#Sorry for pulling a The real treasure was the friends we made along the Way but. that's genuinely what he learns half the time isn't it?

[millimononym]

long post?

Ok so while i do hate season 3, i do like the idea of D'jok being the one being manipulated by the seasons' main villain instead of Sinedd for once (not counting how it was done in s3, the rest of the post is gonna be completely detached from that. Actually now that i think about it after i wrote it, it's barely even about the first sentence in the post. I got carried away ok)

While it also serves as a parallel between Sinedd and D'jok(you tend to be open to being manipulated when you've lost your friends for one reason or another), it also kind of makes sense when you think about it in the context of the universe.

Like, why DID we need D'jok to relearn the "don't let the fame get to your head and don't be an asshole to your friends" thing again and again? The obvious, out of universe answer would be that the writers didn't know what to do with his character arc so they just repeated it, but that's the boring answer(though i do think it's the correct one).

Why DOES D'jok go through these constant relapses of character(which allow him to be vulnerable to manipulation in the first place)? i think an interesting concept would be that he's coping with the fact that he's unsatisfied with his life, at least later on, in season 2.

Maybe at the start, it was really just about fame getting to his head, which led to him damaging the relationship he had between him and his best friend, which led to Micro-ice running away, which snapped Djok out of it and made him rethink his values. If even his childhood friend couldn't stand his behavior anymore,so much that he'd RUN AWAY, then surely he was doing something horribly wrong. But everything turns out fine in the end and goes back to normal. Better than ever, even. His belief in fate and that he was destined to be something great is surely proven right. He's famous and rich now, he knows what happened to his biological parents, he's got a great friend group and a girlfriend who loves him. He couldn't have expected or wanted anything more.

Could he have, though? Him becoming the team captain after Rocket's disappearance in s2 was more stressful than he'd ever imagined it'd be, and he sees things in a different light while he cracks under the pressure. After four years of what seemed to be perfection, he's slipped back into his old habits again as a defense mechanism. Maybe he wasn't really that happy anymore. His friends sure weren't, and his outbursts didn't help. Not to mention his father getting framed for terrorism, and his friend becoming a completely different person than the one he once knew. But everything goes back to relative normalcy, through all the pressure, and his near death experience,the Snow Kids manage to barely get a win against the Xenons in the finale. Everyone's happy.

Except him, maybe. I imagine you tend to rethink your life when you almost die. Was all this trauma and pressure him and his friends were going through really worth it in the end? Surely it was, it had to be. He now had an adopted family, biological family, fame and money, it's all he could have dreamed of as a kid who believed in destiny on Akilian. So why wasn't he content with it? Why did he slip back into his old habits even though he logically shouldn't have, if he was happy?

Was it because what he thought to be fate wasn't as great as it once seemed? He knew this couldn't last forever. The Snow Kids were bound to lose their title eventually. If that was the case, then did it all really lead up to this? Did he really hit his peak so early? At the age of 21, or 16 even? Did he really go through all of this just to be remembered as someone who was a famous footballer at 16? Did he treat all of his friends like shit, go through all of the trauma he did, just for that? It couldn't be like that.

So he relapses to his old behavior to cope with such thoughts, which leads to tension between him and his friends and leaves him open to being a target of manipulation, especially by people who seem like they have his and his careers' best interest in mind. So instead of leaving his friends because of simple arguments, he leaves because of what was essentially a culmination of years' worth of insecurities. He eventually realizes though, hopefully for the last time, that his friends are more important to him than any idea of fame. Even though this wouldn't last forever, he's still got his friends who went through it with him together.

[ranger-kellyn]

just feel like sharing a chunk of my s/v fic's outline 😇

something something juliana's first night at the academy

-- -- --

Later, as she’s finally settled into her room, she looks at Ogerpon’s poké ball, and then decides to go for it.  She sends a text to Nemona, and starts to go withdraw her old team from Kitakami.  

“Want another battle?” 

Within seconds, Nemona responds, “ABSOLUTELY!!!” 

She smiles, heart racing as she pulls her pokemon out.  

“Bring your other pokémon.  Got a surprise!” 

She goes back and forth on the phrasing awhile, but settles for surprise.  

“jajaja you sure youre ready for that?” she taunts back. 

“Won’t know unless we battle!” 

“That’s the spirit! Meet me in the lobby! I’ll take us to the courtyard!” 

And so they have a good battle

Juliana: Meinfoo 36, Mamoswine 37, Leavanny 36, Staraptor 36, Luxray 36, and Ogerpon 33

Nemona: Tauros, Oinkologne, Arboliva, Garnacle, Kilowattrel, and Palafin

Palafin gets a lot of good hits on her team, and it’s generally in Nemona’s favor

Leavanny and Ogerpon are her final two, and they pack the biggest punches 

Ogerpon will lose, but Nemona is going to be super impressed by her. 

Being out in the courtyard, this is also where Arven and Penny both get the idea to recruit Juliana for their projects during the Treasure Hunt. 

Sitting on separate ends, they both observe the battle, and just…know…Juliana has to be the one to help.  She can’t have a pokémon like Ogerpon without some real skill behind her.  

Nemona while healing up all their pokémon, she’s gushing over how great Juliana and her team did, and then asks about Ogerpon. 

“I’ve never seen a pokemon like it before!” 

“She’s one of a kind!” Juliana says, and gives her a very brief overview of what happened in Kitakami, and tells her about all the pokémon she caught while there.  

“Oh man, I really gotta get some tips from you! I thought you were really good at catching pokémon on the way here. You’ll have to talk to our homeroom teacher, Mr. Jacq! He made the pokédex app we all use. I bet he can even get all the old data off your old pokédex so you’ll be caught up.” 

“You think so?”

“Should be!” 

They talk, Nemona asking her about the team, and why she likes catching pokémon, why she joined the pokédex club back at her old academy. 

She admits it was just one of the only things her brother never did while in school, so it was the one thing her parents couldn’t measure her against. 

At first she’s worried she’s shared too much, but then Nemona sighs in a knowing way. 

“Oh, man– I know all about that,” she says.  “My older sister Cordia– anything I can do, she’s done it faster and better than me– except battling…which! Don’t get me wrong, I love pokémon battles–!” 

“Couldn't tell,” Juliana jabs, making her laugh. 

Nemona then invites her to go out for a treat to celebrate the battle.  Juliana isn’t hard to convince, excited to try something from Paldea. 

Juliana is worried she’ll look like a loser for just wanting a proper churro and chocolate 

Nemona laughs it off, excitedly pulling her along.  “You think I’m gonna say no to a churro? You’re crazy!” 

“I just don’t wanna be lame–” 

“If we were in Kalos I’d want a real macaron and a real croissant! It’s popular for a reason!” 

And so she takes her to one of her favorite places, a simple little stand, and so they go sit along one of the walls together, and Juliana is in absolute heaven. 

They share the hot chocolate

While sitting and talking, Nemona seems to shiver, surprising Juliana– it’s certainly not cold 

“Sorry– just– it was like a happy chill,” she starts to explain.  “I’m just really happy you’re here.” 

She says it so plainly, it catches Juliana off guard. 

“I just think it’s going to be so much fun having you in class, and getting to battle, and!!” She’s excited.  “I hope one day you’ll be strong enough to take me on at full strength!” 

She smiles back, feeling her heart racing.  Excited from the idea that clearly Nemona wants to be friends, she wasn’t just being nice earlier– 

“Me too!”

[medandana]

"my last act of love is leaving you alone"

god, what a ride. i’m sitting here in the corner of a library, trying so hard to hold back my tears as i write this. i don’t even know where to begin. you had such a beautiful soul, and i consider myself incredibly fortunate to have known someone as kind, brilliant, and real as you, my love. you’ve heard it a million times, but these past six months didn’t feel like six months at all. honestly, it feels like i’ve known you for years. i know certain things would have surfaced with time, but i really believe this is the end of the road. i’m so grateful for you. i’ve shared my past with you, how jaded i had become about love, but meeting you changed all of that. i’m beyond lucky to have been loved by someone like you. thank you for allowing me the space to love you in return, even though we didn’t start on the best of terms.

i truly believed we would have forever. all the plans we made, the little dreams we built. and, of course, the joke about “rocking chair sex.” i held on as long as i could, hoping we’d reach the light at the end of the tunnel, where we could be free, just the two of us, without a care in the world. but somewhere along the way, i started losing myself. i was lying, not just to everyone around me, but to myself. i became someone i didn’t recognize because i loved you so deeply. i didn't know love could be so wonderful and painful at the same time. i let love consume me, and in doing so, i drifted further and further away from who i was. and though i’ll continue loving you until my last breath, love alone isn’t enough. god, how i wanted it to be. i overlooked the cracks in our relationship, turned a blind eye, and in the end, i had to choose myself. i had to walk away while most of me was still intact. it was one of the hardest choices i’ve ever made because knowing this kind of certainty with someone is so rare. it's like a once-in-a-lifetime thing. maybe i’ll regret it for the rest of my life, knowing i let this slip away, but i had to do it. for the both of us.

about a month ago, resentment began to simmer inside me. i tried my best to ignore it, to bury it deep within, but knowing myself, it was impossible. i think that’s why we always had that push-and-pull between us. i know i was largely to blame, and for that, i’m deeply sorry. it still astonishes me that you stood by me through it all. as much as i wanted to just stay, i reached my breaking point. there were too many sacrifices, too many uncertainties—more than i had bargained for. there’s no excuse for what i did, but desperation pushed me to extreme measures. do i regret it? absolutely. though you’ve forgiven me, if i could turn back time, i’d stop myself from ever going down that road. i’m so sorry for all the pain i caused you. i don’t deserve your forgiveness, if we’re being honest.

there’s so much more i want to say, but i’m overcome with emotion right now. when we spoke on the phone two days ago, i felt so hardened. i debated whether or not to give you the closure you wanted because i feared that it would reopen old wounds. but the moment i heard your voice, i caved. hearing your distress, your pain broke me— and i wanted to ease as much of it in any way i could. during that five-hour conversation, all the memories came flooding back in, and i remembered why i fell for you in the first place. it was so difficult, but i treasured every second of that call. i was talking to you as my best friend that night. you always have been, and losing someone like you feels unbearable, and breaks my heart in ways words cannot express.

i’ve grown and learned so much from our time together. it changed me, deeply. when we met, i was still piecing myself together, but still yearning for love and warmth. and though our situation wasn’t ideal, something beautiful came from it. you taught me how to love myself, something i’ve always struggled with. it's funny, isn't it? i could see the good in everyone but myself, and yet you were patient enough to help me see what i couldn't. for that, i’ll be forever grateful. i only wish i had been more vocal about how amazing you are. i know i’m still young, but i’ve lived enough to understand that what we had was rare, precious. it was nothing like i've ever experienced, and it's also something that many humans on this earth are still hoping and wishing to experience. it wasn’t just about love or intimacy; it was profound and, even, educational. we could talk for hours, about anything, even the smallest things, and i loved every moment of it. just being with someone as intelligent and kind as you made me happy.

as much as i want us to remain friends, i know it’s not possible. not now, at least. we still love each other too much, and things would escalate. we’re too intense for that kind of relationship. falling in love defies logic, and our love was so pure, so mysterious. the best thing for us now is to focus on ourselves. there’s so much life ahead of us, so many more experiences and people to meet. you’ve already accomplished so much, and i want to see you soar even higher. i’ll always be cheering for you, even from afar. as for me, i’ll probably take a break from dating, focus on myself, and not settle for less than i deserve. i need to make sure that when i love again, i do so from a place of strength. i still have so much growing to do. life will work out the way it’s meant to. we grow through pain, and we have no choice but to keep moving forward, full steam ahead. i want you to find love and happiness in its purest form, whether that’s with me or someone else. i carry no anger or bitterness in my heart anymore, only a hope that you live your life authentically and fully.

i’m not sure if i should say this, because even leaving the door slightly ajar might keep us clinging to hope. but after thinking long and hard, i’ve decided not to bolt the door shut. i’ll let fate decide. part of letting go is surrendering to whatever is meant to be.

so, if fate is kind, until we meet again, my love. as for now, my last act of love is leaving you alone, and letting you find your peace. take care. i’ll love you forever and ever.

[morporkian-cryptid]

Update:

I'm very sorry for the false hope, it turns out this was a live stream happening only on December 23rd, and not on-demand streaming.

On a happier note, have scanned the English summary from the official booklet! My apologies for the blur on the sides, I didn't want to mess up the book's spine too bad.

Some highlights, according to my sister who actually saw the play live, and according to me who is a nerd:

You know that joke about how the BBC only has ten actors? Well, kabuki has more but a solid half of them are from the Ichikawa line.

The opening scene with Goemon sitting atop the Sanmon Gate at the Nanzen-ji temple is a direct reference to the kabuki play Sanmon Gosan No Kiri about the OG Goemon Ishikawa

During that scene, the Sanmon Gate actually ROSE UP an entire floor out of the stage

Aime: "They got an actual monkey to play Lupin. I don't know how they did that. The guy came onstage and I immediately thought 'Who tf let that monkey in here?'"

The summary states that "Lupin has come with Jigen to rob Goemon of the Meryumaru", but according to Aime it was more like Lupin standing at the bottom of the Sanmon Gate pulling his tongue out at Goeon and shouting "Haha I've got the other sword sucker!!! You'll never catch meeee!!!!"

They played all the music themes on shamisen, and the audience pretty much lost their entire shit when the opening theme started playing (if you wanna hear what that would sound like, check out this (unrelated to the kabuki play) video! it SLAPS HARD AF). What I wouldn't give to hear Tornado and Zenigata March on the shamisen, my dudes.

In Act I scene 4, Lupin and Jigen legit steal Goemon, and by that I mean they stuff him into a basket and make off with the basket. With Goemon in it. Deadass. They fucking stole an entire samurai. I love them XD

In Act II scene 3, "Lupin III and Goemon have a showdown" does not even BEGIN to explain that scene. There was an actual fucking WATERFALL ONSTAGE with ACTUAL FLOWING WATER (something that a kabuki tour guide told me is actually done since the Edo era????? apparently????? kabuki is INSANE), and Lupin and Goemon actually fought IN the waterfall, with Lupin in basically just his shirt and underwear (which were STRIPED WHITE AND BLUE), and when I say "fought" I mean "splashed water at each other like children". You can actually watch that scene online here.

In Act II scene 2 where Lupin appears disguised as Goemon's ghost, Aime described this as "Goemon shows up with a wicker basket on his head" (that was actually a Komuso monk outfit). Itohoshi clocks that it isn't Goemon by asking the "ghost" to play the shakuhachi flute, and says she knows what her lover's playing sounds like. Later, in Act III scene 1, Goemon plays the shakuhachi to fend off the demon king, an experience that Aime described as "the most horrendous music I have ever heard".

The closing scene is a direct reference to the Red Jacket double episode "The Mysterious Gang of Five / Kooki Kabuki". I'm assuming it's a common introduction scene in kabuki, but I don't know enough about it to be sure.

"My girlfriend turned into a sword." "...That's rough, buddy."

The mechanical dolls described in the summary are a real thing, they're called karakuri ningyo and they're pretty damn cool.

Himiko is also a semi-historical (more like mythical) figure of Japanese history/mythology; she was allegedly the queen of Yamato (pre-Japan) and was a shamaness.

And I'd like to highlight this gem from the summary, which imo encapsulates these people's entire relationship: "Goemon and Lupin III become comrades. Fujiko is interested not in becoming a comrade, but in searching for Himiko's treasure." Or in other words, "Maybe... the real treasure... was the friends we made along the way 💕🤗✨" "No way, I want my FUCKING GOLD!"

HAVE I MENTIONNED RECENTLY THAT MY SISTER IS THE MOST AMAZING PERSON ON THE FUCKING PLANET?????? 😭💕

She went to see the new Lupin III kabuki play on my behalf, called me on the phone for an entire hour to give me a detailed report and listen to me nerd out about the anime references, and then she sent me official merch of the play for Christmas all the way from friggin' Japan. She is amazing, I do not deserve her 😭

[supernaturalgirl20]

To be loved by the devil!

Pairings: the thief/the devil x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving),fluff, jealousy, mentions of God and biblical stuff, cursing.

Summary: the devil has searched a lifetime for his soulmate, with no luck. A chance encounter at a lavish party changes everything.

A/N: I’m a little late to the party with the commercial, but hey I got there in the end. This is purely self indulgent.

{Comments and reblogs really appreciated}

You’d heard the stories, your grandmother spoke often about them. How the devil walks among us tricking people into giving him their soul for earthly treasures. That however was not his true intentions, no, he searched for something far more precious. His soulmate! You had laughed at your grandmother, “the devil does not have a soulmate, he’s the devil.”

“Laugh all you want girl, but every being on this earth has a soulmate. El Diablo has walked the earth searching for her for a lifetime.” You learned not to question her, to just let her tell her stories, for that was all they were, stories. El Diablo was not real.

Sarah had invited you to some lavish party at this huge historic home in the middle of nowhere. It was some art dealer or something that was hosting it and you were under strict instructions to wear something formal. If you were being honest you didn’t really want to go, but Sarah wasn’t the type of person you said no to.

As you finished off your make up, you look yourself over in the mirror. Not bad. You bought a new dress for tonight, a red backless dress with thin straps. It was form fitting with a slit up the side. It made you feel powerful, sexy. A car horn startled you and you grabbed your purse and made your way outside.

“Y/N, you look stunning. You need to come to these with me more often.”

“Thanks. Ready to go?”

“Oh you bet.”

The driver pulled out of the drive and away you went. You drove out of the city and away from civilisation. There were trees everywhere, it made you feel like you were in a different world entirely. The closer you got, the more your body tingled. You felt a weird sensation deep within you, like something or someone was calling your body, calling it home.

Arriving at the house, we’ll mansion really, you we’re in awe of its beauty. Whoever owned it was extremely wealthy. Upon entry you were both given masquerade masks. Yours was a beautiful black lace mask with small diamonds running through it. Sarah leaves you at the bar to talk to some work colleagues and while your sipping on your champagne, you feel a set of eyes on you. Turning around you look out into the crowd, but you don’t see anyone staring at you. Suddenly a figure looms over you, “what is a beautiful women like you doing all alone?”

“Oh I’m not, I’m with a friend.” He looks around dramatically, “I’d don’t see anyone.”

“She’s dancing.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Well there free, so I’m good.”

“Hey no need to be rude, I was being nice.”

“Look I’m sorry but I’m not interested. There are loads of beautiful women here, I’m sure one of them will let you get them a drink.” You can tell from his clenched fists that he’s annoyed. He turns to leave, muttering under his breath.

“Fucking bitch.”

You hated guys like him, ignorant assholes. Thinking if they get you a drink it’s a one way ticket into your knickers. Downing the glass you get another. This was going to be a long night.

“I’m so sorry, I’m back now. Wanna dance?”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“Yes, now come on.” Sarah grabs your hand and pulls you behind her. You join some of her friends from work and you notice Jake is with them. You have had a huge crush on him since Sarah’s birthday party last year.

“Y/N, you came.”

“Yeah, we’ll I didn’t really have a choice. You know how Sarah is.”

“Yeah tough cookie.”

Suddenly the music shifts to a slow set and Jake pulls you into him.

“You don’t mind, do you? I promise I can dance.”

“No I don’t mind. Lead the way.” He was an amazing dancer and the feel of his arms around you sent butterflies to your stomach. Jake is telling you how beautiful you look but you can’t concentrate, you fee someone staring again. That feeling you got in the car comes back, growing more intense by the second until..

“Mind if I cut in?”

You turn towards the voice and all you can see are these beautiful brown eyes staring at you. It’s like there staring right into your soul.

“Uh..”

Jake doesn’t get to say a word, mystery man has you whisked away. The feel of his arm around your waist and the smell of his cologne has you dizzy.

“You are very beautiful, mi ángel.” You can feel the blush rise up onto your cheeks. You can’t help staring at his eyes, it’s like you’ve known him a lifetime and yet you just met.

“I have waited a lifetime for your mi amor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you not feel it deep within your soul? We are destined to be together, you are mine and I am yours.”

“I…I..”

He swings you around and lowers you back. His lips trail down your neck and it sends a spark straight to your core. When he pulls you back up, your no longer in the ballroom. Looking around it appears as if your in a bedroom. There is a huge four poster bed and the room is illuminated by the crackling fire. You can see him more clearly now, in his long house coat. He slowly removes the mask and it’s like something has taken your breath away. He’s so handsome, with those deep brown eyes you could get lost in, his curved nose that suits his face perfectly and that thick head of hair that has you wanting to run your fingers through it. He’s right in front of you and as he pulls you close, something about him feels like home.

“You do not know how long I have waited for you mi amor. No matter, I have you now, nothing will separate us again.”

“I don’t know..”

He places his hands on your cheeks and pulls you into a sweet kiss. Suddenly your head is spinning and images flash behind your eyes. Images of you and him, together, in love until god separated you both. As punishment, for Lucifer betraying him, you both were cast out, soulmates ripped apart. Your memories of him were wiped and he was bound to a lifetime searching for you. When he pulls away you have tears in your eyes, “Luc” you lean up and kiss him again, this time more passionately.

“You remember me?”

“Yes! I’m sorry I ever forgot.”

“It wasn’t your fault mi amor, I was to blame for all this, but no matter. We’re together again and I will not let you go this time.”

His hand caressed your shoulders and the straps of your dress fell. With one tug, it pooled around your feet. You stepped out of it and reached up to push his coat off his shoulders. He backed you up until the back of your legs hit the bed, he lay you back gently, kissing his way down your body. He nudges your thighs apart and begins kissing the inside of them, slowly inching towards your aching pussy. He pulls your hips closer and slants his mouth over your core. His tongue searches through your folds, before finding the little pearl of your clitoris. Your nerve endings tingle with pleasure as you writhe beneath him. His gorgeous face rises from between your legs, a devilish smirk on his face. You grasp the sheets desperately trying to anchor yourself as a wave of ecstasy washes over you. Luc entwines his hand in yours, holding you steady. He kisses his way over your hips, along your stomach, sweeps his tongue over the peak of your breasts, before settling his body against yours.

He kisses your lips passionately before slowly inching himself inside you.

“Fuck mi amor……I forgot how tight you were. I love you.”

The weight of him on top of you feels perfect. His movements are slow and languid and you need more.

“I need you to move faster Luc.” You lock your ankles behind his firm ass, pulling him closer and urging him to go hard. You can feel the tight knot in your stomach threatening to unravel.

“I’m close baby, want you to come with me.”

He reaches between you and presses his thumb over your clit, rubbing circles.

“Fuck yes!”

You cry out as fierce waves of pleasure crash over you, your whole body trembling with the force of your climax. He thrusts into you once more before he follows you over the edge, blowing his seed deep inside you. He pulls out of you and you feel empty without him. He disappears into the en-suite to grab a wash cloth, before coming back and gently cleaning you up. He throws it on the floor before climbing under the duvet with you. Pulling you close he kisses your forehead.

“Te amo, mi amor. I am never letting you go again mi ángel. He will not take you from me again.”

“I am with you now forever mi amor.”

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[kirbee-hd]

Neil: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail.

Beetle: No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have used my one phone call to prank call the police.

[earlier]

Nicole: Commissioner Nicole speaking. 

Beetle: Is your refrigerator running?

Ant: maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along the way

Beetle: No, I want my fucking gold

F.B: You all don't know about my knife stick. It's a knife taped to a stick and it's the ultimate weapon.

Jessica, not looking up: Spear.

F.B: BLOCKED

Jessica: my immense self hatred VS my delusional god complex

Beetle: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Ant: Sure!

Ant: Whats your favorite color?

Beetle: Triangle. Do you like boys?

Jessica: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

Neil: Twelve, actually.

Jessica: Not the point.

Jessica: Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Neil: yours

Jessica: that's right: no one's

Ant: i'm asking permission to marry your brother.

Neil: what is this, the dark ages? you know what? since you’ve asked, no you can’t. beat me in a duel first.

Beetle: Can you do me a favour?

Ant: I would literally cover up a murder you committed, plant my DNA at the crime scene and take the blame for it if you asked me to.

Beetle:…okay.…so can you do the dishes?

Ant: No <3

Ant: normalize being out of the loop.

Ant: like what is even going on lol

Jessica: ENOUGH. pogchamp this and epic gamer that. stop it with this modern slang!! i say we should bring back phrases like the bee's knees and jeez louise and applesauce. bring back the superior slang

Jessica: BTW I know everything but don't ask me any questions because i don't like it

Nichole: How much longer are we going to wait?

Beetle: Just... give it a few more minutes.

Ant: *continues to forcefully push at a door that says pull on it*

Jessica @ Jack: Do you have any experience with children?

Jack: yah I chill all the time

Jessica: no I mean with babies?

Jack: ... I was one of those

At my funeral, take the bouquet off my casket and throw it in the crowd to see who’s next.

-Spring Heeled (Stingy) Jack

Neil: WHY IS THE FIRST AID KIT FILLED WITH SOUP?!

Beetle, bleeding out: well it was funny at the time

Jack: I have an idea

Jessica: Does it involve fire?

Jack: No

Fake Beetle: Does it involve burning something down?

Jack: No

Jessica: Let's hear it

Jack: ARSON

Jessica and Fake Beetle: NO.

what if, I showed you some of the Beetle N' Ant incorrect quotes I've been stockpiling?

NFJDNFKJSD please do fnka

[egcdeath]

hook, line, and sinker

summary: steve was never meant to be anything more to you than a check, a basic mission. but somewhere along the way, things had veered from that.

pairing: steve rogers x spy!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, bad decisions, betrayal, unhappy ending

author's note: it has been a minute since i've posted a fic! i hope you enjoy :)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Despite the different rooms you found yourself in, the harsh morning sun was always the first thing you saw in the morning. Its bright rays would peek through the room’s shades and land right onto your face, intruding on some of the more vulnerable moments of your life.

When you finally angled your face away from the beaming star, your tired eyes fell upon the man next to you. The man you should’ve never taken things this far with. A man on the run, who you were sent after.

You sighed softly as you became a bit more conscious, and a now slightly more awake Steve threw a large arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Don’t get up yet,” he mumbled softly against your ear. You nodded and relaxed further into the slightly stiff motel mattress, mentally snapshotting and framing this moment in time. Yet another to add in the five month scrapbook of your time with Steve. Time that you recognized was quickly running out.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes once more, to listen to Steve’s soft breaths as he inhaled the scent of you. It made your heart hurt knowing that within the next week you would no longer get to be in those arms. Knowing that you would have to wake up alone in a new apartment in a new country and wait for a new mission while the news on the television droned on about the nomadic Captain America being flushed out of hiding. That Steve was no more to you than a mission. That it was your fault that you had fallen so hard and so fast.

So you treasured it while you had it. Hummed contently as Steve massaged your side before peppering little kisses against your neck. Tried to absorb the stubborn tear that threatened to fall down your face at any moment.

“We have to leave today,” he whispered against your ear, sending goosebumps up your arm. “Natasha wants to meet you.”

Your eyes shot open and your brows momentarily furrowed, something you quickly attempted to play off with a wide smile. There was no way that she wouldn’t recognize who you were— despite being declared ‘dead’ years ago, you were one of the more esteemed spies in your community. What that also meant is that you had even less time with Steve than you’d expected.

“When are we leaving? Am I gonna have to get used to another time zone?”

“Probably a few. Nat’s already with Sam, but we heard there’s something weird going on in Scotland with Wanda and Vision.”

“Should I really be getting involved with this then? It sounds like some pretty intense Avenger business if the parts of the team you still communicate with are getting together. I can just stay here ‘till you guys are ready to come back.”

Steve gave you an ‘are you serious?’ look before breaking into soft laughter, “are you serious?” You nodded wordlessly in response. “Oh, you’re serious. I promise that you’ll be fine.”

“Well, things better not get weird,” you giggled right along with him, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s face so that you could look into his eyes. You took another mental picture of him. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to be the last.

——

After you prepared yourself for the long car ride ahead of you, you slipped your second burner phone out of the hidden pocket of your suitcase, you were met with several missed messages by the man who sent you on the mission in the first place.

What is the wait?

I was referred to you for a reason

Have you even found him yet?

I’m not paying for you to sit around and go to brunch all day.

Do I need to send more money for a plane ticket or something??

No, I’ve got it. He’ll be in custody by tonight.

He better be. Or else you won’t be around to see tomorrow.

You swallowed thickly. You wouldn’t be dealing with this in the first place if you weren’t so irresponsible. And if word got out that you were falling in love with your targets, your reputation would be in shambles. You should’ve known from the start that this could never end well.

Steve stepped back into the bedroom area, a goofy smile on his face at the sight of you sprawled out on your back on top of the dingy motel bed. “You ready?” he asked, sounding chipper. You assumed he was ecstatic that you were finally going to be able to meet his friends, which made your heart hurt even more.

For a moment you considered the possibility of not going through with it. Of going along with Steve, work, prestige, and that hefty bounty be damned. You would still be living life on the run, but you’d have Steve, and everyone else on his side on your side too. You’d have some semblance of a family, and maybe someday you’d have a real family and someone to grow old with.

You chastised yourself for getting soft before sitting up, “I’m ready.”

——

You weren’t ready.

You knew you had to move quickly, the sun was going down, and you’d made a promise that needed to be fulfilled, or god knew what would happen to you.

You reached for the volume dial on the radio portion of the car, and turned down the song that Steve was currently humming along to.

“We should probably get off on the next exit that has a gas station,” you prompted, “the tank’s getting pretty low.”

Steve’s eyes flicked down to the dashboard and he nodded in agreement, “you’re right. Good catch.”

Steve pulled the car off and drove you to the nearest gas station, humming pleasantly along to the music once again. Your stomach was twisting and untwisting knots with every foot you got closer to the station, knowing exactly what you would have to do once you arrived.

Somehow, this was the most nerve wracking moment of your career. Not infiltrating secret government operations, not pulling the trigger on a mark, not even seeing the message from Tony Stark asking for you to find a way to bring Steve in.

You hurried into the main building of the station, making up an excuse on the spot to go inside. You made your way into a bathroom stall, and slipped the phone you hid away earlier out of the extra pocket in your pants.

Your hands shook as you dialed the first two numbers. You took one last deep breath as your finger hovered over the final number. You had one last chance to change your mind, to go back out to the car like nothing had happened because nothing had happened. You would drive a little longer before staying in another shitty hotel, and think about how you made the right decision as you curled up next to Steve’s warm body.

But you couldn’t. You were given this mission, and you needed to complete it.

You pressed the last nine, immediately connecting with an emergency service operator. You gave them the tip that you had seen Steve Rogers pumping gas into a black Honda Civic, and provided them with your location. With every word, your voice trembled a little more. You were grateful for your proximity to a toilet, as the lump inside of your throat threatened to force the contents of your stomach up with every passing moment.

You hung up the phone and looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You could barely recognize yourself now, and you weren’t sure if that was from the flagrant betrayal of your partner, or the undermining of your own personal rules for the past five months of your life.

After reflecting on what you’d done for a few minutes, you made your way back to the car. You sat down in the passenger seat, lip trembling as you thought about Steve, and the fact that you’d laid a trap for someone you had such strong feelings for.

Steve sat down just a few minutes later, a smile on his face, and snacks from the gas station in his arms. As he passed you a water bottle, he couldn’t help but notice the tears slipping down your face.

“Hey, what‘s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked, dropping the rest of the items on his lap and leaning over the middle console to console you.

You began to full-on sob now, each tremble of your body filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Steve. I am so sorry,” you repeated.

“No, no, you’re okay. What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning as he wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“I- I had no other choice,” you wailed, “I’m sorry.”

His brows creased and he pulled away from you, betrayal evident in his features, “oh.”

You swallowed hard and shook your head.

“So this was the plan all along?” he questioned. Your lack of response seemed to answer the question for him. “Was any of this real?”

“All of it was, Steve,” you all but whimpered out.

He sighed deeply and leaned his head against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. He seemed to be searching for the words, but couldn’t quite put together what he truly wanted to say. It was silent in the car for a moment, aside from your quiet sniffles.

“I loved you,” he finally said, hurt evident in his delivery. The admission shook you to your core. You almost couldn’t believe that the first time you were hearing it was after you had put him into such a terrible situation. After you turned in someone that you cared about for your own gain.

“I know,” you looked away from Steve in shame, the look of hurt on his face now permanently imprinted in your mind.

The sound of sirens began to fill the air. Not too long after, you noticed the unmissable blue and red of emergency vehicles approaching your own. It was time.

You unlocked your door and exited without another word. You refused to look back to the car, keeping your head down and your eyes squeezed shut, knowing that if you had to see Steve being taken away, you might never get over the permanent sick feeling you were currently in the midst of.

You walked right inside of the building, stopping in front of an aisle of chargers and finally looking back at the mess that you had made.

“What’s going on out there?” the clerk asked from behind the counter, peeking out the large glass windows.

“I don’t know,” you feigned ignorance and casually shrugged, ignoring the fact that the sight of about a dozen police and SWAT vehicles was tearing you up inside. What were they going to do to him?

You turned away from the scene once again, pretending to browse through the low quality electronics next to you. You heard some yelling, a bit of a struggle, then it was all over.

The coast was clear. Your mission was over.

You left the store without purchasing anything. You moved sluggishly as you got back inside of the now abandoned vehicle.

You started the car once again. This time without the radio playing overplayed pop songs, and without Steve happily humming along. You stared blankly ahead of you, feeling numb above anything else. Steve's words resonated in your mind, bouncing around in your head as you attempted to make sense of what you just did.

Guilt was beginning to creep up on you in a way that you’d never experienced before. You immediately felt haunted by the ghosts of your memories with Steve. Of every entry in your mental scrapbook, of the final image of the hurt on Steve’s face as he confessed his true feelings for you. Of all, you were left with one terrifying thought.

You loved him too.

[mrfeenysmustache]

#5 and SessKag 😬

HELL YEAH SESSKAG. Also hello best friend 🥲 you’ll be seeing this when you wake up so good morning 🥲

This one ended up a wee bit longer than the others lol

“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life”

#5 on the fluff prompt list

She’d met him at a party.

A Christmas party.

He stood stiff and awkward in the corner, a head and shoulders taller than everyone else, his crisp, fitted suit clashing with the silly holiday sweaters the rest of them wore.

“That’s my brother,” Inuyasha, her best friend and brother-in-law, whispered to her as he passed her a cup of punch, “we just reunited and the family aint too happy about it.” and she understood.

She made her way over, determined to bring him into the fold, or at least make him feel more at ease and welcome.

“Hello,” she greeted, his golden eyes slanting her way. “I’m Kagome, Kikyo’s sister. You know, Inuyasha’s wife?”

“Hn.” He responded with a nod in her direction. “Sesshomaru.”

“It’s so nice to meet you! Can I get you a drink?”

She watched his nose twitch discreetly as he scented the drink in her hand, and then his lip curled up just slightly in disgust.

“Oh, not one of these.” She giggled in response, “I know where they keep the key to the liquor cabinet.”

He relaxed just the slightest iota, and she practically beamed.

“Whisky on the rocks.”

“Coming right up!”

He sipped his drink slowly as she filled him in on every name, occupation and marital status.

Aside from Kikyo and Inuyasha, they had Koga, the bachelor bartender, Sango and Miroku, the married couple who owned a sweet shop, and..

“Me, and I’m a nurse.”

“No significant other?”

His voice, deep and rich, made the hair stand up on her arms in a pleasant way, but she resolutely ignored it.

“Nope! It’s just me.”

“Hn.”

He said little else, but she didn’t get the impression that he was annoyed, so she stayed near him as the party progressed.

“Bye everyone!” She called from the door when it was time to go. “It was so good to finally meet you Sesshomaru, I hope you’ll be around more often!”

He gave her a nod and a little smile, and she went home for a peaceful night’s sleep.

——

He was there for their next group dinner. Inuyasha warned them in hushed tones before he arrived that he may be in a foul mood.

“Things with the family have gotten worse. He barely talks so it’s hard to know what’s happened. I know they don’t like that he’s reconciled with me after they tried to completely shut me and my mom out for not being yokai, but I think there’s more he hasn’t told me. Just don’t be surprised if he’s moody this time.”

“As opposed to how warm and conversational he was at the Christmas party?” Koga quipped, laughing with Miroku and igniting Kagome’s fe mper.

“Well I thought he was nice!” she cut in, blushing when several sets of stunned eyes turned on her at once. “He was!”

“Yeah we saw you two getting cozy in the corner all night.” Miroku said, waggling his brow suggestively.

“We weren’t ‘getting cozy’ you insufferable letch. He looked lonely and uncomfortable so I talked to him. That’s all. And he was nice.” She shrugged, and then the conversation died as Sesshomaru himself swept in.

He took the only seat open, the one next to her, and Kagome felt her heart twist as he simply sat and covered his face with his hands, ignoring everyone else as they chatted and cut up.

Enjoying time with her friends felt hollow with such a wounded soul sitting next to her, but she knew so little about Sesshomaru she worried she might cross some unnamed boundary.

She took a large gulp of her drink and laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

“Sesshomaru… are you alright?” She asked quietly, speaking soft enough to avoid getting the attention of her friends but loud enough that he would hear. After a long moment where she was sure he wouldn’t respond, he pulled his hands away from his face and slowly reached into his pocket. He pulled out his cellphone and tapped the screen once, lighting up a photo of a cute, smiling little human girl with melting brown eyes.

She looked between him and the phone screen, unsure what he was trying to communicate, but certain it was connected to the cause of his dark mood.

“This is Rin.” He clarified, voice pitched low and for her ears only.

“She’s adorable.”

“Hn. She is my daughter.” He met her eyes, and the gold of his glowed firm and defensive.

Suddenly, everything made a lot of shocking sense.

“They don’t like that you’ve adopted a human, do they? Your family?”

“No. They do not.”

Pulling her purse off the back of her chair, Kagome retrieved her own phone. She scrolled through her pictures for just a moment, until she found just the one she was looking for: a grinning little Fox boy holding up a scribbly crayon drawing.

She tilted her screen over, and Sesshomaru leaned nearer to see.

“My son.” She said simply, and though his reaction was so subtle no one sitting any farther away from him than her would notice, Kagome thought she’d seen him sag in relief.

“We should get them together for a play date.” She suggested, and they exchanged numbers with plans to do just that.

————-

Rin and Shippo got along swimmingly, and, surprisingly, so did she and Sesshomaru. He’d grown comfortable enough with her that their conversation consisted of more than just her babbling at him and hoping he was listening. They shared their adoption stories, how they’d found their children and came to be their parents, the challenges that came with adopting children outside your species, he opened up about the backlash he’d faced from his family when he first brought Rin home, backlash he’d expected but hoped against hope he was wrong about.

“Once she warmed my heart and showed me the folly of clinging to the prejudices I’d been raised with, I reached out to Inuyasha in hopes of establishing a relationship with my only sibling. I’d never even met him before, as he and his mother were never allowed around the family before father died. Afterward, everyone acted as if neither ever existed. Likewise, Rin will never meet the rest of her relatives.”

Kagome watched the two children chase each other as they squealed with laughter. Uncomplicated fun between a yokai child and a human child. Completely different species, but alike enough to play.

“If she ever needs a grandmother, I’m certain my mama would take her right in. She’s loved getting to spoil Shippo.”

He smiled, small but true, and she went a little starry eyed at the beauty of it.

“Hn. I will keep it in mind.”

————

Play dates evolved into real dates, and though her friends teased them, they took it in stride. Quiet and controlled in public, Sesshomaru was soft and demonstrative with her in private. She’d never felt so secure in a relationship before, and the firm but nurturing hand he had with both children made them all feel safe.

They spent more time all together than apart, and soon life felt empty if they weren’t all together.

Sesshomaru occasionally came over with a dark cloud over his head after a particularly nasty clash with family, but she’d simply run her fingers through his hair until the knots of tension were soothed. He was a strong, yokai influence for Shippo to learn from; she was a tender human mother for Rin to thrive from, and when Sesshomaru asked if they could join their families together permanently, no question in her life had ever had an easier answer.

And no answer had ever had such drastic consequences.

News got out and around fast, and one night, less than a week after their joyous engagement, Sesshomaru and Rin showed up at her door with a suitcase each, and dour faces.

“We need a place to stay…. A place to live.”

“Oh my gods, come in both of you.”

They spoke nothing of it at first.

Kagome kept busy feeding the children, getting them bathed, and tucking them in together to giggle h see their covers before falling asleep.

As soon as their door was firmly shut, she sat at the table across from Sesshomaru and laced her fingers through his.

“I have been disowned and disinherited.”

Unsure what to say, Kagome simply squeezed his hand.

“They tolerated the fact that I’d adopted a human daughter, but they would not stand for me falling into my father’s footsteps and marrying a human woman. My choices were my standing in the family, or you.”

Tears filled her eyes as him being here could only mean one thing: he’d chosen her.

“Oh Sesshomaru. I’m so sorry.”

“As the house I resided in was family property I was no longer allowed to stay, and I was fired from my father’s company and stripped of all my rights to any part of it. I’m afraid I come here with nothing to offer you now.”

She stood and rushed around the table and into his arms, hunkering down into his strength, hopefully lending her own.

“Stop that. I don’t want anything but you and Rin. That’s all I need. I’m just so sorry you had to lose your home because of me.”

He rested his chin atop her head and let her scent calm him.

“My home.” He mused, looking around the tiny apartment he’d hoped to move her out of soon when they were able to merge their lives into one. It would be cramped with all four of them there full time, but it was already chock full of their memories. They would figure it out.

“My home stopped being a place when you entered my life, Kagome.”

She wept and he held her, one of the only treasures he had left in the world, while the other two slept soundly and happily in their bed.

[visd3stele]

magic and kids

summary:

A/N: I really hope you like it. Thank you for your requests. Loved writing it.

art credit: @phantomrin

TW: none

@britishbookworm2 requested (if you want to leave a request as well, click)

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It's been four years since Taryn decided the mortal world would be a more suitable place to raise her child than Elfhame. Even if her sister was now High Queen, the fairies would still make life hard for her and her baby. Maybe not on purpose, she admits it. But magic runs wild, free and unstoppable. Used to it, the Fae Folk barely notices the dangers. And frankly, they don't care. Not allowed to use it on humans as cruelly as before, some meaner courts claim innocent ignorance. How can an entire society of enchanted beings change overnight? How could they be expected to adjust to human fragility all of a sudden?

So Taryn took her baby, promised her sister to visit and fled to Heather and Vivi's. It wasn't as hard as she'd thought. Getting used to the mortal world, that's it. And if her baby had longer canine than normal, or his ears sharpened to pointy edges to the top, it passed unnoticed. Her son certainly didn't stood out the way Vivi did, even with light brown eyes that looked orange in the sun and rusty red hair. He didn't need much glamouring either, not like Oak, Oriana or Madoc. By the time she sent him to preschool his hair was long enough to cover the ears and no one seemed to notice the teeth even without magic.

For all the talk Taryn did on how she wanted her son to be free of his father in all ways, snapping at Oak when the boy tried to teach him magic before he knew how to properly walk and forbidding her family to bring Fairyland up, she named him Renard.

Fitting, though not what she should have done. Maybe part of her can't let Locke go, not entirely. She knew he didn't particularly wanted the baby, that everything he promised her were pretty lies. But for a few months, it has been real. Their marriage, their love, their lives. She saw her dreams come true, one after another: the mistress of an important household, throwing parties for courtiers, motherhood.

Now that everything she wanted snaped broken in tiny little pieces carried away by harsh winter wind, Taryn Duarte couldn't phantom having her child become like his father.

"It has nothing to do with magic, for fuck's sake!" Vivi exploded once, after Taryn better than not threw Oak and Oriana - who came to visit - out of the apartment for trying to reach Renard's magic. "He won't become a sly, selfish fox if he can change appearance or grow horses out of leaves. It's all about his up-bringing!"

"I want him to be normal, Vivi! That's why I took him here!"

Renard has been barely one year old when the argument happened. But it was enough to take his mother's words to heart.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Four years old Renard and twelve years old Oak played outside, jumping in crusty piles of autumn leaves. The princeling hadn't given up his plans to teach his cousin magic. He refused to let go of such opportunity: a friend he didn't have to hide of, one he could play with like he used to in Elfhame.

"Hey, Ren-Ren," Oak said, "check this out!" The older boy held up his hand, brows furrowed in concentration, lip grazed between his teeth. Nothing happened for an alarming amount of time. And then... the leaves twirl around the two cousins, splashing then with guts of wind and scarce dew as it swept them up in a friendly tornado.

Renard chuckled in delight, stretching to catch some of the closer leaves. But as soon as he touched one, the whole thing fell apart. "No!" Do it again, Oak. Do it again."

"I'm sorry, Ren-Ren," Oak faked a yawned and laid on the ground. "Magic is very serious business. Very consuming. I'm too tired to even move." He let his eyes close dramatically, watching Renard between his lashes. Truth be told, every time he did magic Oak felt good. Vibrant. As if the earth itself reached out and gave him life. But Renard didn't need to know that yet. He can definitely learn it by himself if Oak's plan works out.

The younger boy pouted and dropped on the ground. "Not fair," he muttered to himself.

"You know, Ren-Ren, you're half fae. That means there's a pretty good chance you're magic too."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't know that. Come on, give it a try!"

"No, Oak! I'm not magic. I'm not like Father, I'm like Mom. Like Mom, just like that."

Oak straightened himself, but didn't rose from the ground. "Ok, Ren-Ren. Listen up. Magic is not bad. It's fun. Don't you think it's fun?"

"Yes!" Renard nodded enthusiastically. "It's super fun. When you do it, Oak." At that the named boy own enthusiasm faded away in an instant.

"Thank you, Ren-Ren," he deadpanned. "But do you know what's more fun than watching me practice magic?" Not giving the kid a chance to answer, to even take in the question, really, Oak said "To do it yourself."

"Do you really think I should try, Oak?" Clearly, the little boy was attracted to magic. And clearly something was stopping him. But his older cousin slowly made whatever that was seem less big and scary, dragging him along in his qualms.

"Totally!"

Renard pushed his lips forward with his tongue, sticking it out through the gap in his teeth. Caramel eyes shone with desire, his red hair flown around by a cold, pleasant wind. "Ok," he gave in, as expected. "How do I do it?"

The smirk that lightened up Oak's face can only be describes as evil. Though no ill intention hid behind it. Only the knowledge his plan worked out, just like his sister, Jude's.

"Listen to me very carefully, alright? There is not just one way to make magic, Ren-Ren. You have to find your own. But for now, try the basics. Think really hard on what you want to happen. Something easy. Got anything in mind?" Renard frowned, then his eyes landed on a tree which still had some green leaves on its branches and nodded.

"Perfect! Now, imagine whatever you want to happen. Imagine it happening. Are you imagining?"

"Yes."

"No!" Oak groaned. "If you're paying attention to me, then it means you're not focusing on magic."

"But how will I know what to do if I don't listen to you?"

"I told you! Magic is your own, Ren-Ren. It comes naturally. So, dig it up. Use your imagination."

Renard tried to shut out the world around him, picturing the sole tree in his mind. A warm pull tugged at him and he followed. His magic, he tried not to dwell on the joy, but instead focusing on his practice. His magic reaching out. Because he reached out first.

The boy allowed the warmth to take control, guiding him through it. The tree now carved in his mind by detail wasn't enough. He needed action. But just imagining the leaves to fall wouldn't do. Renard couldn't say how exactly he knew it. He just did. Something more tender was needed. The half fae kid had to imply what he wants and trust his magic to follow his lead.

So Renard made himself cold. Chilly. Feeling a breeze of wind creeping inside his clothes, whipping his skin gently. Enough to rip a leaf off a tree, though. Which it did. The wind he summoned couldn't be felt, not really. Only by himself and the green leaves that departed one by one from their branch as if plucked by an invisible hand.

Oak gasped. Then grinned. And then he laughed. Renard broke free of his concentration, pleased to see his magic didn't falter. Not until every and each green leaf from his chosen tree didn't fall. The sight made him still in awe for a couple of seconds. But soon enough he joined his cousin with a bubble laugh, jumping up and down and running to tackle Oak in a tight hug.

"I did it, Oak! I did it!"

"Yes, you did, Rem-Ren. Indeed, you did. Congrats!"

"Can we show auntie Vivi? And auntie Oriana?"

When Madoc and Oriana first came in the mortal world, Taryn wanted nothing to do with them. But years of being cared for by the blue skinned, white haired, pink eyes woman showed their tale. She agreed to see her, but only her. She could be part of her child life, if she wanted.

"Sure. But don't you want to show your mom first?"

"Mom and auntie Heather work a lot. We can show them later." Renard said, but he felt his magic shrinking at the thought of his mother. His Mom didn't like his father. And his magic comes from his father. Is that why his magic doesn't want to reveal itself near Taryn? He hoped it was just him overthinking it, because he loves his Mom and wants to share this with her.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Oak stayed with auntie Oriana, who was his mother, so Renard couldn't bring himself to be upset over it. He would want to be with his mother as much as he can as well. So he did a little trick for auntie Vivi, who told him to stay where he was, brought a camera and ordered him to glamour the tea cups again. Renard made them look like pumpkins, since the Halloween being over the corner made him impossibly anxious - in a good way.

Turns out even mortal technology can be fooled by fae's magic. Vivi showed the clip to Heather, who coed over him until Taryn came home.

"Hello, treasure. How was your day? Wanna give mommy a kiss?"

Renard jumped into his mother's arms, pressing a strong kiss on her cheek before starting to tell her about all the fun he had with cousin Oak. "And then he said I should try magic too."

Tamryn stilled. "And?"

"Look, Mom!"

Renard broke a vase, then, with a twitch of his fingers put it back together. "Auntie Vivi says I'm a natural."

"Does she? That's amazing, sweetheart."

But his mother didn't sound thrilled. In fact, her smile wasn't even a smile at all, but a thin line. "I'm sorry, mommy. I knew I shouldn't've done it, but I didn't know why. Now I know: you don't want me using my magic. It'll make me bad, like father."

Renard pushed his lips up front, scrunched his nose up, wiggled his toes, all in an atempt to stop the tears hurting his eyes from falling. When he realized it was in vain, he took off running to his room.

When Taryn entered minutes later she found her son curled on his left side in the middle of the bed, hugging a black goat plushie his uncle Cardan gave him on his birthday tight to his chest. She hated herself for causing the pain struck look on her son's face.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, Mom." Renard wiped his nose with his jumper's sleeve.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. Mommy was just scared, but that's not your fault. You could never be bad. Magic is not bad. Of course you can practice all you want, but we'll settle some ground, basic rules first. Ok?"

"Really?"

"Rules you can never, ever break. Really."

"Thank you, Mommy! You're the best! Just wait until Oak hears about it."

A/N: Renard means fox in french. Also: oops, guess I finished it earlier than expected and didn't really felt like waiting days to post it 😅

[writingsbychlo]

little drummer boy | drummer!dylan o’brien

word count; 10,892

summary; bumping into an old flame from your past with your son can have some odd repercussions.

notes; this made me tear up to write, brace yourselves for some deep feelings.

warnings; a little bit of heartbreak. that’s about it.

“Santa! There he is!” You grinned, gasping a little as your arm was jerked roughly, almost tripping over your own feet as the boy half your size pulled you along with twice your strength, and you were gripping onto his hand tightly just to not let him slip away as he took off.

The line was surprisingly short - but then again - it was the day before Christmas Eve, late at night and just before the mall was shutting, most of the crowds were filled with teens and young adults, meeting up with friends or going on festive-themed dates, before the big holiday date staring you in the eye, and even you had to admit that it was late to do any kind of last-minute shopping. “Baby, slow down! You’re hurting my arm!”

His speed did drop, bright and round eyes peering up at you, bottom lip jutting out slightly as he came to a halt just before the grotto. “I’m sorry, mommy, but look! He’s really in there!”

The teen dressed up as an elf out front did not look best pleased about having such a late-arriving customer, the girl putting down her phone, before doing her best to wear a bright smile as she greeted your son, taking his hand and guiding him towards the curtain covered entrance. You followed behind, snapping a picture of the bright smile on his face when he turned back to look at you, before he was disappearing behind the curtain. There was a loud laugh, a typical ‘ho, ho, ho’, and then the loud squealing of your little boy, clapping of his small hands, and your heart leapt in your chest.

Being a young mother was hard, and being a single mother was even harder, but moments like this made it all worth it, because as you covered your mouth to hide your chuckles so that he didn’t feel as though you were invading on his personal space. He was worth every hard moment, because you loved him with all of your heart, and now, he was pouring out his deepest desires out to the man dressed up as his idol, and you were noting it down.

The usual; chocolates, stuffed animals, a spider-man backpack, a onesie with the feet on. It was all stuff you’d already bought, gifts that you had wrapped up and hidden in your room, under the bed or on top of the wardrobe to keep them concealed, ready to stack up under the Christmas tree for him. You had big plans this year, the last few years had been tough, but with your son starting his first ear with full-time education, you’d been able to get a job, bringing some real money into the household for the two of you, and you felt like your life was finally picking up.

Leaving college hadn't been the bright experience that most people were able to boast of, jobs lines up and careers ahead, but you barely even finished your senior year, and nobody wanted to hire a college graduate who was sixth months pregnant, and ready to go on maternity leave, and you’d never had that same kickstart in life. It wasn’t how you expected it to go, to have a four-year-old by the time you were reaching your mid-twenties, but it was the way it had turned out, and so you’d made it work.

The final request caught your attention, a groan rising in your throat just at the implications of it, and you could already hear the banging on your front door of neighbours wanting to complain, or of the landlord telling you to keep it down, because a four-year-old set loose with a drumkit sounded like a recipe for disaster. You were going to ignore it, push down that desperate urge to make your child happy, but then there was a sign in the toy store just across the road, and you wanted to whine like an infant at the fact that subconsciously, you knew you’d already made the decision.  

The elf was standing at the exit, the pathway lined by candy-cane lanterns, and you made your way over to her quickly. “Can you keep him busy in there for five more minutes?”

“Huh?” She startled a little, looking up, and trying to put her phone away while she was on shift, as if it hadn't already been obvious both times.

You pointed across to the toystore, before looking back to her. “I’ll be right there, I’m going to go and order him that drumset he just asked for. Can you just keep him busy in there for a moment?”

She smiled a little, shrugging her shoulder, before peering back inside and nodding her head. “He’s chatting his ear off about the reindeers, anyway. Cute kid, really chatty, but in that entertaining and funny kind of way.”

You grinned, knowing it to be true, and thanking her, before you were dashing away to the shop. The grotto was still in your sight, you never took your eyes off of it, telling the store assistant that you had to be quick, to which they were more than happy to cooperate. You had it booked, paid for, and delivery set for later that night with the premium option, before you were dashing back over, just as your son was leaving.

He glanced around for a moment, before spotting you, his face lighting up as he dashed over to you, a golden package sitting in both of his hands. “Look, mommy, Santa gave me a chocolate reindeer!”

“He did? Are you serious?”

“Yeah! Look!” He thrust it upwards towards your face, and you took it from him, tucking it into your bag safely and taking his hand. “Can I eat it later?”

“You can have ice-cream or the reindeer, but not both. Which do you want?”

He pouted at you, wanting both, but you knew he couldn't take the sugar rush, and so despite his puppy-eyes, you were forced to be stern with him. “I want the ice-cream.” He grumbled the words out, taking your hand but not returning the squeeze you gave to him, choosing the reason that you had come to the mall in the first place. It had been a trip out for a sweet treat, but then he’d seen the signs to see Santa, and become completely distracted.

“Good choice! I bet they have some rocky-road left, and you love the little marshmallows, right?” He nodded eagerly, the two of you stepping towards the escalators, stepping onto the machines, and he bounced excitedly always loving the moving steps, holding on tightly to the bannister. Live music was playing, a band set up on the stage below, and you couldn’t see much, the large crowd gathered around them making it hard for you to make the name out, but they were pretty good, you had to admit, and your snow as staring at them in awe.

More precisely, he was staring at the drummer, a soft laugh to yourself leaving your lips as you watched him stare on with rapt attention. There was something familiar about the man, even from this distance, you couldn’t make out much about him, and as you stepped off of the machinery at the bottom floor, he was obstructed from your view, and so you shrugged it off.

“Do you want to go and watch the band?”

“Can we really?” He was so excited, and you treasured knowing your child well enough to get that kind of reaction from him, nodding your head and pushing him toward them a little.

“Just for a few songs, then we’ll get ice-cream, before you get tired, okay?”

He hummed his acknowledgement, already distracted, and trying to pull you around the edges of the crowd to get to the front. When he couldn’t get through, the song building as it started coming towards an end, he let go of your hand, small stature making it much easier for him to duck and weave between the people, disappearing from your sight as he headed toward the stage, and your heart leapt up into your throat.

You couldn't see him, trying to remember was he was wearing so that you could start picking him out, nudging through the crowds and past people, panic beginning to build in your throat. Ten minutes passed, the crowd thinning and the songs coming to an end, and yet you still couldn’t find him. Whipping around on your heel, you tried to find him, spinning in circles, feeling like you could barely breathe, before his voice was calling out to you.

“Mommy!”

You could scarcely tell the direction in which he was shouting from over the new, classical hymns playing over the crackling mall speakers. You were looking at the floor, hearing him shout from a little closer, and you looked up, finding him sitting above the crowds. His hands were waving to you, wobbling a little bit from the height, and you were scared in an entirely new way, because he was sitting up on someone’s shoulders.

“Can you see your mom, buddy? Which way?”

He pointed, and you felt a vague spark of familiarity run through you at the muffled sound of the voice through the crowds, before your son was moving toward you as you moved toward him. When you got there, you could have cried in relief, watching as two strong arms lifted him down from broad shoulders, before you were taking him into your arms, holding him to your chest and cupping the back of his head.

You’d never had that kind of scare before, the stinging in the back of your throat making itself known as you tried not to cry, feeling him hug you back just as tightly. Finally, you crouched down, letting him stand on his own two feet once again, before you were taking a deep breath, and pulling back to look at your son. “Don’t do that to me! Do you know how scared I was? You know not to run off!”

“I wanted to see the band!”

“You have to wait for me, alright? Never run off on your own!” He nodded, tears lining his eyes as his head hung, and you felt a pang of guilt for shouting at him, but it was unnecessary evil, and you tried not to cry in front of him, tipping his head back up. “It’s okay, I’m not mad anymore. Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m sorry, mommy.” His voice cracked a little, and you sighed, hugging him close to you once again, and his little arms wrapped around your neck. You took a moment to glance up, eyes narrowing on the man who’d brought you back your son, something like nostalgia washing over you, and he was fixing you with the same look, before his eyes were widening. It only took you a second longer to process it, before recognition was coming crashing down over you, and you were gaping at him. Standing to your full height, you took him in a little more clearly, eyes sweeping over his face, and you felt like your breath had been punched from your lungs.

“Dylan?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” There was a sweet tone to his voice, words you’d heard in that tone so many times before, a dull-aching in your chest, but your lips formed a smile nonetheless, drowning in how it felt to be around him once again.

It had been years, and that time had been kind to him. The baby face you’d known was gone, the sweet smile had matured, a cocky smirk accompanying it, something playful and cheeky, stubble lining the skin that had once been smooth, neat but messy, scruffy in a way he perfected, and the buzzcut he’d always worn had grown out into longer strands, matted to his forehead a little from sweat, and you licked at your lips, taking him in. The one thing that hadn't changed, though, was the way those honey-brown eyes still swirled with some kind of deep affection and emotion that you were drowning in.

His eyes dropped down to your son, and you placed your hands on his shoulders, watching the slightly nervous look that flickered over his features as he met your gaze once again. “You have a son.”

“Yeah, he’s four.” He let out a little sigh of relief, both of you swallowing thickly, before he was letting the tension go, his shoulders dropping, and he was holding his arms out for you. You were quick to fall into his arms, feeling the solid muscle beneath that was a new development, and you felt something shift into place as you were wrapped in his embrace once again. It had been so long, years since you’d seen him, leaving for college and thinking he was just someone who would fade away into your memory, and you’d never expected that you would run back into him at a mall charity performance for Christmas, but at least one of you had achieved your dreams, he was pursuing his music, and you couldn't be prouder.

“Mommy! You know a famous person!”

You both let out a laugh, releasing one another and you tried to ignore the heat crawling up your cheeks at the embarrassment of having almost forgotten where you were. “Yeah, kiddo, this is Dylan. He’s a drummer!”

“I know! I saw him on stage!”

Dylan crouched down before your son, a beaming smile on his face. “You looked pretty good yourself, buddy. Playing air drums! Do you want to be a drummer?”

“Yeah! Santa is going to bring me a drum kit!” Dylan’s eyes flicked up to you, and you rolled your eyes fondly, but nodded your head in confirmation, and Dylan looked back to your son.

“You saw Santa, then? How lucky are you?” He poked at your son’s side, the boy curling up and laughing in a fit of hysterics and being tickled, and having such attention on himself, and you hated the way your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest at the sight.

“Yeah! We’re going for ice-cream, too!”

“Oh, you are? It must be Christmas, look at all the treats you’re getting!” He stood back up, using his free hand to take Dylan’s and you could’ve choked on your own breath at the sight.

“Will you come for ice-cream with us?” You froze, jaw dropping, before looking back over to the stage, and your son was staring at your expectantly, Dylan looking down at the boy, clearly at a loss for words too, and he was tugging at your hands needily. “He can come too, right, mommy?”

“Yeah, sure.” You didn’t have to think much about the decision, and Dylan smiled a little. “You don’t have any more sets to do, right?”

“No, I just have to pack up the drums, the rest of the band can take it out, and I’ll catch a cab home.”

“Cool. We’ll, uh, meet you there, then?” Dylan only nodded, staring at you for a second longer, before you could feel your son swinging your arms with boredom, and you cleared your throat.

“I’ll be there soon.”

You could only nod, pointing out the little store you would be going to on the other side of the mall, and he nodded, walking backwards away from you both, scratching at the back of his neck, and waving to your son before turning back and going ahead to start disassembling the instruments.

You followed after your son, mind spinning, barely able to hear the words he was saying as he chattered away beside you, because you felt like you were drowning in your thoughts. Your son had his face all but pressed to the glass, breath fogging up the cool surface as he stared at the different flavours, the woman behind the counter cooing at him as she held the little cardboard cup in her hands.

When he finally chose a scoop of rocky-road, a scoop of mint, and a scoop of strawberry swirl, you paid for both your own, and another pot, handing her over the money, before grabbing the little plastic spoons and letting him lead you over to the booth in the back, watching him run away toward the hidden leather seats in the back, gripping his pit in both hands, and it was a relief that he simply didn’t drop it.

As he climbed up, you settled in beside him, and he was already pushing a spoon of ice-cream into his mouth, before looking down at your pot. “Why do you get more than me?”

“Because adults and big kids can handle more! You don’t want to get a brain freeze, do you?” His face screwed up at the implication, and you laughed, kissing the top of his head. You pulled away, lifting up your own spoon, and tucking into the frozen treat. You were a little calmer now, trying to sift through your thoughts, and the little bell over the door to the fifties style ice-cream parlour dinged, a familiar body walking through the door, and you felt like you were reliving the last day of senior summer all over again.

He took his seat, eyes widening a little as he saw the pot of mango and vanilla sitting there. “You got me ice-cream?”

“Is it still your favourite?” You offered, taking a bite of your own, and he nodded, staring down at it for a second, before raising his hands to pick up the cardboard and the spoon.

“Yeah, it is. I just can’t believe you remember that, is all.”

You opened your mouth to speak, before your snow as taking over, jumping straight into asking your old friend what it was like to be in a band, both of you laughing, before he was beginning to answer all of the questions being fired at him. It was incredible, to watch you son interact with someone else, he often took a while to warm up to anyone else, and your heart was warming and aching at the same time, because it had been so long since you’d had someone in your life, romantically or simply as a friend. After all, you just never had time for it.

His foot stretched out under the table, wrapping around your ankle, and you jumped a little, looking up to him and not realising you’d even tuned out, but he was already looking at you. Stretching his hand out across the tabletop, you slipped your hand into his after only a moment of pause, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles, and you sighed, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second.

He squeezed, trying to pull your attention back to him as the smaller boy wittered on in his ear, finally giving up as he took a deep breath, having talked himself in a circle. Your son was nudging your arm, trying to push up underneath, and you chuckled lifting it up so that he could cuddle into your side.

“What are you doing for Christmas, Noah?”

“What I always do!” He said, a tone to his voice that read as ‘duh!’ and you grinned, rubbing his arm lightly as he covered his mouth to hide a yawn, but he wasn’t overly tired yet, and you wanted to soak up the last few minutes you could with the man you’d lost touch with so long ago.

“Tell him all about it, baby.”

“Well, I always get to sleep in super late, and mommy puts on a movie for me! She makes pancakes for breakfast!” He cheered, and you softened a little, never knowing it mattered that much to him, never actually having heard he day from his perspective before.

“Pancakes with little chocolate stars?”

“Yeah! They’re super good!” Your gaze met whiskey-brown, arching a brow at him, and he shrugged lightly, a sad smile on his face. You’d forgotten the times you’d make them for him, all those years ago when the pair of you were just teens, when he’d stay over at your house, still under your parent’s supervision, sleeping on the couch after a study and movie date, eating breakfast with you in the morning and stealing kisses when your parents weren’t looking before the two of you would sit at the table, hiding your smiles and blushing.

“I bet they are, buddy.”

“Then, we open presents together, and this yearn my teacher helped me make one at school! It’s a secret, but I can tell you if you want?” He leaned over the table, all but crawling across it, holding up his hand to cover his mouth as he whispered in Dylan’s ear, the older man laughing a moment later, before turning to look at you and grinning. When your son had settled back into your side, he took only a moment to ponder where he was. “We watch some more movies, and then mommy lets me help her with the cooking, before we have dinner! There’s turkey, and Christmas crackers! They have crowns in, you know. We are going to call grandma and grandpa, too.”

“That sound fun, Noah. The best Christmas ever!”

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

Dylan looked a little taken aback by the question, gaping for a moment, before shrugging, looking a little sheepish. “I’m not doing anything this year. I’m on tour, and I moved to a new house. I don’t have anything.”

“Not even a tree?” Noah seemed utterly distraught just at the idea, his arms crossing over his chest as Dylan confirmed that he didn’t even have a tree, and you felt bad for him, despite how funny it was to see your son’s reactions.

The conversation moved on after that, until your son was slumping in your arm, eyes fluttering a little, the late hour moving on as the conversation began to circle around you and him, more on catching up and finding out where one another’s lives had gone during college and beyond, and there was a lot more of you listening than talking, not having all that much to add to the conversation. You were happy for him, you truly were, and you wouldn't trade in Noah for anything in the world, but it still stung a little to sometimes hear where your life could have gone.

The hand in your own shifted, pulling you to stand up, and he nodded to the boy in your arms who was practically asleep. He walked with you, mumbled conversation to help him sleep, and you didn’t miss, nor loathe, the arm that wrapped around your waist as you stepped out into the cold and now empty parking lot, fingers tracing over your bare skin as they tucked under the edge of your jumper, a shover running along your body as he did.

When you finally reached your car, you took a moment away to tuck him into his car seat, pulling a blanket up for him, and leaving the door open, his head lolling to the side as he snoozed.

“He’s a really cute kid.” You smiled, brushing some hair out of his face, before looking back up to your old flame. “I can’t believe you have a son.”

“We’re all grown up.” You teased, and he dragged his gaze along you, sighing somewhat dismally, before that cheeky cross between a smile and a smirk was back, the same one that had been subtly combined with flirty comments all evening.

“You grew up real nice, though.” You pushed at his arm, rolling his eyes, a laugh you were accustomed to following as you grinned, and he ran his fingers along your arm, taking a hold of your hand. “I missed you, you know. For so long, I wanted to call you so many times, but we agreed to move on, and I thought that was best for you, but I really wish I’d been a part of your life.”

A lump in your throat, one you struggled to try and choke down, burning in your eye signalling tears, and you blinked them away, shrugging slightly. “We were kids, Dylan. We pinned all our hopes on getting into the same colleges, and that didn’t work out. You went your way, and I went mine. We would’ve been holding each other back trying to make a relationship work from opposite ends of the country.”

“I can see that.” He joked, nodding his head toward the car, and you exchanged sad smiles. Awkward silence took over, a feeling you’d never once experienced with Dylan before, and you hated it, feeling as though you were crawling in your skin.

“Will you still be around here at Christmas? I know you’re on tour, but, are you moving on soon?”

“I actually live in the area, I got a house a couple of months ago. I haven’t got my stuff here yet, I’m waiting until I finish tour for that, but I’ll be here.” You were surprised, to say the least, shrugging a little, glancing back at your son once, before deciding you were allowed to have one selfish decision, seeing as you’d given up everything you had for your child.

“Well, no one should be alone on Christmas Day, so, do you want to come over? We have dinner at about three, but you can come at any time.”

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart?” You knew what he was questioning, the trouble not really being your son, but the both of you, the spark of a flame that had never really gone out coming back to bite back at you with flickering flames, and you considered it for only a moment, already knowing what your answer would be.

“I’m certain, I promise. It’ll be fun.” He used his other hand to fish his phone out of his pocket, handing it over to you, and letting you put your number into it. When you gave it back to him, he smiled down at it, biting the inside of his cheek to contain it, and squeezing your hand even tighter.

“Feels a little like déjà vu to be getting your number again.”

“My number never changed.”

“Yeah, but I deleted it one night when drunk, so that I wouldn’t call you and take it all back.” It was a comment that hit deep, and you pursed your lips, eyes cast downwards, but he wasn’t having any of it, tipping your head back up, and frowning at your glossy eyes. “I’ve always hated it when you cry, please don’t. We’re reunited now, and I couldn't be happier, everything works out one way or another, right?”

“I missed you.” Your voice cracked, and he just nodded his head, leaning in a little to press his lips to your cheek. Stubble brushed over your lips, your breath hitching in your throat, and he pulled back, the tip of his nose dragging to meet your own. His breath was fanning over your lips, you could taste the fruity essence still on his tongue, and just as your final inhibitions made to make an exit, you hear the grumble of your son in his sleep, both of you jumping in surprise.

“Mommy, can we go home, now?”

“Yeah, baby, we can.” You promised, closing the car door and stepping away a little to the driver’s seat door, and Dylan let go of you, reluctantly, finding his own keys. “I hope you call, I’d love for you to spend Christmas with us.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

You beamed, getting into your car, watching in the mirrors as he walked away, before finally, you were starting up the car and heading away towards your home, never having been able to guess when you left a few hours ago that this would’ve been the outcome of the evening.

You were watching your son gather up the wrapping paper littered across the floor, dashing round in his new set of pyjamas with the tag still hanging at the neck, and sweeping up all the wrappers of paper. The drumkit was set up in his bedroom, and he had a slight sugar-high on chocolate coins, the smell of turnkey filling the room, and you’d never been happier. This was by far the best Christmas that you’d ever had with your son, a stable job and the prospects of making your way up in the world alongside your little boy, and so you couldn't have been happier.

Holding the mug in one hand, you placed the half-drunk tea down on the table beside you, catching your son as he ran past with a handful of ribbons and scraps, tugging the tag loose from his collarbone, adding it to the pile of waste in his arms that he was about to attempt to cram into the bin.

There was a knock at the door, your eyes flicking up to the clock, widening a little at the time, not realising just how late it had gotten into the afternoon, and you glanced down at yourself, pyjamas still clad on your body. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed, you were a single mother enjoying her day off on her first successful Christmas Day with her boy, and yet, this was the first time you were going to be reunited with the person who you’d thought was left behind all those years ago.

There wasn’t much you could do now, and so you made your way to the front door, swinging it open to greet the man on the other side. He was wearing sweatpants, and a comfy looking hoodie, hood pulled up over his head but a wide smile on his face as she saw you, and you leaned on the door frame, shaking your head as you looked at him.

“You’re in pyjamas.”

He looked down at himself, ties on his dirty Adidas still unlaced and hanging loose, and he shrugged. “Everyone spends Christmas Day in pyjamas.” He bent down a little, picking up the bags he’d put down, a single brow arching as you looked at him. “You always spend Christmas Day in pyjamas, I remember that.”

You could only roll your eyes fondly, heart racing in your chest, and stepping out of the way to let him inside. Noah was quick to race forwards, throwing himself into Dylan’s body with such force that he stumbled a little, a laugh leaving you as you locked the door up once again.

“Hey, buddy, how are you?”

His hands were thrust up in the air, and Dylan huffed for only a moment, before leaning down to drop the bags and scoop the boy up into his arms. It was an adorable scene, watching the way your son’s face lit up with pure joy at having someone else to interact with, a male figure in his life, no matter how brief or fleeting it may be. Noah was chewing his ear off about everything he'd gotten as gifts, and you made your way through to the kitchen to check on the food.

The turkey was almost done, the potatoes were just growing to be perfectly crispy, and you took the tray of sliced vegetables out of the fridge, slipping them onto the bottom tray of the oven to begin roasting. Your coffee was going cold, and so you swapped it out, lifting a glass down from the cabinet and filling it up under the tap.

You dared to venture back out into the apartment, following the voices along the corridor to your son’s room, the door cracked open, and he was spinning on the new chair set up with his drums, little hands smoothing over the surfaces of the sets, and you’d never seen a smile so bright on his face as he spoke to your longtime friend about his new passion for music. Knocking your fingers on the doorframe, both of the men turned to look at you, curious gazes on their faces, wide eyes and smiles, and you almost could’ve been fooled for a second, about whether or not they truly were related.

“Can an amateur join the experts, or are musicians allowed only in here?”

“Well, we have to have an adoring fan, don’t we?” Dylan teased, and you rolled your eyes, remembering a time when he’d called you such a thing while pressing kisses to your face until you laughed, tucking you under his arm while he was all sweaty and learning his own drum kit a decade ago, and now, he was making money from his music and touring for his latest album. “Actually, speaking of that, I have something for you. Why don’t you go grab the bags from the floor in the hall, Noah?”

The child nodded, bolting away from you, and Dylan raised himself up from where he’d been kneeling on the floor, brushing himself down, and standing taller than you once again. “You got him a gift?”

“Got one for you, too. I couldn’t show up with nothing to offer.”

“Well, you were invited, so it really wasn’t any trouble.” The rapid padding of feet caught your attention, floppy hair caught on the breeze of his movements, before he was skidding to a stop in front of you, crashing into your leg in his excitement, and you chuckled slightly. “Maybe we take a little break on the sugar, huh?”

“It’s turkey time, anyway.” He retorted, handing them over to Dylan, and he sorted through them, lifting out a box with a ribbon tied neatly across the front, and giving it back to the boy. It only took him seconds to tear the ribbon and the wrapping from the gift, before he was tipping it upside down to shake the contents free, paper fluttering to the ground around them as a set of small sticks fell out across the floor. “They’re drumsticks, mommy!”

With one in each hand, he was waving them at you excitedly, the polished wood being far more high-quality than the simple ones that the kit had come with, the set provided making you worry he may get splinters but these were glossed and smooth shining a little, and as he turned them in his hands, he found his name carved into the wood at the base of each handle.

“They have my name in! N-O-A-H! See!” He was thrilled, holding them upside down as he showed them off, and you turned to look at Dylan when the young boy dashed over to pound at his drums with no rhythm or tune whatsoever.

“That might be the sweetest gift that anyone has ever given him. Thank you. How the hell did you manage to pull that off in time for Christmas?”

He tapped at the side of his nose, a smirk on his lips as he kept his secrets, and you suspected that it had something to do with his fame, pulling the card on his name and status just to get it done in time. “I have something for you, too.”

“I don’t need anything, Dyl.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.” He pressed the remaining bag into your arms, and you chuckled, peering into the wine bag first, and grinning at the contents that it held. It was the same bottle of wine that his mother and father used to drink, the same brand that you’d always steal half a glass from each when you tried to have romantic dates in at his house, still too young to drink when you’d been together. “Will you open it, already? I’m kinda’ nervous about how you’re going to react.”

He let out an anxious laugh, holding the wine for you as you fixed him with a questioning gaze, before opening it up. It was large and flat, wrapped neatly in a glittery Christmas gift-paper, and you ran your thumb under the seal, wincing a little bit at a loud crashing of the cymbals from your son. Pulling out the gift, you revealed a sleek black photo frame, a picture of the night sky, marking off a certain star, with a name and a dedication, and some facts about it written underneath, your breath catching in your throat.

It was new, but was just like the one you’d been given so long ago, when you’d had no money and had to buy one another simple gifts, and Dylan had named a star for you and gifted it to you for Valentine's Day, a tribute to the midnight picnic he’d taken you on for one of your first dates.

“Dylan..”

“Do you like it? Because you’ve never really been one for materialistic gifts, and I know how much you liked the first one.” He was rambling, an adorable trait you were happy to see that he'd retained into his adulthood, and you cut him off by lacing your fingers with his own. He went silent, gaze dropping down to your connected hands, before he was looking back up to you, lips forming a sweet smile as he stared at you. Dragging him along behind yourself, he was more than happy to follow, away from the noise your son was making with his new hobby, and opening the door to the room at the end of the hall.

He stepped inside, eyes sweeping over the simple furniture and decorations, before landing on the wall near where you stood, a look you couldn't quite decipher crossing over his features. The original gift, hanging in place on your wall, still in its frame, the paint dull and chipping off, but a perfect match to the new one you’d been given, and he let out a sudden and ragged breath.

“You still have it.”

“Of course, I do.”

He swallowed thickly, gaze flickering over to the image on the wall, for just a moment, before he was turning glossy eyes back to you. Settling a hand on your jaw, his thumb brushed over your cheek in a way that brought all kinds of old feelings rushing back, your eyes closing as your face tipped into his hand. Rough and calloused palm, something you were used to, and you let out a weak laugh. “I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you t-”

“Dylan! Will you teach me a song?” The sharp voice made your eyes snap open, your head snapping back up as heat crawled at your cheeks, your son standing in the doorway and staring up at your both innocently, no idea about the tension between you, and his hand fell from your face, dancing along your arm before taking your hand in his, and squeezing lightly.

“You’ll have to ask your mom, do we have enough time before dinner?”

“Do we, mommy? Please?”

They absolutely didn’t, but with the way he was staring up at you, there wasn’t a chance you could say no, and so you nodded your head, watching as the love before you were stolen away by your cheering son, dragged down the corridor by his hand. He was clearly craving time with another man, just wanting that kind of influence, someone to share his music with, and there was only so much you could do for him before he started craving other people’s company, and you were just glad you’d run into someone from your past who you wanted to welcome, the only person you wanted to welcome.

It wasn’t how you’d expected to have a child, not the way you’d always imagined it would be, and certainly not who you thought it’d be with, but the man in there right not, teaching your son a song from his band as somewhat reasonable music flowed through the home you’d built, was exactly who you’d always pictured it all with, a bittersweet feeling settling over you. Not only were you picking back up emotions you thought you’d left behind, but your son was growing a rapid attachment to him, and you didn’t want to have to break it to him one day when Dylan went back on tour, or settled down with someone else, and break your son’s heart, as well as your own.

You gave them their space, letting Noah soak up all the guy-time that he was going to get, and you lifted the turkey out onto the top of the oven to rest. Everything else followed, the meal falling together as it was all placed into dishes and jugs, plates and cutlery being laid out around the table, drinks following, a plastic cup in your son's place, and an elegant glass in the adult seats.

The table was filled, and you took your time, making sure it was all perfect, even placing a Christmas cracker on top of the plates. Carrying the turkey through, the table was complete, and you swept up your phone, heading through to call the boys to dinner. The sight that met you wasn’t much further from what you were expecting, but picturing it in your mind and actually having it happen were two completely different things. Dylan was sitting on the stool, Noah on his lap, larger hands wrapped around smaller ones as your son all but screamed with joy every time he was directed into the right places, hitting the drums with force as he learned, guided in his movements.

Bringing up your camera, you switched to filming, catching the two of them on camera as Dylan sang the lyrics to the song lowly, practically mumbling them in tune with the beats of the drums, pausing and dragging them out when the rhythm stumbled, but he paused when he caught sight of you in the doorway. Your son looked up only a second later, the anger at having been interrupted melting away, and he dropped the sticks down.

“Dinner time. Come get it before it goes cold.”

Your son raced ahead, Dylan picking up the drum sticks and placing them on the kit carefully, before following after you, a slight jog to his steps audible as he caught up, a hand placed on your lower back as you walked alongside one another. Noah was already in his seat, sipping at his juice as he stared longingly at the food, imploring the two of you silently to hurry up, because he was desperate for his favourite meal of the year.

You had placed him at the head of the table, with you and Dylan on either side, and he was patting the tabletop gently with his hands, busying himself, but you knew that look. If you were any slower, he would reach out and just start pulling bits off of the bird with his bare hands, ruining the meal entirely.

You started with your son, cutting him off an appropriate portion on the meat and placing it down onto his plate, before letting him fill it up with vegetables, potatoes, and all the extras, as much as he wanted. Dylan was next, mumbling his thanks into your ear as you leaned over him, placing it down on his plate, and then, he was joining your son with filling up his plate. You followed suit, before the chatter was taking over at the table.

Noah wanted to snap the crackers as soon as possible, placing a paper crown on your head as soon as he could, and giggling hysterically at the jokes as they were read out, before reading off a list of other Christmas jokes that he seemed to have somehow memorised. You guessed that they were from school, but you weren’t confident.

He also recounted some of his favourite stories to Dylan, ones you had already heard but were more than happy to listen to again; his first day at school, getting to know his classmates, going to his friend Harry’s fifth birthday party, and how excited he was himself to turn five in a few months. In turn, Dylan told him all about what it was like to go on tour, to be a rockstar and get to travel all over the world.

Pictures followed, and these you were intrigued in, listening to him share about how he was living his dream, all the places and experiences he'd seen and taken part in, and you were happy for him, you truly were, seeing that he had gotten everything he’d ever wanted out of life. There was a time, late nights that could almost be termed early mornings, when you’d be lying with his arm around you, head on his shoulder, staring up at the ceiling in a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt, talking about your hopes and dreams, and while you were yet to achieve your’s he was already living his.

You were no longer still in touch with that many people from your past, having been too embarrassed when you first became pregnant and got left behind to face any of them, and then having been too busy in the first few years as you tried to keep yourself and your son afloat, and now, you were simply too proud. Perhaps they had jobs and a career, but they were mostly still the arrogant youths you’d known in high school or college, but none of them had created a life, none of them were parents yet, or at least as far as you’d known when losing touch with them, but you loved who you were now.

Your son loved him, he never stopped talking, and somehow, Dylan managed to keep up with it. The subject seemed to change with every other sentence, and even your head was spinning, but Dylan never fell behind, skipping between topics and always having an answer to Noah’s questions or statements, keeping the conversation jovial and jolly, all throughout the evening.

Dessert came rocking around, and you were simply left watching, cheeks aching from your smile as you watched the two interact, never having felt more content than you did right now. All little girls dreamed of their futures, of what their wedding would be like, who they’d fall in love with, their house and their kids, and maybe you did things a little out of order, maybe there was a wedding to come one day down the line and you already had the kid, maybe it would be a while before you could afford that dream house, but you knew you’d get there someday.

You began to clear away when the boys made their way through to the living room to check out the rest of their gifts, and to play with all of the little trinkets that had fallen out of the crackers. There was still over half of a box left, and you could hear the distinct popping sounds each time they tore open a new one, only to crack up laughing about the jokes - even if Dylan’s was a little forced, just to match Noah’s - and the pile of toys they must be building.

When they finally appeared in the doorway, it was with multiple hats on each of their heads, Dylan lifting your son up in his arms so that he could place some more onto your head, the paper spilling down into your eyes, before you were able to lift it up. The boys were smiling at you, your son perched on Dylan’s hip, staring at you expectantly, matching grins that weren’t quite the same but were just as cheeky, and you raised your brows.

“What are you boys up to?”

“We made a house of cards from the mini packet in the crackers!” Noah offered, and you beamed, turning off the taps as hot and soapy water filled the basin. “But then it fell down, so we opened the other crackers.”

“Did you tidy up all the rubbish?”

Both of their faces paled a little and it was your turn to smirk, before Noah was wriggling to be set down, and going to tidy up, as he was supposed to. Being left alone, even for just a second, Dylan was stepping a little closer to you, hands on your hips, as he leaned over you to leave a chaste and sweet kiss pressed to your cheek.

“Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.” His breath fanned over your skin as he whispered the words, before he was dipping his head to press a kiss to your shoulder, a moment far too intimate and domestic for you to be able to handle as you thought about the upcoming point of the evening when you’d have to let him go, and so you simply hummed, offering a smile in return, before nodding your head toward the towel on the counter.

“I’ll wash, you dry?”

He grinned, taking up on the offer, and snatching up the material to work alongside you, cleaning away the mountain of dishes that had been created. Once Noah had finished tidying away the rubbish and put away all of his new toys in his room, he was coming in to sit at the table, fixing the stereo to play his favourite Christmas songs, and even helping to put away the dishes that he could reach in the lower cabinets.

As the end of the night closed in, you could hear him resisting his yawns, his singing fading out, before he was crossing his little arms over the table and resting his cheek on top of them, choosing to hum along sleepily as day turned to night. When the cleaning was finally one, the day coming in towards an end, you scooped him up, letting him curl into your body as his face pressed into your neck, clinging to you loosely.

He was exhausted, and he’d been up all day, the sugar high and the thrill of the day washing away, and tomorrow he’d be just as excited to wake up and eat leftovers while getting to know his toys, not having had a chance to fully appreciate them yet, but he would indulge himself in them all over the next few days. The Christmas tree was still sparkling, the room cast over with colourful shadows from the crazy decorations you’d put up, the darkness pouring in from outside, and you turned to face Dylan.

“I’m going to put him to bed, can you turn on some lamps, and such?”

Dylan only nodded, but your son perked up as he heard about his upcoming bedtime, rubbing at his eyes and blinking to try and clear his haze.

“G’night, Dylan.” He was cut off with a yawn once again, and Dylan grinned, stepping forwards and tipping the boy’s head down, pressing a kiss to his hair, before tapping him on the tip of his nose.

“Goodnight, Noah. Thank you for leaning one of my songs, maybe you’ll even replace me one day.”

“We can make our own band.” He whispered in return, reaching out to loop his arms around the man’s neck, and the two shared a touching hug, before you were carrying him away towards the bathroom. Sitting him down on his seat, you helped him to brush his teeth, grinning at the slight mess that he made, before he was holding your hand with every step he took to his bed.

You tucked him in, and flicked out the lights, and made sure the door was pulled shut tightly behind yourself, before tiptoeing along towards the main room, now illuminated with the warm glow of lamplight. Dylan was sitting on the couch, the bottle of wine that he had brought sitting there too, with two glasses empty but prepared, and he turned to look at you as he heard you reenter the room.

“Hey.”

His voice was a little lower as he tried to keep his voice down, an act you so deeply appreciated, and you settled down onto the couch next to him, body twisted to the side and head supported on the hand propped up on the edge of the couch.

“I got glasses for wine, I was thinking we could share it, but if you’re ready to go to bed, I can just head out.” He stuck his hand over his shoulder, thumb jutted toward the door, searching your eyes for your answer, and brightening up a little when he saw you shake your head.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Good, because I really didn’t want to leave.” You watched as he leaned away, popping the cork on the bottle and pouting you both a glass, before bringing it back and handing it to you, sitting a little closer than he had been before the drinks, the glasses clinking softly between you both, before you took a sip, and he matched you. It wasn’t the best wine in the world, much better when you were young and naïve and didn’t know any better, but then again, you were sure his mother kept bad wine around in an attempt to deter you both from drinking it, because it always had been a little too easy to steal some of. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing, Dyl.”

“When you went to college, did you have fun? I hope you did. You had such a long bucket list of college experiences, and I really hope you checked them all off.” It wasn’t what you were expecting, there was always a usual list of questions that came up when you bumped into someone from your past when you were with your son, polite attempts that were backhanded compliments and questions about what went wrong in your life, even though you only ever saw it as something having gone right.

“I did. I made some friends, met some new people, and had some amazing experiences.”

He smiled, lifting a hand to tuck some hair out of your face, a finger running over your cheekbone, and taking another sip of his wine. He encouraged you to go on, listening to you talk about everything that had happened from the moment you’d parted, all up to and including having your son, to the moment you had once again reunited.

It was a little deeper than the conversations you’d had before, the dwindling bottle of wine accompanying the conversation, slowly shuffling closer and closer to each other, hands wandering and gazes sweeping over one another as you tried to rediscover old flickers of heat and interest, wondering if they were still present, and whether anything would come of them.

He told you the real story of his music, tears welling up in eyes and a slightly painful laugh as he revealed that half of the songs on his first album were written about you, heartbroken and mourning for you, wiping your tears away as you cleared his, before moving on to tell you about his first tour, and this third one, that was now coming to an end.

He’d seen all of the world, and you’d seen none of it, but you had more life experience and dependency than he did, the only person who relied on home as himself, and his manager took care of most things of him, whereas you were fighting it all on your own, and taking your child along with you. Where you had once been exactly the same, two peas in a pod, and now you were entirely different, but your hearts still beat the same. You were grounded and secure, he was flying high and moving with the wind, but every so often, when he came down to land, you’d be here.

Your legs were slung over his lap, he was playing with your hair as you held onto your almost empty glass, the bottle at the bottom, and a buzz running through your system that you hadn't felt in over a year, eyes fluttering slightly with the haze that was settling across your mind.

“I can’t believe you have a son who isn’t mine.” He whispered, your eyes snapping open and heart leaping into your throat, and he shook his head, intoxication delaying his realisation of what he’d just said. “I didn’t mean it like that. God, your kid is incredible, he’s the best, but I always just imagined it would be you and me.”

“I know, that’s how I thought it would be.”

He smiled, shoulders slumping, relieved that he didn’t need to explain himself further, that he hadn't fucked up, but you’d always been able to read just what was on his mind, with only a simple glance, because you knew him so well. “How did you end up alone? Which guy would be crazy enough to leave you, and a kid as wonderful as Noah? I don't get it. Why doesn’t he have someone to love him the way a dad should?”

You choked down the lump in your throat, shrugging slightly, and avoiding his gaze in favour of scratching at the skin around your nails. He nudged your chin up, a finger under your chin, a look in his eyes that said he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but he also didn’t want you to feel scared to talk to him, and you sighed. “I had a fling in college, but he wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. I was going to give Noah up, but when I had him, I was all alone, and then I wasn’t. I was in the hospital, and I heard him crying, and he needed me. He was reaching for me, and then I needed him. He was someone who would never leave me. Or, at least, not until I was ready to let him go.”

It was silent for a few moments after that, and while the memory may have seemed painful, it was one of your fondest moments with your son. You could still remember the way it had clicked in your chest, the moment that everything had slipped into perspective and made it impossible for you to ever give him up.

The name was something you’d worried over, days choosing one as you held him in your arms in the hospital, and you’d entered with the intention to leave alone, and instead, you’d been holding your life in your arms, snoozing in a little pair of cotton socks.

“I never wanted to leave you, y’know.”

“I know, Dylan.” It was your turn to reach out to him, cupping his cheek, and he closed a hand over your own, twisting his head to kiss your palm.

“I never wanted to go, and I think about you all the time.” A wet streak was left along his skin as a tear fell from his eye, and he cleared his throat, a shaky laugh leaving him. “I was so sure I was going to marry you, then all our colleges together denied either one of us, and we ended up on opposite sides of the country. I hated it. I wanted to drop out, just to follow you wherever you went, but my parents wouldn't let me, and I knew you wouldn’t let me either.”

“You’re right, I would’ve kicked your ass if you’d given it up. Look at where you are now.” You smiled, tears lining your own eyes.

“I still think I’d rather have given it all up, just to be with you. To have an apartment with you, and a son with you.”

He watched you for a moment longer, watching the awestricken look on your face, and you couldn't take it anymore, the magnet in your heart that was pulling you back towards him was too strong to resist anymore, and you met him halfway, the gap closing between you both. Lips met, a collision of desperate need and passion, tangling together as your hand tangled in his hair, feeling his other slip to your hip and pull you closer until wine glasses were almost crushed between your bodies and the breath was forced from your lungs.

It felt like coming home, like something that had been missing from your life for so long was finally returning, your heart racing in your chest and yet somehow feeling like you were the calmest you had ever been. Every drag of his mouth over your own, traces of tongues and teasings of more, the same way you’d always been, fire curling in your veins, raspy and desperate breaths until your mind was spinning from the lack of oxygen, and you were pulling away.

He couldn't stay away, leaning in to kiss you again as soon as he’d caught his breath, taking both of the glasses and putting them down so that he could place both hands on your face, pulling you in and holding you to him as something between laughter and tears left you both. You knew he felt the same, you could tell from the urgency of his kisses as wet cheeks slid together, the salty taste slipping into your mouth from tears, and you were forced to pull back.

“I’ve been thinking about that ever since the last time I got to kiss you, sitting in that little coffee shop as you kissed me goodbye after our breakup.”

“Well, I hope that it was everything you wanted it to be, and that today was, too. I hope seeing me once again wasn’t too much of a disappointment. I’m sure it wasn’t what you had planned when you inevitably bumped into me again.” You wiped your hands at your face, delicate skin stinging slightly, and he did the same.

“Why does that feel like you’re saying goodbye again?”

“Because I am.” You whispered, a broken look flashing over his face, one you were painfully familiar with from once before, your heart cracking in your chest at the sight. “I’m only going to end up hurt again when you leave.”

“But, I don’t want to leave.” His tone was pleading, and he shushed you playfully when you opened your mouth to respond to him, taking your hand in his as he shook his head. “I just want to finish this tour, I have three stops left, and then I’m home. I moved here, it’s home now, and I think it’s fate that you’re here too, and that we ran into each other. You’re meant to be with me, meant to be in my life, and you know it, too.”

“You can’t give it all up.”

“I would give up everything I have for you. I missed that opportunity once, don’t make me miss it again.” He was all but begging you, tugging you even closer to him, until you were sharing a breath, his forehead pressed to yours. “I want you, and your son, and I want us to be a family. Don’t walk away from me again, because I’m not letting you go without a fight this time.”

A fresh wave of tears washed over you, and you covered your face, shaking your head in disbelief. “Is that really what you want?”

“More than anything. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and Noah may not be mine, but I’ll love him like he is, I promise. And, when we do have kids of our own, I’ll love him just as much then, too.” Your sobs had to be muffled by your hand, but Dylan was crying silently, watching you as he tried to decipher what was going on inside your head. “Let me love you, let me love us as a family?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He repeated, seeming as though he was filled with utter disbelief, and you grinned, nodding your head and taking his face in your hands, pulling his lips to yours. It was soft and sweet, and everything it was supposed to be, as the love of your life was returned to your arms, hopefully, never to leave again. “I love you, so much, it fucking hurts not to be with you. Ever since we broke up, and now, I feel whole again. I’ve been in love with you for over ten years, and being away from you never changed that.”

“I love you too.” You stood, tugging on his hands, to pull him up, and he followed after you wordlessly, watching as you switched out the lights, checked the front door was locked, and let him trail after you toward your bedroom. He didn’t question it as you sunk down into the bed, dragging him with you until he could settle himself under the covers beside you, or when you placed your head on his chest, because everything was as it was supposed to be.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly, safe and secure, like he’d never let you go again, a silent promise that he wouldn't. You trusted him, you believed him, and in the morning, when Noah woke you up and asked for pancakes again, he didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of a snoozing Dylan still tucked into the bed, just choosing to crawl up and settle down beside you, because even if he wasn’t his father, he knew just as much as you did that Dylan was destined to be his dad.

When he had whispered into your ear that his final wish to Santa was for someone to play his drums with and for mommy to be happy, you thought that maybe Christmas wishes did come true.

[handsoffmyfriends]

Breaking Expectations

— when you transfer into the hero course for your second year, you have a lot of expectations regarding your soon-to-be classmates. of all the people to not meet your expectations, bakugou katsuki ranks number one, but you find that you aren’t disappointed in the slightest

PARING: bakugou katsuki x reader WORD COUNT: 1,852 WARNINGS: bakugou swears like the bakuhoe he is

A/N: my first one shot 🥺🥺 i really wanted to write something cute and fluffy and angst free for once, i hope i did okay!! warming myself up for opening up requests !

Part 2

You weren’t sure what you expected when you transferred into the hero course, but somehow befriending the hot-headed Bakugou Katsuki hadn’t even been within the realm of possibilities. You respected his undeniable power, but his personality left much to be desired. You, like the rest of the school outside of the hero course, believed he was nothing more than a feral child with a superiority complex. All you had ever heard about him was how angry he was and how poorly he treated everyone around him. Hell, the guy called his best friend “shitty hair” for crying out loud. It left you feeling not as excited as you should have been when you found out you were transferring into Class 2-A.

Your first interaction with the angry boy left you wondering just how much of the rumours you’d heard had been just that; rumours. You thought for sure he was going to yell at you when you’d been thrown into him during hero training, but he’d simply helped you steady your footing and told you to be more careful. His tone always held a note of anger, you’d found, but the way he helped you and proceeded to back you up during the exercise left you feeling like you’d completely misjudged him. 

You couldn’t shake the guilt at how poorly you’d originally viewed him, so you approached him later that day in the dorms. Thankfully, he was by himself, sitting on the sofa scrolling through his social media. You weren’t sure how you’d have spoken to him if other people were around. 

Still, you weren’t sure how to start the conversation. He very clearly didn’t want to be disturbed, but he was out in the communal living space, so surely he expected to be disturbed? You stood there like an idiot for several long seconds, agonising over how to begin, but once again, he surprised you. 

“Don’t stand there all day,” he growled out, flicking his crimson eyes up at you. “Couches are free real estate. Don’t need my permission to sit your ass down.” He returned his attention back to his phone.

You stiffened slightly at his bluntness. Again, you hadn’t known what to expect, but that certainly wasn’t it. “Ah, that’s not what I came over here for.” 

He looked back up at you, this time putting his phone aside and giving you his entire attention. “If it’s about before, don’t worry about it. Everyone does dumb shit during the exercises. Dunce Face does something stupid every fucking time.” 

You frowned in confusion before realising he meant Kaminari. You shook your head, finding your voice. “Ah, it’s not quite that either, though I am very sorry about getting in your way. It was a lot more intense than I thought it was going to be.” 

Bakugou shrugged with indifference. “You did alright to me. Better than that grape fucker we had last year.” 

You dug through your brain to figure out who he could have possibly meant before noticing you were getting distracted. “It’s— I mean... I came over to apologise to you! For misjudging you!” You blurted your thoughts out before they got lost on the way to your mouth. It came out a lot less eloquently than you intended. At his furrowed eyebrows, you tried to save face and explain yourself. “I just... I needed to apologise. You aren’t at all how I thought you would be.”

His expression darkened. “Let me guess, you thought I’d be some kind of villain in the making? Some asshole that would stomp you into the ground without a second thought?”

You didn’t respond, but it was answer enough for him. 

He sighed deeply, releasing his frustrations. “Look, that shit was probably true a year ago. I get why you’d think that.” He pulled his phone back out, returning his attention back to it. “People change, believe it or not. But, thanks... for being upfront, I guess.”

You weren’t sure how you felt about the conclusion to the conversation, but it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You didn’t feel right just walking away after that either, so you took a seat on the couch, a comfortable distance away from him, and pulled out your own phone to browse your social media. 

You looked back up at him sharply when you noticed the new friend request notification pop up. The Bakugou Katsuki had just sent you a friend request. He seemed entirely unaware of you staring at him in disbelief, despite having just sent you the request. He continued to scroll through his phone, very pointedly not looking up at you. 

You decided not to make a big deal out of it, since he wasn’t either. 

-- 

Bakugou continued to surprise you as the weeks and months went by. Sure, he was as angry as you had been led to believe, but it wasn’t a personal anger that you had assumed. He was just a shouty kind of guy. He called all his friends insulting nicknames, but they were said with a strange kind of fondness, like insults were the only way he could allow himself to show affection. He even had one for you, and if anyone else had called you that, you would have been really offended. Coming from Bakugou, it was strangely nice. 

You found yourself hanging out with him more and more. Not through any intentional planning, but the two of you just ended up in the same places at the same times. He was almost always accompanied by Kirishima, who was always overly happy to see you, almost like he was making up for Bakugou’s lack of enthusiasm. You didn’t mind the extra company, though you found you liked your alone time with Bakugou even more. 

Sometimes, it was just studying together. Sometimes, you both didn’t say a word, simply enjoying each other’s company. When you did talk, it was comfortable. Bakugou wasn’t a big talker, but you could tell he really trusted you when he did talk to you about more serious topics than the weather. You treasured those moments. 

--

“Hey, Y/N! We’ve been looking for you!” Kirishima called out, pulling you from your book.

“Oh, Kirishima, Bakugou,” you greeted pleasantly, giving up on studying. You probably shouldn’t be studying in the communal area anyway. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Kirishima grinned impossibly wide, showing off his famously sharp teeth. “Bakubro here wanted you to join us for squad movie night.” 

Without hesitation, Bakugou threw a punch at Kirishima, right in the face. The red-head had apparently been expecting it, since he’d hardened up instantly and was left entirely unaffected by the slug. “Shut the hell up, shitty hair, you make it sound so fucking creepy!” 

You laughed at their bickering, finding it endearing. How you had ever thought Bakugou was an asshole to his friends was beyond you. The words themselves were harsh, but the emotions behind them spelled out an entirely different meaning. He was embarrassed.

You decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up. “Squad movie night, huh? I didn’t know I was part of a squad.”

Kirishima threw an arm around Bakugou. “I’ll add you to the group chat! But, you gotta come for movie night first! It’s like, initiation.” 

You giggled. “Alright, alright. I need a break anyway.” 

-- 

That’s how you found yourself curled up on the couch, pressed up against the arm of the three seater. It seemed squad movie night was an accepted practise in the dorm, since no one other than Bakugou’s friends were present despite being hosted in the communal area. 

Mina had picked the movie, which was surprisingly an action packed thriller, not a rom-com that you’d have expected from her. It suited you just fine, since you weren’t exactly in the mood for a rom-com. 

You’d sat down first, since you weren’t sure who did what when it came to movie time. Kaminari handed around little bowls full of snacks for everyone, while Sero and Kirishima pulled out a plethora of comforters, blankets and pillows, passing them around to everyone. You suspected they were from everyone’s rooms and you suddenly felt lacking since you hadn’t brought your own. This certainly wasn’t what you’d expected to come along to. 

You continued to be surprised when Bakugou took a seat next to you and threw his comforter over you. “Bring your own next time,” he growled at you, adding on your insulting nickname. 

You figured Kirishima would sit next to Bakugou, but he just sat down on the other couch with Sero. Mina had created a nest on the floor, pillows and blankets piled into an impossibly comfortable mound of plush. She practically disappeared into it when she laid down in it. 

You found it hard to concentrate on the movie with Bakugou so close to you. You were surrounded  by his smell, burnt sugar and smoke, a combination that you would have thought to be repulsive. Instead, it wrapped you up and made you feel nice and warm. Although, that probably had to do with the fact that Bakugou was so close to you that you could feel his body heat. The sudden realisation had you barely able to breathe.

Why did you suddenly feel so weird? No one else made you feel like your heart was in your throat, so why did Bakugou? 

You think your heart completely stopped when Bakugou very casually threw an arm behind you. Well, behind the couch was more accurate, but it was still behind you and when your heart came back online, it was working double time. 

“Fuckin’ relax,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the screen. When you didn’t relax quick enough for his liking, he turned his crimson gaze onto you, those red eyes boring in your own. “I can move if you’re that fuckin’ uncomfortable.” He probably meant to come off blasé, but you could hear the underlying hurt in his voice.

You shook your head very quickly when you realised he wasn’t just being casual about getting comfortable, but making a silent move to get closer to you. You didn’t speak, not trusting yourself to talk. You’d probably say something really stupid and really loudly. Instead, you forced yourself to relax, shifting around a little to get more comfortable. Bakugou hummed in satisfaction.

You weren’t sure when you were snuggled into Bakugou’s side instead of the arm of the couch, and you weren’t sure when he pulled his arm from behind the couch to be wrapped around you, but you found that you were way too comfortable to care. 

You felt so warm and safe that you didn’t even notice that you were dozing off until you were being gently woken up. The room was dark, the movie very clearly over, and the rest of the squad were long gone. Bakugou gently jostled you awake, a strangely soft expression adorning his features. You’d never seen it before, but you decided then and there, in your sleepy stupor, that you wanted to see it as much as you could.

[elizabeth-mitchells]

follow you to the beginning (just to relive the start) - Sam/Deena  - Fake Dating AU

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Simon Kalivoda, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Deena Johnson & Kate Schmidt, Deena Johnson & Simon Kalivoda, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Background & Cameo Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Lesbian Character, Slow Burn, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Best Friends, High School, Angst, Humor, Fluff, First Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Sam and Deena are next-door neighbors, and they inevitably and enthusiastically become best friends... until childhood gives way to tragedy, grudges, and regret.

By the time they make it to high school, Sam and Deena are still next-door neighbors but also sworn enemies... until high school introduces bigger threats that they will need to face together.

Faking a relationship might be a bad idea. But it might be the only way for Sam and Deena to understand their shared past and their feelings for each other.

Chapter 1:

Sam and Deena became best friends during one perfect summer day when they were seven years old. In Shadyside, however, perfect days weren’t meant to exist. The only reason little Sam Fraser finally had the time and freedom to spend time with her next-door neighbor was because her parents were caught in the first big fight of hundreds more to come. A part of Sam would associate both events as one and the same for a long, long time. The beginning of her friendship with Deena and the downfall of the Fraser family. In contrast, Deena was living some of the best days of her life. Days that she would treasure and idolize, perhaps more than she should have, for many years to come. Her mother was alive, her father was sober, her little brother was safe in their hands. She had all the time in the world to go out into the backyard, lay on the ground, and look for shapes in the clouds. She had been doing that for a while then a shadow suddenly appeared over her.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked. Her voice was still trembling slightly from the way she had run out of her house crying. Her eyes were red and she had a runny nose, but she looked genuinely curious to understand what her neighbor was doing.

Deena didn’t reply at first. She couldn’t. She was too shaken by the impact of Sam’s first impression on her. It wasn’t the very first time they met, of course. But their parents were usually hovering above them. So far they had never been alone together. They were very different kids, it was easy to tell with just one look. Not just physically, with Deena’s wild mane of curly brown hair and Sam’s being straight and blond, Deena’s brown eyes being warm and guarded meanwhile Sam’s blue eyes cried out her every emotion. It was also about the way Deena was thrown on the grass, comfortable and taking as much space as possible in her slightly oversized clothes that she picked herself, as long as they were in sale, while her mother fondly chuckled and followed her around the store in spite of which gendered aisle her daughter got lost in. Sam was the complete opposite, in her bright pink clothes that were always too loose or too tight because her mother didn’t care to bring her along when buying her clothes and it was made all the more noticeable by the way in which Sam stood tense and awkwardly, uncomfortable from head to toe, her feet restless as if ready to run at any given moment.

The silence between them had stretched out for too long, but Sam was good at waiting. Deena moved to a seated position and took a better look at the girl in front of her. “Fraser,” she blurted out. She couldn’t remember her neighbor’s name, but she knew her parents were Mr. and Mrs. Fraser of the constant frowns.

“Um, Johnson?” Sam tilted her head. She didn’t understand this game of calling out each other’s last names.

“I’m Deena,” the brunette said and jumped to her feet, not bothering to brush away the grass stuck to her clothes.

“Sam,” the other girl offered her hand.

Deena laughed, but she was troubled. She wanted to laugh so much more. There was this weird girl in front of her, obviously a second away from bursting into tears again, probably from the weight of the glittery pink ribbon on her head, and she was offering Deena her hand in greeting. However, her laughter died in Deena’s throat. The instinct to tease was, for once, overpowered by something new and somewhat unfamiliar. She didn’t know it was protectiveness, she didn’t understand what it was at all. She only felt a pull on her heart that wanted to make sure her neighbor was okay.

So, Deena shook Sam’s hand. She invited her to lay down with her to watch shapes in the clouds. She didn’t laugh at Sam, she made it her mission to make Sam laugh. Unknowingly, with that innocent handshake, they were starting out together the greatest adventure of their lives, with all the glorious ups and devastating downs that it would include.

It was still early, they had the entire day ahead of them, and under the clear blue Shadyside sky, the world was all theirs. 

They started lying down on the grass, side by side, looking up at the clouds. At first, it was perfect, and fun. Sam’s stomach started aching from how hard she was laughing every time Deena pointed out at the sky and said “That one looks like a butt.” And then Sam would point at a completely unidentifiable cloud and say, “That one looks like a robot.”

“What?!” Deena laughed wholeheartedly. “No, it doesn’t! You weirdo.”

Sam’s laughter dimmed. “Do you think I’m weird?”

“No!” Deena scoffed. “Isn’t that like a compliment?”

The blonde hummed in response. She hadn’t considered that the other girl was just as inexperienced at talking to other girls her age.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Enough silence for Sam to remember the deafening noise of her parents fighting, blaming each other, blaming her, blaming the town. Before she could stop it, Sam was crying again.

“Sam?” Deena called her name. She moved to a seated position and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder gently. “I’m sorry. I really don’t think you’re that weird.”

“That weird?” Sam chuckled through her tears.

Deena laughed along with her, but she still looked out of her comfort zone dealing with her crying neighbor. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” Sam wiped her tears away, willing herself to regain her composure as her mother always told her to do. “I just… cry a lot. My dad says it’s because my mom doesn’t have feelings and I have to cry for the both of us.”

“Okay,” Deena nodded, not knowing how to put into words how wrong that sounded. Then she noticed a single blade of grass stuck to Sam’s pretty blonde hair. “Hold on Sam, you have grass on your head,” Deena said, and reached out to take it off.

However, Deena’s hand on her hair made an idea light up in Sam’s mind. She gasped and grabbed Deena’s wrist, holding her in place. “We should make flower crowns!”

“What?!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to do it,” Sam smiled teasingly.

“Of course I do!” Deena scoffed. She was happy to see Sam smile, but she was second-guessing her previous statement about the blonde not being weird. Plus, it turned out not even Sam knew how to make flower crowns. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. 

The two girls ended up hiding behind flower bushes between their homes. Sam had entertained herself weaving the prettiest flowers she could find in Deena’s curls. Meanwhile, Deena was content pulling blades of grass and unceremoniously letting them fall on Sam’s head. Deena couldn’t understand how Sam could be unbothered by the game. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Sam didn’t have many friends. In fact, not too long later, Sam whispered, “You’re my first real friend.”

Deena beamed upon hearing the words. She was happy with her parents and baby brother but, secretly, she had always wished for a friend, a girl like her, and here she was, finally. “You’re my only friend too,” Deena replied, a little shyly.

“Really?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,” Deena chuckled.

The blonde hummed thoughtfully. “I think that makes us best friends,” Sam said.

“Oh yeah?” Deena asked. She received a confident nod in response. That made sense to her too. “Then we should celebrate.” She jumped to her feet and offered her hand to Sam, who didn’t hesitate to follow.

The day was long, and there was so much they were dying to show each other. The hours passed by in a sun-bathed blur of childish laughter. They did everything and nothing, jumping without reason, running without destination, rolling in the grass, picking flowers, climbing trees, scratching their knees, and jumping back up into made-up games and fantasy scenarios that they hadn’t ever had a chance to share with anybody.

There were a thousand little moments that years later they would wish they could have immortalized some way. When Deena showed Sam a spider and Sam ran away. When Deena hurt her finger with a thorn from Sam’s mother’s rose bushes, and Sam kissed the afflicted finger and promised she wouldn’t tell anybody Deena cried.

When Deena started climbing the tree at the back of the backyard, Sam started freaking out. “Deena! You’ll hurt yourself!” Sam repeated many times. Deena was thinking Sam sounded older than she really was when she was worried.

“I won’t,” the blonde scoffed, getting comfortable in what actually was a really low branch of the tree. “Besides, if I fall you can catch me!”

“I can try!” Sam said, throwing her arms around her. “But you’ll probably crush me and then we’ll both be dead!”

“Hey! I’m not that heavy!”

Deena’s protest, unfortunately, made her lose her balance. For a moment, she was hanging from the branch of the tree, feeling her heart on her throat. But then Sam’s slender arms were holding on to her legs, as tightly as the little girl was capable of. Deena smiled brightly. She felt surprisingly safe, even if she knew that Sam wasn’t strong enough to literally hold her up. “Sam, let go, it’s okay, I got it,” Deena let her know.

Sam stepped back to let Deena land on her feet, but a second later she was back, wrapping her arms around Deena’s torso this time, holding just as tightly if not more. “You scared me,” Sam mumbled, her voice muffled by the way she had her face pressed against Deena’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Deena said. She let her arms fall limply at her sides. She still felt out of her depth with Sam, even after one of the best days of her life. Her instinct told her to make fun of Sam, who was moved near to tears. But her heart stopped her for unknown reasons. Instead, she let her cheek rest on top of Sam’s head. At the time, Deena was taller. “It’s okay,” Deena repeated. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m your best friend, remember? I don’t think I’m allowed to leave you now.”

Sam chuckled and finally dropped her arms. Deena felt a chill at the loss. “Do you promise?” Sam asked.

Deena frowned a little, but continued to smile. “I promise,” she said, finding it increasingly difficult to say not the blonde girl that had stumbled into her personal space earlier that day with tears still in her eyes.

“Okay,” Sam exclaimed. She leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on Deena’s cheek. She was so excited it nearly threw both of them off balance, and when she pulled back, they were both blushing. But they moved on quickly, that day. Sam took Deena’s hand and started leading her to a different spot in the wide and free space behind their houses. “My mom told me about a spa. It’s a place where they put mud in your face to make you pretty. We should try it.”

“I’m already pretty!” Deena protested.

“Yeah, you are,” Sam shrugged. “But maybe it can help me.”

“You are more than pretty, Sam,” Deena frowned.

That made the blonde girl stop in her tracks. “Do you think so?” She asked Deena, and the brunette nodded enthusiastically. Sam was thoughtful for a moment, but eventually shrugged, and tried to continue with her plans, clearly not completely believing the other girl’s words. She was stopped by Deena a moment later, refusing to go further.

“Hey, you didn’t make the promise too,” Deena pointed out.

“Oh! You’re right,” Sam nodded, very seriously. “Okay then… I promise to always be your best friend, and to never leave you, and… um, is there something else?” She looked up at Deena for guidance.

Deena grinned at her. “No, that’s it. That’s cool.”

The two girls started laughing again, and continued with their games for a long time. They did end up playing with the mud, and then tried to wash it off, creating a bigger mess, with the hose they found behind Deena’s house. 

Toward the end of the day, when the sun started to set, both girls were well aware that their parents would be coming out at any moment to call them back home. They chose to end their first day as best friends exactly how they started it. They lay on the grass in the backyard in between their houses, and they looked up at the infinite sky above them. There weren’t many clouds anymore, but the first stars were showing up in the sky, and they were more than happy to count them one by one. 

That was how it started. One perfect day, and dozens of them just the same. Sam ran away from her house to the backyard every time her parents were having a fight. Deena made her laugh until Sam couldn’t remember crying for anything other reason than pure joy. Sam picked the prettiest flowers she could find and gave them to Deena, and hugged her especially tight every time Deena fell down from the tree she loved to climb. From the Johnsons’ window, Deena’s mom watched them fondly, happy that her daughter had a friend. From the Frasers’ window, Sam’s mom watched them with a frown on her face, upset about Sam ruining her clothes. But they never had reasons to stop them from having fun, they didn’t have any reason to put barriers between their daughters. And the two girls couldn’t imagine a world where they would be anything but the best of friends.

Much like everything in Shadyside, their perfect days would soon come to a bitter end but, even then, it wouldn’t be the end of Sam and Deena’s story.

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

[vannahfanfics]

Electric Love

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Ochako Uraraka

Hey, all! Here’s my story for the Izuku Big Bang! I had the pleasure again of working with my good friend @danyartime​, so do be sure to check out her adorable art too!

Izuku bobbed his head to the upbeat poppy tune bumping from the small speakers of his desk radio. Though the volume was low to keep from disturbing his dorm mates, the thumping bass in the background of the happy lyrics vibrated the pencils and pens in the ceramic cup beside it. The little tink-tink-tinks of the writing utensils hitting the side of the cup added pleasant harmony to the song. Izuku hummed along as he scrawled notes into his hero notebook, recalling everything he could from the joint training they’d conducted with Class 1-B that day. Just as he was musing that it may be time for yet another volume of his detailed notes, the song ended abruptly to be replaced by a particularly loud yell from the radio host. Izuku jumped and looked at the radio, turning it up in curiosity. 

“Thank you for tuning in this evening, folks! Today we have a very special offer for a lucky listener! Prepare to dial your phones, ‘cuz the tenth caller will win tickets to AKB48’s upcoming concert in Akihabara!” the host announced excitedly. Izuku wasn’t big into girl groups, but he’d often heard his female classmates discussing the idols. They must be really famous! He thought, pulling up his phone and typing up the radio station’s number as the host provided it. “All right, folks! Get ready to hit ‘dial,’ because time… starts… now!” 

Izuku waited just a brief second before hitting the dial button and holding the phone up to his ear. He honestly didn’t expect much— there were probably hundreds of people calling in with the hopes of securing the tickets— but he did get a little excited when he wasn’t immediately greeted with a busy signal or a “sorry” message. The phone rang for a second, and then, much to Izuku’s surprise, someone picked up. 

“Congratulations, Lucky Number 10! You’ve won yourself two tickets to AKB48’s concert next weekend!” 

“R-really?” Izuku stammered in shock, completely floored that a whim of a call had actually won him something. “Oh, wow! Thank you!” 

“Thank you for calling in today! What’s your name, Lucky Number 10?” 

“I-Izuku!” 

“Well, Izuku, we hope you enjoy seeing the dolls of Akihabara in action! Stay on the line so we can provide you with information on how to claim your tickets.” Izuku did as bid while the radio host switched to a private line, playing a song for those who had been unsuccessful in their efforts in claiming the tickets. They gathered his basic information and provided him with the address to the local radio station, stressing that he needed to bring a valid photo identification to verify that it was indeed him and not someone trying to make off with his winnings. They made an appointment to pick up the tickets the following afternoon, since it was too late in the evening for a student to be out and about. After hanging up the phone, Izuku found himself excited to attend the concert despite not really being passionate about the band— new experiences were always thrilling, after all! 

Now… The real question is, who should I take with me? 

By the time he had retrieved his tickets and returned to the dorm the next day, Izuku didn’t have the answer to that question. He perched on the couch eyeing the two cardstock tickets with a frown, debating who to invite. He didn’t imagine that any of the boys were that into girl groups, so he couldn’t take any of them. On the other hand, all the girls probably liked them in some capacity or another. I want to take the person who would enjoy it the most!, he thought with a sigh, flopping back against the couch as the riddle poisoned him from the inside out. 

Just then, he heard Ochako and Kyoka’s voice drifting out of the kitchen. The two girls came shuffling out in their pajamas and fuzzy socks, probably getting ready for their weekly girls’ night as evidenced by the massive bowl of popcorn tucked in Kyoka’s arms. Ochako stared wistfully at her phone, petulant about something. 

“Man… I really wish I could go to the performance next weekend, but the tickets are so expensive!” she moped. Izuku perked up, peering over the edge of the couch. 

“Ochako, I told you that I would take you if you really want to go,” Kyoka smiled wanly. 

“No way!” Ochako refused, shaking her head vigorously. “I could never ask you to spend money like that on me!” She stopped walking to look at Kyoka, then deflated like a balloon and looked back to her phone once more. “All I can do is hope that they’re still performing by the time I’m making money as a professional hero…” 

“Hey, Ochako!” Izuku hurriedly piped up as the two girls turned to head upstairs. She whirled around to look at him, eyebrows raised in confusion. Izuku flushed as he sat up on his knees to look over the back of the couch, suddenly aware that it would sound like he was eavesdropping. “I-I couldn’t help but overhear… I, um, I won two tickets to the AKB48 concert next weekend in a radio contest. You’re more than welcome to use the extra ticket and come with me.” 

“Oh my gosh, Deku, are you serious?” Ochako screamed and zoomed over to him faster than he’d ever seen anyone move, even Tenya. She grabbed his hands, clasping hers around his with the tickets still clutched in his fist. Her nut-brown eyes sparkled with delight as they bored into his emerald ones, which only made him flush darker. “You really mean it? Oh, thank you, thank you! I’m so excited; they’re my absolute favorite girl group! Oh, I’m so excited!” 

Her animated reaction made a smile stretch across his lips and a warm, bubbly feeling rise up in his chest. When she let his hands go to take the ticket, she gazed down at it like it was the most special gift in the world; tears of joy even bloomed in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you so much, Deku,” she repeated again, softly and choked with emotion. 

“Of course, Ochako! We’re gonna have a lot of fun!” He grinned widely. Ochako looked up at him shyly, batting her eyelashes to blink the tears away, before whirling on her heel to scurry back to Kyoka. Izuku leaned his cheek in his hand, smiling dreamily, as the girl jumped up and down giddily while showing Kyoka the ticket like it was nothing short of pure treasure. Cute, he thought, his smile growing more enchanted as Ochako’s own illuminated the room with the brilliance of a star. Seeing her so happy sent a light, fluttering feeling through his chest, and he couldn’t wait until next weekend so he could see that bright smile again. 

The next week passed like a blur, chock-full of hero training interspaced with general lessons and heaps of homework. Izuku busted his behind to finish the week’s assignments by the eve of the concert, determined to have no obligations so he could enjoy the outing as much as possible. After penning his last page of a small history report, Izuku slunk downstairs to indulge in some much-needed human interaction. He sank down on the common room couch with a heavy sigh, right beside Denki and Hanta, who were spending the evening playing videogames. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to crawl out of their hole and join the world of the living!” Denki joked, nudging him with an elbow before returning his attention to the racing game he was playing. He cursed under his breath as Hanta’s car slammed into his side and sent him crashing through benches and trees on the sidewalk. “Hey, man! Not cool!” 

“Ya snooze, ya lose, Denki!” Hanta cackled, leaning back on the couch and clapping the soles of his feet together excitedly. “Anyway, Izuku, you and Ochako are goin’ to that concert tomorrow, yeah?” he asked, sticking out his tongue and leaning his body as if it would make the virtual car turn harder. 

“That’s right! She seems really excited!” Izuku nodded eagerly. He thought of that illuminating smile, of the joy simply radiating off her being, and couldn’t help but grin giddily. Denki caught his dreamy expression out of his peripheral vision and raised an eyebrow, then teasingly stuck out the tip of his tongue between his teeth. 

“So, does she know that it’s a date?” 

“What?” Izuku sputtered, throwing up his arms and curling his legs up on the couch in shock. His face had turned a bright shade of crimson in a mere instant, his freckles buried beneath the fiery warmth of his blush. “I-it’s not a date! I just had an extra ticket, that’s all, and it would have been such a shame for it to go to waste, so I was looking for someone to give it to, and I overheard Ochako talking about how much she liked the band, so n-n-naturally I would ask her if she wanted to go, because after all, I had the ticket and that’s the nice thing to do—” he babbled, his face reddening with each breathless phrase. Denki and Hanta just stared at him with matching expressions of pure skepticism, which only made his face more reminiscent of a tomato. Steam was practically buffeting out of his ears by the time he lost all semblance of words and just started gasping like a fish out of water. 

“Anyway, does she know it’s a date?” Denki repeated, deadpan. Izuku slapped his hands to his face, utterly mortified. He hadn’t intended to ask Ochako on a date; he was just trying to be nice! What if she did think it was a date? He had less than twenty-four hours until they were set to go to the concert, but if she thought it was a date, then he had to make sure it was the best date ever! After all, it would be her first date, wouldn’t it? Oh, he would hate for her to have a terrible experience— and with him, no less! What should he do? What should he do? 

“Now, Izuku,” Denki sighed magnanimously, chucking his controller onto the coffee table since his friend was clearly distressed. Hanta pouted, disappointed he could no longer clown Denki with the racing game, but paused the game so he could walk around the couch to plop down on Izuku’s other side and sling his lanky arm around his shoulders. Izuku’s emerald eyes, shining against his crimson skin, nervously peered through the gaps in his fingers. “Don’t worry! There’s still plenty of time to fix this sad, sad, sad situation you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

“There is?” 

“Indeed there is!” Hanta chimed in agreement, nodding his head and holding up his index finger confidently. “Rest assured, Izuku, the two of us are gonna transform you into the studliest of studs so that tomorrow you’ll sweep Ochako off her feet, guaranteed!” Izuku tentatively lowered his hands from his face, blinking uncertainly. Despite his misforgivings, Denki and Hanta were popular with the girls of the Hero Course; surely they at least knew something about taking a girl out on a date, right? Whether or not that was true, the two boys hoisted Izuku up to cart him upstairs, ready to give him a crash-course on wooing their adorable, bubbly classmate and taking her on the best first date ever… 

The following afternoon, after a night of feverish courting lessons and last-minute reservations, Izuku was standing in Denki’s bedroom, nervously regarding himself in the mirror hanging on the back of the blond’s closet door. He was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting, slightly torn jeans and a graphic tee— a much different look than his usual cargo shoots and simple tees. Denki fluttered around him, biting down on his lip as he suppressed excited squeals of delight. 

“Uh, Denki, are you sure about this?” Izuku asked, plucking at the white fibers of the shredded denim over his knees. “Shouldn’t I, like, dress for comfort?” 

“No!” Denki scolded and flicked him in the forehead, making Izuku whimper and press his hand over the pink mark on his forehead. “You dress to impress on a date, dude. Rule #1! Ochako’s probably gonna be dressed to the nines for this concert; you don’t wanna embarrass her! Sheesh.” 

Before Izuku could respond, Hanta descended upon him, spritzing him with cologne. Izuku hacked and coughed as the clouds of strong-smelling aroma wafted up into his face, stinging his eyes and throat. Hanta patted his shoulders and gave them an encouraging squeeze, grinning at him through his reflection. 

“You’re gonna do great, Izuku! Remember your training,” he encouraged with another squeeze. Izuku momentarily panicked, his mind flushing the last eighteen hours of grilling the two boys had subjected him to in the art of wooing women. Denki rolled his eyes and thwapped him upside the head with an encouraging smirk. 

“Relax, dude. You’re gonna do fine! Just remember to show Ochako a good time. That’s Rule #1!” 

“I thought ‘dress to impress’ was Rule #1?” Izuku blinked in confusion. 

“Every rule is Rule #1,” Denki tutted, but before Izuku could ask what good that did, Hanta steered him out of the room telling him that it was time for the show to start. They propelled him all the way to Ochako’s room, abandoning him there with no more than excited thumbs-ups and matching grins. Izuku watched them scurry back to the stairs, gulped loudly, and then nervously smoothed down his messy pine-green hair. He was already beginning to sweat; it beaded on the pads of his fingers as he smoothed them through his hair. 

Okay, Izuku! You can do this!, he encouraged himself with a roll of his shoulders and a determined sigh. He’d already informed Ochako that he intended to take her out for lunch today, and she should be ready for their outing by now. He took one more moment to steel his nerves before knocking on her bedroom door before he could change his mind. 

“Comi— oh dear!” 

Izuku winced as the cheerful call was interrupted by a loud thump and a startled squeal. He could hear shuffling and muffled whimpers and stomping around the room; just as he was about to inquire if Ochako was all right, the door swung open to reveal a breathless and red-faced Ochako. 

“Hey, Deku!” she grinned brightly as she swept a stray strand of her chestnut hair from her face, covering her anxiety with a nervous laugh. He could see her leaning awkwardly on one leg and the beginnings of a bruise forming on her other knee. “I’m ready to go!” she trilled, leaning in the doorframe and using her smile to try and hide the pained wobbling of her lips. He began to ask if she was really okay, but the words died in his throat when he finally took a moment to really look at her. 

She was wearing a pink sundress with a white ribbon around the waist, tied in a big bow in the back with lace accents. Shiny white sandals framed her feet, her pink painted toenails shining in the fluorescent lights of the hallway. A big pink-and-white bow was tucked into her hair, which framed her round face. A blush rose to Izuku’s cheeks as he stared at her, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Ochako blinked perplexedly, eyes growing owlish. “Deku? What is it?” 

“Y-y-you look really cute today,” he finally managed. Ochako blinked again, and then her face flooded the color of her dress. She fisted the skirt shyly, swaying back and forth and trying not to let her happiness show on her face. 

“Thanks, Deku… You look nice, too…” She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger as Izuku continued to admire her beauty, her bashful little smile. After a minute of him just dreamily gawking, Ochako fluttered her eyes and politely pushed, “Um… Deku, shouldn’t we get going? We have a reservation at that sandwich place, don’t we?” 

“O-oh gosh! Sorry, sorry! Yes, let’s go!” In his flurry, he instinctively grabbed Ochako’s hand to begin pulling her down the hall. He heard her squeak in surprise and could feel the nervous sweat flood her palm, but for some reason, he didn’t feel the urge to let go. Her hand felt so soft and nice against his, which was scarred and calloused from the harsh use of his Quirk. She was careful not to touch his skin with her padded fingertips; they wouldn’t get very far with him floating off into space, after all! He did look at her briefly, however, silently inquiring if she was okay. She only grinned bashfully and gave his hand a little approvatory squeeze— and his heart rate shot into the atmosphere as that warm joy bubbled up inside of him. 

It was about a three-hour bullet train ride to Tokyo, where they would catch lunch before heading to Akihabara to attend the early evening concert before catching the train back. It certainly was a full day, but Izuku found himself excited as he joined the train with Ochako. Their curriculum was so demanding that it was rare they had a chance for an outing like this, and Izuku was happy it was with one of his best friends. Except… Best friends don’t go out on dates, he thought with a blush, looking down at where Ochako’s hand rested on the arm of the train seat. He’d let her hand go when they left the dorm, but his fingers had insistently itched to claim her soft hand once again. It felt like it had fit so perfectly in his own, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. 

He looked away from her hand before she noticed, busying himself with the scenic landscape of Japan idling by through the window. He wasn’t sure how long he spent watching the buildings and roads and trees and hills roll by, but eventually he heard a soft thunk that pulled his attention away from the glass pane. He turned to see that Ochako had slumped over the edge of the seat to loll into the aisle, her mouth parted as she gently snored. The thunk had been her bracelet striking the plastic edge of the seat as her arm slipped off. She was bent awkwardly with the other arm of the seat digging into her side. It certainly didn’t look comfortable, evidenced by the way her face twitched in discomfort and she mumbled something unintelligible but laced with pain. 

I can’t let her stay like that, Izuku thought. Gently so as not to wake her, he leaned in to loop his arms around her and pull her back into the seat. She immediately began to slip to the side again, head bobbing, and he reflexively caught the side of her head with his hand. He flushed at the realization of just how big his hand was in comparison to hers, so easily cradling her skull. Tenderly, he guided her head to rest on his shoulder. Ochako’s face slowly became peaceful as she sought out his warmth, smacking her lips as she nuzzled into his neck. Heat flooded his body when the tip of her nose brushed his neck, but he fought the urge to spaz out because Ochako just looked downright adorable snoozing against him. 

Smiling sweetly, Izuku swept away a chunk of hair that had fallen into her face and tucked it behind her ear. Ochako hummed contentedly, her plump lips curling into a tiny smile. 

“Deku,” she mumbled sleepily. He tensed, afraid he’d actually woken her up; however, Ochako didn’t move, just continued to doze peacefully. He relaxed and then immediately tensed again when the realization struck him— Ochako had just said his name in her sleep. What does that mean? Does that mean something? Oh my gosh! Surely that means something, right? He used his free hand to nervously fidget, twiddling his fingers and jumping his leg up and down. His mind whirled for the remainder of the train ride, struggling to comprehend the implications of such a simple utterance. He was in such a whirlwind of confusion that he almost missed their stop as it chimed over the intercom. 

Izuku started with a gasp, then looked down at Ochako, who was still dozing peacefully. He gently shook her shoulder, looking up nervously as people began filing off the train. 

“Ochako… It’s our stop!” he whispered loudly. Ochako stirred, her eyelashes fluttering to reveal hazy, sleep-addled eyes. She looked up at him drowsily with a sleepy smile on her lips. Izuku couldn’t help but return it with a sweet one of his own, charmed by how cute she looked as she rose into consciousness. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” he joked. “Sorry to wake you, but we’re in Tokyo.” 

“Really?” she asked, looking around with her eyes still lidded with sleep. It took her a second to realize her head was propped on his shoulder, her short brown hair spilling over it like a curtain. When she did, however, she stiffened, and then bolted up with a squeak. Izuku only just managed to pull back in time before her head collided with his chin. Ochako covered her hands with her face, peering at him with appalled brown eyes. “I-I-I’m so sorry! How long have I been sleeping on you? That must have been so uncomfortable!” 

“N-n-no, not at all!” Izuku stammered back, waving his hands in denial. “It felt kinda nice, actually.” A split second of silence passed between them as they processed what he’d just uttered. Both of them then gasped and looked away from each other, both covering their bright red faces. The announcer pleasantly initiated the last call, making Izuku stand up stiffly. “W-w-w-we need to go! We don’t wanna miss our reservation!” 

“You’re right! Let’s go!” Ochako agreed, standing up and scurrying down the aisle while still covering her face. Izuku hurried after her, and they managed to hop off the bullet train just as the doors were closing. They stood awkwardly on the platform, heat radiating off them like a couple of steamed pork buns. They took a moment to recover from the embarrassing situation, with Izuku pulling up a map on his phone to navigate their way to the sandwich shop. He looked at Ochako, still slightly pink-faced, and coughed politely because she was still staring stressfully off into space. 

“Sh-shall we head off? I don’t think that the train station specializes in sandwiches,” he joked lightly and rubbed the back of his neck. Ochako smiled at his wisecrack, her opal-pink cheeks turning a pleasant shade of carnation as her discomfort was replaced with happiness. She nodded in agreement so Izuku turned around, standing on his tip-toes to hunt for the stairs over the sea of heads. The subway was bustling as those departing the train and those preparing for the next arrival blended together in a writhing, cacophonic mess. He and Ochako stared dauntedly at the tightly-crammed mass and the stairs hugging the wall beyond the great sea of people. 

“Um… Ochako… Would you like to hold hands?” Izuku offered shyly, looking at her with a sheepish smile. When her eyes blew wide like twin moons, his face blazed red and he hurriedly threw up his hands defensively. “I-I-I just don’t want us to get separated, that’s all! Th-there’s so many people, a-a-after all, and it would waste more time if one of us got lost!” 

“Oh!” Ochako blinked, the blush in her face fading with a sheepish smile. “Sure, Deku.” She offered him her hand and Izuku took it, careful not to touch all five of the cute little pink pads adorning her fingertips. As easy as floating over the crowd would be, it would probably present more problems than it would solve in the end. 

Clutching her hand tight and mildly self-conscious about the sweat that blossomed on his palm, he turned slightly to the side so he could shoulder his way through the crowd. He toted Ochako along, shouting “Excuse me!” and “Coming through!” over the chatter and mechanical din of the train station. Somehow, they wormed their way through the crowd and arrived at the base of the stairs, albeit a little breathless. He smiled at Ochako and moved to retract his hand, but surprisingly, she clenched down on his fingers. When he stared confusedly at her, she looked bashfully down at her feet. 

“It might be crowded on the street, so… maybe we should play it safe?” She peered out of her lashes at him, pink tinging her cheeks. Izuku’s eyebrows crept up his forehead, too stunned to even have the sense to blush, but the hopefulness in Ochako’s timid gaze chased away any inclinations of refusing. He just smiled sweetly and squeezed her hand, prompting her to look up at him. 

“Of course, Ochako. The last thing I’d want to do today is lose you.” 

She gasped lightly, then used her free hand to hide her face as it flushed bright red. Izuku, realizing how flirtatious the simple declaration could sound, did the same and looked over his shoulder. I didn’t mean for it to sound so lovey-dovey, but Ochako thinks this is a date, so I guess I should be a little flirty, right?, he thought, peering out of the gaps in his fingers at her. Though her hand covered most of her face, he could see the edges of her blissful smile poking out from underneath her fingers. The fact she was so happy at just a small comment made his heart flutter and a bubbly feeling rise up in his body. I want to make her as happy as I can today… he realized, a soft smile spreading over his lips. 

I’ll do my best to make this the best date ever for you, Ochako!

Finally, the two awkward teenagers gathered their wits enough to ascend the stairs to the street above. Like Ochako predicted, Akihabara was rather hectic; people streamed along the sidewalks, huddling close together as cars trundled by on the cobblestone roads. Flickering, bright neon signs towered over them advertising shops, deals, news, and— most importantly— the upcoming concert. Using his trusty map as a guide, Izuku weaved through the foot traffic toward the sandwich shop crammed in the small square space. 

“Wow! Look at all the cosplays, Deku,” Ochako piped up suddenly. He looked up with a confused blink, having been absorbed in following the map, before glancing around. Sure enough, a lot of the patrons moseying around were decked out in cosplay of their favorite anime characters. They flocked to the electronics and manga stores, coming out laden with goods. Others stood outside of maid cafés, chatting amicably with the girls in black-and-white dresses, thigh-high stockings, and cute bonnets trying to entice them in for an afternoon snack. Electronic music and chimes bled out of the door of a pachinko parlor as it opened and closed continuously with gamblers walking in and out, most of them defeatedly. 

“Wow! Akihabara really is as electric as they say,” Izuku praised. The air thrummed with energy; he could feel it vibrating under his skin, humming in his bones and sending a pleasant adrenaline pulsing through his body. He found himself with a prance in his step as he led Ochako on, both of them stopping occasionally to marvel at the eclectic displays that made Akihabara the haven for otakus and electronics enthusiasts. They paused so many times that they almost did miss their reservation, bundling into the shop with only a minute to spare and startling the hostess. 

Like the rest of Akihabara, the sandwich shop possessed an anime theme, specifically a popular magical girl anime that he knew Ochako liked to watch with Tooru. The waitresses strutted around in colorful, lace-laden dresses, playfully waving their ornate wands and punctuating their conversations with cute poses and sayings. Ochako’s eyes brightened immediately when they walked inside, and she looked at Izuku surprisedly as they were escorted to a table. 

“Izuku, did you pick this place because of me?” she asked as she eased into the booth seat, which was white and patterned with little pastel-colored hearts and stars. Izuku tried not to seem too proud of himself as he sat across from her, failing a little as the cheeky grin of satisfaction worked its way onto his face. 

“Yeah! They were really nice about working us in for the concert today,” he explained as he picked up the salt and pepper shakers, which were styled like fluffy alien mascots, to examine them with amusement. He set them down before smiling at Ochako, who looked like she was about to cry with gratitude. “I wanted you to have a good time, so I thought picking a restaurant themed after your favorite anime would make you happy!” 

She shrunk down a little in the booth. Her lips twitched as she tried not to smile too hard, but it broke free, stretching across her face until her eyes crinkled up into little half-moons. She played with the bow around her middle and shifted, her eyes trained shyly on the table. Finally, she murmured a soft, “Thank you, Deku. I really am happy.” 

“I’m glad,” Izuku replied, just as softly. She shifted again, her smile growing wider, though her face strained to fit the absolutely overjoyed beam. It made that fuzzy, bubbly feeling rise up within him again. He picked up the menu to hide his pleased smile. 

Everything’s going so well! 

They spent an hour or so in the shop, chowing down on scrumptious sandwiches and fraternizing with the costumed waitresses. Ochako snagged a photograph with every single one of them, and she broke down crying when the manager gifted her a free cosplay wand of her favorite magical girl because he was so charmed by her enthusiasm. She clutched it to her chest as they walked out of the shop, her eyes glittering like diamonds and her skin practically glowed with happiness. As Izuku pulled up his map again to find the concert venue, Ochako dramatically flourished the wand and bopped him on the head. 

“Am I a magical girl now?” He laughed while putting a hand on his head where she had tapped him with it. 

“Yep!” She giggled, tapping him again on his hand. “You’d make a beautiful magical girl.” 

“Thanks.” He laughed. “I’ll take that into consideration. Maybe I’ll make it my brand in a few years!” 

“Oh my gosh!” Ochako laughed, covering her mouth with an obscene snort. “I can just imagine you prancing around in thigh-high boots and a skirt with little plastic wings…” 

“I thought you said I would be a beautiful magical girl!” He whined. “What, is the image too beautiful for you to handle?” 

“Yes!”

They both began laughing hysterically at the image of Izuku waltzing around in a girly costume with his magic wand touting about the power of friendship and love. It certainly was amusing. They continued to joke about it while they strolled to the concert venue, a building tucked into the towering mish-mash of specialty shops. It proudly displayed “AKB48” in bright letters of purple, red, and blue on the scrolling neon sign, followed by a “SOLD OUT” in white. 

“It’s a good thing you won those tickets, Deku!” Ochako said when they filed into line. Izuku clutched the tickets in his hands; it would be a shame for them to come all this way only to have lost them at the finish line. They inched forward as the concertgoers were filed inside. 

“Yeah! I’m happy you agreed to come with me, Ochako. Truthfully, I don’t know anything about these idols,” he admitted while bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “I just called in for the heck of it. I was so shocked when I found out I actually won!” 

“Really? This is gonna be so much fun, then! I can’t wait to see what you think of them!” 

“Yeah?” he said, finding himself growing excited from her infectious enthusiasm. She began to ramble about the origin of idol groups in Akihabara and the rise of the latest, AKB48. Though Izuku really didn’t understand much of what she was talking about, the way her eyes lit up and a smile painted her round face made him listen along anyway. He watched her dreamily, more watching her mouth move than paying attention to the words coming out of it. She really is pretty, he thought absently, marveling at the sheen of her glossed lips. He wondered what flavor it could be. She seemed like a strawberry or cherry type of person, but maybe she opted for something unique. 

“Tickets, please.” 

Izuku was startled out of his daydreaming by the attendant, who had apparently been asking him for the tickets for several seconds, based on his annoyed expression and demandingly outstretched hand. Izuku hurriedly handed over the tickets while sputtering apologies, but the greeter only dismissively waved them through. Ochako encouragingly patted Izuku’s back as he shuffled on, sulking with embarrassment. 

I just couldn’t help but get so engrossed in her talking, he thought with a light blush dusting his cheeks. His eyes were still engrossed with her, trailing slowly to watch as she scampered up to the merchandise table to ogle the band tee shirts. A dreamy smile automatically appeared on Izuku’s lips; she just looked too cute, her index finger pressed against her pursed lips as she carefully surveyed the selection. He moseyed up behind her, hands clasped behind his back and his eyebrows raised meaningfully. 

“There’s a little time before the concert starts… Would you like a shirt, Ochako?” 

“What?” she cried, jumping at his sudden appearance. “O-o-oh, no, I was just looking! You already paid for lunch, Deku. I couldn’t possibly ask for more!” she refused, waving her hands. She was still holding the wand from the sandwich shop, so she accidentally bopped herself in the head with it during her nervous flailing. Her face turned bright red, but she continued to insistently refuse his offer. “Seriously, Deku, don’t worry about it. I don’t want one that bad.” Yet, her eyes slid longingly back to the table. 

“Yeah, you do.” He laughed and pulled out his wallet. He danced away when Ochako tried to swipe at him, dodging her grabs while pulling out a few bills. It took a few seconds for him to get back to the merchandise seller, who was watching them amusedly, but once Izuku dropped the bills into his hand, it was over. Ochako slumped defeatedly and sheepishly slid the shirt she wanted off the table, while Izuku grabbed another that had caught his eye. Izuku slipped his own over the tee-shirt that Denki had loaned him, and Ochako followed suit by sliding hers over her dress. The fronds of her bow stuck out awkwardly underneath, making Izuku chuckle and bat at them. 

“What? Do I look funny?” she pouted, grabbing the hem of the shirt subconsciously. 

“No,” he chuckled while rubbing the soft, wilky fabric of the bow’s tail between his thumbs. “I think it’s cute how big of a fan you are that you’ll wear it over your dress.” Ochako flushed and ducked her head, the edges of her smile peeking out of her swathes of brown hair. He reached out to tuck it behind her ear, and as his fingertips brushed ever-so-softly against her cheek, she froze. Normally he would grow flustered and flail about, but… there was something about the electric energy of this place that made him bold, that made him act on the warm, fluttery feeling that had been filling him up all afternoon. 

Slowly, that bubbly warmth had become sharper, stronger, turning into volts of electricity that shot through his bones every time Ochako gifted him that beautiful smile and cute pink face. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to make her happy simply for her sake anymore, but rather a selfish desire to fuel the electricity pulsing within him, those sparks of affection slowly coalescing into an electric storm. 

“W-we should go find our seats,” Ochako gulped after a few seconds of staring at him in stunned silence, as his hands were still resting in her hair. He hummed in agreement and pulled back, sliding his hands in his pockets as he led the way. They walked into the concert hall proper to find rows upon rows of seats surrounding a spacious stage. Large black speakers lined its circumference and purple-blue lights basked the area in a dusky glow. Thanks to winning the special promotion, Izuku and Ochako’s seats were near the front— not too far up to be deafening, but close enough to still provide a great view and ambience. They pushed past the other concertgoers to take their place among the throng. They were just in time, as the lights soon dimmed and a hush descended upon the crowd. 

The silence was instantly replaced by deafening cheers as a group of young women in school uniforms skipped out on stage, smiling and waving enthusiastically. Izuku and Ochako barely had time to jam in the soft foam earplugs provided to them before the crowd erupted into their roars; even still, Izuku’s eardrums rang with the cacophony. After greeting the crowd, the girls set up in formation, prompting Ochako to touch Izuku’s arm excitedly. 

“Ah, they’re starting!” she squealed over the cheers. “I’m so excited!” She jumped up and down, standing on her tip-toes to watch the idols with sparkling eyes, and that’s when Izuku stopped paying attention to anything but her. 

Really, if he’d paid for the tickets, they’d have been a waste. Izuku spent the entire concert gazing at the girl beside him. The strobe lights played over her form in hues of pink and purple and blue, the light playing over her round cheeks pink with exhilaration and glinting off her bright smile and shining eyes. Sweat sheened on her skin as she danced excitedly in place and belted out the lyrics to the songs as loud as she could. Every time she looked at Izuku with an expression of sheer elation, he felt his breath leave his lungs. How a girl could be so utterly breathtaking doing something so simple as having fun, he wasn’t sure, but Ochako was. 

The electricity coursed through him, simmering under his skin and filling him to the brim with his own sense of joy. I think I love her, he realized with an adoring smile, just watching her sway her hips and toss her arms as she danced to the beat. No, I know I love her. Maybe he always had. How could he not? She had been there for him from the beginning of his journey, supporting him and encouraging him. She was the perfect balance of soft and strong, a kind heart ready to harden like steel whenever she needed to. And, God, she was beautiful, so beautiful his heart ached looking at her. She was a masterpiece underneath these flashing lights, the shining sun, the glowing moon— a soft and natural beauty that was as pure as the rest of her. 

Izuku found himself reaching out to her without realizing it. He gently touched her cheek, a feather-light trace of her skin. She dropped her arms slightly to look at him in confusion, and that’s when he closed the distance to press a kiss to her mouth. He felt her tense and then melt into him with a soft hum. Her body molded against his like it belonged there, her arms winding around his neck like they’d found their way home. The poppy tunes of the idol band faded into the background as they kissed slowly, sweetly, passionately, in the thralls of a love so electric it could power cities for all time. 

Eventually, they pulled apart, a little breathless and pink-faced. Strawberry, he thought absently when he licked his lips. Ochako stared coyly up at him and batted her eyelashes. 

“I didn’t know this was supposed to be a date,” she admitted quietly, so much so that Izuku almost didn’t hear her over the blasting music of the ending set. He did, though, and his eyes went wide in shock. 

“You… you didn’t? But Denki and Hanta said…” He trailed off with a groan, realizing just how big a mistake it was to listen to those two clowns. Ochako laughed when he face-palmed. She reached up to pull his hand away, still chuckling. The show had just ended with the crowd erupting in applause around them, but the two of them made no move to leave. 

“It’s okay,” she smiled sweetly. “I had an amazing time, Deku, really. This is more than I ever could have asked for.” 

“I’m glad, but…” He chewed nervously on the inside of his check. “Are you okay with it being a date? I mean, I thought… Which is why I kissed you, but if you didn’t want it, that was totally not okay of me—!” Before he could descend into sputtering rambles, Ochako silenced him by putting a finger over his lips. He crossed his eyes to blink at the digit, while she chuckled warmly. 

“Izuku, do you think I would have kissed you back if I wasn’t okay with it?” she teased. He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. 

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true… So… does this mean we’re dating now?” 

“I suppose it does,” Ochako nodded bashfully, turning from side-to-side. Something about that made Izuku exceptionally giddy, so much so that he swooped in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. She squealed in surprise and delight, returning his affections with a nose nuzzle. Filled to the brim with more happiness than he thought humanly possibly, Izuku just took a moment to admire his pretty new girlfriend, and her deep brown eyes that were staring at him, so in love. 

They were practically glued to one another’s side as they exited the concert hall. Dusk had descended, with the last rays of the sunlight spearing into the lavender-blue sky. Though Akihabara probably had much more fun to be had, they unfortunately had to return to the dorm before curfew. They headed straight for the station and boarded the bullet train. This time, Ochako nestled purposefully into his shoulder, watching with lidded eyes as he scrolled through his news feed on his phone. Izuku looped his arm around her waist to hold her close to him, enjoying her warmth blooming against his side with the nighttime cityscape basking them in streetlight.

It wasn’t long until she dozed off. Her shoulders rose and fell with gentle breaths. Izuku petted her soft hair with a smile, still on his phone as he idly wove the silky strands around his fingers. His phone chimed suddenly with a text message from Denki, asking how the date went. Smirking, Izuku raised his phone to snap a picture of them— Ochako dozing against him, held securely in Izuku’s grip. 

If Izuku had to say, it went very well indeed.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[haileygarciasunshine]

Contradiction

Percy Jackson x Avengers Cross Over

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Written: February 22nd, 2021

Posted: February 22nd, 2021

Warning: None

Word Count: 1,294 

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Enemies to Friends to Lovers Trope.

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Author’s Note: Yes, I know the youngest age of the Camp Half-Blood campers, but for sake of my work I lowered it. I also know the restriction of crossing into camp. It’s all for the sake of piece.

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Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you had narrowly blocked another one of Percy’s blows. The thought of mistakenly asking him to train you flashed into your mind.

Wheezing, you placed your hands on your knees as you bent at the waist in an attempt to catch your breath.

“Having trouble keeping up, Y/L/N?” Percy teased flashing you his white teeth.

Snorting, you picked up your sword before swinging it in his direction. “Not a chance.”

The scorching summer sun, beat down on you the more you trained, while beads of sweat raced down your face soaking the neckline trickling down your back.

Once Percy had deemed you had enough training, you hurriedly made your way to the showers. The feeling of excitement washing over you as you thought about a cold shower.

---

After dinner, Grove found you and convinced you to sneak away with your group of friends to a local bookstore, in the city.

As soon as you entered the store, there was a small ring of a bell that echoed off the walls. Glancing up, you made a mental note of how long it had been since you had last been in a store that had a real bell above the door.

“Welcome.” One of the cashiers greeted barely glancing up from her register, locking eyes with your small group.

“Thanks,” Grover smirked, nodding his head at her. In a mere matter of seconds, the cashiers' giggles filled the shop, as Grover flirted with her.

Turning your attention back to your friends, you let out a sigh as they were nowhere to be seen. Knowing Annabeth, she had probably dragged Percy towards her favorite section of books, piling them in his arms.

Shaking your head, you glanced around before venturing up the spiral stairs to the second level of the book store. The second level was perfect for customers to gaze out of the second-story windows, as well as having a more peaceful reading experience in the store. Oversized chairs and coffee tables were littered around the level. 

Letting out a comfortable sigh, you began venturing down the isles in search of some undiscovered treasures of yours. Finding an area, you began plucking books out one by one as you read their synopsis. 

Once you had felt content with your book selection, you searched for the nearest chair before you burrowed yourself as best as you could into it. Picking up one of the books, you began reading it as you awaited one of your friends to come and alert you they were ready to get going.

“Figured I could find you here.” A familiar voice spoke wearily. 

Not wanting to look up, you didn’t want your calming state to be interrupted.

“Can we sit?”

His question catching you off guard. Finally raising your eyes from the text, you gazed over the edge of the book, locking Y/E/C with Steve’s icy ones.

“This is Bucky.” He spoke motioning towards the lengthy built man. His hair loosely framing his face. “Buck this is Y/N,”  Steve smirked as he gazed between his two friends.

Closing the book, you placed it on top of the pile of books you had placed on the table. Standing up, you extended your hand towards the brunette. 

Bucky gazed at you, ignoring your hand with a scoff. “I’m going to go find a book.” He grumbled, removing himself from the small gathering.

Steve let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, he’s not normally like this.”

You let out an unconvinced hum. “Right...Well, what can I do ya for?”

Letting out a chuckle, he maneuvered to occupy one of the chairs in front of you. “I... We actually need your help.”

Furrowing your eyebrows together in confusion, you glanced in the direction Bucky had left. “We?”

“The Avengers.”

---

"Y/N, you made it!” Tony exclaimed rushing towards you as he pulled you in for a hug. 

You quickly wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he lifted you off the ground. The sound of your giggles bouncing off the walls.

“I’ve missed you, kid,” Tony muttered into your hair.

“The feeling’s mutual.” 

“What are you doing here?” Bucky sounded from behind you.

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t bother turning to face him.

“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes they’re going to get stuck.” 

Scoffing you shook your head. “Whatever you say, gramps.”

“Guys, can you please behave for this meeting,” Steve asked his voice making it clear he was already feeling agitated.

Keeping your comments to yourself, you nodded your head before taking a spot between Tony and Bruce at the conference table. While Bucky sat directly across from you. 

As Steve spoke, you felt your mind wandering to other places as well as feeling antsy. Every so often, you would adjust to a different position on your chair, while letting out a sigh.

Moving to adjust once more, you felt a sting in your leg as someone had kicked you. Frowning, you made the mistake of looking at Bucky. A devilish smirk was drawn on his lips. Narrowing your eyes, you sent him a glare. Silently encouraging him to keep up his actions.

“Now, for those of you who aren’t aware, I would like to introduce our friend, Y/N,” Steve spoke motioning towards you, as claps from the table sounded. “She is a Demi-God-”

“I’m sorry, Y/N’s a what?” Bucky screeched, holding a hand up stopping Steve in his tracks.

Whipping your head in his direction, your heart began pounding out of your chest, as you felt tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Demi-God?” Bucky questioned his voice dripping like venom. Crossing his arms along his chest, he leaned back in his chair shooting daggers at you. 

“As is Half-God and Half-Mortal..” Steve spoke hoping to calm Bucky. “Or in Y/N’s case. Half-Goddess.”

“Half?” Bucky snorted. “Why do we need a Half-Goddess when we have a full God.” He spat raising a challenging eyebrow in your direction. “What can a half anything offer us?”

Tears had snuck out the corners of your eyes as you let out a quiet sob. Bucky wasn’t the first to make you feel as if you weren’t good enough as a Demi-God, but his did hurt the most.

Standing up promptly from the table, you rushed out of the room not listening to the disembodied voices call out to you.

“Way to go, Manchurian Candidate.” Tony spat while glaring at Bucky.

---

Sometime the ill-fated meeting, Steve had unsuccessfully attempted to get into contact with you and apologize.

“What are we doing here?” Bucky questioned his voice naturally coming out hostile.

“We’re here so you,” Steve glared at him. “Can apologize to Y/N.”

Sam snorted. “Man, I still can’t believe you managed to offend a Goddess.”

“Half-Goddess.” Bucky sighed in correction.

“Half-Goddess, Full-Goddess, what’s the difference?” Sam questioned rolling his eyes. 

“Well her abilities-” 

Sam quickly cut off Bucky. “What does it matter to you anyways, Barnes? You’re Half-Cyborg.”

Tony let out a bellowing laugh, clapping Sam on the back in approval before Steve let out softer belts of laughter. While Bucky muttered under his breath about his hate for Sam.

“You’re just mean to her because you like her,” Sam spoke.

“I do not!” Bucky defended.

“Face it, Barnes, you can’t help but be attracted to powerful independent women.” Sam shrugged. “Let’s look at Natasha for instance. How long did it take for you to get over her?”

“We are not, talking about my love life.” Bucky snarled.

“Easy there Cyborg.” Sam held his hands up in defense. “I was just trying to help you out.”

The small group ventured through the forest. Seeing the arc the four men passed underneath making their way into Camp Half-Blood.

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[bbrandy2002]

Fearless

Chapter 2: Take My Hand And Drag Me Headfirst

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Prince/King Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), Drake Walker x OC (Alyssa Devereaux)

Series Premise: Riley Brooks and Alyssa Devereaux became best friends as freshmen at Syracuse University, a borderline-sisterhood that lasts forever after. When Riley meets a handsome prince and is asked to compete for his hand in a mysterious faraway kingdom, she invites Alyssa along for moral support.

What the girls think will be a crazy temporary adventure becomes two sets of happily ever afters … with twice the shenanigans to show for it.

A/N: This series is written in loving collaboration between @bbrandy2002 and @burnsoslow​.

Series Warnings: Smut 🍋🍋, language, canon violence (gun violence, bombing, terrorism), drug use, probably more stuff as we think of it. By reading this series, you agree that you are at least 18 years old and are prepared to deal with adult themes.

Thank you @burnsoslow​ for the beta and putting some of your magical finishing touches where needed.

Chapter 3 will be written by @burnsoslow​ ,  I’m so excited for that!!

___________________________

Propped against the railing of the rear deck of a small tugboat in the middle of the Hudson River, the warmth of Liam’s arms wrapped around her from behind, Riley thought back to the words Daniel spoke to her earlier about fairytales and happy endings. Maybe it was the hope in his voice she needed to hear during a vulnerable moment to lift her spirits, but she was really starting to believe them herself.

The newly fired, down-on-her-luck Riley Brooks had left the Tapped Out Bar with a mysterious man that she plowed over during an escape from rats while taking out the garbage. A little while later, she accidentally attacked him again in the alleyway of her former employment with her sad little stick. They struck up a conversation, and through some awkward stalling on his part, he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out for a drink. 

Riley wasn’t someone who normally took off with random guys she just met to flit about the city, but there was just something about Liam that was different -- that was special. 

Call it intuition. An inclination. Instinct or inkling. Whatever it was, was a possibility. Of what? That remained to be seen. 

After talking to his friends about his plans, and at her behest, the pair headed west on foot until they reached a busy late-night cafe that overlooked the choppy waters of the New York harbor. Sitting on the open deck, moonlight cascading off the ripples of the sea, a light jazz tune playing through the outdoor speakers, they talked for over an hour about everything and nothing, while sipping coffee and plucking at a large cinnamon roll they shared. It was the most Riley had spoken in a long time. When you live with and are friends with the more outgoing Alyssa, you learn to appreciate the fine art of listening. She spoke about her dads, her friends, places she traveled to and what not. All very light, casual conversation. Liam mentioned he had family, his country of origin, how much he was enjoying New York, but never revealed too much.

Not wanting to sound too whiny and pathetic, she stuck with the positive things in her life; she surprised even herself that there were a lot more than she realized. But he captivated her in a real way that made it so easy. Liam laughed with her and made her feel interesting and personable; maybe even desired.

And as the night carried on and the patrons of the cafe dwindled down, a Miles Davis tune began to play: “Blue and Green.” A bright smile tugged on the corner of Liam’s lips as he pushed his chair back and rose from the table to offer his hand. “My lady.”

Riley looked around the deck to see if anyone else was dancing -- they weren’t -- but how could she say no? 

She didn’t want to say no.

Beside their little round table and under a string of hanging white pearly lights and garland, they slowly swayed together like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was chemistry in motion with every soft blare of the trumpet, rhythmic taps on the snare drum, and light pitter pats on a piano played in G major. The tempo was leisurely and elegant, creating the perfect ambience for the feelings that were stirring within them.

With her head resting snugly against his firm chest, the thrumming of his steadily-beating heart reverberating in her ear, Liam revealed, “I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia, Riley.”

Never breaking their stride, Liam lifted one of her tiny arms in the air and twirled her around gracefully. Riley smiled up at him as they returned to formation; their hands intertwined between them. “And I’m one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

Liam laughed as they continued their gentle side-to-side movements. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not lying to you. Perhaps I should have been a little more upfront with you from the beginning, but I’m normally not allowed to go out without the Royal Guard.” He paused for a moment to lower her into a deep dip, sensually inhaling the perfumed scent around her decolletage, before pulling her back into his arms. “And I was only allowed out on the condition that I kept my identity a secret. But, just for one day … I wanted to be free.”

It was one of the most romantic nights Riley had ever experienced in her life, but as the music continued to play, their steps gliding in sync, she nuzzled her cheek against his firm body and responded, “You’re so full of shit.”

Liam pulled away, amused by her choice of words and disbelief. “After I told you all of that, you still think I’m lying?”

Riley shrugged. “I dunno.” She casually pulled out her chair under his watchful eye and sat down, crossing her legs. Lifting a coffee mug to her lips, she winced at its cold temperature, and the fact that she hated coffee. “So, I’m not really into the whole role-playing thing, but if you’re gonna be this ... Prince of Condomania, how about if I play the sultry villainess spy who comes to steal the treasures from your castle and you catch me in the act?” She batted her eyelashes and splayed her hands across her chest. “I will neva surrenda, Prince Liam. If you wont me, you’ll haf to take me right heya.” Riley animatedly flung her arms out and arched back over her chair.

Liam knit his brow. “What the hell kind of accent is that?”

Riley sat up and smiled proudly. “It’s Cajun. I have this friend and I really like how he talks; it’s so sexy. Do you think it sounded convincing at all? Maybe a little too nasally? You want me to try to do your accent next?”

With a grin, Liam shook his head and took the seat across from her. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Riley watched curiously as Liam pulled out his phone and began typing something on it. He held it out to her. “I want you to look at this, Cajun Villainess Spy. Tell me what you think?”

“Oh God, you’re gonna show me a dick pic, aren’t you?” Riley slammed her eyes shut as she reluctantly reached for his cell, but sort of peeked out one eye.  

“Eh, no. That’s never really been my style.” He gestured insistently for her to look at the screen as he sat back and crossed his arms. “I think you’ll find everything you want to know about me right there.”

It only took her a second to study the images and gloss over the text he pulled up, but a satisfied smirk formed on Liam’s charmed features while watching her eyes grow larger. Riley jumped up from her chair, the momentum causing it to tip over. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a real prince?” 

Liam guffawed, “I did!”

“No, you didn’t! You had I’m joking written all over your face. How was I supposed to know your serious face and your joke face look the same?” She tossed the phone back to him like it was molten iron scorching her palm. “I’d rather have the dick pic.” 

After picking up her tipped-over chair and getting settled again, she took a moment to just process the identity of the man she had spent the last couple of hours talking and dancing with. Her real-life Prince Charming. This incredibly sweet, hot guy sipping coffee in front of her was part of a royal family, and she was an unemployed everything. What on earth possessed him to want to spend time with the likes of her?  

She looked up from her fidgeting fingers that were picking at the green fabric covering her thighs and smiled softly at him. “I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s just …”

“A lot to learn about someone? No, no, I get it. I probably would have had the same reaction if I were you.”

“So ... what happens now?”

What happened next was what led them to the boat they were on for an impromptu midnight ride to see the Statue of Liberty.

Liam laid out the details of his situation: He was a prince visiting New York City with his friends who were throwing him a last-minute bachelor party. Riley listened attentively while he explained his upcoming social season: not knowing yet who he was going to marry, but that duty required him to take a wife by the end of the year. He had hoped while he was in the city to visit its most famous statue; however, his friends hadn’t planned for it. Riley heard the disappointment in his voice and it tugged at her heart.

It was definitely too late to catch one of the many tours that traveled to Ellis Island during the day, but Riley was determined to do what she could to make it happen for him. Part of her was motivated by the fact that she liked him a lot and enjoyed his company; he was charming and refined, different from anyone she’d ever met. The longer she got to spend with Liam and got to know him, the better. But there was also this other part that felt sorry for him. Riley could see the struggle in his eyes and the weight on his shoulders between what he wanted to do, and what his position forced his hand to do. In her mind it was clear that Liam was the kind of guy who got everything -- except what he wanted.

In some ways, she knew the feeling.

To Liam’s surprise, Riley assured him she would find a way for him to see that statue. So, while he paid the tab, her mind raced with how the hell she was going to pull this off. And just before the actual possibility of having to hijack a vessel began to fully take shape in her mind, she pulled out her phone in one last-ditch effort to not break the law. Riley knew no one who owned a boat, but there was one person in her life that seemingly had a connection to everyone in the damn city.

Riley bit at her fingernails as the phone rang, glancing over her shoulder once to watch Liam paying the cashier. “Come on, come on. Pick up. Pick up.”

“Heyyyy!”

“Alyssa,” Riley whispered in an urgent tone into the phone, unclear whether her friend would even hear her over the party music and raucous chatter that was blaring in the background. “I need your help with something.”

“Riiiiley!” she slurred. “My bestie. My sister from another parents. I love you soooo much. More than everyone in the whole wide ... something. Hey, guys! Riley’s on the phone; say hi to her!” 

“Wait, Lyss! No.”

A loud chorus of drunken greetings could be heard through the receiver as Alyssa held it up in the air.

“Alyssa!” Riley repeated in frustration while listening to her best friend start another conversation with a partygoer about the perfect symmetrical shape of the cheese cube she just ate. Apparently, it looked like a “tiny little house, for teeny, tiny little cheese people.”

Riley smacked her forehead. “Alyssa!” 

Liam returned from paying the bill, his hands stuffed in his pockets and bouncing on his heels. He raised his eyebrows at Riley as if asking eagerly whether she was ready to head out on this adventure she told him she would make possible. Riley smiled back and raised a finger, indicating she’d be ready in a moment. Panic started to set in as she cursed under her breath and continued to try to get her friend back on the call. “Lyss.”

“Riley,” Alyssa laughed. “You’re still on the phone? No way! Hey, guys! Riley’s still on the phone. Say ‘hey’ to her!”

“NOO! Please, Alyssa, I need your help.”

“Whatcha need, Ri? You know I’ll do aaaanything for you.”

“Ok, do you remember when you caught our dorm room on fire senior year cooking ramen noodles in the microwave, and all my stuff burned up?”

“That checks. Sure.”

“Well, it’s time to pay up on that favor you said you’d owe me.”

Somehow, the planets must have been aligned just right, because a very inebriated Alyssa comprehended Riley’s request enough to talk to Damien about it and have it actually make sense. Luckily, the private detective knew a guy who drove a tugboat for the Port Authority working the night shift and was more than willing to see what he could do for Alyssa’s best friend.

-----------

Riley felt Liam’s arms tighten around her waist as the Statue of Liberty came into view. She had seen the landmark more times than she could remember in her life; perhaps she had become so accustomed to it being there that she took for granted how it would affect someone seeing it for the first time. It wasn’t until she twisted around in his arms to view his reaction, to see this beacon of freedom reflecting in his mesmerized eyes, that it all made sense. Liam was a beautiful man with a beautiful soul; if anyone deserved this moment to reflect on what it truly meant to embrace the freedom he longed for, it was him.

“What are you thinking, Liam?” She broke the silence.

He shook his head in wonderment. “It’s magnificent, Riley. I’ve heard art has meaning because of what it makes the viewer feel. Whether it’s ink splatters on a canvas or on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, it only matters if it moves you.”

“And?” 

Liam let out a sigh of contentment and lowered his gaze to her. “And right now, looking at this view with you … I feel like … anything is possible.”

“I feel that way too.” She slowly nodded, finding herself lost in his eyes, his voice, his embrace. Nothing in this moment mattered to her anymore: the long stream of bad luck, the crappy job she just lost, her epic failures at relationships. They all seemed to just wistfully fly out into the ocean and bury themselves below its sandy bottom. 

Wrapped in each other's arms, surrounded by the salty sea air and a skyline full of hopes and dreams, Liam pulled her as close to himself as she would go, his other hand moving up to caress the side of her face. Both searched longingly into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to make that next big move. 

Feeling an awakening of courage and fire in the depths of her fluttering stomach, she threw all fears and caution to the wind. Riley grasped on to the lapels of Liam’s jacket and gently lowered him to her eagerly awaiting lips.

The kiss was tender and brief, but magical; it left her spellbound. Riley could swear she floated out of her body and traveled into the clouds that blanketed above them and enveloped her wholly.

Liam rested his forehead on Riley’s; his hands reached down to grasp hers and swing freely alongside them. “You’re full of surprises tonight, Riley.”

“Is that before or after I knocked you out earlier?”

He chucked, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. “Both times. I’m certainly not sorry about either, though. I’ll never forget this night … or you.”

If you have a concussion, you might. She smiled up at him, “Me either.”

As their boat rounded the island, Riley took one last glance back at the statue that now represented so much more in her mind. Her gaze traveled across the expanse of the gleaming torch, down the long arm of the statue, over to the dim lights shining through the glass within the crown. Something caught her attention -- an odd movement -- and she couldn’t help but squint real hard to make out the image that was quite small from her vantage point. She tilted her head, trying to figure out what the hell she was seeing before it finally became clearer to her. She let out a loud gasp. “Oh my God!”

From behind, Liam leaned down next to her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked curiously, trying to match his view with her line of sight. “What are you seeing?”

Riley pointed up. “I see ass cheeks!” she replied in disgust. “And not just any ass cheeks … big, gigantic ones smooshed right up against the window. There’s two people up there just going at it and … oh, no wait, she just got turned around. Yep, yep, those look like boobies now. Who does that kind of thing, having sex where anyone could just see? And in the Statue of Liberty, of all places?”

Letting out a forced cough then clearing his throat, Liam squeezed Riley’s shoulders several times and laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I know. Sick freaks, huh?”

The pair watched the display for a second longer than they should have before turning to look at one another, blushing and smiling sheepishly. Riley only hoped she played off her disgust well enough that he didn’t realize she was a sick freak too.

Liam looked away, hoping the same.

---------

It was well past midnight.The Brooklyn streets were mostly bare, with only the occasional late-night dweller cruising the sidewalks or a yellow cab making its weekend rounds. Just a stone's throw across the bridge, the city that never slept, with its flashing lights and bustling tourist, lay in deep contrast to this quiet residential district that was only lit up at that hour by street lamps and halogen headlights.

Riley considered where she lived to be a fairly safe neighborhood. Crime and lawlessness weren’t unheard of, but it was rare for that area. Like many women of her young age, walking alone in the dark wasn’t something she usually set out to do unless she had no other choice. That’s why when Liam insisted he accompany her the few blocks from where they finished their excursion to see her home safely, she was more than willing to oblige him.

“This is my stop. Home sweet home.” Riley stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led to the entrance of her building and turned to Liam. She looked more gleeful than she actually was.

He glanced up at the plain red brick building. It was nothing special, but he made a mental note of the address numbers over its clear glass entryway. He knew it was unlikely he’d ever see her again, but on the off-chance, maybe someday if he was ever in the neighborhood … no, he thought … there’s no point in going there. “I see that ...it’s nice.”

Riley looked at him with a hopeful expression. “I know you said you had an early flight in the morning, but … if you’d like to come up …”

“I wish I could, Riley. Trust me, I want to more than you know; however, the limo will be here soon with my friends, and ...” he swept a strand of blowing hair from her face, memorizing her every feature. “... I don’t want to make this harder on either one of us.”

Nodding, Riley gave a half-smile. “I understand.”

They stared at one another for a moment, hoping to prolong the inevitable. “Come here, you.” Liam pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. ”I can never thank you enough for everything tonight, Riley. I’m so glad I ran into you. Well ... actually you ran into me.” Riley let out a soft laugh that made his heart skip a beat. “You were the best part of my trip, Riley. I mean it.”

Before they knew it, the limo pulled up alongside the sidewalk in front of Riley’s apartment. Both felt a sinking feeling, knowing this was the end, and embraced a little tighter as the squeak of the limo’s brakes dulled and the awaiting engine ran in the silent backdrop.

Riley drew in a breath, the heels of her shoes tapping one another. “I guess this is goodbye?”

Frowning, Liam’s palms moved up to her face and rested along her jawline. “I’m afraid it looks that way.” He leaned down and kissed her gently, her arms winding around the back of his neck to hold him there for as long as she possibly could.

Knowing if he didn’t end it there, it never would, Liam broke their kiss, stroking his hand through her hair and said, “Take care, Riley.”

She smiled back. “You too, Liam.”

Not wanting to leave until he was sure she made it inside safely, Liam watched from the sidewalk while Riley slowly made her way up the concrete steps, scouring through her bag as she did so. When she reached the top, she stepped in front of the locked door, frantically digging and shaking her bag in search of the keys to get in. 

“Everything okay up there?” Liam called up to her as she knelt down and started frantically tossing items from her purse, slamming them down next to her feet: wallet, cell phone, lip gloss, ink pens, breath mints, hand sanitizer, a half-eaten bag of skittles, a box cutter she didn’t know she had, a marshmallow bunny from Easter, Midol, tampons …

“Mother fuck,” she grumbled in frustration to herself before yelling back cheerfully, “Yes, just looking for my keys. They’re always at the bottom,” she laughed, trying to make light of it. 

“They’re in your hand, Riley,” she heard him point out when she finally gazed down into her hand and slowly opened her palm. Liam let out a laugh when he saw her face twist up, realizing she had them the entire time. 

“Get out of here. You said you didn’t want to make this harder.” Riley began stuffing everything back into her bag.

He continued to laugh as he threw his hands up and stepped away. “I’m going.”

As soon as she unlocked the door and walked inside to the lit-up entryway, she heard the limo pull away. Everything in her wanted to look back in hopes he’d stayed behind by some chance and was walking up those steps, approaching the door, wanting her to let him in. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; the greatest guy she’d ever met was gone, and the only way to see him again would require a Google search. 

In her mind, though, she had made a prince’s dream come true. Maybe she wasn’t half bad after all.

In a huge way, Liam did the same for her. Too bad he would never know it.

___________

Riley opened the door and stepped inside her dark apartment, closing it behind her. After such a long day, feeling a little disheartened, all she wanted to do was slip into some comfy night clothes, wash her face, brush her teeth and crash until next week. Taking two steps away from the door, her foot caught on something and she went flying forward, landing with a hard thud to the floor. 

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of her chest when she hit the ground. “Son-of-a--?” She pushed herself up on her knees, shook out her sore hands, then reached over to flip the light switch on.

“Alyssa?” Riley whispered.

Lying on the ground, curled into a peaceful little ball, was her roommate, still in the same clothes she last saw her in, hands pressed together and tucked under her cheek like a sleeping cherub. Riley crawled over to Alyssa, swept her hair out of her face, and checked for breathing. The strong smell of alcohol emanated from her tiny sighs -- Alyssa wasn’t a heavy drinker. 

Concerned, Riley jiggled her arm. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

An angelic murmur was the only answer to her question.

Not wanting to leave her on the floor, Riley stood up and bent down, her hands grasping both of Alyssa’s wrists before she pulled her down their hallway as gently as she could and stepped into her best friend's bedroom. 

Huffing out of breath, she made it next to Alyssa’s bed. Riley crouched down and tried to lift her onto the mattress, but Alyssa was dead weight. Maybe she had no other choice but to leave her there. 

Riley pulled a blanket and pillow from the bed, rolled Alyssa to her side, and got her as comfortable as she could. After placing a wastebasket next to her friend and leaving a bottled water on the night table, she patted her back. “I have so many things to tell you in the morning, Lyss. You’d be so proud of me.” Riley swallowed down the emotions that had threatened to escape since she realized Liam had left for good. Her voice broken and feeble, she continued, “I took that risk. I was fearless, just like you told me to be. It didn’t work out the way I had hoped, but …” she sniffled through a small smile, blinking back tears. “... I have no regrets.”

Riley rose to her feet and headed for the door when she heard a faint voice call out from behind that stopped her in her tracks. “Ri?”

She turned her head. “Hmm?”

“I’m always proud of you.”

Switching the light off, Riley smiled back at her friend, who still appeared to be resting in a calm slumber. “I know. Good night, bestie.”

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

The next morning, just as the sun had peeked from behind the clouds and the air was fresh with newness and warmth, Riley woke. Today would differ from every day before. She didn’t want to lie in bed all day and dwell on what-might-have-beens or how her life was a dead end to nowhere. She was determined she wanted something more out of it -- whatever that may be.

Slipping on a pair of trainers, running tights and a long sleeve shirt, she pulled her hair up in a high ponytail and headed out.

She made it two blocks before collapsing on a bench, gasping for air, and flipping off a kid on a bike who was laughing and taunting her.

After five more blocks of running and taking a break at nearly every bench or stoop along the way -- that same jerky kid still deriding her as he circled around each block -- Riley made her way back to her building, hunched over and sweaty. She didn’t jog as far as she’d liked to, but she made the effort, for which she was pleased with herself. 

It also didn’t hurt that there was a mouthy kid out there somewhere with two flat bicycle tires, crying to his mom, that was giving her a new boost of life. 

Reaching for the door of her building, she chuckled to herself thinking about his pouty little face -- haha, sucks to be you, kid -- when someone yelled out her name.

“Shit,” she panicked, thinking the boy’s parents had found her and had come to beat her ass. Riley fumbled with her keys, trying to make a quick getaway inside.

“Hey, Riley! Stop.” The voice sounded oddly familiar, and curiosity couldn’t stop her from whipping her head around to take a quick peek. She instantly recognized the man who was racing up the stairs towards her, from the bar. He was one of the guys from Liam’s party last night who helped after the collision. 

Pulling the keys from the lock and gripping the pepper spray attached to them, she jumped back when he suddenly hopped up next to her like a fireball of energy.

“Riley. I’m so glad I caught up with you. I’m Maxwell -- we met last night -- and this is Rashad.” He pointed over his shoulder. The man gave a simple nod in return. “He was there, too.”

Her brows knit in confusion. “Oookay. You both aren’t here by chance upset over a couple of slashed bike tires, are you? Because that wasn’t me. I saw who did it, though, if you need a witness statement.” Riley’s eyes shifted around, looking for a person to match her fake would-be description.

Maxwell shook his head with a chuckle and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her gaze falling to it. “Nah, I came to talk to you about Liam. You’re all he could talk about when he got back to the hotel last night. He went on and on about the cafe, and the trip to the Statue of Liberty, and how beautiful you are ...”

“He -- he did?” She was pleasantly surprised, her heart bursting at his words.

“Yeah. We’re heading back to Cordonia so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia. Sooo … is there somewhere we can talk?”

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

“You want me to do what?” Riley jumped up from the sofa, her eyes wide and mouth gaping as she gawked back at Maxwell, who was sitting at the far end. Her trembling hand shot to her forehead before she paced back and forth. “Let me get this straight. You want to sponsor me to compete to marry a man I just met last night? And not just any man, a prince. You’re going to fly me halfway across the world -- You could be the Official Royal Serial Killer, for all I know -- then prance me around like some beauty pageant contestant?  And all I have to do is say ‘yes to the dress’ that you can’t afford? Just hop right on a plane with two strange men, huh? How naïve do I look to you?” Riley paused for a second. “Don’t answer that.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I saw how Liam looked at you last night at the bar, and later when he returned from your date. I’ve never seen him that happy before. Honestly, I don’t want him to lose that. We’re kinda crunched for time, though. I’ve got a plane leaving in an hour.”

“An hour?” Riley questioned as she plopped down on the coffee table, her back to Maxwell and the guy in the chair across the room who hadn’t said a word the whole time. It was a once-in-a-lifetime offer to travel somewhere new and exciting and literally rub elbows with royalty. To live out that fairytale that most girls could only dream of. But more importantly, it was a way to see Liam again, and she wanted to so badly … if Maxwell was indeed telling the truth. 

Even if nothing came of it, there was no job tying her down anymore. Her dad had just gotten married to her stepfather and stayed busy as a chef for Beyonce and Jay-Z, so he would be fine, and she had enough money in savings to pay her portion of the rent while she was gone and expenses for her travels. There was just one thing she would insist on.

Riley spun around on the table, her eyes flashing between the two men. “I will do this -- on one condition.”

Maxwell clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes! Just name it and it’s yours.”

“Max.” Rashad leaned forward in his chair, his elbows pressed into his knees. “You don’t even know what she wants yet.”

“I’m getting to that.” Maxwell turned to her with an arched brow. “Okay, Riley. What is your condition?”

She hadn’t even asked Alyssa yet, but Riley steepled her fingers and volunteered her, anyway. “My roommate has to go with me.”

“No problemo.”

“What -- Really?”

“Sure. She can ride the jet back with us and I’ll even help her find a good hotel room nearby so you two can visit … if you’re able to find time in between all the competitions, balls, traveling, lessons, and what not. It’ll be great!”

Riley shook her head adamantly, not willing to budge on the issue. “No! I want Alyssa there for all of those things. If I even have the slightest chance of being a serious contender and a fully functioning human being, I need someone there to make sure I don’t do anything stupid … and I will … a lot.  Plus, she’s my best friend, and I’m not doing this without her.”

Feeling the pressure to relent and the seconds ticking away until takeoff, Maxwell’s shoulders slumped, taking in Riley’s pleading expression. “I -- I don’t know what to do. Your friend would have to be sponsored also in order to stay with you. She would have to be a suitor and compete for Liam’s hand just like you and all the other ladies, and there can only be one sponsee for each noble house. If you’re our pick, then she would need to have someone of nobility who doesn’t have a suitor yet and knows it’s all a ... ruse …” he trailed off, grinning impishly, as an idea suddenly popped into his head. Maxwell’s gaze swept across the room and landed on his friend, Rashad, who had a deer-in-the-headlights look, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

“Oh no. Leave me out of this,” he insisted while waving his hands back and forth. “This is all on you, Maxwell.”

“No, don’t say that yet.” Riley sprang to her feet and grabbed a picture frame from a nearby table, falling to her knees in front of Rashad to beg. “This is Alyssa.” She cheerfully pointed her friend out in the picture, delighted when the Lord of Domvallier’s eyes grew and seemed more than intrigued. “She’s not only beautiful, charming, and supportive, but she’s the smartest person I know. Everyone just loves her. And even though she won’t want to win because of me, she’ll represent your house with the greatest of integrity and propriety. I swear it.” 

“It’s for Liam,” Maxwell interjected, wagging his brows. “Imagine how grateful he’ll be when he finds out your part in making this happen for him.”`

Rashad let out a heavy groan. “Max, you know I would do anything for a friend -- especially Liam -- but it’s not that simple. There’s a reason why Domvallier opted not to have a suitor join this season: I have business dealings in California that coincide with some of the competitions. And with Mother’s and Father’s health in decline, I couldn’t possibly burden them with traveling and overseeing a suitor. It just wouldn’t work.”

Riley turned to Maxwell. “Well … couldn’t she just hang out with us most of the time? It’s not like she’d be in it to win it, anyway.”

“I don’t see why not.” Maxwell shrugged. “We all travel and stay together for the most part anyway.” He glanced over at Rashad, who could do nothing but stare at the two of them bouncing like eager children with big cheshire grins, while he literally decided the fate of a woman who had no idea she had just been volunteered to “pretend” compete for the hand of a prince the entire summer, in another country, and had to board a plane in just under an hour.

Rashad sighed and took the photo from Riley’s hand, giving it a quick glance. He was definitely smitten by the bright, blue-eyed woman with the big dimpled smile and wouldn’t mind getting to know her better, particularly if she was everything described to him. “I should have gone with Drake back to the plane.” He shook his head and handed the photo back to Riley. “Can’t believe I’m doing this, but --” 

Before he even finished his thought, Maxwell and Riley leaped to their feet to celebrate, whooping and howling around him, ruffling his jet black hair, hugging, and clapping him several times on the chest.

“What’s going on?”

The three of them whipped their heads around at the raspy-sounding voice that caught their attentions.

“Lyss!” Riley’s eyes lit up at the sight of her best friend standing there; she couldn’t wait to share all the good news with her. Maxwell, and particularly Rashad’s, jaws dropped at the sight before them. They both did a double take of the picture in the frame and then back to the petite brunette who wore a rumpled party dress, was missing one flat shoe, and sported smudged mascara under her sunken eyes and hair flying in every direction.

Riley moved over to Alyssa, placing a gentle hand on her arm with a smile. “Alyssa. These gentlemen are from Cordonia -- It’s somewhere you need a plane ride for. This is Lord Maxwell Beaumont.” She gestured and received a wave back. “And this is Lord Rashad of Doberman Pinscher,” she stated in a posh accent.

“Domvallier,” he corrected, stunned and still unable to take his eyes off his new suitor.

“Lords?” she questioned in a feeble tone; Riley nodded back at her.

Alyssa smiled at the two strangers, then lowered her head and curtsied like she was wearing a ball gown before them. “How do you do? Welcome to House Devereaux-Brooks. It’s so kind of you to stop by and make our acquaintances. Please do make yourselves at home.” She straightened back up and immediately turned to Riley. “I’m dying. Where’s the Advil?”

Riley insisted Alyssa have a seat while she retrieved the Advil and a glass of water for her. Feeling that was a fair deal, Alyssa stumbled over to the couch, accidentally stepping on Maxwell, who held onto her arms and helped her the rest of the way. When she was seated, she leaned forward, rubbing soothing circles around her temples, willing the room to stop spinning. Riley shuffled back with two pills and a cool bottle of water, and handed them to Alyssa, who hastily threw back and chugged nearly the entire thing. She couldn’t remember a time when she felt so thirsty.

No one knew really how to respond just yet. Rashad conferred in hushed tones with Maxwell, as Alyssa kept her eyes closed for a moment, taking in slow, deep breaths. Everything from head to toe ached and throbbed. 

Finally, she smacked her still-dry mouth and announced, “Okay, I’m going back to bed. Goodnight, everyone. It was so nice to meet you all.” She moved to the edge of the sofa when Riley pressed lightly on her shoulders, holding her back.

“Wait a minute, Lyss. I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Lowering the shades in the living room to block the sun from Alyssa’s sensitive eyes, Riley began to explain how she met Liam at the bar last night and was asked to go out for a drink with him. Alyssa nodded her head slowly as she followed along, somewhat remembering their phone conversation about the date, how he was a prince, and the Statue of Liberty -- Lyss was proud of herself for being a part of making that happen. The next of their conversation continued on to Liam returning to his country for the social season in which he was expected to find someone to marry by the end of the summer. “I’m so sorry he had to leave, but what does any of this have to do with you, Ri?” 

Riley glanced over her shoulder. “That’s where these two guys come in.”

Alyssa followed her friend’s gaze then shook her head. “I’m not following.”

“Maxwell wants to sponsor me to travel to Cordonia to compete for Liam. And we leave in an hour. Yay!” She raised her arms in a V, trying to garner excitement from her roommate, knowing she’d probably freak out.

And she did. “YOU CAN’T GO TO A FOREIGN COUNTRY! FOR ALL YOU KNOW THESE GUYS ARE SERIAL KILLERS OR SEX TRAFFICKERS!” Alyssa looked at Rashad and smiled shyly. “Not you, of course.” She then eyed Maxwell. “Probably him.”

“I know, I know. But that’s kinda, sorta where you come in.” Riley’s eyes danced around the room while tugging on the hem of her shirt.

“What do you mean?”

Maxwell checked the time on his phone as Riley laid out the details, point by point, to her friend, who guzzled the last bit of her water as she found out she had basically been enlisted into becoming a suitor as well. Alyssa spit out her water. “WHAT?”

Rashad sighed and looked for paper towels to dry off his lap.

Taking in Alyssa’s bug-eyed stare, Riley scrambled to make the whole situation sound more appealing to her.

“There’s skiing --”

“You know I can’t ski.”

“There’s ice skating --”

“Are you trying to break both of my ankles at the same time?”

“There’s horseback riding --”

“Oh, God, horses?”

“And beaches.”

Alyssa started to complain before stopping herself. “Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad. But still, Ri --”

“Please, Alyssa,” Riley pleaded, her still-small voice just above a whisper. She sat down on the coffee table again, across from her friend, eyes glassy. “I would never ask you to do something so big for me. But, I want you there … I need you there. This … this is the guy, Lyss. He’s the one.”

Seeing the hopeful expression staring back at her, Alyssa’s heart sank. She set aside the empty bottle and leaned forward, placing a compassionate hand on Riley’s. “First of all, you don’t need me. You’re more than capable of doing this on your own. I mean, give yourself a little credit … you landed a prince.” They both let out soft laughs before she continued. “But, secondly, you know I’m a hopeless romantic. So if this is the only way you’ll go … count me in.”

As the two of them hugged and Riley expressed her fervent thanks, Maxwell cleared his throat and interrupted their happy moment. The girls turned to him as he stated, “I hate to break all of this up -- I really do. This is like the totally awesome stuff I live for -- but we’re pressed for time now. Our friend Drake is already on the plane waiting and isn’t above leaving without us.”

“Oh good. Doesn’t he sound like a little ray of sunshine?” Alyssa scoffed, causing Riley to snicker and drawing half a smirk from Rashad.

The guys headed down to the limo while the girls rummaged through their rooms, stuffing as many of their things as they could possibly fit into suitcases and bags. After taking turns getting quick showers, being vigilant of the time, they double checked to make sure they had what they needed for an extended trip, planning to  call friends and family on the drive to the airport to let them know where they would be.

Alyssa slipped on a pair of sunglasses as she stepped into the hallway, while Riley locked the door to their apartment behind them. “And you’re sure this Liam is worth all this?”

Riley regarded her thoughtfully before letting out a contented sigh, “Yeah. He’s worth it.”

Alyssa shrugged and pushed the sunglasses higher on her nose. “Well, if we don’t die, we’ll have a hell of a story to tell.”

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