#'i have a spare room available. we could be roommates'

[comradeboyhalo]

As someone who’s on Twitter a couple days ago skeppy did join quackity’s Twitter space and say how he was “99% sure” that bad wanted to move in with him; quackity kept teasing skeppy about it too because it was literal hours just after they met but skeppy kept telling quackity that he felt a “vibe” that bad would. Nothings been confirmed but with the way things are going rn who knows, skeppys “vibe” might just be onto something- ⭐️ anon

theyre so insane I CANT TAKE THIS DISCOURSE AGAIN. THEYVE STRUNG US ALONG BEFORE WITH THIS SHIT. NEVER AGAIN!

[simpforsoap]

Monstrous Lovers- Part 1

Part Two Part Three

It was honest a shot in the dark when you posted that ad, not wanting to let go of your dream house quite yet. However, you couldn’t deny that it was getting harder and harder to make the bills by yourself. There was quite a bit of back and forth between sending the ad out or not, but after a simple post online, you felt it was a good deal, your best friend thinking you were crazy, but you posted it anyways. 

Roommate Wanted

1 or more bedrooms, separate bathrooms ranch styled home in the country. Rent 2500/month includes utilities (including, internet, streaming sites, and electricity). Message me if interested, application and interview required prior to approval. 

Bit about me: lone female, mixture of at home and in shop work, quiet lifestyle. No pets.

Text preferred if between hours 9 pm to 4 am. Thank you! (xxx) xxx-xxxx.

-----

Soap couldn’t believe his eyes, half blaming it on the tiring mission they had just finished and possible lack of food, but the ad seemed like a great deal. Maybe a little high in price, but he reread that ad three times before nudging Kyle’s shoulder. Gaz’s bleary eyes turned to look at him, half awake.

“What’s up?” his voice was filled with exhaustion, but Johnny paid it no mind (his own energy seemingly endless sometimes) as he turned his phone screen letting Gaz squint and blink a few times to focus on the bright screen. 

Soap waited for Gaz to look up at him with an eye brow raised before speaking, “check it out, she posted this two days ago looking for a roommate. Seems like a good deal, maybe a bit pricey but it’s not like we can’t afford it.” 

“I mean, yeah it’s a good deal and seems like a good idea, but…I don’t think ghost or the captain will go for it.” Gaz shrugged his shoulders, reading through the ad one more time, unable to deny the way his stomach seemed to twist with the idea of coming back to a home, not just the base. 

“I think they’ll agree when they see it.” Soap shrugged, reading through the ad again, even going as far to click into your profile and scroll through some of the public photos you had. 

Soap couldn’t stop the giddy feeling running through him as he waited for them to get back to the base, wanting to talk with Ghost and Price regarding this steal of a deal ad. 

-------------

You were exhausted, after a long day of several interviews regarding the spare rooms you had, you were beginning to feel like you were gonna have to settle for either the roudy young couple in love, who happened to be expecting or the rather reclusive and silent male who you interviewed. They seemed nice, but you weren’t fully sold on the idea of one of them as roommates. 

As you sat in the cafe, a cup of cold tea sitting in front of you, you weren’t expecting your phone to ring. You sighed once before picking it up, “hello?”

“Yeah, I got this number from an ad for some rooms for rent. I wanted to know if it was still available and if we could possible tour it.” The voice was deep, a very slight hoarness to it that made you sit up a bit.

“Uh, yeah we can tour it but I would prefer to do a meet and greet first. I’m at the cafe on the corner of sullivan and market if you want to meet me here.” You glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing it was only a little past two meaning you could handle waiting around a bit longer.

“Perfect, we’ll be there in ten.” Before you could say anymore, the line hung up. 

You sat there for a moment, contemplating the risk you were running before deciding ‘what’s the worst that can happen?’

-------

You sat there playing on your phone, having ordered a new tea as yours had gone cold. As you sat there, you jumped when the chair in front of you pulled out, looking up quickly, alarmed before blinking a few times in shock. “Uh…can I help you sir..or uh..sirs?”

You looked up at the men, four of them as the largest of them sat in the chair. You could look at them and tell they were hybrids. It wasn’t uncommon in the area anymore of the hybrids, but you were a little surprised as they sat at your table, thinking briefly how you believed hybrids to stay with one another. The seemingly leader of the four, held his hand out, his lone dragon wing tucked tightly behind his back, tail naturally coiling around the leg of his chair to not take up too much space, “John Price, I believe we spoke on the phone earlier regarding the rooms for rent?” 

You blinked a few more times, watching the one with the mowhawk take a seat to your left, the other winged one sitting to your right while the one in an all black mask with his hood up stood behind John. “oh…uh right yes, sorry I…I wasn’t..” 

You trailed off, not wanting to sound rude, the one to your left spoke up next a small laugh bubbling in his throat, “no worries, lass! Name’s Johnny, but you can call me Soap, that there is Kyle, or Gaz if you wanted to and the one back there is Ghost. We seen your ad for a roommate or possibly more, we’re very interested.” 

You gave a small nervous smiling nodding as you looked at Johnny, then to Price and then Kyle and Ghost, “right, yes. I don’t know if I put it in the ad or not, but it’s a five bedroom ranch styles home, each of us would have their own rooms of course and their own bathrooms. Rent would be 2500 a month, which I know is a bit high, but I tried to throw in as much as I could with that as I could.”

Price nodded giving a small smile to try and put you at ease, “course. Now, the four of us would be the roommates, the price is not a concern at all. We are active duty, often in and out of the home due to work, but we want a place to come back to as home. Something a little more homey than the base is.”

You nodded giving a small smile, “of course, I understand that. I am a hair stylist so sometimes I have clients in home, but most times I work in my shop. I have no pets or anything, house sits on 20 acres of forest land, much of it has been untouched. I’m open to changing things on the property but I don’t want to adjust too much as I like the feel it has.”

You noticed the way Price seemed to take lead, “course, we don’t expect you to change for us love. Now, to get the elephant in the room out of the way, as you can tell we are hybrids. I personally am a dragon, Soap here is a werewolf, Gaz is a harpy and Ghost back here is a wraith. Would that be a dealbreaker for you? And it’s completely okay with being honest.”

You were quiet for a moment, thinking it over before shaking your head a bit, “no, it’s not a deal breaker. I’m not really sure how that works or anything but I’m willing to learn.” You gave a smile, trying to put them at ease, not seeing the way the four of them seemed to look between one another before nodding. “Now, would you like a tour of the house?”

Soap gave a large smile, showing off his sharpened canines, “Would love one lass.”

[sturnioloskyline]

Could you do a story based off your hockey head shots with Chris and he loses a game and gets extra mad because she wore someone else’s jersey to the game 😘

lucky charm

pairing: hockey player!chris x fem!reader

warnings: dom!chris, possessiveness, smut, oral(m receiving), face fucking, p in v, rough, not proodread

summary: chris spots his girlfriend in the crowd at his hockey game, but in another guy’s jersey

thank u for the request anon!! 🌚

"shit!" you shout, rummaging through your closet frantically. you were already running late for chris's hockey game, your roommate, y/r/n, waiting for you outside. you would have left by now, but you couldn't find a jersey anywhere. usually, you wear one of chris's spare jerseys to every single game to show your support, but you couldn't find one in your closet anywhere.

"y/n, come on, we have to go!" y/r/n barged into the room, getting impatient.

"i know, i'm trying!" your roommate watched you as you rifled through piles of clothes.

"what are you looking for?" she asked, wanting to help so that you could leave sooner.

"chris's jersey, i can't find it anywhere!" you groaned, running your fingers through your hair.

"you probably left it at his place," y/r/n said, grabbing your arm. "but i think i have a random one in my car that you can wear. now, c'mon, let's go!"

you sighed but followed your roommate out the door, leaving your guys's apartment and getting in her car. surely enough, there was a jersey in chris's team's colors lying in the backseat. you reached over and grabbed it, examining it.

"whose jersey is this?" you asked your roommate. there was a number on it, but no last name on the back.

"no fuckin' clue," she shrugged, focusing on the road in an attempt to get to the arena as quickly as possible. you shook your head and slipped the jersey on over your outfit.

when you finally got there, the two of you rushed inside to find a good seat. thankfully, two seats were available just a few rows above the ice, allowing for a good perfect view of the game.

as soon as you sat down, the commentators began to introduce the team as they skate onto the ice. you stand up and cheer when chris came out, waving to him. he immediately looked for you, and when his eyes landed on yours, he broke out into a smile.

but then, chris caught a glimpse of what you were wearing. his smile faltered as he read the number on your jersey, not matching the one on his own. he quickly looked away before you could notice. clenching his jaw.

chris was used to outperforming the other players in eery single game he played, but tonight he just could not focus. he fumbled passes and missed simple shots. you noticed the decline in his performance, growing worried about chris. when they called halftime, chris's coach told him to snap out of it. you tried to catch chris's eye, but he refused to look at you for the rest of the game.

chris's team ended up losing, making you feel worse. you and y/r/n got up from the stands, walking out of the rink towards the parking lot.

"you going to chris's?" y/r/n asked, and you nodded. "alright, see you tomorrow."

you waved to her and headed towards chris's car a few rows down. you stood by the passenger side of the car, waiting for chris to finish up in the locker room. a few minutes later, you saw chris walking towards you with his stick in hand and his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"chris!" you called out, standing on your tiptoes and waving. chris looked up at you, scoffing when he saw that you were still wearing the jersey. he didn't respond, simply unlocking the car and opening the truck to store his gear.

you noticed his sour mood and decided not to push it, knowing he had a rough game. you silently got in the passenger seat of the car, fumbling with your fingers as you waited for chris to get in the car.

you snapped your head towards the driver's side when you heard chris's door open. he slipped into the driver's seat with a deep sigh, staying silent as he started the car and put on his seatbelt. you started to feel uncomfortable with the silence, so you looked away and faced the window.

you spent the next few moments in silence, occasionally glancing over at chris who refused to take his eyes of the road. his hair was still sticking to his forehead slightly with sweat, his jaw was clenched and prominent, and his armed flexed as he turned the wheel. you always loved the way chris looked after a game, whether he was in a good mood.

when you turned your head back to the window again, chris finally broke the silence.

"who's jersey are you wearing?" chris asked, not taking his eyes off of the road. you looked at him with a puzzled espression.

"i don't know, it's just a random jersey," you replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

"that number—" chris took one hand off of the wheel to point to the number on your chest. "—is not mine. who's fucking number is that."

"chris, i don't know," you rolled your eyes. "y/r/n let me borrow it."

"don't give me that fuckin' attitude," chris scoffed, simultaneously maneuvering his way through traffic. "showing up to my game in another guy's fuckin' jersey. who do you think you are?"

chris's grip tightened on the steering wheel. you shook your head your head in disbelief at chris's jealousy. surely he wasn't getting this worked up over a jersey, right?

"just wait until we get home." chris's words sent chills down your spine. suddenly, all of the tension you felt towards chris turned sexual. you adjusted in your seat, squeezing your thighs tightly together.

once chris parked outside his condo complex, you practically leapt out of the car. you immediately headed towards the door, using your own keys to unlock the door, stepping inside and holding it open for chris who stumbled in with his gear. you slipped out your shoes off as chris dropped his bags on the floor without a word. he kicked off his own shoes and looked at you.

chris approached you, hooking his fingers in the neckline of the jersey.

"chris what are you— CHRIS!" you yelled as chris ripped the jersey straight down the middle. "what the fuck?"

"you don't fucking need this," chris tugged the ripped jersey off of you, tossing it aside. he turned back to you and gripped your jaw harshly, tilting your head up to look at him. you gasped at the action, your mouth lightly hanging open. "the only jersey you should be wearing is mine, got that?"

you nodded, a warmth beginning to grow in between your thighs. you couldn't lie, whenever chris was angry, you found him incredibly hot. the way his blue eyes got darker when looked at you made butterflies swarm in your stomach. honestly, whenever you guys fought you usually forgot about the issue as soon as you looked at chris.

chris leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, quickly deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth. you let chris take full control, melting into him. your hands reached up to tangle in his hair, tugging st it slightly, eliciting a groan from chris,

chris sloppily worked his mouth from your lips to your jaw to your neck, sucking and biting harshly at the skin just above your collarbone. you whimper and tilt your head back, allowing chris to have more access to your neck.

you felt chris's hard-on press against your body, , causing your hips to instinctively roll into his. chris hand came down and place a quick, harsh slap on your ass. you yelped at the contact, chris's hand kneading your ass as he continued to leave marks on your neck.

once he was satisfied with the hickeys littering your neck, chris pulled away and let his hands roam your body.

"get on your knees," he commanded, removing his hands from your body to grab the hem of his shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head and off of his body. you sunk down in front of him, felling one of his hands go to the back of your head, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail. you hooked your fingers into the waistband of chris's sweatpants and boxers, pulling them both down to the floor and letting chris step out of them.

chris's cock sprung out of his boxers, slapping against his stomach. his veins were prominent along his shaft, and his tip was pink and glistening with precum. you wrapped your hand around his base, angling it down so you could kiss his tip, before opening your mouth to swirl your tongue around it.

"fuck," chris hoarsed out, tightening his grip on your hair. you pushed past his tip, taking more of his length into your mouth. you used your hand to stroke the rest of him that wouldn't fit in your mouth. you bobbed your head back and forth on his cock, occasionally moaning around him.

chris's other hand went to the back of your head, creating a tighter grip on your hair. you looked up at him with his cock still in your mouth, making eye contact while sucking him off.

"look so fuckin' good like this, with my cock stuffed in your mouth," chris grunted, stilling your head. he slowly pushed his hips into your mouth, moaning as you relaxed your throat and made room for him in your mouth. chris finally pushed his whole length into your mouth, curving down your throat. you gagged around him, only making him harder.

chris slowly began thrusting in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat each time. tears pricked in your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you choked and gagged around him, whimpering as he quickened his pace. he tilted your head up to look at him, moaning at the sight of you taking him.

“f-fuck, gonna take my cum like a good girl?” chris asked, barely able to talk through his own pleasure. his thrust grew sloppier and more desperate.

you hummed in response, chris letting out a loud moan. as chris’s hips staggered, you swallowed around him, drawing him to his climax, chris whined as your throat tightened around him, sucking him dry. he held your head there, buried on his cock as he caught his breath.

when he pulled out, he pulled you up into a kiss, his eyebrows scrunching in passion. his hands roamed from your arms to your waist to your hips, stopping to grip the back of your thighs.

“jump,” chris mumbled against your lips. you wrapped your arms around chris’s neck, hopping up. chris swiftly wrapped your legs around his waist, now carrying you in his arms. he made his way over to his room, keeping a tight grip on your thighs.

he walked you over to his bedroom. kicking the door shut behind him. one he reached the door of his bed, he tossed you onto the mattress and climbed over you, connecting your lips once again. he tugged harshly on the hem of your shirt.

“off, off,” he muttered in desperation, pulling back and yanking your shirt up. you lifted your arms, allowing him to peel the clothes off of your body. his hand fumbled hastily with the clasp of your bra, pulling it off in one swift move. he leaned down to kiss the valley in between your breasts as he snuck his fingers under your waistband, sliding your pants and panties off of your legs. he stood up, taking a moment to admire the sight in front of him.

“always so wet for me,” a light smirk tugged at chris’s lips. he reached his hand in between your legs, running his middle finger through your folds. you gasped and arched your back, causing chris’s smirk to widen.

“chris,” you whined needily. chris pulled his hand away from your cunt to inflict a sharp slap on your ass. you only let out another whimper.

“fuckin’ wait,” chris demanded. he moved in between your legs, holding the base of his cock in one hand. he lined himself up with you, glancing at your face. you lifted your hips off the bed, but chris immediately placed a hand on your stomach and pushed you down. “so needy."

chris readjusted so his body was looming over yours. he slowly began to push himself inside of you. you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the sheets tightly as you felt chris stretching you out. chris took notice, his hand moving to caress your cheek. he groaned as he sunk into you, loving how warm and tight you felt around him.

"like you were made for me," chris breathed out as he bttomed out. you bit your lip, feeling his tip press against your cervix. chris started rolling his hips, lightly thrusting into you. you panted as you felt the pain from chris's size dissipate into pleasure.

you let out a soft moan, causing chris to groan in response. you reached your hands up to run along the skin of his back, pressing his body closer to yours. chris let his head hang down, his forehead resting on yours. chris's thrusts becams harder and faster, brushing against your g-spot every time.

"chris—fuck—don't stop," your nails scratched against chris's back, your body arching up to his. chris let out a strangled moan, fucking into you relentlessly. your moans only grew louder and more desperate. "oh, god, chris!"

chris looked at your face. your eyebrows were furrowed, you mouth hung open, and your hairline glistened with sweat. blood rushed to his dick at the sight, and his thrusts grew sloppier. you felt your own orgasm closely approaching.

"gonna cum with me baby?" chris grunted, now pounding into you at a pace that had you seeing stars.

"chris, chris, chris!" you chanted as he fuckied you, your cleching around him. your orgasm hit you like a truck, your head slamming back into a mattress as a long, loud moan escaped your throat. chris stilled inside of you, his dick twitching as he came.

you sighed as you felt yourself returning to reality, chris slowly pulling himself out of you. he watched your face, reaching a hand up to push away the hair that was sticking your forehead.

"so pretty," you flushed at the compliment, surprised at chris's sudden sweetness.

"thought you were mad at me," you panted out, your lips slightly curving upwards.

"i could never be mad at you," chris smiled back, leaning down to place a quick, sweet peck on your lips. "just don't ever think about wearing someone else's fucking jersey again."

...

author's note: first full length smut. 😋 throughout writing this , i wached an episode of love is blind, at least 3 cody ko videos, sung two karaoke songs, and had two shots. yay me! send me more requests! 😙

[sentientcave]

And They Were Roommates

Got brainworms from Ceilidho talkin' about Fem!Soap and wrote out a few scenarios, and landed on this one as my favourite. Maybe personal trainer Soap and hot woman complimenting you in a dive bar bathroom Soap will get written about later on.

Part 1

Part 2 Here

(Fem!SoapxFemReader) ~2.2k words

Alcohol mention, but no other major flags at this point. (A few jokes about axe murderers) But also MDNI because this is an 18+ blog and there will probably be NSFW content in future parts

You had put an ad up online.

Your best friend had moved in with her boyfriend, leaving you with more apartment than you could afford. You had enough savings to get you through till the next month, but things were going to be dicey if you didn’t find someone to take over Fern’s half of the rent soon.

You’d had plenty of responses, mostly from men that gave you creepy vibes, even through digital means. You’d actually met with only one person, and she was allergic to cats, which made her a no go.

She’d been nice enough, though. If it really came down to it, maybe Fern would take Red Herring. She did love that fat orange bastard. And so do you. The thought of giving him up, even to Fern, doesn’t sit right.

Red meows loudly through the door as your key scrapes in the lock. You nudge him away with your foot while you enter the apartment, wary of any escape attempts. You feed him so he stops yelling at you, and boil water so you can feed yourself some instant ramen for dinner, and boot up your laptop to check the ad again.

A few more creepy responses, one of which is just a slightly blurry dick pic. You delete them. One that looks promising.

>Hey! I’m interested in the room if it’s still available! Can we meet soon? I’m a military gal and I’m being deployed again next week and I already gave notice at the last rat-hole I was renting. Seemed like 60 days was plenty of time for apartment hunting 60 days ago, but I haven’t found anything lol. Hopefully we get along! You can give me a call any time in the next few days, and we can set up a meet’n’greet. Thanks a bunch! Jamie MacTavish

Her number is in brackets below that, next to the soap emoji, for whatever reason.

No sense waiting around. You call the number right away.

“Hello?” The voice is a woman’s, a dusky alto, which is a good first sign.

“Hi, Jamie? I’m calling about the apartment. Or, um, from the apartment.” You give her your name as an after thought, feeling silly that you hadn’t led with that.

“Yaldy! I was hopin’ ye’d call. I’ve got a friend I can move in with if it comes down to it, but I really don’t want to. He lives in a worse rat hole than I do. Are ye busy now? I’ll buy ye dinner if you like, just for the short notice and the trouble.”

Anything would be better than ramen for dinner a second night in a row. “Yeah, alright. There’s a decent pub down the street, Keeler’s? It’s close so I can give you an apartment tour if you pass the ‘not a murderer’ vibe check.”

There's a beat of silence. “Does killin’ people in the line of duty count?” she asked. “Because, er, I have. But I’m not like, prone to doin’ that kind of thing in my spare time.”

You think about it a moment. State sanctioned violence does feel different than personal time violence, although you're pretty sure that speaks to some sort of unaddressed bias. Something to think about. “I appreciate the honesty, at least.”

She laughed. “I can meet ye at yer pub in half an hour. That work for ye?”

“Yeah. That works.”

“Great. I’ll text you a picture of me so ye know who tae look for. See you soon.”

You get the text a minute after you hang up. A picture of a gorgeous woman with big smile and bright blue eyes, the sides of her head shaved, the rest of it left long and braided back from her face. She looks normal enough.

You get ready and head out, texting Fern to let her know where you’d gone, just in case Jamie actually was a murderer in her spare time.

Jamie’s already there when you get to the pub, sitting at the bar with a pint, watching the door intently, her leg bouncing. You give her a little wave, and she beams at you. She’s even hotter in real life, wearing tight, ripped up jeans that cling to her muscular thighs, and a tight black tank-top under a cropped leather jacket. She has almost no jewelry, other than the dog tags around her neck and the silver hoops in her ears. She looks, well, normal. Friendly.

You go up and introduce yourself, earning a firm handshake. She’s strong.

“Hi!” she says excitedly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jamie, but my friends call me Soap. I’d tell ye why, but it’s classified.”

“Is it really?”

“No. But it’s fun to say.” She flags down the bartender. “A pint for my friend here, if you don’t mind. You want to grab a booth? Or stay up at the bar?”

You look around, and there’s a few empty booths, but it’s early yet, and they tend to fill up quickly. “Let’s move. If we stay up here the single dads are going to start hitting on us.”

"We are a couple of dolls, aren't we?" She flashed another big smile at the bartender as he set a second pint out. "We're movin' to a table, if ye don't mind."

"No problem, love," he says, obviously besotted already. "I'll send Jenny around to take your order."

"Thanks, pal. Appreciate it."

You pick up the pint and follow her over to a booth, sliding in on the opposite side.

"So, you said you're military?"

"Ah am. SAS no less. Best of the bloody best. Not many jobs where ye get tae blow things up awl the time." She sheds her jacket, revealing impressively muscled arms. "I could just live on base, if things don't work out here, just so ye ken. No pressure on ye. But I hate stayin' on base when I don't have to. It's the communal showers. Most of the lads are, well, lads. Gotta shower in the middle of the night, and I keep bumpin' into my LT when I do. And he said I could move in with him too. I’m in a rush but I willnae be homeless, so ye don’t need to worry about me if you dinnae think we’ll get along."

You wince in sympathy. "That sounds terrible. I don't think I'd ever be comfortable showering in front of other people."

"Is naw so bad, if it's someone ye like seein' naked. But most of em are munters anyway. Wouldnae mind so much if more of 'em looked like you." She winked over the edge of her pint glass and took a swig.

You laugh at her little joke. She's fun, and you already feel at ease with her. She tells you about her old rat hole apartment, and a little about living on base, although she's a bit vague on the details of her actual job, beyond blowing things up.

She asks you about your work, and you tell her about the used bookshop you work at down the road. You're basically the only employee, and it's usually not too busy, although it can be annoying when you get a rush in the middle of pricing 'new' books. But it pays the rent, more or less. You talk a bit about Fern, and about Red Herring too.

"I love cats," she said excitedly. "Never been able to keep one, bein' away so much. LT had a dog, and he was awlright, but I'm definitely more of a cat girl. Got bit by a few too many pups in my day."

"Well, Red's a real love bug. Once we're done here you can meet him. I think we're going to get along fine."

"Och, really? Just like that, aye? Thought I'd have to work harder."

"Honestly, I thought I was going to have to accept some weirdo or give poor old Red away. You're a much better fit than I expected to find. I think we could be friends."

Her blue eyes track something behind you and narrow slightly. "Well, I'm holdin' ye to that. We're about to be accosted by my lads. Don't let them scare ye." She shoves her plate across the table into the spot next to you and clambers out of the booth. "Oi, what're you munters doin' here? I'm gettin' interviewed for an apartment. Dinnae need you scarin' my girl."

You look behind you, spotting a giant wearing a skull-print balaclava, and a more regular-sized (though no less muscular) black man with a brilliant smile. "We wanted to make sure she wasn't an axe murderer," he says pleasantly.

"Or a chainsaw murderer," the giant adds.

Soap cuts him off before he can take the seat beside you. "Over there," she orders, pointing at the opposite bench, where she'd been sitting. "I'm not lettin' you box her in." She grimaces at you apologetically as she drops into the spot beside you. Her thigh presses against yours for a moment, before you shift further down the bench. "They're sweet, in their own way. Think I need lookin' after. The big guy's Ghost, or LT. This handsome pain in the arse is Gaz. Don't let him sweet talk ye intae callin' him Kyle unless you want him tae put yer ankles up by yer ears. Made that mistake before."

"You don't have to bring that up every time you introduce me to a woman," Gaz says, clearly exasperated.

"I do. How else are they gonna know to call you for a good time?" She smacks his hand away from her plate when he reaches for it. "Oi! Order your own chips ye bastard."

"I only want a couple," Gaz protests.

"Ye always say tha' and ye always lie. Ah umnae fallin' for it again."

"You can have a couple of mine," you offer. "I wasn't going to finish them anyway."

"When do we get to see the place?" Ghost asked.

"Ye don't, unless yer carryin' boxes for me. I willna ask her to let three strangers in her home when she's only just met me."

"Well I guess we're helpin' ye move," Ghost said. "Was gonna leave it all to Price."

"Lazy cunts. Ne’er around when there’s work tae be done.”

“I was gonna help,” Gaz protests. “I already told you that.”

“And I did tell you that you could move into my place if you didn’t find somethin’ in time,” Ghost points out. “We’re not all bad.”

“Well, they’re not bad lads tae have watchin’ yer back in a fire-fight,” Soap admits. “But they dinnae know how to be normal about anythin’.”

“Are you supposed to be the normal one?” Ghost asks.

“Aye. And I willnae have you say otherwise in front of my new friend.”

She finishes eating long before you do, with the speed and gusto of a woman who often has to defend her plate against hungry scavengers. Gaz, true to Soap’s complaint, eats the majority of your chips, although he does thank you and give you a big, wide smile, the sort that could sell someone a bridge. He’s definitely a charmer.

Soap asks for the bill while you’re finishing up. You reach for your purse, but she puts a hand on yours and gives you an intense blue stare. “No, kitty. I told ye I was buyin’ ye dinner, I’ll no’ let ye make me a liar, especially when Gaz ate half your plate.”

God she’s strong. You’re not sure that you could shake her off to insist even if you tried. “Alright. I just—”

“Oh I ken. But I wouldna offer if I didna mean it. I’m a woman of her word.” She pays with cash, and offers you a hand up and out of the booth. She points a warning finger at her friends. “And dinnae follow us, ye creepy bastards.”

They laugh, like they hadn’t followed her to the pub in the first place.

“They really do mean well,” Soap says, linking her arm with yours as you step out onto the street. “But they’ve go’ a bad habit of thinkin’ they dinnae need to respect my space just ‘cause we’ve all spent nights crammed into one room sharin’ cots. I think if the captain had his way we’d all live in his house and sleep in a big fuck-off pile like dogs.”

“Sound a bit claustrophobic.”

“Aye. Ye understand why I’m so eager to make this work with ye, kitty-cat. If I move in with LT it’s just a matter of time before Price comes over tae help us fix somethin’ and says ‘Oh, I dinny know why ye both stay in this shitehole. Whyna stay with me a while, till we find ye somethin’ better?’ And then before we know it we’re all sleepin’ in the same bed and usin’ the same toothbrush.”

You giggle, hoping that's just a joke. “That’s gross.”

“I ken! Horrible men, they are. I need some girl time before I go mad.” She squeezes your arm and knocks her head against yours gently. “We’re goin’ tae be best friends in no time, kitty. I wish I wasna goin’ away so soon.”

“You haven’t even seen the apartment yet!”

“Och, tha’s a formality. I was more wurried about us gettin’ along, kitty. The apartment doesna matter all that much, so long as it’s got a workin’ shower and a place for my bed. If I pass Mr. Herring’s sniff test, I’ll give ye cash on the spot, aye? For next month an’ half of this one, since you’d be lettin' me move in before the first.”

And, well, it’s hard to think of a good reason to say no.

[prismaticpollen]

the things we do for friendship (2/4)

original characters, f/f, allergy

Wren is trying her best. She and Vul make a big discovery.

(part 1) (part 3) (part 4)

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“Vul?” Wren called. Nothing. Still no response from the bathroom.

Fine, she’d surprise her. Turning away from the locked door in front of her, she made a beeline for the closet on the other side of the room. She found what she was looking for in a matter of seconds, then retreated to the living room to wait.

Wren was halfway through a new sketch when Vul finally emerged. She’d put the same jumpsuit back on, but hadn’t bothered with her jacket, making it abundantly clear that however different they were, her people still got goosebumps in the cold. Perfect timing, then.

“Come here, let me show you something,” Wren urged her friend. “Sit down.”

Vul obliged. Wren leaned sideways, dropping her sketchbook and pens on the end table to her left, then shuffled over a little more to pull a large down comforter from where she’d hidden it between the table and the couch. Deftly unfolding the blanket, she draped it over Vul’s bare shoulders. “Cozy, right? This way we’re both comfortable.”

“Cozy,” Vul murmured, the word half swallowed by fabric. She was already burrowing into it, nuzzling her face into the fringe along its edges and tucking her legs underneath her. “It’s so soft!”

“Glad you like it,” Wren chuckled. She hadn’t been sure what kind of bedding Vul was used to, but she wasn’t about to let any guest of hers sleep on the couch with just her ratty old throw blankets, and Vul had refused to take her bed for the night when she’d offered. “You can keep it once we finish redoing your room if you want, it’s too warm for my taste so I don’t use it much anyway.”

Vul smiled, or at least she did what passed for smiling, too many teeth showing but still undoubtedly cheerful. She waved too, fingers fluttering in front of her face, ending the conversation on a high note.

Wren waved back, but Vul was already looking away, pulling the blanket tighter around herself to settle in for the night. That was fine, she could draw for a while longer and then turn in for bed herself. It was good seeing Vul at peace.

As unfamiliar as everything must have been for her, the alien had been nothing but bright and cheery since they’d met, even as she was visibly shaken by the circumstances which had brought them together. She couldn’t imagine being that brave herself, but Vul made it look easy. If all it took to make her feel safe was a spare quilt, making one available was the least she could do.

Smiling softly, Wren stood up and tiptoed around the couch, retrieving her pens and paper and relocating to the other side of the room. Flipping to a fresh page, she started testing out ideas, filling the sheet with different shapes in vivid blue and purple. A line here, a dot there, until the doodles converged to an image in her mind. This would be a hawk, wings outstretched, feathers like Vul’s eyes.

Later, she looked up, concentration broken by a small sound somewhere nearby. A whistle, or maybe a squeak, she wasn’t sure. When no obvious explanation presented itself, she set down her drawing, intent on checking the rest of the apartment. She wasn’t worried about a break-in, but the place had had issues with mice when she’d first moved in, and a recurrence of that fiasco was the last thing she needed just then.

Moving lightly on the balls of her feet, she’d only made it to the kitchen doorway when she heard the same sound again. Louder this time, right behind her. She spun around, too fast to stay quiet, readying herself to act. Then she realized: Vul was making the noise. The other girl sat stiffly with her face scrunched up, breathy gasps blending into one long high whine.

Was that normal for her? It couldn’t be, even if it was she had to check. Wren rushed back across the room, dropping to her knees in front of her roommate. “Vul? What’s happening, are you okay?”

Vul inhaled sharply, giving no indication of whether she’d heard the question.

“Hhaaah-ehhHHH!”

Her eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut again. Her whole body trembled with urgency. Another gasp.

“HHIIHH-!”

The dam burst.

“Hhahtchuu! Tchu! Tchuu! Hitchoo! Hehtsch! Hehtchuu! Hh’schu! Hatschuu! Hih’tsch! Hhtssch! Hihhtsschuu! Itschieew! Tchuu! Tchuu! Ehtcheew! Hhah’TSCH! Hhtch’SCHUU! TSHU! HHTCHU! HH’CHEEW! HHAH’ETSCHU! TCHUU! HAHT’CHU! HETCHIEW! TCHUU! HHIHTSCHUU! HEHTCHEEW! TCHIEEWW! TCHU! ETSCHUU! HHAHTCHUUU!”

Vul scrubbed at her face with both hands, eyes streaming. Her breathing was fast and shallow, but she was breathing, and her lungs sounded clear. Hopefully that meant she’d be fine.

Eventually, she dropped her hands and looked up.

Not knowing what else to do, Wren stared at her. The other girl’s face was flushed, eyes still watery, but her posture had softened, and her mouth hung open in her usual almost-smile. Looking like that, she had to be okay. Nothing to worry about. Right?

Vul stared back. She stretched, tail lashing against the upholstery, then broke the silence. “Wren?” Confused, maybe defensive, but no hint of fear. She was fine.

Relieved, Wren stared a moment longer, then burst out laughing. “Seriously, you too?!”

“What?”

“I changed my mind, you’re not keeping that blanket. I think you’re allergic.”

[lizpaige]

Hello, hope I'm not too late for trick or treating? 👻

[send me a trick or treat ask!] 🎃🍫🍬👻

not too late at all! thanks for the ask!! all treats for you! ✨💕 the only trick is I will probably never write this lmao

BUT I've had an idea outlined for a gangsey roommates AU / loosely based on new girl. Kind of a roommates AU that could be standalone with other stories added to the AU later on idk but I've been thinking about it more lately...

Blue needs a place to stay after Orla's boyfriend moves into their apartment. Blue's best friend, Noah, tells her that his friends have a spare room available and introduces her to Ronan, Gansey, and Adam.

The gang meet Blue at her job, canon prostitute conversation happens. Blue still somehow agrees to live with them. She moves in, Ronan and her immediately become friends (we need more bronan in fandom imo). Gansey is a mess stumbling around his big ol crush on Blue, acting like a fool. Adam is never home, always busy or out hooking up with people, Ronan is always brooding. 

Blue and Ronan watching a movie or something bro-y. Adam stumbles in looking tipsy and thoroughly fucked, waves at them and disappears into his bedroom. Ronan gets weird and Blue asks him about it. Ronan confesses his crush on Adam.

One night Blue and Gansey both can’t sleep and hang out together. In the morning they wake up in Blue’s bedroom 👀 They tiptoe to sneak out to the kitchen, but Ronan and Adam are up and bickering (like always). Blue and Gansey hide around the corner waiting for one of them to storm off OR they hide in Gansey’s room. Things get quiet so they peek out to the kitchen and Pynch are kissing. Everyone gets together and are happy in the end. yay.

Nice fluffy chaser for the other angsty WIPs I got going on lmao

[mental-mario]

Part II: Borderline Boogaloo!

Before I continue about my experience in the psych ward, I want to thank my new friend (who is hopefully a real person) lady-macbeth13 for joining me and hopping aboard! I encourage you if you're reading this to click that follow button so you can be my friend as well. Hop aboard this thing before it takes off so you can say, "I knew him when..." Also, please help a friend out and tip me if you can spare it! You can't see but I'm shaking my change cup on the corner right now. I currently have no income, so I am trying to afford the monthly bills and also a video capture card and HDMI splitter so I can get live streaming off the launching pad! I am also trying to afford Super Mario Bros. Wonder, so I truly appreciate any tips you can help with! I want to get some online multiplayer up and streaming with everyone, so look out for that as well! Finally, my friend code on Switch is posted in my bio at this time and QR code is my profile pic, so send me a friend invite! I'm lonely and need friends! :)

So when we left off, I was getting strip searched by 2 nursing staff, and as kinky as that was, it ended rather abruptly when they had me put my jumpsuit back on. Before I could contain my arousal, they showed me to the infamous padded cell. Now, this is all taking place in a cramped, locked, dark area with no windows. The padded cell felt much like a cubicle made of the padded mats from gym class. The walls were the same material, and there was a camera up in the corner of the ceiling near the dingy yellow light. The door had a small slotted window as well. The staff member told me she had to show me the cell so she could document that she showed it to me, and I would only need to see it again if I got violent. From there I was let back out into gen-pop and was given a dinner tray with microwave pizza, which was probably the best thing I had there to eat. As an aside, you may want to make sure what you eat can be a finger food because it is a tall order to eat an overcooked pork chop or chicken breast with a plastic spoon.

As I sat at one of the tables in the dayroom, I got the chance to better observe the environment. There was a TV which was showing the ever-therapeutic local news, where they were running a story about another shooting somewhere. I started feeling less depressed already...There were also a few games like Jenga and Sorry available, which nobody played. Also available was some paper and colored pencils. I ate and sat in a stupor, as the atarax was still kicking in my system. There were posted rules on the wall, stating we are to remain in the dayroom during the day, participate in groups when scheduled, make our beds every day, and clean up after ourselves, including our food trays. The doors were all locked with security monitoring the main doors and cameras everywhere except for the bedrooms. There were a few locked doors designated for group exercise and meeting with the psych team, but I wouldn't get the chance to be evaluated or talk to anyone until the next morning. The rooms were mostly 2 beds but some were private. I did end up having a roommate that night which I hated, but he was quiet enough that I could sleep that night in combination with trazodone. Also in the room was a sink, a bathroom with half door (no lock), a toilet with no seat, and a shower that was surprisingly adequate. For other entertainment, if board games don't grab ya, you could walk laps around the nurse's station, and they even had a helpful sign to let us know that just 33 times around = 1 mile! I know nothing could make me feel more prepared to reintegrate into society than stumbling around the nurse's desk like a zombie in a paper suit that was 2 sizes too large for me.

Since I had checked myself in voluntarily, I was allowed to sign a discharge request notice, which would allow them no longer than 72 hours after submitting it to continue holding me. By 9:30pm, I was ready to go to bed after a long day, and I was also ready to sign the aforementioned form. The unit was loud with lots of hollering, and that triggered my anxiety and shut me right down. Brought me back to my year at the college dorm, which was traumatic and did not go well for me. When I knocked on the door to the nurse's station, I was informed that my nurse was busy at the moment, as she had patients on the other unit to attend to. I stood outside the station, waiting for my nurse to return. By 10:15, I had enough. I knocked on the nurse's door again and said that I didn't care who handled the form but that I wanted to sign it. This other nurse then comes out and gets in my face and tells me it has to be with my nurse and also, "you won't be leaving here tomorrow...I can tell you that!" She replied with such a nasty attitude, and if it's one thing you want to do as a medical professional working on a psych unit, it is to instigate someone with BPD. I started to get nasty right back, and the nurse slunk away back behind the glass, perhaps realizing that she wasn't making the best decision in that moment. I stood around some more until my nurse finally arrived at 10:30pm, and I was wondering the whole time at what point I could expect this experience to actually start making me feel better and less suicidal. Spoiler alert: that moment never came. After this nurse checked that I properly swallowed my late meds, I went to sleep at 11pm, which began quiet time.

I am going to break there and continue on in Part III for my next post, so make sure you click FOLLOW to make sure you don't miss out on that! After all, I feel like we are starting to become good friends now, so friend me and make me a part of your day! I will try not to be too needy! And again, my friend code on Switch is SW-4419-5159-3401. Send me a friend invite and I will accept! I'm lonely...and I'm also broke and unemployable, so please hook your new friend up with some tips on my page! Thank you, and I love you!

[neverthatsirius-jo]

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓

summary — after the halloween night incident, a misunderstanding leads to a fight, which consequently leads to your first kiss with spencer.

content — bau!reader x spencer reid, fluff, friends to lovers, there’s only one bed oh nooo, arguing and some jealousy, reader is a bit mean in this one and is still scared of feelings.

word count — 4.2k

a/n — moral of the story: if i ever give a posting date, add to that three to five business day. also the case in this one is inspired by s05e21, and there’s another part inspired by s04e09. some pieces of dialogue are from those episodes too. i can’t look at this fic anymore because i edited it a hundred times and then i realized that i had been mixing past and present tense!! fun!! and also i'm fighting the urge to re-write both this one and the first part in present tense. i don’t know which i like better yet. we’ll see. i’m so sorry about the title puns. i cannot escape them. if i left the wrong tense somewhere, i’m sorry, my brain is fried. this turned out to be much longer than i expected (that's what she said sorry)

← part one

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

“𝐖𝐎𝐖...”

You were standing in front of a wooden cabin, surrounded by snow, and you could make out the back scenery full of pine trees delightfully adorned with the same white that covered the ground beneath your feet. You smiled resignedly at the ironic timing, not at the circumstances that had brought you there, as you stood by the door with your team. Spencer by your side, of course. Like always, but not quite.

You hadn’t been trying to ignore him the entire week. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself, anyone who asked, and Spencer himself the few times he’d asked if something was amiss.

It had been a busy week, you felt awkward after what had happened on Halloween, even more so by his silence about it, and you just weren’t as inclined to initiate conversation like usual. No matter this, Spencer had treated you normally, or as normally as you’d let him, all week despite the lingering awkwardness that you both carried since the Halloween get-together fiasco.

You were in the small—the population no more than fifteen hundred people—fishing town of Franklin, Alaska. The sheriff had called for the team’s assistance to help with the investigation of a series of murders that had been committed in the span of that same week. He had taken the time also to personally show you to where you’d be staying. A cabin of considerable size made of dark wooden logs with a big white sign that read ‘Karen’s Tavern’ in tall, brown letters.

“We have four of the upstairs rooms available,” the woman that had all but rolled her eyes at you when you tried to offer her a smile when you came in announced.

“Four?” Spencer asked. The same woman offered him a ‘what can you do?’ smile. Of course. It was your turn to roll your eyes then.

“Come on, that’s the best we can do,” Sheriff Rhodes said. “Your team is double the size of my department.”

They both bid their goodbyes and let your team to decide on room assignments before you had to meet at the station. 

“I’m not sleeping with Reid,” Morgan was the first to speak up. Penelope quickly claimed him to be her roommate for the night, slapping her hand onto his.

After Penelope everyone started partnering up before you could even open your mouth to say anything. JJ got with Emily, Hotch with Rossi, and everyone kind of assumed you and Spencer would be sharing. You accepted your faith silently and, with Spencer close behind, brought your suitcases up to your room. You didn’t spare it a glance; you left your luggage behind the door and trotted back down the stairs to listen to what your assignments would be.

“You three.” Hotch pointed to Morgan, Spencer, and finally to you. “I want you to go talk to the bar owner’s daughter. She was the last person to see or to talk to our last victim. She may have noticed something weird, heard a conversation…”

You three nodded at the same time and wasted no time before going out into the cold with a small map you had grabbed from the tavern’s counter in hand.

You chose to walk in silence while Morgan and Spencer bantered their way to the bar, preferring to relish on the crunch sound the snow made with every step you took and nothing else. The same cold that gave way to the snow didn’t take long to get to you as you quickly realized your button-up shirt wasn’t ideal for the climate. Spencer noticed it too, giving you a sideways glance when he heard your teeth clattering. Not breaking up conversation he took off his coat and placed it on your shoulders. With things being awkward as is, you accepted it with a nod and put your arms through it silently.

When you got to the bar the first thing you noticed, and felt, was the chimney to the left that hosted a warm, welcoming fire. It prompted you to give Spencer his coat back. There were quite a few people, most sitting on stools at the large wooden bar, at that time of day. You hadn’t even finished taking your coat off when a young woman approached the three of you—although she was clearly more interested in talking to Morgan; not even sparing a glance at you or Spencer—to ask Morgan if he was the one leading the investigation, and asking him questions about it and the job. For a moment you thought she might be the owner’s daughter you were supposed to talk to, but as the questions seemed to grow more personal and less about the investigation you took a quick look at the bar, where there was a woman preparing drinks, and realized she wasn’t. Forgetting your little ignoring game for a second, you side-eyed Spencer who was turning his head to you, at the exact same time. You both suppressed a smile and stepped to the side to let Morgan do his thing, pretending to look at your map.

Once they’d finished—and Morgan had politely rejected her number—he turned around, his trademark charming smile still on his face.

“How?” Spencer asked.

“What?” Morgan asked back, following the girl with his eyes as she left the establishment behind you. He only returned his eyes to Spencer when you heard the bell chime.

“Every case, you get at least one girl’s number.”

“I didn’t get it,” Morgan corrected.

“And she’ll be crying over it tonight, I’m sure,” you teased as you folded and pocketed the map.

“You know what, pretty boy?” He lifted his index finger. “I bet you could get the bartender to give you her number.”

Both you and Spencer turned rapidly to look at him surprised.

“Ha ha. Funny,” Spencer said.

“Trust.” He wrapped his arm around Spencer’s shoulder, leaning in like he was about to let him in on a secret. “When you’re talking, what makes you feel like an expert?”

Spencer didn’t have to think much before answering. “Statistics.”

“Well, that’s not gonna cut it. Something else.”

“Well—when I do magic?” Spencer answered, doubtfully. You watched the conversation like you would a tennis match. Except this wasn’t as entertaining and you didn’t know how to ease the frown on your face.

“See? That’s nice. Chicks dig magic,” Morgan said, nodding his head with a smile. “Now come on. Go and do some magic.” He grabbed Spencer by the shoulders and sent him in direction to the bar with an encouraging pat to his back.

Your frown deepened as you turned to Derek. “What are you doing? We’re working.”

“Uh-huh, and if pretty boy over there succeeds she’ll be more predisposed to giving us information.” He squinted his eyes. “What? You’re jealous?”

“What? No!” You responded. Too quickly, judging by Derek’s all-knowing smile.

Not able to tear your eyes from where your friend was performing one of his classic magic tricks, you rolled your eyes as the girl took out a dollar bill from her barrette wide-eyed. She flashed him a beautiful smile as she handed Spencer the bottle of water he was buying.

“Why do you look like you’re going to start blowing smoke out of your ears then?”

But you weren’t listening anymore. “What’s there to talk about so much?”

“Hello?”

“I mean this is a serious case; there are four people dead. What are they laughing about? Come on.” You crossed your arms, tearing your eyes away from the scene.

“Hey!”

“What?!” You finally snapped your head back to look at him.

“I was talking to you. You’re in your own world.”

You sighed, trapping the air as it came out into a pout. “Sorry.”

“You know it’d be so much easier for everyone if you both stopped being so goddamn stubborn. Kid over there is head over heels for you and from where I’m standing right here it looks like you are too. What the hell are you both playing at?”

A horrible, stupid blush crept from your neck up to the very point of your years. Though everyone always joked, and teased, and alluded, no one had ever been so direct about the subject. “It’s none of your business,” you murmured, rubbing your forearms in search of some form of heat you didn’t need to keep your hands busy.

“You got me there.” He shrugged. “Just think about it.”

Just as Morgan was finishing with his lecture, Spencer came back with the bottle of water in his hands and a dumb smile plastered across his face.

“You saw that?” He asked Derek, beaming proudly.

“Sure I did.” He eyed you, but you pretended not to notice as you looked away. “I told you, you could do it.”

“Okay, now. What about the victim? Did she give you anything useful or were you just thirsty?” you cut them off, trying not to be too harsh with your tone.

The lack of response from him as he took a few seconds to compose himself was enough to tell you had failed. You decided you were going to bite your tongue for the evening and that you did, speaking no more than was necessary as you spent the rest of the day carrying out Hotch’s orders and focusing your mind completely on solving the case. You would have plenty of time to wallow in your self-pity when you got to your room.

You weren’t really upset about the flirting per se. It had never bothered you before. You understood your feelings weren’t a set of laws he had to abide by so as to not hurt them; much less when he didn’t even know about them. There had been plenty of times in the eight years you had known him where girls swarmed to his side, batting their eyelashes, and giving him compliments. You didn’t mind watching them drool over him, you couldn’t blame them and you would have been a hypocrite to do so. He was mostly none the wiser to all of it but that’s not why you didn’t mind. You just weren’t overly jealous, much less in cases like this.

He even had been on a date last year. He had told you about it, before and after, and you had helped him ignoring any kind of negative feelings that may have brought up. But you had never, ever, felt how you did right now.

A horrible, confusing mixture of anger, upset, and betrayal, which was unwarranted if you took into account you weren’t anything other than friends. You guessed it was your fault for stupidly thinking there was a silent ‘yet’ addendum to the ‘no more than friends’ now after what had happened last week, the way he had looked at you, the way he’d had you in his arms. 

You weren’t expecting him to ignore the subject completely. Sure, he wasn’t ignoring you in the way you were him, but in your mind you couldn’t help but think that he was just playing with you that night last week. That he had figured you out and wanted to test his theory; to test if you really had the silly schoolgirl-like crush he had come to conclude you had. Scientific method or whatever. 

In your heart, in your soul you knew that couldn’t be the truth. Spencer wasn’t capable of being that cruel; not to anyone but especially not to you. But not finding any logic to his attitude—not even after replaying the moment in your mind over and over again obsessively—you had thrown yours out the window too.

You kept your silence even as you reached the room you’d be sharing, as you held the door for him to come in after you, and as you started unpacking some of your things for the next day.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asked, once you’d finish violently folding your fifth piece of clothing atop the bed.

You thought it would be a bit weird—not to mention rude—to not respond, so you finally broke the silence. “Me? I’m perfectly fine. You?”

He kept quiet while he watched you finish taking everything out of your carry-on.

“I asked you a question and I’d like a real answer.” He was still a few steps from the door beside his own suitcase. “I thought we were better than this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You turned around, squinting your eyes, challenging him to respond.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked first.”

“Oh, my god.” He interlaced his fingers on top of his head and spun around to turn his back on you.

You grabbed the pile of folded clothing, with such force that you scrapped any folding you had done, making them a ball of wrinkly clothes again. You still went ahead and threw them in the small drawer that Spencer wasn’t using.

“Why are you upset?” He tried again, once he had regained some patience.

“I’m not.”

“The clothes would beg to disagree.”

That broke you a little bit. You turned around to not give in and show him the tiniest—not so tiny—hint of a smile. It wasn’t even that funny but he had that effect.

“I just wanna solve this case.”

“We’ve solved worse.” He said; he was right. “Was it something I did?”

You turned to look at him ready to snap with a sarcastic comment again, but all you saw was sincerity in his eyes. It wasn’t just because you were profilers that you could read each other like a book. You knew he wasn’t playing dumb, much less playing games.

You sighed. “No, Spencer. Just let it go, okay?”

“I don’t want to. You’ve been weird the entire time since we got here. It’s almost like you want nothing to do with me.” His voice was soft. “That not to mention this entire week.” He sounded hurt.

“I’m sure you can drown your sorrows at the bar when this is all over, Spencer.” You hated yourself for just having to throw the snarky comment his way. “Maybe you’ll get free drinks.” So mature of you, to bottle it all up, to be so scared of communicating your own feelings that it all becomes a ticking time bomb for whoever’s had the bad luck to cross your path.

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The bartender. Didn’t she give you her number? I gotta say the dollar magic trick is quite the charmer, Spencer.” Once you had started, you couldn’t stop though. You had to cough up the venom that was consuming you inside.

“I didn’t take it. We’re working a case.”

“Ah, yes. We are now.” You clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth and went back to the drawer to fold your clothes again. You needed to keep yourself busy with something.

“What? Is that what you’re mad about?” You couldn’t see his face but he sounded incredulous.

“Why would I be?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“It doesn’t make much sense, does it?” You asked mockingly.

“No it doesn’t. Especially considering I’m not the one who sprinted out of the kitchen.” The sentence out of context threw you off for just a few seconds. You snorted when you caught on.

“Sorry?”

He snickered back. “Don’t play dumb.”

“Emily was calling me!” You pointed to a wall in the room, as if Emily had been there.

“Yeah! And you were really eager to respond!” He nodded along as he spoke, eyes wide.

You wanted to lie, to laugh in his face, and pretend he was speaking nonsense. You couldn’t. Not to him, not with anything. You opted for silence.

“You didn’t say anything the next day, you seemed uncomfortable; I didn’t want to push you to talk about it, I just took your silence as a way to gently reject me, which is fine!”

You blinked; you were now even more confused.

“I don’t know what today was. I don’t really do that st—Morgan was just… being Morgan.”

You shook your head. “You think I rejected you?”

He shook his head back, mirroring you. “Not saying anything after I tried to make the first move, wouldn’t you consider that a rejection?”

“What first move?”

“Come on.” He tilted his head, eyes pleading for you to let down your walls and speak your mind.

“I thought you were trying to hug me. Maybe you needed a hug.”

“If you thought it was only a hug, how come it was your first thought when I said first move?”

He didn’t need the 187 IQ to figure that out, but you cursed it in your mind anyway.

“You mentioned it first, maybe you forgot.”

“No, I didn’t. I have an eidetic memory.”

You could curse that now. “Maybe it’s not as fool proof as you thought.”

“We’re getting derailed.”

“Point still stands, I never said anything about rejecting you.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to say something.”

“Well, say something now.” You’d never heard this kind of rawness in his voice. He was almost begging you to say something; not what he wanted to hear, just something. “Did you? Want me to kiss you?”

Having him put it into words made you want to cringe and curl up in a ball and hide underneath the sheets not to come out again until the team had to get back to Virginia. You froze.

“I—” You licked your lips. A nervous tick. “I don’t know.”

He mirrored your action. You don’t know how but he kept his eyes on you. You couldn’t.

“That’s fine,” he says after a few seconds.

You both stood still, frozen in time. You looking at the floor, him at the ceiling. After some time of unbearable silence—not the kind you take refuge in—you decided playing statues was making matters worse so you decided to start preparing for bed like nothing was happening. He didn’t follow, still stuck to the same spot you left him in, until after you had come out of the bathroom and buried yourself under the sheets.

You didn’t address the obvious issue; the singular, smaller than you’d wish bed. You only did so when you caught him walking away with his pillow in direction to the armchair in the corner of the room out of the corner of your eye. You sacrificed the warmth of the comforter and silently made your way over to him. He looked up at you. He didn’t do it intentionally, you knew, but he looked up at you like a kicked puppy. You extended your hand, he hesitated for a moment before taking it and you ushered him to the side of the bed you’d decided was his. You pushed him down, throwing him on the bed to then go back to your side trying to suppress your smile. You got in facing away from him.

“I don’t mind sleeping in th—” he started.

“Shut up.”

“You.”

You smiled. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was too.

The silence that followed left way for all you wanted to say to him and couldn’t seem to. You cursed yourself in your mind. ‘I don’t know?’ Of course you knew. You wanted to turn around and kiss him senseless until you couldn’t anymore and had to give your irritated lips a break. You also knew though, you weren’t one to change ways when something worked. You and Spencer worked; at least you used to.

The mental image of him at the bar, with the owner’s daughter, came back to your mind. You wanted to scream. At yourself mostly. You didn’t have any right to act like you just did. In a way, he was right. He had taken the first step, and all your subsequent actions were of rejection, even if that wasn’t what you had meant to do.

“Spence,” you called. “I’m going to say something and don’t interrupt me because if you do I will take a silence oath for life.”

He smiled as you turned around, tangling the sheets. “Okay.”

“I didn’t ignore you because I wanted to let you down gently. I ignored you because I was scared. I care about us, and I’m stupidly bad at relationships but I like you. I have for years, maybe even longer than you have. As more than a friend.”

He listened, nodding along awkwardly, his head on his hand, and his lips pursed into a tight line, to signal that he had no intentions of interrupting.

“I saw you with the bar girl and all of a sudden I wanted to change career paths and become an unsub myself, which is really unfair because you didn’t do anything. I know this is all my fault. I know that my not talking issue led to all of this and I really didn’t want to ignore you but—this is what I am, Spencer, and if you want to curse me out for being so goddamn stupid and kick me out, that’s fine. I’ll have Garcia let me sleep on the floor,” you half-joked. You were out of breath, and your face was all red and hot to the touch.

“You done?”

You nodded.

“Firstly, this is not entirely your fault. I didn’t say anything either and since I know how you are, I could’ve.”

You wanted to contradict him but he had respected your time talking so you wanted to do that for him too.

“Secondly, I don’t think you’re stupid. And if you call yourself stupid for that then you’re also calling me stupid, in which case I feel offended.”

Your smile turned downwards.

“Thirdly… I’m going to kiss you now. That okay?”

You pushed past the knee-jerk instinct to want to push him away and nodded.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in the gentlest kiss you’ve ever been given. It had no right giving you the same adrenaline kick that you get on a rollercoaster. Just a chaste peck on the lips. Lips meeting lips for the first time.

‘Hi, it’s good to finally meet.’      

‘I know.’

It brings you back to the innocence of not having been kissed and the butterflies in your stomach as you sit next to your crush in a circle at a friend’s birthday party.

‘I don’t really know what I’m doing but I like you and this is what people do when they like each other.’

He backed up to scan your face. You were still leaning forward, dazed. You felt so much you wanted to scream. Or at least run and jump around the room to waste some of the energy that you felt coursing through your veins, tickling you. You didn’t do that, though.

You all but threw yourself at him, he had to grab you by your elbows, to kiss him again. This time it’s more desperate, hungry, wanting. If it had been anyone else, maybe it would have taken him more than the two seconds it did to match your fervid rhythm.

‘I’ve not stopped wanting you for a second all these years and I’m sorry I let you believe otherwise.’

He gently went moving his hand up to your neck, right below your jaw, thumb on your cheek with the rest of his fingers below your ear, slowly guiding you to a more leisured pace.

‘We have time’

He smiled against the kiss. 

You didn’t speak another word that night. You fell asleep soon after, there had been a lot of work to do the next day and before being two idiots in love, you were profilers. His hand laid on top of yours, where it belonged. No matter how many times your hands let go throughout the night, they made sure to meet again before your alarm woke you up. You didn’t let go when you stepped out of bed, stretching your arms until you were only attached by your pinky fingers, trying not to trip. You had to inevitably separate when you changed out of your sleeping clothes but you joined them again to walk down the stairs to the lobby to meet the team.

“Well, well. Would you look at that.” Morgan raised an eyebrow. He’d always been the one to tease you both the most. Following a close behind was Garcia, who was trying to suppress a smile beside him. In his mind he probably thought his words to you had made this happen. Maybe they had. Now it was your turn to figure out what ‘this’ was.

You stuck your tongue out to him behind Hotch’s back. 

You couldn’t even remember what the fight you’d had the previous night had been about or why you’d eluded him the whole week. Maybe communicating wasn’t so bad nor were your feelings a thing to be so scared of. The world hadn’t fallen apart yet, and you couldn’t say you would have minded it in that moment, with Spencer caressing your hand with his thumb.

thank you for reading, reblogs and replies are appreciated <3

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[sparklingmirrorsblog]

In the quest for financial stability and freedom, the importance of mastering strategies for reducing debt cannot be overstated. Debt, whether in the form of student loans, credit card balances, medical bills, or other financial obligations, can cast a long shadow over your financial well-being. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve deeper into various strategies for reducing debt, ensuring that you have a firm grip on your financial journey and can strive towards the ultimate goal of achieving financial freedom. 1. Create a Detailed Budget Strategies for Reducing Debt begin with the creation of a well-structured budget. Your budget serves as the foundation of your financial plan, providing a structured roadmap to manage income, expenses, and debt payments effectively. For example, consider a scenario where your monthly income is $4,000, and your essential expenses, including rent, utilities, groceries, and transportation, total $2,500. With this information, you have a clear understanding of your available discretionary income, which can be allocated towards debt repayment or savings. 2. Prioritize High-Interest Debt One of the critical strategies for reducing debt involves prioritizing high-interest debt. Not all debt is created equal, and focusing on high-interest debt can save you money over time. For instance, let's assume you have two outstanding debts: Credit Card A with a balance of $2,000 and an interest rate of 18%, and Credit Card B with a balance of $3,000 and an interest rate of 12%. By allocating extra funds towards Credit Card A, you can pay it off more quickly and reduce the total interest paid. 3. Increase Your Income To expedite your debt reduction journey, consider increasing your income. There are various ways to achieve this: Take on a Part-Time Job: Imagine securing a part-time job that pays an additional $500 per month. The extra income can be dedicated to paying down your debt, effectively reducing the outstanding balance. Monetize Your Skills: If you possess marketable skills or talents, explore opportunities to offer services or products. For example, if you're skilled in graphic design, you could freelance and earn extra income. Rent Out Unused Space: If you have a spare room in your home, consider renting it out through platforms like Airbnb or by taking in a roommate. This can generate a steady stream of additional income. Sell Unneeded Items: Declutter your living space and sell items you no longer need online or at garage sales. The proceeds can be directed towards debt repayment. By increasing your income, you'll have more financial resources to allocate towards debt reduction. It even gives you more financial freedom. This is one of the most important strategies for reducing debt that I am followings in my personal life. 4. Cut Unnecessary Expenses One of the most practical strategies for reducing debt involves cutting unnecessary expenses. By reviewing your spending habits and eliminating non-essential costs, you can free up more funds for debt repayment. For example, analyze your monthly expenses and identify areas where you can cut back. Reducing impulse purchases, dining out less frequently, or opting for generic brands instead of name brands can make a significant difference in your budget. By cooking at home and shopping smart, you can save on groceries and other essential items. Canceling unused subscriptions, such as streaming services or gym memberships, can further reduce your monthly expenses. Each expense eliminated from your budget contributes to your debt reduction efforts. 5. Build an Emergency Fund Strategies for Reducing Debt should include building an emergency fund. An emergency fund acts as a financial safety net, protecting you from having to rely on credit when unexpected expenses arise. Suppose you set a goal to save $6,000 in your emergency fund, equivalent to six months of living expenses. Having this fund

allows you to handle unforeseen situations like medical bills, car repairs, or sudden job loss without resorting to additional debt. 6. Negotiate Lower Interest Rates Reducing debt and achieving financial freedom can be significantly aided by negotiating lower interest rates on your existing debts. Your creditors may be willing to work with you to lower your interest rates, especially if you have a strong payment history and a good credit score. For instance, if you have a credit card with an interest rate of 22%, you can contact your credit card company to negotiate a reduced rate of 15%. By doing so, you can save money on interest payments and accelerate your debt reduction journey. But this strategies for reducing debt is fully dependent on you creditors. 7. Debt Consolidation Debt consolidation is a strategy that involves combining multiple high-interest debts into a single, lower-interest loan. By consolidating it will help you to understand which loan you are paying high interest and consolidate that with the lowest interest loan which will lead to a best strategies for reducing debt. This simplifies your debt by consolidating multiple payments into one, potentially reducing your overall monthly payment. Let's consider a scenario where you have three high-interest loans: Loan A at 10%, Loan B at 15%, and Loan C at 18%. By consolidating them into a single loan at 12%, you can streamline your payments and save on interest. 8. Seek Professional Help For particularly challenging or complex debt situations, it may be necessary to seek professional assistance: Credit Counseling: Non-profit credit counseling agencies can help you create a debt management plan, negotiate with your creditors, and provide guidance on managing your finances. They act as intermediaries between you and your creditors, making it easier to manage your debt. Financial Advisor: A financial advisor can offer personalized advice on reducing debt, managing investments, and creating a long-term financial plan. They can help you align your financial goals and investments with your overall financial strategy. Bankruptcy Attorney: In extreme cases, you may need to consult a bankruptcy attorney to explore options for debt relief. Bankruptcy is a last resort but can provide relief for individuals facing overwhelming debt. Professional guidance can provide valuable support when dealing with complex debt situations. 9. Avoid Taking on New Debt While working on reducing your existing debt, it's crucial to avoid taking on new debt, especially if it's not necessary. Responsible credit use is vital to your financial stability. This is one of the best strategies for reducing debt it helps to reduce the burden of loan on you. For instance, if you're working to pay off credit card debt, refrain from using your credit cards for discretionary spending. Instead, use cash or a debit card to manage your expenses. 10. Set and Prioritize Financial Goals This is one of the most important strategies for reducing debt setting and prioritizing financial goals is essential for staying motivated and focused on your debt reduction journey. Clear goals provide a sense of purpose and direction, helping you track your progress and celebrate your achievements along the way. Let's assume you have a $6,000 credit card balance and a $20,000 student loan. Setting a goal to pay off the credit card within a year and making extra payments towards it while paying the minimum on the student loan can provide a clear roadmap for debt reduction. 11. Invest for the Future After successfully paying off high-interest debt and achieving a level of financial stability, it's time to consider investing for the future. Investing allows your money to grow over time, creating financial security and wealth. Consider this scenario: you've paid off all high-interest debt, and you have an extra $500 per month to invest. By putting this money into a diversified

portfolio of stocks and bonds, you can work toward your long-term financial goals, such as retirement or buying a home. 12. Maintain Financial Discipline Maintaining financial discipline is a cornerstone of reducing debt and improving your financial situation. The journey to financial freedom demands dedication and patience. Continuously monitor your progress and make necessary adjustments as your financial situation evolves. Suppose you set a monthly budget for entertainment at $100. If you overspend and go $50 over budget in one month, you should adjust your spending in the following month to ensure you adhere to your financial plan. Conclusion on Effective Strategies for Reducing Debt In conclusion, strategies for reducing debt and achieving financial freedom are the building blocks of a successful financial future. Whether you're dealing with credit card debt, student loans, medical bills, or any other financial obligations, these strategies, coupled with practical examples, can help you regain control of your finances and pave the way for a more secure future. By implementing these strategies and maintaining financial discipline, you can successfully reduce debt, achieve your financial goals, and ultimately enjoy the peace of mind and freedom that come with financial stability. Your path to financial freedom begins with these fundamental strategies, but it doesn't end there. The journey continues as you work toward securing your financial future and achieving your long-term aspirations. Remember, each step you take brings you closer to the financial freedom you desire. Embrace the journey, stay focused, and watch as your financial future unfolds. All the above strategies for reducing debt will help you reduce your debts but before applying just do your basic calculation and consult a good financial advisor. Disclaimer: Education-Based Insights, Not Financial Advice The content shared in this article is drawn from personal experiences and is intended for educational purposes only. We want to clarify that we are not financial planners. The insights provided here are not a substitute for professional financial advice. Individual financial situations vary widely, so it’s crucial to consult certified financial professionals before making any major decisions. While we aim to offer accurate information, financial landscapes can change rapidly, and our content might become outdated. In essence, consider this article as educational rather than financial guidance. We bear no responsibility for any actions taken based on the information presented here. For personalized financial advice, always turn to qualified experts. #stocks #bhfyp #inspiration #investor #stockmarket #hustle #forextrader #makemoney #billionaire #businessowner #trader #like #realestate #blockchain #motivationalquotes #usa #fashion #quotes #btc #forextrading #startup #luxurylifestyle #entrepreneurlife #music #bet #makemoneyonline #smallbusiness #work #workfromhome #gold #india #money #business #entrepreneur #success #motivation #bitcoin #love #investment #finance #forex #investing #wealth #trading #cash #cryptocurrency #invest #financialfreedom #lifestyle #rich #millionaire #entrepreneurship #luxury #life #instagram #marketing #crypto #instagood #mindset #goals #follow https://sparklingmirror.com/2023/10/31/effective-strategies-for-reducing-debt/?feed_id=84&_unique_id=654144787fc16

[laudthingcat]

Haikyuu captains when there’s only one bed // Part 1

Characters: Tetsuro Kuroo, Kotaro Bokuto, Wakatoshi Ushijima

Summary: the captains when they have to share a room with you, but there’s only one bed

Masterlist

Tetsuro Kuroo:

The middle of the semester can get really boring, so alongside your group of friends, you decided to visit another city for the weekend

Everything has been spontaneous

So spontaneous that you guys left without even booking hotel rooms, sure of the fact that you’ll find something when you get there

Jokes on you

The only hotel you found open at the time you arrived, late at night, didn’t have enough rooms for everybody

“If you don’t mind, you may consider sharing the rooms?” the hotel staff said, an apologetical look on her face

After a few complains from the guys, you decided that it was the best option you got

So, as the grown ups you are, the room partners have been decided by raffling tickets with each other’s names on them

You looked around, trying to find the one who got the piece of paper with your name on it

Not too far away, you noticed Kuroo eyeing you, a big smirk on his face

I guess you found the one

You wished everybody a good night and then you headed towards your room, your temporary roommate following you, not too far away 

Entering the room, you stopped in the doorway 

There was only one bed

“What’s the problem kitten? You’re blocking the way” 

Then he looked around the room and understood, since the smirk was back on his face

He leaned down and whispered in your ear 

“I guess we gonna have to share the bed” 

“I guess one of us will have to sleep on the floor”

“Oh c’mon kitten. Not gonna do anything. Promise”

You didn’t listen so again, you decided who’s gonna take the bed by playing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ 

He won

Damn this game

He laughed at you all night for losing

But he kept inviting you to join him

“This bed is big enough for the two of us, ya know”

“Maybe. But I can sleep very well right here on the floor so don’t worry about me”

He tsk-ed in annoyance

Eventually you fell asleep

There’s no way he’d let you sleep all night on the floor

So when he was sure you were deep in your sleep, he carefully lifted and placed you on the left side of the bed

You woke up to somebody hugging you from the back

Curse this boy. You’re gonna have a talk with him. But that’s gonna be... later

Because his warmth felt kinda good

Bokuto Kotaro:

You were good friends with the Fukurodani boys, so when they told you their next match will be out of town, you didn’t think twice before tagging along

You didn’t miss one match and this wasn’t going to be an exception

Their manager took care of the rooms reservation, but what they didn’t know was that you didn’t book any room for yourself

You asked the hotel staff if there was any room left, and when they told you that unfortunately there wasn’t any, it was already too late to start looking for another place

Bokuto was with you all the time, so when he considered that there’s no other way, he told you that he can share his room with you

Because that’s what the captain should do, right?

You accepted without hesitation

You knew him for a while now so you were really close

Getting into the room you noticed that there’s only one bed

You turned your head so you could face him

As if he could understand your worries only by looking at your face, he smiled

“Don’t worry! I will sleep on the floor. You can have the bed” he said, patting your head

He didn’t wait for you to answer as he got some of his stuff and entered the bathroom

By the time he was done you were already in bed

As soon as you saw he started improvising a bed on the floor, you interrupted him

“Kou..”

“Hm?”

“There’s no way I’ll let you sleep on the floor. You’ve got an important match tomorrow”

He abandoned his improvised bed and quickly jumped onto the bed 

“Are you really fine with sharing the bed with me??” 

You were intending on switching places and letting him sleep on the bed, but when you heard him ask like that, with puppy eyes and enthusiastic voice, you couldn’t resist

You nodded your head and turned around so you back would be facing him, trying to avoid getting caught blushing

It was no use though 

He fell asleep immediately, and once he did, he unconsciously wrapped an arm around you.

You heart felt like it could explode any second now as you could feel his whole chest, pressed against your back

Why did it feel so right?

Wakatoshi Ushijima:

It was yet another victorious match for the Shiratorizawa team! To celebrate, their manager reserved a restaurant and organized a small party

Along a few other persons, you have been invited as well

You knew the boys and were pretty good friends with them, so you immediately accepted

The party has been amazing, but it ended very late at night

Your house was 1 hour away from the restaurant, and there was no bus available that late at night

You were also scared of going home by cab alone, thanks to the mysterious disappearances documentaries you kept watching

Ushijima noticed when you started panicking

“Everything alright?” 

You explained everything 

If he didn’t know you, he would never have done this

But since you were friends, he said it’s fine if you crash over his place for the night, because it was really close to the restaurant

Hearing him invite you over, with his incredibly deep voice and piercing gaze.. you blushed immediately 

But you accepted since that was the safest option

Tendou also invited himself, because he was “too tired” to get to his place

It didn’t take long to get to his house

Once Ushijima opened the door, Tendou took over the couch

“I’ll take this one. Nighty guys”

Ushijima only sighed and entered another room. You followed him.

It looked like it was his bedroom

“You will sleep on the bed. I will go sleep on the floor in the living room.”

You didn’t say anything, but you felt bad

He borrowed you a shirt and sweatpants

You looked at him, surprised, since you didn’t ask for spare clothes

“Your clothes looked uncomfortable so i thought..” 

He averted his gaze and started blushing

“I’ll be in the next room if you need anything. Good night”

You got changed and flopped onto the bed

But you couldn’t fall asleep as you kept thinking about him

Maybe what you were about to do was crazy, but being in his room, wearing his clothes and sleeping into his bed was already crazy

So you went for it

You got out of bed, and entered the living room where the boys were sleeping

Ushijima’s voice caught you by surprise, as you thought he’d be sleeping 

“Do you need anything?”

“Uhm, yes”

“What’s the matter?”

“Can you come over here for a bit?”

He carefully got up and entered the bedroom

“So? What is it?”

“I can’t sleep”

He gave you a puzzled look. “Is the bed uncomfortable?”

“No. That’s not it” 

Your heart was beating so fast and you could feel your cheeks burning already too

“I have to tell you something”

What you did caught him by surprise. You confessed your love. 

And what he did in return got you by surprise as well

He hugged you tightly

His warm body hugging you felt so comfortable

“Could you sleep here? With me?”

He left the room without saying anything and returned with his pillow. “If you don’t mind”

When you got into the bed, he confessed as well. He also said that he was disappointed because it was you who confessed first, but happy that you returned his feelings

The two of you spent the night into each other’s arms, talking about this and that, telling funny stories and recalling good memories you had together, until you both fell asleep

You woke up to Tendou intensely staring at the two of you

[clubsmarties]

"It should. You're just masking." Eli replied casually as he didn't let it show she had caught him. "I love fighting with you." His smile grew wider as she went into her roundabout way to get her way. "Is that a challenge?" Eli asked already ready to start another argument for the sake of it. "Oh that's right. Whatever doesn't fit in yours you bring to mine. How could I forget? Guess now we know which room you're getting then." Not that he knew she'd move in ever but still he had the spare bedroom available to her whenever she'd sleep over.

He pondered it for a bit and hummed. Eyeing her for a long minute he smirked. He still didn't believe she'd do it but time would tell. "You're so on. And jeez thanks for the complete faith in me meeting someone. Though, marrying you? Not too shabby. We know each other at least so the awkward phase wouldn't be a thing." Eli laughed and nodded. "Fair enough. Let's hope you don't fall in love." An eye roll later and he sighed. "Fine whatever. Call me a hater. I'll own it. I'll give the dessert a fair shot. But if I still hate it you can't keep calling me a hater." He put his hand over hers as they walked and he eyed the dessert. "We have to get that. Splurge on your roommate."

"True. Your judgiest look, is that supposed to scare me?" she challenged, just for fun. Knowing that she wouldn't yell that out, so by default, the judgy look was out. She tried holding her smile as his frown made an appearance, "without a fight? I'm beginning to think you just like fighting with me." Not that Laurel would mind, it was pretty amusing when he became difficult. They definitely had an odd friendship. "Okay, fine I won't gift them to you. They will be...housewarming gifts, or better yet, just a gift for the apartment. Can't fight me there." She was determined, finding a loophole her specialty. "I'm sure you three will find some way to surprise us, I'm excited but scared to find out what you all get up to. Oh! Easy, I started leaving clothes at your place, so my closet still has space."

Laurel knew he didn't believe her, hell - she didn't believe herself entirely. "So, now my tiny peck isn't a real one? Alright, real kiss then. I still don't think you can handle it, but I'll do it. I'll kiss you again if you let me gift you whatever I want without fighting me on it." Did she really feel that strongly on this gifting situation or was she deflecting? She wasn't really too sure. He did make a point though. She joked, but wouldn't it be ironic if it did happen? Never say never, she supposed. "Gotta love those movies. Although, I think we could also fall under those movie tropes of, makes a pact to get married if we haven't found someone by the time we're 30. So, if I hopelessly fall for you, hope you haven't been snatched up by then." She was quick to extend her hand out, smiling at the thought of catching feelings in a month. "Shake on it then." Would it be the worst thing in the world? It wouldn't be, but their friendship was too valuable to even think of risking it. "Hm, it feels like hater behavior. Yeah I'll give you that!" The memory quickly coming to mind, taking one bite of the dessert, and setting the plate aside. "But, can we really trust the cheesecake factory with key lime pie? You read my mind, we have to give the dessert a fair shot so you can properly hate and what not." A brow raised at the comment, two ice cream tubs? And he said, he wouldn't let her gift anything without a fight. Sure Eli. She almost mentioned it, but didn't want to alert him and have him back out of his request. So, she remained silent. "Ice cream is a must." Once they reached the food court, she took his hand and guided him to the dessert shop to place their order for their treats. "It's your lucky day, payday says I can do two tubs."

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[drmmyrs]

The Way I Loved You (Poppy x MC)

Soo bear with me since I think this might be a long series. This part is mostly just establishing the story so there is little to no fluff yet.

But stiiill, let me know what you guys think and I’d really appreciate feedback/constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy and if not, thanks for reading anyways :)) 

tag list: @whackawriting @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr (ithis is my taglist I thiiink, but if you wanna be added or removed just let me know)  

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Bea)

Word Count: 1650

Warning: Little swearing (at least for this part)

A/N: This is from the part before Poppy and MC were paired for a project

Bea had been at Belvoire for two months now, but she still wasn't used to waking up on a queen-sized canopy bed fitted with luxe sateen sheets in a bedroom which probably cost more than her family's house back at Farmsville. She glanced at the clock–11:30 am. She still had some time to spare before her first class. How people managed to wake up early on this luxurious bed made of clouds, she didn't know.

After a few more minutes of daydreaming, Bea begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed. She was preparing her outfit when the smell of heaven wafted through the bedroom door–bacon and pancakes. Like some kind of puppet on strings, Bea let herself be led by the delicious aroma to the kitchen where Zoey was expertly pouring pancake batter on a pan.

"I didn't know I was roommates with a master chef," Bea jested.

Zoey turned around at Bea's voice, and as she saw her, a smirk crawled up her lips.

"Well, don't you look sexy." Zoey eyed Bea up and down with an amused look on her face.

Bea glanced down at her outfit and saw that she was still in her pajamas. "Whatever Zo, not everyone can rock designer outfits even in bed."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Besides, Spongebob PJs do have a certain charm."

Bea rolled her eyes while smiling. "So, what are we having for breakfast?"

"I'm pretty sure it's lunch. And aren't you supposed to be in class, like, right about now?"

"Nah, my Tuesday classes aren't until one o'clock."

Zoey stared at Bea. "Babe, it's Wednesday."

Bea's eyes widened at Zoey's words. "No, no, no, Professor Roberta is gonna kill me."

Bea rushed to her room and hastily changed her clothes faster than she thought was possible. She contemplated going to class au naturel, but ultimately decided against it. Bea was not ugly by any means without makeup, but in a sea of extremely contoured cheeks and false eyelashes, having no makeup was basically social suicide, especially since Poppy was in that class. Ugh, great. Of course, I'm late to the only class I have with Poppy.

When Bea thought she was presentable enough, she sprinted out the door but not before grabbing a handful of pancakes and shoving it to her mouth, looking like a chipmunk in the process. The T is gonna have a field day if someone saw me like this. Bea slowed her sprint to a stride as she swallowed the last of the pancakes.

Bea arrived in class forty-five minutes late.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Professor Roberta said in disdain.

"Sorry Professor, won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't. And since you decided to join us so late, you're gonna have to work with Ms. Min-Sinclair over here for your community service project."

Oh hell no.

Sure enough, Poppy was sitting alone, glaring at her, and Bea could almost swear she could see smoke coming out of her nose.

Bea hesitantly sat down beside Poppy.

"Look Poppy, let's be civil about this and finish this project fast so we–"

"We're not going to do anything, Farmsville. I will ace this project and you will stay out of my damn way."

"Like hell I'm gonna let you take all the credit."

"Is there a problem here?" The professor glowered at Poppy and Bea.

"None professor, we were just calmly discussing the details of the project," Poppy responded with a fake smile.

Bea rolled her eyes. Kiss ass.

Once the professor was out of earshot, Poppy sharply turned to Bea. "Be ready on Friday, we're going to a foster home in Middletown."

"Middletown? But that's like an hour away!"

"I don't see you coming up with better ideas," Poppy hissed.

"I–I–"

"I thought so. Do not be late, Farmsville. I don't want you taking more of my time than you already do," Poppy said with a glare before she grabbed her Chanel purse and strode away.

***

Back at her dorm, Bea was resting her head on her hands on the dining table when Zoey arrived.

Upon seeing Bea, Zoey immediately took a seat beside her and placed her hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Aww, babe. Was Professor Roberta that mad?"

Bea turned to face Zoey. "No, but it was much, much worse."

Zoey raised her eyebrow.

"I was paired with Satan for our project."

"Poppy?"

Bea nodded. "She even wanted to do the project in Middletown. Middletown. That's like an hour away! I mean surely there has to be another community that needs servicing that doesn't require an hour drive with Poppy."

Zoey pretended to think thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe she finally found a way to get rid of you permanently?"

"I'm serious, Zo." Bea glared at Zoey.

Zoey laughed. "Okay, okay, sorry. But do bring holy water just in case."

Bea groaned and stood up from the chair before ambling to her bedroom. "I'm going to bed."

Before Bea was able to shut the door, Zoey called out after her. "You'll survive, babe! Give her hell for me."

***

Just a few minutes after Bea got back from her classes, she heard the sound of consecutive horns outside which she immediately knew were from Poppy. No one else is obnoxious enough to disturb an entire dormitory. With a sigh, Bea grabbed her things and trudged outside.

When Bea got outside, Poppy's Range Rover was parked at the curb. Bea walked to the passenger's side and opened the door.

"Be a dear will you and don't touch anything, I don't want your filthy hands staining my car."

Bea rolled her eyes. Hello to you, too.

The first few minutes of the drive were silent except for the light rain that started drizzling on the windshield, that is, until Bea asked Poppy, "why are we going all the way to Middletown anyway? There's probably some–"

"Remember that time when I asked for your opinion?"

Bea just glared at Poppy.

"Me neither. So, shut up, Hughes."

"How about you take a day off from being a bitch, Poppy. Seeing that you've had your whole life being just that," Bea rebuked.

The entire car ride was spent with both girls hurling insults at each other that it was honestly surprising that Poppy didn't kick Bea out of the car in the middle of the road.

After one looong hour, they finally arrived.

"Don't get in my way, Farmsville," Poppy warned as she approached the house and rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a middle-aged woman opened the door.

"Poppy! What a pleasant surprise. Come on in." The woman gestured them inside.

Hang on, how does she know Poppy?

The woman led Bea and Poppy to a couch and asked them if they wanted something to drink, to which both of them politely declined.

"So, Brenda. How is the family?" Poppy was wearing a smile that might actually be... genuine?

Bea stared at Poppy in shock. Not only were they on a first-name basis, but Poppy was actually nice to someone that doesn't involve sucking up.

"They're doing great! Thomas actually just got promoted recently so we're gonna take the kids somewhere nice sometime next week."

"That's amazing, send Thomas my regards."

Okay, what the hell is happening?

After a few more polite conversations, Brenda turned to Bea. "You haven't introduced me to your friend yet." Brenda extended her hand to Bea. "I'm Brenda."

Bea wore her biggest smile as she shook Brenda's hand. "Bea. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Poppy cleared her throat. "Actually, we came here for a community service project, and we were hoping that we could throw the kids a small party and maybe at the same time we can do a photography shoot that can be shared to prospective families. Do you think we can do that?"

"Oh, certainly! I'm sure the kids would love that."

"That's great to hear. Where are they anyway?"

"They're actually out there playing with the toys you sent them. Come on, I'll lead you to them." Brenda stood up and walked towards the back door.

Poppy started to follow her but turned around when she noticed Bea was still sitting down.

"If you're just gonna sit there like a half-wit, do us a favor Farmsville, and do it far away from here."

Still in disbelief, Bea stood up and followed Poppy and Brenda to the yard where Poppy was greeted enthusiastically by five kids. She watched as Poppy played with them with such kindness and compassion that she couldn't help but smile as most of her anger towards the blonde was replaced with warmth and some other indescribable feelings. After a few more games where Bea was basically manhandled by Poppy to join, all of them went back inside exhausted. As it was already getting late, Bea and Poppy said their farewells to Brenda and the kids with a promise of returning on Sunday for the party and went back on the road.

Bea had so many questions she wanted to ask Poppy but the look on Poppy's face implied that she probably won't be answering any of those. A few minutes later, there was suddenly a huge downpour of rain that Poppy had to park the car. Bea then received a text from Zoey, and as she read it, a look of dread flashed across her face.

Poppy frowned upon seeing the look on Bea's face. "What is it now?"

"There's a typhoon. We're stuck here."

***

Bea and Poppy managed to find a decent hotel nearby where they decided to stay until the typhoon passed.

"Two rooms, please. And make them as far away as possible," Poppy said to the receptionist while handing him her credit card, giving Bea a glare at the last sentence.

And here I thought we're finally making progress.

"I'm sorry Ms. Min-Sinclair, we only have one more room available for tonight."

[whatwwwwwww]

[ID: Pictures a book, four pages. The book reads,

Having read the charter, I am fully aware that anything lesbians decide to do in theory or as a group as opposed to individually, one lesbian at a time is and must be completely invulnerable to criticism. If you'd attended the meeting at which this was decided, after the votes were tallied again that second time, you, too, would have learned that whatever women decide to do, regardless of the patriarchy and all barbaric rules learned under its employ, is automatically and incontrovertibly superior to any suggested alternative. Like every system of checks and balances, of course, there are assets to assigning roles for specific human beings. Women who considered their options in the 1950s, for instance, no doubt found their burdens vastly lightened by being spared the anxiety of making any choices about the future other than which room in the house to vacuum first. Yet there are undeniable problems with fitting the multiple facets of human nature into neat slots. This applies to the passive wallowing and/or naïve indulgence in the present day of what in the past was for many a limiting series of behaviors, one brought about not because of joyous exultation in eroticism but because society mandated against homosexual liberties in particular and unfettered sexual expression in general. If you think this doesn't still apply to sex in the present day, we encourage you to think again, and we don't encourage lightly. No one would deny that the world can be a confusing, vast, difficult place; if I did, you'd throw the book across the

room, and your roommate would complain. Certainly for those lacking imagination, it must be comforting to have one's sexual persona-indeed, perhaps one's entire personality-spelled out simply and clearly so as to avoid such confusion as happens in the everyday interaction with humans who don't necessarily believe every aspect of life can or should be predicted, categorized, or neatly compartmentalized. No one could deny that life would be more easily managed if the many unknowns of daily existence were eliminated. Yet while this might be advisable when dealing with the IRS, late-night strolls into deserted areas, bank-card transactions, and the regulation of graduate fellowships, those facets of life involving passion and human physiognomy can actually benefit from containing elements not fully known to the participants, despite fear of random unknown occurrences. Unknown occurrences, it must be pointed out, are the very stuff that makes life exciting, and by life, we mean of course sex. Such occurrences happen anyway, whether you want them to or not. Why fear them to the degree that you try to mute the very essence of human existence that is, the fundamental mysterious unknowability of the human psyche? Butch-femme attempts to quantify what is and should be an ultimately unquantifiable property, human sexual invention and identity. Of course, if you wish to lead your sex life in a fashion whose chief purpose is to render homosexuality easy to understand for heterosexuals-at least those whose sexual IQ has never progressed past the question, Which one of you is the

man? that choice is entirely yours. It is not my place to tell I should or do find erotic; all people, be they card-carrying members of the ACLU or gym teachers, have certain things that move, delight, and tantalize them more than others. I am merely suggesting that rather than think of sexual behavior as a fast-food costume drama you're on the verge of memorizing your lines for if you could only get a little more rehearsal time, you might consider approaching it as a vastly less portable, less comprehensible, yet more comprehensive method of going through life. Limiting yourself to a fraction of the possibilities or permutations available to you is like reading the same book over and over because you know which sages are going to make you laugh and how the story comes out in the end. Actually, that doesn't sound so bad. Many people in the world, not all of them Republican, would feel more secure in life if there was no bisexuality, if people of all inclinations and genders felt strictly monogamous in their sexual desires, if all male and female human beings were not in reality comprised of both masculine and feminine traits, particularly fundamentalist preachers. By the same token, many women seem to need the structure of a limited sex role to feel secure in their lesbian identity. It is almost as if once they have finally resigned themselves to losing the grand prize in the "rich husband for self-worth and societal approval" sweepstakes, they must seek out a convention to replace the discarded one, thus reassuring themselves that at least they're capable of following some rules. That so many women race to embrace restrictive behaviors should not be

surprising in light of the quintessentially female trait to seek out behaviors that confirm one's own worthlessness while enabling one to speak at length about such worthlessness to anyone who will listen. That is not to say that there aren't some persons who feel that human identity, sexual and otherwise, is not so meager a thing as to be squeezed into some slot and serenely filed away, but only you can say if such persons include you.

/end ID]

helen eisenbach, lesbianism made easy, 1996

[broadstbroskis]

thanksgiving | jeff skinner

a/n: it’s here!!! this is like 4k that i threw together in like a week after i took it as a personal challenge from @blueskrugs after i asked why we don’t write more thanksgiving fics. a huge shoutout to her and @danglesnipecelly, for inspiration and cheering me on for this, as well as literally anyone else who’s cheered me on to finish thing, you’re all the real mvps and i love you all 💚

-----

Jeff shrugs, and from across the table filled with pizza, beer, and a bunch of other things that are most definitely not on his approved list of foods, you stare at him.

“I dunno. I don’t really have plans, I guess? Probably just sit at home, relax a little?” He says. Your jaw drops. He has...he has what now? “You're going to your parent’s right?” You nod slowly, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to sit at home and do nothing on Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays. Not spend the day with some teammates, not make a quick trip to his family, nothing. “That’ll be fun!” Jeff grins, dimples popping. “What are you-”

“You’re doing nothing?” You get out finally, the words coming back to you.

Jeff’s smile falters, but only slightly, and he nods. “Yeah? I mean, there’s no practice, no games. I’ll just…” He trails off for a second and then shrugs. “Rest.”

“You’re not going to go, like, visit your parents? They’re right across the border!”

“It’s a Thursday.” Jeff says patiently and you abruptly remember that his Canadian-ness is the whole point of this conversation.

“Thanksgiving is the best holiday! You can’t sit at home alone on it; I forbid it!” Jeff’s smile grows again as he laughs and you try and fight your own grin as you shove at his shoulders, to no avail. “Come home with me!”

“What?” He laughs again, but this time, it’s more like disbelief.

But the idea is already growing in your mind. “Come home with me! You know my parents love you, they won’t mind at all!”

“I can’t just invite myself to your Thanksgiving!” Jeff protests.

You wave him off. “You’re not, I’m inviting you! Come on, we’d love to have you!” He still looks hesitant, so you add, “Our Thanksgiving is huge anyway; one extra mouth to feed isn’t going to put anyone out, Jeff.”

“Alright.” He caves, and you grin, pulling your phone close to you to text your mom and let her know. “But ask your mom, okay? Like, really ask her, don’t just, like, tell her I’m coming.”

“Too late!” You say cheerfully, showing him the text you’d sent in your family group chat, telling them you were bringing Jeff with you next week. Your mom’s already responded with a string of happy face emojis and your younger sister with a How I Met Your Mother gif about Canadian Thanksgiving. “Be prepared for a lot of Canada jokes!”

“Is that supposed to be different than any other time I see your family?’ Jeff deadpans, but you’re pretty sure he looks like, at least 50% more relaxed, so you count this as a win and ignore him completely, already mentally planning for the best holiday of the year.

-----

The drive back home to your parents takes about an hour longer than you’d like, stuck in the same godawful traffic as everyone else trying to leave Buffalo on Wednesday so that they can get back home in time to go out that night. 

When Jeff finally pulls his car up in front of your childhood home, you can already see that it’s bustling with activity, getting ready for tomorrow. Most of your siblings have already arrived- only your older brother, with his wife and daughters will come in tomorrow, with the rest of your family- but your younger brother and sister have already come home, a fact that’s even more evident when you and Jeff walk in the front door and immediately trip over three pairs of sneakers.

“Liam!” You cry, grabbing onto Jeff so you don’t fall. “Motherfucker, move your shoes!”

Your brother pops his head out of the living room, AirPods in his ears. “I’m on a call!” And just as you're marveling at the fact that your brother is a real person with a real job taking real work calls, said real person with a real job spots Jeff and lights up. “Jeff! Bro! What’s up, man?”

“I thought you were on a call.” You snap at him.

“I’m on mute.” Liam slaps his palm against Jeff’s pulling him in for a ridiculous handshake-bro hug combo, before he finally comes over and lifts you off the floor. “Yo!”

“Yo!” You repeat, honestly unable to believe you’re related to this kid. If the two of you didn’t look exactly alike, you’d probably think he was adopted. “You still coming out tonight?”

“Hell yeah, this is my last call. I’m ready to go.”

You snicker, looking down at his sweatpants and dress shirt combo- he must have taken a video call at some point today. “Yeah, okay, bud.”

He ruffles your hair, in that annoying way he’s been able to do ever since he grew taller than you. “Don’t you worry, I will be.”

You laugh, ducking under his arm, to let him get back to it. You’ve got no doubts about that. Liam’s always ready to party. “Finish your call so we can start pregaming.”

He grins, like you knew he would. “Now we’re talking.” And then he ducks back into your dad’s office.

Jeff is laughing when you look back at him and you give him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just forgot how the two of you were when you got going.”

“Yup, and you’re stuck with us for next two days!” You grin.

Jeff rolls his eyes at you, but he’s still smiling when he follows you to the kitchen, in search of your mom. She’s at the counter, rolling dough for biscuits, her only other contribution to the annual Thanksgiving dinner that she hosts, besides the turkey; a holiday that she’d taken over hosting once it had become too much for your grandmother to handle, but only on the caveat that everyone began contributing food toward the meal. It’s been a potluck style holiday ever since.

She’s ultra-focused, the volume on her favorite playlist high (this wild mix of 80’s pop and today’s hits that’s actually kind of a banger), so you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her. “Hi!”

“Jesus!” Your mom jumps, elbowing you in the process, but you’re laughing too hard to care. “Don’t do that!”

“Just excited to see you!” You beam at her, squeezing her once more, before pulling away. “Where do you want the pie?” Jeff lifts the pie you’d made yesterday, showing your mom.

Your mom purses her lips, studying the kitchen around her. “Leave it on the counter for now; I’ll have your dad clear some space in the garage.” She gestures with her elbow. “Hi Jeff!” 

“Hi!” Jeff pulls out his best smile, a real one, dimples super popped. “Thank you for having me-”

Your mom cuts him off before he can finish, like you knew she would. “Oh, we’re so happy you could make it! You’re welcome anytime, Jeff!” She assures him.

“Is the guest room ready?” You ask. “We’ll throw our stuff upstairs before Dad sees it at the bottom of the steps and has a fit.”

Your mom fights back a laugh at that- a statement that everyone in your family knows all too well-but then looks almost apologetic as she finishes, “It is, but we gave it to Katie.”

“Oh, Katie’s here too?” Your sister’s roommate at college was, at this point, basically another sister to you. She hardly went home for breaks within the semesters, usually came up for at least a month during the summer, and more often than not came home with Abby when she was back for anything. The “guest room” really was more like Katie’s room at this point. 

“Where else would she be?” Abby appears, right on cue, with Katie right behind her, practically matching in leggings and oversized sorority shirts. “It’s Thanksgiving; she’s ready to rage tonight.”

You actually can’t wait for the babies to be hungover tomorrow-both were 21 for their first Thanksgiving Eve and you know they’re going to be in a super rough spot tomorrow-but you keep that thought to yourself. 

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Your mom says apologetically. “I just gave Katie her usual room.”

“No, it’s cool. Jeff and I can share. He doesn’t mind, right?” But you barely even wait for his shrug and nod in agreement. It’s not like you haven’t before, when you’re either too lazy or too drunk to go home. You’re both adults, it’s no big. “I’ve shared a bed with you before; I’ll spare Katie the bruised shins.” You tease your sister.

Katie cracks up as Abby sputters out how rude you are. “It’s a hazard!” Katie agrees, dodging the swat your sister sends towards her. It sets the two of them off, which you take as your cue to grab Jeff’s hand and drag him (and your stuff) up to your room.

Of course, usually when you’re sharing a bed with Jeff, it’s a king sized bed, or at least a queen- definitely not the double that your parents just shoved in your old room to replace the queen bed that had been in there until you moved out and took your furniture with you. You hadn’t realized how small it was though, not until today, until the idea of actually having to share it with someone, with Jeff, who might not be a giant, but isn’t tiny.  “Sorry.” You apologize, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

Jeff shrugs. “Well, at least you don’t kick.” He smiles, as then it’s like everything’s back to normal, that awkward feeling that was growing over you gone as quickly as it came. 

“She’s a bruiser, don’t let her tell you otherwise.” You throw your bag down, rifling through it for the sweater you were planning to wear tomorrow, to hang it up so it isn’t too wrinkled.

Jeff laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He’s holding up his shirt, a button down and a tie. “Where can I hang this?”

“You can’t wear that!”

He frowns, likely at the vehemence you’d just spoken that with. “Uhh, why not?”

“You’ll get roasted.” Seriously, you’d told him it wasn’t a dressy affair. God, what part of not dressy does he think requires a tie? “Don’t you have, like, a sweater?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Sweater and jeans, that’s fine.”

Jeff gives you a look. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Sweater. And jeans.” You repeat. He’ll thank you tomorrow, when your uncle doesn’t ask him when tea is. When your cousin doesn’t talk to him only in a fake British accent for the entire night. 

Jeff hands over a sweater, a soft thing you’ve seen him wear on many occasions, and you smile your thanks at him, hanging it up next to yours. “Meet your standards?” He asks; you think he’s aiming for teasing but he kind of misses the mark, sounding a little more nervous than joking.

“Perfect.” He smiles back at you and you laugh. “Come on, you dork. Let’s go see what’s for dinner tonight.”

-----

“Don’t wake me up when you come in tonight!” Your dad calls, as he drops the five of you off at Mel’s, the bar for Thanksgiving Eve. Your friends are already at the bar, you’re anticipating a high school reunion for sure, and you’ve warned Jeff of this, even though he assured you that he could handle it, and he was just excited for a nice, chill night.

You’d actually laughed out loud at that. Oh Jeffrey. 

“Pshh.” Liam waves your dad off. “I haven’t done that since I was like 16 and still having to sneak out.”

Your dad gives him a look. “I was talking to your sister.” He looks over at Abby, who ignores him completely, in favor of taking a SnapChat with Katie, and he sighs resolutely. You all absolutely know she isn’t listening to a word he says. “Have fun, be safe. Uber home.”

Liam salutes him. “Will do.”

Inside the bar, the night starts exactly as you and Liam have started your last few Thanksgiving Eve’s-with a round of shots at the bar as you’re ordering drinks, before splitting off to find your respective friends to start the evening.

Jeff fits in with your friends fantastically, laughing and joking around with them like he’s known them forever, even though you’re sure the only one he’s met is your oldest friend, Ashley. But he greets Ashley and her husband, Brian, like old friends, and quickly joins conversations with all your other friends, and soon hours have passed before your brother is sliding up behind you. “Heads up.” Liam mutters as he passes. “Douche at 3 o’clock.”

You tense as it takes everything in you not to turn and look over. “Hey.” Jeff nudges you, concern clear in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re not sure what he pulled himself away from, but you must look pretty bad. “You okay?”

You nod, kinda spacily, but leaning in closer to him, and he takes the cue to curl in toward you- you’re not really interested in shouting to the entire bar and you’re really not interested in drawing attention to yourself. “Yeah, just- my ex is over there.”

Jeff purses his lips for a minute and then schools his face back to neutral. “I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No.” You say, thinking of the demise of your relationship with Dylan. “It did not.”

You hadn’t even realized that Jeff grabbed your hand until he’s squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shake your head. “It was...definitely for the best.” It might have taken you a while to see that, but you can now, even if the rare instances you still see Dylan sometimes rattles you. “I thought I was going to marry him, at one point, but I’m so much happier here now.”

Jeff smiles. “Good.”

You squeeze his hand once more, a thanks for his comfort and care, before both of you rejoin the conversation, and you forget about Dylan entirely for the next hour, until you physically run into him coming back from the bar with another round of drinks for you and Jeff.

“Hey!” Dylan beams at you, goes right in for a cheek kiss, like you’re still that familiar, and once again you stiffen up.

“Hi.” You return politely, ready to sidestep around him and return to Jeff and your friends.

“No, wait.” Dylan steps with you, blocking your path. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s catch up a minute, what’s new?”

“No offense, Dylan, but I’m not really looking to catch up with you.” You say flatly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can another voice cuts in. “Everything okay here?” Jeff asks politely, stepping very purposefully next to you, and Dylan’s eyes immediately fly over to him.

“Mhmm,” You nod. “Was just on my way back to you.”

“Good.” Jeff says, in a tone far more harsh than you usually hear him take. “Let’s get back.” He positions himself again, clearing a space for you to easily slip past Dylan, and then steps closely behind you, catching up quickly.

“Thanks.” You lean against him, gently, not looking to spill either of your drinks, but Jeff solves that problem by taking his.

“Any time.” Jeff says softly and you don’t have much else to say on the matter so you just nudge him once more in thanks and walk back toward your friends with him at your side.

-----

When you wake up the next morning, you’re warm and comfortable and only a little hungover, which you count as a huge success. There’s not too much noise going on downstairs yet, which means you definitely have some more time to sleep, so you curl back into your pillow, humming contently when it pulls you in closer.

And then your eyes pop open abruptly, because pillows don’t do that.

Except they do when they look like Jeff Skinner, who looks just as soft and warm and comfortable as you feel right now, still sleeping judging by the evenness of his breath. 

It’s just...it’s a really nice way to wake up, with Jeff’s kind-of smiling face, looking super soft and cozy as he breathes just on the wrong side of too loud, but not so loudly that it drives you nuts. 

It’s a little too early to unpack that, and your hangover might not be that bad but it’s definitely bad enough that you’re not ready to think on that, so you close your eyes and let yourself curl into Jeff and fall back asleep.

-----

When you do finally get out of bed, Thanksgiving morning is its usual chaos, running around with last minute errands, cleaning, and helping your mom in the kitchen. The last to shower for the day, by the time you arrive downstairs, the Lions vs. Bears game is well underway, your notoriously early grandparents have already arrived, and your grandmother is already asking your mom where that one turkey decoration she bought her one year is.

You bypass the kitchen entirely and move toward the living room, where you find your dad, grandfather, Jeff, and siblings all gathered, just as you’d expected. You slide down on the floor next to Jeff, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before more of your family arrives and you’re offering your set up anyway, and wait for the next round of chaos to begin.

It doesn’t take long. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins start pouring in and then it’s just introduction after introduction, as you wrap up showing off Jeff to one group just as the next arrives. You are absolutely confident he has no idea who anyone is, but it’s fine, because he’s still laughing and joking around with all your uncles and cousins that have joined you in watching football. 

The kitchen is its own brand of chaos, when you make a quick stop in on your back from a beer run, but chaos has never stopped your aunt before and it certainly isn’t today. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, after you’ve pressed a smacking kiss to the top of your grandmom’s head. “That boy!”

“What boy?” You ask, like an idiot, which is immediately clear from the looks you get from everyone in the kitchen, even your usually oblivious uncle, who’s doing...something...with the ham they’d brought. “Who, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Another aunt stresses. “He’s cute!”

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean-”

But your grandmom cuts you off this time. “And so friendly! Just the nicest boy! Oh, you couldn’t have found anyone better!” She exclaims.

“Well, I haven’t.” You announce, watching all of their faces fall. “So sorry to burst that bubble.”

“Why?” One of your older cousins frowns. “Girl. Get on that. You are not going to do better than that boy in there.”

“I truly don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me or you all think that highly of Jeff already, but regardless. We are just friends.” Now everyone in the kitchen is giving you a look. You gather the beers and retreat, distributing them as you return to your spot on the floor near Jeff.

He’s giving you a look as you pass him his, but whatever’s on your face must not be too bad, because he just thanks you as you pass him the bottle, and you nod in return as you try to find the same comfortable spot as before, leaning against his thigh.

-----

Your dad catches you a bit later, as he’s coming back with beers this time and you’re coming out of the bathroom, and he nudges you carefully as you take a few bottles from his hand. “So Jeff?”

You groan. The tone of that statement was far too loaded. “Jesus, you too?”

Your dad laughs. “Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Well maybe that should be your hint.” Your dad says teasingly, but also not? There’s definitely some seriousness to this. “That Jeff’s pretty perfect for you.”

You stare at him. “You’ve met Jeff, like, a hundred times. Why’s this coming out now?”

“I always thought you were my smart kid and that you’d figure it out yourself.” He muses. “Now I realize you’re only book-smart and you’d never figure this out on your own.” And then he leaves you there in the hallway, with your jaw dropped and too many thoughts, as he continues on, laughing at you.

-----

When the call to come serve yourselves echoes into the room, the usual mad scramble follows immediately. It’s only as you’re getting into line behind your brother that you realize that Jeff’s not with you anymore, and you abandon the long line waiting for food, in favor of seeking out Jeff.

You find Jeff upstairs, in your room, just kind of lounging on your bed, and you lean against the doorway. “Hey! Food’s ready.”

“Yeah.” Jeff nods, the smile he sends you back in return far too tight and forced to be genuine. “Be right down.”

But he doesn’t move, so you step in and climb into your bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff laughs; it’s kind of hollow and doesn’t sound anything like his usual loud laugh or his giggles that you love. “What- nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jeff.” You say softly. “Come on.”

He sighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

That...was not at all what you expected. “What?”

“Why did you bring me here?” He repeats. “Why did you bring me home, to your family? I thought, maybe, finally…” He trails off for a minute. “Except, there’s like ten other randos here too!” He laughs again, that hollow thing that you’re already hating. “Everybody in this family just brings people home, and that’s awesome, okay? Please don’t ever change that about yourself. I just-I thought we had something special, is all.” He says, sounding almost sad? Melancholy? 

“You are special.” You hate this. Jeff should never be sad; he should always be happy and smiling and joking. This is worse than seeing him after losses, worse than seeing him at low points in the season, that one game when he realizes that shit’s done and they’re just playing to keep playing now, that playoffs won’t be coming this year, again. “Jeff, you’re-”

“I’m in love with you.” Jeff says and it’s so straight-up, matter-of-fact, like it’s never not been a fact for him. “And I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up here for tonight and made this so awkward. I just- being here with you and your family just made me want you that much more.”

There’s so so so much you want to say to Jeff, but it’s like time is frozen. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything except look at him in awe, until he starts to move off your bed, when you reach for him, finally, resting your hand on his thigh, relieved when he looks back at you. “My dad thinks I’m an idiot.” You blurt out and Jeff just gives you a look. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath, trying to gather the jumble of thoughts in your head. “Or at least, not the only thing. He thinks I’m an idiot because he thinks you’re perfect for me and I didn’t see it. My whole family thinks you’re perfect- cute and friendly and nice- and god, Jeff, you are! You’re all those things!” He’s still watching you, with like, barely the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “I just-didn’t realize you were perfect for me until we came here.”

Now he’s full on beaming, dimples showing, and you don’t even realize that you’re returning the grin until his hand comes up to your face, thumbing at the corner of your lip. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” You finish lamely, too busy smiling at Jeff. “Please kiss me so we can make sure we get biscuits.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t know if I can kiss you now and just...stop.”

“Well I’m not going down to eat until you do.” You say stubbornly. “And you’ve been hyping up those biscuits since breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Jeff laughs and then you’re smiling into the best first kiss you’ve ever had, tangling your hands into his hair and wondering if you may actually end up missing the meal this year.

[hardcasey]

Party Hardy

Won’t Fade into the Background - Part 7

Pairing: Boost x Reader

Summary: The Wolfpack attends their first house party and an accident brings you closer to one of them.

Word Count: 3.2k

Ratings/Warnings: T, warnings for alcohol consumption and smoochin'

A/N: This is a follow up of sorts to the last chapter with Sinker. It was inspired by the story of how Alan Alda met his wife, which is very funny and cute. I thought the premise fit our resident stinky boy, Boost, which is how I ended up with whatever this is. Enjoy~

They could feel the pulse of the bass two floors below their destination. The Wolfpack - sans their leader, who was too busy ‘writing reports’ (aka being a party pooper) - climbed up the narrow stairway to reach the party Sinker’s girlfriend and her roommates were throwing in their apartment.

They all could tell what door it was without Sinker even telling them the room number, the lights flashing under the door were a dead giveaway. There was a couple outside the door, a human woman leaning up against the wall and chatting up a pretty green-skinned twi’lek. They didn’t spare a second glance at the passing troopers, save for a quick nod that Sinker returned.

He was about to knock when Comet piped up, “Uh, are you sure this is a good idea? We could just head back to the barracks, it’s not too late.”

“What, are you scared?” Boost teased, nudging his brother with his shoulder.

Comet pushed Boost away before replying, “I’m not scared, I’m just… We’ve never been to a civvie house party before. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Just think of it like going to 79’s, only with less rules,” Sinker reassured him before knocking on the door. It swung open immediately, one of the people near the door opening it and inviting them in.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Comet muttered under his breath as he followed his brothers through the doorway.

The party was packed, humans and non-humans alike crammed into every available space, chatting and drinking and dancing to the loud music that blared through a set of speakers. The air was slightly hazy from the group of people tucked in a corner and passing around a joint. The three troopers stood in the doorway for a moment, stupefied as they took in their surroundings.

“Alright, I just messaged my girlfriend to let her know we’re here. She said to meet her at the bar,” Sinker informed them.

“Wherever that is,” Boost sighed, standing on his tiptoes to try and see over the sea of people.

Comet decided on a different tactic, instead flagging down a nearby Mirialan who had a drink in their hands. “Hey, do you know where the bar is?” He asked, having to shout to be heard over the music.

The Mirialan pointed towards the back of the room and gave Comet a cheeky wink, the rest of their friend group giggling behind them. Comet blushed and was about to respond with something flirty when Boost grabbed him by the collar and started tugging him towards the bar.

It took a while as the clones squeezed through the crowds of people, but eventually they made it to the bar, which was really just a fold out table stacked with booze. Sinker’s girlfriend was nowhere to be found, so the group decided to grab a drink while they waited.

~~~

You stood behind the makeshift bar, bouncing in place to the beat of the music as you mixed up a drink in the cocktail shaker. One of your roommates had shoved a pair of huge novelty light up sunglasses onto your face at some point in the night and you had a bunch of plastic bead necklaces around your neck, your collection growing as more and more people offered you them.

You had volunteered to work the bar tonight, hoping to show off the skills you’d picked up after taking a mixology class you’d found a coupon for. You thought you’d be tired of making drinks by now, but it was surprisingly fun. You got to chat with everyone as they waited and you’d even gotten a few tips. There was also the added benefit of having access to all the booze you could want, and even though you knew you weren’t really supposed to get drunk off your own supply, who could blame you for taking a few shots here or there?

Maybe you were drunker than you realized, though, since you swore you were seeing double all of a sudden. Wait, make that triple. A group of three identical looking men moseyed up to your table, and you blamed the alcohol in your system for how long it took you to not only realize they were in fact three separate people and not one guy, but also that you knew one of them.

“Hey, Sinker! How’s it going?” You greeted the white-haired clone loudly, straining to be heard over the thumping bass.

Sinker greeted you and introduced you to his fellow clones, his ‘brothers’ as he liked to call them. The two of you had interacted only a handful of times - usually he was too busy macking on your roommate in her room - but he’d always been polite and kind.

“This is Boost,” Sinker pointed his thumb towards the clone sporting a set of wild-looking double mohawks, “and this is Comet,” he pointed to the clone with a shooting-star tattoo on his temple.

You waved at them with both of your hands. “Well, Comet, Boost, and Sinker, can I get you anything to drink?” You motioned to the chalkboard listing all the drink specials you were offering, each one of them complete with a little drawing to go with it. It had taken you much longer than you cared to admit to make it, but it had been worth it in the end.

The boys crowded around to get a better look at the drinks listed. “Naboo Sunset… Jedi Mind Trick… Outer Rim… These are some fancy drinks, I’ve never heard of ‘em before.” Boost commented as he read the names aloud.

“Well what liquor do you prefer? The Naboo Sunset and Outer Rim are tequila based and the Jedi Mind Trick has vodka.” You’d had this same conversation several times tonight, enough you could recite what was in each drink without thinking.

“Which one is the prettiest one?” Boost asked after thinking about it for a second. He wasn’t choosy with his liquor, couldn’t afford to be when all he had access to was whatever someone put in front of him at 79s.

Comet raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Really?”

“C’mon. You’ve seen some of those crazy drinks people order at 79s! The ones with all the colors. This could be our only chance to try one for free.” His head shot up all of a sudden as if he just remembered something, “Wait, these are free, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their antics. “Yup, totally free. Though I do take tips in the form of credits or in particularly cool bead necklaces.”

“Sweet!” Boost pumped his fist in excitement, making Comet roll his eyes, though he couldn’t contain the smile on his lips.

“If you want something colorful you should try the Naboo Sunset. It has a bunch of different colored liquors layered on top of one another. Very pretty,” You suggested.

“Okay, I’ll have that one,” Boost agreed. “What are you getting, Com?”

“I’m torn between a Jedi Mind Trick or an Outer Rim. What about you, Sinker?”

Sinker considered for a second. “You get the Jedi Mind Trick and I’ll get the Outer Rim and we can share them.”

“Okay, one Naboo Sunset, one Jedi Mind Trick, and one Outer Rim coming right up.” You told them as you started grabbing bottles.

Just as you began mixing Boost’s drink, you saw a flash of red in your peripheral vision as your roommate ran past and all but tackled Sinker. Had he not been a soldier you were pretty sure he’d be flat on his back right now, but he was strong enough to catch her with one arm as she launched herself at him.

“Hey, babe,” he said with a lopsided grin as he spun her around, “I brought the ice you asked for.”

“My savior!” She said as he set her back on her feet, pecking him on the lips before taking the ice from him and quickly handing it over to you to deal with so she could go back to hugging her boyfriend.

You rolled your eyes at them as you cut open the bag and dumped the ice into the almost empty ice bucket. When you turned back to your task, you caught Boost and Comet’s eye and the three of you exchanged a look.

“I’m really gonna need that drink if we have to deal with this all night,” Boost quipped, making the three of you burst out into laughter.

“I’m on it, darling,” you reassured him as you hurried to make their drinks.

The boys kept you company as you worked, sharing silly stories that had you nearly crying with laughter. You had the three drinks ready in record time, though by the time you finished it didn’t seem like SInker would be able to pry himself away from his girlfriend long enough to take a sip.

“Well, I guess you get both drinks then,” you told Comet as you handed him his and Sinker’s drink.

“Be careful mixing alcohol, vod,” Boost warned before taking a long sip from his brightly colored drink, layered with shades of pink, orange, and yellow. His eyes had lit up like a toddler being handed a cookie when you gave him his glass, and by the way he was sucking it down he was enjoying it immensely.

“Or… you could go and bring one over to that Mirialan over there.” You pointed with your chin to motion towards the Mirialan they had met when they got here. “They’ve been making eyes at you this whole time. Plus, I know they really like the Jedi Mind Trick,” you offered with an eyebrow wiggle.

The two clones both turned to look at where you were pointing, and the Mirialan gave Comet a little wave. Comet waffled around for a bit until Boost elbowed him in the side and told him to go live a little.

“You’ll be alright without me?” Comet asked.

“Yup, I’ll be hanging out with our new friend here. Now go get ‘em, tiger.” With that, Boost shoved his brother towards the Mirialan. Once the two of you were alone, he turned to you, “Hope you don’t mind me keeping you company. The only other people I know here just ditched me!”

You laughed at his choice of words. “Of course not. If you want, I can teach you how to mix drinks.” He’d had a lot of questions for you as you prepared the drinks, wanting to know what every item did or what every step was for, so you thought he might find it fun. Plus, you could use a buddy at the bar now that things were slowing down somewhat. It seemed like everyone who wanted a drink had already gotten one and you only had to deal with those coming back for seconds.

“Sure! That sounds fun,” he said, rushing over to join you on your side of the table.

~~~

You weren’t sure how many hours had passed, but you and Boost made a countless number of drinks, some for the partygoers and some for yourselves. At some point in the night the two of you had sunk to the floor behind the drink table, both tired of making drinks and too busy talking with each other.

“What is this party even for anyway?” Boost asked between sips of the water you had forced him to drink. You’d given him your big light up sunglasses and the rim of the glass clanked against them as he brought it up to his face, knocking the glasses askew and making Boost frown dramatically.

You adjusted them for him before answering. “Uhh, I think it’s a birthday party.” He gave you a look as if to say how could you not know so you added, “It’s for a friend of a friend and I’m four Naboo Sunsets in, don’t give me that look.”

Boost nudged you with his shoulder as he laughed, and you were suddenly aware of just how close the two of you were, snuggled up together with your head on his shoulder. When had that happened? Not that you were complaining. All of the clones were attractive, but something about Boost was especially so. He was unapologetically himself, loud in both personality and looks. You’d asked him about the mohawks at some point and he’d told you they started off as a dare but he’d gotten attached. His brothers apparently liked to tease him about his crazy hairstyle but he wore it with pride. He said his hair made him stand out, which you could guess was important when you shared a face with millions of others.

The area behind the bar was a flurry of activity as your other roommates scrambled around grabbing snacks to pass out to everyone. One of them grabbed a cake from the fridge and started putting candles in it.

You got Boost’s attention and pointed it out to him. “See, I told you it was someone’s birthday.”

Not ten seconds after you said it, your roommate grabbed it off the counter and was ready to bring it out to whoever it was for when someone else bumped into them from behind, sending the cake flying. Everyone in the vicinity watched in horror as it sailed through the air before landing upside down on the floor with a splat. There was a chorus of shouts as everyone realized what had happened, the person who caused the accident apologizing profusely while others lamented the loss of the cake.

Once everyone got over their initial reactions, things settled down and your roommate rushed out to explain what had happened to the cake’s intended recipient. Everyone else in the room started debating what to do with the ruined cake.

“Are you really just gonna throw it out?” You asked sadly. You’d been eyeing that cake all morning and couldn’t wait to try a piece.

“Well yeah, it fell on the floor,” someone else responded.

“But there’s still a bunch of good cake left!” Not all of it was touching the floor, just the top portion. From your side you could hear Boost agree with you.

“If you want to eat it, be my guest.”

You thought about it for a second and looked over to Boost. “Wanna eat some floor cake?” He asked, handing you a fork.

You grabbed the fork and smiled at him, the two of you shuffling over to where the cake had fallen before digging in, careful to only eat parts that were safely away from the floor, and since it was a triple decker cake, there was a lot to choose from. You grabbed a big piece, making sure the cake to frosting ratio was acceptable, and held it out to Boost.

He gobbled it down in one bite. “Mmm, gourmet,” he joked, flashing you a huge smile before offering you a bite. “For you, my dear.”

You giggled in between bites of cake. “The dirt really adds a certain something.”

The two of you carried on like that for a while, ignoring the stares sent your way. You wished you could have blamed your suspect judgement on the alcohol, but you knew you would have probably done this when you were sober too, so you had no excuse. But you were happy you had someone by your side who was just as weird as you.

~~~

Sinker nudged his girlfriend. “Hey, I should check in with the guys. Just to make sure they are doing okay.” He hadn’t checked in with them in a while and was feeling a little guilty for abandoning them for so long.

“I think I saw Comet making out with someone a few minutes ago.” His girlfriend offered with a yawn. It was getting late and the party was starting to wind down. It was far less crowded now and there were people passed out on the couches nearby.

Sinker looked around and sure enough he found his brother in a corner, wrapped around the Mirialan they’d encountered earlier. Good for him, he thought, happy Comet had been able to come out of his shell after being so nervous about going to the party. He hated having to be the one to break them up, but it was getting time to head back. Wolffe had kindly reminded them they had an early morning training drill the next day as they were leaving for the party, his way of telling them to be home at a reasonable hour.

Once he had collected Comet, he set off to find Boost, knowing that out of the both of them Boost was way more likely to have gotten into trouble. After asking around a bit, they were pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Sinker ducked his head in the doorway only to find what felt like the worst case scenario, his brother surrounded by a huge mess. It took a second for his brain to process the fact that you and Boost were feeding each other bites of cake from the floor.

“Please tell me you didn’t cause this,” Sinker sighed.

“Nah, we’re helping clean up. Didn’t want it all to go to waste.” Boost explained from his position on the floor, his legs sprawled out and tangled with yours. That was an interesting development. He’d met you a few times and thought you were very nice, but he’d never in a million years have put you and Boost together. You seemed too… normal for his brother, though apparently that wasn’t actually true.

Sinker’s girlfriend poked her head in as well. “Awe, cute! Now smile you two, I want a picture,” she said before snapping a quick photo.

“It’s time to go, Boost. We gotta get up early tomorrow.” Sinker told him.

Boost turned to you. “I should help you clean up first. Like actually clean up.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble with your C.O. Don’t worry about it,” you assured him.

“Okay,” He hesitated for a moment before starting to get to his feet.

“Wait!” You called after him. He turned back towards you and you took the opportunity to snatch the front of his shirt and drag him into a kiss. It started off tense, with you catching him by surprise, but he melted into it, his lips sweet with the taste of frosting. When you broke apart you added, “I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“Y-yeah,” Boost agreed, stumbling to his feet. Sinker and Comet were all but dragging him away but he resisted long enough to ask. “Wait, I don’t have your number.”

“I’ll give it to Sinker,” your roommate offered, and that was enough to get him out the door. She closed the door behind them before joining you on the floor. “I’m gonna show that picture at you two’s wedding,” she teased, a shit eating grin on her face. “Y’know, you have me to thank for introducing you. I expect you to name your first child in my honor.”

“Shut it,” you told her, taking a piece of cake and mushing it onto her cheek.