
She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Harry Lambert just gave her his and Alessandro Michele’s phone numbers for confirmation. The amount of excitement she felt was insane, never in her 22 years of life has she felt this giddy. Everything was finally turning good for her.
-
If you would’ve told her she would be getting on a private jet with Harry Styles and Y/N L/N, Chiara would’ve laughed in your face. But watching Y/N L/N and Harry Styles help their children out of their Range Rover through the jet window had her mouth hanging open in shock.
First of all she would’ve been fine with a regular plane ticket, yet Harry Lambert told her Y/N and Harry insisted on having her join their plane ride to Venice.
Oh yeah…she was going to Venice precisely to do Y/N’s makeup for The Venice Film Festival. She absolutely lost her shit of course. She never imagined doing someone’s makeup for one of the most prominent film festival’s yet here she was sitting on a jet seat.
While people were still boarding—none of them being the acclaimed couple—Chiara recognized some as the people that were on Y/N’s social media feed, she knew one of the guys sporting a backpack was Harry’s manager and the other being his photographer, Anthony.
She didn’t know how she was going to handle this for two whole days, hopefully she wouldn’t weird anyone out with her talkative persona.
“Excuse me Ms?”
The makeup artist looks up to find a flight attendant beaming down at her. As the blonde was going to give the air hostess a smile, she stopped herself.
Her eyes widened recognizing the person standing in front of her. Out of all people, why did her high school tormenter have to be Harry Styles’ stewardess. The girl that tortured her every single day when she was a teenager was stood right in front of her face.
The only thing she wished to do at this moment was disappear but she couldn’t, her body stayed put in the jet seat.
“Julie?” Chiara furrows her brows trying to sport the nicest smile ever. She didn’t know why her mind was telling her to play nice, she just hoped that ‘Julie’ or ‘Julia Calloway’ changed for the better. Yet she knew that wasn’t true once she saw a sour look crawl onto Julie’s face, the same sour look she saw everyday in school.
As the stewardess was about to respond to the makeup artist a bunch of people started to talk. Both of their attention swiftly diverted to the couple making their way inside the jet with their children.
It was like their prayers had been answered.
“Uh I got to go!” Julie says rushing away, not waiting for the blonde's response.
Chiara lets out a sigh of relief as she watches the air hostess greet Harry’s manager Jeffrey and Harry Lambert. The amount of industry people getting on the jet made her palms sweat. She had to hold her breath at Alessandro Michele revealing himself behind Tommy. The creative director of Gucci was here—she was in the presence of the creative director of Gucci.
But the next individuals made her freeze in her chair.
One Direction was big in her childhood. She always regretted not going to their concerts before they broke up and went solo. Though she knew going to their shows didn’t compare to being in the same vicinity as Harry Styles. This felt very unreal to her.
Harry had his arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist while his other arm held up a carrier—who Chiara assumed held their daughter Inez. A little boy stood in front of the couple and quickly darted to one of the jet seats followed by his backpack dragging behind him.
He must’ve been Beau since he looked exactly like Harry, he truly was his twin like everyone said. It felt illegal looking at his son without a strawberry emoji covering his face.
The makeup artist didn’t expect to get greeted by the mother but she did and it made her shoot up from her chair. She didn’t want to be rude to the person that offered to take her on their private jet with them.
“Chiara right?” Y/N smiles as she glances at Harry placing down the carrier on a seat next to Beau.
“U-uh yes! That is me.” Chaira says enthusiastically and quickly regrets her peppy tone but the woman standing in front of her just smiled brightly. “Sorry for being this excited at six thirty in the morning—“
“Hey, no it’s fine!” Y/N reassures the blonde which makes her grin. “Harry is a morning person so I’m used to it.”
Just as Chiara was going to speak, a loud cry came from the carrier. Harry, who looked stressed out—and definitely not like a morning person—swiftly picked up his daughter. Looking at Chiara, Y/N nods politely and excuses herself to the row across from her. Almost instantly she swoops up Inez in her arms which quiets her cries. Just the way her daughter stopped crying when she picked her up showed how she was such a good mother.
If Chiara even held a baby or got near one they would cry. Y/N had amazing mother abilities.
With people still getting situated on the jet, the blonde tries not to stare at the couple keeping their children entertained with a few stuffed animals and coloring books. She knew both Inez and Beau were going to grow up beautifully, they had great parents that would do anything for them.
Even though she hasn't greeted Harry yet, she was aware of him being one of the nicest celebrities ever.
Watching Harry and Y/N’s team get everything into place before takeoff was interesting. Jeff looked excited as he kept talking to Lambert about the couples outfits, Tommy was typing away on his phone most likely making sure everything was together when they arrived to Venice, Alessandro moved to sit with the beloved couple and their kids—which almost made Chiara scream—and Anthony was taking pictures of the morning sunset through the plane’s window.
This team went together perfectly.
As everyone was in their own conversations, Chiara noticed Julie looking at her with squinted eyes. Though before anything happens, the pilot announces takeoff and requests everyone to shut off their devices. Once she turns off her phone she looks up to find the stewardess gone. Letting out a sigh of relief, she lays her head back on the seat and decides to take a nap to avoid her tormentor.
It was just her luck.
-
The jet jolting made Chiara curse under her breath. She didn’t know why she was tired for some reason. Hopefully she could sleep more before—
“And we have arrived in Venice. Enjoy your stay folks.”
Shit.
Looking around, Chiara finds everybody grabbing ahold of their items, most likely getting ready to leave the plane. In the corner of her eye she sees Jeff and Tommy move forward to help Harry and Y/N with their luggage.
Right as she was going to pull out her suitcase, she sees a bunch of security making their way out of the airport and to the jet. About seven or eight men stood by the stairs of the plane, patiently waiting for the next celebrities they needed to guard.
Just the way Harry, Y/N and their kids needed that much security made her suck in a breath. Tomorrow was definitely going to be hectic.
Now with her suitcase in hand, the makeup artist stands up and waits for everyone to make their way out of the plane. As she stands by waiting, she makes eye contact with the person who she was dreading the most. She didn’t know what the red head was up to—hopefully she wasn’t up to anything.
Quickly looking away from her, Chiara makes her way to the woman that gave her this job and offers Y/N if she needs any help with anything. But before she could respond, Harry butts in with a shake of his head.
“It’s fine I got it. Thank you though.” Harry tells her, smiling. As he was about to walk down the aisle, he quickly rushed back and grabbed Y/N’s tote bag that was clearly holding a lot of things. That action made her kiss his cheek before he rushed off with Jeffrey and Lambert.
“Sorry that Harry hasn’t formally introduced himself. He’s really jittery and worried about the whole red carpet situation.” Y/N softly smiles at her hired makeup artist.
Red carpet situation?
“Sorry to ask but…red carpet situation?”
She could tell Y/N was hesitant to answer and that made her nervous, yet the woman walking up behind the mother of two made her heart beat—even more faster than it already was. Not wanting to talk to the flight attendant, she quickly dismisses herself to Y/N and tells her she will see her when they get off the jet. Once she receives a smile and a nod she races down the aisle.
She’s not going to put herself through hell, again.
With the help of another flight attendant, Chiara makes it on concrete with her suitcase. Moving to stand next to Lambert, she watches Harry race back inside the jet.
“Amazing, huh?”
Turning her head, she finds Alessandro Michele staring down at her. Being under his stare made her want to cry and run away but she stayed put and nodded. How does one talk to the creative director of Gucci?
“Yes. I can’t believe this is still happening.” She says with a smile. “I’m so honored to be apart of this team.”
“Well get used to it. Y/N seriously adores you which means you might be permanently apart of her and Harry’s team.” Alessandro playfully nudges her, making her smile grow.
For about fifteen minutes she stands there with the biggest grin ever, Harry however now appears at the top of the stairs with Beau in his hold and a small backpack—most likely Beau’s—slung over his shoulder. Before making his way down the jet stairs, he glances back at someone who turns out to be Y/N holding their daughter. She gives him a smile which makes him begin to walk down the airstairs with his son in his grasp.
As they make it to the last step, Chiara realizes the couple changed their outfits including Beau and Inez.
Harry now had a deep purple blazer over the green/pink Gucci cardigan he already was wearing beforehand and blue jeans instead of the grey sweats he previously had on. Rather than the Love on Tour hoodie and biker shorts, Y/N now was dressed in a purple sundress that had an open back and switched up her Adidas for a pair of white sandals.
What Inez and Beau had on almost made the makeup artist awe out loud. Both were in purple like their parents but Inez had on this ruffle dress that had her fingers playing with the fabric and Beau wore these white trousers paired with a shirt that had a flower printed on it.
“Cutest family ever!”
“Bellissima!”
-
“Please come, I really want you there.”
“I really don’t want to sit in a room full of reporters and paparazzi.” Y/N pouts playfully making Harry breathe out a laugh. “I will be here once you get back. I promise.”
Harry sits on his knees for a couple more seconds before nodding slowly. Standing up, he slightly bends down and places a kiss on Y/N’s forehead.
“Alright darling. I’ll see you when I get back.” Harry smiles nodding at his fiancé. Once Lambert opens the door, Jeffrey walks out of the hotel room followed by Tommy, Anthony and of course Harry. Yet he stops himself in the doorway, blowing Y/N and his children a kiss before getting pushed out by his stylist.
Chiara smiled at the couple's interaction. They both were so cute together that it made her wish she had a relationship like theirs. She had read about the two being each other’s soulmates and thought it was all bullshit—since every celebrity couple broke up within 10 years. But there was something about Harry and Y/N that just proved they were going to be together forever.
As Y/N moves to the bed where her children were watching a Disney movie on her iPad, Chiara decides to start unpacking her makeup supplies. Being in a room alone with Y/N soon to be Styles and her kids made her anxious—though after Alessandro words from yesterday repeated in her head, she realized she had nothing really to worry about.
The amount of products the makeup artist brought was insane but she wanted to be prepared for any look that Y/N wanted. Doing an A List celebrity’s makeup for one of the most prestigious movie festivals made her bite her lip trying to hide her excitement.
“I’m almost done setting up the station, I just need to go grab your clothes from Alessandro’s room.” Chiara turns to the mother looking down at her children with a smile.
“No need getting the clothes from his room, I’ll have Harry pick them up on the way back.” Y/N softly shakes her head which makes Chiara’s tense shoulders drop. This Y/N woman was amazing. The majority of the people she worked with were just plain rude to her. Yet here Y/N was giving her fiancé the tasks that were given to the makeup artist.
“Thank you, seriously. I don’t even know where the room is.” She smiles making Y/N laugh.
-
Right when the tv lights up with the press conference, both Y/N and Chiara get situated on the couch while Beau and Inez stay seated on the bed, playing with their stuffed animals. The blonde was still surprised when Y/N asked if she wanted to watch the conference with her.
The cast one by one gets introduced as they walk in. Chiara notices a small grin on Y/N's face when Harry nods and waves. She yearned for a relationship like theirs.
“Look at daddy guys!” Y/N points to the screen which makes Beau smile. He whispers something quickly to his sister making her look up to the tv. The amount of features they got from Harry was baffling. Green eyes, dimpled smile and curly haired all reminded the makeup artist of their father. You could immediately tell they were apart of the Styles family.
It was cute the way the two siblings interacted. Most famous children acted like brats which she hated to admit, but it was the truth. Beau had even greeted her and the team the first minute he walked in with his parents and sister. He had way better manners than most adults and that said a lot.
As the press conference continues on, Y/N and Chiara’s stay seated on the couch watching the cast answer questions. The blonde sat beside the mother of two could tell she was growing annoyed at the questions being asked—specifically to Harry.
Where is your fiancé?
How does Y/N feel about the sexual scenes in the movie?
Is your fiancé pregnant again?
When are you both getting married, have you set an official date?
Now Chiara understood why Y/N didn’t want to attend the press conference with Jeffrey. The press was truly invasive.
“Shit. I don’t know how we’re gonna bring Bee and Nez.” Y/N mumbles to herself standing up. With furrowed brows the makeup artist stops herself from asking anything. Maybe that was the red carpet circumstance she tried to bring up earlier. “I don’t think you know about the whole situation for the red carpet…Do you?”
“I think you were trying to tell me yesterday but we both got interrupted.” She shakes her head making Y/N nod.
“Well, H and I decided to take Inez and Beau to the premiere with us. But I’m afraid of how paparazzi and fans will react.” Y/N sighs leaning back onto the couch arm. Chiara widened her eyes at that news. The Styles children had their identities hidden ever since they were born and them making a debut at the premiere sounded surprising—very surprising.
The blonde felt for the mother. She must’ve been so stressed about bringing them to the film festival with her and Harry. The amount of press, fans and paparazzi probably had her nervous about the whole situation.
“I think it’s going to be fine.” Chiara reassures Y/N. “Harry is really protective over you three.”
“That he definitely is.” Y/N smiles glancing at Beau bonding with Inez. She just needed to be reassured by Harry that it was all going to go well. Bringing their children to a red carpet event had her palms sweating. But attending the premiere with Harry calmed her nerves because she knew he would protect her and the kids, like he always has done.
Nobody really knew about Beau and Inez attending since Harry called it top secret. Not even the makeup artist on the team knew until Y/N told her just a few minutes ago. This was definitely going to be a surprise to everyone.
Once the conference ends, Y/N decides to start getting ready since the premiere was happening in less than two hours.
With Inez in her lap and Beau distracted by a Disney movie playing on the television, Y/N discusses a bunch of makeup looks with Chiara. Going through the makeup artist’s camera roll had the mother wanting to do about ten different makeup looks all at once. Finally, after about changing their mind multiple times, they both settle on a 60s inspired look
Sharon Tate’s iconic eyeliner was the inspiration for the look and Chiara couldn’t be more excited.
-
Watching Y/N swipe pink and blue glittery eyeshadow on Beau’s eyelids was the most adorable thing ever. When the little voice interrupted Chiara doing Y/N’s makeup and asked if he could wear makeup too, it made her heart melt. So of course Y/N traded her seat for the floor and let her son take her seat with his sister.
Now with a giggly Inez leaning against her brother’s chest, their mother hovers over them with an eyeshadow brush while Chiara stands next to her holding about five different eye shadow palettes.
The makeup artist loved the way Y/N let Beau express himself especially as a child. She was just an overall amazing mother.
“Hmmm…more pink.” Beau lisps looking at the mirror Y/N was holding up for him. She smiles nodding, dipping the eyeshadow brush in the pallet Chiara was holding up for her. Adding more pink color to Beau’s eyelids had Y/N grinning like a proud mother.
“You look so handsome, my love!” The mother says making Beau beam.
Just as Y/N stood up, the hotel room door opens revealing Harry dragging a rack of clothes followed by his team. The sight made Chiara’s eyes widen. Y/N actually told him to get the clothes she was supposed to get. Y/N truly was a godsend.
With the help of their mother, Beau and Inez quickly jump down from the chair and rush to their father. Almost instantly Harry drops down to his knees and holds open his arms. Once the two children were in his hold, a huge smile grew on Harry’s face. You could tell he loved and adored his children. Just the way he dropped everything to hug them was so cute.
“Oh! I love your makeup Bee.” Harry smiles lovingly which makes Beau grin ear to ear.
“Mama did it!” The Styles child says making Harry look up and make eye contact with his fiancé. Y/N bites her lip suppressing a smile.
“Mama is just the best right?!” Harry giggles ruffling his son's blonde hair. Beau nods agreeing with his father. The makeup artist almost let out an awe at the moment. Both boys were so appreciative of Y/N, it was the sweetest thing ever. “And look at this little cutie in her pink robe.”
“Gucci!” Inez’s high pitched voice shouts. Y/N laughs shaking her head, Harry just had to teach their daughter how to say Gucci.
“Yes, darling!” Lambert cheers as he unwraps the plastic that protected the clothes hanging on the rack. Chiara loved this environment. It was the most positive space ever.
As everyone begins to get ready for the premiere—Y/N continues to get ready. Clothes are starting to be laid out, Anthony is rearranging all the cameras he was going to take and Jeff makes sure everything is in order before the time arrives for the event. Everything seemed amazing in Chiara’s opinion.
While Y/N finishes getting her makeup done, Harry is sitting right by her legs playing with their children. The amount of stuffed animals the two brought overseas was insanely cute. Watching the family interact genuinely made a smile appear on the makeup artist’s face. Their type of bond was the strongest ever, not like those types of celebrity families that just acted like a fake family in front of cameras.
Just as Chiara is finishing up the makeup look she notices Harry’s hand laid on Y/N’s thigh as she messes around with his rings—including his extravagant engagement ring. The couple’s sweet little gestures made the blonde believe in the word love again.
-
“Baby could you help me put my gloves on?”
Chirara widened her eyes at Y/N walking in the room with both children perched on her hip. She looked stunning in her blue gown, so stunning that it made Harry stand there with his mouth slightly ajar. The makeup artist couldn’t blame him though. Y/N took her breath away too.
“Yes, darling.” Harry smiles helping her place their two already dressed kids on the couch. Once the parents made sure Beau and Inez had nothing around them that could dirty their pretty outfits, Harry grabbed the gloves hanging from the rack. Chiara quickly recognized the blue suit Harry had on was the same suit Beau was wearing and the gown Y/N wore was the same as Inez’s gown.
They were all matching—the father and son were matching and the mother and daughter were matching. That was just so fucking cute.
Watching Harry help Y/N put her gloves on was the sweetest thing ever. He would look up at her to make sure he wasn’t hurting her and when she would nod, encouraging him to continue he just smiled. It was just the little things that had Chiara wishing she had a relationship like theirs.
After Y/N has the blue fabric on her arms, she and Harry then switch to put Inez’s gloves on. The smiley baby showcasing her gums had no clue what her parents were rolling on her arms and she did not seem to care. Once the blue gloves are on Nez’s chubby arms, Harry slobbers a kiss on her cheek which makes her giggle.
Right as Jeff announced the boat was waiting for the couple and their children, Harry bends down onto his knees—which makes Lambert suck in a breath—grabbing Y/N’s blue heels and slips them on her feet.
That action had Chiara’s mouth drop. Y/N didn’t even ask him to put her heels on. Nobody was a gentleman like Harry was. He treated his fiancé and kids so well.
Beau jumping around in the same shoes Harry had on—white boots with a red heart printed on the side of them—looked adorable. The little boy definitely was a clone of his father’s. The curly hair, green eyes and dimpled smile was all from Harry.
“Let’s take a quick shot of you guys!”
Anthony holds out his camera as Y/N and Harry pose for the photo with Beau and Inez in their grasp. When Anthony gets about a dozen pictures of the family, everyone begins to get ready to leave. Before he makes his way out of the hotel room, Harry whispers to his photographer to send him all the photos he took.
Now walking out of the hotel room and into the elevator with everyone had Chiara’s nerves growing. She couldn’t imagine how Harry and Y/N were feeling.
It takes a few seconds to get to the lobby and once those lift doors open, the couple holding their children walk out followed by the team. Ironically the hotel had a distance to The Venice Film Festival which meant they had to take a boat and then a car to get to the prominent event.
And it didn’t help the fact that they were about twenty minutes late.
-
“They said he’s not coming.”
Ludo widens her eyes as she slips her phone in her back pocket. Leaning on the barricade railing she replies to her friend. Harry Styles was not coming to his own premiere?
“I hope he does.” Ludo says glancing back at the red carpet that has the cast of Don’t Worry Darling circling it. The amount of people that were behind the barricade were waiting for the familiar musician. Yet there have been rumors of him not going to attend.
Just as she was hearing whispers about Harry not showing, a car pulled up to the red carpet. Even though it could be literally anyone, people began to scream their heads off. Right as the car doors open revealing the person everyone waiting for, the screams multiply and grow louder. This was the moment Ludo was here for.
Though, watching Harry round the car and opening the opposite vehicle door made her confused as well as everyone else. People in the crowd began to murmur about what he could be doing.
But once the crowd saw a child in his arms, they all began screaming more than they did before. Yet nothing could’ve prepared Ludo for this next moment. A hand grabs onto Harry’s as he helps them get out of the car, when the teenage girl saw who was wearing the blue gown and platform heels, she gasps covering her mouth with her hand.
Y/N L/N was holding her daughter Inez who was wearing the same gown she was. Seeing the mother and daughter duo matching made Ludo let out an awe. Even Harry and his son were matching!
With an arm wrapped around her waist, Harry and Y/N began to walk down the red carpet with their children. It was insane seeing the Styles children faces without a fruit emoji covering their identity. Ludo was in shock at the way Beau looked exactly like Harry. The little boy had the same green eyes and smile—they even had the same dimples. It was the most adorable thing ever.
Inez too! Even though she was still a baby, she carried a lot of Harry’s features like her big brother did.
“Is Beau wearing eyeshadow?” Someone cries from the crowd. That sentence made everyone began to scream all over again. Looking at the Styles' child with squinted eyes made her realize he was actually wearing pink and blue eyeshadow—sparkly eyeshadow. He looked so cute wearing the bright colors on his eyelids.
As Harry puts down Beau, Y/N puts Inez in his arms after she was making grabby hands towards him. Now holding her son's hand, Y/N follows Harry further down the red carpet where the cast was hanging out.
The amount of camera flashes going off was crazy. Paparazzi were trying to get every angle of the Styles family as well as fans.
Everyone begins to smile and laugh at Inez grabbing Harry’s sunglasses off his face and attempting to put them on herself with her chubby little hands. The musician grins helping his daughter slip on his pair of Gucci sunglasses. Watching the two interact was literally the sweetest thing ever. Even though they had cameras on them, the Styles family seemed to be in their own little world.
Now with sunglasses covering up the majority of her face, Inez gives a gummy grin to Harry which makes the cameras go off wanting to catch the father and daughter moment.
As Harry and Y/N finish taking photos with their children, the four of them begin to get interviewed. Even though Ludo couldn’t hear anything, she could just tell Harry was so happy, giggling over something Y/N was saying. They looked so content with each other.
She had read online about the two being such an amazing couple and seeing them in person just supported that statement. Watching the Styles family interact was literally the most wholesome thing ever.
After their quick interview, Ludo notices Harry’s manager guiding them to the cast ready to take photos.
Y/N tries to walk away with the children but Harry’s arm wrapping around her waist stops her. He whispers something in her ear and points at the cast. Even though the couple and two children already walked down the red carpet, they were going to be in the cast photos—even when they weren’t apart of the Don't Worry Darling cast.
Looking at Y/N greet Florence was the best thing ever. Both of the women looked so excited when they saw each other. The gleam in their eyes as they complemented each other was seriously the cutest thing ever. And when the blonde saw the Styles children her smile widened.
Ludo could see Florence shout oh my god before picking up a giggly Beau. The boy smiles, wrapping his arms around Flo’s shoulders. They both laugh about something together which makes the cameras go off, once again.
The cast now began to get situated to take the final photos of the day. Florence had Beau in her arms as she stood next to Y/N who had Inez in her arms also. Harry went to rewrap his arm around his fiancés waist as he swiftly kissed her cheek which made a smile grow on her face.
The Styles family was truly admirable, everyone loved them.
-
Luna didn’t know why she decided to work for a partying catering service. It was always the rich assholes throwing parties and treating their servers like crap. But if you wanted to get paid on time and earn tips, you just had to smile and nod at whatever people said.
Nonetheless she didn’t expect Y/N L/N to throw her fiancé, Harry goddamn Styles a party to celebrate his new movie that’s coming out quite soon.
She had known Y/N was the most beautiful woman ever and seeing her in person made her mouth go dry. The black dress she was in hugged her body perfectly—and her heels, her heels were to die for. Everything about her just seemed perfect.
Watching Harry and Y/N walk in with friends had Luna’s palms sweating. She literally just went to his shows a few months ago and owned a bunch of his merch. Is she a fan? Of fucking course she is. That’s why she had to go into the kitchen to quietly freak out.
Once she’s calm and collected, she grabs her server plate and heads to the bar. Passing by celebrities seemed insane to Luna. Alessandro Michele, Gemma Chan, Chris Pine and even Florence Pugh had her sucking in her breath. This wasn’t like the old money parties rich men usually threw, this was a celebrity party and it made her more nervous than anything.
A loud childish scream makes her glance up from the drinks that were getting poured. Seeing a little boy with curly hair sitting on top of Harry’s shoulder was the cutest thing ever. She didn’t realize the little boy was Beau until she noticed his dimpled smile. Her smile dropped as she took in what he looked like.
He was literally a miniature Harry Styles. The Me Myself & I + Gucci sweater he had on just proved he was Harry’s son.
“Hey Lu.” Ricky, a server greets his coworker. “Do you know if that woman is single over there? She dropped this cloth on the way—“
“This is a baby’s bib which means she’s not single.” Luna shakes her head looking down at the bib. “And who are you even pointing at?”
“Well not anymore—“
“Who? So I can return this for you.” She cuts him off, making him point his hand at Harry’s direction. Following where he was pointing she widens her eyes.
“That lady in the black dress.” Ricky mumbles, walking off before Luna could scold him for not knowing about Y/N L/N being engaged to Harry Styles. He was the type of guy that had birds for brains.
Walking over to the Styles family hanging out with their friends made her palms sweat and knees weak. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation she tries to slide the fabric onto the table but a man with a familiar cross tattoo on his hand looks at her.
What does one do when Harry Styles looks at them?
“S-sorry my coworker said your fiancé dropped this.” Luna stutters, making Harry smile gratefully. She glances at Y/N sitting in his lap engaging in a conversation with Florence. The blonde actress had a baby in her lap—who was most likely Inez—wearing a blue strawberry dress that reminded her of Harry’s Harryween costume. She’s soon come to the conclusion that it was his costume, just a mini version of it.
“Thank you for returning this. My fiancé was looking for it.” Harry smiles, grabbing the bib off the table.
After nodding and smiling politely, Luna turns around and thinks about the interaction she just had with her favorite singer ever. She will be forever thinking about today.
-
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#harry styles x reader#dad!harry#harry styles au#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles writing#boyfriend!harry#husband!harry#harry styles one shot#harry styles fan fic#dilf!harry#harry styles fluff#venice film festival#harry styles blurb#harry styles angst
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⌗ photobooth, n. sturniolo
nick x male!reader
summary: you share a sweet moment with nick in the photobooth at prom.
disclaimers!: kissing, mild cursing, use of y/n, short
a/n: i’ve never written anything nick related before, so i wanted to switch it up a little and give nicolas some love <3. tell me how i did, and feel free to leave constructive criticism!
i waited in line next to the photo booth, fidgeting with my fingers anxiously. it was senior prom, and i didn’t even have a date, so i wasn’t quite sure why i was at the photo booth anyway. memories, i guess.
i was a few couples and friend groups away from being next, when i hear a familiar voice call my name from behind me.
“y/n?”
i turn around, and i’m met with nicolas sturniolo, my crush. he grins widely when he sees my face, and leans in to give me a hug. the hug is quick, but i wish it could’ve lasted longer.
we both share a step back to look at each other’s outfits. nick was wearing a white button down, with black slacks and a velvet red tie. i look at his shoes, and he has black high-top converse on.
“i like that you went with comfortability before style.” i say, pointing to his converse, with a smile. he laughs and pulls up a pant leg to show the full shoe, and his funky socks. his socks were purple with black bats all over them.
“fuck yeah. always.” he replies. a few more people move up in the line, and nicolas and i proceed with our conversation as the line continues along.
“so who are you here with?” i finally ask. nick sighs, and looks at the ground. “nobody. not many openly gay boys here, unfortunately.” he replies with a shrug.
“same.” nick looks up and shares a small smile. we’re next up in the photobooth, and i hold the curtain open so nick can go in before me.
“why, thank you.” he says in a british accent. i bow dramatically in response. “of course, good sir.” i reply, mimicking his accent. he laughs, as i seat myself next to him.
i take an envelope out of my jacket pocket, and hold out a ticket. “how many photos did you pay for?” i ask. nicolas takes a ticket out of his pants pocket, and reads it.
“five.”
“me too! we could uh— we can double them, and each get the same five, if— if you’d like.” i stutter out. he smiles, and takes my ticket out of my hand, inserting them both.
“pick a frame!” the machine speaks to us, loudly, i might add. nick scrolls through the frames on the tiny screen, and stops on the pink frame with hearts all over it, that was titled “Love Burst”.
i nervously look at him, and he clicks on the frame, submitting it into the machine. the countdown starts, and i look at nick in panic for what poses to do.
he chuckles, and turns me around, putting his back against mine. we both cross our arms, and put on serious faces into the camera.
the next countdown starts, and we do the same pose, but this time holding up finger guns, and smiling.
“what pose now?” i question.
nick puts an arm around my shoulder, and takes my arm, putting it around his. he smiles into the camera, but i just look at him. i cant help but look at him.
the next countdown begins, and we don’t even realize it. nick turns his head to stare back at me, and i stare into his blue eyes, as his dark pupils dilate.
the camera makes a click sound that grabs our attention, and we realize that its the last one.
“last one.” nick says, turning back toward me. i nervously trail my eyes down from his eyes to his lips, and he definitely notices. “what pose now?” he asks, with a grin. he leans in closer to me, my eyes still on his lips.
“can i kiss you?”
nicolas nods, and i immediately smash my lips onto his. i feel like i’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life, and i honestly have. i’ve had a crush on nick since i was in the 6th grade, and here i was sharing a kiss with him in the photobooth at our senior prom.
the camera flashes, and i pull away, while a blush coats my cheeks. we step out of the booth, and collect our snapshots.
they looked perfect.
#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader
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Chapter Six
Masterlist
As Grandma Georgina had said, things have started to look up for the Bucket family. The next day Charlie helped his parents fix the roof, Grandpa Joe had spent the day out of bed, not feeling the slightest fatigue. Your uncle had found a new job, he was fixing the machines that took his job. As for you, you had resumed the course of your miserable life, you had resumed your work at Bill's shop, with the old clothes of your grandmothers and your aunt. You didn't have the courage to put on the clothes Willy bought you. It was still too painful for you. How could you be heartbroken when nothing was happening between you two? On the one hand, you could understand the fact that a family is a burden. But you couldn't forgive him for upsetting Charlie. Your cousin had started working as a shoe shiner, around the corner. A sigh escaped your lips as you finished placing the Wonka bars on the rack. You didn't want to think about that damn chocolatier, but you couldn't.
"Fucking chocolate," you muttered as you went into the back room to throw the empty box away with the others.
Another day of work had just ended. You left the shop to go to Charlie's workstation. You smile as you see the boy packing his things. The two cousins returned home. The dinner was taken in a religious silence. Ever since you visited the chocolate factory, your family barely spoke to you, especially Grandpa Joe. He was mad at you for the story of the golden ticket and for not letting him visit the chocolate factory one last time. It was stupid. Completely stupid.
"It's great that luck is finally smiling on us," Charlie said as he poured a sugary drink into the new glasses his parents had bought.
"We just needed time to bounce back," Mr. Bucket replied with a huge grin.
Time for them to bounce back. What about you? They always took your entire salary, leaving you penniless. In this chance, you were unhappy. Everyone was happy except you. Why were you the only one who had to suffer? You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard them laugh. You felt like they were laughing at you.
"Since Uncle Bucket is finally bouncing back and making a better living, I can finally keep my salary," you say, glaring at your uncle and aunt sternly.
Your request threw a chill in the cabin. Your gaze rested on your uncle and your aunt who did not know what to answer. They were serious? You shrug, fingering your food with your fork.
"It's true, now that you have a stable salary uncle. I'm going to start saving," you say, stuffing a piece of chicken in your mouth. "
We…we still have some difficulty, honey," Mrs. Bucket said with a tight smile.
"Me too. Since all my salary has been going into your pocket for several years. Besides, have you thought about paying me back everything you've taken from me since I was… uh… thirteen. Thirteen years of salary. That's a lot, isn't it?" you commented, throwing your cutlery on your plate.
"Charlie, go to your room," Mr. Bucket said as he put down his cutlery.
"Why should he leave? You have nothing to hide from him, do you?" you asked, glaring at your uncle.
"Charlie go to your room!"
"Charlie stay here!"
Charlie was staring between you and his panicked father. He didn't like the turn of events. The atmosphere was palpable. You and your uncle looked each other in the eye. You refused to look away. You had the right to keep your money and be reimbursed.
"Why do you want Charlie out?" you asked, your voice dripping with hate.
"(Y/N)! You're getting unreasonable!" growled Mrs. Bucket.
"Unreasonable?" you asked looking at your aunt. "Is it unreasonable of me to want my hard-earned money back? Is it unreasonable of me to want to save up to buy things for myself? Kind of nice clothes? Sweets? Jewelry?"
"We already give you our clothes!"
"Old, seedy and ugly."
"We buy you sweets!"
"Lie."
"And what do you want to do with jewelry?! We're not going to pay you back a single penny! You know we're in need!"
"I too am in need. And your fault!" You had just said your sentence while shouting and slamming your hands on the table, startling everyone.
You looked at your uncle and your aunt with hatred. It was always the same thing, they wanted to make you feel guilty. But now you weren't going to let it go. You weren't going to let yourself go anymore.
"It's over! I won't give you a single penny anymore!" you say between your teeth. "I'm tired of having to pay to live under this roof!"
"Do you think we wanted you? We just felt sorry. We were hesitant to put you in an orphanage. We should have done that," Mr. Bucket said. "It would have saved us this whole situation. You are a parasite (Y/N). And you will always remain a parasite."
It was like a cold shower. You couldn't help but laugh nervously. You knew it. You headed for the coat rack, grabbed your jacket and left the Bucket family residence. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You knew this day was coming, but you never thought it would happen like this, in front of Charlie. You stopped in front of Bill's shop. You entered the store and were surprised to see a young man holding the cash register.
"Good evening miss," the young man greeted smiling at you. "How can I help you?"
"Do you...do you work here?" you asked under your breath.
"Yes. Bill hired me two days ago," he said, laughing a little. "I only work nights, but Bill is going to fire this girl. He says she was no longer suitable because of the image she sent back."
"What kind of image did she send back?"
"A poor, badly-dressed girl. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but he admitted to me that he hired her out of pity, because her family is poor. But with the publicity of her finding the golden ticket in his shop, he couldn't afford to keep her."
You felt something inside you snap. The only person you trusted had just betrayed you because of your financial situation. You thanked Bill's new employee before leaving the small shop to wander around town. Where could you go? Nobody needed you. Neither your family nor your boss. What could you do? You were taken out of your thoughts by noticing that you were in front of the chocolate factory. You had come without realizing it. Since the visit, you hadn't seen Willy. All you knew about him was that the sale of his sweets had fallen sharply. You put your hand on the back of your neck, hesitating to knock on his door.
"If you change your mind Barley sugar, my door is open."
You approached the door intended for the employees. You pressed the intercom button. You had to wait a few seconds before the high-pitched voice of an Oompa Loompa was heard. You instantly regret doing that. You sputtered an apology, saying it was a mistake. You started to walk away when you heard the intercom chime low and the gate unlock. You stopped, turning towards the gate. An out Oompa Loompa, approaching you.
"You should come inside, miss (Y/L/N). This way."
A defeated sigh escaped your lips. You follow the Oompa Loompa inside the chocolate factory. The little man leads you to the huge entrance hall. He asked you to wait there, the time he went to warn Willy of your arrival. You ran your hands over your scruffy coat, leaning your back against the wall. Why did you come here? Willy was probably going to spit in your face like your aunt and uncle. Like Bill. Yes, that was probably it. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the "ding" of the elevator. You felt your heart beat faster when you saw Willy stepping out of the elevator.
"You came back," he said under his breath.
"I… I must be disturbing you," you said as you started to back away towards the door.
"No! No, you don't bother me!" he hastened to say, catching up with you. "Please don't go."
"No! It was a stupid idea. I… I shouldn't be here," you say, feeling a wave of angst wash over you.
Your heart was racing, your breathing became erratic, you were sweating profusely. You were having a panic attack. Tears were leaking from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. Seeing you in this state, Willy put his hands on your shoulders, telling you to focus on his breathing. You watched Willy take a deep breath in through his nose and a long breath out through his mouth. You imitated him, concentrating on the chocolatier's breathing. Inhaling and exhaling like him until your panic attack subsides, leaving you drained of all energy. Willy put his arm around your shoulders, leading you to the glass elevator. The chocolatier pressed a button, activating the elevator which took you, both of you, to his apartment. His living space was spacious. Willy guided you to his huge leather sofa before going to the kitchen area. You took the opportunity to look around. Everything here screamed Willy Wonka. Everything was in shades of red and gold. There were numerous papers scattered on the coffee table as well as, what looked like, treats. Willy came back and sat next to you, handing you a steaming cup of cocoa.
"Here. This will warm you up."
You took the steaming cup in your hands. The heat warmed your frozen hands. You were watching the hot drink swirl around in the cup when you saw movement in your peripheral vision. You looked up, watching Willy gather up his papers and the sweets.
"Such a mess," he said, laughing nervously.
"You needn't be embarrassed. I'm the one unexpectedly showing up," you say bringing the cup to your lips, drinking the sugary drink.
The hot cocoa did you a world of good. You had long deprived yourself of the sweets of the great Willy Wonka. After the visit, you had stopped eating his treats. Although you couldn't afford it. You set the empty mug down on the table, nervously running your hands over your scruffy clothes. What were you supposed to say? Did you have to tell Willy you had nowhere to go? That you had lost your job because of your financial situation? You nervously rubbed your hands between them, feeling the tears start to roll down your cheeks again, your throat tightened, preventing you from speaking properly. Willy took your hand in his, squeezing it gently, telling you to take your time and breathe well. You took a deep breath, swallowing back your tears.
"I...I lost everything," you say with a tight throat.
"How so?" Willy asked
"My uncle and my aunt... we... we had a fight. I... I was tired of having to give them all my salary. My... my uncle got a new job and... I told them I didn't want to give them my salary anymore and... I left. I went to Bill's and... he replaced me with someone else."
"Why does your boss do such a thing?"
"Because I'm poor. I'm poor because of my uncle and my aunt. I have to wear old clothes and according to them I don't need new clothes or anything. I... I can't go home anymore."
Willy felt something snap inside him when he heard your words. You couldn't go home any more, just as he couldn't go back to his father after he ran away. The chocolatier put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace.
"I'm sorry, Barley sugar. No one should go through such an ordeal," he said, pressing his cheek to the top of your head as he hugged you before stepping back, cupping your face in his hands to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. "You know what we're going to do? I'm going to fix you a nice hot bath, you'll put on some fluffy pajamas and then you'll have a good night's sleep. We'll discuss all this tomorrow morning, okay?"
"You… are you okay with me staying here?" you asked surprised.
"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I left you out?" he said, taking your hand in his. "Come."
Willy led you to the bathroom. You sat on the edge of the tub, watching Willy run the hot water, putting products in the tub that seemed to cost a fortune. When your bath was ready, Willy went to his room before returning with clean clothes. He tells you to take your time before you leave the room, leaving you alone. The chocolatier closed the door behind him, allowing you to undress and step into the tub. The hot water bit into your icy skin. You were sinking into the water. The smell of the products smelled extremely good. How could things have gotten so bad? All for a damn golden ticket you refused to give to Grandpa Joe and Charlie. You shook your head, pushing his thoughts out of your mind. You didn't have to think about it anymore. You grabbed the soap, cleaning your body and your tangled hair. Once clean, you got out of the tub to dry off and put on the pajamas that Willy lent you. You buttoned up the shirt and put on the pants, which fell to the floor.
"Great," you muttered as you put the pants back on, which you had to hold on to before leaving the bathroom.
Willy turned to you, asking if everything was going well. Her voice stuck in her throat seeing you dressed in her pajamas that were too big for you. You had to roll up the sleeves and the edges of the pants so you wouldn't trip while walking as you approached him for help.
"The... the pants are too big," you say uncomfortably.
"Too big? Oh yes! Let me help you," he said, rolling up the edge to tighten the pants at the waist before stepping back. "Voilà!"
"Thank Willy."
"No problem. I… I'll show you where you're going to sleep." Willy motioned for you to follow him as he headed for his room.
The room was the size of the Bucket family home. There was a King-sinz bed in the middle of the room, solid wood furniture. Willy walked over to his chest of drawers to pull out a pillow and blanket.
"What are you doing?" you asked looking at Willy.
"I'm going to sleep on the couch."
"No, I'm going to sleep there, sleep in your bed. I don't want to feel like I'm chasing you."
"Oh! Don't worry, Barley sugar. I usually fall asleep on my desk and I still have a lot of work to do. I still have a few more hours. Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow morning."
"Alright good night."
"Good night." Willy left the room leaving you alone.
You turned off the light before slipping under the covers. The sheets were nothing like those of the Bucket family, the mattress was comfortable and it was the first time you slept alone. It was nice to have a bed for either. Without realizing it, you fell asleep, exhausted by this evening.
You were suddenly awakened from your sleep when you heard the door to the room open with force and slam against the wall. The light was on, dazzling you. You didn't have time to open your eyes when someone took the blanket off.
"Get up," Willy ordered, standing in front of the bed. "Hurry up."
"Willy? What's going on?" you asked perplexed.
"Get up, you're leaving."
"W-what?"
"Are you deaf? I told you to leave," he said grabbing your arm, forcing you out of bed. "Hurry up."
"But... you said your doors were always open to me," you say, your throat tight.
"You seriously think I'm going to harbor a poor girl in my chocolate factory," he says, dragging you to the door of his apartment.
You were trying to speak, but your voice was stuck in your throat. Willy opened the door, pushing you into a darkened room.
You looked around you lost before looking at Willy who slammed the door in your face. Your eyelids opened by themselves, your heart was beating at breakneck speed in your chest. You hurriedly turned on the bedside lamp, looking around frantically. You were still in Willy's room. He didn't kick you out. You hurriedly left the bed, as well as the room, to see the chocolatier sitting in his chair, busy reading, scribbling notes, crossing out and mumbling to himself. You moved closer to the sofa, catching Willy's attention.
"Already standing up?" he asked, pulling out a watch. "It's three o'clock in the morning."
"You… you want me to stay?" you asked lost.
"Sure. Are you okay? You're pale," he said, getting up from his couch to come closer to you. "You're shaking. What's going on?"
"You... you were kicking me out. You said you didn't want a poor girl in your chocolate shop."
"(Y/N). I'll never kick you out. I told you, didn't I? The doors of my chocolate factory will always be open to you," he said, hugging you. "You had a nightmare. Just a horrible nightmare. I'll never kick you out, I promise."
You clung to his shirt like your life depended on it. You couldn't stop your body from shaking from this nightmare. Willy put his hand on your cheek, making you raise your head. He was smiling tenderly at you as he leaned in towards you, pressing his lips to your forehead.
"You should go back to bed, Barley sugar," he said, running his hand over your cheek.
"Would you mind sleeping with me. I... I don't want to sleep alone."
You felt like a child asking her parents to join them in their bed. Except that there, you were no longer a child and you had just asked Willy Wonka if he could sleep with you. He didn't say anything, he just smiled when he placed another kiss on your forehead. He nodded, telling you he was going to change and you could go back to the bedroom until he came back. You went back to the chocolatier's room. Slipping under the sheets waiting for his return. You felt the claws of sleep trying to tear you away from reality. Your eyelids started to close on their own when you heard the door close. Your eyelids opened to see Willy dressed in his pajamas. It was quite comical to see. The chocolatier came and slipped under the sheets, turning off the light before lying down beside you.
"Sleep, (Y/N). Tomorrow will be another day."
You nodded slightly, falling asleep again. Willy sighed, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders before falling asleep too.
(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)
You awoke from your sleepless sleep feeling your cheek pressed against something firm and warm. When you opened your eyes, your gaze saw Willy's face. The chocolatier was asleep, his arm wrapped around your waist. In your sleep, you had moved closer to him and vice versa. You tried to gently pull your arm away from your waist to get off the bed, but Willy tightened his grip, pulling you closer to him as he nuzzled your hair.
"Mmh... too soon...," Willy muttered still sleepy. "Sleep..."
"B-but..."
You didn't have time to talk until the alarm clock started ringing. Willy sighed loudly. He had to let go of you to cut off this instrument of torture. You didn't have time to talk until the alarm clock started ringing. But you, you didn't know what you were going to be able to do to occupy yourself and forget what happened last night. Just thinking about it made you feel bad. What were you going to do? You had to hurry to find a new job and a new place to live. You left the room going to sit on the couch while Willy shuffled into the kitchen.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked, opening the door of his fridge.
"I…I don't know. I don't usually eat in the morning," you say, getting up from the sofa and moving closer to the counter.
"In that case, let me prepare something for you," he said, taking some ingredients.
You watched Willy begin to scramble eggs with sausage and toast. You were surprised to find that he knew how to do something other than sweets. Once breakfast was ready, he placed a well-stocked plate in front of you before taking his own plate to begin eating.
"That's really good," you say as you finish your plate. "It's quite surprising."
"Really? You thought I was a bad cook?" Willy chuckled.
"It's just that… since you're so obsessed with sweets, I couldn't see you eating anything other than chocolate."
"I can't… really contradict you," he said, pushing his empty plate aside. "Well. Now. We're going to have to discuss what's going to happen."
You wanted to disappear six feet underground. You didn't want to talk about the Bucket family and Bill. You pushed your plate away, running your hands over your face.
"You don't have to worry. I'll find a job soon..."
"(Y/N)."
"I won't be dragging your feet for very long."
"(Y/N). I don't want you to leave."
To say you were surprised was an understatement. You didn't expect him to say such a thing to you. If his goal was to leave you speechless, he had succeeded. You didn't know what to answer. You mumbled a few words before shutting up and massaging your temples.
"Wi-Willy... why do you want me to stay? I'm just a burden to people. Nobody needs a poor girl. I'm just going to drive down your chocolate stock. People aren't going to let this go!"
Willy nodded slightly when he heard your explanations. The chocolatier sighed, running his hand through his tangled hair.
"You're right. People wouldn't take kindly to me harboring a poor girl, like you say," he said with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders.
"You see."
"But I've never been like the others, Barley sugar. I would have thought you had understood that during the visit," he said, moving around the counter to come closer to you. "I'm not like other people. I don't care that you're a poor girl. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't define who you are."
"Are you telling me you know me?"
"Partly. I know you hate your social status, but you're nice," he said, tucking a flyaway hair behind your ear. "You have your heart on your sleeve. Despite what happened with your uncle and aunt, you were helping them. I know that despite everything, you love Charlie with all your heart. You have a good person (Y/N). You inherit my happiness. Let me give you all this."
You felt like your heart was going to explode and you were sure that your cheeks were as red as the wrappers of his famous chocolate. You swallowed hard, unable to help but laugh nervously.
"I feel like I'm hearing a statement," you say, fiddling with your fingers nervously.
"What if there was one?"
Alright, there you were pretty sure your face had turned crimson. You mumbled incomprehensible words, trying to create some sort of sentence. Your confusion greatly amused the chocolatier. Willy ran his fingers over your cheek, pressing his lips to your forehead before stepping back to get ready. You let out your breath when you heard the bathroom door close. Did Willy really just tell you that he wanted you to stay with him because he wanted to make you happy? Was he telling the truth or was he making fun of you?
(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)
Two weeks passed.
Two weeks you lived in the chocolate factory and watched TV. Even though Willy had told you he wanted to make you happy, you were still so unhappy. Willy had tried to entertain you and occupy your mind as best he could. He had taken the time to show you around the rest of his chocolate factory, he had shown you how he made his famous chocolate bars, but you were still concerned about the Bucket family and what they had done to you.
Every night, you had nightmares of Willy throwing you out, you saw your uncle and your aunt throwing you out again, Bill who made fun of everything or Mrs Beauregarde insulting you by clinging to Willy. Tonight was no exception to this rule. You woke up with a start and terrified, forcing Willy to abandon his work to come and console you and reassure you. You couldn't help wondering how long he was going to put up with you. You prevented him from working and you knew that the purchase of his sweets fell even more. You were definitely going to ruin it.
"I can't stay here anymore," you say between sobs.
"Barley sugar, you just had a bad dream. I would never kick you out, you know that," he said, cupping your face in his hands.
"I'm not talking about that," you say stepping back. "It's my fault that your sweets have dropped even more! I'm just a dead weight preventing you from working properly! I...I don't..."
"(Y/N). (Y/N) look at me."
You shook your head, clutching the blanket in your hands. You had had enough of this whole situation. Of your discomfort. You felt like the last of the fools. You just wanted to be quiet and not feel like a burden on others anymore. Willy places his fingers under your chin, forcing you to raise your head and stare at him. The chocolatier pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"It's not your fault that my treats are selling less. I'm solely to blame for that," he said, sighing and stepping back. "I'm completely lost. I hesitate about everything, I don't know what taste to give them, I change my mind every two minutes. Since the visit, nothing works as I would like and as..."
Willy fell silent, you saw a spark run through his eyes. A huge smile appeared on his lips. The chocolatier had come to the conclusion that the candies looked like him and since he was bad, his candies were bad because of it. You wiped away your tears, looking puzzled at Willy as he smiled at you.
"We're going to have to go see Charlie."
What?
#x reader#charlie and the chocolate factory#charlie bucket#fanfiction#grandma georgina#grandma josephine#grandpa george#grandpa joe#willy wonka#willy wonka x reader#female reader#fanfic#oompa loompa
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Friday Fight Night
Chapter Four of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Five
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 3.4K
Chapter Overview: You help Benny and the guys get ready for FFN.
Notes: this chapter is just a bit shorter than what i usually like to post, but i didn't have a lot of time to write this week & i'm actually content with where i ended it ! sometimes u just have to stop a little short so u don't just start typing random shit to meet a bullshit word count u give urself u know? i updated the tag list so if i missed u PLZ LET ME KNOW & i will add u asap !! well as usual...my asks are always open & happy reading <3
*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Why is this so difficult? It's just like every other day at work, except for the fact that it's not. You have been standing in front of your closet for a good 10 minutes now just looking at your clothes. Suddenly nothing seems good enough to wear. Maybe something would be good enough if you knew how to dress for a fight. Should you wear workout gear? No, you weren’t the one fighting. Should you wear a tank top and a tennis skirt? Probably not if it gets as rowdy as Benny says it will.
“Just pick a fucking outfit, you idiot.” You chastise.
After yet another once over of your closet you pick out a worn, white t-shirt with an image of Speed Racer on it. It had definitely seen its glory days years ago when you were still in college. If it worked then, it should work now. You take it off its hanger, along with some jeans, and put it all on. You’re tying your shoes when your phone chimes next to you.
???: Hey, we will be getting to the gym around closing time. Are you staying to help Benny set up?
???: Oh, this is Frankie BTW
Seeing his name on your screen makes your chest tighten with excitement. You obviously gave him your number so he could text you, but now it feels so real. Something about Frankie texting ‘BTW’ makes you giggle to yourself as you sit on the floor.
You: Yes, I figured I would make myself useful. No point in going home since the fights start at 10:00 P.M. and I might lose my parking spot.
You have to set your phone down before you overthink the most basic text you have ever sent in your life. Just for good measure, you leave it on your bed while you go into the bathroom. Despite your best efforts to remain nonchalant about the whole situation, you find yourself putting on a little more makeup than usual. By the time you have wrapped up and returned to your room an unread text is waiting for you.
Frankie: Good thinking. See you tonight then.
The rest of your morning has a bit more pep in it than before.
***
Your day at the gym passes by as usual. The only two exceptions were a truck load of last minute Friday Fight Night tickets sales and then compliments on how the gym was smelling. You made a mental note to smack Benny upside the head for throwing such a temper tantrum about it. In between customers you found yourself checking your phone more than you regularly do. You told yourself that it was just because you were excited about the fights and were counting down the minutes and not because you were hoping to receive another text from Frankie. Unfortunately, lying to yourself never really works out.
In an effort to keep yourself occupied, you answer emails from people that are applying for a gym membership, make laps around the gym to see if you need to replace any of the wipes used to clean the machines, and collect all of the dirty towels for a load of laundry. Much to your dismay, these tasks don’t take very long to complete. By 3:30 P.M. you reluctantly slink back to the front desk where the single most unwanted guest is waiting.
“There she is! My favorite receptionist! I’m still interested in knowing your name, darlin’.”
“Good afternoon, Brunson.” You plop yourself down in your chair and pull up the schedule on the computer. “Just working out today? I don’t see that you’re with Benny.”
“You caught me. I want to make sure that I’m in good shape when I fight in a few weeks time.”
For a few blissful seconds you allow yourself to indulge in the idea of Brunson getting clocked, hard, right in the jaw.
“Well, enjoy yourself.” You scan his card quickly in an attempt to move him on his way.
“I always do so when you’re here.” He clicks his tongue at you while he walks past your desk.
“God, he’s insufferable.” You mumble to yourself.
It’s 4:00 P.M. when Benny finally ventures up to the front lobby with you.
“Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day, man.”
“Because you haven’t,” He covers his face with his hands and whines into them before coming back up for air. “At first I couldn’t find where the white board I used to write out the fightin’ pairs was. Then there was somethin’ wrong with the beer delivery and they kept me out back for fuckin’ ever. That isn’t even coverin’ all the one on one sessions I've had today or the ones I’m still goin’ to have.”
It’s breaking your heart to see how stressed out he’s getting with all of the things he has to juggle today. You get out of your chair, walk over to him, and rub on his shoulder comfortingly.
“It’s going to be alright, Benny. I’m staying after work to help you set up and Frankie told me that the guys are coming to help around closing too. You won't be in this alone for much longer.”
He places both of his hands on his hips and exhales deeply.
“Thank you,” You can see the earnestness in his eyes. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”
He smiles down at you from his 6’2 frame and before you can move he pulls you in for a deadly tight hug.
“Benny!” You can’t stop laughing. “Let me go this fucking instant!”
“Friends like hugs from other friends, right?” He yells over your incessant protesting.
“I’m going to kill you, you know that?!” Your tone of voice doesn’t even sound remotely serious.
Eventually you get him to unlatch himself from you so the two of you can finish up the work day in order to prepare for this evening.
***
You stand back proudly and admire all of your handiwork. Benny put you in charge of setting up the beer table, so set up the beer table you did. You designed a poster to hang on the wall above the table so people would be able to clearly see their options and their respective prices. You set a long, metal tub in the center of the table and filled it halfway with ice. Then you made a little arrangement out of the beer and poured the last half of the ice on it to keep it cold. The cash box was fully stocked and set to the side. All in all, you did a pretty good job. Thankfully, one of Benny’s regulars volunteered to work it this evening.
“All done over here!” You call over to Benny. “How’s the sign coming?”
You watch in horror as he stands up to reveal a barely legible fighting roster. He must have seen your face flounder when you looked at it because he just tosses the dry erase marker over to you and crosses his arms.
“Oh, Benny I-”
“I know it looks bad. I’ve never had a knack for all this creative shit.”
You squeeze his hand as you pass him while heading to the white board. He slides over the roster that has been printed on paper for you to use as your guide. You’re so engrossed with your new task that you don’t notice when the guys come in around 8:30 P.M..
“You sure are givin’ Benny a run for his money this evenin’. The place hasn’t looked this put together in…well ever.” That sugary, sweet southern drawl could only belong to one man.
“Thank you, Will!” You toss over your shoulder.
“Aw screw you, dude. Maybe it would have been if y’all had gotten here when y’all said you would.” Benny notes.
“Blame Fish.” Pope snickers. “He couldn’t find the perfect outfit.”
That got your interest peaked. You turn around to look at what Frankie is wearing. Regular work boots, soft looking denim jeans, a black undershirt, a worn blue button up with the top few buttons left undone, and finally his cap- oh god he’s looking at you. If you had been a smarter woman, you would have noticed that two thirds of the group standing behind you were looking at your sign. That damned one third of the group was watching you trail your way up his whole body. He’s like an oak; completely unwavering as you take him in.
“Well, I like it. ” You squeak out as you turn your attention back to the roster. “Now why don’t you guys go make yourselves useful and help Benny?”
You hear a unified ‘yes ma’am’ come from behind you followed by the scattering of three pairs of feet. There truly isn't anything more sexy than men who can follow orders.
All five of y’all work tirelessly for the next hour to get everything finished before the doors open to the public. When you cross off the last item on your to-do list, you decide that you have earned a drink. You sneak over to the beer table and open one of the coolers that you set up behind it that contains the excess bottles. Much to your dismay, the bottle caps don't twist off like you originally thought. You’re on your knees looking around in the extra bags and praying that Benny had the foresight to get a bottle opener when Frankie walks up next to you.
“Lose something?”
“Just my dignity trying to locate the stupid fucking bottle opener.”
He laughs jovially as he extends his hand to help you up. You take it and sheepishly hand him your bottle when he motions for it. The two of you walk around to the front of the table and you watch as he easily takes out his keys and pops the cap open with a bottle opener he had attached to them. You notice that instead of tossing the cap in the trash he places it back in his pocket along with his keys. Right when he starts to hand the drink back to you he pulls it back towards him.
“Hey! What gives?”
“I have to test it to make sure it isn’t poisonous or something.”
“Oh my god, you dick.” You lean back on the table behind you.
“You won’t be saying that when I save your life.” He takes a small sip and passes it over to you. “Nope. It’s not poison. You’re in the clear.”
Now it’s your turn. You turn to look out at the gym while you take a drink of your well deserved reward.
“Wait,” You look over at Frankie. “What if it's a slow acting poison and now we are both infected? I guess you have to stay here and finish this with me so we can go out together.”
He leisurely reclines next to you on the table and takes the bottle in his hand when you offer it to him. “That's some pretty sound logic. I can’t argue with that.”
You try to stop yourself, but you watch as he brings the frosty glass to his pouty lips. They look more pink than usual against the dark color of the bottle. His hands make the beer bottle look so much smaller than it really is. Your eyes wander to that nose you’re so fond of. God, what would it feel like on your clit as he ate his fill of you? Now that you’re closer to him you’re able to see the gray that's intricately woven into his beard and hair. Would it tickle the inside of your thighs when he buried his face in your pussy? Feelings you haven’t had for a man in a long time rock through your body the further you sink into your fantasy. Drifting even further, his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the chilled liquid. You want to decorate the sensitive skin with blossoming purple marks.
“What?” He’s looking at you now. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” You say almost breathlessly. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hog it all.”
“I would never.” The low baritone of his voice reverberates through you.
Benny, thankfully, yells from across the gym at the both of y’all before you do something questionable.
“Hey, lazy asses! It’s showtime!”
You and Frankie both let out a breath neither of y’all realized you were holding. He looks down at his watch and then faces his friend with a mild look of annoyance.
“It’s 9:30, man. It’s just the boxers and the ring girls coming in right now.”
You notice that Frankie’s body immediately tenses up after he says this. Confused, you look over at Benny who has eyes as bright as the sun and is making a beeline towards you.
“I’m sorry.” Frankie whispers down to you. “I’m so sorry.”
“Benny? What are you-?”
“I have a proposition for you.” He says while gripping both sides of your arms. “Do you wanna hear it?”
“I don’t think I have a choice by the look of things.”
“Please be my ring girl.” He gasps.
“Oh my god.” You let your head roll back. “Benny, are you serious right now?”
“Don’t say no yet. Just think about it before you decide.”
You roll your head over to face Frankie and raise your eyebrows. You’re met with a shrug that is just as innocent as his grin.
“Does this offer have an expiration date?” You inquire shifting your focus back to the man that currently has you in a vice grip.
“Just think about it.” He pleads.
“Fine, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna say n-”
“La-la-la! I can’t hear you! La-la-la!”
“Don’t you have fighters to go hype up in the locker room?” Frankie cuts in.
“Nothin’ I hate more than when you’re right, Fish. Catch y’all in between the matches!”
With one final ‘think about it’, he bounds off into the locker rooms. All you can do is laugh hysterically at what just transpired. Frankie probably thinks you have lost your mind with the way you are doubled over right now.
“Hey let us in on the joke, why don’t you?” Pope sits next to you on the table.
“I could use a good laugh as well.” Will adds blithely.
“What you two could use is a reality check.” you walk around the table and grab a beer for each of them. “God, I can’t believe him.”
You hand Will and Pope their drinks completely forgetting about taking the tops off. Fortunately, that didn’t stop them. Will snatches Pope’s beer out of his hand and positions the bottles where one has its cap resting just barely on the edge of the other's cap. Then he slams them down on his knee and Pope’s opens with ease. After he hands the open one off, he pops his own with a thick ring he’s wearing.
“I’m thoroughly impressed, Will. What the hell was that?”
“You just gotta learn to make due sometimes.”
Frankie and Pope both mutter ‘show-off’ under their breaths as Will explains to you the physics behind his little trick.
“Okay, now back to what Benny was talking about.” You adjust your stance so you can better face the group. “Are y’all in on this? This ‘ring girl’ shit?”
“Can’t say it wouldn’t be fun though.” Pope prods his finger at you.
“Oh, yes I can.” You say swatting at him.
“You know, Benny. Once he sets his mind to somethin’ he’s pretty determined to see it through.”
“That doesn’t even begin to answer my question, Will.” You groan as you take the beer from Frankie’s hand.
The movements between y’all are so natural, so fluid that it feels like something you have been doing for years. You see Pope, almost in shock, watch you as you take a drink.
“Can I get some of that?”
“No way, man.” You shelter the bottle against your body. “Three is a crowd and you literally have an open one in your hand.”
“Will’s right,” Frankie reasons with you. “Benny is as one track minded as they come.”
“Tell him to get on another track then.”
“How about this?” Pope counters. “You go into the locker room with Benny and see what it takes to be a ring girl. Then and only then will he accept your answer of ‘no’ if that’s still what you want.”
“If that will get him off my case then that's fine with me.”
You start to turn towards the locker room doors when a blue sleeved arm reaches over your shoulder and plucks the beer from you.
“Hey, give that back!”
“I just want to make sure you don’t hog it all.” Frankie’s tone is thick with sarcasm.
“I would never.” You grin.
Pope waits until you have cleared the locker room doors before he whacks Frankie in the shoulder. Unfortunately, Frankie doesn’t see it coming because he is too busy hoping to catch one more glimpse of you.
“If that's how you act around women you think are ‘just cool’ then I’m terrified to see how you act around women you actually like.”
“The fuck was that for? And the fuck are you talking about, man?” He massages the spot where Pope smacked him.
“Will, please tell me you aren’t as blind as he is?”
“Sorry, Fish. I see it too.”
“See what?”
“That you look like a goddamn catfish whenever you look at her! Eyes all big and mouth agape.”
“I do not.” Frankie mutters.
“Come on.” Pope folds his arms across his chest. “You think she’s cute.”
“What are we in middle school? You’re being ridiculous. Will?”
“I’ll be honest, I wanna know too.” He flashes that signature boyish Miller smile.
All Frankie can do is laugh nervously while he removes his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He knows that he’s in the middle of a losing battle and that he’ll have to concede. They are going to be ecstatic that a woman other than Rochelle has caught his eye. Especially when it's a woman that meshes so naturally with their group. No, what’s stopping him is that a part of himself wants to keep it a secret. To have something that is just his. No prying eyes, no unwanted advice, no consequences, and no one else has to get hurt but him. As soon as the acknowledgement of his affection for you falls from his lips, it's real. As selfish as it sounds, he wants to keep you at arms length. He feels like everything he touches breaks and he doesn’t want you to become the next casualty. You wouldn’t want him if you knew the truth about the things he has done. But then you smile or laugh and he can feel himself falling deeper and deeper into his delusions of grandeur.
“Well, if you don’t like her then maybe I’ll ask her out.”
“No, you won't because,” Frankie puts his cap back on. “I think she’s cute. Are y’all happy? I like her.”
“Atta boy, Fish!” Will cheers.
“I knew it!” Pope says as he pulls Frankie in for a hug. “She’s a good one, man.”
“I know she is. I just don’t know if I’m going to do anything about it right now.”
Will’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t want to fuck it up. To drag her into the shit show that is my life. I don’t even know if she feels the same way either!”
The two other men nod in understanding. Frankie takes a sip of the drink he stole from you and sighs as he looks up at the ceiling.
“All I know is…is that I like her.”
“Shh!”
“Pope, you were the one that wanted to talk about this!”
“Shut the fuck up! She's coming!”
“Y’all ready? I’m going to open the doors for everyone!”
The three of them use the time it takes you to unlock the doors and arrive back in order to regroup from their previous conversation.
“Did you,” Will clears his throat. “Did you like the view back there? See a future in being Benny’s ring girl?”
“I like the view from right here, thank you very much.”
“So,” Pope rubs his hands together. “Who ready to see some dudes get the shit beat out of them?”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson }
#francisco morales#frankie morales#catfish#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#benny miller#will miller#ironhead#santiago garcia#pope#through the scope#read on a03
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Just HC a fic of head chef Crowley and FOH/restaurant manager Aziraphale human!AU between me and my brain rot fiend and OH MY God another ongoing fic to write while I wait for my AO3 invite :))))))))) hahah I need help <3
here's it cookin in the dms:
"Okay guys we are 86 the salmon, you got that?? 86 SALMON!"
*ticket machine beeps*
"Wha-whatthe fuck, who rung through a salmon???*
*checks ticket, sees azis name*
"graawhh- ANGEL WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY?!"
"I beg your finest PARDON, you can't speak to me like that in front of the servers!"
"I just told you 86 salmon, how can someone as brilliant as you be so stupid?!"
"CROWLEY!!"
"THATS CHEF TO YOU!"
#can you tell i work in hospitality#human au#giggling and twirling my hair#good omens#aziracrow#crowley#ineffable husbands#aziraphale#david tennant#ineffable idiots#ineffable brainrot#crowley x aziraphale#michael sheen#ao3#good omens fanfiction#ao3 work in progress
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i know he didnt win the poll, but coffeeshop!joe deserves a short little follow up because i miss him and i want to know how he's doing
GIRL the way i've held onto this request for weeks because i wanted to use this for @ghostinthebackofyourhead's birthday (which is TODAY surprise, pls go wish her a happy birthday, she's the loveliest) im sorry it took forever, but here you go!
Wordcount: 1.6K
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Sunshine Blend Blonde Roast
“I don’t want to... intrude, even though, you kind of make it really impossible not to,” you colleague said whilst finishing up two cappuccinos for a customer as he looked over the machine at Joe.
“Intrude, my guy. You have a free pass to intrude whenever,” you quipped and threw him a plastic lid when you saw him reach for one.
“What did you do?” he said it soft enough for Joe not to hear, but loud enough for you to hear over the music just fine.
You grinned as you wiped down the counters.
“I did absolutely nothing,”
“Then why has he been sat there, glaring at you for... what's it been? Must have nearly been an hour now...”
From behind the coffee machine, the two of you just openly looked at Joe who didn’t shy away from staring right back at you, frowning deeply still.
“Sometimes,” you started, and couldn’t help but laugh before you could finish that sentence. It was the infectious type of giggle. The cackle your co-worker couldn’t help but smile at, even though he had no idea what was so funny.
“Sometimes he gets really mad at me just because I’m just so stinkin' cute,”
You saw Joe narrow his eyes from where he was sat, looking at you over his coffee cup which you knew must have been either empty, or cold by now.
He'd clearly heard you.
“Is that the problem?” you asked, voice louder now. “Am I being too cute today?”
You knew it wasn’t why Joe had sat down at a table by himself, just to wait out your shift. Joe was annoyed that you’d even taken on a shift in the first place, because who the fuck decides to work on their birthday if they don’t have to?
Well. You did.
Because a colleague had asked the full groupchat if someone could cover for him tomorrow, because he’d forgotten he had tickets for a festival, and then no one had replied in over an hour. And, you know, you didn’t really have plans – not that you knew about anyway – so, why not help out a friend?
“Go party, my man, I’ve got you,” you’d texted back and then you’d neglected to tell Joe about it until the next day when you were about to leave to go to work.
Apparently, Joe did have plans for you.
Obviously.
It was your birthday, after all.
“I don’t think that’s the issue,” you colleague said when Joe’s facial expression didn’t falter.
“Oh man, I’m not?” It wasn’t busy in the coffee shop, but the people that were in were all most definitely trying to follow what was currently happening between the loud girl behind the counter and the grumpy man who kept eerily quiet for someone being spoken to like that.
You sucked in air through your teeth and shook your head.
“Dangerous game to play, not calling a girl cute on her birthday, I don’t know how that could ever end well...”
“It’s your birthday?” your colleague had no idea.
“Oh, you’re adorable!” Joe suddenly shouted across the shop, all sarcastic. It just made you grin wider and scrunch up your nose at him.
“Happy birthday!” your colleague said.
“Thank you.” You replied but kept your eye-contact with Joe which was turning more challenging by the second.
“You’re starting to freak out our other customers, though,”
You noticed someone to the side who kind of waited to walk through your line of sight from each other, not wanting to get stuck in the crossfire. A little like they were waiting for one of you to take pic of the other and they didn’t want to ruin the snapshot, which was hilarious.
“No, please," you gestured for them to walk. "Don’t worry about him. He’s all bark, no bite,” you kindly spoke to them as they let out a relieved chuckle before they made their way to the door. The comment made Joe roll his eyes.
The little break from looking at Joe gave your colleague the chance to place two dirty blenders into your hands for you to rinse, and just for a second you got back to work. Sang and moved a bit to the music you had playing, all pleased with yourself because you’d stocked everything up behind the counter, and then had wiped it all clean, so it all looked very nice and organised.
T'was very satisfying.
You fucking loved your job.
“Okay, now he’s starting to freak me out a little bit,”
“Joe, stop staring,” you called, not looking up from your task at hand, and you heard a soft snicker come from his direction.
“I think you’re right,” you then said to your colleague. “I don’t think my overall cuteness is the issue here,”
“I think,” you placed the now rinsed blenders back in their spot and turned back to give Joe a glance. “I think it’s got something to do with Joe not being allowed behind the counter and the fact that he owes me a lot of birthday kisses still,”
“You’ve gotten plenty birthday ki–” Joe called, sort of too loudly for your colleague to be comfortable with.
But you made it worse, because you cut him off with your voice raised even louder, saying “One for every year I’ve been alive, Joe! That’s how birthday kisses work!” You played being annoyed with him, knowing it was all games.
Joe loved being in the coffee shop whilst you worked. Gave him a chance to just sit back and watch you. Just, working. Being yourself. And he got to do all openly without having to pretend he wasn’t looking whenever you glanced over at him.
Instead, he’d just get to smile all dreamily at you, and then you’d smile back all confidently, or pull a silly face to make him laugh. Or, on exceptionally special days, you’d grow a bit shy from his consistent eyes on you, and Joe would make you blush. Those were his favourite days.
Also, Joe was allowed behind the counter. There just couldn’t be other customers in store, because if there were other customers, there was work, and Joe wasn’t meant to distract you from doing your actual job.
Your boss had come down hard on the two of you more than once, so you followed the rules. Behaved like the good boy and good girl you were, not wanting to be yelled at again by your superior.
It’s why you’d noticed that there was just one other person left now, and they had started putting their coat back on. It’s also why you’d noticed that Joe had noticed them too.
The door hadn’t even fallen fully shut before Joe shot up out of his seat and made his way around with fast footsteps and grabby hands. It made you squeal and want to hide in a panic from him as you laughed, but Joe’s hands found you quick as they took hold of you by the waist. And then, so did his mouth as it latched itself onto yours for a quality birthday kiss.
Full tongue.
Full giggles.
Full shenanigans.
Your colleague didn’t do shenanigans, and he had to push the two of you aside a little as he reached around to pick up everything he needed to go clean the tables people had just sat at.
“It’s her birthday, it’s her birthday,” the two of you could hear him whisper to himself which made you both smile into your kiss.
You loved your job, but your job with Joe in the shop? So much better.
Joe kissed you for a while, all soft and tender, and then broke the kiss to say, "Seven." before diving back in.
Then, not sooner after, Joe broke away again before he muttered, "Eight." and you couldn't help but let a belly laugh escape you, head thrown back and all. It gave Joe the chance to giggle into your neck for a moment.
"I don't think the first six ones really count, I don't remember them," you joked and you could hear your colleague scoff loudly from across the shop. He was so done with your shit.
Fortunately, Joe kind of loved your shit.
Joe leant in once more to kiss you all soft and sweet, and then said, "Three." before leaning back enough to take in your lovesick dopey grin, not unlike his own.
It was your birthday, and if you said those kisses didn't count, they didn't count.
The door of the shop opened and new customers walked in, promptly ending the cute romantic little moment you had going.
"You want another coffee?" you asked Joe before you were willing to let go of him completely.
Your colleague came around to help the people who'd just stepped inside, because he was collegiate like that.
"I'd love one," Joe said, leaning in for a last quick peck before half-jogging his way back around the counter into allowed territory. Customer territory.
"One large americano, coming up,"
"Actually," Joe stopped just before he was about to sit down in the same spot he always sat when he came to visit you at work. "Surprise me."
And if that didn't make it the best fucking birthday ever, you didn't what would.
It was your birthday and if you wanted to work on your birthday, you could. If you wanted to kiss Joe behind the counter for a bit, you could. And if you wanted to make Joe a ridiculously sweet wild colourful iced proper milkshake of a coffee, you absolutely could.
"Happy birthday to me," you smiled as you scooped ice into a blender, glancing up at Joe who had now sat down again, his chin resting on top his fist as he smiled at you all smugly. Look how happy he made you.
"Happy birthday to you, babe."
---
The Taglisted:
@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl
(taglist currently full, sorry)
#Joe Quinn#Joseph Quinn#Joe Quinn x You#Joseph Quinn x You#Joe Quinn x Reader#Joseph Quinn x Reader#Joe Quinn Fanfic#Joe Quinn fanfiction#Joseph Quinn Fanfic#Joseph Quinn Fanfiction#rpf#icallhimjoey#joe quinn x y/n#joseph quinn x y/n#request#sunshine blend dark roast#sunshine blend blonde roast
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wip review wednesday (it is not fucking wednesday)
rb the art im talking abt here to support me : )
i wanted to do something a lil new and actually talk through my choices in the artwork in the post so like if you're not here for commentary. i put everything under a read more!!!!
ok so here's a basic breakdown of what everyone is doing in the piece. or supposed to be doing. you can zoom in on shit to verify if u want
jamiazu: obviously jamil is beating azul at ddr. less obviously azul is sweating because this is actually not the first round of ddr. he has lost horribly in two other rounds but he's not giving up (he should give up)
tweels: they're both judging azul because they know he's horrible at cardio so what in the world is that boy doing on that dance machine. jade is making snide remarks about azul's lack of balance behind his hand and floyd's listening in amusement
adeucepel: epel just won an impossible amount of tickets at skeeball. apparently his aim is really good thanks to some carnival game in his home town. deuce is being excitedly supportive and helping him gather the tickets. ace is arguing that he should get a share because he totally helped epel score (he didn't)
rookvil: they're looking at the ticket prizes. vil is scrutinizing the cheap mass produced quality. rook is just happy to have his arm around her waist and equally happy to listen to her sharp criticism. shes so beautiful when shes annoyed♥️
diasomnia: silver is attempting to figure out the card machine in order to get a play card for malleus. malleus was not told that they were going to the arcade (hes definitely not dressed for it) but is honestly happy to just be there and is volunteering to try his hand at the machine (five seconds after this scene he will break it on accident). sebek is running over to yell at silver for not being able to figure out the card machine (he's also not able to figure it out). lilia is watching his kids from the inside of a ghostbusters shooter booth game. you know the ones
idikei: idia is destroying some zombies in a shooter game. cater is actually not playing. he's got his phone in his hand and he's just talking At idia while idia plays
ruggie: he's actually judging jamil. raising his eyebrows at jamil even bothering to play against azul who is clearly not even at his skill level. bro this is not even fair game
part of my art process for this piece was getting outfit suggestions from my friends so to everyone who complimented the outfit choices in the tags im pulling back the curtains. i have a million mice running around in my brain (my friends). here are some funny snippets (i did not put idia in a squid games shirt. i did give him crocs though)
#jamie talks#txt post#img post#long post#heartsprocess#this shit took a week. exhaustin#im not used to drawing bgs so if the perspective is off thats why#also i had a moment where i really hated the color palette but im normal now so
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Getting Even
PAIRING: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader
A/N: Hangman is a walking red flag in this fic, but this writer would gladly ignore that flag just to climb that long and thick flagpole :P And this is a reminder to use your company provided assets for business use only and be mindful with what you browse on company wifi!
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Your heavy footsteps were audible against the croon of the jukebox as you stormed towards Hangman that night. Heads turned towards your direction, curious at the brewing commotion. Even the pilots around him noticed you, they looked at each other inquisitively. There’s an unspoken agreement that the pool area belonged to the junior officers at around that time of the night, so your sudden intrusion in their bubble raised a lot of proverbial eyebrows.
You don’t give a damn.
White-hot rage coursed through your veins that night, bubbling just beneath your skin. Your jaw felt a bit raw as you gnashed your teeth together in contempt all day, silently seething.
You’ve never felt this kind of anger towards someone. You’ve always been even-tempered and friendly, always hesitant to upset the status quo. But this was different.
Everyone knows you shouldn’t piss off anyone from Cyber. Apparently, Hangman did not get the memo. Rank be damned, you are not going to let what he did slide.
“Seresin!” You called out, your voice sharp and steady despite the angry flush on your face. Liquor and anger never did wonders on your skin. Everyone’s eyes widened, obviously noticing how you intentionally avoided calling him by his rank.
You could hear the faint jingling of coins and crinkling of bills as bets were made. It was always an amusement when a pilot gets chewed out by the woman he jilted. Especially if it was Hangman.
He straightened up from his position at the pool table, raising an eyebrow at you.
“What the fuck is your problem?” You snarled. He was a whole foot taller than you and you had to crane your neck to stare at his face, but at that moment, the only vivid thing was Hangman’s stupidly handsome face paired with that amused smile.
“Honey, if I’m getting you all hot and bothered, then I don’t think I have a problem.” He replied, dragging an appreciative eye from your head down to your toes.
His nonchalance enraged you more. “You, are a pig. How dare you escalate me to my CO? It was your fault and you know it!”
Your shouting drew in a crowd around you. His usual posse of Navy pilots were close by, but they are simply watching, already invested in the confrontation.
His forehead scrunched in confusion, looking at you like you’re some kind of lunatic vying for his attention. “I’m not sure I get what you mean.”
Something inside you snapped. You are not just going to stand there and receive this kind of treatment. This man intentionally ignored your team’s email regarding the malware detected in his laptop. When you approved the isolation of his machine and disablement of his account, he threw a fit and made a beeline to your CO, citing unprofessionalism and ineffective communications from your team.
You and your team received an earful from your CO, right in front of Hangman, who refused to even look at all of your correspondence with the Lieutenant. You tried to argue your case, but Hangman silenced you with a “Shh, let the grown-ups talk.”
The thought of it fanned the flames of anger within you. You’re not leaving without getting the apology you and your team deserved.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” You placed a hand on your chest in mock apology, “Was ticket# 20191032 not your problem? Not your problem when we detected a malware from your Student Files folder?”
And that’s when you know you hit a chord. You watched with perverse glee as his eyes widened in recognition. “Alright, alright—”
“No, Hangman, let’s hear what Cyber found in your Student Files folder.” One his colleagues interjected. His grin partnered with his moustache was incredibly infectious that you couldn’t help but match it with one of your own.
You know it’s classified information, but at the panicked look on his usually smug face, you couldn’t help but be petty. “Well, they’re mostly po—"
He swiftly covered your mouth with large, calloused hand, wrapping an arm around you and keeping you close to your chest. “OKAY! Honey, let’s talk about this outside, yes?”
There were groans and whines and someone even tossed peanut shells as he dragged you outside, robbing them of a good show. How he managed to drag you out of the bar, kicking and screaming, you’ll never know. You’re already exhausted and you’re probably bruised in several places by the time you’re both outside.
He finally let you go, and you immediately put a yard of space between the two of you. Hangman was massaging his hand that you’ve bitten as he glared at you. “Honey can you please calm down for a minute?”
“Keep calling me honey and I might just punch your face.” You spat at him, crossing your arms over your chest.
He chuckled condescendingly, licking his lips before speaking, “What’s got your panties in a twist? I just gave honest feedback.”
“Yeah, directly to my CO and conveniently leaving out details!” You exclaimed, stomping your foot in indignation. “We got chewed out today, because of you!”
“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be my problem.” He said, holding both arms up as if he had nothing to do with it. At that point, you could see it clear as day—he was playing you by riling you up even more.
He clearly has an ego big enough to not see you as an equal who deserved his attention and apology.
You grabbed him by the collar, bringing your face close to his. It would’ve been intimate and inappropriate, because technically he’s a higher-ranking officer, but all you saw was red.
“Not your problem?” You hissed. “How selfish can you be, Seresin?”
And you regretted the word selfish as soon as it came out of your mouth, because something seemed to snap behind his eyes. There was a sudden change in his demeanor, there’s an assertiveness that wasn’t there before. Feral, almost.
“Yeah, I am selfish.” He muttered before he grabbed your face and kissed you.
To say that you were stunned was an understatement. This was the furthest thing from your mind when you decided to confront him that night. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest—it was all you could hear as his lips moved languidly against yours. Not that you were kissing back, your mind was still trying to process the sudden shift for you to make any sort of response. But you stood there and felt every bone in your body turn into mush. If you weren’t pressed flush against him, you’d slide down gracelessly.
Clarity came to mind when you felt his hands tangle into your hair. The light touch sent a shiver down your body, goosebumps raising in its wake.
You pulled away abruptly, chest heaving. How dare he? You pulled your arm back and gave him a resounding smack on his left cheek, making him stumble slightly from the force your slap.
“You’re an asshole!” You spat at him before you turned on your heel and ran away, eyes prickling with oncoming tears.
---
You were tempted to call in sick that day, but you thought that doing so would make you appear weak and incredibly affected by his kiss—you’re neither. Well, you did stay up tossing and turning in your bed for most of the night, replaying the kiss over and over in your mind, but that was probably just adrenaline. You did slap him with all you’ve got.
That thought made you smile as you tapped your badge and entered the control room.
Your eyes immediately zoomed in on the bouquet of flowers on your desk. They were hyacinths, in various colors, wrapped in pink cotton paper and secured by a golden ribbon. You bit your lip as you picked it up and checked the card.
I’m sorry.
You knew exactly who it was from. Rolling your eyes, you stashed the bouquet underneath your desk.
Apparently, he was narcissistic enough to think that a bouquet of flowers would get him out of your shit list. It was not in your personality to hold grudges, but you definitely have a low opinion of him now. He could pull a Heath Ledger and sing Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You in the grandstand and he’ll still be nothing but dirt on your shoe.
Your fresh-faced analysts definitely asked about the confrontation at Hard Deck the night before. They asked you if you did punch Hangman, the Hangman, in the face, apparently his cheek appeared to be a bit swollen when he swaggered to work that morning.
Not that you cared. Or felt bad about it. Nope.
Of course, the discarded bouquet did not escape their eyes either. They put two and two together and deducted that the bouquet was Hangman. You could swear that one of your female analysts swooned. It was a struggle to work when there’s a constant hubbub around you.
Lunch was even worse. Everyone wanted to talk to the woman who punched Hangman. One called you their hero. Apparently, a lot of people wanted to do so and you couldn’t blame them. You didn’t even correct them that you actually just slapped him. You just went with the flow and tried your best to finish your meal and go on your way.
Some of Hangman’s friends even approached you and gave you a high five. The situation made you feel like the nerdy kid in movies who finally got accepted by the queen bee’s posse.
“But seriously, are you okay? He sort of manhandled you out of the bar.” The female pilot who introduced herself as Phoenix asked.
You flashed her a reassuring smile. “Thanks, I’m okay. You should’ve seen the other guy.”
The group erupted in laughter. You joined them, but you definitely noticed Hangman’s absence.
---
The next day, another bouquet was on your desk. They were tulips this time. It also happened that tulips were your favorite. You did a quick sweep around you to make sure that no one is looking, before cradling the bouquet with a small smile, reading the card.
Forgive me yet?
It’s amazing how three simple words could sound undeniably Hangman. Against your better judgement, your smile widened. The flowers and the note brought a pleasant thrum inside you, making stomach do somersaults. The guy’s obviously a dick, but he knew his flowers.
Despite your affection for the tulips, and your amusement at the card, you hid them away underneath your desk again. Briefly you wondered how he managed to enter the control room twice. He obviously does not have the access to do so. But then again, it’s Hangman, if he can manipulate your CO into berating you, then he surely can enter the SOC control room anytime he wanted.
Everyone seemed to have forgotten your bout at the Hard Deck, to your delight. Everyone was just striving to finish as much work as they can on a Friday. You finalized your weekly reports and fixed the shift roster for the weekend, glancing at the bouquet of flowers from time to time. It made you think of Hangman.
And just when you thought you could go home early and take a relaxing bath and watch Mamma Mia for the 14th time, one the analysts called in sick. So, you opted to stay in and hold the fort up until the next scheduled analyst comes in in two hours.
By the time 7PM rolled around, your stomach was rumbling. As if on cue, the door opened and revealed the next analyst on shift. After a quick handover, you gathered your things—and the bouquets—and bid them goodbye.
The parking lot was mostly empty, so the tall figure was leaning against your car door stuck out sorely. You felt your pulse quicken as you approached him, your lips pressing into a thin line in apprehension.
“You sure took your sweet time, hon.” Hangman drawled, the ever-present toothpick now absent from his mouth. He is an asshole and has questionable morals, but damn, was he extremely easy on the eyes. The way rocked the denim and leather jacket combo can definitely give a model a run for their money.
“I don’t have the energy for this, honestly. I’m starving and exhausted, bother me tomorrow, Hangman.” You said with a resigned sigh. You fished your keys out of your pocket and made a show of stepping around him as you open the car door.
“This won’t take long. I promise.” He looked like he wanted to cling to your arm and beg.
You stared at him head on for about 5 seconds before you sighed and threw your things inside your car. “Okay you have two minutes.”
“That’s hardly—”
“Time is ticking.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. He’s either trying to find his words or he’s forcing himself to apologize.
“Here goes. First, I want to apologize for reporting you to your CO. I know you’re just doing your job, and following the process, but I just wanted to trouble you the way I was inconvenienced when you disabled my account. That was petty of me.” He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. “Second, I’m sorry for disrespecting you. I know you are perfectly capable, the best, even. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.”
Well, that pulled a small smile from you. You’ve always taken pride at what you do. It might not be as flashy as flying fighter jets or heading into war, but cybersecurity is another league of its own. His recognition meant a lot to you. You looked him in the eye and nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“Lastly, I am truly, sorry that I kissed you without your permission. My mother raised me better than that.” He said, shaking his head. And then he looked at you intensely, capturing your gaze in his. “But I am not sorry I kissed you, because I meant it.”
His confession pleased you, bringing back the feeling from this morning, when you found the tulips on your desk. Only this time, it was stronger, almost incandescent. You weren’t really angry anymore, but you took his words with caution. They say you couldn’t trust a pretty face, Hangman’s looked like his parents mapped his via AutoCAD, but you’re willing to gamble.
You lifted your hand, ignoring how he subtly flinched in fear, and touched his left cheek. He leaned into your touch.
“Apology accepted, Seresin.”
He let out a relieved sigh, chuckling slightly. His hand covered yours, staying that way for a minute before he let go. You realized that apologies probably took a lot from someone like him. He did have a big ego and narcissistic tendencies, but figured they were facades he wore as a defense mechanism.
“Thank you. So, are we good?”
“Buy me dinner and we’re even.”
-End-
#hangman x reader#hangman x reader fanfiction#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader fanfiction#hangman x reader fanfic#jake seresin x reader fanfic#jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman top gun#top gun: maverick#top gun fanfiction#top gun fanfic#top gun: maverick fanfiction#glen powell#hangman fanfiction#hangman fanfic
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The 118 Turtles Chat
Buck: EDS! HEY HEY EDS!
Bobby: Buck, this is the group chat
Buck: I know but he’s not answering me in our chat or my phone calls and Chris’ phone is off
Hen: maybe because it’s 8:45am after 3 nights of 7-7 shifts
Buck: but the turtles!
Bobby: turtles?
Buck: yes, the turtles! 🐢
Hen: Bobby, why’re you humoring him?
Buck: because Bobby knows how excited Christopher is to see the baby turtles at the aquarium! We have to get there at 10am when tickets go on sale
Hen: ever hear of buying things online?
Buck: you can’t! And they need to come with me cause the turtle exhibit opens at 10:15
Buck: will you guys please call and text Eddie too???
Chim: No
Buck: if you’re nice I’ll bring my niece too 😇
Chim: Eddie, wake up so Uncle Buck can bring your son and my daughter to see the turtles
Hen: what if my kids or Bobby’s kids wanted to go???
Buck: it’s family day
Chim: yeah Hen duh it’s family day 🤪
Hen: if Eddie is family we’re all family
Bobby: I tried calling Eddie, he didn’t answer me either
Buck: see! I told you, he sleeps like the dead, like me if you will 💀
Bobby: stop joking about being dead Buck
Buck: what’s the point of living if I can’t joke about dying
Chim: maybe Denny should call Chris on the Xbox, he’ll answer for his video game friends
Hen: don’t bring my child into this
Buck: yes! Please Hen! Have Denny go and see if Chris is on, it’s Saturday morning and his dad is asleep, he’s definitely taking advantage of that
Chim: I texted Denny, said he’s playing games with Chris
Buck: Hen! Hen! Henrietta my favorite, please go talk to Chris and have him wake up his dad, promise him pancakes
Chim: Denny says he won’t tell Chris unless he also gets to see the turtles
Bobby: but it’s family day for Eddie, Buck, and Chris
Chim: Denny says he also wants pancakes and for his mom to be Buck’s slave for a day
Buck: HEN HEN I NEED YOU, PLEASE HEN, THE BABY TURTLES 🐢
Hen: Calm down Turtle boy, Chim didn’t text Denny, Denny is asleep in his bed like I’d like to be
Buck: … this is about THE TURTLES. we need to actually talk to one of them
Bobby: why don’t you just go over there?
Buck: if I drive there and back it will take too long, they need to meet me at the aquarium
Buck: I’ve checked Instagram, there’s already a line for tickets, the turtles are a BIG DEAL
Hen: fine, I’ll call Eddie
Buck: HENRIETTA WILSON YOU ARE THE BEST
Hen: dammit he’s not answering his home phone either, has anyone ever heard his answering machine
Chim: hahahaha yes, last time I left a message on that thing I had to click five different buttons, it’s set up like an office phone, different extensions for him, Chris, and Buck
Buck: home phone?
Hen: you didn’t know Eddie has a landline?
Chim: yes Buck, back in the Stone Age we had wired phones
Bobby: but you’re an option on the answering machine?
Chim: CODEPENDENT
Hen: I need the telephone gods to smile down on me as I make this next phone call and let Eddie wake up, I need to sleep
Bobby: if he hasn’t woken up by now I don’t think there’s a chance
Buck: Bobby! don’t say that, we need to see the turtles!!!
Ravi: why don’t you check location sharing? Maybe he’s not home and his phone is still on silent from being on shift
Buck: great idea! See guys, this is being helpful
Hen: you think mr hates technology has location sharing on?
Ravi: you think he’d know how to turn that default setting off?
Chim: we’ve all been calling him and being helpful, I take offense turtle boy
Buck: Ravi, you’re the best!
Hen: oh thank god, you found Eddie?
*15 minutes pass*
Hen: Buck did you reach Eddie?
*10 minutes pass*
Hen: Buck, it’s almost 10am, and you are the reason I could not sleep, did you guys get in line for the damn turtle tickets?
*20 minutes pass*
Hen: after all that I didn’t even get to know if you saw the turtles?!
Eddie: (image of Buck, Chris and Jee with baby turtles)
Buck: 🐢🐢🐢
Bobby: have a fun family day!
Hen: Eddie, why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone???
Eddie: I left it in Buck’s jeep when he dropped me off after our shift
Hen: I have no words
Buck: 😇 🐢
For @professionalprocrastinator22 and the fun real life phone tag her family played about turtles that inspired this. And for @gravelyhalversobbing and her love of turtles.
#things i decided i could make about 911#I swear it’s funny to us#you had to be there#incorrect 911 quotes#911 fic#911 fanfic#text fic#buddie fic
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✧･ﾟ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐈 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒
tw: swearing, mentions of death, NSFW
"Every new thing you say makes me yearn for the sweet embrace of death."
"So you're not gonna kill me, you're gonna queer-eye me?"
"Okay, can I be honest with you? I'd lie to you for money."
"You're hotter than the flames you're about to be engulfed in."
"What's the point of killing someone who wants it? Where's the thrill in that?"
"I didn't ask for this. You gave me two very terrible options."
"That's what you think I'm doing? I'm just trying to make conversation."
"I don't like you."
"I wish it was socially acceptable to tell you that I wanna kill you with a hammer."
"The real burning is the burning desire that I feel for you."
"You know, I'm not gonna be the same person after that experience."
"Everytime you enter a public space that I'm occupying, my entire body stiffens."
"This isn't 'hanging out', you're trying to kill me!"
"I don't go to the gym because I sweat, and sweating is really just your pores crying, and crying is weak."
"Ohh, I can't? What are you gonna do? Kill me?"
"You would choose satan before a guy who can actually take care of you."
"I'm here to ask you to take the soul of an influencer I follow."
"Are you hitting on me before my execution?"
"Your tears are my lubricant."
"Am I gonna have to play the tooth-fairy in this scenario?"
"Wow. It's honestly really refreshing to see you all excited for once."
"Don't mouth me off, I know exactly what you're doing in your spare time."
"You're lucky I don't call the FBI."
"Okay, au revoir, bitch! I'm buying myself a first-class ticket to hell!"
"Would you be interested in entering a new dimension with me next week?"
"If it was the purge, you'd be the first one on my fucking list."
"You're an inspiration for young serial killers out there."
"It turned a little bit into a, uh... Lord Of The Flies situation."
"Your skin is so nice, by the way - you'd make a nice purse."
"I'm just messing with you, relax."
"My ideal girl is young enough to be my daughter, but treats me like my mom."
"Why would I tell you my biggest weakness? Are you up to something?"
"If you think about it, step-bro was just helping step-sis out because she was stuck in the laundry machine."
"Did I suck off someone important and like, forgot about it or why am I getting rewarded?"
#★ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ#meme#rp starter#roleplay starter#rp starters#roleplay starters#starter sentences#roleplay meme#rp meme#roleplay memes#rp memes#starter meme#starter memes#stanzi potenza
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I told my brother that if I never play Azran Legacy then Emmy never leaves and I can keep her in that moment forever
And he decided to lift the burden on me by just telling me why she left, thereby ripping off that bandaid. Only problem is, he’s never played Azran Legacy (or any Layton game, for that matter) so he doesn’t know either. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him, so he came up with a reason. And then a few more, just in case.
These reasons include:
-Roundhouse kicked a high ranking government official and is avoiding trial
-Layton doesn’t kill people… but he doesn’t always save them either, and then the train crashed.
-Took the fall for Two-Face killing cops so Harvey Dent’s legacy will live on
-She was the only one who could disarm the bomb but to keep her wife and kids safe she let Descole break her neck.
-Flashed her titties to everyone and is now off to find new people to flash
-She wasn’t actually the Professor’s assistant, she was his apprentice, but near the end of the game she really deepens her connection with the Force and starts to believe that she can overpower him and become the new Professor… however, when she tried to pull off this fight, it’s over, Emmy, the Professor has the high ground.
-Got a job at Hooters which has been a longtime dream of hers and the Professor told her she absolutely could not abandon her dreams to stay his assistant
-Bees.
-She learned the greatest secret the American government has been trying to keep from the public for years (Obama's last name) and had to be eliminated by any means possible.
-Emmy sacrificed herself to save the rest of them from the balrog but she comes back in New World Of Steam as Emmy the White.
-Got a ticket for the Eras tour and is still stuck in traffic leaving the stadium
-She was in a motorcycle accident and plowed into the side of an airplane hanger. She was so innocent… and stoned, apparently.
-After they all sang Seize the Day, she wasn’t able to escape from the cops and they hauled her off to the refuge.
-It’s not Emmy. The first Emmy you see, the teenage one he helps is Emmy, but every single one since is Don Paolo.
-She was just a courier, meant to deliver something to New Vegas, but the game was rigged from the start.
-Moved to Seattle with Grosky to start their own law office.
-This one just says "Bones"
-Was killed by 30-50 feral hogs that ran into her yard within 3-5 minutes while Luke was playing.
-Drove a segway off a cliff
-Bruce Willis was DEAD the ENTIRE TIME!
-Left a note that says “Professor’s Assistant Emmeline Altava Chooses Death” and then fucked off to Europe or something for a year
-She ran away to be with Descole. She was attracted to his manly figure. His Waluigi like body. His spindly little legs. The cut of his jib, if you will.
-Rode her Vespa into a crowd of people while screaming “PEPSI MAN!”
-Didn’t learn STREET SMARTS from JJ Bittenbinder and went to a secondary location
-“Tell me about the rabbits, Emmy.”
-She’s a Russian sleeper agent sent to kill the professor and it’s just taken so damn long because a good hitman doesn’t leave collateral damage but she finally got Layton away from Luke long enough to get the job done.
-Was at a bar on international women’s day, did two shots and tried to fight another girl which caused an all out full bar fight and she fell into a coma after a third girl hit her over the head with an almost full bottle of Hood River Gin.
-Professor Sycamore’s airship flew her to places she’d never been… now she’s lying on the cold hard ground (goat noise)
-The time machine wasn’t stable enough to keep her in the present and it sent back in time to the moment the time machine exploded, sealing her fate.
-Moved to France to learn how to be a heart surgeon.
-She finally was approved to manage her own Dairy Queen franchise.
-She is dead and has been for the past ten years. The professor needs to let her go. The accident wasn’t his fault.
-She walked to Memphis to become a dentist. Anything but this.
-Most think... She died.
-....But I think we oughta believe she made it to the other side :)
#professor Layton and the Azran legacy#Emmy altava#I’m queuing this almost three months in advance#so by the time it posts I’ll almost definitely know#or I will still be playing A Wonderful Life and no one will have seen or heard from me since the release date#could go either way#also do not ask me for clarification on any of these#lord knows I don’t know and my brother probably forgot about the entire conversation the next day#queue takumi defense squad#actually when i stopped playing AL i kept pushing it back#worried that somehow by some bizarre trick one of them would actually be weirdly close to the truth#so we've been adding to it literally all throughout the summer and fall and will continue to until it goes live#and i will probably continue to do that until i finish AL#so either you will never see this post#or someone finally held me accountable#and on that day#i will move this post up to the very top of the queue
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