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vanillann · 4 years ago

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double sided recipe card (pietro maximoff x reader)

a/n: hi, pietro is literally the love of my life so OF COURSE i’d do this!! also request are always open so don’t be scared to send an ask whenever!!

word count: 2.3k

“Has anyone seen Pietro?”

I swung around the kitchen of the compound, walking in to find Clint and Nat in a conversation about who knew what. They both smiled when they saw me but Clint's face dropped slightly when he realized my words.

“Why do you need Roadrunner?” Clint crossed his arm, leaning back on the kitchen island slightly.

“I have his physical and if he wants to go to the mission tomorrow,” I tried off, smiling at Clint when he rolled his eyes.

“I think he’s in Wanda’s room,” Nat pointed over her shoulder, patting my shoulder when I passed her.

I did the lightest jog to the evaluator, finding Wanda’s floor number and smashing the button. The folder played between my fingers, my eyes begging to look but I knew I’d get in trouble if I was caught on camera.

The smallest ding drew me from my stares, informing me I had made it to the correct floor. I skipped out lightly, smiling when I noticed Wanda's door slightly ajar, the slightest bit of laughter spilling out into the hallway. I didn’t think much of him in Wanda’s room, he tended to sit around everyones room beside his own.

I stepped closer to the door, my knuckles ready to knock but I stopped when I noticed a female voice laugh. I looked closer, noticing Pietro sat in front of the T.V. his back turned to me but his knees were pressed to his chest as he stared at the T.V.

“Pietro,” a little bit of a younger Wanda's face smiled from the screen, her giggles sounded the same as they do now as she looked up.

“I’m shocked you didn’t see it coming,” Pietro's voice sounded around the room, the entire video was starting to catch up. Wanda mentioned she had a few older home videos in her room, she didn’t watch them but she never had to heart to watch them.

“I’ll kill you.”

Pietro suddenly slammed his hand on the remote, doing his best to make the video stop but the laughter never stopped. He held in the air, ready to throw it at the T.V. before my feet took off. I don’t know how I made it to his side so fast, my hand wrapping around the remote as I placed my other hand on his back.

“Hey,” my voice was soft as I got his hand to fall, he looked shocked for a second and I realized he probably was upset. I was watching but that didn’t matter as he curled closer to me. His hands pulled at the overshirt hoodie that clung to my frame, his face pulling closer.

He didn’t cry, just took angry breaths and held himself closer to me. By the time dinner rolled around he had drifted off, his hands lose on my shirt as I played with the edge of the folder.

“Piet-” Wanda knocked lightly on the door, a little smile on her face before she spotted us on the floor.

“Hey Wanda,” I spoke softly, trying to get his hand off so I could speak away from my ear, making sure I didn’t wake him. Wanda waited a second, most likely reading my mind for a second before she gave a sad smile.

“The home video?”

I just nodded, following her from her own room to the kitchen, where I could smell the food flooding the building.

“He does alot of bottling up, with the anniversary of mother birth-” Wanda trailed off, upset as she spoke about her poor mother.

“When’s her birthday?”

“Tomorrow,” Wanda shrugged, both of us stepping foot in the elevator.

“During the mission? I’m so sorry, I can lie to Tony and tell him you aren’t clear-”

“Don’t worry about it (Y/N), it’ll be good not to think about it.” Wanda smiled lightly, looping her arm in mine as she leaned on me slightly.

“Thank you, for being there for him.

“Of course, you know I care about you both.” The door slid open, the smell even stronger as we heard Steve’s laugh fill the compound.

“Care isn’t the word I’d use,” her accent was thicker as she rolled her eyes at me, the hint of a smirk on her lips as we walked closer to the kitchen. I pinched her side, laughing when she jumped slightly.

Once we made it to the kitchen the smell well smashed into my system, walking over to look down at the soup that was lightly boiling.

“It’s a Saliva meal,” Wanda handed me a bowl, holding one in her own hand while she waited for me to hurry up.

“Should I wake Pietro? He wouldn’t want to miss this-“

“I’ll make it again, for now he should rest.” Wanda held my arm, smiling at my concern for her brother as I gently picked up the ladle and became pouring my own soup in the bowl. I watched the light brown broth pour into the bowl and suddenly I knew exactly what I had to do.

“Wanda, would you leave the recipe card out for this?”

I stumbled into the kitchen, the reusable bag full of different ingredients practically falling from the bag.

“Aren’t you glad you aren’t an Avenger,” I heard Pepper’s soft voice from behind me, her giggles coming from the doorway. I only shrugged, looking down gloomy as the ingredients that sat over the island.

“What are you making?” I felt her presence beside me now, looking over the food beside me. I didn’t say a word, holding up the recipe card Wanda had thankfully left out.

“This is what we had last night,” Pepper noticed, looking at the side of my face with the smallest smirk ever across it.

“I’m making it for Pietro for when they get back, he didn’t get any last night.”

Pepper bumped my shoulder, my eyes rolling in the back of my head before I reached for a tomato. I let it roll around in my hand a few times, looking down at the card Pepper had placed back down.

“You don’t know what you're doing?”

“Nope,” I popped the “p”, walking around the island to grab one of the pots and filling it up with water. I placed it on the stove, staring at it for a little bit as if waiting for something to happen.

“Would you like help?”

I probably should say yes, I was trying to make this soup when I should barely make a bowl of cereal. Maybe soup was one of the easier foods to make but I would spend half the time as a few words still in Russian on the card.

“I’ve got it don’t worry,” I brushed her off, simply because I was hoping if I could pull this off alone he would be proud of me. I was hoping he’d make a smartass comment with that little smirk and mention that I did a great job.

“Okay, let me know if you need help. I’m always happy to do so for you and Wanda, just not Tony.” I laughed slightly at her sarcasm, waving over my shoulder as I heard her light footsteps leave the kitchen.

I finally reached out and turned the burner on, smiling when I heard the small click signaling it was in fact on and ready to begin boiling the water. I turned back to the island, picking at the index card. I assumed it was a family recipe but the handwriting and the older terms were used within the recipe.

As I finally placed the tomato on the cutting board, a large knife in hand I thought things were falling into place.

I was in fact, wrong.

I panicked when I heard the elevator open, hearing a light noise of voices enter the floor. I couldn’t be everyone as they weren't as loud and also with how late it was. Clint wasn’t going to hang around with everyone at 2:12 in the morning.

“Just go in the kitchen,” I heard a light female voice speak, my panic rising as I realized Pietro was in fact home and probably seconds away from walking in the kitchen.

I hid my bandage hand behind my back, trying to block the few things I managed to chop before I attacked my own hand with it by accident.

“Why?” His accent was thick with sleep, which made a little smile dance across my lips. I understood why Nat was teaching them to lose the accent for safety reasons but I loved the way they spoke with it.

“Just do,” I saw the door slightly move, knowing someone was going to walk in soon and part of me panicked. I was more worried about Pepper finding me like this, she would have my head if she saw this and I didn’t let her help.

“Fine fine,” I watched him finally walk into the kitchen, lucky alone, as he looked around it for a second. When his eyes spotted me against the counter he smiled but it quickly fell when he spotted the mess behind me.

“(Y/N)?”

“Pietro?” I spoke with nerves. my body on high alert.

“What’s this?” He looked down at the island, his eyes spotting the recipe card I had forgotten to put away. His finger picked it up, a sad smile on his lips before he even read the words on the card.

“My mothers,” his voice sounded far away, as if for a second he was back home before the bomb, before they lost everything but each other.

“Wanda let me use it,” I pointed with my unharmed hand, trying my best to make him comfortable with the conversation.

“She told you?”

“Just a few details,’ I brushed off, my eyes suddenly looking everywhere but him as I wanted to leave the kitchen and run into my own room. I had already ruined the meal, let's not ruin a whole friendship.

“You told me you couldn’t cook?”

I laughed at the memory, I completely forgot about the time I told him about Bruce’s birthday. Thor and I thought making a cake was a great idea but it ended up with a weird green blob. I was much younger then sure, but it definitely showed my abilities with making any sort of food.

“You remember that story?”

“I remember all your stories, as you do mine.” I finally stopped looking at the floor, looking up at him as he titled his head at me. His arms were crossed on the island but his under eye bags stood out against the harsh light of the kitchen. The natural light was long gone and it was only the moon that bought light from the outside.

“You should probably get to bed,” I wasn’t thinking straight as I walked forward and lightly pushed open the door for him. I high when my fresh cut hand hit the wooden door slightly too hard.

Even as tired as he was, Pietro was at my side in milliseconds, looking over my hand with the awkward bandage across it.

“What did you do?” I ignored the little pet name, trying to pull my hand from his grip.

“I’m really bad at cutting potatoes,” I shrugged, the awkward smile making its way across my lips. He said nothing, looking up at me with a disapproving look.

“You must be more careful,” he looked at it a little longer but eventually let my hand fall to my side as he smiled slightly at me.

The silence felt like it lasted forever, like it would never end, but it eventually did when he spoke.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t exactly make it,” I pointed to the brown sad water with nothing else in it. I didn’t make it far before things started going bad. Pietro frowned at me, speeding around the kitchen quickly before he stood in front of me.

A bowl was held in his hand, the brown water now had a few of the vegetables floating around in it, it looked much better but still not what Wanda made last night.

“I don’t know what you mean, I have it right here.” He held a spoonful up, taking a wide bite. I could tell it wasn’t what he thought but he didn’t look like he was going to be sick.

“It’s not your mothers recipe,” I looked up at him, trying my best not a smile at his little pout every time I said something.

“No, it’s your own.” He placed the bowl down, flipping the index card around and grabbing a pen that stayed in the kitchen for any reason. I panicked when I saw him start writing on it, my hand shooting out to stop him but he just quickly moved to the otherside of the island.

“That was your mother Pietro!”

“Now it’s your and my mothers! Two of my favorites on one card, don’t tell Wanda that,” he pointed at me with the last part, his smirk painted across his face making me feel little butterflies in my stomach.

I watched him write my name across the top with the ingredients he saw I had used. Once he was down he slid it across the table, smiling when I laughed at the title.

“(Y/N)’s Happy Mistake.”

“Yes, it’s my personal favorite,” he smiled, my own growing wider as the seconds went on with his looking at me like that.

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, for everything,” he walked slowly, for the first time, around the island. He leaned beside me, his arm touching my own. I let my head rest there, smiling when I felt him leave a gentle kiss on my crown.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything Pietro,” I felt myself lean closer to him. I knew we would have to talk about this feeling in the morning, but we were both too tired to care for now.

“There aren’t any potatoes in my mothers’ soup.”

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years ago

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Phosphene | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader (she/her)

✦ word count — 6k

✦ summary — Damian’s plans are never bad; one of them even found the cure to your insomnia.

✦ warnings — mentions of the experience of being fat but not in a bad way, hints of angst, insomnia, anxiety, a little jealousy sprinkled there, Damian being petty, mostly fluff; this was an excuse to write Damian fluff.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

The plan was simple according to Damian, you would have to visit the area where the type of flora the imported species that was causing people to hallucinate lived and wait there until people went to retrieve it in order to catch them.

You had thought he was joking at first, but there were no records left of the shipments that had brought the flower to the country. Without them, catching whoever was behind this would be impossible.

“What if it was your mom again? No offense.”

“None taken.” He swatted a hand. “It wasn’t her, I’ve never seen that type of flower near any of the League’s headquarters.”

“Well, you should take someone else.”

Damian lifted an eyebrow. “Raven will drive me insane, Blue Beetle is unbearable, Beast Boy doesn’t take anything seriously, Flash is...” He saw you wince as he mentioned your ex-boyfriend, “Well, you know how he is.”

“But he’s fast. You could send him on his ow—“

“Absolutely not. I am the leader of this team.”

Ah, yes, you forgot about his stupid pride for a second there. “Cyborg?”

“Busy with The League.”

You groaned. “I will slow you down.”

He now lifted both eyebrows, glaring at you.

“That wasn’t a joke about my weight,” you defended yourself. “I’m... tired.”

“Because you need fresh air and this mission is perfect for that,” he insisted. “It’ll be fun.”

“You hate having fun.”

He ignored your comment. “Don’t make me force you by saying it’s an order.”

You knew he’d never do it. You gave in, everyone around you did so all the time and you weren’t immune to his stubbornness.

The problem with the stupid mission, apart from how drained you felt, was knowing there was nothing you would really contribute. Everything would be easier if Damian would just take Wally, he would save you from endless headaches AND finish the mission quicker.

Damian was already in the living room, waiting for you with his duffel bag in hand and backpack hanging off his broad shoulders. He opened his mouth, about to ask if you hadn’t forgotten anything, when Wally’s voice interrupted.

“Can we talk before you leave?”

You shook your head at Wally’s question. “I would appreciate it if you covered for me with my family, though.”

“We’ll talk when you’re back?”

“Yeah,” you promised. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

Damian pushed the button to summon the elevator, impatient to leave already. You followed him inside as the doors slid open, silently standing beside him.

His glance shifted between the buttons and yourself throughout the elevator ride. He looked like a child who wanted to ask something they knew they shouldn’t.

In your experience, knowing he shouldn’t do or say certain things had never stopped Damian. After three years of being around him almost every day, you were used to his bluntness. You had been told he used to be worse as a teen, but you didn’t really understand what they meant.

Traveling by bus wasn’t something you ever imagined Damian doing. He never had enough time for that, and with the amount of wealth his family had it was also pointless. He had explained it was to go unnoticed with less hassle.

“Are you sure no one will recognize you?”

“Relax.”

Yeah, you wished you could. You had a bad feeling, Damian would dismiss it because you were tired so you kept it to yourself throughout the ride.

As the bus made the first stop, he asked if you wanted anything from the gas station store. Shaking your head, you took time to look out of the window.

As a sheltered kid, you had never been out that much. You had stumbled into being a superhero by mistake, when you discovered you were decent at fighting while at work.

Your family had owned a shop for a while, a client had gotten too aggressive and you broke his nose almost as a reflex. You started training boxing soon after; your mom thought it would be a chance for you to lose weight.

The weight loss didn’t occur, your body type would only change through surgery and you didn’t have the desire to get a procedure. You were fine with your body, and with your personality for the most part.

Something cold fell onto your lap. Looking down, you found your reusable water bottle. When had he snatched it off your backpack?

Damian took his spot next to you. “You look worried.”

You shifted your head to face him, grasping the bottle in your hand so it wouldn’t fall as you shifted your body too. “I’ve never been around nature that much,” you confessed.

“I’m with you.”

That was oddly comforting. Scratch that. It was comforting, period. Damian knew how to do everything, you would trust him with your life and your loved ones’ safety in a heartbeat.

A yawn broke through you. Not now, you thought. Rolling your head to the other side, you rested it on the window, the light would keep you from falling asleep.

Giving in to your exhaustion was tempting, after many long sleepless nights anything would be helpful. You were on a mission, Damian needed you to be alert; that was why you were there, not to fall asleep.

And who even feels the need of falling asleep in a bus but not on the comfort of their bed?

You let the desire of closing your eyes win. Familiar splashes of color appeared against the dark background, slowly fading as they molded with the pitch-black canvas.

Your head bounced as the bus followed what you assumed to be a bumpy road. Your first name was whispered softly, in a tone no one else had ever used. Blinking to adjust to the light, the first things your eyes could make were grey cloth and olive skin.

Lifting your head, you found Damian’s eyes on you. “We are about to arrive.”

”I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.”

He allowed a pause to linger between you. “It’s fine, you said you were tired earlier.”

Rubbing your eyes, avoiding Damian’s face at every cost as you tried to guess what time it was, you found yourself wishing you would’ve bought a watch for these types of scenarios — then again, you weren’t the adventurer from the team.

The place was packed. Couples and families alike were out and about all over the area, Damian had said they would, but you had underestimated how many people he was talking about.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we slept in tents and wore our suits? There’s a lot of people around.”

“That would look more suspicious. We’re here vacationing like everyone else.”

Lifting both hands in mock surrender, you walked past him and into the building.

You let him chose whether he wanted the bed closest to the door or not. He did, throwing his belongings onto the mattress to then pull out a map.

Approaching him, you leaned over to look at what he was seeing. He explained the path you would have to walk through to find the flowers. The hotel was too far away from the area.

“We should sleep. We’re waking up at dawn.”

“I’m not tired anymore,” you assured him.

His eyes lingered on you, silently asking if you were sure. When your only answer was the tilt of your head, he shook his own. “Then rest some more.”

You walked back to your side of the room in order to find some clothes to change into. You hadn’t really packed pajamas, but a pair of leggings and a t-shirt would be enough and had more utility.

You saw Damian pull a pair of sweatpants out from your peripheral view which prompted you to grip your clothes and get into the bathroom so he could have enough privacy.

He was already in bed when you came out, the only light left was the one emanating from the lamp at your right. Dropping the clothes you had taken off into your duffel bag, you turned the lamp off as silently as its switch made it possible.

You laid on the bed with your legs stretched out. The silence, comforting and mildly warm, was your only source of entertainment. It didn’t cross your mind to bring a book or something to pass the time so you would have to make do with your own imagination, the ceiling fan, and the silence.

Exploring the area didn’t sound so bad, but you would attract too much attention by walking around the trees with a flashlight in hand in the middle of the night. Besides, you didn’t know which kind of creatures could be lurking around in the darkness.

You needed a better plan to locate the flowers, and Damian’s permission.

He huffed on his bed. Turning around to lay on his side in hopes to finally fall asleep. He was thankful over the fact that you didn’t need to keep the lights on like Reyes, but frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t sleep anyway.

Groaning, he sat up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“How did you know I was awake?”

“Your breathing is too even for you to be asleep.”

You sat up on the bed too, looking for your sneakers. Once you had tied the shoes on, you stood up.

Damian threw a sweatshirt on, groaning as his left shoulder cracked.

Seeing you go through your backpack, he placed a hand on your forearm to stop you. “Only bring some water and a flashlight, no knives.”

Quirking an eyebrow, you looked at him through your eyelashes. “You are the one who trained me to use knives.”

“That’s exactly why I know when you should or shouldn’t carry them.” There was a hint of lighthearted teasing in his voice.

Under your feet, the old floor creaked. Walking down the hallway and crossing the lobby had been a cringing nightmare.

The two of you walked in verbal silence, letting the whooshing of the wind and the crickets’ chirping mix with the crushing leaves.

Damian would check the compass from time to time, making sure you were following the right path. The action reminded you of the reason you were there in the first place.

The soothing smell of earth made you feel like you were far away, perhaps in a dream.

Damian burst the soothing bubble by breaking the silence with a question. “Why did you refuse to speak with West?”

“Some things just don’t work out the way we want them to.”

Wally had been a good boyfriend, sweet and goofy. He always cheered you up when you were sad and took you out on cute dates. You had innocently assumed it would be enough forever, how couldn’t it be when he treated you so well?

Sadly, he wasn’t what you wanted in a partner anymore. You wouldn’t call him immature because he definitely wasn’t that; Wally was too... lively, too chirpy, somewhat hyperactive. You needed peace, enough stress knotted your muscles already without the headaches he triggered.

“Sounds like you don’t want them to work.”

“He gets on my nerves sometimes, I think it’s fair to say it doesn’t matter if I want things to work or not.”

“And you wanted me to take him with me instead.”

“He’s better at this than me.”

Damian lifted his bottle of water, lips grazing the edge of it as he said, “You sell yourself too short.”

You opened your water bottle too, shrugging. “He’s the sporty type.”

“I would hope so.”

You laughed against the lip of the bottle, “Why did you ask?”

“I imagined you wouldn’t like to get mauled by a bear without talking to him.”

“Are you saying you will let a bear maul me?”

He turned serious. “You know I would never.”

Silence fell between you again, as comfortable as always.

By the time you arrived at the point where the specific kind of flowers bloomed at, the sky was starting to appear dark blue instead of pitch black.

“Why don’t we steal them and then track whoever comes looking for them?”

“Because we wouldn’t have proof they’re the ones doing it.” Damian added, “But we should be closer, you were right.”

“Say that again?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Smirking, too pleased with yourself to ruin the moment, you asked, “What are we going to do?”

“Have you ever camped?”

You shook your head.

“Okay. Stay here and make sure no one gets close, I’ll make a phone call.”

“I didn’t bring my knives,” you reminded him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand, he sighed deeply. “You have your fists.”

He walked past you in the direction you had come from together. Before he could be too far away, you called for him, “And if I’m overcrowded?”

He craned his neck backward to give you a smirk. “Choke some of them with your thighs.”

Looking down at your thighs, you frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

You never found out what Damian meant by that. No one came near the area, seemingly due to how early in the morning it was. If you were to steal some flowers, you would personally do it at night when tourists were busy partying or sleeping.

Then again, stealing flowers wasn’t your expertise.

Damian took longer than you felt comfortable with, but he brought yours and his belongings with him alongside a few other things.

In silence, he slanted his head, motioning for you to follow him.

You snatched your duffel bag from his grasp. “What did you do?”

“I bought the camping essentials I found at the store.”

“I told you I’ve never gone camping!”

“I haven’t forgotten. But last night you wanted to sleep in a tent, didn’t you?”

You shook your head. “I said it because I can stay awake for long periods of time.”

“We’ll take turns.”

You would rather not. Camping as a fat person was a no-no. Well, not really, but many factors could ruin the experience for you and in that case for Damian.

The last thing you wanted was to put up his grumpy version.

You avoided him throughout the day, exploring the area near where he insisted on camping.

He really should’ve listened to you and taken someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get nervous. It wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have known the reasons behind your reluctance.

Calling it insecurity would be reductive when you were comfortable with yourself. It was annoyance over not having control of the circumstances in which you would go camping for the first time.

“I think we should get some sleep,” he said from behind you.

You would only trouble him. There was only one tent, you didn’t know how narrow it would get and for the past four months, there hadn’t been a single night in which you didn’t end up tangled in the sheets over how much you twisted in attempts to find a comfortable position.

Sleep had become elusive even before you broke up with Wally. You tried every treatment in existence with no positive results, there was simply something wrong in your brain.

Damian was sure you wouldn’t come in if he didn’t force you, expecting otherwise would mean not being familiar with your antics. He didn’t want to pressure you, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you were out there alone.

You could defend yourself rather well, it was irrational on his behalf to be so worried. His brain chose to nag him about it still so he listened to it.

He found you with your feet in the river, looking at the rippling water as you made slow movements with your fingers.

“It’s nice out here,” you commented, feeling his presence.

He hummed softly, taking a seat next to you. It smelled like a proper river, unlike Gotham’s.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“No,” he admitted, using his fingers to make movements in the water too.

“Do you have a lot on your mind?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“No.”

He hummed again. Your peaceful semblance was a nice addition to the scenery, with the moon shining in your eyes.

“I can take care of the morning roundabout if you want.”

“You should sleep a little first. We can set schedules later.”

You could’ve sworn his voice carried worry.

His sloppy steps halted as he held the tent open for you to get in. With a sigh, you complied and kneeled on the sleeping pad. At least he wouldn’t force you into a sleeping bag.

When he didn’t make a move to lay down, you begrudgingly did so. His ability to bend you to his will was annoyingly astounding — or astoundingly annoying, it changed day to day.

Damian immediately laid down next to you, facing the ceiling of the tent.

Your hand brushed his by mistake. “Sorry,” you whispered. Damian didn’t answer, he was already asleep.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Mission briefings were everything but fun. Damian’s dry orders always made someone complain — or worse, they sometimes forced the leader to repeat himself.

You were dreading this particular one. Everyone was in a prickly mood due to how much the flower thing was stretching and you could only assume this mission would be part two to stopping whoever was placing the orders.

Damian handed you a large box. Opening it, you found a deep red dress in your size.

“Where are ours?” Jamie asked.

“You are not attending the party as yourselves. (Name) and I will tell you when it’s safe to get in.”

“Why (Name)?”

“Would you prefer I take Raven?” Damian mocked.

Garfield shook his head. “But you don’t need a date to go to a party.”

Wally shifted in his seat.

“You want Bruce Wayne’s son to attend a party by himself without raising suspicion?”

Snorting, you only stared at him in hopes he would give more details. Of course he would say that.

You had to give it to Damian, he had good taste. The dress fitted you perfectly, it hid your thigh holster better than you thought it would when you took it out of the box which was a relief.

He had told you to not carry them, but the knives surely would come in handy if something went wrong.

With his hand on your waist, he guided you into the venue. People, eager to impress him, swarmed around him to compliment him and yourself. Their eyes would linger on you, but you didn’t care about what they could have to say; they wouldn’t dare to say it in front of him either way.

You leaned to speak into his ear, “Have they approached us yet?”

“Let’s dance.”

You both made your way toward the dancing area, inpatient for his answer. There was something off about that place and you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

Now with both hands on you, he leaned forward so only you could listen to him. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“I have a bad feeling.”

His touch turned into a grip as the words left your mouth. Your body responded to it by pressing closer to him, hands firm on his shoulders as you searched for his eyes.

“I’m with you.”

Nodding, you barely mumbled, “I never said I was scared.”

His mouth twitched upward. You tilted your head as his gaze fell on your nose. If his eyes continued the path...

Damian was pushed off you. As a reflex, you withdrew a knife from your holster and pointed it at whoever had interrupted.

“Woah,” Wally exclaimed, “It’s me.”

You turned to look at Damian but he was focused on the railway. A gun went off outside, prompting Wally to run in aid of your friends.

You slipped your knife back into the holster before it would grab anyone else’s attention. It would be hard for Damian to explain why his date had been carrying a weapon and you didn’t want to get him into trouble because you hadn’t listened to him.

Approaching him, you wrapped an arm around his waist. “Did they escape?”

Throwing his arm around your shoulders, he answered with another question, “Are you injured?”

“No.”

If looks could kill, Wally West would’ve fallen dead in the middle of Damian’s office thirty seconds ago. Not only had he made Damian look like a fool, but he had also let Marconi’s men escape.

Loosening his tie, he didn’t even try to control his voice. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh, you’re mad because people might know we are acquainted?”

“I am angry because you almost got (Name) hurt.”

“She’s the one who carried knives!”

Damian inhaled deeply, holding his head higher than usual. “There was no need for you to intervene.”

Wally gritted, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I am the leader of this team.”

“You were flirting with her.”

Narrowing his eyes, Damian placed both palms on the desk. “I’m going to ask you to leave if you can’t separate your obligations with my team from your personal life.”

“So you weren’t flirting?”

Damian shook his head, exasperated.

He left the office before his head would explode. He was supposed to talk to the others too, but he didn’t want to.

His insomnia was getting worse, between his responsibilities at Wayne Enterprises and the newfound ineptitude of 70% of the team, he was close to combust.

Damian was confident in his leadership, he was more skilled than the team could even imagine. If he wasn’t so fucking tired, he would’ve solved this problem all by himself.

His legs carried him to the bedroom area. He had the intention of taking a shower and trying to get some sleep but they went out of the window when he heard your laugh.

Pushing your door open, he stuck his head inside. You beckoned him in, following his movements with your tired eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I didn’t hurt myself. And I’m the one who carried the knives...”

Damian set his jaw. Sitting down on your bed, he nodded upward at the TV. “What are we watching?”

“The cooking channel.”

“You hate cooking.”

“I hate following recipes for things that don’t need measurements,” you clarified.

He kicked his shoes off, swinging his legs onto the mattress as he rested his back against the bed frame.

Knowing he wasn’t a fan of cooking shows that didn’t entail some type of competition, you surfed through the channels in search of something that wouldn’t warrant you a whiny Damian.

His whining was fun, but you were too tired to not punch him. Remembering what you had wanted to ask since he entered, you breathed in. “Did you fight with Wally for not following your orders?”

“Something like that.”

His dry tone made you shift so you could gaze at him. Apart from his tiredness, he looked really angry still — the frown hadn’t disappeared from his face, his clenched jaw could’ve popped in front of you and you wouldn’t be surprised.

“We’ll catch them.”

Damian stared at you for a prolonged moment, mapping out the shape of your nose and how sunk your eyes were. Your blinking slowed down to a passive rhythm and he felt himself focusing on his own rhythm to mirror yours.

You bit down your bottom lip, gnawing on it. Stretching his hand, he stopped you from drawing blood by pulling your lip out with his thumb. He breathily concurred, “Yeah.”

Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he withdrew it. Silently handing him the tv remote, you laid on your side, curled up as you went back to stare at the tv screen.

Damian allowed his body to relax as he skipped channels. Growing bored, he switched to Netflix.

You sighed deeply beside him, humming to yourself. He turned the lights off, then the TV.

Harsh knocking against the door woke him up. Looking down at the weight on his chest, he felt his breath hitch.

Whoever was knocking got fed up and forced the door open themselves. “Hey, (Nickname), have you seen Rob—“

Damian placed a finger against his lips, motioning for Raven to shut up.

She nodded enthusiastically, surprised by the tenderness of Damian’s touch as he lifted your head off his chest and placed it onto the pillow.

He left the bed slowly, picking his shoes from the floor and using them to gesture for Rachel to leave the room. He followed her, putting his shoes on once away from your bedroom.

“Did you need me?”

“Is there something going on between—“

Damian cut her off, “You were looking for me. Tell me what for.”

“Victor found a lead.”

Your bedroom door creaked open. Damian turned around to see you tumbling towards the kitchen, undoubtedly in need of some caffeine.

Glaring at Raven, he ordered, “Tell everyone to get ready.”

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Damian deviated his eyes to the side in order to rest them, placing a bookmark on the page. Logan was soundly asleep, with his head against the window like you had been that time on the bus.

He remembered vividly the tremble in his fingers as he moved your head to rest on his shoulder so you would be more comfortable, and the way his heart skipped a beat when you sighed contently against his skin.

Turning to the other side, he saw your hunched over form, hovering over the small table in front of you. How you could have the patience to fill a coloring book in the middle of a flight after such a tiring fight was a mystery.

Wally beside you caught him staring, again.

Damian thought he couldn’t dislike the mission more; oh, how wrong had he been. First, he hadn’t been able to bend the plans this time, the only thing he could do was give orders and split the team in the most efficient manner.

And it had worked, but at the cost of his sleeping pattern getting worse. The mission served two purposes, the first was obvious; the second one was more complicated, he came to a few conclusions — they made all the sense in the world in his opinion, but sense wouldn’t change the fact that he couldn’t sleep without you.

There was something in the heady smell of your shampoo that his monkey brain found soothing. He needed to sneak into your bathroom and check which brand you used. Or ask you. Yeah, that.

You were probably making up with your ex-boyfriend while he longed for sleeping next to you. And he hated it.

Moving your head left to right as you scratched your itchy nose, you found yourself wafting Wally’s sweet cologne.

Wally awkwardly nodded upward. The two of you hadn’t spoken much throughout the mission. You nodded back before scratching your nose again.

“Bored?”

Looking down, you shook your head. It wasn’t even worth mentioning at this point, or feeling some kind of shame for it — what embarrassed you was the conclusion you had come to a few mornings ago.

You couldn’t sleep without Damian. There was something about him, maybe his stillness, that relaxed you to the point of being able to sleep eight hours. Your pre-insomnia self had never slept more than five.

“Then?”

“Lots in my mind. I’m worried about—“

“Robin.”

You whirled your head to look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m not surprised.” Hurt laced his hushed voice. “There’s always been something going on between you two.”

“That’s not true. And I’m worried about a lot of things.”

“He’s been staring at you the entire mission, he hates me, you said you didn’t trust Alexis and he broke up with her, you always give him the benefit of the doubt when his ideas are bad... I could go on and on.”

“Well, Damian’s ideas are never truly bad...”

“You call him Damian.”

“So?”

“No one else from the team does. He’s Robin to us, we are our superhero aliases to him and nothing else.”

“It’s not like you guys have ever tried to see him differently!” Your indignant whisper-shout surprised you while Wally hadn’t even flinched.

He hung his head backward. “You’re defending him again.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Is that why you worry about him to the point of no sleep? Because I know you never cared about me that way.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t love me, I know you did.” Wally gave you a sad smile, “But if I made you choose, you would pick him.”

“I wouldn’t pick someone who makes me choose between them or a dear friend.”

Shaking your head in frustration, you picked another marker and went back to your coloring book.

He had been the first relationship you took seriously, the first person you had truly loved in a romantic sense. How could he say those things? Even if they were true, they were uncalled for.

Wally leaned closer to you. “I won’t get mad, just stop lying to yourself.”

You were the first one to leave the plane after landing. Wally’s words made all the sense in the world, that didn’t mean you wanted them to.

No. The truth was that you wanted them to make sense and that bothered you more. You wanted to believe you weren’t the only one in a dilemma.

A stupid dilemma at that. Damian was your friend, you could tell him you needed him in an entirely platonic way — it would be a nice compromise and a pathetic cop-out at once.

Damian placed a hand on your shoulder as you passed him on your way to the living area. “Can you come to my office?”

“Just let me check my phone.”

Nodding, he slowly slid his hand back until it fell onto your arm for a fleeting second before he withdrew it.

Your skin buzzed the entire time it took you to answer texts from your family. Now that the mission was over, you would be able to see them — and to put up with their reaction to your break up with Wally.

Telling them that you had feelings for someone else wasn’t an option, and explaining it was Bruce Wayne’s son would make you sound insane to them.

Sat directly on his desk, with his cellphone in his grasp and frown upon his face, Damian was waiting for you.

From the doorway, you asked, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t look up. “No.”

The answer took you aback. Without invitation, you entered the office. Closing the door behind you, —carelessly and louder than you would’ve liked— you approached him.

He looked fine. Tired, but fine. You knew for a fact he hadn’t been injured, and the mission had been a success so his crankiness was worrying, to say the least.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like I’m worried?” You saw him nod. “Do you want me to scoop my eyes out?”

“Do you look at other people like that?”

“Yes.”

Damian huffed.

“What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop acting like a brat with me, Damian.”

He put his cellphone to the side, finally lifting his head.“Is that really what you want?”

“Preferably. Your act, whatever thing you come up with on the next minutes, won’t push me away.”

“You are driving me absolutely insane!” He wiped his mouth after having spoken so abruptly. “You distract me, I can’t sleep without you next to me, your stupid ex-boyfriend being so close to you killed me the entire mission—“

“Three days?”

He glared at you. You said it so easily, like three nights of no sleep and headaches were pleasant.

You rested a hand on each of his shoulders. “I can’t sleep without you either.”

He opened his legs for you to stand between them. You did so, feeling his hands on your lower back. “Is this awkward?”

Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “We’ve been in more awkward situations.”

His arms snaked around you, pulling you flush against him. You inhaled the smell that lingered on his clothes, vanilla and almonds with a hint of something earthy.

“Couldn’t you tell me this in my room? Or yours?”

Damian rested his head on your shoulder. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“What did you want?”

“To keep you from spending more time with West,” he mumbled the admission.

You shouldn’t have found it so funny, but there you were shaking out of laughter.

He whined against your neck, “Don’t laugh at me.”

You slipped your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp. “It’s silly, though, he’s my teammate.”

“And your ex-boyfriend who wants you back.”

“Not anymore.” Feeling him tense under your touch, you elaborated, “He knows I like you.”

Damian’s embrace tightened. He hummed on your skin, nuzzling against your t-shirt. You played with his hair for a few more minutes until he started to get heavier against you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned.

He hummed again.

“Damian,” you tried to make your voice come out sternly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be harsh. “You’ll wake up sore. At least let’s go to the living room.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you. He couldn’t contain a whine as your fingers slid off his hair, making you giggle. He grabbed said hand, practically dragging you out of the office.

Thankful for not bumping into anyone, you made it to his bedroom. You imagined he had stopped there because it was the closest one to his office.

He didn’t let go of your hand as he sat down on the bed and kicked his shoes off. You had to wiggle your fingers off his to round the bed and lay down without pulling him with you.

As soon as your back touched the bed, Damian rested his head on your chest, sliding his hand between the mattress and your back.

Your fingers went back to his hair, which was what he had been seeking in the first place, massaging circles on his scalp. It didn’t take much for his breath to even out.

When you woke up, Damian was laying on his side, hugging you tightly from behind with his other arm. His light breathing fanned on your shoulder, tickling up to your neck.

Torn between leaving the bed to follow your routine and staying in the comfortable position against his chest, you shuffled as slowly as you could until you were facing him.

Damian had never looked that serene. Anyone who didn’t know him would have assumed he didn’t have a single responsibility or weight on his shoulders if they could see him at that moment with his mouth ever so slightly parted.

Your heavy eyes lid closed. You weren’t sure as to what time it was, you only knew that the light of the day was gone already, but the comfort of Damian’s frame and his light breathing was better than anything you had to do.

Nestling your face on his chest, you felt his hand move down your back.

Sleepily, he said. “We could go out to dinner.”

His deep voice made you feel more awake. Draping an arm over his torso, you joked, “Are you asking me out?”

Now with his hand on your thigh, he spoke more seriously. “More than that. But first things first.”

You hummed. As nice as it sounded, you didn’t want to get up.

Damian pinched your thigh. “Come on, I’ll give you an excuse to wear the red dress again.”

You lifted your head off his chest. “Do you have a fixation with that dress or something?”

“I mean, I bought it for a reason...”

You playfully hit his chest. He smirked, fingers trailing up your thigh, giving you goosebumps.

You sighed, “Do you think the team will say anything?”

“It’s not like I care.”

You knew he cared deep down, but fighting him on it would be losing your time. It wouldn’t affect him either way, not like it would to you if they looked at you differently or judged you.

Damian left a kiss on your forehead. “I’m with you,” he reminded you.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #robin x reader #robin x plus size reader #damian wayne #robin #dc x reader #dc x plus size reader #batfam x reader #batfam x plus size reader

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

Text

Ethan and Mark Experience Torture Methods (Feat. Jacksepticeye)

Ethan experiences getting tickle tortured by jack while Mark gets Chinese water tortured (But then gets tickle tortured because he's impatient)

I wrote this fanfic for @pebblee-penguin and @anxious-cherryblossom! I hope you enjoy my take on the Unus Annus video that never came to be!

Unus! Annus! UnUS! ANNUSSsss...

Mark and Ethan started off on screen. “Waterboarding. A torture method that goes as far as the 1800’s, and was used by many countries in World War 2.” Mark explained. “The simple torture method that involved a cloth and water...that caused mental pain to victims, yet rarely injured or killed.” Mark explained. “Thousands of people have been waterboarded before. But what is it really like?” He asked rhetorically.

“How do you feel about it, Mark?” Ethan asked.

“Huh?” Mark muttered, turning to Ethan.

“How do you feel about being waterboarded?” Ethan asked again.

“...I’m not doing it.” Mark replied.

A record scratch sound effect went off in the background. “Wha- Oh yeah!” Ethan started laughing. “Then why did we start it out like this?” Ethan asked.

“For-for the anticipation! There’s only so much adrenaline you can experience before you die. I wanted to get the people...ya know...hyped up!” Mark explained.

“...Only for them to be surprised over nothing.” Mark added as he started laughing.

“Alright! So because waterboarding is actually really dangerous and could kill people either immediately or hours after experiencing it…” Ethan explained.

“We’re gonna go for something that’s a lot less severe: Chinese water torture.” Mark told them.

“What’s that, Mark?” Ethan asked in a scripted voice.

“It’s basically getting tied to a table, and getting a constant drop of water onto your head...for hours.” Mark said to the camera.

“So...we have a table for the waterbo-Chinese water drips on the right-” Ethan hit the table, “Right here.” Ethan explained. “And a towel underneath for that.” Ethan added as he pointed to the towel. “And, we have a padded table on the left, with comfy handcuffs. Please don’t ask where we got these…” Ethan warned as he started giggling. “We also have ankle cuffs and a high table filled with…” Ethan turned to Mark. “...Eeempty. Is there supposed to be something on here?” He asked.

Mark looked at the camera and smirked. “Yup.”

“Where is it?” Ethan asked.

Mark continued to look at the camera. “You’ll find out soon enough…” he said before looking away again. “Alright. Let’s get you in.” Mark told him as Ethan laid down onto the table.

“Wait, do I need to get the thing?” Ethan asked, motioning to the empty high table.

“Nope. We’ll get it soon.” Mark replied as he tightened the wrist straps. “This good?”

Ethan nodded. “Why am I stretched out like a star?” Ethan asked.

“Because it’s how people do it.” Mark replied.

“Huh...Wait, people do this?! They willingly get tied up and tickled?” Ethan asked.

“Yup.” Mark replied confidently. “It’s how I found the idea.”

Ethan looked at Amy, who was holding the camera in a worried/confused expression. “So, there are people who openly admit they like being tickled?” Ethan asked.

“Yes, there are. And they openly agree to be tied down, tickled and recorded.” Mark explained.

“How do you know they want it?” Ethan asked.

“Some of them say it in the thumbnail. Others don’t, but we can just assume they want to be this vulnerable.” Mark replied.

“Is it a fetish?” Ethan asked.

Mark stared at him, and blinked a few times. “...It can be, yeah. But there are people who innocently enjoy it too.” Mark explained.

“Oh.” Ethan reacted.

“Why? Do you have a tickle fetish?” Mark asked.

“No! Oh my god no.” Ethan replied, visibly disgusted.

“Do you enjoy being tickled?” Mark asked.

“I mean...I don’t hate it...It depends on the person.” Ethan replied.

“Yeah, same here.” Mark replied.

“Like, if it was you tickling me, I don’t mind. You’ve already tickled me on multiple occasions, actually.” Ethan added with a giggle.

“The painting our bodies video...We had to skip out on your armpits for that one.” Mark admitted.

“First of all, I said we could! YOU, were the one who got uncomfortable and cowered away.” Ethan argued. “And second of all, I was talking about the massage video; the one where we facetimed your Mom.” Ethan added.

“Ohoho yeah...I remember. You were double chinning and full on kicking your feet- you were a mess that day.” Mark admitted.

“Ihihit tickled! It’s like your neck! Your chin is a weakness, and the back of my neck is a weakness too!” Ethan reacted.

“You would not relax for the life of you! Even as we yelled for you to relax!” Mark added.

“I know. I’m super ticklish back there.” Ethan told him.

“I know.” Mark snuck his fingers on the back of his neck. “I can tell.”

Ethan giggled and squealed, wiggling his neck away. “Noooohohoho! Ahahare wehehe stahahartihihing?” Ethan asked.

“No. Just warming you up a little.” Mark admitted.

“Should we bring Jack in?” Amy asked behind the camera.

Mark looked up. “Yeah. Did he arrive yet?” Mark replied.

“Jack?” Ethan asked.

“Yup. He just arrived.” Amy replied to both of them.

“Is Jack here?” Ethan asked. Amy nodded back.

Suddenly, Jack’s voice could be heard praising Chica and giving her attention. “Hi Jack!” Mark greeted.

“Hi Mark!” Jack greeted back. “Is Ethan ready?” He asked.

“Yup! He’s all tied up.” Mark replied.

“Perfect. Can’t wait.” Jack said back. “Is this the tray of tools out here?” Jack asked.

“Yup! On the counter.” Mark replied.

Jack walked into the room eagerly with a tray of...a weird collection of tools. Jack placed them onto the side table beside Ethan and let Ethan look at all the tools in horror. “I love the tool variety! You even got 2 different types of toothbrushes!” Jack added. “Manual, and electric!” He said, showing them both off to Ethan and Mark.

“WHAT?! MARK, WHY?!” Ethan yelled at him. Mark and Jack both started laughing at his reaction. “NOOOooo! Is that a paintbrush too?! Remove that. Right now. Get rid of the feathers too. That’s not allowed. And- oh no not those cat toy fishing hooks...” Ethan reacted in horror.

“Now, I left one thing off the tray, specifically to get Ethan even more nervous.” Mark pulled out a medium-sized bottle and handed it to Jack.

“Baby oil?!” Jack reacted, laughing.

“Yup. I did some research and apparently, baby oil is supposed to enhance the ticklish feeling.” Mark explained. “People seem to use this on the feet most often, but I don’t think Ethan’s feet are ticklish. So, you can use it wherever.” Mark replied.

Jack started to giggle evilly with the pink bottle in his hand. “Ohohoho boy. I’m lathering this stuff everywhere.” Jack told him.

“NO! PLEASE DON’T! I’M PLENTY TICKLISH ALREADY! I DON’T NEED THAT-” Jack ignored Ethan’s cries and grabbed the paintbrush from the tray. “NO! NOOOO! I’m getting wax video flashbacks.” Ethan whined.

Jack bursted out laughing. “Oh! Oh! I should fill your belly button with baby oil like I did with the wax.” Jack said out loud, giggling evilly with a huge smile on his face.

“Jack, please no! JAAaaack...” Ethans protests quickly turned into whines and whimpers as he watched Jack pour baby oil right into his belly button.

“Ooooookay!” Jack lifted the bottle up. “Perfect!” He reacted. “Look at that! Filled his little belly button.” Jack declared. Ethan was already giggling and whining a little in anticipation. “Getting nervous yet?” Jack asked.

“Ihihi gohot nervous the moment yohou walked in hehehere with thehe trahahay.” Ethan admitted.

While Jack was getting Ethan oiled up, Mark had laid himself down on the other table. “Alright. Jack, can you get me tied up here?” Mark asked.

“Yup!” Jack twisted the baby oil cap back on and placed it onto the tray before coming over to help Mark.

“Just need to be tied up.” Mark told him.

“Do you want your belly button filled with oil too?” Jack asked as he started tying Mark’s wrists to the table.

“No thanks. I’m fine.” Mark replied. “My belly button isn’t ticklish anyway. It would just get messy.” Mark told him.

“Ok.” Jack tied the waist rope onto Mark’s waist. “There.” Lastly, Jack tied his ankles to the table. “You good?” Jack asked.

Mark tried shaking and wiggling, and only moved an inch or so. “Yup.” he replied.

“Perfect. And now, the water.” Jack tied a reusable water bottle with a tiny spout, onto a rope that was hanging down from the ceiling. “There!” Jack watched the first drip of water very slowly develop, to fall onto his forehead. “Start the timer, timer man.” Jack ordered.

Amy showed the timer in front of the camera and clicked the start button before moving it off screen.

“Woman. Timer woman.” Jack corrected with a giggle.

Mark anxiously waited for the building drip of water to build up enough, so it could fall off the spout and land onto his forehead. Another minute later, and the drip of water finally fell and splashed onto his forehead. The drip fell down the right side of his forehead onto the towel pillow.

“Drip number 1.” Mark told him.

“Oh no, oh no-” Jack’s paint brush touched down onto the belly button. “JahahahaHAHAHACK! AHAHAHAHAHAHahahahaha!” Ethan yelled, laughing almost immediately.

Jack was dipping his paintbrush into the oil and lathering the oil onto his entire belly. Ethan would giggle and move his belly around when the oil was being lathered, but would squeeze his eyes shut and throw his head back in strong laughter when the paintbrush would simply dip a few times into his belly button. Mark was right: the baby oil enhanced EVERYTHING! His belly button was DRENCHED in it, and his belly was slowly getting covered.

“I need more baby oil.” Jack muttered to himself as he reached for it.

“Noooo you don’t! My belly’s already ticklish! Why are you adding more?” Ethan whined.

“Because I wanna! And you,” Jack poked his navel with his finger, “Can’t stop me.” Jack wiggled his finger in his belly button with a mischievous little giggle.

“HAHAHAHAHA! JAHAHAHACK NOHOHOHOHO! GEHET OHOUT- GEHEHEHET OHOHOUT OHOF THEHEHERE!” Ethan shouted, wiggling his belly around as much as he could to get his finger out.

Jack followed what he said, but put some more baby oil onto his belly. “There we go. And nooow: a painty-painty-painty-paint! Aaaand a brushy-brushy-brushy-brush.” Jack teased surprisingly well as he spread the baby oil all over his abdomen and belly region.

“NAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIT TICKLES SOHOHOHO MUHUCH! HAHAHAHEHEHE!” Ethan laughed and giggled.

“Really? I had no clue! I thought you were just laughing for no reason, to be honest.” Jack joked.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!” Ethan yelled.

“You guys wanna know something?” Mark asked.

“Sure.” Jack replied, still tickling Ethan.

“Ethan’s laugh is getting on my nerves more than the dripping itself.” Mark admitted.

“Mark!” Amy yelled from behind the camera.

“Wow! That’s really rude.” Jack warned. “How would you feel if Ethan proclaimed that your laugh was annoying him?” Jack asked.

Mark looked over with his jaw slightly dropped. “I wouldn’t give a shit!” Mark reacted.

“JAHAHAHahahahack, Ihihihi neheheheheed ahahaha breheheak! Plehehease gihihihihive mehehe aha breheheheak!” Ethan begged.

“Is that how tickle torture is supposed to work?” Jack asked.

“THIHIHIHIS IHIHIHISN’T EHEHEHEVEHEHEN TOHOHORTUHUHURE!” Ethan protested.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

Jack stopped tickling Ethan and put the oily paintbrush down. “Alright. How are you doing, Mark?” Jack asked.

Mark grabbed the water bottle and yeeted it across the room. “Mark-” Amy reacted.

“The dripping isn't doing anything. I need tickle torture.” Mark told him.

Ethan and Jack looked at each other in surprise. “I...Really?” Jack asked.

“Are you even ticklish though?” Ethan asked. Mark kept staring at him expressionless till Ethan looked up at Amy. “Is Mark ticklish?” Ethan asked.

“Yup. He’s quite ticklish. He’s not ticklish like you, Ethan, but he is ticklish.” Amy replied, confirming his point.

Jack looked at Amy with a smile while he untied Ethan. “Where?”

Amy pointed at Ethan. “Just follow his lead when he’s out.” Amy told him.

Ethan smiled as he got off the table. He quickly remembered the one spot he hated: his chin. Ethan’s face slowly grew into a smirk as he lifted his chin with his left hand, and skittered his fingers right under the chin with his dominant hand.

“eeEEEEK! ETHAHAN YOHOU JEHEHERK!” Mark yelled at him.

“So...his chin?” Jack asked him.

“Yup! Go for his armpits too.” Ethan suggested. Jack smirked and quickly skittered his fingers in his armpits.

ETHAN- IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!” Mark yelled before throwing his head back to let his laughter out.

Jack shook his head with a laugh. “I love how you’re pissed at Ethan, and not even considering the person who’s actually tickling you.” Jack admitted.

“YOHOHOU CAHAHAME HEHEHERE SOHO YOHOHOHOU COHOULD DOHOHOHO THIHIHIS!” Mark yelled back at him.

“Awww! How thoughtful of you to consider me!” Jack admitted before removing his fingers from the armpits. “And now, my favorite part: the baby oil!” Jack declared as he grabbed the bottle and the paintbrush. “Time to lube you up, my dude!”

Mark’s eyes widened as he looked at the baby oil. He was quickly starting to regret bringing that out. “Now hohohold ohon: Hohohow ahabout nohohoho?” Mark asked.

Jack tapped the brush handle on his own chin. “Hmmmm...How about yes?” Jack considered out loud before dipping some baby oil into a bowl. “There! Now it’s JUST like the wax video! Except this time, it’s Mark getting tickled!” Jack declared. “And his armpits are gonna be EXTRA ticklish!” Jack added as he brought the oiled-up brush to his open armpits.

“Nohoho! NOHO! JACK! BEGONE! DOHON’T YOU FUHUCKING DAHAHARE! NAH-” Mark wheezed and shook his head as the baby oil was lathered all over his right armpit. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *quick breath* NOHOHOHOJAHAHAHAHACK!” Mark begged.

“No what, Mark? No tickling? Or no armpit tickles?” Jack asked. “Cause even if you meant one of those things:” Jack leaned closer into Mark’s mic. “I don’t care.” Jack replied.

Ethan decided to grab a big paintbrush that was on the tray. Oh boy! Now he could see why Mark was excited about this! “Alright! I’ll get the left armpit!” Ethan called out, tiptoeing happily in a Grinch-like fashion, to the left side of Mark.

“Here; let’s share the bowl.” Jack suggested as he put the styrofoam bowl onto the end of the table. Ethan took some of the baby oil from the dipping bowl and spread it onto his other armpit.

“NONONONONOOOHAHAHAHAHAHA! MEHEHEHEANIHIHIES!” Mark yelled at them both.

“Aww, is Marky too ticklish in his armpits?” Jack teased.

“I think he is.” Ethan added.

“WHYHYHY ARE YOHOU EHEHEVEHEHEN HEHEHELPIHIHING?!” Mark asked Ethan.

“Cause I wanna! And cause Jack untied me so I could!” Ethan replied.

“Yeah! Don’t be questioning our choices, Mr. Victim.” Jack warned.

Jack dipped the paintbrush deeper into the liquid. “Diiiiiip-” He said. “Aaaand tickle~!” Jack sing-songed as he covered his armpit with more baby oil.

“STAHAHAP IHIHIT! STAHAPITSTOPITSTAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mark begged.

“Is poor Markimoo too ticklish in his widdle pits?” Jack teased. “Now what if I were to take advantage of my small brush here…” Jack pushed his chin back slightly to prevent him from clamping down, “Aaaand a coochy coochy coo! A coochy coochy coochy coochy coochy coochy coo!” Jack teased.

Mark had a huge, toothy grin on his face as he shook his head to get Jack’s hand off his chin. This was truly vulnerability at its finest. And Mark...didn’t know how to feel about it.

“IHIHI’LL KIHIHILL YOHOHOU! IHIHIHI’M GOHOHOIHIHING FOHOHOR YOHOHOUR RIHIHIGHT SIHIHIDE WHEHEHEN IHIHI GEHET OHOHOUT!” Mark warned.

“Uuuuh...I thought the point of me coming over was to purposefully tickle you?” Jack reminded him. “Plus, you literally told me ‘I need tickle torture’. Those were your exact words.” Jack reminded him.

A quick flashback played, showing the very moment.

Mark growled. “IHIHIHI KNOHOHOW, BUHUHUHUT- JAHAHACK STAHAHAP LEHEHET MEHE TAHAHALK!” Mark shouted back.

Jack nodded back and retreated the paintbrush. Ethan retreated his paintbrush as well.

“Ihi’m tired. And Ethan’s not supposed to be tickling me. You’re supposed to be tickling Ethan and myself as well.” Mark explained.

Jack looked at the camera. “Now am I supposed to tickle two people at once?!” Jack asked.

“I can do it.” Amy replied. Jack turned to her. “I can do it. I just need to set up a tripod for the camera.” Amy told him.

A quick static TV transition happened and next thing we know, the four of them are ready with a timer in the corner of the screen. The camera is set up to view both men strapped down, Ethan and Mark are now both shirtless, and the wired mics are strapped around both boys' necks. The bottle rope above is no longer hanging down, and the high table with the tools has moved to the middle between the two beds. Amy is standing above Mark with a makeup brush in her hand while Jack is standing above Ethan with a fluffed Q-Tip in his hand.

Jack looked at Amy and started counting. “3...2...1...”

“GO!” Amy and Jack both shouted!

The timer had started and Amy had already started pushing Mark’s neck back lightly. Jack shoved the Q-Tip into Ethan’s belly button almost immediately, emitting a loud burst of giggles. Amy fluttered the makeup brush all over Mark’s neck and chin, causing a huge toothy grin, yet no laughter.

While Amy kept the fluttering going, Jack kept on switching tickle tactics constantly to determine the best reactions. Jack went from swirling the Q-Tip around in his belly button, to spinning the Q-Tip back and forth in between his palms.

“JAHAHAHACK! DOHOHOHON’T SPIHIHIN IHIT LIKE THAHAHAHAHAT!” Ethan shouted to him.

“Why? Is it working?” Jack asked innocently.

Ethan nodded and wiggled around as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Just because you can still move a little, doesn’t mean you should.” Jack warned with a giggle.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, wheezed and shook his head. “SHUHUT UHUHUHUHUP!” Ethan yelled back.

Meanwhile, Mark was getting super close to breaking. He was tittering a little through his teeth, and squeezing his fists, so he did not break without a fight.

“Don’t make me go for your armpits.” Amy warned. “I will go for the armpits if you keep this up.” Amy mentioned.

Jack looked up. “There’s a bottle of baby oil over there. Would that maybe help?” Jack asked.

Amy looked up to Jack and looked at the baby oil. “Not a bad idea...But I feel like that would be cheating because it’s enhancing the tickling. It’s making it worse than it’s meant to be.” Amy admitted.

Jack laughed a little. “Well, I already used it multiple times. So, I think it’s allowed at this point.” Jack replied.

Amy with some hesitance, dipped the makeup brush into the styrofoam bowl of baby oil and spread it onto his neck and chin. Surprised by just how much the tickling was enhanced, Mark finally bursted! “PPFFFFTTT- HAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHANDS OHOHOFF!” Mark laughed, shaking his head and struggling to get the brush away from him while tied.

“What do you mean, ‘hands off’? I’m barely using my hands on you!” Amy reacted.

“Yeah! Who needs hands when you can use tools?” Jack added, looking at the camera.

Suddenly, Jack put away the Q-Tip and grabbed the toothbrush while he watched Ethan’s eyes just about widen to the size of dinner plates.

Jack turned it on. “NO! JACK! PLEASE, NO!” Ethan begged.

Jack’s hand with toothbrush got closer and closer to the belly button while the video zoomed closer and closer as well.

“NO! NOOOO! AAAAAAAAAHHH-”

The video cut to black, before the timer showed up, ticking and counting down...

#unus annus #ticklefic #lee!mark #switch!ethan #ler!jack #ler!amy

84 notes · View notes

raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

Text

after class

ride or die | colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

‘part of me wishes things were different. we could’ve met at college… pushed each other in the classroom…’

colt & ellie are classmates at langston. for @rodappreciationweek day 2 (colt day!)

tags: @choicesarehard, @lovehugsandcandy, @pixeljazzy, @theeccentricbibliophile, @troublemakerinspace, @dancingboba, @zigtheeortega

~10.5k words | M (18+)

colt surveyed the classroom as he stalked through the front door, late, his eyes eventually coming to rest on the last available desk. naturally, it was in the front row of the room, worsening the low level of irritation he already had simmering.

great. just what he’d been hoping for, at 8:30 in the morning, on the first day of the fall semester. he huffed as he made his way over to it, dropping unceremoniously into the chair. so much for coasting through syllabus week, or sleeping through the morning classes his advisor had recommended. at least he’d made it in before the professor.

he cut a bored glance to the left and caught sight of the girl sitting next to him. she looked way too perky for the early morning hour, sitting up straight in her seat, notebook already open on her desk. the charms on the bracelet adorning her wrist jangled together when she lifted her reusable water bottle to her lips and sipped from the straw.

8:30 AM and she wasn’t even drinking coffee? what a weirdo.

colt’s eyes slid down and lingered on her legs, crossed under the desk. the shorts she was wearing provided ample view of smooth, brown skin, and he smirked at the way she was bouncing her foot before forcing his eyes away. when he looked back up, he noticed she was looking at him, too.

his eyebrows arched, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. before he could say anything, the professor walked in, pulling the door shut behind her. the girl beside him flushed red all the way to her hairline and averted her eyes guiltily, looking back toward the front of the room as though the lecture had already started.

colt grinned to himself and leaned back in his seat, pleased as punch. maybe this early class wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him, after all.

“good morning, everyone,” the professor said, dropping her things on the desk at the front of the room and immediately moving to pass out the syllabus, working her way up and down the rows of desks. “i’m dr. morrell. welcome to law and psychology. the purpose of this class is to examine the ways both industries intersect with each other. over the course of the semester we’ll explore issues relevant to understanding human behavior from the perspective of law and psych and the contributions of psychology as a behavioral science to legal issues.”

the girl sitting beside him was already taking notes. colt scanned the syllabus as the professor dropped it onto his desk, grimacing when he caught sight of the grading breakdown. two exams, two papers and a group project? surely no hot girl was worth subjecting himself to that.

“i’d like a few of you to provide some examples of where law and psych intersect so that i can get to know you. who wants to go first?”

out of the corner of his eye, colt saw the girl’s hand shoot up. of course.

“go ahead. what’s your name?”

“ellie wheeler,” she answered, “and psychology often intersects with the law when it comes to false confessions. a majority of false confessions occur because of the psychologically manipulative interrogation tactics police use, like the guilt-presumptive reid technique.”

“very good,” dr. morrell praised. “we’ll be covering the psychology behind false confessions extensively before midterms. anyone else?”

his hand raised before he was even aware of it. “colt kaneko. isn’t ellie ignoring that false confessions are also born from a system that doesn’t take into account dispositional vulnerabilities of suspects? like not requiring a lawyer for juveniles or those with behavioral or personality disorders -- you know, the groups who actually provide a majority of false confessions.”

the professor’s eyebrows raised. colt could feel ellie staring at him in disbelief from where she was sitting beside him. “certainly,” dr. morrell agreed politely, “we’ll be exploring a variety of studies that explain how social pressures, personality traits and potential conduct disorders intersect with police interrogations and confessions. but this is great insight.”

she crossed to the other side of the room to call on another student. colt turned his head and caught ellie’s eye -- she was still glaring at him, looking pissed off and, honestly, even hotter for it.

when he grinned at her, she huffed under her breath, still obviously annoyed. her gaze snapped back to the syllabus, and though he continued to sneak glances at her for the next ninety minutes, she didn’t look his way again.

she hung back to talk to the professor once they were dismissed, but colt wasn’t about to linger in a lecture hall, even if it meant scoring a chance to talk to the only girl who’d actually captured his attention at college so far.

the thought of having to wait until thursday to see her again was... unwelcome. as he made his way to his next class, he wondered why he’d never seen her around before. if she was a psych student it seemed strange that they’d managed to go a whole year without having a class together; the program at langston wasn’t that big, and for most of his freshman year he’d seen the same faces, give or take a few, in each of his classes. now, on the first day of his sophomore year, he’d recognized most of the people in law & psych, too. but not her.

hopefully she’d changed majors and wasn’t just taking law & psych to fulfill a requirement. having her around was going to make the program a lot more interesting -- none of the other people in his courses ever challenged him, and he’d honestly gotten sort of bored picking apart their points all the time. she was a welcome change of pace, and he was surprised to find that he was actually looking forward to her inevitable payback for shutting her down in class.

colt got to his social psych class with enough time to have his pick of the seats. he slipped into the back row and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the messages he’d missed since last night. a few minutes later, the sound of someone pulling out the chair beside him made him lift his eyes, and a wide grin -- one that he knew well was too obnoxious for even the latter half of the morning -- took over his face when he saw who it was that had sat down next to him.

“hey,” he greeted, nodding at ellie. “looks like you copied my schedule.”

she regarded him with barely suppressed disgust. “my advisor picked these classes. i registered late and got locked out of everything.”

huh. that was exactly what had happened to him, but in all actuality, he’d completely forgotten about the deadline to register for classes. “are you new to the program? why haven’t i had any classes with you before?”

she looked at him like he was insane. “uh, it’s my first day? i just started here.”

okay -- that wasn’t exactly fair. like he was just supposed to assume she was a freshman, when both classes he’d found her in were two-hundred level courses? “shouldn’t you be in intro to psych, then?”

ellie rolled her eyes at him. he watched as she pulled a second notebook from her bag, setting it on the desk next to her water bottle. “i have an accelerated course load,” she explained, “i started over the summer. i’m in the pre-law program? you do undergrad in just three years and then law school for the next three. psych is just one of my minors.”

so -- she was brilliant. figures. he’d had a feeling.

“well --”

she turned away as the professor walked in. colt rolled his eyes as he started droning on about the course, walking through the syllabus at an agonizingly slow pace. like he gave a shit. the girl sitting next to him was infinitely more interesting.

“...so our first unit will explore social psychology as it pertains to consumer behavior. can anyone name an example of psychology impacting consumer behavior? let’s see... colt. how about you?”

the sound of his name startled him into paying attention again. “uh... packaging? and presentation. grocery store layouts are designed to push certain products so everything from lighting to shelf position impacts consumers on a psychological level.”

“sure,” the professor nodded, “but what about in a social context? anyone else?”

ellie raised her hand. “there are lots of studies that show salesperson interaction can significantly affect consumer behavior. oftentimes the social pressures of the interaction can impact purchasing behaviors significantly.”

“you’re absolutely right. now, if we expand on ellie’s observation...”

colt looked back towards her and found ellie shooting him a smug, self-satisfied smile. well. if that was the way she wanted to kick off the semester, then... color him even more impressed.

he nodded back at her. game on.

tuesday afternoon came around quickly enough. the class pattern at langston meant that most students had the day off on wednesdays, so colt’s roommate was already pregaming when he got back to the dorm, getting ready to go out later that night.

logan tossed him a beer as soon as he took his jacket off. “hey,” he nodded at him, “there’s a party at backyard tonight. wanna go?”

colt shrugged, cracking the tab on the can and lifting it to his lips for a sip. “i guess. who’s living there this year?”

“i think the lacrosse team,” logan answered, though his voice sounded distracted, his eyes were on his phone. “there’s people going to howl too, though.”

“whatever,” he said, dropping down onto his bed, kicking off his shoes, “we could always start at the bar and go to backyard after. i don’t care.”

a thought occurred to him as he drained the rest of his beer, leaning over to set the empty can on his desk. trying to keep his voice casual, he asked, “do you remember where we used to party when we were freshmen?”

logan lifted his head and smirked at him. “we didn’t used to party anywhere. i went out and you sulked in the room.”

colt rolled his eyes. “i wasn’t sulking.” he just hadn’t wanted to be at school. at all. colt spent most of his freshman year trying to figure out how to get kicked out of college and sent home to l.a., not that it had done him much good.

“if you say so,” logan hummed, setting his phone aside and heading to the fridge for another beer. colt shook his head when logan looked back at him curiously. “why’re you asking, anyway?”

“no reason,” colt answered too-quickly, averting his eyes when logan’s look turned suspicious, “just wondering.”

logan leaned against his desk, his expression morphing into one of disbelief. “dude. come on.”

colt’s jaw clenched as he grit his teeth. then he sighed and said, “fine. there’s a girl in the psych program i wanted to talk to.”

logan’s face split into a boyish, excited grin. “dude,” he said again, but this time he sounded delighted, “seriously? i’ve only been waiting, like, an entire year for this. what’s her name?”

colt rolled his eyes at him. he should’ve anticipated this reaction. “forget it. it’s not a big deal. if we run into her we run into her --”

“colt,” logan sighed, “you know you could just invite her, right?”

“i don’t have her number. and anyway --”

“okay, whatever. we’ll just find her. i think most of the freshmen should be at the rugby party, we can walk there after the bar. dude, this is so awesome. i’ve always wanted to be your wing man.”

“well, can you try to calm down?” he leaned back on the mattress, shrugging his shoulders. “i don’t even think she likes me.”

“yeah,” logan laughed, “i’m sure you were really nice to her.”

“shut up,” colt mumbled, “it was -- whatever. i’m going to take a shower.”

logan’s enthusiasm didn’t waver; if anything, it only got worse as he kept drinking. he bothered colt about what he was going to wear for twenty minutes until colt finally gave in and let logan pick from his shirts.

fortunately, he was at least moderately buzzed by the time they made it to the bar and met up with the rest of their friends. even more fortunately, logan started talking to a girl as soon as they got there and left him alone to first survey the crowd for ellie -- no luck there -- and then start slamming back shots.

he lost track of time talking to some girl who knew a surprising amount about cars and soon enough it was approaching midnight and he was drunk, waiting until logan came up for air from where he’d been kissing the girl he’d met in a corner of the bar to remind him about the party.

“oh yeah!” logan said excitedly, one arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulders. she was leaning on his chest, giggling drunkenly at nothing. “christina’s a freshman, too, she said she’d bring us by. maybe she knows the girl you like.”

“dude,” colt said, shaking his head, “come on.” the small group of people they’d met up with at the bar walked with them to the rugby house, where the guy at the door recognized the girl logan had been making out with and waved them all in without a second glance.

the house was full of people he didn’t recognize, which probably meant that most of them were freshmen or people on the rugby team; painfully loud music made it almost impossible to hear logan, even when he leaned in and screamed into his ear, “is she here?”

colt looked around, but he didn’t see ellie anywhere in the living room. he shook his head. “i’m gonna go get a drink,” he called, weaving through the crowd of bodies and walking off into the kitchen, alone.

he bypassed the keg and went straight for the bottles lining the counter. he was pouring vodka into a cup he’d already half-filled with tequila when someone bumped into him, jostling his shoulder.

colt turned around and came face-to-face with ellie, who was unsteady on her feet, brushing her hair out of her face where it’d suddenly fallen into her eyes. she looked different than she had in class yesterday -- the top she was wearing was low-cut and lacy, her shorts tight and short enough to show off the same long, tanned legs he’d been eyeing in the lecture hall.

she smiled when he finally met her eyes. “oh. it’s you. hi!” she chirped cheerfully, her voice loud and over-excited. the fact that she was being so nice to him meant that she’d probably had a few. her eyes were unfocused as she looked him over, though her gaze sharpened when she stopped on his face again. “what’re you doing here?”

he shrugged, leaning against the counter as nonchalantly as possible. “my roommate wanted to stop in.” colt felt his lips pull into a grin despite himself. “didn’t think i’d see a girl like you in a place like this.”

ellie pouted prettily at him. “what’s that s’posed to mean?”

he laughed. of course she had to be a cute drunk. “you’re just such a goody-two-shoes. i’m almost impressed you made it out at all.”

her arms folded under her chest. colt focused all of his energy on keeping his eyes on her face. “i am not a goody-two-shoes.”

colt took a long sip from the cup in his hand. that he was able to swallow the alcohol straight without gagging immediately proved he was probably too drunk for this conversation. “sure you’re not.”

“i’m not,” she insisted, “i’ll prove it. let’s take shots!”

he glanced down at the cup in his hand, mentally judging how much was left. then, he held it out to her with his eyebrows arched. “okay. if you can finish this you’ll officially have impressed me.”

ellie confidently snatched the cup out of his hand, lifting it to her nose. then she wavered, squinting down into it. “what is it?”

colt grinned at her again. “tequila.”

“it smells like vodka.”

he shrugged. “it’s vodka, too.”

“you’ve been standing here drinking vodka and tequila mixed together? without -- without, like, soda? or juice? you’re a sociopath.”

“look, if you can’t handle it, no worries. maybe we can find you a white claw or something.”

ellie huffed, squinting at him before resolutely lifting his cup to her lips and knocking back the liquid left in it in one gulp.

he pursed his lips together to stifle a smile, and then a laugh, once she started coughing.

“ugh! that is awful,” ellie exclaimed, pushing the empty cup back into his hands, “how can you possibly drink that? no wonder you’re like -- how you are.”

his friends found them in the kitchen before he could ask what she meant. logan clapped his shoulder and asked, “hey, are you ready to go? chase and sean are already at backyard.”

the girl he’d brought with him squealed excitedly when she saw ellie, throwing herself into her arms for a hug. “ohmygod, you should totally come with us!” she exclaimed, “i’ll walk you back later. please, el?”

logan’s face lit up. he elbowed colt hard in the side until colt glared at him and stepped purposefully on his foot.

“sure,” ellie shrugged, “let me just tell my roommate.” she glanced at colt, the corners of her mouth lifting. “i’ll meet you guys outside?”

he nodded, probably faster than he should have. “yeah.” the longer they all stood there, the more likely it was that logan would say something to embarrass him, anyway.

there were people drinking in the front yard when they went outside, but he felt like he could breathe a little easier out of the crowded kitchen and living room. as soon as christina pulled away from logan, he turned back toward colt and asked, “soooooooo? was that her?”

“yeah,” he admitted begrudgingly, “but don’t say anything.”

logan held a hand to his chest, wounded. “it really hurts my feelings that you think i’d be so uncool. dude, i want you to get laid.”

colt rolled his eyes. “i don’t need any help getting laid.” and it wasn’t like he was looking to sleep with her and never call her again.

“i know, but --” ellie and one of her friends came out the front door, walking over as soon as they caught sight of them. the girl ellie had brought with her started talking to christina as logan led the group down the street, and colt was surprised when ellie hung back and fell into step with him, at the back of the group.

“so -- you been over here yet?” he asked, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

“nope. but riya said all the upperclassmen hang out at backyard.”

colt snuck a glance over at her and had to suppress a smile again. “that your friend?”

“uh huh,” she nodded, “we’ve been best friends our whole lives. it was, like, a dream come true when we both got in.”

“cool. well -- backyard is usually pretty fun, but the lacrosse team is living here this year so we’ll have to see if they can hang.”

“who’s your friend?” ellie asked abruptly. when he looked over at her again, he saw that she was staring at logan. he’d recognize the look on her face anywhere. he’d seen it on tons of girls’ faces before.

ellie was biting her bottom lip.

“that’s my roommate,” he answered stiffly. “logan.”

“he’s really hot,” she murmured thoughtlessly, almost to herself. the sound of her voice was soft, each word starting to slur together.

colt rolled his eyes. he quickened his pace to catch up to some of the other guys.

“hey!” ellie huffed, and he heard the sound of her shoes on the sidewalk as she rushed to be beside him again, “wait up.”

the off-campus housing that had always been a party spot had gotten the name ‘backyard’ for said impressive feature; the grass was packed with undergrads when colt and everyone else made their way outside. as soon as they found chase and sean, one of them passed him a lit joint, which he accepted gratefully, thinking there were few things he might’ve liked more, at that moment, than being too high to think about any of the things that were bothering him.

ellie appeared beside him suddenly. “you smoke?”

he stared back at her blankly, and then took another hit. “weed? yeah.”

“oh.” she blinked, looking from him to chase and back again. “can i try it?”

chase shrugged at her. “be my guest,” colt said flatly, passing her the joint and leaving her with the group, walking over to the keg.

logan jogged over while he was filling a cup. colt passed him the first one and went to get another. “so? how’s it going?”

he rolled his eyes. “she’d rather talk to you. it’s whatever.”

logan frowned at him. “i’m obviously not going to --”

“i literally don’t care. it’s fine.” colt walked away before logan could continue. he had only a moment to scan the backyard for someone he actually wanted to talk to before ellie popped into his field of vision again.

“are you mad at me?” she demanded, frowning at him.

“nope.” the girl from howl who’d talked to him about cars for an hour was waving at him from over by the fence. colt pushed past ellie to go talk to her again. “i owe you one,” he grinned when he approached, “you saved me from an unbelievably awkward situation.”

the answering smile she sent his way was wide -- all teeth. “then you should come home with me.”

he blinked. colt racked his brain, trying to remember if she’d told him her name. “do you live on campus?”

she nodded. “in south. but my roommate’ll be sleeping over here with her boyfriend.”

if she lived in south, she was probably an upperclassman. unfortunately, that didn’t bring him any closer to remembering her name.

he squinted at her, then ducked his head, as bashfully as he could manage. “i forgot your name.”

admitting as much was a risk, but it paid off -- she only laughed at him, and then said, “olivia. so? you wanna get out of here?”

more than anything. he nodded, reaching down and threading his fingers through hers. “let me just tell my roommate.”

she let him tug her over to where logan was standing with the rest of their friends. “i’m leaving,” he said, clapping logan on the shoulder. logan frowned at him for a moment before he caught sight of olivia, and then he grinned widely.

“nice. see you later.”

colt nodded at everyone else before they left, pointedly not scanning the crowd for one last glimpse of ellie.

he was a fucking idiot for thinking he should pursue something there in the first place, probably. whatever dumb little crush he had on her because she’d impressed him a couple of times had to go.

fortunately, he’d already found another way to occupy his time -- even if it was only for tonight.

he was late to law & psych again on thursday, and everyone in the room was sitting in the same seats they’d taken on monday -- which meant the only open desk was in the front, again, next to ellie.

she shot him a deeply unimpressed look when he slunk into his seat and dropped his head in his hands. like she had on monday, she seemed wide awake and much too excited; she was drinking water again.

“hi,” she said pointedly, like he was ignoring her or something.

colt arched an eyebrow at her. “hi?”

ellie huffed. “where’d you disappear to on tuesday?”

“uh...” he rubbed at his eyes, still feeling exhausted. “just went back to campus, i guess.”

she looked almost... embarrassed, not that he understood why. professor morrell called everyone to attention before she could say anything, and though he really didn’t give a shit, he still turned back to the front of the room, slumping down in his seat as he went.

he did his best to pay attention for most of class, but found himself zoning out for the next hour -- pretty much sleeping with his eyes open. the only part of the lecture he actually caught was five minutes before class was scheduled to end, when dr. morrell said, “and before we go, i’ll assign the partners and topics for the first project so you guys can get started over the weekend, if you want.”

yeah, that was exactly how he wanted to spend his weekend. he rolled his eyes as she started passing out readings. though he was only half-paying attention, he did realize that she was working her way clockwise around the room... and everything slowed to a stop when she paused in front of his desk and said, “ellie and colt. your topic is false confessions. i look forward to seeing your presentation.”

he probably should’ve seen that one coming. it was par for the course with his life, honestly -- just his fucking luck.

he flipped absently through the reading she’d given them and then sighed, handing it to ellie.

“don’t look so thrilled,” she said as she took it from his hands. “come on. we can work out a schedule for when we’re going to work on this.”

they headed toward the building they had social psych together in, side-by-side. ellie kept her eyes on the reading as they went, and he took advantage of the fact that her gaze was averted to study her in turn, analyzing the expression her face calculatingly.

“i’ve read this study before,” she said finally, “this won’t be that hard. we can split the lit review and then i’ll work on the analysis and you can do the conclusion.”

“okay,” he said, a little startled by the way she seamlessly doled out orders. “sure.”

ellie snuck a glance up at him, then, and he didn’t look away, even when she caught him staring. her cheeks were a little flushed when she drew in a breath and said, “okay. do you want to work on it this weekend?”

“that’s fine.”

they crossed the quad together in silence. as they neared the building their next class was in, she hesitantly started, “so -- your roommate...”

colt tensed, but otherwise didn’t say anything. the expression on his face soured when, a moment later, ellie continued, “is he single?”

try as he might to force his face blank, he could feel his look of distaste twisting further into a scowl. “i guess.” at least he’d been drunk the last time she’d subjected him to this.

ellie either didn’t notice his attitude or didn’t care to comment on it; she breezed right past the dark tone of his voice when she said, “cool, because my friend riya -- from tuesday? -- thinks he’s really cute, and i think they’d be perfect together. but she had this awful breakup last spring and i don’t want to set her up with just anyone, so --”

his sneer cleared as she kept blabbing, and he slowly tuned her voice out in favor of the pounding of his own heart. so she hadn’t been asking for herself.

that was... an interesting development, for sure. for sure.

“colt?” he shook himself from his thoughts and looked back at her. ellie frowned at him, her eyes narrowing. “were you even listening to me?”

“yeah, your friend. bad breakup. high school drama.” he shot her a winning smile as he opened the door for her, following behind her and letting it swing shut in the face of whatever underclassmen were coming in behind them.

“maybe we can all do something this weekend,” she suggested, as they made their way down the hallway to the classroom, “get drinks or something after we work on the project?”

“definitely.” fuck. that answer had probably come too quickly to be considered cool, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by ellie -- she was looking at him from under her eyelashes, smiling shyly.

she looked really pretty. fuck.

she followed him to the back of the room again even though they were right on time today and there were plenty of open seats. he wondered what the fuck she was doing when ellie slid into the same desk she’d sat in on monday; she clearly wasn’t a back of the classroom type of girl. but here she was.

“give me your phone.”

he startled. “what? why?”

“so i can give you my number?” again, the look on her face seemed to suggest he was the biggest idiot she’d ever had the displeasure of talking to. “how else are we going to find a time to work on the project?”

colt passed it over wordlessly, watching while she plugged her phone number in and then texted herself before handing it back. “thanks,” he said stupidly, with no idea why.

“just try not to ditch me again.” the look on her face had him feeling weirdly guilty, like they’d gone to the party together, or something -- like he hadn’t left her with all of her friends. he suddenly wondered how much she actually remembered, if she saw him leave hand-in-hand with olivia or not.

try not to act like you want to fuck my roommate, he thought to himself, the words on the tip of his tongue.

before he could put his foot in his mouth, the professor called class to attention. he sat in silence for most of the next hour and a half, until he answered a question and ellie said --

“actually, colt’s forgetting that schemas related to behaviors are known as scripts, and a widely different concept.”

“they’re actually not a different concept at all,” colt said, before the professor could correct her, “they’re a deviation of the same concept on a technical level but operate in pretty much the same way where modification and therapy are concerned.”

“colt’s correct,” the professor said, shooting them both a strange look before walking back to the board at the front of the room, “which brings us to next week’s reading by abelson. we’ll be discussing chapter four in more detail on monday...”

he turned and smiled smugly at ellie. she looked just as deeply annoyed with him as ever, seething at her desk.

never one to quite know when to stop, he couldn’t resist leaning in and whispering, “maybe you shouldn’t have skipped intro to psych after all,” gratified by the way her hands clenched into fists and how she stared him down with the dirtiest look she could muster.

suddenly the semester had gotten fun again.

working on their project together went surprisingly well. much better than he had expected it to, given their track record.

but ellie was smart and sharp and witty in a way that felt like something he’d been waiting for without outright searching for it.

admittedly, he’d caught himself staring at her more than a few times, his eyes mapping the curve of her neck when her head bent low into his textbook, which was used, and therefore free game for her to mark up with highlighter.

they were probably sitting too close for the library. all the private rooms were taken when they’d first arrived, so they’d found a table in the upper level of the atrium, and though it was sort of secluded in the back corner by the windows they were far from alone.

but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering.

“look at this study,” ellie said suddenly, sliding a piece of paper under his nose and forcing him to tear his eyes away from the dip of her cupid’s bow, “what kassin says here about compliance will be an important point for us.”

“god, aren’t you tired yet?” he was almost impressed. it’d been hours. “look around. it’s dark out. you have to at least be hungry.”

ellie’s lips pursed into a thin line. she sighed, but begrudgingly admitted, “okay, i’m a little hungry.”

his grin widened, toeing the line between obnoxious and charming he so often straddled. “we made really good progress.” well. she had, at least. “let’s call it for tonight. come on, it’s friday.”

she wavered for another minute, but he knew he had her. it still felt like a victory when she finally nodded. “fine. we did make pretty good progress. maybe we can meet up again on sunday?”

he stared at her as she stretched in her chair, arching her back and raising her arms above her head. “sure. are you going out tonight?”

ellie’s lips twisted into a grimace, and she shook her head. “i wasn’t planning on it. i have a meeting with my advisor early tomorrow morning.”

“on a saturday?” someone sitting at one of the other tables chose that moment to shush them, loudly, and he twisted around to glare at them over his shoulder as ellie packed up her books and stood. he only looked away to follow her out, though she waited until they were in the stairwell to talk again.

“yes, on a saturday. i just want to make sure i’m staying on track.”

colt arched his eyebrows at her as he held open the door to the lobby. “it’s the first week of the semester.”

“well, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” ellie huffed, stepping smoothly past his arm and striding to the exit, “school is really important to me.”

“okay,” he said, trying to stifle the smirk that was threatening, “so if you’re such a goody-two-shoes, how’d you wind up missing the deadline to pick classes? doesn’t seem like something that’d just slip your mind.”

ellie’s smile dipped while they made their way back across the lawn. “um.” her voice was suddenly much quieter, and he watched one of her shoulders lift in an unsure shrug before she stiffly continued, “my mom. she’d been sick for awhile, but... over the summer -- she died. i honestly just forgot about registering.”

“fuck,” colt sighed, before he could stop himself and think for a second about what he was saying, “i’m an asshole. i’m sorry, i didn’t --”

“please,” ellie said, already shaking her head, “you couldn’t have known. but... that’s what happened. and i totally had a meltdown when i realized and i seriously almost just deferred a semester to get around it, but i guess everything wound up working out.”

he was surprised to see her sneaking a glance up at him as they walked. immediately, he averted his eyes. “i guess,” he allowed, decidedly ignoring the strange and unfamiliar feeling that was abruptly squeezing his chest tight, “but, still. that really sucks. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be,” she murmured. her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. ellie cleared her throat, her voice a little brighter when she said, “hey -- do you... want to get dinner? um, if you’re not going out or anything.”

as if. she was the only person who’d been able to get him to go out since he fucking came to this stupid school. “yeah. i mean -- i’m not. so that’d be cool.” maybe he still had a shot at impressing her. “actually, can i show you something? do you like tacos?”

“oh.” she looked surprised, both by his agreement and his suggestion, but despite how floored she seemed she still smiled in a way that lit up her whole face, and he was amazed to notice that she had a dimple he’d somehow never seen before right now. “i love tacos.”

ellie didn’t say another word until they were both sitting down on the edge of the roof, styrofoam takeout boxes balanced in their laps, so he had no idea what her opinion was on any of it.

she’d remained coy while he led her to his favorite off-campus hole-in-the-wall, quiet when he’d dragged her back to the biology building and forced her up five flights of stairs, silent save for a pointed raised eyebrow when he shoved his shoulder into the door marked roof access - custodial staff only until it popped open and they emerged out onto the roof, easygoing but still a little cautious when he led her over to the edge and sat down with his legs dangling over the side of the building.

now, she had pineapple juice dripping down her thumb as she cradled her al pastor in her hands, giving him carte blanche to stare at her while her own eyes looked out at the city.

he was desperate to know her take on it all, and frustratingly close to demanding well?! before she eventually spoke up and put him out of his misery.

“this is a great view.”

colt finally diverted his gaze to his own tacos. “don’t tell anyone about it. it’s a secret.”

“that’s a funny way of saying breaking and entering.”

he rolled his eyes at her, gently shoving his shoulder into hers. “what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em. besides, we’re not doing anything wrong.”

ellie shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. “i’ve never done anything like this before.”

“we can leave, if you want,” he offered. “i just wanted to show you the city.”

“no.” colt watched her shake her head rapidly, and then ellie leaned in and bumped her shoulder back against his in return. “i didn’t mean it like that. i guess i’m just -- trying to explain. why you think i’m lame.”

he frowned. “i don’t think you’re lame.”

ellie laughed, ducking her head and poking at the styrofoam container in her lap. “you don’t?”

“no. why, because you’re not out tonight? i’m not, either.” in fact, he could probably count all the nights he’d been out since he’d moved in last year on one hand.

“not only that.” she paused thoughtfully, stopping to take a bite of her taco. “because i take school so seriously, i guess.”

colt set his food aside to lean back on his palms, looking out over the city. “there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do well. you’d be, like, my parents’ dream child. i’m sure they both wish i’d take this even half as seriously as you do.”

her head turned, and he caught a glimpse of her soft smile out of the corner of his eyes. “did you miss the deadline to register for classes on purpose?”

he nodded. “i’ve been trying to get kicked out since i got here. it’s harder than you’d think.”

ellie laughed. “why would you want to get kicked out? most people would kill to be here.”

“well, i’m not like most people.” colt pushed the toes of his shoes against the loose edge of the roof, silently debating the rest of his answer. “i never wanted to go to college. but shipping me out here so i’d be out of my dad’s way is the only thing my parents ever agreed on.”

“where’re you from, again?”

“los angeles. but i’ve been with my mom ever since my folks split in denver. my dad -- it’s complicated.”

she was quiet. he wondered what she was thinking. after a moment, she said, “i’m from l.a., too.”

colt’s eyebrows arched high. “really? small world.”

“nothing was the same after my mom got sick, though. my dad never let me out of his sight. it got to a point where being home felt like being in prison.” ellie hesitated, her eyes still on the skyline. “part of me was so relieved to come here that i still feel guilty about it.”

“you shouldn’t feel guilty. it’s your life. you should get a chance to live it.” his brow furrowed as he turned to look at her fully, staring at her profile where she was half-lit by the lights dotting their campus. “you deserve to make your own decisions.”

“i know.” ellie closed the container in her lap, then set it aside. she dusted off her hands and finally tilted her head to look at him, a small smile playing at her lips. “that’s the part i’m most afraid of. not -- taking these chances, and doing all this stuff. but -- messing it up. not doing enough, you know? letting... this opportunity to finally be myself pass me by.”

“yeah.” of course he knew what she meant. that was pretty much what he’d spent the last year doing. “well, you should get out more, then. do all the shit you always wanted to do that your dad never let you try.”

“like what?”

he laughed. “fuck if i know. i thought a girl like you would have a list all ready to go.”

“well...” colt glanced down and saw that she was biting at her bottom lip, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to say whatever was about to come out. “i’ve always wanted to learn to drive.”

“okay.” his left palm spread over hers from behind, and he fanned his fingers out on top of hers, gently pressing her hand around the lever. “this is the clutch. it’s how you shift gears.”

ellie shifted from where she was straddling the bike in front of him. he felt her fingers wiggle underneath his, and saw her head bob with a nod. “got it.”

his right hand curled over hers, gripping the handlebar. “this is the throttle.” colt shifted their hands to the lever beyond the handlebar. “and this is the front brake.”

she hummed, her bare arms warm against his. the parking lot he’d left his bike in was deserted, except for the two of them -- they were pretty far on the outskirts of campus, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of everyone getting ready to go out on a friday night. “what about the back brake?”

colt’s right foot gently kicked hers. “feel the lever down here?”

ellie’s sneaker fumbled around, the heel of her shoe kicking him in the shin before she found it. “uh huh.”

“basically, the right side of the bike is for accelerating and braking. the left side is just to switch gears.”

“this seems a lot more complicated than a car.”

“hey, you want to learn to drive, don’t you? this is the best i can do right now.” but maybe if he ever made it back to l.a. with her, he could show her a really good time. “look, i’ll handle changing gears, okay? you just worry about the throttle. and brake when i tell you to.”

“but how will i know when to accelerate?” her voice sounded a little worried, like maybe she was starting to have second thoughts. he kept his right hand held firmly over ellie’s, moving it to the handlebar before pushing his fingers through hers.

“i’ll give you a squeeze. don’t worry, i’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

the words left his mouth before he could even think about them. he blinked at her, a long moment of silence stretching between them. ellie leaned her back against his chest, her thumb stroking the side of his hand.

he had the sudden urge to kiss her.

“you have a helmet, right?”

colt jolted out of his thoughts, then slid off the bike to pull it out for her. “yeah, of course. here.” it was a little big on her, but it did the trick -- he pulled it down over her head with a grin, endeared by the way she posed playfully once it was on.

“how do i look?”

“like a total babe,” he answered honestly, pulling his jacket off, too, before handing it to her. “here. better put this on, too.”

“why?” she asked, but she was obligingly slipping her arms into it. like the helmet, it was way too big on her, but unlike the helmet, the sight of her inside of it stirred something within him that he had trouble ignoring. he reached out and settled the jacket on her shoulders more firmly.

“in case you fall. it’ll protect you.”

“i thought you said you weren’t going to let anything happen to me,” ellie hummed, staring at the way the sleeves of the jacket hung down over her knuckles. in the low light of the dark parking lot, it almost looked like she was blushing a little.

“i’m not, but it doesn’t hurt to have an insurance policy.” colt reached out and slid the face shield on the helmet down, over her eyes. “come on.”

ellie got back onto the bike from the left side, just like he’d showed her. she really was smart -- probably even too smart for this stupid school -- and quick, too. her hands found the handlebars straightaway, and he moved snugly up behind her, his arms keeping her close.

their joined left hands pulled the clutch. he shifted to thumb the kill switch with his right hand, and the bike jolted to life beneath them, ellie jerking with it. colt leaned in toward her ear even with the helmet in the way. “relax,” he said, raising his voice a little to be sure she’d hear him, “i know what i’m doing.”

she still squeaked a little when he let the clutch out and the bike slowly started to roll forward. “colt --” her voice was panicked. “help, what do i do?”

“just like we talked about,” he encouraged, “put your feet up. then hit the throttle.”

ellie drew in a deep breath. he could feel her along his chest, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. after a moment, she revved the engine, and then they were off -- a little unsteadily, but in a straight line, at least, heading down the length of the parking lot.

“oh my god! oh my god, i’m doing it. oh my god!”

she was too cute for her own good. the excited tone of voice she had made him grin unabashedly into the air behind her, and he leaned back a little to give her more control, impressed by how smooth her handle on the bike was, for her first time. was there anything she wasn’t fucking good at?

“okay,” he said finally, once they started to run out of space, “both breaks, then your left foot. you’ve got it.” he pulled down on the clutch for her, and then ellie easily halted the bike to a stop. he exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, but there’d been nothing to worry about -- she was a natural.

“wow,” she gushed, practically jumping off the bike, turning around to face him and throwing the helmet off, “i can’t believe i just drove a motorcycle! i can’t believe you do that every day.”

“you did pretty good,” he praised, “for your first time. a few more lessons and you’ll be a pro.”

“really?” now her cheeks really were flushed, rosy and delighted as she beamed at him with pride. “you’d let me drive your bike again?”

“if you want.” thank god they were alone. if logan could see them he’d be insufferable. even colt could admit this was wildly out of character for him, but he would’ve given anything, just then, to keep her smiling like that. “you wanna see what she can really do? i’ll take us for a ride. all you have to do is hold on.”

“definitely,” ellie grinned immediately, pulling the helmet back on. he’d expected to have to convince her a little more, but -- maybe there was more to her than he’d thought.

a dangerous prospect, given how much he already liked what little he knew.

he waited until she was secure behind him before tearing out of the parking lot and away from campus entirely, taking empty side streets until they were on the highway that’d lead them out of the city. ellie’s hands stayed warm around his waist, and after a few minutes, she leaned her cheek against his shoulder, too, settling something peaceful in his chest. companionable quiet stretched between them while he drove, as fast as he could, just so she’d laugh with exhilaration like she did when he got them into the triple-digits.

eventually he pulled over in a random, deserted park. there weren’t any streetlights in this part of the city, so it was dark, and he could only barely see ellie when he killed the engine and she pulled off her helmet to look at him curiously.

“so?” he asked, “how was it? everything you’ve been waiting for?”

“totally.” ellie grinned at him, so widely her dimple popped out. “i know it sounds cheesy, but tonight... is the most i’ve ever felt like myself. do you know what i mean?”

he was starting to. everything had felt purposeless before she’d showed up here. he’d wanted nothing more than to coast through the next few years, if he absolutely had to.

now it all felt different. because of her.

she was the piece he’d been looking for, something he hadn’t even known he wanted but now was desperate to make his. ellie was sharp and beautiful and headstrong, all the things he needed to fit into the void he was suddenly hoping she’d actually be interested in filling.

“it’s not cheesy if it makes you happy,” was what he settled on, swallowing some of the sudden intensity that was slowly taking him over. “you’ve held back for long enough. you should do whatever you want.”

“you’re right.” ellie’s eyes slid over to meet his, and she smiled at him through the dark, her expression soft and sweet.

colt’s heart thumped loudly. that urge to kiss her was back again, stronger than before. he wasn’t usually the sort of person that resisted an impulse, but part of him was terrified of pushing for more than she was comfortable with, scaring her away with his intensity. he knew he wasn’t the kind of guy a girl like her could handle.

but maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did, yet. ellie leaned in and pressed her lips against his, without warning, surprising him still. colt’s eyes went wide with shock before they slid shut and he kissed her back, twisting on the bike to slide an arm around her shoulders and yank her in as close as she could get.

ellie’s arms, still covered by the fabric of his leather jacket, wound around his waist. she kissed shyly, like she was worried she might be bad at it, but let him take the lead -- and eventually her mouth opened up under his and she shivered in his grip and gave back as good as she was getting, until his mind was blank and the only thing he could focus on was her, under his hands.

they both pulled away at the same time, struggling to catch their breath. she was looking at him like he assumed he must’ve been looking at her: in complete shock, her eyes wide. “wow.”

“yeah.” there was a sarcastic quip on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it in favor of studying her face some more -- her cheeks were as flushed as her red lips, which were slowly starting to curve up into a gentle smile. “you ok?”

“um, that was my first kiss,” she admitted, ducking her head. the few strands of hair that weren’t pulled back into her ponytail fell around her face. “i’m probably not helping on the whole you thinking i’m lame front, huh?”

his brain felt like it was short circuiting. “you -- i -- for real?”

“okay, it’s not like i didn’t have options,” she started defensively, rushing to explain, “it just never felt like the right time, and i was waiting for something special, and -- this felt special to me.” her eyes flashed, as though she was waiting for him to start making fun of her at any moment. that was probably fair -- he’d definitely thought about it. “i like you.”

“i like you, too.” probably more than he should. definitely more than he’d ever set out to like anyone, when he’d packed up all his shit and agreed to give this stupid college thing a try.

but she was a distraction he felt was worth the risk.

the expression on her face transformed into something cautiously pleased. “you do?”

“you’re kidding, right? ask logan -- this is the most i’ve left my room in three semesters. i’ve been losing my mind trying to impress you.”

her eyebrows arched. “really? it sure hasn’t seemed that way to me.”

“well -- you were giving me mixed signals.”

he smirked as her expression turned indignant. “i was giving you mixed signals? you went home with that girl!”

colt winced. he was really hoping she hadn’t noticed that. “i thought you were asking me about logan for yourself.”

ellie stared blankly back at him. “oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

“we’re both idiots,” he corrected, rolling his eyes at her.

just as she opened her mouth to bite back, a loud roll of thunder cut through the stillness surrounding them. “shit,” colt sighed, “we should --”

rain started to pour down in heavy sheets, immediately soaking his t-shirt through to the skin. ellie yelped, fumbling for her helmet while he quickly started the bike up again, waiting for her to squeeze her arms around him before speeding back to campus as quickly as possible.

the foot traffic in his building was minimal -- they’d managed to find the sweet spot in the middle of the night where everyone who’d gone out to party was out already, and it was too soon for people to be coming back, so they had their run of the hallways when they rushed inside.

they both laughed breathlessly as they raced up the stairs and into his dorm, dripping water all over the floor.

“god, sorry about your jacket,” ellie said, stripping out of it and leaving it on one of the desk chairs, accepting the towel he passed over to her with a smile.

“it’s fine,” colt said, rubbing his own towel over his hair. “sorry about your -- everything.”

ellie dissolved into giggles that tapered off when he pulled off his soaked t-shirt and flung it into the corner of the room where the rest of his laundry was waiting.

she was staring.

“see something you like?”

the sound of his voice appeared to startled her into looking away, and she laughed again, more nervously this time. “don’t be a dick. you know you’re hot.”

“maybe, but i wanna hear you say it,” he said obnoxiously, his grin widening. “do you think i’m hot?”

ellie drew the towel in her hands around her shoulders, pursing her lips at him. “i think you’re smug, arrogant, obnoxious and wasting your potential.”

if it were at all possible, his grin grew larger. “and?”

she sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward. “and you’re obviously very hot.”

“thank you,” colt said primly, “was that so hard?”

ellie rubbed the towel around her down her arms again before whipping it off and smacking him gently with it. “your ego doesn’t need any more compliments from me.”

colt caught the towel in his hand and used it to tug her in closer. “maybe,” he allowed, dropping his voice as soon as she came near, “but you’re the only one i actually wanna hear them from.”

she blinked at him. her eyes dropped to his mouth.

slowly and deliberately, he wound the towel around his hand, pulling ellie in the last few steps it’d take to close the distance between them. she stumbled forward, reaching out and resting her hands on his arms.

colt locked eyes with her, trying to read her gaze for a sign that he should stop. but there wasn’t one.

he bowed his head and pressed their lips together again, softly at first and then, when she didn’t step on his foot and elbow him in the stomach, a little more boldly, firmly working his mouth against hers.

ellie slid her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, pushing her fingers into his wet hair and angling him in deeper. for someone who’d only just had her first kiss, she had killer instincts -- something he was already looking forward to exploring.

if he’d been waiting for a sign that she was the missing his piece his life had needed, this sure felt like it, or something close to it. she was both the type of girl he’d never go after and exactly what he’d been unknowingly wanting for a long time all rolled into one devastatingly sexy and infuriating package. for as long as colt could remember, he’d assumed there was something unsavory about the way he couldn’t bring himself to consider anyone else he met an equal -- like maybe there just wasn’t anyone else as smart, interesting or determined as him, but... ellie somehow managed to be all that and more.

they had a surprising amount in common. even more surprisingly, that felt like something positive, instead of a curse.

he settled his hands on the small of her back and pulled her in closer, fascinated by the way his thumbs touched as his hands caged her narrow waist. the urge to get her underneath him on his bed swelled until it was no longer ignorable, though just as he started to walk her back over to it, the door to the room swung open abruptly.

they sprang apart as logan stumbled into the dorm. he looked surprised to see them, but then a wide smile lazily overtook his face and he said, “woah, sorry. i can come back later.”

colt glared at him, but it didn’t stop logan from looking between the two of them with his eyebrows arched meaningfully. “yeah, you should --”

“it’s fine,” ellie said loudly, cutting him off. “is it still raining outside?”

logan blinked, seemingly noticing ellie’s damp hair and colt’s bare chest for the first time. “oh. no.”

ellie squeezed his hand, looking back at him questioningly. “walk me home?”

he exhaled, already nodding as he moved to find a new shirt. “yeah. one sec.”

“good to see you, ellie,” logan nodded, still grinning at the both of them even when colt rolled his eyes and started dragging her towards the door, “come back soon, okay?”

ellie shivered the whole way back to her dorm, making him wish he’d grabbed his jacket again before they left. it was mostly quiet while they walked, though the closer they got to the freshmen buildings the louder campus became, with the night getting late enough that people were finally starting to make their way home from the bars.

“so much for my meeting with my advisor tomorrow,” ellie said when they slowed to a stop outside of her building, her jaw cracking with a wide yawn. he shrugged at her, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

this was new to him. part of his brain was insistent that maybe what they’d just done could technically count as a date, though that thought was admittedly a little uncomfortable to confront.

he didn’t think he’d ever been on a date like this before, or, at the very least -- not one that he’d cared about quite so much.

but then she smiled at him, and provided a momentary reprieve from his over-analyzing. “this was fun. maybe next weekend you can help me try something else new.”

colt licked his lips and smirked at her. “i have a few ideas.”

ellie immediately caught on to his implication and flushed pink. the way she smiled softly as she glanced away was almost worryingly cute. “we still have to finish our project.”

“i know. i’m not gonna leave you hanging.” he continued to stare down at her even as her gaze flit around the small section of campus her dorm was tucked away in, looking out over the lawn in front of her building and back to him again.

“you mean that?”

“yeah.” ellie finally looked back at him, then, and caught his eyes. he felt one corner of his mouth lift despite himself into a lopsided smile.

“you’re not gonna get kicked out of school?” something like vulnerability shone in her eyes.

“well -- not before next weekend,” colt answered obnoxiously.

he was hoping to make her laugh, and she did. she reached up and hit his shoulder. “i’m being serious!”

“i know you are.” he paused. getting kicked out of school had always been step one of the plan. if his fucking parents weren’t going to take him seriously, he was going to have to make them -- that started with putting college in his rearview mirror, one way or another.

changing course at this point felt like a weakness.

but she looked pretty hopeful.

“look,” he sighed, “what do you want me to say? i can’t predict the future.”

maybe it was crazy to even think about putting everything on hold for someone he’d literally just fucking met, but there was no denying the way his pulse sped up anxiously when she frowned and ducked her head to stare at her toes.

“i’m not trying to start something that’s just going to set me up to get hurt,” ellie said.

she had a point. he should probably let her get away now, then -- there was no guarantee he wouldn’t hurt her; in fact, it was probably a safe bet he’d do just the opposite. his life wasn’t structured to accommodate a girlfriend.

...but maybe it was time he learned to adapt.

there were few things colt could promise her with certainty that he wouldn’t break them, but there was one thing he had absolute control over. “okay. you want me to promise you i’ll stop trying to get kicked out of school? it’s done. i promise.”

ellie blinked. she looked stunned, as though he’d said the absolute last thing she’d been expecting to hear come out of his mouth. “really?”

“sure.” the look on her face was soothing, a reassurance that despite how new all of this was to him, he wasn’t completely bombing. “as long as you’ll keep making it all suck less.”

everything had seemed markedly less annoying since he’d met her, just a week ago. classes were fun again with someone on his level to argue with, someone whose buttons he could press effortlessly and who always reacted so perfectly when he did. weekends were filled with promise, an opportunity to do something other than sulk in his room suddenly on the horizon.

time no longer felt wasted or like it was dragging at a snail’s pace -- at least not when she was around. now he was desperate for it to slow down, so he could spend even just a few more minutes talking to her, learning her viewpoint on anything and everything, figuring out what made her fucking tick.

...getting her to sigh in that sweet way she did when their lips touched.

“i think i can do that,” she smiled, setting an unfamiliar warm feeling loose within him. optimism, his brain helpfully suggested. maybe the rest of the semester won’t be that bad.

maybe this college thing had its merits after all.

#rodaw #colt kaneko #ellie wheeler #colt kaneko x mc #choices rod #colt kaneko x ellie wheeler #listen i have never once pretended to not be a sucker for college aus #long post #myfic #i read 2 of my old term papers again so i could have accurate classroom dialogue for this #i also had to read a wikihow on how to ride a motorcycle #anyway ummmm i love them your honor #there's nothing n/s/f/w in this one if anyone was wondering #just swearing and absurdity #and the subtext #ride or die

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whisper-fromthe-wasteland · 4 years ago

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'how to prep’ for the very new prepper. PT 1: “bugging in”

TO BE VERY CLEAR- preparing means that you have things on hand so that you have more time to escape a dangerous situation or to prepare a space for something like a hurricane or tornado. You should not have to go out to purchase anything right before it happens.

#1: FINDING A SPACE- find a space that is easy access not only to you but anyone else at your living space if you are not there. It could be big or small. A good example of a space that 90%+ of people have already available to them is a cabinet in a kitchen or a space big enough for a metal storage shelf. An unused space in your basement could serve as a space for your metal shelf.

#2: YOUR STOCK (AND WHY IT MATTERS)- what we have on hand matters. Each person has different wants and needs but the 100% essential needs of every living person are broken down to: shelter, water, and food. Note how I don't say “food, water, and shelter” as many others do. This is because of the general rules of 3. The rules of 3 state that: the average person can go 3 days without water, 3 hours without shelter, 3 weeks without food, and 3 minutes without air (choking or swimming). Generally speaking, you are able to go longer without food then you are without water.

IMAGINE THIS- you know that tornado season is coming up soon in your state/territory. You know that you (and perhaps one other person or an animal) live in an area where strong winds and tornados are a strong possibility. You've been thinking of prepping, but you have no clue how to start. What should you do?

To keep things simple, I will refer to your future stock in the setting of the metal storage shelf. I will also be assuming that you have your own basement/underground shelter. I will be making a part 2 in the future for a general what to do for bugging out.

To start with your desaster prep, you need to observe your stock space. Your heaviest items will go on the very bottom and lighter items will be placed on the shelves above.

Water (heavy, lvl 3, bottom shelf)- gallon jugs truly are your best friend next to metal or glass reusable water bottles. These jugs are commonly made of plastic. Gallon jugs can be purchased from any store as water containers or, if you are desperate, milk containers. There are water bottles that are available online and in store that are able to hold up to nearly a gallon of water. All containers should remain empty and clean until a disaster is rumoured to happen soon. Keep water in a shaded area away from direct light if you only have access to plastic bottles. Certain types of naturally occurring light and radiation (ex: uv light and radiation) can and will erode the bottle and cause chemicals to leach interested your water.

Food (lighter, lvl 2, middle shelf)- feeding yourself is important and so is your food stash. You need to look at your stash with more critical eyes. When you are in a survival situation, it's important that what you have on hand will have multiple jobs. That means that your can of mandorin oranges won't only serve as a good source of vitamins but will also serve as a source of juice. Only buy what you know you will eat to prevent waste. Keep this section organized and rotate out what you need to. Note that cans can last some time after the expiration date if they are kept in good condition and environment. If your food smells, looks, or tastes off in any way that makes you worry then discard it.

'Food’ is not exclusive to human food. Dog or cat food that comes in cans or bags (depending on weight) can get stored along side yours. Just watch out what you’re grabbing :)

Note that the demand for canned goods will go up as tornado or bad weather seasons come around. To prevent another March 2020 panic buying event from happening, go shopping before these weather events come close and remember to leave stuff for others.

Supplies (lightest, lvl 1, top)- your top shelf is your wild card. Some people may need to keep blankets, hats, and coats up there while others might have to store their back packs and spare boots.

Congrats! You've just prepared yourself in the most basic way possible!!

#i hope this was helpful #survival #prep #preparedness #prepper #Kaz's free survival binder #apocalypse #free resource

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queenmylovely · 4 years ago

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You’re so good at writing fluff and I’m on my period and I just need all the fluff and I love Ben so much and fuck I need all the fluffy Ben hmph I just want him to cuddle me and rub my tummy it’s not fAIR why do periods suck wtf I didn’t ask for this 😭😭😭

So i don’t think this was an actual request but seeing as i don’t have anything with ben where he’s helping out due to a physical issue, i thot i’d write a little thing for you, hope this helps, babe!

also, in no world is this a blurb, it’s 1.5k, but no warnings!

Masterlist, BLM Resources, Register to Vote (U.S.)

☆☆☆

You were an adult, you knew how to plan, how to be organized, how to take care of yourself, and dammit, you knew when your period was. But no matter how many calendars and period-tracking apps you used or how many period products you bought, nothing could take away the pain and discomfort, not to mention bleeding, that came around every month.

But, like stated before, you’re an adult, so when your period came around this morning, you dealt with it in the ways you could: taking acetaminophen, marking it in your calendar and phone app, and wearing black trousers just in case. You left for work, going through the coffee place on the way, getting a mocha (because you deserved chocolate) with an extra shot of espresso (because you had read somewhere that periods make you more tired and caffeine can help).

Work was bearable, but by the end of the day, all you wanted to do was go home and lie on the couch in your comfy sweatpants and your soft from wear favorite t-shirt. However, there was one more thing that you knew you needed to feel better. So when you got to your car, but before you drove away, you texted your boyfriend who had been asleep when you left that morning.

y/n: period started today, heading straight home. can you pick up ice cream on your way?

You waited a couple minutes for his reply, starting the car and turning on the seat heaters so the warmth would help the slight pain in your back.

ben: ofc, triple chocolate?

y/n: ofc

By the grace of the heavens, there was almost no traffic on your way home, so it only took about 15 minutes to get there. As soon as you were inside, you made a beeline for the bedroom. There, you stripped all of your work clothes off in seconds, including your bra which had become incredibly uncomfortable over the course of the day. Finally, you dug through your drawers, finding the sweatpants and t-shirt you had been daydreaming about for hours.

Thinking that tv would help distract you from your current plight, you went into the living room and searched the cluttered coffee table until you found the remote. When you did, you turned the tv on, grabbed a throw from the little basket by the couch, and laid down on your side on the couch. Clicking through until you got to Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix, you curled your knees up so you were in the fetal position. As an episode that you had seen before started, you tossed the blanket so it was at your feet and then grabbed one end, pulling it until the blanket laid nicely over the lower half of your body.

Around halfway through the episode, when one of the doctors was pulling another into an on-call room, you heard a key in the door and sat up to see Ben opening it and walking in, your eyes lighting up.

“You are literally the best, I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask for Panera,” you said when you saw the take out bags in his hands, along with the reusable tote you assumed the ice cream was in.

“Well, I know it makes you feel better,” Ben said casually and though your eyes had originally lit up because of the food, they were now sparkling with the love that you felt at the fact that he knew you so well and would do something so nice without even thinking about it.

“I love you,” you said earnestly.

“I love you too,” Ben replied with a chuckle, leaning down to kiss you briefly. He set down the take out bags, “I’ll go put the ice cream in the freezer and grab some real silverware.”

While he did that, you pulled the food out of the bags. Yours was chicken soup that was the closest it gets to homemade and white cheddar mac and cheese. They also included a slice of a baguette. Ben had gotten some kind of sandwich and the chicken and wild rice soup with a bag of kettle chips.

The two of you dug in right away, with you catching Ben up quickly on the details of the episode before pressing play. The warm soup and yummy mac and cheese made you feel better, soothing your body, partly because of the broth of the soup and partly because it was just comfort food.

After dinner, you didn’t want ice cream right away, asking Ben to lie down with you instead.

“Sure, should I go grab your hot water bottle first though? I already have the kettle going and ready,” Ben told you.

“Somehow you’ve gotten better at this than me,” you said with a laugh and Ben just shrugged and smiled. “Thank you, that’d be great, babe.”

Ben got up from the couch, also taking away all the empty containers and you smiled, just watching him and admiring how he moved, even doing this menial task. He was back in a couple minutes with the aforementioned hot water bottle in hand. The cover was a soft fabric in your favorite color with little sketched plants and flowers all over it. He handed it to you, and knowing the drill, laid down against the back of the couch.

You laid down in front of him, humming happily when the two of you fit your bodies together naturally. Resting the hot water bottle against your stomach to diminish the strength of your cramps, this time you didn’t need the blanket with Ben behind you keeping you warm. His arm rested on your side, his elbow at your waist and his hand on your thigh. Picking his hand up, you brought it to your mouth and kissed his palm before putting it back where it was. Ben kissed the side of your head in return and then you both settled in and started watching the show again.

Every once in a while, your cramps would be particularly bad and you would moan in pain. When you did this, Ben would move the hot water bottle out of the way and use his hands, one to rub over your tummy, and one on your lower back, and within moments the pain would subside. You weren’t totally sure why it worked, but it didn’t really matter because the sharp pain was gone. Once it was, you would pat Ben’s hand that was on your tummy and he would put the hot water bottle back in place on your stomach and his hand back in place on your thigh, rubbing his thumb across your skin soothingly.

A while later, you needed to go to the bathroom, so you patted Ben’s hand and got up from the couch, stretching for a second in place.

“Can you get the--?”

“I’ll get the ice cream,” Ben said at the same time and you giggled, pressing a quick kiss to Ben’s lips once he sat up.

You took care of business, and then went back to the living room, but saw that Ben wasn’t back yet. Thinking you’d help, or at least keep him company, you went to the kitchen. He was standing at the counter, scooping the ice cream into two coffee mugs, so you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek on his back.

“Hey, babe,” Ben greeted you and you hummed in reply.

“You know, I really, really love you,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his back and hoping he felt it through his sweatshirt.

“Yeah?” he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You nodded, knowing he could feel the movement.

“Well good, because I really, really love you too,” Ben replied, picking up the full mugs. “Now why don’t you take these into the living room while I put this stuff away?”

You nodded again, but this time he could see it because he was handing you the mugs. But before you walked away, you turned your head a little, angling your cheek towards him and Ben smiled, knowing what you wanted. He kissed your cheek and you smiled before turning around and heading to the living room.

This time, you sat normally on the couch, resting the mugs on your knees, glad that your sweatpants were protecting you from the cold ceramic. Ben was less than a minute behind you, sitting next to you and grabbing his mug from your hands. Both of you scooped your first bite onto your spoons and started eating as you pressed play.

Ben finished before you, like he always did, and when you were on your last bite, Ben bumped his shoulder into yours playfully, making you get a little on your chin. He laughed but before you could complain or reach for something to wipe it off, he kissed where it had gotten, using his tongue and lips to get it off. You laughed, surprised, as he did, but when his lips moved to yours, your laughter was stifled. And though his lips were a little sticky from the ice cream, you found that you couldn’t care less.

★★★

p.s. this was not the original blurb that i was talking about when I talked ab looking out for a ben blurb, but that is very specific and wouldn’t really relate to this issue, that one will be up in a couple days, this one just seemed kinda time sensitive. Anon, i have not forgotten about you!

yeah I'm doing the taglist bc it’s 1.5k lol Permanent taglist: @riseetothesun @caborhapch @drowseoftaylor @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @supersonicfreddie @stardust-galaxies @madamsledge

#blurbs are just ways for me to write short Oneshots that I dont plan or get betad lol #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #ben hardy #ben jones #blurb #fluff #ben hardy x reader #ben jones x reader #bohemian rhapsody x reader #borhap x reader #borhap boys #borhap cast

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citrineghost · 4 years ago

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100 Humans on Netflix

So there’s this neat Netflix Original show called 100 Humans. I immediately got interested in it because they take this group of various humans from different backgrounds, age groups, and so on, and they use them to conduct experiments to get answers to interesting questions.

So, right away I had concerns about this show because

If you know anything about data and statistical research, you know 100 people is a very small sample size and does not breed accurate results

However, I’m very curious and wanted to see what they came up with anyway. I watched all 8 episodes and, honestly, I enjoyed watching it for the most part. However, I have a LOT of issues with the show and how it was conducted and I want to list them out here.

If you’re interested in watching 100 Humans or have already watched it, please consider the following before taking any of the show’s data as fact.

100 people is a very small sample size. This is because, the more people you have, the more weight each increment in your percentages has. With 100 people, each person represents 1 entire percent. That’s a lot. That means even a few people giving incorrect answers, having off-days, or giving ridiculous results (such as you can see in the spiders georg meme), can sway the entire result of an experiment into unreasonable territory. This is why most scientific studies attempt to get data from many hundreds or even thousands of people. The bigger the sample size, the more accurate it is to the entirety of the world.

I’ll put the rest under the cut because it gets long

The 3 hosts, who I’ll refer to as the scientists (regardless of if they actually are, because I’m not sure and don’t feel like googling it) repeatedly make false statements. For example, in one episode, they told their humans to “raise your hand if you believe you’re less bigoted than the average person here,” to which 94 people raised their hands. One of the scientists then made the statement, “If that were true, it would mean only 6% of Americans are bigoted.” This statement is entirely false. The only way to actually determine a true meaning to that would be to determine at what percentage of bigotry you are considered a real bigot. You also must consider that believing you’re more bigoted than other people in a small group, who you already have an impression of, is not necessarily indicative of how you feel you measure up to America as a whole. Anyway, I could go on and on. The only way to accurately summarize the results of that question would be to say that 44% of the humans had an inflated sense of righteousness or something of the sort.

The 3 scientists, both in person and in narration, for the sake of entertainment (if that’s what you call it) continually made “jokes” that poked fun at different groups, implied men are shit, etc. Maybe that’s fun for some people, but the kind of jokes they were making to amp up the hilarity of their host personas was genuinely just uncomfortable and made me feel even more like they couldn’t be trusted to go about unbiased research.

The scientists continually drew conclusions where the results should have been labeled inconclusive

The scientists made blanket statements about certain groups based on 1 element of research that would not stand up to further evaluation. For example, when explaining that ~93% (i think it was about that number) of Americans have access to clean, drinkable, tap water and yet some large number of single use bottled waters are sold every year, one scientist said it was because people believe bottled water is safer and cleaner than tap water. I am going to do my next survey on this to see if my own perception is flawed, but I simply don’t believe that all of the people who buy bottled water do so because they think its cleaner than “tap” (as if all tap is the same.) I know there have been studies about people drinking unlabeled bottled water and tap water and not being able to tell the difference, but this neglects to account for the fact that different houses pipes can affect the taste of the tap water running through them, people can use disposable bottles of water for certain activities or events too far away from tap for people to refill their reusable bottles easily, and so so so much more. Anyway, it just really bothers me to see “scientists” making these kinds of generalizations when they’re the ones whose results we’re supposed to trust.

The show was incredibly cisnormative. There was an entire episode based on comparing men and women that made me extremely uncomfortable with its division of people by men and women. There was the implication that all men have penises and all women have vaginas. There were implications that reproduction is a necessity in picking a partner. It was just a shitshow. There was one comment by one subject who asked, when being told to separate by men and women, “What if I’m transgender?” Obviously I can’t say for sure, but this person didn’t appear to be transgender and the sort of tone it was asked in makes me think it was literally something they asked him to say in order to get inclusivity points with the viewers and to “prove” that they’re not transphobic by having them divide up, because they said to go to the side you identify with. This whole thing is a) harmful to nb folks who would not have had a side to go to and b) completely negating the fact that the way we were socialized can have an effect on our social responses. That means that for a social experiment, a trans person could sway the results of one side due to their upbringing and the pressures society put on them before/if they don’t pass. This is all assuming they had any trans people there, which is potentially debatable. I also take issue with this entire fucking episode because just, the amount of toxicity in proving one sex is better than the others is really gross and actually counterproductive to everything feminist and progressive. Not to mention, them implying that they’re trying to support trans people only to reinforce the notion that a trans man is inherently lesser for being a man when even prior to hatching, he would have also been force fed propaganda and societal pressure implying he’s less than for supposedly being a woman is really gross and makes me angry. The point of what I’m saying is that it’s actually not woke to hate men as a way of bringing women up because there are men who are minorities who are being hurt by the rise of aggression being directed at them for their gender. Anyway enough about that.

The tests drew false conclusions because they did not account for how minorities adapt to a world that’s not made for them. This is specifically directed at the episode where subjects were asked to match up 6 people into couples. There were 3 women and 3 men and the humans were asked to put them together into pairs. they could ask the people 1 question each but then had to match them up with only that information. The truth is, the people brought in were 3 real life couples already, which the humans didn’t know until after they matched them. The couples were m/f, m/m, and f/f. I think that’s great, but the problem is, literally none of the humans asked any of them their sexuality as their question and most people didn’t even consider they could match up same-sex people. One girl even thought that they had told her to make m/f pairings, even though they didn’t. The scientists concluded from the experiment that the humans have a societal bias toward people, and assume they’re all straight, even if they, themselves, are not straight. I personally believe that was the wrong conclusion to draw. You could see some of the queer humans were shocked that they hadn’t considered some of the pairings might be gay. But, I don’t think it’s because they believe everyone they meet is straight, I believe this says more about what they expected from the scientists themselves. If someone is in a minority and they go to do something organized, like a set of experiments, they are going to be judging the quality and setup of the experiments by those designing them. I feel that the lack of consideration that the couples might be gay has a lot more to do with queer people having adapted to a world where queers are rarely involved or included in equal volume to the cishets. The queer humans taking part in the experiment and failing to guess gay couples shows that they have adapted to a world where they are excluded rather than a belief that every random person that they meet is straight. My point is further supported by an expert they had on the show who explained that, statistically, it was entirely likely that they were all straight and that even queers will account for being minorities by going with what’s most likely. The truth is, we are surrounded by a whole lot of straight people. It makes sense to assume only 6 people are all straight and that, if any aren’t, they may be bi.

The scientists frequently broke an already small sample size into even smaller groups. The group was very frequently broken in half, in thirds, or into sets of 10 people. These sample sizes tell us almost nothing actually conclusive.

The experiments/tests frequently were affected by peoples abilities, unrelated to what was being tested. For example, one test that was broken down into 6 people and 6 control people competing at jenga was meant to show whether needing to pee helps or hurts your focus. first of all, sample sizes of 6 are a fucking joke. Second, this completely ignores these 6 people’s actual ability to play Jenga. If someone sucks at jenga with or without needing to pee, them losing Jenga when they need to pee says exactly fuck all about whether needing to pee affected their focus. They should have tested people’s Jenga skills beforehand, counted the amount of moves they made before the tower fell, and then did it again after hours of not peeing to compare their results. This test made no logical sense at all.

The scientists ignored the social effect of subjects knowing each other as well as duration of events during their last experiment. They were testing to see if people with last names near the end of the alphabet get a shittier deal because they go last in everything where things are done by name order. They tested this by doing a fake awards ceremony where they gave out some 30 awards to people, gauging the applause to see whether the people at the end got less hype and therefore felt worse about themselves than those in the beginning who got the fresh enthusiasm of the audience. the results showed that the applause remained fairly consistent throughout the awards. The issues with this test are numerous, but here are the three I take most issue with. 1) the people here all got to know each other very well over the week it took to make the show. People who know each other and have become friends are much more likely to cheer for each other with enthusiasm, regardless of how long it’s been. On the other hand, polite applause from a crowd at, say, a graduation, where you are applauding people you don’t know, WILL start off more raucous and grow very quiet except for individual families near the end. 2) the duration of the test was a half hour, which is not very long at all and doesn’t say much to test the limits of enthusiasm. Try testing the audience at a graduation with a couple hundred graduates that also involves the time it takes to walk all the way up to a stage a hundred feet away, accept a diploma, and then wait for the next person. These kinds of events take hours and nobody keeps up their enthusiasm that long unless they’re rooting for someone in particular. 3) this study tested only one of many many ways name order affects a person. Cheering and applause is only one factor. It does not take into account people having their resumes looked at in alphabetical order and therefore people at the beginning of the alphabet being picked before anyone ever looks at a W name’s resume. It doesn’t take into account a small child’s show and tell day being at the very end of the school year, after 6 other people have brought in the same thing they planned to. No one cares about their really cool trinket because they’ve seen a bunch like it already. This test doesn’t take into account how many end-of-the-alphabet people just get straight up told, “we ran out of time. maybe next time,” when next time doesn’t really exist. I feel genuinely bad for the girl who suggested this experiment because the scientists straight up said something akin to, “lmao her theory was bs ig /shrug” even though it was their own shitty research abilities that led to their results.

They did one experiment intending to see how many people have what it takes to be a “hero.” The request for this test was made by someone curious about the effect of adrenaline and if it really works how some people say. The scientists thought it an adequate method to determine an answer by testing their reflexes with a weird crying baby sound and then dropping a doll from above while they were distracted with answering questions. The scientists looked up before the doll dropped to indicate a direction of attention. While this does give some answers about peoples intuition, reflexes, and ability to use context clues, its entirely an unusual situation, makes no sense in reality, fails to take adrenaline into consideration literally at all, and has a lot more to do with chance. The person dropping the doll literally couldn’t even drop it in the same place from person to person. Some got it dropped into their lap and others almost out of arm’s reach. This, like a few of the other mentioned experiments, was during the last episode, which felt lazy and thrown together last minute, with very little scientific basis to any of the results. The last episode was weak and disappointing overall.

One of the big issues I have with this show is actually their repeated use of the same group. They said at the end that they had done over 40 tests. Part of doing studies is getting varied samples of people in order to get more widespread results. Using the same 100 or less people (already a tiny sample) repeatedly is a terrible research method. You’re no longer studying humans at large. You’re studying these specific humans. You can’t take the same group with the same set of inadequacies, the same set of skills, and the same set of biases and then study them extensively and in many different ways like this. Your results are inherently skewed toward these specific people and their abilities. I expected them to at least get a new group each episode - every 5 or so studies - but no. They keep the same group all week, which makes the entire season. This is inexcusable in research imo.

The next issue is contestant familiarity. The humans all getting to know each other is great, socially, but it also destroys the legitimacy of many of the studies that involve working together or comparing yourselves and your beliefs

Many tests had issues with subject dependency. One study, meant to compare age groups and their ability to work together to complete the task of putting together a piece of ready to assemble furniture had each group with members they relied on entirely. A few people built the furniture while one person sat across the room, looking at instructions with their back to the others. They had to relay the instructions through a walkie talkie to another contestant and that other contestant had to relay it to the people they’re watching build the chair. You cannot study a group’s ability to build something with instructions by the ability of one single person to communicate. You’re testing that individual and the rest of them on two completely different capabilities. One person fails at being able to communicate and everyone else becomes unable to build the furniture. Even if everyone else in the group is more effective than all the other groups at building ready to assemble furniture, they might end up falling in last because of their shitty communicator who is literally not able to convey simple instructions. (yes, this actually happened in the test)

One test judged the subjects at their speed of getting ready, to see if men or women are faster at getting ready. While most elements of this test were just fine, the part I took issue with was that they did this test without regard to social convention. They told the subjects they were going on a field trip and to get ready by a certain time. Then, they gave them many things to get distracted by, like refreshments to pack with them, a menu to preorder lunch from, and so on. The part that upsets me about this test is that they ignored social convention entirely, to the point that subjects were judged based on their conventional actions and expectations more than their actual speed at getting ready. The buses promptly shut their doors and left at the time they were supposed to but there was no final call to get on the buses. In general, when a group is to be taken somewhere by bus, there will be an announcement to load up and leave. You could clearly see many of the subjects were ready to go and were just standing around talking while they waited for fellow subjects to finish getting ready. I have no doubt that, if given a final call, most of them would have loaded up within a couple minutes. However, they were relying on the social convention of announcing departure and were therefore, left behind entirely (for a nonexistent field trip). These people who were left behind were counted as being late and not making the time cutoff. If one were to look at the social element of this situation, if everyone there believed there would be a warning before departure, the fact that 24 to 14 women to men were loaded onto the buses at departure doesn’t necessarily indicate the women were faster to get ready. It seems to me that it’s more likely to indicate anxiety at being late and a belief that they need not impede on anything lest they be reprimanded or have social consequences for taking too long - something women are frequently bullied for. There’s also the chance that many who boarded without final call are more introverted or antisocial. Plus, we can’t forget to include the people who have anxiety about seating. If someone is overweight, has joint pain, or has social anxiety, they will be more likely to board early to get a seat they feel comfortable in. If they had counted up all of the people socializing and waiting on the sidewalks nearby, they may have found that there were more men who were ready to board up at a moment’s notice. I’m not saying I think men are faster to get ready, I’m just saying that we can’t know based on who boarded without a final call. If people believe they will have a last minute chance to board, a large number of them will take the last few minutes to socialize with their new friends until they’re told they have to board. Therefore, this test cannot be considered conclusive without counting and including the people who were ready and not boarded as a third subset.

Honestly, I could go on and on about how sensationalist and unscientific this show is, but I just don’t have 6 more hours to contribute to digging up every single flaw with it. There’s A Lot.

My point is, if you feel like watching this show, which I don’t necessarily discourage inherently, I just beg you to go into it with a critical eye. Enjoy the fun of it and the social aspects, but please don’t rely on the information provided and please don’t spread it as fact, because it’s not.

It’s entertainment, not science.

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isabelmariawhitehead · 4 years ago

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2020 in Review: Skincare

2020 was a year of ritual and maintenance for me. I already had a strong foundation of basics - having spent most of 2018 and 2019 experimenting, this year I settled into with a tried and true routine focused on simplicity, working with my skin, and a slow and steady approach. I prefer a minimal routine to provide consistency for my sensitive skin. Changing work environments, from traveling back and forth from campus to working from home did affect my skin. I had to cut way back on using acids because of some irritation and generally tried to stick to what I know and love to keep my skin “happy”.

Here are my top skincare finds of the year.

Skincare

I am a huge proponent of quality over quantity and consistency above all else. I don’t need my products to be expensive if they are effective and affordable. That is to say, I avoid buying skincare products based solely on ingredient hype or branding and do not assume a higher price point equals quality. Instead, I consider how it works for the seasonal needs of my skin. If I suspect something won’t work for me based on past experience, I’d rather spend my money on something more promising/aligned with my needs.

My skin is on the drier sensitive side, so I usually wake up and splash my face with water, and maybe use a half pump of a hydrating cleanser, add eye cream, moisturizer, and finish with La Roche Posay Anthelios Ultralight Sunscreen Fluid in SPF 60.

Typically my evening routine involves removing my makeup and sunscreen with a reusable pad and a micellar water (Garnier or La Roche Posay), a round of massaging in a hydrating gel-cream cleanser, an active serum, and moisturizing. I used Cerave Hydrating Facial Cleanser religiously for two years, but recently, started feeling a light tingle when using it. I’ve since switched to the La Roche Posay Hydrating Gentle Facial Cleanser. It is nourishing and light and is the perfect second cleanse.

After moisturizing, I move onto a buffer - applying Cerave Eye Repair Cream and a light layer of La Roche Posay Toleraine Moisturizer which is hands down, my most simple but monumental find of the year, before applying my active serum. This moisturizer is a DREAM. So soft, so light, my skin feels plump and soft for hours after using. Full credit goes to @littlecrusty and @queerforspf on IG for the influence on this one.

I didn't used to use an eye cream, but after experiencing some contact dermatitis (I suspect from acid use) earlier in the year ... and turning 30, I now use one. This helps me minimize irritation and potential dryness. I used two tubes of Cerave Resurfacing Retinol, which is encapsulated and quite gentle - easing into retinol helped acclimate my skin and I’m glad I introduced retinol slowly over the course of a year and a half. Recently I “graduated” to a more potent serum. Currently I’ve incorporated Dr. Sam Bunting’s Flawless Nightly Serum which is a 4 in 1 active formula. The formula includes 5% azaelic acid, 2% granactive retinoid, 1% bakuchiol, and 10% niacinimide. It was a splurge, but it also replaced multiple steps in my nighttime routine. I have been using this for a month and am now applying nightly. I will see how long a small nightly dot lasts me and report back.

Body

Honestly, I don’t pay as much attention to my body skincare as I should. I suffer from, what is perhaps undiagnosed Eczema, particularly in high temperatures (I live In Arkansas, so that’s most of the year) and high stress periods. With that in mind, I don’t use many products for my body. Usually a gentle body wash and focus on moisture retention.

This year I discovered the Bioderma Atoderm Cleansing Oil and it was a true game changer. It lathers, doesn't leave a residue, and is comforting for my usually irritated legs. I can’t see myself buying anything else for the time being, the large bottle has lasted me 6+ months. When I remember, which is rare, I moisturize with Cerave’s Moisturizing Cream, which is lush and doesn’t leave a sticky film. I need to remind myself to repurchase in a tube, because I am wary of any and all products that come in a tub, hygiene wise.

I’d love to know what products you tried and loved this year!

#skincare #sensitive skin #cerave #la roche posay #combination skin #dry skin

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blackbackedjackal · 5 years ago

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Do you suggest wearing gloves and a mask when going out? I have to go supply shopping today and I’m terrified, we just had two confirmed cases of coronavirus in our counties (I live in between two) and I’m really scared ),: also what kinds of meds to you recommend? Thank you xoxo

I am not a medical professional so I don’t want anyone to take this as ‘this is the exact protocol you should do’. I’m speaking as someone who’s had to isolate before as well as deal with disaster/emergency situations in the past. This is just what I’m doing after my personal experiences:

Wear gloves for sure. You have no idea who’s been touching what and it’s much better to be safe then sorry. You’ll also need to remove the gloves properly once you’re done shopping, as seen here:

Carry around some hand sanitizer and disinfectant. I’ve been wiping down my steering wheel, cellphone, and wallet/debit card after every shopping trip. I’m also buying food that is tightly sealed so I can spray down the packaging with disinfectant as well once I get home. I’m living with the assumption that everything I bring to the house could be contaminated, so anything I’ve been getting for the past few weeks that I can disinfect, I will.

There’s been a lot of talk about whether you should or shouldn’t wear masks due to the shortage. People who are sick, working with or around ill individuals, and people at high risk all should be wearing masks. I have a respirator for work and I have yet to wear it out because there haven’t been any confirmed cases in my county yet. The thing is, people are just fucking nasty, and I don’t trust everyone to wash their hands and cover their mouth when they cough. If I feel I need to wear a mask to go outside, especially after confirmed cases pop up in my area, I will be, but like I said I already had a reusable respirator that I can disinfect after every trip and I already have respiratory issues. I feel safer using one for my situation, but I honestly think you have to use your own judgement as to whether you need to use one or not.

I mostly got cold/flu relief medication because I knew people would be buying that up first, cough drops too. I also got a ton of water, gatorade for the electrolytes, soup, and saltine crackers. Once again I was assuming I may get sick, whether it be flu, cold, or COVID-19, so I wanted to be prepared for any general symptoms and food I could stomach if I was ill.

Do not panic buy. Do not hoard items. Get what you need plus a little extra (especially concerning food and water). As someone who works at hospitals AND works with dead animals, I’ve barely used one of the four bottles of hand sanatizer I bought in Fall of last year, and I use it every day. No one individual needs to hoard items, is just prevents people who actually NEED those items from having access to them. If you have extras of anything, consider sharing or trading with the people around you.

I’ve been following news and personal account updates through reddit as to not deal with the fear-mongering tom-fuckery that is the US media, this is the best thread I’ve seen as far as general information and safety precautions. I’ve also been following the tracker because not a lot of places are talking about the recoveries, only the deaths and the infection rate.

Basically get what you need, sanitize what you buy, then isolate as much as possible. Try to stay calm and rational. Stay smart and keep yourself safe!

#ask #DO NOT REBLOG #Anonymous

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

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If Found Please Call

This fic idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so I stayed up until one am writing it. Hopefully it’s not a hot mess. Based on my own experiences as a not-so soccer mom.

Summary: Emma Swan wasn’t trying to give Henry’s soccer coach Killian Jones her phone number. She was just sick and tired of her kid losing his water bottles.

Rating; G

Words: 3,000 +

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @kday426 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @teamhook @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @ohmakemeahercules @distant-rose @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines

Emma Swan doesn’t ask for a three and a half bath house or high-end SUV. She doesn’t need to take her son for a week at Disney World at the Grand Floridian. But she would like for once to be able to just say yes to the little things without doing mathematical gymnastics in her head. Henry’s currently begging her for a water bottle to take to soccer, and damn it, this shouldn’t be such a big deal.

But she’s a single mom and pinching pennies just seems to be part of the deal. She doesn’t even have the added bonus of a child support check. Scratch that, having Neal in their lives wouldn’t be worth the pennies he’d most likely throw their way.

You’d think a water bottle wouldn’t be a major purchase. But first of all, this is no ordinary water bottle. This is a metal Thermos with a flip top straw that promises to keep beverages cool for twelve hours. And since Emma bought one for herself to take on stake outs, she can attest to the legitimacy of that claim. With ice still rattling around inside.

But, they aren’t cheap, at least in Emma’s opinion. She spent twenty-five bucks on hers. Henry wants a slightly smaller one, which is twenty, but that’s still a lot for a water bottle. Especially considering how many water bottles she’s already bought for the kid that he’s promptly lost. When she points this out to him, he naturally begins his debate skills which are surprisingly well-honed for a twelve-year-old.

“But this one is special, so I won’t forget it.”

She raises both eyebrows. “Special how?” Aside from keeping drinks ice cold for twelve hours.

“It’s an Avengers one.”

She crosses her arms and purses her lips at that. They’ve had this debate so many times. Her son is crazy about all things Marvel, while Emma is strictly a DC girl. She maintains that Superman and Supergirl alone could have defeated Thanos. One holds him down, the other yanks off the gauntlet, they use their heat vision to destroy the thing, and bing-bang-boom, the Justice League is home by dinner. Mary Margaret maintains it has more to do with her taste in tall and dark Tom Welling or Henry Cavill as opposed to the blonde and muscled Chrises of the world. Not that Henry’s picked up on that particular aspect of her Superman obsession.

“You can check that I have it after practice, I swear,” Henry quickly changes tactics to avoid another Avengers vs. Justice League argument.

She rolls her eyes, and Henry’s mouth is open for his next argument before she can speak. Being a single mom and having the job she does, she’s enlisted the help of every one of her closest friends to make sure Henry gets where he’s supposed to be and is supervised. Emma herself can barely make sure Henry’s got his cleats and shin guards, much less keep up with a water bottle. She certainly can’t expect David or Mary Margaret or Ruby to remember. Aside from that, she’s pretty sure Henry has left past water bottles all over Storybrooke park, not just on the soccer fields. He has a bad habit of running off to do the myriad of things boys do while waiting to be picked up. Last week, David found him and his friends playing in the creek by the parking lot. She’s pretty sure water bottle number 12 is floating its way to the Atlantic by now.

“But the environment, Mom! Remember those YouTube videos of all the plastic water bottles?”

Well, shit. Now he’s gone and pulled the “we need to save the environment” card. And yes, she was horrified at the mountains of disposable water bottles in the landfills and the beaches covered in hundreds that had washed ashore. Hell, it’s why she bought Henry the other dozen water bottles that he’s lost. And she takes waste seriously, really she does, but she’s trying to raise a kid here. If she carries the weight of the world too, she’ll end up mumbling in a corner somewhere. So when Henry kept losing the reusable bottles she kept buying, she had given up and starting buying cases of water at the grocery store to keep in the Bug. That way, her kid stayed hydrated without constant nagging.

“Henry,” she groaned, rubbing at the tension headache mounting behind her right eye, “I want to be green and all that, but you’ve lost every single reusable bottle I’ve gotten you. And none of those cost as much as this one.”

“We’ll put my name on it!”

“Your name was on the last one. Fat lot of good it did when you dropped it in the creek.” So much for saving the environment.

Henry rolled his eyes and it was way too familiar for her comfort. “Coach got onto us for that, remember? No more playing in the creek.”

Henry’s coach, Killian Jones, was the envy of every other soccer team in the rec league. He was British, and apparently, that automatically meant he knew more about soccer than anyone else in Storybrooke. Not that Emma would know. She was the farthest thing from a soccer mom. All she knew was the ball went into the net, and if the goalie didn’t stop it, they scored. No, that wasn’t right. Henry told her it was a keeper, not a goalie. God, she was awful at this sports mom thing.

Other parents cheered specific instructions to their kids from the sidelines, but Emma didn’t know enough to do that. She just clapped and yelled for the kids to “go.” Emma couldn’t even yell the other kids’ names. She missed so many practices, she hadn’t learned any of them.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Henry had told her. “Sometimes the parents are yelling stuff that’s wrong anyway. I think it annoys Coach Jones.”

If the man was annoyed, he never showed it. There had been so many games when Emma was thankful her son had gotten on his team, and it had nothing to do with his superior British knowledge of the game. He was calm and collected, while other coaches got red in the face and way too intense. He smiled and encouraged the boys, while other coaches yelled things at their players that made Emma cringe. Not that Coach Jones didn’t get loud, but it was to call out instructions to his players or to cheer them on.

Of course, some of the other single moms (and some of the married ones) were glad to have Coach Jones for other reasons. The man was easy on the eyes, there was no doubt about it. Some of the available women had even made rather obvious advances on the man, which he seemed to deflect with easy grace. But not Emma. What little romantic life she had was kept completely separate from Henry which made his coach off limits. Her romantic life was kept on the surface level too, but that was neither here nor there.

“We could add a phone number.”

Emma shakes her head to clear it of thoughts of Coach Jones and his blue eyes, easy smile, and how good he looks in soccer shorts. What were her and Henry talking about again? Oh right, the water bottle.

“You know,” Henry repeats, shaking the Avengers Thermos at her, “if found, call?”

Emma thinks about the mountains of plastic bottles in landfills, guilt rising up. She thinks of how much easier it would be if she didn’t have to buy a case of water every time she went to the store and how much space would be freed up in her tiny Bug without all those bottles of water. She looks into Henry’s eager face, and she caves.

“Fine.”

“Yes,” Henry cheers, pumping his fist.

As soon as they get home, Emma gets out the masking tape. Careful to avoid the Avengers logo, she labels it “Henry Swan. If found, please call 555-0980.”

****************************************************

It’s a week later, and Emma is on another stake out. She’s just received a text from David that he’s dropped Henry off at the apartment. She’s got Ruby lined up to head over at nine if Emma’s still working. Knowing her son’s taken care of relieves some of the tension she’s been carrying in her shoulders, and she relaxes a bit while still keeping her eyes trained on the apartment building across the street.

Her phone rings, and she frowns when she sees Coach Jones flash across her screen. She only has his number saved for when he sends out texts to the team about when the games are, what color jerseys to wear, and alerting them if a game gets rained out. He doesn’t have to, most of the other coaches assume the parents follow the team portal on the rec website, and Emma is incredibly grateful that he’s so considerate. It’s one less thing she has to stress about.

But he’s never called her, and seeing his name now has her going into immediate mom-panic mode where she jumps to the worst possible scenario. She imagines Henry getting bullied by some of the bigger players. He can’t have been injured at practice, or David would have told her, but what if Coach Jones noticed something more subtle? She saw a movie on Netflix about a figure skater who kept coughing at practice and ended up dying of a rare throat cancer.

She shakes her head at her own ridiculousness and answers the call. “Coach Jones, is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, Ms. Swan, I didn’t mean to worry you,” he assures her in his smooth accent. “I just have Henry’s Thermos here.”

“Oh,” Emma replies, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, “thank you. He’s always forgetting his damn water bottles.”

Coach Jones chuckles. “He’s not the only lad on the team that has that habit, I can assure you.”

Emma bites her lip as his accent wreaks havoc with her hormones. Are all British men so eloquent?

“Shall I bring it by?” he continues.

“Um, no,” Emma says, “I’m working still, and I don’t feel comfortable -”

“Say no more, Ms. Swan,” he cuts her off, “I understand completely. Tell me your place of employ and perhaps I could bring it to you there.”

“That’s a bit complicated . . . I’m . . . kind of on a stake out.”

“Stake out?” he asks, and she thinks he sounds impressed. “Are you a cop?”

“No,” Emma says, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth, “I’m in bail bonds.”

“A bounty hunter?”

Emma laughs at the awe in his voice. “In a way.”

He whistles and his clear admiration makes Emma’s chest swell with ridiculous pride.

“No worries,” he tells her, “now that I’m thinking on it, there’s no reason why I can’t fill it up for Henry myself and bring it to the game Saturday.”

“Could you?”

“I’ll set it on my kitchen counter so I’ll be sure to remember,” he assures her. But it isn’t that she thinks he’ll forget, she’s just still, after all these years, surprised at random acts of kindness, no matter how small.

“Thank you, Coach Jones.”

“Please, Ms. Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Then it’s Emma to you.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

*************************************************

When Emma and Henry arrive at the soccer fields on Saturday, Coach Jones, as usual, is already there. He waves as soon as he sees them and jogs over with Henry’s Thermos in his hand.

“Thanks, Coach,” Henry says, taking a swig. Then he’s off to join his teammates on the other side of the field.

Emma swallows a lump in her throat when Coach Jones – Killian – lingers. He ducks his head and scratches behind his ear, and Emma can’t help but think that he’s gathering his courage. She’s suddenly petrified that he’s about to ask her out. Oh God, does he think she put her number on Henry’s thermos as a roundabout way to get him to call her?

“I must ask for your forgiveness, Emma.”

She blinks. Of all the things she thought he might say, that wasn’t it. “For what?”

He rubs at the scruff on his jaw. “I have all parent numbers saved as a group on my phone, just for team communication. I have a strict policy not to socialize with parents. It might make others believe I’m playing favorites you understand.”

“Of course,” Emma says, narrowing her eyes. Where’s he going with this?

The nervousness seems to fall away and his gaze becomes not only sincere, but a bit intense. “But after I called you about Henry’s Thermos, I saved your number as just Emma.” She can see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “And I must confess, I've thought of calling you again many times.”

Emma commands her lips not to turn up in a smile and fails miserably. “I see.”

“I didn’t ask permission to have your number in a social compacity, and for that I apologize.”

Emma shrugs one shoulder. “No need. It’s just a phone number. We’re both adults.” Her lips continue their rebellious ways and she add, “And I don’t think just a phone call or a text here or there would be called socializing. Do you?” Is she seriously standing on the sidelines of her son’s soccer game and flirting with his coach?

Killian’s smile broadens to a full grin, dimpling his cheeks. “Aye. I believe you’re onto something, Swan.”

“I thought I told you. It’s Emma,” she says. So she’s flirting, okay?

He winks. “I didn’t say Ms Swan, now did I? The name suits you.” Then he’s jogging backwards towards his team.

Yes, she’s flirting with Henry’s soccer coach, and he’s flirting right back. The scariest part is that she isn’t scared at all. She’s so screwed.

***************************************************

It’s six weeks later, and Emma has lost count of how many text messages she has received from Killian Jones. She’s also talked to him on the phone almost daily, sometimes for hours on end. He hasn’t so much as touched her, they haven’t even been on a date, and already she’s falling hard. But they both agree that officially dating is out of the question as long as he’s Henry’s coach.

Which is why she’d giddy with excitement today. And simultaneously feeling like the worst mother in the world. Because today is Henry’s last soccer game. Maybe. If they lose, the season is over. If they win, there will be one more week of practice, then two weeks of tournament play that involves some complicated system that is ridiculous in her opinion for a rec league of twelve-year-olds. Is she a horrible mother if she doesn’t want to wait three more weeks to jump Henry’s coach? Oh God, she is. She’s a horrible mother.

She also has to talk to Henry about dating his coach. She may be breaking all her self-imposed rules of romance (yes even the one about keeping things surface level), but Henry still comes first. He’s bouncing with excitement in the passenger’s seat as they drive to the soccer fields, making her feel even more conflicted with each passing moment.

“If we go to the tournament Mom, there’s a trophy for the top three teams. I mean, we all get participation medals, but a trophy is something else!”

Emma bites her lip thinking of Henry’s disappointment if they don’t make the tournament. Three weeks, Emma, it’s only three more weeks . . . so she changes her prayers to whoever is listening that Henry’s team wins after all.

“Henry,” she says when she parks the car, “I need to ask you something important.”

“Okay . . . “

She takes a deep breath, “Would it be okay if I date Coach Jones? I mean, once the season is over?”

Henry frowns, and Emma’s heart beats erratically. If her son is upset by the prospect . . .

“Can he still be my coach next season? Cause I wanna be on his team again, and you can request a coach -”

Emma lifts her hand. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?” Although, she doesn’t think it will be a problem if they’re already in an established relationship when the season starts. Wait, she’s totally getting ahead of herself, and she never does that.

“Well, will you ask him before you go on your date? To be sure?”

Emma smiles softly at him. “Is that really the only thing you’re worried about?”

Henry shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, it may be a little weird, but he is really great.”

“Yeah, kid, he is.”

**********************************************

The team is packed into Granny’s to celebrate their win. Even though it means three more weeks before she can go on her first date with Killian, Emma can’t help but get swept up with Henry’s enthusiasm. You would think they were going to the World Cup the way the boys are acting. She catches Killian’s eye across the sea of boys shoveling french fries into their mouths, and she knows that taking these kids to the tournament means a lot to him, too. He tears his blue eyes away from her to engage with the boys in front of him, congratulating each of them on how they contributed to their big win. Emma slides away, letting them have this moment.

She finds herself seeking solitude in the hallway near the bathrooms, though the boys are still a dull roar out in the dining room. Someone selects “We are the Champions” on the jukebox, and soon a chorus of warbly prepubescent boys are belting out the tune.

Killian finds her there. He reaches out to touch her elbow hesitantly, and at her soft smile, he rubs both her arms with his hands. She steps away from the wall and closer to him.

“I’m sorry our date is delayed, love.”

Emma shrugs, pushing aside her disappointment. “How can I not be happy for Henry, though? And what about you? I saw you on the sidelines. Are you sure this is just rec soccer? Because you seemed really into it today.”

He laughs, his blush rising to the tips of his elf-shaped ears. “I’m pretty excited, I won’t lie.” He takes a step closer and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The ghost of a touch is enough to send a shudder through her. “But I’m more excited about our date.”

Her eyes dart from the blue of his eyes down to his lips. “I know we said we couldn’t date while you were Henry’s coach. But I’m not a sure a kiss would -”

He captures her mouth with his before she can finish the sentence. Emma practically loses her balance with the passion and heat of it, grasping onto his soccer jersey with both fists. He presses her against the wall as he deepens it, and Emma thinks she might just rip those soccer shorts off here and now. She whimpers slightly when he pulls away, chasing his lips, and he presses his forehead to hers.

“I was going to ask if I had been too forward, but evidently not,” he teases her.

She doesn’t answer him, she just yanks him close again. If he keeps stealing kisses like this, the next three weeks may not be so bad after all.

And she needs to remember to thank Henry for that phone number idea . . .

#cs ff #captain swan #with a little captain cobra #swan believer #modern au #soccer au #single parenting

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