#I’m so embarrassing someone should hit me in the head with a heel

[tariah23]

Ppl can like and ship what they want but i feel like my brain is melting whenever I see sasuke paired up with anyone who isn’t Naruto, especially if it’s like gaara lmfao.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Spinoff: Elysian II

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: heheheheheee

Masterlist, Part II of __

Kim Seokjin blinked owlishly as you run past him in a hurry with your white coat hanging on your arm and the sound of your heels hitting the floor before completely skidding to a stop. It was already late in the evening and you still had energy to run in the hospital lobby. Seokjin was starting to wonder what you were fed as a child to be this vibrant. Additionally, though, he was now starting to think what he fed Jungkook as a child for him to be as energetic as you.

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I run again?” you asked with a teasing smile on your face, your breaths huffing. You saw the most handsome man walked confidently across the lobby, his hand clutching his briefcase and you knew he was done for the day. That was the moment you ran from the second floor to the ground floor just to annoy your crush. You were too busy today with your patients and papers that you had no time to go to his office and bat your eyelashes at him.

It was entertaining to watch his cheeks and ears reddened whenever he saw you doing that, or whenever you verbally appreciated his beauty. You thought he was embarrassed for you and you found it immensely charming. In fact, flirting with him was the highlight of your day and you always made sure to see him on a daily basis which you noted was difficult.

Sometimes, Kim Seokjin was nowhere to be found for days. You wondered where he went whenever he disappeared. On days after he was gone, he seemed to be more tolerant of your teasing quips. On days after he returned, you could have sworn he looked at you a little bit fondly for a second and then it was gone.

“This is not the first time I saw you, Doctor Y/N,” he replied calmly, his hand in his pocket as he rested his eyes on yours.

“Yes, but I’m running out of pickup lines to use. I still need conduct further research,” you tilted your head to the side as you looked up at the tall man. “When are you even going to ask me out, Doctor Kim?”

“W-what?”

“I mean, you better hurry up or else someone might snatch me up. My mother did say that I’m the most beautiful girl in the world and I am known for being a good girl and believing every word my mother said.”

His brows furrowed at the thought of someone snatching you away from his grasp. But, you weren’t his, right? He had no hold over you, right? So why did that leave a sour taste on his mouth? Why then did he fist his hands so tight he almost felt pain knowing that he had long couldn’t?

You had no idea of the darkness that was clouding his mind and instead, you smiled sweetly at him before waving him goodbye, satisfied that you once again managed to render the smartest man in this hospital speechless and blushing profusely. That was an achievement, you giggled.

But then you turned to look at him again, your hand touching your lips and then dramatically pointing it to him. That was all it took to get him out of the darkness that was caging him once again. The mafia prince didn’t know what to make of the power you had over his darkness, a darkness that he spent a good decade reigning in.

You tapped your knuckles against his office door twice before opening the door. Kim Seokjin was the image of focus as he stared intensely at his laptop, his brows slightly furrowed with his glasses resting on his aristocrat nose. He looked up when he heard the sound of several tupperwares hitting his table.

“Eomeoni said that she courted appa by cooking and bringing him meals everyday in his office,” you started conversationally as you opened the lids. Seokjin was helpless as soon as the aromatic smell reached him that his own stomach decided to betray him and communicate how empty it was.

He coughed to cover his embarrassment, “Your mother courted your father?”

“Yes. Her method was effective, though,” you grinned at him as you placed the chopsticks in front of him. You sat in front of him before starting to eat. “She also did say to follow my dreams, so here I am.”

You met his eyes before winking at him. Seokjin’s face radiated with a warm, pinkish blush which happened to be a true testament to his extremely flustered state that only you could bring out of him. And you staring at him like that was not helping him at all.

His hands shook as his mind went to the default setting: to push you away.

“I have patients coming in…”

You blinked owlishly at him before looking down at your wristwatch. “It’s 5:47 am. Check-ups starts at 7:00 am. We have time.”

“I-I don’t eat.”

The silence was loud as you processed what he just said, and you knew what an ‘I don’t want to spend time with you’ looked like. You nodded your head before standing up. “Okay.”

You stopped yourself from showing your disappointment. You brought your chopsticks down before wordlessly closing the lids on the meals your prepared at an ungodly hour. You returned them all in the paper bag before bowing at him and leaving. He watched it all as you refused to meet his eyes for the first time since you met him.

He groaned when you closed the door, and he was once again left with the silence he was used to. He rested his head on his hands in frustration. What was wrong with him, he thought. He didn’t eat? What was he, a fucking vampire? Yes, he had a clear and fair skin, and yes, he looked like he was not aging. And of course, his beauty was out of this world. But he was just beautiful! What could he do? Should he blame his mother that used to be a top model for his good genes?

Or should he blame his already system that was already beyond repair even before you came into his life?  

Kim Seokjin eyes kept on shifting to the door and then back to his screen for a moment. However, it was as though he was powerless from looking back to the door again. The presentation that they deemed to be important was merely a white noise to him, even as the doctors kept on looking at him for approval. They found none as his face remained impassive.

He looked down on his phone, and even your usual good morning was not there and he loathed it. Granted that he never replied, but he still kept the messages. It brought him something akin to warmth in his chest when he received your messages on his phone. Reading your adorable messages was the highlight of his morning. But now, his phone was unusually quiet and you were nowhere to be found. It displaced him. It vexed him. And it confused him. Seokjin glared at the emptiness of your chair with such disgust and irritation that the presenter gulped from the darkness that crossed his face. They all wanted to please him, not only was he in the highest position but he was also the major stockholder of the hospital.

Suffice to say, Kim Seokjin was the most powerful man in the hospital. Unbeknownst to them though, his power spread beyond the corners of the hospital and into the darkness of the world.

“Director Kim?” the presenter he didn’t care to remember the name called for his attention. Leisurely, he brought his eyes from his phone to the sweating man. He didn’t even care to hide the fact that he was more focused on the phone than the presentation. He read all about it and he was not pleased one bit.

“I believe you graduated at the top of your class, Doctor Choi, am I correct?” he regarded him with an unimpressed look. He waved his hand before the man could even respond. He didn’t need his affirmation. “Did your school have an extremely low population? Did they have-“ he tilted his head to come up with a better word than what he was thinking. “-subpar qualifications? Was bribery involved?”

He met each and everyone’s eyes before standing up slowly in heavy disappointment. “Fix this. Or I’ll personally call all the organizations that awarded this hospital as the best and tell them that they made a terribly, colossal blunder and have them take all the certifications away.”

—-

“Hyuuuuung, why are you even doing here?” Jungkook, their youngest brother, whined as he watched his oldest hyung laid out on his office sofa. He had his phone up, glaring at it as though it personally did him wrong.

“Hanging out with you,” he murmured before throwing his phone away. He pulled his arm on his face and started groaning.

Jungkook wanted to smash his head against his table littered with thousands of documents he needed to go into- which he couldn’t do because his hyung just wouldn’t leave him in peace!

“You’re distracting me!”

“Tough luck. I need to be around someone who’s as lonely as I am.”

“Then go to the others! Why me?! Why not Namjoon hyung?!”

“He’s not lonely. He has his secretary,” Jin softly explained before putting down his arm and turning to look at Jungkook. “Besides, no one is as lonelier as you. Your wife is out there running from you.”

“No, she’s not! She’s just lost! What about Taehyung? Go to him!” he huffed as he was reminded yet again that his wife left him. His brows were now in a pinched as he pouted at his hyung.

Jin waved his suggestion away before closing his eyes. “Tae Tae does not feel any emotion, Kookie. He doesn’t even know he’s lonely because he is a high-functioning pain in the ass psychopath that needs to be put down as soon as pos-“

His slander on Taehyung was cut short as the sound of his phone alerting him of a message from the floor chimed. Jungkook watched his hyung scrambled on the floor to where he threw his phone both in confusion and disgust. He never saw his hyung behaved this way when he was the one who always insisted in proprietary and manners because they as he said, they might be cold-blooded criminals but they were not barbarians.

You were back, he read as the personnel from the Human Resources department he bribed messaged him. Apparently, you were on a week-long leave that required him suffering because you weren’t in his vicinity. Yet again, he had no time to dissect his feelings…

He just needed to see you.

It felt like everything was displaced when you were gone, yet at the same time it was how he was living before you came into his life and painted his world with colors he didn’t know existed. That was the thing, you came and changed his world. He didn’t know how to go back to his colorless world now.

“Okay, bye.”

Jungkook watched dumbfoundedly as his hyung ran out of his office.

Part III

[passengerprincessblog]

“Lewis, Next Door” ~ pt 2 Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warning: age gap (lowkey?), alcohol.

Summary: Y/N’s night out spirals into chaos, leading to a desperate late-night call to Lewis that she barely remembers making. But when he shows up to help-, slightly annoyed, and undeniably magnetic—she finds herself teetering between embarrassment and intrigue.

The bass thumps in my chest, so loud I feel it in my bones as we sway and stumble together under the neon lights. MK Club in Monaco is packed, bodies pressed together in a wave of glitter, laughter, and the haze of way too many drinks. Winter break has finally started, and my friends—Janelle, Isabella, and Séraphine—and I have decided that tonight is all about celebrating our freedom. Maybe we’re overdoing it, but who cares? We’re young, we’re back from school, and we deserve this.

I lean into the music, my head spinning in the best way. “We’re out of money,” I realize, looking down at my half-empty drink, frowning. Not a cent of parental allowance had dropped in any of our accounts yet. My own savings were being bled dry by all this fun, and, seriously, what’s the point of being a rich kid in Monaco if I can’t order bottles of Ace of Spades?

Séraphine slings an arm around me, her face flushed and eyes glassy as she shouts, “We should just try to flirt with some guys! Get ourselves a table!”

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little worse for wear, her lids drooping as she slurs, “No… Alain will kill me if he finds out I pulled something like that again…”

As they debate, an idea pops into my head, striking like a flash of drunken genius. I grin, barely able to focus, but sure of one thing: I have Lewis’s number. Lewis, my neighbor and friend of my dad, but also ridiculously rich, famous, and possibly my ticket to a few more rounds. So what if it’s 2 a.m., right?

“I’ve got it, guys. I know someone,” I announce proudly, though the words come out like a tangled mess.

Séraphine squints at me, laughing. “You’re drunk, Y/N. You don’t know anyone.”

“Oh, yeah?” I pull out my phone, holding it up triumphantly as I squint at the screen, fingers fumbling over the contacts. “There it is.” I hit the call button, holding the phone to my ear, my friends watching me with barely-contained curiosity.

The call rings a few times, and just as I’m about to give up, a low, groggy voice answers.

“Hello?”

The confidence I had fizzles, but I swallow my nerves. “Lewis?” I slur, hearing my voice in that weirdly bold way only a couple of drinks can make possible.

There’s a pause. “Y/N?” He sounds confused, and I hear him shift like he’s sitting up.

“Yeah. Are you out?” I ask, the music blaring through the phone. I feel the eyes of my friends glued to me as they wait, wondering who I’m talking to.

“What? Where are you?” he asks, voice sharper now, more alert.

“I’m at MK,” I say loudly over the noise, feeling smug.

There’s another pause, and then he says, almost to himself, “MK? You’re not even old enough to be there… And, wait… are you drunk? It’s 2 a.m.—”

I cut him off, a playful edge to my tone. “I was just calling to see if you wanted to come and get us more drinks,” I say, though the words tumble out in a barely coherent mix of slurs and giggles.

There’s a long, exasperated silence on the other end.

“Hello?” I ask, annoyed he’s taking so long to answer.

His sigh is audible over the phone. “Do you… need me to pick you up?” he asks, his voice lined with something that sounds like he’s already resigning himself to it.

“No! I don’t,” I reply with confusion. “You’re so boring,” I add before hanging up. My friends laugh, and we go back to dancing, somehow managing to snag a few more drinks from guys around us.

It’s 3:00 a.m. by the time I manage to stumble my way back to my parents’ penthouse, swaying down the hallway in my heels. My purse feels like a black hole as I dig through it, searching for my keys. They have to be in here somewhere, right?

But after minutes of searching, I realize they’re not. “Shit,” I mutter, slumping against the wall, the reality sinking in. I don’t want to wake up my parents like this—tipsy, disheveled, and very obviously not sober.

I slide down to the floor, feeling my frustration tip dangerously toward tears. I’m too drunk for this. I stare at my phone, desperate for some kind of solution, and in my daze, I remember… Lewis. Again, I don’t recall that I just called him an hour ago, and with no other option, I hit his number.

After a few rings, his tired voice picks up. “Yes?” he says, clearly woken up again.

“Lewis?” My voice breaks a little, the earlier playfulness gone.

He sounds a little more awake, sensing something’s off. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t get into my house.” My voice trembles with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Wait… are you outside right now?” he asks, the tone of his voice shifting instantly, more alert.

“Yeah… I don’t have a key,” I mumble.

He sighs deeply, and I hear him rustling, like he’s getting up. “Okay… give me a minute.” He hangs up, and I wait in the dimly lit hallway, feeling stupid but relieved.

A few minutes later, the door down the hall opens, and there he is, looking tired, standing there in nothing but sweatpants. Even through my drunken haze, I can’t help but notice how he looks, the way his gaze meets mine across the hall, his face softening when he sees me.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low, quiet command. The authority in his voice stirs something in me as I pull myself up, stumbling toward him, heels clicking with each unsteady step. His eyes drop to what I’m wearing—a short dress, tight enough to get the attention of every guy at MK tonight—and he looks away, maybe to save me from feeling self-conscious. Or maybe to save himself.

“Come in,” he murmurs, stepping back and letting me walk inside. His place feels dim, warm, quiet—a stark contrast to the loud, chaotic energy I’d just left. The moment I step in, I sway, and his hand catches my arm, steadying me.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, his voice edged with concern as he leads me toward the living room. “Why did you drink so much?”

I flop onto his couch, letting out a lazy laugh as I lean back. “I don’t know,” I reply, slurring, barely caring how much of a mess I must look to him right now.

He disappears for a second, returning with a glass of water, holding it out to me. “Drink that. You need it.”

I take a sip, and he watches, standing over me, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “Look… I don’t have a key to your parents’ place, so you’re kind of stuck for now. Do you have a friend nearby?”

I shake my head, setting the glass aside and sinking further back into the couch. “No… I don’t know.” My voice is soft, almost defeated.

He sighs, glancing at the clock. “It’s 3:17 in the morning…” he mutters, and I let out a giggle, finding it all absurdly funny.

He shakes his head, but there’s a small, reluctant smile on his face. “You’re a mess,” he says, voice teasing.

I sit up, pouting. “No…” I argue, slurring as I try to mimic his mock-scolding tone.

“Yes…” he says, meeting my gaze, and for a moment, his eyes linger on me, trailing down to my dress. His hand reaches up, almost instinctively, to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. I look at him, something bubbling up in me—a boldness from the alcohol, or maybe just the thrill of being near him like this. I reach out, letting my hand rest on his thigh, feeling the solid warmth of him.

He looks at my hand, then at me, his gaze suddenly intense. He reaches down, covering my hand with his, his grip firm as he lifts it off his leg. “No… no, Y/N. You need to sleep this off,” he murmurs, voice low but soft.

“Hm? No… I’m fine,” I insist, leaning closer, letting my eyes half-close as I give him what I hope is a sultry look.

He lets out a breath, amused but resolute. “Yeah… that’s definitely the alcohol talking.” He stands up, guiding me gently to follow him. “Come on. I’ve got a spare bedroom. You can sleep there, okay?”

I frown, feeling my hazy hopes sink, but I’m too tired and too out of it to argue. I stumble along behind him, my heels clicking down the hallway as he opens the door to a guest room. I step inside, feeling the plush carpet beneath my feet, a cozy contrast to the cold, hard floors of MK.

“Just get some sleep, alright?” he says, rubbing his eyes, clearly exhausted.

“Wait,” I call, almost whining, as he turns to leave. “Can you…” I pause, heart pounding, barely believing my own boldness as I turn around, showing him the back of my dress. “I can’t sleep in this…”

He sighs, and I can tell he’s fighting an internal battle. “Y/N…” he starts, his tone edged with caution, like he’s about to refuse. But then he relents, stepping forward. His hands come to rest on my hips, strong and steady, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric. I feel my breath catch as he pulls me closer, his fingers brushing against the small of my back.

For a moment, his hands linger, almost as if he’s hesitating, feeling the weight of the moment as much as I am. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raises one hand to the top of my zipper. His fingertips graze the bare skin at the base of my neck, and I can’t suppress the shiver that runs down my spine.

He inches the zipper down slowly, each pull of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, his touch leaving a tingling trail down my back. I can feel the soft brush of his knuckles against my skin as the dress loosens, exposing more of my back, inch by inch. His breathing is steady, but there’s a tension there—a restraint that feels almost tangible.

The zipper finally reaches the base of my spine, and his fingers linger there, as if reluctant to break the contact. My skin feels electric, every nerve heightened, and for a moment, he doesn’t move, his breath warm against the back of my neck. It’s like he wants to say something, to break the charged silence between us, but he holds back.

He clears his throat softly, his voice a quiet murmur in my ear, almost a command. “There. Now… get some sleep.” His words are gentle but firm, like he’s trying to steady both himself and me. And then, just as slowly as he approached, he pulls away, letting his hands fall from my back, the absence of his touch leaving my skin cool and craving the warmth of his hands.

As he steps back, he meets my eyes briefly, a flicker of something unreadable passing between us. For a second, I think he might close the space between us again, say something, or do something that will change everything. But he only gives me a small, careful nod, a final reminder of his restraint, and turns toward the door.

“Now… sleep,” he says once more, his voice soft but unwavering. With one last look, he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

———————————————-

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works.

I hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

Please like and follow for more!

Хохо

Princess

[ereardon]

The Stranger [Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw left an impression — after finding him naked and passed out after a night of drinking in your front yard, he’s anxious to never see you again in his life and relive the embarrassment. But there’s something about him you just can’t let go. He’s a project, and you hate to admit you love a fixer upper. Bradley is hesitant to let you in, but you’re persistent. Is he making a massive mistake?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC

A/N: This is a sneak peek of an unfinished WIP!

You were pouring your morning coffee, Cracker Barrel mug in one hand and coffee pot in the other, when you spotted him through the edge of the front window. 

The sun was just beginning to rise, peeling back the darkness from the night before, and you spotted what could only be an arm flung across the green grass of your front lawn. 

Stepping out onto the deck, you squinted. The grass was wet from the rain shower that had hit in the early morning and the street was eerily quiet. You looked around. There were no cars parked nearby. 

And yet, somehow there was a fully nude man lying face down on your lawn. 

You put the cup of coffee down gently, slid off your slippers and tiptoed tentatively down the path and onto the grass, bending down to see if you were about to call the cops with a homicide investigation. And then you watched his chest rise with a breath and you sighed out, hand on your heart. 

“Thank God,” you muttered. You stood back up and took him in. He was tall, or long considering he was just laying there in the grass. Curled brown hair, tanned and incredibly muscular arms, back and legs. And a nice fucking ass if you did say so. Leaning back down, you tapped his shoulder. “Um, hi?” 

The man groaned but remained on his stomach so you circled your fingers around his upper arm and shook harder. 

“Hello? Excuse me.” 

“Shit,” the guy groaned, rolling over and flopping onto his back, giving you a clear view of his package. Your eyes went wide, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. He also had a perfect six pack, but you were staring a bit south of the border. He rubbed his eyes and finally looked up at you. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Caroline,” you said, crossing your arms. “And you’re naked, by the way.” 

“Fuck,” he said, scrambling to cover himself and then wincing in pain, one hand coming up to his head. 

You shook your head and sighed, uncrossing your arms and shrugging off your blue robe. “Here, put this on.” 

He stood and accepted it, tying it around his waist but it was tight. “Thanks.” 

“Come inside,” you said, turning on a heel and heading back toward the walk. “You can take a shower if you want. Call someone to come get you.” 

He followed you, head hung. “Where am I?”

You grabbed the coffee mug you had deserted on the steps and opened the door. “You’re on Miguel Ave. A few blocks from the golf course.” 

He nodded and stepped inside. You pointed up the stairs. “Take a left at the top of the stairs. Guest bath is the third door on the right. There should be towels and a bigger robe if you need it.” 

He stepped onto the stairs and then turned around, giving you a quizzical look. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m a stranger. I’m a naked stranger.” 

You laughed. “You think I haven’t seen my fair share of drunk idiots? I went to Tulane. I knew what happened to you the minute I saw you.” 

He simply nodded and ascended the stairs. You chuckled and walked into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, there were cautious footsteps in the hallway beyond the kitchen and you turned around to see the guy from the lawn wearing your ex’s old flannel robe, his dark hair damp but clean. He had a mustache and a uniquely handsome face. You wouldn’t have immediately called him attractive if it wasn’t for how he carried himself. Even hungover and wearing a bathrobe in a stranger’s home, he had a charisma you could sense through his walk alone. 

“Take a seat,” you said, motioning to the dining table and he nodded, sitting down. You slid a cup of water and a cup of juice over, and then a mug of coffee and a plate of bacon. “Do you eat meat?” 

He chuckled and grabbed a slice. “Definitely.” 

“Good,” you said, returning to the stove and pulling off the pan of eggs, dropping some scrambled eggs into a dish and walking over to the table, taking the seat at the end and pushing one bowl of eggs over to him. “So, remember anything yet?”

He lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth, chewed thoughtfully. “Bits and pieces. I want to say it involved a dare and a bottle of Jack Daniels.” 

You laughed and took a sip of coffee. “God, how old are you?” 

He smiled and you realized just how attractive of a smile it was. “I’m Bradley,” he said. 

You nodded. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” he asked. 

“I told you outside?” 

He shook his head. “Fuck, sorry.” 

“Caroline,” you offered and he smiled. 

“Caroline,” he repeated. “Nice name.” 

You leaned back in the chair. “Do you need to borrow my phone?” He nodded and you unlocked your phone, sliding it across. You didn’t even realize until he stared at the home screen for a moment that it was still a picture of your ex and his dog. 

“Boyfriend?” he asked, lifting the phone into his large hands and scrolling for the dial pad. 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. I keep forgetting to change it.” 

He nodded carefully and hit a few buttons, bringing the phone up to his ear. “Bob, hey, it’s Rooster. Listen, I uh, I need a ride. Yeah, one second.” He pulled the phone away. “What’s your address?” 

“4502 Miguel Ave.”

He repeated the address into the phone. “Oh, and bring me some clothes, please.” You heard laughing on the other end of the line before he hung up. He slid the phone back to you. “Thanks. He should be here in fifteen minutes.” 

“So which is it?” 

He squinted at you. 

“You introduced yourself to me as Bradley, but whoever Bob is, and he has a great laugh by the way, apparently knows you as Rooster.” You slid your eyes over him. “Are you a stripper?”

“What?” he asked aghast and you laughed, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Cool if you are, no judgment here.” 

He shook his head, biting off another piece of bacon. “I’m a pilot. It’s a callsign. A sort of nickname.” 

“Pilot, huh?” 

[countrymusiclover]

1 - Being the New Neighbor

Part 2

Dr. Redheaded Neighbor

Tag list @annieradcliff

Holding one large box in one arm I had two smaller ones on top of it. I hit the front desk button on the outside of the building hoping someone would be coming soon. I was nowhere near done unpacking my car and I had my best furry friend sitting at my feet. “Don’t worry, Maxon. Somebody should be coming to let us in.”

“Do you need some help?” Glancing over my shoulder I heard a guy’s voice call out for my attention.

I hesitated to hope I could do it myself. I had decided to move out at the age of eighteen with myself, my dog and some money to my name before I headed to basic training. “Oh no. I um - think I have it.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve only lived here for a few months but it’s rare most people are mingling in the lobby this late at night.” The guy explained walking up the small set of stairs to stand beside me.

I pressed the button again looking through the small glass of the door not seeing anyone. “I’m really fine. We’re gonna be fine.”

“We. So, what’s this guy's name?” The stranger eyed the dog laying at my feet. Maxon lifted his head when the guy bent down reaching forward to touch his fur to which I gave a head nod in agreement. “Hey bud, I’m Will. Uh - I actually should be introducing myself to you first I suppose.”

I groaned, getting tired of holding the boxes in my arms. “Ugh! Sorry I didn’t think to introduce myself but clearly you seem to be right about nobody working at the front desk.”

“Oh here, let me help you.” Will rose to his feet sliding a key card in front of the scanner before the door was unlocked. He reaches over taking the boxes from my arms.

“You don’t have to take those.”

He responds. “It’s no big deal. Can you get the door though?”

“Sure. Maxon, come.” I patted my leg signaling him to follow me when I held the second door open for Will to walk through and we followed after his heels before letting the door shut behind me. “Thank you, Will. I can take it from here.”

He set the boxes down, eyeing me. “Do you live in this building? I haven’t seen you around before Ms...”

“I actually just got my keys to live here a few hours ago. So, I guess that makes us neighbors.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, sticking my hand out towards him. “Mallory. Mallory Easton.”

He shakes my hand smiling. “William Halstead. But I prefer everyone to call me Will.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Will. Oh, and you’ve already met my dog Maxon here.” I gesture my freehand down to my dog who was sitting at my feet with his tail slightly wagging back and forth.

Will bends down picking up the boxes a second time tilting his head towards the stairwell that was near us figuring it was more comfortable if we weren’t just chatting in the lobby. “Why don’t we get the rest of your stuff upstairs and then we can keep chatting over some late-night coffee or something.”

“That sounds good to me.” I agreed with what he offered, and we went upstairs until we were standing outside of my room number 218. I opened the door with my key feeling slightly embarrassed that there was a bunch of boxes scattered about. I wasn’t planning for company so this must look like a tornado hit here. “I’m sorry the place is a wreck.”

Will sat the stack of boxes on the ground next to some others dusting his hands off on his blue jacket. “It’s okay. You’re just moving in. No biggy.”

“Yeah I guess so. I’m just embarrassed cause I wasn’t expecting company.” I shrugged my shoulders hearing Maxon rummaging around one of his toy boxes finding a red fireheighdrent toy. He held it in his mouth and just started throwing it around like crazy so we could hear the annoying squeaking clearly.

Will chuckled flashing a cheeky smile. “He sure likes that toy doesn’t he?”

“One of his favorites yeah.” I glanced down at my phone seeing it was getting close to midnight. “Hey Will, I should probably let you go it’s getting late.”

He waved his hands at me in defense. “Not for me. I work in the ED, never a normal eight hour work day for me.”

“Oh wow.” I gasped not expecting that from him but I then eyed the clothing he wore which was a pair of red scrubs underneath his coat that I hadn’t noticed until now. He had auburn hair and deep brown eyes making him not too bad on the eyes to look at, but of course I’d never say that.

He pulled me from my train of thought. “Hey I think I’ve got some beers stashed away in my apartment. Would you want to share one with me. Toast to being new neighbors and all.”

“Sure. That’d be great.” I accepted so our first night there Maxon and I spent it with him, never knowing our lives would change forever after what happened when I went into serve.

5 years later

Blinking my eyes open I felt my body laying on a table. I could hear some ringing in my head and I felt like I had an intense headache for an unknown reason. I attempted to look around the room seeing I was in the medical tent on the base. Trying to sit up the tent flaps opened revealing our head medic Owen who rushed over to me. “Woah Easton, lay back down. You need to rest.”

“Dr. Owen, I’m fine.” I told him trying to get off the table again.

He puts his hands on my shoulders making me look him in the eye. “Do you remember what happened on mission 5025?”

“You mean the one we went on a few days ago. Of course. Maxon and I were responsible for locating the bombs before the response team went in to catch the cult leader.”

The doctor scanned his eyes over my face. “Do you know what the outcome was?”

“Yes. We – uh wait a second. I don’t remember it at all.” I tried wracking my brain around it but there was nothing.

Dr. Owen tapped my shoulder before the tent flap opened again and I watched someone walk in with Maxon being on a leash. “Ms. Easton, I think it’s best for you medically to take some time off. Until we figure out what happened to you.”

“Ms. Easton, we’ll have your stuff prepared for you to go home for a few months. And Maxon is cleared to go with you as well.” The guy uncliped the leash from his dog collar and he ran to me putting his paws on my knees that were underneath a blanket.

Maxon moved his nose around staying on my right leg and nipping at it. I lifted the blanket curious as to what he was smelling and then I saw the reason for them asking me to leave for a little while. “Maxon, what is it boy. Oh wow – this is what you were talking about isn’t it doc?”

“Yes ma’am it is.” Doc Owen trailed off, lowering his gaze to the leg brace that was wrapped around my right leg. There was a bandage on my knee underneath the brace and my guess was it was because a bullet hit me the wrong way on the mission I couldn’t remember.

A few days later Maxon and I were riding the down exsculator with a bunch of people leaving or coming back in the Chicago airport. I carried my backpack on my left shoulder as we walked through the lobby looking for some food since we hadn’t been able to eat on the plane. “So, what do you want to eat, Maxon. Chicken, burgers or something else – woah hey Maxon. Maxon no!”

Maxon bolts away from my side and towards the direction of where we had come from the baggage claim. I bolted into a run after him as best as I could not used to the brace slowly me down. His paws scraped across the tile floor unit I saw a guy in a dark blue jacket get tackled to the ground and he bared his teeth down to the stranger. “Ugh!”

“Maxon – shit sir I’m so sorry. Maxon get off him. I’m – Will?” I wrapped my arms around his waist trying to yank him off until I saw the guys face in clear view over Mason’s head.

The doctor chuckled not bothered by it. “Long time no see, Mallory.” I slumped my shoulders confused on how he had even found him with this many different smells around us. Yet regardless I had to admit I had missed a certain Halstead brother.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[cillpiines]

Deathbound

Zedweek Day 4 - Hermitcraft 9-10 / Death

The Life Series has its own designated reaper. Jimmy has some feelings about that.

ao3 link

My name is Jimmy, and this is the man that ruined my life.

Things used to be good! I was just another player, and sure I had a few silly deaths, but so did everyone. I had a nice base, good allies. I wasn’t even the first death of the series! No one could mark me as an omen any more than they could Grian, which is the really the way I think this should have gone. I died to his trap and at his base anyway! That’s two of three!

But I was happy and alive and sort of mostly respected…kinda. I was working on it! And I would have gotten there if this guy didn’t have it out for me!

You think you know how this story goes. I know you! Oh, you think you know how it goes! But you’re gonna hear it my way now and see none of it was my fault!

I met him back in 3rd Life. That’s where it all started. I was at Grian’s bunker with Scar, and I’d just gotten hit with an arrow from someone, so I went to try and hide lower in the bunker, but then another arrow-!

-

With a whistle and a gory thwuk, an arrow speeds through the small gap in the sandy bunker and straight into the lowered head of one Jimmy Solidarity. Rapid velocity sends the sharpened flint blasting through bone, tearing through the tissue in its way. There’s no time to react, no time to scream, as his skull is speared through. Jimmy can only gasp in agonized surprise as his body seizes, nerves lighting up like fireworks.

He collapses.

For a single horrifying moment, Jimmy feels all of it.

For better or worse, it takes no time at all for what’s left of his poor brain to go spotty and shut down.

Then, something hooks around his very being, deeper than his crumbled body and ruined skull, and it pulls.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for someone to die!”

Being separated from his body is not painful, especially compared to an arrow in the head, but Jimmy screams. His soul is peeled away from flesh, leaving behind the stinging numbness of fried neurons for a frigid detachment from the rest of the world. It’s a foreign sensation and not one he imagined when he got the invite to this experimental series. Is this what hardcore players experience?

There is no reprieve. As soon as his new eyes focus, Jimmy’s met with a pair of haunted, glowing, purple ones only centimeters from his face. He shrieks, stumbling backward and haphazardly swinging his limbs. The figure grins under their dark cloak at him, something horrifying.

In his scramble, Jimmy’s heel catches on something, sending him careening with arms circling wildly to catch his fall. He fails to stop screaming, because what he just stumbled over was himself.

The Jimmy of the corporeal world is face down, saturating the sand red. Blond hair is stained dark around the arrow’s point of impact, his scalp still tacky and leaking blood. The blue shoulder of his favorite outfit fared similarly: dark sickly purple with another arrow—

Jimmy tears his gaze away, but the image is already seared into his mind. He’s fine, his data is fine. He’ll respawn back home soon enough and it’s fine and he’s fine if this scary hooded figure doesn’t kill him dead forever right here.

He’s pretty sure he’s shaking, but it would be embarrassing for a spirit to shake, so he hopes he’s not. The shrouded figure hasn’t moved, still staring and smiling. Jimmy swallows and opens his mouth to speak—

“Congratulations!” it suddenly shouts, tossing up a handful of confetti that it got from who knows where. Their voice is as deep and dangerous as Jimmy had anticipated. The noisemaker that they toot is a lot less so.

Scraps of purple and pink and yellow rain down upon Jimmy, stark against his twice-horror-stricken face. “What—huh? Who are you?”

The figure swings their pink shepherd’s crook and hits themself in the head with it. “I am…Death!...Zedeath. I’m Zedeath. And you’re the first to die!”

Jimmy’s shoulders slump. It’s really over. He’s out of the game first for real, if seeing his own corpse wasn’t already enough to prove it. “First out,” he corrects, recalling Scar’s near-immediate demise at spawn. “My name is Jimmy.” He’d rather not be marked as the first to die by someone forever if he can help it. He’s got a perfectly good name he picked himself.

Zedeath pulls a piece of paper from his robes and squints at it, holding it close to his shadowed face. “Not...you are SolidarityGaming, right?” he queries, missing the large S plastered across Jimmy’s chest.

“That’s me,” Jimmy confirms automatically, then kicks himself for it. Could he have lied to death to get back in the game? Was this reaper only playing a trick on him? He’s heard the stories of trials like that, and this fellow seems the type.

Zedeath makes a mark on the paper with a pen, then tucks both back into his robe, which flutters open into a dark expanse of void. The swirling depth and stars make Jimmy’s head spin, which he does not need any more of, thank you.

He takes the opportunity to instead squeeze his eyes shut and press his palms to his head, reveling in the steadying pressure. He’s fine, he’s fine. Deep breath—okay there’s no air in his lungs, but that’s fine. He pulls his hands down his face, cards them back through his hair. Imagines pushing a breath out. The arrow didn’t transfer over with him thankfully, but he doesn’t understand how it would, since it’s not a part of him anyway. He’s still relieved. He’s still here and will respawn after the game. Maybe sooner, depending on how his reaper works.

“Can you—do you do respawns?”

“We would be in a lot of trouble if I couldn’t! Ready to leave?”

There’s a tattered hole still in the knee of his pants from a slip earlier in the game. Jimmy picks at the loose threads. “Not much point sticking around, really.”

“Okay, rude.” Was he really? He does still have three allies in the game…

“I already lost, though,” the dead bemoans. “I can’t do anything.”

“You won at not winning, though!” Death says brightly, looking quite pleased with such a notion. Jimmy is not.

“I wanted to actually win! Or at least not be last.” Gosh, he’s last. “I wish I didn’t die.”

“What’s wrong with death?” the reaper asks, leaning on his brightly coloured staff to look Jimmy in the eye.

“That’s easy for you to say!” Jimmy can’t believe he has to explain this. “You don’t have to worry about dying!”

“Not until you all start doing it,” Zedeath quips back.

This guy has absolutely bonkers priorities. Maybe being a reaper does that to someone. The constant flow of death could warp their mind or something…Jimmy knew it would make him crazy if he was surrounded by so much of it.

Zedeath hands over the noisemaker and offers a fast respawn, which Jimmy declines. He’ll stay and watch the games for a while more, he’s decided. Maybe he really isn’t ready to go quite yet. The reaper ominously tells him that he’ll know when he is ready, before stalking off to another portion of the map. Jimmy watches him go until he disappears, privately glad to be rid of the spirit for now.

Finally alone, Jimmy sighs and looks down at his hands. Well, first out. But it’s still the first game.

He unenthusiastically toots the noisemaker. It doesn’t make him feel better. Okay, well, it does a little bit, but he’s not about to tell his reaper that. Maybe he can use it to go cheer on Scott and Scar instead. They’re bound to go farther.

No matter, Jimmy tells himself. He’ll do better next time. There’s no way he’s dying first twice in a row.

Fine, yes, dying was mostly my fault that first time. It wasn’t my best, I’ll admit, and Skizz got a lucky shot! But Last Life was completely unfair! It was an accident! I didn’t realize the drop was that far!

I didn’t even get three lives either! Mumbo had more than me and he still died right after, so really, I should have been at least second.

Another death caused by Grian, too. He was supposed to be my ally! If you’re gonna call me a canary, then you should at least call him…coal…dust or something. What kills canaries?

-

Heart pounding in his chest, Jimmy dashes for his life, rapid footfalls speeding alongside the hammering against his ribs. He pushes himself forward, yelling back at Grian to cut it out. His couple of hits were just good fun, come on! Don’t—stop! Stones skid under his boots and he prepares to leap from his pursuer.

His feet leave the roof.

That’s…not the drop he expected it to be.

He flails.

He hits the ground.

Nestled within the stinging pain that shoots through his body is the tugging he can now identify as being from a bubblegum-coloured shepherd’s crook. The pull of his soul from his body is a vaguely familiar sensation now, but Jimmy still screams, quickly pitching into a wail. Zedeath detaches his crook and watches Jimmy’s small tantrum.

“It was an accident!” the ghost begs. “I didn’t think it was that high! I didn’t mean to!”

Death makes no move to act on the plea, no sympathy for the plight of the loser. “Well, the intentional deaths are always better.”

Jimmy’s desperation crumbles into disappointment. He drags his hands down his face and wills his spirit back up to the roof his body fell from. He’d really rather not be on the ground with his corpse right now. Besides, a perch sounds kind of nice at the moment. He plops down to sit on the edge, resting his translucent chin on his translucent knees. “I’m out first again…What is wrong with me…”

A chill settles next to him, and Jimmy doesn’t have to look up to guess that the reaper has chosen a seat next to him. “I’d guess lots! For one, your skin was looking a bit grey even before you died.”

Jimmy huffs. The more time he spends with this guy, the more exhausted he feels. Death is the worst. Taking him twice was enough but he just has to rub salt—wait. He only ever had two lives. Surely Death would have been in charge of that? “Hey, why’d you only give—”

“Another thing is you’re growing little baby feathers,” Zedeath continues obliviously. “I don’t think that’s right.” He doesn’t even give Jimmy an opportunity to question what he’s talking about before there’s a quick and sharp sting on his back.

“Ow! What—”

But when he looks, there’s a small and shimmering golden feather between Death’s grey fingers. His throat catches, and he tries in vain to peer over his shoulder to where it came from. It’s not enough for Death to cut his life short, he has to mess with him too?

“I wonder if the colour is meant to match your hair or a kind of bird,” Zedeath muses to himself, running a finger along the barbs. “Can I get a sample of your blood? No reason.”

“No!” Jimmy shouts, turning so that his back faces away from the bloodthirsty and curious reaper. “I don’t even want to be a bird! I just wanted to play a game with my friends! What’s happening to me?”

“Some of your friends are birds,” Zedeath points out, squinting at the feather. It would be easier if he pulled his hood down, but he does not. “Oh, hang on, hold this.” He drops the feather back onto Jimmy’s head and vaults himself off the building with his staff. A moment later, Mumbo’s familiar voice pipes up.

“Oh goodness, that wasn’t much good, was it?” The posh lilt makes Jimmy’s heart lift just a little. Any company besides the spectre of death is more than welcome. He’s not alone anymore, and with his ally, no less!

Then the realization that he was so close to not being first settles in. Something bitter coats his mouth and he frowns, eyebrows pinched. Mumbo is his friend, but someone else could stand to be out first this time. He’s had his turn! If he had as many lives as Mumbo, he definitely would’ve survived past him.

The reaper and his latest ghost continue to chat out of sight, but Jimmy opts to continue sitting alone above them. The dark voice of Death reaches Jimmy’s perch, appraising how fantastic Mumbo is at dying, to which the dead gives a flustered chuckle.

Jimmy sighs and twirls the feather in his fingers. Still not better than he is, apparently.

I don’t know what happened! I swear I didn’t look at that enderman! I got under a tree!

Tango…I’m so sorry.

-

Jimmy gasps as the crook tears him from his body once more, a sensation that’s becoming familiar at an alarming rate. The searing pain in his arms and chest vanishes in an instant alongside the rapid pounding of his heart, leaving only phantom sensation and Jimmy coughing with surprise. He squeezes his eyes shut, the vibrant angry purple of his final moments still seared into his retinas.

He knows by now not to look down at his body. Experiencing it was enough, thank you.

Instead, he grasps at his heart and glances around. Zedeath can wait this time; there’s someone really important he needs to find first. To his surprise, his fingers actually catch on something. After all that time imagining it, the tether linking him to his soulmate is visible and tangible and gleaming a brilliant ruby red. Jimmy’s never been more relieved to see a piece of string.

He needs to get to the other side of it.

The thread loops around to stretch off behind him, so that’s where he’s headed. Jimmy spins on his heel to follow it, footfalls silent in the space after life, desperate to find Tango while he can. His rancher is out there somewhere alone and confused and dead and Jimmy needs to tell him he’s sorry!

It doesn’t take long for something to have him stumbling on his feet.

Ah. So that’s where Zedeath was.

The reaper isn’t looking at him, instead rummaging through those reality bending robes. His long dark sleeve conceals what he unearths, but only until it catches the light of the moon.

Oh.

Oh.

Jimmy takes off running with renewed purpose. “Wait!” he shrieks, struggling to stay vertical with his frantic speed. “Stop!”

Death has already taken the thread into his hand, the blade of scissors held against it. Zedeath turns with a “huh?”, but he was already in motion. It was already too late. With a simple shifting of fingers, the soulstring is snipped as easily as if it was simple sewing thread. As if it didn’t mean anything. As if it wasn’t the closest, most understanding ally Jimmy’d ever had. As if it wasn’t an ounce of faith that Jimmy would not die.

The string is clipped, and it is unremarkable in how easy it was.

The broken ends of the thread turn a dead grey, which quickly spreads outward in either direction. As it goes, the string itself begins to crumble with it.

As it goes, something shrivels in Jimmy’s chest with it.

He needs to apologize to his rancher…but the reaper is right there. And Jimmy just watched him cut his soul apart from Tango’s. And he’s so angry.

His run towards Tango turns into a lunge against Zedeath. He shouts and scowls, spit flying and wings puffing up. “You! You took me from him!”

Zedeath screeches and collides with the ground. “You were the one that died!” he defends, keeping his staff between the two of them. “I know the rules to this game! You die and you’re out and I go snippy-snippy!” Jimmy brings a fist down toward the reaper’s puffed-up cheeks, but he slips away in a puff of dark smoke.

Jimmy’s head swims with adrenaline, irritation, agony, and…memories of an enderman he swears he didn’t look at. “No…it was you! I didn’t die! You got me killed! I need to talk to Tango!”

Zedeath looks at him with those eyes—those damn purple eyes! He has the nerve to cross his arms and huff. The audacity of Death to be the one annoyed! “How many times do I have to tell you! Killing is not in my job description! I just move your soul so you’re not stuck like that forever!” He swings an arm out toward where Jimmy knows his corpse is prone and mangled. “Is that what you want? Hm!?”

Jimmy clenches his fist. He knows they’re wasting time. Tango is all alone! He’s never been the first to die before! Still…Jimmy can’t seem to put a lid on his fury. If he was a little calmer, he might’ve seen the irony.

 “I wasn’t ready to die!” His voice cracks and he mentally smacks himself for sounding so small. “You’re the one that takes my soul away! You’re the one that takes me out of the game! And you took Tango too this time!” I was the one that died. It’s not fair to him. He shouldn’t have lost.

“Oh, Tango!” Zedeath snaps as if remembering. “He’ll be able to tell you you’re wrong!”

Jimmy seethes. He is so sick of Death.

“You already took me out! You gave me these—these wings! Isn’t that enough?” To have Death turn his own rancher against him is a new level of cruelty, and one he’s too fired up to let pass.

Before Zedeath can say anything else stupid, that beautiful rough voice calls distantly through the trees. “Ze-e-d!” To Jimmy’s utmost dismay, it’s not his name, but the reaper turns his head with a bright smile.

“Tango!” he shouts back. “Over here!” He waves his arm as punctuation as if Tango would be able to see it.

“No!” Jimmy refuses, nose scrunching. “Tango!” he shouts himself, taking off in the direction he heard his soulmate’s call. His horn still swings from its tether on his neck, so Jimmy brings it to his lips and sings out for his rancher.

His Tango sings back. Just like he’d promised.

In true Team Rancher fashion, the two find each other via full collision, torsos and limbs crashing together between the trees. Tango’s horn knocks against Jimmy’s chin, Jimmy’s digs into Tango’s gut, and they both fall over with the force of it.

“Jimmy!” Tango chirps brightly, rubbing his forehead.

“Tango,” Jimmy breathes, relieved. “Whatever this death guy says, don’t believe him!”

“Death guy?” Tango looks a bit bewildered. “Oh, Zed! Yeah, I try not to.” His eyes crinkle like it’s a wonderful joke and Jimmy feels his chest swell with warmth. With their legs still tangled up, grinning together, he can almost imagine their soulbond is still there.

Jimmy pushes forward and wraps his soulmate in a hug. “Whoa there!” Tango yelps, but returns the embrace, toasty but steady. “You okay?”

“I really liked your tower,” Jimmy whispers, voice wet. “Even if it did look like a foot.”

Tango barks out a laugh against Jimmy’s ear, but he doesn’t mind. “I’m glad you were my soulmate too, buddy.”

With a tighter squeeze, Tango starts to extract himself. He offers a hand down to pull up his companion, which Jimmy gladly takes. “Ready to go home?”

“Home?” Jimmy repeats dumbly.

“Yeah.” Tango nods over Jimmy’s shoulder. When he turns, Zedeath is waiting, appearing to try and balance his staff on his palm. Jimmy is stunted as Tango separates to sidle over to the reaper. “The game’s over. I’ll see you in the next one though, right, rancher?”

Jimmy nods, knowing he looks foolish but not quite caring. At least Tango isn’t mad. At least he gives Jimmy a sharp grin and double thumbs up as the reaper pulls him into a respawn.

Jimmy sighs heavily. Tango’s probably super busy on Hermitcraft. He did tell him all about the new season and his big plans. His rancher has massive ideas and a selective attention span. Jimmy knows this and can’t blame him for hurrying out.

“Ready?”

What else is there to say?

It’s over. Go home.

The reaper loops the hook of his staff around Jimmy’s torso. The canary pointedly does not look at him, staring off to a static enderman through the trees. Zedeath tugs his staff, and Jimmy is pulled through space in an instant, landing back on a permanently dusty bed with an absence in his heart.

…

-

The canary does not even startle as the crook pulls his soul out of the most recent wretched game. He does not gaze down where he knows his corporeal body lay, head smashed and bones broken. He does not look to find his allies. He only curls in on himself and cries.

Shimmering silver tears slip down past his shades and paint his cheeks with grief. He hiccups and sobs, throwing his glasses away with a strangled shout.

First out again. What is wrong with him? He had been doing so well at the start!

“I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.”

He’s the worst. He was dragging his team down. He should’ve worked harder.

But does it even matter what he does? It’s always going to be him. It’s always going to be him.

After a game where every second counts, Jimmy doesn’t know how long he cries. He likely would have wept longer, but there’s a tapping on his head that makes him look up.

Who else would it be?

Zedeath stands at a distance, patting his head with his shepherd’s crook. “There, there,” he says, looking uncomfortable. “There, there.”

Jimmy is…tired of seeing Zedeath’s face. It only affirms what he already knows: that he’s died, that’s he’s lost. Seeing the cloaked reaper is his own personal symbol of failure.

He reaches up to shove the crook away. “Why’d you have to push me?”

To his credit, Zedeath does pull his staff back. “It was more of a…consolation pat.”

“On the bridge,” Jimmy bites out without much hostility. He just doesn’t have the fight in him right now.

The reaper looks at him strangely, dead eyes squinting. “My thing is really more of a pull. And at the splat site.”

“You don’t have to act stupid.” Usually he’d roll his eyes, but right now Jimmy is content to only look at his scuffed sneakers.

“Oh, this is no act! Rest assured, I’m stupid for real.”

“I didn’t fall off the bridge.” Saying it out loud should be some remarkable realization, but Jimmy is so tired. “I got pushed.” He knows this to be true in the deepest core of his being, but he does not voice as such.

“Hmm….” Zedeath stares back up at Bread Bridge, glancing around for something Jimmy doesn’t think he’d be able to see if he tried. “Grian does seem like the type. He’s pushed me around before; extremely rude fellow.”

Jimmy lets his forehead fall back onto his knees. His eyes feel strained and puffy. “I don’t like you,” he murmurs, more for himself than Zedeath.

“Neither does Grian,” the reaper returns easily. “And probably a bunch of other people, but I don’t keep track. Who has the time?”

“You don’t listen. I’m sick of you killing me first over and over.”

“Well now who’s not listening? I don’t control when you guys die! If I did, then I would kill Tango first. I like Tango.”

This startles Jimmy into a laugh. “Hey! That’s my rancher! You already took him first once!”

Death winks at him and Jimmy feels the truth of his own words wash over him. Tango was also a first death, wasn’t he? He’d only ever thought about it as dragging him down but…maybe he can be allowed a little selfishness to not feel so lonely.

The reaper continues on regardless, waving off concerns. “I’ve done worse to him, anyway. And he’s done worse to me.”

Jimmy wipes his nose on his wrist with a gross snuffle. “Like…dying all the time?” He doesn’t know what else Death could possibly do to torture someone. He feels he’s already gotten most of it.

“He gets himself killed enough as is. What I do is more fun! Like refilling caves he digs out and dragging his unconscious body around.” Death sounds as chipper as Jimmy’s ever heard him, and he has to gape.

“I didn’t know you could do things in the real world like that.” He’d had his suspicions, but these would have to be largely involved, which is a scary thought. His rancher never mentioned being puppeted by a reaper…could it happen to him too? Jimmy’s already had enough of playing toy. He’s certain this would be the last straw to completely break him.

“I can’t! This is on Hermitcraft. Off the clock.”

“YOU��RE ON HERMITCRAFT?” Jimmy can’t help but shout. The spectre that’s haunted him for so long spends his normal time playing pranks on Hermitcraft? Jimmy’s even visited! He feels like he would have recognized the fellow if he ran into him at all!

“Did Tango not talk about me? I’m hurt!” It may be only a trick of the light, but Jimmy thinks he can see a stray bit of blond peek out from the dark hood.

Frankly, he didn’t even think Zedeath was anyone under the shadow of his void cloak. How could he, with such a powerful and terrifying being? With someone seemingly made of shadows and stinking of death, who only serves to pry him from the games and his friends? Who cursed him into a sacrifice of a songbird?

This changes everything.

After a short conversation, he stands and allows Zedeath’s crook to snag around his middle. It’s biting cold even through his leather jacket. Zedeath’s always cold.

“I’m gonna do better next time,” Jimmy promises him, tear tracks still glinting on the apples of his cheeks.

“I won’t count on it!” The reaper—Zed—beams and pulls his staff.

Jimmy had it all wrong this whole time. Death isn’t an all-powerful force working against him. Death is a Hermit in a dramatic cloak he dons for the job. Death is his rancher’s friend. Death has a player name.

Death is only human.

It can falter.

It can make mistakes.

It can be swayed.

Jimmy steels himself and rises from his bed. He will not be the one to die first again.

He’ll make sure of it.

[ravawrites]

Freudian Slip

summary: a slip of the tongue leads to a meet cute. warnings: none. genre: fluff. a/n: if you saw this before, no you didn’t. i had to delete my account and make a new one. word count: 667

“Do you know where I could find the linguistics lecture halls?” The brunette asked the front desk with a small and slightly awkward smile as the woman sat with pinched brows glared at her for her intrusion. “I’m the new linguistics professor.” She explained but was met with another cool glare.

“Go through the double doors, take three lefts and a right then through those double doors there should be a big sign that says linguistics on it.” She says boredly and the slow clacking of her laptop keys starts up again.

“Thanks.” She drawled out with pursed lips and began to follow the instructions that the receptionist had given her, all while following the yellow arrows on the walls and above the doors. The arrows were painted on the walls above the doorways leading the way to there she was meant to be. Her pace picked up we she tried to get where she needed to be her gaze lowering to her feet taking her third left when suddenly she smacked into someone coming the opposite direction.

“I’m so sorry!” The words quickly stumbled out of her mouth as she grabbed onto the upper arms of the man she had just banged into face first trying to steady herself. In the commotion her glasses has been knocked off of her face and onto the floor. “Here.” The stranger said and handed them to her and she put them back onto her face. Oh, he was handsome, and strong according to the grip she had managed to get on his biceps just moments before. “And you’re forgiven, it was my fault really, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He quickly rushed out and she took a step back getting a full look at the much taller man in front of her. He was wearing a suit, in a deep brown-green colour, the blazer with sewn in elbow patches, his hair wild around his face.

“No it was my fault, I don’t know where I’m going.” She countered with a small laugh and smoothed out her skirt awkwardly. “Where are you headed?” He asked. “The linguistics department, I’m a bit lost.” Looking over his shoulder at the door signs. “Could you show me how to get there?” Rocking on the balls of her feet she awaits his answer.

“Sure!” The mystery man says and walks quickly through the hallways, opening the doors for her on the way there and her giving thanks every time. The two walked in a comfortable silence as she tried to keep up with his exceptionally long legs. Then there they were as the receptionist had mentioned, the double doors with linguistics written above it.

“Thank you so much.” She expressed her gratitude and he turned on his heel and began to walk back the way they came. “Wait!” She shouted after him and walked back towards him. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Dr Spencer Reid.” He replied, “You?” He asked simply. “Dr Y/N Reid.” She felt her face heat up immediately after the mistake. “Reyes! Y/N Reyes.” She corrects and brings her hands up to cover her incredibly flushed face, the dread filling her body. The noise hit her ears next, his laugh. “Don’t look at me!” She said embarrassed and began to walk away quickly hiding her face as he kept laughing at her slip of the tongue and she scrunched her face up. “Stop looking at me!” She laughs.

“Call me.” He shouts down the hallway and registers her confused face. “Your pocket.” He explains and watches her hands dart down to her pocket and pull out a small white card with his name and number on. “Magic.” He says with a wave of his hand in front of his face before she can inquire. “Magicians are skeeves, you know!” She shouted before pushing the lecture hall doors open and letting them swing close before he could reply.

hope you enjoyed! please like <3

[coffeehighallthetime-blog]

I am Kind Not Complacent Chpt 2

I am Kind not Complacent chpt 2

{prev},{next}

Heimdall gow x reader

word count: 6 k

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

hello and thank you to every single person who has liked, commented, and reblogged my silly little story. I'm so glad I can make a few people smile and share my little fic. if anyone would like me to tag them to make finding the next chapter easier in the future please don't be afraid to ask!

as always, enjoy and have fun reading!

@engardeitsme as always, love bouncing ideas off and getting to share stuff with you before I post it! thank you for helping again! @lunaryasha @nokolla I hope you enjoy Thank you so much for your support and kind words <3

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As YN got closer to the training grounds, Her limbs got ridged and her steps were more sluggish.

“Um, Mal?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can do this.” She froze in her tracks, whimpering as Mal tried to move her forward. She sighed and grabbed hold of the girl’s arm. YN leaned against her pulling, digging her heels into the mossy floor. “I-I mean I’ve only fought to get away, I don’t know anything about combat!” she looked up at Mal pleading, Her cheeks going rosy in embarrassment, “A-and I don’t know these people…” Mal huffed, looking back at Thor and Heimdall as they seemed to be waiting for YN, getting more and more annoyed the longer she took to get there. 

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice really, do you? No come on, I'll introduce you. But you need to act properly. They are the Aesir princes and as someone under Asgard they now rule over you as well, you should know,” Mal tried to encourage the girl while also pressing it was important not to keep the princes waiting, “I’m sure they won’t go hard on you, dear little thing.”

“Oh? Are they nice?” YN asked, a bit hopeful. Mal looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Ni-? No, they’re princes. But you’re so small and sweet, so they may lose interest in you. Where did you say you were from again?”

“Vanaheim.”

“...Mmh,” Mal just hummed, now getting s bit nervous herself for the girl.

YN frowned at Mal’s lack of help. She almost felt like she was going to throw up. Meeting new people? who were mean? And she had to spare with them? 

“B-but why do I have to? Why now? I-I just got here, d-don’t you think-”

“Ah ah ah, don’t you go doing that negotiating thing. I saw what you did at breakfast. Now let’s hurry on, I rather not keep the Aesir princes waiting.” YN swallowed thickly, looking down at her feet as she allowed Mal to drag her the rest of the way. They stopped at the edge of the sparing area, where the dirt had gone wet and muddy from constant trampling. Thor quickly blocked a hit from young Heimdall and looked over at Mal and the girl. 

“Lord Thor, Lord Heimdall,” Mal lowered her head and put her hand on YN’s head to elicit a bow as well. “This is YN, a guest of the All-Father’s. She is to train with you today for an introduction to Aesir's fighting tactics.”

“Took you long enough, come here, I don’t have all day.” Thor didn’t even glance an eye at Mal, his focus purely on YN who gulped as he pointed to a spot at his feet. Heimdall didn’t even spare her a glance as he made his way to the opposite side of the circle across from Thor. YN felt Mal give her one more nudge as she finally moved to stand in front of the thunder god. 

“I will take my leave,” Mal stated, before turning back towards the great lodge. YN tightened her fists as she watched Mal retreat. Thor crossed his arms as the girl stood in front, craning her neck up at him. She gulped and dipped into a deep bow. ‘Just introduce yourself, don’t speak too much, and maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe they’ll go easy if I’m polite.’ YN thought she heard a scoff come from behind her at the thought. But that was impossible. 

“Hello, my name is YN of Vanaheim and I am the goddess of peace. I was brought here to-” She peeked up at the sound of Thor clicking his tongue in annoyance or boredom, she wasn’t sure. She swallowed thickly, focusing on her feet, “U-um to be of assistance in some way t-to the All-Father?”

Yn gasped at a sudden large hand on her shoulder, roughly twisting her to face the blond boy on the other side of the sparing circle, and nearly tripped into the mud as she was shoved forward. 

“Quickly, let’s see where you are. Heimdall, keep her face intact. We don’t want to be scolded by Father, do we?” YN could almost hear the smirk in Thor’s voice and tried not to show her fear as the boy in front of her picked up two swords, the blades dulled for training. He tossed one to the girl and she caught it before it hit the ground, surprised at the weight of it. YN was shocked as the boy seemed to disappear from in front of her and yelped as she was kicked sharply in the back, skidding in the mud but staying on her feet. She whipped around to see Heimdall starting to circle her, smirking with his lips but glaring at her intensely. 

“Gods you pathetic. ‘Maybe I’ll go easy if you’re polite’? Ha!” he laughed sarcastically, before sneering and rushing YN. She moved quickly to try and block, their swords straining against each other as he leaned in, overpowering her easily. 

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Her eyes widened as she processed his words. What would happen if she failed? Would she be shunned again, would she be shut out? Didn’t she want to go home? Why did the thought of isolation suddenly scare her so much?

She thought of how to get out of the stalemate, wanting to parry and jump back to put some distance so she could have more options. But as she moved to do so, Hiemdall was quick to twist her around and shove her back from him. While she stumbled, her back turned, he moved quickly again, grabbing her by a fistful of hair and kneeing her hard in the ribs.

“And thinking we could ever get along? That you’ll ever belong here? Don’t make me laugh. Crawl on your belly like a dog and maybe I’ll tell the All-Father to send you back to your hovel in one piece, Vanir scum.” there was venom in his voice. Even at this young age, godly strength knocked the air out of her and she sputtered, coughing up drops of blood onto his once pristine tunic. He scoffed in disgust and pushed her back. Her mind raced as her vision blurred. She dissected the situation, his movements, reaction time, and words. She caught her breath, feeling him approach again behind her, and whipped around, knocking him in the brow with the hilt of her sword. Heimdall stumbled back in a daze and stared at the girl in disbelief. He wasn’t planning on retaliation, so he had stopped reading her movements. 

He watched her as she panted, her face contouring into a snarl as she squared her shoulders and changed her stance from submissive to feral; like a beast trying to get away from a hunter. Desperate, scared, angry. 

“That’s a dirty trick,” she growled out, straightening to stare into his eyes, “you have some nerve crawling into spaces you’re not welcome.” he was caught off guard by the statement, shocked that she had found him out so quickly. Thor meanwhile just rolled his eyes on the sidelines, thinking his brother was a fool for talking too much and revealing his hand so easily. Heimdall flushed in embarrassment as he heard Thor’s thoughts prodding into his head and growled, lunging in frustration. YN was able to narrowly dodge and the two circled each other.

“You catch on fast,” Heimdall offered with a sneer.

“You talk too much,” YN bit back, guarding her body just in time as Heimdall attacked again. 

Thor noticed the following pattern:

Heimdall would always attack first, getting a few good hits in. he moved fast, and precise; then got cocky and didn’t remember to put space between him and his opponent. He had a bad habit at his young age of underestimating enemies and didn’t use his foresight as fluidly as he should be,(or so Odin thought, and told Thor to push him harder.)

YN was the opposite. She seemed to almost run away, backing away and refusing to keep her eyes off her opponent for as long as possible, and constantly whipping around to try and keep up. She would try to defend herself, taking a slash to the arm, or leg while protecting her core, and when Heimdall got careless she would go in to retaliate. Her movements were hard-hitting and violent, going for jabs hard enough to push Heimdall across the field or knock the air out of his lungs. That said, she was precise in her own way. Thor also noticed that as Heimdall seemed not to care where he hit the girl, aiming for arteries, joints, and soft spots; she only aimed for places that would discombobulate him, throw him off balance, and put space between them. Thor stroked his beard in thought, calling out to Heimdall. 

“You need to use your powers, Heimdall,” He scolded, “you underestimate too much, and you need to do so quickly, process the information, and act accordingly.”

“Underestimate?” Heimdall scoffed and dropped his stance to stifle a sarcastic laugh. YN stiffened at the mockery and growled.

“Well, what kind of god who can read minds lets his opponent land hits on him?” She barked, blocking another attack and ducking to elbow him in the side.  Heimdall was quick to pary and kicked against the length of her sword, knocking her off balance.

“Maybe you just think yourself too highly. What is a goddess of peace supposed to be able to do in a real fight? You haven’t attacked me once! Goddess of pushovers more like!” He cackled, nearly doubling over. YN dropped her stance, her cheeks searing red in anger and embarrassment. 

“Try goddess of logic and tactic, you oaf!” Her heart pounded in her ears as her anger started to rise. She wanted to stand up for herself. She wanted to reason with him. She wanted to rip his tongue out from his teeth and-

“Ooh! Such snark! Not very peaceful of you, Queen Kindness ~” 

“I’m warning you!” ‘Be calm. Be calm. Be calm. Don’t let your anger get the best of you. It will only end badly. Just breath.’

“Oh or what? You’ll sign a peace treaty? Bake me a cake? Cry and beg for forgiveness?” Heimdall was almost out of breath from laughter, and YN saw red. Suddenly time stood still as Heimdall’s laughter was cut off by a mound of mud flying into his face. YN watched satisfied as the dirt dripped down his chin and smeared down the front of his tunic. 

Thor snorted and threw his head in laughter as he watched Heimdall swipe his hand down his face, his fiery pink eyes searing holes into the girl's face. 

“I told you to shut up!” she shouted, She reeled her hand back with another pile of mud. Heimdall dodged, running at her full force and grabbing her face, slamming her down into the mud. 

“You repulsive little worm.” he snarled, watching her sink into the ground under his weight. With her face still covered under his palm, she blindly grabbed another fistful and slammed it into the side of his head, knocking him off of her and deafening him in one ear momentarily. Thor was wheezing, doubled over the fence. YN stood slowly, the weight of water and dirt seeped into her clothes and hair dragging her down. She looked down at her grimy hands and shook them once, spraying mud and hitting Heimdall with droplets of muck.

“I don’t bake cake” she stated, smearing mud off her face nonchalantly. “But you’ll find I’m quite good at mud pies,” She smirked as Heimdall shook his head, regaining his senses. The next three minutes were full of pure chaos.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“ Sire, are you certain that Lord Thor and Lord Heimdall were the best suited for the job of testing the girl’s abilities?” A man with curved horns spoke, walking a foot behind Odin at all times. 

“Of course. Heimdall and her are nearly the same age, so it’s a fair fight wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes sir, but Heimdall is young and doesn’t know how to hold back at times. That with his fighting prowess and Thor’s…buffoonery, may cause a bit of disastrous cocktail.” Odin laughed at Mimir’s statement, holding his belly. 

“I always appreciate your bluntness, dear friend!” Odin regains his composure with a sigh, still smiling slightly. “That may be true, but I need Heimdall to read the girl’s mind. And because he is progressing so slowly, he still needs to be close and be able to concentrate, making the whole ordeal less than ideal. And Thor? He’s just grounded and I knew he would hate the job of babysitting.” Mimir frowned at this, not sure why Odin was so carefree about having his two most hot-headed sons be with their new guest. “ I fear Tyr or Baldur would go far too easy on the poor creature. I need results quickly to see where she stands. I just hope they haven’t beaten her too badly.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

 Mud flew in every direction, both from wads being thrown at each other, or residual splatter from tackling each other into the ground and wrestling each other like feral little goblins.

“Ugh!! You are such a little weasel!” YN screamed as Heimdall managed to slip behind her, shoving mud down the back of her shirt, but not before she flipped around and tackled him to the ground, shaking his shoulders violently and slamming him into the mud. He growled, his eyes glowing as he flipped her over, pinning her to the ground under his hips and yanking her hair, smearing it with dirt. 

“Oh yeah!? Well, you’re nothing but a squawking raven!” 

YN reached up, yanking at Hiemdall’s mud-caked hair, pulling so they flipped and rolled across the floor. Heimdall elbowed her in the eye. She yelped and punched him in the nose, pinning him to the ground, and closed the gap between them. Her hands found home around his throat and she didn’t feel herself squeeze, tighter, tighter, tighter. Heimdall gasped for air, kneeing her in her already bruised ribs. She screamed out in pain, her grip loosening and Heimdall threw her off, making her skid into the mud, curling up in pain as her side throbbed. 

“Hey, alright, that’s enough,” Thor called, getting closer to the two, still chuckling at the state of his brother. Heimdall heaved, grabbing a sword that lay forgotten in the mud. 

“Heimdall, come on, put the sword down,” Thor spoke firmly this time, reaching to grab the sword, Heimdall yanked free of his hold and trudged over, raising the sword above his head to swing down, YN nursed her side and prepared to dodge and tackle him again. 

“Heimdall!”

“ What is the meaning of this!?” A voice boomed, making the children both freeze. YN watched as Heimdall’s eyes widened in horror, dropping the sword and stepping away from her immediately, getting down on one knee in the mud and bowing his head, eyes screwed to the ground. Thor followed, not even the hint of a smile on his face anymore. YN finally looked up, seeing Odin approaching with a scowl on his face, followed by a man with curved horns atop his head, his eyes shining with what looked like opals. 

Odin turned immediately to Thor, his arms crossed and his foot tapping as he waited impatiently for an answer. Thor straightened, deciding to look at the children instead of his father.

“They were just sparing, All-Father. Nothing but some roughhousing.”

“Roughhousing?” Mimir drawled out as he walked closer to YN. “They’re covered head to toe in filth. And this one’s eye is swollen shut!” He grabbed YN's face to get a good look at the bruising. He tutted and walked over to Heimdall, looking him over as well. Heimdall winced as the man checked his nose. “Oh lovely,” he spoke sarcastically, looking back at Thor and Odin. “his nose is broken!”

Odin sighed, bordering on a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. YN couldn’t explain it but despite what only looked like mild frustration, there seemed to be electricity in the air. She was not blind to the way Heimdall seemed to cower under his father’s gaze, and Thor seemed so small all of a sudden in the All-Father’s presence. The way everyone reacted to him unnerved YN and she hated the feeling of tension closing in on everyone.

“Boys, I told you to train her, not maim her. Mimir helps her up, will you?” 

Mimir gently grabbed her arm, helping her to stand, and walked her over to Odin’s side. 

“ S-sir it was my fault. I-I’m no good at fighting! I fought desperately and my temper got the better of me, I’m deeply truly sorry.” She tried to reason. Heimdall peaked up at her, confused as to why she would bother to take the blame. She didn’t know him or his brother. Didn’t she know what would happen if she spoke out of turn? Heimdall couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt at the way his father acted towards the girl. How his voice softened. Was she manipulating him? Heimdall tried reading her mind but he was still dazed from the scuffle the two had had. 

Odin cut off the girl’s apologies by holding his hand up, shushing her silently. 

“ I won’t hear it. You are a guest and in a strange new land. You were taken from your home and told to fight without any time to understand what was going on. I simply wasn’t thinking. And for that, I am sorry. I was supposed to come here to introduce you and watch you spar, not fight! But I thought to myself, ‘Surely my sons will do well in some friendly competition. I mustn’t worry so much!’ Isn’t that what I said, Mimir?”

“Yes, sir.” Mimir nodded, but YN felt his hand tense against her shoulder. Odin nodded and scowled at Heimdall and Thor, shaking his head with a sigh.

“But I suppose I was wrong to trust them with such a simple task.” YN was caught off guard as she felt Odin’s hand rest on her head.

“Are you alright, child?” YN looked up at him and nodded meekly. He smiled and pushed the girl over towards the two still bowing in the dirt. “Get up.” They stood quickly. Thor looked his father in the eyes, while Heimdall struggled to do the same, his hands squeezed tight at his sides. Odin nudged the girl forward. “I’d like all three of you to apologize to each other.” 

At this, the girl immediately bowed, apologizing for letting things get out of hand. Now that her anger had subsided all she felt was anxiety at the tension in the air. YN wanted nothing more than to apologize and hopefully get along with everyone. She turned to Thor and looked up with big round eyes. 

“ I apologize, Lord Thor, for not paying better attention to your encouragement and advice, and instead letting my nerves take over. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to teach me.” Thor let out a harumph, looking away. But then sighed and lowered his head in a passive bow.

“Yeah… sorry I didn’t keep a better eye on you both.” Odin scoffed, not satisfied but knowing that was the best he’d get out of Thor. He looked down at Heimdall expectantly, who just seemed to be frozen in place. Yn stuck out her hand as a peace offering. 

“I’m deeply sorry, Lord Heimdall. I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly.” Heimdall tsked at the statement and didn’t move. YN looked him in the eyes and he heard her thoughts.

‘I know you can hear me. Shake my hand, and play along. Unless you want to get in more trouble.’ He clicked his tongue in annoyance but with the nudge of her thought and the searing eyes of his father, he grabbed her hand and shook it.

“No my…lady…” he strained with a smile, his brow twitching “The fault is mine for thinking you could withstand a fight with me. I must remember that you are a woman, and therefore, weak and delicate. Like a baby bird,” She smiled back, squeezing his hand so tight that the tip of her fingers turned white. 

‘I’ll show you delicate, you little weasel.’She thought, her brow twitching as she pried her hands away and noticed him flex his hand subtly at his side to subside the aching of her anaconda squeeze.

“There, see? All better now! Mimir, take our guest to the infirmary will you?” Mimir nodded, guiding YN away. When they were out of earshot, Odin’s smile disappeared and he looked at his sons expectantly. 

“What have you learned?”

“She is reactive in her fighting.” Thor started his report, “ only attacking after her opponent makes a move. Otherwise, she’s a bit of a chicken shit. Kept running away from Heimdall until the only choice was to fight back.” 

“Hn…” Odin looked down at the younger boy. “So she was trying to run away and you still ended up like this? Honestly, Heimdall.”

“B-but father-“

“ I don’t want to hear it.” Heimdall shut his mouth stiffly. Odin repeated his original question, directing all his attention to Heimdall. The boy swallowed thickly and remembered her thoughts and the way they rushed one after the other.

“She…she’s a goddess, and she’s from Vanaheim. She wanted to avoid fighting me, kept trying to find a way to introduce herself, and thought being polite would stop me from hurting her. She kept trying to calm herself down, so I provoked her to see where she would go from there. She’s hotheaded and immature. I don’t think she can be trusted. You should just send her back.” Heimdall fidgeted as he spoke and Odin lost his patience, grabbing the boy’s chin roughly to look up at him. 

“Unfortunately that’s not in the cards just yet, son. She’s a child, and a goddess, therefore powerful and unpredictable. We need to keep an eye on how she grows and see if we can use her for the betterment of Asgard before one of our enemies finds her and uses her against us. You understand, don’t you?” Odin squeezed Heimdall’s chin as he posed the question. Heimdall whimpered slightly at the pain of Odin’s bony fingers digging into his skin and just barely was able to nod. Odin abruptly released his son, smiling brightly. “Good. So then, anything that we can use to get her to trust us? Get her to work with us?” Heimdall nodded again, reaching up to rub his sore chin. 

“She’s very lonely and pathetic…, which you can use to gain her trust, All-Father.  She seems passive in her solutions but she is also quick to anger and frustration so it would be important to keep that in mind during any negotiations…” 

Odin looked down at his son, taking in the information. He hummed in satisfaction and nodded.

“ alright. Good. I can work with that.” With that, Odin turned to walk away, paused, and spared Heimdall a glance over his shoulder. “Clean yourself up. You’re filthy.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“What’s his problem, anyway? Is everyone in Asgard as… volatile?” YN asked as Mimir prepared an ice pack for her. He snorted and shook his head. 

“Heimdall is a special cocktail of issues, lass. Best to keep away from him. He’s a spoiled little prince, and I’m afraid the way he’s going it will only get worse.” He walked over to her with a white cloth. He dipped it in a bowl of warm water, rang it out, and pressed it to the girl’s swollen eye. She hissed, pulling away slightly, but Mimir kept her head gently in place, blotting the wound. “Stay still, I know it stings but I need to get all the dirt and blood off.” YN stayed tense but allowed Mimir to clean the wound. There was silence in the room, save for the slow trickle of water from the towel being run out every once in a while. YN interrupted the quiet.

“Are you allowed to say that about the princes?” She asked meekly, looking up at Mimir with her good eye. He raised a brow, dipping the cloth in the water again and going back to cleaning.

“Are you going to rat me out?” He posed, grabbing the ice he had prepared and holding it up to her face. YN shook her head slightly and smiled as Mimir simply shrugged, “Then I have nothing to worry about. Besides, my loyalties lie with the All-Father, not his band of brats. Like I said, best to just keep away.” YN thought for a moment and shook her head, holding the ice to her face as Mimir walked away to grab some medicine for the cuts on her face.

“That doesn’t seem right. Why should they be able to do whatever they want at the expense of others? Because they’re royalty? They should be held to even higher standards considering the power they have.” 

“What we think is right and what will end up happening are two different things. Best to forget the whole thing to save yourself the disappointment.”

“And who taught you that? Was it the All-Father?” Mimir stilled, seeming to be in deep thought. YN pouted, guilty at the tension she had caused.“ I-I’m sorry.” Mimir shook his head, a smile returning to his face. 

“It’s alright. It’s just… you’re quite forward for a young goddess in a new place.” YN frowned at that. She wasn’t really sure how she was supposed to be acting. She had spent so long working off instinct, that it may have made her a bit blunt in her words and actions. Mimir let the silence hang as she fidgeted with her ice pack before deciding to elaborate.

“… I’m not from here… Asgard, I mean. Hel, I’m not even from the 9 realms.” He looked back at YN and chuckled as she straightened her posture, her interest peaked. “ I’m a Fae, a Goodfellow. I used to be a fool to a Celtic faerie king.” He got a faraway look in his eye, as he slowed the grinding of herbs. She swung her feet as she waited for him to continue, tilting her head in curiosity. “What’s a Fae? What’s Celtic?” Mimir snorted at this, shaking his head. 

“That’s too long a story. The point is that I’m an outsider, like you. And I wasn’t happy where I was so I left… things may seem rough here, but they are better than they were. That’s what I hold onto. This is all new to you, and new is strange. The All-Father told me a bit about your background. Going from complete isolation to being surrounded by people and sparing lessons is a lot, and I apologize for your rushed introduction to Asgard thus far.”

Yn nodded, thinking about her own home. There was nothing for her there, really. And though Heimdall and Thor were less than pleasant and Odin had not yet shown he could be fully trusted, there were already things YN felt would be hard to let go of. The food she was able to eat here, the feeling of a warm bed and a crackling fire, the sound of people moving to and fro in the morning. The sound of people living around her, unbothered.

“ Odin called you Mimir…that means wise one doesn’t it?”

“ yes. I am Mimir, the smartest man alive.” He said proudly. He saw as the girl raised her brow in confusion and chuckled, “I am the ambassador of the gods and the nine realms, I know every corner of the realms, everything that has happened, every language spoken, every moment in time past now.” YN’s eyes widened in awe, to meet someone who claimed to know so much of the world after she had been isolated from it for so long, it made her mind soar. YN pulled the ice from her eye and balled her hands together in anxious excitement.

“ Would you… Would you be able to teach me? Please?!” She pleaded, nearly shaking with excitement. Mimir pretended to think about it, stroking his beard.

“ Oh? I dunno, it’s a lot of information I’d be throwing at you. Could be a bit boring.”

“Yes, that’s what I want! I want to learn about the realms, I want to help build connections, That’s what Odin said I’d be able to do here! Will you please teach me, Mimir?” 

The truth was, he was tasked with keeping an eye on the girl and taking her under his wing. Odin wanted him to teach her about the relations of Asgard to the rest of the realms and see if she could aid in Mimir and Tyr’s growth of Agard’s connections. He looked back down at the girl, guilt buried at the back of his mind. She was only here to be used. But then, weren’t they all in some way? 

“I suppose I could use an apprentice. But don’t whine when you feel you're being thrown over the deep end.”

“Yes!” she cheered, hopping off the table. She bowed deeply, before looking back up at the man with a hopeful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Mimir. I hope that your teachings allow me to be more useful, so that I may continue to stay here. Maybe my first day was hard, but I’m sure I can find my place here.” She beamed, the pain of her wounds already subsiding thanks to godlike healing and the creams that had been applied.  She runs to the exit, hoping to find Mal. She wanted to tell her about her fight with Heimdall and tease her for being too scared to stay and watch. 

“Oi, wait, your eye! I need to put this on it!”

“I’ll be fine! I have to go! Thank you again, Mimir!” she gathered her things, a new skip in her step. 

“Ah ah ah, at least take it with you.” He grabbed her by the shoulder, handing her a metal tin with the cream he had made with the crushed herbs and some bandages. “The great hall! Tomorrow at 6 am. Do not be late!” he barely got it out before she left, the heavy door slamming behind her. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The sun had set in Asgard and YN was on her way back to her room from supper with Mal, who had apologized for leaving in a hurry and gave her an extra serving of potatoes as a sorry. 

YN yawned with a stretch. The swelling in her eye had gone down, but the bruising was now a deep yellow and purple. Mimir had also found out she had two broken ribs, but with the ointment and bandages he had applied, the girl felt fine and knew they would be fine by morning. 

YN was about to retire for the night, walking to her door, when she heard a loud hiss come from across the hall. She quirked a brow at the sound and turned. Dim candlelight flickered from under the door and YN walked over at the subtle sound of a pained groan. 

“Hello? Are you ok in there?” She asked with a knock. There was silence for a beat, and she knocked again, “Hello?” The person on the other side clicked their tongue in annoyance and YN could hear the loud screech of a chair dragging across the wooden floor. The door swung open and YN was met face-to-face with Heimdall, scowling with a blood-stained handkerchief over his nose. She tilted her head in confusion. 

“What the Hel do you want?” he grumbled, but his voice was slightly nasily because of his broken nose. YN had started to regret ever knocking but quirked a brow and pointed at his handkerchief. 

“You’re still bleeding.”

“No! Really?” Heimdall gasped in fain surprise.

“ I didn’t know we lived across the hall from each other.” She spoke again, ignoring his rudeness. Heimdall rolled his eyes and went to slam the door in her face. 

“Seriously, just get out.” She held her hand up to stop the door from fully closing. “What the- hey! I said, "Get out!”

“Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

“Tsk! Are you serious? I’m not a baby, I don’t need bandages and a cookie for staying still.” YN just rolled her good eye at the statement, pushing further against the door. “Hey!”

“You know we heal too fast for you to leave that alone. Your cartilage is going to grow back crooked.” Heimdall’s eyes widened at that, but he frowned as he looked away. 

“That’s not true. You're lying.” 

“Why would I lie about your nose growing back crooked?” YN watched him fidget in place. It didn’t take a genius to know that he cared about his vanity. The bright white shirts with gold trim and intricate braids in his hair when she first saw him were enough of a hint. And despite everything, she still wanted to make peace, if not to become friends then to at least have to worry less about being tackled at a moment's notice. Heimdall groaned in defeat, knowing she was right. 

“ Alright, fine then. What do you suggest I do, pestering raven?” YN sighed at yet another insulting name and crossed her arms.

“ May I come in?” She asked, annoyance obvious in her voice. Heimdall frowned but opened his door wider. Yn walked in and noticed the room was nearly the same as hers, save for a vanity in the corner of the room with the chair pushed back. She grabbed the back of it, dragged it over to the bed, and sat down, turning to Heimdall and patting the spot on the bed across from her. He shut the door and trudged over, sitting across so that their knees touched.

“Can you move the handkerchief?” Heimdall hesitated but slowly did so, his face showing discomfort as he removed pressure. His nose had in fact already started to bend slightly and YN couldn’t help the concerned hiss she let out. “ I really am sorry…”

“ Whatever. Just fix it.” His bright eyes glared through her.

“ I’ll have to break it again.”

“Like hel you will!”

“OK, if you don’t mind a deep bend at your bridge.”

“… fine.”

“What was that?”

“ I said fine already!”

She just nodded with a smirk, touching at the soft cartilage, and pressing it into place. Heimdall winced and tensed at each prod, his hands squeezed tight on his thighs. 

“If you keep scrunching your face, this won’t work.”

“Well, it hurts! You're doing it on purpose.”

“ I am not. Do you want a towel to bite down on?”

“ Shut up- ow! Hey!”

“OK, take a deep breath, This one is gonna be the worst but it should open up both nostrils so you can breathe better.” 

“H-how do you even know what you're doing is right?” 

“ I’ve been alone for a long time. I’ve always had to heal myself. And I’ve fallen on my face many times, my nose looks pretty good if I do say so myself.” She smirked slightly at him as he only gulped. YN grabbed the bridge of his nose and when he braced himself, she twisted her hand sharply, effectively knocking a piece of cartilage that had grown crooked out of place. Heimdall screamed as blood rushed out his nose. He brought the handkerchief back up to his face.

“Are you crazy?!”

“If I didn’t do that, your nose would have looked like a tree branch. Keep pressure on that for a moment.”She pulled the small tin from her pocket. “Look, Mimir gave me this to apply to my eye and ribs before going to bed. It will help with the pain.” She grabbed some bandages that were tucked in her pocket and ripped them into two strips, rolled them up into tight coils, and dipped the ends into the concoction. “Take that off, please. The bleeding should have stopped, and this will stop the soreness.” YN had started to think the boy’s brows were permanently knitted together in annoyance by this point as he moved the kerchief from his face. YN quickly pushed the wads of bandage up his nose to keep the cartilage from collapsing and to promote healing in the correct direction. That being said, he looked ridiculous and she couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her mouth. His face went red and he pushed her chair away from him with his boot. 

“ Alright, you’re done, right? Get out.” he hopped off the bed, pushing her towards the door. 

“W-wait a minute, do you think we could-” she gasped as she was shoved out the door, but twisted and jammed her foot before it could slam. Heimdall let out an exaggerated growl, throwing his head back.

“Gods- now what do you want?” she swallowed thickly and offered a small bow. 

“My name is YN, goddess of logic, tactic and peace. I will be staying across the hall from you. I hope we can learn to get along.” She stood back straight and smiled nervously. Heimdall pulled together a sickly sweet grin.

“I am Heimdall, god of foresight, and my time is too precious to be wasted on you. Good night.” And with that, he swung the door wide open before slamming it in the girl's face. YN winced and then sighed in defeat, fidgeting with her hands.

“Good night…” she called softly back through the door. At no response, she turned toward her room to retire for the night. Maybe the next day would be better. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[asterkiss]

Hello!

I have a request for a Mabill one shot; Bill and Mabel are watching a cheesy romance movie and a kissing scene comes on. Ofc Mabel is swooning but Bill is gagging. Lots of teasing and fluff ensues and maybe some smooches too ;)

Also, just want to let you know that I think all your fics are really good! They are well written and the plots are always exciting. The way you write the Gravity Falls characters is so fitting!

Thank you!!

I just recently watched 10 Things I Hate About You so have a oneshot about Mabel and Bill watching that. Also, thank you for the kind comments ^^ Glad you like!

-MOVIE NIGHT

'Why do I have to watch this again?'

'Because you lost the bet.'

Bill pressed his lips into a thin line. 'In my defence, no ordinary human should be possible of fitting that many gummy worms in their mouth without asphyxiating.' 

‘Thank you!’

‘That wasn’t a compliment, brat!’

Mabel ignored him, plucking out a DVD from the shelf and spinning on her heel to display it towards him with a bright grin. ‘Tah dah!’ 

The demon remained seated on the large sofa chair, expression one of clear disinterest. When his eyes fell on her movie pick, his expression soured even more. 

‘It’s 10 Things I Hate About You,’ Mabel gushed, shoving it into the DVD player before rushing over towards the sofa chair. She shoved him by the arm, forcing him to grumble and shift aside to make room for herself as they sat side by side in the living room of the Shack. 

‘I can list ten things I hate,’ Bill replied flatly, folding his arms like a sulking child. ‘This movie is one of them.’

The teenager rolled her eyes, used to his antics by now. ‘You’re not gonna get out of this from being snarky.’ Nope, no way. She’d won the bet fair and square.

‘Meh.’

‘This movie has a young Heath Ledger in it, he’s soooo hot!’

‘I don’t follow the same beauty standards as humans.’

Mabel raised her eyebrows, peeking curiously at him as the movie began. ‘What are your standards, then?’

The demon glanced at her, remaining silent for a moment. And as the silence stretched on under his intense scrutiny, her curiosity began to be eclipsed by self-consciousness. ‘What?’ Was he about to point out a zit on her face or something? She was sure she didn’t have any this morning…

‘Eh, let’s just get this over with.’

‘Okay!’ Mabel settled into her seat, grinning ear to ear as the movie began, enjoying it despite Bill’s sarcastic comments every five minutes.

Time passed by and one of the characters proceeded to pull out a pair of black panties from a drawer

“You don't buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it!” Bianca the character proclaimed on screen.

‘Guess that’s why yours are flower print,’ Bill remarked dryly out of the blue.

‘Wha-’ Mabel snapped her head around so fast she almost got whiplash, face flushing red in impressive speed. ‘How the hell do you know that!?’

‘You threw them at me once with the rest of your laundry when I drew on your pig with a permanent marker,’ Bill replied. He kept his eyes on the screen but it was hard to miss the smirk on his lips as he wound her up.

Mabel felt embarrassment swelling up inside her as she glared at him. ‘You can’t-!’

‘Shhh, I’m trying to watch the movie,’ he whispered, placing a hand over her mouth.

Ooh, she wanted to hit him so bad. She shoved his arm away from her, folding her arms as she tried to refocus on the movie and reign in her anger. Calm down, Mabel. He was trying to rile you up on purpose so you’d end Movie Night and he could escape. It’s what he wanted.

She would persevere, dammit!

Gradually, her ire waned as the movie proceeded. It was one of her favourite movies after all and she enjoyed it. Bill still kept trying to ruin it though.

‘It’s so sweet how far Patrick goes to win over Kat,’ Mabel sighed blissfully, watching as Heath Ledger serenaded her on screen with a beautiful rendition of ‘I Love You Baby’. 

‘Yeah, but only because he’s getting paid to do it.’

‘In the beginning, sure, he comes off as this intimidating and scary guy who is fine getting paid to show fake interest, but then he begins to really fall for her and changes for real. It’s such a romantic story.’

Bill hummed in response but didn’t say anything further. When she cast him a peek, he was staring at the screen with his lips tugged down slightly. Jeez, was he still sulking that he was watching this?

The next scene showed the main pair going on a date and eventually making ou with one another on screen. Mabel swooned happily, clasping her hands together as she watched in delight. She heard Bill making a displeased grunt and she elbowed him in the side. ‘Shut up, this part’s good.’

‘I find no joy in watching strangers make out. Not unless he’s about to pull a spider out of her mouth.’

Mabel’s smile vanished, making a face as she pinned him with a sharp stare. ‘Ew gross, why would you say that? Kissing is nice, it’s a way for you and the person you like to be close and show you like each other! It makes you feel all giddy and happy inside.’

‘Uh huh, and how many people have you kissed?’

She closed her mouth quickly. 

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘H-Hey, I’ve kissed at least two guys!’

‘Kissing your brother on the cheek doesn’t count.’

‘I wasn’t counting him!’ she cried, face red. ‘I kissed Mermando when I was twelve, and then there was a Spin the Bottle game when we were fifteen…’

‘That’s not really an impressive record.’

‘Oh yeah? How many people have you kissed?’ she shot back, feeling defensive.

Bill blinked. ‘I dunno, a handful?’

‘Wait, what? How? You’re a demon! You just said so yourself that you don’t like kissing!’

‘Sometimes I had to play pretend when possessing someone, or there were a few times it worked to charm a human into doing what I wanted. Heh, that was fun. The manipulation, not the kissing.’

Mabel lowered her eyes, grasping at her head with both hands. ‘Oh God.’ Bill Cipher had a more luscious love life than her, this was appalling. Not even the movie playing on screen could distract her.

‘Seriously, this is what gets you down?’ Bill asked in disbelief.

‘All the girls in my class have kissed loads of boys, or have boyfriends,’ Mabel muttered dejectedly. ‘I tried to make a guy up when they asked me, but that kinda fell apart when I panicked and said his name was Elmo.’

Bill snorted.

Mabel raised her head back up, watching as the characters got ready for prom. ‘Urgh, my prom is in two months and I won’t even have a date. Where’s my Heath Ledger to sweep me off my feet?’

A few seconds later, Bill spoke.

‘I’ll take ya.’

She turned her head to find him watching her. She frowned suspiciously. ‘You will?’

‘Sure, unless you wanna go with your brother?’

Her face screwed up at that. ‘No way.’ A pause. ‘But why you? You’re not planning to like, spike the punch, are you?’

‘Oh, I definitely will. But I’ll keep it restrained to alcohol only, no illegal drugs. Scouts honour.’ He smiled, placing a hand over his chest.

Mabel’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s it? You don’t want anything else?’ 

‘Ya want me to ask for more?’

‘No. But… it’s weird.’ She straightened up, focusing on his face as she looked for any sign of lying. ‘You don’t do nice things.’ Sure he’d been more laid back as of late compared to his original self, but this was still pretty far out of the ballpark for him. 

He blinked. ‘I can be nice.’

‘Why?’

His expression grew annoyed. ‘I already said why.’

‘I want a better answer,’ she insisted, leaning closer. 

Bill scowled. ‘You’re being a brat.’

‘You’re being difficult.’

He clenched his jaw, gaze flaring with irritation before something inside him seemed to snap. A second later both his hands grabbed her arms as he leaned down, nose inches from her own as he pinned her beneath his gaze. She tensed up, her earlier gusto faltering in the wake of his abrupt actions.

‘I’m offering to do one nice thing for you because out of all the morons in this hick town, you’re the only one I can slightly tolerate in a way that doesn’t leave me nauseous and wanting to leap off a cliff.’

Mabel blinked. But before she could reply, he tightened his grip on her biceps and spoke on. ‘You’re aggravating, exasperating, and irritating. I find your hobbies ridiculous and your food tastes questionable. I think you’re annoying and loud and troublesome, and yet despite all that I still find myself craving your company and smiles and I hate it.’

He finished off his tirade with a deep breath, eyes drilling into her. ‘Is that a good enough reason?’ he snapped, face flushed red with anger. Or was that embarrassment?

Mabel wanted to reply but wasn’t really sure what to say. Huh. When she continued to stare at him speechless, he eventually growled and released her, turning his head to look away.

Wowzah.

It wasn’t exactly him listing ten things he hated about her, but it was close enough and oh wow her face felt hot. She placed both hands on her cheeks, feeling the heat practically radiating from her face.

‘Soooo,’ she began, also averting her gaze. ‘You like me?’ She wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Sure they’d been hanging out a lot but she’d always thought he hated their time together.

He grunted, not saying anything.

Mabel raised her head, finding him leaning far away in the chair as he looked at the movie with a sudden intensity she doubted came from his interest in the movie. She shuffled closer, noting how his eyebrow twitched as their legs brushed against one another. Peering at him keenly, she could see him growing more and more antsy beneath her burning stare. Eventually, his eyes snapped towards her, their gazes locked.

‘What?’ he asked, gruffly.

Mabel smiled. ‘I also like hanging out with you.’

He frowned, eyes wandering over her face. Neither of them had explicitly said they liked each other but it was good enough.

Eventually, his expression relaxed, and he raised a hand towards her. She tried not to flinch away in nervousness as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Ooooh, there went the giddy feeling in her chest. 

His gaze darkened and he began to move his head towards her and oh god, oh god, was this happening?

Heart swelling inside her chest, her eyes begin to flutter close as he drew nearer, and she prepared for her third ever kiss. (Third time the charm, folks!)

But then, just as their lips were about to meet, they were interrupted.

By a scream.

A piercing loud feminine one that went through the Shack and cut through her ear drums. Both of them flinched, almost knocking heads as Mabel felt her heart leap into her throat. She looked towards the television, eyes widening in horror as she watched a woman getting chainsawed in half as blood and guts splattered across the screen.

Mabel was the one to scream this time.

So much for her third kiss.

>

‘My bad, I forgot I did that.’

Mabel glared at him, their Movie Night having been brought to an abrupt halt after that. Bill shrugged sheepishly.

‘I saw the movie on the shelf, and thought it would be funny to record over the end with a slasher film. Seemed pretty funny at the time. In my defence, I thought it belonged to your brother since he watches all the cheesy romance films and then lies about it.’

Ooh, she wanted to hit him again. 

‘Cm’on, it was a mistake,’ he said, nudging her on the shoulder. ‘No biggie. All done.’

‘You haven’t even apologised!’ she cried.

He stopped at that. ‘Apologise?’

‘Yes!’

‘Okay, fine.’ He smiled. ‘I’m sss…..’ He paused, clearing his throat. ‘I’m sssssss….. sooooooo…. soooooo….’ After several seconds of struggling, he groaned and threw his hands up in exasperation. ‘You know what I’m trying to say, right? That’s good enough.’

‘No, it’s not!’ she snapped, annoyed with him. ‘And I’m not gonna forgive you until you say it.’

When he continued to stand there awkwardly, not saying anything, she groaned and turned to walk away. ‘Forget it.’ She was going to go eat some ice-cream in a tub and hole up in her room by herself.

But then:

‘I’m sorry.’

She stopped. Turning back around, her eyes fell upon Bill as he stood there in the middle of the room looking queasy.

‘You said it,’ she mumbled, surprised.

‘Yeah, first time saying that and genuinely meaning it in a trillion years. So I’m forgiven now, right?’ he asked, folding his arms gruffly.

‘...Yeah, I forgive you,’ she said. ‘But, I’m still mad at you. You have to make it up to me!’

‘How?’

She considered it for a moment. ‘There’s a movie at the cinema that’s out. Another scheesy romance one. I want to go see it. You can take me.’ He wouldn’t be able to mess with the movie then.

Bill blinked. ‘So, like a date?’

Mabel’s heart skipped a beat. Oh. ‘Um… sure, like a date.’ 

They both stared at one another.

‘Alright, ready to go then?’ he asked.

‘Uh… No, wait, I need to get changed.’ She couldn’t wear old sweats to a date! And make-up, she needed make-up! ‘Gimme twenty minutes!’ she blurted out before quickly rushing away and up the stairs with a flushed face. She needed to ring Candy and Grenda, stat!

Meanwhile, Bill was left behind on his own.

But not for long.

As a tall shadow loomed over him from behind, the demon slowly turned around to come against a familiar face.

‘So, I heard you’re taking Mabel on a date,’ Stanley Pines said, voice slow and calculated.

Bill smiled brightly. ‘Yup! Don’t worry Fez, I’ll have her back by eleven.’ Wink.

The older man’s face darkened, and maybe making a joke wasn’t the right thing to do but he couldn’t resist! A large hand suddenly came down on his shoulder, the man’s grip like that of a grizzly bear.

‘I think you and I should have a chat, hm?’

‘Haha, Shooting Star’s expecting us to leave in twenty minutes. Don’t wanna leave her waiting, she'd get upset!' he replied, smiling back even as he internally began to panic. 

‘Oh really?’ Another hand grabbed his other shoulder, leaving no room for escape. ‘No worries then, that’s plenty of time for me to finish up.'

Finish up? Finish up what!?

'Why don’t we go down to the lab, eh?’

Oh boy. If he was late to the date, someone call the cops!

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

Mr. Binder

Character/Fandom: Steve Binder - Elvis (2022)

Requested: yes! by @ch3rries-n-cream - i hope you enjoy babes!!

Prompt: As you're leaving work for the night, you hear someone rummaging around in the control room. In a true stroke of luck, you find yourself totally alone with the man you've been crushing on since day one: Steve Binder. Now's your chance to make a move.

TW: none!

Rating: Pg || Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: back at y'all with some soft steve!! it's a bit shorter than what i've been posting recently, but i hope you enjoy the fluff!

[ request | masterlist | wanna be tagged? ]

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You stuff your last folder into your tote bag and string the bag over your shoulder. After the long day you’ve had, you’re more than happy to head home for the night. You flick off the light in your office and start down the hall. The heels of your shoes click, echoing with each step. You suddenly think you hear a sound and pause in the hall. Listening closely, you definitely hear someone still here.

You walk quietly toward the sound, albeit away from your exit. As the noise grows louder, you realize that it’s coming from the control room. You stop outside the door and peek your head around the corner. You’re shocked to find none other than Steve Binder, one of the studio’s producers. He also just happens to be the man on whom you have the world’s biggest crush.

You met Steve when you started work at NBC studios in Burbank and have basically had a crush on the man since you first saw him. He’s absolutely gorgeous with striking clear blue eyes and soft sandy hair. He has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. You want nothing more than to kiss his pink plump lips every time you see him.

But you could never do something so bold. Besides, he barely even knows that you exist. You’ve worked closely here and there, passed each other in the hallway. He knows your name and your face. But you only work in the costume department, which means you rarely have any reason to be near him. The office isn’t that large, so you’ve shared passing comments about the weather or lunch or other usual small talk topics. But you’ve never had an actual conversation about something real. You could never be with him. He’s out of your league.

You wait a few minutes, observing him in the control room. He’s on his hands and knees, bent over at the waist with his arms shoved elbows deep into some machine. He’s grumbling and spitting quiet profanities to himself. You know it’s ridiculous to find him attractive at this current moment, but you do. You really do. As you stand, watching him in the eerie silence of the building, you realize that this is the first time you’ve ever been alone together. Just the two of you.

This is your chance, maybe the only chance you’ll get. With a deep sigh, Steve grumbles angrily. Stifling a giggle, you clear your throat and step out into the open.

“Goodnight Mr. Binder,” you say, just loud enough for him to hear.

His head snaps up and you wince as a loud bang accompanies his head hitting the table. He glances over his shoulder with one eye closed in pain. He reaches up to rub the back of his head with his fingers. You hold a hand up to your mouth in embarrassment, glad that the low lighting is hiding you from his sight.

“Oh….Y/N, hi. I didn’t hear you come in,” he says, his hand still massaging the back of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Binder, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you say, shaking your head.

“No, no that’s okay,” he replies with a soft chuckle.

A semi-awkward silence settles between you as you both wait for the other to continue the conversation. Your heart starts to pound in your chest as you realize that you should say something to fill the void.

“Working late?”

“Attempting to. I guess that’s why you startled me. I was a little too involved in this…mess.”

“Oh?” you say, pretending like you hadn’t noticed. “What exactly are you attempting to do, Mr. Binder?”

“Oh, just trying to fix this stupid sound machine,” he responds, laughing nervously.

“Maybe I can help.”

You mentally scold yourself as you start walking forward. You know damn well that you haven't the slightest idea what the hell you're even looking at. But the opportunity to spend time alone with Steve is too good to turn down.

So you walk anyway, all the way into the room where you crouch down next to him. Clearing your throat, you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and stick your head into the space. Steve waddles back to make some room. You can’t help but realize just how close you are to one another. You go to put your hand on the ground, but accidentally place it directly on top of Steve’s. With a gasp, you pull it away quickly.

“Sorry…” you both mumble at the same time.

You lean forward and reach into the machine to tug on different wires. With a nervous chuckle, you parse through red, green, and blue wires which are all tangled together. You raise your eyebrows as your gaze flicks around the machine confusedly. You laugh anxiously and pull back.

“Do you happen to know what’s wrong with it?” you ask sheepishly.

You try to ignore the heat that creeps up into your cheeks and tips of your ears. Steve glances over at you and grins. You can’t help but share the expression at the beautiful sigh of his handsome features curving up into joy. His eyes sparkle, even in the low lighting of the room.

“Nope. Not a damn clue. It looks like maybe something came unplugged but I can’t tell. I think this…”

Steve leans forward as he talks, grabbing one of the red wires with his fingertips. To get a better view of it, you follow his lead and press your head right next to his. You’re extra careful not to allow your faces to touch, though. You watch his fingers as he tries to explain his thought process, although not a single word is getting through.

You’re far too distracted by the warmth you can feel radiating off his skin, by the sweet smell of his cologne, by the way his arm just gently brushes against yours when he shifts his weight, the soothing sound of his voice. Everything about him is intoxicating and you can barely keep control of yourself.

“...but who knows. I’m not an electrician,” he finishes with a shrug.

“I see what you’re saying,” you agree. “Maybe if we just…”

You take the cord from him, your fingers brushing. You both pause immediately, the cord dropping as you separate your fingers as quickly as possible. You giggle nervously and Steve clears his throat. You pick the cord back up and plug it into one of many open sockets in the back.

“And then if we just-”

Steve must have had the exact idea as you, because you both move your heads to the side to raise them up from under the table at the same time. Your foreheads knock against each other and you both immediately fill the room with a chorus of ouches. Wincing and rubbing your head, you carefully sit back onto your bum and open an eye to glance at Steve. He’s in the same position as you, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth from the pain of your collision. When he opens his eyes, they land squarely on yours. Horror crosses his face in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, Y/N, are you alright? I am so sorry. I didn’t…that was a total accident. My fault completely, I-”

You can’t help it, you just start to chuckle. After a few seconds, a smile spreads across Steve’s face and he starts to laugh along with you. The gentle sniggering quickly turns into deep wheezing. The next thing you know, you’re both clutching at your stomachs, unable to breathe.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, Mr. Binder. I can’t believe I’ve wounded you twice in one night,” you choke out through laughs.

“It’s my fault for being so clumsy,” he says, shaking his head. “And, you don’t have to call me that, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Binder. You don’t have to address me so formally. I think we’ve worked together long enough for you to call me Steve. As a matter of fact, I’d like you to call me Steve.”

You lift your eyes to his to find a soft smile resting on his features, his eyes glinting. He stares so sweetly at you that your stomach erupts into fits of butterflies. You avert your eyes and giggle in whispers.

“So, should we see if our pain paid off?” he asks, grunting as he pushes himself to a stand.

He turns toward the switchboard and clicks on the machine. Surprisingly, a familiar slow song starts to play. You shoot him a pleased expression as he claps excitedly.

“Alright! There we go, problem solved, amazingly.”

As the music continues to play, you suddenly realize what you’re listening to: Elvis’ famous song “Can't Help Falling in Love with You.” You smile to yourself.

“Oh, don’t you just love this song.”

“I do.”

You lift your gaze back up to his to find his hand outstretched toward you. You nervously slide your fingers into his. To your surprise, your palm fits perfectly. When his fingers curl over your grasp, your heart skips about a thousand beats. He helps you to a stand and your dumb ass somehow manages to trip back over your own feet.

He immediately places his hand on your back to steady you, holding you upright so you don’t fall flat on your face. Embarrassed as hell, you sheepishly giggle again and apologize. You put your feet flat on the ground, but Steve doesn’t release you as you expect. Instead, he holds tightly onto your body, his free hand carefully sliding onto your back to join the other. Your breath hitches in your throat as he holds your body against him. He smiles softly.

“You know, I have to confess that…I’ve been imagining this moment since the first time I saw you."

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No, not at all. I’m being totally serious. Why would you think that?’

“There’s no way someone like you could ever be interested in me. I’m…I’m nobody. You’re…”

“Also nobody,” he replies with a chuckle.

“No! No, you’re everything. You’re so much more than I could ever be. You’re out of my league, Mr. Binder, I-”

“Shh,” his whisper interrupts your words. “How could you ever say that? You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on. If one of us is in another league, it’s you. You’re…you’re out of this world, Y/N.”

“Mr. Binder, I…I don’t know what to say, I…”

“Then don’t say anything. Because I can think of a far better way to use your lips.”

Your eyes widen but not for long as he leans forward, pressing his mouth sweetly to yours. You melt under his grasp, your arms winding around his neck to pull him closer. His lips are warm and soft, fitting perfectly between yours. His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you further into his body. You don’t want him to leave, so when he acts as though he’s going to pull back, you yank him against your chest, smiling into the kiss. When you start to run out of breath, you finally release him. Your lips separate, although you keep your foreheads pressed together tightly, both heaving for breath.

“Oh, Steve,” you whisper between breaths.

He nudges his nose against yours and you crinkle your face with a smile. You pull back to look at him, but notice his expression deep in thought instead. Tilting your head, you gently shake him.

“What?”

“I was just thinking maybe I should work late more often.”

“Perhaps I’ll join you, if you’ll have me?”

“I’d be glad to take you, anytime,” he replies with a smirk.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

**If you notice any triggers or grammatical errors that I missed, please let me know!

taglist: @mrsjna @floralcyanide @austinbutler17 @slutforsomegoodlettuce @datsavageavenger @misspygmypie @yourfriendhenrywinter @queenslandlover-93 @kittenlittle24 @theliterarybeldam @guns-n-queen @adoreyouusugar @butler-trouble @kaycinema @mamaspresley @yagirlalexx @hangmanswhore @dark-as-love @gemstone9 @austin-butlers-gf @dollfaceyourfear @ch3rries-n-cream @coldonexx @sagesolsticewrites @mommy-maia @atombombbibunny @lexlexl3x @solo-pitstop-vibes @hopefulinlove @lordandmistress @domaniquessidehoe @elvismylove-blog @amiets2 @itsametaphorbriansblog @powerofelvis @austinstyles @18lkpeters

[aajjks]

TPOL!JK

“I DON’T FUCKING TRUST HIM”

and there it is. the real reason, if you can call it that. the history between you and namjoon was sweet, you’ll admit but that chapter is over. you’re a stepmother to a beautiful baby boy and head over heels in love with his father but there will always be something or someone threatening to come between you two.

“so how did you know he was asking me on dates, jungkook?” you say when he brings up not snooping through your phone but namjoon asked to get coffee either yesterday or the day before that. “just gonna blatantly lie in my face, huh? okay” he wants to talk about trust yet here he is lying in your face about looking through your phone.

the salt on your wounds only burns more when he brings up chaeyoung, the woman he has a BABY with. sure, he regrets his actions but you don’t hold that against him. you just wish he’d stop being so regretful because jaemin has been nothing but a blessing in both yours and his life.

regardless of chaeyoung or namjoon, one thing jungkook can always do is trust you or he should try and trust you. if there’s anyone that should feel betrayed here, it’s you.

“no, i don’t trust chaeyoung around you but i trust you. i trusted you when you came back with scratches and bite marks on your neck, i trusted you when you went to see her at the hospital, i trusted you when you didn’t revoke your parental rights KNOWING jaemin i’m not his biological mother. so, hell no i don’t and would never trust her around you but i’ve always trusted you. i always have”

“if you claim to trust me so much, why does grocery shopping with him bother you so much? you trust me, right?“

He buries his head in his hands, feeling incredibly stupid and embarrassed. “ you are right I should trust you and I really do believe it or not. I just let my insecurities get the best of me…. Please try to understand where I’m coming from.”

“Isn’t it fuckin obvious yn?! I’m scared to lose you because I know that he’s better than me and he can treat you so much better than I can.” His voice is breaking as he finally lets out his fears.

And that is the truth, Jungkook knows very well. You deserve better, you deserve so much better because he’s so toxic. And he’s kind of fucked up.

But still, he cannot let you go. He’s so selfish.

“Why wouldn’t you want to be with a stable man who has a stable family and isn’t too fucked up in the brain?? And doesn’t have a child with his crazy ex?” His Sentences come out, wavering.

It is so hard for him to admit the truth. How pathetic is this? A 36 year-old man is still so insecure.

“Truth is… I can’t let you go, and I cannot let him have you again- you don’t belong with him you belong with me,” after finally gathering the courage, he says it the words he’s been wanting to for the longest time. “And I’d rather die than to watch you be with someone else.” He looks at you with desperation.

Jungkook sighs and he thinks for a while, still standing right in front of you, and then it hits him, so without wasting a moment- he’s off to search his nightstand.

You’re probably confused as to what he’s doing in the middle of an argument, you probably think he’s crazy. Yes he is, about you.

You repeatedly call out his name because you’re frustrated and clueless while he smiles big when he finds the thing he’s looking for.

And with the speed of light, Jungkook is right in front of you, he doesn’t waste another moment to get down on his knee, and he is presenting you with a purple velvet box.

He opens it and there’s a gorgeous ring sitting in it, it is a diamond ring with three diamonds attached to the band, Holding a very special meaning behind it. he just hopes that you’ll actually accept because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t.

Jungkook is a desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures and he honestly didn’t expect or think about proposing to you like this.

Oh no, not at all.

“Marry me, yn. Please.”

This is the only way he can be sure that you’ll be his forever and that he cannot steal you away from him.

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hello! It's Winter. I am loving everyone's stories lately. Keep em coming!

From down the hall, Emmanuel could hear grunting, cursing and shouting. To the best of his knowledge, his wife was alone in their bedroom. As he moved closer to their door, he started to make out specific words she was saying. Her tone was harsh like she was upset with someone. Emmanuel hoped it wasn’t him. He couldn’t think of anything he was guilty of doing that would have set her off. 

“Cherie?” He lightly tapped on the door before opening it. “It’s me” 

“Come in” she grunted. 

The scene in front of him was perplexing. Brigitte’s beautiful designer clothes were scattered across the floor. Expensive scarves were rolled up into tiny balls and stilettos and boots had been divided into two large piles. She was currently on her knees sorting through a mountain of Louis Vuitton blazers. 

“What are you doing?” 

She pointed to the larger of the two piles. “I’m donating these to charity or to my daughters - if they want them” 

Emmanuel kneeled beside her, rubbing her back. “Why? You love all these outfits”. He glanced at the pile of shoes in horror. “Brigitte! There must be at least 40 pairs here!” 

Carefully he picked out a pair and held them up. “These are your favourite Chanel boots! They were an anniversary gift from me” 

She pointed to a new pair of shoes, ones he’d never seen before. “These will be my new everyday shoes from now on” 

Emmanuel picked the flat-heeled, brown, cheap-looking shoes off the floor with disgust. “They’re hideous! They look like something a grandmother would wear! Where did you even find these? A flea market?” 

She snatched them from his hand. “In case you weren’t aware, I am a grandmother!” 

He scoffed. “You’re not a typical grandma! Brigitte, why are you getting rid of everything? What has gotten into that brilliant head of yours?” 

Suddenly...Just like that, it hit him like a ton of bricks. All the negative articles that had been published recently about her wardrobe, how she dressed too young for her age, the colour of her hair, and the length of her skirts had all been criticized. 

Emmanuel scooped the pile of beautiful shoes up in his arms. 

“Where are you going with those?!” She shrieked. 

“I’m putting them back on the shelf! I won’t let you toss these away because of some stupid people’s bullshit opinions! I happen to love the way you dress, and I know how much you adore your clothes! You look damn good in them too! Please, don’t let these fools change your appearance” 

Lightly touching his leg, she smiled up at her husband. “I don’t embarrass you with my short dresses? Or the blonde hair?” 

He bent down to capture her lips. “Never! You’d embarrass me if you started dressing like a 90-year-old woman. Do not cover up those sexy legs! I don't want you dressing the way my mother does” 

Emmanuel offered to help put everything back in her closet. Once they were done, they stared blankly at the ugly pair of brown shoes on the floor.

“What should I do with those? I paid good money for them!” Brigitte teased.  

“How much were they??” He asked in horror, afraid she paid hundreds of dollars for those awful-looking things. 

She covered her mouth and with a giggle replied, “$10” 

He playfully tickled her stomach. “That’s $10 too much, Cherie! I have an idea  - we can let Nemo chew on them. They won’t go to waste” 

Hellooo Winter! ❤️

Yes Brigitte, you just dress whatever you feel comfortable with and to the hell with the people’s opinions!

In the meantime, Nemo won a new “toy” hahaha

Thank you so much, Winter! ❤️❤️❤️

[pennyold]

Sleepover | p.w

Summary: you just needed to be warm and rest some after wearing your high heels all night, right?

Warnings: old!phil, size kink, swearing, dry humping, flirting, nipple playing

a/n: wanted to share this cuz I have a big crush on Bradly Cooper since I watched Hangover. Enjoy like I did writing it !!

w.c: 887

peace and love, penny ★

My legs were trembling, all naked, just my tiny dress and big heels. I was walking home, exhausted from the walk I took 10 minutes ago. My heels slapping the floor was the only sound my ears could hear since I heard someone call my name. I looked at the next street, and the last person I did expect to see was sitting on the porch of his house, it was my dad’s friend, Phil Wenneck, smoking a cigarette.

“Hey.” I walked towards him, trying to walk straight, I was no longer supporting the stabbing pain of my feet against the sole of the heel. He looked at me up and down, the furrow his eyebrows.

“Are you okay?” he said while exhaling the smoke. “Y-yes.” I lie, just want to go home, but I can’t, not now. “You sure, sweetheart?” he takes a hit of his cigarette. I nod, looking away. “Your parents home?” he looked at me, piercing my eyes. “Yes”.

“Why are you so late out here?” a little smirk appears in his mouth. “I-I wanted to hang out with friends, but I’m grounded… and the only way my parents don’t know I get out is to come back late at home.” I explain.

“May I ask why are you grounded?” I barely nod. “I was fucking with a guy in my room… thinking my parents were not going to be at home that early.”

“Oh… that’s so bad, sweetheart.” I know his words were not really coming from himself. “I should go…” I said, embarrassed, my feet twitched, and I could not hold it anymore “My feet are hurting so much.” then my phone buzzed with a message from my sister.

“Mom and Dad are still awake. I told them you are sick in your room, don’t take too long”

“You need some rest, Honey. Come inside, I will take care of you.” he says, walking towards his house. After taking the first step in his house, I took off my heels and took it with me, following him. “Are you cold?” he turned around, looking at me. I nodded, and then I took the end of my dress, pulling it down. I walked through his kitchen, waiting for his next movement. I have never been here in years. Looking at my lock screen at 2:40 am, I block it and look up, when I look at him, he grabs a blanket and gives it to me. “To keep you warm, sweetheart.” I thank him and follow him. “We can stay in the living room while you wait.” “Sure.” I sit in the middle, and he is next to me, not too close. “Is Eli upstairs?“ he shook his head. “He’s with his mother.” 

I used to take care of Eli when Phil was at work and her mother… was absent. 

Trying to hide my evident trembling even if I’m warm with the blanket, I look away, biting my lip. “Why are you trembling, sweetheart?” he tried to catch my attention, but I was too embarrassed to look at him. He took my jaw to face him, slightly squeezing my cheeks, I moaned in pleasure and pain. “You are so red.” he furrowed his eyebrows, making my head close to him. “Phil…” I whispered, “What is it, baby?” that was the cherry on the cake; my panties were soaked, and my heavy breath was the evidence of lust covering my entire body, my nipples peeking in my dress. He down stared at my breast and looked at my hardened nipples “Oh baby…” he touched them dangerously, and I fell in his arms, letting him play with my breast. “Will you let me touch you more? Huh?” I nod, biting my lip. With a quick move, I was rubbing myself against Phil’s crotch, dry humping him; I was like a bitch in heat, moaning mess, and him taking my hips, controlling my movements.

“P-Please…” “Yeah baby, you wanna cum? Huh?” he teased, moving me faster. I was a moaning mess, my pussy clenching and pulsing in his bulge. I feel him moving his hips upward. “Fuck baby.” he said, trying to get more friction between us. “I’m gonna cum, shit…” “Do it.” he whispered in my ear “Filthy little cunt” With that words, I came, my pussy pulsing and squeezing over nothing “Oh god…” I feel how his hands stopped my movements but never let me go “You think we finish?” 

I turned my head to look at him “Better stay here, I can tell your parents you took a sleepover here.” I looked at him, not convinced. “you don’t need to be worried, trust me.” then he got me up and ripped my panties, leaving them on the floor. And in a faster move, he unbuckled his pants, taking his cock out, then I looked at him "That’s so big” I turned to face him, getting on my knees. “Up.” I obey “I want to ruin that little pussy you have.” he whispered, sitting my ass in his lap, then took my hair, making me look at the roof, I moan. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll make it fit so good, you are gonna love it.” I was so wet, and the only thing I knew... I won't be able to stand up tomorrow

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter nine

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Toshinori sends you a text just as you’re walking back from your room.

-> Slways a sad friday without your reports. Hope things are good. THank you for keeping my company moving and for keeping the peace this weekend.

He ends the message with a little flexed bicep emoji-- his little sign for ‘keep fighting’.

A pang of something clangs around in your ribcage. You miss him too. Usually, it’d be strange to consider yourself close with a boss, but Toshinori is different; he’s kind, he’s earnest, he treats you well. His riches are used to improve the world, not line his own pocket-

There’s also a sour feeling that hits your gut. Your position on this trip is borrowed; Toshinori should be here, representing his company, just like he had every other year. You’re only here because he likes you- not because of merit or knowledge. 

That only deepens your dread. No, you aren’t special or smart. You’re just a pity case, here because your boss is dying. And isn’t it selfish to pity yourself? Toshinori is the sick one.

By the time the elevator chimes open, you’re consumed by dread. You slide past the doors and next to the man in there, head tucked down to watch your shoes. They aren’t your silly red ones, but a brand new sensible black kitten heel-- a child’s choice in shoes.

“No hello?” The stranger says. “Thought we had a truce.”

You briefly look at the man, who’s turning your way, and then dip away, embarrassed; the man is cute, well put together, someone who you wouldn’t mind talking to-

-you realize he isn’t a stranger at all. 

It’s a simple black suit, pressed a bit unevenly in the legs, but well fitted across his waist. Aizawa is wearing a dark emerald shirt with no tie, unbuttoned at the top. Even his hair is tidy and hydrated; it’s still wet from the shower, pulled into a tight low ponytail. For the first time maybe ever, he’s clean shaven as well, a little nick on his cheek from the kiss of razor, right under his silvered scar.

He looks good. 

Like. Really good.

It’s a surprise and it also isn’t-- seems like you’re always lured in by a surprise Shouta sighting.

“I didn’t realize it was you in this… get up.” You shift your weight away from him. Does he even have cologne on? It’s not like you expected him to give a speech in his sweatshirt--- well, maybe you did. “I was-- I dunno. Thinking.”

He nods like he knows what that really means.

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not allowed to think?” you repeat.  “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

He shoots you a glare. “You didn’t even say hello to me-- that isn’t nice either. I figured our treaty was off.”

Ugh. He may have a point. Pretending is going to involve, well, actually pretending. You look him up and down, slapping on your fakest smile. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

Aizawa grimaces as if you’ve slapped him, fingers pressed into his temple like you’ve caused the onset of a migraine. It takes him a moment to mumble out: “The feeling is mutual.”

“At least say it like you mean it,” you demand.

“The fact you are here is just the best.” he says, more enthusiastic than you’ve ever seen the man, but also clearly fake; his lips curls up to the left when he’s lying. He rubs little circles into his skin to help him through the pain of being a decent person. “I’m so grateful you get to watch me present and then report how I did back to my boss.”

Despite yourself, you smile, just a bit.

“That’ll do.”

“For you.” Aizawa repeats it. That's right: he's doing this for your comfort, not his own. That thought wriggles inside you and buries down like a worm.

“Do we need ground rules?” you ask. The elevator dings down, down, down-

“A weekend treaty was my idea, I don’t need stipulations,” Aizawa says, ruffling his hair. It smells like product, something expensive than Hizashi definitely forced upon him.  “I can be civil without rules.”

“Then why are you never civil?” you shoot back, talking before you can think. The doors flick open and Aizawa walks out, giving you a bemused, yet annoying look.

“That’s a very pointed question,” he says over his shoulder. “You might be the one who needs ground rules.”

“Hey!”

--

Mic’s in the hall already when you two arrive. The place would be simply cavernous if it wasn’t filled to the gills with booths. The ceiling glimmers with chandeliers and the classic blue tiling, but the rest of the room is pretty standard-- almost underwhelming. The booth Hizashi’s set up is mild compared to the one’s surrounding it, which makes sense, you guess. It’s not like he could have wheeled a hospital bed into this hotel; just diagrams, brochures, and enough swag to lure even the least interested prospect into his arms. He’s unwrapping a lollipop when he notices you two approaching.

“Wow, wow-” He sizes you up with the candy. The bright red end shines in the light. Someone snags a piece of candy off of the table as they pass; despite the fact the hall isn’t officially open, there’s still a fair amount of people roaming. “Looking good, baby.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” It takes you a second to realize Aizawa’s kidding.

“You, obviously-” Hizashi says back to him. They both chuckle and it’s horrifying how they do it in the same way: low, rolling, completely un-serious. They really have known each other forever.

“Oh, before I forget-” The blonde spreads out a sticker and a proper name placard. “I grabbed name tags.”

Yours in handwritten in surprisingly nice writing, but Aizawa's is laminated and on a lanyard, his name and degree written in red bold lettering-

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you blurt out as he puts it on. Aizawa shifts his weight to his other leg uncomfortably. “Should I be calling you Dr. Aizawa?”

“No.” he dismisses.  “It’s not medical-- It’s a PhD.”

“In Biomedical Engineering, so medical’s in the name, actually-”

Aizawa shoots Hizashi a glare. “You know what I mean. I’m not saving someone from a heart attack. All I do is sit on this damn computer and look at programs and numbers.” Aizawa takes a chair from the neighboring booth- a biotissue company- and drags it to behind the table before flopping down. 

  “You should look around, see what everyone's up to. If you just sit here with us you're just going to stress over your talk.” Hizashi waves him off. “Besides, me and babygirl have it handled.”

Aizawa hunches over in his seat as he drags out his laptop and a pen.

“I want to stress over my talk.”  He taps the capped end of his pen against his teeth, the click audible over the din of the growing crowd. “I want to sit here and be miserable.” 

Hizashi looks at you and waggles his finger beside his head in the ‘this guy’s crazy’ way. Yeah- obviously. You have to hide your giggle as someone walks up to your table and Hizashi launches into his spiel. It’s hard not to watch Aizawa out of the corner of your eye; he is, in fact, sitting down and stressing out. The man has pulled out a tiny laptop and balanced it on his lap, alternating between furiously typing and mashing the back button.

“You okay if he’s here?” Hizashi whispers. Honestly, you’re not thrilled; you had been hoping for a lighthearted day alone with your buddy--

But maybe it can still be a little fun.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say too loudly. “Aizawa and I are buddies.”

You're abusing his kindness for you by pushing him, you know that, but doesn't he deserve it? Just a bit? Aizawa sneers a smile from behind his screen, clearing unamused. 

“Best ‘buddies,’” he says, flat enough you could drive across it. 

Hizashi looks between you. Then, he does it again. 

 “Since when?”

----

The rest of the afternoon continues the same way. Swathes of doctors and investors visit you, half of which ask about Yagi. You tell them all that he’s a fighter. Most understand this means he’s doing poorly. Luckily, Hizashi handles most of the harder questions; it’s amazing to see him in his zone, smooth talking and pitching and just talking so quickly and professionally that you’re almost ready to buy a Prome product yourself. No wonder people have tried to poach him from the company. The customers Prome already has sing his praises and tell you about all the wonderful extra steps he’s taken for them.

You aren’t sure you’re truly nice enough to be a sales rep too.

Aizawa only greets a few people, seemingly ones he knows well or that are well known enough to give his full attention. The worried look never leaves his face, except when you chirp little niceties at each other. 

There’s comfort to it, you find. It’s better than the hot and cold thing you had going on. That bubbling, seasick anger inside of you can be funneled into thinly veiled sarcasm without consequence, with the added benefit of Aizawa seeming to enjoy it as well. 

“Great shirt by the way,” a passerby says. Aizawa looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape enough for a fly to fly into.

“Were they talking to me?”

They actually were, but you can’t let him know that.

“Of course, buddy,” you coo. “It’s a great shirt- did you put this outfit together?”

He gives you a sideways glance as he continues typing away without seeing the keyboard. “I’m forty-- who do you think picks out my clothes? My mother?”

You think he’s actually joking in good faith this time.

“Sesame, maybe.”

He is being silly. He’s even smiling now, a weird thing with too much teeth. “Yes. You’re right. My cats picked out my suit. How silly of me to not credit her for her work.” His tone is horribly flat, but there’s still some charm to it; honestly, with the way he’s carrying on, you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did trust a cat with his clothing.

“Well, tell Sesame that I think you look great.” 

“Thank you.” He adjusts his cuffs, running his fingers down the cotton edge of his shirt. 

“You two are so weird today,” the blonde whines.  “But you aren’t killing each other, so-”

Hizashi sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Keep this up and I’ll buy dinner and drinks tonight-- Fuck, keep this up and I’ll plan your fucking wed-”

“Long time no see, gentlemen.” 

A man, probably not much older than you, comes up to the table. He's seated in a wheelchair, rocking the wheels slightly back and forth. The stranger is exceptionally handsome:  all wide smiles and broad shoulders, his black hair perfectly quaffed back and parted. The downturn of his eyes is dark and pleasant, and it takes your breath away when you realize he's looking at you and only you. 

“I don't think we've met before.” He shakes his head a little as he speaks, back and forth in this delighted disbelief, as if he can't understand why he has never seen you.  “I'm Tensei Iida.”

The name rings a bell, but you can’t quite place it. 

“He's one of the super sexy doctors I was telling you about.” Hizashi says as he nudges you with his hip.  Tensei rolls his eyes in a way that tells you he's actually tickled pink. That’s it-- he’s Aizawa’s presentation partner.

“Oh, stop that,” he says. “Don't listen to Mic- I’m just a normal guy.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Iida.” You take his hand. His grip is firm and dry, and he parts from you with a squeeze. “You work in prosthetics, right?”

“I do.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes like a teenaged dreamboat. What is with this guy? Was he made in a lab to be perfect? “Shouta over there is one of my best patients.”

Aizawa huffs and slaps his computer closed. “I highly doubt that.”

Patient? “I thought you two worked together.”

Tensei rolls his head to the side as he sighs, continuing this fake bashfulness thing. Unfortunately, it’s working for you; he’s sweet and humble, not to mention cute-

“We do.” He speaks so well, you're hanging off every word- “We modeled his leg together.”

Your eyes snap to Aizawa instinctively. Leg?

“Leg?” you say out loud, stupidly. 

Tensei’s air shifts. He turns to Aizawa, knot creased, lips delightfully downturned. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“It’s not.” Aizawa sighs, “I thought everyone knew.” He hems. He haws. Then, the man tugs his pant leg up with one hand and you see a sliver of  gray metal at the ankle. Before you can really look at it, it’s gone, hidden once again. A prosthetic. It may not be a secret, but there’s definitely shame involved.

Everything snaps in place. The way he walks, the way he always shifts his weight-- you have a thousand questions, but none of them are appropriate.

“I didn’t realize,” you say, carefully. Aizawa is avoiding your eye very, very pointedly, but his beautiful friend is enthralled. 

“Wait, really? That’s great to hear!” Tensei rolls forward a bit.  “You didn’t notice anything at all? No difference in motion or-”

“He, uh, stomps, maybe.” You glance over. “Just a little.”

“I’ve always walked heavy-- The mobility is perfect, I told you.”  

“Are stairs the only pain trigger?” Tensei asks.

“That isn’t the prosthetic’s fault, it’s my body’s. I’m always in pain.”

Oh. Oh. You think back to the stairs incident and the bed on the fifth floor. That’s why he called you cruel. Shit. Making him climb all those stairs…. you were being an asshole to a man with a disability and chronic pain. 

God, no wonder he'd been so antagonistic-- he still started it, but maybe you went too far.

“You must love working with this old grump.” Tensei flashes a grin towards you, almost flirtatiously, and that pulls you out of your thought spiral. 

“Well-” You have to swallow your worry. You force a smile and just say:  “Shouta's always nice to me.”

All three men look at you in the same way.

“Really now?” Tensei says, and you’re almost annoyed by it. No, Aizawa isn’t nice, but… well, he’s your enemy, not Tensei’s. He should be nicer to his research partner.

“We're buddies.” Aizawa's dry sense of humor shines through. “Work… married, or whatever the term is.”

Hizashi barks out a laugh and throws his hair over his shoulder, eyes tight with healthy skepticism. “I thought I was your work husband!”

“I have two hands!”

Tensei never stops looking at you. You like how his fingers twitch when he says your name. “You’ve clearly got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

The way he talks. You think he might be wrapped there too.

“That’s just what she wants you to think.” Aizawa stands suddenly.  “Tensei, I changed my mind. Let’s take a look at my leg.”

Another customer has started to look at the booth, so Hizashi is on again. Tensei’s attention seems to only be distracted by the mentions of work. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

Tensei starts to roll up his sleeves. “Alright, take the pants off and we’ll-”

“God, not here.” 

Tensei just nods. “I was joking. I can go back to a room if you want.”

“I do.”

Just as suddenly as he appeared, Tensei leaves with Aizawa in tow. The older man turns and gives you the smallest, barely there nods as a goodbye before disappearing into the thickening crowd. Once Hizashi is free again a couple minutes later, you lean in and mumble.

“Are those secret lovers or something?”

It shocks a guffaw from Hizashi.

“Please, I wish Sho had a dirty little secret like that.” You hope he doesn’t see your eyes widen. “It would take a miracle for Shouta to have a little fuck buddy. He’s still not over-- well, his last thing.”

Last thing? He’s been single for the three years you’ve known him- what thing could he still be holding on to? You don’t have any room to judge -- you’ve been dating Touya since sixteen and can’t move on either.

“Why do you even care? Tensei caught your eye?”

You think about his pretty dark eyes and try to feel something. “Maybe.”

“Oooo-”

--

Your heels ache by the end of the day, so you slip your feet out of them from under the table. The restaurant is busy, both with people and decoration, and somehow even louder than the convention itself. The waitress has just left the second basket of chips - this one still hot from the fryer- because you and Hizashi have already demolished the first one. You should really get actual food to absorb the alcohol in your stomach, but Aizawa texted you to wait for him.

Texted. You.

It’s weird to see a new message under his name, an unread message you can peek at through your notifications. It feels illicit, raunchy, wrong--

Hizashi sucks at the end of his straw until it gurgles on ice. He’s smiley-er than usual-- and drunk as a skunk. Drinking on an empty stomach does that; you’re swaying already too and you're just two margaritas in. The man has his phone out, tinder open for you to swipe through. Men, women: everything wants a piece of Hizashi and you can’t blame them. His blonde hair is tousled ever so slightly, his glasses are halfway down his button nose-

How does Nemuri stop herself from getting jealous of the attention he gets and his looks? 

“Isn’t being here fucking great?” He takes a mouthful of chips.  “We talk all day and drink all night.”

He's trying to wave down your waiter. 

“You gonna text Dr. Tensei?” He lingers on the word doctor, drawing it out with a warm affection.You snort into your own empty glass and lick the salt from the rim. It’s smoked, a little spicy too. You try to blame the burn in your stomach on that, instead of thirty.

“I don’t even have his number!” you try.

Tensei is… well, almost perfect, but… you aren't sure. It's not that you don't want him, but… 

Maybe you're just gunshy. Touya has you scared to let go, move on. You try and think of Tensei and his sweet smile, his stubbled jawline, his downturned eyes and scarred cheek-

No, that's Aizawa you're thinking of. You physically shake the thought away. The last time you drank was when you saw his…

“But, I have his number!”Hizashi sings as he tries to fish an ice cube out with his drink. “I saw that look on your face; I know you’d love to sit on his face-”

“Shh!” You physically try to lower his volume by waving your hands in the air. A waitress passes, giving you both a strange look, but Hizashi just crunches his ice away happily. “I didn’t say that! He’s just--”

Sex isn't a priority for you. It’s not that you don’t like it, but it’s never as life changing and groundbreaking as you want it to be. By the time it started to feel good, Touya’s would be done and half asleep. (Not that you and Touya even had sex that often. The drug use and cheating scared you; he insisted he was safe, but. Well. He promised a lot of things. When you did have sex, it was with a condom and followed by four weeks of panic testing and STI googling.) 

Sex just never seemed worth the stress, you guess. Maybe it’d be different with someone else. Nemuri clearly likes having sex, so do the girls you see on twitter. Maybe you’re broken or something.

“He’s kinda sexy.”  You try to hold on to optimism. 

“He’s awful sexy!” Hizashi agrees. “I’ll slip you his number later-”

“Why not now?” you say.

“What’s now?”

From behind you, Aizawa strolls in, now devoid of his lovely outfit and stripped down to dress pants and a white undershirt. His hair is back into it’s little knotted bun, curls squashed into submission. When he reaches over the table, you can’t stop your drunken self from watching how his bicep flexes, muscle under thick skin. God, maybe you do need Tensei’s number and a good fuck-- you’re acting like a dog in heat over exposed arms. 

Thick arms, with the rounded hint of muscularity, but still. Just arms.

Aizawa tips the basket over and salt scatters across the table. “You guys didn’t save me a single chip.”

When did you guys finish the second one? The man sits next to you, thighs spread just enough to touch you for a moment. Your back straightens at the contact and, after a blink, you move away to give him more space. He smells like tobacco flower and musk, a surprisingly gentle cologne for a brash man.

“That's what you get for being late! There's shots coming-- how's that sound?”  Hizashi says, much too loud. 

A groan escapes you. Uh oh, you forgot about that: it’s time for you to slow down and eat something that isn't fried. Luckily, Aizawa is here now and the waiter is coming. She passes out the shots of tequila, then she’s gone again, giving Aizawa time to look at the menu she's handed him.

“Tapping out this early?” Aizawa asks. His elbow accidentally touches you as he scooches closer. “I’ll have yours if you don't want it.”

“Please do.” You push yours in front of him and Hizashi does the same.

“Miss girl and I have been having fun without you! Catch up, catch up!” he urges.

“I can tell. You’ve over-served her.” 

You resent that, especially since it’s Aizawa’s fault, but you can’t help but laugh. It gurgles out of you, a bit too drunkenly. “I just need to eat.” 

“The chips weren’t enough?”

“No!” Your mouth is running without your brain. “Ugh, I hate being drunk, I always text people that I shouldn’t.”

Hizashi and Aizawa both look at you, both thinking of very different things. Heat pools in your cheeks-- and a bit in your core, at Aizawa’s lidded gaze. 

“Hey, uh--” Hizashi scooches out from the booth seat and stands, brushing the salt off of his shirt. “Don't be mad, but I’m gonna go.”

Aizawa sneers and you do the same. After all this time, he couldn’t wait a bit longer? Does he really think it’s a good idea to leave the two of you alone? Sure, you were jokingly nice today, but that can’t keep going-

“What? I just got here.”  Aizawa seems to agree with you. 

He waggles his phone in the air, text messages abundant.  “Duty calls.”

At least someone’s getting laid tonight. Aizawa slides away from you and into the spot Hizashi just left, this pissed off look smeared across his face. 

“It’s still on me, don’t worry. Here’s my card- go nuts, kiddos.” Hizashi slaps his card on the table and turns on a dime, humming a jaunty little tune to himself. “Don’t be jealous!” 

“I’m older than you.”

“I’m thirty.”

The two of you are left in Hizashi’s wake, sitting awkwardly apart from each other. 

“So,” you try. “How was your-?”

“We don’t have to do this.” Aizawa slides Hizashi’s card towards you. “You can leave too, if you don’t want to deal with me.”

Usually, you stay quiet, but your drunk brain is taking over. You lean back in the booth and cross your arms, trying to be assertive. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what? Set you free?”

“Assume what I want,” you say. “I’m not allergic to having dinner with you. We can like, just talk and be normal. We did it all day.”

Aizawa’s face scrunches up in disapproval, but he doesn’t object. He sits in constipated misery for a long moment before sighing and unbunching his body. He mirrors your body language, crossing his arms and leaning back just enough that he isn’t hunched over himself. 

“My day was… fine.” he tries in earnest. “Good, even. Took a nap. Finished my presentations.”

“When are you presenting?”

He flips the menu over, then over again, unsettled. His foot is tapping under the table, bouncing the table a bit. “Tomorrow at eleven and Sunday at three.”  

“I want to watch the one with Tensei, is that okay?”

His brow crinkles at the mention of Tensei.

“I can’t stop you, but it’ll be pretty boring.” he shrugs. “Just polymer talk. Hanging with Hizashi will be more fun.”

“Well… I dunno, I love him,” You tread carefully. “But he’s such a horndog sometimes.”

Aizawa snorts and rolls his eyes. There’s the whisper of a grin trapped in his gaze, you think.

“It’s true! He abandoned us tonight!”

“You should have seen him when he first met Nemuri-- it was much worse. He would run off to her at the drop of a hat,” he says. “She would call and he’d get this dopey look on his face-”

“That’s cute though.” You are picking at the salt on the table, dreaming of days when Touya gave you that unmistakable, gooey expression.  “Every woman wants to be loved like that.”

When you glance up, Aizawa is watching you, expression relaxed. He takes a delicate pause, watching you from across the booth as if you’re a million miles away, a look that only locks in when you meet it. It’s almost somber, the way you both watch each other in reverent silence, the din of the restaurant around you growing. 

“He left me alone at a frat house once.” Aizawa interrupts your thoughts. You blanch, then laugh, hand over heart at the thought. “Ran away to get some guy across campus.”

“Wait-- you were in a frat house?” you wheeze. You try to imagine him, yellow sweatshirt in the middle of a sticky floored basement, crowded so close he’s forced to dance along. 

“Against my will.”

Aizawa takes a shot glass and tips it back, swallowing it all in one measured gulp.  He shivers at the taste, tongue stuck between his teeth in disgust. It’s cute. It’s sweet. You can see the silhouette of the college boy he used to be. When he swallows the second shot, he makes the same face, wrinkles deeper this time.

“Slow down-” you say. “You shouldn't really drink all three!” 

“Well, you’re clearly too drunk for another.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Of course you are-”  he says. “It's why you're being so nice and chatty.”

You gasp and throw a hand to your forehead in fake shock. “I'm always nice!” 

Aizawa leans all the way back in the booth, eyebrow cocked skeptically. He sighs before he speaks. “If I remember correctly, you told me to go fuck myself.”

“No, you said that to me.” You close the gap between you by leaning forward into your elbows. “I said that you wished you could.”

It doesn’t feel scandalous to say until his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. It’s only a second, a glimmer-- but it’s there, it’s real, it’s temptation. You’re not stupid; you’ve come to terms with the fact that you find Aizawa Shouta attractive, but the sudden attention makes your mouth salivate ever so slightly. 

“I don’t feel like that anymore, I think.” you manage. “At least I don’t hate you anymore.”

“I never hated you.” He leans forward too, head tilted, expression open. “I just wanted an apology.”

The moment grinds to a halt.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You want to scream. Words bubble in your chest, hot and dumb. “I’m not apologizing.”

You jam your feet into your shoes and start fumbling with your purse. Anger makes you clumsy, makes your eyes burn with tears. “Well, okay, I’ll apologize for the stairs, but nothing else. You were so mean to me, on my birthday-”

“And then you immediately sexted me.” Oh, how his calm demeanor gets you even hotter; you want him to scream back, to act pissed-- “How was I supposed to take that?”

“Happily!” You gesture to yourself. “I have great tits!”

“You do.”

“Urgh! Don’t say that!” You slide out of the booth. 

“I thought I was being nice.”

“You’re disgusting-”

“- I don’t know what you want from me. You’re so hot and cold-” Aizawa says, that look on his face.

“You are the one who told me to forget about the stupid texts!” you say. “New flash-- I texted you by accident and yet, I thought ‘maybe I’ll give him a chance’-”

You sniffle, those angry tears ruining your ire once again. Horror flashes across Aizawa’s face as he looks around, gauging the reaction of everyone around him.

“Then you turned me down!”

“I had a chance.” He whispers, carefully, shock enveloping his usually stoic face. You almost think he cares, that he regrets, with that almost childlike sadness smeared across his features. In fact, he almost reaches for you before you pull farther away. “I thought--”

“You fucking did.” You wipe your tears with your sleeve and try to channel Bakugo’s advice. “But not now! Treaty is done! Burned to the ground! I’m back to being a cunt!”

You say cunt a bit too loud. For what feels like the millionth time, you storm away, past the onlookers, away from the man of your -- well, certainly not of your affection. 

“Wait.” He calls after you. “Hold on, wait-- we haven’t paid--”

You march out into the street. The alcohol is hitting you; the stars in the sky streak together with the light pollution, the muffled noise of the restaurant eaten by the growl of the city. You turn left and march down the street, as fast as you can without running, wide, wide strides to distance yourself from the asshole behind you as quickly as possible. You run the first corner you can, then another, then-- wait,

You were supposed to go left, maybe. 

Taking the next street should turn you right around, but… the lane curves and curves and --

You turn around.

Huh. This next street feels even more wrong. The cement has turned to cobblestone, the traffic has died down to something more residential. You pull your phone from your pocket, just to find it dead. The screen won’t even light up. Dammit. Damn. It.

The tears in your eyes wobble from anger to fear. 

You’re lost. 

The hotel can’t be that far; it’s not like you’ve been walking for miles. The rubbed raw spots on your feet are already broken open again, each step blossoming with fresh, hot pain, but you keep pushing. Touya always told you that you were hopelessly directionless, but you didn’t think he meant it literally. 

Maybe you are, without him.

That’s how this mess started, really. Touya left you directionless, adrift in the world. He always pulled you down, but at least down is a direction and a destination.

Where do you want to go? Not just now, but in life? Do you want Touya to return and give you that pull, like a stone in black waters? 

No. You don’t. The love is still there, but the self harm, the horrors… you can’t keep losing your life in his aftershocks, can’t keep being pulled by his riptide.

You want stability, a home. Someone who worries about you the way you worry about them. You want to stop crying and start being who you used to be.

Could Shouta be that person? You don’t think so, but you know Touya isn’t that person either. You don’t deserve much in this world, but you at least deserve to give yourself a chance.

There’s a twenty four hour bodega, neon light dimmed to near extinguished. The owner sleepily tells you where to go and you thank him warmly before trudging back down the streets, It only takes fifteen minutes until you see the familiar glimmer of blue tile. The front dress asks if you are okay when you limp by, cut up feet on the brink of giving up themselves. The elevator is only filled with strangers, giggling and whispering to themselves.

Your floor is the home stretch. You peel off your heels; the front and backs of your feet are covered in broken skin, blood tinging the suede of your shoes. Bed is calling your name, along with another big, long, upheaving cry. The past month has left you brittle, weak-

“Hey. Hey!”

There’s a man in the hallway. Your man.

“Shouta?” Your voice is wrecked. Down by your room is the familiar face of your enemy, pacing the hall. A couple of wide steps and he’s there on you, hands finding your waist,dragging you in so close that his forehead bonks against yours. Tendrils of curls tickle your cheeks as he huffs in relief, warm breath hot against your nose and cheeks. Surprise leaves you speechless, but he finds words. 

“Where were you?” His voice bites out, harsh and rude. “You weren’t answering your phone or the door, I thought-- You’re bleeding.”

If he wasn’t so close, you’d wipe your nose and tears away, but he has you locked in those broad hands. They rub up and down your waist, worrying away at you with an almost anxious annoyance.

“I’m an adult,” you sniffle despite your annoyance. “You don’t get to be mad at me for staying out late--”

“I’m not mad, I’m terrified.” You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. The lacquer of seriousness is gone, replaced by something strangely human, wildly unique from the person you once knew. For the second time tonight, you think you see who he used to be, the silhouette of a twenty year old you’ll never know. “You can’t disappear into the city without contact-- you scared me.”

You know that fear. You’ve lived it. The way Touya comes and goes, the way he frays the fabric of your worries simply for his own wills and wants-

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m sorry.” He’s pulling you closer. “I’m so sorry.”

When his lips touch yours, it feels like home. It’s impossibly soft and warm, with the glide of chapstick, but what you focus on is how you are held. He cradles you, with trembling, needy, questioning hands, firm with want, questioning if you want this too. You don’t know if you do until your arms loop around his shoulders and tug him in deeper, harder-

When he pulls away, you don’t know if this was the right thing, but it feels right, deep, deep, deep in your heart and even deeper in your core. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again before pressing into you once more, this time with his whole body, walking you backwards into the door of your room, The pressure of him holds you in place.

“I’m so sorry.” Aizawa speaks it into your lips. You’re fumbling backwards, feeling in your pocket for your swipe card as his tongue dips into your mouth. He groans into the contact, low and animalistic, hungry and reverent. Every emotional nerve in you is fried and your brain is refusing to think, but something inside you is pink, blossoming with want. It’s the first time in maybe years you’ve felt this unbelievably, unquestionably good.

Aizawa’s teeth close around the plush of your lip and you gasp at the want it makes you feel alive. To be so aggressively wanted- 

Your keycard finds the slot on the door and the lock beeps open. You manage to break away enough to fumble to knob open-- 

And you two slide inside.

[draumstafir-blog]

litg s2 | saying nope | chapter 6

pairing: mc x noah

your fingers tapped mindlessly at the plastic countertop, the lightbulbs on your vanity blasting artificial brightness upon your face, as the sun outside became faint. the door to the girls’ makeup room was perpetually open, though you couldn’t bring yourself to look through it.

a feeling was swirling around in the pit of your stomach, brewing almost like a potion boiling in a witch’s cauldron, conjured up by your overactive thoughts. the last time you remembered feeling this way was in your childhood, perhaps when you’d seen one of your own parents cry. it could be called guilt, but the way it penetrated every facet of your gut, made it feel so much more sinister.

it made you feel sinister. you finally realized that you were no longer the protagonist, and had instead been relegated to playing the villain in everyone else’s stories. following your confrontation with lottie and your hostility towards noah, you wondered if there would be any sympathy left for you, from anyone in the villa. having left the back garden earlier than everyone else, you sat alone woefully avoiding the gaze of your own reflection. with your makeup done and your party outfit on, you wished for nothing more than for the night to be over. but for some, it had yet to begin.

priya’s chunky wicker heels sounded off through the hallways, inching closer to you. her monokini was slightly damp and her patterned kimono flowed ethereally from her back. she seemingly thought she’d be alone, as her eyes went wide upon finding you in the dressing room.

priya: oh, (Y/N), sorry. do you need a minute?

although her facial expression gave away that she was eager to leave, you couldn’t bear to leave her alone at the pity party for much longer.

you: priya, wait! i’ve been waiting for a good time to speak to you all day.

priya: really?

she waddled back into the room gingerly, still avoiding getting too close.

you: yeah, i, er... i just wanted to say there’s absolutely no bad blood between us. i still think of you as someone i’d love to be mates with, and i hope everything works out with you and bobby.

you nodded bashfully, as if trying to give your own statement a pat on the back, while priya still seemed unsure of how to respond.

priya: (Y/N)... the past 24 hours have not been easy for me. mostly because of myself, and the fact that i was too embarrassed to look you in the eye after stealing your man. but you saying all that, really means so much, you’ve no idea how much better i feel.

you: aw, babes.

you stood up, pausing only momentarily to adjust your skimpy evening wear, and engulfed priya in a friendly hug. you carried doubts in your head as to whether it was too soon to be on hugging terms with any of the other girls, but you felt a warm rush of endorphins as she eased into the embrace.

you: i didn’t want you to feel bad at all, and i’m sorry it took so long for me to bring this up with you today. i just thought i should leave you and bobby alone, to get as much of a chance to connect as we had.

priya: no, (Y/N), i know i was being silly. you were just so nice to me on that first night, i could hardly live with myself knowing i might’ve upset you. thanks for being so chill though, about everything. people like you are hard to come by.

you: thanks, babes, but i could say the same about you, you know.

priya: i really mean it though. i mean, no wonder bobby is still totally into you.

you pulled away, cocking your head to the side in apparent confusion.

you: you think he is?

priya nodded, smiling encouragingly.

priya: we could talk for hours and joke for longer, but every time there was a lull in the banter, he’d be looking for you. i never said anything cos i kinda hoped that maybe i could change his mind, until he told me that no one’s ever made him feel as nervous as you did. then it hit me: he can be funny with anyone, but he’s looking for someone that makes him want to be serious.

you: so, do you think that’s it for you and him?

priya: as much as i’d like it to be as easy as coming here and finding happily ever after with the first guy i see, i think the writing is on the wall.

you: well, i’m sorry things didn’t work out for you two, but i think it’s so admirable that you’ve enough self respect to not wait on a guy who isn’t into it.

priya: aw, thanks, (Y/N). i guess it’s taken a really long time for me to learn this lesson. but... it feels good!

you: go on, babes! love yourself!

priya: i’ll certainly keep trying. but hey, i should start getting ready. i kinda wanna be done before lottie gets here. i feel like she still hasn’t warmed up to me very much.

you: ugh, it sucks that so much drama is happening between us girls. it seems that the only thing we could agree on in the beginning, was that we wanted to support each other. but we all had such different interpretations of that, it hasn’t done any good in the end.

priya: from her perspective, i can totally understand why she’d be territorial, though. i could’ve stolen her man right from under her - i mean, i wouldn’t have, in any conceivable universe - but that must’ve really gotten to her.

you had to break eye contact, looking to the ground whilst snickering, though trying to maintain a shred of subtlety with a hand covering your mouth.

priya: i’m just glad you took it so well. and i sincerely wish you and bobby all the best.

as your gaze shifted back to priya, she looked much more comfortable in your presence, grinning confidently at her ability to make you laugh. a momentary silence fell over the both of you as you thought through the next sentence you wanted to say, and whether it was worth it to even tell her at all.

you: yeah... thank you... but...

priya: you’re not sure about him anymore?

you: it’s not that i’m not sure anymore... i mean, who’s to say if i was ever sure about him? we hung out for two days, and in the one day we were apart, he wasn’t really in the forefront of my mind. actually, i think i was more worried about my relationship with you.

priya clutched her heart in a display of gratitude.

priya: babes, i’m absolutely touched. but have you spoken to him at all? do you know whether or not he’s planning to pick you?

you: er, i don’t wanna waste too much of your time harping on about this, i suppose it’s really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.

priya: (Y/N), it’s a huge deal! i would really hate to see you go home tonight.

you: well, basically, we agreed to check in with each other, to see how we each felt after you’d chosen him. and, while that never happened, i didn’t find myself feeling nervous or anxious about the possibility of him jumping ship. i guess i was just too busy doing my own thing. is that bad to admit?

priya: of course not, babes. it’s so early into the competition, i wouldn’t expect you to have an opinion of him either way.

you: ok good, it’s nice to know i’m not crazy or a psychopath for thinking that way. plus, i’m actually not too worried about being the one sent home. i’ve been getting signals from a few of the other boys.

priya: ooh, well then, since you’re already dressed for tonight, maybe it’d be good to go speak to one of the boys before the recoupling. and don’t worry, i’ll deal with hope if she tries to get on your case.

you: thanks, priya. i’m glad someone else in here understands what i’m feeling, but obviously, neither of us should have to deal with the constant pettiness. i’ve got your back too, so if lottie ever throws any shite your way, just let me know.

without a word, the new alliance was brokered with the two of you tapping your right forearms together, forming a cross. you then turned to scurry downstairs as fast as your impractical club heels could carry you, with priya shouting a few words of encouragement that reverberated through the hallway.

priya: get yours, (Y/N)!

the boys had barely started their evening routine: all convening in the communal bedroom, ironing their dress shirts, and screaming along to throwback hits. you internally thanked whatever architect had designed the villa, as the entrance to the bedroom was totally out of sight from the living room. and just as you were about to walk through the doorway, you heard the audible footsteps and giggles of the other girls going upstairs. you were beginning to rethink the plan, your confidence draining quickly, as you caught a glimpse of the inside of the room and realized that most of the boys were clad only in their underwear. you hid behind the wall again, giving yourself one final internal pep talk before shyly covering your line of sight with one of your hands.

you: bobby, are you in here?

a few of the boys laughed out loud.

gary: oh, come on, (Y/N). you’ve seen it all before!

bobby: she’s a frequent visitor to the gun show, but this is different, it’s like if you saw the mona lisa before it was finished.

bobby’s voice became louder, as you kept your eyes fixated on the ground, and noticed his feet approaching you. the boys chuckled again.

rocco: why not say michelangelo’s david or something, mate?

once bobby was within your orbit, his tone shifted noticeably. he placed his hand gently atop yours, beckoning you to lower it slowly, until his bashful expression was revealed. he wasn’t yet wearing a shirt, although a pair of distressed black jeans hung on his waist, with the calvin klein logo of his boxer briefs peaking out above them. you ended up replaying what priya had said to you earlier. normally, bobby would never pass up an opportunity to quip back at someone to make the room laugh. but he seemed to shake off the boys’ teasing without a second thought.

bobby: i was hoping you’d be down to chat.

he spoke in a near whisper, only intending for his words to be heard by you.

you: i am, i just didn’t know if it should be in here, you know? i don’t mean to invade your privacy.

bobby: no, i totally get it. lemme throw a t-shirt on and we can speak in the living room, yeah?

you nodded decisively, sending a halfhearted wave to the other boys as you turned to leave, your gaze focused on the floor again. bobby was rather quick to finish dressing, as he appeared behind you before you could even sit down on the sofa.

bobby: so, what’s up?

you both plopped down on the cushiony leather, with bobby sitting quite far away, perhaps in an effort not to look too eager.

you: i just thought we should check in once before the recoupling. i know when i suggested it, it probably sounded like i meant to do this more than once, which i did but-

bobby: hey, it’s not a problem at all. you’re single, you’re at risk, you probably had a lot more people to think about than just me.

you: well, i suppose that’s true, but don’t sell yourself short. i was actually quite curious about how things were going between you and priya.

bobby: i mean, you knew how i felt about her choosing me. and i can’t lie, i might’ve let my bias cloud my judgement for a while, but at the end of it all today, i just didn’t feel a romantic connection. she’s well funny though - a great lass overall.

you: yeah, i got that from her too. i spoke to her earlier, just to say “no hard feelings”, since i could tell she was beating herself up about the whole thing.

bobby: oh yeah? she didn’t say anything about expecting us to couple up again, did she?

you: well, i don’t mean to stick my nose into your relationship. maybe that’s something you’d wanna clarify face-to-face, but, essentially she said she’s over it.

bobby: ah... it definitely would be a shame if i made her feel like she never stood a chance. i’ll have to pull her for a quick chat before the recoupling, but she was so sweet and understanding, i’m glad this could be an amicable end.

a blood-curdling scream sounded off from the girls’ dressing room. the frantic footsteps of lottie’s house slippers immediately followed, as she ran to the edge of the second floor catwalk.

lottie: I GOT A TEXT!!

you and bobby stood up from the couch, which was under the balcony. moving to the area near the front door, lottie’s figure became visible, her phone in one hand as the other excitedly clutched the railing. unblended triangles of concealer remained under her eyes.

gary: bloody hell, lozza, i thought that was the fire alarm.

the girls all clambered to stand around lottie, while the boys strolled in relatively unbothered.

islanders, the boys’ choice recoupling will take place in five minutes. girls, please take your places around the firepit.

as gasps and grumbles broke out amongst everyone, lottie turned to hannah in a frenzy.

lottie: hun, do you think i can pull off natural with a bold lip?

hannah: that dark purple in your kit would look stunning with an understated eye!

the groups dissipated as most of the others went back to what they were doing, only at a faster pace. priya and marisol’s shoes clacked against the metal stairs, signifying that they were the only other girls who were ready to go. you turned your attention back to bobby just to end out the conversation.

you: i guess i’ll see you out there.

bobby: i’ll certainly be looking for you.

you looked by the door to see priya and marisol seemingly waiting for you there. bobby gave priya a little nod of acknowledgement.

priya: you alright, babes?

bobby: i’m doing good, don’t worry about me. listen, we’re ok though, right? i mean, i think you’re incredible and i’d be so happy to be friends.

priya: of course we are! no saltiness from me, and, i think we’d get on well as friends too.

priya nodded resolutely, seemingly denoting she was finished with their exchange. and once you got close enough, she squealed quietly, taking the opportunity to link arms with you and walk out the door together, marisol in tow.

priya: i don’t know why i’m so excited, but i have a good feeling about tonight, girls.

marisol: me too, oddly enough. i can’t tell who’d pick me, but i’ve put in enough hours to feel confident that someone will.

priya: yes, marisol! that’s the idea! and (Y/N), did you get a chance to chat to noah?

you: er, yeah, i spoke to him a few hours ago. why?

priya: you didn’t go talk to him when you left the dressing room earlier?

you: oh, no, i was with bobby.

priya: babes… take a page from marisol’s book; this is a competition, you’ve gotta put in some work to get what you want.

if you weren’t wearing full coverage foundation, your face would’ve turned red as a beet.

you: the thing about that is… you’re right, i totally would’ve. but, our chat in the garden this afternoon did not go according to plan. he, er, made it very clear he wasn’t interested.

the other two’s expressions both softened, reaching out to rub your shoulders whilst murmuring consoling sweet nothings.

marisol: don’t get me wrong - i understand that people can change - but having seen the two of you together on the first day, i don’t buy that for a second.

priya: this does have hope written all over it, but don’t be too sad, babes. rocco and gary are both totally into you. one of them will pick you, a hundred percent.

marisol: gary?

marisol uttered his name so softly, she sounded almost disheartened.

you: we’ve been having some quick chats over the past few days. but, apparently, he’s also getting on well with hannah - and you. i wouldn’t know who he’d go for, honestly.

marisol: well, what do you two usually talk about in these “quick chats”?

you: he’s pretty flirty sometimes, but he’s a bit of a cheeky chappy. i’d bet he’s just naturally like that with everyone.

priya: but did he ever mention wanting to couple up with you?

you: we’ve only talked about the recoupling once. this morning, he asked if i’d mind coupling up with him, and i said i wouldn’t. but that was before he spoke with you, marisol, so i can’t tell where his head is at now.

priya: i mean - and forgive me, marisol, if i’m speaking out of turn - but it seems like he was saying he wanted to couple up with you.

marisol: it seems that way to me, too.

priya and marisol exchanged glances. your eyes flickered between the both of their faces at lightspeed, at this point only trying to determine whether or not they were angry at you.

priya: and what did bobby say when you spoke to him?

you: i just sat him down and apologized for not checking in like i said i would. he said it was fine, and then we had a little check-in about how he felt about you, priya. that’s pretty much all that happened before everyone else showed up.

priya: right, but did you tell him how you felt about him?

your eyes began racing all across the floor and even to the horizon. what priya said suddenly seemed so obvious, but you had no explanation as to why it didn’t occur to you at the time. you found your lips opening and shutting by their own accord, as if to try and stutter out an excuse, though your brain gave them no words to speak with.

you: he mentioned something about me being single, and he said i had more to worry about than just him, which i agreed with. he’s always understood that noah was my first choice. him saying all that means he understands, right?

you beamed at priya and marisol both with anxious doe eyes. the heat of the mallorcan air became no match for the nauseating, hot dread you felt bubbling up inside you.

priya: it might’ve done… but i don’t think you made yourself clear enough, babes.

marisol: priya’s right, (Y/N). you might’ve put too many eggs in too many baskets without knowing.

you grunted in frustration.

you: i did know, though. in the moment, when i was chatting to each of the boys, i probably thought i was being so smart and strategic. but i guess retracting eggs from baskets was too awkward, that’s why i couldn’t do it. it would’ve been so easy just to tear the bandage off, but i left it for the last possible second. i always do that. and now it’s too late.

you threw your head in your hands, quickly becoming thankful there was no product in your hair, as you ended up ruining whatever semblance of a hairstyle you had. marisol grabbed your elbows and pulled your arms down slowly; not at all the reaction you expected her to have.

marisol: chill out, babes. at the end of the day, each boy only gets one pick. if we’re both lucky, someone will pick you, and someone else will pick me. i’ll just be glad if we all make it through the night together.

you: so you’re not mad that i didn’t tell you about gary?

marisol: not in the slightest! and who’s to say i wouldn’t have grafted on him even if you had?

just then, you heard the villa doors open, and a herd of footsteps began approaching the firepit. you, marisol, and priya were already most of the way there, but ended your brief powwow as priya reached both of her arms out from the middle of the three of you. she embraced you and marisol on either side of her, for just long enough for you to give in and wrap your arms around her too, although marisol was clearly too flustered to reciprocate.

lottie: doing this whole ordeal without cheers’ing first is such bad vibes.

the others had finally caught up, with the boys taking their seats around the fire, leaving the girls to group around where you stood for one final council meeting.

hannah: my mantra for tonight is que será, será.

marisol: as cheesy of a reference as that is, it’s not a bad motto in a situation like this. whatever will be, will be.

hannah: how is musical theatre cheesy? i at least thought you guys would appreciate a switch up from the jane austen references.

marisol: hannah, the guy who wrote that musical went on to write self insert fanfiction about alexander hamilton.

hope: as much as i would love to debate this further, this is it, girls. assuming you’ve all played the game to the best of your abilities, this is the moment of truth.

marisol: right. i should asterisk; whatever will be, will be… only after you’ve done everything in your power to forge the most ideal outcome realistically possible.

lottie: but sometimes the universe doesn’t bend to your will. most times, actually. i think that’s what hannah was getting at, and there’s no shame in drawing the shortest lot.

a cellphone beeped.

bobby: I GOT A TEXT

islanders, the boys’ choice recoupling is about to start. girls, please all stand in front of the firepit. noah will choose first.

hope waggled her eyebrows and smirked cheekily, almost skipping her way to the firepit. bobby sat down as noah stood, the two of them on opposite ends of the bench. you stood in between marisol and hannah. you could feel lottie’s glare even from behind her meat shield, as her pep talk seemingly didn’t affect the other girls in the way that she’d hoped.

noah: i would like to couple up with this girl… no, this woman… because she’s special. in the short time that we’ve known each other, she’s made me feel as though i’m finally ready to embrace a mature, adult relationship. she knows what she wants and she goes for it - and now it’s time for me to try to do the same. if i should have anything in this world, it should be hope.

in your periphery, you noticed hope’s hands fly up. they covered her mouth as she gasped silently.

noah: so the girl… that i would like to couple up with… is… hope.

the other islanders responded mostly with polite claps, although a few of the boys whooped and cheered. hope ran to noah and they collided in the center of the open space, her arms flinging themselves around his neck as she grabbed his face. but even if it seemed like the perfect moment for a passionate snog, she apparently only allowed herself a modest peck of his cheek.

another phone sounded off, and as each of the boys scrambled to check their pockets, rocco stood up.

rocco: so, i didn’t wanna think too hard about my speech because i’ve always thought that romance should be spontaneous. but clearly, i don’t know that much about romance, seeing as i thought “love languages” were actually different languages that people have with their partners. although, i do know there’s something about this girl, cos i keep feeling myself drawn to her - like a moth to a flame.

you felt marisol nudge your side, and without even looking at her expression for too long, you could tell you were thinking the same thing. so you simply shrugged, as even rocco didn’t seem to know who he would pick when you spoke to him earlier in the day.

rocco: and fire - sparks - are as spontaneous as it gets, right? so the girl… that i would like to couple up with… is… lottie.

lottie threw her arms up in the air, seemingly cheering for herself almost like a cheerleader. she walked over to join rocco with far less conviction than hope, but still kissed him on the cheek.

lottie: loved the flame analogy, babe, hated the bit about moths though.

rocco: some moths can be cute. plus, they’re disciples of the moon, just like you.

another phone beeped. ibrahim stood up.

ibrahim: the past few days have been an absolute whirlwind for me. i’m usually worried about what kind of first impression i make, but i’ve never experienced that feeling times a thousand before. that’s what it was like, coming here. but the first time i chatted to this girl, it all melted away, and she forced me to actually have fun just being in the present moment.

marisol tensed up beside you, breathing in a long breath and holding it in her chest.

ibrahim: so the girl… that i would like to couple up with… is… priya.

for the first time all night, you were utterly shocked by the decision. you instinctively put an arm around marisol’s shoulders, feeling her back still tight and her hands stiff at her sides. priya ran over to ibrahim eagerly, pausing only slightly before him, so as to invoke a quite cordial hug. on the way to her seat, she looked over her shoulder and sent marisol a sympathetic glance. marisol finally loosened up, gesturing with her hands as if to say it was no big deal, but the sigh she let out as the next boy stood was telling.

bobby: i would like to couple up with this girl because she’s… amazing.

upon hearing bobby’s voice, you removed your arms from marisol and perked your head up, not even realizing that only marisol and hannah were left on either side of you.

bobby: i can’t even think of any better words to describe her with, cos every facet of her that i’ve seen so far, has just been good. and right. she makes me feel right, like i’m finally doing what i’m supposed to be doing, when i talk to her. and so the girl… that i would like to couple up with… is (Y/N).

you put on the biggest smile you could muster, not surprised but truthfully, not satisfied either. you reached down and took marisol and hannah’s hands in both of your own, giving them a friendly squeeze before jogging over to join bobby. it felt a bit boastful to be the only couple thus far to kiss on the lips, though it was where you and he left off. and you were happy to put your mind on autopilot for the cursory spectacle, as long as it allowed you to not think about everyone’s attention being squarely on you.

gary stood up, twiddling his thumbs. he didn’t seem like the type to get nervous easily, but as he shoved his hands sheepishly into his back pockets, you got the sense that he really respected the gravity his decision held.

gary: well, blimey, i would’ve thought i’d had tonight all planned out.

he allowed himself a breath, dropping his head slightly. but, seeing as bobby was sat directly next to him, gary’s side-eye was blatant from your position.

gary: but, i suppose things are always changing in here. that’s the one thing i dunno if i’ll ever get used to. although you lot - all of you - have really helped me adjust. you two girls are genuinely lovely, and i’m gutted to think that one of you won’t be here tomorrow.

you managed to meet hannah’s gaze for merely a split second, but mouthed to her rather exaggeratedly, que será, será.

gary: but, there’s one girl who i’ve just got on slightly better with. i had a well good time chatting to her today, and obviously, i’m more than willing to explore that connection more. so the girl… that i would like to couple up with… is… marisol.

hannah and marisol’s hands were firmly joined, though hannah’s other hand was clenched into a fist and held shakily above her heart. her head bobbed for a few moments, as she tried to keep it from falling down completely. marisol gave hannah’s back a couple of half-hearted pats before going to join gary. the new couple hugged each other daintily, then sat on the bench with everyone else, though the guilt on their faces was more palpable.

the echo of a cellphone ringtone hung in the air - like a pungent stench - with everyone keeping totally still and quiet, too stunned to break the heavy silence. hannah looked at her phone.

hannah, you have been left single and are therefore dumped from the island. say goodbye to your fellow islanders and get ready to leave immediately.

bobby reached over and grabbed your hand, placing it in his own lap with a gentle squeeze. perhaps he saw the melancholy with which you raised your eyebrows, feeling genuinely bad for hannah in that moment. the group collectively sat in shock as hannah stood before everyone - alone.

no one quite knew what to do from there, but lottie burst through the awkward atmosphere when she sped from her seat over to hug hannah.

lottie: i can’t believe this, babes. i’m gonna miss you so much!

hannah: i’ll miss you too, lottie.

the two girls parted after an unexpectedly short hug, during which time a single teardrop rolled down lottie’s cheek. lottie positioned herself by hannah’s side, facing the rest of the group while maintaining a gentle hand on the back of her friend’s head.

hannah: i’ll miss all the rest of you too. everyone here has made this experience so unforgettable for me. and i’ve no problem going home so the rest of you can find love… honestly i think i’ve already found it.

you couldn’t help but well up yourself as hannah attempted to laugh through her own waterworks. everyone got up from the bench and took their turn hugging her. deep in your cynical mind, you did foresee this happening, but something about the weight of the moment made everything feel like slow-motion.

hannah: (Y/N)!

when you finally came to the front of the queue, hannah threw her arms around you. the shock on your face may have been evident, but you couldn’t stop yourself from easing into her embrace.

hannah: i’ve grown to really respect you, babes.

you: aw, hannah, i’m touched. i really respect you as well, and i’m sorry if it seemed that i was a bit insensitive toward you. i admire your optimism and i hope you never change.

hannah let go, dabbing the tears away from her eyes, so as not to disrupt the makeup underneath. you chuckled silently at the gesture, though she then looked you directly in the eye and her demeanor became several notches more serious.

hannah: (Y/N), that’s really sweet of you to say. but this experience has taught me so much - i’d be foolish to not work on myself with this new knowledge.

her sincerity made her imminent departure all the more surreal. you swallowed with your heart feeling heavy.

you: i respect that too. i think we would’ve been great friends with enough time.

hannah: of course.

she swiftly moved on to hugging rocco, with lottie at her side seemingly supervising. you exited the hub of people that were still gathered around hannah, the evening breeze suddenly making the hair on your body stand up. you gripped at your own forearms, looking up to see bobby waiting for you.

bobby: you ok?

you: yeah, it just doesn’t feel real.

you both stood a bracing distance away from each other. the look on bobby’s face revealed that he perhaps wanted to comfort you, but something was stopping him.

lottie: we’re going upstairs to pack. we’ll meet everyone at the door in a few!

lottie called out and disappeared into the villa with hannah. the rest of the islanders were left milling about outside, anxious and unsure of how to pass the time. you almost thought of something to say to bobby, but marisol and priya strode into your line of sight.

priya: how are you feeling, hun?

your eyes lingered on marisol, although you were too shy to look right at her face.

you: i’m fine. could be better, but couldn’t we all…

your head instantly turned to check if bobby was still nearby, and with a silent sigh of relief you found that he wasn’t.

you: obviously i’m thankful that we’re all safe though.

marisol: i am too. i’m gutted for hannah, but at least she seemed to know it was coming.

you: how are you feeling about your couple?

marisol: look, babes, there are no hard feelings from me to you. i never really got romance vibes from gary before, so i’m not surprised that i wasn’t his first choice. i guess we’ll just have to see how things go from here. the game carries on.

you: a great outlook, as always. i’m so glad you’re not mad either. let’s all just chill out and try to have a good time from now on.

priya: that’s what i’m saying, (Y/N)! i’ll try and find the best alcohol they’ve got around here for when we toast.

priya and marisol peeled off to head for the kitchen pantry. hope and noah were loved up on the beanbags; a sight from which you averted your eyes as soon as you spotted, to avoid any awkward incidents with noah. but bobby and the rest of the boys were nowhere to be found, and naturally your curiosity led you to look for them inside.

as you set foot in the living room, you heard agitated voices coming from the bathroom, and immediately regretted snooping.

gary: i’m deadly serious!

you twiddled your thumbs nervously as you tiptoed closer to the source of the noise.

bobby: i understand that mate. but you never said anything about it until right this second.

you poked your head through the doorway, just enough to find ibrahim standing by gary’s side and bobby alone at the other end of the room.

gary: bruv, everyone knew i liked her. the least you could’ve done was ask me beforehand.

bobby: i’ve been kinda busy with priya lately. how was i meant to know you liked (Y/N) if you never told me directly?

gary: i didn’t know i needed your permission to chat to her.

bobby: no one “needs my permission”, but it would’ve been smart to let me know. although, i can’t lie, it wouldn’t have affected my decision.

gary: oh, come off it mate. what would you know about being smart? you chose (Y/N) even though you ignored her all day and she has no interest in you anymore!

the two of them inched increasingly closer to one another, with bobby stiffening his shoulders and donning a confrontational stance.

gary: go on, throw hands. being a tough guy is surely the best way to save your dying couple.

bobby made a sudden start towards gary - seemingly just to get in his face, as his hands were still at his sides. ibrahim acted with lightning fast reflexes to hold gary back, while you ran in and grabbed bobby by both of his arms.

you: jesus, you two! get it together!

gary stopped struggling against ibrahim and his eyes went wide upon seeing you.

gary: (Y/N)? how much did you see?

you: enough to know that this is not an argument worth having. we all know the rules of the game, and we all know it’s just a game.

with your grip still firmly on bobby, you spun him around to meet your gaze.

you: what were you thinking?

the look on your face must’ve spoken volumes to bobby, as his own expression softened, and it seemed he’d shown you a side of himself that even he rarely saw.

lottie: well what do we have here?

lottie was holding hannah by the hand, and in hannah’s other hand she held her toiletries bag. lottie had steered hannah into the bathroom, and although the latter was clearly flustered, the former appeared all too intrigued to flee from the scene. you let go of bobby and straightened yourself out.

ibrahim: leave it out, lottie. certain issues don’t involve everyone.

the rest of you were visibly awestruck.

you: we were just discussing the recoupling. everything’s under control.

lottie’s brow was furrowed as her jaw twitched. you could tell she was trying to keep her mouth from hanging open.

lottie: hannah needs a moment to gather her things. surely we can put our differences aside for a few minutes and give her a nice farewell.

you turned your attention back to the space between gary and bobby.

you: all of this seemed like a big misunderstanding. if we don’t wanna step on each other’s toes, we just need to communicate more effectively next time.

the boys each quietly nodded to one another before lottie stepped aside, allowing all of you to funnel out of the bathroom. shuffling past her and hannah, you were greeted by marisol, who stood just beyond the commotion. her expression was concerned, leading you to believe she’d heard about as much as the other girls had.

you: marisol…

marisol: i was going to help hannah pack her luggage, but i guess there are already too many cooks in the kitchen.

ibrahim: alright, girls?

the other boys had wandered off, but ibrahim approached the two of you, his body language still calm as ever although he rubbed his hands together with apparent remorse.

ibrahim: listen, i’m sorry about what happened back there. those guys are pretty good mates, so i genuinely didn’t expect that from them. but, us boys haven’t really been talking strategy together, so i’m gonna make sure we work on that.

you: don’t be sorry, rahim. we’ve all had a long day.

ibrahim: i am though. and marisol, i’m sorry to you too. i know we had our little spat earlier, but my decision was genuinely nothing personal, and i hope we can stay friends.

marisol: i’m not salty, rahim. don’t worry. but i will take you up on that offer to stay friends.

ibrahim backed away from the conversation with a lopsided smile; perhaps the most emotion you’d seen him show thus far.

marisol: the night is barely half over and it’s already been the most exhausting of my life.

you: babes, i’m so sorry if those idiots made you feel bad about yourself.

marisol: why is everyone sorry? this is what we all signed up for, and i can handle it. i’m a big girl.

you: i don’t doubt that, but it can’t be easy being in your position. i’m here for you if you ever need my help.

marisol: i mean… you’ve already helped slightly by making gary show his true colors. i was thinking i ought to give him a shot before, but i dunno now that i’ve seen this… impetuous and… cantankerous side of him.

you giggled.

you: i rate that for sure. but maybe don’t write him off straight away. now that the eliminations are such a real possibility, i’m more scared than ever of losing you.

marisol: aw, babes.

she pulled you in gently for a hug; less overt with physical touch than some of the other islanders, but her affection felt more earnest as a result.

marisol: i hope you know i’m gonna be very hard to get rid of, though.

the both of you shared a laugh as lottie and hannah emerged from the bathroom. within a few moments, hannah was wheeling her suitcase out the front door, with everyone gathered around the yard to see her off.

hannah: you lot are all so special, and so lovely. you all deserve the best! i’ll never forget any of you!

overcome with emotion, she flung herself at you for one last hug, to which you happily reciprocated.

you: take care of yourself, babes. you’re one in a million and someone’s gonna fall in love with that.

hannah: aw, (Y/N), you’re such a kind soul. thanks for everything.

she worked down the line, hugging everyone goodbye until a car pulled up in the nearby dirt road. as the rest of you waved and cheered, hannah pulled her suitcase confidently whilst strutting down the path through the front yard.

you noticed that lottie stayed behind a bit longer than most everyone else, looking into the emptiness of the dark night with her hands clasped above her heart.

priya: still in the mood to chill out and have fun?

priya shoved a wine glass in your hand as soon as you reentered the villa. the rosé she found was cold from the fridge and smelled refreshingly sweet, although your fellow islanders seemingly weren’t up for drinking very much of it. hope led a rather somber toast and you spent the rest of the evening with priya and marisol. the three of you were left alone on the sun loungers when you finally realized that everyone else had gone to bed.

as you put on your pajamas and hurried through your bedtime routine, the thought of bobby briefly crossed your mind. though even in your own thoughts, the reminder of the game was met with an internal groan. you had no energy left to use on worrying about boys or love or girl drama.

however, the worry faded from your mind as you found yourself stopping in your tracks, in awe of the serenity of bobby as he slept on his side. you leaned over to see his face, which was squished against the pillow and his cheeks were adorably puffy.

you lifted the blanket slowly and attempted to get into the bed without waking him. your back facing bobby’s back, you realized that you’d chosen to sleep on the side which looked directly at hope and noah’s bed. and just as you feared, noah rolled over in his apparent slumber, his eyes closed but mere inches from yours. you tried your best to doze off, but to no avail.

noah: hey.

of course noah had to speak to you. he always had a way of finding you right when you wished he wouldn’t.

you: go to sleep.

you didn’t mean to hiss at him, although it was hard to control your tone while whispering.

noah: if you really don’t wanna talk, i will. but i don’t feel right sleeping on an argument.

you: you weren’t in that argument.

noah: i meant our argument. i feel horrible knowing i might’ve hurt your feelings.

you opened your eyes and placed a hand under your cheek for support, leaning more intently into your exchange, and noticing that noah had already adopted the same position.

you: you didn’t hurt my feelings, you just annoyed the ever-loving shite out of me.

noah let out a breathy chuckle.

noah: well regardless, i apologize for doing so.

your lungs, half asleep, demanded a deep and prolonged sigh.

you: why is everyone sorry?

noah: i can’t speak for anyone else, but i’m really trying to take my relationships seriously while i’m here. and that includes with you.

you: i appreciate you saying that… but sometimes i just wish that if someone decides to shoot me down, they can at least do it with enough pride to not apologize for it afterwards. it’s not easy to look someone in the eye and reject them. sometimes i think it might be easier to swallow if you know they’re not sorry about it.

noah: i’m only apologizing cos i don’t want you to think you’re not important to me.

your brain needed silence to fully absorb his words.

noah: we can chat more tomorrow. you’re stuck with me for quite a while, and that’s something i’m not sorry about.

noah flipped over onto his other side and left you alone with your thoughts once more. although, in that moment, you felt another presence pawing at your waist. bobby was also seemingly sleeping soundly, and probably just absentmindedly cuddling you as though you were his doll. so you let him wrap his arms around you.

bobby: mmm…

you closed your eyes again and wished fervently to fall asleep.

bobby: are we all good?

you: you really scared me tonight, bobby. we’re fine now but i don’t want you to let that happen again.

bobby: i totally get it, and i’m sorry.

he waited a few beats before groggily posing another question.

bobby: you were scared that gaz would rough me up?

you: no, bobby. i was scared that you’d let yourself become a mindless brute. i’m not a girl that likes it when guys fight. i was scared that maybe you weren’t who i thought you were, and i didn’t wanna jump ship.

you heard him hum again, perhaps in contentment, before he brushed some of your hair off of your neck. the last thing you felt before finally drifting off to sleep was bobby hovering over you, kissing the exposed skin on your temple, your ear, and then the nape of your neck.

now that the first dumping had officially come and gone, you were indeed stuck with everyone - and for who knows how long.

[beerok23]

Excerpt from Chapter 6 - The Smithes

“So, you’d rather spend the rest of your life cultivating a platonic friendship with the man who’s most definitely your soulmate?” “If that’s my only option, yes.” Oh, God. Aziraphale really believed this bullshit. Maybe this time Maggie needed a more brazen approach. She closed her eyes and took a deep sigh to muster up the strength she needed for her next words, “Aziraphale Fell, you are a complete IDIOT if you think that Anthony J. Crowley doesn’t love you back. That man has been head over heels for you for five years, honestly, how can you not see? I don’t care how you do it, just TALK TO HIM!” Aziraphale pouted, “Nina’s having a bad influence on you.” “Thank God!” Maggie retorted. “I’m serious, Az. Have you got any idea how many times Crowley has asked me about you at work? ‘Oh, Maggie, does Aziraphale like this book?’ ‘Hey, Mags, do you happen to know if Aziraphale is already planning to go see this play?’ ‘Maggie, can you find me this Shostakovich record for Aziraphale?’ – He’s so obvious, and it infuriates me that you two aren’t together yet!” Aziraphale looked flabbergasted. Oh, so he never knew about this? “But– the other night–” “Forget it, will you?” Maggie raised her voice again. “Have you considered that maybe he was just as embarrassed as you were? As scared as you?” Aziraphale seemed to ponder on her last words for a moment. “Oh, Maggie.” He finally spoke. “I think you might be right. It’s time I stop living in fear and try to be brave. I need to tell him that our friendship isn’t enough for me anymore. That I wish we could have… something more.” Maggie was so taken by her attempt at helping Aziraphale that she got very irritated when people started going back and forth behind them. Someone was going back inside after their cigarette break (right now, Maggie would do literally anything for a hit) while others were getting outside to take their place. “And what about Brown?” Aziraphale snorted, “I have a feeling that Brown already knows that I’m hopelessly devoted to him. I did so little to hide it. It’s time he understands that I love him more than anything in this world.” Once again, Maggie heard the door opening and closing behind them. But she didn’t care anymore, because Aziraphale had just come to the conclusion he should have reached approximately 1800 days before. “Oh my God, this is so exciting I want to cry!” She jumped, her voice all squeaky. “You’re really doing this?” Aziraphale beamed at her, “I am. And you know what? So are you.” Maggie’s good mood changed drastically, “I am what now?” “You’ll tell Nina that you love her. And I know she’ll say it back.” Maggie lost all of her confidence, “Wh-Why are you sure she’ll say it back?” Aziraphale just shrugged, “Because it’s Christmas. And at Christmas you tell the truth.”

Betaed by @hermiola 💛💛💛

TAG LIST @firephoenix2305 @on1occasionfork  @moralsofanalleycatsposts  @captainblou @bellisima-writes @shadesofecclescakes @ineffablerainstorm @pookasluagh @somewhere-in-wales @missunderstoodlyrics

The Grass is Always Greener - Ch. 1

It’s almost Christmas in Whickber Street, a quiet neighborhood in the little town of Tadfield. Mr Brown sees the upcoming holiday as the perfect chance to throw a party to impress Mr Fell, the charming bookseller who lives next door. He must deal with Mr Crowley, though, an annoying astronomer who moved to Tadfield five years prior and became best friends with Mr Fell. Mr Crowley and Mr Fell both secretly wish that their relationship was something more, but they are two idiots, so they keep on pining for each other under the scrutiny of Comma, Crowley’s very insightful cat. ~ A Good Omens Christmas AU ~

A huge shout out to my Beta @hermiola 💛💛💛

For @pookasluagh, @ineffablerainstorm and @somewhere-in-wales

Excerpt from Ch. 1 - Utterly Ridiculous

“It’s the most — wonderful Christmas instalment I’ve ever seen, Crowley.” Mr Brown tried to ignore the fact that his response was coming along with the chorus of Somebody To Love – and was that a blush on Mr Fell’s face? “How did you build this up on your own? I’m pretty sure this wasn’t here yesterday.” Mr Fell looked extremely impressed. And also in awe. How Mr Crowley hadn’t realised that their neighbour was obviously enamoured of his presence was a mystery worthy of being studied. “Oh. Well, uhm. You know. Yeah, mmm, I just… I worked on it last night.” “Sounds like an impossible job for only one person,” Mr Fell noticed. “Not impossible, no. Just… intricate.” “I didn’t picture you as a modern music lover, Mr Fell.” Mr Brown interjected, trying to spark his interest (to no avail), but sparking one of Mr Crowley’s infamous glares, instead. “Oh, well, I’m not a fan of… bebop, per se,” Mr Fell elucidated, immediately thwarting Mr Crowley’s attempt to retort, “But I’ve become quite accustomed to Queen. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only music that Crowley’s car likes playing.” Mr Brown ignored the fact that Mr Fell was talking about an inanimate vintage Bentley as if it were a sentient being. “It’s rock, Aziraphale, for god’s sake!” Mr Crowley immediately moved his tongue in his mouth as if he was trying to deal with the lingering of a very bad taste. “And to be fair… it is a bit loud, my dear.” Oh, Mr Brown would have given an arm to be called that. But he was already sadly and pathetically aware of the fact that the possessive adjective only applied to a scrawny-man-in-black. Another thing that the idiot hadn’t realised yet, apparently. Perfect, now the idiot was smiling that smug smirk of his. Mr Crowley manifested a remote control from a pocket of his far too light jacket (it was December, how could he cope with going around almost undressed?!) and pressed a combination of buttons. The music changed, and Queen gave way to a very soft and mellow piano track. Mr Fell recognised it immediately and put his hands on his cheeks. Brown couldn’t tell if they’d just reddened for the cold or because he was blushing. “Oh, Crowley! It’s Debussy.” Brown witnessed impotent as Mr Fell gawked at Mr Crowley with that look in his eyes. “I asked the project designer to add a second combination to play at night. I didn’t want Freddie’s vocals to keep the whole neighbourhood perpetually awake for a month.” “Debussy’s Clair de lune is my favourite piano piece.” Mr Fell’s hand was metaphorically on his heart, now. “I know,” came Mr Crowley’s bashful answer. Mr Brown sighed in exasperation. You see, one could only stand a certain dose of languid looks of understanding between these two idiots. And when you were forced to witness such knowing looks day after day, after day… Well, let’s just say you would have developed a slight idiosyncrasy towards redheads too.