#It's the 'admit it - learn from it - move on' that can be the hardest

[momo-minomo]

Striking out on his own during Red Robin must have been the hardest thing Tim has ever done. Tim who’s greatest fear is loneliness, who throws himself into befriending everyone and leaving no bridges burned. Who Bruce admits is the Robin that LOVED the teamwork moves so much that he and Bruce developed entire playbooks together so they can take down overwhelming forces with perfect synchronicity. WHO developed even MORE team tactics with Nightwing to the point they learned each other’s signature weapons and their own weapons can be broken down or put together with a twist to form the other’s. Tim is the Robin the others turn to for Ðick’s flippy acrobatic bullshit when he’s not there because they practiced every move together until Tim can do Dick’s part with any of the bats. Tim who makes allies to fight with even on his solo cases and with people no one else would DREAM of allying with like Klarion, lady shiva, early days Red Hood, and all his fellow Young Justice kids. Tim’s been on like 10 separate teams over the years from the batfam to Young Justice, to the Titans, to the Outsiders, to the freaking Psyba-Rats.

So think of how soul crushing those first months were entirely alone. No family, no team, no friends, no backup because they’re all dead, missing, or gave up on him (in his mind). Ra’s sending the agents he did to Tim was a stroke of diabolical genius. How do you steal the loyalty of a person who’s loyalty is their defining trait? Take a look at Pru, Z, and Owens and tell me they don’t remind you of the original Young Justice team? Misfits who love too deeply and NEED someone who cares are Tim Drake’s personal kryptonite. His fondness for them has been both his biggest weakness and his greatest strength. It was a gamble on Ra’s part because yeah, Tim fell for his weakness hook, line and sinker but his strength kicked in and he walked away with Pru’s total loyalty. With Ra’s pouring on the paternal approval on top of it might have worked to at least divide Tim’s loyalties a bit if Ra’s hadn’t tried to control Tim by keeping Tam hostage. No one can control Tim, he’s the ultimate wild card and threatening innocents hits his rage button.

[chaewandz]

DUOLINGO DATE : NRK

synopsis: niki catches u practicing japanese on duolingo just for him while he’s asleep

wc: 777 words

pairing: nishimura riki x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: niki teases, y/n throws a pillow, cliché, very cringey I must admit

“translate: a vegetable”

you quickly typed “やさい” into your keyboard, earning a little ding meaning you were correct.

moving onto the next question you were determined to finish the lesson under 30 seconds, even though your speed did not matter in the slightest.

“translate: どうもありがとう!”

“this is way too easy.” you whispered, swiftly typing “thank you very much!” into the space provided. duo blinked at you, then cheered.

“どうもありがとう duo!” you said, giggling as you prepared to answer the next question.

“translate: 先生, おはようございます”

as you were typing the correct english translation, a voice suddenly interrupted.

“what the actual fuck are you doing.”

you jumped, dropping your phone onto the floor and holding your chest, gasping for breath.

“YOU WERE MEANT TO BE SLEEPING!” you declared to your boyfriend as if he was somehow in the wrong for waking up to your extremely loud duolingo practice.

niki laughed and shook his head.

“HELLO why are you learning Japanese from a BIRD when you have me?” he asked, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, now propped up on his elbows.

“because! you were ASLEEP!” you were determined to blame him but only so you could mask your embarrassment.

niki just rolled his eyes, muttering something in japanese that you tried your absolute hardest to understand. but that was merely impossible considering you were still on level one of “greetings” according to Duo’s lesson plan.

“what was that?” you asked accusingly.

“did you not understand? i thought you were a japanese master…” he teased, a smug look on his face.

you just threw a pillow at him in return. this brought about the most dramatic gasp that you had ever heard from niki, which was not easy to beat considering he did this all the time.

you watched as he contemplated picking up the nearest pillow and chucking it at your head in the name of revenge, but paused and composed himself.

“y/n, why are you learning japanese? especially while I’m asleep?” there was a slight smirk on his lips that let you know that he already knew the answers to his own questions, he just wanted to tease you.

“you know, I know, we all know- let’s move on haha go back to sleep goodnightnikisweetdreams!” you rambled, quickly diving under the covers, hiding your face and turning your body away from him.

this didn’t really do anything. you were only met with loud shuffling and breaths until your boyfriend was now laying next to you, also underneath the covers.

“this is nice.” he whispered sarcastically, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the duvet above him.

“now what do you want.” you turned your body now to face him, only to be met with the same mischievous smirk as before.

“tell me why you were learning japanese as a secret.”

“no.”

“yes!”

“no?”

“YES???”

“FINE. fine fine fine fine you win- alright- whatever- yes I was learning japanese because I wanted to surprise you and your family to make them feel more comfortable at dinner tomorrow and to make you happy.” you whispered the last part, letting out a deep sigh. “can we go to sleep now?”

even in the dark underneath your blankets, you could still pick out the rose colored tint that dusted niki’s cheeks, paired with an equally as flustered grin.

“thank you.” was all he could manage to say without getting too lovey-dovey. slowly, you began to smile back, finding his reaction to be quite sweet, a complete contrast to his sass from moments prior.

niki then grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him so that your head was now resting against his chest with your arms around his waist.

you breathed in his warmth, eyes peacefully closing.

“do you want to stay under the covers because I’m starting to sweat…” he whispered, suddenly breaking the comfortable silence. you just laughed, jokingly rolling your eyes. your laugh instantly made him chuckle as well, chin rested on the top of your head.

“yeah I’m overheating as well.” you slowly released your hands from around his waist and shoved the blanket away, the cool air of your apartment rushing in.

“better?” you asked, fanning his face.

“much.” he grabbed your wrists again and put your arms back to the way they were, wrapped around his waist.

“goodnight riki.” you whispered, titling your head up to lightly press a kiss to his chin.

“goodnight, sneaky japanese prodigy.” he whispered back, smiling as he kissed the top of your head.

and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the same way you did each night. and as always, you wished that you could stay this way forever.

a/n: 🫠😅💃🏼🩰😚😊☺️😳 guys I wrote this like last summer bc I was trying to beat my gf in our friends quest on duolingo LOLLLL yes freja this is inspired by u. Guys also I gave up learning Japanese on duolingo bc it made absolutely no sense ??? n e ways

[haetrack]

thinkin about haechan’s chest being sensitive and biting, licking, and sucking on his nipples 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 shit

i’m normal im actually soooo normal

i could imagine being in a new relationship with haechan, still learning things about each other and figuring out what the other likes.

it’s all new to you, having him pull you onto his lap, giggling into the kiss you two share. your hands can’t help but wander, slipping under his shirt, feeling the soft skin of his stomach. he holds you close to him, his grip on your waist getting tighter as your hands trail up. you’re too focused on kissing him to realize that your thumbs brush against his nipples, causing him to pull away from you with a moan.

he stares back at you with an embarrassed look on his face, “i-i don’t…”

“did you… did you like how that felt?”

he’s biting down on his lip, too shy to say anything else. you slowly lift up his shirt, haechan raising his arms to help you pull it off. it’s silent when your thumb nears his nipple, rubbing over the nub. he’s quick to lean forward, his head landing on your shoulder, a choked whimper leaving him.

you push his head back to rest on the couch, moving yourself further down so you’re faced with his chest. you press a kiss to one of his nipples, his reaction instantaneous as he pushes more of his chest into your face. you lick one nipple, your hand moving to pinch lightly on the other.

you watch as his eyes shut, whimpers beginning to fill the room as your work on his chest. you can feel his cock throbbing, haechan trying his hardest not to grind it against you. his hands twitch at his sides, not knowing where to place them as you lick against his chest.

“didn’t know you could be this sensitive,” you suck a mark in the middle of his chest, “you’re so hard and all i’m doing is this.”

“i k-know, it’s just-” he lurches forward when you focus on his other nipple, “please.” he’s grinding against the front of his jeans, his tip leaking with how you’re making him feel. he always knew that his chest was sensitive, flinching any time your fingers would brush against his chest. he could never tell you how good it felt, too embarrassed to admit it to you.

it’s more embarrassing now how close he is to cumming. you haven’t even touched his cock, but he can’t help it, not when it feels this good. he’s shaking under you, the feeling of your tongue against him almost overwhelming, wanting push you away and pull you closer at the same time.

when you get to properly look at him, his eyebrows are furrowed. his cheeks are dusted pink, your name tumbling out of his lips. you ask, “can you cum like this-”

he cuts you off with a whimper, pulling yourself back in surprise as you watch him cum. his cock is twitching in his pants, a dark spot forming in the front. you watch as he brings his hand up to his nipple, pinching at it to help get himself off.

you rub his thigh through it all, pressing kisses to his neck as his breaths even out. after he’s calmed down, he looks at you and lets out an embarrassed laugh. you give him one last kiss before you pull yourself back on top of his lap, pulling your shirt off, letting him stare at your boobs.

he slowly cups a boob, groping it lightly before looking at you, “it would be mean if i didn’t return the favor, right?”

[munsonsmixtapes]

I’ve been in a feral mood to request grinding on Eddie in his van. Front seat until you’re straight up fucking like the first time you’re on top. And he is guiding you as you lose yourself in euphoria.

The. After he writes this on the window… because it’s Eddie

You’re so right! This is so Eddie coded!

Eddie x fem!reader

Cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

If there was one thing about you and Eddie it was that more than likely that you were fucking if you were in his van. It was the perfect spot since it was more that likely that Wayne was at the trailer and it was just so easy to slip into the back to have a quickie in some abandoned parking lot since you two couldn’t seem to keep your hands off of each other.

Once again, Eddie had parked the van in what looked like the abandoned parking lot you frequented and before you could even register what was happening, he was leaning over the center console, pressing his lips to yours, not holding back his moans when your tongue entered his mouth.

You were desperate for him already, not even wanting to get warmed up with a make out. You needed him and you needed him right then. You pulled away, letting the both of you catch your breath.

“Can I get on top of you?” You asked, unsure why you were nervous he would say no. He seemed pretty eager to fuck you right then and there.

“I’d be kind of offended if you didn’t, honey.” At that, you tried to gracefully climb over the center console, trying your best not to get hurt.

You settled yourself onto Eddie’s lap and his hands moved to your hips as you began grinding against him. Your hands rested on his chest as you kissed him, this one slow and gentle, as if you two had all the time in the world, and right there, in that abandoned parking lot, you did.

Your tongues tangled as you continued to grind into him, your underwear getting soaked as you felt his dick forming a tent in his pants.

Eddie’s hands moved underneath your leggings as you reached down on the side of the seat in search of the lever that leaned it back. You found it with ease and leaned the chair back as far as it would go as you let Eddie take what he wanted from you, you pliant to his every move.

You both struggled to pull down both your pants and underwear, laughing because of how small the space was. Maybe there was a reason why you always fucked in the back. He got both down to your ankles and you moved so he could take off his sweatpants, the waistband hitting the tops of his sneakers.

You both removed your hoodies and they were abandoned in the front seat before you reached over and grabbed a condom from the glove compartment before opening the packet and sliding it onto his cock. Afterwards, you settled yourself down on it, both of you moaning at the feeling. You rolled your hips into him as you rode him, hard and fast, the only way either of you liked it.

You had never been on top before in the many times you had slept together, but you had to admit that you liked it, loving to see him come undone underneath you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he said in between breaths. “Love to feel your weight on top of me.”

“Well, I love the way you look underneath me. You look so pretty, baby.” You continued to ride him, your hands pressing into his shoulders. He grabbed onto your hips, his own bucking against yours.

The only sounds that could be were your moans mixing with your labored breaths that were fogging up the windows. You continued to grind into Eddie as his hands scratched up and down your back, his moans almost sounding like screams.

“Fuck, so good, honey,” he whimpered as you rode him the hardest and the fastest that you could, feeling absolute euphoria at the feeling and his praise. “Doing so well at your first time on top.”

“Only because I’ve learned from the best,” you winked and Eddie felt himself getting even more hard thinking about the fact that you had been taking notes from him.

He left more scratches down your back as you gave him one last grind, the two of you giving it your all. You both let out a few more moans and you moved just enough so Eddie could pull out before placing yourself back on his lap.

After you both cleaned up, you leaned against his chest. His hands rubbed up and down your back gently as you both laid there, trying to catch your breaths. You felt one of Eddie’s hands leave your back and you whined at the absence of his touch.

“Hold on, honey.” You could see his arm moving and turned your head to see what he was doing. He was writing something on the window that you had fogged up and you tried to figure out what it was.

“We,” you read the first word out loud as he wrote it. “Just.” He finished the second word and you rolled your eyes as you realized what he was writing.

“Eddie,” you scolded, shoving his shoulder.

“What?” He laughed. “It’s true.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to advertise it.” You shook your head at him. Sometimes he could be so immature.

“But I have to advertise that I’m fucking the hottest babe in town,” he scoffed as if that was a good enough explanation.

“I’m the hottest babe?” You asked, now not so upset with what he had written on the window now that he had complimented you.

“Of course you are,” he rolled his eyes. “And the prettiest and the smartest. I could go on.”

“Please do.”

“How about I show you instead?” He pulled you in for another kiss, warming you up for round two, the writing on the window being completely forgotten.

[russo-woso]

please do a happy ending for casual 😭😭

Casual - Part 2 | Leah Williamson

Here’s the link to part 1.

Warning smut 18+, fingering, oral, top!leah, bottom!reader, ‘you love me?’

“Leah, leave me alone. Please.” You said as you finally picked up Leah’s call.

You were on the way home from the restaurant, probably breaking a hundred laws as you sped back to your house.

“No, not until you hear me out. Please, Y/N.” Leah begged, her voice desperate.

“What, Leah? What’s there to say? The stories straight. You were using me. That’s it. God, I was so stupid to think that all the rumours were false.” You sobbed but trying your hardest to hide your emotions from her.

You were vulnerable, and you don’t want her to know.

“Please. Let me explain—” Leah began but with the mood you were in you snapped and cut her off.

“—Leah, just leave me alone. I’m at my house now. Please, leave me alone. I’m begging you.”

Truth be told, you didn’t want her to leave you alone. But she had to, because if she didn’t, you’d just fall for her even harder.

You hung up on her, leaving your car and entered your house.

Your parents weren’t home, they’d driven up north to visit your sister and her newly wedded husband, leaving you all alone.

As you walked into your kitchen, you hoisted yourself up onto the kitchen counter, staring at anything that could stop you from thinking about Leah.

Tears still rolling down your face, a knock was heard at the door.

Due to it being late, you opened the door hesitantly but immediately slammed it shut again as a familiar blonde headed girl looked back at you.

“Y/N, I know you want me to leave you alone but I can’t.” You heard Leah say through the door, her voice trembling as she said it.

“Yes you can, Leah. Jump in your car and drive away.”

“I can’t, Y/N, because I love you. I’m so scared to admit it. I’ve never loved someone before. I don’t know what to do.” Leah revealed, and you slowly opened the door to see Leah.

She looked down at the floor, tears streaming down her face.

It was her that looked vulnerable now.

“You… you love me?” You asked Leah, shock riddled in your voice.

“I do. And that scares me, Y/N. I’ve never loved someone. But I love you. You’re not just one of those girls. You’re Y/N. But I don’t know how to love. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t show you love. I’m really really sorry.” Leah admitted, all on the front porch in front of the whole world to see.

Tough and mighty Leah Williamson just admitted that she loved you.

“Leah… I…” You started but you didn’t know what to say.

“Listen, I’m sorry. You said you wanted me to leave you alone and I came and knocked on your house. It was wrong of me. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“I don’t. I don’t want you to leave.” You managed to get out and Leah turned back to face you. “I don’t want you to go because I love you too.”

“You love me?”

“Yes, Leah. I love you but I can’t love you if you aren’t going to love me back.” You told her and a small smile of hope grew on her face.

“Y/N, I promise I’ll show you so much love. I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you. I’ll learn how to love. For you.”

You stepped out of the house and connected your lips with Leah’s.

Your mouths moved in sync with one another’s.

It wasn’t like any other kiss that you had shared with Leah’s.

This one was full of love and lust.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Leah sobbed as you hugged her.

“Come inside, Le.”

————————

“Le, I’m gonna cum. Fuck.” You screamed as Leah’s tongue continued to flick at your clit.

“Come on, baby. Make a mess for me.” Leah said into your pussy, making you fall off the edge.

Leah held onto your thighs as she kept you down, letting you ride out your high as she kept sucking gently on your bundle of nerves.

“Can I use my fingers, pretty girl?” Leah asked, genuinely concerned and worried that if she didn’t, she could overwhelm you.

Her head lifted up, waiting for an answer, but you couldn’t help but notice the juxtaposition of her eyes the last time you were in this position to now.

Last time, her eyes were dark, her pupils dilated, but this time, they were soft and full of love.

“Please do.” You responded, eager to feel her stretching you out.

Leah waisted no time and immediately entered two fingers, your arousal making it easy for her to slip them in.

You moaned at the feel and moaned again once you felt Leah press her lips against your collar bone.

“Le, faster, please.” You begged and Leah listened, speeding up her actions. “Fuck, Leah.”

“You sound so good, my girl.”

When Leah started to continually hit your g-spot, you felt Leah smirk against your neck.

“Le, ‘m coming. God.” You managed to get out as you let go.

“I’m gonna pull my fingers out now, okay?” Leah warned and you whined as your core clenched around nothing.

Leah laid down next to you, resting her head on your chest.

“I really do love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to show it.” Leah apologised and you pressed a kiss to her temple.

“It’s okay, Le.” You reassured her and she pressed a kiss to your chest.

“Instead of acting like my girlfriend, will you be my girlfriend?” Leah asked, you noticing how her heart sped up as she asked you, feeling it against your own chest.

“Of course, Leah. I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Your lips collided for the millionth time that night but this time, you both smiled against each other’s lips, knowing that you were both meant for one another.

————————

“Y/N, I know our story didn’t start like a fairy tale and I’ll always be sorry for that, but we’ve come a long way since then. You taught me how to love someone. You taught me how to live my life knowing that I had someone who I love and that they loved me. As soon as I knew I loved you, I knew you were the one for me. I had never loved someone before, I didn’t know what it felt like until I met you. That’s when I knew that I loved someone, that I loved you. So, instead of being my girlfriend, will you be my wife?”

“Of course, Leah. I would love to be your wife.”

Your lips collided together, like any other kiss, but this time, you both smiled against each other’s lips, knowing that you get to spend the rest of your lives with one another.

[steveharringtonat3am]

Imagine drummer!steve teaching you to play the drums?? He has you sit in his lap and guides your hands and totally does not get hard from feeling you shift around! He’s such a sweetie you know he gets excited whenever something you do sounds good!

allusions to smut at the end!

kinda a part two to this fic but this can be read on its' own!

You aren’t quite sure what Steve and you are. You’re pretty sure you’re not dating but you’re also pretty sure neither of you are interested in anyone else. The two of you have been having lots of fun, both in and outside the bedroom.

After your hookup, you honestly expected to never hear from Steve again. Sure, you had a mutual friend but he just seemed to be more of a one night stand kind of guy. He had mentioned a proper date but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed to be a formality offer. Something you say after fucking someone in a bar bathroom so they don’t feel cheap.

Of course, that wasn’t a very comforting thought.

But luckily for you, he did end up calling. He got your number from Robin, who was now filled in on what happened and consequently rewarded with copious amounts of candy in exchange for minimal teasing.

The proper date hadn’t happened just yet but you’d been having your fair share of fun.

‘You busy?’ Your screen lights up with the text. His name is saved as ‘Steve🥁’ which he had insisted upon when you added his contact to your phone.

It’s around 4 in the afternoon on a Saturday which isn’t an unusual time to receive a text from Steve but they’re not usually this vague.

‘Not at all. Why?’ You can already sense the invite, pulling yourself off the couch and heading to your room.

‘Wanna see you. Meet me at the bar? The door’s unlocked for you’. This is what catches your attention. You know that bars’ hours pretty well by now, having gone a few times to see Steve play but you’ve never gone at this time because it’s never been open this early. You know he’s not talking about a hookup since those always occur either in his apartment or yours.

You hop in the shower to wash the morning off, keeping your hair dry since you don’t need to wash it. You dress casual-ish, still unsure of the vibe but you can’t go wrong with jeans and a t-shirt. Doing a quick makeup routine, you throw on your shoes and drive over to the bar.

Sure enough, the door is unlocked. It’s completely empty, lights illuminating areas you’d never noticed.

“Hey!” Steve appears from backstage. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and sweatpants that you have to tear your eyes away from.

“Hi! You wanna tell me what we’re doing here?”

“Sure. You know how you told me you always wanted to learn how to play the drums? Ta-da” He gestures to the drum set next to him.

“…That was more of a compliment on how you play the drums because I wanted more kisses. Not a real want.” His grin doesn’t waver as he gestures you over.

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” Your feet carry you over as the nerves sink in. What if you’re horrible and he decides you aren’t a good match? You hadn’t admitted it yet but you did really like him and you didn’t want to lose him so soon.

“I’m gonna suck you know that right?”

“You can’t suck because I’m the one teaching you and I don’t suck.” He sits infront of the drums and tugs you into his lap.

“Now I get why you wanted to teach me.” You grin as you adjust yourself on his lap. His grip on your hips tighten and you suddenly remember being in a very similar position a few days ago.

“Behave.” He mumbles into your ear, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder when you stop moving.

He passes you the sticks, covering your hands with his to show you the proper grip. You try your hardest to listen but he’s quite distracting.

“How about I show you some simple stuff and you try to replicate it, yeah?” You nod in response. Steves hands cover yours as he starts a slow beat. It sounds just barely familiar, like something you’ve heard him practice.

He pauses after a minute, letting go of your hands. You have to bite back a complaint as you attempt to recreate what he did. It’s kind of like those memory games you used to play as a kid.

“You got it!” He kisses your cheek, arms wrapped around your waist. It’s such a sweet hug that you just melt into it. You turn in his lap, legs swinging over to straddle him.

“Thank you for teaching me.” You mumble, kissing him softly.

“Isn’t that what boyfriends are for?” The word is dropped so casually you almost don’t register it.

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“…Shit did I forget to ask? Oh I knew this would happen.” He smiles sheepishly at your shocked expression.

“You forgot?” You ask incredulously.

“I was going to ask you that day we went to the farmers market I swear!” He can’t contain his laughter, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Well, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You tug his face up, kissing him gently.

“Great!! Now let’s go to the dressing rooms!” He stands up, arms tight around you so you don’t fall as you’re forced to stand as well. He barely bothers to grab his stuff as he tugs you backstage.

”Why?” You hurry behind him, his urgency practically carrying you.

”You’re gonna sit on my lap again. But this time we won’t be wearing clothes.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Broken Heart Mender

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After hearing Tim tell Angela why he's not in a relationship with you, you pull away and make yourself sick with a broken heart. After too long without hearing from you, Tim finds you and promises to make everything better.

Warnings: reader gets sick (vomiting, headache, losing weight, crying), slight miscommunication, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“You know, you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work here,” Smitty points out.

“And you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work at all,” you argue playfully.

“She’s got a point,” Tim adds, shrugging at Smitty’s offended look.

You smile at Tim as you walk out, needing to return to your own station after spending too long on paperwork (to visit Tim). He’s been your friend since you were a rookie, and now he’s so much more.

You and Tim are safe places for one another; whenever one needs it, the other becomes an unlicensed therapist, a no-strings-attached hugger or cuddler on bad days, and a good listener, no matter the time or problem. Part of why you’re so willing to do such things for Tim is because you have feelings for him, a long-harbored crush that grows each time he’s kind to you or asks for your advice.

Tim, however, will happily listen to your problems and provide a shoulder to cry on, but he prefers to show his care by being what some (Angela) might call a ‘protective menace.’ He’s had feelings for you for as long as he can remember and shows it by staying close and keeping you out of harm’s way.

Whenever you run into each other at work, you find a way to stay together, and while Tim protects you, you try your hardest to make him smile. You like doing small things for him to make him happy because he deserves it. Likewise, he stays close because you deserve more than anyone can ever give you.

The only problem is that you’re both scared to let your feelings show, so you disguise it as friendship, a special bond that no one can break. Only a few people, those willing to look, can see that there’s more to your actions and words than a time-tested and bulletproof friendship.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs when he sees Angela sitting at his desk.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asks.

“You have questions to answer,” she replies, moving out of his seat and blocking the door. “I want to know about you and your friend.”

Tim rolls his eyes at her tone and air quotes. She has asked him about you before, but she’s relentless.

“Why aren’t you in a real relationship? Why haven’t you asked her out?” Angela inquires.

“Not your business, Lopez,” Tim answers.

✯✯✯✯✯

You slow as you near Tim’s office, his voice and Angela’s drawing your attention as your smile drops.

“Just tell me why you won’t let her in that last little bit,” Angela demands.

“Not that it is any of your concern, but we won’t work. We’re not made for each other, we’re not soulmates, and we will not be good for each other, not like that,” Tim snaps.

Swallowing, you feel like your heart physically drops into your stomach, making you nauseous as you fight tears. You leave before Tim or Angela notice you’re outside, unwilling to see Tim after learning how he feels.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What does that mean, Timothy?” Angela asks, quieter as she digs for the real reason.

Tim shakes his head, not ready to admit that he doesn’t consider himself relationship material. Regardless, you deserve someone better than him, though he has never considered it the other way around: you are too good for him and always have been.

“You’re right, it’s not my business. But it is hers,” Angela reminds him before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Distancing yourself from Tim is hard, but after his comments to Angela, it’s what you have to do. Tim doesn’t have feelings for you and thinks you aren’t good enough, which hurts. More than your feelings, you are mentally distraught. Your emotions are all over the place, swinging aimlessly from anger to denial to an overwhelming sadness that makes it impossible to do anything but cry.

After a long night of fighting with your emotions, you try to eat breakfast and realize that the hurt is physical, too. Rushing to the bathroom, you empty your stomach before moving to the floor as your tears continue. Losing Tim is the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, and this is only the beginning.

The alarm on your phone goes off, and you pull yourself off the bathroom floor and get ready, ignoring the pain building behind your eyes and the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach. It will be a long day, but if you can power through, you will take some time off next week.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is neck-deep in paperwork for a Metro case, but every spare second he has is spent calling and texting you. You don’t answer, and Tim can't do anything as his worry increases. He realizes Angela was right, and you deserve to know how he feels and why he keeps you so close, yet not close enough.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the day, you haven’t been able to keep a single thing down, and you’re not sure if the emotional or physical pain is worse. Collapsing onto your couch, you let the tears begin anew as your week of PTO begins and your life as you know it ends.

Each day seems worse than the last, as you get sicker and sadder with each passing moment. When you summon the courage to step on the scale on Sunday morning, just three days after hearing Tim’s comments, you’ve lost a concerning amount of weight. You know it’s dangerous, but between the constant crying and the anxiety and sadness eating at you, there isn’t much you can do. There isn’t much you want to do except find a way to make yourself good enough for Tim Bradford.

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s been days since Tim heard from you, and he’s worried. When Mid-Wilshire gets called to assist your station, he hopes to see you. Tim searches the crowd of blue until he finds your partner.

“Bradford,” your partner greets.

Tim asks where you are, curious as to why you aren’t together, and your partner explains that you’ve been off work since Saturday, sick with something.

“Do you know if she’s okay?” Tim asks.

“All I know is it has to be bad for her to take this much time off,” your partner explains with an apologetic shrug before being called away.

Tim’s protectiveness kicks into overdrive, his worry keeping him from being able to focus on anything else. He finds his captain and tells him what's going on before asking if he can go check on you.

As he drives to your apartment, Tim hopes it’s not as bad as it sounds while beating himself up for not coming to visit you sooner. The ignored calls should have been a sign that something was wrong, but he let work get in the way. Though you aren’t there to hear it, Tim promises he will never neglect you again.

���✯✯✯✯

It takes a minute to realize that the pounding sound is someone knocking and not an effect of your headache. Stumbling to the door, you answer it without checking who it is. When you see Tim’s face, you try to close the door, but you’re too weak, and Tim is too quick.

He rushes inside, looking at your pale face, unruly hair, and how your clothes hang off of you: an indicator you're unhealthily losing weight. It’s enough to push his protective side to action even as he fears the worst.

“You should go,” you tell him.

Tim ignores you, walking to your kitchen and setting water on the oven to boil. While he waits, Tim straightens up your apartment, moving quickly from room to room. He hasn’t spoken to you yet, and as you watch him, your emotions take over again.

With a few tears running down your face, you raise your voice and say his name. “You need to go.”

“No,” he answers simply. “You need help, you’re obviously sick and you’re not answering my calls.”

Tim's presence and how he acts like nothing has changed, and he’s still the protective friend he pretends to be, hurts you.

“Tim, get out!” you demand.

“Let me help,” he argues.

Shaking your head, you walk to your room and close the door, curling around your pillow as you cry. Each noise Tim makes in the kitchen feels like he’s laughing at you, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

He lets himself into your room after knocking, setting a mug of tea beside your bed, and rubbing your back. He notices how you stiffen but thinks it’s because you’re sick.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks.

“I want you to go.”

Tim nods, more to himself than you, and walks out of your bedroom. 

You hear the door close behind him and roll over, unable to decide if you want to drink the tea or throw it at the wall.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, you wake, and the first thing you remember is Tim leaving yesterday. Yes, you asked him to, but it still hurts. The cold mug beside your bed is a cruel reminder of everything you’ve lost. Rolling out of bed, you reach for the water on the nightstand. After the first drink, you race for the bathroom, wondering how long it takes for a broken heart to heal.

Someone pulls your hair out of your face, a kind hand pressed to your back as you cry. When you feel able, you lean back against the tub behind you. Tim moves back, wetting a washcloth before he kneels beside you. As he wipes your face and neck with the cool rag, you wonder what he’d do if you gave him an out.

“I heard what you said,” you admit quietly. “That we wouldn’t be good together.”

Tim slows his movements as he listens to you.

“It hurt.”

Fresh tears break over your waterline, tracking down your cheeks. Tim realizes that he’s the reason you feel so bad; that one comment made to protect his feelings, to hide them, made you feel so bad that you’re now physically sick.

“Hey,” he begins, moving to sit before you when you turn away. “Listen, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I only said that to get Angela to leave me alone, to protect myself. I don’t think that.”

“But you said it,” you point out tearily.

“I know, and I’m sorry. The truth is we wouldn’t be good together, but not because of you, never because of you. It’s me; I am not made for relationships and I’m not good enough for you.”

You choke on a sob, leaning toward Tim. He extends his arm, letting you move against his side.

“Since we met, I’ve wanted more,” he whispers against your hair. “But I was scared you’d realize I’m broken and leave… like everyone else.”

Shaking harder against his side, you cling to him as all your emotions mix. There is a chance this is a dream, but if you have to lose Tim, this seems like the best way to say goodbye.

“C’mon,” Tim urges gently, pulling you with him as he stands.

With a gentle hand on your back and one on your shoulder, Tim leads you to the couch. Covering you with a blanket, he promises to come right back. When he returns with a glass of water and a pack of crackers, you turn toward him.

“Are you going to leave?” you whisper.

Tim shakes his head. “Never.”

Nodding, you accept the crackers. After you eat a few and drink half the water Tim gave you, you sit back.

“I cleaned your apartment last night,” Tim tells you. “You want to change and clean up?”

You take a deep breath, and Tim senses your apprehension before adding, “I’ll help you.”

Taking Tim’s hand, you follow him back into your bedroom. After you change into the clothes he hands you, you sit on the bathroom vanity and let him wash your face and secure your hair.

“When’s the last time you ate? More than a few bites, I mean,” Tim asks, laying a hand on your thigh.

You shrug before admitting, “Last Wednesday.”

Tim’s jaw clenches, but he hides it with a quick nod. “I’m going to make you some more food. I know you probably don’t want to eat, and you don’t have to eat much, but you need something.”

Moving your hand onto Tim’s, you interlace your fingers with his. He leans in, releasing a chuckle when you throw your arms around his neck. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you to the edge of the vanity.

“I missed you,” you whisper in his ear.

“I missed you too,” he responds.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you dry the ends of your hair while you exit the bathroom, you feel like a new person.

“We need to talk,” Tim says when he sees you. Your smile falls, and Tim takes your hand. “Not like that,” he promises.

“Like what?” you ask, curling your legs under you as you sit beside him.

“I meant what I said, but I need to make sure you know that. I have feelings for you, I have for a long time, I’m just terrified to show them because I’m not good enough for you.”

Boldly, you press your finger to his lips to stop him. He raises his brows at your movement, smiling with you.

“Yes, you are. You’re more than good enough. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

Tim pulls your hand away from his face, kissing your finger as he does so. “Even though I broke your heart and made you sick?”

“Broken heart sickness is curable, and you’re a pretty good doctor,” you tease, leaning toward him.

“I promise to make it better, and never do it again.”

You nod, trusting him entirely. Now that you’ve had a shower and heard that Tim feels the same, your stomach growls.

“It’s working already,” Tim says.

“I’m hungry again,” you marvel, smiling at Tim.

“I’ll offer a trade,” Tim begins. “A home-cooked meal for you, and a kiss for me.”

You nod, but Tim adds, “And I promise never to lie to protect myself again. I’ll tell you exactly how I feel, as long as you do the same.”

“I feel like I love you, Tim Bradford,” you reply, pulling him in for the promised kiss.

Your kiss is better than he expected, and Tim loses himself in the feeling of you until your stomach growls again, and you laugh against his lips. Tim broke your heart, but he put it back together with a piece of his; the best-broken-heart-mender in the world was by your side all along.

[beenbaanbuun]

meet me in the woods w/ Mingi

words - 3.5k

genre - fluff, friends to lovers, college!au

warnings - emo!mingi, drummer!mingi, pink!mingi, fangirl!reader, kissing, mentions of seasonal depression, mentions of a broken ankle, reader is down bad, so is mingi, they’re both idiots in love, kind of groping but not really sexual

————————————————

there’s still a chill in the air as the seasons flip from winter to spring. it shows in the way the air around you fogs up with every breath you exhale and the way the skin of your exposed thighs pricks up in little bumps. realistically you should’ve worn a pair of jeans rather than a skirt, but that would defeat the point of this whole thing you had going on. a sort of good-riddance-to-winter protest, in which you try to ignore the fact that winter was very much still in play.

although you have to admit you may have been a little too eager. you claim to have your reasons to pretend that winter is already over, but even those reasons seem a little obsolete as you sit on the picnic table awning, shivering every few seconds. perhaps your way of saying goodbye to your particularly bad bout of seasonal depression will have to be shoved to the back of your closet for a few more weeks. just until you're sure you won’t get frostbite.

you shuffle back a few inches, just enough to give yourself room to swing your legs back onto the awning. you have to go down the way you came up; that was a lesson you’d learned the hard way. a broken ankle and a particularly long lecture from your mother about making ‘sensible decisions’ was not something you care to repeat. she, of course, would blow a fuse if she knew you still frequent this spot years later, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. besides, you’re well trained in how to get up and down from your favourite thinking spot, now.

you already have one leg up when you hear a creek coming from behind you. your neck twists in time to see a hand slam itself down on the wooden surface, fingers splayed as they work their hardest to pull the attached body higher up. you recognise the rings like the back of your hand and as you watch mingi struggle, you can’t help but sigh.

“how many times have i told you how to get up here?” you grumble, loud enough for him to hear over his own strained grunts. the single hand that you can see moves until you can see a middle finger pointed in your direction, and you have to laugh, “you seriously can’t remember? right hand on the roof, left foot on the fence, and push yourself up.”

even without seeing his face you can tell he’s rolling his eyes at you. he’s heard this lecture from you a bajillion times before, and yet he never learns. it’s always right hand, right foot and pull with him - almost the exact opposite of how you instruct him.

“have you considered that i’m, like, twice the size of you?” he says as he corrects his form and finally manages to raise himself up. he swings his right knee onto the platform and rolls his gangly form onto it. you’ve seen more grace from a new-born horse, but you keep that to yourself as you watch him sit himself up and shuffle closer.

“if anything that would make it easier for you, y’know, since you don’t have to jump to reach the roof.”

you turn your body back to how it was, dropping your legs again so you can swing them over the ledge. the platform looks out over nothing but forest, and you quickly find a particular branch to focus your eyes on as the giant sits in his spot next to you. your hands subconsciously brush over the pair of initials that have been scratched into the wood when you were both teenagers. a small, neat set done with a whittling knife stolen from your father, sitting just beneath a much larger, much messier SMG that mingi had done with the biggest kitchen knife he could find. his mother never did discover how her carving knife missing for a few hours only to return to the knife block covered in moss and dirt.

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters as he drops his legs down to swing them at the side of yours. your pink sneakers look a little out of place besides his platform doc martin’s that he always wears, despite not needing the extra height, but somehow the contrast feels natural to you, “i thought i’d find you up here. went to your dorm to search for you but your roommate said you were out.”

“and you assumed i was here?” he nods, not bothering to look at you. he too has found a distant branch to focus on.

“where else would you be?” he nudges you with an elbow, “god knows you don’t go to your lectures…”

he’s right about that. you’d given up on college very early into freshman year, and yet you’re somehow still passing. not well, you have to admit, but enough to get a degree at the end of the year.

“my classes suck, mingi,” you clarify as you rip your focus away from that one specific branch. looking at the same thing was getting kind of boring, you realise, so instead you lay down on the dirty wood and stare up at the canopy. the february sun only just pokes through the fir-canopy, dousing you in just enough light to make your skin a little warmer. there was that heat you were hoping for earlier, “why would i go to them when clearly i can pass without?”

“fair point.”

you close your eyes, basking in the light that bathes you. there’s still a slight breeze that makes the fir needles rustle above you, a few of them raining down whenever a particularly strong gust comes along. one lands on your thigh, but it’s quickly brushed off and replaced by mingi’s warm hand. he must’ve been keeping it in the pocket of his oversized korn hoodie, you think to yourself as he squeezes your thigh.

the hoodie is an old favourite of yours. you’d bought it for him a couple of years ago, and it had soon joined what you like to call ‘the elites’ - the small collection of about three hoodies that he had in permanent rotation. it fit him better now than when you first bought it for him. he’d bulked up a lot, after all.

you still couldn’t get the sweet image of him opening the gift with a wide grin on his face out of your head.

he kissed your cheek on that day.

you always seem to blush at the memory.

“why did you come searching for me, anyway?” you say after a few moments of silence. his hand remains firm on your thigh, fingers drumming a rhythm against your leg gently, “don’t you have cooler people to be hanging out with?”

he hums, “all the cool people i know are busy today,” you swing your foot to the side to kick his shin. he lets out a laugh at the little tap - he knows you can kick harder than that - before giving your thigh a gentle tap in return, “besides, maybe i want to hear about all your little kpop groups.”

you scoff at him.

“no, you don’t.”

“no,” mingi agrees, “i don’t. but i do want to spend time with my favourite little fangirl.”

you giggle at him, opening your eyes just in time to see him turn to you with a wonky grin on his face. it seems he’s bored of staring at his branch too since his gaze doesn’t go back to it after a few seconds. it remains on you, boba-pearl pupils staring into your own as the rays of sun make them glisten.

he looks cute like this, you think to yourself. his short pink hair rustles as the wind blows it about. for a man who made so much fuss about the colour when you first dyed it, it has taken him a long time for him to go back to the bleach blonde that he loves so much. part of you likes to think it’s so he can match your own pastel pink hair - that’s a normal thing for best friends to do, right? - but you also know that he’s fiercely protective over his hair and definitely wouldn’t keep it just for your sake.

it needs a trim, you think to yourself as you watch it brush against his eyebrows. you wonder if he’ll let you do it again. he hated it the last time, so you assume the answer will be no. then again, there’s no harm in asking, right? you make a mental note to do so later, wanting nothing more than to see the same cute pout he wore last time you butchered his hair. it’s an expression that he only ever wears around you, much like that sweet smile he’d had moments prior. it’s a softness that he keeps close to his chest, a far cry from the cool exterior he tries to keep when he’s around everyone else. not that you mind the tougher side of him - it’s hot… really hot - but the sweet giggles and adorable nose scrunches will always be your favourite things about him.

“you said everyone else was busy?” you mutter, not bothering to break eye contact to go back to sunbathing. he takes the hint, and brings his legs fully onto the platform so he can face you fully. it’s much better, you think, this way you can see him more clearly, “what are they doing?”

he shrugs.

“i don’t know,” he begins to rub your thigh up and down subconsciously. he does it a lot when he’s talking. if it’s not your thigh - which it usually always is - then it’s his own, or the arm of a chair. it’s just something to keep his hands busy, you suppose, “i think some of the guys wanted to go over melodies, which they don’t need me for. jongho was saying he thinks it’d be cool if there’s a section where his voice and san’s guitar are kind of in sync? i don’t know, it sounds cool in theory but i don’t know if san’s guitar style necessarily matches jongho’s vocal style well enough to do that.”

you watch as his face lights up, just like it always does when he talks about music, or his band. he could talk about their newest ideas for hours, and most of the time you let him. you like to listen to the way his voice rises an octave when he gets excited, and watching his facial expressions never gets old. you love the way he talks with one hand, all while keeping the other firmly on your thigh; or his, or the arm of a chair. it’s nice to see him still so passionate about all the same things he was as a teenager. sometimes you’re even sure you can feel his excitement for him.

it feels an awful lot like butterflies in your stomach.

“and i mean, i know i’m just the drummer but,” you quirk your eyebrow at him and he stops himself talking. a pink flush rises over his face as he realises his slip up, “i didn’t mean just the drummer, i just meant that as the drummer, i don’t know as much about the music theory side as the guitarists do… i hit things, y’know?”

“you hit things very well, though,” you tease, using a manicured finger to poke at his knee. he catches it with the hand that isn’t occupied by your thigh and just holds onto it. its another thing he does a lot; not quite holding your hand, but definitely toeing the line, “and that’s coming from me!”

he rolls his eyes at you, and you were sure that if both his hands weren’t occupied with some other part of your body, he’d make the effort to lean forwards and place a finger over your lips to shush you. again, touching your lips like that it’s just something he does with you, just like almost holding your hands, and playing with your thighs. it’s all completely normal best friend stuff…

except you weren’t this touchy with any other guy. the last time you let a man get this close to you was when wooyoung tried to teach you guitar by moving your fingers into the correct positions for you. there was barely any contact between the two of you, and yet mingi sulked for days. part of you wanted to call it strange, but when you spotted him giving a pretty emo girl his drumsticks after a show, you gave him much of the same attitude.

you wouldn’t call it jealousy, per se, although maybe there was a little bit. mingi was your best friend after all. you have something special with him. something different that you have with no one else and you feel a way that you feel with no one else and-

oh.

oh.

suddenly the hand on your thigh felt very heavy, and you noticed the way his fingertips gently dip under the hem. had they been doing that the whole time? and you couldn’t help but feel like the way his thumb rubbed against the tip of your finger so softly had some type of further meaning behind it. not to mention the neutral yet unbelievably gentle look that took over his features, making him look even more pretty than usual in the scattered rays of light.

his lips were parted every so slightly, revealing that single wonky tooth that you found oh-so adorable. for a second you wondered what they would feel like against your skin, but you soon shunned the thought away as you remembered, oh yeah, the korn sweater. you’d felt them before. you know just how soft and gentle they are. it’s something that often plays on your mind and every time it does, you feel that same burst of excitement built up in your stomach. the one you get when mingi speaks about his passions. the one that feels like butterflies.

it is butterflies. fuck, it’s the whole damn zoo! a stampede of elephants charging though your body each and every time he does something that you find even mildly endearing. it just so happens that you find damn near everything he does endearing. you’d think those elephants would be tired of running by now…

“mingi,” you sigh, breath coming out in a plume of mist. you’d forgotten how cold it was in his presence. being around him just seemed to warm you up, “mingi, come here.”

he furrows his brow, but shuffles a tad closer. you almost groan in disappointment as he takes his hand away from your thigh, the skin immediately growing cold at the lost contact.

“what’s up, sunshine?” you feel em your eyes go wide at the nickname. you don’t know why; he uses it for you all the time.

“mingi, i’m confused… and a little scared,” you admit, although you didn’t know whether it was necessarily the truth. it was probably the closest word to describe how you were feeling though. with the way your heart was threatening to beat through your chest, and the way your stomach churned with nerves and the way your stupid brain had only just managed to catch up with how you had felt all along. it hurt, and it was painful and confusing and yeah, scared was probably a pretty good description.

“scared?” his voice grows serious as his eyes scan you up and down. once he sees that you’re fine physically, they return to your face. he looks just as confused as you feel, “what are you scared about? are you okay? hurt?”

you shake your head, taking in a deep, shaky breath. you let it out in yet another cloud of fog and watch at it floats away into nothing. you wish your butterflies, elephants, would do the same. it would make this whole thing so much easier.

“i’m fine, mingi,” you say, “just scared.”

“can you tell me why?” you nod, although it takes everything in you to do so.

“i want to kiss you,” you admit.

“kiss… me?”

you nod again, feeling a familiar heat rise to your face. the same one you get whenever mingi compliments you, or touches you. you can't believe it’s taken this long to finally figure it all out. it all feels so obvious now.

“i mean… yeah?” he stutters, “kiss me, yeah… yeah that sounds okay- i mean good! it sounds good… kissing, that is.”

if you weren’t feeling completely and utterly out of your depth, you’d have giggled at him. cutie pie you think to yourself before the heat in your body immediately gets more intense, and the elephants not only increase in number but in size too.

it’s now or never. before you can talk yourself out of it, you need to kiss him. because talking yourself out of it could be so easy. you could hop off of the awning, run back to your car and drive back to your dorm. sure, it would hurt when you would inevitably have to lock yourself away in embarrassment and never see mingi again, but time heals all wounds, right? and by the time you’re 50, the pain and embarrassment will have definitely almost healed over…

“so?” he mutters, pulling you back from the fantasy your brain had created, “are you going to do it?”

“i, uh…”

“i mean, i can if you want me to,” he shrugs, trying his hardest to play it cool as if he hadn’t been stuttering seconds prior. as if his face wasn’t just as pink as the mop of hair that sat atop it.

there is nothing cool about this man, you think to yourself as you push yourself into a sitting position. maybe that’s why you’re so attracted to him. his nerdy tendencies had tugged you in, and he’d worked his dorky little ways on you until you were hook line and sinker for him.

down bad, as the kids say. down so horrifically bad…

“i can do it,” you whisper as you look up at him with wide eyes. your lips are mere inches from his own, and his hot breath fans across your cold face. his eyes are on yours just briefly before they flicker down to your lips. they rested there for a second before making their way back up to yours, “i can kiss you,” you whisper.

“you can,” he mutters back, bringing his own face close enough to yours that you’re not even sure a sheet of paper would slip between the two of you. his tongue darts out to wet his own lips, gently brushing against yours too. your breath hitches as your last sliver of resolve vanishes. that’s it, you tell yourself, you can’t hold back anymore.

the tiny gap is closed as you press forwards, slamming your lips against his. your fingers shoot up to lace themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, and his find a home on your waist. his eyelashes flutter against your face as he shuts his eyes, and you follow his lead, doing the same. it’s nice, you realise, the darkness letting you focus on how his lips feel moving slowly against your own. they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there.

he deepens the kiss briefly, tilting his head ever so slightly to get a better angle. it’s a little rougher at this angle, but you can’t find it in you to mind as he takes control. the desperation you feel from him as he moves his lips harshly against your own was something you feel yourself, so you let him take what he needs, taking just as much in return.

and by the time he pulls away, you’re both panting. rapid and hard and together. his lips have barely left your own as he catches his breath, but you don’t pull back either.

“fuck,” he mumbles against your lips, “that was… nice?”

“yeah,” you agree. ‘nice’ seems the best way to describe it, although it was so much more than just that, “it was nice, wasn’t it?”

“so nice, sunshine,” he says. a few beats of a silence pass before he presses his lips against yours again, this time for a much shorter, much more innocent peck. you can’t help but giggle as he pulls away. there’s a grin on his face too, “wish we’d done it sooner, though.”

you nod, “yeah, me too.”

“but we have all the time in the world, right?”

he pecks you again. this one lasts a few milliseconds longer than the last, not that you’re counting. when he pulls away, you chase it. another peck, this time led by you, but equally as brief as the other two. it’s his turn to chuckle.

“cute,” he grins, “you’re so cute.”

you get shy under his words and pull back just a tad. the grip he has on your waist refuses to let you go too far from him. you don’t mind; not at all. the fact he wants you so close actually sends the elephants feral. you feel them reach up to your heart to work their magic on that too. it probably isn’t healthy for it to beat at the speed that it is, but you really can’t help it. the elephants seem to respond to mingi and mingi alone. you don’t mind that either.

not at all.

[captainjamster]

Pairing(s): 141 x Reader Warnings: mentions of (pixel) animal death, butchering of a pixelated cow (rip thank u for ur sacrifice) Wordcount: 2.3k Summary: How I think you would get the boys into Minecraft and/or what it would be like playing with them. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: Hello why yes, this IS my first post in four months despite the mountain of unfinished fics I have xD I will edit any errors out of this later, but I'm making myself post this because I'm tired of avoiding uploading until something feelings perfect lol

We're pretending Mojang is competent so ignore any inaccuracies to how Minecraft actually works <3

Full fic under the cut <3

Price just plays to amuse you, but he becomes competent at the game ridiculously quickly. Yes, he might jokingly be an old man, as his favourite youthful commander would put it – but this ‘old man’ can learn new tricks, and he’s pretty sure some of the technology he works with would make a civvy’s head spin. Though he’s unfamiliar with most video games and consoles, sacrificing his youth for service, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard of them or played a game or two. John will admit; he doesn’t see much point in it, but adores the excitement you glow with as you’re adventuring and building.

“Alright, so it’s w, a, s and d to move, right? And then the space is to jump.” Your hands barely stretch over his, guiding them to the keys.

“S’easy enough, I suppose,” he rumbles, giving you that smile that crinkles his eyes. You resist the urge to kiss them as he adjusts his hands over your keyboard, giving the buttons experimental taps and watching how the screen reacts.

“Yep, and then you use the mouse to control your head, look around and stuff.” You nudge it over to him, and he gives it a shake before looking around.

“More bloody blocks. What’s that thing, there?”

You squint, looking closer. “A sheep, don’t worry about it. You want to try moving around?”

Once you’ve taught him the basics, his rapid acclimation to the games and controls are jarring. While he doesn’t become some Minecraft speed-runner pro, he’s an equally capable player in fights and foraging, and your base is ridiculously plentiful. You’re never lacking resources, and although he never mentions it, you can see John bloom with pride from the corner of your eye whenever you praise him for the neatly organised provisions.

You have to laugh at his suspicion of everything – “is this hostile?”, “this one hostile?”, “s’hostile one?” – and the way he takes protecting you seriously, scolding you for not wearing armour and giving you his own until he can make more.

The first time his dog dies, you think it might be over for your Minecraft run. He goes silent, aggressively hitting the keys as he slaughters the mobs around you, only speaking up when the area is clear. “I didn’t know that would happen,” he mutters, picking up the dropped loot as you make a sympathetic noise. When you log on the next time, waiting for John to come back with snacks from the corner, you don’t mention the small fence with a sign reading ‘Price Jr’ tucked into the oak trees at the edge of a pond – but the next time you check it, there’s another daisy swaying in the wind next to yours.

-----

Gaz knows what Minecraft is AND he’s played it – you’ve even played it together before. This boy is a gamer, and he’s down for a night of co-op couch games and take away with a cosy blanket if you are too.

Though he tries his hardest not to let it show around you, Kyle is aggressively driven in becoming competent, and that includes in video games. You never have to worry about dying, although it becomes a little frustrating when his experience level is more than triple yours – but you can’t even stay frustrated, you learn, as he unfalteringly drops his items and starts building a dirt stack that he jumps from, exploding into clouds and XP that floats towards you with a light, twinkling chiming. When you scold him for doing something so unnecessary, he gives you a kicked puppy look over his shoulder, pouting up at you. “I didn’t want you to wait for me to make a mob farm!”

Unlike Price, this man IS a Minecraft pro – he’s pulling out the water bucket to save you from falling, using beds to fight hostile mobs in the underworlds, zooming around with fireworks and an elytra to find that rare, specific coat of cat you’ve been running across the map looking for. You’re pretty sure that he could’ve beat the Enderdragon twice as fast if you weren’t there, but he still insists you were an equal champion of the fight as he proudly places the dragon head on your trophy wall.

Gaz is always prepared when the 6-month Minecraft fever hits and you make a new server. He’s sending you pinterest links of cute house ideas, making comments about adding another coop for the chickens and a pond for turtles. Hell, he’ll build them with, or even for you, if you want him to.

Playing with him can sometimes be similar to one of those youtube tutorials that cut back to a clip after some ‘offscreen building’ and they’re standing in front six life-scale cathedrals and a replication of Mt Everest – each time you log back on, you swear he’s expanded your base by another chunk, and you can’t even be mad you didn’t get to do anything because your world looks GOOD, and Gaz makes damn sure of it.

He has just about everything you can think of, and if not? There’s a sign next to his bed for you to note anything missing. Your main base is situated within a town of villagers with minecart roads and furnished houses, bakeries, animal centres, banner and dye stores – hell, he’s even built a zoo and an aquarium for the animals you can’t tame. All of your pets have names that he refers to fondly, each with their own little houses in a miniature version of the village. Despite the effort he puts into housing them, Gaz is a menace to the villagers – bad deal? Executed, or imprisoned at best. Sometimes logging onto for a session turns into a dramatic medieval roleplay as you dutifully play the executioner, triggering the trapdoor to give way to the pool of lava while Gaz finishes dramatically reciting the villagers’ crimes from a book - gives the ones that get to live names like ‘village dunce’ and ‘emerald hoarder’.

When you do build by yourself, he’s your project advisor throughout the process, patiently supplying the materials and helping you with the details. “Babe, this doesn’t seem right,” you grumble, head in your hands, “can you please come look?”

He’s quick to slide his chair across to yours, leaning on the sides. “This one,” he announces after a quick scan. “You added an extra block.”

You recount again, letting out a groan as you start breaking the blocks, and Gaz dutifully rolls back to help you. He’s your partner in crime, complicit in indulging your abandonment of any appropriate sleep schedule, staying up until he calls out your name to find you asleep, drooling on the keyboard.

-----

Soap does not give a shit until you mod the fuck out of it.

Yes, he knows what Minecraft is, thank y’very much bonnie, but he just doesn’t care for games that much. Like Price, his youth was spent either trying to get into the military, or actually being in it. The only games he’s entertained are his small selection of first-person shooters he plays occasionally off deployment that you can never beat him in. The topic first comes up is over dinner after a call with Johnny’s family, as he’s grumbling between bites.

“My sisters weans play all sorts ‘o stupid games, bloody bite my head off if I call ‘em the wrong thing – Minecraft, Roblox, aren’t they all the same?”

“Aren’t all shooter games the same, by that assumption?” You point out to his distaste, and he makes a face at you, reaching over the table to steal a bite of your food.

The next day, you pull up Minecraft for him to properly check out. Johnny isn’t particularly enraptured by the charm of the game, but he perks up when you mention the redstone mechanics. “So, it’s really just all block-y? And ye smack things wit’ yer hand?” He frowns, leaning against the back of your chair.

“That’s one part, yeah. But you run around and gather resources, by mining and stuff, so you can craft and build better things to survive – you know – Mine, craft. Minecraft.”

Johnny scoffs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Y’think I’m daft, now? Taken too many knocks to the head, aye?”

“Let go of me, you’re going to get me killed!” You squawk, and he lets you struggle for a moment before he kisses the top of your head and releases it, wandering into the kitchen for what you assume is a snack, knowing Johnny.

The next time he takes interest, you’re still up when he stumbles in blearily, rubbing his eyes. “Bonnie? Yer not really still playin’ this, are ye? Y’haven’t even slept?”

“I was going to sleep soon,” you huff, turning back. “I just need to get a few more things and go back home.”

There’s an incredulous noise amongst footsteps over your shoulder, and his voice is suddenly a lot closer in your ear. “Soon? S’five in’ the morn’ bon, are ye just gon’ sleep the day away?’

You pause the game, spinning the chair around to meet him with a glare. “Why are you up this early?”

“International meeting, don’t go changin’ the subject.” He spins you back around despite your protests, leaning back upon your chair once again and peering at the screen. “Cannae see what yer enjoyin’ about this.”

“Wh – I mean, it’s not like last time. This time, I’ve downloaded these files that modify the games contents, and there’s way more crazy shit. You can mod it so much it’s like a new game.”

Johnny makes a noise of interest, dropping down to settle against your shoulders. “Really now?”

“Yeah, like look at this. I’ve got a gun in the game.”

A shotgun appears in your hand as you scroll to the hotbar tab, and you shoot a shell into the ground, listening as Johnny clicks in appreciation, surprisingly satisfied after his scrutinising. “Alright, show me ‘er properly.”

He hovers over the chair for a few more minutes, taking in your overview of the mods. “Oh, and this one! Hang on, look.” You hit a cow, and Johnny watches as it falls to the floor. Grabbing the body, you drag it over to a pixelated hook, and show him how you break the carcass down through the stages, collecting parts down to the bones.

He makes a noise of interest. “Si would like that. Can ye play with other people?”

You spin around to give him an excited grin, feeling the sleepiness retreat with your rapidly building enthusiasm. “Why, you want to join?”

Johnny scoffs, but there’s no hiding how his eyes gleam as a smile tugs at his lips to mirror yours. “Only after I finish the meetin’, and y’get some decent fuckin’ rest.”

-----

Ghost doesn’t care until Soap asks him to play.

When you originally ask him, it’s a late evening, and he’s curled up on the bed with a book as you deliver the question. There’s a pause in the turning of pages, and you get the usual dead-eyed stare when you say something he thinks is stupid over the edge of his book. ‘Y’want me to play a kid’s game?”

You give him your own scrutinizing look back, before turning back to the screen. “It’s not a kid’s game, Simon. Video games aren’t just for kids.”

He doesn’t press the topic any further, but you know his mind is often unchanged - so it’s a nice surprise when he brings it back up again a month or so later over the quiet chatter of some foreign film he’s watching, stirring you to look up from the words of your book.

“Oi, what’s that game y’were talkin’ about? Bloody… Mineshaft?”

You think Simon knows perfectly well what the game is called, but you humour him, pulling the blanket down slightly to look at him. “Minecraft?”

He snorts, leaning back into the armchair. “Yeah, s’one. Johnny’s bird got ‘im into it, won’t stop yappin’ ‘bout it now.”

You hold your breath, doing your best impression of nonchalance, directing your gaze back to the book. “Oh, yeah? That’s nice, sounds like he’s excited about it.”

Simon gives a non-committal grunt, but you can tell his focus is beyond the screen he’s looking towards. “Asked me t’play it with ‘im, bloody bastard. Said ‘e’d paid for a server or some shite.”

Excitement explodes in the back of your mind as you mentally praise your husband’s co-worker, thanking him for his influence as you steady your tone. “Well, why don’t you?”

He snorts with a cross of his arms, holding the remote against his chest. “Don’t know how to do all that rubbish.”

You close the book, sitting up and waving off his statement assuredly. “I have it installed already, you don’t have to do anything – oh, but can you ask him if he’s playing with mods?”

He’s not impressed with the request, frown deepening. “What, ‘m I your personal messenger now?”

But you’re onto him already, guiding the topic back on track. “Alright,” you give him a dry look, “give me his number then.”

The show pauses, and Simon looks back at you. It takes a moment, but you know you’ve won with a roll of his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he pulls his phone out and passes it to you after another message comes through.

>> Bonnie got me a whole folder of mods. Liek a whole nother game. Yer gonna play minecraft with me?

“So what?”

“Okay, well that’s easy to set up.” You pass the phone back to him, settling into your comfy nest of blankets. “So?”

“Are you going to play with him?”

(A month later, there’s another desk snug against yours while Simon fumbles with his screen settings as a broguish laugh comes from the headset, and Friday nights are something you’re realising you’ll never get back from that goddamn pixel game)

Headers and Dividers by saradika-graphics

[valley-of-headcanons]

hiii!! so I’m actually the anon who requested those bold! farmer head canons for Harvey all that time ago! unfortunately, I’m still a harvey simp!!! (and I still love ur writing so much lol)

how about harvey with a farmer who just…. does not eat well. like, his microwave-dinner centered diet is significantly better than what farmer eats in a day lol. and sometimes they literally just eat snacks throughout the day with no proper food. not for any depressing reasons, mostly just laziness! and harvey is just…. politely horrified. (and progressively less polite about it the closer they get lmao.)

harvey x malnutritioned!farmer || headcanons

when harvey learns that the farmer lives off of snacks and not real meals, the doctor in him can't help but step in!

warnings: unhealthy eating habits, skipping meals, etc.

requested by: anon! hiya, thank you for requesting again! sorry it took so long! i hope you enjoy, i had a whole lot of fun writing! :)

• Your first check-up with Dr. Harvey was a simple one, he checked the normal boxes needed to be filled. He was a bit stern when learning about your eating habits. He inquired heavily, but he soon came to terms with it. Harvey was not keen on snacking throughout the day instead of eating a real meal to refuel, but he was a doctor, not your parent! So, he gave you a pamphlet on eating healthier and sent you on your way.

• Harvey was NOT pleased when you had passed out in the mines due to a lack of energy. You got a very stern talking to! “Please, do not jeopardize yourself like this! Your health is very important, and you have to have energy with your busy schedule! You can take time out of your day to have a full meal, no more snacking! You have to properly refuel your energy ... could I help you with making a meal plan? With nutritious food?”

• You tried your hardest to follow Harvey's meal plan, cooking for yourself or going to the Saloon if you were too tired to fix anything. You hated to admit it, but ... it worked. You were way more energetic, and you certainly did feel better! ... on days where you actually followed it. You were so busy, and time started slipping away from you ... you fell back into your old ways. And your now boyfriend Harvey was picking up on it.

• “Dear, I say this with all the love in my heart ... your eating habits scare me. No, terrify me. This is not a way to maintain your body! Please, start taking more care of yourself, love ... as much as I love having you in my office, I can't have you there for actually being sick from malnourishment. I know you're busy, but please set aside some time for simple self care ...”

• Harvey was set on helping you out, making a second lunch everyday just in case you stopped by the office. It was a daily ritual, and you had at least one full meal a day! Look at you go! Harvey had infiltrated your snacky lifestyle, but not fully. You were still skipping breakfast and even dinner some nights, you were just so busy. Things definitely changed when you married Harvey, though.

• The day Harvey moved in, you could tell he was a force to be reckoned with. Every morning, he'd be awake before you with a full breakfast made. He'd kiss you on the forehead before guiding you to the table, making sure you ate at least a little bit before heading out for the day. He was a very concerned husband!

• Harvey would also cook dinner. Now Harvey is not the most amazing cook in the world, sometimes he'd opt for TV dinners and boxed mac and cheese. But, he'd have something for you nonetheless! And if he didn't, that just meant date night at the Saloon! Even nights where you'd come home late, he'd have a note on the counter telling you there's food in the microwave. You'll also be lectured in the morning about staying out so late.

• Harvey is so in love with you, and he really wants to make sure you're happy and healthy. Your health is most important to him. Yes, he's the doctor for the whole town, but you're the love of his life. He's going to care for his spouse the best he can. And he will take care of you for as long as you'll have him.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Study Buddies

isaac lahey x reader

summary: isaac asks you for help in chemistry. you agree on one condition.

tags: high school, studying / tutoring, mutual crushes, awkward flirting, caught in a lie, shyness, embarrassment, play fighting / tickling, bad puns, confessions, first kiss, teasing, fluff, pre-wolf isaac; his dad still sucks; autistic-coded reader

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this is my first time writing for teen wolf. I feel like I'm encroaching on claimed territory. 😅 also i've had this tab up for almost a week but have been afraid to post it, so here goes

Mr. Harris slides your progress report down onto your desk before you have a chance to react, and it catches wind and falls to the ground a moment later. You sigh and roll your eyes, but he’s already halfway across the room, impatiently handing out the rest of his stack. Your own little slip of paper is nowhere by your feet, and you resist the urge to make a remark about it. 

“Hey.” A voice interrupts your intruding thoughts at the same time a tap lands on your shoulder. Gentle, as if the tapper hates to disturb you, yet needs your attention. 

You turn, and temporarily forget about your lost report as your eyes meet Isaac’s, the boy who sits behind you, and has the cutest smile imaginable. You drop your gaze instantly, only for it to fall on his dimpled smile, and then, finally, on the paper held between two fingers. 

“I think this is yours,” he says, holding it out to you. 

Your name is clearly printed on the front, followed by your most recent grades in the class. You blush, immediately remembering it had dropped in the first place. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem. He seems like he’s in a mood today.” 

You nod, then take your paper from his hand. By this time, Harris has made his way back to the front, and is clearing his throat in a demand for the class’ silence. Quiet mutterings amongst friends cease at once, and you turn back to face the ill-tempered chemistry teacher. 

“Take a good look at your progress reports. The midterm is coming up, and some of you have more studying to do than others. Today, we will be learning new material, but next class period, we will have a review day. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. You can ask at the appropriate time in class, or come see me after school, or shoot me an email. Regardless of your grade, everyone should be studying, however, some of you have to move up a whole letter or two. That is on you to be aware of, and for you to put in the effort to do. Now, pull out your notes so that we can cover this section. It isn’t the hardest thing we’ll cover, but I expect it will be a struggle for some.”

And after that condescending introduction, he begins to teach. 

When the bell finally rings, your head is swarming with so much chemistry, your eyes are beginning to glaze over and put you to sleep. You’re relatively good at the subject, but that topic was more challenging than he warned it would be, making even you confused at times. You shake your head when you reach your lockers, trying to relieve yourself of the numbers swirling about in your mind. It takes a moment. A very stressful moment. 

A tap on your shoulder, more urgent than the last, pulls you out of your mental headspace. The chemistry bounces out of your mind entirely, bringing you back to reality, but making you jump in place at the sudden contact.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice apologies, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Turning, you come face-to-face with Isaac again. His normally bright blue eyes are slightly cloudy, which worries you more than you’d like to admit. “No worries. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have a question, actually, to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t looking at your report, I didn’t mean to see your grades. I accidentally saw them when I picked up your paper, but I promise I wasn’t looking on purpose.” He stalls, continuously apologizing for something not at any fault of his own. 

“It’s okay,” you interrupt as politely as you can. 

He pauses, “um. I was wondering if you could help me? Like, in chemistry. Help me study, kinda like a tutor, I guess?”

You pale immediately. Just because you’re doing okay in the class doesn’t mean you have a clue how to help him understand. “Um-”

“Just… I just need a little help, if you can. I understand if you don’t want to, or can’t, or… I don’t know… are busy.” He runs his tongue along his lips nervously. You snap your eyes to the floor, avoiding eye contact. 

“I don’t know… I’m not a good teacher.”

“But you’re really good in the class. Probably a better teacher than Harris has been lately.”

You chuckle, but you’re still not sure. Being that close to the boy you’ve liked for ages? On top of not being able to teach well? He’ll reduce you to a stupid, stuttering mess, just look at yourself now, unable to look him in the eye. No, don’t look at him, that was rhetorical. 

“I just,” he continues, “when he was talking about people who needed to go up a whole letter, he was talking about me. I know you’re good, you sit in front of me. If you can even just explain it to me as you study, it would help a lot.”

Half of your mind races to find an excuse, looking for an out, while the other begs you to agree. Isaac shoves a hand in his pocket and waits for a response. You debate with yourself for a moment, but then the urging part of your mind wins the argument with a question of its own. 

“What about this,” you start, “I’ll help you in chemistry, if you help me in French?”

“What?” He asks, taken off guard. “I’m not good at French.”

“You’re better than me. You have the answers to most of Ms. Morrell’s questions, and I can hear you when she asks us to recite words out loud.” His eyes narrow at that, to which you reply, “you sit behind me in French, too.”

“Right.” He smiles, but doesn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he rests his head against the locker beside yours. 

“So?”

“How do you know I’m not just guessing?”

“What’s your grade?”

“A,” he sheepishly answers.

“See? You can tutor me.”

“What’s your grade?”

You purse your lips and avoid his eyes again. “Too embarrassed to say.”

“Really?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit. We all have our strengths.”

“Alright, deal. Help me in chem, and I’ll help you with French.”

“Sounds good. Library, or at one of our houses?”

“I can probably go to the library sometimes. Maybe during lunch or free period. But after school, I have lacrosse, and you probably don’t want to wait around school for that to be over.”

“Okay, so then your house or mine?”

“Where do you live?”

“Like ten minutes from here. You?”

“A bit closer than that. Parents?”

“Don’t really care what I do.”

“My dad is a little controlling,” he admits. 

“Would he care if I were to come over?”

“Not if you’re helping me study.”

“Okay. You want to meet a couple times a week at your house, and sometimes during lunch?”

“Sure. Practice ends around five. Is seven too late?”

“Not for me.”

“Cool. So, um, I’ll text you, and we can plan dates.” He shakes his head. “I mean, like, what days work best.”

You blush at his embarrassment. “Have to give you my number first, doofus.” 

“Oh.”

You scribble it onto a sticky note and hand it to him. “Let me know.”

“I will. And thank you.”

“Thank you, too.” You hurry your way to your next class, leaving him red in the face and hands at having a girl’s number. Granted, it’s just for studying, but it’s the fact he was able to talk to you at all that has him shaken. Isaac forces himself to breathe, before entering it in his phone and tucking the sticky safely in his backpack. As the bell rings, he hurries to his next class. 

~~~~

The next evening is the first time you meet up to study. You drive to the address he’s given and knock on the door as gently as possible. Isaac had mentioned his dad is controlling, so the first thing you want to do is to avoid pissing him off in any way you could. Controlling could mean a lot of things, and the boy wasn’t specific at all. For both of your sakes, you tread lightly. 

Isaac opens the door a moment later, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. You try really hard not to blush as he invites you inside, but then his dad’s strict voice snaps you back into reality. You can see Isaac take a visible deep breath before rounding the corner in the kitchen, you in tow. You put on your best look of professionalism while trying to anticipate how the next couple of minutes might go. 

“And? Who was it?”

“Y/N, the girl I told you I was studying with… with whom I am going to study,” he corrects at the last minute. 

His father’s posture tenses a bit less when his son corrects his own grammar without prompt, but it doesn’t stop his cold eyes from floating over to you. “And you’re studying what?”

“Chemistry, sir. I’m helping Isaac, and he’s helping me with French.”

“And you know French well enough to help her?”

“I believe I do,” he says, trying to sound confident. 

“I think he does, too. In class, he always has the answers, and Mrs. Morrell’s often impressed, and she’s hard to impress more than once.”

“Hm.” His dad takes a sip from a glass, then carefully sets it down on the table. His eyes are locked on Isaac the whole time. The boy stares at the ground, any confidence shaken by the interaction. You study the scene, confused. “Well… Go study. Bring up those grades.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply at the same time. 

Isaac nods for you to follow him to his room, which you oblige. His dad remains seated as you make your way up the stairs. You bite back a comment about the man, even in the safety of Isaac’s bedroom, and he doesn’t say anything, either. The same remark is in both your heads, yet while you want to ask it in a question, he wants to use it as a reassurance. Yes, he’s a bit more controlling than Isaac originally said. No, he won’t do anything stupid while you're there. He tries to convey this in an expression, which you half-understand, but eventually drop it. If anything happens, you’ll leave. Simple as that. 

As it turns out, the first night of you studying together ends up nothing like the initial interaction you had in his house. Isaac is gentle, patient, and willing to learn and teach the best that he can. He’s admittedly worse in chemistry than you are in French, but you’re able to convince him that you only need to work on a few things; an hour of time doesn’t have to be devoted to your studies, maybe only twenty minutes. On the contrary, the other sixty are put towards chemistry. And, of course, the first five are for settling in, and the last five are for uncontrollable laughter at a mispronunciation. 

Thirty minutes to nine, you realize how late it’s gotten and start to pack your things. Isaac looks exhausted, and frankly, as much as you’re enjoying his company, you’re getting tired from talking. 

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He asks, rather quickly. 

You stare for a moment, then, “what?”

“Vendredi.”

“Thursday?”

“Non.”

“Friday?”

“Oui, rencontrer?”

“Meet then?”

“Yeah, would you like to?”

“Sure.” You nod. “Say it again?”

“Voulez-vous qu’on se rencontre vendredi?” He says it slower this time. It has the same effect on you, but you can comprehend each word better. 

“Cool,” you say, not at all thinking about his accent that paints the words so beautifully. “I’ll bring my H2O, since I forgot it this time.”

The boy snorts with more laughter. “Bad joke.”

“Absolutely horrible,” you agree. “See you in school tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Be safe,” you reply before you can stop yourself, referring to his dad downstairs. 

Isaac only nods. He walks you to his front door, then hurries back up to his room. 

~~~~

Each day you study together follows a similar routine to the first: five minutes to settle in, sixty of chemistry, twenty of French, then five of joking around with each other. Sometimes Isaac pushes for thirty of French instead, worried that you’re sacrificing your own studies for his, and never understands when you push back that you’re good with only twenty. 

His chemistry improves immensely with your help. In three weeks, he manages to pull it up to a ‘C’. Not only is his father a bit more lenient to him after the next progress report, but he’s also more pleasant to you the next time you come around to study. He even cracks a smile. 

Today, you go over just the same as you have been. Seven on the dot, you’re greeted by his dimpled smile and half-friendly father. The man has now graduated to welcoming you, and has once clapped you on the shoulder as you’ve passed. You’re polite to him, though you can tell Isaac’s uncomfortable with his unusual behavior, so you always try to retreat upstairs as soon as possible. This time, he’s busy with something in the kitchen and doesn’t talk for long. He makes one comment about grades; you promise him you’re both doing well, then he lets you go. 

Finally away, it doesn’t take long for you to settle down anymore. You make yourself comfortable on Isaac’s bed, pulling out your notes and pens, and smiling when he joins you. You’ve come to be good friends in the last couple weeks, and although there’s something definitely in the air, too, you’re good with being friends if that’s all you can convince yourselves you are. 

You start, per usual, with chemistry, reading over notes and figuring out problems. He moves closer and closer to you each day you teach, simultaneously making you nervous and excited. Either way, your water bottle remains beside you to calm your ever-growing heart rate. When it comes time to switch subjects, you excuse yourself a minute to recover and prepare for the next half hour. In the beginning, it was easier to hide your blush, promising you’re still getting the hang of the co-teaching thing. Now, your excuse dwindles. The shy smile you wear as he recites words of the love language has never faded. You have to compose yourself entirely, elsewhere, to be able to control your reaction and face him. 

“Can I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Yeah, just over there.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as the door shuts, Isaac jumps off the bed to check his hair in the mirror. In the process, your French binder falls to the ground and loses its page. The boy sighs, mutters an ‘oh shit,’ then pulls it back up to find the page again. He opens the flap and immediately finds a stash of old progress reports. You seem to keep all of your old ones in the front flap of your binder; he’s noticed you have all your chemistry reports, too. Curious, Isaac steals a peek. Despite confessing about his ‘D’ in chemistry, you’ve always cheekily refused to share your French grade. He doubts it’s that bad, but he’s never gotten you to admit it. 

He glances at the bathroom door, then checks the date on the report before scanning the grades. Guilt eats at him the longer he looks, but nosiness, then confusion keeps his eyes glued. Is he really reading that right? There’s no way you have a-

“Sorry about that,” you say, closing the door. 

Startled, he drops your binder and looks up at you. “It’s no worry.”

“What’s wrong?” You notice his change in behavior, like a young boy being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“Nothing. Your binder fell off the bed, I was picking it up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles when you join him back on the bed. You’re not sure if you still have a right to be suspicious, or if he’s just embarrassed because he’s so shy. “So, um-”

Isaac, on the other hand, is brimming with questions. As anxious as he is that you caught him peeking, he can’t help but wonder about what he saw. You start to speak, maybe to change the subject, but he cuts you off, guilt and curiosity both winning. “You have an ‘A’ in French?”

“What?”

“You’ve had an ‘A’ since the start of the year. Why do you need me to tutor you if you already know it?”

You shut your open mouth immediately, face paling at the realization you’ve been caught. “I-... I don’t know. Your grades are better than mine.”

“By one point.”

“Two points. You have a 94. I have a 92.”

“Doesn’t explain the need for a tutor,” he argues.

You study him, choosing to base your reaction off his own. He’s smiling; seemingly happy, curious, and not at all upset. His tone implies no accusation, just confusion, and his body posture is straight, shoulders relaxed. A twinkle shines in his baby blue eyes; his level of eye contact is neither constant nor avoidant. He’s safe. 

“I, um,” you decide to tell him the truth. Or, rather, stutter out the truth. “I don’t need a French tutor.”

“So I’ve gathered.” Decisive tone, yet still friendly. Still safe. 

“I figured, since I would help you with chemistry, even though I’m not that good of a teacher, if you had to teach me something too, it would put less pressure on me to be a good teacher.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay… but why French?” He’s still a little confused on that reasoning, but doesn’t question it. He knows you’re shy. If that’s what you had to do to make it work that you could help him, he doesn’t mind. 

“I, er, well, the French provided a win-win scenario.”

“Which is?”

You shrug, body warming quickly as you near your deeply guarded secret. “I- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Mhm, really?”

“You’re best in French,” you offer instead, on a whim.

“True,” he agrees, “though I feel that’s not the real reason, judging by your lack of eye contact.”

“I’m always bad at eye contact.”

“You’ve been getting better with me these last few weeks.”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m not going to judge, Y/N. Whatever you say, it’s safe with me. You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how is me teaching you French a, as you call it, win-win scenario?”

Finally, you fess, “because I get to hear you speak it every time you teach me.”

Isaac’s quiet for a moment. Then, you realize it seems to have gone over his head as he says, “you hear me speak all the time in class.”

“Yeah, but… with twenty other voices mixed in, too. I like hearing just your voice. The way you know just how to sound it out perfectly, and the way your accent flourishes each sentence. Most people in class sound like they’re gurgling saltwater, but you make it sound hot, like the way French is supposed to sound.” Your mouth utters words before your brain can catch up and prevent you from embarrassment. As soon as you realize what you’ve said, a dizziness swarms your head and it feels like the temperature’s gone up ten degrees. 

Isaac is speechless in front of you. He’s first stuck on the fact that you like his voice, then on his pronunciation being described as perfect, but then he short-circuits as the word ‘hot’ falls from your lips. He doesn’t even realize when you plant your face into your binder, shocked by your own confession. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. It’s muffled, but he hears it enough to pull him from his trance. 

“You like my voice?” He asks, cursing himself for the stupidity of the question. It’s all he can think of to say, though, still trying to cool his own rising body temperature. 

“I shouldn’t have said all that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he blurts out quickly. “I’m actually quite charmed by that.”

You resist the urge to look up at him, desperate to see if he’s smiling or not. Isaac seems to have a similar thought, and tries to hook a finger under your chin to lift your head. He succeeds, but then you instantly embarrass again, and dive for the pillows, burying your face amongst them. 

“Oh no, get back here,” he jokes. You feel him before you look out to see him. His hands shake your shoulder, but when you don’t respond, he playfully starts to tickle your neck. You scrunch and try to scramble away, but he only continues. “C’mon.”

“I can’t!” The words have finally sunken into his head; the weight of them falls on your chest. 

“Oh, yes you can!” He teases more, moving pillows away from you, just for you to grab another and bury back under it. When Isaac realizes there’s no use in trying to win the pillow war, he swings a leg over yours and begins to tickle your stomach. Your shirt has begun to ride up from your movement, and temporarily, he forgets you’re classmates, not longtime best friends. “C’mon, give it up!”

“I-I can’t!” You’re running out of breath, and pillows. He pulls another away from you, then puts his hands back on your sides. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but only do you open them because of the unfamiliar feeling of him touching you. A beat skips in your heart at the sudden, unexpected realization that he’s not only touching your skin, but he’s also straddling your waist. You swallow hard. He pinches your side lightly, shocking you back into reality, and making you grab another pillow to hide your face again. Before you can grasp it, Isaac grabs your hands and pins them above your head. You pant, heart racing a mile a minute. His too, as you can hear in the moment you both grow quiet. 

“You think it’s hot when I speak French?”

“No, I think you’re hot when you speak French. There’s a difference.”

“Is there now?”

“The temperature of the room doesn’t get hot, it’s you that gets hot.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Not that you’re not always hot… I mean, sometimes, you’re more like a cute little puppy than a hot, French-speaking…” your words fade as your brain catches up, faster this time, yet still not fast enough. 

“Am I now?”

What’s done is done, you figure. Can’t take it back now, can only admit it. “Yeah.”

“Huh. So all this time, you’ve been teaching me chemistry, and I’ve been talking pointlessly while you listen and learn nothing?”

“When you word it like that, it sounds bad.” A pout graces your lips as guilt floods you. “But I have learned some things. I was struggling with direct objects, and now I’m not.”

“Ah. So I’m not totally useless?”

“Never. You wouldn’t be useless even if I knew perfect French.” Before he can reply, you continue. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I shouldn’t have. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I wasted your time when we could’ve been doing more chemistry.”

“Darling, too much chemistry and my brain woulda exploded. The French lessons are a nice intermission. Besides, I wouldn’t consider any time with you as time wasted.”

“Really?”

He drops your hands and they fall back down to your waist. He seems, then, to realize he’s still on top of you, and begins to climb off. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Can I confess something else?”

He pauses. “Sure, anything.”

“I would’ve been okay with just tutoring you chemistry, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye long enough to do it well.”

“You’ve been doing great with the eye contact thing. I know it’s not your strong suit, but you’ve made a lot of progress these last couple weeks.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “It’s not only that.” A heartbeat passes. “I like you.”

“You like me?” His eyes narrow before he assumes only, “you like my voice.”

“No, I like you. I mean, yes, I like your voice, but I like it because I like you.”

“Like me, as in…”

“Like I have a crush on you.”

He tilts his head like a confused dog. “On me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

“I’ve never had anyone have a crush on me before,” he admits.

Now you’re confused. “What?! How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s stupid. Never had anyone admit it, maybe.”

“I’d never know.”

“Well I’ve had a crush on you since the seventh grade.”

“You moved to Beacon Hills in the seventh grade.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?”

“Very secretly.”

“Huh. Well I’ve liked you since the first day of school,” he confesses.

“I’ve liked you since orientation, so I win.”

He smiles, then shakes his head playfully. “So I sit behind you in classes for years and only finally get the courage to talk to you when I’m borderline failing chemistry, and you only get the courage to talk to me for more than one minute if you can convince me to talk half of the time that we’d be studying together.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And my portion of the talking is in French, because you think my accent is hot?”

“Your accent is always hot; your French is hot on its own.”

“Ah, I’m following now.” He chuckles, letting his fingertips grace your hips. 

“So,” you ask, “as two people with several year long mutual crushes on each other, what do we do next?”

“Well you’re the one that’s been tutoring me chemistry, love, I’m hoping you have the answer.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wrong kind of chemistry, dork.” You reach your hands up to the sides of his face anyway, and pull him down for a kiss. Isaac complies immediately, setting one hand down beside you, while the other caresses your chin. Your legs hook around his waist, keeping him close until he starts to pull away, needing air. You let go, then hide your face as his own turns a rosy pink. 

“That was worth the wait,” he says, smiling, and touching a finger to his recently-kissed lips. “Êtes-vous d'accord?” 

“Shut up,” you tease, pushing him slightly. “Chemistry time.”

“We just had chemistry time. It’s French time now.”

“No, we can skip a round,” you insist, unsure you can hear anymore French fall from his lips without folding and kissing them again.

“On the contrary, I think you need to sharpen your vocabulary.”

“I think I’ll need a water break first.”

“That we can do,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure to get yours with extra ice.”

“Shush!”

[imtryingbuck]

Three simple words

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: Steve tells you he loves you

Word count: 1,640

Warnings: fluff, tiny mention of our Stevie boy having to pleasure himself, swearing

A/N: I wrote this ages ago and wanted it gone from my drafts. It’s shit but have fun reading🙂

Masterlist

Steve knew he was in trouble when he heard your laugh for the first time, it warmed his body and melted the iron bars from around his heart. He followed the sound like a lost puppy, and when he looked through the windows he saw you.

Your eyes shined so brightly he was convinced they could light up a dark room. The huge smile on your face made your cheeks puff out, your hair was all over the place slightly looking like you had been electrocuted.

But to him, you were the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on.

“-ah here’s Steve” Bucky’s voice pulled him out of his trance.

“Huh?” There was that laugh again making him all fuzzy inside.

“Come in then punk, everyone you obviously know who this is and Steve this is everyone”

“Great introductions Buck”

“I know” His best friend smiled before turning back to the class “I want Y/n and Donny to spar next, thanks” Bucky winked at Steve then whispered “I saw you watching her, you creep. You’re going to love her Stevie”

Before Steve can even try and defend himself he sees you getting into the ring with a huge guy, who was clearly ten times bigger than you, he’s heart stopped.

Watching you move around the ring dodging hits from your opponent, getting a few good shots in yourself he had to admit you was doing good considering how big this Donny guy was.

He felt a tinge of jealousy when you looked at Bucky and winked. He didn’t see it coming nor did he suspect it but when you walking straight up to Donny grabbing his fist as he tries to punch you, you flipped him like he weighed nothing. Steve’s eyes nearly bugged out of his eye sockets, his trousers started to strain.

He’s never been more grateful holding a stack of paperwork as he was right now, in his life.

As soon as the class was dismissed he rushed out of the room to go to his, pleasuring himself to the image of you that had ingrained its self into his brain.

“I’ve talked to Fury about bringing L/n on our next mission, he said I have to talk to you. So here goes, Steve I want to bring Agent L/n on our next mission. She’s great, amazing really. Top of her class and she’s a fast learn-“

“Buck slow down jerk, if she has your approval then you’ve got mine. But I wa-was thinking what about Y/n? She was great in the ring against that Donny kid”

Bucky tried his absolute hardest not to laugh or smirk at his friend “Yeah I mean she’s great and all but not like L/n”

“No that’s fine, bring Agent L/n on board but you stick with her the whole time okay” Steve tried not to let his disappointment known, he would of liked to of seen Y/n again - even talk to her would be amazing for him.

“Cheers pal you won’t regret this”

As the door closes behind Bucky, Steve slumped into his chair and sulked.

Their next mission came a week later and it was pretty simple; get in, arrest the bad guys, download information, get out. Easy.

Steve and the team was already on the quinjet and was just waiting for Bucky and L/n to arrive, him and Nat were talking about a film they all watched the night before, when he heard two sets of footsteps coming closer.

“Sorry we’re late, I had to sign off some more paperwork for this one, everyone this is L/n and L/n this is everyone” Bucky says.

“Terminator you really need to work on your introductions, I’m Sam it’s a pleasure to meet you”

“Hi Sam I’m-“

“That’s Nat, Tony, Wanda and Steve” Bucky cuts you off.

“I’m Y/n, it’s so great to meet all of you” That. That has Steve lifting his head, his brain short circuiting for a moment before his eyes went directly to Bucky who stood there with a smirk on his face.

“Aren’t you going to say ‘ooh it’s an absolute honour to be working you The Avengers, it’s a dream come true’?” Tony asked in a mocking tone which caused Steve to snap his eyes away from Bucky to the Billionaire.

“No” Your laugh caused him to smile lightly “That would be a lie well the second part anyway, my dream was to always be a fairy princess but-“ waving your arms out “that appears not to of come true.” Everyone laughed as Tony smirked and clicked his fingers.

“I like her, welcome aboard the crazy express”

“Thank you, Mr Stark”

“Tony, call me Tony sweetheart”

Steve didn’t know which one to kill first Bucky or Tony. Both as bad as each other really.

With the introductions out of the way and the mission briefing just finished, Steve pulled Bucky to the back of the quinjet.

“You didn’t tell me that L/n was actually Y/n!”

“Yeah, L/n is Y/n’s last name Stevie”

“Don’t try and be funny Buck! She sticks with me throughout the mission”

“But you said for her to stick with me…”

“I know what I said but I’ve changed my mind”

“Why?”

“Be-because…I’m Captain America” Smiling and raising his eyebrows at his friend.

“That’s true - oh just before I leave, you know tonight when we get home? Make sure you get FRIDAY to soundproof your room so I don’t have to hear you moaning out Y/n’s name again like the other week”. It was now Bucky’s turn to smile as Steve’s face went bright red.

“H-how?”

“Remember Captain America I’m just like you” Tapping his ears before walking off.

Steve bows his head and mumbles “Shit”.

Days after the mission Steve was walking down the corridor with you occupying his thoughts when he bumps into a person-

“I’m so sorry” The voice he’s committed to memory says.

“It’s okay, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t looking where I was going-I’m really sorry”

“It’s fine honestly. I’m glad I bumped into you actually, I’ve spoken with Fury about making you a part of the team, and he’s agreed”

“Wait thee team?”

“You’ll be a member of the Avengers”

“Oh my God thank you!” You jump into his arms throwing your arms around his neck hugging him.

He holds you tightly, breathing in the scent of your soft hair. Loving the feel of your weight in his arms and before he knew it you was pulling away and jumping down.

“I’m so sorry! I-that was so inappropriate and unprofessional, I’m so sorry Mr Rog-“

“It’s fine! I promise it’s okay, and it’s Steve I told you this”

“Still I’m sorry”

He hates the look in your eyes, he knew that he would happily hold you in his arms for a lifetime if given the chance.

It’s been a few months now since you joined the team, everyone welcomed you with open arms. Nat and Wanda loved that there was now another woman on the team. They both became your best friends instantly.

You became close to everyone especially Steve, if you two weren’t next to each other you’d be texting. And since he was always up before you he would always make you breakfast in bed after he came back from his run. Every Friday you would make him his favourite meal that is mom use to make, it took you about five tries before you perfected it not that Steve ever complained.

You developed feelings for the super solider early on, you didn’t mean to per say, it was his own fault for being perfect, and beautiful, kind, understanding even when he had no idea what you was talking about, did you say beautiful? Oh and he had an incredible arse. So really it wasn’t your fault, but his.

It was Saturday night, you and the girls were watching rom-coms in the common room when you heard Steve and Bucky talking.

“It’s just three simple words Stevie, tell her”

“It’s not that easy jerk, what if I scare her away and she never wants to talk to me again”

“You’ll never know unless you try, just tell her you like her, easy”.

Your heart sank into your stomach.

You knew you weren’t going to be that lucky woman who he confesses he likes but a girl can dream.

Despite the pain you’ll go through seeing him with another girl, you’ll be happy for him.

When he walked past the common room he saw you, Nat and Wanda watching a movie. Wanda was throwing popcorn at you as you tried to catch them in your mouth.

Bucky nudged him, mouthing ‘do it’. He didn’t even think about what he was going to say to you other than the truth.

“Go away, this is girls night” Wanda says as she sees the pair coming into the room.

“It took us half an hour to get rid of Sam so please just leave or we’ll result to violence” Nat speaks.

“I just need to say something to Y/n then we’ll be out of your hair ladies” Steve says as his eyes are trained on you.

“Sure what’s up?”

“I love you”

The silence was deafening.

“What?”

“I love you. Pretty much from when I heard you laughing when you were training with Bucky’s class”

“Is this a prank?”

“No. Why would you thin-“

“I love you too”

Steve stood there with a shy smile on his face “Re-really?”

“Yes Steve I love you too”

“Good, good. Okay bye”. All four of them sit there and watched as Steve walked out of the room and down the corridor.

“Did he just…”

“Yep”

Bucky laughs, says his goodbyes to the women and follows his best friend.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[gorboble]

Spoilers for Project: Eden's Garden Chapter 1

Thinking about Tozu's tea time. I've seen like nobody talk abt it

The main topic here is sheep. 'Sheep' is a common term for people who blindly follow the crowd without question. Yeah, who else to call 'sheep' than the cast? Most people blindly followed Wolfgang, and when they saw him being opposed, they immediately shot down and ostracized said opposition.

The mob mentality is STRONG with this cast, and Tozu knows how to fuel and exploit that to a terrifying degree. He knew how to get them to turn on Eva even more than they already were so he could tempt and trap her with the traitor role. And he did it so flawlessly, when he said "yea Eva inspired me for this motive" everyone seemed more eager to believe him and dogpile her rather than the man trying to get them all to kill each other.

What are sheep good at, if anything?

Most humans, and some sheep, would respond with a resounding "Absolutely nothing!"

"Sheep cannot create art, or invent medicine, for goodness' sake, they can't even perform music!"

"Their limited speech and quadrupedal locomotions prevents them from reaching the heights of humans. They're practically glued to the lower echelons of the food chain."

"No matter how hard sheep may try, they will never be anything more than their number tags."

I honestly have nothing for these lines. The best I can come up with, the 'and some sheep' bit refers to Damon and his "they just let anyone in" attitude towards the other ultimates. He himself said he sees some talents as just niche fixations. "The sheep don't contribute to society. Even if they're the best at this thing, they're still just glorified hobbyists. The bottom of the barrel when it comes to ultimates."

moving on

I can't say I like that answer. Too pessimistic for me.

Plus, what of the sheep who still try?

The sheep who realize their fate, but continue to challenge it all the same?

That they can be so determined to prove their worth when humans have all but deemed them microwaveable meals...

Methinks he's talking about Eva. She tried to be more than just a math nerd. She has so much else going for her, and she's tried to pursue other things, even if her talent just makes her a target for ostracisation. She tries to escape and defy her label as a mathlete, even if it means putting others at risk.

Also, "realize their fate, but continue to challenge it all the same?"

Eva concluded that she'd be the first to die as a victim, and so she acted against that. She was also practically forced to kill as the traitor, otherwise, she would just die first Period. She realized her fate as the first to go, so her way of challenging that was to kill Wolfgang.

Tozu puts this kind of sheep in a positive light, probably because Eva initiated the killing game while everyone was against her, and fought tooth and nail to try and escape her fate. He doesn't like it when it's said that sheep are good at nothing, and they'll be nothing more than their number tags no matter how hard they try. He has seen and even encouraged a sheep to try her hardest to escape her fate, and it worked. Even if it was horribly tragic.

Tozu sees the cast as sheep, and he wants to do anything he can to prove that, if desperate enough, then even sheep will try and fight against fate.

I'll admit I spent all of my FTE's with Eva since she is just hands down my favorite character and i wanted to learn more about her. And a lot of the biblical imagery is lost on me (I know Sheep play a big part in the bible), so I may be missing a LOT here. But these are my thoughts on Tozu's Tea Time since it seems nobody else was willing to talk about it.

[hxney-lemcn]

Beneath the Mask — Abyss Razor x gn! reader

summery: you show Abyss a kindness that no one has before, which leads to two lovesick fools.

tw: none that I can think of, just typical sad boy Abyss :(

a/n: I love him sm and there's almost no content for him so I had to do something about it.

wc: 1.1k

Master List | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

The first time you laid eyes on him they were drawn to the porcelain mask that laid on his face. Although the face is typically the first thing someone’s eyes land on, you felt like you did something wrong. He was clearly hiding his face, as not only did he wear the delicate mask, but he wore his hood up. You didn’t wish to offend him in any way, so you politely asked if you could sit next to him as that was the only seat left. 

That was the start of your relationship with Abyss Razor, a high ranked Magia Lupus from the Lang dormitory. He was quiet and intimidating, and the fact that you couldn’t see his reactions or expressions only made you feel more timid in his presence. Yet even though he looked to be domineering, and a part of a notorious cult-like group that boasted of their superiority, he had been nothing but kind to you. For group projects he let you lead, chiming in politely when you almost did something wrong. 

His tall imposing figure had turned into a comforting presence. He never judged you for your flaws and he seemed genuinely interested when you found yourself speaking of your interests. You had found yourself falling for your mysterious deskmate despite all odds. You didn’t mind the mask he wore, nor that you ended up filling most of the silence between you two…although sometimes you wished he’d speak more about himself. You couldn’t help that your endearment for Abyss had caused you to want to learn more about him as a person.

And then the unexpected happened. One day, Abyss had showed up to class without his mask. You tried your hardest not to stare, but you were flabbergasted that he had been hiding the most handsome face you had ever laid eyes on. From his long light blue hair tied up in a high ponytail all the way to the jagged marks that lined his cheeks. He was truly beautiful, and you found yourself suddenly questioning your relations to him. It was only recently that you had pondered to finally admit your feelings, but that suddenly seemed to be a lost cause.

You looked down at the table, unable to shake off your sudden feeling of inadequacy. Like usual, he took his seat next to you, taking out the needed materials for the course. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looked so graceful as his eyes followed his every move. Oh those eyes. You knew the tale of the devil who imbued his evil into only whom could be deemed evil. The mark of the evil eye was only a fable you had thought, but how could one of the sweetest men you had ever met be evil? He kept to himself, never wanting to impose. He’d help whenever he could, never wanting to be useless. You felt your heart break as you finally realized why others kept a distance from him. 

You frowned, wondering how you could be so oblivious about someone you cared so deeply for. You had prided yourself for being observant of his traits, of recognizing his feelings without needing to see his face, only to be the most oblivious. 

“I-I understand i-if you want to stop being friendly t-towords me,” Abyss stuttered, breaking you out of your reverie. Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned. You finally faced him fully, taking in his downcast gaze, his eyes refused to meet yours, and his head stayed bowed. You once again felt your heart break. Did he really think so little of you? Did he take you for someone so superficial? You had shown him never ending understanding, did he really think you’d just stop because of his powers? Did he really only think of your love as pity?

“Why would I do that?” You asked, eyes locked on him with determination. 

He glanced at you before quickly correcting himself and kept his eyes down, “...I have a curse, and I don’t want to burden you.” You blinked blankly at his idiocracy. Curse? How could the man who lit your heart aflame be a curse or a burden? You longed for his company, for his attention, couldn’t he feel your admiration? Had you really hidden your feelings that well?

“You’re not a burden,” You huffed, trying to keep your frustration in check. He had clearly been hurt, and you didn’t want to add to it. “And I don’t think of it as a curse.” Before he could rebuttal your claims, the teacher had waved everyone’s attention to the front.

It was rare for you to see Abyss outside of class. Although Magia Lupus had disbanded for an unknown reason, your worlds still seemed to be vastly distant. His smooth voice called your name, you looked up from the book you were currently reading. As hard as you tried not to, your gaze lingered on his left eye, memorizing the intricate detail that it held. But you knew it was a sore spot for him, so you tried to dial back your reverence.

His face was solemn, his eyes meeting your own for the first time, “There have only been a few people who have looked over my abilities. Fewer have actually let me stay by their side. It seems that your kindness is greater than I thought, and for that I thank you.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Your heart fluttered at the unadulterated gratitude that showed in his eyes, yet it felt crushed by how terribly others have treated him. An overwhelming feeling consumed you, a feeling of wanting to shower him in all the affection and love he needed and more. This feeling shocked you, as you’ve never felt so strongly towards another before, and it somewhat scared you.

“Abyss,” You mumbled, restraining yourself from jumping at him to engulf him in a hug. He looked anxious, cheeks reddening slightly as he glanced away. You stood up, unable to hold back your affections. Giving in to your own desires selfishly, you indeed engulfed him in a hug. You squeezed him lightly, hoping your feelings got across to the beautifully sad man you held. 

His body tensed under your touch, and you went to pull away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but his arms wrapped around you before you could move. His touch was gentle as he unsurely held you back. The two of you stood like that for a good while, taking in the comfort the other brought. When you finally pulled away, Abyss couldn’t meet your eyes, this time out of fluster. His cheeks were painted a deep red as he fumbled with his hands. A bright smile shown across your face at the display. Once again, you were astounded how the world could turn such a sweetheart away.

A boost of confidence overtook you at Abyss’ bashful display, “I really like you, and nothing will change that.”

That seemed to be the finishing move as he passed out.

Next Page ⟶

[jpitha]

Whatever Happened to Lauren Ingram

This is a continuation of Voiding the Warranty. I thought I posted it here, but I guess I didn't.

"Who?" The human at the window barely looks up from her pad.

"Her name was - is - Lauren Ingram."

The person behind the counter at the embassy looks bored. She sighs. "Missing people cases are to be sent to the local station authorities."

"No, you don't understand, she's not missing, she's gone."

Over all this, Shimmer was getting much better at reading Human facial expressions. This civil servant was bored and annoyed. They had to be careful. One more snarky answer from her and she was going to close the window, and they would not be able to tell the embassy what happened to her. They tried another tack.

"I'm terribly sorry. Maybe there is an error with my translator, you know how they are with complex languages full of nuance, like yours. Lauren Ingram is a human I hired on to my ship - the Star Leaf - as an engineer first class. She was... tinkering with the FlashWarp engines and when she was finished and we warped, not only did we move through space nearly five thousand times faster than we expect but... she disappeared after." Shimmer breathed in shakily. This part was always the hardest to admit. "And I'm seemingly the only one who remembers her."

The woman behind the counter looks out at Shimmer and narrows her eyes. It appeared to Shimmer that she was reaching under her desk - "to push the window close button no doubt", they thought with despair - when instead a scanner pops out of a door above the window. Shimmer was bathed in a warm, yellow light for just a moment.

The door to the embassy hisses open.

The woman gestures, "This way please, sapient."

Shimmer was seated in a room. The walls were white, the ceiling was uniformly lit in white light. The floor was a slightly different shade of white. They sat upon a white chair - built for their frame surprising Shimmer - it was actually comfortable. After a moment, a human entered the room, dressed almost entirely in black. The contrast to the human and the room made them look like they had no color. They sat in a chair opposite Shimmer and took out a thick pad.

"From now on, this conversation is being recorded in full sensorium. All known and recordable senses are being recorded in this conversation so that in the future it can be replayed as completely as possible. State your consent."

"I consent."

The human relaxes slightly. "State your legal name."

"I am-" Shimmer makes a sound with a trilling rising melody "-but my name in Belanic is Shimmering Heat."

"Please describe what happened to Lauren as best as you can."

Shimmer took the next cycle demi explaining to the human what they saw and what happened. The Human had them stop multiple times for more detail, or to explain a part again. Eventually, they reached the story as far as Shimmer knew it.

"So you hired Lauren?"

"Yes, I was the one who signed her on."

"Do you remember her HIND number?" Her Human IdentificatioN Designation.

"Um" Shimmer had not been asked this before by the others when they were trying to find out what happened to Lauren. "7757890 I believe."

The human made an entry into his pad. It chirruped at him, and he narrows his eyes slightly. He sighs and looks up at Shimmer. "Sapient known in Belanic as Shimmering Heat, what you are about to learn is designated as 'Secret, Not To Be Shared'. This means that if we learn that someone else knows it, we will assume you spoke it - even if you didn't - and you will suffer the consequences for the data breach. At this point, you may refuse consent, and this conversation will end, and you are free to leave without learning what I am about to say. What say you?

Shimmer's eye membranes flicked. Unconsciously they turned their head slightly - an old instinct to try and get a better look at something in front of them - it was a gesture that meant consideration. "I can't sleep at night. I keep seeing her. I know she was real, I know she existed. Nobody else says she does. I feel like I am losing my grip on reality. I consent to learn. I will keep your secret."

The human smiles a small smile, folds their pad, and puts it away. He makes a complex gesture into the air and the room changes. The white even light was replaced with the spot and directed light of an office, the white walls become tan, and even art appears on the walls. He stands and holds out his hand. "My name is Agent Victor Henrik, Human InterDimensional Authority. I'm with HIDA"

Shimmer takes his hand and stands. Many of the sapients in the Coalition had their own forms of government and agencies and ministries within their government, but few had as many and as... granular as the humans. Shimmer didn't know HIDA, but had no problem believing they were a real human authority. "Nice to meet you Agent Henrik."

Victor smiled warmly. "Let's go to my office, we can talk there."

Victor leads Shimmer further into the offices, until they reached a door at the end of a long hall. When Victor opens the door for Shimmer, they gasp.

Agent Henrik had a window.

"You have a window!" Shimmer couldn't hide their surprise.

Victor beamed. "I do. It was completely by luck, I didn't do anything to earn it, this is just the office I was assigned." He sounded proud. "I have the only window in the whole embassy. Even the human ambassador doesn't have one."

Once Shimmer enters the office, they could see why the ambassador didn't take the room from Victor, it was cramped. Shimmer shuffles past boxes and sits on the only chair opposite Victor's desk. He also shuffles in sideways and sits down. "Sorry about how cramped the room is."

"It's all right. My quarters on Star Leaf aren't much larger," Shimmer lied.

"Okay. So Lauren."

"Agent Henrik. Am I going insane? Did Lauren exist?"

"Yes. She was real." He takes out his pad and glances at it again. "She died 12 years ago. Groundcar accident, according to the local police report."

"She what?" Shimmer's voice is an unbelieving whisper.

Victor holds up his hands. "That's how she died now. You are also correct that she was an engineer first class on Star Leaf."

"I don't understand."

Victor sighs and puts down the pad. "Shimmer, Lauren accidentally edited herself out of reality."

Shimmer's eye membranes flicked.

Victor raises his eyebrow but continues. "It's not the first time we came across this. She was messing with your FlashWarp engine right?"

Shimmer nods.

"And you were the last one to speak to her before you warped?"

Shimmer nods again.

"That's why you remember her and nobody else does. We're not sure about the science behind it - everyone who keeps experimenting gets edited out of reality - but there's something... unusual about FlashWarp technology. We don't use it much, but since humans sign on with Coalition ships all the time and humans are... well, human about things, humans have tinkered with it." He moves his shoulders in a shrug. "I have to say though, Lauren's work is the first successful mod to a FlashWarp field I've seen. Most of the others either did nothing, or destroyed the drive. Everyone disappeared after the drive was activated though and only the last person to talk to them before the warp remembers them."

"Why?"

Victor snorted a laugh. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be sitting here. Shimmer we have no idea."

Shimmer looks out of the window. It showed a crescent of the planet below, and while they were looking, they see the prismatic flash of a FlashWarp drive activating far in the distance. "How often has this happened?"

"That's Classified."

"Even though, right now we're discussing something 'Secret, Not To Be Shared'?"

"Classified is two levels higher in secrecy."

Shimmer leans forward. "Please. Give me a hint. Is it 10? is it 100? Is it 1000?"

Victor narrows his eyes. "This is all I will say. You explained to Polly - the girl at the front desk - what happened, and she immediately pushed a button summoning me. She wasn't disbelieving and she didn't think you were making something up. What does that tell you?"

Shimmer reels at the realization that if they reacted this quickly and not once accused Shimmer of making things up or misremembering that it happened quite a lot.

Victor looks at Shimmer's expression and nodded. "You understand then."

"What are you doing about it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing??"

Shimmer, what can we do? We can't tell all humans to stop messing with FlashWarp drives, it wouldn't do anything. What if we said "if you mess with a FlashWarp drive you might get edited out of reality"? Do you think that wouldn't cause some kind of economic crash at least? What would happen then? Everyone would dump their FlashWarp drives and buy our Flip drives. What would everyone think then?"

Shimmer understands what Victor was saying. If they came forward with this information, everyone would call it fake. A ploy to sell Flip drives.

"All we can do is record the incidents as they happen, and reassure those afflicted that you're not losing your mind. You have just a... unique memory. You clearly remember someone that doesn't exist."

Victor stands. "Shimmering Heat, I wish you the best. Do take care of your FlashWarp drive. It's unique. I recommend taking it back to Flash Incorporated and have them examine it. I imagine you'll get a bonus if it's determined to be safe enough to upgrade everyone's drive."

Shimmer stands and sputtered. "B-But, who will I say did the upgrade?"

Victor's eyes sparkles. "Just tell them the truth. A human did it."

[poproccks]

John Dory Headcannons!

★ Glove is a compression glove for an old injury; a major burn scar that lines his fingers, palm, and paw pads on his left hand. (Inspired by @teaOwOstache’s comic – I am currently writing a one-shot for them based on their amazing comic.)

★ Has about an inch of white hair from the sheer power of Crimp’s vacuum. I, personally, believe that the vacuum’s power accelerated the talent-leaching tremendously and caused physical effects to show sooner. (Also shown on Bruce and Clay)

★ Various scars from his years of camping, foraging, cooking, hunting, and other things related to the nomad life.

★ He is the third tallest of his brothers, being almost the same height as Bruce. Second shortest of Brozone.

★ He was left-handed before the burn incident – and had to reteach himself how to write with his right hand instead since his left hand shakes too badly to write properly now. His handwriting, while improved, still isn't as good as it used to be.

★ Has nightmares occasionally like Branch. I like to imagine they bond slightly over that fact once they do get closer – obviously, it's still nothing like Branch’s and Floyd's relationship.

★ Building off the last point, JD tries not to feel too bitter about the close relationship they have. He realizes that the fractured relationships he has with all of his brothers are his own doing. He’s doing his best to get to know them all now and learn about their interests and hobbies. JD still walks on eggshells around them all about 60% of the time after a few more major blow ups between them. He is John Dory, however, so he still crosses lines many times by accident.

★ Thickest and fluffiest tail of Brozone (more of a general HC but, tail hair/fur can move like Troll head hair/fur.)

★ Very active, and regularly takes walks, runs, etc around Pop Village to keep up his fitness.

★ Found Rhonda when he was in his early 20’s and she was a much smaller bug bus. (Inspired by @ohposhers) She grew rather quickly after that and they became inseparable. John Dory handles all of her repairs and anything to do with her healthcare. He becomes very anxious when he has to pass that responsibility to anyone else. Branch took care of an ailing Rhonda once because he was the only one in the village with the needed materials and ingredients for the medicine. (“Who's crazy now? Me. Crazy prepared,) The dull-toned troll basically had to beat John off with a stick to get him to listen/let him help the poor bus, basically like a Helicopter parent. I genuinely believe without her, John Dory would absolutely crumble. Troll dust.

★ Stay’s in Branch’s bunker the most of the four others, besides Floyd who decided to move to Pop Village. When he’s feeling especially bad or wants to be alone, he will still retreat into Rhonda. She is basically an oversized security blanket.

★ Smells like either dust, fresh dirt, or rain. Definitely smells like something naturey. Branch smells like things similar, but it’s noticeably different.

★ Usually ALWAYS has something stuck in his hair or tail, no matter how small. Dust bunnies from exploring or helping clean, leaves, branches (ha), and other miscellaneous things.

★ Usually has the following in his hair pocket dimension; 2-3 bandaids, an extra glove, chapstick that he always loses, granola bars, and a small thing of water; just in case. Oh, and treats for Rhonda.

★ Carries an old family photo of his brothers and Grandma Rosiepuff from right after Branch hatched. His parents were also in it, but have long been torn out.

★ His goggles, past and present, were from his father (Also inspired by @teaOwOstache) and so he takes begrudgingly good and meticulous care of them.

★ Definitely a victim of parentification/older sibling syndrome. (I’m not projecting, you are.)

★ The order of brothers he bonds or reconnects with the easiest to hardest; Floyd, Bruce, Clay, Branch.

★ Suffers from aches and pains when it's cold or rainy out. He refuses to admit it is because of age.

★ Self soothes by pulling at his jacket, running his fingers along the zipper teeth, or adjusting his goggles when anxious.

★ If he doesn’t want to make eye contact or is crying or about to, he’ll pull his goggles on. It’s easier to hide than to explain. He gets better about talking about it but emotions are always a sore subject and difficult for him.

★ Like most Trolls, John Dory can hiss, growl, and purr.

★ Dark blue paw pads, with blunt nails with chipped polish.

★ When he went back to the troll tree pod, after mourning what could have been, he collected mementos of his brothers and his grandma; Branch’s old baby blanket, Floyd’s old plushie, Bruce’s old hoodie, One of Clay’s old books and a blacket Rosiepuff knitted long ago. They’re hidden in a box on Rhonda.