#(I actually wonder if this was an intentional nod or an accidental reference but either way I love it)

[pianokantzart]

Absolutely losing my mind at those wanted posters in the background

[skiesofthesketchy]

36, 60, and 71, if you can combine prompts for one request! was thinking like an accident happens, and jj’s freaking out, but there’s a happy ending obviously. If you only want 1 prompt, let’s go with 60 :)

congrats on 1k lovely!! you deserve it, and keep up all your amazing work ❤️

thanks for the request!! i kinda went in a different direction but i hope you like this! :)

masterlist

1k celebration blurbs

60. So I accidentally told her that I loved her. What do I do?

71. I didn't know how to tell you [before].

***

“Shit, shit, shit,” JJ murmured under his breath. His thoughts were running wild but he couldn’t process a single one of them. The confident and easy-going pogue had turned into a nervous mess, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

“JB, you better fucking answer,” he panted into his cellphone that was pressed to his face. He waited impatiently as he heard the ringing in his ear, all while basically running in the direction of the Chateau.

Right as JJ was about to hang up and try again, his best friend John B. finally picked up.

“Hey, what’s up, man? Are you coming by later? Pope and Kie are already here and we got the beer--”

“JB, I fucked up. I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up.”

“Woah, JJ, relax. What happened?” John B. immediately had a thousand different ideas of the trouble his friend could be in and ultimately assumed the worst. He had stopped everything to listen intently to JJ on the phone.

JJ sighed, still feeling like he wasn’t in complete control of his body. “JJ. What is it?” John B. asked again. He was getting more scared by the second about what could possibly be wrong. Did JJ do something to his dad? Is he running from the cops again?

“I accidentally told her that I love her. What the fuck do I do?” His tone was desperate, eyebrows creased in worry. He needed his best friend to tell him what to do.

JJ was a quick thinker, always able to escape trouble when he needed to. But this was different. Years of friendship out the window. He was convinced he had just ruined everything and that you would never want to see him again.

John B., of course, knew exactly who JJ was referring to. JJ only ever had feelings for you. Even with the string of random girls coming and leaving JJ’s bedroom, nobody compared to you.

Much to JJ’s dismay, he could hear his friend’s booming laughter through the phone. “Hey man, that’s great! Good for you,” John B. laughed. He was relieved that it wasn’t something actually bad, and was thankful JJ’s situation was amusing instead.

“It’s not great, and it’s definitely not funny,” JJ grumbled. “Can you be serious for a second? My life just blew up in my face and it’s my own damn fault.”

“Hey, seriously, you need to relax. Did she actually reject you?” John B. asked carefully.

“She would have if I would’ve stuck around to hear it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I ran away, okay?!” JJ yelled. “I got the hell out of there before she could even say anything.” Yep, he wanted to punch himself in the face for that. But he didn’t mean to spill his feelings all over you. It was all just a huge mistake.

It was something that couldn’t be helped, though. There you were, standing on the beach looking as beautiful as always. Your hair blew softly in the breeze as the golden sun gave your figure a gracious glow. The sight of you was enough to knock the air right out of JJ’s lungs.

Your smile lit up your pretty face as you told your good friend JJ all about the guy you were going on a date with tonight. The handsome stranger had been charming, and you had to admit you were a bit smitten. Not many guys have had the courage to walk up to you to ask you out.

JJ could tell you were excited, but a burning jealousy seeped into his bones. He willed himself to keep his mouth shut, but JJ had never been the best at self-control.

“I don’t think you should go out with this guy,” he said.

You looked at him confused. “Why not?”

He sighed, already kicking himself for speaking up. “Y/N, you don’t know him. He could be a murderer. He could be an asshole just wanting to get laid.” He was prepared to go on, but you cut him off.

“JJ, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” You couldn’t read him. You were used to JJ being protective, but he was acting strange. You could tell something else was on his mind but you couldn’t even begin to guess what it was. He couldn’t even look at you.

You grabbed a hold of his hand so that he would look back at you, finding his bright blue eyes clouded in anger? Disappointment? “What is this about?”

“What about for me? Would you ditch this guy for me?” Oh god, he’s already said too much, but it’s too late now. His gaze was fixed on you as you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“I don’t understand...”

“What if I told you I was in love with you?” It felt like the whole world stopped as he waited for your reaction. “Would you ditch him then?”

You didn’t think you heard him right. Did he just say he’s in love with you!? No, you must have water in your ears or something.

The short silence from you was the only answer he needed. With a nod and a frown, he tore himself away from you. “Just forget it,” he grumbled, already marching away.

“JJ, wait!” you called after him. He was already running from the situation and you hardly even had two seconds to process it all. “JJ!”

He didn’t listen to you and continued fleeing as fast as possible, wondering what the hell he had done.

That brings us back to the present. JJ had finally made it to the Chateau. John B. had filled Pope, Kie, and Sarah in on the situation, making JJ’s ears and face burn in embarrassment. At the same time though, he didn’t care what any of them thought. He only cared about you.

What were you calling after him for? What would you have said if JJ hadn’t run away? Do you want him out of your life because he made things weird?? Are you about to fall madly in love with this stupid guy you’re going out with right now???

“JJ, it’s okay. Come sit down and chill,” Kie brought JJ out of his wild imagination for a brief moment. It felt as if his heart was still beating much faster than it should. He felt restless but also like there was nothing he could do to fix any of it.

He only sat down in the hammock because Kiara had dragged him there. JJ felt like he was in a daze, not really paying attention to the world outside of his mind. Pope had handed him a beer and JJ gulped half of it down without even thinking about it. Conversation started up around him but he didn’t hear anything... until someone said your name.

“Oh look, Y/N’s here,” John B. announced, shoving JJ’s shoulder. “And she looks pissed.” JJ whipped his head around quickly and sure enough, there you were, beautiful as always, but fuming and marching right toward him.

“What the fuck, JJ?!” you yelled, making it obvious that you were about to either chew him out or kick his ass.

“Good luck, bud,” John B. whispered to JJ, chuckling under his breath.

“Fuck you,” JJ replied as he watched everyone go inside, leaving him alone to face your wrath. He didn’t know what the fuck to do, how to fix the mistake he made, how to make things not weird between you guys, but holy shit, he didn’t expect that you’d be so angry.

It was like he was watching you in slow motion, feeling every one of your stomps on the ground as you approached him, eyes ablaze and lips pulled into a frown. “What was that back there?” you finally asked, now standing right in front of the boy who looked scared shitless.

“I-- I know, Y/N. I’m sorry! It was a mistake--” he tried to explain rather desperately, but you cut him off.

“You can’t just dump all of that on me and then run away!” JJ finally stood up from the hammock and now towered over you, reaching for your arms without even thinking about it, wanting to make you feel calm.

“I don’t know why I said any of that! It was an accident! I'm sorry, we can talk about this--” You interrupted him yet again, but this time by launching yourself forward and crashing your lips to his.

With hands cradling his jaw, you did your best to put all of your emotions into the kiss, the one kiss that could change everything. JJ was more than surprised, freezing as you pulled him in closer, but within two seconds had relaxed and gave in-- he'd be an idiot not to. His hands fell to your waist and pulled you flush against him as his lips finally matched your ferver.

You don’t even know why you got so angry. Perhaps it was because the man you had loved since forever had told you he shared the same feelings, but then left before you could make the same confession, freeing yourself from years of secrecy. You didn’t want to hide it anymore. You needed to be sure he felt the same, like he said he did.

It almost didn’t matter now, as you poured every bit of passion you had into someone you called your best friend. He smiled against your lips, bringing his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the mind-blowing kiss. His mind was in a daze as his senses became clouded by you. In this moment, he had no doubts of his feelings for you. He was undeniably in love with you and couldn’t do a single thing to change that.

You had allowed yourself to get lost in him, but in a split second you were pulling away, not able to pull too far with JJ’s arms wrapped around you. His eyes trapped you in his gaze as you both took a moment to catch your breaths. You didn’t want to come down from the high you were experiencing, but you had to ask...

“Did you mean it?”

His brows furrowed wondering what you meant before it clicked. “Every word,” he said, only confidence and honesty in his voice. After that kiss, he wasn’t scared anymore. In fact, he felt fucking fearless. “I didn’t know how to tell you before.”

“Well, I'm glad you did,” you replied with a smile, dragging your fingers through his locks of hair before kissing him once more. The sounds of loud cheering made you pull away much sooner than either of you would have liked.

The pogues were watching from the window, cheering and making dumb kissy faces at you guys. JJ promptly flipped them off while you laughed, then he turned so that he was shielding you from the prying eyes of your friends. He loved the sound of your joyous laugh accompanied by your radiant smile.

“Next time you just wanna kiss me, can you not come over looking like you wanna kill me?” he asked, and you laughed with heat flooding your face. “Very mixed signals. I was scared for my life!” he added with a chuckle.

“Oh, shut up. I had a right to be mad at you!”

“But not anymore, right?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him before throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him again. You could definitely get used to this.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled against his lips. “You’re lucky I love you too.” He grinned, feeling higher than the clouds now that you finally said the words he was dying to hear.

He picked you up and spun you before kissing you again. “The luckiest in the world.”

***

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[thefanficmonster]

Hy, Vy! 📚🌻 Here!

I read that you're having a busy week so I just came here to give you some reminders: Get up for a bit, drink water. Relax for a bit: let your shoulders drop, unclench your jaw and hands, take a deep breath. Better? Hope you are taking care of yourself.

Your three words of today are: Scratch, Silk, snarl.

Take all the time you need and hope you have a good week!

Love, 📚🌻

Hi 📚🌻!

So nice to be hearing from you again! My busy week has finally been put to a pause worries-wise so I can relax and write A TON of fics for you guys so I can make up for being absent for so long 😌 I missed writing honestly and, not gonna lie, your three word challenges bring me so much joy, I'm not even kidding. So thank you for sending me another, in return I send you a short fluffy fic with the pairing I keep using because I'm obsessed 😅 along with all my love, hugs, kisses and support. They're all addressed to you 💌💌💌

Worthy

Pairing: Chris Redfield x OC - Gwen Winters (y’all already know her by now 😅)

No warnings, just pure fluff, Enjoy! 🥰

“Wow, don’t you look presentable.“ 

Now, while the comment is not at all false and is completely fair and true, he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Not when the younger girl was glaring at him before he even opened his mouth.

She can’t be having it easy: baby food in her hair, a questionable stain on her shirt, some dark spots along her arms and what looks to be paint on her forehead and cheeks. Oh and hands too.

“And you look unwanted.” She snarls, “The Devil sent you to prevent me from catching a break today, didn’t he?“ She made her glare even deadlier which he didn’t think was possible. He should know better than to underestimate her like that, Gwen Winters always has a way of surprising him after all. “Well, go back and tell him I wasn’t planning on catching a break either way so you aren’t needed“

Chris rolls his eyes, “For the last time, please stop making me sound like your worst nightmare took a human form.” He scoffs, reaching out to remove a crumb from her shirt, “In fact, I’m here to help.”

“Ethan and Mia sent you then. They don’t believe I have it handled, do they?“ She sighs, walking inside the surprisingly quiet Winters home.

Her Captain, taking that action of hers as a good sign, follows her inside, closing the front door behind him. “No, they don’t know I’m here actually. I called to check up on them and they said they were on a date so I immediately knew who got stuck with the babysitting duty and thought you’d need help.” He gives her a quick once-over, grimacing slightly at the sight she is, “And it seems like you really could use and extra pair of hands.”

“Well....when you put it like that I wish you showed up an hour ago. That’s when this happened.“ She motions to herself. “Christ, I need a change of clothes...and a shower.“ A sigh leaves her lips as her arms drop by her sides.

“And a bandage.“ He murmurs when his gaze suddenly lands on a particularly bad looking scratch on Gwen’s arm. “What happened to you?“

Her eyes follow his to where a red line has marked her skin. She lets out a laugh, “Believe it or not, Rose’s got one hell of a grip. God knows I’d be covered in bite marks if she had teeth.” The look of shock and concern that flashes across the older man’s face makes her laugh, “Hey, don’t worry, the shower will be quick and she’s a pretty heavy sleeper so you won’t have to deal with her on your own.”

He nods hesitantly, muttering a quick ‘Right’ before the girl disappears down the hallway in the direction of the staircase with the intention of grabbing herself some clean clothes she knows won’t remain clean for very long after her sister wakes up. Maybe they’re not blood related, but Gwen still refers to Rose as her sister. Not rare are the times she’s accidentally referred to Ethan as dad or to Mia as mom when talking about them with some of her friends at the BSAA, hell even when talking with Chris. She doesn’t even appear to notice when she says it, but he does, and a smile always briefly graces his features when she does.

As he’s surfing through the TV channels, less than ten minutes after he heard the shower turn on, the baby monitor comes to life with the displeased whines of a child that’s awoken from its slumber.  Chris Redfield, previously a BSAA soldier and now a captain, one who has faced thousands of horrors in his life, each more threatening than the last, is now frozen in place.

One thing this man hasn’t had much experience with is dealing with individuals below their teenage years. Sure, he held Rose when she was still a newborn but even that lasted less than five minutes cause he was so terrified of dropping her or her starting to cry. And now he has to go tend whatever need she has without knowing what they are or how to tend to them.

Wonderful.

Seeing as how the whines are rather quiet and haven’t turned into wails just yet he feels a bit bolder about the whole ordeal, getting up from the couch and making his way towards the stairs, passing by the bathroom where he hears Gwen singing ‘Lovefool’ like she’s the only person in the house.

“Don’t worry, Rose, I’d be crying too if I were awoken by that.“ He murmurs, stomping up the steps.

Entering the nursery, he’s pleasantly surprised to see Rose has stopped complaining and is just looking up at him, intrigued by the presence of this man she doesn’t recognize. Chris scoffs, deciding to drop the subject but right as he steps one foot out the door, the crying begins.

‘No way‘, he thinks to himself, slowly inching back into the room just for the cries to be put to a halt again. ‘You gotta be kidding me.’

“Listen kid, I’m not in any way, shape or for fit for this. Just hold on, your sister will be out in a minute, ok?“ His mouth is saying one thing but his mind is on a completely different level of following instincts - the fatherly instincts he never even thought he had. And while getting his soul stared into by this baby, he can’t help but give into those instincts, “Alright, but you better give me a good review if your sister asks. She can be really high strung sometimes, though I bet you already knew that, having to live with her and all.“ He murmurs as he lifts the now giggling Rose out of her crib, gently cradling her to his chest. To his relief, she stays quiet, relaxing in his embrace. “You’re much less of a handful than Gwen.” He chuckles softly, not wanting to disrupt the quiet too much in hopes it would lead to Rose falling back asleep soon. “I mean, I complain a lot about her and her attitude, but I’d do anything for her, if I’m being honest. She doesn’t know, of course, I haven’t told her. Not that she’d believe me if I did. She’s gotta be the most stubborn yet selfless, most sarcastic yet loving person I’ve ever met. She saves her good qualities for people who deserve to see em, I’m not surprised I’m not one of them. I’ve done nothing but give her a hard time since we met, but can you really blame? She was death-glaring me before we even exchanged names, for goodness’ sake. I probably shouldn’t bother a less than a year old baby with my problems but I have no other listener...” Looking down, he realizes Rose has fallen asleep. He huffs lightheartedly, a smile on his face, “Guess I didn’t have you either, huh?”

“You had me.“ He stiffens his muscles, startled by the foreign whisper that fills the room.

Slowly turning around, he finds Gwen leaning against the doorframe her small figure wrapped in a towel, arms crossed over her chest, her smirking face framed by a curtain of wet hair. She looks smug, too smug, insinuating she’s heard a good portion of his speech if not its entirety. 

“Don’t I at least get an applause?“ He rolls his eyes, hoping the blush isn’t as visible as he feels it to be. 

“You really think you deserve one with the amount of cheesiness you just spewed, not to mention gossiping about me to my own sister.“ She shakes her head with faux disappointment, her voice smooth like silk.

“Ok do I at least get a response then?“ He needs to know, there’s no way he can leave this house or even this room without getting an answer, no matter how disappointed he might be by it. Better a brutal answer than blind ignorance.

She purses her lips, her eyes leaving his and landing on the sleeping baby he almost forgot he was holding. She takes a few steps towards him, reaching out and taking gentle hold of Rose, her movements so light and careful the baby doesn’t even detect she’s being moved. Gwen lays her sister down in her crib even more carefully straightening up and placing her hands on the railing, smiling down at the sleeping toddler.

Chris stands there restless, his gaze analyzing and overanalyzing each and every shift of her facial expression, the tiniest changes in her body stance and body language. He’s never seen her so at peace and so relaxed, out of her usual surroundings and gear. The rough lines of her face softened by the sisterly love she’s displaying, watching over the sleeping Rose. There’s so much grace and beauty within her and it never fails to shine through. Not in the battlefield, not when faced with literal death, not even when she’s holding a weapon twice her size, making her look terrifying for the enemy.

He said he wasn’t surprised to be excluded from the tight circle of people she has - those who see her at her best - and he really isn’t. He doesn’t deserve her kindness, her softness, her smiles and laughter. He doesn’t deserve her. He’s not worth of a membership

Or that’s what he thinks, at least.

Gwen suddenly turns to him, the smile still present on her face as she gazes up at him, her head tilted back so she can look him in the eyes which is proving pretty difficult considering their proximity and height difference. Leaning back on the crib railing she sighs, “You’re right, a response would be adequate. But what kind would you like?”

He scoffs, his muscles tensing even more despite the smile on his face, “The most honest one you can offer me.”

She hums approvingly, nodding as though she’s contemplating her next move. He’s on the verge of telling her to forget it, let it all fall in the water and hope she forgets about it soon. He can deal with a few sleepless nights but that ultimate rejection, he knows it’ll sting a lot and for a long time.

However, just as he’s about to cross over the verge and open his big mouth he’s physically prevented from doing so by the pair of lips that have collided with his. Her lips. She’s kissing him.

‘Holy crap, what is happening?‘ It’s safe to say his mind’s racing which is mainly why it takes him a second or two to respond but when he comes to, he’s kissing her back with passion and longing, as though they’ve shared this kiss before. His arms automatically wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, while hers find themselves wrapped around his neck, her fingers gently tangling in his hair.

To say he’s disappointed when she pulls away would be an understatement but seeing as how she’s not in a rush to free herself from his grasp, he doesn’t complain. Instead, he allows her to rest her forehead against hers. He closes his eyes, their proximity intoxicating his mind, the scent of her freshly washed hair and skin making his thoughts hazy.

“Next time you wanna tell me something...“ Gwen whispers breathlessly, “...my sister is not the one you should turn to first.“

Chris chuckles, reattaching their lips in relief and ecstasy. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt quite like this: so high yet so grounded, so intoxicated yet sober. She gives him polar opposite experiences at once and it’s simply magical.

He may not be worthy of a membership in her inner circle, but he’s damn lucky she likes him as much as she does.

[dc41896]

Penny for Your Thoughts (2)

Pairing: QB!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

Summary🪄: You definitely didn’t expect your first date to be so hectic, yet so perfect

⚠️: None just fluff💕

The weekend of a home game always seemed to have the city in more of a buzz than normal. Everyone rushing from store to store trying to get everything they’d need for watch parties and tailgating. Streets holding more cars from those who followed the visiting team to physically show their support.

And if said game resulted in a win, the energy only intensified as those invested seemed to sport brighter smiles. It even made complete strangers high-five after raving how no team could do it better. That was the current state surrounding you now after Boston College’s 24-12 comeback victory.

Since entering the dimly lit restaurant, all eyes were stuck to the two of you. Well mostly Chris, but you also received glances from those nosy enough to wonder who you were to him, and the occasional eye roll from the girls wishing they were the ones being led by his large hand to the table. He warned you ahead of time that this would probably happen and apologized in advance, but you understood it just came with the territory.

His eyes lift from scanning his menu to watch you studying yours as you toyed with the gold banded ring on your index finger. You already made his chest warm just from the slightest glimpse of you, but your face illuminated by the small lamp on the table had a soft smile spreading across his lips feeling as if you were the only two in the room.

“See anything you like?,” he asked, solid body leaning forward as his hands nervously rubbed together under the table and it’s pristine, white table cloth.

“Everything sounds so good, but I think I’ll just stick with a salad or something.”

“You sure? Get anything you want, it’s my treat. Plus I still owe you a celebration for acing your exam.”

Your face brightens at the reference to the conversation you had last month. That’s when your date was supposed to happen originally, but with you being so stressed about passing, you both agreed that it’d probably be best to try again later.

“We’ll go the next time we’re both free. That way we can celebrate.”

“Celebrate what exactly?,” you giggled, phone pressed against your ear as you scribbled more notes at your desk.

“You passing, duh.”

“Thanks for the confidence, but let’s not call it so early.”

Sure enough, he predicted right.

“You remembered,” you smiled.

“Of course I did, why would I forget?,” he asks. Fingertips finding your knee to graze against your soft skin making your cheeks warm.

“Well in that case, I’ll have the lobster, steak, and I’ll go ahead and put in my dessert order,” you joke flashing your most innocent smile.

“It’s up to you cutie.” You both laugh, but yours is a bit shorter lived at the reveal of his apparent nickname for you. From the way he carried on as if nothing happened, briefly checking his vibrating phone, you didn’t know if it was an accidental slip of the tongue or him being comfortable enough to say it in front of you.

Either way, your heart fluttered at the sentiment and how it sounded off his tongue.

“Excuse me,” a thick, Boston accent interrupts slightly startling both of you. “I hate to cut in, but I just wanted to say that game was incredible!”

“Oh um thanks man,” he politely smiles.

“I’ve been watching since I was a boy, and I can truly say you got something special kid. Like with that trick play to put us in the lead?! Phenomenal! No way you’re not going in the first round. Speaking of, you got any teams in mind? I know you gotta be eyeing the Pats!”

“I uh really appreciate the kind words, but I’m kinda in the middle of something,” Chris replies motioning between the both of you with his finger. From the look in his eyes, hoping that the middle aged man would get the hint.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he replies holding up his hands as he takes a step back. “You kids have a good time, and you keep throwing those touchdowns.” With a final wave and pat of his shoulder, Chris waits until the fan is definitely gone before apologizing to you with sympathetic eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay. They’re excited to see you.”

“This is our time though, and I want all my focus going to you.”

“Aww, that’s very-,”

“Hi! Sorry, but you’re the quarterback for BC right?!,” the excited lady asks holding the hand of her small son probably around eight or nine. Before answering, he looks to you seemingly asking you for permission, and although you knew he’d respectfully turn them away explaining how he’d be sure to find them later if you gave the right signal, you didn’t want to be the one getting in the way of him and his fans. Especially when they were little kids.

Gently nodding your head with a small smile, he quickly mouths “sorry” before turning his attention back to the mom and son, giving the awestruck boy a high five at his mentioning of how he has Chris’ jersey at home. At the mother’s asking, you took pictures of the three of them before she was heading back to the table with the little boy still smiling like the Cheshire Cat looking down at his favorite college quarterback’s autograph and small personalized message on the napkin in his hands.

“Now, where were we?,” he asks settling back in his seat, taking a drink from his glass of water. You don’t get the chance to answer, hearing a pair of heels clacking against the tile floor coming closer to your table. The head of red hair with perfect beach waves cascading down to her shoulders has a satisfied smirk on her pink, glossed lips as she finally reaches the two of you, more so focused on Chris.

“Well isn’t this a sight for sore eyes. Then again I probably shouldn’t be surprised seeing you here at our place.”

Actually, it wasn’t. They only came there once and she was solely preoccupied with making sure all her followers knew she was being spoiled at a fancy restaurant while they weren’t. Chris didn’t even remember getting a word in that night, having to listen to her boast about all the people who would be jealous of her if they already weren’t.

Finally setting her crystalline, blue eyes on you, you see right through the sweet facade as she sticks out her hand. Almond shaped nails freshly manicured a sparkly light blue color. “Where are my manners, I’m Kelly. I’m sure you’ve heard about me before.”

“Not really, no,” you answer shaking her hand and making her smirk falter. “That’s a pretty dress though.”

“Thanks,” she dryly replies pulling her hand back to her side.

“Babe, our table’s ready.”

A man built similar to Chris and around your age with black hair and hazel eyes lightly grazes her arm to get her attention, clearly not wanting to completely be shown to the table as he stayed behind her. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out he was the guy she cheated with and was too guilty to face his teammate.

Well, soon to be former from the rumblings at the game of those who were in the know with the dealings of the players.

“You two enjoy your dinner,” Chris speaks finding your hand across the table and enclosing it with his warm one. This simple movement nearly had Kelly combust seeing him moved on with someone else, while you began to wonder even more about his true intentions.

“Yea, y-you too,” the unnamed man quickly replies pulling his speechless date with him, who had yet to look away from you until he physically turned her around.

“Hey why don’t we get out of here? It’s hard to have you to myself with everyone interrupting,” Chris suggests with a gentle smile.

“Um yea, sure. Lead the way.”

———

15 or 20 minutes of driving around the city, and you ended up on campus in the more secluded part of the grounds. Then again, with it being Saturday night every part was pretty much secluded now.

The gazebo brightly adorned with bulb fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and around the pillars was a popular spot for graduation and wedding photos, as well as other couples looking for a calmer space without having to go too far. And although a beautiful and romantic scene, Chris desperately wished he could’ve found someplace better to take you.

“You okay?,” he nervously asks settling on the blanket he placed on the wooden floorboards so your clothes wouldn’t pick up any dirt or dust. “If you want to go somewhere else, I can-,”

“No no, this is perfect,” you smile, but not fully convincing Chris from how minimal you talked on the ride over.

“You’re not just sparing my feelings are you?” His suspicious expression and tilted head has you giggling as you take a sip of your water, feeling a bit more relaxed.

“No I just…after seeing your ex I guess I started wondering….”

“About what?”

“…your intentions,” you reveal, more focused on bending your straw back and forth rather than meeting his eyes that were probably peering at you like you were crazy bringing up the ‘what are we?’ conversation so early. “And where you wanted this to go?”

“Well this definitely isn’t a rebound if that’s what you’re thinking,” he answers sipping from his lemonade. Yes, you were thinking that. Had been since you guys started talking in fact. Then with him grabbing your hand at the table in front of Kelly, you didn’t know if the action was sincere or you just being a pawn in the midst of their game of who could make the other more jealous.

“So you think you’re completely moved on from her? And ready to date again?”

“I’ll be honest, when we first met I was still hurt and sulking as you could tell,” he briefly chuckles, “but the more we talked and hung out, I got over it and wanted to move on with someone who made me happy. Someone like you.”

Feeling him slide closer placing his hand on top of yours, your entire body heats up as his stubbled face feels like it’s mere inches from yours.

“So to answer your question, yes I’m ready and if it’s okay with you, I want to see how far this goes.”

Your soft smile as you close the remaining gap connecting your peach flavored lips with his makes him grin against your mouth happily accepting your answer. “I’ll take that as a yes, but if it’s not this is the greatest rejection I’ve ever gotten,” he speaks between pecks and occasional lip bites.

“You’re such a dork.”

His palm cradles the side of your face, thumb carefully gliding against your cheek and noses gently bumping each other not caring if he had to breathe. He just wanted to stay pressed to you.

A bright light shining in his eye, though, momentarily interrupts your intimate moment nearly making him groan out in annoyance how tonight just wasn’t the night for privacy.

“Alright guys I know you’re probably just enjoying your date, but if you’re gonna do that you gotta go back to your roo- oh, hey champ!,” the bulky security guard greets finally turning off his handheld light. “Insane game tonight.”

“Thanks,” Chris sighs partially shielding you as he tried to discreetly wipe around his mouth for any traces of your lip balm.

“Well you two have a nice night, but remember no extra curriculars out in the open if you catch my drift.”

“Got it. Goodnight sir.” He sends the guard off with a small wave before you’re both laughing at the night you’ve had and your forehead falls to his shoulder.

“Next date, I’m taking you out the country.”

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[fangirl-writes]

Mommy?

Roger Taylor x Reader

Warning(s): Smoking, swearing, references to sex.

Notes: DISCLAIMER - Fake Wife. Fake Child. All things said and implied in this fic are fictional and have nothing to do with real life. No hate towards any of Roger's Previous or Current Relationships.

I imagined 80s!Roger, but you can go for Ben!Rog if it suits your fancy.

(PS This Roger Can Fuck Me Up)

Summary: After Roger's son mistakenly calls you mom, Roger begins to realize some things about you.

Roger was tired.

The moment he walked into the studio, you could tell.

His sunglasses were covering his eyes, but he was slightly hunched, his hair was a mess, and he only muttered a ‘morning’ instead of his usual boisterous announcement.

The other boys almost didn’t notice his arrival, too focused on tuning their instruments or going over some lyrics. It wasn’t until his son, Alexander, screamed at the sight of you did they look over.

“Hey, the little man is here,” Brian said with a smile as the boy let go of his father’s hand to fling himself into your outstretched arms.

You stood up and propped him on your hip before giving Roger a look. It wasn’t the first time he’d come in like this.

He turned away from you and started to head for the drum set.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing him abruptly by the elbow. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t meet your eyes through the dark sunglasses and was suddenly very interested in the color of the carpet. “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Rog-”

“Really, Y/N, m’fine. Just drop it, okay?”

You released him, not satisfied with his answer, but you didn’t want to get him going this early in the morning. It wasn’t worth it.

Alexander pulled at your necklace to get your attention.

You smiled at him, pulling the chain gingerly from his fingers. “Let’s go sit down, and we can watch your daddy and uncles practice, okay?”

Alexander nodded excitedly, and you took a seat on the couch in the control room, so it wasn’t too loud for the little boy’s ears.

Alexander’s mother, Cheryl, wasn’t exactly the perfect wife and mother. She and Roger had been involved in an unhappy marriage for quite some time now. You absolutely loathed the woman.

At first, all the boys thought you were just jealous, but over time they came to see her for what she truly was and never doubted your judge of character ever again.

Cheryl was one of those women who liked the celebrity life more than the celebrity. She liked Roger for his money and his fame, not just because he was Roger. It was despicable. They fought nearly every night, Roger would sometimes drink himself into a stupor, and poor little Alexander would call you on the phone to tell you that “Daddy’s had too much juice.”

He never said anything about Cheryl, but she was never there when you came over.

You’d known Roger wanted her only for a good shag the moment you’d met her and he’d accidentally called her Crystal.

“Really, Rog, it’s never going to last if you can’t even remember the girl’s name. And honestly, she seems like a bitch.”

You and Roger were sat outside Freddie’s place, passing a cigarette between you.

He glared at you. “Oh? And what’s your fuddy-duddy boyfriend’s name again? George? Jacob?”

“Jeremy, actually. But I’ll tell you a secret,” You said, leaning closer to the drummer. “I don’t think it’s going to last either.”

You took a drag from the ciggy.

“Shall we bet on it then?”

You laughed, the smoke exhaling from your mouth. “What?”

“Bet on it. Whichever of us dumps our piece first owes the other. Mm. Twenty?”

“Twenty?” You leaned even closer to him, nose to nose and voice just above a whisper. “Quite low for a Rockstar, don’t you think?”

Roger hummed in agreement, looking at your lips with desire behind his eyes. “Perhaps...”

You ran a finger across his jawline. “Unless, of course, you desire something else from this bet?”

He licked his lips before taking the bottom one between his teeth. “Maybe I do...”

“And what would that be?”

“I think you know very well what that would be.”

“Do I? Maybe I need a reminder.”

“Ah, a reminder...”

He was so close now. You could smell the scotch he’d stolen from Freddie’s cabinet on his breath over the tobacco. It was as intoxicating as the drink.

He was about to inch forward again when-

“ROGIE!” Cheryl called from inside. “Where have you gone?”

You scowled as Roger immediately pulled back from you and took the cigarette from your fingers, taking one last drag before snuffing it out with his shoe.

“Coming, er-”

“Cheryl.”

“Cheryl!”

Of course, you’d lost the bet because Cheryl became pregnant, and you didn’t think you could stand Jeremy for another nine months. Sometimes you thought he married her just to spite you.

You were a different woman then, and he was a different man. You grow up, and you change, and you get over petty feelings for someone you couldn’t have.

“It doesn’t fucking need slowing down! God, it’s fucking creeping at the moment!” Roger shouted.

The boys began bickering back and forth, causing Alexander to stir in your arms.

You laid the boy out on the couch and entered the recording room. “Would you be quiet! Alexander just got to sleep, and you’re arguing over a stupid pacing problem. Pick it up, slow it down, who the hell cares! Just be quiet.”

Brian and Roger shared a look before muttering to themselves and returning to their instruments.

“Thanks, mum,” John called from his chair. 

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Roger pulled off his sunglasses to rub a hand down his face, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes. You frowned. Oh, how you wished you’d been wrong.

He caught your eye, looking guiltily away from you. Confirming all of your suspicions.

“I think we should take a break,” Freddie said, noticing your silent conversation.

All the boys seemed to agree and put their instruments down to follow you into the other room.

You picked up Alexander again and he moved against you.

“Shh, it’s okay, buddy, go back to sleep.”

The boy cooed against you, snuggling into your shoulder. “m’kay, mommy,”

Your mouth dropped open, Brian ran into the control board, John dropped his newspaper, Freddie’s eyes were wide, and Roger looked like he was going into shock.

You cleared your throat and rubbed Alexander’s back, swaying back and forth to put him back to sleep. Too surprised to say anything.

Roger seemed in the same boat because he wouldn’t stop staring at you, even after he’d sat down. It made you slightly nervous.

“Where’s Cheryl today?” Freddie asked, barely hiding the smile on his face behind his coffee cup.

You glared at him. He pretended not to notice.

“She uh-” Roger still wouldn’t stop looking at you. “Went out with some friends...I think. Wasn’t home when I got up.”

You scoffed. Of course, she wasn’t. Was she ever there?

Roger had just come to the same conclusion. It was no wonder his son called you mommy. When was the last time Alexander ever woke up to Cheryl being there? Or when he went to sleep? He couldn’t remember.

But he could remember you being there.

He guiltily remembers all the nights that Cheryl drives him to drink, and Alex has to call you for help. No little boy should have to use the phone, let alone memorize your number.

But you always came.

He started to wonder how many dates you had to cancel, how many friends you had to bail on. Just because Roger couldn’t get ahold of himself.

Had you always been that beautiful? He wondered, watching you stroke Alexander’s head. ‘Course you had. He could remember in the early days when you and him...

“I think I’m gonna divorce her.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.

Brian choked on his coffee, John looked up from the newspaper with his eyebrows raised, and Freddie looked positively gleeful.

You were looking at him with wide-eyes.

“Is that so?” Freddie replied, barely hiding his joy. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You know, I always thought you and Y/-”

Brian elbowed him in the ribs.

The tables had now turned. You were avoiding Roger’s eyes while he stared at you intently.

Suddenly, a memory came flooding back to Roger. One blocked by his drunken brain.

“Roger,” You said, shaking his shoulder. “Come on, Rog, talk to me,”

Instead of replying, he garbled something sort of like words and you sighed.

“Well, at least you’re not dead. Come on,” You threw his arm over your shoulder and hefted him from his seat at the kitchen table.

Roger grumbled. “Alex...where’s-”

“He’s in bed. He called me.” There was bite in your voice, but he was too drunk to really notice.

“Mmmm...good. Always so good, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “God, you need a shower. Vodka, really? Picked the fucking worst thing to get wasted on.”

You dragged him into the nearest bathroom and dropped him in the shower before turning on the cold water.

“Bloody hell!” Roger yelled and you smacked your hand over his mouth.

“Keep shouting and you’re gonna wake up your son. Bet he’d be really overjoyed to see his father sitting in a shower fully clothed. Bet he’d ask a lot of questions-”

He smacked your hand away. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“Good. Now undress.”

He seemed to get shy for a moment, surprised by your request.

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Rog, you can’t do this yourself, and it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Seeing your logic, he relented and started undressing. Pulling his shirt over his head and handing it to you.

You smiled at him, taking it and setting it on the counter next to the sink.

He fiddled with his belt, grumbling as his fingers wouldn’t remember the action  that they’d done a thousand times before.

You set your hands on his gently. 

He looked up at you. “Let me.”

He dropped his hands and watched dumbly (and a little embarrassedly) as you undid his belt easily and pulled down his trousers.

Normally, he’d make a joke or cheeky remark about you wanting to get into his pants, but something about that night seemed to screw his mouth shut long enough for his eyes to really see you.

When he was finally naked (there was some trouble with the socks, he fell, you laughed, Roger cursed, you told him to shut up), you turned on the water again as he sat on the floor of the shower.

Roger swore under his breath. “Still gotta be fuckin’ freezing?”

“Yes. It’ll help sober you up,”

He pouted as you sat back down with the shampoo, conditioner, and soap, crossing your legs under you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back underneath the stream of water to wet his hair. “You really need to stop doing this. One day, I might not be available.”

Roger hummed in response as you guided him back forward, removing your hand to pour the shampoo into it. “I know.”

You rubbed your hands together to make suds before running your fingers into his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just divorce Cheryl. She’s never there for you, and she’s definitely not there for Alexander like I-”

You didn’t continue, blushing mildly, but Roger understood what you were gonna say. ‘Like I am.’

Your fingers lathered the shampoo over his scalp and massaged his head. He felt like he was on cloud nine at the feeling of your hands running through his hair.

He whined when you stopped and you grinned. “Gotta rinse, ya big baby,”

He did as he was told, leaning back into the water without your help.

You smiled before getting up and sitting on the edge of the tub to help him get all of it out as well as washing the suds from your hands.

You repeated the notion with the conditioner.

“Think you can handle washing your body without help?”

Roger smirked. “I don’t know. I might need you to come and shower with me. Only way to really get me all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you’re definitely sober now. I’ll get you some new clothes and throw the other ones in the laundry.”

Roger missed you when you left.

He missed the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

It was weird. You two had had sex in the past, but it felt like that was the most intimate thing that you’d done. Roger felt taken care of. He hadn’t felt like that since...well since he was a kid.

Cheryl had never made him feel that way. They hadn’t even ever showered together, their intimacy was only sexual, it wasn’t loving or soft like-

Like you.

"Roger? Hey, Roger!”

He snapped out of his daze as Brian clicked his fingers in front of his face.

“You zoned out on us there, buddy, you okay?”

Roger blinked rapidly for a minute. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I was just lost in thought, I guess.”

“Please,” You finally spoke up. “You’re tired, Roger. We’ve all noticed.”

But you were the only one who would say anything.

“Y/N I-” He stopped. Unsure of what to say.

You were looking at him expectantly, curiosity filling your pretty (e/c) eyes. Did they always shine like that before?

“I- uh...” Why couldn’t he say anything? Why was it so hard to say what he was feeling? Was it because the guys were right there?

You sighed. “Roger, I really need to pee, so if you could take Alexander while you figure out what it is you need to say to me.”

You handed Alex gently over to Roger’s arms, the little boy’s sleep going uninterrupted. 

You left the room, and once you were out of earshot, all the boys turned to Roger with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” John asked.

“What? Of course, I am, what do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, Alexander called Y/N ‘mommy,’ and then you totally shut down. Like you stared at her for a good fifteen minutes.”

Roger felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Then you said you were going to divorce that retched Cheryl, which I hope you were serious about, by the way,” Freddie said.

“Of course, I was serious about it. I think it’s time I got rid of ‘er. Honestly, Y/N’s been telling me for years-”

All the boys started grinning.

“What?”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?”

“What? Do you menaces want me to say I’m in love with Y/N? Because you already fucking know that.”

Brian handed John a few bills.

Freddie clapped his hands together. “Well, finally! Honestly, I’ve been waiting for you two darlings to get together and honestly-”

“Fred!” You scolded, coming back into the room just as Alexander sat up from Roger’s chest.

“Daddy?” The boys said sleepily. “Daddy, where’s mommy?”

You frowned. “Alexander, you’re mommy is-”

“Right here,” Roger said, making you look at him with surprise.

Alexander gestured with his hands for you and you picked him up off of Roger, who was grinning ear to ear.

“You think you’ll ever want to be a mother?” Roger asked, running his fingertips along your arm. The two of you were laying in his bed, cuddled up together, his gray sheets the only thing covering your bodies.

“That’s an odd question, considering,”

He rolled his eyes. “Just answer,”

“Someday, yes, with the right guy,” You replied. “What about you? Any plans on becoming a daddy?”

He smirked at you. “Well, I mean, occasionally-”

You lightly smacked his chest. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled a moment before looking down at you. “Yeah. Someday. Not soon, though. My life’s too unpredictable right now. I’m hardly in one place.”

You hummed. “You still find time for me.”

He kissed your temple. “I’ll always find time for you.”

“And I’ll always be there for you,”

Looking back on it, Roger had been in love with you even back then. Friends didn’t do what you two did. What a fool he was for not acting on it. Perhaps he’d been afraid of love.

But, now, looking at you, he wasn’t afraid at all. His heart was full.

“Roger, what’re you-”

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

You nodded, not about to turn him down.

You passed Alexander to John before following Roger out of the studio.

You stopped just out front and watched as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his lighter and package of cigarettes, taking one out before offering the pack to you.

You shook your head. “I don’t do that anymore.”

He smiled, stuffing them back into his trousers and lighting the cig. He breathed in deeply before exhaling, the white smoke falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t.”

“I know. I’ve told you,”

You had a strange sense of Deja Vu as you watched Roger smile, pressing the cigarette to his lips.

You shivered, crossing your arms, goosebumps crawling up them.

“Here,” Roger shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

Accepting the offer, you slid your arms in the sleeves and pulled it tight. It was surprisingly warm and smelled like his cologne.

He reached over and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers.

You looked over at him as he took another drag from the cigarette.

Suddenly frustrated, you plucked it from his fingers and extinguished it with the heel of your boot. 

He turned to you, surprised, sunglasses covering his eyes. You reached up and pulled them off, revealing his tired blue eyes to you.

You sighed, reaching up and running your fingers through his soft hair. “What are you doing, Roger?”

“Trying to work up the guts to tell you I love you.”

You were shocked, hand stilling at the back of his neck. “You- you do?”

He smiled. “I think I always have. Just never realized it until now.”

You laughed, tears coming to your eyes. “I don’t know what to say,”

“How about that you love me too?” Roger replied, his own eyes watering.

“I love you. Rog, I’ve loved you for years.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, a soft laugh passing his lips. “Well, that’s a relief. If only that was it. If only we were ten years younger and I was gonna take you back to my hotel room and show you exactly how much I love you.”

You laughed. “Sorry, Rockstar,” - you placed the sunglasses back on his head - “but you’ve got a kid I adore to take care of and a nasty wife to divorce.”

“Ah, well, right now, all I wanna do is kiss you like I’m twenty-five.”

He leaned closer to you, nose bumping with his. His breath smelled like tobacco, but it was the furthest thing from your mind.

“And perhaps I’ll let you,”

This was all he needed before advancing the last few inches and pressing his lips to yours.

It was different than how you had kissed in the past. This was new. It was full of love and longing. It made your heart ache with happiness as you clung to him.

Roger sighed into the kiss, absolutely blissful. You tasted sweet, just like he remembered. His hands slid up your back, the leather of his jacket cold against his fingers.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

It almost pained Roger to pull away from you.

You grinned, turning around to see Alexander running out of the door towards you. John was standing in the doorway, mouthing an apology as Brian and Freddie peaked over his shoulder.

You bent down, brought the little boy into your arms, and stood back up to look at Roger.

He couldn’t help but smile as his two favorite people beamed at him.

Roger ruffled Alexander’s hair, making him giggle.

Freddie grinned from behind John. “What a perfect family.”

Brian shook his head with a small laugh. “It’s not over yet.”

“Far from it,” John added.

Freddie waved their comments off. “Well, right now, I think they look pretty happy. In fact, Brian, would you do the honors?”

Brian brought his camera to his eye and snapped a photo. 

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

The 4 Times Luke Got Sick + The 1 Time He Got Julie Sick

Pairing: Julie x Alive!Luke (college AU)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: light swearing, non-fatal illness

Summary: Luke was always getting sick. It was probably the worst things about being roommates with him, Julie decided. That, and when they’d first moved into their dorm Freshman year of college he’d tried to hit on all her friends. It seemed like every year the poor guy went through at least one serious bout of illness that Julie would have to practically nurse him back to health from.

A/N: I got 2 anon requests for sick!Juke this week, one for a College Roommates AU where Luke constantly gets sick and Julie takes care of him and another where they’re friends and neighbors but have crushes on each other that don’t come to light until they both get sick together feat. Mothering Rose. I decided to combine them since they had a similar theme, I hope that’s alright! As per usual, let me know what you think and send me a message if you’d like to be added to my taglist! Also, I am taking requests right now so feel free to send those in!

Masterlist

___

1 - Freshman Year

“Juuuulie,” Luke called from his bedroom.

“Whaaaat?” Julie called back from her own room, making no attempt to get up from her bed.

“Can you come here so we can stop yelling?” He whined and she rolled her eyes but rolled out of her bed unceremoniously.

Given the coed nature of the dorms, they were each provided a small separate bedroom connected with a combined living room space that currently could use a good vacuuming, she noted as she walked through it before pausing at Luke’s door. It was only about three months into the semester and while Luke and Julie had become fast friends through their love of music, she hadn’t really been in his room before.

She raised her fist to give a hesitant knock, not really sure what the protocol was.

“You can come in,” he laughed but for the first time in their conversation, Julie noticed that his voice seemed a little off.

When she stepped into the room she immediately knew why. Luke lay in bed, slightly propped up by his pillow. She immediately noticed how red his face and nose, in particular, looked and the pile of used tissues next to the bed.

“Woah, dude, are you sick?” Julie exclaimed, immediately taking a step back in an attempted to put as much distance between herself and the sick boy as possible.

“Yeah,” he croaked sheepishly, “Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you.”

“Ya think?” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest but smirking to let him know she wasn’t that mad about it. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Um, yeah, actually. I was gonna ask if you could run down to the market and get me some chicken noodle soup?”

Julie nodded, happy to be able to help her sick friend.

“Sure! Is there any medication I can pick up from the pharmacy for you or anything?” She offered but he shook his head, pulling open the top drawer of his bedside table revealing that it was full of various medicines.

“I, uh, came prepared,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “My immune system is pretty shit.”

Julie nodded.

“I better get you that soup then, huh?” She said kindly, starting to feel awkward lingering in the doorway.

“My wallet is in my jacket pocket,” Luke offered, pointing to the coat hanging in his closet.

Julie nodded in silent thanks as she pocketed the piece of leather, closing the door on her way out. Despite the sunshine, it was a short but chilly walk to the campus market, which was fortunately only a couple of blocks away from their residence hall. She located the soup fairly quickly but stopped to look through the tea options, grabbing a box of peppermint and chamomile tea bags. The check-out process was fast and she was back in her dorm only a few minutes later.

Before even taking off her coat or slipping off her shoes, she put the soup in the microwave and started up her electric kettle. While she was waiting she then busied herself with hanging up her coat in her own closet and leaving her shoes in their designated spot by the door.

“What are you doing out there, Molina?” Luke groaned from his room when the kettle started whistling.

She quickly switched it off, bustling around the designated “kitchen” area of their dorm for a mug to start steeping the peppermint tea. No sooner than she placed the teabag into the mug had the microwaved beeped, signaling that the soup was ready. Bowl in one hand and mug in the other, Julie pushed the door open with her shoulder, slowly stepping into the room in an attempt not to spill either of the hot liquids in her hands.

She gingerly set the mug on a cleared space on Luke’s desk before handing him the chicken noodle soup.

“What’s that?” He asked, gesturing to the mug with his spoon before eating some of the soup.

“It’s peppermint tea,” she answered factually. “My mom always makes it for me when I’m sick, it supposed to help with congestion and should soothe your throat.”

“You’re the best, Molina,” Luke said graciously, slurping another mouthful of soup.

“Damn right I am!” Julie laughed, “Let me know if you need anything else, I’ll be in my room.”

___

2 - Sophomore Year

Julie wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t anticipated this. Maybe she’d hoped that all the elderberry and echinacea tea she’d made him drink last year had actually helped his immune system, but nope. November had rolled around and with it, cold season and cold season meant that Luke would undoubtedly get sick. He wasn’t lying, his immune system really was shit. This year was worse though. While last year it had been a series of bad colds, this year it was the flu.

She’d found out when he’d vomited in the middle of a rehearsal with the band they’d formed at the end of the previous year with two other guys they’d met in one of their music classes.

She’d been keeping an eye on him all day as he’d been shivering a lot and seemed especially pale but she had figured the boy knew his immune system better than anyone else and would say something if he was feeling sick. Obviously not.

“Oh my gosh, Luke! Are you okay?” She gasped, rushing over to rub his back soothingly as he bent over the trash can in the spare music room they’d occupied for rehearsal.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, waving her off as he stood back up with the intention of picking his guitar back up.

However, Julie stopped him, placing her hand against his forehead with a frown.

“You have a fever.” She said disapprovingly and he sighed.

“It’s fine Molina, we gotta practice.”

“Nuh-uh.” She insisted sternly, sticking out an arm to hold him in place. “You are not gonna get the rest of us sick. I’m driving you to the campus health center and then we’re going home.”

Luke huffed and rolled his eyes but relented, moving to slide his electric into its case and grab his jacket.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“We’ll see you guys later,” Julie sent Alex and Reggie an exasperated smile before following the boy out.  

The campus health center confirmed Julie’s suspicions, it was the flu. They picked up his prescription medicine at the campus pharmacy next door before heading back to their shared dorm.

“Will you make me soup?” Luke pleaded as Julie made sure he was settled comfortably in his bed, his lip stuck out in an irrefutable pout. “And Mama Molina’s special tea?”

Julie smiled at the nickname which Luke had coined last year as Julie often referenced her mother when taking care of the seemingly constantly sick boy. The name had stuck and then been made official when the guys had visited her over the summer break and Luke had accidentally called her mother it. Rose Molina fell in love with it instantly and now Luke, Alex, and Reggie all exclusively referred to her as such.

“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes lightly. There was nothing special about Mama Molina’s tea, it was just a cup of peppermint tea with a little bit of honey but it had seemed to work wonders for Luke last year and he much preferred it to the cocktail of cough syrup and sinus pills he’d normally take.

As she delivered the steaming soup and tea, Julie prayed that her superior immune system and flu shot would keep her safe from contracting her roommate’s illness while she took care of him. Still, she tried her best to keep her distance while keeping an eye on him.

She started him on a new Netflix series in an attempt to keep him from going stir crazy in the dorm while she was in class. She picked up all his missing work and made sure he had plenty of soup and tea (peppermint in the daytime to clear up congestion and soothe his cough, and chamomile in the evening to help him sleep).

“You’re too good for me, Molina.” He said sleepily as she tucked him into bed one night.

“I know,” she responded with a smirk, patting his cheek lightly before leaving, turning off the light as she went.

___

3 - Junior Year

Luke’s annual illness came later the next year. All November and December Julie was on high alert, ready at a moment’s notice to grab a can of chicken noodle soup from their cupboards and start up the kettle, but the moment never came. They’d finally moved out of the dorms this year, now living in an off-campus apartment with Alex and Reggie, which meant they had more room for Julie to store her supply of soup and tea and she had two backup caregivers.

When the new year rolled around and Luke still hadn’t shown any signs of getting sick, Julie had remarked,

“Maybe you’ve finally built up your immune system enough.”

The next week Luke was calling for her from his room across the hall.

It was the flu again but this time it was easier.

Julie, Alex, and Reggie took turns taking care of their sick roommate while the others were in classes, though everyone agreed that Julie had to be in charge of the tea. Despite Julie’s insistence that it was easy to make, Alex and Reggie refused after their first attempts had been scorned by Luke who insisted they did it wrong.

“You are such a drama queen,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at the boy as she delivered the tea.

“You’re the best, Molina.” He’d said as he took a sip, ignoring her comment on his dramatics.

“Shut up and drink your tea.” Julie laughed, brushing off the compliment as she turned on Netflix, taking a seat on the other side of the living room.

___

4 - Senior Year

After what all their friends had insisted was years of tension and pining, Luke and Julie got together just in time for Luke to catch pneumonia. It was the worst virus Luke had caught yet and Julie was silently glad that their relationship was new enough that they hadn’t kissed yet. Judging by Luke’s state, she hoped she never got pneumonia.

He had a fever for the first few days and Julie, Alex, and Reggie did their best to keep their distance, only coming into his room to deliver soup, tea, water, and medicine. Once the fever had disappeared, Luke was allowed to rejoin the rest, though only from a distance. The four roommates spending the afternoons in the living room together to keep the boy company as he laid on the couch. Still, even with the fever gone Luke spent the next week and a half nearly hacking up his lungs every time he coughed and with stabbing chest pains.

“You’re not eating your soup,” Julie noticed one afternoon as she did her homework on the opposite side of the living room, Alex and Reggie both in class.

“I’m not hungry,” Luke whined, pushing the bowl farther away on the coffee table.

Julie frowned, getting up from her armchair to perch across from him on the coffee table, picking up the bowl.

“Babe, you’ve gotta eat,” Julie said pointedly and Luke frowned at the term of endearment, knowing she was using it to convince him to do what she said. “The doctor said you’d have a loss of appetite, but you need to eat.”

“C’mon, open up,” she instructed, holding out a spoonful of soup.

Luke huffed, glaring at his girlfriend but opening his mouth anyway, allowing her to spoon-feed him.

“Wow, I did not think Luke could get any needier,” Reggie remarked as he stepped into the apartment, Alex coming in behind him.

“Don’t get used to that,” he added, “Cause I will not feed you while Julie’s in class.”

Julie laughed, ruffling her boyfriend’s hair affectionately before feeding him another spoonful.

“I don’t deserve you, Molina,” he said affectionately between bites.

“Don’t you forget it, Patterson,” she smiled.

___

+ 1 Year Later

After graduation in May, Julie and the Phantoms released their first full album and began their first tour in the fall thanks to the large following they’d accrued through their posts on YouTube since sophomore year and the success of their album. They’d had been touring for a couple of months before they finally took a break, just in time for Christmas.

Alex, Reggie, and Julie had all made plans to spend the break with their families, Reggie staying with his older sister and their family and Alex and Julie with their respective parents. However, Luke’s parents had found themselves on a business trip out of the country which is how the boy ended up spending his first Christmas at the Molina’s. Ray and Rose had been more than happy to have the boy stay with them when Julie explained the situation, though Ray had insisted on a strict policy of the two never being alone in the same room before Rose reminded him that Julie and Luke had been living together for five years and were grown adults.

The Molinas and Luke had a lovely Christmas together but when Julie woke up two days later she wished they had instituted her dad’s No Alone Time policy. She groggily made her way to the kitchen, rifling through the pantry for the peppermint tea to soothe her sore throat and hopefully clear up her sinuses. Before she could get very far though, her mom walked into the kitchen, immediately catching on to what she was doing. Julie rarely reached for tea on her own, hot chocolate being her hot beverage of preference, so Rose knew something must be up when she found her daughter rifling through the tea shelf.

“Go lay on the couch, Niña,” she insisted, ushering her daughter out of the kitchen, “I’ll take care of this.”

Julie did as she said, finding her favorite blanket from the basket in the corner and cuddling up on the couch. Her mom came in a few minutes later with her favorite mug in hand, setting it down on the coffee table in front of Julie.

“Don’t burn yourself, it’s hot,” Rose warned, placing a soft kiss on the top of her daughter’s head and patting her shoulder gently before returning to the kitchen to start on breakfast for the family.

It was only a couple of minutes later that Luke stumbled down the stairs calling her name.

“Juuuulie?” he pouted as he made his way into the living room. “Will you make me some tea?”

Her eyes went wide with the realization of how she’d gotten sick as she clutched her own mug of tea in her hands.

“So this is your fault,” she gasped, voice thick due to the congestion.

“What?” Luke asked, tilting his head in confusion, the fogginess in his brain from having just woken up and being sick preventing him from connecting the dots quickly.

“You got me sick.” She accused, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend who’s eyes widened in response.

“Oh my gosh, seriously?” He asked, concern immediately filling his voice. “I’m sorry Jules.”

“I haven’t gotten sick in over four years and all it takes is one germy kiss from you,” she whined and Luke barked out a laugh before wincing at the pain it caused his throat.

“Well, the good news is we can recover together,” he said, plopping down on the couch and snuggling into her side.

“Luke, honey, do you need a blanket?” Rose asked as she returned to the living room, another cup of tea in hand, the woman obviously having overheard them from the kitchen. Luke nodded sheepishly and Rose smiled, setting the tea down in front of him and crossing the room to grab a blanket.

“Thank you, Mama Molina,” he said graciously, wrapping himself in the fleece material and picking up his tea.

“Anything to get the two of you better before you have to go back on tour,” she said, patting both their shoulders lovingly before going back to her cooking.

Julie groaned at the reminder. They were supposed to start back on the road in a week, but with Luke’s track record of illnesses, there was no knowing how long either of them would be sick this time.

Fortunately, thanks to a diet of Rose’s homemade chicken noodle soup and tea remedy as well as medication, Julie and Luke were feeling better in a couple of days.

“I’d always known, but now I really see where you got your nursing skills from,” Luke remarked on the first morning he’d woken up able to breathe through his nose.

Julie grinned.

“You sure are lucky to have the Molina women in your life,” she teased.

“Damn right.” He nodded sincerely.

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx @morganayennefertyrell

[poisonedapples]

Prologue: Roman’s Fluffy Helper

Summary: Roman’s service dog Princess helps him with a lot of things. She gets his meds, helps him through panic attacks, and helps him be able to leave the house. What Roman didn’t expect was for her to help him make friends.

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, background familial Creativitwins

Warnings: Anxiety, food, mentions of panic attacks (though no one has one), mentions of epilepsy, swearing, some jokes about murder and death.

Word Count: 3,495

Notes: Something small I wrote in two days for the Service Dog AU, created because of this post I made. If you’re interested, you can always find some more stuff about this AU in the “service dog au” tag!

Virgil shared a few classes with Roman Sanders. 

He was in his first two periods, and the only student (other than Patton) that Virgil actually took note of being in his class. Though, that was because it’s almost impossible to not notice him.

Roman was a really quiet kid, one that teachers hardly ever called on and was always excused from doing presentations (lucky bastard). Virgil had only heard him talk a handful of times, and he wasn’t exactly popular either. The thing that really made Roman stand out, however, was the giant golden retriever with a service dog vest that followed him everywhere.

He’d seen dozens of kids go up to him asking to pet his dog, met with a lot of refusal and Roman leaving the class if it got bad enough. Usually he would only sit at his desk, quietly doing his work while his dog curled around his feet and didn’t make a scene. If Virgil wasn’t a loner himself, he’d go up to Roman and maybe strike a conversation. But the guy always seemed to be calm when he was alone, and Virgil sucked at starting conversations, so they never actually talked.

It was only a month into school when Virgil had his first conversation with him. And it was absolutely not his intention.

Virgil was checking his phone at his designated lunch spot when Patton slammed his lunchbox on the table. “Virgil!”

“...Yeah?”

“There’s a cute little puppy over there!” Patton pointed to the other side of the lunchroom, but Virgil couldn’t see what he was talking about from this distance. How far do those damn glasses make you see? “I wanna pet the good boy so bad!”

Virgil kept looking where Patton was pointing. “Is it the drug dog again?”

“No, it’s a different one!” Patton seemed to be vibrating with excitement where he was standing, jumping up and down with the biggest grin on his face. He seemed to be fighting a fruitless internal battle before he loudly announced “I’m gonna go pet the puppy so much!”

The moment Virgil realized what was happening was almost in slow motion.

First, he saw a secluded table away from all the others, right behind the table Virgil thought Patton was pointing to. There, he saw Roman Sanders eating his lunch, his service dog under the table just like how it was during class. Patton ran across the lunchroom to go to the secluded table, dodging any kids that got in his way. Virgil realized in horror that Roman wouldn’t be able to stop Patton before he dived under the table just to pet a dog. And doing so could fucking kill Roman.

Virgil sprung up from his seat and shoved everyone out of his way to get to Patton in time, no matter how many bitchy remarks the other students made. Roman didn’t have time to look up and notice Patton approaching before Virgil pounced on his friend, nearly toppling them both to the ground with the force of him smacking himself into Patton. The security guards looked at them both as if preparing to break up a fight, but looked away when it only seemed to be two guys being kids.

Roman may not have noticed the bubbly kid charging at him before, but he certainly did now, looking up to see Virgil and Patton basically wrestling each other.

“Patton, don’t pet the dog!” Virgil yelled.

“Awwwww, but why not!?”

“It’s a service dog, you can’t distract a service dog or you could literally kill someone!”

Patton relaxed in Virgil’s grasp, “...Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Uh…” Virgil and Patton both looked at the poor kid that almost got attacked, “Do you...need something? Or…?”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Your dog is so cute! What’s his name?”

Roman smiled shakily to hide his flinch. “Her name is Princess.”

“Princess? I love it! What breed is she?”

“Golden retriever…?”

“She’s such a good girl! I love her, she’s adorable!”

“Uh, thank you.”

Virgil let go of Patton, but still kept a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t scare the poor dude, Pat.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just really like dogs, and Princess is so cute and fluffy! I have two dogs of my own, but they’re a lot smaller, and I’d have a bunch of cats too if I wasn’t allergic.”

Roman’s voice gained a little more confidence. “Princess is the only dog in my house. My brother has a bearded dragon, though.”

“A bearded dragon sounds awesome! I don’t know much about reptiles though, and I’m always scared to hurt them because they’re so tiny. They’re super cute though!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him, he really likes animals. I’m Virgil, and this is Patton.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot to mention that! I’m Patton, do you how do?”

Roman laughed, but didn’t mention the reference. “Roman.”

“You’re in my first two classes, aren’t you?” Virgil asked, “With Mrs. Jones and Mr. White?”

He nodded. “...Didn’t you like...yell at Mrs. Jones a couple days ago over assignments?”

“She’s a bitch and deserves to know it. Who the fuck assigns three giant-ass chemistry packets due in three days?”

Patton waved his finger at Virgil disapprovingly. “Now Virge, just because the homework they give is ridiculous doesn’t mean you get to cuss out a teacher.”

“I didn’t say I cussed her out.”

“I know you, Virgil.”

“...The detention was worth it and I’m not sorry.”

Roman laughed again, and Patton smiled so wide that Virgil thought he would start jumping through the roof. “Hey Roman, can me and Virgil sit with you? I’d love to keep talking!”

Virgil noticed Roman’s leg begin to bounce violently. “Uh, sure…”

“Great! I’ll get our lunches!”

“Do you have any, like...allergies, Roman?” Virgil asked. Anything I might have in my lunch that could accidentally kill you? I don’t wanna kill you. Patton already almost did that. Let’s not give a second close call.

Roman shook his head, so Patton walked back to their previous spot to get their lunches. Virgil took a seat directly across from Roman, and once he did, Princess rose up from her place at his feet and lied across his lap. Roman started petting her with both hands, and Virgil felt a sense of panic rise in him. Please don’t fucking die. “You okay dude?”

Roman nodded, but Virgil pushed just in case. “Do I need to get like...a teacher? Or the nurse?”

Roman shook his head, then took a couple deep breaths in and continued to pet Princess’ fur. Virgil kept watching him carefully just in case, but it felt awkward sitting at the table with no conversation or food to focus on. Instead, Virgil mindlessly searched through Tumblr for the thirty seconds Patton was gone, placing his own lunchbox and Virgil’s tray on the table with a smile.

Virgil put down his phone and instead started eating some of his food, but Roman didn’t talk for a while. Princess still had her head on his lap with his hands combing through her fur, and the more she laid on him, the more Virgil began to worry. Why is she on him?

Well...only one way to find out. “So, Roman…”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “Yes?”

“What kind of service dog is Princess? What does she help with?”

Roman turned his attention back to Princess, but he still smiled a little, so Virgil considered it a slight win. “She’s a psychiatric service dog. She does a very good job of helping with my anxiety.”

“Oh, mood.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You...have a service dog?”

Virgil’s face somehow became more pale than it already was. “Uh, no...I mean, like, I have anxiety too. Obviously not as bad as to have a service dog, but like...solidarity.”

Virgil took Roman’s second smile as an even bigger win. “Solidarity, I suppose.”

“How long have you had Princess?” Patton asked.

“About two years, I think. She was in training for a year, but she’s been my full-time service dog for this past year. I had another dog before her, but he’s retired now.”

Patton let out a loud horrified and upset gasp, “The poor baby! I’m so sorry!”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Not like that, no! Simba’s still alive, he just isn’t a service dog anymore! He keeps my grandparents company at their house.”

“Oh, good! He sounds like such a sweet puppy!”

“He is. I visit him sometimes, and he’s gotten very lazy, but he still jumps around and gets excited when he sees me.”

Patton covered his mouth with his hands excitedly. “Do you have a picture of the good boy, by any chance?”

Roman nodded and took out his phone. After a bit of searching, he tapped on a photo to show it to Patton and Virgil, causing Patton to gasp and squeal again. “Oh my goodness I love him! He’s such a good little puppy!”

“I would hardly call him a puppy anymore.”

“He’s an amazing puppy.”

“Just let it happen, dude. Pat insists every dog is a puppy.”

“They’re all babies!”

Roman smiled at the two bickering over his old dog, wondering if he should butt in with a witty quip of his own when Princess scooted off of his lap and back onto the floor. He definitely felt better now. Not completely calm, but nothing panic attack worthy. Right at the second he decided not to push his luck (saying what was actually on his mind was always harder around strangers, and he had just calmed down), the bell to signify the end of lunch buzzed through the entire school. Virgil stepped up to throw his tray away and Patton packed up his containers in his lunch box as Roman did the same.

“It was nice meeting you, Roman!” Patton exclaimed, holding out his hand for Roman to shake, which he did extremely stiffly and pulled away after only a second. Patton smiled anyway and didn’t seem to mind.

When Roman stood up to head out, Virgil came back and stood alongside Patton. “What class do you have after this?” He asked.

“Oh, uh...I actually go home after lunch. I do the rest of my classes online.”

“Damn, I wanted to bother you while you walked to class so I could skip gym.”

“Virgil, go to class!”

“It’s fucking gym, he doesn’t give a shit. I’m passing and that’s all that matters.”

Patton sighed but didn’t push it. It seemed he’d gotten used to it after this long. “Well, hopefully we run into you tomorrow, Roman.”

“Uh, actually…” The two looked at Roman and waited for him to speak. Princess pawed on his leg to warn him he was getting too worked up, but Roman ignored it this time. Definitely not his smartest idea. You can do it. Just say it. “...If you two wanna sit next to me, maybe, I wouldn’t really, uh...mind…”

Patton smiled, soft and reassuring. “We’d love that. See you at lunch, then?”

Oh hell yeah! “Yeah...see you tomorrow.”

Virgil walked ahead and waved a hand at Roman from behind. “See ya.”

“See ya, Roman!”

With that, Roman was left alone again, but this time he didn’t necessarily mind. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was from adrenaline or a sign of an attack, but he still considered it a win. No more sitting alone at lunch.

Roman and Princess walked through the crowd to exit the building through the main office. When he got into his car with Princess in the passenger seat, he took a minute to calm down before he started driving down the road. Princess stepped over to the driver’s side to comfort him one more time today, practically sitting on his lap and letting Roman comb his hands through her hair. The ball in his chest slowly grew smaller as his breaths became easier to take, though his arms still felt weak as they shook.

But yet, this kind of anxiety was worth it. Just this once.

When Roman did start driving, pushing Princess back to her side and taking off, he had a smile on his face the whole time.

***

“Yo, bitch!”

Roman groaned at the sound of his brother coming through the front door. “What!?”

There was no verbal response, but Roman heard the footsteps coming up the stairs before his bedroom door swung open. Remus posed dramatically in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Just finishing up some online stuff, why?”

“Who was Mr. Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and his friend Fluttershy?”

“...You mean the kids with me at lunch?”

“That’s the bitch.”

“Well, their names are Virgil and Patton, not whatever the hell you just said.”

“In my defense, of course the Raven Way guy is fucking Virgil.”

“What are you even talking about!?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Remus walked over to Roman’s place at his desk and threw his arms around him. Roman scoffed, but didn’t protest. “But why were they sitting with you? Do I have to commit murder? I know a guy.”

Roman tried his damn hardest not to smile. “Patton wanted to know about Princess, so we just...talked. It was actually quite nice. I even invited them to sit with me again tomorrow.”

“Roman Sanders? Making friends? Surely, you jest!”

“Says the guy who only has had one friend his entire life.”

“Janus is my ride or die and if you dare to insult him again, I’ll rip out your teeth and shove them up your nose.”

“You do that. Now get out, I’m working and you smell awful.”

Remus backed away with a gleeful smile on his face. “I rolled around in a giant puddle of mud!”

“Take a damn bath!”

Remus was out the door with a large slam before Roman could continue to argue. “I can’t hear you! But remember, if you need to bury a body, tell them you know a guy!”

Roman rolled his eyes and basked in the sudden silence. Princess looked up at him from his bed, and he couldn’t resist taking a small break to pet her. “He’s so weird, Princess.”

Although Princess couldn’t agree with her mouth, she absolutely did with her eyes.

***

A week had passed since Patton and Virgil started sitting with Roman at lunch. It had become his favorite part of the school day for more than just the ability to go home. He had friends. He was talking to people who he not only enjoyed talking to, but people who seemed to enjoy talking with him. Some people would consider only two friends too little, but Roman considered it the biggest of wins.

(His mom also seemed shocked but proud of him for socializing with people, so it was an even more amazing win than before now.)

Roman was perfectly content with his two friends. So long as he kept them, he would be more than fine. Sometimes his anxiety would act up and tell him that they’re only gonna leave him again, but he tried not to think about it. For right now, they were his friends. It was all that mattered.

What he didn’t expect was for him to get a third friend.

It was his fourth period class, right before his lunch where he was able to eat and have a good time with some company. He’d noticed the new kid that joined the school two weeks ago, but of course he never talked to him. He acknowledged his presence when the teacher introduced him, but that was it.

He was doing his math work when the new kid sat next to him. At first, Roman paid him no mind. Maybe he was getting distracted by the other students and wanted a more quiet place to work, or he liked how Roman’s table had almost no one sitting at it. It wasn’t until the kid spoke up that Roman gave him attention.

“Forgive me if this is too personal of a question, but how exactly did you train your service dog?”

Roman looked over at the kid. Oh yeah, hi, my name is Roman, what’s yours? “Oh, uh...some things I had to hire a personal trainer for, but I did some of the training on my own…”

“How long does it take to train a service dog?”

“Usually about six months, I guess...but it took me a year to make double sure she was ready.”

“Is she a medical alert dog?”

Why all the questions? “No, a psychiatric one.”

“Ah. I’m aware of psychiatric service dogs, but I have a little more knowledge when it comes to medical alert and seizure response dogs. However, I’ve never actually met someone who has a service dog. I’ve only done my own research out of curiosity, especially with my own disability.”

Roman got the courage to look up from his work at that. The kid had nerdy, square glasses over his eyes and straight black hair shifted to the right side of his face. Despite the fact that it wasn’t even fall yet and they lived in Florida, he still wore a purple hoodie that almost completely engulfed his body. The hoodie read I don’t look sick? You don’t look stupid! in white and purple letters, and on his wrist, a silicone band saying Alert! Epilepsy with a red medical symbol on both sides of the words.

Roman almost said Oh aloud. He’s not trying to be rude. He’s probably trying to find someone like him, especially if he’s new. Come on, Roman, be polite! And don’t freak out for once! “...You do have quite the epilepsy hoodie there.”

The kid looked down at his hoodie and smiled slightly. “Yes, well...it encompassed my kind of humor, and I am rather intolerant to the cold. Under this I have a Doctor Who shirt.”

“I, uh...don’t have any service dog shirts, but Princess has a lot of patches.”

“Is it alright if I look?”

“Sure, just...don’t pet her or anything.”

The kid waved it off. “Don’t worry, I know better than to get her attention.” He ducked under the table carefully, like any sudden movement would alarm Princess. He rose back up after a few seconds and gave his attention back to Roman. “She has a lot of Disney-themed patches. Where did you get them?”

Roman’s heart started beating faster. “...I actually, kinda, um...I made those ones myself.”

“You did a good job with them. They’re very intricate.”

“Thanks…”

“Oh! I apologize, I never actually introduced myself. I’m Logan.”

Roman gave him a nervous smile. “Roman.”

The bell rang, and everyone in the class started to pack up their stuff. Roman put his unfinished paper in his homework folder and stuffed it in his backpack while Logan did the same. When they both stood up, Logan addressed him one last time. “I have to go to lunch, but I hope we can talk another day.”

Roman felt that same desire come up in his throat. The desire to ask, to say something he usually would never consider asking. He couldn’t stand speaking to people, especially acquaintances, but Logan had a different energy to him. He was calmer, understanding, and a lot easier to handle than someone like Patton. Not to mention that his therapist did mention he can only get better if he pushes himself…

Princess didn’t alert Roman of a possible panic attack, so he considered that some kind of improvement. “Actually, Logan?”

“Yes?”

Come on. Do it. Say it. Three, two, one… “...Would you, uh...maybe wanna sit with me and some of my friends? Today?”

Logan’s face didn’t give him any hints to his emotions. “I would appreciate that.”

“I can...show you where it is, if you want?”

“Sure. I’d be happy for you to show me.”

The two walked out of the classroom, Roman and Princess in front of Logan to lead the way to the table. The two had a moment to situate themselves before Patton and Virgil came over, and with such a small table, Roman felt like the place was all the more crowded now. All the more welcoming.

Admittedly, a million times better than always sitting alone. He saw Remus staring from another table with those mischievous eyes, but he didn’t pay him any mind. When they were home alone, then he could bug him about it.

As always, right underneath his feet, Princess was curled into her ball, ready for any signs to jump into action. Instead, Roman looked at her under the table while the others went to get food. Apparently, he thought, you are a very good conversation starter when I need it.

“Good girl.” He whispered, although Princess didn’t seem to comprehend that he was talking to her. Instead, Roman took a mental note to give her a treat when they got home.

[liberty-barnes]

Done Wondering

Jock!Tom Holland x Female!Reader

Highschool AU

@danicarosaline requested: Hi pretty!! i saw your requests are open so may i please request a jock Tom x reader! Tom is a big softy and the captain of his football team and reader is a tough ‘not taking shits from anybody’ type of person? Like Tom gets in an argument with a team mate and he’s being all nice and calm about it but reader thinks his team mate deserves a good punch in the face so she punches him and it shocks the entire team and Tom himself even though he expected it!!

Warnings: F L U F F, not sure that the football talk is 100% accurate, all I know about American football is that Tom Brady's a quarterback, their jerseys are cool and apparently I'm supposed to cheer for the Pats? (yeah, that's my dad's fault), B99 references (i fucking love that show), cursing, a bit of violence ig

Word Count: 2.3k words (why can i not write short things?)

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: so sorry it took so long to get this out! also, i got waaaaaay to invested in this... oopsie

Masterlist

You ran across the field as people all around you celebrated with only one goal in mind: kiss your boyfriend.

You and Tom had been dating for almost seven months now, to many people's surprise. The entire school thought you'd be together for a week tops, but you surpassed all their expectations by becoming the longest standing couple in junior year (not that it was hard, high schoolers change partners like discardable gloves). 

Tom was one of Sunset High's best and brightest, loved by the teachers, captain of the football team, and the object of many's affection.

You, however, were nothing like that. You hated sports (everyone knows art's better anyway), social interactions were your personal little slice of hell, and everyone was too scared to approach you since you threatened to gut Charles after he accidentally forgot to give you back your pencil.

All in all, there was no way you two could stay together.

There was no way you could even make a friendship work, let alone a romantic relationship.

But then there was that fateful summer night...

Your mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as you rocked in the park's nest swing. The stars looming over you were the only thing keeping you from spiraling, and after an hour of watching them, the peace in your mind was crumbling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

You sat up on the swing and looked to your right where stood a sheepish-looking Tom.

"It's okay, I should probably leave anyway..."

"No! I mean, it's okay, you were here first I didn't mean to disturb you."

You cast your eyes down until he spoke again.

"You go to my school, right? (Y/n)? We were in the same English class in freshman year."

"Yeah, I think so... I'm surprised you remember me, we didn't have any classes together last year..."

He huffed out a laugh and leaned against the support beam, hands in his pockets.

"It's kinda hard to forget someone like you. You stood up to the teacher on the first day after he yelled at a kid and spent the next year having actual coherent debates about the books that most of the class never even read, let alone understood. You're kind of amazing."

You ducked your head once more to try to cover the blush on your cheeks, biting your lip.

"Thanks."

He nodded and took a deep breath, then sat in front of you and pushed so the swing was rocking softly, always catching it before it hit his face.

You giggled a bit and sat criss-cross applesauce, back straight, your mother's words permanently etched into your brain.

"So, what are you doing alone in the town's most secluded park at midnight?"

"Oh, you know, questioning my life choices, freaking out because in three weeks we're going back to school while simultaneously feeling stir crazy after having nothing cool to do all summer, regretting ever being born, the usual. What about you?"

"Getting crushed by everyone's expectations, feeling constricted cause I have to set a good example for my little brothers, freaking out cause I have no idea what I want to do with my life, the usual."

A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Do our lives really suck or is it just the teenagers in us that dramatize everything?"

He huffed out a laugh.

"I don't know, tell me your story and I'll let you know."

You scooched to the side and patted the now empty spot on the too-small swing so he could lay down next to you. Looking at the stars seemed like a better idea than looking at him.

"I never really liked school, people are jerks, cafeteria food is disgusting at best, I have no friends -not that I care about that, I'm better off alone. Still, it's better than being home. When my father isn't working in his study, he's berating me about getting better grades, even though I'm a straight-A student, not that he cares enough to actually know that. My mother's usually either gossiping with her other rich friends or telling me to correct my posture, dress better, act like a lady, it's infuriating...

"My older brother, the only person in that family that I genuinely like, left for MIT today, so I guess I'm just now realizing that I'm really... alone. I'll have to suffer through my father's lectures about getting high grades and act like someone I'm not so my mother doesn't take away everything I love until I "learn to act like a respectable woman". Jake used to get them to lay off me, but now he's not here. Sometimes I wonder why they even adopted me if I'm such a bad daughter. It just sucks."

You felt his hand twitch next to yours and his eyes on your face.

"Your turn."

He took a shuddering breath before speaking.

"My parents are amazing, they really are, they only want what's best for me, but sometimes it's a little much. They constantly remind me of going to training, doing my homework, studying for tests, and even though they always say it's okay, I see the disappointment in their eyes when my grades lower even by a single point.

"My little brothers look up to me a lot, and they're always telling me how much they want to be just like me when they grow up. I know they mean it in the best possible way, but it's just that much more pressure. I just... feel the need to always be the best at everything. The best football player, the best captain, the best student, the kindest person in that school, most helpful... it's all a bit much."

This time, it was you who were looking at his profile while he gazed at the stars.

"It's okay to feel overwhelmed, Tom. It doesn't matter that they have the best intentions, they're still putting too much pressure on you and you deserve the chance to relax."

He turned towards you and for the first time that night, you realized just how close you were.

"You're not a bad daughter just because you have different interests. I, for one, think you are a strong and independent woman who doesn't need to change because of some mere peasants. You're a queen... You deserve someone that'll treat you as one."

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him.

"Wanna make a deal?"

You nodded tentatively, though at this point you'd probably agree to murder someone as long as he kept looking at you that way.

"I'll be your friend, give you something to do whenever you need it, save you from your asshole parents and remind you of just how awesome you are every day..."

"And in return?"

"And in return, you'll say stuff like what you said before when I get too stuck in my head, save me from my so-called friends when they're being jerks, and come to every practice with me so you have something to do and I have someone to make silly faces at."

"I'm pretty sure there are a thousand girls in that school that would kill to have you make silly faces at them."

"Maybe so, but they aren't you. A lock of your hair is worth more than all of them combined."

You bit your lip and smiled.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"Cool."

He pecked you softly on the lips before he lost his nerve, quick and fleeting, feather-light but strong enough to leave fires in its wake. You pulled him back and gave him a slightly longer kiss before setting your head on his shoulder and going back to stargazing, now with someone to keep you company.

Three weeks later, you walked into school hand in hand and haven't let go since.

"Tommy!"

You jumped into his arms, ignoring the smell of sweat and how it would probably cling to your clothes.

"You did so good baby!"

He kissed you straight on the lips, not minding his teammate's wolf-whistles, having grown used to them already.

"I had a pretty good motivation."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm, my girl told me she'd bake me cookies if I won this match, and I really like her cookies."

"Sounds like you have a great girlfriend."

"The best."

You kissed him again and he smiled when he felt the fabric of his spare jersey adorning your figure.

"Yo, Holland!"

You forced apart by Teddy's call, one of the newer players. Since you went to every single practice, you knew that Teddy was being an ass lately, always wanting the glory, never passing the ball to his teammates. If it weren't for Tom's skill as captain of the team, he would've cost them most matches, including this one.

"Why didn't you pass me the ball?"

"Pardon?"

"That last play, I was free and you passed the ball to Harrison even though he almost lost it. You should have passed it to me, we almost lost because you want to make your useless bestie feel included!"

"Johnson was closing in on you, if I'd passed it to you, we would have lost for sure. Passing it to Harrison bought me the time I needed to get out of danger. It was purely strategical, you would know that if you paid attention to your teammates instead of playing all on your own. Haz is an amazing player and I don't treat him differently just because he's my best friend. I'd like you to apologize to him, please, it's not kind to insult your teammates."

You admired the fact that he managed to remain calm and collected throughout the whole conversation, looking like the embodiment of 'I'm not mad, I'm disappointed'. You, however, were not having such an easy time keeping your cool, hands firmly clenched at your side.

"The hell it was! You just feel threatened by me because you'll never be as good as me, so you never pass me the ball, it's ridiculous!"

"Okay, buddy, you need to back the hell off and close your mouth before I punch it shut."

His eyes flickered to you and he rose a brow mockingly.

"Oh, your little slut's standing up for you know? I always knew you were a chicken, guess my theory's been pro-"

You cut him off with a punch to the nose, smiling when you heard the satisfying crack of his bones and his howls of pain.

A collective 'ooh' came from the crowd, and they took a few steps back (excluding Tom of course, who was only looking at you with wide eyes).

"What the fuck?"

"I warned you, didn't I?"

You smirked evilly as Teddy was pulled away by the coach to check his injury.

"You're a bitch!"

"Baddest of them all, sweetheart. Have a fun time at the hospital!"

The whole crowd had gone silent by the time you turned back around, seemingly satisfied with your vengeance.

"What?"

You tilted your head in confusion at the awestruck looks on the team's faces.

"You broke his nose!"

"Uh-huh."

"With just your hand."

"Uh-huh."

"Since when are you so violent?"

You were actually kind of offended at that.

"I know that I bring you guys snacks after practice, but do none of you hear when I threaten other people? It's a daily occurrence."

The rubbed their necks sheepishly.

"Well, you see..."

Haz started, seemingly measuring his words.

"You're kind of like Rosa from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. No one actually knows what you're capable of, no one thinks you'd actually kill someone, but we're also kind of too scared to test you, so we just... wonder."

"Well, when you're done wondering, go take a shower so we can go celebrate, I'm hungry."

They all scrambled away in a chorus of 'yes ma'am' before you turned back to Tom with a smile on your face.

"You didn't have to punch him, you know?"

"Yeah, but I've been wanting to for weeks now."

He huffed out a laugh and kissed your forehead.

"How're your knuckles?"

"A bit sore, but I'm pretty sure that if we put some ice it'll be good, the rings took most of the impact."

You wiggled your hand, showing off the array of rings covering your fingers in what you deemed to be an aesthetically pleasing way.

"I love you, babygirl."

You kissed him, smiling into his lips.

"I love you too. Now go, shower!"

You patted his butt and laughed at the look he threw you, standing next to the field while you waited for them to get out.

Their coach came to stand next to you and you smiled at him, having taken a liking for him. He was a good teacher and treated the team well.

"Coach Jeffords."

"(Y/n)."

"What's the verdict?"

"Nurse says it's broken but we'll only know the full extent of his injuries after he gets examined at the ER. He's on his way there as we speak."

You nodded.

"You'll be pleased to know that he's been taken off the team and suspended for a week for unruly behavior. His parents aren't going to press charges since they feel it's deserved."

You smirked evilly.

"I'd advise you to watch out for Pembroke. He's starting to become a nuisance. If he keeps it up, he might be next."

He nodded, fighting back his smile even though you knew damn well he agreed.

"I'll do my best."

"And I'll do mine."

"(Y/n)! Ready to go?"

You nodded in goodbye at the coach and walked over to a freshly showered Tom, interlacing your fingers.

"Always."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo @beananacake @yoinkyourheart @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual​ @mendes-marvel​ @shawnsnovel​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ 

ACTORS/RPF TAG 

@bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ 

TOM HOLLAND TAG 

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[kyuuppi]

(Un)planned (requested)

Pairing: Orihara Izaya x Pregnant!Reader

Genre: fluff, a lil crack-y

Word Count: 4.9k

As you walk out of the hospital you can’t help but to feel as if you’re in a dream, as if nothing is real. The only thing tying you to reality are the freshly printed documents verifying your pregnancy that feel unnaturally heavy in your purse. The reality of the situation was easier to accept than you expected, really. You have been married for a while and you can recall several instances in which you two hadn’t been exactly safe with your escapades. Being pregnant is not something that bothers you either—you have always wanted to have children at some point in your life. The only problem, the only thing keeping you from feeling properly excited by the news is the father of the child itself—Orihara Izaya. It is not something the two of you had ever discussed and, knowing first hand just how dangerous his field of work as one of Japan’s best information brokers...well, you aren’t sure if you two could create a healthy environment for a child to grow up in. Providing love and food on the table was one thing, providing safety and security was another.

At the thought of food your stomach involuntarily grumbles. You didn’t realize just how hungry you are until now. You hadn’t eaten all day, the nervousness about the doctor’s visit having ruined your appetite. It is by sheer coincidence that you notice a familiar face only a few meters ahead entering the infamous sushi bar. You follow after him without hesitation.

“Welcome to Russia Sushi,” Simon greets with a grin.

You smile in return before sidling into the booth next to the blond man you had followed in.

“Hi, Shizuo,” you greet shyly. The man nods in acknowledgement, already looking over the menu.“Y/n,” he returns coolly, “how have you been?” His gaze suddenly darkens as his grip on the laminated menu tightens and you can already tell what he’s about to ask next.

“Has...the flea been treating you well?”

You have no doubt one word of complaint about Izaya would have Shizuo tearing the city apart to kill him. Shizuo was one of the first people in Ikebukuro you had met who you could call a “friend.” Although he wasn’t the type to frequent brunch dates and sleepovers to watch anime and gossip, he always made sure to greet you with a small smile, regardless of how his day was going, and had promised to protect you if you ever needed it.

It was already several months into your friendship when you had started dating Izaya and at first Shizuo had...not been happy, to say the least. To the blond, Izaya was incapable of genuinely caring about anyone but himself. There was always an interior motive and the people around him would always be in danger. After several long, long months of persuasive speaking on your part (naturally Izaya just got a kick out of teasing the man about your relationship rather than seeking approval), an official marriage to the man, and Shizuo seeing you still remaining unharmed through it all, Shizuo finally seems to accept your relationship—or at least tolerate it. However, you know one bad word about Izaya and Shizuo would be ready to kick his ass to Hong Kong on your behalf.

‘I wonder what he’d think about me not telling Izaya about the pregnancy.’ You mentally sour at the thought and physically shake your head to get rid of it.

“He’s been an angel,” you joke. Shizuo scoffs and you end up giggling as well. Regardless of disagreeing on just how bad Izaya is, you both know he’s far from an angel.

He had always been more curved horns and pointy tail than halo and wings...but you love him all the same.

Before Shizuo can verbally respond (likely with an insult about ‘the flea’), Simon appears behind the bar before you two, ready to take your orders. As usual, Shizuo places his order first so that you have a little longer to decide.

“I’ll take the natto sushi—” you can’t help but to shiver in disgust at the sound. “—and today’s special.”

You perk up at that.

“Special?”

Simon grins at your interest.

“Yes, today’s special is yummy drink, tastes just like Russian seaweed farms! Special is very good.”

The idea of a Rusian seaweed farm drink is moderately concerning but between Simon’s excitement and Shizuo’s unbothered look you decide to order it against your better judgement, along with some fatty tuna.

Izaya must really be rubbing off on you.

You and Shizuo share a few minutes of idle talk while you wait for your orders. He tells you of the most ridiculous people he has had to collect debts or protect Tom Tanaka from this month and your laughter has you forgetting about all of your pregnancy worries. You’ve completely relaxed by the time drinks arrive and you take a sip without hesitation.

“Mmm,” your eyes widen as you regard Shizuo, “this is actually really good!”

Shizuo offers a rare boyish grin before he sips his own pale green drink, watching you go in for more.

“Right? You can hardly even tell there’s any vodka in it.”

 ‘Vodka!?’

You gasp, accidentally inhaling extra liquid before you begin spluttering in panic. Shizuo quickly jumps into action, harshly patting your back but careful not to use too much strength. Half of the restaurant is looking your way in concern and even Simon looks like he’s just about to catapult himself over the bar to help you when you finally calm down and your choking is reduced to harsh pants while you try to catch your breath. You think most of the drink had been expelled in your coughing fit but you still feel queasy and anxious. What if it hurts the baby?

“Y/n, are you okay?’ Shizuo asks, hand awkwardly rubbing your back in an attempt to be comforting. “Are you allergic or something.”

“N-no, it’s not that I’m allergic but...I can’t have alcohol for a while.”

Shizuo raises a brow at that and you feel grateful that everyone seems to have returned to their own work by now, no longer staring at you. Simon has left the bar to attend to a customer in one of the private dining rooms, leaving you and Shizuo essentially alone in your corner of the sushi restaurant.

“Why can’t you have alcohol for a while? You used to love sake.”

He sends a teasing smirk with the last part, referring to an embarrassingly drunken moment you’d had a few weeks into living in the city. Shizuo had sworn to never bring it up again but clearly he paid that particular oath no mind.

“Well, um…”

You begin to fidget nervously. Originally you had no intentions of telling anyone about the baby but...Shizuo was a good friend, maybe your closest friend in Ikebukuro aside from Celty. You have no doubts he would be nothing but supportive and kind to you in a time when you need it most—that is, after he gets over the idea of another person sharing Izaya’s DNA being brought into the world, of course.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone—not even Izaya. Especially not Izaya.”

Shizuo perks up at that, seeming interested in the prospect of you having something not even Izaya, your husband and the greatest information broker in all of Japan, knows about. Perhaps a small part of him would even relish in having something to keep from Izaya, some sort of “one-up” on the man.

“Of course,” he replies immediately, nodding.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself.

“I’m pregnant.”

Everything seems to pause at your confession. Shizuo sits stock still and as the silence stretches on you begin to fear he didn’t hear and you’ll have to repeat it. However, before you can open your mouth to repeat those incriminating words, you’re startled by a sharp snap and look down to find the wooden chopsticks in Shizuo’s right hand broken in half. You trust him and know he would never hurt you but your heart rate still spikes and you tense in your seat, hand subconsciously resting over your stomach protectively. Shizuo's wide eyes follow the movement.

“Y-you're…" He finally stutters out. "...whose is it?"

You gawk, suddenly offended.

"Wh-who!? It’s Izaya's, you dumbass, who else!"

"I didn't want to make any assumptions!"

Your anger quickly dissolves into giggles at Shizuo's panicked expression and he visibly relaxes at the sound. There are a few moments of moderately comfortable silence between the two of you before Shizuo sighs and speaks again.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you've been married for a while now." His expression sours once he mentions marriage and you can tell he's internally reliving some of his worst encounters with your husband.

"I just can't believe there's going to be two of them now," he pouts. "That annoying piece of—"

"Hey," you interrupt, a teasing smirk on your face. "That's my baby daddy you're talking about."

Shizuo’s pales, looking like he'll throw up in disgust at any moment and you can't help but to laugh.

Maybe this whole pregnancy thing isn’t so bad.

. . .

You had been wrong—very wrong.

After your impromptu lunch with Shizuo, as you were walking out with your extra bag of fatty tuna to-go, it suddenly hit that you were about to go to the home you shared with Orihara Izaya pregnant with the unplanned child he knows nothing about. You nearly had a panic attack several times on the walk there as you mentally played through a multitude of scenarios of how to tell him and what his reaction might be. Izaya is involved in dangerous, illegal work—you can’t imagine a family and kids fits anywhere in that. You were lucky enough to have been asked to marry the man—there’s no way he would be ready for children as well.

‘Would he tell me to get rid of it?’

You had worked yourself so much on the way that by the time you arrived to the apartment you were mentally exhausted and barely managed to place the sushi in the fridge before you collapsed on the couch and turned on the television to zone out until Izaya came home.

A few hours later a sound at the front door jolted you to attention.

“I’m home~!” a man’s voice cheerfully booms from the entrance.

You silently pray to every god in existence that you can pull an Oscar-worthy act before plastering a smile on your face and standing to greet your husband.

“Welcome home, Izaya! I bought fatty tuna, it’s in the fridge.”

Izaya’s vermillion eyes seem to sparkle at that and he immediately makes his way to the kitchen after shedding his trademark faux fur-trimmed coat. That buys you enough time to contemplate your next course of action and how you will break the news to him. You know that, despite the fact he enjoys games and toying with others for as long as he deems entertaining, he expects direct answers from the people who work for him like Namie or Celty. But how could you possibly just outright say you’re pregnant right now? The man is humming to himself while stuffing his face with sushi right now for god’s sake—the mood is totally off!

“—Y/n?”

Your own name startles you out of your thoughts and as you blink to tune back into the outside world you find Izaya learning against the counter directly across from you, eying you with mirth as he holds the plastic container of sushi, nearly half empty by now.

“My, my. Someone seems a bit distracted today,” he taunts lowly. You tense at that, fearing he’s about to ask you what you’re thinking about.

Luckily, he seems to be feeling merciful today as he simply repeats what he was saying while you were zoned out, his tone back to almost childish glee.

“I was saying I met with Goto-chan today—y’know the one who was on ‘vacation’ for while—” he uses air quotes with the free hand not holding up the sushi and you can’t help but to smile at that, unhealthily endeared by this odd, dangerous man.

“—well turns out he has a kid now. He even brought her to our meeting with his gang; what terrible parenting~! Right, Y/n-chan?”

You gulp before barely managing a nod of agreement, suddenly extremely uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

“I would never take my own young offspring to a place like that. Sometimes meetings end very badly, y’know~,” he continues on. You’re suddenly aware of the sweat collecting at your brow despite the moderate temperature in the apartment and you wonder if the panic is showing on your face.

 ‘He...he doesn’t know anything yet...right?’

There’s a beat of silence in which you two just stare at each other. Your face feels clammy and hot but you try your best to maintain a neutral expression while Izaya’s lips are curved into their usual smirk with a playful glint in his deep red eyes—along with something else you can’t quite read but somehow evokes a ball of dread to form deep within your gut.

A few seconds later and the moment is gone as Izaya turns away to dispose of the empty sushi contained and is rambling on about something else you don’t have the energy to even pretend to listen to as relief washes over your body.

The rest of the night is spent curled up on the couch watching cartoons while Izaya works, not bringing up the topic of children again for the rest of the night. You decide waiting a little longer to tell him wouldn’t hurt—you just need some time to gather your thoughts and plan exactly how to tell him.

. . .

Somehow “a little longer” becomes “a lot longer” as every time you approach Izaya with a speech already planned, you look into his eyes and immediately chicken out. To make matters worse, you aren’t sure if you’re just being hyper-aware of all things related to children now or if the whole world is really out to get you but it seems babies are everywhere. A few days after that night you turned on the TV to watch something with Izaya only to find a pregnancy documentary of all things on which Izaya insisted you two watch because he wanted to “learn more about the development of his precious humans.” Another few days after that the two of you were on a rare evening walk together when a small, crying child approached the two of you claiming to have lost his mother while chasing a dog. Izaya unexpectedly took over the situation and handled it exceptionally well, diligently looking for the boy’s mother with you while keeping him entertained to the point he didn’t even want to say goodbye to Izaya when you two finally found his mother.

External factors like that made things a little more difficult for you as you attempted not to let your secret slip out but other factors were a lot more difficult to hide—such as your slowly but steadily growing belly and strange new mood swings. The former was easily remedied by electing to wear your looser more comfortable clothing. Izaya had never been a physically affectionate partner so you didn’t have to worry about him noticing your stomach in a hug or anything like that and he never pushed when you turned down his occasional sexual advances at night citing that you were too tired or had a stomach ache. Your mood swings and other hormonal changes, however, were not so avoidable.

The first time you had raised your voice at him—and over something so small as coming home half an hour later than he said he would—came as a surprise to both of you. After a moment of wide eyed staring from both sides he seemed to recover quickly though and teased you about missing him too much. A few times you had also spontaneously burst into tears for no apparent reason, to which he simply pulled you into his side and started telling you a random funny story about his adventures at work until your tears stopped.

But even with Izaya being so unintentionally helpful in keeping your secret, the pressure and guilt of constantly lying to your own husband and the man famed for knowing everything gradually eats at you day-by-day, hour-by-hour, and minute-by-minute until you are constantly seeking a relief from the stress. Sometimes that comes in form of finishing a whole box of chocolates, sometimes via napping for six hours straight, and sometimes through social media and chatrooms.

One Thursday afternoon you log in to the chat for the first time since finding out you’re pregnant, pleasantly surprised to see your two favorite members already online.

▶▶ [USER01] has entered the chat.

[Tarō Tanaka] Hello, User-san. Long time no see.

[Setton] we missed u User-chan.

You smile, instantly feeling better with the online presence of your friends.

[USER01] hey, guys. whats up?

[Setton] Tanaka-san was just talking about volunteering at the daycare.

[Tarō Tanaka] Ah, I just had some freetime…

[Setton] don’t be modest. ur really amazing Tanaka-san.

[Tarō Tanaka] Ahaha, really it’s nothing! I just played with some babies for a few hours...

[Setton] nonsense. don’t u think Tanaka-san is cool, User-chan?

You take a second too long to answer, suddenly feeling anxious by the reminder of daycares and babies. You wonder if you and Izaya will leave your own child at a daycare some day...if he even accepts the child.

[USER01] ah, yeah..very cool

[Tarō Tanaka] User-san are you alright? You seem a little off today, you’re usually more talkative...

[Setton] u know u can tell us anything. we’re friends.

You hesitate to type, your trembling hands hovering over the keyboard as you consider your options. On one hand, you feel guilty at the prospect of telling more people who are not your husband before actually telling Izaya himself. As the father, regardless of his reaction, he deserved to be the first to know. On the other hand, keeping these overwhelming feelings to yourself makes you feel as if you’ll burst at the seams. So much stress can’t be good for the baby.

  [USER01] well, to be honest I’m….

▶▶ [Kanra] has entered the chat.

[Kanra] Yahoo~! (≧∇≦)/

[Kanra] What is everyone talking about today?? owo

[USER01] nothing much!! just the weather..it has been so hot lately!

[Tarō Tanaka] But it’s September…

[Setton] ???

[Setton] ah yeah, nothing much i guess...how are u Kanra?

[Kanra] Ehh~ What’s with this weird atmosphere!? I feel like everyone is keeping secrets from Kanra-chan! (●´^｀●)

[USER01] no way!! not at all! ah, its already this late? I have to get dinner soon, bye-bye!!

[Tarō Tanaka] It’s only 2 o’clock though...

▶▶ [USER01] has left the chat.

Your laptop closes with a resounding tap and you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Izaya seems to have impeccably awful timing. You hate to think you were moments away from confessing your secret right in front of him and two mutual friends in a public chat room. You’re fairly certain that must be among the top ten worst ways to announce a pregnancy.

Frazzled, you head to the kitchen to make a snack.

After shuffling through the refrigerator for a few minutes, pushing aside suddenly unappetizing leftovers of Chinese take-out and pizza, you settle on sliced pineapple, kimchi, and a pack of microwaveable rice from the cabinet. Even you knew the combination was abhorrent in normal circumstances, but for the past few weeks you found yourself craving obscure combinations of food from ice cream drizzled with honey mustard to canned tuna and chocolate.

You are only a few bites in when you hear the familiar sounds of the front door opening and your husband announcing his arrival. The lanky man immediately slips into the kitchen to greet you with a small peck on the top of your head.

“I see my favorite little human is enjoying one of her...creations again,” Izaya comments.

When you look up you catch the split second of disgust on his features as he eyes your bowl before he quickly schools his expression back into something more neutral. You almost laugh.

“Do you want me to make you some?” You can’t help but to tease, trying your best to feign a serious expression as you ask.

Izaya looks mildly horrified before playing it off with a dismissive laugh.

“No thanks, I already ate.”

He gracefully breezes past you to make his way through the living room and to his personal office in the back where he make quick work of logging into his desktop. It is a usual occurrence—despite being home his work is never truly finished. He has to be flexible in his field, ready to gather new intel the moment it becomes available. It is strange to compare Izaya to anyone with a regular job but you often find yourself thinking he must really love his career if he invests so much of himself into it. You’re sure that by now he has done enough odd jobs to no longer need the money to live the rest of his life worry-free and yet he continues to work relentlessly, never taking a vacation day once in the years you’ve known him.

“By the way,” Izaya calls out, interrupting your thoughts.

“I have some things to take care of in Ōsaka this weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

He glances up from his computer to send you a teasing smirk.

“Try not to get too lonely without me~”

You nearly choke on a piece of pineapple as you fluster, immediately denying his claim despite his obnoxious laughter drowning out your protests.

It is not until you lie in bed that night, trying to fall asleep, that you recognize this could be the moment you’ve been waiting for.

. . .

The next morning, after seeing Izaya off for the weekend, you grab your laptop and log into your nearly forgotten Pinterest account to look for cute pregnancy announcement ideas. With Izaya physically out of the house for more than 24 hours you feel the pressure of constantly hiding all clues lifted off your shoulders and you feel free to properly put something together that you hope will result in a more positive reaction from him than just blurting it out of the blue. You have to periodically remind yourself that this is his child as much as it is yours and he is just as responsible for creating it so that you don’t psych yourself out imagining him blaming you for potentially ruining his life.

A majority of the pins you scroll through are immediate no’s. They’re either way too corny or tacky and you highly doubt Izaya would appreciate the humor in a “thx for knocking me up!” sticker.

...Okay well maybe he would but you certainly wouldn’t.

By the twelfth page you feel exasperated. You’re almost tempted to just send him an “I’m pregnant” text right now to get it over with—at least you won’t be there to see his expression in realtime. That’s when you stumble upon the pin. You immediately click the little square before it loads into an image that takes up your full screen. On the image is a white marble background, likely a kitchen countertop, with a round white cake in the center with the words “we’re having a baby!” sprawled on top in purple icing.

It is simple, to the point, cute, and most importantly—cake.

Who doesn’t love cake?

 ‘Well, Izaya doesn’t really like sweet things that much…’

You mentally tell your self-conscious to shut up. A cake would be perfect.

With your mind made up, slam your laptop shut and get dressed to go to your nearest bakery and place your order.

. . .

On Sunday afternoon you pick up your cake from the bakery, only mildly embarrassed by the amount of times the owner bids you a “congratulations” and “your husband is lucky man!” When you make it back to the apartment and open up the blue pastry box on the counter everything suddenly feels very real. The cake itself is perfect—exactly like the picture you saw that day on Pinterest. A white buttercream base with beautiful purple letters spelling out “we’re having a baby!” in cursive. There are even small yellow flowers surrounding the edges, as suggested by the shop owner.

It looks absolutely delicious but you feel like you’re going to throw up.

According to Izaya’s text that morning he’ll be back within three hours from now and that’s when you’ll have to wordlessly hand him this cake and watch as his expression morphs into something you’ve likely never seen before.

‘What if he just abandons us?’

Your right hand unconsciously wraps over the now noticeable little bulge on your stomach. It’s too late to have second-thoughts, you reason with yourself, the longer you draw this out the worse it will be. You decide a quick nap would do some good to ease your nerves. You’ll set your alarm for half an hour from now then clean the apartment and put on some soothing cartoons until Izaya gets home. After gingerly placing the cake box in the refrigerator you shuffle up the stairs to the bedroom. You’re unconscious almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

. . .

When you peel your eyelids open you find yourself feeling more calm than you remember feeling after a nap. You stretch each of your limbs and wriggle your toes as you allow your foggy brain to properly wake up.The rays of light streaming through the blinds seem to radiate a comforting warmth to fight of the chill of the bedroom.

 ‘Wait...light!?’

A rush of panic overtakes your system and you scramble to find your phone on the bedside table, nearly screaming when you read the blaring white digits on the screen.

 9:07AM

You didn’t just take a nap, you slept through the night.

Your head whips around to find the other side of the bed neatly made, just as it was when you climbed in bed yesterday. Maybe you still had a chance—maybe some unforeseen thing happened and Izaya had to spend an extra night in Ōsaka. You nearly trip and faceplant several times in your haste to rush downstairs and into the kitchen where you’d hid the cake.

Placing the cold box on the counter, your hands tremble lightly as they slowly lift the lid.

You heart skips a beat.

One perfectly sized slice was missing, leaving only a few crumbs in its wake.

You don’t even have time to have a proper mental breakdown before a door slams shut. “Ah, I see you’re finally awake~!”

Almost in slow motion your eyes slide from the cake to the tall black haired man holding a bag of what some distant part of your brain recognizes as breakfast from your favorite café. Izaya looks unbothered, irritatingly so, as if he had no idea of the inner turmoil you are currently experiencing.

“You must have been exhausted—you didn’t even stir when I came in last night.”

He has the audacity to exaggerate a pout as he whines, “it made me feel unwelcome, y’know~”

“Th-the...cake...” you barely manage to stutter out, struggling to make sense of the current situation.

“Hmm?” he hums, the smirk of his lips making it apparent he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Ah, yes, thank you for the treat~ I don't usually like sweets but this one was surprisingly delicious~!”

He begins to casually place his bags on the counter across from you and pull out the breakfast items, explaining nothing more and even humming a bit to himself as he works to sort the food.

God you want to punch him.

You swallow thickly to steady yourself before trying again.

“S-so what do you think about...it” you ask, awkwardly gesturing to your stomach..

"Hmm? Ah, the vanilla was good but there was a little too much icing—"

"NO DUMBASS, I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE BABY!” You finally snap, face bright red in anger.

Izaya only guffaws, laughing as if you had just cracked the joke of the century. You’re only split seconds from throwing the whole cake at him when his laughter finally dies down and he slides around the counter and to your side. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands gently resting on either side of your belly and you feel your heart flutter unexpectedly at the tenderness of the action.

“You’re so cute when you think you’re hiding something from me.”

Your breath hitches.

“Wh-what? What do you mean by that—” you desperately attempt to turn to face him but his hold keeps you firmly in place.

“I’ve known since day one~” he sing-songs, sounding annoyingly proud of himself. “I’m surprised you finally decided to tell me though. I was starting to think you’d wait until you went into labor and needed a ride to the hospital,” Izaya jokes. “No way,” you protest, “that’s literally impossible—there’s no way you could have known already.”

He moves one arm from your body to swipe at some frosting on the forgotten cake, bringing it over to your lips in an offering you accept without thinking, taste buds tingling at the sweetness.

“Silly Y/n—I’m an expert at planning, y’know? All those times we ‘forgot’ to use protection weren’t an accident~”

Your whole body seems to erupt in flames as a blush takes over your face. This time, you really do hit him.

“I-idiot!!”

[shreddedleopard]

Between The Pages

Happy Birthday, Historia!

Since Historia has insisted on giving him something for his birthday each year since they began working on the orphanage together, Levi finally supposes he should reciprocate, and undertakes the impossible task of finding the perfect gift for her. In doing so, he comes to some interesting realisations, and raises more questions about the nature of their friendship.

The little bell over the shop door let out a soft tinkle as Levi pushed inside. He shook out his long coat and ran a gloved hand through his hair, displacing the snowflakes that had settled there. The winter was a way off from thawing yet, but at least the snow only came in short flurries now - barely enough to coat the ground properly.

The bookshop was deserted. Good. Last thing he wanted right now was to bump into anyone he knew. He glanced around, wondering where the hell he was even supposed to begin with the task at hand. There were around ten to fifteen book cases set out in the shop, virtually identical to the one he and his squad had erected for Historia in the main room at the orphanage, and every single shelf was crammed to breaking with books. Tomes of varying thicknesses, colours and titles stared back at him as he stalked the aisles; not one of them doing anything to present itself as the perfect gift he sought. He found himself pausing beside the section labeled 'Romance,' squinting at the spines as he read the titles, a particular memory from a week ago replaying in his mind.

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Or read in full below the cut!

She was already in the kitchen when he wandered downstairs in the early hours in search of tea. She sat at the long dining table, a steaming china pot set before her, and a tattered book in her hands.

Wide, blue eyes met his as he approached.

She said nothing, merely sliding the pot towards him with careful fingers and a grin, before returning to her book. This had become the new routine whenever Levi and the squad would stop over at the converted farmhouse to help out with odd jobs. They'd been coming here to help out for years, but he'd noticed that just recently, she always happened to be in the kitchen when he woke in the early ours, and sometimes he found himself wondering whether she did it on purpose.

He retrieved his favourite cup from the cupboard, sliding into the seat across from her.

"What's that shit you're reading?"

He poured his tea, not looking at her.

He felt her shift, and then she was sitting forwards, forearms resting on the tabletop and book set down before her. "This? Why - are you looking for recommendations, Captain?"

"Tch - like I ever get the time to read." It wasn't a complete lie, although the fact that he hadn't even learned to read properly - at least, past recognising the simplest phrases needed to get by - until he'd come to the surface in his mid twenties likely had something to do with it. At Historia's age, Levi would sooner have burnt a book for warmth than read the damn thing. But he didn't want to admit any of this to her; she might think less of him for it. It was weird how much he cared what she thought of him.

Historia gave him another tight lipped smile, reaching to sip her tea. She eyed him over the rim of her cup for a moment, as though taking the measure of him. When she set it down again, her fingers traced down the spine of her book. "Well anyway, I highly doubt this would be your cup of tea."

Levi's eyes followed the movement of her fingers. He paused with his own cup inches from his lips. "Oh?"

Historia pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes. It's a romance. You know, princess is imprisoned in a tower by an evil king, brave knight comes along and gallantly saves her, they fall in love. That sort of thing. I've actually read it twice before."

Levi merely let out a hum as he drank his tea, neither agreeing or denying her claim. When he set the cup down, he crossed his legs beneath the table, foot knocking hers accidentally as he did so. He wondered why it made her blush.

"You don't really strike me as the damsel in distress type," he said quietly. "Seems to me like you can save yourself. Why would you want to read that?"

His words apparently settled her, because she gave him a wide smile again. "You know me too well." He felt what was unmistakably her foot tap his lightly beneath the table, and it made him straighten, fighting to keep his expression neutral. "What I'd really love is a romance story where the princess gets to save herself and still ends up in the arms of the knight." She sighed wistfully, toying with the handle of her teacup. "But I just can't seem to find that sort of book anywhere. It's like that story just doesn't exist."

His body was already betraying him as his cheeks began to heat up. He rubbed at his chin agitatedly, the thumb of his glove brushing just below the spot her lips had met his skin the night before his birthday. Damn her, why was she so insistent on giving him gifts every year? No-one else bothered at this point, since he'd warned them all off the idea. And yet, Historia Reiss was still as stubborn as ever, taking no notice of his gruff warnings, and now here he was, stuck in some stuffy bookshop in Mitras on the day before her birthday, trying to conjure up the impossible. Because of course, it would be rude not to give her something in return.

"Shit." He growled the word in frustration. It was hopeless. She said such a story didn't exist, so why was he trying to find it? She'd probably laugh at the idea of him getting her a gift, anyway. She knew him as well as he did her at this point; he was no man of grand gestures.

Deciding he should just give the whole thing up as a bad job, he turned to head towards the door.

"Excuse me, young man, can I help at all?"

It had been so long since anyone had referred to him as a 'young man,' that Levi automatically stopped in his tracks. He turned to find an ageing shopkeep regarding him over the top of half-moon spectacles.

"You seem as though you're looking for something in particular."

Fuck. Why was he even doing this? This was such a bad idea.

"Uh, yeah. I need to buy a book." Well, shit. Helpful. He rubbed his forehead, the material of his glove rough against his skin. "I mean, there is a specific book I'm looking for, but pretty sure it doesn't actually exist. So, guess I'm all out of luck."

The old man put his hands on his hips, surveying Levi intently. "Is it a gift?"

How the fuck did he guess? Levi just about managed to avoid rolling his eyes. "Yeah."

"Hmm. Perhaps I could find something similar to suit the recipient, if I don't have the actual book you're after?"

A conversation in a book shop about the intricacies of romance stories was not something Levi ever wanted to participate in. This damn brat had better be grateful. "Yeah. sure."

The man gestured for Levi to follow him back to the romance section. "What does your friend like? I'm assuming it's for a friend ...?"

A friend? Was that what Historia was to him at this point? He could hardly admit it was for the Queen; this shopkeep, however discreet he might be, must recognise him. But then … would it be weird for the Captain of the Survey Corps to be purchasing a birthday gift for the Queen? Maybe not. But a romance book …?

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. A friend."

The man nodded. "Alright. And this friend of yours, it's a romance novel they'd like?"

Levi shoved his hands into his pockets, thoroughly uncomfortable. "Yeah."

"Explicit romance?"

Levi felt his face practically glow. "Eh? Fuck no! She's only …" Only what? Nineteen? An adult woman now, perfectly old enough to enjoy whatever explicit pleasures she might choose to, whether that be between the pages of a book or otherwise? Damn. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, the realisation for some reason making him lose his words. "Huh. No. I don't think that's what she wants." He tried not to get caught up wondering whether the book she'd been reading that night when he found her at the kitchen table could have been as steamy as the tea they'd drunk. "Look. She wants to read a romance story where the woman is the heroin, alright? None of this shitty damsel in distress stuff; she doesn't want to be saved by the knight, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to be fucked by him, either." His own eyes grew wide as the last sentence registered in his head. "I mean, you know, have all that romantic shit happen. Or whatever."

If the shopkeep was offended by his crassness, he didn't let on. Oh, he definitely recognised him, of that Levi had no doubt at this point. Wonderful.

The man adjusted his glasses, turning to the shelves. "I see."

An agonising silence fell between them. Levi glared at the man as he seemed to deliberate for an impossible amount of time, before finally selecting a book and turning to him.

"This is the best I can do, I'm afraid. It's a story about a noblewoman who chooses to abandon her family name and status in favour of saving a poor orphan girl. It's not very popular with the customers here in Mitras - it's been hidden away in my storeroom for quite a while. Funny you should walk in today and be looking for something similar. The young woman is most certainly the heroin, but I must tell you, while there are casual lovers which come and go during the story, there is no real romance. No knight to be spoken of."

He presented the book to Levi. His gaze swept over the cover, which portrayed a beautiful woman with long, dark hair, and a grubby little blonde girl that was half hidden in her skirts. Okay, so it wasn't exactly what she'd been looking for, but there were enough elements that he thought she might enjoy. Plus, by this point, he was ready to take anything and high tail it out of the damn shop.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

At the counter, Levi tutted at the price quoted by the shopkeep.

"It's a first edition. Although having said that, I'm not even sure if any further editions were made." The man shrugged, taking Levi's money and handing over the book, now wrapped in brown paper. "You know, Her Majesty Queen Historia came in here just the other day, asking about the sort of book your friend wanted."

Levi stiffened as his change was emptied into his open palm. "Huh. That so."

"Yes indeed," the man continued. "If I'd have had this book out of storage, she probably would have settled for it. You're lucky."

Levi pocketed his change, slipping the book quickly into the inner pocket of his long coat. "Well, my apologies to her Majesty, in that case, for stealing her book."

The shopkeep laughed, startling Levi. He narrowed his eyes at him.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind so much if I told her it was Humanity's Strongest that got his hands on it first."

Humanity's Strongest. That unofficial title of his had become somewhat redundant, since they'd discovered humanity didn't merely consist of those within the walls of Paradis. Who knew what strength lay across the sea, after all.

"Haven't been called that in a while."

Levi nodded to the shopkeep gratefully, before making his way out of the shop.

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

She was staying in the capital for her birthday this year. The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time he met her on the balcony of her royal quarters at the government's HQ. She looked tired, standing there in her formal green coat clad with the military's emblem.

"Oi, brat. Long day?"

He didn't miss the way her eyes brightened as she turned to regard him. He came up beside her, resting his hands on the balustrade. The view here was of some peaceful formal gardens, away from the hustle and bustle of central Mitras across to the other side of the grounds. A light mist was settling between the trees in the advancing chill of the evening.

"Hmm. Yes, a bit. The parade this morning was nice. Good to see people properly, you know. The public. Everyone was so kind." She fiddled with the buttons of her coat.

"People adore you," Levi said matter-of-factly.

This seemed to make her blush. "Oh. Well. It's nice to be appreciated, although not sure how much of a difference I really make."

Bored of the view already, Levi turned around, leaning back to rest his elbows on the cool marble as he watched Historia. "You do more good than any crusty, old king I can remember."

She made a face at him, hand on her hip as she turned her body towards his. Alright, fair. So he'd only ever known one King since he came to the surface. Didn't even know they had a king when he was underground; didn't give two shits. But still.

"Well anyway, happy birthday, and all that." He muttered it at her; almost throw away, but at the same time he reached into the inner pocket of his coat. He didn't meet her eye as he held the small, brown paper package out towards her.

There was hesitation. Finally, he turned his head to regard her. Her blue eyes were round as plates as she stared at the thing. "What's this?"

"Tch. What's it look like? Just open it."

"Can I really?"

"You damn well better. It was a pain in the ass to get. If it's wrong, I'm not taking it back." He'd rather face a hundred titans than look that shopkeep in the eye again.

She tore it open fervently. The sight made his stomach lurch, for some reason. Fuck, what was wrong with him? It was just some shitty book for her birthday. And only because she'd had the balls to give him gifts in the first place. Yeah. Just some shitty book. Well; that and the other thing he'd slipped between the back pages of it on his way home from the bookshop, on a whim. Maybe he was worried she was going to laugh at him. He wouldn't blame her.

To his relief, her eyes lit up as she ran her palm across the cover. She turned the book over, inspecting it. It took her too long to say anything, and his nerves got the best of him. He cleared his throat.

"It's, uh. A story about some noblewoman and an orphan that she saves, or something. But she's the heroin - the noblewoman. No damsels in distress." He ran a hand through his hair. "Best I could do. Tried to find exactly what you wanted - you know, what you said the other night. Over tea. But apparently, that story really doesn't exist."

Finally, she looked up at him. Her eyes were weirdly glassy.

Had he fucked up? She really didn't like it, did she?

He blinked at her. "Shit, Historia. Say something."

"It's wonderful," she breathed, looking from him to the book and back again, as though he'd just presented her with a golden teapot, or something. "I love it." Then she beamed.

He felt his neck grow hot, so he messed about straightening his cravat. "It's just a book."

He didn't miss her wiping at the corners of her eyes. "It sounds like just the sort of book I'd like."

"Hmm. Except …"

Before he could finish, she was leafing through the pages. When she reached the back, something slipped out of the book. He looked away again as she bent to pick it up, wondering if he could fein ignorance. Did he really want her to know he was a total sap?

"What's this?"

He didn't need to look at her hands to see the flower she held. He remembered picking it all too well on the ride back to the barracks. He tried to figure out how to answer, but she beat him to it.

"A snowdrop?"

"Ah. That's what they're called, then."

She was frowning at him when he glanced sideways. "You … put this in here?"

He shrugged, clearing his throat again. "Saw it on the ride back. Looked too pretty to leave it there, all on it's own."

Historia moved a fraction closer to him, and it made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when their arms brushed lightly. "You were lucky. It's still pretty early in the year to find any. They mean spring is on it's way - brighter days are coming."

Well. That was pretty ironic, then, considering why he'd found himself drawn to it. "That so? Funny." He looked down at the dainty, white flower as she held it between her fingers. "They were the first flowers I ever saw, when I came … up here."

She seemed to understand what he meant, by the way her brows raised. "Really? How fitting."

He merely grunted in reply. An awkward sort of silence fell between them. He wasn't really sure what to say to her - why he'd given her a flower, of all things. Wasn't that the sort of contrived romantic gesture to be found from the knights in her shitty romance books? That hadn't been his intention at all.

Right?

He huffed, pulling his hands back out of his pockets. His elbow nudged hers in doing so. "Well … I suppose I just slipped it in there by way of apology. 'Cause the romance and the knight are missing from your story."

She considered, twirling the stem of the snowdrop between her fingers, the book clutched tightly to her chest with her other. When she looked back up at him, there was a sparkle to her eyes.

"Perhaps they're not missing, though. Perhaps he just hasn't shown up yet. The story doesn't always have to end when the book does."

Damn, this girl had an answer for everything. Always a ray of sunshine in the dark; the positive spin; the hope when all else seemed lost. How she'd turned out such an angel, when life had fucked her almost as badly as it had him, he'd never know.

"Well … yeah. Guess that could be true."

Perhaps a snowdrop really had been the right flower for her. Hope and resilience at the end of a dark winter. That summed up Historia Reiss perfectly.

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 25  (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 47,470

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 26, 

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else. 

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs. 

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 25:

(Words: 3,948)

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The thought of Peter making more of an effort, of him consciously choosing to pay me closer attention with the active intention of improving our friendship-- it isn’t the worst idea. If anything, it’s a rather attractive solution to a nonexistent problem. The suggestion alone is already prompting imaginary scenarios I refuse to acknowledge right now; though, inevitably, they’ll become daydream fuel within a couple days. Still, the whole plan is unnecessary, and I know it. I’m not angry with him anymore. I may have a few questions (some I plan on asking, some I’ll keep to myself), but if I do have any hidden resentment for his behavior stowed away in my subconscious, it’s as small and inconsequential as a handful of sand in the sea. Allowing him to carry this plan out would be using him. The pretenses would be false. 

Even apart from that, though, his texts gave off an odd, metallic aftertaste. The proposal reads mechanically-- it’s a scientific study with a simple hypothesis (and a reluctant dependent variable). It’s the idea of being a lab mouse, I think, that earns it the title the dumbest thing in my mind. It’s condescending. Even if tempting. 

Then again, I know Peter. I understand he doesn’t actually view me as a test subject to analyze and discard after the results come in. We’re friends. He feels bad and tossed out a poorly worded solution because he thinks I’m secretly pissed at him. It’s only an idea he offered, one I have full power to reject. 

Maybe I’m trying to dismiss it quickly because, if I’m being honest, I’m selfish. Selfishly, I want to say yes despite knowing the sort of negative message it would send to Peter. A small part of me is willing to let him feel worse so I can pretend his own guilty feelings are more significant than they really are. The possibility, the mirage just within reach, of balancing that tightrope between reality and fantasy with him is... alluring, to say the least.

And impossible. It would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? Of course it would be.

Like blades slicing fruit in a blender, my brain whips through these thoughts within seconds. Across on her bed, Michelle’s expression can only be described as disapproving or faintly disgusted as she too digests Peter’s idea. It’s the male stupidity is endless look we share when near particularly annoying men in public. It’s not often one we have to exchange in reference to the boys; their moronic moments tend to be entertaining rather than obnoxious, ignorant, or misogynistic.

She meets my eyes, and I wonder if my face gives anything away. 

“That feels weird to me.” 

The sentence is a verbal tiptoe forward, an almost-question probe.

“It did sound weird saying it out loud,” I agree. 

“You know,” she says, her tone mildly serious as she sits up straighter. “You’re not obligated to say yes to everything because you don’t want to disappoint someone. Especially a boy. And especially if he’s trying to fix his dumb mistakes by pressuring you into something you’re not comfortable with.” She pauses, glancing at the ceiling and raising an eyebrow. “If you want, I can make him come to his senses.”

Michelle tightens her fists and mimes three exaggerated punches. I imagine it, amused: Before the bite, Peter wouldn’t have stood a chance against her if she really meant it; now, he’d probably put his arms up to block her blows, minimally annoyed, and wait for her to tire herself out. I roll my eyes and can’t help mirroring her smile. 

Nevertheless, her wording is…. 

The same question pops up for the millionth time. 

Do I want her to know?

“It’s Peter, it’s not, like, ‘a boy,’” I say first, air quoting the last words. Maybe later, depending. But for now, I’ll avoid it. “And I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer. I’m not uncomfortable and he isn’t being pushy or anything. I only meant that the…” nearly impersonal approach to our personal relationship? “the hyperconscious wording is weird. I wouldn’t turn down free snacks if the offer wasn’t described as a….” situation in which he views us as mere associates or abstract friends--

Again, I remind myself he probably doesn’t see it that way. 

“Monitored social experiment with unequal power dynamics?” she offers.

That fits.

“Precisely.” 

She snorts. Shaking her head, Michelle pauses for a few more seconds. Mentally chewing it all over again, her expression bounces from annoyance to curiosity to neutrality to annoyance again to what looks surprisingly close to compromise or understanding. In the meantime, I focus on watching her facial journey and not thinking. 

In the tune of surrender, she sighs before she speaks.

“I’m sure he’s trying his best,” she says reluctantly, her hands opening outward like a shrug, “his best is just bad. If it were anyone else, I’d tell you to refuse and block them. But, as much as it pains me to admit, I think we both know him too well to think his motives are as stupid as his phrasing. If anything, he’s probably excited about his ‘new genius friendship plan.’”

Nodding, relief hums under my skin: I know she’s right. I mean, how many people would fight crime to protect countless strangers in their city, then turn around and have cold, detached views of their chosen, personal friends? 

“That’s true,” I say. “I should probably text him back, then.”

She holds up a finger as I reach for my phone.

“Still,” she adds with a tone of subtle authority, “it’s up to you. I’m not saying you should say yes -- no obligations, remember? -- I just don’t think you need to worry that he isn’t trying or isn’t being genuine. That’s all.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Michelle’s stare lasts a moment longer, her sincerity as visible and certain as the brown of her eyes. After a second or two, she sits back onto her pillows and relaxes, turning to face the t.v. once again, leaving me to work out my final decision on my own. As I allow myself to reiterate my own arguments in my head, the Cullen family discusses the mythology of half human, half vampire fetuses with Jacob. 

It doesn’t take me long to reach a conclusion. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty tired, but the answer seems obvious, straightforward and simple in logic. I unlock my phone with the feeling Michelle knows exactly what I’m about to type. I begin to write the message I had settled on before: “I’ll think about it.” Simple and honest. And temporary.

But then something else pops into my brain, and, foolishly, I write that instead.

“What about you? Do you need new reasons to be around me?”

I send the text without a moment’s reflection. Rereading it, it sounds a little… coded, to say the least. Like a Freudian slip. Don’t overthink it. God, I hate Freud. But it does sound desperate. And awkward. Damn. It definitely does. It reminds me of the embarrassing things I used to post on social media in middle school, which I really shouldn’t think about either. 

I only wondered if the idea should go both ways. Instead, the message sounds insecure... which I am, I suppose, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Bubbles appear on his side. I resist the urge to send a series of backpedaling messages. They disappear. Again. My self control dissipates and I quickly send the original one: I’ll think about it.

Unthinking, I pull the small keychain out of my pocket as I wait for his reply and massage the edge. Sticking the pointed corner into my thumbpad, I accidentally dig it in harder than intended. And I realize something. 

The keychain was the first. The gifts or incentives or things. 

A flat click of a nearby door closing snaps my attention. The boys’ room? Glancing up, I see flash of Edward pleading with Jacob on the t.v. screen, and to my left, a shadow stepping up to the door. A gap in the golden line of outside light.

For half a minute, nothing happens. Aside from Rosalie shouldering past Jacob as he walks in to speak to Bella. After that, when it does come, the sound is soft.

Knock. Knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

It’s Peter. Ned’s knocking pattern is shorter.

The sound jolts my heart rate a smidge, like a phantom defibrillator.

Michelle’s head rolls to one side to stare at the hallway, her shoulders slumped in an I’m giving up posture. 

“That’s very obviously for you,” she says, pushing herself up and tossing the Twizzler bag on the nightstand, “so I’ll let you go deal with it. I think I’ll brush my teeth and get ready for bed.” She hops off the mattress, raises her arms, and stretches them from side to side. “You okay if we call it a night?”

“More than okay,” I say, standing up as well, the carpet cool under my toes. Once I speak to Peter, I’ll need to knock out. Otherwise my brain will spiral. And maybe, if all goes well, my dreams tonight will be better than staying up to snicker at this hilariously shitty movie. “But what if it is for you?” 

She rolls her eyes.

“Tell them I’m gone. Missing, dead, whatever.” Michelle clamps her eyes shut and sticks her tongue out to mimic cartoonish death. Then she pops back to life with a fake warning glare. “So long as no one bothers me.”

She hits the off button on the remote, Jacob and Bella dissolving into nothing, and as she trudges to the bathroom, I slip the keychain and a keycard back into my pocket before copying her arm stretch to calm my buzzing nerves. Michelle salutes me before turning and closing the bathroom door. I walk to the hallway’s. The handle is cold to the touch.

I swing it open. As expected: Peter. The empty space surrounding him is relatively quiet, only muffled laughter and television sounds coming from rooms at the opposite end. The air smells like linens, cleaning supplies, and artificial lavender. This too is as expected: the typical, sanitary comfort of staying in a nice hotel at night. I tell myself it’s a calming environment. 

Peter’s in his usual pajamas, an old beat up t-shirt and sweatpants, standing slightly to the left, hands clasped in front of him. His height drops a tiny bit at the sound of the door, like he was rocking from heel to toe a second ago, and as his eyes lift from the floor to meet mine, he smiles. A warm swooping sensation envelops my stomach. 

“Hey! You answered.” 

He almost sounds surprised. I make a face in response. 

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

I mean this as a joke, a reference to the couple late nights he’s shown up at my door (window, really) to clean or patch himself up before going home. As he knows, I’m not in the habit of shutting him out. 

Still, his head tilts and his eyebrows go up into an expression of, Well, you weren’t exactly answering me before. It isn’t a challenging or upset look. If anything, it’s almost flustered.

“Fair enough,” I concede, lukewarm guilt sticking in my throat. “I was thinking about it though, I promise, I just hadn’t decided for sure yet.”

He nods, fidgeting with his fingernails and momentarily glancing at the floor.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, looking back up. His ears redden. “I, uh, phrased it pretty moronically. Or at least that’s what Ned said.” 

He takes a step or two back, closer to his door. It seems like an invitation to make the conversation more private, so I close mine and Michelle’s and step forward.

“All I meant,” he continues, his hands rolling over one another in gesture, “was that I thought it might be helpful if I did a few nice things for you when we get back. Not like I’m actually trying to condition you, like a, like a--”

“Dog?”

His hands halt and his face pinches into an expression that practically reads I am painfully aware of every mistake I have ever made and how the number continues to grow in marker across his forehead. His eyes retain a lightness though, the sort that suggests he’s able to laugh about it. He runs his right hand through his hair. Mine twinges.

“Exactly. I feel like that makes it seem kind of, um--”

“Bad?”

“Very bad,” he confirms, nodding. He takes a deeper breath, half smiling in an embarrassed, self pitying way. “I honestly forgot about that Pavlock stuff, I was just trying to use psych terms to make it sound more persuasive and, um, I don’t know, impressive?”

He shrugs and offers an I know I’m an idiot, but thank you for being patient smile. I bite my tongue against correcting Pavlov, which he seems incapable of pronouncing properly. Even when we studied for that exam, he only said it properly a handful of times, despite Michelle flicking bits of paper at him each time he said Pavlock.

I smile too, noting the irony. And I think of what she said: he’s trying his best, his best is just bad. It doesn’t seem so bad when he’s standing in front of me, though. If anything, it’s easy. 

“You mean,” I begin to ask, more to tease than to clarify, “as opposed to the highly offensive and disagreeable, ‘Hey, I want to make up for being a jerk, so I’m going to stash some snacks for you in my locker’?”

He bites his lip as if it’ll keep his grin pinned down, though it doesn’t really. A blush spreads across his cheekbones and for a split second, he looks away to the other end of the hall. When he looks back, his smile falters, just a little. The vulnerability reminds me of his apology last night, when he thought I was sleeping. 

“I was thinking maybe it’d be more than snacks?” he offers. “Like, I don’t know, I don’t really have it figured out yet, but hanging out a bit more? Movie nights or that sort of thing? Or if you have a lot of homework, we could study together and help each other stay focused?”

That last suggestion seems like an oxymoron. Study together to keep ourselves on track? It’s a laughable concept. Well, only if it’s--

“Just us?”

Peter freezes, his shoulders straightening slightly, his height rising a few millimeters. 

That is the central question, though. Whether it’s a positive or negative point toward my decision, I can’t tell. All the same, it’s been ages since we last tried studying together, just the two of us. It works best with Michelle and Ned there as well, seeing as we tend to get distracted. 

His eyes move quickly between mine as if he’s trying to read my thoughts before answering. He squints.

“Is that okay?” he asks, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I understand if not, if it’s uncomfortable or--”

I shake my head, putting my hand on his arm to stop him, only realizing it when his eyes flicker to that hand.

“Of course not,” I say, removing it. “I mean, of course it’s okay. We’ve hung out without Ned and MJ tons of times before. It’s been a while but it’s no big deal. That’d be fine.”

“Okay, good!” he says, the tension in his body evaporating. “That’s great!” 

His eyes have lit up. I imagine he’s relieved those two won’t be around the whole time to make fun of his movie choices or whatever he has planned. I try to hold a smile to reassure him and clear his doubts while internally pinching myself to remember to not think too much on this. There’s no need to dust off those old, useless daydreams of movie nights and falling asleep on his shoulder with his head atop mine and May lightly laying a blanket across us and all the rest. Absolutely no need. Shut it down.

He runs a hand through his hair, nodding in a way that’s usually accompanied by him saying cool, cool, cool, cool.

“Would Fridays be good for movie nights?”

I barely register the question before I answer it.

“Probably, sure. That should be alright.”

His smile widens and he shakes his head once and continues nodding. 

“Perfect! We can have it at my place.”

I nod back, chest tightening as I process. At the same time, I beg my brain not to process. Just for a minute. But then, since I refuse to let them move forward, the gears in my head turn backward, thoughts reeling like a bicycle chain. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, we’re realizing the same thing:

“Wait,” he says carefully. “So you’re saying yes? Like, you’re cool with it? You want to try?”

God help me.

“I suppose so,” I say. At hearing my own answer, a different type of swooping feeling runs from my feet up. The looking over a high balcony type.

“And we’ll figure the rest out later?” he asks.

“Peter, really, if you’re still planning on the locker snacks, that’s more than enough.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, that’s what you think because you’re being lame. And limiting. And--”

“Leaving?”

It’s time, definitely. I’d forgotten how blinding Peter’s excitement and positivity can be without interference. Today has been full enough, I should end this now. 

“That’s fair,” he says. “I think Ned rubbed off on me. All that obnoxious energy.”

He shakes his whole body as if ridding himself of said energy and I restrain myself from making a joke about his word choice. Instead, I nod and with an exasperated “Night, Peter,” and step back toward my room. He does the same, heading toward his. Just before he makes to use his keycard, he pivots back. 

“Wait! I almost forgot.”

I turn around and he’s closer than before. Peter suddenly looks particularly nervous, his head angled to the side like a question, his hands fumbling over themselves. His cheeks are reddening again too, spreading from his cheeks to his hairline.

“Yeah?”

He steps forward to place himself directly in front of me. His eyes flit a quick path which his hands follow-- they reach out to touch my elbows before jumping up to my shoulders, settling there almost steadily before shooting a little higher to suddenly but gently hold my head. And then he leans over and firmly kisses my forehead. As he pulls away, one hand disappears and the other musses up my hair.

What is he--? 

We both take a tiny step back. My pulse pounds as my thoughts blur into nothing but impressions of nonsensical, ridiculous questions my brain won’t dignify with clarity. Peter’s expression is halfway between an apology and.. a dare? His eyes are as wide as I know mine must be, but there’s something playing at his lips. For a second, it feels as though we’re balanced on a challenge neither of us is willing to answer. 

The bubble of the moment pops as he shakes his head and gestures vaguely to his and Ned’s room, his floundering arm movements returning him to the strong appearance of embarrassment.

“May,” he blurts, “Aunt May threatened to, uh, um, well, that part’s not really important, if I didn’t pass that along with ‘all her love.’” The red in his face deepens. “Apparently she’s not too happy I didn’t do that last night too.”

Of course. It makes immediate sense. The memory rushes back. She told him to do that to all of us when she dropped us off at the bus that morning. I might laugh at my own stupid shock and poor memory but I can’t seem to manage it. 

“Do you want me to get MJ too?” I ask, realizing May likely demanded that he make the rounds. Maybe this is what started that play fight between him and Ned tonight. Either Ned dodged it or made a joke about wishing May were there to do it herself. 

It clicks together.

“What?” He looks lost, his head tilted to the side, brow knotted up. “What do you mean?”

“Unless, do you want me to pass it along from May?”

The realization hits across his face. He shakes his head rapidly.

“No, no, no, she’d probably kill me if I tried to do that to her. But, I mean, if you want to pass it along-- or just tell her to lie if May asks. She probably won’t, honestly, but, you know, just in case.”

His shrug and half smile are practically helpless. May ought to have more mercy on him. And me. 

“Alright.” A grin breaks over my face in a way I don’t quite understand and can’t stop. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Right. Goodnight, then. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Peter.”

Rather than stepping back, as intended though, I rush forward. Involuntarily, or at least I’ll pretend, since it’s just as surprising to me as it is to him, I lean forward and kiss his cheek. Or try to. It happens too quickly to register fully, but I’m almost positive I knick the corner of his mouth? That would definitely be unintentional.

“ThatwasforMay,” I explain, stumbling backward. Seeming to sense it, Peter grabs my arm to steady me before I trip outright. He releases his grip and stares, stunned. 

If I thought his eyes were wide earlier, it turns out they can open much wider. His pupils are comically blown open. 

“What?” he asks, seeming concerned. “What was that? I, uh, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“That was, um, that was for May. You know, in exchange.”

That’s perfect. For the first time in a while, my brain saves me.

His face, though still flushed red, relaxes.

“You’ll see her tomorrow,” he points out. “Like, we’ll all see her at the same time. It’d be kind of pointless to pass that on, wouldn’t it?”

Shit. My brain is useless.

“Then, uh… keep it?”

His facial muscles twitch as if he’s glitching between a smile and bewilderment. Then a flint of mischief.

“Unless,” he says slowly, “you want me to pass it along to Ned?”

“And it’s official,” I say, resisting the urge to smack him. “Goodnight!”

He grins as near as he ever gets to a smirk (a term I associate too closely to ass-hattery to assign to him) and I turn to my room as he repeats it back.

We both step to our doors and open them. I glance back just in time to see him practically jump into his room with a speed that reminds me he’s a superhero, even if he’s an idiot. Filled with tangled emotions, I pause, listening or waiting or catching my breath. I only need a moment.

Behind his and Ned’s door, there’s a sudden crash, a sound like leaping bedsprings and something smashing, immediately followed by Peter groaning and Ned’s mocking laughter. Right before I go to my own room, I hear Peter’s exasperated voice: Shit! Dude, can you help me fix it? 

The room is dark when I slip back inside but the alarm clock shines enough red to see vague outlines of the walls and dressers and beds. Legs slightly numb, I stumble my way to the small bathroom to get ready for bed. It only takes a couple minutes, distracted as I am. 

I slip into the blankets of my bed. The warm body heat next to me can only mean one thing: Michelle.

It’s just one of those unspoken things. 

Next update: God only knows.

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[hellyeahomeland]

“False Friends” | Directed by Keith Gordon, Cinematography by Peter Levy

In case you hadn’t heard, Carrie smoked a few cigarettes this week. The opening of the episode is actually pretty interesting, the conversation with Yevgeny the previous night in the bar ringing in Carrie’s ears. (Carrie isn’t sleeping--again--and we all know that spells trouble for her.)

Carrie is, for the most part, a loner smoker. And a stress smoker. And a rooftop smoker, apparently! Here more than in previous instances where we’ve seen her smoke, the setting--all alone on the roof--visually represents her own headspace. 

She flashes back to the scene we’ve seen several times already this season. This time, however, we finally see Carrie clearly. She speaks, she’s lucid. There is real fear in her expression, but also longing. The reveal of course is that Carrie is on her meds and in her right mind, and she doesn’t want Yevgeny to leave. 

The camera turns to Yevgeny as Carrie’s dragged away. This is a shot we’ve seen already this season but, by the end of the episode, his expression takes on a different meaning. It’s not cold or detached. He doesn’t want to leave her either. 

The repetition of this specific memory and the way it’s morphed over the episodes is remarkably similar to early season one Brody. We all knew the Carrie/Brody parallels this season would be heavy; the show is not only retelling that story with roles reversed but also using many of the storytelling devices they used in season one. 

Then as now, the audience learns along with the characters what actually took place. First we learn that Brody actually did know Nazir; Nazir held him. Then we learn that Brody watched Tom Walker die. Then we learn that Brody is the one who beat Tom Walker to death (or at least he thought he did). The key difference obviously is that Brody was deceiving Carrie. Carrie is deceiving herself (or is she?).

IJLTP. (Any time this show does something with bokeh IJLTP.) (Bokeh is the way a camera lens renders out-of-focus points of light.)

We thought the framing of this particular shot was interesting. There are two blocks of color behind Carrie, orange and white, and her body lies squarely in the center of either, one half on either side. Maybe this was completely accidental, or maybe it’s symbolic and indicative of the way she’s being pulled in different directions. She also remains in the dark--figuratively and literally. In the first episode of the season, Carrie was often framed inside rectangular boundaries, now she’s half-in, half-out. Before, she felt trapped in the car, in her bedroom, in the fenced-in basketball court. Now, she finally gets some freedom (and maybe a dollop of “fresh” air, natch). 

(There is a similar Mad Men shot that Sara thinks about at least weekly that conveyed something similar about Don.) 

Linus Roache’s performance as David Wellington is fairly underrated. It’ll be interesting to see him in a context other than “Elizabeth Keane’s mouthpiece/bodyguard/sounding board/good cop/bad cop.” For example, this passive aggressive grin at new VP Ben Hayes when he makes a similarly passive aggressive comment about Princeton. 

...or this side eye when Ben Hayes suggests firing Saul, a “Keane holdover.” 

Carrie’s comment in the premiere that Mike was not an “alpha” looms large in this scene and throughout the episode. Carrie makes several comments about him finally doing the job the right way or her way. Their differing personalities and management styles are on full display visually here. Carrie towers over him, while Mike sits back, hands folded in his lap. 

Also, as a logistics person, it bothers Gail that Mike has set up his desk so his back is facing the window. With all of that top secret intel on his computer, isn’t having the windows right there a problem? Is this an intentional nod to his incompetence or did the better lighting of his office for the crew win out? (Sara thinks it can be both.)

The Saul/Haqqani scenes this episode were uniformly visually stunning. First, the show continues its use of light to reinforce who knows what. Here Haqqani’s face is cloaked in darkness while light falls across Saul’s face. 

Overall, Saul’s captivity plays out plot-wise obviously much differently this time than in season four. We’re struck as well by how different the mood is. Both men lean or hunch here. They’re tired, they’re old, they’ve done this before.

The slow pan around Jalal while he’s praying to reveal Tasneem is … *chef’s kiss* (and suggests so much her persona of being the ultimate puppet master, waiting around any corner).

More bokeh, more smoking. Smokehing. 

There’s more mirroring between Carrie and Jenna this week, which is probably how Jenna intends to befriend Carrie (“Carrie smokes? I should too!”), but it actually just feeds into Sara’s theory that Jenna is going to “single white female” Carrie. We love the framing here of Carrie, back to camera (and to Jenna), and Jenna lurking behind her. 

And some visual symmetry here. The camera shots of the two of them are often at a distance, speaking to the depth (or lack thereof) of their relationship. Throughout this episode we see a variety of different pairings between characters. The camera choices in these scenes illustrate closeness and proximity, or distance and mistrust.

In season four there were so many references to Saul losing his eyeglasses during the prisoner exchange. If you recall, he takes them off on the tarmac and Carrie picks them up after she convinces him to get up. Later, she returns his glasses to him just as their car is hit by an RPG. So, given that, two things: 

Saul losing his glasses and then getting them back is almost certainly a harbinger of shit to come! 

We absolutely loved the framing of this scene: Haqqani’s hands slowly coming into frame and gingerly placing the glasses back on Saul’s face. We mentioned above how different the mood was this time around with Saul and Haqqani and this gentle act seemed to encompass all of that.

Two old men, some (we, Jalal) would say past their prime, standing alone in the dark. 

And the dark gives way to a new dawn, a new day. We’re about to break out into song! 

But seriously, this was a gorgeously filmed scene. We do wonder how long they were waiting out in the mountains of Morocco for the sun to rise.

The scene between Haqqani and his son Jalal was the standout of the episode. It is such an eerie reflection of the end of “From A to B and Back Again” when Haqqani kills Aayan. That episode and its ending are at this point Homeland lore, which has the added benefit of making what was already a tense scene fucking unbearable. 

We love the use of perspective and shot/reverse shot here.

The parallels with “From A to B…” continue. Then as now, Saul looks on, helpless, wearing a similar outfit but this time with his hands unbound. Then as now, Haqqani makes a spectacle of it all, when he knows others are watching (the Americans via drone in season four, his entire crew in the courtyard now).

The kiss to the forehead. At this point we were about 650% sure Haqqani was about to shoot his son in the head.

And he does pull out the gun. Jalal literally stares down the barrel. 

Instead of killing him, Haqqani just throws him onto the street, which is maybe just as bad if you’re Jalal. The framing here is remarkable. Jalal stands in the center of the frame, back to the camera, ensconced in sunlight. He’s not awash in some heavenly light. On the contrary, it’s almost as if he’s just been spit out of it, cast out of the kingdom. It all seemed vaguely biblical, like a reverse Prodigal Son, though we’re not sure if that fits exactly. If you know, drop us a line!

We’re three episodes into the season, and we’ve gotten an “over Saul’s shoulder” shot in each one. This is now a theme!

Homeland is not a show that uses flashbacks that heavily (other than the aforementioned Brody/Nazir series from season one and when they de-aged Claire Danes by putting her hair in a half ponytail). They’ve been effective thus far, slowly peeling the layer on the onion that is Carrie’s Russian captivity. 

As Yevgeny recounts Carrie’s suicide attempt, we see split-second flashes in her head. At first, the images are blurry.

And just a few seconds later, they come into focus for us as Carrie remembers. All this is obvious enough, but we also think the way that the focus on the images shifts so suddenly and the way the sequences are edited serve to disorient the viewer in the same way Carrie remains disoriented and confused about just what happened during the seven lost months. 

This scene is notable for a few reasons. First, Carrie and Yevgeny remain so physically close. He leans into her. We also love that it’s more than just Carrie’s reaction to what he’s saying. We see Yevgeny’s reaction to her reaction, as well as his emotions in recounting it. He is remarkably free of judgment and shows legitimate, deep caring, possibly love, as he reveals one of Carrie’s darkest moments. 

And while Carrie makes an offhand remark about her relationship with Brody being accessible information in her “file,” the fact is she never talks about him. Like, ever. (Sara maintains Carrie has a mental and possibly physical “Brody box” that remains sealed.) The significance of Carrie opening up to Yevgeny about what is--sorry, folks--the love of her life really can’t be overstated.

All we have to say about this is “ughhhhhhhhhh.” 

We’re three episodes into the season, and we’ve gotten a “Carrie watches Yevgeny walk away” shot in each one. This is now a theme!

We really hope that the blaring red “ABSOLUTELY NO CELL PHONES” sign is a callback to when Brody infamously and inexplicably snuck his cell phone into the situation room in “Beirut Is Back,” allowing him to send a “DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!” text to Nazir just in the nick of time.

IJLTP.

Here is our Reverse Prodigal Son: lost and wondering, his face bloodied, bordering on delirious. 

And here is Tasneem, her beautiful aubergine scarf blowing perfectly in the wind (sorry, Sara forgot to do Things Tasneem Wore This Week, but she thinks this aubergine scarf is beautiful), looking like a goddamn puppet master goddess, coming to save him. And by “save” we mean “control and manipulate.” Saviors really do come in all different flavors on this show. 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “40 and 13″

Overpopulation caused the governments all over the world to vote for a drastic resolution: a special virus was created that makes everyone die when they turn 40 years old. The Joker will turn 40 in five days and Y/N can't cope with the news since she'll be left behind without him.

You and The Joker just finished eating dinner in front of the TV, trying to ignore the depressing news that shows the death toll climbing each day since the virus killing everybody once they turn 40 was unleashed upon the overpopulated Earth 12 months ago.

The King of Gotham is quietly sipping on his grape juice, debating if he should tell you or not; he’s been struggling with the decision for a while and being the way he is doesn’t help the matter.

“Pumpkin,” he starts the conversation,” did I ever mention my birthday is on July 13th?”

“Hm?” you turn your head towards him, not sure you heard right; you had a huge fight this morning and barely managed to patch things up enough to tolerate each other’s presence by night fall.

“You always wanna know when my birthday is and I’m telling you now it’s on July 13th.”

He keeps on staring at the TV s, disregarding your gaze that seems to burn through him.

Why is he suddenly sharing such an intimate detail? You tried several times to get it out of him without any reaction besides that of him getting mad and emphasize it’s none of your business. Unless…

“J…” you hesitantly ask. “How old are you going to be?...”

The Joker takes another sip from the can before placing it on the coffee table and nonchalantly enunciates:

“Fourty.”

He hears you sniffle it’s not difficult to predict you’re going to burst into tears in a few seconds.

“I’m only saying this because I didn’t want to drop dead without any warning; I’m sure you would hate me forever and we can’t have that happen: I do the hating part. That’s a sacred rule.”

And there she goes, he sighs as soon as Y/N begins bawling her eyes out next to him on the couch.

“…July 13th is in…in 5 days,” you manage to utter while crawling on his knees, your arms tightly going around his neck. J doesn’t stop you and actually hugs you back even if he promised himself he won’t tolerate any kind of emotional rubbish from his girlfriend.

“Yeap, coming up,” he buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling the perfume he likes and for some reason it’s not very comforting today. “You have three more years to go so make it count, ok?”

Y/N can’t stop crying and plans to blur out a million sentences yet the disclosure is overwhelming for the heartbroken woman.

“W-why didn’t you…” and The Joker can’t understand the following word but he comprehends the meaning.”…earlier?”

“I didn’t share earlier since it would have been atrocious to watch: when you cry you get these wrinkles in the middle of your forehead. Uggghhh”, he shrugs with fake disgust. “It makes you… how should I put it nicely?… Super ugly! For 5 days though…I believe I’ll be able to endure it.”

Y/N’s faint snorting noise prompts his smile too, aware she is not fighting back the stupid remark like she would usually do and that’s fine with him.

“P-please don’t leave me,” you kiss his cheek and cuddle to his body, panicking at the thought he’ll be gone in a few days.

“I don’t have a choice, Pumpkin. Nobody does. Not anymore.  It’s inevitable and you’ll have to deal with it…”

“What am I supposed to do without you?” you bring up the painful fact bound to become reality in such a short notice it physically hurts.

“Survive,” the candid reply advises. “You’re The King’s Queen so live for both until your time will come.”

J wishes to elaborate on the topic and you cover his mouth, upset.

“You’re not a King and I’m not a Queen. We’re just a man and a woman that screwed up over and over again; still…here we are. That’s it…That’s all there is…No King and no Queen,” you shake your head in denial. “Only us…” your voice dims under the burden of grief.

Your fingers slide off his lips, revealing a stunned Joker that seems to see his girlfriend for the first time. How come he didn’t realize sooner?! She loves him. She really does.

“Only us…” J repeats in a trance, pulling Y/N into a soft kiss that somehow feels more intimate than everything else they did before.

You glide your hands down his chest, the way you grind against him making it clear you want more than a make out session.

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me for the moment?” he tests the waters although the answer is logical.

“U-hum,” you take your t-shirt off and The Joker gropes you, the typical mischievous smirk lacking from his part: he just wants you close. Despite vehemently denying the hunger for your touch, the thought gives him an unexpected sense of loneliness. When all your life you’ve been nothing more than a walking contradiction, it’s hard to battle the inner demons caging your desire to the point of no return.

That’s why J wipes your tears and doesn’t have a smart ass comment regarding the smeared mascara: he craves the distraction with such intensity it makes the rest fade.

“I have some requests,” you whisper and he stares into your eyes, kind of lost and finding himself unable to resist the tempting lips pouted one inch from his.

“Oh yeah?” the curiosity takes over.

“No fighting,” you trace the tattoo on his abs and The Joker never agreed to anything faster:

“OK.”

“I want to talk about stuff we never talk about…”

“OK.”

“I want us to make love as much as possible,” you negotiate wondering if he will fuss about the spontaneous list summarized in a hurry.

“OK,” The Clown Prince of Crime consents without arguing to your terms because the truth is he has no intention to do so today.

“And I want some sort of proof that you like me,” Y/N boldly demands since he unfortunately indicated the opposite on numerous occasions in the past.

J frowns, not mumbling the OK you are expecting. The awkward silence continues and The Joker notices how hard you’re trying to hide your disappointment when actually he’s straining to conceal his own emotions. He shouldn’t indulge the urge of making you happy before it’s too late, yet the demons in his mind are quiet now: the accidental clarity could make a person finally act against their usual judgment.

You watch him pass his fingers through his locks, confused when he brings the longer strands in the front of his face. J carefully plucks one green hair out of his head, gesturing for your left hand. You hold it up and he twists the neon colored token at the base of your pinky, explaining his action while finalizing the project with a couple of knots:

“I guess you can say you have me wrapped around your finger.”

The girlfriend’s stunned expression is certainly worth the trouble of affirming it loud; The Joker savors the outcome and you take off your bra, tossing the lacy garment behind the sofa:

“Abandon all hope Mister Joker,” Y/N’s instant evil grin changes the mood.  “You belong to me now.”

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

“I can’t sleep,” you stretch next to him on the couch.

“Me neither,” he yawns. “Even if you exhausted me,” J adds, yanking you in his arms again. You kiss his collar bone, restless at the question about to echo in the stillness:

“Are you afraid?”

The Joker has no idea on how to verbalize his inner views on the matter, but he doesn’t leave you hanging either.

“Maybe …I’m not thinking about it…”

“I am,” you squeeze in the important topic he probably didn’t even consider. “I’ll be here for you when it happens, but when I die…I will be alone...”

J feels this sharp pain in his heart that makes him realize a critical element: he didn’t have the opportunity to weigh in what dying before Y/N will mean for her.

“I’ll be here,” he pecks your forehead and you cling to him, discouraged at the obvious lie.

“Yeah, sure…”

“I promise I’ll be here, alright?”

“We are both aware how well you keep your promises,” you admonish in a way that doesn’t trigger his anger.

“I’ll keep this one, hm?” he reassures Y/N and she snickers at the impossible to fulfil vow, but appreciates his passionate response nevertheless. You nod a yes, drawing invisible circles on his skin.

“Do you want to dance on the terrace?” you suggest on a whim.

“OK,” The Joker quickly consents and gets up, grabbing the sheet from the floor. He takes your hand and guides you on the patio, unfolding the thin fabric as soon as you’re outdoors. Despite the cool breeze, it’s nice and warm in the middle of the night.  

“No music?” you tease as he wraps both naked bodies in the sheet.

“We dance to our own tune, Pumpkin,” he winks and slowly moves while tightly hugging you.

“We always did,” you play along, brushing away the horrible sentiment of regret clouding the peaceful atmosphere.

“It’s a jungle out there,” J stirs the dialogue in order to address his concerns. “This whole virus business is turning the world upside down. You saw on the news they might release the antivirus sooner than anticipated, but there are no guarantees. You have to find a way to survive no matter what.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine…”

“After I’m gone, please don’t do anything… reckless. It won’t be easy, but you can’t give up."

You know what he’s referring to and mutter:

“I won’t… I swear...”

J starts spinning faster, chuckling at your excited screams. 

“Stoooop!!!!” you beg laughing, trying not to trip and fall.

“Did you ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?” he bites your ear and you squeal, jumping out of the sheet that’s sliding to the ground since he’s not holding it anymore.

“No,” you giggle and J lifts you up in his arms, delighted to have found a small piece of heaven in the hell surrounding the gloomy future.

“Good; there’s a first time for everything,” he abruptly halts for a kiss before reprising the crazy pace while Y/N can’t remember the last time the two of them had so much fun.

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

July the 13th, 8:45am

“I couldn’t help noticing you didn’t wish me a happy birthday,” he watches you comb your hair and the reflection in the mirror depicts a tearful girlfriend that struggles with so many emotions it’s difficult to speak. “I was hoping you’ll mention it while we took a shower.”

“Happy Birthday…”

“Thanks,” The Joker simply replies and you finally put the brush down and attempt to flee the bathroom when he blocks the exit. “Are you avoiding me?”

“Ummm… I’ll make breakfast…” you sniffle and he glares at you, understanding your reaction for once.

“I was planning to have sex, but I might kick the bucket right in the middle of the activity and I believe you might take it personally although I don’t consider you boring in bed.”

“It’s not funny…” you scold and he agrees:

“It’s not because it’s not meant to be,” the harsh reality strikes a chord within Y/N. “It literally can happen at any moment and I don’t want to embarrass myself like that. Can you imagine? Rumors spread all over town that The Joker couldn’t finish.”

He detects the faint smile and sulks at your verdict:

“You’re an idiot.”

“That’s fucking rude,” he scoffs. “What if these are the last words I hear?! What if I check out precisely this second, huh?! Would you be thrilled that’s the last thing you said to me?!”

Instead of a sassy remark J gets a remorseful apology he wasn’t aiming for:

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what to do…”

“Me neither,” he sincerely underlines. “In the meantime, you should…” and pauses since he suddenly feels out breath, “you should make breakfast.”

“Are you OK?” you inquire, worried he almost lost his balance.

“I’m fine, just need my coffee to wake up,” he sighs and steps away from the doorway, heading towards the master bedroom.

“Aren’t you coming downstairs?” you catch up with him and The Joker tilts over for your support.

“I’m a bit dizzy; I’ll lie down until you finish the food. Don’t look so panicked: after I eat I’ll be better.”

You gulp and place him in bed, your pulse so enhanced it gives you the impression you’ll faint soon.

“You want some water?” you offer and he adjusts his pillows, collapsing on top of them afterwards.

“Yes,” J musters the strength to grumble, this weird sensation of total exhaustion creeping up in his brain.

You rush out of the room and bump into the bookcase, numb at the soreness. The Joker barely perceives your stomping, digging under the cushions for a small envelope he keeps in his fist for you to find in case you don’t return before he loses consciences. He wrote the note yesterday and it would be a shame to chicken out at the end and not proceed as planned.

“Here’s the water,” you barge in with the bottle and run by the bed, nervously touching his face. “How are you? Can you stand up?”

His eyes go in the back of the head and he tries to concentrate on your voice as it fades into nothingness.

“Hey, I’ll make your favorite pancakes,” you shake him, startled he won’t snap out of his apathy. “J, look at me. Come on, let’s go downstairs…Can you at least drink some water?” you start sobbing seeing he’s not receptive to your encouragements.

The Joker’s lips are moving without sound and you fall on your knees, scared to see him frantically breathing:

“I know, alright? I already know. All I ask is that you come downstairs and eat your stupid pancakes, deal?”

The Joker’s eyes are closing and he deeply exhales, releasing the small piece of paper that rolls on the floor. You don’t even pay attention to it, desperate to witness an event you aren’t prepared for.

When The Joker came into this world 40 years ago, there was nobody there to love the newborn; his own mother didn’t want him.

But when he passed away at 9:03 am on his birthday, someone that loved him was there.  

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

Three years later – your birthday, 6:07am

You turn off the TV, annoyed they continue to depict the terrible results after to the official release of the antivirus last week: it’s not working and people are still dying. What did they expect by opening Pandora’s Box? So much turmoil on the streets, protests and demonstrations…

The governments will be voting tomorrow on implementing the martial law since the public outcry makes it impossible to contain the escalating damage after the huge failure they neglected to speculate.

Y/N drags her feet on the carpet, watching the snowflakes dancing outside the windows.

“We shouldn’t postpone this any longer…” you talk to yourself, removing the precious message The Joker left behind out of the hidden drawer on top of the fireplace.

You unfold the envelope, reading the hand written note for the millionth time:

Inside you’ll find my real name.

You’re the only one I trust with this.

Destroy the evidence.

You don’t glance at the name it contains and his memory immediately makes the isolation unbearable. You flick the envelope on the burning logs, enjoying the flames consuming the last trace of who he really was.

“Done… I kept my end of the bargain; where’s yours?” you lecture The Joker’s framed picture decorating the dinner table. “Liar…” Y/N pats her hands together, feeling cold even if the fire is very warm. The ticklish sensation in your fingers intensifies, making you shiver. You stare at your knuckles, no other jewelry besides the strand of green hair still wrapped around your pinky; it’s infinitely more valuable than any present J ever gifted you.

A gush of wind makes the curtains fly inward since the sliding glass doors leading to the terrace are wide opened. The sky is still dark, matching the general mood hoovering over Gotham these days.

You decide to take a stroll on the patio, this way you might be able to clear your mind from the impending doom you can’t escape. The snow squeaks under Y/N’s socks and the chill gets her out of trance since evidently she didn’t bring a jacket either. Another step and you stumble, finding it difficult to regain your equilibrium.

“Shit…” you choke on the strong air filling up your lungs.

Why is it so difficult to walk?

You take a seat on the nearest chair by the pool, not bothering cleaning up the snow; for some reason a break is more than welcomed at this point. You’re growing restless and try to disregard the anxiety building up in your chest: are you dying? Or is merely stress after living with this burden for so long?

Maybe if you shut your eyes and rest for a sec, you won’t be this tired. Yet the moon is shining so brightly it’s impossible to ignore; last time it was this beautiful you danced with the devil on an that unforgettable summer night. Seems like ages ago for the worn out Y/N.  

What if you take a nap? Only five minutes. That should be helpful and then you can resume your morning routine because you refuse to accept this could be the end already. Your eyelids close, not realizing you don’t feel the cold anymore; it’s nice and comforting, just like the touch of someone you love.

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

You wiggle in the chair and rub your eyes, refreshed after the well-deserved snooze: hopefully you didn’t waste too much time from your last day on earth. Your gaze wanders off around the terrace and you suddenly freeze: there’s someone leaning over the railing, watching the city from the 30th floor.

You rise from your spot and hesitantly walk towards the person, gasping when you notice the familiar fur coat.

“There she is,” The Joker turns around to greet you, smirking when you cover your mouth in disbelief. “Told you I’ll be here.”

You can’t make a single sound and he opens his arms, waiting for you to run to him.

“You didn’t miss me?” he laughs at your baffled reaction, bundling the coat around Y/N as soon as she finds herself in his embrace.

“I did miss you; I missed you so much,” you inhale his scent and the smell of your favorite cologne confirms he’s truly there. You hug him so tight he would normally complain, but there’s no bickering coming out of The Joker. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you smile and he kisses your lips, whispering:

“You have me wrapped around your finger. Where else am I supposed to be?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[babemazzello]

‘39 - A John Deacon FanFiction

Chapter 2 - The First Night

Story Description: Amy is sitting in his apartment when she hears some frantic knocking outside her door. She opens it to see a frightened and frazzled John Deacon. A 23-year-old John Deacon. Who believes it’s still 1974, and not 2019. Amy takes it upon herself to help John and get him back to where he belongs.  Part 1 is here.

Chapter Description: Amy and John get to know each other a little bit more and Amy begins to explain some technology to John.

Warnings: None

Words: 2.7k

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John and I had talked a little more, just getting to know the basics about each other while I walked around the apartment. Trying to find things for his bedding set-up. I figured out he liked to read and listen to music, things that I thought he already liked. I told him that I also enjoyed listening to music, but I didn't get into any specifics. I thought it would be too dangerous to start listing bands. But, I couldn't tell which was worse. Listing bands he knew or ones he had never heard of before. As the conversation continued, he asked me what I did for a living.

"I'm a photographer," I said.

"A photographer?" He asked, surprised. Raising his eyebrows at me. "I like photography too." I smiled at him. Remembering the photos I had seen of him taking pictures with his camera around his neck.

"It's a fun hobby, isn't it?" I asked. He smiled at me. That eye-crinkling smile that he's known for. That lit up any room he was in. I couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Yes, it is," he replied.

We talked for a while longer. He told me about the band he was in. About his friends Brian, Roger, and Freddie. And how he had just gotten his degree in electrical engineering. I listened intently to every word. As if a museum exhibit had come to life. I couldn't believe what was happening in front of me. A little while later, I actually found some pillows and blankets for him to use.

I dropped the folded blankets and pillows onto the open spot on the couch next to John. I had found him a book he enjoyed and he was reading that. Thankfully, one of the few books of old poetry I owned, John enjoyed. I figured it wouldn't do either of us any good for him to watch TV. Not only would he not understand most of it, but I was worried about what he would see. Maybe commercials for the news or some references to Queen or other music.

I let out a sigh as I looked around the room, making sure that there wasn't anything that could clue him in to his future. I could tell he still wasn't completely believing me and this future stuff. I wouldn't believe it myself if it happened to me. And if he did see how big Queen has gotten, he wouldn't have believed it even more. I just needed to talk to someone.

"I'm going to make a call," I said, making my way into the kitchen to separate myself from him so he wouldn't hear me talk. John looked around the room, taking his eyes off his book for the first time in a while.

"Where's your phone?" he asked. I nervously chuckled and rubbed my neck.

"I'll explain that later," I replied. I disappeared into the kitchen. Grabbing my phone and dialing my friend. She picked up pretty quickly.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Dana?" I replied.

"Yeah? What's up?" She asked, extremely calm. She had no idea what was going on here.

"Um," I realized how crazy I was about to sound. "I'm dealing with a bit of a crisis right now," I said, as calmly as possible.

"What's wrong? What can I do?" She rushed out.

"Oh, no. I'm okay. It's nothing that dire. I just..." I sighed. "You're not going to believe me if I told you." There was a small silence on her end.

"Try me," she smirked.

"Okay. Just don't say I didn't warn you." I said. I took in a deep breath. "A 23-year-old John Deacon is in my living room right now. He thinks it's 1974 and I don't know what to do." I explained. I couldn't hear anything on the other line. "Dana?" I asked.

"Ok, I don't believe you," she finally confessed.

"I told you," I sighed. I began pacing around the room. Peeking into the living room to see John continuing to read his book.

"I want to believe you, but I don't," she continued.

"Fine. Come over tomorrow. He should still be here then. And you can see for yourself." I said. I just needed someone to confide in while all of this was happening. Someone to talk to who also believed that this was happening. Just someone to confirm that this wasn't some weird dream that seemed very real.

"Alright. I'll come over then," she said. I said my goodbyes to her before walking back out into the living room and sitting on a chair perpendicular to the couch John was sitting on. I just stared at him. Not sure what to think.

I had been a Queen fan my entire life. They weren't as big in America as they were in England, but they were still treasured. You couldn't go that long without hearing one of their songs in a commercial or a movie nowadays. Plus, with the Bohemian Rhapsody movie, everyone's attention to Queen is especially heightened. It just happened to be the worst moment in time to try and shield him from his own legacy.

Plus, I had always had a huge crush on John. Sure, he was quiet and shy, but there was something electric and magnetizing about him. Something that drew me to him. Plus, his songwriting abilities were close to genius status. But, I had to keep reminding myself that the man sitting in front of me hadn't experienced any of that success yet. He had only experienced a sliver of that fame in England.

1974 meant that they only had two albums out and they weren't that big of a deal in America yet. They wouldn't get that status for another year. I was looking at a man with so much potential to be a rock god and he was just sitting quietly, reading a poetry book in front of me. I knew his entire future. His loves and losses. His success and failures. His fights and best times with his friends. I knew it all. But, I couldn't tell him any of it.

I was enough of a sci-fi nerd to understand the very basics of time travel. And I was trying to wrap my head around how he got here. He couldn't remember much, so that wasn't helping me. There had to be something that explained how he got here.

"John..." I started, trying to draw his attention away from his book. He looked at me over the top of it.

"You can call me Deacy if you want," he said. I smiled at him.

"Ok, Deacy," I said, testing the waters. "You still haven't remembered anything, have you?" I wanted to make sure. He shook his head.

"No, nothing," he confirmed. "But, thank you for this book. It's very nice." I smiled and nodded at him. Leaning back in my chair some more. I looked across the room at my record player. Sitting there with rows of records on shelves next to it. I just stared at the rows. Mentally making note of all the music I had.

My eyes hit a Queen record and I raised my eyebrows. It was Queen I. I loved that record, but I didn't want to leave it out for him to see. He knew about that record. So, if he saw it in my apartment in America, he would begin to wonder and think and possibly ask questions. Thankfully, the record was too obvious for him to accidentally see it.

"Amy," John said. I turned my gaze back to him. Sighing a little as my name fell from his lips. And mentally kicking myself, repeating that he's here for help, not for you.

"Yes?" I answered.

"I..." He struggled with what he was going to say. "I'm afraid I'm so confused I don't know what to ask." He said. "I'm starting to believe that I'm not in 1974 anymore. I think that if I was really still back there, someone would have come to get me by now." I thought about it. He had first thought this was a prank. It explained why he wasn't questioning everything around him that much and being so calm. "I'm just confused, I think." He mumbled.

"About what? I can do my best to explain things to you, but I don't want to reveal too much. Just in case, when you get back, you'll remember everything I tell you." He bit his lip and nodded at my words. Taking a survey of the room around us.

"Where's your phone?" he repeated his question from earlier. I smiled, flopping my head down to look at my lap.

"You couldn't have started with a harder question," I replied with a small laugh. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Placing it on the coffee table in front of us. I gestured toward it with open hands. "There it is," I said. The most puzzled look came across John's face. I quickly snatched the phone back up in my hands and placed it in my lap. "How about I explain something a little less confusing. Um..." I pointed up at the TV. "That's a TV. They are a lot thinner in the future. Technology is much better now. And the picture is much clearer."

"Huh," he said. Still trying to process the information I was giving him.

"Look, I'll show you." I grabbed the remote to my TV, turning it on to show the screensaver that was inevitably covering it. Pictures of landscapes. Mountains, oceans, lakes, forests, and deserts all flashed across the screen. All extremely high definition pictures, slowly moving across the screen. "See?" I said. "Look at how beautiful that is." I turned back to look at John. His mouth was open slightly as he stared at the images on the screen.

"How...How is that possible?" he asked.

"Technology," I replied. "The technology now is so advanced that images like this are very easy to make. I'll get back to that when we get back to this," I said as I held up my phone.

"I thought you told me that was a phone," he puzzled.

"It is," I replied with a smirk. I put the phone back down and turned toward him. "Do you know what a computer is?" I asked.

"Vaguely," he replied. "Aren't they used to calculate plane and rocket equations?" I wasn't surprised that this was his answer. At that time, computers were mainly used by governments and scientists to help compute calculations faster than normal. They didn't become widely available to the public until the late 70s.

"They used to be," I responded. "In your lifetime, they go from being these huge machines that take up the size of this entire apartment, to the size of the TV you have in your house, to almost paper thin devices in everyone's homes," I tried to explain. "Now, computers can answer any question you want to ask it. It's like the entirety of every encyclopedia at your fingertips."

"Any question?" he asked.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Like if you knew the name of this poem right here," I pointed down to the poem on the page he was reading. Moving closer to him to do so. Almost nudging my knees against his. "But, you couldn't remember who wrote it, you just type in the name of the poem and the word 'author' and you'll get your answer." I was so happy to be explaining all of this to him. It was exciting. "You can go the other way too. Like if you liked this author and wanted to know what other poems they had done, you just type in their name and 'poems' and you'll get them. It's amazing," I finished. I looked over at him. Mesmerizingly looking down at the book in his lap. Lost in his thoughts. "Is that too much? I can stop if you want." I said in a soft voice.

"No..." he whispered. "No, I want to know more. It's just...a lot to take in. I'm really in the future," The last part of his sentence was more to himself, but I still responded.

"Yes, you are," he gave me a small smile in return. I continued to explain computers to him. Trying my best to explain them in terms he would understand. Then, I got back to my phone. "So, this," I said as I held my phone up. "Is not only a phone, but also a computer, a calculator, a watch, a flashlight, and a camera. This is everything," I explained slowly so he would understand all of it. "I can take professional photos just by clicking a button on this thing. Photos with more quality than possibly the best camera in 1974. Plus, I can call anyone in the world and also look up anything I want. Any question can be answered on this thing." He nodded along, but I could tell that it was getting a bit much for him. It was pitch black outside now. I had been talking for a while and I thought it was a good time to finish up. "I think we're done for today," I said, standing up from my chair. "If you have any more questions, I'll answer them tomorrow, but I think that's enough future talk for one day."

I walked into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and filling it with some water. I just needed a drink. My throat was so dry from talking for that long. I heard John's book close in the other room and footsteps start to come toward me.

"Amy?" he said as he peeked his head into the kitchen. I set my glass of water down and smiled at him.

"Yes?" I replied sweetly.

"Thank you for helping me. I know this is a very strange situation, but I don't know what I would have done if you didn't answer the door." He gave me another small smile.

"I'm glad to help," I replied. He nodded before disappearing back into the living room. I spent the rest of the night researching everything I could about time travel. I locked myself away in my room while John continued to read so that he wouldn't be inquisitive about what I was doing. I didn't get much in the way of results. Just a bunch of time travel explanations from TV shows which I knew already. It filled in some missing bits in my memory, but it didn't give me any new information. Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door. "Come in," I said. Sitting up against my headboard and putting my phone down on the bed next to me. John slowly opened the door and entered my room.

"Hi, I was going to turn in, but I realized that these jeans aren't the most comfortable thing in the world to sleep in. Do you have something I can borrow?" He was being extremely shy. Wringing his hands together and not making eye contact with me as he spoke. He barely knew me and was asking to borrow something to sleep in. I understood his anxieties.

"Yeah, sure," I said, smiling and jumping into action. I practically skipped over to my dresser, pulling out some sleeping pants and a t-shirt. "These don't fit me anymore, but they might fit you perfectly," I said. He was taller than me, but he was skinnier. These pieces of clothing were always a bit long and too tight, so they should be perfect for him.

"Thanks," he said, holding the pieces up to look at before turning to leave.

"Oh and Deacy?" I said, getting him to turn back around. He raised his eyebrows at me. "Don't ever feel weird about asking me for anything. Ever. I'm willing to do whatever to make you feel comfortable." I smiled at him. He returned the smile. "And tomorrow, we'll go get you some clothes. Can't have you running around in the same outfit for however long you're here." He let out a small puff of air and a smile at my statement.

"Okay," he replied. "Good night."

"Good night," I repeated and he left my room, closing the door behind him.

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Taglist: @itsametaphorbriansblog @imgonnabeyourslave @deakyspuff

(I’m also tagging people who showed interest in the first part. I won’t do this everytime, I promise. But, if you want to be permanently tagging this story, just tell me.) @sunshine112 @little-weirdo-13 @awessomness @queenismylifenow @niyanadeaxon @captain--americanna @im-a-mazzellhoe @lets-go-panic-at-discos @layleigh123 @ksarah2120 @frhlyscmt @destielwinchestah @awkwardangelshezza @briarrose26 @thedeacywaltz @in-the-frap-of-the-gods @dear-joemazzello @tenderlyscreechingfan @galileo6960 @shy-deacy @live--aloud @jedi-dreea

Masterlist

[ikesennw]

Here is another entry for the Ikesen Network’s very first Collab Event, where 2 creators worked together this month to create something. The theme is “Winter/Holiday”.

Time Spent Together

Writer: @aejumi || Artist: @tomeyooo

“Let’s spend some time together tomorrow.” her calm voice said as she rested her head on his shoulder and gazed up the starlit night.

“Let’s do that.” Nobunaga replied back, cuddling closer to her under the protection of their warm blanket.

In the quiet night before Christmas they promised to spend more time with each other. It had become their little tradition over the years. In his time period the next day didn’t hold any special meaning, that is, until she made that day special for him.

“Christmas, was it?” he recalled when she first told him about this foreign holiday.

She looked up at him with eyes full of life, “Yes! You still remember the name.” A teasing smile played on her lips that followed with her soft giggles, “I suddenly remember how you had trouble pronouncing it at first. It was very cute.”

“There’s a first for everything, as you yourself told me.” He gently tucked some stray of hair behind her ear to have a better look at his love. Suddenly smirking, he stole a kiss to erase that smug smile, “And look at you, how bold you’ve become to call me cute of all the things so openly.”

“There’s nothing in the world that will change my mind about you being cute,” With the sweet grin still lingering on her lips she leaned closer and placed a kiss at the corner of his lips, “but being cute isn’t all that is to you, is it?”

Both of them felt playful, but didn’t make any immediate moves in this still night. At last, as it grew darker and colder they decided to go inside and lay on the futon to further warm themselves. Little did they know their night hadn’t ended yet.

-

Finally the d-day was here. If it were her present time the Christmas songs would be playing in every mall, the streets would be decorated with lights, people would either do last minute shopping or spend some time with their beloveds. Here the atmosphere was nowhere near that. The sky was filled with clouds and she could only hope for a white Christmas. She had gotten used to her current time life though and the most important thing for her was the shared time together with the people she cared most about. The fact that she could share her experiences and memories with Nobunaga was great, but that she created new memories together with him was even more special and important to her.

In the early morning she decided to step out to the market to do a few errands so that her evening would be free. While she stood near a stall to look at some fabrics, she noticed a small figure fidgeting around anxiously. The child was in front of a stall selling a few kinds of fruits. The little boy picked up a fruit when the owner was immensely busy with another customer. Just as he was about to take away the fruit with him, his eyes met with the chatelaine herself. The fruit fell from his hand and he ran away.

The stall owner noticed the activity and grumpily muttered, “Seriously, street kids during winter become a real pain in the ass.” He shifted his attention to the chatelaine, the lady he recognises always coming to buy fabrics, “Apologies, my lady. It would be better to ignore that sight, as youngsters stealing during this season is just increasing,” he showed a business like smile, “Would you like to buy some tasty fruits? As an apology for a lady of your status to witness that near my stall, I’d especially like to give you some delicious kinkans. They’re good to eat during winter too, my lady.”

She wasn’t used to be treated as a lady of high status a lot. It happened sometimes when people knew her relationship with the Oda Nobunaga, but otherwise in her daily life she was treated as an equal. And that’s what she preferred as well. Getting her mind back to where she was, she bought some fruits from the owner. The stall owner thanked her and earnestly told her to buy more the next time.

She started to walk where she had seen the boy run and turn. When they had accidentally locked eyes she saw many emotions play across that little kids face, and now she couldn’t feel at peace until she saw if he was fine this cold Christmas Day. She wasn’t sure if she would find the boy still around the area, but her heart still hoped to look for him.

Luckily, the boy didn’t go too far away. He was crouched down at the side of the road some few meters away from a tea shop. He was warming up his hands and blowing on them. A few passerby’s just walked past him. One person, however, stopped and crouched down in front of the kid. That figure handed a warm cup of tea and the kid after much consideration took it. The person wrapped a shawl around the kids shoulder with a look that said, there isn’t much more he can do.

The chatelaine widened her eyes. There wasn’t a mistake - that  remorseful look couldn’t have belonged to anyone but Kennyo. They hadn’t met each other in a long time. Still, it made her happy to see him. She approached them both in good spirits. She crouched near them as well. Both of those whom she approached looked at her with shock because of another being joining them. Kennyo’s surprise came from seeing an old familiar face.

She smiled and addressed Kennyo first, ‘‘Long time no see, Kennyo.’’ Then turned to the young boy, ‘‘Hey, if you remember we actually saw each other a couple minutes ago.’’

The little kid showed no intention of answering back and held onto his warm cup of tea tighter as he tried to hide himself. Kennyo eyed their interaction and was about to intervene, but he noticed the young lady before himself smile more kinder. She took out something from her bag and held it in front of the child and spoke, ‘‘Have some kinkans. They’re tasty and good to eat in winter.’’ She encouraged him to take a few and showed patience. She even ate one and made an expression showing ‘Mm! How delicious they taste’. A smile naturally formed on Kennyo’s face as he observed the interaction. Next the chateline even offered some kinkans to him and as soon as Kennyo accepted the offer, the little boy took a few too and ate them. His expression lit up and he continued to eat more. Azuchi’s lady chatelaine offered her whole fruit bag to the kid and kindly told him to take more and any other fruits if he wants. The little boy wasn't as timid anymore and took the bag to search through it.

The two adults stood and started talking to each other. Kennyo fixed his robes to shield himself from the cold and spoke as he looked at her again, ‘‘It’s been a long time indeed, young lady.’’ Curiously he asked right away, ‘‘Do you know this young child?’’

‘‘Actually, no, I just saw him, um, wanting to eat some fruits. Though he ran as soon as he saw me looking.’’ Kennyo nodded as he understood the meaning of what she was trying to say, and she continued, ‘‘But Kennyo, is this kid someone maybe you know?’’

Kennyo shook his head denying. He looked at the boy, busy eating and drinking. “He’s an unfortunate soul I happened to run into. Why I’m saying he’s unfortunate is because he told me he got kicked out from the household he served. Usually household owners aren’t that cold hearted to kick out kids during this cold, but it happens, and I’ve encountered children in his situation before.”

“It happens… right..” Some kind of realisation settled in her and she eyed the boy pitifully. He seemed to be roughly 11 years old, thin and with thin enough clothes on this cold day as well.

The boy got up, handed the empty bag to her, bowed down to both of them in a form of thanks and started to walk away. MC was quick to stop him and ask him where he’s going. The boy just shrugged, as it was something that had to be dealt with by him, and told he’ll just wander around until he finds shelter.

After a short inner monologue she thought about offering him a place to stay, at least for tonight. She got down to the kids eye level and asked for his name. At first he looked back and forth between Kennyo and her, but told them soon enough that he was called Haru. After the chatelaine briefly introduced herself she formulated her next words carefully, not wanting to scare him, “How would you like to accompany me home? You can stay the night?”

Haru frowned dubiously and shook his head, “I don’t know. I’m not planning to work at a new house just yet…”

Raising her eyebrows she denied that quickly, “I’m not asking you to work there! It’s so cold outside and well, today is a day I consider no one should feel cold. Or at least not you now that I’ve met you.”

Deep in thought Haru then pointed at Kennyo, “Then I want this man to come with us.” He grabbed Kennyo’s ropes in order to not lose him.

MC beamed up at the suggestion, clasped her hands and exclaimed, “What a wonderful idea!”

Kennyo stood agape, not knowing what to say all of a sudden. Though soon enough regained his senses, moved away the child’s hand clutching his robes and spoke with determination, “I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

MC knew what he might be referring too. But it’s been quite a long time since their conflicts and there was peace… she hoped?

Haru pouted and the chatelaine invited Kennyo herself, politely though insistently, “Please, Kennyo. We should have tea and catch up. Haru will only come if you come as well.”

Just as Kennyo was immersed in thoughts about how to deny the little lady without hurting and being rude, Haru took hold of his staff and ran with it. Both MC and Kennyo gasped, and Kennyo turned to get it back, “Boy, give it back. It’s not a plaything.”

“No! I’ll only give it back if you come with us.”

“Haru,” MC got near him, “it actually is a dangerous staff. Give it back, please.”

“No.” was the kids only reply.

Kennyo sighed and started walking towards them, but Haru started walking further away again. This time MC got an idea. She stopped Kennyo in his tracks and then whispered a plan to Haru. Not few minutes later, Haru was holding her left hand and she had the staff in her right hand. She turned back to Kennyo with a smile and Kennyo let out a sigh of relief. But then he noticed the mischief in their eyes. They ran. They ran with his staff towards the castle. He stood there dumbfounded, and Haru turned back quickly to shout at him to come get them. Kennyo heard their giggles and saw a familiar look he came to love on “Lady Oda”, as some people have started to call the Devil King’s lover. Though, the smile on her face was still the same one if the young lady he come to knew over the time and that smile helped clear him all his troublesome thoughts. So, even if he’s going to the devils nest, he feels like why not, if it’s the heavens angel herself inviting him.

He signed again, a troubled sigh and started following them, this time with a genuine smile even he didn’t know that had blossomed.

-

After much discretion the castles chatelin got Kennyo and Haru to her room. She had given Haru some pair of warm clothes and offered snacks to both him and Kennyo. Haru had warmed up to both of them and looked happy most of the time.

In the Christmas spirits the chatelain got another idea. She told them to rest in the room and that she’ll be soon back. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna bring something warm to drink back. I promise, you both will love it!” she said.

Thus, she went out and got to the kitchen. Lucky for her, the castle staff didn’t work at this part of the area late in the evening.

She was thrilled to make this simple “secret recipe” that she hadn’t even made Nobunaga taste yet. Mostly because she never had the ingredients or at least not at the same time. This year though Nobunaga had provided her with extra supplies and she had long planned to share it with him. Little change of plans happened now by inviting 2 more people, but, oh well, the more the merrier.

Just as she was done in the kitchen, she heard some loud voices. Oh no… she really hopes that’s not Hideyoshi. He would be furious to have an ex-active hater of his dear Lord here. She hurried to her room. When she got to the scene of the crime she remembers a scene from a tv show she watched long time ago in the future. The situation before her eyes would look almost like that scene: her coming back with beverages, but then seeing everything is in chaos and fire. Ok, maybe not that dramatic, she thought, but the scene before her was a little out of how she had imagined.

Nobunaga was seated at one side and was dragging at one arm of bearsace while Haru held most of Bearsace’s body and tried to keep it at his side. All while that, Kennyo had just lowered his eyes and was shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Nobunaga!” She yelled in surprise and quite disbelief. If anything she thought, Nobunaga and Kennyo would be sparring, not this…

Heads turned and they froze while none of them let go of the bear. But Nobunaga regained his posture and questioned, “What is this amusing surprise? I was expecting to see you, but instead I saw,” he threw a glance toward Haru and then back again to the host of this evening, “this kid holding Bearsace hostage.”

Haru pulled at the bear, “I am not! It’s soft and I’m just borrowing it for now.”

“You’re saying borrow now,” Nobunaga didn’t let go of bearsakes arm, instead pulled on it more, “but will wanna own later.”

Kennyo joined in disapprovingly, “Tsk tsk, to think the devil king is fighting a child over this strange looking….-.”

“Bear. It’s a cute bear.” MC interrupted. Then went over to Nobunaga and demanded him to let go of the stuffed animal, “Nobunaga. No.” She got closer to him, enough so that others couldn’t hear, “If you don’t stop this right now, I won’t talk to you, for a week- No, more than a week. But most importantly, it’s Christmas so sharing is caring, remember?”

She knew how possessive he got over his possessions. Especially special ones like bearsace, because of its uniqueness and meaning that it has for the both them. But, over the time they’ve spent together, she now knows how much Nobunaga despises silent treatments. So, this threat should do its wonders.

And it did. Nobunaga admitted his defeat and Haru then cuddled Bearsace. Kennyo looked in awe. ‘‘I guess even the devil can change because of love.’’ He threw out the comment.

After much explaining about how everyone got here, Nobunaga was more amused than surprised.

‘‘Tell me, love,’’ Nobunaga took hold of her hand and she blushed slightly at the smooth motion, ‘‘What’s this surprise were waiting for?’’

She gasped as she forgot about that and stood up to go bring the drinks, this time four cups. Haru stood up as well to follow along with her and help her. Although she was worried about Kennyo and Nobunaga being together, she also thought some minutes together would benefit everyone. Just as soon they both were together in the room they started to talk about the country, a bit politics and so. Mostly it was Nobunaga showing interest but Kennyo did reply to all of his questions.

Kennyo asked one question too at last, but it was rather personal, ‘‘Is today a special day for you both?’’

Nobunaga smiled to himself and as he looked at Kennyo he nodded.

At that moment Haru burst in the room, ‘‘This is so delicious! It’s c-c-ho something m-’’

‘‘Chocolate milk.’’ MC helped him remember the name as she set down the tray with the rest of the cups. ‘‘It’s chocolate milk, here please give it a try. It’s warm so be careful.’’ She handed both of the men their cups and watched their reactions. Kennyo’s eyes lit up and Nobunaga sighed in delight. And soon flooded the questions on how and what, and compliments.

Food and sweets were placed no later and just as that more conversations kept flowing through the evening. The evening wasn’t planned with the two new people but it still warmed the chatelains heart to share christmas, and generally a good time, with others she came to care about.

Haru had fallen asleep after the food and the lively atmosphere. Kennyo had thanked for the evening despite practically being dragged here, but still he left with a warm feeling. All left was to spend some time her most loved one, Nobunaga.

As she was seated beside Haru, giving him a blanket and stroking his hair, Nobunaga came to sit close to her. She had a thoughtful look on her face as she gazed at Haru, so Nobunaga put his arm around her shoulder and encouraged to lean herself on him. ‘‘What is it, I wonder, occupying your mind?’’ asked Nobunaga.

She stopped the stroking motion as she escaped her thoughts and looked up at Nobunaga. He had a kind expression and a peaceful one. One that said the day went better than imagined and it ended even better, which is together with each other. She shifted herself to cuddle him better and spoke, ‘‘Just thinking. About Haru and his life. About how i met him and Kennyo today. And this evening.’’

She suddenly smiled, but Nobunaga could sense some sadness in her voice, ‘‘Haru told us about how the house he works at kicked him out. Just this child working is something hard for me to digest, but the fact that they kicked out him on this cold is inhumane.’’

Nobunaga took hold of one of her hands and gently stroked his thumb in soothing motions over her fingers. There wasn’t much to say besides agree with her. Saying the times are different, or that’s just how it is here is useless because Nobunaga feels what she feels too. He knows from personal experience that just to survive in this world one has to start from a very young age.

MC continued, ‘‘I’d like to do something. For Haru more immediately, but for children like Haru from this town I’d like to open a shelter of sorts. I’m not sure yet about if it’s gonna be a long term thing or...’’ She turned to look Nobunaga straight in the eyes, ‘‘But I want to do something as long as I have the ability to.’’ Her expression changed just as fast again, which was another one of the things Nobunaga loves about her, she got back to hugging him again and asked, ‘‘I know you may think it sounds cheesy but I don’t care. What would you think about going out every Christmas and sharing the joy and love? To share food and clothes, and warmth to those who might need it?’’

His brilliant fierce fireball, he thought as he affectionately gazed down at her. There was no way such a kind idea that warmed his heart would not please him. ‘‘Wonderful.’’ was the only thing he said before he stole her lips in a soft kiss. They both gazed affectionately at each other and longed for the many new memories and Christmases spent together ahead.

[gas-stxtion-a]

continued from here: [x]

@sunnysidedeviledorscrambled:

"Oh, sorry, I'll be more careful," Marshmallow says, realizing how threatening he might come off without context. It's just been forever since he saw or talked to a living person. Hell, he had no frame of reference anymore to really tell if that was what Jack was. But he supposed he'd figure it out sooner or later, and it was worth taking the opportunity if it meant possibly getting this noose off, finally.

"Definitely! Guess I've seen spookier places though," he says, thinking The Host could make any place look scary when he really put forth the effort. So long as there weren't any ghosts or fog, this clear, breath-refreshing night was definitely better than that, no doubt. He gives Jack a reassuring smile, wishing he could explain, but knowing there was no explanation he could give that wouldn't scare Jack or cause him to not want to help. He couldn't risk that, so.

Marshmallow peers curiously inside, hoping Jack wasn't taking this shift alone as that seemed dangerous though, at the same time, not really wanting to meet someone else and have to worry about them possibly being a ghost as well.

He eyes Jack curiously, finding himself wanting to know more about him, like why he was taking this shift and what happened to give him that injury but, he feels it would be weird to ask now and keeps quiet instead.

He lets out a breath of relief upon entering, finding the place wonderfully reassuring and...well, human. The Host might just be making it this way to try to trick him but, so far, nothing he made was ever this bright or normal looking, always having strange, unnatural twists and turns. Considering he didn't recognize this place, it just made him all that more confident he had truly escaped. Still, he wasn't going to hold his breath, not yet anyway...he wonders how long it'll take for him to be assured this was reality and, for that matter, where he'll go after this.

He decides to consider this later, taking it one step at a time and focusing at his most current issue, the noose. He listens intently to Jack's directions, nodding along and giving him a thumbs up. "Sure, I can do that. Wouldn't want to get in the way back here or get you in trouble," he says, hardly wanting to cause trouble to someone that was being so nice to him despite Jack's clear hesitations.

He jumps a little at the sudden appearance of someone else, narrowing their eyes and looking between the person and Jack to see if Jack can see him too. However, when he addresses Jack personally, he supposes that answers his question.

He stands there awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt and trying to act natural. He wonders if it'd be strange to pull up his hood now to try to disguise some of his...unique features. Yet, he doesn't want to make Jack suspicious of him either, or accidentally come off as creepy, so he ends up frozen, trying to make a choice, and, before he knows it, Jerry notices him.

Marshmallow gives an awkward wave and smile, red eyes looking quite bright in this light, and thinking he must look like a tricker-treater or something in his black robes.

"N-no. Your coworker Jack is actually helping me get rid of this," Marshmallow says, motioning to the noose reluctantly, "But um, thanks for asking. I'm Marsh, it's nice to meet you." He anxiously awaits Jerry's reaction to his...oddities.

Jack nods and smiles a little at Marsh’s apology, and he lets the subject drop after that. It’s a little embarrassing for Jack to admit how easily even the lightest of touches can set him off, so he’s grateful that Marsh is so willing to accommodate him without asking too many questions. It’s not something he’s used to from anyone except perhaps those closest to him, so it means a lot.

The other’s mention of seeing spookier places makes him snort, and he nods in understanding. “Yeah, I definitely get that,” he hums, though he doesn’t elaborate more than that as the two make their way inside. Part of him is admittedly very curious of what kind of situation Marsh has found himself in. While the other’s appearance isn’t exactly strange by gas station standards, he is still unusual.

However, the rest of Jack knows it’s not really his business. Unless Marsh volunteers that information, Jack isn’t going to ask. For now, he’s just gonna focus on helping the poor guy get that noose off, because that really can’t be comfortable. Once that’s settled, they can worry about whatever else might come up. So, once Marsh agrees to wait while Jack gets the box cutter, he shoots the other a slightly strained smile.

“No worries, man, you wouldn’t get me in trouble,” he assures Marsh. “My coworker Jerry and I are the only ones here. I just figure you probably don’t want to be hanging awkwardly around the closet while I find the box cutter.”

Jerry’s sudden appearance isn’t startling to Jack, nowhere near as much as it is to Marsh. Jack stares at his coworker for a moment, blinking as he processes what was just said to him.

“... Why did you take it apart again?” he asks.

“Well,” Jerry says, “it was making weird noises. I wanna make sure one of the gnomes didn’t do something to it or something like that.” The explanation clearly makes perfect sense to Jerry, but Jack is suddenly painfully aware of how weird that explanation is going to sound to Marsh.

Before he can step in to offer Marsh a more normal explanation for Jerry’s choice to suddenly dismantle the coffee machine, though, Jerry has noticed the newcomer.

Jerry, predictably, isn’t at all surprised by anything he notices about Marsh. The pale skin, light hair, bright red eyes, strange attire, and the noose... none of it fazes him. After he gives Marsh a once-over, he quickly accepts the other’s oddities.

“Yeah,” Jack confirms once Marsh speaks. “I’m just gonna check in the closet real quick and see I can find our box cutter. I figured he could wait out here in the meantime.”

“Oh,” Jerry says, “well that’s fine!” A grin spreads across his face. “Nice to meet ya’, Marsh! I’m Jerry.” The introduction is, perhaps, undercut slightly by the fact that Jerry is wearing his yellow MY NAME IS JERRY t-shirt tonight, but Jack decides not to call him on that.

“Jerry’s safe,” he tells Marsh instead. “Um, well, he’s kinda weird sometimes, but he’s not dangerous or anything. If you want, you can hang out with him while you wait.”

“Hell yeah!” Jerry agrees enthusiastically. “You know anything about coffee machines, dude? Because I’d love a second pair of eyes if you’re up for it.”