#// i just let my drafts sit as i planned a move oops

[devinevirtue]

@ghostvixen // prev

      There's a role of his eyes as he adjusts the frames on his face. The young ones are always so stubborn. (and once upon a time so was he. young and stubborn)

      As much as he likes being in on the action- (he was never meant for a permanent office job) - it does not mean he wishes for people to constantly rely on him as they once did in the past. True, the vixen before him doesn't rely on him always, but he does not wish for them to believe that he will always have their back no matter what. 

      After all... Anything can happen on a battlefield when you least expect it.

      "I'm old and my bones go achy at times. I would just be able to carry you." He continues on, but there's a faint upwards turn on his lips that betrays how he is in fact amused with their current conversation.

[queerfanfiction]

Kinktober — Public

Oops, this has been in my drafts for months... Probably should save it for Kinktober 2024 but....here. ❤️

Larissa Weems x Reader words: 2.5k

AO3 Link

Summary: Reader and Larissa sit together at the Poe Cup.

As October ended, the Vermont air clung to the last bits of autumn’s warmth. The trees were beautiful colors—leaves dappling the ground with warm tones. Sunlight danced across the water that stretched before you all the way to Raven Island. Nevermore’s Poe Cup was about to begin, and electricity filled the air. You could hear the sounds of hundreds of people moving around you with shouts, laughter, and singing. It seemed as if the entire academy was crowded around the grassy bank next to the lake, ready to witness the competition.

There were tents set up for each team, a refreshments table staffed with student volunteers, and various metal stands constructed to watch the festivities from. Banners were visible in the crowd of students; some supported the Gold Bugs, some the Black Cats, and so on. Carts of sweets and snacks were pushed about jovially. Larissa had made sure hot chocolate was available for the event, and you considered grabbing one for her.

The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. When you caught sight of Larissa near the front of the crowd in her impeccably fitted dress, a mischievous smirk settled upon your face. The principal stood on a small red-carpeted wooden platform at the front of the crowd just before the water.

Wild, half-formed thoughts began whizzing through your lustful mind as you watched Larissa’s perfectly curated crimson lips move as she spoke to another faculty member enthusiastically. She always loved the Poe Cup. Arrangements for it began before the school year even started, since Larissa always had such fond memories of the competition. You could think of a few ways to ensure she enjoyed the event. One included your head under her dress in the team changing tents.

It had been a couple weeks since Larissa confided in you that she was interested in having sex in public. At first you were shocked by the confession; you didn’t expect proper, respectable, and responsible Larissa Weems to yearn for that kind of sexual gratification. When she had brought it up, you two were coming back from seeing a movie in Jericho. Your hand had found its way to her inner thigh, stroking circles against her soft skin. As innocent and comforting as the action was intended to be, Larissa confessed how arousing it was to be so intimate in a room with others there, completely unaware.

“I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup!” erupted Larissa’s voice, over the tumultuous buzz and applause of the crowd. Your cheeks flash pink as you realize you were lost in the thought of your concealed hands hard at work. You’d have to compose yourself a bit better if you were to put your plan into motion. Spectators screamed and clapped, some even waving their banners at Larissa excitedly as her voice echoed over the crowd.  If they kept that level of commotion up, you were sure that any of Larissa’s later noises could be obscured…

The next thing you heard was “Let the Poe Cup begin!”

Larissa, looking ever so pleased with herself, pulls the trigger of the starting pistol to signal the beginning of the event. Even louder cheers fill the chilly air. Howls and whoops bellow as shrill as possible as everyone sets their eyes on the teams pushing off from the shore.

Beaming at you and not privy to your devious plan, Larissa comes to your side to join you in the metal bleachers. You let your eyes roam over the curves of her body—her deliciously long torso and toned legs. You would have probably imploded if your principal had looked like that growing up.

As she sits, you bring your hand to her back and rub it gently, as if you’re just offering encouragement and support. You briefly glance around to ensure you two are as uninteresting as anticipated. Satisfied, your hand begins to wander, providing faux-chaste touches. Your fingertips graze her neck, trail her arms, brush over her breast. You surmise that Larissa is clueless and intending to soliloquize about her years as co-captain for Ophelia Hall.

Sensing the need to take control of the moment, you utter huskily, just loud enough for her to hear, “You look so fucking good right now.” At that, your fingers make their way to fiddle with the edge of Larissa’s dress hem.

Larissa stiffens, suddenly acutely aware of the placement of your hands. “What are you doing?” A whisper—her tone demure and surprised. You could swear you heard a hint of panic bubbling up in her chest.

True, students were close, but who was really invested in their principal during the long-awaited Poe Cup? Your thoughts went to the extensive conversation you and Larissa had in the car weeks prior about each other’s green, yellow, and red sexual flags. Armed with knowledge of how badly she fantasized about the risk of almost being caught, you tentatively continued touching her thighs. Heat flashed through Larissa, stealing her breath and eliciting a gasp.

“Shh, Principal Weems.” You direct into her ear, knowing her slight change in breathing was most likely imperceptible alongside the trees swaying in the wind, the water lapping, and the simultaneous cheering and clapping. “Take off your scarf, and fold it in your lap.”

Her body followed the command almost automatically, and you slipped your hand under it. The sudden thrill gripped her. She couldn’t. They couldn’t. Not here. ...could they? The idea made her ache. Larissa chewed on her bottom lip, querying whether or not to let you proceed. They were in broad daylight among her students, not a dim movie theater with strangers. She couldn't believe this situation was actually turning her on.

“In fact, you’ll probably want to stay very, very quiet.”

Larissa tried to focus on keeping her breathing steady and her red lips firmly clamped shut. She couldn’t help but feel her heart begin to race. Excitement, desperation, panic, surprise, and overwhelming need all contributed to the rise of her pulse. Her eyes darted over to other faculty, paranoid that at any moment you two would be found out. Larissa’s brain was screaming at herself, but she couldn't stop. It was like the desire was controlling her body, and her mind just wasn't on the right receiver channel. Her immediate arousal and submission was a little embarrassing. Shouldn’t she be able to keep her professional life and private life separate? That didn't seem to matter, though; it was like her body was on autopilot for anything you wanted once you whispered in her ear.

Her cheeks got hot, and Larissa found herself inadvertently opening her legs a bit, like an invitation. With any luck, the average passer-by wouldn’t figure out what was going on.

“We can't do this here!" Larissa quietly hissed, sounding more flustered and docile than she meant to. She felt like that’s what she should say. Surely she could have more conviction, bat your hand away, cross her legs, ….anything. Larissa frantically glanced around one more time to make sure that no one looked towards you two; she desperately did not want to get caught. What a scandal for the school it would be. 

Nearly surrendering, Larissa closed her eyes and considered the throbbing ache between her legs. She slid a hand onto your thigh, needing to brace herself. Your breathy voice whispering in her ear only made Larissa impossibly wetter. Who knew being called by her title would turn her on like this? Who knew sneaking around in front of students and faculty could make Larissa putty in your hands?

At this moment, Larissa overheard two students discussing the potential winnings of the betting pool they had orchestrated for the Poe Cup. She wanted to intervene, but she knew intervening would cost her. Instead, she pushed the reprimand that she owed the students down—below the knots of desire in her stomach.

With a fingertip hovering over Larissa’s silk underwear where you know her clit is, you begin to lightly graze the fabric up and down. Regardless of your warning for her to be silent, you can hear the groan and pant Larissa tries to obscure, indecent and deliciously sexy.

After leisurely making circles over the damp silk, Larissa began to subtly shift her weight in hopes of adding more friction.

“You like this, ‘Rissa?” Your voice was low and intoxicating as you teased her.

Before she could finish nodding, your fingers found their way under the silk fabric to her flesh. You could feel heat radiating off her, and it made you want to disregard everyone here and to taste her arousal. Your fingers moved through the soft tuft of hair on her mons pubis, hoping to tease Larissa further, until finally feeling her slick folds.

Larissa was thankful to be sitting down, because her knees would have buckled at that moment of contact. A whine of pleasure threatened to leave her throat, and it took all her willpower to stay quiet. The slight twitching of Larissa’s hips could be played off as excitement from the event. Plenty of movement surrounded you two. People knocked against each other getting to their seats or jumping up and down. ‘Excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s were exchanged loudly. No one much cared for what else was going on besides the race.

"Then fuck my fingers. Make yourself come.”

With that, you enter two fingers into her opening. Your palm arched against her clit, adding delectable pressure. Your two fingers were crooked inside of Larissa, searching for the exact right spot to titillate relentlessly.

The sounds of the Poe Cup faded away to a faint ringing. Larissa groaned and started to move her hips more exaggeratedly, as if she were properly shifting in her seat. Any hope of actually being able to pay attention to the race and narrate for the crowd was long gone.

In the meantime, you kept a steady rhythm, flicking your fingers inside of Larissa. The sound of her stifled pants and the way you could feel her twitching and tensing was driving you to the edge of despair. For one wild moment, you wondered if she’d be able to clamber onto your lap without anyone noticing. As if she was considering the same, Larissa desperately clutched onto the edge of the bench, making sure not to fumble with or accidentally tug at her scarf that way keeping your hand obscured.

A deep shudder of pleasure and relief ran through Larissa, catching her off guard. She let out a moan without thinking and then bit her lip to try and stop herself from making any more. Something that was getting increasingly difficult with the way your skilled fingers were working.

“Mmm, more." There was both an urgent pleading and spacey quality to Larissa’s tone.

“I’ve dreamed about touching you like this, and I can only keep going if you stay quiet,” you purr matter-of-factly to her.

As attractive as her begging was, you wanted to ride out the tension a bit longer before giving into her hunger and yearning. It was too fun to be in control of the woman who prided herself on her poise and authority. And doing so in public at her own school’s event.

Sensing that Larissa was getting more noisy and about to go over the edge at your words, you pull back. You remove your fingers from inside her and instead begin lightly tapping your fingers against her swollen clit.

Murmurs run through the crowd as the teams begun to row against one another back across the lake.

“Principal Weems?” An unfamiliar, youthful voice approached.

You whip your head towards the student interrupting you and Larissa. Your hand stills from under Larissa’s scarf that is concealing the true nature of your shared enjoyment. Your guard is immediately up, attempting to not give into alarm. Thankfully, the student’s gaze was focused out on the lake and only just meets yours and Larissa’s.

“Y-yes?” Larissa is able to respond, trying to put on her usual façade.

“Would it be okay if I used your binoculars? Yoko won’t share hers because they’re supposedly specially made to withstand the sunlight.” An indignant Enid, or so you assumed from hearing various stories, stood beside Larissa.

Even though much of the race was held in the distance, Larissa was likely the only faculty there with binoculars. Well, maybe one or two others had the sense to bring a pair.

“Of course, Ms. Sinclair. Please keep them for the rest of the event.”

“Oh, thank you, Principal Weems! You’re the best!” Enid grabs the binoculars and skips away without a clue to what she had interrupted. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Enid hold up the binoculars in a righteous manner and stick her tongue out at who you assume is Yoko.

You turn your attention back to the ghostly-pale woman beside you. You briefly check-in with her. “Still green?”

A breath and then affirmation. “Green.”

Your hand hadn’t left Larissa’s underwear, so you take back control of the situation.

“So naughty, Principal Weems…” you murmured. “About to be coming all over the bleachers. All over my hand… better keep quiet, otherwise, we’re bound to be interrupted again. Wouldn't that be terrible? If I had to stop touching you now, stop fucking you with my fingers?”

Larissa should be mortified. She should be careful. Neither are things she is interested in. Instead, her body twitches and aches at the use of her title again—the thought of being naughty and of getting away with it.

Your hand slips back down to Larissa’s opening. Larissa all but directs your fingers back inside her, eager to find a more lasting release. However, you knew that she was so tightly wound and that it would only take the faintest touch, a few slick circles on her clit before she shattered. Breathing in Larissa’s ear and telling her how wet you are while touching her brought her over the edge. She trembled beside you. In an effort to mask the spasm, you reached over with your free hand and rubbed her upper arm as if her shiver was due to the chilly autumn day.

Instead of stopping completely, your fingers moved in slow spirals, drawing out the aftershocks for as long as she could handle before leaning bonelessly against your side. The world narrowed to the warmth of your hand on her back, the lazy pulse between her legs. You place a kiss to Larissa’s forehead, murmuring that she had done so well for you.

A few calm moments passed where you two breathed together before the rumbling from the various Black Cat supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight. The whole crowd was on their feet, eager to decipher the team in the lead, and it looked like you two had gotten away with it.

“Well, that was exciting,” Larissa let out hoarsely.

A grin erupted onto your face as you stated, “And just with my left hand…”

Larissa shoved your arm in response before standing and adjusting her clothing, making her way over to the podium again announce the winners. Now this was a Poe Cup to remember.

[mooncademia]

Ref:rain — Gojou Satoru x reader

Pairing: gojou x reader

Genre: fluff! + slightly spicy make-out session that gets interrupted (oops! ☺️) (warning: slight language!)

a/n: ive had this in my draft for months but im suddenly reminiscing jjk and finally got around to edit and finish it. i hope you guys enjoy it :)

[12:57 a.m.]

You should have been sleeping right now, but instead, you were on the bed in front of Gojou with your hands cupping his face. You’ve managed to lock Gojou against the bed frame and cradled his lap. Your knees were lifted at just the perfect height to kiss him tenderly on the lips and you could feel his hands massaging rhythmic circles on your hips as you kissed him passionately.

This evening, Gojou texted you that the earliest he could come and see you from work was next week, but of course, being the sly tease he is, he surprised you at night with a spontaneous fumble of your doorknob, your favorite flowers in his hand, and that classic fucking smirk that he always have on whenever he sees your cute shocked look.

And being too swooned and shock to even get a smidgen mad at your boyfriend for almost making you blast out your “emo playlist” (aka: all the sad and emotional songs by Daughter) you ran to your door and threw your arms around him, snuggling your face in his jujutsu uniform.

You closed your eyes are you wrapped your arms tightly around him, inhaling his scent like a warm summer breeze. Wrapping your arms around him was one of the biggest things you’ve missed for the last few months it, it was just like puzzle pieces finally coming together. It fits.

When you broke away, you still had your arms around his neck, and when your eyes met your boyfriend, you shot him your perfected death stare--the kind that always leaves Gojou largely unaffected by your glare and instead chuckle.  

“Miss me?” Gojou asked, peering down at you with a charming smile on his face. You could barely see his eyes through his dark sunglasses but you could tell they were glistening with excitement.

“After three months of not seeing you?” You tilted your head and shrugged playfully. “Hmm......Maybe.” You looked up at him and gave him a sneered eye and a pout. “I don’t think I can trust your word anymore, Gojou Satoru.” You teased.

Gojou cocked his head to the right and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “A little surprised doesn’t hurt, babe.”

You cupped his right cheek and let out a puff of air through your nose, shaking your head slightly with a grin. You were still in disbelief that after so many weeks being away, your boyfriend was finally here.

Your eyes slowly soften as your eyes trailed down to his lips, your thumb ran through his lips and you knew that Gojou was already aware of what you were thinking at the moment because before you could even say anything, he leaned down to capture your lips against his. The kiss was so deep and so long, that it had your knees weak and before you knew it, he’s managed to magically carry you to the bedroom in a blink of an eye.

------

You were often the one following Gojou’s leads in the bed, but after so many days without seeing him, your kisses increasingly grew more needy and hungry. Heat flushed to your cheeks when Gojou responded with a slip of his tongue into your mouth as he hugged your body tighter from below. You let out a soft mewl when you felt his tongue flicker in your mouth, making Gojou reply with a soft groan, adoring your whimpers in your deep kiss. He opened his eyes a bit to see your eyes squeezed shut in bliss through his shades. Your eyebrows were softly tightened in delight as if you were on cloud nine and immeasurable pleasure seeped into you as you continued to kiss him with your arms wrapped around his neck, gripping his snow white hair softly.

But as lust filled the night and kisses grew more heated, a loud gurgling sound in your stomach broke the tension like a knife. Your eyes immediately snapped open and you pulled away, sputtering out a cough from the surprise and embarrassment coming from your belly.

You heard Gojou laugh aloud. He tucked his chin down so you could see his piercing blue eyes behind his shades lock directly with yours. He arched an eyebrow up and a coy smirk was plastered on his face.

“You hungry?” He asked, voice lush and teasing.

“Gojou!” Your face flushed with embarrassment as you clutched one hand over your stomach and another hand over your mouth, wiping away the string of saliva from your swollen lips  that connected the two of you. Gojou let out a chuckle, caressing your thighs up and down. You looked so cute with your face flushed where a minute ago your eyes were glazed with lust and now you looked like an adorable innocent puppy.

“Do you want to go grab something to eat?” He asked, leaning in to plant his lips on your neck. You could feel the light chuckle dancing on his lips on your neck, making you feel even more embarrassed.

You didn’t want to abruptly stop everything. There was still fiery passion in your heart and a pool of heat waiting to be released so you bit your lip and shook your head in response.

“Let’s continue,” you said timidly.

Gojou chuckled and he moved his hand up to cup your cheek, admiring your features as you looked at him somewhat shyly now. His laughter began to fade as he caressed your right cheek tenderly, eyeing your still-swollen lips once more before tilting your chin downwards to taste it once again. But before he could press his lips against yours, another gurgling noise from your stomach echoed the room and you pulled away, head turning to the side giving everything up while Gojou lets out abrupt fits of laughter.

“ARGH! I can’t kiss like this!” You cried frustratedly, shifting your hips around his lap in disappointed. The intense makeout session was now replaced with Gojou laughs that were so infectious that even your lips couldn’t help but twitch a smile.

“Hey!” You pouted at him, still clutching your stomach.

“Awe its okay, it’s cute! We can always continue later. You just tasted something too sweet,” Gojou stated with a smirk, making you playfully push his shoulder away. He wraps your waist and lifts his knees up once more so you were propped higher.

“Come on, let’s go out then. Mind as well stop by somewhere to aid that stomach of yours ,” He said giving you a quick peck on the lips to wipe away that cute embarrassed look that you still had.

Your eyes slowly brightened and a smile began to form.  “Now?”

“Now,” Gojou mirrored back your smile as you clapped happily and got off his lap, grabbing your coat.

You pondered for a bit at the thought and a big grin flashed across your face. “Convenient store junk it is!” You happily squealed making a quick twirl in the room. It was past midnight but eating the goodies from the convenient store during this time of day was just as special as a fancy dinner out. It has been one of your common shared memories with Gojou and you couldn’t have anything better planned.

Gojou propped himself up and watched you jump up and down already listing all the things you wanted to buy out loud, even counting all the items with your fingers. His heart swells up with a soft feeling and his cocky smirk was replaced with a soft one. Only you could make him feel such a feeling…the same exact feeling when he sees you smile, laugh, or even when you were talking about something so passionately. He realized he was probably lost in his thoughts for a while because when you turned around to see him still sitting on the edge of the bed, your eyes laced in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

Gojou blinked behind his shades shook his head.

“Nothing…” he said in a surprisingly low voice. You saw a soft gentle smile form on his lips which made you bit your lip in awe.

You slowly made your way over to him and your laced your fingers through his hair once more, caressing it in a way that he likes. You hummed in satisfactory when Gojou wrapped his arms around you again.

“Y/N?”

You looked down, and in that moment, you lifted a hand to take off his shades, revealing his ice blue eyes and white eyelashes at its full beauty and glory. His eyes were soft…not in lust or sadness…but rather….pure euphoria.

“Hm?” You responded with a smile, gently gliding a thumb right below his eye.

“I love you.”

You froze, staring down at him in suprise with your eyes widened. This wasn’t the first time Gojou had said this to you, but every time he does it shows his soft side. A side he doesn’t normally show to others. His words always sends something so special to your heart, something that couldn’t be replaced. You weren’t used to hearing it but oh, how you loved it so much.

You smiled back and leaned down for a sweet kiss on the lips. You pulled away to admire your boyfriend’s face once more.

“I love you too, Satoru~”

[goshikitsutomusmommy]

“Incorrect Quotes with Haikyuu Boys„

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9 , Part 10

Synopsis : Different Quotes From Brooklyn-Nine-Nine as Haikyuu Characters

Genre : Comedy

Pairing(s) : Atsumu x reader , Nishinoya x reader , Shirabu x reader , Oikawa x reader

Word Count : 1.03k

Warning(s) : She/her pronouns used , slight violence , suicide mentioned once , eating disorder undertones

Masterlist Link : Here

*Inarizaki manager in this*

Ginjima : Dance with me, Tsum-tsum.

*Whatta Man by Salt ’N’ Pepa’s starts playing*

Atsumu : Ha! No, and a will never dance to that song.

[Name] : Way to go, Tsum-tsum, *Throws a bunch of colorful thumbtacks*.

Ginjima : Whoa!

Atsumu : Are those thumbtacks? What the hell, [Name]?

[Name] : I thought they’d make good confetti.

*Nekoma manager in this*

[Name] : We’re supposed to die together— me in a big explosion, and you committing suicide at my funeral out of respect!

Lev : I know!

*Karasuno manager in this*

[Name] : *Peacefully doing manager duties*.

Nishinoya : *Startling her*, Hands up, [Name].

[Name] : *Quickly put him in a headlock*.

Nishinoya : Hey— no, no, no— It’s Noya! Your boyfriend!

[Name] : Aww, boyfriend.

Nishinoya : *Still in a headlock*, Yeah. Can you release me now?

[Name] : Oh, right! Yeah!

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

[Name] : That is so cartoony, thumbs down.

Shirabu : What does that even mean?

[Name] : The human languages cannot fully capture the depth and complexity of my thoughts, so I’m incorporating emoji into my speech to better express myself. Winky face.

Shirabu : Oh, god.

*Inarizaki manager in this*

Atsumu : Look, let’s just agree to say “I’m sorry.” on the count of three. One, two, three.

[Name] : *Unimpressed silence*, ...

Atsumu : See? Now, I’m just disappointed in both of us.

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

Shirabu : Coach asked us to stay after school for extra practice. I had plans tonight!

Reon : It’s okay, you can reschedule your plans.

[Name] : Mhmm, or you could just lie to coach. That’s my policy for everything and it always works.

Shirabu : I’m not gonna lie. I’ll just tell the coach that I have important plans, and he’ll understand.

[Name] : Mm-kay! But, if you do lie! You can’t go wrong with dental emergency. Or death of a triplet. Now that one you can use twice! Haha, smart!

*Later that morning*

Shirabu : My apologies, but I don’t think I’m gonna be able to be at practice today.

Coach Washijou : Why is that?

Shirabu : ... Dental emergency. I’m getting my wisdom teeth pulled.

*Shiratorizawa manager in this*

*Semi, Shirabu, and manager try dieting together*

Part 1/4

Goshiki : *Accidentally bumping into manager and making her drop her food*. I’ll get that for you, [Name]-San! *Misplacing his feet and stepping on the food*, Oops!

[Name] : *Screech*.

Goshiki : Butter feet— sorry about that!

[Name] : Sorry? You bumbling son of a bitch! You just ruined my life! I hope you get hit by a truck and a dog takes a dump on your face!

Semi : Nothing to see here— just a little hypoglycemic rage. Move along!

[Name] : I’m so sorry, Goshiki! That’s not me, I’m never like this!

Goshiki : It’s okay! It was my fault, I shouldn’t have bumped your cashew.

[Name] : Cashew? It was almond, you idiot!

Semi : Shirabu, get your girlfriend.

*Shirabu stepping in and dragging her out*

[Name] : I hope you drown in a tub! I hope you have aneurysm after aneurysm after aneurysm!

Part 2/4

Semi : Where is she?

Shirabu : She went outside like, 20 minutes ago.

*Both of them leave the school gym and follow a trail of burger wrappers they see on the ground*

Semi : [Name], where are you? It’s cantaloupe time!

[Name] : *Chewing two burgers at a time*.

Semi : [Name]! Stop! It’s not too late.

[Name] : I failed, Semi-San! This is my second burger!

Shirabu : ...

[Name] : Okay, I lied! This is my fifth!

Semi : You both betrayed me!

Part 3/4

[Name] : Please eat, Semi-San. You look weak.

Semi : I’m fine! I’m stronger than ever! Watch this, *Heads to a car and desperately attempts to lift it*.

Shirabu : Semi-San, what are you doing?

[Name] : No, no, no, no, no... No!

Semi : See? I’m fine! *Stomach gurgling sounds*.

Shirabu : What is happening?

Semi : Just a tummy gurgle, diet messed up my system... Oh no... *Farting sounds*, Go back inside! *Groaning*.

[Name] : Are you talking to us, or the fart?

Part 4/4

*Semi sulking whilst sitting on the bench*

[Name] : *Milkshake in hand*, Why the long fart? Oh, I meant ‘face’. Why the long face?

Semi : Keep walking, [Surname].

[Name] : Okay, but this is really good, *Shaking milkshake*.

Shirabu : *Nodding whilst eating his chips*.

[Name] : Listen. Shh. Shh. Listen. *Loud slurping sounds*.

Semi : That’s it! I give up!

Shirabu : Why do you care so much about this diet? You’re in perfect shape.

[Name] : Mhmm, amen!~

*Aoba Johsai manager in this*

Part 1/4

Coach Irihata : The good news is, if you go and apologize right now, he’ll let the whole thing go.

[Name] : Fine, I’m great at apologizing. I’m a very sweet person. *Walks out the room and pushes Kindaichi out of the way*.

Kindaichi : Ohh!

[Name] : Out of my way, dork.

Part 2/4

Coach Irihata : How is your apology to Oikawa going?

[Name] : I’ve been working on a letter to send to him

Coach Irihata : Yes... I saw a draft of it on the bench.

[Name] : What did you think?

Coach Irihata : It was so horrifying, I had to destroy the whole pad.

Part 3/4

[Name] : Oikawa, I came here to say I’m sorry.

Oikawa : Oh, good! Go ahead.

[Name] : No, that was it. I did it, I said “I’m sorry.” Hey I said it again. Now I got one in the bank, so I can do whatever I want to you.

Oikawa : What are you even sorry for?

[Name] : Come on, man. I said the words. I paused afterwards. I even averted my gaze to make you feel like the alpha.

Oikawa : Yeah, but you didn’t mean it! I’d like you to apologize like you mean it.

[Name] : Fine. I’m sorry you screwed up my entire day. I’m sorry you’re a terrible volleyball player. I’m sorry for your goat face, rodent brain, and your weird goose body. I meant all of that.

Part 4/4

[Name] : Hey, Oikawa. I’m sorry for making fun of you in front of everybody... And also for making fun of you behind your back.

Oikawa : Didn’t know you did that, but thank you for the apology, [Name]-Chan!

[Name] : I’m not done. Also, sorry for making fun of you during my book club. Those people don’t even know you. That was uncool.

Author’s Note : I think it’s very obvious that I was in a mood to write for Shirabu JANDKDJXEN, I just love him Sm and he’s so underrated— OH AND THANK YOU FOR 20 FOLLOWERS, THIS MEANS SMEJDENDN ILYYY

[yemilnisu]

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED PT. 2

nisu entries:

a part two because i said so 🥴 i really enjoy these and you guys seems to enjoy it too i assume 💀 and i may or may not have a part 3 in my drafts ksksks

warning: swearing

「part 1」

Kenma: i don’t think anybody wants to spend any time here (earth)

Kuroo: that! so they (aliens) just blow it up.

Kenma: oh. *shrugs* if that happens, who cares?

Kuroo: i care because i live here!

Kenma: yeah, but then everyone's dead so nothing matters and that's kinda cool. i mean, what a privilege it would be-

Kuroo: you sound like a movie villain right now!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i'm not even thinking that. i'm tweetin' and i'm streaming. wait- do i have my significant social media followers?

Osamu: you don’t have any following at this point 'cause you're suna rintaro in the timeline where you're at nasa.

Suna: …oh. i don’t even wanna live.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: you know, this was supposed to be the season of respecting ghosts and every time i've tried to do that, you yell at me to disrespect them.

Oikawa: i'm telling you to be true to who you are.

Matsukawa: i mean, that is certainly valid.

Oikawa: (laughs)

Matsukawa: 'cause i am living a lie otherwise because we're talking to air!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: oh, i see it. there's a bird right there.

Bokuto: oh, there's a bunch up there. hey, bros.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Nishinoya: you know, i didn’t walk down west cell block.

*nishinoya humming and walking to west cell block*

Nishinoya: it's nice over here, i like it.

(high pitched whistling)

(distant thudding)

Nishinoya: *stops*

Nishinoya: if that's somebody up there, make that noise again in your cell.

(distant thud)

Nishinoya: ha-ha i fucking hate this place. i really do.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Voice: (whispers) atsumu.

Atsumu: who is that?

Atsumu: *looking around for the voice* *lowkey scared*

Osamu: do you hear the little whispers?

Atsumu: please.

Osamu: oops. (laughs)

Suna: *behind the camera snickering because he was the one who suggested it*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Lev: oh fuck, i forgot the spirit box, shit.

Kenma: go get it!

Lev: my hands are full 🥺

Kenma: well, try your best.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Bokuto: *baby voice* it's a little cockroach. you seen any ghosts up here, fella?

Kuroo: (laughs)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ushijima: do you feel like you have someone else's thoughts?

Tendou: sometimes.

Ushijima: that wasn't the question. i think you misunderstood me.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: so right now, we’re in the captain's quarters.

Kuroo: is there anybody in here that wants to speak to us?

Bokuto: spill your beans, buddy.

Kuroo: what did you do on this ship?

Bokuto: he probably commanded it.

Kuroo: you know, i was asking him.

Bokuto: what'd you do on this ship?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tanaka: if you'd like us to leave and shut up, which frankly almost anybody who interacts with us for more than five minutes would like us to do, move something.

Nishinoya: spank us on the bottom!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: i mean, this sink is absolutely disgusting. this is maybe the scariest thing i’ve seen in all six seasons of this show.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: *waving at his reflection*

Oikawa: always nice to see a friendly face.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: i don’t know why people think darkness is actually scary because i can’t see anything. it was scarier when the lights were on 'cause i could see you know filth, things falling apart.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Semi: (knocking) let's boogie, folks! little guy needs a win. ghost, that would be great. if you got a mummy or a vampire, also good. i think he'd also count that as sort of proof of the supernatural.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: please haunt me! i’m begging you to haunt me! scare the shit out of me! do something! (laughs)

Tsukishima: how many times do i have to plead with air, with nothing? i’m speaking to no one right now.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Shirabu: if you don’t pop out, then i’ve wasted several years of my life. i mean, i went to college, and my major was not ghost hunting.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: what's 'tsumu doing in there? who the hell knows? he's probably gonna take out his little spirit box.

*meanwhile at atsumu*

Atsumu: i’m gonna fire up the spirit box now. i am shaking 'cause i’m so scared 😄

*back to osamu*

Osamu: it’s probably gonna say something that doesn’t sound like any words any human's ever spoken.

*back to atsumu*

(spirit box blares)

Spirit box: "do it"

Atsumu: oh shit!

*back to osamu*

Osamu: he'll probably respond to it like he's sitting across the table from a friend, playing scrabble.

*back to atsumu*

Atsumu: did you say ‘do it’ or 'tsumu?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: old timey jails, very fun to visit... and that’s all i’ve got to say about that *sips coffee*

Asahi: (chuckles) nothing about the ghouls?

Sugawara: there will be no ghouls, there will be dust, there will be noises that you, you know, pee your pants over.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(bang)

Matsukawa: oh?

Hanamaki: ooh, a nice little drum hit.

Matsukawa: yeah, we got a beatboxing demon in here?

(bang)

Hanamaki: oh, shit, another one!

Matsukawa: *starts beatboxing*

Hanamaki: 🎶 my name is makki and i’m here to say. we’re the baddest ghost hunters in the usa. hunting demons and ghouls too 🎶

(unintelligible sound from the spirit box)

Hanamaki: what?

Matsukawa: *beatboxing*

Hanamaki: wait, hold on, we actually got a response!

Matsukawa: *still beatboxing*

Hanamaki: stop beatboxing! (laughing)

Matsukawa: huh, oh, sorry.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Koganegawa: *whispering* choo choo pickle pie.

Futakuchi: (wheeze) choo choo pickle pie, what the f--?

Koganegawa: i don’t know. i’m just thinking of a funny thing a ghost could whisper

Futakuchi: (wheeze)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: and by the way, if you want a little more one-on-one time with the tsutomu here, he'll be here alone soon enough.

Goshiki: …

Tendou: *backing away while keeping eye contact with goshiki *

Goshiki: it’s a long way to back out. you gonna keep that speed going?

Tendou: is the door behind me?

Goshiki: it’s close.

Tendou: *still backing away but carefully trying to avoid the door without looking behind him and eye contact still on goshiki*

Goshiki: did that work out the way you wanted?

Tendou: *still backing away*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: you gonna sit in that chair? we’re not allowed to.

Hinata: oh, yeah.

Kageyama: but we are the internet's paranormal bad boys.

Hinata: (chuckle) that’s right, were controversial.

Kageyama: we’re planning cheek to chair, baby. you ain’t gonna stop me.

Hinata: i’m sitting in that thing bare ass.

Kageyama: i’m gonna give that thing a high-five with my butt cheeks.

*later at the location*

Kageyama: yeah, not gonna happen, i’m not sitting on that.

Hinata: that looks like a death trap.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Shirabu: the human mind, if it’s looking for something, it'll find something. and he's going to find something. and it will destroy him.

*meawhile*

Goshiki: holy shit. it felt like something walked past me twice, one from the right side, once on the left side.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: it’s gone quiet now and i’m afraid he’s dead.

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[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

A World-- Unsure

dabi / f.reader 

genre: real world to parallel world au? (is that an au? it’ll make sense dw), angst, pinning, fools to lovers? (or dabi is stubborn/scared as all get out)

warning(s): blood, violence/bar fight, descriptions of injuries, cursing (dabi and i both have a potty mouth oops) 

w.count: 9.4k 

synopsis: You were someone in the middle.  You had no mega praise for heros to speak of, but you also had no ill will towards villains either- you had seen both sides. After a few years running a hidden, underground medical base for villains who needed treatment beneath the bar that you ran and owned, you’ve met your fair share of villains.  It was odd to think of them as good people, since you depended on them a lot if you got yourself into a pinch.  In fact, a lot of your patients became bar regulars on the public downlow. It’s not a big shock that you end up meeting Dabi.  

a/n: teehee, first time writing for dabi! I’m pretty excited not gonna lie, since this idea was pretty interesting to think about.  this is the first part of A World -- a two part series! I’ll be working on the next part asap, so hopefully it won’t be a horribly long wait- but we’ll see how my time management is in the long run lol.  (also, the draft was like 8.6k, i dunno how i added a whole 800 more words)

-x-x-x-

You stood behind the bar, shining glasses as you set up the counter and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall just above the entrance of the small pub.  You sighed as you set the glass down before taking the rag you were using and throwing it over your shoulder.  It was quiet in the open room filled with circular tabs, rectangular booths and metal rimmed chairs- quiet except for the footsteps of employees prepping for opening. 

Your black jeans hung on your waist as your white button up was slightly wrinkled, the long sleeves rolled as best as possible up to your elbows.  Your hair up and out of the way so you wouldn’t be constantly fighting it when the rush started.  There was a small, pocket apron around your waist with a pocket for a receipt book, a pen, some napkins and pain medicine just in case another headache walked in the door tonight and a few other odds and ends. The only other thing on your person was the new pair of steel toed boots you had indulged yourself to.  

“Hey, Boss Lady,” one of your employees called. You looked around, seeing the one who called you peeking their head around from inside the rec room. The room itself was probably one of the most expensive rooms you’ve ever put together.  A pool table in the middle of the room, dart boards on either side of the room, a small little entertainment center, a sofa and another mini bar inside run by a trusted bargirl you hired when you opened your pub doors for the first time. 

“What is it?” 

“Is the rec room rented out for the night? I heard some of the others saying it was.”  

That was something else that was different about your little hole in the wall.  Since you weren’t all that popular or big enough for a special vip area or an area in general for occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, your patrons could call and make reservations and get the rec room rented out. However, you only let the room be rented on Fridays, Saturdays and Wednesdays.  The other days, it was open for anyone to come and go as they please so long as nothing is damaged. 

It was Friday night. You couldn’t think of anyone renting it out tonight, but there was a group coming in tomorrow so long as they don’t cancel on you. 

You shook your head. “No.  It’s tomorrow when it’s rented.  You’re clear to leave the dividing ropes put away.” 

“Right on,” they thumbs upped you before retreating back into the room to prep and clean before opening. 

7:45, a quarter ‘till eight- opening time.  You cupped one hand around your mouth. “Hurry up and get your final prepping all done.  Quarter ‘till!” Your employees all made some sort of response or sound back to you, signaling that they understood.  

Part of you always felt a little guilty each opening night since you knew it wasn’t just regular citizens or the occasional hero off duty who frequented your pub.  You knew of the bad people who walk in the doors, stay for a drink and leave without causing a ruckus.  You knew of them, because, unknown to your employees, you had a second job. 

A second job that had a lot to do with the large, concrete basement of your pub that you refused to tell them about.  It wouldn’t be a great business move if you just told people you let villains sneak into your pub to go into the basement where you had a large array of (stolen) medical equipment to treat their injuries. 

-x-x-x-

It was well into the midnight rush of the night when the door opened again.  The loud combination of everyone’s murmurs and the smell of every type of alcohol someone could name off filtered through the air and almost made you pull out your medicine. After three years running this place, one would think you’d become accustomed to the smells combined with the noise.  To no avail. 

You had stepped back away from the bar, your back close to the shelves behind you lined with bottles, cups, glasses, and a small old-style antenna radio that, despite being turned on, wasn’t heard over the ruckus. 

Heading to the opposite side of the bar after being paged by some random man for a neat glass of whiskey.  You snagged a glass, grabbing a bottle of the cheapest brand you could find- because this man’s lack of manners towards a lady, bargirl or not, didn’t impress you.  Pouring the liquor into the glass like it was second nature, you reached under the bar to scoop out a sphere of ice to drop into the glass.  

Sliding it over to the already tipsy looking man, you were called- more politely this time- from another patron for a bottle of beer.  Smiling at him and signaling to him that you heard him, you trotted over to the mini fridge under the bar and grabbed the brand he requested.  

As you carefully, and skillfully, popped the tab off with the bar’s edge, you placed the bottle on a coaster and slid it over to him, tapping the bar top with your hand and serving him with a smile.  He thanked you, which you were appreciative of, before he turned to his friend next to him and continued conversing.  

Moving back to the middle of the bar, you noticed a few empty glasses in front of empty bar stools with bills pinned under them.  Taking the bills and pocketing them, you took the glasses and stashed them below the bar in a small tub you kept in a metal cart for easily putting dirty dishes for later. 

As you wiped down the bar top, you saw another person, clad in a full black get-up slide into a bar stool that was recently left vacant.  They weren’t far from you, just a few feet, but you could smell the scent of smoke on them.  You sighed, knowing exactly who it was.  Anyone would think that the man who just sat down was just a heavy smoker- and he was, but not so much recently so he claims- but you knew better. 

He lifted his arm to rest his elbow on the bar, his chin resting in his palm as you felt him stare at you.  

You didn’t say a thing to him, only got a glass off the shelf behind you, mixed some coke with some rum and added a scoop of ice, before placing the glass on some napkins and sliding it towards him. 

“Like usual?” You asked, retracting your hand as he had already started to pick up the glass to sip on it. 

“Like usual,” he confirmed.  This particular man had a deep voice, always laced with a small rough sound- more rough when he’s tired or just plain exhausted.  It was a side effect of the smoking and other smoke-like quirks of his personality.  “You seem busy tonight.”

“We’re always busy on Fridays, nothing unusual about that.  It’s the start of the weekend, everyone wants to drink.” You threw your cleaning rag over your shoulder, shouting to a call of another bar sitting patron as you felt the black, clad, mask covered man’s eyes on your. “You gonna stick around all night, or are you gonna drink and go this time?” 

He pulled his mask down to uncover his mouth, dark scars showing under the hood of his jacket just long enough to take a sip, and pull it back over his face.  Setting the glass down, he let out a breath and circled his finger along the rim. 

“I think I’ll stick around, just to annoy you.” You could hear the smirk on his face as you held back an eye roll for professionalism’s sake. 

“How courteous, thank you so very much.” He chuckled at your reply as you left your place in front of him to tend to others paging you left and right. He pushed his curled hand into his cheek as he watched you pad back and forth behind the long bar.  You should be grateful he at least planned on paying tonight. 

He remained on his barstool the next few hours, only shifting to look around, take a short spin on the stool, or stand to stretch his hunched body before sitting back down.  Each time his glass was close to empty, you’d knock your knuckles on the bar top- a signal asking if he wanted a refill- and he'd either knock back or keep the glass away from you as a form of saying yes or no. 

Though, it wouldn’t be a proper Friday night mid-shift without something going wrong. 

You weren’t sure why, but when 2 am started rolling around, you always grew weary of your patrons.  It was the prime time for tipsy, or smashed, people to start trouble. Whether with you, or with other paying customers, or  even your employees.  Out of all options, you wished they’d pester you so you don’t have to deal with someone else being harassed.  Though, even when it did happen to you- which was often since your place was stuck behind a wooden, polished bar- you didn’t ever appreciate it. 

You glanced around the filled room and saw a few familiar faces of villains you had treated before who decided to stay in your good graces. 

Them being there did make you feel a bit better about you own safety since you knew if something were to happen, they’d jump up to throw down on your behalf, even if you could handle yourself plenty well. 

You were once again wiping down the wood of your bar for the gazillionth time this evening when some scumbag, a smashed man who was well over your age, stumbled his way to the bar and slumped himself into a stool and leaned over the counter like some hunchbacked gargoyle. 

He reached over the bar to start to fiddle with the beer spigots that lined the end of it. Before he could create a giant mess in the tray beneath them and onto the floor, you rushed over and slapped his hands away.  

Instead of hissing at your stinging slaps, he whistled at your actions to keep your property away from him grime hands as you rolled your eyes.  

“Sir, keep your hands off of the bar tools.” You reached over and grabbed the half empty bottle of beer from his hands before you poured the rest of the alcohol out of it and tossed it under the bar into the bin where it clinked together with the other beer bottles you’ve tossed tonight. “I’m cutting you off. Sober up, leave your payment and get out before I have you thrown out.” 

From down the bar, you knew the scarred man in black was watching you. Whenever this kind of scene went down, you could feel his and all the other familiar eyes on you.  For villains, they sure were people of action and debt. Made you feel bad for calling them villains- if you didn’t think about the crimes they most definitely committed on a day-to-day basis. 

The drunk man slurred what you assumed was probably something close to reluctance at you cutting him off for the night and your swift decision to kick him out after he paid what he owed.  

Persistently reaching over to try and yank on the spigots again, you once again slapped his hands away, going a step further and grabbing his wrists and tossing them away back over to his side of the bar. 

“I won’t ask you again, sir.” 

Your familiar scarred man set down his drink, the contents in it empty as the remaining, semi-melted ice cubes fell together in satisfying clinks against the glass. 

It was times like now where you wished the quirk laws would allow you to use your quirk publicly without a permit or license because of riffraff like this oh-so-lovely hammered gentleman.  You were one to break the rules anyways, so you would if push came to shove regardless and you knew that your customers would keep their mouths shut about it.  

You’ve gone many a night with bar fights and tassels and not a single cop was called because you could handle the situation yourself, or your trusty villain’s had your back. Your little pub and you were a bend in the rules with a great camouflage jacket over your head and trustful patrons willing to keep a secret or get so drunk they don’t remember what happened.  Either option suited you well. 

You weren't a hero, nor a villain.  You were in the middle- a civilian with some spare time and no interest in sharing what you did the time you're not running your pub. 

The man stood from his stool the moment you turned your back to him and not only did he shove his arm against three different beer spigots in a clumsy fall against the bar, but he partly climbed over the bar, reached towards you and yanked you back by your shoulder just so he could get a solid slap on your ass. 

The shriek you let out wasn’t loud, it was more of shock of what was happening, followed by instant disgust.  Your rear stung at the strength the disgusting man used to slap it before he was drunkenly laughing, his gross breath wafting towards you from his half climbed over body. 

Before you could take care of the situation yourself, he was yanked back off to his side of the bar onto his wobbly feet. The instant his feet hit the tile and his chin even twitched to look around to see what yanked him back, glass shattered across his face. 

The scarred man who had silently kept you company tonight- and previous nights before that- had grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, yanked him back and away from you as you righted the beer spigots that had already created a big enough mess and smashed his empty, rum glass against the side of his head. 

The drunk man hit the ground, grabbing and holding his head as blood dripped from the side of his face and ear.  The scarred man looked down at him, shaking his hand about, the purple scars of his wrist showing as he shook the limb.  The glass seemed to nick his palm a bit upon impact, but nothing compared to the nasty wound on the drunk’s face.  

As the drunk lay on the ground, groaning and bleeding, your defender bent to riffle through his pocket and nabbed his wallet.  Pulling out both a card and a wad of cash, he held both towards you. 

“What’s his tab?” His rough voice was stern as you just sighed.  

You plucked bills from his hand, a handful of twenties, before you put it into your pocket.  You looked around, seeing a table from the corner lift a bill in his hand before he waved it at you.  You nodded- they were signaling they had his bill.  They then held up four fingers and then a fist.  A four dollar tab.  You decided that you’d keep the extra as a bonus and maybe tip your workers as well for his behavior.  

“He’s good to go.” You said as the scarred man put the card back into his wallet and shoved it back into his jacket pocket.  He then picked the drunk off the tile and shoved him out the doors before making his way back to the bar. 

He stepped over his glass and ice mess as he toed at a larger piece of glass that used to be the bottom of it.  He then looked at you with a shrug. You could practically seem the smirk on his face before he spoke.

“My bad.” 

Instead of saying anything, you placed a small plastic tub on the bar top and slid it towards him. You flicked your eyes down and he just sighed.  Squatting, he picked up his mess of glass and ice the best he could before he gave the tub back to you to throw away.  You had already gotten a start on the beer mess that made your nose twitch at the stench.  

You always hated the smell of beer. 

“Smells like piss,” you muttered to yourself. The scarred man heard you loud and clear though and he stifled a laugh at your annoyance. Once you had it more or less cleaned, you glanced at the closed fist of the man’s cut up hand. You saw small beads of red drop onto your bar. You pushed a handful of napkins towards him to squeeze into his palm. “Come down when we close. We’ll get your hand properly cleaned up.” 

He didn’t argue. Just chuckled as he took a sip out of his water bottle you had placed in front of him as he shut the napkins in his grip tightly. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

-x-x-x-

4 am: closing time.  You sigh as you bid your final employee farewell before you locked the door behind them. You sighed as you walked back to the bar, untying your apron from your waist on the way.  You emptied the pockets and placed whatever was inside on the bar top.  There was only one person left in the bar, in the same stool he had been in all night.  

You thumbed through the bills in your pockets, rounding to behind the bar and unlocking the always locked money drawer just under the far end of the counter where a small card swipe sat for patrons not paying with cash.  

Tucking your cash safely away and locking the drawer shut you stashed the key on the keyring with all your other keys in the pocket of your jeans.  You pulled your phone from your back pocket and checked the time.  About half after now.  

“Okay,” you spoke, the man already standing. “Come around the bar and we’ll head down.” 

He followed your lead, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his large jacket with his hood still on even in the new found privacy.  You walked back into the kitchen and beyond to a small landing that had an unlabeled door and then a separate staircase leading upward past a different doorframe.  He looked up the stairs, knowing full well that beyond them lays your apartment.  

Part of him was envious that you lived in your place of work. Technically, he could live in his, but he had his own separate place of peace away for breathers. He could only deal with his comrades for so long in a single span of time. 

You unlocked the unlabeled door that you told everyone who asked was just a closet for your personal belongings that didn’t fit up in the apartment. Opening it, another set of stairs that lead down was beyond it. 

Descending them, the man followed and shut the door behind him. He locked it when it was shut at his back. There was a different entrance to the basement he was descending into outside the bar anyways for the people who knew it was there and needed it.  

At the bottom, you flipped on the lights to the large, open room.  It wasn’t a giant space, but it was large enough to move around and there was a sofa, a work bench you used as a counter for coffee and random objects, tables and chairs for your patients waiting comfortably.  There were two rooms off two of the left side of the main ‘waiting room’ and one to the right- all solitary rooms for overnight patients.  The furthest back room had no door and just past the frame was a storage room of medicine, wraps, gauze, antiseptics, salves- just whatever you could get your hands on. 

You’re even occasionally gifted treatment items from past clients in hopes to repay the debt they feel they may owe you.

You point towards the long, hard top operating table in the back as you make your way to one of the shelves on the wall.  You kept all the basic first aid out in the open since they were easy to replace.

“Go sit,” you direct as the man flipped off his hood and unzipped his jacket.  His white tank top was wrinkle from being inside the stuffy jacket all night and he adjusted his belt to sit comfortably and not pull on his belt loops to dig into his hips.  Ruffling his black hair, he made his way to the table to lean against it. 

You were soon in front of him, hand out towards him asking for his own to inspect.  

“You’re always causing some sort of scene every time you come by. You realize it’s getting old, right Dabi?” 

The face stapled, scarred pyro-villain just grinned down at you, chest jolting with a scoff of amusement as you pulled the blood beaded napkins he held in his hand since you gave it to him away. Then, you poked around with tweezers pulling small pieces of glass away from his skin.

“Don’t lie. You love when I come by. Besides, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.” 

“I don’t need to be ‘kept on my toes’,” you tutted, making sure there were no pieces of glass left in his palm.  When there appeared to be none, you started dabbing the small cuts with antiseptic as he just kept leisurely leaning on your table.  “If you keep coming here and just to get all cut up, I’m going to start charging you for not only your drinks, but all the patching up I do to you too.” 

“Oh, you’d never,” he mused. He knew you all too well and he also knew that even if he were here daily for scratching his knee or getting a paper cut, you’d never have the heart to charge him anything when it came to treatment.  

Maybe he took advantage of that, maybe he didn’t.  

It didn’t help that he knew you had the hots for him- I mean, you did tell him about how you felt weeks ago; straight o his face no less. He just brushed it all off, knowing good and well that he and relationships in general just didn’t work out.  Besides, he was someone the public knew the face of and he wasn’t just someone to pass on the street and forget the face of.  

Dabi rejected you, you knew he would, but he let you down as easy as he could.  You just simply wanted to put your feelings out there so nothing would be awkward in the future.  It stung sure, but you felt more open with your feelings not bottled up in secrecy.

You wrapped his hand in gauze and called it good enough, placing all your things back where they were. Dabi looked at his hand, flipping it back and forth as he inspected how neatly you’ve gotten at wrapping bandages since the very first time. 

“Not bad,” he hummed. The first time he heard of you and came to get treated, you had to treat a nasty gash on his leg and you were clumsily with your bandaging since he was already covered in scars.  You were so confused on if you could cover them or not and if you did, if there was a special way.  You leaved quickly though. 

“Not like you could do any better.  You don’t really need any more stitches or staples than you already have.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t think they’re sexy,” he teased as he stood up straight, plunging his hands into his pants pockets as he began to follow you around the basement room to room like a dog.  You soon left your basement, going back up the stairs, opening the door and leaving before going up the second set of stairs leading up to your apartment.  

Dabi followed you the entire way with a shit eating grin on his face.  

You sighed as you unlocked your apartment door and looked over your shoulder and down to the burnt man just behind you on lower stair steps.  

“Do you need something?” 

“Yeah. Inside.” 

You cursed under your breath, going inside and him following knowing that you couldn’t argue him out of it.  He often did this, getting treated and then going up to your apartment.  In fact, there was a time when he would pick your lock and let himself in, so you ended up making him a copy so he could just stop doing it. 

He may not be good in relationships and definitely not looking for one, on top of rejecting you, but he could very well enjoy his evenings pestering you instead. they were two distinctly different situations.   

Kicking off his boots and fumbling with his jacket, he hung it on the coat wrack- not willing to be yelled at by you for making your home a mess with his junk again- and let himself in.  He immediately made a beeline for your living room and plopped himself on your couch like he owned the place and paid your bills.  

You had ventured to the kitchen before you went to the living room and tossed him something.  Catching it, he saw a poptart in his hand, still wrapped in it’s aluminum wrapping.  

“Eat. I’m taking a shower.” He shrugged as you turned and headed to shower as he flipped on your television and let himself finally relax. 

It was odd, being around you and in your home.  He didn’t even feel this relaxed and loose in his own apartment by himself.  Where he lived was nothing fancy and it was cheap, but it was his and the location was kept on the downlow just like he needed.  Spending time with the league was fine and dandy, but they could be so damned irritating sometimes, so he didn’t dare even try and nap at the base. 

He let his head fall back against the couch and he took deep breaths.  

On occasions like this, he did feel a bit guilty.  It’s not like he was actually taking advantage of your feelings or your kindness to do what he wanted, you were just  too nice for your own good and let him. Don’t get him wrong, you would scold him if he did something you didn’t like- like leaving his jacket on the floor- so it wasn’t like you didn’t want him here. 

Dabi could hear your shower running just barely under the sound of the tv’s noise.  Sometimes, he’d find himself thinking back to when you told him how you felt and how easily you accepted the fact he said no. 

He was just coming back from another stupid league mission and had a pretty nasty cut behind his left shoulder. You were cleaning the blood off his skin, trying not to snag your rags in any staples before you were smearing something onto the wound, making him sigh in of relief of the cooling sensation. 

It was when you were pasting a gauze pad on his shoulder and patching it on securely when you blurted out that you liked him. All he did when you said that was laugh at you, to which your silence that followed explained that you weren’t joking and were in fact serious.  He looked at you with a face you hadn’t seen before, a look of vulnerability for just a moment, before it shifted to one of seriousness. 

“I’m not interested. Sorry, doll.” You nodded at his quick rejection. Though you accepted it fairly easily, he could still see the slight furrow of your brow and dip in your lips with his rejection.  You may have even seen his rejection coming, but hearing it still had to be a blow to your heart. 

He was glad the relationship between you two hadn’t changed regardless of how you felt and how he said no.  You still put up with his bullshit and he still hung around like a fly you couldn’t smash under a flyswatter because it kept evading the strikes.  It was still comfortable here- in your place. 

Dabi stood from the couch, moving to your window only to lean out when he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. You had really gotten on his ass once when you caught him smoking in the middle of your living room without a window even open.  You told him to smoke out a window, or go outside to contaminate his lungs claiming you dealt with the smell of smoke enough during bar hours. 

Flicking a small, blue flame with his index finger, he lit the stick and huffed.  Nicotine really accompanied his quirk- it was like he and cigarettes were just meant to be since he himself was a human-sized lighter.

He heard the door to your bathroom open and soon you stepped out with grey sweat and a cheap, cutoff shirt that just barely exposed your stomach on, towel drying your hair.  You looked at him, water still barely dripping off your eyelashes and hair strands untouched by the towel.  

“Glad to see you’re listening to me,” you told him as you nodded towards the smoke that he took a draw from.  He puffed the smoke out the window as he turned around to lean against the open pane.  His hand out the window to keep the crumbling ash from dropping inside.  

“I can behave sometimes too, you know.”

You scoffed at him, turning to grab a water bottle from your fridge in the kitchen and returning to the living room.  “Yeah, not likely.” You sat on the couch to mindlessly watch whatever channel the tv was on and once Dabi and finished smoking, he shut the window and rejoined you on the couch.  His arm was resting on the back of the couch as you had pulled out your phone and began to scroll through apps and occasionally looking back up to the tv. 

It was moments like this where the uncertainty really hit him.  

It was this- these comfortable situations- that frightened him.  He was a bad person, a person who’s done bad things and will continue to do bad things.  He used to sit around your apartment and bug you with questions.  Had you ever ratted anyone out? Were you really a completely secretive person when it came to your unofficial side job? Were you really someone to be trusted? Why did you do what you did in the first place? 

Now, he didn’t ask anything anymore. He grimaced at himself. Maybe he was letting himself get too comfortable here. 

“I’m going away for a while,” he suddenly blurted out.  You glanced up at him from your phone. 

“Have some big job or something coming up?” 

“Yeah,” he lied, “some league stuff I gotta deal with.” 

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?” 

“No idea.  Probably a few weeks I bet.” Dabi couldn’t stop himself from lying to you and he got irritated at himself for feeling even the slightest bit bad for doing so. This was the only way though, the only way to try and get back to the rough, guarded villain he was supposed to always be.  

Dabi had to get away from you for a while. 

“Well,” you started, looking back down.  He looked at you, seeing you frown just a bit- he bit his cheek.  “Stay safe. If you need any patching up when you get back, you know where to find me.” 

He lowered his chin, his eyes lidding as he hardened his resolve. His decision was final, and he had to follow through with it.  He looked back to the tv, trying to bask in theses few final moments. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

-x-x-x-

Dabi’s irritated. He’s been irritated actually.  

He’s sitting at the bar, not your bar, but the bar in the league’s headquarters.  He sat slouched in a stool as Kurogiri- as usual- stood behind the bar.  The glass of some brown liquor that Dabi had nursed for the past hour started to taste like static to him.  He missed your bar’s liquor- the revelation made him more irritated. 

The entire reason he’s avoided going to your pub and always looked around corners in the city to make sure you wouldn’t bump into him by accident was so he could squash whatever the fuck he was feeling when he was around you down into dust.  Though, theses recent last couple days had proven that his plan was backfiring. 

Instead of forgetting what it felt like to be comfortable and content and relaxed, he was missing it.  He was missing the air of serene you always carried everywhere you went and he dared to say he yearned for it again.  

Dabi clicked his tongue as he pushed his forehead into his palm when Shigiraki had walked into the bar from wherever he had been before.  Seeing the hunched over excuse of a comrade, he groaned. The leader had often heard of your patchwork jobs for villains.  He himself had even met with you once- not for any injuries he had sustained, but for a simple meeting to exchange greetings with potential allies. Anything helped for his cause. 

Shigiraki also knew that Dabi often frequented your pub, and for whatever reason he hadn’t been recently.  His sour mood as of late paired with his lack of attendance to your business and attention was too easy to put together.  

“I’m really sick of you moping around here,” the leader complained.  Dabi lifted his forehead from his palm and glared across the room to the leader who now took a seat one stool away from Dabi. “Go be a killjoy somewhere else.” 

“Oh, piss off.” 

His mood began to spiral rapidly when Toga and Twice had come into the bar as well, coming back from wherever the fuck they had been.  Toga- trying her best to get on Dabi’s every nerve- was told by Kurogiri that his mood was unpleasant because he hadn’t been to a specific bar in town for some time now.  

Dabi felt offended that Kurogiri connected his bad mood to the bar and not you. 

“Maybe I should kick the crap outta you myself, so you can go back to what's-her-name and then maybe you’ll finally lose the attitude.” Okay, that one earned the hand-fetishist leader a growl from the pyromaniac. It only made Shigiraki scoff in a small victory, knowing that everyone around the league could see that his sour mood was solely revolving around you- or lack thereof.

Toga, ever on the hunt for new ‘friends’, immediately jumped at the idea of finally going to the mystery lady who heals everyone just because she has a kind heart.  An idea that Dabi shut down without so much as batting an eyelash. 

“But, why not!” Toga whined.  Dabi rolled his eyes.  Villain or not, Toga was just a high schooler with more than enough psychotic tendencies to warrant concern. If he had it his way- you’d never even get the chance to set your eyes on the blonde, twin-bunned psycho.  

The constant chartering centering in on him and you began to grate on his nerves and before long he was stomping up to his feet and out the bar door.  Shigiraki just scoffed as Toga pouted. Twice was simply mocking and jesting at the burned man who ‘just ran away’.  

Dabi had had enough.  He was going back to your pub- but it wasn’t going to be because he missed you.  He just wanted a drink in peace and fucking quiet. At least away from those idiots. 

-x-x-x- 

Dabi had slithered his way into your bar- pushing his way in with a group so that when you shouted from your place behind the bar to greet them in and to tell them to just find a seat, you wouldn’t recognize him. He had stopped by his apartment before making his way here to change into clothes he hoped you wouldn’t recognize him in either.  

The large, indigo tinted turtle neck he wore was way too large on his torso. The neck was horribly stretched out and pulled up as far as it could be to cover his jaw and mouth so that he didn’t have to wear the mask he knew you would recognize.. He traded his normal jacket with a different one he’d kept around for city crawling as he had it half way zipped up and the hood flipped up to hide his hair and scarred ears. Keeping his chin down, he used the shadow of his hood and the shadows the pub lights casted to keep the scars just under his eyes more or less out of sight.  

He grumbled at himself. Why was he going to such lengths to make sure you didn’t see him in the first place?   In the past, he wouldn’t have gone to the lengths to stay on the downlow in public like this; he would’ve just gone back home and crashed or drank alone or something of the sort.  You probably weren’t even under the impression he was back from the mission you thought he was on.

He slid into a booth in the back corner where he could still see you working behind the bar.  Pacing back and forth, talking and serving patrons and just doing your general work.  It felt strange seeing you work from all the way in the back instead of in his usual barstool, front row seat.  He bit his tongue when he caught himself almost missing his up close proximity to you. 

He was soon slid a bottle of beer- even if he didn’t really like the taste- as he nursed it.  He’d occasionally scan the bar to see what kind of business you had tonight.  When he wasn’t, he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone with glances up to the bar every so often.  He felt uneasy when you weren’t in his sights, even with you so close by.  

An hour after he had entered the pub, the doors had opened roughly enough to make tables turn their heads or hush up their conversations to see who had just made the racket coming in.  Dabi glanced, pulling his hood back just a bit to see past the fabric of it. 

A group of three men had walked into the pub.  Gruff looking fellas, but nothing all that special.  They started scanning the pub area, looking from tables, to faces, to chairs, all the way to the bar.  The flame user didn’t appreciate the snarl on the middle man’s face when his eyes landed on you busting the bar top with your rag.  

Shutting the door behind them, the three of them split apart, one heading towards the rec room and another heading in Dabi’s side of the bar. The middle man marched up towards the bar and instead of taking a seat- opted to lean on the bar between two already seated patrons.  They ended up leaving their bills and scurrying out of the joint. 

You took their payment and bit your tongue to keep from telling the obviously trouble-looking newcomer off for running off your customers.  In fact, you completely disregarded him.  

Once your bills were collected and placed into your apron pocket, you looked at the middle man leaning on the bar square in the eyes.  You held unamused eye contact with him for a beat before you shut your eyes and easily turned away from him. 

Clearly unhappy with the attention he so desperately wanted, he reached over the bar and yanked on the back of your work button up.  You let out a shocked, choked gasp as you dropped the glass you had in your hand.  The sound of shattering glass echoed around the pub as it became completely silent.  

Dabi jumped from his booth, standing at his table instead of leisurely sitting like he had been as he watched the man reach out for your shirt. He growled under his breath when he yanked you back towards him over the bar. 

This trouble-seeker was new to your pub, you could tell this the moment he came in with his two buddies.  He didn’t know of the amount of eyes on him now that he had gained the attention he wanted.  And he didn’t know how many of those eyes were villains ready to take him out. 

You coughed as he tried dragging you completely over the bar just by your shirt collar.  Your lower back pushed painfully into the wooden edge of the bar as your heels came off the floor, your toes being the only leverage you had left on your side of the bar top.  

You wanted to swing your elbow back and pop the son of a bitch in the nose, but you had to keep all ten of your fingers on the front of your collar to keep it from painfully pulling against your throat. You attempted to unbutton the top buttons for a window of breath, but you didn’t get the chance to before you were dropped.  

“Hey!” A voice you had recognized from a past medical visit came from behind you and the man yanking on your shirt.  He had groaned as he dropped you, your unsteady toes combined with your heels slamming back down to the floor and your spine dragging down the edge of the bar all made you drop to the floor.  You hunched over on the floor, gagging as you pulled on your shirt’s fabric away from your neck- the hemming all stretched out and well ruined by now.  

The bar felt like walls that encased around your slumped over body and you soon felt someone hop over the bar and rub your back.  Looking up with teary eyes from your lack of breath, you recognized the female criminal you had treated a handful of times before.  She soothed you behind the bar as it sounded like pure chaos erupted from beyond the bar. 

The short screams and shouts of whatever customer didn’t feel like fighting and fleeing.  you even heard your employees ducking out- as you instructed them to do when bar fights broke out. You did not want to feel out accident reports, so your rules of running when things get nasty was non-negotiable.

You were content to just stay sitting on the floor, catching your breath until the fighting was done.  You knew those who were fighting against the law were already defending you and your pub- they would take care of it.  

It was their safe space and these thugs had just tried disrupting that space. 

It was only when a plume of fire shot out from what looked like to be the back corner of your pub did you jump to your feet. Leaning against the bar with the villainess at your side, holding you to make sure you didn’t tumble over, you saw Dabi.  

“Dabi?!” You were shocked to see him. He hadn’t been around due to his work (so he told you), and you were confused on why he was here now.  Why was he wearing clothes you hadn’t seen before and when did he get here?  

He was quick to jump into the fray, mixing in with forces to drive the stupid thugs out of your pub, but not without beating them within an inch of their life first. Between tables being thrown, chairs knocked over, fire bursting then dispersing and fist and legs flying- it was hard to keep up with what was actually happening.  

What you did see though, was from the rec room someone coming out and pointing their fingers out towards your villains- your allies.  Their fingertips started to open and sharp, needle like tips were ready to be fired out of them.  

You climbed over the bar, the villainess calling out to you to not get involved.  You stumbled into a chair, holding yourself up as you shouted over the commotion. 

“Hey! Get behind a wall or table!” You pointed to the man under the rec room doorway.  “Don’t let whatever he’s gonna shoot out of his fingers hit you!” You were ready to duck back behind a table when you were shoved in the chest by the third man you saw enter with the thugs earlier.  He just appeared from no where it seemed when he struck you.

Knocking you into a nearby table, you slid onto it before it tipped and you tumbled off of it when it fell.  Groaning, you cursed under your breath.  You were getting really fucking sick of being pushed around tonight.  You got to your knees to get yourself back to your feet when you felt something push against your back and wrap around your shoulders, keeping you down. 

Whatever was keeping you down and covered was warm.  It covered your back and kept your shoulders encased.  Reaching up, it was an arm that wrapped around your and it was someone’s chest that pushed against your back.  Looking back you saw his scarred ears and neck before you saw his face. Not to mention the blast of burning blue that shot out opposite of his outstretched other arm.

“Dabi,” you gasped as you felt his body start to push more into yourself.  You whined, his weight beginning to crush you. “Hey, get off me,” you huffed.  

“Oh, you so owe me,” he chuckled before he fell against your completely. His arm dropped and the one that wrapped around you previous fell limp and released you. Rolling off to the side awkwardly to try and catch his fall to the tile, you saw a small needle sticking from his neck.  

“Oh, shit” you muttered.  Turning, you lifted a table to cover your back while the rest of the chaos kept going on behind you.  Pushing him onto his back, he was out cold.  Looking him over, you didn’t see any worrisome wounds on him- in fact he didn’t look wounded at all.  It was only that needle in his neck. “No doubt from that guy’s quirk,” you mumbled as you inspected it.  

Did he cover you so you didn’t get hit with the needle instead? You didn’t want to work yourself up into a frenzy at the thought of him taking a shot for you- but no matter how you looked at the situation, that was exactly what happened. 

It was a small, thin like a sewing needle with a ball point on the back of it.  Whatever this needle is coated in obviously knocked the pyro out.  You peeked over the table to see the same man ready to shoot a second round from his fingertips. 

“Take out the needle shooter! His needles will render you unconscious!” Your shouted leadership to take out one of the three low-level threats was clear and it was probably 20 minutes later when the three thugs were tied up and unconscious.  

You sighed, finally feeling safe again in your busted and destroyed bar.  You groaned for the umpteenth time knowing it was going to cost a fortune to get the tables repaired.  Not to mention the seared wallpaper that peeled from the previous heat and broken glasses, frames and damaged light fixtures.  You would have to close your doors for repairs for at least a month. 

As you looked around, you moved from your sitting position to instead kneel at Dabi’s side. 

“Can someone help me bring him downstairs? And lock the entrance.” Dabi was picked up and was soon being carried back behind the bar and through the doors, waiting for you to come unlock the way down as someone else had safely latched your pub doors shut. Your employees would understand if you just shot them a few texts.  

Before you went into the back, you pointed at the unconscious needle shooter.  “Also, bring him down too, but keep him tied up.  I need to know what his quirk is so that I know exactly why he did and how to treat it. Anyone else who needs treatment, you can come down too.” 

An hour later, you had Dabi’s unconscious body hooked up in one of your rooms to small machines to make sure he wasn’t dying.  Whatever the needle was- you concluded that it at least wasn’t poisonous.  You had taken it from his neck and had it run for tests.  It wasn’t coated in anything, but the tip of it had released a sort of potion into his body from where he had been stores in the ball point end; but you weren’t sure what it was.  

You moved away from your laptop on the small desk you had next to Dabi’s temporary bed.  You leaned your elbow against the wood and stared at him.  

“Until I figure out what exactly happened, I have no idea when he’ll wake up.” You frowned as worry began to churn in your stomach.  It eased you that his life didn’t seem to be in danger, but that didn’t really help anything else.  He was immobile and unresponsive until further notice as far as you knew.

You sighed getting up and searching for his phone.  Finding it in his jacket pocket, you plucked it out and began to go through his contacts.  You were glad you watched him punch in his lock code one day and held it in your memory. 

Finding a contact under ‘Childish Leader’, you immediately began to ring it.  You knew who Dabi worked under, and who this so called ‘childish leader’ was- you did meet with him one time after all.  When the line picked up, you were greeted with a sigh. 

“What,” a strained voice annoyingly greeted.  

“You’ll want to come to the location I’m about to send you,” you started. You swore you heard the frown and confused brow drip on his face when it wasn’t Dabi’s voice that was on the phone.  “Want to know what happened to Dabi? Then get your wrap quirked friend to get you over here, Shigaraki.” 

You quickly ended the call, letting out a shaky breath and feeling your heart pound in your chest. Dabi only ever really complained about Shigaraki, and you had only met hi that one time for general introductions, so you didn’t know much about him.  You hoped that just telling him what to do before sending him your coordinates would be enough to just get him to show up.  You’d deal with the rest later. 

You stood from your chair as you looked down at Dabi.  He always looked quite peaceful sleeping- it was odd since he was always scowling when he was awake. He’d smirk and tease, sure, but you don’t think you’d ever seen a real smile on his face before.  

You chuckled to yourself, touching his hair just once before you stopped- knowing he didn’t like you touching him like that.  He wanted to keep you at arms length because of your feelings and you knew that- so unconscious or not, you had to keep his wants at the forefront of your mind.  

A knock sounded at the door when you saw one of your allied villains come in.  “Some guys are in the bar, asking for you.  Some freak with a hand on his face and a gimp looking dude.”  You almost laughed at the villain's description. 

“Tell them I’ll be up in a moment.” The villain left as you looked once more at Dabi. You smiled down at him. “Thanks for the save, you reckless idiot.” 

-x-x-x-

Dabi groaned as he rolled from his back to his side.  He was only vaguely aware he was previously on his back ,which already annoyed him- he was not a back sleeper.  He peeked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling above him.  

That wasn’t his apartment ceiling? Sitting up, he rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a breath.  His head pounded and he opened his eyes back up to see the room he was in.  It wasn’t his apartment at all.  He was in a bedroom, but he hadn’t seen this room before.  

The last thing he remembered was jumping into a bar fight at your pub and then covering your back when that finger-freak tried shooting something out of his fingertip at you.  He didn’t even realize his body moved until he felt the needle meant for you dart into his neck.  

Rubbing at his neck, he felt no pain.  Getting up, he looked around the room.  

This room wasn’t yours- he’d seen it before- and it wasn’t anyone else’s he knew of. He wasn’t at the league HQ either, that run down place didn’t have rooms as well kept at this one. Surely you wouldn’t have pushed him off to some random villain until he woke up and this was some stranger’s room... right?   

After a moment, he started getting nosy. As he opened more drawers and books and notepads, he got more and more confused. These were all things he was interested in.  All the notebooks had his handwriting in them and his name was signed on papers and sticky notes scattered on a corkboard hanging on the wall.  The phone on the bedside table and he unlocked with his passcode and started going through it- it was all his information just like normal, but something was off. 

He felt off.  He looked at his palms, the scars he’s had since he was younger still showing on his skin.  Something nagged in the back of his head and he knew that he had to get answers and the best way to do that is to track you down.  

Grabbing a jacket and zipping it up to his chin and placing sunglasses on his face, he left the room that was filled with, presumably his own things, but definitely not his things. 

The roads and buildings all around were the same as he remembered.  However, when he came to your pub’s building, it looked different.  Shabby almost. Trying to go inside, the door was rusted and jammed. Jostling with the door wasn’t getting him anywhere and he knew if he tried to bust it down you’d have his ass on the wall for the damage.  

Looking up, he saw the window that lead into the living room of your apartment.  Walking around the building he started up the fire escape and carefully treaded the side of the building to the window before he shimmied it open from the outside and hopped inside. 

“What the fuck?” The apartment that was once filled with your furniture and belongings was empty.  Not just empty, but it was dusty, barren and isolated like no one had been in there for years. Jogging downstairs, he ran into the bar to find it the same way: empty.

No tables, no chairs, no booths.  No bottles lining the dusty shelves and no frames of art or recreational items in the rec room. it even still had the old, tacky wallpaper instead of the wallpaper he remembered. The stench of dust filtered through his nose and made his throat burn- it was apparent that the place hadn’t been aired out in years.  

Turning back, the door to the basement he had been in so many times wasn’t even there.  When he left the building to go to the basement the backway, the backway in didn’t seem to exist either.  It was like the basement he had spent so much time in with you patching him up was never there to begin with. 

“This is fucking crazy,” he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket.  He wasn’t used to feeling whatever was bubbling in his chest.  It was painful, like caltrops tearing apart his stomach and chest as he searching for your number in his contacts.  He began to start walking back to where your apartment use to be, to go back inside the abandoned pub, when he dialed your phone.  He was soon stuck in his tracks when he caught sight of his reflection in a window.  

The window’s glass was cracked, barely held in place in the frame as he stared back at his reflection.  Reaching up, he ran his scarred hand through his hair. His hair that wasn’t dyed black; his hair that was as white as his mothers. 

“Where the fuck am I?” He breathed as he heard the monotone voice over the phone. 

-I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed does not exist-

[wrenhyperfixates]

Full Disclosure

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Thor has always been supportive of his brother’s love life, but Loki won’t tell him that he’s dating you. When Thor won’t stop setting him up on dates, Loki has to move past his fears and confess. Warnings: just a fluff-bomb A/N: Thank you for requesting, my lovely nonny! This is longer than a typical imagine might be because I had so much fun with it (in fact it’s really more of a oneshot, oops). If you wanted something a little shorter, I already had a similar incorrect quote in my drafts that I’ll be posting for you later in the week :)

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

Sometimes it was hard to have a brother so dense. There were plenty of times during their youth when Loki would try to discuss lessons or ladies with Thor, but never seemed to make any sort of breakthrough. It was only when Loki started dating you that he was glad for it, as it made hiding the blooming relationship much easier. That is, until Thor kept trying to set him up on dates.

“I believe I might shove my brother off a cliff, darling,” Loki whined one afternoon, dramatically flopping on your bed.

“Aww. What did he do now?” you inquired after giving him a small peck on the lips.

“He arranged another date for me, and I was left with the arduous task of cancelling. It is a wonder how he has not noticed how absolutely smitten I am with you, my love.”

He nuzzled into your neck as you cuddled him, breathing in your comforting scent. You bent your head down to place a kiss on the adorable little crinkle between his brows. He relaxed a bit, but you could tell he was still stressed.

“Well, we could always tell him about us,” you suggested as Loki’s frown reappeared. “I mean, almost everyone else on the team figured it out. So I don’t really see why we shouldn’t tell Thor.”

Loki pondered this for a moment. True, the other Avengers were aware of your relationship, save for Steve and Bucky, who were too oblivious to even realize their own feelings for each other. Still, it was different with Thor, his brother, his only family left. He knew how fond of you Thor was, but if he were to oppose to the two of you dating, he had no idea what he’d do.

“My brother can be overbearing. I am not certain that telling him is the best option at present.”

“Ok. If you’re sure that’s all, then we’ll wait.”

He whispered a thank you into your hair as you shifted positions so that now he was spooning you. The whole reason you’d decided to keep the fact you were dating a secret in the first place was to be able to enjoy quiet moments like this. Loki has been worried that his teammates would disapprove and try to split you up. Surprisingly, they were supportive, even if they did engage in some subtle teasing. Though, their knowledge of your relationship made what happened at dinner the next night all the more embarrassing.

You and Loki kept secretly holding hands under the table, earning you some smirks from your teammates who happened to notice. Feeling self-conscious, you broke apart but left your legs touching ever so slightly, just enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other. You must have laughed a little too loudly at something Loki said because, suddenly, Thor got what he thought to be a novel idea.

“You know,” he said, pointing at you and Loki, “I believe you two would make a really cute couple.” As if that weren’t bad enough, he continued in a stage whisper, “You should really ask them out, Loki.”

The God of Mischief turned bright red as you started fidgeting in your seat. Everyone else made eye contact with each other before giving in to a bout of laughter. Thor demanded to know what was so funny, but no one could get any words out. When Tony laughed so hard he fell out of his seat, Loki decided that he’d had enough.

“Brother,” he shouted over the din. “I-well, we have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” he shouted back, still not catching on.

“Maybe we should do this somewhere quieter,” you suggested after a small sigh.

The three of you made your way out of the noisy dining room, and Loki started wringing his hands as both his lover and brother looked at him expectantly. This was his moment to finally get the truth out there. Unfortunately, his hands seemed to have a mind of their own and lashed out with a dagger, striking Thor.

“Surprise attack!”

“Loki!” you bellowed, upset with your boyfriend.

“Do not worry, my friend. This is a normal occurrence,” Thor assured you as Loki grabbed your hand and whisked you away.

Once behind closed doors, you fixed him with a withering glare. He knew that he was being ridiculous, especially now that Thor has shown he would be fine with you two dating. But Loki realized something else was stopping from sharing his joy with his brother. If he told Thor, it would be like bridging his old life and his new one. Granted, you already knew of his past misdeeds, but what if there was something else he hasn’t told you? Something long forgotten in his memory that Thor lets slip? In the end, his reluctance all boiled down to a fear of losing you.

“I know, I know. That was not the best route to choose. I just didn’t think it was the right time to say anything,” he lied.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me, Loki?” you pleaded as tears formed in your eyes. “It’s obvious that you’re embarrassed of me or something. The least you could do is tell the truth about it.”

“Oh, my darling,” he cooed, wiping a plump drop that had fallen and made a glistening track halfway down your cheek. “Please understand that my inability to tell my brother of us has nothing to do with you. You are the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I fear that you may come to resent me if you hear any more of my past.”

“Loki,” you said, voice heavy with emotion. “Look at me. I know that you’ve done some... questionable things before. But I know you now, and that’s what I care about. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but you work harder than anyone I know to make up for it. It’s one of the many reasons that I love you.”

He looked at you with eyes full of gratitude before hugging you close. “I love you too, dearest. Never doubt that.”

The air relaxed around Loki and his beloved as a quiet contemplation settled in. He slowly rocked the two of you back and forth, trying to plan his next move. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was not knowing what to do next. But he was sure that, with you beside him, he could figure it out.

“Ok,” you said after sucking in a long breath. “We’ll wait then. As long as you need.”

“No,” Loki interjected, coming to a conclusion as you spoke. “I want to tell him now. Well, maybe not right at this moment. But tomorrow for certain.”

After checking that he was sure of this decision, you agreed to have lunch with Thor where you would tell him the news. Loki’s nerves were at an all-time high by noon the next day. He helped you set the table to try to calm them, but nothing seemed to cull his worries.  You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the tense spots between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright. I promise,” you reassured him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling.

He relaxed in your embrace for a second before you broke away upon hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps approaching. Loki tweaked the utensils once more, and you pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles in a final act of comfort. It also helped some that Thor seemed to be in an even more jovial mood than usual. Which, of course, was saying something as the god was relentlessly optimistic.

Sitting down, he greeted you both by name and told you everything smelled delicious. The God of Thunder bit his lip to hold back a smile, but you and Loki could see it tugging its way onto his face. The two of you shared a look, attempting to figure out what exactly was the cause of such joy for the older Odinson boy.

“Um, Thor?” you said. “Is there something you wanted to share with us?”

“No. Is there something you want to share with me?”

Another look passed between you and Loki. Suddenly, Loki realized that his brother must know the news you were about to share. It figures that after all this time, he worked it out moments before he was about to come clean.

“You have figured it out,” Loki sighed, “haven’t you?”

Thor nodded eagerly and came around the table to hug his brother and friend, overjoyed that they were dating. He loosened his grip around you upon hearing your gasping voice telling him he was hugging too tight, a terrible habit of his.

“But when did you figure it out?” you questioned, puzzling over the timeline of events.

“I have known for months, of course.” He tried to stick to this story, but the skeptical looks from both you and his brother made him abandon his position. “I saw you two being all cuddly just before I came in,” he conceded with slumped shoulders.

All three of you began to laugh, and Loki was surprised by how relieved he felt at not having to actually confess. The rest of the lunch went swimmingly, and the God of Mischief relaxed further, happy to have both his brother and beloved in such high spirits. Unfortunately, his own sunk when Thor offered to tell a story about him. It seemed like his worst fears were about to come true.

“One time when we were children,” Thor began with a wistful look in his eye, “Loki tried to use some of his magic and accidentally turned himself into a cat. He came to my room and pestered me until I brought him to mother. Remember that, brother?”

“Indeed, I do,” Loki said with a nostalgic laugh, feeling relieved that was all Thor shared. “It was one of the first spells I ever tried. I am afraid that I sorely botched it. I was coughing hair balls for weeks.”

“So that’s why you won’t let me get a kitten!” you added with a laugh of your own.

The brothers went back and forth telling embarrassing stories about the other. You refused to share any of your awkward childhood moments, and your companions vowed to get some out of you one day. All in all, Loki had a great time. He squeezed your hand in thanks under the table. With shining eyes he observed you and Thor laughing. He realized that, for the first time in his life, he had nothing to worry about. After all, he’d been wrong when he’d thought Thor was the only family he had left. Now you were his family, too. And nothing could possibly take away you or the love you shared.

[magicofthepen]

5, 6, 11?

Upcoming Year Fic Asks

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

Technically the prompt fics are first on my list to draft (7 out of 9 drafted, we’re getting there!), and then I’ll let them sit and come back to them one by one to revise and post. But there’s so many of them, and they’re all fairly short, so not the best to post a snippet from.

The first WIP I want to post aside from the prompts is my Narvin/Romana post-Devil You Know fic, which I think is fully drafted now! (I thought it was fully drafted in December, but then I realized I needed to change povs for one scene and ended up adding a few thousand more words in the process. oops.) So if “complete” means “revise and post,” that’s the one!

Since I haven’t revised yet, I can’t promise this will show up exactly as is in the final fic, but I’ll share a snippet of the first draft:

“We both know why we’re here. Let’s not ruin everything by talking about it.”

“Romana — ”

“Narvin, get out of the doorway. We both get little enough sleep to waste time on — ”

“On?”

Narvin can see her exhale, how it deflates her entire posture. She’s still in front of him, still close enough to touch, and he suddenly aches with the urge to do it again — reach out, wrap his fingers around her arm, hold tight.

“On?”

“Will it help?” Romana’s voice is still stiff, robotic. “If you shout at me some more, will it help?”

Narvin’s teeth grind. He doesn’t know if the note of condescension in her voice is real or imagined. He doesn’t know what the point of stopping her is. They’re just going to do this the next time they meet. Keep their heads squared down. Pretend they can work together.

“I didn’t shout.”

A silence stretches out, sharp and trembling. Her shoulders drop, the movement barely visible in the shadows.

“No,” she says, quiet. “No, you didn’t.”

Narvin doesn’t know what to say to that, and neither does Romana, apparently. But the brusque energy that had nearly carried her out the door is gone. There was a note of misery in those last words that echoes, rattling around inside Narvin’s head. It’s one of the only hints he’s gotten that Romana is still hurting, that she hasn’t completely succeeded in sweeping everything under the rug and moving on.

He wants to be angry. He is angry. Leela is gone, and if Romana had listened —

Romana is standing in front of him in a nightdress in Leela’s bedroom. She’s been running here at night. Whatever she’s feeling, it isn’t nothing.

6. Which yet-to-be-started fic is first on your list?

There’s a Renaissance-centric Romana/Leela fic I haven’t started writing yet that’s next in the queue…..I think it’s going to be a 5 times + 1 format but we’ll see?

11. Would you like to try any new fanfic genres or tropes this year?

Hmm…..so I’ve been living in “canon compliant” land for so long now, but there’s an AU world that’s been eating at my brain for over two years now…..

Every year I’m like maybe we’re done with canon-based fic for a bit! And every year I add new canon-based projects to my list! So I do have a few one-shot projects to get through first and then I’ll see how I’m feeling? Because the AU thing is a Big Big Project, and the last Big Project really burned me out, to the point that I’m genuinely (pleasantly) shocked that I’m still writing Gallifrey fic. But I’m still dealing with the effects of burnout, and these short things are much more my speed right now. Plus I have projects outside of fanfic cooking in my brain — so in all honesty, AU Thing is likely to remain The One That Got Away. But there’s a slight chance it won’t? In which case, writing an AU would be a new fic genre for me!

Also. not exactly a genre or a trope, but my fic up until now has only been G and T rated, and there will (almost certainly) be a greater variety of ratings in 2022, based on the fics I have planned/drafted. So that’ll be something new?

[zodiyack]

Every King Needs An Heir (Part I): The Beginning

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Fem!Original(Vampire)!Reader

Warnings: Changing the story line of The Originals, i think/somewhat torture?, fluff, swearing, angst, sad stuff, sexual references / implied smut, not proofreading

Note: So a) I’m posting this before i finish the requests because it was sitting in my drafts for a lil’ bit oops, b) I’m posting a masterlist with it because I plan on posting loads more of The Originals heh

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part I / Part II / Part III

Cami stepped back, eyes watery, “Oh my God-” As she hesitated, Klaus flinched, but she stepped forward again, to his relief. The past made Klaus feel vulnerable, as it was a time he felt the weakest, soft in public and private, yet treated like a beast. “No one should have to experience things like that...”

“Exactly what I think, darling.” A new voice, someone she’d never met before, stepped out, standing next to Klaus with the same teary eyes as the two of them shared. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Exactly. What I think.”

“I- uh- Excuse me,” voice crack, “but just who are you?”

Klaus stepped forward, grabbing Cami again to bring her diving into another part of his memories, this time, showing a bit more than him chained up. More than him begging for Elijah’s help.

“Help me.” He looked into his brother’s eyes, pleading with every bit of hope he had left. However. All four Mikaelsons’ attention was drawn elsewhere. To someone Klaus knew all too well, to someone who had been turned with the rest of his family due to the fact that they were sweethearts and she was someone his mother, as impossible as it seemed at the moment, adored.

Y/n was screaming in agony, begging for his father to let him go. She ran up to the Mikaelsons that were present, eyes red and nose snotty. Niklaus could see the hurt miles away, as her voice flooded his mind. The hybrid took in her state of sorrow, slowly processing her presence.

Klaus did not ignore this. After Elijah refused to help him, he began shouting a different request, “Stop her! Don’t let her see this! Don’t let her get hurt! Brother, please! Please!”

Just as his father was about to smack Y/n away, Elijah obliged to his younger brother’s desperate wishes and grabbed her by her waist, pulling her back and gripping her tightly. She hit at him, over and over again, but it was no good. Esther was preventing her as well, with magic, but not for Klaus. It was so Niklaus couldn’t be helped from what they were going to do.

He looked to his beloved in pain, not just his own, but hers. Seeing her, merciless, fighting just to return to his arms and help free him. His heart broke a thousand times while he was forced by his chains and his, currently breaking, heart to watch as she flailed in Elijah’s arms, reaching out to her lover with one hand, while grabbing at Elijah to let her go with the other. His heart was in worse pain than his body was. The hybrid cried for her, for his father, for anyone, begging for help.

She cried for Klaus. Her voice was becoming hoarse after all of her screaming, yet she did not have the intention of giving up. Elijah continued to stand behind her, holding her back with regret and sympathy on his features. He was wounded enough that he ignored his brother’s cries, and to have Y/n involved would be too much. For Klaus, and for Elijah.

Y/n managed to escape, running to Mikael and jumping. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. He moved his shoulders roughly, causing her to thrash every which was he turned, then threw her off of him. Her head hit a rock and black filled her vision.

Camille was shown a new memory. 

Y/n lied there, underwater, cursed by her future mother-in-law to remain unconscious until someone were to lift her out. Luckily, Klaus was allowed to, now that the deed had been done.

He crouched by the small hole in the ground, reaching and lifting her with one of his arms under her neck and the other wrapped around her soaked, however still clothed, body. He pulled her with him as he scooted from the water. Niklaus gazed at her face, eyes closed and looking peaceful...somewhat...angelic. He sobbed softly, pressing a kiss to her lips.

‘Please wake up, please wake up’. 

The words were racing through his head. Maybe his mother didn’t actually put a temporary spell on her like she said she did. He was going to pull away, bury her wherever he thought appropriate until he could figure out a way to undo the spell, but he stopped. Somewhat by his own doing- but also somehow maybe not all his own.

A hand came to the back of his head, another clung onto his shirt, pushing him deeper into the kiss, the lips his met dancing with his.

They finally pulled away, and Y/n clung to Klaus. “You- you were being hurt-” she finally looked him in his face. His full face. She studied the look in his eyes as her expression softened, “Oh Nik... what did they do to you?”

He couldn’t bring himself to speak. She had been knocked out before they started the ritual, so she didn’t have to suffer seeing those parts, but he had to suffer living through them. Y/n’s eyes widened. Klaus knew by the look on her face that he had shared the memories with her without meaning...or rather, without conscious meaning.

His eyes met hers one more time before he roughly kissed her again, and rolled sideways, hovering over her. She tightened her hold in his shirt, fighting his tongue with her own. Y/n was still wet, covered in water droplets, from the hole that held her, but both originals could care less. The couple eagerly returned to the largely missed embraces of one another. Their need was not controlled by lust, rather, by love.

Y/n had been stashed underwater for an amount of time she had no knowledge of, as well as watched the love of her life plead for help, and Klaus had been through various ways of pain and torture while his mother and father put a block on the beast inside of him, not to mention struggling just as much as she did watching him as he watched her through a very similar view. They were in no mood for foreplay, nor quick and rough. They missed each other, needed each other, needed comfort, needed love.

When Camille's conscious returned to the present time, she let out a small sigh of relief, obviously from the thankfulness of not having to witness a sex scene from her friend’s memories with this mysterious woman she now guessed to be his lover.

“Oh... Oh my... Both of you...both of you experienced such horrible things... I can’t imagine how- how- how horrible, that was... No one should ever have to experience things like what Klaus had to, or what you had to.”

A small silence, accompanied by the never ceasing tension filled the room. The sadness was lingering, dancing to the water droplets splashing from one person’s face onto their skin, then leaping to the next face, listening to the same melancholy melody repeat form person to person.

“Ahem,” Klaus wiped away his tears, wiped the smile off his face, and returned to his point, “Unfortunately, it’s time for us to be taking our leave.” He nodded to his wife.

“Indeed. Alas, Camille, it’s time for us to say our goodbyes. It was a pleasure meeting you. Take care, alright?” Y/n smiled softly at the confused woman. She turned back to Klaus and kissed him lightly, before nodding and walking out of the room.

“What was that about?” Camille’s voice could be heard from the other side of the door. Obvious hurt and confusion intertwined with the feminine voice, her argument about wanting to help both Klaus and his wife filled Y/n’s ears as she waited by the door. The familiar masculine voice that joined in shortly was much more hushed, bringing comfort to Y/n while she rubbed her stomach softly, and was filled with similar emotions.

“Knowing what you do about this world will only get you killed.” He thought about Y/n and how joyful she was to meet Cami, about Kieran and his love and wishes for his niece and her safety, about the friendship he had grew over time with this mortal woman. It had been a bit since he had considered someone a friend. “And I cannot allow that.”

He cupped her cheek, forcing her to look into his eyes, “Leave New Orleans. Forget everything you’ve learned here today... Forget Y/n, and forget me.”

She cuddled into his warmth, and closed her eyes.

“Love?”

“Yes, Nik?”

His arm came to hers and rubbed it up and down lazily, his nails were what touched her skin, so soothing that goosebumps made home on Y/n’s skin.

“When the little one comes, do you think I’d do what Elijah seems to believe I might?”

“I believe,” she opened her eyes and lifted herself, shifting over her husband and straddling him. She trailed kisses up his torso and stopped at his lips, not fully kissing him, but touching them as she spoke, “that you will do what is necessary. Even if that means killing off all vampires, or witches, so on. As long as you,” She moved to the right side of his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “me,” his left cheek, “and the baby,” finally, his lips. She whispered the final part before connecting their lips again and staying, giving him the control he waited ever so patiently for, “are safe.”

“I still can’t believe you’re pregnant-” He chuckled, his breath hitting her soft lips. They rolled over. Y/n wrapped her arms around Klaus’ neck.

“Magic gave me the opportunity and my heart told me to take it. Plus,” Y/n’s hand came to Klaus’ head, shoving his mouth back to hers for the-whatever-th-time that evening. She smiled against her husband’s lips, “you’re a good fuck.”

[carpsurprise]

i wrote this literally ages ago and saved it in my drafts because i knew, one day, i wouldn’t be writing much.... and i answered so many asks yesterday y’all deserve something. sorry for clogging up y’alls feed <3 anyways here’s a leah writing! bc i realized i have almost nothing written for her haha oops

plot: the farmer, tired and disappointed in themselves, comes across leah relaxing in the forest. she comforts them until they have the strength to continue on.

word count: 928

notes: hehe i dont know what this is im quite tired... but tw: alcohol!! nothing excessive, but leah has a lil glass of wine while she spits some life advice

The farmer’s legs ached with each step they took on the uneven dirt of the forest, the shooting pain up the side of their thighs nagging at the back of their mind. They were working themselves nearly half to death in preparation of the next season that steadily crept up as the days passed. Foraging today had been a failure, only adding itself to the list of minor headaches and complaints that were beginning to sprout across the back of the farmer’s head. Caked in dirt and sweat, each footstep was heavier than the last from their aggravation.

A song, sung by a broken and cracking voice, carried from the river to the forest’s clearing, causing the farmer to stop in thought for a moment. Leah was laid down next to the river, propping her head up on one hand with her ankle resting atop her other knee, her foot bobbing up and down to her own song. The farmer had walked up behind her interest, seeing the matching bob of her head as she sang, and the half-empty glass of wine held loosely in her other hand. Her song had not stopped when she turned her head to see who was blocking the warming sunlight from her body, throwing the farmer a quick smile.

They had taken it upon themselves to sit next to her, wanting to rest their aching legs before walking another step. The river bubbled with lazy movement, no sign of jumping fish to catch for any extra gold. The farmer had let out a labored sigh after a moment, throwing their head back to focus on the sound of the river and birds.

“What’s wrong?” Leah asked, finally slowing her song down to a hum.

The farmer shook their head. “Tired. All I’ve been doing is trying to get more money.”

She continued to hum, throwing her head along with her own song. “Well,” she interrupted herself, looking out to the river, “when was the last time you got to relax?”

The farmer stifled a laugh, not remembering the last occasion they had to simply sleep in. Their noise was enough of an answer for Leah and her easy temperament, making her close her eyes before opening them to see the farmer. She was looking up at them, her head thrown back in a position that was surely going to make her sore. Though, it was evident she didn’t care.

“Didn’t you come to the valley to get away from the pursuit of money? The effect it has on us? To become one with nature?”

The farmer was silent.

“Take some time to smell the flowers…  look at the clouds… move with the ocean, you know?” She took another sip of her wine. “Don’t lose sight of why you’re here. Not just in Pelican Town, but on the Earth in general. Learn to appreciate the little things and you’ll be much happier.”

The farmer nodded, avoiding her eye contact. She had thought it a lost cause, bringing her head back up to gaze at the water with a small grunt. Leah swirled her glass, watching the deep red move with it. “Need to get more wine, my glass is half-full.”

Her comment hadn’t made it to the farmer’s attention, their eyes steadily trained on the languid movements of the water in front of them. Leah’s deduction had created a pain in the farmer’s core, perfectly explaining the recent unhappiness and poor mood they had been suffering with for the past two weeks. A few guilty thoughts had flashed through the farmer’s mind, quickly thinking of the promise they had made to their grandfather, and the idea that their connection to the valley had faded in the pursuit of money, just as they had despised about their old life.

Leah rolled her eyes, unknown to the farmer, but quickly threw a glance at them over her shoulder. “Quit thinkin’ so much about it,” she shifted her body slightly against her picnic blanket, “everyone gets caught up in stuff that’s not good for them. Just try to remind yourself why you’re here. I have to do it too, every so often.”

“Yeah,” the farmer nodded, “you’re right.”

“I know I am,” she teased, finally putting her glass down and sitting up. Her eyes trailed to the trees of the forest, then to the nearly empty bag of foragables next to the farmer. “Whoops, sorry. I did some foraging this morning, if you need anything I’ll give it to you.”

The farmer shook their head, struggling to get back onto their own two feet. “No, I’ll be fine. Think I’m gonna go sit with the chickens or something. Or maybe get some sleep.”

Leah looked up at them with a friendly smile. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you around, though, I hope you get to feeling better.”

“I’m sure I will in no time,” they smiled down at Leah, turning on their aching feet back to the north farm entrance. The birds chirped just a little louder to them as the crunch of sticks lining the forest floor cracked underneath the weight of their feet. With a sigh, the farmer looked up to the sky only to be met with white, puffy afternoon clouds. The clouds moved just as slow as the river had, leading the farmer to think that they should be moving the same pace as everything else around them.

[excelsi-or]

just a little sweeter (pt. 10)

HELLLLOOOOOOOO~~ are you guys still there? LOL, it’s been like a month and a half since I last posted on here. The end of the semester just really got intense with projects, presentations, and finals. But I’m here and back for at least two weeks. I wanna see if I can��bosh out the rest of this series before I move onto another one. 

I hope you’re all well. If you wanna update me on what’s new with you all, I’d love to know. I applied to grad school. I have one more semester left before graduation. Vaccinations have started in my area of the world. I started playing Hollow Knight (if anyone wants to talk about THIS GAME, please do. I love it.) Think that’s kinda it. 

BIPOC reeeeeccccc: N. K. Jemisin’s The City We Became is EXCELLENT. Diversity, racism, feminism, LGBTQ representation. I love it so much. One of my favourite books of the year, hands down. Nicole Crowder on IG does like upholstery and interior DIYs and content. I’ve been wanting to upholster these two chairs in my home and she put up a whole 2 min tutorial on how to do it. 

w.c. 3k (lol, it got really long oops! fluff and mature content, not quite smut, but it was definitely getting there. The first draft of this part was basically just smut, so I chopped and fixed it LOL. hope you guys still like it.)

pt.1; pt.2; pt.3; pt.4; pt.5; pt.6; pt.7; pt.8; pt. 9

“What do you mean you haven’t had sex with him yet?”

She rolls her eyes and sets a bowl in front of her previous roommate. Soobin had moved out months ago, shortly after she’d met Jihoon.

“It’s going really slow.” She slips into the seat across the table. “We haven’t really said I love you yet either.”

“What do you mean ‘haven’t really said’? What? Just ‘cause Woozi’s an idol he doesn’t know how to treat you right?”

She motions for Soobin to tuck into the food. “Jihoon is treating me wonderfully, thank you very much.” She pauses, her chopsticks hovering in the air. “It’s just… slow.”

“He has a whole child!” Soobin chews her noodles as she continues. “You’ve already passed the point of going slow.”

“It’s not as if Eunha is my child.”

“The kid spends more time here than any of our friends or your family.”

“Jihoon’s been busy.” She shrugs. “It’s easier for him to leave Eunha here than take her with him. Plus, you know the Terror likes her.”

Soobin chuckles. “That little horror of a brother of yours likes everyone.”

She smirks. “Okay, fair.” Then she waves her chopsticks between them. “But Eunha’s probably the reason why he’s going slow. We need to see if we’re compatible.” She meets Soobin’s gaze. “The man has a child.”

“It’s been months!” Soobin quickly cuts in before any interruptions. “Seven months to be exact. You would think that the next step at analyzing compatibility is whether you guys vibe in bed.”

She hums. She doesn’t want to admit out loud that yeah, she’s been having fantasies about Jihoon. However, she hasn’t gotten any clear signals from Jihoon that he wants to pursue anything further than making out on her couch after a date. And before she can broach the topic, he’s off to go get Eunha. If Jihoon never wanted to have sex with her, she wonders if that would be a deal breaker. But she really has no idea.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Sex? No.”

“So, what do you guys talk about?”

She throws her head back with a laugh. “You say that as if the only thing you and Jae talk about is sex.”

“Well, it came up a lot when we first started dating.”

“That’s because you guys started off having sex.” She sighs, turning her noodles with the tips of her chopsticks. “This relationship is really different. I don’t know how to gauge it.”

“Do you love him?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“But you do.”

“Yeah.”

“And does Eunha put you off wanting to be with him?”

She rests her cheek in her palm. “I honestly thought she would, but she only makes me love him more.”

“Then talking about sex, even if you’re not having it, is the next step.” Soobin gauges her friend’s reaction. “Even if Jihoon is the type not to want it. You should at least know that. He’s obviously done it at one point.”

There’s a pause before they both say, “The child.”

She nods. “You’re right though. We should talk about it.”

Seungcheol knocks on the studio door. “Hey. You needed me?”

Jihoon turns in his chair and nods. “Yeah. I need a second set of ears on this song. Bumzu hyung and Soonyoung are busy.”

Seungcheol nods and falls into the seat next to Jihoon. He notices the book on the desk. It’s been sitting there for a while. “You finish it?”

Jihoon glances at the book. “Oh.” Then, he resumes clicking through the excessive number of files open on his screen. “Yeah.”

And you haven’t returned it?”

“She reads it when she comes over.” Jihoon hands over the headphones and finally catches Seungcheol’s expression. “What? Is there some big meaning behind that too?”

Ever since he started dating, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and basically everyone in the building has found various meanings in his songs and life that allude to how ‘in love’ he is. He’s not about to tell everyone he’s in love—she doesn’t even know that yet—but not everything going on is about his relationship.

Seungcheol shrugs as he adjusts the headphones on his ears. “You seem to think there isn’t.”

“God.” Jihoon sighs and turns in his chair. He drops his cheek into his palm. “Enlighten me.”

“She’s a big reader and doesn’t like to leave books unfinished. If she’s letting you hold onto it for her, for when she comes over here, that says something.”

“So does leaving my daughter in her care, but we all have something we need taken care of.” He turns back to the screen. “Now, listen to this hook for me.”

Seungcheol settles back into the seat. He bops his head along to the melody until the lyrics play clear in his ears. Wide eyed, he turns to Jihoon and pushes one headphone off his ear. “We’re not putting this on the album, are we?”

Jihoon looks over at him with an eyebrow lifted. “Why not?”

“This is such a… a bedroom… sex song.” Seungcheol shakes his head. “We can’t put this on there.”

Jihoon frowns. “What?” He looks at the file name and feels his cheeks heat up. “Whoa. Not that one.” He quickly closes the file and makes sure that it’s closed. But his checking gives Seungcheol time to see a folder with her name. There’s one for Eunha that none of the boys want to ask about, but his girlfriend? She’s fair game.

“You have a folder of songs for her?” He acts horrified. “And that was one of them?”

Jihoon tries to think of any way out of this conversation and realizes that due to his carelessness, he can’t. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“How many songs are in there? Do they all sound like that?”

“I refuse to answer those questions knowing that everyone is going to know by tomorrow and it’s already embarrassing that you know about one of them.”

“Hey.” Seungcheol’s voice goes soft. He likes to tease, but he recognizes touchy subjects when he broaches them. “Sorry. I didn’t realize. You know you can talk to me, right?”

Jihoon side eyes him. “I don’t want to admit how I feel about her to you when she hasn’t even heard all the songs on there.”

“What’s the folder for?”

“Just… inspiration.” Jihoon leans back further in his chair. “The songs on the upcoming album have come out of there. At least the less… perverted ones did.”

“There are other songs like that.” Seungcheol tries not to sound too surprised.

Jihoon’s cheeks are so warm that he takes a sip of his iced coffee. “Lately… yeah.”

“Have you…” Seungcheol shakes his head. “No. How could you? You always come home for Eunha.”

At this, Jihoon looks at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… just that if you guys were having sex, you wouldn’t come straight home to your daughter, would you? Not when all of us would know.” Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “Right?”

Jihoon doesn’t even know how to respond to that except with the truth. “Fine. No. We haven’t yet.”

“Because of her or because of you.”

“Things are going slow. I don’t know… how to broach the topic.”

“Why can’t showing up to her door with passionate kisses be enough?”

“And what? Leave Eunha with you guys overnight?”

“Yeah, why not?”

So, Jihoon does just that and it turns out so much better than he expected.

“Why does this shirt,” he mutters between kisses, “have so many buttons?”

She giggles against his lips and steadies his hands in hers. “You’re excited. Like a child. Calm down.”

Jihoon hums, obsessed with the taste of her lips and her hands around his. She guides him through the motion of unbuttoning her shirt. Once they’re undone, he pulls away slightly. She tips her head. Jihoon is gentle with her shirt, sliding it off her shoulders. Her eyes watch him the entire time, watch him admire her body as the fabric falls to the floor. His hands start from the sides of her thighs up her body, skimming over her underwear, and holding her under the arms, hands right by her breasts.

“You’re really gonna tease,” she chuckles. She closes the distance between them, kissing him and fumbling with his shirt. His shirt is easy, his sweatpants he practically steps out of. It’s once they’re both just standing in their underwear that she stops him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jihoon kisses her shoulder and up her neck to the base of her jaw. “Why would I want to stop?”

“Eunha?” she hums. The child’s face is prominent in her mind, but becomes hazy every time Jihoon sucks a spot on her neck.

“She adores you. Which gives me permission to also adore you.”

She smirks, arms wrapping around Jihoon’s neck to force him back to her lips. “I’m glad I pass the test.”

Jihoon scoops her up and carries her to the couch. She gasps in surprise, which forces him away again. Spread along the couch are a lot of her art supplies. When she turns back to him, there’s a grin on her face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to jump me tonight. I was planning to paint, so…”

“Do you want to clean first?” he chuckles.

She shrugs.

Jihoon snorts and picks her shirt up off the floor and hands it to her. As much as he wants to sleep with her, it seems tonight may not be the night. He finds his sweatpants and pulls them on then helps her move her art stuff. He sits on the coffee table while she manoeuvres her piece from the floor to the desk.

“Do you want to paint?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “I want to spend time with you.” She moves some stuff to make space for her piece.

“Do you want to teach me to paint?”

She peers over her shoulder at him. “Really?”

“Well, I’m impossible to teach, but I don’t want to leave yet.” Jihoon glances at her bare torso, as she hasn’t bothered to button the top. “And I like the view.”

She rolls her eyes, an amused smile on her face. “Are idols allowed to say stuff like that?”

Jihoon looks around her home. “Unless you have a listening device and turn me in, I’m confident to say how I feel about you.”

A smile blooms on her face at hearing that. She pulls one of her watercolour pads off the desk and motions for him to join her on the floor. She flips past the first two pages, but Jihoon still catches glimpses of them.

He grabs her wrist to stop her. “Were those of Eunha and me?”

“Oh.” She tilts her head and flips back. “Yeah.” The first page is from the night he had come over to learn to cook. The second was their first date.

Jihoon looks to her expectantly and she can only shrug.

“I draw what I like.”

Jihoon doesn’t know why he finds that embarrassing, but his ears feel warm.

She tips her head back in a laugh. “Of everything that’s happened tonight, Jihoonie, I don’t think you need to be embarrassed to hear that I like you.” She returns to the one with Eunha on it and pulls the sheet. “I wanted to give it to you, but I thought maybe it would be creepy if you knew I was painting you and your daughter from memory.”

Jihoon stares at the paintings. He can see Eunha’s expression in them; how happy she had been with the meal and the dessert. If this is what he’d look like that night, he had been extremely relaxed. His finger traces over the skin, amazed at how seamless it appears.

When his eyes lift to meet hers, she seems surprised to see tears.

“What’s wrong?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Nothing.”

She slides closer to him and her thumb brushes his tears away. “You’re crying.”

Jihoon sighs and his head tips back, as he tries to keep the tears in. “I… it’s just that…” Jihoon’s gaze rests on her again. “No one else has seen Eunha like this. The members do, but they helped me raise her. Which is why sometimes she’s an absolute menace.”

She smiles.

“But…” Jihoon studies the painting, at his baby so beautifully depicted. “I don’t know. This kind of reminds me that maybe I’m doing okay if she looks like this.”

“Jihoon, you’re doing great. She’s happy and she loves you.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m failing her all the time, and…” The tears appear again. “And I feel like I lost some of who I am, because I had her.”

She eases the sheet of paper out of his hands. Jihoon uncrosses his legs so she can move between them, draping her legs over his thighs. Her hands plant on the floor between them as she leans forward to press kisses to his face. His eyes close at the sensation. “Jihoon, she is all you. Your music is who you are. You live and breathe Seventeen. Just because you became a father doesn’t mean you lost any piece of the Jihoon that was there before she existed.”

Jihoon lifts a hand to the back of her neck to pull her closer. Painting is put on the back burner, as they get lost in the feeling of kissing each other. Jihoon’s legs curl behind her to prevent her from moving away. His free hand slips inside her shirt and finds home on her hip. His thumb moves back and forth across the skin there.

Meanwhile, her hands have pulled him as close she can get him, her fingers tangling in his hair. When she gives the hair at the base of his neck a small tug, he groans. This lets her slip her tongue into his mouth. He tastes like her coffee, unsurprisingly enough. And she has to admit, it tastes better on his tongue than in the cup.

She can feel his growing hard on through his sweatpants. When she pulls away to breathe, she asks, “So we’re not painting then?”

Jihoon hums something incoherent, because she latches her lips against his neck.

“Wait,” he breathes.

She slows her assault on his neck, but doesn’t stop.

“No hickies.”

“Simple enough,” she breathes against his skin.

Jihoon finds himself falling back onto the floor as her kisses trail all over his body. Her hands explore every muscle and memorize them. Jihoon enjoys the treatment, his eyes closing while he lets his other sense take over. She wiggles him out of his sweatpants again and then returns to his lips.

“Bed?” She adjusts her body over his, putting pressure against him, which makes it impossible for him to reply.

Jihoon looks up at her and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. She sucks a spot on the soft skin near his jaw, but stops before it can leave a mark. He manages to roll them over.

“You’re making it really hard to think.”

She slides a leg between his, which seems just enough friction for him to grimace. “You’re thinking with something else.”

“Where’s your bed?”

Her eyes dart to her left. He helps her to standing and then lifts her. Her legs wrap around his waist. If there had been other objects in the way, he would have knocked into all of them, because she starts kissing him again. And it seems like his brain shuts off as soon as she does that. He presses her against her bedroom wall and when he ruts against her, her breath catches.

“So, you are needy.”

“Lee Jihoon, you are literally between my legs,” she manages between kisses. “Yes, I’m needy.”

Jihoon pulls away for a moment. “But you’ve seemed so calm and collected tonight.”

She rolls her eyes and gently kisses his cheeks before saying, “If I was ready to pounce on you when you walked in here, would you have wanted to fuck me?”

Jihoon jumps at the blatant term, but he pivots so that he can lay her on the bed. One of his hand sneaks between her legs, his other arm propping his body over hers, and drags his fingers over the fabric. When she squirms beneath his touch, he says, “Maybe not. But… I’ve wanted this a while.” He meets her gaze. “So I don’t think too much have scared me away tonight.”

Her head tilts back as he begins to rub his fingers in circles. He watches her carefully.

“Stop staring,” her breath hitches, “and kiss me.”

Jihoon smirks. “Make me.”

She snakes a hand behind his head to pull him down towards her. Her kisses stutter depending on the speed of his fingers. His kisses trail down to her neck and nibbles the soft skin on her collar bone. She presses her hands into his shoulders to try to keep her bearings. When he kisses back up her neck and sucks the soft spot of her jaw and she moans something beautiful, he knows that’s a sound he’s going to have in his mind long after this is over.

He slows his fingers down. “How close are you?”

Her breath is heavy; she can’t even answer him. Her rut up into his hand is good indication though.

Two of her orgasms and one of his later, he returns from the bathroom with a washcloth and gently cleans her off. Then he lies on top of her again, her hands go to massage his temples.

“So, you’re going to tell your daughter we… coloured when you came over today?” she teases.

Jihoon rests his cheek against her chest, listening to her heartbeat slowing down after the exertion. “I told her she was staying with the members because I was coming over here for a play date.”

She laughs. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

Jihoon can’t help but smile as he falls asleep.

[librarianbusdriver]

Ted: Okay, where was I? You were telling us how you met mom. In excruciating detail. Right. So, back in 2005, When I was 27, My two best friends got engaged, And it got me thinking, maybe I should get married.

*Sigh*

And then I saw robin. She was incredible. I just knew I had to meet her. That's where your uncle barney came in. I suggest we play a little game I like to call Wait, no, no, no. We're not playing "have you met ted?" Hi. Have you met ted? So I asked her out. But after just one date, I was in love with her Which made me say something stupid. I think I'm in love with you. What?! Oh, dad. So then what happened? Nothing. I mean, I'd made a complete fool of myself. So, a week went by, and I decided not to call her. So you're not gonna call her? You went from, "I think I'm in love with you"

Trapped, the same hollow, dull story repeating again, and again, and again all around me. No way to change its course. No way to do anything but just... watch.

To "I'm not gonna call her"? I wasn't in love with her, okay? I was briefly in love with the abstract concept Of getting married. It had absolutely nothing to do with robin. Robin. Hi. Look who I ran into. Since when do you guys know each other? Oh, since about... Here. Lily recognized me From the news and... Hello, sailor! They just got engaged. Well, I should get back to the station. See you, guys. Nice seeing you, ted. Yeah, you, too. Thanks. What? Damn it! I'm in love with her. As your sponsor, I will not let you relapse. You blew it, it's over, move on. I don't know, I just have this feeling She's the future mrs. Ted mosby. ( Lily squeaks) Lily, you squeaked? She said something about me, didn't she? Come on, spill it, red! Fine. So, what do we think of ted? ( Iaughs) Ted's something else. Huh. I'm gonna spin that as good. Lots of guys are something, I'm something else. Comes on a little strong. But, that's part of my charm. But, that's part of his charm. Oh, totally. I mean, he's sweet, he's charming, He's just looking for something A little bit more serious than I am. I mean, the most I can handle right now is something casual. This just stays between us, right? Are you kidding? This flapper? Fort knox. Oops. She wants casual. Okay, I'll be casual. I'm going to be a mushroom cloud of casual. Cause it's a game... I want her to skip To the end and do the whole happily-ever-after thing. But you don't get there unless you play the game. So, are you going to ask her out? Yeah... No! I can't ask her out, Because if I ask her out, I'm asking her out. So, how do I Ask her out without asking her out? Did you guys get high? I got it. I don't ask her out. I invite her To our party next Friday. We're having a party next Friday? We are now. Casual. Like inviting a hundred people over just to mack on one girl. Oh, and lily, that's my leg. You waited five minutes to tell me that? All right, so call her up. No, calling's not casual. I just got to bump into her somewhere. Now, if only I knew her schedule, I could arrange a chance encounter. That's great, ted... you'll be the most casual stalker ever. Put that ring on her finger, lily had been, Well, extra affectionate. ( chuckling ): Baby, no. I have a 25-page paper on constitutional law due Monday. Hey, I'm just sitting here, wearing my ring,

Wallachia, how I miss you.

My beautiful ring. ( Typing) Kind of makes wearing other stuff seem wrong. Like my shirt. Kind of don't want to wear my shirt anymore. Or... My underwear. That's right, I'm not wearing any. ( Sighs ) No underwear? Not even slightly. Ted: Guys. Boundaries. Robin ( on tv ): Thanks, bill. I'm reporting from the razzle dazzle supermarket On 75th and columbus... 75th and columbus. Game on! Where four-year-old leroy ellenberg has climbed Inside a grab-a-prize machine and gotten stuck. ( Panting ) And, all in the pursuit of a stuffed, purple giraffe. For metro news 1, I'm robin trubotsky. Engineer: We're clear. Robin: Thanks, don. Whew. Ted. Robin, wow! What are the odds? Oh, you know, just, uh, shopping for, uh, dip. I love dip. I mean, I don't love dip, I like dip... ( chuckles ) so, uh, hey, you, uh, Reporting a news story or something? Yeah, kid stuck in a crane machine. How sweet of you to call it news. Wow. Kid in a crane machine. Mm-hmm. You just had to have that toy, didn't you? Couldn't play the game like everyone else. You're all sweaty! Cute kid. Um, you know, It's so funny I should run into you. We're, uh, we're having a party next Friday, If you feel like swinging by. But, you know, whatever. Oh, I'm going back home next weekend. It's too bad it's not tonight. It is... It's tonight. This Friday. Did I say next Friday? Sorry, I guess I've been saying next Friday all week. But, yeah, it's tonight, the, uh, the party's tonight. But, you know, whatever. ( Phone rings) Hello? Hey, am I interrupting anything? No, no, I'm just writing my paper. Hitting the books. Yeah, well, you and lily Might want to put some clothes on. We're throwing a party in two hours. Okay, bye. What are you gonna do when robin shows up? Okay, I got it all planned out. She steps through the door... and where's ted? Not eagerly waiting by the door. No, I'm across the room at my drafting table, Showing some foxy young thing all my cool architect stuff. So, robin strolls over, and I casually give her one of these: "hey, what's up?" She says, "hey, nice place, et cetera, et cetera." And then, I say, "well, make yourself at home." And, I casually return to my conversation. Then, an hour later... "oh, you're still here?" I say, like I don't really care, But it's a nice surprise. And then, very casually: Both: The roof! Get her up to the roof, And the roof takes care of the rest. What's so special about the roof? Oh, the moon, the stars, the shimmering skyline. You can't not fall in love on that roof. We do it up there, sometimes. Solid plan, my little friend. But, may I suggest one little modification. Barney: That foxy young thing you were chatting up, Take her up to the roof and have sex with her. Crazy monkey style... That's not the plan. Barney: Well, it should be the plan. I mean, look at her. Ted, look at her. She's smoking! Thank you! Yeah... But, she's not robin! Exactly! Ted, let's rap. Statistic: At every new york party, There's always a girl who has no idea Whose party she's at. She knows no one you know, And you will never see her again. Do you see where I'm going with this? Barney, I don't think so. ( groans ) Scoping.

I miss it all. The childhood spent in that bountiful castle, the beauty of those rolling green fields...

( Imitates sonar beeping ) Scoping. Man, you're a dork. ( Accelerates beeping sound ) Target acquired! Now it's time we play a little game I like to call "have you met ted?" oh, come on, not this. Hi. Have you met ted? No. Hi. Hi. Do you know marshall? Lily? Woman: No. Hmm. Do you know anyone at this party? I work with carlos. Excuse me. Anyone know a carlos? No. No. On a silver platter. Bon appétit. I don't think so. Your loss, her gain. Excuse me. Can I show you the roof? It's magical up there. Sure. Ted: Wait, wait. Hey, hey, I got that roof reserved. Dude, robin's not coming. Hey, she's going to show up! She'll show up. Ted: She didn't show up. At least it was a great party. I ate, like, four whole cans of dip. You always know what to say, old friend. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. No, no, not right away... got to seem casual. ( Ringing continues ) Hello? I'm so sorry I missed your party. Who is this? Meredith? Robin. Oh, robin! Hey! Yeah, I, uh, guess you never showed up, did you? No, I got stuck at work. But, they finally got that kid out of the crane machine. Did he get to keep the purple giraffe? Yeah, they let him keep all the toys. He was in there a long time, And little kids have small bladders. ( Chuckles ) robin: I wish your party Was tonight. It is... the party's tonight. Yeah, uh... It's a two-day party, 'cause that's just how we roll. Uh, so, if you want to swing by, you know, it's casual. See ya. So, that was robin. What are you Doing to me, man?! I got a paper to write! I know! Sorry! It's terrible! I'll buy more dip! Ted! Ted, wait! Get french onion! Can you believe this guy? I got a paper to write. Okay, fine. But, it's got to be, like, super-quick, And no cuddling after. I'm the luckiest girl alive. You were so right about the roof! The roof! The roof is on fire, ted! That girl from last night... I took her back to my place, Spun her around a couple times and sent her walking. She will never find her way back, and there she is. How did she get here? Did you invite her? I have no idea who that is. She said she works with carlos. Who's carlos? I don't know any carlos. ( Frustrated groan)

The conquests... the blood of my enemies spilled, and villages burnt to the ground in my name.

Hi, you! You're back! I sure am. Mmm. Come on, sweetie, I need a drink. "Sweetie"? Really? ( Barely audible ): Help. Whoa! Whoa, rabbits! Come on, I got that roof reserved. All right. So, it's over between me and works-with-carlos girl. Whoa! That was fast. Yeah. I was trying to think, What's the quickest way to get rid of a girl you just met? I think I'm in love with you. What?! Thanks, bro. Glad I could help. What the... No, no, no. Come on. Sorry, ted. Great. What am I going to do when robin shows up? She'll show up. She didn't show up. All right. We threw two parties. Everybody had fun. Everybody wanged, everybody chunged. Now, the kid has got to get to work, And the kid is not to be disturbed. Repeat after me. I will not have sex with marshall. Both: I will not have sex with marshall. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. Hello? Hi, ted. Amanda? Oh, denise! Sorry, you totally sounded like amanda. It's robin. Oh, robin. Hi. I totally wanted to come. I got stuck at work again. I feel like I live there. I'm sorry I missed your party, again. Hey, ain't no thing but a chicken wing, mamacita. Who am I? I guess there's no chance your two-dayer Turned into a three-dayer? It did, indeed. The party continues tonight. Yeah. Uh, last night, people were like, "keep it going, bro. Party trifecta." Wow! Okay, well, I'll be there. Great! See you tonight. So, that was robin. So, I threw a third party for robin... On a Sunday night. Well, this is lame. Lame... Or casual? Lame. Or casual? Hey, law books. Ready for a little 15 minute recess? Sorry, baby, I got to work. I need all my blood up here. Has anybody seen an introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923? Anybody seen a big-ass book? All ( muttering ): No. Woman: Hello, barney. Of course. You look well. Is it weird they invited both of us? Who? Who invited you? No one even knows who you are! I understand you're hurt, but you don't have to be cruel. Carlos was right about you. Who is carlos?! Hey, where the hell is my...? Oh...! Okay... An introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923 Is not a coaster! Ted, I'm jeopardizing my law career so you can throw not one, Not two, but three parties for some girl that you just met Who's probably not even going to show up! I mean, where is she, ted, huh? Where's robin? Hi. Hi, robin. Wow. So, you threw all these parties for me? No. Oh, you thought that... No! I... Okay, yes. You got me. One of the reasons I threw these parties Was so that I could introduce you To, um, this guy. Uh, I figured, you know, Since it didn't work out between us And now we can just laugh about it... ( laughs weakly) Anyway, robin, this is... Carlos. Oh! Oh! She's still talking to carlos. I can still win this. I-it's not over. Okay, buddy. Time for the tough talk. Robin seems great, but let's look at the facts. You want to get married. And right now, There's a million women in new york Looking for exactly you. But robin ain't one of them. She's not just one of them. She's the one. Yeah, well, the one is heading up to the roof. What are you going to do? Nothing. It's a game. I got to just keep playing it. ( Rock music playing ) Ted... Hey, carlos, can you give us a minute? Hey, no sweat, hombre. See ya. Robin...

Will I ever be freed of this damnable place?

Look, I didn't throw this party To set you up with carlos, Or the one before that, or the one before that. I threw these parties because I wanted to see you. Well, here I am. There's something here, look, unless I'm crazy. You're not crazy. I don't know, ted. I mean, we barely know each other And you're looking at me with that look. And, it's like... Like, "let's fall in love and get married And have kids and drive them to soccer practice." I'm not going to force sports on them Unless they're interested. ( Iaughing ) It's a great look. But you're looking at the wrong girl. No, I'm not. I don't want to get married right now, maybe ever. I'd feel like I'd either have to marry you Or break your heart, and... I just couldn't do either of those things. Just like you can't turn off the way you feel. Click. Off. Let's make out. What? What? That was the off switch. And I turned it off. I mean, look, sure, yes, I want to fall in love, get married, blah, blah, blah. But, on the other hand... You, me, the roof. There's no off switch. There is an off switch. And it's off. No, it's not. Yes, it is. No, it's not. Yes... It is. No, it's not. You're right. There's no off switch. God, I wish there was an off switch! Me, too. ( Both laughing ) ( both muttering nervously ) What do we do now? We could be friends. Oh... I know it sounds insincere when people say that, But... We could. I don't know, robin. I've made such a jackass of myself here. We start hanging out, every time I see you It'll be like, "oh, that's right. I'm a jackass." You're not a jackass. Look, I'm sorry. I only moved here in April and I'm always working And I just haven't met a lot of good people so far. But I understand. Well, uh, maybe in a few months, After it's not so fresh, We could all, uh, you know, get a beer. Yeah. That sounds good. I'll see you, ted. Or, you know, now. We could all get a beer now. I'd like that. My friends are going to love you... Like you, you know, as a friend. Jackass. Unbelievable. That's just a recipe For disaster. They work together! Are you jealous? Oh, please. What does carlos have that I don't? A date tonight. All: Oh! Stop the tape. Rewind. ( Imitates tape rewinding ) a date tonight. All: Oh! I'm not sure I like her. Hey, don't you have a paper to write? Dude, you're talking to the kid. I'm going to knock back this beer. I'm going to knock back one more beer. I'm going to write a 25-page paper. I'm going to hand it in and I'm going to get an "a." My name is rufus and that's the trufus. ( Iaughter ) Ted: He got a b-minus. But still, 25 pages in one night, b-minus? The kid was good. At least let me buy you a beer. Come on, I'll buy everyone a beer. I'll help carry. You know something, ted? What? You are a catch. You're going to make some girl very happy. And I am going to help you find her. Well, good luck. I mean, maybe new york's just too big a town. I mean, there's millions of people in this city. How, in all this mess, Is a guy supposed to find the love of his life? I mean, where do you even begin? Hi. Have you met ted? ( Music rises over dialogue )

I do not know if I can, but I must.

[STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB]

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOUUU-

[snowdice]

Logan’s 25 Step Plan to Ask a Boy Out (Relabeled; Refiled Series)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters: Logan, Patton, my self insert again, oops Lia(OC)

Summary:

“No! Logan look,” she said. “He likes you and you like him. You don’t need a list or a plan or schematics for this. Just walk up to him and ask him out before you hesitate so much that he thinks you don’t like him anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that something that can happen.”

“Oh god, this is hopeless.”

How is Logan so good at, but simultaneously so bad at this?

This is a one-shot dealing with events set before my story Sometimes Labels Fail set a few months after The Things We Never Mentioned.

Notes: Superhero AU (doesn’t matter for this one... again), Logan being dumb but it the sweetest way possible.

This was supposed to come out later this week, but the mini fic I was writing to release today ended up... not being a mini fic. So, I shuffled around my release plans a bit and you get this now!

It was almost 3am and Logan was still in his office. He really should just go home. There was no way he and Lia were going to be able to solve this problem tonight. Lia wasn’t even looking at the problem on the chalkboard anymore, instead she had pressed the chalk against the board longways and was turning it slowly to make a fan shape on the board.

Logan took a drink of his room temperature coffee. “We could try integrating it.”

“No.”

“You’re probably right.” Logan tilted his head back and closed his eyes pretending to be deep in thought, but really he just let his brain drift. “Lia,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask your advice on something not related to math.”

“Fucking please do.”

“It’s about Patton.”

She didn’t even pause. “My advice is, ask him out.”

Logan paused and opened his eyes to look at her. “Er well… Yes.”

She suddenly looked more awake than she had in hours. “No really? Yes! It’s about time!”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Your enthusiasm about my romantic interests is absurd… but useful in this specific case.”

She sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap like a particularly interested school child during story time. “Please continue.”

“I have decided that I would like to pursue a romantic relationship with Patton, and I am currently researching the best strategy to convince him of my adequacy as a prospective partner.”

“Research?” Lia asked. “Oh god, please tell me you didn’t made a list.”

“I am simply inquiring after your advice concerning rather you believe Patton would be more inclined to understand love language in poetry or flowers.”

“Logan you don’t need to prove your ‘adequacy’ or whatever. Just ask him out.”

“Certainly,” Logan said. “Flowers or poetry.”

“Logan you’re not listening,” Lia complained.

“I assure you I am. I’m even taking notes.” He turned the paper around for her to see.

“‘Lia does not seem to have an opinion on flowers or poetry. Seems to suggest a bold approach,’ Logan you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He sat back and flipped back a few pages in the notebook. “I have interviewed many people on the topic but seeing as you have actually met Patton in person, I thought your perspective would be useful despite the certain ridicule that would come from the question.”

“Logan please, please tell me you didn’t make a list.”

Logan didn’t reply. He had. He had made a list. He’d done more than just make a list. He’d created a whole new file designation specifically for Patton and Patton related things. He now had a light blue binder which contained the list as well as the drafts and research notes on matching light blue paper as well as a picture Patton had doodled on a napkin to give to him. What else was he supposed to do?

Over the past couple of months, he’d done research in the form of interviews as well as non-fiction and fiction reading, drafted the list, done more research, and edited the list. It still wasn’t good enough. He was missing something. He knew he was missing something, but he couldn’t figure it out. He was hoping Lia would be more helpful.

Clearly, he was mistaken as she just groaned. “Logan…”

“Never mind.”

“No! Logan look,” she said. “He likes you and you like him. You don’t need a list or a plan or schematics for this. Just walk up to him and ask him out before you hesitate so much that he thinks you don’t like him anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that something that can happen.”

“Oh god, this is hopeless.”

“I was unaware of the possibility of a time limit on this assignment.”

“That’s not. No. That’s not what I’m saying Logan. Please don’t freak out. This isn’t homework!”

“I’m not freaking out Lia,” he said calmly even though his mind was racing.

“Logan, I know that look,” Lia said, “that’s the Logan’s pretending he’s okay, but he’s actually about to go and break down in a closet look.”

Logan waved her off and gathered up his bag. “Thank you for your input; you have given me a lot to think about.”

“No, please stop thinking!”

“I must go.”

 Logan had meant to finish editing his list the night before but had fallen asleep almost immediately after getting home from the office. He woke at around 10am with a sore neck. He looked at the list. He should switch task 7 and 8 he decided. He wrote out one more copy of the list with the edit and then stared at the list again. There were 25 list items the last one being to ask Patton on a date. It wasn’t perfect, but… perhaps it was good enough. He bit his lip. Some of the tasks would take more effort, but luckily Logan had already started working on preparations for the third step which was to express interests in things the subject found important. The first two steps were to express a desire to spend time with the subject and demonstrate an ability to notice the subject’s likes and dislikes. With the preparation he had done, he was certain he could get through the first three steps today.

Decided, he jumped to his feet. Patton often came to ‘The Hideout’ at around 11:30am for lunch on these days. If he moved fast, he might be able to catch him before-hand and ask him if he’d like to have lunch with him.

…

He should go take a shower and brush his teeth first.

After cleaning himself up and picking out one of his nicer casual outfits, he headed to the hospital. He wasn’t sure where to go, so he just headed to the admission area for the hospital emergency room. “Hello,” Logan said to the receptionist. “I was wondering if Patton Sanders has left for lunch yet.” The man behind the counter blinked at him. “He’s a surgeon here.”

“I know who he is,” he replied slowly. “I’ll um, go get someone to check.”

Logan nodded and stepped away from the counter. The receptionist walked away and then returned after a moment.

A few minutes later, Patton walked up to the reception desk from the other side looking rather confused. He spoke briefly to the receptionist who gestured to him. Patton turned, lighting up a bit when his eyes fell on him, though he still looked a bit confused. “Logan,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Logan stepped back up to the reception desk. “I was wondering if you would like to have lunch. I know you usually go to ‘The Hideout’ and we end up eating together anyway, but you don’t always, and I wanted to intentionally make plans with you. It doesn’t have to be at ‘The Hideout’ either. Of course, only if you aren’t busy and you want to.”

“I do,” Patton said. “I do want to, uh, but,” he glanced behind himself back into the ER. “We’ve been pretty busy, and I don’t think I’ll be able to take a long enough lunch to go out. I was just going to grab a sandwich in the cafeteria.”

“That’s fine,” Logan said. “We can make plans for another day.”

Patton bit his lip. “You can join me in the cafeteria if you want,” he offered. “I’ll um, only have 15 minutes though and the food isn’t great.”

“15 minutes is fine,” Logan replied.

He smiled brightly at that. “Give me five minutes,” he requested.

“Of course,” Logan said. “I’ll just sit over there.” Patton dashed off. It was closer to 10 minutes, but Logan didn’t mind even when the receptionist kept giving him looks he couldn’t understand or when a few nurses stopped by to peer at him curiously from over the counter.

Patton was still wearing the doctor’s coat when he came back to the waiting room area. He smiled when he saw Logan and grabbed his arm to guide him to the elevator. The cafeteria was on the top floor of the hospital. Patton warned him off of getting the spaghetti and he ended up with a grilled cheese sandwich and soup while Patton just purchased a premade cold cut sandwich from one of the refrigerators.

The cafeteria was crowded at this time of day, but Patton directed him to a more secluded part of it. His eyes kept flashing at the clock, but he still smiled at Logan.

“It bought you a brownie,” Logan said pushing it at him. “I’m not sure of its quality compared to the ones at “The Hideout,” but I know it is your favorite dessert so hopefully it suffices.

He took the saran wrapped dessert with an almost startled expression. “Thank you,” he said and then looked back up at Logan. “It’s good to see you. I-I’ve had a stressful morning and was sad I wouldn’t be able to go out for lunch today. Thanks for being willing to eat down here with me.”

“I’m glad I decided to come today then. Thanks, are not necessary. I enjoy talking with you no matter the environment.”

A bit of a blush bloomed on Patton’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “What would you like to talk about then?” he asked.

“How about,” Logan began, “antibody diversity and histocompatibility systems.”

A strange look crossed Patton’s face. “Did... Logan did you look up my research papers?”

“I,” he didn’t know why he felt compelled to blush. “Yes, I did. You don’t have a background in mathematics or physics so I thought I would investigate your interests so we could have something to talk about. They were very well written.”

A pause. “You read my research papers.”

“Yes,” he said. “There was a lot of terminology I had to look up, but I believe I have enough of a working knowledge to hold a conversation.”

“You,” he stopped and looked at Logan with an intense but achingly tender expression that figuratively stole Logan’s breath. It lasted for a long moment and Logan felt trapped by his gaze in the best way possible. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” Logan replied breathlessly without even a thought. Patton gave him a dazzling smile and bit his lip, looking away slightly. Logan’s brain restarted once he wasn’t held captive by that strange look in Patton’s eye. Wait, wait, he’d had a plan! He’d just ruined the plan!

“So then,” Patton said somewhat bashful, “what would you want to do on the date.”

Logan scrambled to mentally scratch off 22 list items until he found the ideas he’d come up with for once he’d procured a date. It wasn’t an edited list yet, but at least it was something. He was glad he planned so far in advance. “Midtown park perhaps,” Logan suggested. “There is a small place that serves pasta and an ice cream shop nearby. We could have dinner and then walk through the park. You’ve mentioned that you enjoy ravioli and the restaurant I’m suggesting is well known for the dish according to three articles in two different newspapers in the last 18 months.”

Patton titled his head with a small smile. “You’ve put some thought into this haven’t you?” he asked.

“I…” Logan said, “tend to be a planner.”

Patton reached over to place his hand on Logan’s. “I’m glad,” he said. Logan turned his hand over so their fingers could lace together. They only had 7 minutes to eat once they remembered their food and it was quite bland, but Logan would surely never regret it.

Thanks for reading!

And with that, we are done with the prequel fics that had to come out before multi-chapter prequel! The fic Gaps in His Files will start releasing next week. It’s 14 chapters.

[strangewhitegirl321]

Illusory (10th Doctor)

{Not my gif.}

(A.N. This was a request I got on Tumblr... literally over a year ago. I am @sorry for the wait. Oops. Now I can't even find the messages I had to see what the expectations are for the fic or to tag the person who requested it. I'm so sowwy! I had no clue how I was going to finish this fic either, so I apologise if the ending is sloppy, but I just absolutely had to get this out of my drafts.)

Words: 1621

    "I can't let you post it, you know," The Doctor stated, exasperation covering his face and seeping through his voice. "Too many people would recognise me. It's not a good idea."

    "Who said I was going to post it?" Turning to give him an amused grin, (Y/n) nudged his shoulder gently. "It's just something fun- and, a good way to keep memories alive!"

    The Doctor's brows raised, the left side of his lips quirking up in just the slightest smile as the girl stepped in front of him.

    "Whenever we want to remember what happened here and all the fun we had, we can just rewatch the video!" His companion exclaimed, excitement practically twinkling in her eyes.

    "I suppose so, but you have to promise not to post it." The Doctor pulled one of his hands from the pocket of his trench coat, pointing it menacingly at (Y/n) as she quickly nodded in agreement.

    Without a hint of hesitation, she proclaimed, "I promise!"

    The Doctor tilted his head, seeming to study her before tucking his hand back into his pocket. Seemingly satisfied, he pursed his lips and nodded.

    "Alright, then. Show me what you have so far." He requested, watching as (Y/n) whipped out her phone and opened up the camera app. "Aw, seriously, you used a standard phone app? That's just pitiful."

    Almost immediately, a frown covered (Y/n)'s face as she turned to give him a look, "I can't afford any big fancy cameras, Doctor. This is all I have. Besides, do you have anything better?"

    "Yes, I do, actually," Seeming contented, the Doctor began to roll around on the balls of his feet. "I have plenty of gidgets and gadgets that would do a much better job than that sorry machine."

    (Y/n) could only huff at him in annoyance, pouting as she whined, "Well why didn't you mention that earlier? That would have been so much better-"

    (Y/n) cut herself off, a thought jumping front and centre in her mind, "Would you be able to teach me how to use any of those machines? For future reference?" She turned to face him better, looking him straight in the eye with her knuckles turning white from the strained grip she had on her phone.

    The Doctor pursed his lips again, rolling his head around on his shoulders as he observed her before finally conceding, saying, "Well, when your eyes sparkle like that, I can't say no, can I?" His companion immediately began jumping with glee, before he raised his hands and swiftly calmed her.

    "But first, show me the video! You said you already have it edited and everything!" He exclaimed, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the sitting area nearby.

    "Oh! Right, right!" Swiftly, (Y/n) whipped her phone around in her hands and pulled out the video in a few short taps. Apparently, she had already watched it halfway through on her own- because the video immediately started playing at the twelve minute point rather than the beginning.

    "-if we get murdered, it will most definitely not be my fault-" The Doctor's voice chimed out, chiding the past version of (Y/n) who had claimed their murder would be on the Doctor's hands.

     The Doctor leaned forward in interest, hardly remembering his own words, before (Y/n) restarted the video. The first thing the Doctor's eyes were pleased to see was a horrible shot of the underside of (Y/n)'s chin as she badly hid the camera from his past self's view.

     "Alright, Doctor, where are we today?"  She asked, the footage shaky as she fought to keep up with the Doctor's long strides.

    "Well, I remember you saying you wanted to visit some place creepy- so today, (Y/n), we are in Atchison, Kansas, planet Earth, fall of 2019," He explained in the video with optimism.

    The girl in the video nodded, and quickly replied, "That explains the good wifi signal." The real Doctor started in his place on the couch as (Y/n) snorted at her own comment.

    "I'm already hilarious," She stated, knocking shoulders with the Time Lord. In reply, he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the video- just in time to see that his companion had managed to capture his previous eye roll at the first comment on camera.

    "Now- why are we on planet Earth, in Kansas, in 2019 when we could be literally anywhere else in the universe?" (Y/n) asked, a car siren going off in the distance. However, she quickly stopped where she was and gasped.

    "Oh, wow- this place is beautiful," She sighed, turning the camera around to catch the sight of a gorgeous mansion with a red roof and a beautifully groomed lawn bathed in the sunset's light. "Is this why we're here, Doctor?"

    The Doctor nodded, jumping on the balls of his feet and trotting over to one of the hedges that guarded the lot. When he was in front of it, he squatted down and sent himself flying over it with a huff. His long, skinny legs flew over his head before he smashed into the ground with an 'umph.'

    A bark of a laugh left his companion's lips, before she trotted over to him- and suddenly, her camera phone was tossed over the hedge, just barely managing to capture her graceless vault over the hedge and more so capturing her face plant into the lawn.

    "Well that's a great way to start off the night, i'nt it?" The Doctor laughed, standing to his feet and brushing off his trench coat.

    (Y/n) laughed with joy, grabbing the hand he offered her and jumping to her feet before smacking the grass and dirt off her legs, "Why didn't you just park the TARDIS in the yard?"

    "Because I like a good ol' jump every now and then! It's great on the calves," Without missing a beat, the Doctor defended himself.

    After the quick jests, the pair hurried up to the front of the mansion. The Doctor was quick to reveal his sonic screwdriver, opening one of the doors and quickly dragging (Y/n) inside. When her eyes spied the interior of the mansion, she made a sound that revealed the drop of her stomach.

    "Oh," She started, "This isn't quite as enchanting as the outside, I have to say..." Her voice trailed off, before the Doctor relocked the door behind them.

    "Yes, well," He began to explain, pressing himself against her as he looked around, "Welcome to the Winchester Mansion. If you think it's creepy now, wait till we get further inside."

    "Alright, seriously now, Doctor, why are we here?" The girl quizzically asked as the man moved past her to waltz down the hall. She followed after him quickly, refusing to lose track of him as he wandered the house.

    "We're here to visit an old friend of mine," He explained, "He's a bit of a hermit, really, likes to give people a right good scare- but, he's harmless. Totally harmless."

    "Why does it feel like you're trying to convince me this night will end well?" Exasperated, (Y/n) sighed, the camera shifting to view her rubbing the bridge of her nose in a faked stress. However, when the Doctor chuckled at her words, a small smile bloomed beneath her hand before she attempted to smother it. Her attempts were in vain, seeing as the Doctor's foot found the wrong side of an elegant carpet and nearly sent him tumbling to the ground. A howl of a laugh left her lips, before she gave up on her act.

    Recorded-(Y/n) gently put a hand on his elbow, helping him straighten up. When he was back on his feet, he gave her a cheesy, thankful grin before continuing down the eerie, dark hall.

    The Doctor and (Y/n) watched as their past selves ventured through the Winchester mansion. (Y/n) seemed to have watched the video several times before, seeing as each time something would happen she would intently watch the Doctor's face for his reaction. Each time he laughed, she laughed herself.

    There were moments in the video that the Doctor hadn't expected. Intimacy was plain between the two time travellers in the video- however, the Doctor never would have known he was so affectionate with his companion if it weren't for the video.

    He watched as his recorded-self encouraged (Y/n) to open a door and step out, laughing when she was shocked to find nothing but a sharp fall on the other side. She had turned to him with a gasp and immediately accused him of wanting her to fall, but her accusations were quickly hushed when she was wrapped up in his arms.

    The Doctor frowned at the phone's poor job of recording. In the embrace, although he could hear the giggles and quips between his past self and (Y/n), he could only see his armpit in the video. He wished he could see her face in that moment- wished he could see her smile when he embraced her. Something told him there was a smile reserved specifically for him, specifically for when he wouldn't see. The poor Time Lord was dying to see it.

    Suddenly, recording videos with (Y/n) didn't seem so bad anymore. In fact, as the video played on, the Doctor began to plan how he could record future adventures with (Y/n). After all, he wanted to see that smile that's just for him. And, he never wanted to forget what being with her was like. Somehow, even in a dark, creepy mansion with seemingly nothing eventful taking place, the pair of them together were able to entertain themselves with vast stupidity. That stupidity was worth the risk, he supposed.

    From that point on, the Doctor vowed to record every adventure with (Y/n).

[aiden-png]

Hyrule the baby detective?

ohohoho okay so.. I have three genres I like to write in my original lit: horror, scifi, and mystery. so I wanted to write a mystery for LU, multichapter and thoroughly outlined (partly because analyzing HSH was so much fun and I wanted to keep that going alkdfjkasdfj). so I came up with an idea for a crime mystery set in a vaguely 1890s ‘modern’ Castle Town city following apprentice detective Hyrule... I actually wrote a Lot for the first draft before realizing it was a bit too silly for my intent and I hadn’t outlined it enough to solve the sideplots I’d introduced while writing. so I scrapped this... 4? chapter first draft right before the climax and sat down to Really plot it out (I wrote this one in July I think lol)

I have a whole outline and I made a new setting: ‘modern’ university AU with a serial killer antagonist who takes an interest in Hyrule. I had so much of it planned out and I was hype to write it because the twist was amazing, which is the part I felt was lacking set up in the first try. but then classes started and I came up with another multichapter idea and started writing that instead, kinda.. oops!

so if I ever release a version of this fic, it’ll probably be an edited and finished version of the crack taken seriously first draft XD and I’m not sure if I’ll ever use the twist I came up with for the second version so I won’t share it, but it was Good omg.... I love adding twists into my multichapter fics, they’re so much fun aaa! :D

and I guess, just because I can.... have a (unedited and messy) snippet from it! :D

Hyrule was so nervous he’d managed to leave the office and board the subway before even opening the envelope. The envelope where the address of the client and time of meeting was… Hyrule sighed, carefully opening the clasps and peering inside. There was one tiny slip of paper and nothing else. Great. Hyrule pulled the appointment card out, squinting down at the scribbled address and-- oh dear, the meeting was in less than an hour! Hyrule’s eyes flicked around, only relaxing slightly as he realized he’d somehow managed to board the correct train.

He was a bit frustrated at the lack of information he’d been given, if he was being honest. A murder case typically had a name, some pictures, a report even when they got the call, but the card Hyrule held simply had an address and a name--Twilight. Odd name, but he didn’t really have room to talk, his parents had named him after a country after all.

The train arrived and Hyrule shuffled his way through the crowds at the station, climbing the stairs to find himself in the center of the historic district. Towering stone buildings lined the streets in streaked creams and greys, stained by coal even as most of the city moved to electric. The houses here were expensive and ancient and Hyrule knew the district was made of wealthy, private citizens more than anything else. People who preferred to keep their affairs under the table, tight-lipped and aloof, rude even. Hyrule lived in a dingy apartment, packed like a sardine in rooms barely big enough for a bed and stove. He felt small and out of place just standing in the street, suddenly aware of how cheap his white shirt and suspenders looked compared to the businessmen clad in full suits around him.

Hyrule rushed to find the building, glancing up towards the clock tower that rested in the building at the end of the street. Rows and rows of brownstones, all looking strikingly similar, before Hyrule found the bright red overhang of an apartment building, the address emblazoned on the cloth in gold script. He let out a small sigh of relief, still ten minutes ahead of schedule, and pulled open the grand wooden door at the entrance.

The interior was dark but spacious, high ceilings and sconces all fit with gas lamps that were out of use. There was a window at the top of the first flight of stairs, smudged and allowing a grey, watery light to pass into the foyer--the only light present. The right side of the hall held a built in alcove, a set of open mailboxes behind a desk and chair. An attendant sat in the dim light, head slumped forward on his chest, brown hair disheveled over his maroon uniform. Obviously asleep. Hyrule looked down at his note, up at the stairs, and quietly snuck past.

Two flights up Hyrule noticed a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling at the top floor, visible through the gaps in the alternating staircases. A small man was strapped to the rail and ceiling, grease and soot staining his shirt and hair pulled away with a green headband. Hyrule found himself on the fifth floor and peering at the precarious set up the man had constructed--or was he just a boy? He didn’t look much older than fourteen, but he was clearly hard at work, wires looped around his arms and clamps in hand as he converted the chandelier from gas to electric. The kid shot Hyrule a questioning look and he realized he’d been staring, quickly turning away and facing the hall ahead.

There were six doors, three on each side of the hall with tiny golden plaques adorning the wood with each apartment number. Hyrule winced as each step he took broadcast itself in loud squeaks, the maroon carpet rolled over the wood doing nothing to muffle them. Fortunately the apartment he was looking for was the first to his left, room 501, and he took a moment to check his pocket watch and take a few steadying breaths. Before he moved to knock on the door he heard the click of the knob, and a moment later the door tugged open to reveal a man dressed in a dark jacket with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. They narrowed for a second and Hyrule felt himself stiffen in fear before the man grabbed his arm and pulled him in.

The door shut quickly, trapping Hyrule in the mysterious apartment with a threatening stranger and no escape. He almost considered trying to bolt before his eyes landed on the teen sprawled over the loveseat ahead, long blonde hair spilling onto the ground while his bare feet rested over the couch back. His left side was covered in a layer of streaking pink scars that pinched his eye slightly shut and twisted his mouth into a perpetual smirk. What made Hyrule pause however was the grin the kid shot him, warm and excited, and when he turned back to the other man he saw the tense posture had relaxed significantly.

“You’re from the agency, right?” the man asked, voice a bit tired and hopeful, like he’d been through this song and dance several times before.

“Ah, y-yes! My name is Hyrule, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Hyrule stretched out his hand and the man shook it readily, firm, and Hyrule felt himself begin to relax slightly.

“I’m Twilight. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll fill you in on why I called.” Twilight offered a small smile and Hyrule let himself be guided to sit in a high backed armchair opposite the loveseat. Twilight shoved the teen’s legs off the back and came to sit beside him as he readjusted into a cross-legged position, grin still wide on his face.

“I’m Wild by the way,” Wild waved, Twilight nodding somewhat resigned.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wild,” Hyrule nodded despite the odd name, smiling at the thanks Twilight mouthed at him.

“Alright, so,” Twilight huffed, crossing his legs and straightening his back. Hyrule perked up, pulling a notepad and pencil from his jacket pocket and flipping open to a blank page. “I didn’t say much on the phone last night because this is a… well, a sensitive case, let’s say.”

Hyrule hummed, curiosity easing his anxiety enough to shine through. “A murder, yes?”

Twilight winced and Wild snickered at his side.

“Yes and no…” Twilight shot Wild a glare. “See, it hasn’t exactly happened yet.”

Hyrule paused. Huh.

“So you heard that a murder is being planned and you called us to help prevent it?” Hyrule surmised, only to be met with more laughter from Wild. Twilight shoved him but the teen only hid his smile behind a hand in response.

“Not exactly,” Twilight sighed, and Hyrule noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. “You see, we have this odd neighbor at the end of the hall, and--”

“Twilight saw the guy’s ghost in a dream and is convinced he’s going to be killed.” Wild cut in, ignoring the sharp glare Twilight shot his way.

“Well, that’s a new one.” Hyrule raised his eyebrows, taking in the giggling teen and Twilight’s tired expression.

“It wasn’t a dream, I saw him, or at least I think I did.” Twilight sighed, fixing Hyrule with pleading eyes. “It must have been a ghost because he just appeared out of nowhere in the hall, covered in blood, and told me to call the cops. I did, but when they arrived they said nothing was wrong and I must have been seeing things. But I have a bad feeling about it, something isn’t right. I just want to make sure the Old Man’s okay.”

“When was this exactly? Have you checked on him yourself?” Hyrule tapped his pencil on the notepad, mulling over Twilight’s words. This certainly was an interesting case, and while he wasn’t sure how much he could truly do to help, he understood what Twilight meant. Hyrule trusted his own instincts--a bit too much according to Legend--but they hadn’t truly led him astray yet.

“This was a week ago. I checked on him right after I woke up the next morning. He was fine, not a scratch on him, but something tells me whatever is coming for him hasn’t yet.” Twilight twisted his fingers together nervously and Wild’s laughter petered off. “I’ve been hearing arguments from his apartment. More and more strange people have been coming to visit, and at odd times of the night. I think he’s gotten himself mixed up in something, but he’s pretty stoic and keeps to himself. I just worry…”

Alright, so maybe this case wasn’t as straightforward as he’d been led to believe, but Hyrule wasn’t deterred. Twilight’s words shone with honesty and he realized that the man was likely on his last attempt to find help. No one in their right mind would believe this story, no respectable detective would take on such a case. So it was a good thing Legend sent him, because Hyrule had literally nothing to lose.

“I’ll help you,” Hyrule announced, feeling a swell of confidence as Twilight smiled and Wild shook his head fondly. “If what you say is true there is cause for concern. I can start interviewing those close to him and keeping tabs. If he’s in trouble, we’ll find out, and I can make sure he stays safe.”

Well, he could try, but that was beside the point.

“Thank you so much,” Twilight said, already relaxing. “You don’t know how many detectives I’ve reached out to. They all say I’m crazy or trying to pull a prank.”

“Well, I’m here now, and I’ll get to the bottom of this.” Hyrule replied with far more confidence than he had. At least Legend had taught him one thing--how to bullshit. “So, why don’t we start with what you know about this man…”

Twilight sat back in the chair, Wild getting up to make tea in the adjacent kitchenette. Hyrule readied his pencil, hands steady as his nerves eased.

“We call him Time.”

[basilgrimbitch]

Day Two: Swap

Normal high school AU where Baz is new to Simon’s English class but Penny is the one that gets assigned a seat next to Baz. Aka English nerds in love.

Words: 3457

Note: this is unedited and super rushed but its something!

No warnings apart from a lot of swearing. Enjoy!

_____ 

SIMON

“Alright so I posted the seating plan on the class page, did everyone get a chance to see it?”

While everyone scrambles to look at their laptops, I’ve already seen Ms. Possibelf’s seating plan and can I just say… What. The. Fuck. She’s sat me across the room from Penny (honestly fair since we never get any work done) next to some random girl named Trixie; she seems nice enough but so bloody boring. How am I supposed to make it through a whole year of English without Penny? I can hear the complaints layering up in the tiny classroom and I can see the teacher ignoring every single one of them. I don’t think I’ll bother asking for a change. Though, maybe she’ll listen to Penny?

I nudge Penny’s arm, I guess she’s already seen the seating plan too because she makes no effort to look at her laptop and moves towards her assigned seat.

“Surely the fuck not?” I don’t bother whispering.

“I think you mean surely the fuck yes. I’m not failing this semester because you want to tell me a gross story about your arms smelling like Cheetos mid class.” I’m smirking and she looks like she’ll bite my head off. That makes me smile more.

“That was once!”

“It still happened, and I’d rather hear about your smelly limbs at lunch time - or better yet, never.”

We’re cut off by Ms. Possibelf starting the class, or at least trying to.

“You should’ve all written a draft of your persuasive orals over the holidays, now you must refine them and prepare a final copy. These will be presented in two days.”

Okay as much as I’m a clown in English, I’m actually decent at it. I’ve already written and edited my script, so I really have nothing to do. I sit in my seat and glance at Penny, it looks like she’s done too. I’m fairly sure she’s playing fire boy and water girl, she’s playing both parts (because I’m not there) and she’s taking up the entire table, her desk mate looks so uncomfortable squashed into a corner. Who is he, by the way? The name on the roll was Tyrannus, what the fuck kind of name is that? So pretentious.

I open up Instagram on my laptop and text Penny.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Simon Snow [10:04]: who is heeeeeee

Penelope Bunce [10:04]: who?

Simon Snow [10:04]: the guy ur sat next to whats his name?????

Penelope Bunce [10:05]: got a bit of crush huh :0

Simon Snow [10:05]: oh fk off I haven’t even seen his face,,, whats his name??

Penelope Bunce [10:06]: he said to call him baz

Simon Snow [10:07]: hmm weird but cool name

Simon Snow [10:07]: what schools he frm?

Penelope Bunce [10:07]: idk do ur work Si

Penny stops typing, she looks me in the eyes then turns to speak to Baz, shutting her laptop. That’s such an odd name, right?

They talk, she’s laughing, he’s just sitting there so composed. He doesn’t look bored exactly, just that he’s better than seeming overly excited. Dickhead it is then.

Even though I think I’ve already decided I hate him, I don’t stop looking at them. He’s got long hair, its black and loose just above his shoulder, his skin is this gorgeous caramel that doesn’t need tanning and his eyes, they’re so grey a mix of green and blue I think and – fuck. We’re making eye-contact, not in like oh oops, more like oh shit why is this guy staring at me. He must think I’m a fucking creep. Shit.

It’s not like I care though, he probably thinks he’s better than everyone in this room anyway. But he’s just smiling at me? Fuck that’s a good smile. I think I’m smiling back, I can’t help it. He turns back to speak to Penny, they seem like they’re in deep discussion about something, I wonder what? And suddenly, I catch myself wishing I was her. Um, what?

The rest of the period flies by. Too quick, I think, not that I need more time to work, I just kind of wish… whatever.

Penny, as per bloody usual, is taking her precious time packing her stuff away. I walk up to her table, hyper aware of Baz’s presence there,

“Planning on leaving anytime soon?” I ask, trying to seem as nonchalant as can be, but my eyes keep glancing to him. I think Penny must’ve picked up on it because then she says, all smug,

“But then you wouldn’t get to meet Baz,” she gestures to Baz, who’s raising his eyebrow and smiling a little against his better judgement I think, then she gestures to me and then back again, “Baz, Simon. Simon, Baz. There we go.” He’s full on smiling now. Fuck, how can someone be so pretty?

“So nice to meet you, I’m Baz Pitch.” He puts his hand out for me to shake it – that’s so proper. I’m not even convinced he’s 17. He’s so calm and put together, these are not words you use to describe a 17 year old guy.

“H-hey, yeah, Simon.” Of course, I trip over my words, I’ve always struggled with that but I’m also really fucking nervous for some reason.

“Do you wanna have lunch with us, Baz?” Penny’s throwing her bag over her shoulder, looking at me like she knows what she’s doing to me and then back to Baz with genuine eyes. Penny doesn’t usually get on with people like that, that’s why we’ve been friends for so long, she really doesn’t have other options (not like I do either).

“That’d be nice.” He says, the corner of his mouth inching up, giving his cool exterior away. He’s not a pretentious git, is he? He’s just a boy on his first day of school; that’s fucking daunting.

We walk out the classroom – finally – and Baz starts telling us about himself and his old school. Mainly just answering Penny’s questions. Does he have siblings? Yeah, four half siblings. How come he moved schools? dad moves a lot for business. Oh, is he going to be moving again? Probably not until after high school, by then I could move out anyway.

I’m not usually this quiet. Usually I’m more social than Penny. I don’t know what’s come over me, I wish I could be her right now.

Lunch happens, Baz doesn’t really eat. Not like I was watching him. Well he was sat right in front of me and I just noticed that he wasn’t eating anything. Surely that’s normal.

I finally ask Baz what other classes he’s taking; other than English we don’t share any classes and then I let myself say, “that sucks.” But only because its normal, its not flirting. You can want a friend to be in your class. Penny still looks at me anyway.

But then he says, “I’ll just have to look forward to English,” and my heart melts.

______

I try not to think about Baz right now, in bed, but I am anyway, and I remember him telling me his full name; so naturally I’m suddenly typing it into the Instagram search bar. Aha! He’s not on private, thank the gods of social media.

I start scrolling through his feed, careful not to tap anything of course. There are a few photos of him alone, they’re gorgeous; he dresses so nice. Penny says I can’t dress myself. In one photo from a month ago he’s in this incredible suit, taking a mirror selfie in a bathroom that looks nicer than my whole house. His hair is slicked back (I think I prefer it loose – still so bloody fit though) and his cheekbones are so defined, he’s got that same face he had when we first met today – eyebrows raised, little bit a smirk, beautiful eyes.

I scroll down to the next photo, this one is different. It’s not a hot mirror selfie, its him carrying a little girl – his little sister? – on his shoulders looking up at her with a smile, a real big smile. He’s dressed a bit more casual too, still nicer than anything I own though it’s just jeans and a black button down. I keep coming back to the jeans. How can someone look so good in jeans?

I scroll through a few more photos, some with friends, some more of just him and a few of books he’s reading or places he’s visited. I feel like I know him a little bit better now – less in a stalkerish way more in a… well I can’t think of the write word. I can never think of the write word.

My phone vibrates all of a sudden and I literally drop my phone, so I don’t accidently like anything.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Penelope Bunce [23:13]: up thinking bout prince charming?

Simon Snow [23:14]: shut up

Penelope Bunce [23:14]: don’t blame u he’s v cute.

Penelope Bunce [23:14]: And smart.

Penelope Bunce [23:14]: you have my blessing

Simon Snow [23:15]: bugger off,, as if he’s even into guys

Simon Snow [23:15]: I was literally such an idiot today he probs doesn’t even wanna be my friend

Penelope Bunce [23:16]: AHA SO U ADMIT IT

Simon Snow [23:16]: did I even have to

Penelope Bunce [23:16]: ofc not. For what its worth I think u have a shot.

Simon Snow [23:17]: sureeeee

Simon Snow [23:17]: fuckkkkk im gonna be so dead tomorrow,, gn love u

I turn my phone off, pull my glasses off chucking them somewhere I probably won’t find them tomorrow and roll over to fall asleep.

______

We’ve got English first period today. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited for English, but then I remember I don’t even get to sit next to him.

I walk into class and he’s already in there, we make eye-contact – way less awkward than yesterday – and he gives me a nod. Its friendly, it’s nice, it’s already a bit familiar. I give him a little wave with my right hand below the books I’m carrying but then I’m nearly dropping then, and my laptop starts sliding through my arms. It’s a shit show and it’s too early in the morning to embarrass myself, but I don’t get a say do I? As a say good bye to my laptop that is threatening to smash in the ground any second now – and any possibility for anything with Baz – I hear a chair scraping at the floor then not being pushed in. Suddenly, Baz’s hand is on my shoulder; the other grabbing my laptop that’s basically just resting on my belt buckle at this point. I beg myself not to blush, not now.

Baz is laughing. We’ve – he’s – saved my laptop and now he’s carrying it and my books; he insisted I was not to be trusted.

“Alright, special delivery all the way to your seat. You sure you’re okay Snow?” He’s using my last name because he thinks it’s ‘such a waste to not make use of such an iconic surname’. I like the way it sounds on his lips. I think I just like his lips and anything after is automatically perfect. Perfect.

He taps my shoulder, “you okay there?”

“Huh? Yeah yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep very much last night.” That’s not a lie.

Baz nods and says he’s gonna go get started on the work, I watch him walk away. The school trousers, they’re no jeans but he looks good in everything.

I try to do some work, making cue cards for my presentation, but I keep letting myself look over to Baz. Penny just caught me and stuck her tongue out.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Penelope Bunce [08:31]: ur staring

Simon Snow [08:32]: am not,, go away

I go back to working on my cue cards after making a show of shutting my laptop in front of Penny. I get through two more cards before I see a pair of shoes approaching my table. I look up and sure enough its prince charming – I mean Baz. He clears his throat and says,

“I hear you’re good at English”

“There’s no way Penny said that,” I laugh.

“True, she said ‘he thinks he’s better than everyone else.’ But I take it for good reason.” He smiles while doing air quotes, I smile back at him because I can’t help myself.

“Well, I definitely don’t suck.”

“Good. Do you mind reading over my script, please? I feel like it needs a little bit of editing.” He hands over his laptop, “don’t drop this one okay?” he chuckles.

I honestly don’t know how to act around him. I’m the epitome of those ‘act normal’ memes. He hands me his laptop and I start reading. His presentation is on single use plastics and it is so well written, he definitely doesn’t need my help. My neck is getting warm and I hope I’m not blushing at a script on environmentalism just because it was written by a hot guy. That’s pathetic.

But he’s not just a hot guy, is he? He’s smart – so smart – and he’s so kind even if you wouldn’t think so; when he helped me with my books today, I couldn’t help but think back to that photo of him with his sister, so much warmth and kindness expertly hidden under a cool and calm facade. I get to the end of his conclusion and look up in awe but he’s standing just behind me leaning forward waiting for my response. That explains the warmth I was feeling.

Baz doesn’t seem like the kind that would ever doubt himself but if you could see him now, you’d think he cared about what everyone thought about everything; and maybe he does, maybe he just hides it really well.

“Baz.” I make eye-contact with him, finally on purpose, “this… its incredible. I don’t even know why you’d ask for feedback. Your arguments are excellent, and your use of inductive reasoning is really fitting.”

His face lights up, a kind of innocent smile creeps up on his face and for the first time I think I want to kiss him. But even more so, I want to be responsible for more of those smiles. “Really?”

“It’s perfect.”

I look away because I don’t want him to see me blush. Penny is looking straight at us, she gives me one of her reassuring smiles.

______

It’s been two weeks of school; all my classes suck but it’s our last year and soon enough we’ll miss it. At least that’s what Penny keeps saying, Baz agrees with her.

Baz has been spending more time with us; we hang out at lunch time, he’s joined us for frozen cokes a few times in the past few hot days. It’s nice. I can actually talk to him now too.

He’s so smart, smarter than I had thought. He’s not just academically smart, he knows more than just surface level knowledge. Yesterday, on our walk to English he was talking about some article he read on the relationship between sleep deprivation and blood alcohol concentration just for fun. Though its nerdy and just a bit lame, the way his eyes light up when he talks about things he cares about, I’d listen to the summary of a thousand dumb articles to see that again.

Right now, Baz isn’t here though, and all my brain can do is think about him.

“Pennyyyy!” she’s lying on my bed while I do my art homework on the floor, she always comes home with me on Tuesdays, I don’t know when that started.

“Si, I already said no like three times.”

“Why not? Do you not love me?” I asked her to swap seats with me in English. I just wanna sit next to Baz, I can say I need extra help or something.

“I love you of course but I don’t want Baz to think I’m avoiding him, and I certainly don’t want Ms. P to fail me for disobeying her one rule.”

“Just please.” I give her my best puppy eyes and pouty face, “I fink I’m in wuv,” I say mockingly. She

throws an old stuffed toy in my face. I guess that’s a no.

______  

The next day I see Baz at the school gates, he’s holding a cup of coffee and his hair is up in a bun today. Flawless.

“Fancy seeing you here,” how can he look so perfect at eight in the morning. I don’t even feel awake yet.

Baz bumps my shoulder with his and we start walking to our lockers. We talk about the English reading we were set, we’re reading Lord of the Flies and Baz is going on about how he and Penny think the book would be drastically different if it had female characters.

“Golding said he didn’t add girls to avoid sex being a subject.” I say, and Baz just looks at me with his eyebrow raised. I call this the signature Baz look now.

“Oh, come on, as if every single kid on that island was straight.” I choke on nothing for a second. Baz and I have never talked about relationships or sex or sexuality. It’s not really a matter of discussion I guess but hearing him acknowledge the idea of guys being together, I don’t know, it gives me hope. That makes no sense obviously, he’s taking about characters from an English novel not himself and really its more an act of Baz’s resistance than it is a nod to gay rights or whatever. But, still, it gives me hope.

“True,” is all I manage to get out.

We get to English extra early after home room, and I start making my way to my seat. Ever since Baz started hanging out with us outside of class, English is back to being plain and boring, nothing special. So, with my shoulders slumped I mutter a goodbye to Baz as I walk to opposite way to my seat but then I feel something on my hand. Oh my god, its his hand. Its Baz’s hand. On my hand. Pulling me towards him. Its not especially romantic or anything. But its something!

“Hey! Swap seats with Penny, come sit next to me today,” surely this is a dream, I must’ve hit my head. “I need your uhhh help with the essay.” Baz doesn’t help, he just discussed key themes of the novel for breakfast. I feel it again, lingering in my chest, hope. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…” he says a bit quieter now, trying to seem as cool as possible. How Baz of him. Fuck I still haven’t said anything.

“What no no, I want to. I’m just not sure what Ms. Possibelf will say; or worse, Penny.” He pulls at my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.

“What? Scared Snow?”

“We’re not in Harry Potter, Baz.”

“True. I’m wayyy better looking than Draco Malfoy and you wouldn’t be a very good chosen one. The worst chosen one who’s ever been chosen.”

I hear myself saying, “what so I’m not more better looking than Harry Potter?” Is this flirting? He squeezes my hand. He still hasn’t let go of my hand.

“You needed me to point that out? I thought it was a given. You’re well fit, Simon.” Simon. Hope.

I hum in response and with one final tug at my hand, he lets it go. I follow him (I’d follow him anywhere).

“Sit, I won’t bite,” He grins at me.

“Yeah but Penny will,” she better not ruin this for me. For us. I sit next to Baz and we start working on our essays. He doesn’t ask for help once.

Penny walks into class, glances at her seat, sees us and walks to my – her – seat next to Trixie.

Penelope Bunce – Simon Snow

Penelope Bunce [08:14]: u win. Enjoy!

I can’t tell if that’s sarcastic or not.

Baz notices I’ve changed my window to Instagram DMs and nudges me, “how come you don’t follow me?”

“Huh, I don’t know? What’s your user name?” As if I don’t know.

Baz grabs my laptop, “I’ll just type it in.” I let him because I’m lazy and I like watching him type but then he clicks on the search bar and has the biggest grin on his face. Fuck. He can see my search history, “looks like you already know it.” How could I forget about that?

I must look mortified because he places his hand on mine. Second time today. “It’s all good. I already have yours too.”

Hope.