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blackhakumen · 3 years

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Mini Fanfic #642: The Snowball War (Kingdom Hearts)

9:45 a.m. Outside of Lea and Isa's Apartment......

Lea's Side

Lea: (Marching Back and Forth While Wearing an Army's Hat) Alright, troops, in case you didn't know by now, we're in an all-time war against our teach aka the Blueberry Menace.

Roxas: I thought her nickname was "Blueberry Mom".

Lea: Not today it isn't! She and her team of misfits are our mortal enemies and we're gonna treat them as such!

Sora: ('Sigh') I can't believe we're going up against Riku of all people....

Kairi: (Has Both of her Hands on Each of her Cheeks) I know, right?

Lea: (Turns to Sora and Kairi) Hey now. I know it's never easy to go up against the person you love and junk-

Sora: Oh we're not sad about it or anything. Just annoyed and a tad bit fearful.

Kairi: Riku's extremely good at snowball fighting growing up. Every time either of us try landing a single hit on him, he ALWAYS dodges them easily and found million ways to get us back. (Throws her Hands Up in Frustration) I can't even keep track on how many times he beaten us anymore!

Xion: Now that you mention it..... Does anyone else think that we might be in a disadvantage here?

Lea: Whaddya mean?

Xion: Well, besides the fact that Aqua and Riku are clearly skilled at throwing snowballs at people, Ventus can manipulate wind, Vantias can easily use his power of darkness to aid him, and Namine.....(Shivers a Bit in Fear) Let's just say that there's a possibility that her throws might be as strong as her punches.....

Roxas: (Takes a Deep Breath) Yep. We're screwed.

Sora: Yeah.....

Kairi: Mmhmm.

Lea: Oh don't give me that kind of attitude, people!! Sure, our competitors may have somewhat impressive feats, but that doesn't automatically mean we're empty handed! (Turns to Sora) Sora, you saved a lot more worlds than I could count, (Turns to Roxas and Xion) your partnership and teamwork skills are as great as ever, (Turns to Kairi) and you, Kairi, are the strongest princess I've ever known. If you ask me, they're all pretty impressive in my eyes.

Kairi: (Smiles Softly While Blushing) D'aww~ You really think highly of us, huh, big bro?

Roxas: (Smirks Playfully While Crossing His Arms) Just like a Fire Mom would.

Lea: You can tease all you want later! (Slowly Starts to Smirk Himself) Right now, we gotta a strategy to plan out.

Aqua's Side

Aqua: (Have her Hands Behind her Back in a Military Like Fashion) Now then, do all of you now understand our first act of plan so far?

Aqua's Team: Yes, ma'am!

Vantias: (Raises his Hands)

Aqua: Yes, Vantias?

Vantias: Just wondering here, but... are you.... Absolutely sure it's okay for me to use my darkness powers in a snow fight?

Aqua: (Giggles Softly) Yes, Vantias. For the tenth and a half time, I'm absolutely sure. Just promise me you won't not go overboard with it, okay? And NO cheating as well.

Vantias: Wellllllll, I'm not entirely sure I can keep a promise on the second request-

Aqua: (Gives Vantias a Cold, Mother-Like Glare) Vantias......

Vantias: (Immediately Gives In) Alright. Alright. Fine. I promise not to cheat!

Aqua: (Smiles Brightly) Thank you. (Turns to Namine) Namine, make extra sure Vantias doesn't cheat.

Vantias: Hey, wait a min-

Namine: (Happily Wrap her Arm Around Vantias') Will do, ma'am!

Vantias: (Groans While Rolling his Eyes)

Riku: (Already Has His Arms Crossed) So. We're really going all out on this one, are we?

Ventus: Is there really no other way?

Aqua: ('Sigh') I wish it were the case, Ven. (Suddenly Starts to Gettting A Lot More Serious Than Usual) But if a certain hooligan, who shall not be named, and his team are going to give it everything they got, we should do the same.

Vantias: Don't you usually call him Fire Mom?

Aqua: I do. But in this snowball war....(Puts on an Intense Glare on her Face) he will always be a hooligan in my eyes. (Takes a Look at The Opposite Team Before Turning Back to Her Own) Since we have a little more time left, it's high time we go over our plan one more time. Now.....(Continues Going Over the Plan)

Riku: (Whispers into Ventus' Ear) You know, it still surprise me that Aqua, of all people, is taking this snowball fight this seriously.

Ventus: (Whispers Back to Riku's Ear) I know.....I think I'm starting to see why Terra doesn't go out on a snowday all those years ago.

Riku: Wait. Really?

Aqua: Boys?.....Are you paying attention?

Riku/Ventus: (Immediately Turns Back to Aqua) Y-Yes, ma'am! We are!

In the Middle.....

Isa: (Sitting Behind a Table With Terra) ('Sigh') Never thought in a million years that their pity snowball fighting rivalry would come to this.....(Tiredly Sips on his Hot Coco)

Terra: (Smiles a bit Sheepishly While Shrugging) Well....On the bright side, we don't have to do anything but speculate.

Isa: True. But I'm more worry about the neighborhood if anything.

Terra: Don't worry. I'm sure they won't go too far on their whole Snowball War game, right?.......Right?

Lea: (From a Distance) ALRIGHT TROPES, READY? AIM.......

Aqua: (From a Distance) FIRE!!!!

All of sudden, a thousand snowballs ascended from the air and are about to fall down on the two poor souls behind the table.

Terra: (Looks Up at the Falling Snowballs in Fear) We're not gonna make it out of this one alive, are we?

Isa: (Looks Up at the Falling Snowballs as Well While Slowly Shaking his Head) No, Terra. I don't think we will.

'SMACK' 'SMACK' 'SMACK'

One Long, Yet (Somewhat) Epic Snowball War Later, the whole gang finally decided to calls it quits and head back to Seasalt Gang's Apartment to warm themselves up for the rest of the day. While the kids having a good time, playing the Nintendo 64 in the living room, the four adults are in the kitchen, making themselves some hot coco.

Terra: (Making Some Hot Coco with Isa) ('Sigh Relaxingly') I am so glad all of we're inside right now. Enjoying the warm atmosphere, drinking hot coco, not getting pelted by any more snowballs....

Lea: (Covered Himself In a Red Blanket With a Satisfied Smile on his Face) Not gonna lie, you guys, that was the most fun I had in loooong time.

Aqua: (Covered Herself in Her Own Blue Blanket with a Bright Smile on her Face) I know, right? It was so exhilarating!

Isa: (Rolled his Eyes) Well, I'm glad you two numbskulls had your fun. It was still reckless regardless. it's a miracle we didn't cause any casualties along the way....(Drinks his Hot Coco While Making his Way to the Kitchen Table)

Terra: (Frowns at the Two Blanket Duo) Isa's right, you guys. I know this whole snowball fighting war fiasco was fun and, but one of you guys could've seriously gotten yourselves hurt.

Isa: (Glares at the Duo) Next time we're doing snowball fights, we're all doing it in a normal, casual fashion. Understood?

Lea/Aqua: (Sighs While Frowning in a Guilty Manner) Yes, sir. We're sorry...

Isa: You better. (Continues Drinking his Hot Coco)

'Silence'

Lea: Hey, Aqua.

Aqua: Yes, Lea?

Lea: I gotta admit....(Smiles Brightly Towards Aqua) You and your team were pretty great out there.

Aqua: (Giggles Softly While Smiling Bright Towards Lea) Why, thank you~ And I, for one, think that you and your team did great out there too. You all made me proud today.

Lea: (Playfully Bows at Aqua) Well, I'm so flattered, teach. Thank you.

Aqua: You're welcome, my dear student. Thank you for giving me an amazing time this year.

Lea: No problem.............Even though my team clearly won that round.

Aqua: You sure that's the case? Cause I'm pretty sure mines won with little to no problem.

Lea: No. I'm certain that I'm victor of the Snowball War.

Aqua: No. I am the victor of the Snowball War.

Lea: (Glares at Aqua) No! I am!

Aqua: (Glares Back at Lea) No you're not!

Lea: Yes I am!

Isa/Terra: ('Ahem')

Lea and Aqua immediately stops bickering with one another in fear once they have a look into their respective lovers' exhausted yet dark like glares.

Aqua: Uhmmm...(Smiles Awkwardly Towards Lea) H-H-How about we call it truces for now, okay?

Lea: (Rapidly Nodded while Chuckling Awkwardly) Couldn't agree more, teach!....(Gives Aqua a Shakey Handshake) Good game.

Aqua: Likewise.

And with that, the duo finally begins to drink their respective hot cocos.

@khtext

@26shann

@keyenuta

@albion-93

@lovekittynoir

@cyber-wildcat

#kingdom hearts #lea #aqua #terra #isa #sora #kairi #roxas #xion #riku #ventus #namine #vantias #humor #snowball fights #fluff #christmas stories #kind of #Merry Christmas Everyone!!

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for-ests · 4 years

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Well, even though I’m already getting ready for Xmas, we can’t ignore thanksgiving. How bout a piece on Tom meeting the whole family on this day but it’s a chaotic mess because holidays can just bring out the best or worst in us. Maybe that’s just my family. Anyways, happy writing! 🦃

Thanks for the request babes :-) I hope this is what you had in mind (I vaguely say aunts, siblings, cousins, so the reader is able to imagine however many they have) enjoy!! ❤️

Word count: 2,145

✭♡✭♡✭♡✭

Even though you had been dating Tom for eight months, the two of you had never spent the holidays together. You had met at the most imperfect time, in late February.

Though you didn’t want to admit it, what unfolded tonight at your family’s Thanksgiving dinner would determine how you would continue on with your relationship. Your family was incredibly Important to you, and their opinion on your boyfriend was just as significant.

Despite the pressure that weighed on you and Tom’s shoulders, you were calm and collected. You were almost positive that they were going to love him as much as you had grown to.

Tom though, understandably, was a nervous wreck.

“Ughhh they’re gonna hate me.” He whispered, crossing his arms in a childish manner, mimicking one in a way that was intended to make you laugh. You chuckled loudly from the driver’s seat, trying to not keep your eyes off the road for more than a second.

“I think the fact that you have a British accent is enough to make my family like you.” You teased, reaching across the armrest and setting a comforting hand on his thigh. He relaxed immediately as you continued.

“We’ve talked about my past relationships before. But I’ve brought worse boys home, you being a decent human being is most definitely enough.”

“I know I know.” He mumbled, setting his hand over yours. “I just want it to be more than that. I’m here to prove myself whether you feel like that’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Yeah, totally.” You quipped, a bit flattered that he was so anxious to meet your parents and siblings. A guy had never shown this much interest in you before, yet alone your family.

“I can see you trying not to smile.” He teased.

Breaking into a smile, you shook your head, purposefully turning farther to the opposite side. Tom always did this, and you smiled every single time.

“Shush up and let me focus on the road”

Whatever your boyfriend said next faded into the background, and he soon turned his attention to his cell phone.

It had been months since you’d been to your hometown, and you were anxious to see it again. You were a well known actor like Tom, and that had kept you in many unfamiliar places surrounded by unfamiliar people. Coming back to your roots on such an important family holiday was what you had been waiting for. To see the people you loved again, and to introduce someone special to them.

Though your hometown was smaller, and not entirely significant, you were proud to be from the area. It was lively and decorated, the landscape stretching on for miles with rolling hills and hundreds of trees.

Your house was placed in a tight knit family friendly area. And as you drove closer, the aspects of your beloved neighborhood and town had become distinct, even the familiar layouts of the back roads put a smile on your face.

You breathed a sigh of relief. Nostalgia was a killer, and you were excited to show Tom around the town you held so close to your heart.

“Here we are.” You turned onto the block, and pulled into the driveway.

Tom tucked his phone away and focused his attention on what lay before him. “It’s lovely.” He smiled, pointing to a window on the second floor. “I bet that used to be your room.”

“Correct.” You tried not to giggle like the little girl you used to be. Unbuckling, you leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

As you pulled away, Tom was staring intensely. One look at you, and his nerves seemed to fade. You were so happy to bring him back. He loved to see you fulfilled, and loved that he was part of that reason.

Without another word, the two of you gathered your bags and made your way up to the front porch. The smell of holiday scented candles was the first thing you noticed when you opened the door. You could hear the afternoon football game playing from the living room loudly, and the bustling of your mother in the kitchen.

But before you stepped over the threshold into your warmly lit home, you leaned over and purred into Tom’s ear. “If you behave, you’re in for treat tonight.”

Tom snorted, nudging you away. “Shut up, I haffta focus.”

You kissed him again, but this time it was fully on the lips. You winked before screaming, “IM HOME!”

Then it was madness. Your family flooded to the front door, taking your bags so they could embrace you for the first time in months. It felt so good to be back, it was almost as if you had never moved out. Everything was the same, everything was familiar.

Introductions ensued. Cooing from your mother, going on and on about how handsome he was, though you had already shown her pictures. (She had seen all his movies already, but she would never admit that.)

A brooding stare from your father- which soon turned into a firm handshake. Your father didn’t really care who walked through the door, as long as they would watch sports with him. Tom definitely had some homework.

And your younger siblings of course, they had been waiting to meet Spider-Man since the moment you told them you were dating a superhero. They poked and prodded him, asking if he could play with them later and give they battle strategy tips.

It was all coming together, and thank God you arrived over an hour earlier than you had intended, so you could find some peace before the storm. Tom was unprepared for the mayhem that was about to ensue when suburban women had to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner.

Though you weren’t prepared for it, you were grateful. You were happy, watching him smile, his eyes twinkle, the corners of his eyes crinkling when your mother showed genuine interest in his career and experiences.

You were sentimental, wishing you could have spent a portion of your childhood with Tom, something that could have developed into an epic love story, one that stretched across decades. Your families would have already been close, before the fame. But when you thought harder about it, you were satisfied with what you had. You were incredibly smitten with Tom, and by the effort he was putting forth, he was equally smitten with you.

Tom had never been to the suburbs, so this trip was equivalent to a vacation for him. Which you found strange, given the fact that it was the fucking suburbs– but you didnt want to ruin his fun.

And ruined it was, or so that’s what it seemed like as your mother screamed at the top of her lungs for your younger siblings to leave the kitchen. You were by her side, also in an apron, trying to carve the turkey as best as you could while your mother mashed potatoes like she had never mashed them before.

“When are the aunties coming?” You squirmed and ripped another chunk of meat off the turkey bones, tossing them into a glass bowl.

“On their way.” Your mom said breathlessly, finishing the mashed potatoes and focusing on stirring the gravy. She then ordered you to crack open a few cans of cranberry sauce.

“Will we be done in time?” You glanced to the oven that had biscuits baking in it.

“Yes. Your grandmother is bringing doubled eggs and relish plates. Your aunt is bringing…” she trailed off as her attention was turned to the stuffing that had yet to be loaded into a plate. Unfortunately, your mom had fallen behind schedule this year and had to cook everything in the last couple hours. Part of that reason was because she was distracted with your arrival. It was a mess, but it was all coming together. With your help of course.

“Is there anything I can help with, Mrs. L/N?” Tom peaked his head around the corner at the commotion. You knew he had been distracted with a long friendly lecture from your father.

Your mother didn’t seem to hear him, as her train of thought was interrupted by the oven beeping. The biscuits were done.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and turned the oven off. Everything was finally cooked, and still piping hot for all the family to enjoy. Yet your mother still seemed anxious. But that was just how she was, every single year.

“You’re the guest, Tom.” You smiled. “And everything is done.”

He gave you two thumbs up, flashing a cheshire grin. Surprisingly, he seemed over the moon, probably excited for the food that was lying in front of him. It was aromatic, and your stomach started to grumble.

“Can I at least help set up?” He asked, guilt flashing across his face. Tom was one of those people that hated to sit around and watch everyone else take part in activities, even if it was as simple as setting up the dinner table. ‘Let me do something’ He mouthed, practically pleading with his eyes.

Your father made his way into the room, but before he could say anything, your mother piped up, back still turned away from the three of you.

Your mother chuckled. “Oh sweetie, guests don’t help set the table.” She walked past him, picking up the carved turkey and setting it gracefully in the center of the elongated wooden table.

“Guests?�� You father chortled, clapping Tom on the back. “He’s practically family now.”

Your father’s eyes met your for a moment, and you were pleased to find his statement was genuine. Your heart fluttered, forever grateful that your parents seemed to approve of him. That was a first.

“Oops!” Your mother laughed. “You’re right, honey.” She walked past Tom and guestered for him to follow. “Grab whatever you’d like and bring it over then.” Normally, she would have made a joke, but you could tell she was tired, and wanted to eat.

Snorting, you shook your head. You knew she was trying extra hard to impress Tom. Like you, she had been waiting for another man in the family to spoil. Nodding towards the biscuits, Tom gained the hint that you wanted him to snatch something else to help set up.

That was the calm before the storm. The hustling and bustling of dishes signaled to your siblings and cousins that it was time to eat. They practically ran into the kitchen, a whirlwind of thank you’s in their paths. Taking advantage of that opportunity, your mother started handing them dishes to set on the table.

And before you and Tom knew it, there was nothing left to place on the table.

Setting the biscuits sheepishly on the edge of the table, and handing a few to your cousins at the kiddie bench, he rounded back to your side.

“I feel worthless.” He whispered in your ear, knowing it was a light-hearted joke.

“It’s fine babe, next time.” You left a light kiss on his cheek.

The two of you started to make your way to the table, unable to ignore the grumbling in your stomachs. You had purposefully told Tom not to eat a single thing before the gigantic meal. You had also advised that it was more than welcomed to take seconds, thirds, and even fourths.

And then, as if on cue, the front door violently swung open, and in hurried your aunts and grandparents. “Oofta, traffic was a killer.” You heard you grandmother’s voice complain loudly from the front entrance. A chilling breeze followed, refreshing in the warmly lit atmosphere.

You turned and saw your grandfather balancing at least four pumpkin pies in his hands. Tom rushes forward to help, and you followed suit.

“OH MY GOSH IT’S Y/N’S BOYFRIEND!” Your rambunctious aunt seemed to yell at the top of her lungs when she spotted the stranger.

Tom’s eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Be prepared for kisses.” You warned, smiling from ear to ear, knowing he had already been warned of their excessive amounts of affection.

It was going to be an incredibly wild night. One that you and Tom would remember for years to come.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland #tom holland fanfic

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imagine-organization-xiii · 5 years

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Hey!! Can I get the org as youtubers?? Love your writing!!

Xemnas

Internet cryptid. Rarely shows his face. Uploading schedule is random and everyone is always surprised and excited when he decides to post a new video.

Everyone flocks to his channel for his voice. Most of his videos are of him reciting poetry or short stories. Has the perfect voice that makes you feel as though you’re listening to an audiobook. That being said, he goes pretty far into the ASMR thing, usually with his low voice reading to you, but everyone loves it so he doesn’t really want to change.

Doesn’t go to conventions or events, partly because he wants to keep the mystery of his appearance alive and partly because he doesn’t like meeting people.

Xigbar

Literally posts whatever the hell he wants, maybe once or twice a week depending on how busy he is. His channel is very Jenna Marbles-esque in the sense that he goes off the rails all the time. He’ll video himself trying a new workout routine, attempting and failing to cook a meal, going to a gun range another day, getting Xion to paint his nails in another video, telling stories about why he wears an eye patch that get more and more ridiculous as he goes on, etc.

Chill with fans. He’s super casual and actually likes meeting fans. Will be cool with you if you’re cool with him and don’t treat him as some big celebrity. He’s just a random guy who makes a few videos on the internet and that’s how he wants everyone to see him.

Xaldin

A workout channel, of course! Does a series of different types of workout routines that are good for different people with different body types and different levels of energy. A very body positive channel! Also has a series on different types of diets and the positives and negatives of each - more in regards to living healthier lifestyles than losing weight.

Went viral during a collab with Lexaeus about healthy food and organic versus non-organic fruits and veggies.

Will definitely talk to fans if they meet on the street or by chance, but doesn’t really go to conventions. He does videos because he finds it fun, not because he wants to be famous.

Vexen

Has a Bill Nye the Science Guy type of channel where he teaches people about the wonders of science and how science can answer nearly every question you might have about the universe. Did a whole, scathing series about climate change that went completely viral and caused quite a few stubborn conservatives to condemn his channel, but he’s fairly well-liked throughout the entirety of the scientific community.

One of those rare Youtubers that actually has a day job as a scientist for some fancy laboratory or university.

Doesn’t really like meeting fans because he doesn’t know how to talk to people, but will happily talk if someone strikes up a conversation that happens to be particularly intriguing.

Lexaeus

Honestly, this man has a cooking channel, but the actual cooking content varies. He has a whole series about cooking tips and hacks, as well as good tools to have in your kitchen. Videos concerning food range from beautiful aesthetic baking recipes for cookies and cupcakes to an Epic Meal Time level of food insanity.

His fans are intimidated when approaching him because he’s so large and intimidating, but they soon realize that he’s actually a sweetheart and is happy to answer questions and give tips to his viewers when he meets them.

Zexion

Mostly does reviews about things. The majority of them are about books, but he’ll sometimes do movies if they were book-to-movie adaptations. His reviews are fair, brilliant, and well-thought out, so he’s actually been approached by several movie studios that wanted him to review scripts before they start production.

Feels like he’s awkward around fans but they don’t think so. Gets exhausted by social interaction so he’ll talk to people, but he has to take some time alone afterward to re-charge.

Saix

Makes How To videos and educational videos. Saix’s channel is something you stumbled across when looking for tips for writing a resumé or for tips when going into a job interview.

Fairly informative in his videos, if a bit long-winded. The videos are worth the full watch, though, because he has some scathing, dry humor that you enjoy.

Did a whole series on his channel about politics - the important of voting, explaining governmental processes, explaining impeachment, giving information about various candidates, etc. This is the series that really made his channel fly up in subscribers.

Awkward with fans and doesn’t know how to interact with people fawning over him. Stopped going to events after some girl groped his ass because he felt too uncomfortable.

Axel

A travel blog! He goes all over the world - worlds - exploring the sights and local favorite spots. He gets a little extreme sometimes because he likes to try everything, whether that’s scuba diving with sharks, sky diving, riding camels through a desert, rock and mountain climbing, etc., but he likes to have the full experience.

He also does gaming, mostly group games like PUBG or Overwatch or Gary’s Mod games that he can co-op with Roxas.

Absolutely loves meeting fans. He really cares about his fans and loves making conversations with them - everyone finds him really easy to talk to, so they flock to conventions when they hear he’s going to be in attendance.

Demyx

A music channel! He writes his own music, does covers of popular songs, experiments with different instruments, does online lessons and teaches how to tune certain instruments.

He also does some travel stuff with Axel, depending on where Axel happens to go. They always have a lot of fun together so they like to collab whenever they have the chance.

Adores meeting fans and gives some really awesome hugs! Gets super excited and flattered whenever anyone recognizes him in public.

Luxord

Does a little bit of everything. Got popular with doing unboxing videos for different types of subscription boxes. Also does a follow-me around where he goes to different sights around his hometown and explores things. Has a series of videos about classic foods and snacks from England.

Surprisingly, he first went viral for a video explaining what Brexit was and why it was important to vote.. Everyone was super impressed with the resources and information that he gave in the video.

Doesn’t mind meeting fans but doesn’t go to conventions or events. He’s usually pretty busy, so he’ll probably stop for a picture and a handshake and be on his way.

Marluxia

Marluxia’s channel is a mash of makeup tutorials and gardening tips. He has the most phenomenal garden that people love to look at and makes videos about soil pH, fertilizer and composting, and which plants go well with different types of environments and weather.

But then he also has his beauty guru side where he makes these incredible makeup tutorials that people can’t understand how he can possibly have such a steady hand when doing his contour and eyeshadow.

Viewers are a combination of 60 year old men and women looking for gardening tips and teenagers looking for makeup tips. Is fine with talking with the teenagers but will absolutely have hour-long conversations with anyone who starts talking to him about his plants.

Larxene

Self-defense, particularly for women who need to protect themselves but they could be applied to men, too. Good friends with Xaldin and has him on her channel a lot, usually when she needs a test dummy to try out new moves on. It helps her viewers to know that even though she’s small, she can still take out guys twice her size - and that her viewers can, too!

Sometimes does makeup tests with Marluxia because she can make some wicked sharp eyeliner wings.

She’s pretty cool with meeting fans as long as you’re cool with her. Do not hit on her or think you have a right to monopolize her time just because you’re a fan. You will regret it.

Roxas

Roxas is first and foremost a gaming youtuber. He loves video games and would play them all day every day if he could. Sometimes does charity livestreams on Twitch and he’s raised a lot of money for good causes!

Doesn’t really have a particular kind of game he plays - has a fondness for Nintendo, but he’ll play a little of everything. it really depends on what kind of mood he’s in at the time.

Gets really shy around meeting fans but he loves his fans to pieces! He thinks that they’re all super awesome and give great recommendations for new games he should try.

Xion

Craft videos! Xion loves arts and crafts so you can bet that she’s going to be showing you how to make different projects in an easy and fun way that doesn’t cause too much stress. She also dabbles in trying different types of painting, sculpting, sketching, nail art, etc., and makes awesome tutorials that are easy to follow.

Gets embarrassed around fans because she’s super flattered that anyone would love her videos enough to watch them consistently.

Xion gets the occasional fan that’s a little… too familiar with her, but she usually has someone with her when she goes to cons and events, so they happily act as her bodyguard.

Collabs with other Youtubers a lot, particularly Lexaeus, to everyone’s surprise. They usually do videos together when Lexaeus makes some kind of sweet dessert.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts headcanon #organization xiii #organization xiii headcanons

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takivvatanga · 4 years

Text

open home.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve driven past this place at least five times just this week. I think it’s absolutely gorgeous.” The blonde woman beams, shifts her weight from one foot to the other with barely contained excitement as she grasps for her husband’s hand, holding it tightly in hers.

Stella swallows the lump in her throat. She doesn’t know this woman from a bar of soap, but here, in this moment, her mannerisms remind her of her mother and it hurts.

“I’m glad to hear it”, Stella replies. “It’s… a good house. It deserves someone who will appreciate it.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s more than just good, it’s great! Isn’t it, David?”

The bespectacled man nods. His eyes are large and bright behind his dark-rimmed glasses.

“It’s pretty good”, he concedes.

“Oh, come on darling. It’s exactly what we talked about. What we thought we might want.”

“I guess.”

“Would it kill you to be just a little bit more enthusiastic?”

Stella can’t help but chuckle a little. They seem like a nice couple, bickering aside.

Mum and Dad wouldn’t mind them living here.

“So, first things first.” The blonde drops her voice to a faux-conspiratorial whisper. There’s a gleam of mischief in her green eyes. “Why is the owner even selling? I mean, this is a great location, and the house is nothing short of a dream. Why would anyone give up a place like this?”

Why would anyone, indeed.

“My parents passed away.”

Four words. Four words that do not even come close to conveying her grief, her sleepless nights, the agonising internal debate on what to bloody well do with the place. The decision, equally painful and liberating, to let go.

“Oh, you’re the owner. I am so very sorry, I thought you were the agent. Are they… coming, still? The agent, I mean.”

The man – David – frowns, visibly uncomfortable. “I am sorry”, he says. His gaze is fixed on some indeterminate point just behind Stella. “This kind of thing is really hard.”

Stella feels her eyes starting to burn. Sorry won’t bring them back. Sorry won’t make this easy, either. What he says is nothing new. She’s heard those phrases a million times before. The funerals – what tragedy, both of them gone within three months of each other – are still vivid in her mind. Stella stood alone, solemn, dressed in black, her body, no – her soul feeling impossibly heavy as the seemingly neverending string of mourners filed past her, handshake after clammy handshake, condolence after hollow condolence.

No, it’s not what he says. It’s how he says it. There’s something genuine in his voice, something heartfelt. Something authentic. Maybe, just maybe, Stella wouldn’t mind if he lived here.

“It’s okay”, she concedes, her hand rising up to fidget with the little silver blackbird pendant around her neck.

Are you okay with this, Mum? she asks inside her mind. Will you be angry with me for selling? I just can’t live here, Mum. It feels so empty. It used to be home, but without you and Dad it just isn’t right anymore. It feels like a skin waiting to be shed. I have to do this, Mum, and I hope you understand.

“I wanted to do this on my own. It’s important to me. Part of the process, I guess. I want to make sure that it’s a good match. For the house. I know this sounds odd, but – I grew up here. My parents put their heart and soul into this place, and I really would like to see it go to someone who can appreciate it for that. I don’t want this to be just another item on someone’s investment portfolio. It’s always been a home, and it’s important to me that it stays that way.” Stella brushes a stray curl off her face. Her hair is shot through with strands of grey. Salt and pepper. These people are younger than her, by quite a bit. She doesn’t usually feel old, but right now she does.

“It’s pretty straight forward, really.” She gestures for them to follow her through the house, their footsteps echo in the empty hallway. Stella never quite realised how spacious the house really is. In her mind, it’s small, cramped, filled to the brim with her mother’s things. They fill a storage unit, now. It was the sensible thing to do. Going through everything, deciding what to keep and what to sell or give away is a task of near epic proportions, and even though Stella is chipping away at it, bit by bit, there is still a lot to be done.

“Master bedroom to the right. Second bedroom to the left. Do you have children?”

“No.” The blonde woman’s reply is immediate, curt, her voice suddenly cold, defensive. She wants them, Stella thinks. She wants them, she will always want them, but she’ll never have them. She doesn’t know how she knows. She just does.

Stella nods in acknowledgement, leads onwards.

“Two more rooms upstairs. One has a balcony, as you’ve surely seen from outside. It was my father’s study. The other was set up as a darkroom. My mother did a lot of photography.”

“This is so spacious, I adore it. So much room. We could do so much with this, couldn’t we, David?”

“I guess.” ”You don’t like it, do you, darling?”

David once again looks uncomfortable. He runs his hand over one of the smooth, recently painted walls.

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

It is Stella’s turn to be uncomfortable. Whatever is going on between these two, it has nothing to do with her and she’d prefer to keep it that way.

Thankfully, David only shakes his head, a small, defeated gesture. Stella doesn’t miss her chance.

“I’ll just take you through into the lounge. And the kitchen and dining area. Open plan, as you can see. Gets the sun all day around, too.”

“Does the fireplace… does it work?”

Stella nods.

“Of course it does.”

She remembers her mother, standing in the doorway, carrying the basket of wood against her hip, illuminated from the hall lights behind her, unintentionally and impossibly graceful.

She remembers the concentration on her father’s face as he strikes the match, the way his eyes light up with satisfaction when the fire catches perfectly on the first try.

“It works perfectly.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. And I love the french doors, too!”

”Yes, they open up onto the garden. The garden is… quite something.”

Her mother’s garden. Her pride and joy. A little bit strange, just like her. Soft. Good. Surprisingly complex. Stella has tried her best to keep up with it, haphazardly, out of duty rather than enjoyment. It’s gotten away on her. The peas have gone wild, the bougainvillea has overgrown the fence. The roses have survived, somehow. The clematis – the bloody clematis. How many hours has she spent trying to prune the damn thing back, trying to get it under control, sweat beading on her forehead, her hands in her mother’s gardening gloves?

“Oh, we’re not worried about the garden. It’s a waste of time, gardening. We’ll likely concrete most of it. You know, like a patio? With a nice tidy decorative lawn. I mean, who can be bothered actually maintaining a garden, nowadays?”

Stella’s face turns to stone.

She can’t allow this. She won’t allow this. This was her mother’s lifelong labour of love, and Stella cannot with a clean conscience let it be buried under concrete.

“I don’t think this is the right place for you.”

The blonde woman looks up at her, irritated. The man won’t meet her eye.

“I’m not going to sell to you.”

“But… we haven’t even made an offer.”

“And you won’t. Because I won’t sell.”

“And you just decided this now?”

“Leave it, Katie. There’s plenty of other places still on our list. It doesn’t have to be this one.”

“But I love this house.”

“No.” Stella’s voice is firm, sharp, cold.

“You don’t love it how it needs to be loved. How it deserves to be loved. How I want it to be loved.”

“It’s only a house.”

Stella lifts an eyebrow, crosses her arms over her chest.

“That… is exactly what I mean. Because it’s not just a house. It’s a home. And it deserves to be treated with respect. Honoured. I’m sure there’s plenty new builds that will suit you much better than this place. You know, with a nice concrete patio and a tidy little lawn. If you don’t mind, I think I would like you to leave now.”

Katie opens her mouth, closes it again. David puts his hand on her shoulder, shakes his head no. “I’m sorry about this –“ he starts.

Stella shakes her head.

“It’s fine.” ______

“I couldn’t do it, Mum. I couldn’t let that happen. I thought they were nice people, and maybe they are, but I don’t want them living here. Tearing up your garden. Your garden.”

Stella sits crosslegged on the bare floor in the lounge, in the exact spot where the couch used to be. The house is silent and dark and empty, but Stella doesn’t feel alone.

“Maybe I’m not ready for this, after all. Maybe I need more time. Maybe…” Stella sighs, closes her eyes.

Outside, in the garden, a little blackbird sings.

@starscorned pls accept this self-indulgent offering bc i been yelling about it for days now

#vignette: stella #just had this scene in my head all week idek #thinking about middle aged stella grieving her parents #and she just #she won't let herself grieve she's just in action mode #sort everything out organise everything #don't sell the house stella you're not ready to let go

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yoshimars · 4 years

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Found another OTP Meme! This one’s source is here.

Jolassa again! :D

1. Who laughs at their own joke and who deadpans at the joke?

Jove absolutely laughs at his own jokes, Thalassa tries to deadpan but she tends to fail at this, Jove is very, very cute.

2. If they had a secret handshake, how would it go?

I don’t think they would, Jove’s a hugger so whenever he sees Thalassa he’s pretty one track minded about having her in his arms again. He’s also very big on contact, so holding hands, standing close enough to brush her arm, things like that.

3. It’s movie night, what movies are they gonna watch together?

Something soft and sweet, there’s enough hardship in their lives so I imagine they default to things like disney movies or romantic comedies. That way neither of them fall into critiquing it in a work sense.

4. It’s time to name their pet they adopted together, who gets to name it? How do they come to this decision?

Whoever comes up with the cutest name first. Though really, Jove is most likely to go along with whatever Thalassa suggests. She’s better at naming things than he is.

5. Who would they love to go on a double date with?

In the AU where Jove lives? Phoenix and Miles. Otherwise, Dhurke and Amara would be pretty epic. (Or Dhurke and Datz later on!)

6. Who wakes the other up in the morning? How do they wake them up?

If Jove is lucky enough to wake up first he wakes Thalassa with kisses. On the more likely occasion it’s Thalassa who wakes up first, she tends to wake Jove softly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes or with very soft touches to his face and a gentle call of his name.

7. How do they celebrate Halloween? By dressing up in some pretty neat costumes, Thalassa loves going all out on something pretty and she’ll make Jove something to match.

8. Who is more likely to call their partner ‘dude’?

Neither.

9. During a thunderstorm how do they react? Is one scared? Do they both love it? Do they take pictures? ECT.

They both enjoy it, they might cuddle up and just listen to the storm for awhile.

10. Who would looking lovingly at their partner and call them ‘idiot’?

Thalassa all the way (and Jove would have earned that, so he’d be all smiles back).

11. It’s time to get groceries, who likes to look at everything and who just wants to power through and get everything done so they can go back home?

They’re BOTH wanderers in the store so they’re likely to lose track of time and just browse. Thalassa keeps them on time if they’ve got to be somewhere.

12. Who is more likely to make a mess in the kitchen?

Jove, but he’ll clean it up too. He loves to cook, and over time becomes pretty good at it! He tends to clean as he goes though, so the mess isn’t overwhelming later.

13. Who likes to try to prank their partner?

Thalassa is more mischievous than Jove is, and he’s far more likely to fall for it too.

14. When scrolling on their phone, who is more likely to show their partner a cute picture/video of an animal?

Thalassa. Especially once she gets her sight back, she follows a lot of blogs with pretty photography!

15. Who causes the tomfoolery and who has to try and stop the tomfoolery?

Thalassa causes it, Jove mostly goes along but might express concern if things get too wild. (Then again he’s been known to leap before he looks too, so I’m not sure either of them are good at stopping any tomfoolery!)

#Ace Attorney #Jove Justice #Thalassa Gramarye #Jolassa #Can I just call her Thalassa Justice?#I want to #OTP Meme Asks

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wintersnightdiary · 5 years

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Bombshells - Chapter 2 of 2

AUTHOR: wintersnightdiary WHICH CHARACTER: Actor Seb GENRE: Angst, Friendship FIC SUMMARY: Tatiana, stylist and part-owner of Bombshells, a themed men’s salon in New York City, is thrown off-guard when an old friend and former regular client decides to pop back in for a service.

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: Here be smut :)

FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Feedback and comments are welcome!

Previous Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Laptop open, I worked on our bookkeeping for the salon at a local cafe. As much as I loathed this aspect of business, it was a necessary evil. Our accountant had the nerve to go off and get married, which left us with the dirty work while she enjoyed a two-week, extravagant honeymoon. And on our dime at that! I sighed, sipped my mocha, and typed the necessary data into QuickBooks.

I worked in a methodical rhythm until my phone vibrated on the table. A quick glance at the display indicated it was my friend and business partner, Maya. “Hey, Mye,” I said, placing the phone between my shoulder and ear.

“Heeeeey, Ruska! What’s up?” Maya squawked.

Balancing the phone on my shoulder, I continued to type as I spoke. “Nothing much. Just doing paperwork for the shop.”

“Aye. How the hell did you end up doing that shit?” She laughed.

“Well, I didn’t see anyone else jumping at the chance,” I said with a hint of ire in my voice.

Maya scoffed on the other end of the line. “Girrrl. You know if I got anywhere near that paperwork, we’d end up bankrupt.” Her admission garnered a snort from me in response. “Listen, you remember that photographer that I went out with a few times? He came into the salon once. Real tall, longish hair he wears in an epic man-bun. Super hot?”

I wracked my brain briefly trying to picture the man she was referring to. Unfortunately, I came up blank. “Um. Not really.”

“Whatever. Anyway, he just got a huge contract with this publication company and wants to throw a little get together at his apartment in the village tonight.” She rushed out. I knew what was coming before she said it and prepared my response. “Want to come?”

I blew air out of my mouth, stopped typing and grabbed the phone to hold it to my ear. “Mye, I don’t know. I was kind of planning on staying in and vegging out tonight.”

“Oh, come on, Ruska! Don’t be such a spoilsport. I really don’t want to go alone. Please?” She whined.

“Seriously, Maya. Isn’t anyone else around who can go?” I implored.

“No. No one else is around. I’ve asked,” she admitted. I didn’t blame her for asking other people. No one in their right mind would count on the notorious couch hermit to go out with them. I was always a last resort and that was just fine with me. “Look. It’s going to be a very small gathering. Like 15-20 people, tops. We’ll hang out for a bit. Have a few drinks, eat something and leave. Promise.”

I sighed loudly into the phone and rolled my eyes. “Text me the info and I’ll call you later.”

I winced at the shriek on the other end of the line and hung up with my irritating friend. Ugh. She owes me. BIG time. I shut my laptop and packed up to head home. Now to figure out what the heck I was going to wear.

The car pulled up to the quaint neighborhood in the West Village. I paid the driver and stared up at the multi-storied building. I opted to wear a simple mini-skirt with a button-down shirt tucked in and my favorite boots. Although it was warm earlier in the day, the cool breeze tonight caused goose-bumps to form on my legs. Shooting a quick text to Maya, I confirmed she was already inside as I headed toward the entrance.

A second after ringing the bell, the door opened in a flourish with Maya on the other side. She bounded into my arms, her dark, curly hair engulfing my face. “Hey, babes! I’m so glad you are here!” She let go and dragged me inside by the hand. “Come on, let me introduce you to Paolo.”

Trying to keep pace with my boisterous guide as she led me through the crowd, I got myself acclimated to my surroundings. I was very enamored with my first impression, white walls with modern fixtures and sleek accessories garnishing the furniture. It was an open floor plan with the kitchen, bar, dining area and living room all in one big space. For a New York City apartment, it was very spacious, and I was anxious to see the rest of it simply out of envious curiosity.

We reached the kitchen and Maya stopped in front of a very tall, handsome gentlemen leaning on the countertop. His long, dark hair tousled in sexy waves to his shoulders. “Hey, Paolo. This is Tatiana, my friend and business partner at Bombshells. Tatiana, this is Paolo.” I extended my hand for a handshake, but he reached over and brought it to his lips, placing a faint kiss on my knuckles.

“Hello, Tatiana. It’s such a pleasure. Thank you so much for coming,” he drawled in his foreign accent. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was from, but if I had to guess, it had Spanish origins.

“Thanks for having me, Paolo. You have a lovely home and congrats on everything.” I smiled politely. He squeezed my palm firmly before releasing it.

“Of course, mi amore. Anyone who is a friend of Maya’s is a friend of mine.” He smiled warmly at Maya briefly before turning his attentions back to me.

“Please, make yourself at home, Tatiana. Would you like something to drink?” Paolo asked. Before I could answer, he snapped his fingers and gestured to someone behind me. “Josef. Please get these ladies anything they’d like.”

I turned to face the man waiting for my order. “Um. May I please have a Cosmo?”

“Make that two!” Maya barked from behind me.

“Right away, madams,” he responded before disappearing behind the bar.

After getting our drinks, I decided to leave Maya with Paolo and give myself a tour of the place. I was instructed to make myself at home after all. It had to be one of the most beautiful apartments I’ve been in, and it was embellished so impeccably that I wondered if it was all Paolo’s doing or if he hired a decorator.

As I wandered around, I realized Maya had been right about it being an intimate party. There were people sprinkled about, but there couldn’t have been more than 20 guests in total.

I felt a warm arm slink through mine from behind. “So, isn’t this place just fantastic?” A female voice intimated lowly in my ear. My gaze shifted toward the sound and revealed Maya grinning wide beside me.

“Absolutely. I really love it. It’s amazing.” I sighed.

Maya threaded her fingers with mine and started to tug. “Well, you haven’t even seen the best part!” She giggled and pulled me through the room.

“Wait. Where are we going?” I asked, trying to free my hand from her grasp, drink sloshing and threatening to spill over the brim of the martini glass.

She refused to let go. “Just shush and see.”

Maya led me through the crowd and opened an obscure door that I didn’t notice before. On the other side was a narrow staircase leading up and we climbed the stairs. I felt the crisp air as we approached the door at the top and realized where we were headed. Paolo must have occupied the top floor of the building and had his own private access to the rooftop.

As we emerged through the door at the top of the steps, I was not disappointed. The view was amazing and decorated just as impeccably as the living space downstairs. Various pieces of outdoor furniture with matching coffee tables filled the space. There were fire pits, candles, and white lights decorating the lattice work edging the top of the patio. I was extremely impressed with all of it, albeit a tiny bit jealous. Paolo had a breath-taking apartment and even greater view, a rare find even in the Village.

My new drink arrived so fast, I wondered if the waiter downstairs had pre-ordered it in advance, not that I was going to complain. The alcohol was finally starting to loosen me up.

As I stared into the night sky near the far side of the rooftop absorbing the view, I froze at a familiar laugh behind me, a masculine laugh. No fucking way. Curiosity had me turning around to spite myself when my eyes suddenly locked on the subject of the sound. No.

He completely stopped mid-laugh and pointed in my direction, “Oh my god. Hey!” He looked around at the group surrounding him with an awestruck look on his face. “I know her! Tatiana!” He yelled as he started to stand up.

I faced away from him quickly and tried to shrink into my surroundings. “Holy shit, Tati. Is that Seb?” Maya whispered in my ear. I looked at her through my haze of hair and gave her a “duh” look. Maya cursed under her breath and turned back to face him. I watched her from behind the curtain of hair shielding my burning face before she whisper-screamed. “Shit. He’s coming over here.”

Before I could react, my arm was yanked from behind causing me to jerk completely around. “Tati! Wow. I knew it was you.” Seb said as he gathered me up into his strong embrace. I winced at the suddenness and strength of the hug.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol on the mostly empty stomach or exhaustion, but I actually decided to hug him back after I got my bearings. Pressing my face into his shoulder, I breathed in and shut my eyes. His smell was familiar and safe, and I fucking missed it. Although I knew I would regret it in the morning, I couldn’t help but soak it all in and just feel him. There was no party, no guests, no where else I wanted to be, just me and Sebastian. Just us.

After what felt like an eternity, yet not long enough, Seb placed a kiss on my head before finally releasing me.

“Wha-What are you doing here?” I stuttered while wobbling a bit on my feet. Jeeze. How many drinks did I have?

Seb grinned, the glassy sheen in his eyes revealing the effects of the alcohol he’s consumed.“I’m here with the guys.” He pointed to the attractive looking group behind him. “We go to the same gym as Paolo. What are you doing here? Do you know him too?”

I smiled bashfully and realized Maya had been standing next to us with a shocked look on her face the whole time. “Um, actually. Maya knows Paolo.” I gestured toward her and noticed Seb getting flustered for practically ignoring her too.

“Oh, hey. Sorry, Maya! So great to see you. How are you, babe?” Seb gave her a friendly hug and a kiss on the cheek. Maya looked at me while silently mouthing “Oh My God,” from over his shoulder causing me to stifle a giggle. She knew Seb as long as I did, of course. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a fangirl first and foremost. Maya knew about Seb and I, including all of the sordid details of our intimate night. And if our doomed ship had any sort of cheerleader rooting us on? It was certainly Maya. All of her begging and pleading to call him after our tryst led nowhere though, my broken heart and pride trumping her persistence.

Seb stepped back, and waited expectantly for a response from Maya. I witnessed her shaking herself back into the present with a slow nod of her head. “Oh. Uhhhh. I’m good, man. Really good. Um. Sooooooo, I’m going downstairs to find Paolo. Catch you guys later?” Without waiting for a response, Maya headed in the direction of the stairwell. She gave me a thumbs up from behind Sebastian’s back before exiting, and I smirked in amused irritation, shaking my head in disbelief at her antics. Seb turned to see what I was looking at, but by the time he did, Maya was already gone.

“So, uhhhh. Want to sit over there?” Seb pointed at a set of unoccupied seats hidden against the wall in the low lighting. “We can catch up?”

I fidgeted a bit in place. I was not sure this would be such a great idea, especially given our exchange a few weeks earlier. “Don’t you want to hang out with your friends?” I asked while pointing at the loud group behind him.

Seb gave me a crooked smile and rubbed the back of his neck. “Nah. I see them all the time.” He reached for my hand and gently played with my fingers. “It’s so good to see you, Tati. I really want to catch up. It’s been way too long.” He punctuated his words with the most adorable pleading face and slowly led me toward the couch in the corner.

Just like our hug earlier, I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol clouding my judgment or my self-destructive curiosity, but I ended up agreeing to his request. “Alright.”

We spent the next few hours just talking and drinking. Boy, were we drinking. Those pesky amazing waiters kept the drinks flowing as Seb and I tucked into our private cove and got lost in conversation. Seb told me all about his travels and his costars on the projects he was working on. He shared some crazy and hilarious stories that happened on set, and told me about the work lined up the next few months. I had shared the happenings with the business and just how pathetic non-eventful my personal life had been since we last spent time together. It was just like old times. We let ourselves fall into an easy banter, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Seb was just as gorgeous as ever, and I admit the more we drank and conversed, the more I was falling under his spell again. We never brought up the elephants in the room, his current girlfriend or our last intimate “encounter,” which mercifully kept the mood light. Yet, strangely Seb was not acting as if he was currently attached at all. He was awfully handsy with me. Sitting rather close, rubbing my shoulder or my thigh, not that I protested in the least. Perhaps if I was more coherent, less inebriated, I’d recognize it for what it was.

But, I was inebriated so was he! and feeling extremely nostalgic. Frankly, I missed Seb. Terribly. And as much as I tried to deny it, I still had feelings for him. Even after all of it, the rejection and the pain, I still wanted him and that was the cold, hard truth. One that I avoided and did not want to admit to myself, let alone out loud.

It was after one of our long, belly splitting laughing fits that Seb really surprised me. He threw his arm around my shoulders and cupped my face in his other hand. Caressing my cheek with his thumb, he leaned in close.

“Oh, Tati. I miss you so much,” his voice trailed off into a whisper, mouth inches from my face. Seb looked fervently into my eyes, until I could practically see his soul. I saw no amount of deception in his words. He was telling the truth.

I swallowed thickly at this realization, as he licked his lips and stared hungrily at my mouth. He leaned in closer and I closed my eyes at what was coming.

“EVERYBODY DOWNSTAIRS! We’re about to cut the cake and toast the man of honor!” A deep voice echoed from the stairwell.

And just like that, the spell was broken. Seb dropped his hand and chuckled nervously before grabbing me by the wrist. “Come on. Let’s not be completely rude to our host.”

The cake was cut, toasts were made, and I was perched on a barstool eating my dessert wordlessly next to Maya. The alcohol began to hit me after coming downstairs and with only the little bits of hors d'oeuvres being passed around in my stomach, I hoped that eating something rich and sugary would help.

Maya was dying to get details from me, but we both knew it wouldn’t happen until after we got home. We didn’t want any unnecessary ears prying, since we didn’t really know the guests at the party and which ones knew Seb. More importantly with Sebastian being a celebrity, it was even more crucial not to say something that could potentially end up misconstrued, get back to him, or worse, end up in some trashy tabloid. Besides, Seb had retreated immediately to his friends once we arrived from the terrace anyway, our time on the rooftop seemingly over and forgotten. Nothing to see here, people!

My head still clouded by the liquor felt dizzy, but I was still very much aware of my faculties. Playing with the sweets on my plate with my fork, I was lost in thought. Confusion lingered over this recent turn of events and I didn’t like it. Up until now, I had always felt very hurt, and angry with Sebastian after he completely dropped me like a bad habit after we had sex. I never thought these feelings for him would come back. His ghosting of our friendship annihilated me in so many ways, and I thought I’d never get over it. But just like other tragedies of the heart, with time, I eventually wrote him off and chalked it up to another friendship to romance gone bad.

It was the pathetic classic out of sight, out of mind approach but it worked. I wasn’t counting on Sebastian strolling back into my salon like he did a couple weeks ago. Even though it was painfully awkward, I had really believed it would be the end we both needed. No real closure of course, but then again, I had stopped that from happening right in its tracks. Seb had tried to apologize and explain at the salon, but I wanted no part of it. Truth was, I was not ready to open that wound again, no matter how much I craved the closure and validation. Knowing that our intimate act actually meant something more to Seb than his actions had portrayed afterward was very important to me. But, the curiosity did not outweigh the risk of reliving the hurt again. So, I chose to not acknowledge or address it all.

Now after our time on the rooftop, I was unsure. Perhaps I did want to know what happened. We were such close friends for so long. The chemistry was palpable to the point where our mutual friends would tease us mercilessly about it. We were well aware of it ourselves. And when we finally acted on it, he bolts? Why hadn’t he called? Why did he just disappear without a trace? He was obviously not afraid of commitment or being in a relationship. He’s had long-term girlfriends in the past. Heck, he had one now apparently! So what was it? Was it me?

The negative thoughts began to make me dizzy and turn my stomach. I was consumed again with self-loathing, anxiety and doubt. Feeling the bile rise suddenly, I put my plate down and raced to the nearest bathroom.

I shut the door in a panic and dry-heaved into the toilet bowl, gasping for air in between gags, tears beginning to form in the corners of my eyes. I coughed and wretched but nothing came out. I tried to straighten myself back up, but the dizziness was still making my head throb. Suddenly, all of the weight of emotion I had been suppressing for so long finally surfaced and I sobbed into my hands. Why did I always fall for the wrong guy? Why did I have to ruin my friendship with Seb by sleeping with him? I’m an idiot. I miss my friend. I blew it.

I heard the door open and shut, figuring Maya followed me in. In my haste, I must have forgotten to lock the door. Too distraught to look up, I felt a hand on my back as I cried. “Sssssh. Sweetheart, are you alright?” The familiar deep voice made me jump in surprise.

I looked up, wiped my face and confirmed my suspicion. “S-Seb? Wha-What are you doing he-?”

“Shhh,” he placated again by scooping me into his arms. “My beautiful girl, what’s wrong?” He held me tight and rubbed my back as I shook and wept in his embrace.

He rocked me a bit before releasing his hold, leaning back to look into my eyes. “Oh god. I probably look like a mess.” I joked self-consciously, realizing my make-up was probably running down my face.

Seb smiled, cupped my cheeks and wiped the mascara laced tears with his thumbs. “Don’t be silly, Tati. You are always beautiful. My gorgeous doll. So beautiful,” he whispered sweetly.

Staring into his eyes, I could see the sincerity in his words. I don’t know what came over me, but I leaned in and swiftly pressed my lips against his. After freezing momentarily, I could feel Seb tentatively reciprocating. I cursed myself internally for ignoring the alarm bells going off in the rational part of my brain. But I tuned them out, as I poured all of my emotions into the kiss.

Seb granted my tongue access and he moaned into my mouth. Our lips and tongues danced passionately, until we were both out of breath. The little voice in the back of my mind knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but the larger part didn’t care. All of my memories of him came flooding back, the familiar softness of his full lips, the way he would stop to nibble on my mouth, the soft little sighs in between breaths, his hands holding my face and his fingers in my hair. I was feeling warm and flush all over. This feels so good.

Seb slowly turned and walked us backwards until my back hit the vanity with a thump. The jolt made us briefly part. I giggled and untucked his shirt, kissing my way down his neck as he hummed in appreciation. Seb shrugged the leather jacket off his arms before reaching up and grabbing my face again to kiss me. Everything became a hot blur of passion, pleasure and twisted limbs.

I trailed my hands up and down his muscular chest underneath his shirt, while he worked the buttons off the top of my blouse. I squeezed his love handles and pulled him toward me to feel the hard plains of his torso against me. Seb groaned into my mouth before lifting me to sit on the vanity, and stand between my legs. His hands traveled under my skirt, hiking the garment up to my waist, and sensually running his palms up and down my bare legs. He abandoned my lips and began peppering kisses down my neck. I closed my eyes and let a quiet whimper escape into the small powder room.

My whole body was on fire when he grabbed my thighs roughly and possessively. “Tati, I need you,” he whispered into my skin. “God. I-I need you so much, baby.” His words and his touch caused my insides to thrum in excitement.

My head flew back against the mirror with a thud as Seb massaged a particular sweet spot on my neck with his tongue. I grabbed the back of his head and held him to me as he worked his magic. The dizzying sensations were becoming overwhelming, and my heart raced as his mouth continued south.

Hooking my fingers into the loops of his jeans, I pulled Seb’s crotch into mine causing him to groan. He gripped my hips hard and pulled my lower half against his. “You drive me so fucking crazy, baby.” He panted into my neck and dry humped our clothed bodies. "Fuck. You know that?” He grunted.

His hardening bulge rubbed against me, the delicious friction from his gyrations against my core making me wanton with need. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you show me, tough guy?” I yelped in surprised exhilaration as he dropped to his knees and licked my cloth covered heat, moisture leaving a long stripe mark on my panties. “Oh my god,” I whispered desperately. He smirked up at me as he pressed lightly over my seam with his fingers while biting the inside of my thigh teasingly.

“Please,” I moaned quietly into the back of my hand. Even though the music was blaring outside, I didn’t want to alert anyone to the activities taking place behind the locked door.

“Shh, what do you want, Doll?” He continued to mouth around my sensitive inner thigh, running his tongue along the crease of my hip.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I pulled him over to where I wanted. “There. I want you right there.” I barely got the words out before I was gasping and panting in pleasure. He smiled devilishly up at me momentarily before diving in, laving and placing opened mouth kisses right where I craved. “Ung. Yes. Mmm,” I breathed. He peered up at me from his position on the floor, devouring me with his eyes and literally with his mouth. The desire in his gaze combined with his actions caused a fresh jolt of pleasure and wetness between my legs.

After drenching my thong with his oral ministrations, Sebastian finally pulled the soaked scrap of satin aside and applied his mouth directly on me. “Oh my god,” I moaned, rocking my pelvis into his face, craving the friction. His soft and methodical movements combined with his low groans vibrating against me drove me wild. If there was one thing I missed the most, it was the heaven of Seb’s talented tongue.

He worked me up into a heated fervor. By the time he wrapped his lips around my clit and softly sucked, I was a shaking, quivering mess. “Fuck, Seb.” I whined and he moaned into my folds. It was all too much and yet still not enough.

After a final lingering pass of his tongue, he rose to his full height and placed his latex covered length against my entrance. In my distracted state, I didn’t notice he had spent time getting himself prepared. He kissed me before resting his forehead against mine. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he huffed. Although his words were asking permission, his lust-filled eyes depicted a different sentiment entirely. I trusted Sebastian. Implicitly. As much as it would pain him, I knew if I had asked him to stop right then, he would. His considerate question in the heat of passion made me want him even more, if that was possible.

I wrapped my legs around him, crossing them behind his back, and beckoned him closer. Leaning back against the vanity and shaking my head, I pleaded. “Fuck me, Sebastian. His eyes darkened at my bold statement. “I want it. I want you,” I intimated while reaching between us to wrap my small hands around his thick length and give it a nice long stroke.

Sebastian closed his eyes as I began to move my hand back and forth. He bit his lip to stifle a moan before stilling me and remove my hand from around him. Leaning in, he kissed me roughly. I returned the kiss with equal measure as he pushed into me slowly, both of us breaking our oral embrace to sigh into each other’s mouth, sensations taking our breaths away.

Sebastian waited patiently for me to adjust. He held still and leisurely mouthed my neck. I closed my eyes relishing the feeling of him filling me with every hot, hard inch. "God, I’ve missed you," he whispered into my ear making me shiver.

When I squeezed my legs around him, he began to withdraw slowly and push himself back in with a huff. The delicious action caused me to gasp and made my body hungry for more. It had been too long, and I needed him to move, and move fast and hard. Seemingly reading my mind, Seb started to thrust steadily and find his rhythm, as I looked for purchase with my hands on the vanity. His grunts became curses and praises against my neck with each canting of his hips.

I whimpered softly as Sebastian began to increase his tempo and pant from exertion. He looked so beautiful with his brow furrowed and features clenched in euphoric concentration. “Tati. Uhhh. Fuck. Y-you feel so… so f-fucking good,” he panted. He rubbed his face against mine, stubble leaving a burning trail on my skin in its wake. He pumped faster, the vanity vibrating and shaking the objects overtop, as they clattered from the steady, harsh pounding.

My senses became overcome as I raced toward ecstasy. Seb reached down to circle my bundle of nerves with his thumb. “Ah. Yes. Seb,” I mewled quietly before bracing myself for the building orgasm. “Yes. Right there. Don’t stop.” Sebastian sensed how close I was and doubled his efforts, grunting and groaning as quietly as he could in the small bathroom. My crossed legs bounced against his back and pressed him towards me spurning him on, as I rocked my hips in time with his thrusts.

“So. Fuck. Beautiful. Ah,” Sebastian grit out before crashing his lips into mine. The sentiment and the sudden pinch of his fingers on my clit caused me to peak. My high-pitched squeak echoed in the small room, and I bit Seb’s shoulder in order to keep quiet through my euphoria.

Sebastian thrusted hard three times before succumbing himself, muttering rough incoherent nothings to no one in particular. He groaned against my neck as he spilled into the latex sheathed deep inside me.

As the endorphins began to fade and the haze of alcohol fog seemed to lift, the gravity of our actions finally hit me. Shit. What the fuck did we just do? Although I couldn’t read minds, I could almost tell the same thoughts were coursing through Sebastian’s head as the atmosphere in the room noticeably shifted.

He whispered a remorseful curse into my shoulder and I should have known. I should have known it would be the last time I would see or hear from him.

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan rpf #sebastian stan fanfiction #seb stan fanfic #bombshells #tatiana #angst #friendship #chapter 2 #sebastian stan x ofc #winters night diary #wintersnightdiary #aresnightdiary #last chapter #my writing

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murdocklovespage · 5 years

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SEASON 1

That Hallway Scene (Episode Two, “Cut Man”) – The set-up’s simple: Russian thugs set a trap for the vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen by kidnapping and holding a young boy as bait. Matt Murdock took that bait, but brought his strength, stamina, and tenacity with him. For nearly three minutes this fight ebbs and flows down a single corridor and in and out of rooms along it as Matt whales on gangsters over and over again. The men seem out of it, but then pick themselves up to take their licks again, while Matt exhaustion oozes off the screen. He never gives up until the battle’s won, though, and we can’t look away for a second.

Stick-Up (Episode Seven, “Stick”) – Matt’s mentor and trainer Stick shows up, but angers the blind attorney by announcing he’s killed a boy who might be the infamous “Black Sky.” The fight destroys nearly every stick of Matt’s furniture and it seems like the old man’s got the upper hand, until his former pupil picks up a, yeah, stick and gains the edge on him. Ultimately, Stick tries to choke Matt, but doesn’t realize the student’s finally grown past the teacher. Matt wins and then tells his mentor turned opponent to get out of his city. Period.

What a Drag (Episode Nine, “Speak of the Devil”) – Japanese warrior Nobu hit town to pave the way for the Black Sky, but gained an enemy in the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Murdock confronts him in a warehouse and impresses Nobu with his talent for fighting, but the warrior whips up a storm with his kyoketsu-shogeweapon and having planted its edge in Matt’s back, proceeds to drag him across the floor with it. Somehow, our hero gets his second wind one spark and a pool of flammable liquid later and Nobu’s a human briquette. End fight.

Knocking Down Fisk (Episode Thirteen, “Daredevil”) – It all led up to this, the final showdown between Daredevil and Wilson Fisk. Unlike some of the series’ previous battles, this one rolls out with little finesse, at least on Fisk’s part. The big man’s on the run and angry over the loss of “his” city when he runs into his nemesis in an alleyway. Matt’s his usual martial arts-boxing self, but the Kingpin’s a rage machine, throwing punches like a drunken sailor and bellowing a lot. He’s too wild, too undisciplined at that moment, and he goes down hardunder the punishing fists of the Man Without Fear.

SEASON 2

Punishing Blows (Episode Two, “Dogs to a Gunfight”) – Daredevil’s onto the new vigilante in town, Frank Castle, and there’s no way a fight’s not going to break out. The two seem evenly matched, but under a hail of police sniper bullets, Castle one-ups Murdock and sends him crashing through a skylight from the rooftop they’ve been fighting on. Down below, both men try to grab a few precious breaths, but Daredevil took a worse pounding and everything goes up while he goes down.

That Stairwell Fight (Episode Three, “New York’s Finest”) – Thought they couldn’t top that hallway fight from Season 1, huh? Well, this one begins in a hallway, too, with Daredevil fighting a small army of gang members with nothing but an empty gun duct-taped to his hand and a chain. The battle quickly shifts to a stairwell and in one long shot, our hero fights his way down the stairs, tumbling and punching up a storm. At the bottom, a flickering red light accentuates a devil who’s had enough of thugs for a long, long while.

Eight Guys in Orange (Episode Nine, “Seven Minutes in Heaven”) – Frank Castle, now known as “The Punisher,” ends up in prison and under a death sentence by the also-incarcerated Wilson Fisk. Paid-off guards open cell doors and angry prisoners bear down on Castle like a swarm of bees. In stark white, Frank man-ups and chops a path through them with a knife and his fists, even pausing long enough to gouge out an eye here and there. The brutal battle ends with eight dead guys in orange and a much bloodied Punisher.

Something About Rooftops (Episode Thirteen, “A Cold Day in Hell’s Kitchen”) – Daredevil and Elektra and Nobu and the Hand. What did you think would happen? The final fight of the season proceeds almost like a dance as Murdock and Elektra whirl and twirl with their opponents, throwing kicks and punches left and right as they struggle to save their very lives against a man, Nobu, who came back from death itself. Matt loses his scuffle with Nobu and just as he’s about to feel his opponent’s blade, Elektra takes the killing blow, leaving a grieving Matt -- with a timely assist from Frank Castle -- to face his enemy once more.

SEASON 3

That Prison Scene (Episode Four, “Blindsided”) – Faced with the daunting prospect of outdoing the epic fight scenes from the two previous seasons, “Marvel’s Dardevil” Season 3 Executive Producer/Showrunner Erik Oleson and his collaborators pulled out all stops with a prison sequence that excels in so many ways. Matt Murdock gains illicit access to a prisoner to question him, but ends up a target of Wilson Fisk. Fisk sends a small army of men after Murdock, first in the form of a nurse with a syringe, then several prisoners, and finally a duo of riot gear-garbed guards, all on Fisk’s payroll. The scene plays out in a continuous shot -- lasting nearly 12 minutes! -- with Matt fighting for his life in the prison’s sickbay, down a corridor, and eventually into the not-so-tender arms of Albanian gangsters. It all explodes from there into a full-blown prison riot with our hero right in the middle of it, bloodied, bruised, and bewildered, but dead-set on escaping to continue in his planned takedown of Fisk.

The Battle of the Bulletin (Episode Six, “The Devil You Know”) – Can a man fight himself? Matt Murdock gives it the old college try when fallen FBI Agent Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter dresses up like Daredevil by command of Wilson Fisk and invades the New York Bulletin offices to stop an ex-con from spilling his guts about Fisk. At first the two Daredevils seem evenly matched as they trade blows in the darkened space, but the faux hero begins to use everything he lays his hands on as throwing weapons and his deadly accuracy turns the tide. Matt goes down defeated with a pair of scissors stuck in his chest and Dex marches to his mission endgame: the cold killing of the snitch.

Holy Terror (Episode Ten, “Karen”) – Karen hides out in a church and brings a holy terror down upon it in the form of Agent Poindexter dressed as Daredevil. Matt Murdock’s there, too, and goes in with fists blazing, taking on his rival point-blank to stop him from murdering Karen. The battle’s fierce and the pews take a beating, but poor Father Lantom takes the worst of it, dying after he leaps in front of a billy club Dex hurls at Karen. When Dex pursues Karen into the choir loft and Matt fails to stop the false Daredevil, it falls to Karen to see to it that Dex takes a fall to the floor far below.

In Final Combat (Episode Thirteen, “A New Napkin”) – At the end of Season 3, the viewer expects a final showdown—but between who? High up in Wilson Fisk’s penthouse, Matt as Daredevil confronts Dex as Daredevil, while both confront Fisk as well. It’s the true definition of a Battle Royale, with all three men trading blows until Matt’s temporarily stunned and Fisk ends Dex’s rampage by brutally breaking his back. Then, the two old enemies face each other and blood and fists fly until the big, bald man’s on the ropes and the one, true Daredevil exacts a promise from his enemy: stay away from Karen Page and Foggy Nelson or Fisk’s beloved new wife, Vanessa, pays the price. One bloody handshake on the deal later and Matt leaves Fisk to the tender mercies of the police…

#Daredevil #Daredevil Spoilers #Best Fight scenes #Charlie Cox #Netflix’s Daredevil #Marvel #spoilers

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nevillelongsbottom · 6 years

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microwave meals and math student meltdowns pairing: rowan khanna x andre egwu x charlie weasley word count: 2,597 links: ao3 for the @rowanprotectionsquad june ships event

Here is Rowan Khanna’s predicament.

There is a fraternity house three blocks down hosting the party of the year – red solo cups, booming bass, sex on the dishevelled heap of coats – but Ben Copper has just asked Rowan if he’d do Ben a solid and cover his shift down at the 24-hour library, where apparently the math majors have set up tents trying to cram for their finals. Rowan’s curiosity is piqued. He wants to know what kinds of snacks math majors eat to keep them alive, and fuck, he’d just like to spend a night in the library and pretend he’s Night at the fucking Museum.

But Bill Weasley is at that party, and Rowan has spent the past year of his college life losing his shit and discovering his sexuality over Bill Weasley.

Whichever option he chooses, he is absolutely fucked. If he decides to whittle away his almost-blossoming college life by taking a free shift at the library, he will miss out on Bill Weasley (but not miss out on the joy of inhaling book-smell, an activity Rowan doesn’t get to do so much now that he can’t even afford a book a month unless it’s digital and on sale). If he goes to the party, he is going to have a terrible time because he can barely stand the burn of alcohol in the back of his throat and because he can also barely stand anybody else at the college. He should’ve gone somewhere better. He should’ve done Harvard – but he can barely afford this run-of-the-mill state college, so where the hell else could he have gone?

Doesn’t stop him regretting, though. He’ll never be Bill Gates now.

Spinning around on the barstool behind the desk of the record store he works in, he decides to consult Tumblr. Rowan is startlingly popular on the website, yawning out his thoughts about every franchise that takes off everywhere across the social media spectrum and smashing out a fanfic now and then. Occasionally a fanfic involving copious amounts of sex, because Rowan has to make up for his saint-like lifestyle somehow, and he’s never going to manage enough food to eat more than microwaveable pasta for the rest of his student life. People also keep sending him asks about college. He’s not sure how to answer, because the real answer to surviving college is never sleeping, making sure to eat three meals a day even if they’re all Pot Noodle, and studying so hard he’s started getting migraines.

anonymous asked you: be a good Samaritan and go help your friend at the library xx

anonymous asked you: you’ll get other chances with that guy you like. parties are shit anyway

Rowan groans so loudly at the messages that a patron whose entrance he hadn’t noticed gives him a frightened look, and he shoots an apologetic look back. It’s certainly not his job or his prerogative to scare customers off from his own stresses, and he tries to shift the thought as he asks if the customer is looking for anything specific –

and joyfully enough for Rowan, he is indeed. So the predicament gets to sit a little longer in the back of his brain.

By the time he’s finished work and has consumed a dinner of grilled cheese, he’s long since given up on the idea of the party. He doesn’t feel damn near sociable enough, and just the thought of drinking alcohol makes his stomach churn; Rowan’s not so good at surviving an entire day without a nap, and he wonders if it’d be acceptable just to doze off behind the front desk to the lull of weeping students. Or maybe he could just read.

Maybe write a chapter or two of his ongoing no-powers high school Spiderman and Deadpool romance epic.

The library’s pretty quiet for all the myths he’s heard: when he arrives, there are indeed actual camping tents set up where some tables used to be and a good selection of about ten math majors all camped out inside and a couple milling about with packets of crisps. One boy is eating a pot of pasta in the doorway to the library kitchen; Rowan figures that the anarchy has already been installed, so brews himself a cup of tea and takes his spot at the library front desk, picking at the various knickknacks and tchotchkes.

He’s slight enough from his pasta-related malnutrition to be able to fit into the bucket chair with his legs crossed, and he serves an hour in peace with his cup of tea and his Kindle and a trashy gay romance novel he bought for a dollar on the Kindle store. He used to feel guilty, but he can’t find it in himself to even summon a single piece of guilt shrapnel; he spends so much time reading textbooks with sentences he has to decipher like he’s a codebreaker not a student that he needs some kind of switch-off, and who’s to say he isn’t allowed a bit of mind-numbing reading?

And, all in all, Rowan’s having a pretty decent conclusion to his dilemma when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching and glances up from between the pages of unabashedly shameful sensual pottery. It’s a math student. His cheeks are tear-stained.

“Got any tissues?” he asks nervously. Rowan does not, but he can’t say the same for his well-stocked maze of a temporary desk, and he finds a packet in one of the jam-packed drawers, handing it over to the student, whose arms are surprisingly muscular for a math geek. Rowan wonders if he’s in the soccer team; he’s too short for basketball. He asks. The math boy laughs. “Oh, no, I’m not in a big sport. I’m on the lacrosse team, but I’ve taken a break for the math stakeout.”

“Have you considered that studying at home might be more relaxing?” Rowan asks, offering the math boy a stress ball; he declines, likely on the fact that it’s the grottiest thing Rowan’s ever had the misfortune of picking up and he immediately counters it with a choking amount of hand sanitiser.

“I work best under stressful conditions,” math boy elaborates. “And since I’m living in a tent, I don’t have time to worry about all the stupid things I usually worry about, like plucking my eyebrows or what clothes I’m wearing or how my hair looks.”

Math boy has little more than a buzzcut. Rowan raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and avoids letting his eyes linger for too long on the math boy’s incredibly extra outfit of a striped turtleneck and wide leg red corduroy pants with some on-trend ugly Nikes. Rowan has to admit that he’s good-looking, and he does like math boy’s dedication, and he hasn’t had sex since that time with his best friend in the back of a rental in high school. So. He wouldn’t mind.

“I’m Andre,” math boy says. Shit. He’s likely noticed Rowan’s unsubtle idea of checking him out, but the name drop can only be a good sign.

Rowan goes in for the handshake. He’s so thirsty that he practically gets flushed from that alone. “Rowan. Khanna. History.”

And, with that, Andre returns to his inevitable doom and Rowan returns merely to imagining the fires of passion. It’s not that he’s ever been particularly interested in sex, or romance, or any of that - but it’s been way too long, and he’s going to cry if he eats any more microwave meals, and he wants someone to distract him from the call of the void that seems to follow being a single college student with at least two crushes. He groans.

“Problem?” an inquiring voice laughs. Rowan recognises the accent: it’s Southern and hillbilly but too gentle to belong to an actual hillbilly, and his head snaps up, expecting Bill Weasley and his tousled hair and his fang earring and his accepting attitude and his lax alternative style–

but it’s just an amused Charlie, and Charlie’s no Bill. He’s shorter, with a shaved head, an explosion of freckles, and a dragon tattoo. But God, Rowan thinks. As handsome as Bill. Just less outgoing. Charlie purportedly just lets things happen.

“I hate being a student,” Rowan sighs, and Charlie concurs. Their eyes meet long enough for Rowan’s heart to skip a beat. He looks like Bill.

Charlie leans in.

“Bathroom?”

“Oh, Christ, please.”

Rowan doesn’t bother making a sign explaining his absence; nobody seems to want to speak to him, and that’s probably because it’s eleven at night and the only people in the library are the math crew, those lacking in the will to live, and him.

And he’s now backed up against the wall of the disabled toilet with Charlie under his waistband, so he’s not sure he gets to stack up well anymore.

Charlie makes short work of Rowan and lets him sink to the floor, breathless. He sets himself up, legs wrapped around Rowan, but sits still anyway. It’s a shit vantage point.

“Math?” Charlie asks.

“History.”

“Cryptozoology.”

“What the hell’s that?”

“I get to go on field trips to find wendigos.”

“Oh, my fiery feet! My burning feet of fire!”

“That’s the one. Can you get on all fours?”

Rowan does, resisting the familiar urge to gasp as Charlie pushes himself between Rowan’s thighs and lets this follow with tumbling expletives. Rowan can feel Charlie’s hands shaking a little where they hold his waist, and doesn’t think he’s worth that much, honestly.

Charlie starts moving, slowly at first but unable to temper himself. “Oh, God, I can’t,” he stutters, pushing faster and faster until Rowan’s thighs ache and he thinks he might come again just from the sounds of Charlie slipping over the edge and him grabbing Rowan’s hair as he thrusts.

Rowan’s so easy.

Charlie spills over his legs and then flips him round to finish Rowan off again until he can’t see straight anymore and is lying enjoying the last of his ethereal moments before he comes back into the realisation that he’s lying on the floor of a bathroom stall and his stomach is sticky and his hair is so out of order that he looks like he hasn’t brushed it in weeks.

He groans, and starts a little when he feels something soft run across his snail trail and down to his legs.

Charlie’s cleaning him up with a wet wipe.

“Do you carry those around with you everywhere?”

“Listen, do you want to try and clean yourself up with one-ply?”

Rowan supposes not. “Thanks.”

“You volunteer librarians. You always look like you’re desperate for it.”

“I’m covering for my friend Ben.”

“Even more desperate.”

“Have you and Ben ever…?”

“No. He kinda looks like he’d fall apart. I’ve got a bit of a thing going with Tonks, though. She’s amazing.”

“So, Charlie, what exactly started you on your path of having bathroom sex with all the student librarians?”

“I don’t know, really. It happened once and then I just kept going for it. Makes me feel a little less like I want to drive away and never come back.”

Charlie runs a hand across Rowan’s cheek and tucks some of his hair behind his ear. Rowan looks back at him.

“I get that,” Rowan says, and stands up.

Rowan is not very pleasantly woken from his slumber at seven in the morning by the next student volunteer, who seems entirely nonplussed by the fact that Rowan has slept through the majority of his cover shift.

He decides to be cordial enough to return the mug he’d borrowed to the kitchen, and of course, just to ensure that Rowan Khanna never gets any peace and is always living a life of predicaments, Andre and Charlie are kissing in the corner.

“I know this library is twenty-four-hour, but you can go home,” Rowan sniffs. “You can wait before your next conquest.”

“I was waiting for you,” Andre clarifies, and he laughs awkwardly for a moment. “I hate being in that fucking tent. I’m not learning anything. It’s not even a political stance; the board don’t care. I saw you two go into the bathroom yesterday, and- goddammit, I just want to be free to do what I want to do and not eat their idea of fucking meals which have no nutritional value whatsoever!”

“If we’re having sex, we’re going to breakfast first,” Rowan says. Charlie laughs.

“I’ll pay,” he says.

They have a slightly crappy breakfast in Starbucks, but the caffeine hits Rowan like a sledgehammer, righting all the wrongs in his system like the ultimate pill. Charlie has a roll and a hot chocolate and seems at an almost eerie bliss at his corner of the table, as if the stress of student life has entirely evaded him. Andre’s still got that math student vibe of being permanently jittered. He takes two toilet breaks in the time it takes them to eat breakfast.

“Don’t you drink coffee, Charlie?” Rowan asks. He has to ask. He doesn’t even understand how someone could survive a day in college without being fuelled through it by caffeine highs and bathroom blowjob crashes. Andre’s drinking tea, but that’s still caffeine.

“No,” he says. “I don’t like it.”

Rowan is hit by a wave of newfound respect for Charlie: under the influence of no stimulants, he survives daily college life, from lessons to screwing in library bathrooms, and he never once seems to look out of place. He almost wants to think fuck Bill. Bill might be cool, but Rowan’s seen him disheveled and grumpy in sweatpants: Charlie doesn’t seem to know how to be a mess, and though Andre is clearly an emotional wreck, he’s an emotional wreck in good trousers.

“I don’t want to have sex,” he says suddenly, and Charlie looks up so quickly that Rowan is hit by the urge to retract the statement; but it’s true, so he ploughs on. “I’m tired. And I want to just – watch Netflix with you guys.”

“If I’d known you’d say that, I’d have let Charlie do me in that kitchen,” Andre huffs, but concedes. Rowan’s correctly gauged that he also doesn’t have the energy left in him for any sort of vigorous physical exercise, or even any mental exercise. Rowan wonders what would happen if he asked Andre to read a book; perhaps he’d explode. “Depends on what you’re watching.”

“My vote’s on a Stranger Things marathon,” Charlie says.

This is how Rowan finds himself making out with his crush’s brother on a math student’s sofa whilst Barb finds herself left on her own at the pool. He bloody likes Stranger Things, too, but Charlie’s handsy. He can barely catch a breath because Charlie’s made it his mission to steal them all. Andre is content with Netflix.

Doesn’t stop him from nabbing a kiss or two.

Rowan’s not sure if this was the ideal answer to his initial predicament: after all, Charlie isn’t Bill, and he now seems to have acquired two boyfriends that his parents will disapprove of and whom he barely knows at all. But he guesses that he’s probably chosen right, because he’s not hungover, and he does have two boyfriends, one of whom is kind of the supreme Bill, the other a sobbing math student with an infectious smile and a sharp sense of style.

He could’ve had worse. And this is his reflection of the day that makes it to Tumblr, right after Peter Parker’s confession of love to Wade Wilson, a true slow burn at Chapter 52.

#i write shit #i need jesus #hp #rowan khanna #fanfic #hogwarts mystery #andre egwu #charlie weasley #hprarepairnet #hptriadsnet #rowan x charlie x andre

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okageshadowkingfannovel · 3 years

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Book 2. Enter the Pink Hero and Her Parasol

Chapter 1.

Before taking on this weird quest, before leaving home for the first time in his life, before carrying on with the evil machinations of his master, the Evil King Stanley Hihat Trinidad XIV, Ari, the hero of this epic, decides to visit the small village of Tenel one final time …

- to beg for money.

Fourteen sukel - the change belonging to the ghost previously haunting the Church basement - feels especially light when it’s all you have to live on. Ari fiddles with the coins nervously in his pockets as he walks, wishing he ate a big breakfast before leaving and wondering if grass is edible.

As he approaches Tenel’s front gates, Stan pops out from Ari’s shadow.

“What’s wrong with you, slave? You still need something from this pathetic village? Don’t waste my time with foolish errands! We’ve got fake evil kings to destroy, my powers to regain, and a continent to conquer!”

Ari takes a deep breath and rubs at his forehead.

“I-I know, King Stan, but … but I will need to, y’know, eat while we’re out traveling. You won’t be conquering anything if I starve to death, right?”

The evil king pauses in thought, a claw held to the 2-dimensional equivalent of a chin.

“I suppose you’re right, my minion. But hurry up! Every second they have my powers is another abuse to my dark, malevolent reputation.”

With that, he slips back down into Ari’s shadow. The boy crosses over into Tenel and it strikes him that this might be the last time he passes through these absurd, non-ghost proof gates. As he walks, every observation has the sour taste of possibly being the last. This may be the last time he passes by the Parm Inn that only gets two or three guests per year. This may be the last time he passes by that scared guy, standing off to the side of the path, muttering to himself about the evil king supposedly hiding out in the Madril sewer system. This might be the last time he passes by Julia-

Julia!

Maybe it’s the glare upon her usually soft, angelic face or maybe Ari just has a natural flee response when it comes to being faced with potentially awkward situations - either way, the moment he realizes that it’s Julia giving him a less than pleasant look, he darts into the nearest shop and slams the door behind him. With his back against the door, he prays she doesn’t follow in after him.

“Oh! Ari!”

The soft words of Mr. Bakster and the overpowering smell of baking bread clue Ari in that he just threw himself into the Bakery. He remembers the small pebble in his pocket.

“Hello, Mr. Bakster, Mrs. Bakster,” he says, nodding to the husband and wife in their respective places of business. “Uh … my grandmother asked me to stop by to give you something.”

“Ari, we heard that you’re off to travel,” says Mr. Bakster, seeming to pay no mind to what Ari just said.

Word travels fast … guess I’m not surprised.

“Yeah, that’s right … I guess.”

Mr. Bakster stands up, holding a hand out towards Ari. He smiles a bittersweet smile.

“We’re going to miss you, boy.”

Ari doesn’t know what to say. He steps forward and takes Mr. Bakster’s hand in a hearty man-to-man handshake.

“The little miss will miss you a lot.”

He looks over to Mrs. Bakster who stands behind the front counter, staring down at the wood intently.

“Go say a proper good-bye, will you?”

Ari nods and gently makes his way over to the front counter.

“I’ll- I’ll really miss coming into the Bakery, Mrs. Bakster. Um … you and your husband have always been so-”

“Gracious!” she suddenly exclaims, “I just don’t know what to do about that gap!” Mrs. Bakster finally looks up. “Oh, Ari! I didn’t see you come in. I’m in trouble, boy. A gap has formed in the bread oven!”

“I-I’m sorry, Mrs. Bakster. Anything I can do?”

“Nevermind that, Ari. I hear that you’re going off on an adventure.”

He nods.

“Remember this! A man should act with dignity! Keep your chin up!”

“Y-yes, ma’am. Uh,” Ari mutters as he fishes the pebble out of his pocket, “by the way, my grandmother told me to deliver this to you.”

He places the pebble on the counter. Mrs. Bakster leans in to look at it.

“A pebble?” she asks incredulously, but then realization illuminates her face.

She pinches the pebble between two flour coated fingers. “I don’t know how she does it!”

“Does what?”

“This looks like just the right stone!” Without any further, helpful explanation, she turns and rushes over to the bread oven. “Yes! It fits in the gap perfectly! What a relief!”

Ari chuckles because he can’t think of any other way to respond to something so strangely coincidental.

“Your grandma,” says Mrs. Bakster as she returns to the counter, “she seems senile, but she’s far from it. She’s a mystery, that one. Well, I suppose this deserves a bit of repayment.”

Ari’s hopes soared. “Oh, Mrs. Bakster, that means so much to me. I thought-”

“To show my thanks, take this.”

Mrs. Bakster places a piece of bread crust on the counter. Ari stares at it.

“… b-bread crust?”

“Freshly cut!” she exclaims as if to make the “reward” more enticing.

Not wanting to seem rude in the face of such enthusiasm, Ari picks up the bread crust and cradles it delicately in the palm of his hand.

“Um … thank you, Mrs. Bakster. That’s very kind of you.” He finds an empty pocket in his rucksack and sticks the bread crust in there - mostly for show. “Um, I was wondering. I’ve got a long journey ahead of me. And my parents advised me to make money on the road. I don’t have much right now. I was wondering if you might have some … some old bread or maybe a few rolls you could … um, you could spare?”

Mrs. Bakster’s face turns soft and motherly. “Oh, Ari, of course. We would love to help you,” she says sweetly.

She darts around the bakery and slips a few goodies into a bag. With each roll and pastry she grabs, Ari’s mouth waters and his heart feels more full.

The Baksters really are good people.

“Alright, Ari,” she says, coming back and plopping down an overstuffed bag.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bakster. This is so-”

“That’ll be 2 sukel.”

Ari pauses. “O-oh … uh.”

“Discounted just for you, Ari,” she says with a wink, “to help you get started.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Bakster,” he says, fishing two precious sukel coins out of his pocket.

“You’re a good boy, Ari. Have a good trip! Bring back lots of stories!”

“I will,” he says, giving a small smile and blushing out of slight embarrassment.

When Ari steps out of the Bakery, he looks around carefully, making sure there’s no sign of Julia and her horrible, angelic, agitated, pretty face. His eyes land on Tinkers, the blacksmith. It occurs to Ari that he no longer has the possibly magic, but probably not magic stick that saved him down in the Church basement. If he’s going to go running into a wilderness filled with wandering, flesh munching ghosts, a weapon of some kind may not be a bad idea … even if it’s got to cost less than 12 sukel.

Inside Tinkers, Ari is immediately greeted by a rush of heat, kept constant by the forge in the far back. The smell of fire licked metals flood his nostrils and he can hear flames snapping and a hammer beating down with a metallic clang.

Cool!

“Hey Ari, never seen you in here before.”

He looks to the right of the shop to find a young boy leaning over the main counter. He seems only a few years younger than Ari. He’s got dark hair and yellow brown eyes and his smudged up face lights up with a genuine smile. Ari guesses that this is the blacksmith’s son.

“Ha ha, yeah, I guess I’ve never had reason to.”

“I heard what you did in the Church basement. Getting rid of that ghost! You must’ve had a really cool sword or an ax or something, right?”

“Oh … eh, not really. I … I kind of just used whatever I could find.”

“What kind of weapons do they keep in the Church?” asks the kid, genuinely puzzled.

“None really. I … I used a stick.”

The boy burst out laughing. “A stick! Ha ha! Oh man, Ari! They’re all right about you! You’re hilarious!”

Ari chuckles along, begging to God that this kid doesn’t want the actual answer.

“Anyway, did your grandpa give you a sword or something?”

“My grandpa?”

“Yeah.” The kid pauses a beat. “Wait, you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Your grandpa was a famous swordsman when he was young.”

Ari stares at the kid, cocking his head in confusion. “My grandfather? The grandfather at the Nameless Dwelling?”

“Yeah, and he used to make swords before he hurt his back. He’s famous among blacksmiths. My dad’s a big fan.”

“I had no idea. He-he never talked about things like that.”

Guess there’s a lot more to grandpa than I thought.

“What’s going on up here?” says the blacksmith, bursting in from the back. “Lot of chatter going on. Son, you finish your chores?”

“Dad, Ari’s here.”

“Oh!” The blacksmith, a bigger, sweatier, more muscular version of the son, turns towards Ari and smirks. “Hey Ari! You’ve done it! You’re really something, you know that! You saved my business from going under with the Church basement business you pulled. Thank you!”

“Oh, uh, I’m happy it all worked out.”

“Like most blacksmiths,” he carries on proudly, “we make and sell weapons and protective gear.” Suddenly, he wilts. “Unlike most blacksmiths, I’m stationed in a town where there’s nary a hero in sight. So, most of my time is spent straightening out and mending metal kitchen ware. But what can I do for you, Ari?”

Ari gulps, fearing the price tag to come at the end of this conversation. “Well, you see, sir. Um, I’m going off adventuring and-”

“Adventure always comes with danger,” says the blacksmith seriously.

“Y-yes, exactly.”

“There’ll be times when you need to pick up your weapon and fight.”

“That’s my trouble, sir. I don’t have a weapon. I was wondering if you might have something I could … buy. But I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of money.”

“That’s alright, Ari. I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of weapons.”

“Oh.”

“But let me see what I can dig up for you.”

The blacksmith starts bustling about the place, looking in cabinets and chests and moving around metal pieces in progress, clanging all the way.

“So, you’re really going on an adventure, Ari?” asks the boy, “do you know where you’re going?”

“I have a map. I hear a lot about trouble in Madril. So, I think I’ll go there maybe.”

The boy shakes his head. “A lot of bad things happening in Madril. Whelp, at least I got to see you before you left. Imagine it might be the last time.”

“Here we go!” exclaims the blacksmith as he rushes back over to Ari.

With a grand flourish and gesture, the blacksmith presents Ari with a shiny, incredibly sharp looking fruit knife. He takes the presented hilt and holds it up. It’s just about the length of his palm from tip to the bottom of the handle. Ari imagines it in a fight against another pair of frogs and the ghost and a sick feeling starts in his stomach.

“It’s great for eating fruit!” exclaims the blacksmith, “I’m sorry it’s not something cooler.”

“No, thank you, thank you,” says Ari quickly.

It’s better than a stick, I guess.

“Are there no swords here?”

“I’m afraid not,” the blacksmith admits, “I haven’t been asked to forge or repair a sword in over two years. That’s the swordiest thing I have at the moment.”

“Oh … h-how much do I owe you?”

“Please, don’t even mention it. You saved the entire town, Ari. Consider this my thanks. Now, I better not keep you any longer from your adventure. And we’ve got to get back to work. If you ever find yourself in Tenel again and you’ve got yourself a proper sword, come straight to me and I’ll service it properly. I swear it!”

“Thank you.”

“Ah, the adventuring life,” says the blacksmith wistfully, “makes me want to get out there with a sword, but I guess being the blacksmith is all I’ve got. I just make the things. I can’t go out there and play with them myself.”

Ari looks at the blacksmith curiously, finding the statement odd, but unsure what to say about it.

“I’ll come back and visit as soon as I can. Take care.”

After leaving Tinkers, Ari darts from place to place, saying his goodbyes, humbly asking for whatever scraps he can get, and diligently keeping an eye out for Julia so he can immediately run in the opposite direction. The parting words of his fellow villagers strike a chord with Ari and he can’t help but feel a surge of optimism when presented with their encouragement.

“Hey Ari! You’re going off on a trip?” says Nathan when Ari passes by him in the street, “looks like you’ve changed some. Don’t worry about Annie while you’re away. She’ll be in good hands! Count on me, brother-in-law!”

Ok, so maybe that isn’t the most encouraging, heart felt statement of the day, but the thought is nice.

“Hey, you’re awesome,” says the clerk hanging outside the Village Office, “you’re setting off to travel soon, right? On an adventure around the world! Geez, look at me - I ask a girl from work for a date, and she tells me, ‘Your Classification is Class Lazy Goof Off type.’ No respect!”

Ari isn’t at all sure what the latter part’s all about, but he says ‘thank you’ anyway.

Inside the Village Office, the woman who previously suffered a mental breakdown over Ari’s absence from the list, approaches him as he enters. He braces himself for yelling.

“Ari, I hear you’re going on a trip,” she says, calmly, “make sure you find out why you name’s not on the list. It still doesn’t make any sense. And that’s unacceptable.”

He nods and backs away slowly, leaving the Village Office immediately.

“Hey Ari,” says Levi when Ari stops by to visit, “so we both got dumped by Julia.”

Ari is struck by an overwhelming urge to not want to talk about this. But he let’s Levi continue.

“This is lame. From now on, you and I are pals. Friends in dumped-dom. Ha ha ha! See ya …”

“Slave!” Ari is startled as he leaves Levi’s house when Stan suddenly burst out from his shadow.

“You’ve wasted enough of my time! We are leaving! Now!”

No argument comes to mind to have them stay any longer. He’s said his goodbyes to practically everyone and his rucksack is well packed with kind-hearted gifts and items on sale.

“Alright,” Ari says with a heavy sigh.

“That’s better!”

Ari walks down Tenel’s main path, back towards the gate. His heart beats faster as he draws closer to the destiny that awaits him out in Tenel Field. He touches the fruit knife clipped onto his belt for easy access.

This is it. It’s happening. Really, really happening. And I didn’t even have to face Jul-

Julia is waiting for him in front of Tenel’s main gate. She has her arms crossed and her foot is tapping furiously into the ground. The look on her face is cold and harsh.

Ari thinks he would rather face a hundred ghosts than have to talk to Julia right now while she looks like that.

“So, you’re some macho touch guy, now?” she spits as he walks up to her.

“Um … no, not rea-”

“You’re going further and further away from my ideal!”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“I see what you’re trying to tell me.” Her arms unfold so that she can dramatically press her face into her palms. “You never really cared about me. I was right to say good-bye to you!”

Before Ari can say anything, she runs around him and disappears into town.

He stands there a moment, replaying what just happened in his head.

Oh yeah … I forgot … forever alone … forever uncool …

great.

Book 1: Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • Chapter 12 • Chapter 13 • Chapter 14 • Chapter 15 • Chapter 16 - Finale

NOTE: Okage Shadow King is owned by Sony Computer Entertainment and Zener Works. This novelization is purely a fan-work and the writer claims no ownership over the characters, general plot line(s), etc.

#Okage shadow king #osk #Boku to Mao #zener works #sony #Sony Entertainment #ari #playstation #PlayStation 2 #PlayStation 4 #fanfiction #fannovel #fanwork #writing #humor #comedy #fantasy #JRPG #rpg

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concussed-to-pieces · 6 years

Text

It’s Going To Take A Lot; Bonus

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Diesel [Kevin Nash]/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy and merry Christmas, ya' filthy animals! A little bonus content in the spirit of the season. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and @hardcorewwetrash as ever!

Part One

Epilogue

December 24th, 1990

He stood on the front steps, his hands tucked tightly into his pockets. He could hear the faint sound of a piano being played, as well as some singing and laughter. A botched Christmas carol maybe, but no one seemed to mind that it had been botched. He swallowed hard, nervously taking off his hat and smoothing out his hair for what felt like the hundredth time since he’d arrived.

He rested his forehead against the front door for a minute, trying to muster up the courage to ring the doorbell. Finally, squaring his shoulders and gritting his teeth, he talked himself into pressing it.

The piano music ended abruptly and he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He kept his shoulders squared, kept his jaw tight. Wish my knees would stop shaking. Does my hair still look okay? Hat might have--

She opened the door and it was like everything else faded out. All he heard was the saxophone solo from that George Michael song. The way she was lit from the back made her blonde hair look like a halo, and really? A halo? He scolded himself. But then again, that was par for the course around her. “Kevin!” He somehow heard her voice over his mental saxophone. She sounded thrilled. “You made it!”

“I promised, didn’t I?” He asked gruffly. “Thanks a million for this.” He tapped at the scarf around his neck, offering her a lazy smile. “Thing was a lifesaver on the last drive.” Kimberly flushed bright red and Diesel couldn’t help cupping her chin and bringing her in for a kiss. “Missed you.” He breathed when they parted.

“I missed you, too.” She nuzzled her nose against his jacket, her hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. “I’m so glad you came, Kevin.”

Diesel buried his face in her hair. “Glad I got here in time.”

“You’re good at that.”

“I’m assuming you’re Kevin?” Diesel jumped at the new voice, pulling away from his…well, his Kimberly. A short, rounder woman with curly blonde hair was regarding him with the utmost suspicion from behind Kimberly.

“Yes, uh. Yes, that’s me. You must be Kimberly’s sister.” Diesel extended his hand, more than a little gratified by the fact that Kimberly hadn’t really released him. He was confused when the woman in front of him tittered to herself.

“You didn’t tell me he was a charmer! I’m Kim-Kim’s mom, Kevin. Call me Anne.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am.” Diesel managed to say, feeling like an idiot. She told you that her siblings were younger than her, stupid!

“Likewise! I’ve heard great things.” Anne smiled like Kimberly, Diesel noticed absently, or more accurately Kimberly smiled like Anne.

“All probably false, but I appreciate you softening the blow.” Diesel teased Kimberly.

“Oh my God Kim-ber-ly, you didn’t tell us he was a Clydesdale.” The owner of the new voice had just emerged from the kitchen, and yeah, that would be the younger sister. Complete with off-the-shoulder sweater and makeup applied in experimental fervor.

“Amy, don’t be rude!” Anne scolded while Diesel tried his hardest to muffle his laughter with his arm. A Clydesdale. That was a new one on him, he’d have to tell Razor.

“No harm done, ma’am, I’m used to hearing much worse.” He cocked an eyebrow in the direction of Amy, taking in how her eyes were narrowed at him. “I get it.” He said simply, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Whatever questions you have, I’ll try my best to answer them.”

“Oh honey, please stop glaring. Your face will get stuck like that.” Anne chided Amy like she hadn’t been giving Diesel the same look not five minutes prior.

A lanky, brown-haired man with thick glasses came wandering in from what Diesel assumed was the living room, carrying a cup full of pretzels. He started visibly at the sight of the…Clydesdale in the entryway, nearly dropping his pretzels. “Oh! Hello, hello! You must be Kevin.” He fumbled the cup for a second until Kimberly finally rescued him, scooping the plastic out of his hand so he could properly greet Diesel with a firm handshake. “I’m Daniel, the Dadinator around these parts.”

“It’s great to meet you, sir.” Diesel didn’t mean to sound so stiff, he was pretty sure that Anne was the one who kept the gate in this household. He just wanted to make a decent first impression (for once in my life, please).

Daniel immediately waved off the formality, smiling down at his daughter still cozied into Diesel’s side. “Our little Kimbles seems to have taken quite the shine to you, Kevin! Her and Anne have been hard at work most of today making the traditional Christmas fare. You just missed the before-dinner carols!”

“I’m pretty sure my singing could destroy the most ravenous of appetites.” Diesel chuckled, shaking his head. “Where should I hang my coat?”

“Ah yes, the infamous coat!” Daniel winked at his oldest daughter, who rolled her eyes at him. Diesel, on the other hand, felt his face heat. His jacket would be a topic of conversation now or later, he was sure of it. “There’s hooks by the door, Kevin. Hats off indoors, Anne is very firm on that.”

“Oh, of course.” Diesel quickly yanked his trucker cap off.

“Wait!” A young boy with a mop of brown curls came skidding out of the living room, his socks squeaking on the hardwood floor. There was a tense moment where Diesel waited for the crisis to strike, but then the boy managed to catch himself before he fell. “Wait, I want to see the truck! Hat back on! Coat back on!” He demanded, making Diesel snort in disbelief.

“Jeff! Manners!” Daniel scolded, giving Diesel an apologetic look. “Sorry, he's kind of a mile a minute kid.”

“He's excited. I get it.” Diesel put his hat back on while Jeff hopped anxiously from foot to foot. “Ask your parents first, okay?” The little boy grinned excitedly, already mid-turn to beg his father to let him go see the huge rig parked out front.

…

After dinner and the cleanup, Jeff (sporting a crisp new Wolf Packing ballcap) headed up to bed without being asked. He was of the impression that the sooner he went to bed, the sooner Santa would come and the sooner he could open presents.

Daniel passed out glasses of egg nog, dosed with healthy splashes of cognac and rum. Except for Amy's, to the obvious disappointment of the self-proclaimed almost seventeen-year-old. While Anne was distracted at the counter Diesel watched Kimberly let her little sister have a sip, barely keeping himself from laughing aloud when Amy made a disgusted face.

“Alright Kevin, we want the whole sordid tale from you.” Anne said as her cherry winks made their rounds.

Diesel almost choked on his cookie. “'Scuse me?”

“They want you to tell the, uh...” Kimberly trailed off, going an attractive shade of pink.

“The epic story! Give us the rescue from your point of view.” Daniel urged, his glasses a little crooked. “It's not every day we have a real live knight at the table, after all!”

Oh God, they want a retell. Diesel took a healthy swig of the egg nog to fortify his resolve. Telling stories with Razor in a filthy bar somewhere was one thing. This was something entirely different.

“So uh, once upon a time, I stopped at a little dive that’s out of business now.” Diesel glanced at Kimberly. “Saw this lovely lady standing outside and I didn’t think much of it, figured she was having a smoke. I head inside to chat up the clerk, get all the gossip.” Diesel cleared his throat. “I’d taken another woman from this particular stop previously. But that had been a while back, folks change. I didn’t think I’d hear a sales pitch again.”

“Sales pitch?” Anne’s voice trembled a little.

“I broke his nose. Should have broke his whole face.” Diesel muttered, feeling Kimberly’s fingers lace through his own. “I saw her move like she was going to head to the trucks that had just come in, I didn’t want to make a scene. Wrapped my arm around her, probably scared the daylights out of her because I’m…well, I’m a big guy and I know it must have looked bad. I’d just broken a guy’s nose!”

“We’ve dealt with him in court. He deserved whatever you did to him and more.” Daniel grumbled, taking another sip of his egg nog.

“So what then?” Amy asked, her eyes huge. Diesel had to bite back a smile.

“Brought her to another stop to shower and eat, took a nap, drove to the last stop and got into a fistfight.” Diesel shrugged. “Guy was claiming ownership. Sometimes the uh, young guys get possessive. Kimberly is nobody’s property. So I straightened him out.” He licked the corner of his mouth absently, where his lip had been split during the fight. “We had a nutritious breakfast of…hell, I think it was Spam?”

“Spam, chips and Coke.” Kimberly supplied helpfully.

“Yeah. Not breakfast food. Took another sleep, drove through the night and arrived safe and sound on your doorstep.” Diesel knew he was paraphrasing a bit, but he wasn’t exactly about to tell her parents that he’d spent a good chunk of the ‘sleep’ time with his mouth buried between the legs of their eldest daughter. Hell, he and Kimberly hadn’t even been dating, he just knew that she needed it to be safe going forward. Oh, I was all noble intentions, he thought wryly.

“Why didn’t you come in?” Anne asked, “At least let us thank you!”

“You have to understand my side of this, ma’am.” He felt so dumb saying it now. “I…I didn’t want her feeling like she owed me. Didn’t want to be like the folks she’d interacted with before. I left before I could think better of leaving.” He straightened his shoulders. “And then I was a wreck for the better part of a year.”

He heard Amy sigh dreamily and he wanted to laugh because of course, lovesick brooding would be something to catch the teenager’s attention. It definitely sounded much more glamorous than, ‘I attempted to start my promising career as an alcoholic’.

“But you guys know how that story goes.” Diesel said quietly, his fingers twined with Kimberly’s under the table. “This one braved a cold winter’s night, gave me some grand speech about making her own choices.” He teased, boldly nuzzling her cheek with his nose. “I’ll be forever grateful.”

“It was worth it to find you again.” Kimberly murmured, smiling up at him and oh Jesus, her parents were right there, a minor was in the room--

Diesel had to tear his eyes away from her before he did something wildly inappropriate, clearing his throat again to buy himself some time. Because now came the part that he had been dreading all night. “Daniel, Anne…I understand if you two would rather that I just hop into my rig and never come back. A lot of terrible things happened that never needed to all because of guys like me, so I honestly underst-” Anne rose to her full height, which was…not very tall, but the look on her face gave Diesel pause.

“You’re part of this family. You would be whether you got together with Kimberly or not.” Anne’s voice was soft steel. Diesel could see where Kimberly got her resolve. “You brought our daughter back safely. The police had essentially given up. All they had to go on was some CCTV footage from the last gas station she had been in, and obviously that was many, many miles from that…terrible place.” Her lower lip quivered. “We didn’t want to lose hope, but when you have police officers telling you that your case is a lost cause, that ‘young women disappear all the time due to trafficking’, it…it can be hard to stay positive.”

Daniel’s hand rested on the small of his wife’s back. “Waking up on Christmas morning with Kimbles on the doorstep was…I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“Yeah, and she was wearing your jacket!” Amy recalled brightly. “A token, like old knights.”

Diesel blinked, a little overwhelmed. Regardless of what good he’d done, he had been bracing himself for when they would tell him to fuck right off. He was a trucker. He hated to think of it like that, with the unwarranted poison suburbanites tended towards, but he was of the same profession as most of her abusers.

Anne maneuvered around the table and pulled him into a hug that was the most maternal thing he’d ever experienced. “You’re not like them, Kevin. You listened to our baby, kept her safe and brought her home.” She patted his hair and yeah, yep, there was the lump in his throat. He was a grown man. “We’re so thankful you looked out for her.”

“She’s a human being.” Diesel said thickly. “I did what anyone else with a shred of decency would have done.”

“Mom, I think you’re smushing him.” Kimberly, obviously sensing his distress, swooped in to save the day. Anne immediately apologized, settling back down beside Daniel and dabbing at her eyes with a paper napkin.

Diesel huffed out a breath, giving Kimberly’s hand a grateful squeeze. “I’d like to formally ask permission to date your daughter.” He began cautiously. Across the table, Amy looked like she was about to dissolve into another sigh at the trepidation in his voice. “I would be gone for a week or so at a time. Maybe longer hauls if the pay is good. I-I have my own apartment, I promise I’m not trying to skim off of you for a place to crash between trips. I also know Kimberly still has college to get done and I’m not trying to get in the way of that.” Diesel felt out of breath, terrified. “I…care about Kimberly a hell of a lot and I-”

“Honey please, you’re going to pass out if you don’t take a second.” Anne looked far too amused. “How long have you been rehearsing this pitch?”

“Most of the ride here.” Diesel admitted, staring down at his forgotten glass of egg nog. “Over and over until it was right, ma’am.”

“Kimbles is a big girl, Kev. She can make her own choices.” Daniel said gently.

“I didn’t want either of you thinking that I was going behind your backs. Figured asking permission formally was the way to go.” Hope flared bright in Diesel’s chest. “I uh…Kimberly?” He floundered for a second, trying to wrap his head around the fact that this good thing wasn’t being ripped out from beneath him.

“Yes, Kevin?” Kimberly rested her head on his shoulder, giving him a smug look. And here he was, Big Daddy Cool, Diesel Power, Kevin Goddamn Nash reduced to opening and closing his mouth while all his carefully-planned words evacuated his brain.

“I…” Diesel swallowed hard. Got to his feet, pulled her up with him. Cupped her face so it was just them, no audience. “I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone in my life. I want to give this a serious try, Kimberly.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You interested in giving me a go? It’s not going to be easy, we both know that. It’s going to take a lot. Communication and patience and…shit, say something, please interrupt me, I’m dying of nerves here.” He begged.

Kimberly raised an eyebrow, looking bemused. “I didn’t really think that you had to ask.” She laughed, rubbing her forehead against his own. “Anybody who tries to drag me away from you is going to have a rough time. Two or a hundred men, hell, more than a hundred, it doesn’t matter. Okay?”

“Okay.” Diesel knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he hardly cared at the moment.

“Kiss already!” Amy snapped, folding her arms across her chest and pouting when her mother scolded her. Diesel chuckled, his heart still hammering wildly against his ribs.

“I’d hate to disappoint.” Kimberly gave him a look of feigned shyness from beneath her lashes and oh, that was a good look if Diesel’s body had anything to say about it.

He exhaled hard, trying to ground himself. “’Course.” He gave her a quick peck on the mouth, losing his fight with laughter at her incredulous expression. “Only teasing, sweetheart, only teasing.” Diesel finally relented when she wouldn’t stop giving him that look. She caught the front of his sweatshirt and dragged him down for a real kiss, one that they probably shouldn’t be having in front of her parents and younger sister. Diesel’s common sense had taken a back seat to his relief however, and he kissed back just as fiercely.

“So rad.” Amy murmured enviously. “Just like the books.”

“What books?” Daniel sputtered and Kimberly started giggling into Diesel’s mouth, effectively ending their kiss. “If I find out you’ve been reading those trashy novels again-”

“They’re romantic!” Amy protested.

“Romantic trash.” Daniel huffed.

“Hey, it’s better that she knows what she wants, right?” Kimberly reasoned, unable to keep from laughing at the expression on her father’s face.

Anne nudged her husband pointedly, a little giggly herself. “Daniel, let the girl have fun. At least she’s reading, right?”

…

“May I walk you to your car?” Kimberly teased while Diesel stood awkwardly on the front steps.

“Didn’t want to ask.” He mumbled, jumping a little when she kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks for letting Jeff poke around in the cab. I know it meant a lot to him.” She said, looping her arm through the crook of his elbow and laying her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t understand why he had been so nervous inside, but whatever the reason it had been more than worth it to watch him light up after she kissed him.

“I kinda’…promised to take him for a spin tomorrow. As long as the weather holds.” Diesel winced when she looked up at him. “He’s a good kid.”

“One of the best I know.” Kimberly smiled. “How are you doing? I’m sure tonight was…well, a lot. Just making sure you’re okay.”

Diesel paused midway through opening the door of the cab. “It was a lot, but I’ve got a lot to get used to.” He offered her that lazy smile. “Your folks didn’t need to be that nice to me. I can handle some punishment, sweetheart.”

“Would you believe that’s what they’re like normally?” Kimberly asked dryly. “It’s pretty rad.”

“Damn.” Diesel seemed at a loss, so Kimberly slipped past him to climb up into the cab.

“C’mon, the sooner we go to sleep the sooner we can open presents!” She urged.

Diesel shuddered all over, his eyes narrowing. “I dunno’ about that. Pretty sure I’ve got something to unwrap before bedtime.” He replied playfully, following her up into the cab and pulling the curtains across the windshield after he shut the door behind him. “Shit, I should have started it before we came out. My bad, Kimberly.”

“Looks like we’ll have to cuddle for warmth.” Kimberly laughed when he groaned loudly. “Naked, skin to skin so that the heat can distribute properly. You know.”

“It sounds more like you’ve been reading your little sister’s trashy books.” Diesel pointed out.

“Who did you think got her into them?” Kimberly asked airily, unzipping her coat. Diesel shook his head, silently watching her every move with a heat that raced down Kimberly’s spine. Kimberly shed her jacket and immediately regretted it, the truck was not warm in the slightest. She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering a little.

Diesel surged against her, pinning her to the passenger seat with his hands on her shoulders and his mouth on her own. “I’ll warm you up. This…oh my God, Kimberly, fuck.” He growled out the swear, shaking fingers groping her through her turtleneck.

Kimberly couldn’t help her needy whimper, draping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. “Missed you, missed you so much.”

“You just saw me the other-“ He paused at her look. “Okay yeah, who am I fooling here? I didn’t see you for almost a year and it was awful. I’m not letting you go again.” Diesel promised, yanking off his hat and tossing it over his shoulder somewhere. “Pants off, I need…c’mon, lift your hips.”

Kimberly eagerly obliged, laughing when he fumbled with the button on her jeans. “Through the loop, you know how to do this.”

“Don’t you sass me, sweetheart.” Diesel grunted, “Nothing funny about these nerves. Holy shit. We’re dating.” He shook his head, sliding her pants down her legs and jumping a little when she yelped. “What, too much?”

“Seat is…very cold.” Kimberly squeaked.

“I know.” Diesel teased his thumb over one of her nipples through her turtleneck and she arched up into his touch helplessly. He knelt between her legs and the cold faded to a back corner of Kimberly’s mind, her attention absorbed by this huge man who should have been terrifying. “Still alright?” Diesel asked, resting his temple on her thigh while he looked up at her. She nodded and his eyes softened. “Good.”

“Good.” Kimberly echoed, feeling ludicrous for being nervous. She cupped his jaw and Diesel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Be gentle.”

“Absolutely.” Diesel slipped her panties off and nudged her thighs apart again, then moved her hand to the back of his head. “You know what to do, sweetheart.” He murmured, mouthing the words on her thigh. “You’re in charge here.”

He pressed a kiss to her stomach and Kimberly ran her fingers through his hair, forgetting about her nerves as Diesel watched her slick collect for a second or two.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He muttered finally, sounding dazed. He spread her open with his fingers, the look of greed on his face making Kimberly’s hips twitch up. “Shouldn’t make you wait. Shouldn’t do it.” Diesel continued, walking his fingers up her torso to tweak her nipple through her shirt again.

“Oh! Please, Kevin!” Kimberly begged, making him rumble in his chest. “Please, please please I was so good, please-”

“That kiss in front of your parents is what you define as good?” Diesel asked incredulously. “I could have ripped my Levis with my cock, you tease.”

“P-Please, please I’ve been wet all night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, need you so much--” Kimberly kept begging, desperate at this point. And he could tell, of course he could tell, her panties had been soaked through!

She felt his jaw tense when she tugged on his hair, and he rewarded her finally with a stroke of his tongue on her clit. “You are so fucking wet, oh my God.” Diesel moaned out, the noise low and ragged. “Sweetheart, Kimberly, oh my God, you’re so beautiful.” His facial hair tickled her thigh, rubbing a little harder when he resumed his previous activity. “I’m gonna’ take good care of you.”

Kimberly sighed, rolling her hips against his mouth. “Yes.” Their time together the other night hadn’t been nearly enough to make up for their long period of separation. She reached out to him and he responded with gentle noises of reassurance kissed into the skin of her thighs, yes I’m here, yes I’m real.

The Kevin who haunted her dreams, slipped into her bedroom and brought her to the brink of completion didn’t hold a candle to the Diesel of reality. His teeth, his tongue, his fingers, all working in unison to coax an orgasm from her quivering form. She was hot all over her body, aching sweetly with the work of wanting him.

“Give it to me, sweetheart.” Diesel growled. “I want it and you will give it to me, come on my face, come on my fucking face-”

Kimberly cried out, her fingers digging into his scalp as the tension in her stomach broke. Diesel hungrily lapped up her slick, his eyes locked with hers while she came. “Kevin--” She panted when she could speak again. “Bunk?”

“Yeah?” Diesel asked, sliding his index finger across his chin and making a lazy show out of licking it clean. Oh, that was nice. Kimberly felt her face flush. “I was having a pretty good time here, but I suppose…” He got to his feet, and then pulled her upright. “How’s your legs?”

“How do you think?!” Kimberly sputtered, clinging tightly to his shirt so she didn’t collapse. Stupid, stupid legs!

Diesel grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “So once we move to the bunk…” He drawled, tugging the partition aside. “How do you want round two to go?”

“I’m riding you.” Kimberly said quickly, before she could lose her nerve.

Diesel made a sound like he’d been punched in the stomach, kissing her hard. “Shit Kimberly, I could get used to this.” He groaned when he pulled back, running a hand through his hair.

Kimberly sat down on the bunk and crossed her legs, giggling at his expression when she made a ‘come-hither’ gesture with her finger. “Too much?”

“Never.” He stripped his shirt off and climbed over her until she laid down, massive body on full and obvious display. “Undo my jeans? Please.” He asked, shivering like he couldn't help it when she dragged her fingers over the dark trail of hair on his stomach. “God, God, Kimberly.”

Kimberly boldly slid her fingers down into his boxers, loving the heft of his cock in her hand. Diesel's head lolled forward when she stroked him, his hips rocking down into her hand. She rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock and Diesel swore, his hands clenching restlessly into the blankets.

“God don’t tease, with your tits all snug in that shirt, fuck don’t tease me.” He snarled. Kimberly undid his jeans and pushed them down his hips, making him grit out another swear.

“You like my breasts in this shirt?” Kimberly asked, loving the sensation of having him at her mercy. “Nice tight little turtleneck. Bra is uncomfortable though.”

“Get rid of it.” Diesel said curtly. “Hop up onto me and I’ll unhook it for you.” He patted his hip in the least subtle manner possible, offering her that lazy grin. “I live to serve.”

“You're impossible.” Kimberly stuck her tongue out and Diesel rolled onto his back, shifting his weight until she could straddle him properly. He was still snickering to himself and so Kimberly sank down onto his cock without any warning. That got his attention and shut him up all in one fell swoop. “Well?” She sighed after a minute of just enjoying the feeling of his cock in her. “My bra?”

Diesel's fingers raked firmly over the skin of her back, making her arch against him. “Fuck, yes.” Diesel grunted, fumbling to undo the hooks on her bra. “That's right, fuck down onto me, ride me into a fucking lather sweetheart.”

Kimberly caught a handful of his hair and tugged his head up a little so he could watch the way his cock stretched her deliciously. “See what you do to me, Diesel?” She crooned, not really sure where this behavior was coming from but more than satisfied with the results.

Diesel's eyes widened and the large man's jaw tensed yet again. “God, Kimberly...do you have any fucking idea-” He shook his head and grasped her hips. “All those nights I spent alone, drinking or fucking my fist while thinking about having my mouth and hands all over you, thinking about burying myself in this sweet little pussy--fuck, having you here, and you're real and we're...I mean, you're the best gift I've ever been given.” He admitted fiercely, getting her to squirm as he pinned her to his hips and bucked up.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” Kimberly shifted her pelvis in his grip, arching just so against the deep thrusts of his hips. “You saved me, Kevin.” She slid her hands up to her breasts, teasing herself through her shirt.

Diesel rumbled in his chest, cupping the back of her neck and tugging her down to touch their foreheads together. The intense look in his eyes took her breath away. “You saved me, don't get it twisted sweetheart.” He gritted out, carding his other hand through her hair. “Beautiful, precious fucking...beautiful woman. Best thing in my life. Don't know what I did, but I'll be damned if I ever let you go again.”

“Kevin I'm so close-” Kimberly begged. “Come with me, please please-” Her eyes kept rolling back but Diesel urged her to maintain eye contact, keeping their foreheads together. Her blonde hair curled around his face, muting the outside world to nothing but his eyes, his mouth, that lazy smile firmly in place as she rode him hard.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He murmured tenderly, cupping her jaw and kissing her. “You come first, Kimberly, come for Diesel like a good girl.”

Something about that phrase struck a chord in the young woman and she tensed down on his cock. Her hands clutched vaguely at his shoulders as everything faded out and she broke apart with a hungry cry muffled by his mouth. Diesel moaned along with her as he pumped his cock in and out one last time before he came as well, and he wound his arms around her tightly.

“Stay with me.” He breathed in her ear.

“L-Like I can even move--” Kimberly gasped.

“Not just now.” Diesel's voice was so quiet. “Once you're done with...y'know, the important stuff, college. Stuff. If you're still interested in me. Please...stay with me.”

“Kevin...” Kimberly barely managed to sit up, her stomach still quivering. “Nothing could separate us after all of this, as far as I'm concerned.” She panted, trying to get her hair back under control.

“You really mean that?” Diesel asked tentatively, his fingers stroking through her hair and soothing her back down against his chest.

“Absolutely.” Kimberly answered firmly, pressing a trail of exhausted kisses over his pectoral. Diesel fell silent, reaching a hand out to hit play on his boombox and then pulling the blanket up over the both of them. Kimberly nuzzled into his chest, thoroughly warm and more than a little tired out.

“If I had another chance tonight...” The tape carried on softly, and Kimberly snickered into Diesel's chest.

“What?” Diesel mumbled.

“This song, you lovesick nerd.” She yawned widely. “Figured you would have gone with the other tape, the Just Tell Me You Love Me tape.”

“Wasn't feeling the England Dan last night.” Diesel held her a little tighter. “Thank you.”

“I'm pretty sure that's still supposed to be my line. Until I throw down with some big scary guy in a Mack truck on your behalf, of course.”

“Seriously, Kimberly.” Diesel cupped her chin again so he could see her eyes. “Thank you. You're the best present a guy could ask for.” Kimberly flushed at the praise and he smiled slowly, nudging her nose with his own. “C'mon, the sooner you go to sleep, sooner you get to open your presents.”

“Mm, pretty sure Christmas came early-”

“I held off as long as I could!”

“That's not actually what...oh my God, Kevin, you're ridiculous.”

#DIESEL #Kevin Nash #kevin nash/ofc #thirst party saturday #it's going to take a lot #Trucker!AU #enjoy!#this is so self indulgent #I love it #wrestle!AU: Wolf Packing #merry chrismuts

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boomboomboomwayhoo · 7 years

Text

do you like pranks? ~ jonah marais

a/n: requested by @jonahmaraisgirl this took me so long im so sorry im a flop

you were walking towards the curb just a few feet in front of you to catch a taxi for a ride home. so far, your day had been pretty shitty, and you wanted nothing more than to just go home and cry. at work today, two of your colleagues along with your boss yelled at you for something that wasn’t even your fault, and on your way home from work, your car’s radiator blew, meaning it was currently in the shop which was the reason you were catching a taxi in the first place.

“hey, uh, i’m really sorry and i know this is super weird considering i don’t even know your name but do you like pranks?” you heard a male voice ask, making you stop walking and look up to see who was asking you the random question. you titled your head up to look at the boy who looked about your age, but was maybe six inches taller.

“y-yeah, i guess so,” you stuttered, being too captivated by his beauty to talk without your words getting caught in your mouth.

“first i should ask if you have anywhere to be right now because i don’t wanna hold you back for anything,” he told you, smiling down at you and blushing a bit for a reason that you didn’t know. you looked over to the street right next to you and saw that there were no taxis nearby, meaning that you had some time to spare.

“yeah, i was gonna get a taxi home but i’m not in a rush,” you explained to him.

“great!” he smiled before quickly putting his hand on your shoulder that was closest to the street and pushing you away from it a little bit, taking you by surprise.

“i, uh, sorry. there was just a car coming and it was going fast and just, yeah,” he giggled, causing your heart to flutter for a reason that you could not quite figure out. “do you wanna maybe go stand over there so we aren’t so close to the street?” he asked to which you nodded. as the two of you were walking away from the street, he began to explain his plan.

“okay, so first off, my name is jonah.”

“y/n,” you replied.

“that’s really pretty,” he complimented you, sounding a bit dazed. you only smiled and shifted your gaze to your feet, hiding your blush.

“alright, so i’m in a band with my four best friends and they pranked me a few weeks ago and i wanted to get them back, so i was thinking that i could find someone, you, to come back to our house with me and pretend to be my girlfriend but then hit on all of the guys when i leave the room and it’ll freak them out and they won’t know what to do,” he rushed out of his mouth, causing you to giggle slightly at how much he thought this out.

“sure, i’m down,” you replied, quickly growing more comfortable with him.

“really?” he smiled widely. “thank you so much! this is gonna be epic!” he exclaimed, side hugging you out of instinct, resulting in him going completely red.

“so, um, i live about ten minutes from here so are you okay with walking?” he asked you, and you agreed.

the two of your began to walk in the direction that he was originally going in when he stopped to talk to you, somehow ending up talking about how pineapple does not belong on pizza.

“it’s just not right!” you called out into the cold, night air, him bursting out into laughter at how passionate you were. once you both calmed your laughing, you both walked in a comfortable silence, however you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your head.

“you’re really really beautiful,” he told you out of the blue, making you blush madly, but luckily it was too dark for him to see.

“and you’re really really handsome,” you replied without giving it a second thought.

“thank you,” he said shyly as you walked up to his front porch.

“okay, so how are we gonna do this?” you asked once the two of you reached the front door.

“um, we could hold hands?” he suggested. you nodded, thinking why not, and reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers perfectly. you smiled at you and put his hand on the doorknob, and just as he opened it you whispered, “you have really soft hands,” resulting in him bursting into shy giggles.

of course, right when you two walked in, the four boys that you had heard about were sprawled out on the couch, and they all turned to face you when they heard jonah’s laughter. their eyes were all wide once they saw your hands locked together.

“oh, uh, hi guys,” jonah said shyly.

“hi,” replied the curly-haired one.

“who’s this?” the blonde one smirked, causing you to blush rapidly.

“this is y/n, my girlfriend,” he informed them, squeezing your hand a bit tighter, this action going unnoticed by the others.

“dope! i’m daniel!” exclaimed one of them as he jumped off the couch to introduce himself to you. he walked over and gave you a hug and you could tell that this would be fun.

all of the boys came and gave you hugs, and when the little one came up, he whispered ‘nice one’ to jonah, resulting in jonah slapping him on the back of the head. the small boy who i later learned is called zach, gave you a tight hug and you made up a handshake right on the spot, causing the rest of the boys to burst out laughing at how in sync we were.

jonah took your hand in his quickly after, causing your stomach to erupt in butterflies. you knew it shouldn’t have because this was all just a prank, but it continued to happen throughout the entire duration of the night.

after about an hour of talking with the boys about anything that came to mind, jonah stood up, excusing himself to the bathroom and sending you a wink on his way out, signally you that it was your time to make the move.

about twenty seconds after he walked off, you turned to face zach and stared into his eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time and then reached an arm forward, running your fingers through his hair.

“i really like you’re hair. super soft too,” you mumbled under your breath as you continued to play with it, pulling on the roots a bit and twirling it around your fingers. not enough to hurt, just enough to let him know what you were doing, or at least what you were pretending to do.

jonah purposefully cleared his throat as he was coming back into the room, letting you know he was there so that you could get back into the spot you where in before he left and act like you was trying to hide it. you faced forwards again and sent zach a quick wink before smiling at jonah and taking his hand back in yours as soon as he sat down.

this happened a couple more times as the hours passed, bring us to around midnight. jonah kept making the dumbest excuses like he ‘had to pee again’ or he ‘needed water’ or anything really that would get him out of the room and out of sight. you were sending winks to all of the boys throughout this entire time, but zach was really the one you were moving in on, mostly because he was seated right next to you and seemed the most gullible.

just as jonah came back into the room for the third time, you threw a wink a corbyn and licked yours lips. as a result of this, his eyes shot around to all of the other boys as if he was asking them what to do. they must all be telepathic or something because they nodded at the same time and then corbyn stood up, asking jonah if he could talk to him in the kitchen for a second.

they were gone for a while. zach was playing with his thumbs out of nervousness, and you shifted uncomfortably in yours seat because the room was so dead quiet, and you hated that. finally, after another minute or so, you got up and walked towards the direction that the two boys walked in earlier, trying to find them. you spotted them in a heartbeat and a small smile made it’s way onto my face at the sight of jonah. you could only see the back of him but he looked like a giant teddy bear. all you wanted to do was cuddle with him, but you couldn’t because this was all just an act.

you walked up behind jonah and corbyn stopped his sentence when he spotted you. you stood on your tip toes and rested your chin on jonah’s shoulder. since he was considerably taller than you, it was quite difficult to do this, but you did.

“hi, baby,” jonah smiled, turning his head to the side and planting a kiss on your forehead. your skin instantly felt hot there, like it was on fire and was about to melt off. but it was all just a prank. all of it.

“corbs, i’m sorry you feel that way,” jonah smirked, looking at corbyn, “but i’m even more sorry that this whole thing was just a prank. we aren’t actually dating!” jonah exclaimed, his face breaking out into a smile, but there was another story being told in his eyes that i couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it was definitely something.

“you’re such a dick!” corbyn called out, playfully punching jonah’s shoulder, the one that you weren’t leaning on.

“what happened?” jack asked, walking into the room with daniel and zach behind him.

“they aren’t actually dating, he did this to get back at us,” corbyn rolled his eyes and all the guys groaned in response. they all yelled at jonah for a few minutes before returning to the living room, leaving you and jonah alone in the kitchen.

“that was perfect, thank you for that,” jonah smiled at you, leaning back on the fridge and looking down at you, a smile plastered on his face.

“yeah, it was fun,” you partially lied. it was fun but the whole time it was so perfect that it hurt you when you realized that none of it was real. the two of you stared at each other for a while longer before jonah pushed himself off of the fridge and attached his lips to yours. it took you a moment to process what was happening before you kissed back and you both pulled away, breathless.

“y/n, would you do me the honor of actually being my girlfriend?” he asked, his left hand still on your waist and his right hand on the nape of your neck.

“i would love to,” you replied truthfully before the two of you returned to the living room, hands locked together.

“guys, we know it’s a prank. you can stop now,” daniel laughed. you and jonah looked at each other before jonah replied to daniel.

“it’s not a prank anymore,” he smirked before pressing his lips to yours again, resulting in the rest of the guys whistling like crazy.

this is so shitty im so sorry

#whydontwe #why don't we #why dont we preferences #why dont we imagine #jonahmarais #jonah marais #jack avery #jackavery #daniel seavey #danielseavey #corbyn besson #corbynbesson #zachherron #zach herron

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alexross123 · 7 years

Text

Just Friends Part 9

Boom, your Fairy god Parent is here with a nex chapter!!!!!! remember if you want to be added to the tag list, you have a question or have a prompt or maybe even a tip, just ask me!!!

Ps: Go check out my friends new blog !! @lamp-lovely-au

Word count: 930

Pairing: Logicality/Prinxiety (Logan/Patton) (RomanVirgil)

Tag List: @lamp-calm-sanders ! @novagalaxy4real ! @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch ! @bobatea-boi !

Pervious Chapter

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

Tonight was the barbeque, and Pat couldn’t be more ecstatic!!!

He and Logan planned to make this barbeque epic! Both of them want to make some steak, some ribs and some shrimps, Logan tried to convince Pat that shrimp didn’t go with the meat, but come on, its Pat.

They had enough time for Logan to prep the meat, and for Patton to make his salsa, a salsa that he created that everyone loves!, they needed to find something that can get both these guys together, and what other way than to scoop the info from their loved ones!

“Hey Lo, can you please pass me the lemons?” Pat extends his hand in order for Lo to hand him the lemons, and he did get them, they were accompanied by a big splash of water from Lo’s hands that where recently washed.

“Oh, you want to play that game Lo, well two can play it” Lo didn’t get what Pat was talking about, that is until he feels a bunch of flour hit his face, not having it, Lo grabbed some more water and splashed Pat.

“Oh, it’s on Lo” what started as an accident, started a big fight of flour!!

Both laughed and giggle as they threw the flour at each other, getting it on their clothes and hair and everything!!

Lo started chasing Pat around the kitchen, but Pat slipped on a puddle of water and fell, the good this is that Lo caught him, and the moment he did, they both gazed into each other’s eyes, seeing Pat this close, Lo can see a light freckle on under his right eyelashes, and Pat can notice a slight green undertone in Lo’s eyes, they where mesmerized with each other, Pat got out of his arms fast, much to Lo’s disappointment.

“Ummm....... we have to clean up Lo, I think the guys are about to get here, would you mind helping me” Pat got the broom and the mop, which Lo grabbed “Of course Pat” Wait, did he just... “You just called me Pat” huh, he did, didn’t he.......

It took more time to make the mess than to clean it, as soon as they finished, they took turns to shower and changed into more appropriate party clothes, just as the boys where going to start taking the things outside, they heard various cars park out of Pat’s house.

To Pats surprise, it was his family!

“Hey everyone, come on in” He says as he greets and hugs every one of his guests.

“Mom, Dad, Everyone, This is my friend Logan, he is the math teacher at the school” Lo could totally see the similarity in his family, all of them looked like the typical All-American family you see in those commercials.

“Well hello son, my name is Rodger and this is my wife Claire” Pat’s dad, if Logan was correct, extended his hand towards Lo and gave it a firm handshake. “Hi, I’m Claire, Patton’s Mother” Claire says as she hugs Lo.

“It is a pleasure to meet my good friend Patton’s family” Lo says to all of his family, just as he finishes, he can hear more cars parking outside.

“I will take care of this Patton, please accommodate your family I will be right back with you” Logan says to Patton, as he walks to the door, Logan could have sworn he hear Claire say ‘No wonder you like him son’ maybe it was just his imagination.

When Lo opened the door he saw a family that had a very Rock and Roll style, they had this intimidating look, and from this he could assume it was Verge’s family.

“Teach, what’s up, so this is my family, my Mom and Stepdad came, which was a shocker to me” Verge says as he points towards a woman and a man getting off a motorcycle, Verge’s mom had a supermodel body, while His Stepdad had this very buff body.

“Hey kid, I’m Decker and this is my wife Tyra” the guys says as he fist bump Logan, the good thing is that Lo got use to it, since Verge always greets him with one.

“Is this the cute teacher you like Verge” Tyra says to his son, who would have turned red as a tomato if it wasn’t for his foundation. “No mom” Verge says as he steps inside the house.

“Please come in, the food is being prepared in the Backyard” Lo says to the large family, and he got what he wants, Verge’s mom told him everything!!! He does have a crush on Ro!!

Just outside, Lo can see his family walking towards the door, and his parents grinned at their son.

“Mom, Ren, please, come in and welcome, it is very nice to see you” Lo says to his Mom and Ren.

“Logan, it has been quite some time since we have seen each other” Logan’s Ren says.

“I am terribly sorry Ren, I have been busy these past months, But please, and step into the backyard, my Friend Pat is making the food” He says to his family as they enter.

Last but not least Ro’s family came, and they look like a nice family, until you hear them screaming in Spanish.

“Hey teach, This is my crazy Familia, this is my mom Guadalupe and my Dad Patrick” Ro points to a very nice woman and a good looking man.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” They all shake hands, and as they stepped into the backyard, it was time to......

PAR-TAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#logicality #Prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #fanfics #just friends #chapter 9

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ttevol-neb · 7 years

Text

The Worst of Circumstances

I’m totally not breaking into your flat it’s just I got locked out of mine so I picked your lock and was going to use the fire escape to climb through my window - BENCUS AU

Chapter 4 - Unsatisfying Advice and Skills of Persuasion

"So you think I should leave it, then?" Marcus clarifies, as tiny, eager hands grab onto his hair and tug, hard.

"Henry, don't pull." Ted admonishes his son softly before raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yes, I think you should leave it."

Marcus brings his fingers to the child's hand and unclenches his surprisingly strong little fist. He gingerly pulls it away with, thankfully, only a few thick strands of black hair included.

"Come on, buddy, sit properly." Marcus encourages, manhandling the toddlers body so he's sat on his lap, facing Ted. His father is currently cutting slices of cucumber and carrot on the other side of the kitchen counter and Henry seems to find tugging on Marcus' collar interesting enough for now - what is it with small children and pulling on things? - so Marcus looks back up at Ted. "Are you sure?"

Marcus has to admit that being told to let it be wasn't the response he was hoping for. Marcus thought his best friend would show a little more excitement when he recounted the epic tale of the night before and the discovery of the man he's ninety-nine percent sure is his soul mate.

It'd only taken an hour for a locksmith to come out, and a further thirty minutes for his front door to be in full working order again. After an uncomfortable goodbye with Ben - Marcus had opted for a hug and Ben for a handshake, which resulted in Ben's hand getting awkwardly crushed in between their chests - Marcus had hightailed it to Ted's, in dire need of his ever present voice of reason. Marcus can't count the number of times Ted has talked him and Winston out of impulsive decisions that, on reflection, they shouldn't have needed to be talked out of in the first place.

"Marcus," Ted says, stepping around the identical little boy sat cross legged on the floor smashing transformers together, and pulling plastic plates down from an overhead cupboard. "You broke into this guys flat, scared the life out of him, drank his beer and ate his food, kissed him, found out he had a boyfriend, and then continued to come on to him. And you actually want to carry on pursuing it?"

Marcus grimaces. Well doesn't that just make him sound like a massive douchebag. Marcus isn't that detached, no matter how much evidence Ted has to the contrary. He knows how bad his situation looks when you lay everything out, but it was different at the time. He really fucking likes this guy.

When Ben was looking up at him through his sinfully long lashes, all doe-eyed and demure, Marcus couldn't imagine doing anything besides letting himself fall a little and kissing him. And it's not like he would've pressed Ben to kiss him if Ben didn't want to. Frankly, he finds those that constantly pester people to get with them annoying and a little bit sickening. If Ben hadn't have been responding to him like he was, all quickened breathing and wide eyes, then Marcus would've left it. He knows a lost cause when he sees one and this is not one of those times.

There was just something a bit off about Oliver. Marcus probably doesn't have the most objective standing here, but he can't shake the feeling that he and Ben don't work together in that effortlessly smooth way that couples can. Especially with them being together for as long as they have. It isn't right.

And when Marcus was with him, all he could think about was that them meeting felt like it was written in the stars.

Ted's looking at him, the bastard, waiting for a reply, even though it's clear there isn't one that doesn't make it sound like he wants to terminate a strangers relationship for his own selfish gain. Damn Ted and his indisputable logic. Marcus resigns himself to that fact that he can't find the words to describe it without saying it really isn't as bad as it looks! which is a sure fire way to make him think it most definitely is as bad as it looks.

"Well it sounds bad when you put it like that." Marcus mumbles sullenly into the mop of blonde curls in front of him, frowning at Henry's little feet.

"That's because it is bad." Ted states, an amused smirk on his face, as he arranges the vegetables on the table with the rest of the food. "Honestly, I don't know how you can't see how pushy you are sometimes."

"But he's pretty." Marcus pouts, fully aware that his voice has climbed to that whiny pitch that makes him sound like a spoilt child. After both his mother and Winston pointed out it happened whenever he got frustrated, he decided to embrace it and use his pouting power to it's full potential. Sure enough, Ted's expression softens slightly, even mixes with something close to pity.

"I'm sure there are plenty of other pretty guys out there who'll sleep with you."

"Not like him there isn't."

Ted pauses in setting the table and looks to Marcus for a moment, his tongue between his teeth. "Are you seriously going to break them up just so you can shag him?"

"No, no, it's more than that. He-", Marcus sighs. This is proving more difficult than he thought it would be. How can he articulate something he can't even put into thoughts in his own head? He knows the sudden want he feels for Ben isn't solely about sex, but he admits he'd be more than happy to fuck him and then take it from there. The difference, for what Marcus thinks is the first time in his life, is that he would look forward to the taking it from there part just as much as the fucking part. Just from that one night he knows there's something between them, something worth exploring. He knows he'll regret it if he doesn't. "It's hard to put into words, okay? It's more than just physical. Like... I don't know, I just wanna hang out with him, sit and listen to him talk or... whatever." Marcus tries to explain. "And I don't want to break them up, thank you very much, I just... don't exactly want them to be together either."

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Ted reinforces stubbornly, making sure the rose tinted glasses are fully yanked off Marcus' face.

Marcus run a hand through his hair. "You don't get it, Ted, you didn't see him."

"I don't think I have to, mate, the facts speak for themselves. He's with someone." Ted heads for the bottom of the stairs, none the wiser of the scowl aimed at his back, then yells, "Heather, lunch is ready!"

Henry fidgets in Marcus' lap until Marcus cottons on and lowers him enough that he can scramble to the ground and sit himself at the table, his brother not far behind.

"But he's perfect," Marcus complains, defeated. And to think he was so excited about this. "And in the flat right below mine. What're the chances?"

"Next to none," Ted acknowledges as he helps his sons dish food onto their plates, "Which is why he's unavailable."

"I can't just leave it, Ted, not now that I know he's there."

"He has a boyfriend." Ted reiterates.

Marcus huffs. "You're no fun, you know that?"

"Aw, come on." Ted protests, amusement still annoyingly present in his tone. "That's not true, is it boys? I'm fun, aren't I?"

"Yeah!" Henry yells, flicking sweetcorn off the end of his plastic fork in his excitement.

"Daddy plays monsters 'nd ev'ything!" Ryan assures adamantly, through a mouthful of chewed up crisps.

"See. Monsters and everything." Ted smiles, giving a definite nod. "And are you sure you want to get involved with him? I mean, he cheated on his boyfriend. I'm pretty sure that takes him out of the running to be the angel you think he is."

Marcus' stomach twists uneasily. He hadn't thought of that. Hateful as he is, Oliver does love Ben, that much is clear, and would be heartbroken if he ever found out.

"Just remember that, okay?" Ted asks before turning to the stairs again. "Heather, come on! Before the munchkins eat it all!"

Approaching footsteps sound from the hallway and Marcus only just has time to brace himself before three feet of happiness barrels into him, nearly knocking him over.

"Marcus!" Heather smiles toothily up at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle as he sways precariously backwards.

"Hey, princess!" Marcus greets, hoisting her up onto his hip. He has to heft her up again so she won't slide down his leg, and takes a moment to debate if she's got heavier or if he needs to work out more. He indicates to the messily folded piece of paper in her hand. "What's this, then?"

"It's my cake." She says proudly, unfolding it and holding it up in front of them.

"A cake? Why would you need a cake?"

Heather whacks his shoulder playfully, smiling through her gapped teeth. "You know why!"

"Hmm," Marcus wrinkles his brow and scrunches up his nose, feigning thought. "No, no, I don't think I do. What could you need a cake for? It's not like there's a special day coming up or anything."

"Marcus!" She squirms against his side, laughing. "Stop! You do remember!"

"Nope. I don't remember anything that would need a cake. Do you, Ted?"

Ted looks up from wiping snot from Ryan's nose, puzzled. "No, don't think I do."

"Dad! Stop it!" An edge of frustration comes in to her voice. "It's my birthday next week!"

"Oh! Right!" Marcus relents as Ted makes similar noises of realisation. "That's the big event! Remind me how old you're going to be again?"

"Seven!"

"Right, right. Well, it's a wonderful cake." He places her on the floor. "Go on, go eat."

Marcus watches as the kids chow down on their lunch, absently smiling at the love and contentment that he always feels when he's around Ted's family. The shit radiates off them. Lucky sods.

It's not long, Heather is only on the fourth round of describing the dress she's going to wear on her birthday, until Marcus' thoughts wind back around to Ben.

He's definitely less giddy about the whole ordeal than when he first arrived. Part of him wants to be mad at Ted for ruining his excitement, to shake him and say "Why can't you just be happy for me?!", but the rest of him knows he's only telling the truth. Ben has a boyfriend. It's as simple as that. He's not even playing the game, let alone up for grabs.

The problem, though, is that Marcus is finding it increasingly harder to ignore the squirming of his insides whenever he thinks about Ben. That it was difficult to tamper down in the first place probably isn't helping. Or that he thinks about Ben a lot.

Dammit, Marcus can't just let this slide. There's something good and real and potentially amazing on the table here. Ben felt it too, that's why they kissed, Marcus knows it.

One last shot. Marcus will give Ted one last chance to show him a glimmer of a real reason to pursue this. That's all he needs, just the edge of a valid justification and he will take it and run.

"You really think I should leave it?"

Ted sighs and digs the palms of his hands into his eyes.

"I mean, this guy could be the one and you want me to forget about him?"

"He's not the one. You spent one night with him. In different rooms, I might add."

Marcus grunts and folds his arms across his chest. "You're no help-"

"Just because I'm not telling you what you want to hear-"

"I should've gone to Winston."

"Why didn't you?" Ted squints at him, "It's not like he has a family to look after while his wife is away or anything."

Marcus slumps in his seat. "Because he's set me up on another date tomorrow, hasn't he? And if I talk to him about Ben he'll get all offended. You know what he's like."

"I don't know why you don't just tell him to stop, you know."

Marcus shrugs. "Makes him happy. And more often than not I get a decent blowjob out of it, at least."

Ted rolls his eyes and fights a losing battle with a grin. "That figures."

"I was thinking about bailing on this one, actually. Saying I'm ill or something."

"Because of your neighbour?" Ted asks, annoyance rising in his voice. "Are you kidding me? Marcus, you have no chance with him."

"You didn't see what he was like with me-"

"Did he, or did he not, explicitly ask you to leave it?"

Marcus sighs. Damn Ted all the way to hell for always making so much goddamn sense. "Well-"

"Answer the question."

"Yes, he did, but-"

"No. No buts. Go on this date, get your blowjob, and move on to the next one. Let the guy live his life in peace. I'm sure the last thing he needs is you, a stranger, bursting in to it and spouting all this crap about soul mates and perfection and the bloody one."

"Dad?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"What's a blowjob?"

-*-

Marcus decides it would be rude to not at least thank Ben for letting him stay the night. And Oliver, of course, as well. His mother brought him up with proper manners after all, even if he does only remember them after breaking and entering. Ah well, better late than never.

He decides to splash out on a fancy bottle of wine, which proves harder than he thought it would due to his somewhat limited wine-drinking knowledge. He's never strayed further than Tesco's own label, which he ordinarily buys with the goal of downing fast and getting shit faced, so it's not like he knows which ones actually taste nice. Beer and even liquor are more his forte. He must have looked well and truly befuddled whilst staring at the bottles in the supermarket aisle, as a nice young lady in a crisp white shirt and a shiny name tag comes over to offer her assistance. They decide on a bottle of Pinot Grigio that she promises him is "delicate yet sharp without being tart" to which Marcus nods and pretends he understands.

After scaling two flights of stairs (the bloody lift is still broken) Marcus presses the doorbell of flat 2b and poses with the bottle of wine held beside his face, plastering on a cheesy grin, ready to be the picture of innocence and gratitude when Ben opens the door. There's no way he could turn that away. Not that Marcus thinks he would, what with them being friends and all, but he's just making sure.

Ben raises an eyebrow and leans against the door frame, unconcerned. "So you do know how to use a doorbell, then."

Marcus sighs, drops his facade and the bottle of wine down to his side - goddamn this angelic bastard - but a smile that seems to have a life of its own breaks out across his face, regardless. God, Ben really is beautiful, and he seems to be radiating the smell of butter and sugar and spice and all things nice to boot. That, coupled with his kind eyes, inevitably turns Marcus' insides into a molten mess, which is something he really should've been able to predict.

"Would you prefer I send a carrier pigeon through the window to announce my arrival?" Marcus asks solemnly. "Or a marching band? Because that can be arranged. I know people."

Ben grins. "No, no. I just thought picking locks was more your style."

"You're never going to let me live that one down are you?"

"No way in hell." Ben chuckles. He leans his head back against the door frame, exposing the skin of his neck that is far too unblemished for Marcus' liking. Ben's eyes narrow. "And how would you get a marching band through my window, anyway? That sounds like a logistical nightmare. All those trumpets and french horns."

Marcus ignores, quite gallantly in his opinion, all the horn based innuendos that instantly pop into his head. "Well if you'd have let me finish attempting to get to my flat through it then I'd know, wouldn't I?"

"Nice." Ben nods, that adorable look of disbelief on his face again. "I like how you turned that one around on me."

Marcus shrugs indifferently. "I tell the truth."

"You can do no wrong, can you?"

"I'm practically Jesus."

"Right." Ben laughs. He straightens, and Marcus doesn't know if he imagines Ben's stupid eyes dart down to his lips - just for a millisecond - as he shifts his weight, or if Marcus' fucking feelings for this guy are making him see things that aren't there. Either way, Ben's voice is a lot softer when he speaks again and he's giving that wonderful little half smile that Marcus can't get out of his head. "Plain old doorbell it is."

"Hmm," Marcus agrees, equally as gently. The warmth in his stomach bubbles mildly. "How boring."

They pause, simply looking at one another, content smiles on their faces. They seem to take each other in, acknowledge and appreciate the existence of the other, in the comfortable silence that lingers for a few moments. Marcus can feel his heart trying to tunnel its way out of his increasingly flushed chest.

Suddenly, he can't remember any of the conversation he had with Ted. He knows he made a decision to do something (whilst scrubbing quickly congealing rings of jam from Ted's kitchen table), but that thought has helpfully decided to be elusive right now. He definitely resolved to do something with this whole I fancy the pants off a taken guy debacle. Ultimately, Ted wasn't happy with him, that he can remember, so changes must be made. Or maybe he concluded to not do anything at all, now he thinks about it. All Marcus knows for certain is that the heat in his middle is creating smoke in his brain and if he's being honest with himself, all that really matters is the here and the now, in this doorway with Ben and his horribly unmarred skin.

Fuck what Ted thought. It probably wasn't important anyway. What could be more important than being right here, on this day, at this very moment?

Ben clears his throat and gives a minute shake of his head. Marcus wouldn't have picked up on it if his senses weren't so primed on him.

"So did you want something? Or are you delivering bottles of wine to everyone on the second floor?" Ben smiles easily. "Let me guess - It used to be water."

"Ah, no." Marcus smiles at the wine in his hand. If he looks at Ben smirking at his own joke for any longer he may just discover his inner vampire and lunge for his throat. "I'm not that good, I'm afraid. Marching bands through windows I can do, but water into wine? Haven't practised that one so much."

"Shame. Let me know when you perfect it."

Marcus holds the bottle out between them. "I got this for you."

Ben looks at it through narrowed eyes.

"You got me wine?" He asks slowly, apprehensively.

It takes a few seconds of them both staring incomprehensibly at the other, a vastly different kind of stare than before, until the penny drops.

Ben thinks Marcus is making a move on him.

And, yes, okay, Marcus admits that, with how he was behaving before, it's not too ostentatious an assumption. And even if Ben did ask him to leave it just that morning, Marcus supposes it still wouldn't be so out of character for him to just press a little bit further, test the waters a tiny bit longer.

Despite all that, the way Ben is so suddenly on guard at the mere thought hurts. He's not so bad, is he? Taken or not, is it really that horrible to have him flirting?

With half of him feeling sorry for himself, and the other half worrying when he became so conscious of his flirting skills and other people's fucking opinions of them, Marcus can't help the small, self-deprecating laugh that slips between his lips. "Don't worry, sunshine. It's for you and your guy. To say thanks for letting me stay last night. And for not hitting me with your frying pan and calling the police."

The tension in Ben's shoulders visibly lessens as he smiles, which is as good as throwing a bucket of ice water onto Marcus' melted insides, solidifying them into heavy lead and bringing him back to reality.

"You know. Like friends do." Marcus can't help but add, biting back the urge to yell you kissed me back, dickhead!

"Yeah. Right. Friends." Ben replies, a little too brightly, and wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle. "Thanks. That's great."

Marcus shrugs stiffly. "Least I can do."

Ben nods and looks to the label of the bottle, running his thumb over it and reading. The angle of his stooped head now means that Marcus can appreciate his small, straight nose and it's dusting of pale freckles in all their glory. He might as well be biting his lip and sighing like an infatuated teenager for how obvious his pining must be. Marcus also now notices how the ends of Ben's eyelashes, just where they attach themselves to his eyelids, are a gleaming golden blonde colour. Fuck, this guy must be the son of a fucking God. And to think he'd been just one floor down for so long. All the times Ben could've been sat studying a recipe book with a cup of tea, or sweeping up crumbs from the kitchen floor - fresh from the batch of scones he just made, of course - or tutting at the loud music coming from one of Marcus' parties above him, and Marcus was completely non the wiser. It was a cruel trick of fate that decided they wouldn't cross paths before now.

Fuck what Ted thought, fuck it all to hell. There's something here and Marcus'll be damned if he lets this slip through his fingers.

When an ambulance siren sounds outside and bounces off the plastered walls of the hallway, Marcus notices the silence they're in. The dead silence. The kind that you daren't so much as breathe in; the awkward type.

Oh, God. He's stood alone with Ben, and it's awkward.

They've been quiet for too long and Marcus is pretty sure he still has that dopey little fucking smile on his face that always seems to be there when he's in Ben's company. He shoves his hands in his pockets to stop them from fidgeting and drawing attention to himself.

Ben glances up, gives a little smile (which is just so Ben) and goes back to reading the label. This only makes Marcus more worried because there's no way that there's enough information on it to take this long to get through, which means Ben's re-reading it so that he doesn't have to actually say anything, meaning that they've run out of things to talk about and, Oh God, Ben thought he was making a move on him.

Marcus should've just left it. He should've taken last night for the one off that it was and gone on to plainly coexist with this wonderful man. He should've forgotten about repaying him, accepted it as a simple act of kindness from one neighbour to another, and sealed the most perfect kiss he's ever had between planes of glass to be kept in his memory for a rainy day or a lonely night.

Ben finally looks up and takes a deep breath, his eyes jumping back and forth between Marcus' as he looks to gear himself up to say something. His fingers have turned white where they're clutching onto the bottle and Marcus can feel his heart pounding in his ribcage.

Suddenly, Ben exhales and shakes his head at Marcus through a sheepish smile, blurting out "I'm sorry."

Marcus' eyebrows jump up. What?

"For what?"

Ben motions vaguely with the bottle. "I assumed you were... uh..."

"Flirting," Marcus fills in with an embarrassed chuckle of his own. Might as well get it out there. "No, I know, it's alright-"

"No, I shouldn't have thought-"

"It's fine, I get it-"

"It wasn't fair of me to-... I just assumed-"

"Ben, it's fine-"

"After this morning and everything-"

"Yeah, I know, don't worry about it-"

"I shouldn't have done that, really-"

"It's understandable-"

"Just with everything that's happened..."

"Yeah, I know-"

"And, I mean, I did ask you to leave it, so..."

"Yeah."

"I was just a bit unsure what you were doing there for a second, that's all."

"It's okay."

"Not that I think you would... uh, after I asked you not to-"

"I-"

"I know you'd never do that." Ben says confidently, almost sharply, stopping them rambling over one another.

He's looking up at Marcus like he really believes it, trusts that Marcus wouldn't go against his words. But his eyes are begging him, pleading with him to accept this, saying I'm sorry and please just leave this and I don't want to fall out here. He needs it to be true that Marcus won't push. And Marcus wants to. He really does want to leave it and be friends with this guy because surely it would be better to have him as a friend than not at all. Not to mention it's the right fucking thing to do.

However, there's still that stubborn little malicious section of his brain that won't allow himself to give Ben up. It's sitting on his shoulder and whispering in his ear, convincing him that he needs this, that things won't be okay if you let him be the one that got away and why are cutting you're own arm off, arsehole? That's bad for us.

"Well," Marcus says lightly, almost under his breath like there's any chance he'll get away with it. "Never say never."

Ben's easy going look goes unmistakably strained, and his left cheek sucks in from where he must be biting it on the inside.

"In this case?" He says harshly, setting his shoulders and looking Marcus dead in the eye. "Never."

Ouch.

"You can think about it if you want." He mutters, sarcastic but hurt all the same.

"Marcus," Ben sighs, "I'm not going to have this conversation with you again, okay?"

Marcus looks to him and if he thought Ben's eyes were pleading before, they're nothing compared to how they look now, and Marcus is suddenly torn.

On the one hand, Ben looks so worried. No matter how much he's tried to cover it up with putting his foot down, the discomfort in his expression is obvious. Marcus feels something drop in his stomach at the sight of it. Part of Marcus' brain is saying stop, you've upset him, you wanker! Just leave it so he can smile again! It's making him want to do anything to get that distressed look off Ben's face, including turning on his heel, taking off down the hallway and never seeing him again.

Alternatively, that very same pleading look is telling Marcus that Ben knows there's something here to fight for. That he's trying to get Marcus to agree with what he says because he's trying to convince himself of it, too. If Marcus says he'll leave it, that they shouldn't be doing this, then Ben has no choice but to believe it. He also gets conformation that his relationship with Oliver is obviously a wonderful one. Why would Marcus want to come between them if it were? Consequently, he then has no reason to take the plunge and leave Oliver.

Then again, there's always the possibility that Marcus has interpreted everything completely wrong and Ben just wants him gone.

Bloody hell.

And so Marcus is torn, and simply stands there with his mouth hung open as Ben stares him down, all defiance and I'm not going to have this conversation with you again.

When it becomes apparent that Marcus' powers of speech have abandoned him, Ben glances down the hall and exhales softly.

"Well," he says, turning back to Marcus, his demeanour back to bone-meltingly friendly as he holds up the wine bottle. Marcus wonders if Ben has ever read Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. "I should get this in the fridge."

"Right, yeah." Marcus manages to squeeze out.

"You could come in for a bit. If you want. I mean, Oliver's due home soon, but..."

Despite possibly having whiplash from the change in tone, Marcus feels his chest lift a little.

He should say no. Ben's just being polite, that's all. This is for him to refuse and be courteous, to respect Ben's wishes so they can both come out of it looking like decent people. But Ben's smiling again. And Marcus still has that unsatisfied feeling of having unfinished business clinging to him like poisoned ivy grows on a building.

"Sure."

If this wasn't the reply that Ben wanted, he doesn't show it. He just stands aside for Marcus to come through.

Ben's home is just as welcoming as before, perhaps more so with what look like recipe books and hand written notes spread out on the coffee table, and re-runs of That 70's Show playing on the small tv in the corner.

Marcus somehow feels out of place, big and bulky in amongst the warm flat. He feels like an intruder, and isn't that just fucking ironic. When breaking in, he felt very little remorse, but, now, when he's been invited in, saying he's uncomfortable doesn't do it justice. He's still caught in that quandary of knowing he shouldn't be here but wanting to stay with all his might, and his feet can't seem to stay still because of it.

As Ben makes his way to the fridge, Marcus watches and tries to work out what the fuck is happening. He needs to do something to get this twitchy feeling out of his bones. Where do they stand now? If he had actually wanted Marcus to leave he wouldn't have let him come in, surely, even out of politeness. He would've kicked him out on his arse. Is Ben actually giving the mixed messages Marcus thinks he is? Or is this all in his head?

It's then that Marcus realises he fucking hates subtext.

He might as well try and sort this out now. The tension and instability of it all will only torment him until he does. Patience has never even come close to being his middle name. And he knows Ben isn't as sure about this as he keeps saying.

He fucking hopes to God he's right.

"I'm confused." Marcus says.

Ben takes his hand off the handle on the fridge door and turns to him. His eyebrows have gone up his forehead and he looks intrigued, but that doesn't cover the underlying resistance that tells Marcus he knows what's going on here.

Deep breath.

"I'm confused because I don't know how you can just let this lie. There is something between us, Ben. Something... noticeable. That's the only way to put it. I don't know what it is, or how this might work out, or even if it's fucking worth it, but it's something. Something that could work. I'm sorry to do this again, I am, but... I can't just let that go."

Ben sighs and puts the bottle of wine down on the counter next to the fridge with a heavy thunk. Marcus carries on before Ben has a chance to cut in with arguments he's already heard.

"I know that it's ludicrous, okay? I know that. But it's not everyday that I break into flats, you know." That gets a smile out of Ben, "But I did last night. And of all the people in London, it happened to be yours. On the night your boyfriend was still out. And you decided to let me stay." Marcus starts to take small steps closer to him, like someone trying to get close to a wild animal. "Who does that? Who lets a stranger that picks the lock on their front door kip on their sofa? That's crazy. But you did. You didn't even think of turning me away, did you?" When Ben only gives a small smile and rubs tense fingers over his forehead, Marcus prompts. "Did you?"

Ben leans back against the counter. Marcus hopes that was the fight draining out of him. "No, I didn't. You're my neighbour-"

"You didn't know that." Marcus continues. "I had no way to prove it. I could've been anyone. I could've pissed off with your most prized possessions in the middle of the night."

"Marcus, that's-"

"Don't stand there and tell me you can't feel it, that you didn't let me stay last night because there was something about me that you couldn't refuse." As he comes to stand in front of Ben, Marcus' stomach is in knots. This feels like the ballsiest thing he's ever done. "I don't wanna say it's fate, but..."

Ben's nerve breaks and his gaze slides to the floor. Marcus thinks that may be a good thing, that he doesn't want Marcus to see what he's thinking. He seems less tense than he was out in the hallway. Marcus hopes that's because of his words and not just because of the comfort of being inside his own home.

In a bold move, and because Marcus has always been an all or nothing kind of guy, he braces his left hand on the surface next to Ben's hip and gently takes Ben's chin between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Now Marcus never thought he would be soppy enough to say things like "I saw galaxies in his eyes", but when Ben lets him tilt his chin so they're looking at each other, his breath is taken from him.

"Even right now." Marcus says softly, leaving only a small gap between their bodies. "Don't pretend you don't feel... something... between us, right now."

Ben's fingers are gripping tightly onto the side of the counter and his chest is rising and falling quickly but his eyes, oh god, his eyes are almost glowing, mirroring everything that Marcus is feeling. This is why Marcus can't let go. This look says I want you too. And even if he does look a little worried, the deer caught in headlights again, all that makes Marcus want to do is kiss all the concern away.

Fuck, Marcus wants him.

"I don't think I've ever clicked with someone like this." Marcus says as he softly runs his thumb along the edge of Ben's bottom lip and feels him give a little sigh against it. "We just... fit. Please don't fight it."

Gingerly, Marcus moves his hand from the edge of the counter and places it on Ben's hip. It fits just as perfectly as before. For all the trepidation in Ben's eyes, he doesn't push him away. He doesn't exactly move in to Marcus either, but he doesn't push him away, which has to count for something.

"Marcus, I...", Ben starts, but his words quickly die in his throat. After a tense moment, he gives a little breathless laugh instead. "God, I hate you."

Marcus smiles back and takes the tiniest of steps closer. "Yeah, I kind of hate me too, right now. But you know I'm right."

Gingerly, Ben's hand comes to rest on the forearm Marcus has against his hip. Marcus' heart does something close to a somersault.

Marcus dips his head, brushing his nose against Ben's cheek and letting their mouths hover in front of one another. It feels like there's a magnetic pull bringing them ever so slowly closer and closer together. Marcus much prefers this version of Ben, the soft, willing version that makes them feel like two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together. Not to mention that being this close to him but not actually kissing is, strangely, erotic as fuck.

Ben's eyes have fallen shut. Marcus can just see the ends of his eyelashes resting on his cheeks as he places their foreheads together. God, Marcus feels like he's burning up. Ben's grip tightens on his arm as he tilts his face up ever so slightly. Their lips must only be a millimetre apart now, and Marcus is sure Ben's pulse is thudding as fast as his own. He can almost taste it.

Three sudden, loud pounds on the door makes Ben's head snap up.

"Babe, it's me! I forgot my keys!"

Marcus' blood runs cold and he glares over his shoulder at the door. Bloody fucking Oliver! Marcus had him! Just a couple more blissful seconds and they would have been lip locked!

Ben quickly pushes past him, out of Marcus' embrace, and takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. For the second time in two days, Marcus is left to rearrange himself as adrenaline rushes through him.

"Look," Ben says quickly and quietly, whipping around to face him, and with more venom than Marcus ever thought he was capable of, "I've already admitted that I feel something for you, okay, so I'm not going to do it again. But Marcus, and I need you to listen to me now, okay? I mean really listen. Whatever stupid little crushes we have somehow developed on one another, within less than twenty-four hours of knowing each other, don't even come into the question. Words can't describe how obsolete it is. It means nothing. Because I know that in the bigger picture I am meant to be with him," He points one sure finger at the door, "alright? I'm with him and I'm staying with him because he's my soul mate, and, yes, you're handsome and you're funny and you're interesting, but I love Oliver and I'm with Oliver and you can never be Oliver. Got it?"

Marcus opens his mouth to protest but it feels like someone has their hands clasped tightly around his throat.

Oliver knocks on the door again. "Ben? You there?"

Ben takes one, deep, composing breath as Marcus blinks gormlessly at him. The world stands still. Marcus is pretty sure even the clock has stopped ticking by, holding its breath.

Marcus wishes his brain hadn't seemed to have short-circuited, simply showing him the same error message over and over, so he could grab Ben by the shoulders and eloquently persuade him to pretend he's not in the flat so Oliver will go and find a cafe or something to occupy himself with. They still have more talking to do, this isn't how this is supposed to end. What he wouldn't give to click his fingers and transport Oliver far, far, far away. But Marcus' shell shocked body can conjure no words, and Ben's opening the front door before Marcus even has the chance to will the colour back into his face.

"If I had a penny for every time you forgot your keys, I'd be a very rich man." Ben smiles easily.

"Well hello to you to."

Marcus drags in a deep breath to try and will some feeling back into his body. He can only hope he doesn't look as dumbfounded as he feels as Oliver walks in and spots him.

"Back again?"

"Marcus was actually just about to leave." Ben supplies, "He brought a bottle of wine for us."

"Oh, that was nice of you." Oliver smiles at him.

Marcus feels a pressure build in his chest, getting the urge to snatch the bottle off the counter next to him and run out the door lest he does anything to give this suited oaf of a man something to be happy about.

"You were kind enough to help me out so..." He rushes, "Just something to say thanks."

His head is throbbing and he shoves his hands in his pockets so Oliver won't see how they're shaking. His throat is still absurdly tight and his chest feels like its cracking, caving in to him.

'I'm with Oliver and you can never be Oliver.'

Act normal, he thinks, just act normal.

"I'm more into beer myself but you seem like wine sort of people, so I hope it's okay."

"I'm sure it will be." Ben says, short and with an air of finality, though the smile on his face stays strongly where it is.

Marcus finds his eyes and sees the hard edge in them, the solid set to his jaw. He thinks that may have been his cue to go.

"Ben's a beer person, too." Oliver says.

"Oh, really?" Marcus smirks, although this bit of trivia seems bittersweet after all the words Ben just snarled at him. "Great minds think alike, ey?"

The suggestive tone goes (thankfully) over Oliver's oblivious head, but Ben's smile disappears instantly.

Marcus decides that, yes, now is the time to take his leave before he steps over the line, if he miraculously hasn't already. Although of course there is a part of Marcus that wants one of them to slip up and for Oliver to cotton on to the sexual tension between his boyfriend and another man, he also doubts that Ben would appreciate that. He thinks he's probably so far into Ben's bad side at the moment that one more inch would lead him to fall over the edge and down into the abyss of never-to-be-spoken-to-again territory. That's the last thing he wants.

He says his goodbyes and, with one final, desperate pleading look to Ben, who looks steadily back at him, he steps out of the flat and into the corridor. The door is shut behind him with more force than he thinks is necessary.

With a weight in his chest and a frown on his face, Marcus heads for the stairs.

#I cant believe this is finally done #mumfic #bencus

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imagineironfalcon · 7 years

Note

Imagine IronFalcon in the 'my Nana thought you're my boyfriend so now I have to bring you to thanksgiving dinner or I'm pretty sure she's going to hate me forever' situation where they're good friends who have to pretend to be boyfriends, and then becoming boyfriends for real.

(Watch out for the cut)

“So you don’thave actual plans for Thanksgiving,right?”

Tony glanced upas Sam sat down next to him, fingers already tapping nervously over thetextbooks for their shared lit class.

“Actual plans?”he echoed, and Sam nodded. “You mean like, actual plans besides the ‘annoy theshit out of Howard until Mom asks me to stop’ plans I already mentioned?”

Sam noddedagain.

“No,” Tony saidslowly. “No actual plans.”

“Good, good. Souh, I have a situation.”

Tony’s eyesnarrowed, suspicious and wary. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this….”

“Stop quotingStar Wars at me,” Sam said, then blurted, “Nana thinks you’re my boyfriend anddemanded I bring you to Thanksgiving dinner so she can finally meet you.”

“She… what?How’d she get that idea?” Tony yelped, eyes going wide and panicked.

“I don’t know!”Sam said back desperately. “She just did, okay, and she’s so happy aboutmeeting you and I am pretty sure if I show up without you that she’s going tohate me forever! Tony!” Sam whined. “I can’t have my nana hating me forever,she makes the best pies and she’ll not make my favorite for me if she’sdespairing that we’re not actually dating!”

Tony made arough noise, like a scoff. “She’ll hate us both if you lie to her!”

“Only a littlebit!”

“This is a bad idea,” Tony insisted.

“It’s just forThanksgiving! You’ll get free food out of it! I’ll buy you all the coffee youwant for the rest of the semester!”

Tony paused,giving him an incredulous look. “Finals are coming up. That’s a horriblepromise to make, Sam.”

“I am that desperate,” Sam said seriously.“Please?”

After a moment,Tony sighed, caving. “Alright, alright,” he muttered. “I’ll pretend to be yourdamn boyfriend, even though I think this is a horrible idea.”

“Thank you,”Sam gushed, hugging Tony for a moment before sitting back and opening histextbook. “Okay. Now that that crisis is over, on to this one.”

Tony grumbled,but opened his book as well.

~*~*~

“Mom,” Tonytried, and sighed when she interrupted him again. He turned, leaning againstthe doorframe, putting his back to Rhodey who was watching him closely thoughpretending not to. Quieter, Tony repeated, “Mom, please. It’s justThanksgiving. I’ll come home for Christmas.” That seemed to, finally, appeaseher, though she made him repeat his promise before she let him go.

Tony hung upand went to plop into his desk chair, spinning it in circles. Thanksgiving wasin two days. He should probably back.

“So you’rereally going to do this?” Rhodey asked, scribbling notes for one of his physicstextbooks.

“I told Sam Iwould,” Tony reminded him.

Rhodey lookedat him, brows furrowed. “Yeah, but won’t it be awkward?”

“Nah, notreally.” Tony spun around again. “I mean, a little bit. Sam’s like, my secondbest friend.” Tony shot Rhodey a grin. “But it’s just for a few days.”

“You describedthis whole thing to me as ‘the worst idea you’d ever agreed to’.”

Tony waved hishand dismissively.

Rhodey shookhis head after a moment, muttering to himself about idiots and how he hoped Godreally did protect fools – or something to that effect. Tony stopped reallypaying attention, instead debating if, as the “boyfriend”, he should bring somekind of gift. He was pretty sure that was the kind of good manners his momwould want him to have.

“What kind ofgifts do you bring to your pretend boyfriend’s family for Thanksgiving?” Tonyasked aloud.

Rhodey groanedand thunked his head down onto his textbook.

~*~*~

“We shouldprobably hold hands,” Sam muttered as they walked up the porch steps.

“Good idea,”Tony said, and linked their fingers just in time for the door to be yankedopen.

“Mom, Sam’s finally here!” yelled the kidon the other side of the door. He looked back at them, eyes locking on theirhands, and made a face. “Oh god, are you going to be as gross as Sarah now?”

“Shut up, Gid,”Sam said, pushing open the screen door to get inside.

Tony bit back asnicker when the kid – Sam’s brother, Gideon – grumbled, “That means yes. Ugh.”

Tony met Sam’s parents,Darlene and Paul, and his sister Sarah. It was a whirlwhind of hugs andhandshakes and loud voices all talking over each other catching up and greetingand Tony grinned the whole time.

He didn’t meetthe infamous Nana until they stepped into the kitchen, after they’d storedtheir stuff in Sam’s old room. Tony had been aiming for coffee; he wasintercepted and appraised by keen eyes in a lined face.

He froze. “Um…hi?”

“You’re Sammy’sboyfriend he’s been hiding from us?”

“…Yes?”

Her eyesnarrowed. “He tried to tell me he didn’t have a boyfriend. But I told him,there’s no way something put that kind of light and happiness on your facewhile talking about studying of allthings unless it’s a boy.”

Tony scratchedat his hair, down to his neck, and grinned sheepishly. “My best friend Rhodeycalled us fools, if that helps?”

She cracked asmile, the crinkles at her eyes thickening, and reached up to pat Tony’s cheek.“Does explain some things, yes.” She shook her head, turning to stir somethingon the stove – it smelled delicious, Tony wondered if Nana would be as sharp atprotecting food from tasting fingers as Jarvis was. “Sammy never could tellwhen someone was flirting with him.”

Tony snorted. “Herecognizes flirting just fine,” Tony said, as he noticed Sam walking into theroom. He grinned slyly. “Just so long as it’s completely cheesy.”

Sam rolled hiseyes, not missing a beat as he added, “Thankfully for me that’s the only kindof flirting Tony knows how to do.”

“Excuse you, Ican flirt just fine, you just never notice it when I’m being smooth!”

“Uh huh,” Samsaid, in a voice that completely conveyed ‘I’m just saying this to pacify you’.“Sure you can.”

Tony cast aquick look to be sure Nana wasn’t looking before flipping the bird.

Sam stuck histongue out.

~*~*~

Sharing the bedwasn’t a problem. Sam warned Tony that he snored, and Tony told him veryseriously that he would probably cling to Sam in his sleep worse than anoctopus, and they climbed under the sheets.

In the morningthey woke up with Tony using Sam as a pillow, arms and legs tangled together,and Sam snoring in Tony’s ear. They stretched and climbed out of bed and gotready, moving around each other easily.

Sam made Tonysome coffee, while Tony plopped across the entire couch in front of thefireplace. Gideon came in a few minutes later and whined for Tony to move hisfeet, but Tony just stared at him with a smile and raised brow until Sam camein with two cups.

Tony lifted hislegs for Sam to sit, and then put them in Sam’s lap. Sam passed over Tony’scoffee, just how he liked it.

Gideon groanedin despair and went to sit in one of the armchairs.

The daycontinued smoothly. No one seemed to pick up that they were only pretending tobe boyfriends.

To be fair, Samand Tony didn’t have to change their behaviors too much. No one seemed toexpect them to kiss or anything. They held hands a bit more, but the sittingclose and hugging and snuggling wasn’t that unusual. Tony was physically affectionatewith his friends, and Sam liked to reciprocate.

They banteredlike usual. Talked with Sam’s family. Sent Rhodey and Steve some snapchats ofthem, because their plan was gong perfectly despite best friend disapproval,and they both wanted to rub that in their faces.

They atedinner, played some games with Sam’s family, and went to bed again.

Tony stretchedthe next morning when he woke up before Sam, and rested his chin on his hands,over the top of Sam’s chest.

Sam keptsnoring.

Smiling, Tonywatched Sam for a few moments, before rolling out of bed and going to makehimself some coffee. Nana and Paul were already awake, sitting at the smallkitchen table in the corner, next to a sunny window. Tony joined them; none ofthem spoke, just sat and enjoyed the quiet and sunlight and coffee together.

When Sam cameout, pajama pants with little Superman symbols all over them low on his hips,covering his feet because they were too long, Tony smiled. He held out hiscoffee, and Sam sipped at it, before nudging Tony over so they were sharing thesame chair. It was far from comfortable.

Tony stole hiscoffee back before Sam could drink all of it, the thief.

~*~*~

“You know, thatwent… shockingly well,” Tony said onthe ride back.

“You’re thatsurprised?” Sam asked, glancing over his shoulder as he merged.

Tony shrugged,flipping through his music to find something good. “A bit? I mean I didn’texpect it to go epically wrong like some after school special or anything,” hesaid. “But I didn’t expect it to go that smoothly either. Like, seriously Sam.That was easy. It shouldn’t have been that easy to pretend to be dating.”

Sam was quietfor a little while, then said, “Yeah, probably not.”

“No one even suspected, did they?” Tony continuedwonderingly. “We were apparently like, super fucking awesome boyfriends.”

“Hell yeah wewere,” Sam said with a proud grin.

Tony laughed.He tilted his head back against the headrest, then turned it until he wasstaring right at Sam, thinking.

“You know, Iwouldn’t mind dating you for real.”

“Oh yeah?”

Tony nodded. “Sure.You’re smart. Funny. Caring. Damn fine. You laugh at my corny jokes.”

Sam snorted.

“You actuallylike me for me,” Tony continued, quieter. “You listen when I’m upset, and tryto make me feel better.”

“That’s whatfriends are supposed to do.”

“Yeah,” Tonysaid softly. “I don’t have many of those. Would hate to lose one. But if thepayoff was a super awesome boyfriend….”

Sam glanced athim, quick, before focusing back on the road.

“You want togive it a shot? For reals?”

“If you wantto,” Tony said. “I’m happy being friends. I think I could be happy beingboyfriends, too. So whatever would make you happy….”

He waited whileSam thought it over. He glanced at Tony some more, a few times.

“I wouldn’tmind dating you either,” he said. “All that stuff you said about me, I think it’strue for you too. Smart, obviously. And funny, with those corny jokes,” heteased. “Caring, despite how other people take advantage of it or misinterpretit. Always trying to help people.”

Smilingslightly, Tony slid his fingers slowly over the console. Sam dropped one handfrom the wheel and linked fingers with Tony at the edge of his seat.

“Rhodey andSteve are going to be so exasperated,” Tony chuckled quietly.

“Just an addedbonus,” Sam said, grinning cheerfully.

~*~*~

Tony leanedover and whispered to Sam, “I bet only dogs can hear the noises they’re making,”when they told their best friends they were now boyfriends during lunch the dayafter returning to campus.

Sam almostsnorted lemonade out his nose.

#ironfalcon #prompts #tony stark #sam wilson #tonyxsam #jules #marvelingjules #no powers au #college au #pretend relationship #get-together #anonymous

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