#and this fuck starts out his speech 'now this is a fine bill' and i felt like throwing up

[postnuclearwar]

We had advocacy day today for school, where we go see the state senate and house in session, and lemme tell you if you ever want to lose hope for your fellow man that is definitely the place to go

[its-time-to-write]

hi there! (ok FIRST AND FOREMOST i need to tell you that i am obsessed with your writing. you are by far my favorite jamie tartt writer, you characterize him perfectly and nail his speech mannerisms! not an easy feat! so thank u for writing what you do and for sharing it with us!!!! <333333 ok now that i've gotten that off my chest) if you're taking requests right now i'd love to see your take on a (slowburn?) enemies to lovers fic with jamie!!

I don’t know why I take simple little prompts and turn them into angsty monstrosities. This one makes up for the lack of plot in my other fics, and I’d like to apologize in advance😬

Oh also I am the queen of commas, in case you didn’t know 😇😇

flipped the script

It cannot be considered murder if you’re provoked. It would be considered doing the world a favor. 

And by god, you are going to fucking murder Jamie Tartt.

He does absolutely fucking nothing but make your life fucking miserable and you’re fucking losing it.

The only thing you’d agree on is when it started. It was 4am and he was yelling at someone called Roy and you had to be awake in two hours for a fucking conference, and you’d only just fallen asleep at 1am.

So you marched out of your house to the sidewalk where your prick neighbor was arguing with his prick coach and told him to shut the fuck up or I’m calling the police.

He opened his mouth to retort, changed his mind, then made a snide comment about your choice of outfit while you glared at him. His prick coach had the decency to apologize and smack Jamie on the head, so you said, “You’re fine, Roy, I’ll see you at work next week,” and Roy said, “Ah shit, you have that fucking conference, yeah?” and you said yeah then flipped off Jamie as you walked away.

You really hadn’t had many interactions with Jamie before, but you knew him before you started your job as an administrative assistant for AFC Richmond since you were, after all, living right next to each other.

Your last job had paid incredibly well; you were basically the go-to girl for your last company for two and half years. You compiled all relevant information from the day and presented to your boss so he would be caught up on the company’s inner workings. You were observant when it came to valuable (or toxic) employees, and had gained a reputation for being an invaluable asset.

But your old boss was retiring and you were ready for something new, so you began looking around. You found a job at AFC Richmond, assisting a Mr. Higgins and just generally making sure his job ran smoothly so the club could run smoothly. 

It was mostly paperwork, but you enjoyed it. You collected data from all different departments and then ran it by Higgins and Ms. Welton. You weren’t above coffee runs; it was nice to get out sometimes and Ms. Welton would put your coffee on her bill. You got to take your lunch breaks with them and talk and laugh, and be appreciated, which is something you didn’t often get.

The nature of your job demands a certain level of… professionalism, shall we say, which can be misconstrued as coldness. You’re not. You’re just young and trying to be taken seriously, which is why it’s nice to be known both in a personal and professional capacity by Higgins and Ms. Welton. Higgins has even invited you over for family dinner and you’d invited his family over to yours. His boys had absolutely lost their minds at the amount of nerf guns you had stashed in each room, courtesy of your brother who often liked to drop by unannounced when he knew you were home and get you in the back of the head. Sometimes you regretted giving him a key, but not enough to take it back.

All that to say, it was a relatively seamless transition to AFC Richmond. You and Jamie would exchange a neighborly nod if you saw each other, but that was absolutely it. 

—

The next incident is, uh, kind of your fault.

Remember the brother-and-nerf-guns thing?

Yeah.

Your brother had sneaked over on a Sunday (parked around the corner so his car wouldn’t be seen on your security cameras) and you were chasing each other around the house. Your sister-in-law had warned you he was coming over (he asked her to drive him), so you were prepared and hiding in the bushes. He was nonchalantly walking on the sidewalk, hands in his hoodie, when you popped out and got him right in the chest then booked it into your house, which led to a solid fifteen minutes of running and yelling, with the occasional, “Ow, you jerk!” that siblings are always saying but never really mean.

The incident occurs when you’re once again in your front yard running from your brother. You look back to assess how far away he is when smack, you run into someone and feel their beverage go flying.

It’s Jamie, and his bright pink drink is now all over his clean white hoodie.

You both stop and glare at each other. 

You had stopped feigning civility after the 4am thing, so the glare is standard procedure.

Jamie says, “What the fuck?” as your brother comes careening to an abrupt halt.

You’re still glaring. “Why are asking me ‘what the fuck?’ You’re the one walking around here with that fucking awful drink that’s probably going to kill your internal organs. I mean seriously, it cannot be safe to consume something that bright.”

“Says the girl who’s addicted to diet soda.”

“Says the girl who’s fucking pissed that her sidewalk is stained fucking bright pink. How the fuck am I supposed to clean this?”

Jamie’s face is red now, and yours is too.

“A), it’s a fucking public sidewalk and b), what about my fucking sweatshirt? This cost more than your shitty car!” he shoots back, and that’s the moment a line is crossed.

“We live in the same goddamn neighborhood,” you hiss, “so shut the fuck up with your stupid elitist footballer bullshit.”

“Oi, at least I’m not a fucking stuck-up, self-righteous big-shot with no friends!”

You’re not sure what would have happened next because your brother grabs you by the arm and hauls you back inside, waving apologetically to Jamie. All the fight goes out of you as soon as the door shuts.

“What the ever-loving hell was that?” he asks. He never did like using the word “fuck.”

—

What the ever-loving hell was that? Well, it’s actually quite simple. In the seven months you’ve been at Richmond, you haven’t really made any friends.

Yes, you have Ms. Welton and Higgins, but that’s not the same as having people the same age as you to go out with and watch movies and drink and dance and just be stupid and unwind with. 

You’re not even necessarily looking for friends at Nelson Road, just friends somewhere. The problem is, you’re not even sure how to go about it. You’ve spent the last decade of your life (yes, decade) working your ass off to get where you are now. Fourteen year-old knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. You had hustled through school, made connections, grew your resume, and saved every fucking penny until you landed a job that you were definitely under qualified for, but you had nailed the interview. You weren’t sure why your boss decided to take a chance on you, until he told you later he saw the same spark his daughter had in your eyes.

His daughter, who had become a multi-millionaire on her own by the time she was twenty-seven.

So, because someone saw the grit in your eyes of all places, you had a chance to make a fuck ton of money and have a fuck ton of benefits.

You made more connections, including a realtor who set you up with your current home at a price that was insane to normal people, but a steal to the rich. You were signing papers before it was even officially on the market.

It had been labelled as a “fixer-upper,” but that meant a little bit of scuffed paint and slightly outdated utilities. 

And it was yours.

It all came at a price though, didn’t it?

That price was not seeing your family often, sleeping poorly, and no real friends.

That’s why your brother makes it a point to come around. He knows that your lack of contact does not equate a lack of love.

Not everyone saw it that way. You’d lost all your friends at this point, labeled a bitch and a workaholic. So, you though, why the hell not just lean into it. You could be a bitch and a workaholic if it got things done. It was easier to harden the shell around your heart than let people in again.

—

Ok, maybe taking out all that anger on Jamie isn’t healthy, but hey, he’s the one fighting back so hard. 

Things keep happening. His foot is stuck out just enough to make you stumble as you pass each other in the hallway, your car is parked on the street just enough so he can’t get into his garage, ferocious glares are exchanged. Any conversation you are forced to have is laced with sarcastic, biting remarks that only serve make you close off even more. 

The worst part? You’re both fucking brilliant at hiding it. 

You’d have to be, especially at AFC Richmond under Ted Lasso’s command. If he got wind of this, he’d be all over it trying to fix it and neither of you want that. 

You see, Jamie’s a little bit fucked up too.

—

You’ve been at AFC Richmond for a year, and you’ve hated Jamie Tartt for eleven months.

Yet somehow, you’re in fucking Paris. 

Not with just Jamie, of course, but the whole team.

Rebecca’s basically given you a paid vacation because there isn’t much for you to do here. It’s great, the city of lights or something, but you can’t enjoy it. 

You’re in your room on the floor, becoming slowly dehydrated from crying.

Everything is all fuzzy and you’re incredibly disoriented, so you think you might be hallucinating when you hear a knock on the door.

It happens again, more insistently, and you think it’s probably Rebecca so you drag yourself up off the floor, wipe your eyes, and open it to find Jamie Tartt standing in front of you, clearly wishing to be anywhere else.

He’s staring at the top of the doorframe as he says, “Coach sent me to see if you want to go out with the lads tonight,” looking down only when you’ve left his statement unanswered for far too long.

His look of annoyance changes as he clocks your puffy eyes and red nose. 

“You alright?” he asks and you don’t even have the heart to say, obviously, don’t I look it? so you just nod and move to shut the door. 

Jamie blocks it with his hand and pushes it back open, then past you into the room.

It’s pristine, all marble and gold; and far too big for you. You would have preferred something smaller, something less empty. Something less cold. 

All you can do is stand there mutely in your t-shirt and sweatpants, watching your worst enemy clatter around in the room’s fridge looking for a water bottle.

He retrieves one and hands it to you, cap unscrewed.

You don’t ask if he’s spit in it, just take a sip and look at him with dead eyes.

“You look like shit,” he observes, breaking the silence. 

It’s not a dig. You’ve heard enough condescension from his lips to know when he’s fighting.

You shrug.

“You gonna say something?” Jamie asks, and that’s enough to get you going.

“You’re the one who’s in my room,” you say and instead of firing back, Jamie grins. 

“We can go to mine if you want, love,” he winks and in a terrible, awful, panic-inducing moment, you are thrown completely off your guard.

How the fuck are you supposed to reconcile this Jamie Tartt with the awful neighbor you hate? And is he- flirting? Surely not.

He registers your face going through a million expressions in an instant and sobers.

“Go sit,” he says, and you comply without thinking. You’re cross-legged on the couch and he thumps down next to you. He’s not close enough that you’re touching, but you can feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s funny, because you feel so cold. You wonder for a moment if your heart has actually turned to stone and that’s why you’re shivering.

You hear someone say, “My ex is here,” and are horrified to realize that you’re the one talking, and not only that, but you’re continuing. 

“He fucking… knew I’d be here. I saw him in the lobby. He acted like it was some great coincidence, but he was never a great liar. And… he’s here with his girlfriend. Fiancée, I guess. Because he’s proposing to her tonight. They’ve known each other less than a year, and he’s proposing to her. I saw him in the lobby looking like this while he’s in a fucking suit and all I can think about is the fact that he broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out because I wasn’t ready. And how he said he wasn’t the marrying type.” You pause.

“I broke my back making time for him. Everyone thinks I’m a workaholic and maybe I am, but I make time for the people I love. I made time for him. It sounds funny to say, especially how I am now, but he’s why I don’t anymore. Make time, I mean. Nobody notices I’m gone anyway. Or when I’m around. Or anything I do unless I’m doing something for them.”

You risk a look at Jamie. He’s studying your face with an intensity you’ve never seen and you look down to find his hand in yours, and you wonder how that happened. Your knuckles are white from gripping it but he’s holding it back and it gives you just enough of a boost to keep going.

“I don’t even want the money for myself. Like, I’m able to buy expensive shit and that’s cool, but the only reason I have a house that big is because my brother and his wife have a shit-ton of kids, and sometimes they need a break. So they can come over to mine and run around and have space and be wild for a week and I don’t care. They won’t let me give them money, so I have to think of creative ways to help them out. I only have nephews- they each have their own trust fund. It’s not that big right now, but it’s growing. It’ll be a lot by the time they’re each eighteen. And my parents… They died when I was fourteen. It was a stupid car accident, this freak thing with the brakes even though they’d just had the car serviced a week before. My brother was twenty one and newly married because he’s an idiot and he was in love. He and his wife let me live with them.”

You shake your head. “No, that’s not right, they didn’t just let me live with them, they took care of me. Bought me clothes and fed me and let me have my own room even though I said I could sleep on the couch. They could barely afford things for themselves, but they made sure I had what I needed. That’s why I threw myself into work and pushed people away. It’s for them, because I know I can never repay them. But I want to, even if they won’t let me.”

You’re done speaking, finally, and your face is bright red. It normally is when speaking to Jamie, but that’s from the sheer anger you usually feel from having to deal with him. This time it’s different. It’s from the embarrassment of being vulnerable in front of someone.

Jamie hasn’t said anything the whole time, just let you hold his hand. Your knees are touching now, and you realize that one of you must have shifted to make that happen.

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Why are you here, Jamie?” you ask softly. “You hate me. I don’t even know why I told you all that.”

He looks straight into your eyes. “I don’t hate you,” he says simply.

That’s enough to fully shatter the shell around your heart, and you’re shaking with silent sobs again as Jamie pulls you closer, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

—

You fall asleep like that, and you’re not sure at which point Jamie left. But when you wake up, you’re in your bed under a blanket. You think maybe you dreamed the whole thing until you see the note on your nightstand in messy handwriting.

I meant what I said.

—

Neither you nor Jamie comment on it, but something has changed. You don’t hate him anymore. He sits next to you on the plane back and cracks jokes, and you have a weird opportunity to apologize. He tells you he’s sorry too, explains about his dad, and you form a strange bond of repressed anger as a way to deal with hurt. 

Ted is right, forgiveness is the way to go.

—

Jamie Tartt makes it a point to ask you to go out with the lads every time they do group activities. You meet Rebecca’s friend Keeley, basically the only other girl, and pretty soon she’s invited herself over for girl’s nights. Jamie recognizes Keeley’s car the second time it happens and walks over to say hey. She invites him in, and suddenly he’s a fixture at girl’s night. His movie recommendations are shit, but his skincare products are not.

Since things at AFC Richmond aren’t as hectic as you’re used to, you start to pick up some of your old hobbies. Cooking, for example. You get your hands on a copy of Jamie’s diet plan and start experimenting with ways to make it more interesting. So now he’s at yours for dinner more often than not. 

He pops his head over the fence one Saturday afternoon, hearing young voices all morning. Your nephews are over and playing football in the backyard while your brother and sister-in-law deep clean their house. You’re sitting under an umbrella with the baby in your arms and a pitcher of water, when you hear Isaiah, the oldest, say, “Whoa! Is that Jamie Tartt?” 

You look up from Daniel’s tiny giggly face to see Jamie hanging over your fence and waving. You roll your eyes and grin back.

“Wanna come over?” you call, and the words are barely our of your mouth before he’s hopped over and starting to steal the ball from your four walking nephews.

They’re at it for a good thirty minutes before he calls time-out and is jogging over to you, all sweaty and grinning. 

“Didn’t know you were good with kids,” he says.

“Could say the same thing about you,” you shoot back.

He grabs water then makes a silly face at Daniel, who giggles and waves his arms. You laugh and kiss the baby on the top of his head, which makes him gurgle. You look up to see Jamie watching you strangely, so you wrinkle your nose at him. “What?” you say, but before he can open his mouth to respond, Jesse is pulling on Jamie’s hand, telling him the time-out is over.

—

Your next interaction of note happens after your third consecutive Richmond match. You don’t usually go to them, as it’s not required and you didn’t really care. But since you’ve been hanging out with the team, you find yourself taking Rebecca up on her offer to sit in the owner’s box. It’s three days until the next match and you’re looking for Jamie so you can eat lunch together. You find him in the locker room of all places and hand him his bag of food, yet another one of your experiments.

You’re starting to get really good revitalizing Jamie’s meal plan.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and you both miss the looks exchanged between Ted and Beard in their office.

Jamie puts down the lunch and says, “Oi, I got you something.” He reaches into his locker and pulls out a Richmond jersey.

“It’s new, it ain’t one of mine, but now you can wear it to matches.”

You shake it open to see it’s a Jamie Tartt jersey, and this makes you unreasonably happy.

Jamie’s grinning too, and it’s the rare kind of grin where his teeth look sharper and his eyes flash.

You hug it to your chest and say, “I’ll be sure to wear it Saturday,” before you and Jamie head to the café to eat.

— 

Keeley, of course, has comments about the jersey. You pretend not to understand what she’s saying.

—

It’s girls night again, and you and Jamie are pulling snacks out of his cabinets when your phones ding at the same time. It’s Keeley on your groupchat.

Can’t make it babes, something’s come up.

You make a comment involving the words “Roy Kent,” and riffing on her excuse, which makes Jamie laugh.

“I guess I’ll head back to mine,” you say, but Jamie tilts his head and says, “Or you could just… stay,” so you do.

You’re on his couch again, like the night you stopped hating him: your back agains his chest as you rub your thumb absentmindedly on his tattooed forearm.

You’re midway through the movie and explaining to Jamie the limited plausibility of it happening in real life, when he says a soft, oh shit as you pause to take a breath.

“What?” you say, sitting up. “Is everything alright?”

Jamie rubs a hand across his face. “You’re gonna fucking hate me again.”

You squint. “Not sure that’s possible. You’ve got too much dirt on me.”

Jamie just groans. “Nah, you’ll hate me. But I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

He grabs your hand and looks you straight in your eyes, giving you goosebumps.

“I’m fucking in love with you,” he says, and your brain still functions just enough to crash your lips into his.

You’re on top of him and his fingers are tangled in your hair, but as your fingers ghost his waistband, he stills and grabs your hand.

You freeze too, afraid you’ve crossed a line, but Jamie says, “I’m not fucking you for the first time on my couch. We’re going to do this proper,” and then he’s whisking you off your feet and up the stairs.

—

You know that fucking someone you work with is a line you said you’d never cross. But he was your neighbor first, and you’re in love, so it doesn’t count. You’re lying on Jamie’s bed gasping for air after god knows how long and all you can say is, “fuck me.”

Jamie smirks. “Thought I just did, babe, but I’ll go again,” and you’re seeing stars for the third time that night.

He’s sucking a line across your collarbone when you say, “Wait!”

Jamie is off of you in a moment, and you feel strangely empty.

“You alright?” he asks, all concern.

“I never said it back,” you explain. Jamie’s still confused.

“I love you too. You said you’re fucking in love with me. I’m in love with you too. Just thought I should make it clear.” 

Jamie’s looking at you all strange again, eyes dark, so you roll him back on top and let him devour you.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Semantic Error | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter 1

Based off of Semantic Error (bl) by J Soori Summary: y/n is a Computer Science major that definitely fits the bill. Some call her a robot since she seems to have zero emotions or empathy for the people around her and only cares about finishing her degree. What happens when she prevents Jungkook, a Visual Arts major from graduating and finds herself in need of his help? Pairing: Techie inexperienced fem!reader x Artist fuck boy Jungkook Word count: 1.6k~ Warnings: Explicit language, corruption kink, smut, angst, trauma, idk I suck at writing warnings.

A/N: I'm planning on making this a shorter series so let me know if you're enjoying the story and I'll make it a little longer. This is heavily based off of the original bl (boy love) first chapter because I wanted to get the basic plot set up correctly but I will be changing things here and there (for example this is a straight version with a female reader). If you don't mind spoilers I would highly suggest reading the original story. I read it on the app Manta with the english adaptation being done by Angy and you can also find the kdrama on Viki :)

Walking up to the podium it doesn't surprise me to see that half of my group members aren't even in class. I look over at my professor and see the puzzled look on his face, clearly confused as to why I'm the lone presenter but I give him a nod anyway and start the presentation.

Scanning the room I see how most of the students are already asleep or aren't even bothering to try paying attention and to be honest it makes my job a bit easier, not having to deal with any nerves that might arise from public speech but if I'm honest it doesn't really bother me much.

I've heard my classmates refer to me as a robot or a walking computer simply because I speak in a monotone voice and I don't bother wasting emotions on those that I deem unimportant.

Some might call me stuck up but in reality I have no intention of making friends in this educational institution. I'm here to get my degree and hopefully never have to deal with anymore of these freeloaders that the bother labeling as students.

After my presentation is finished our professor wraps up the class rather quickly to everyone’s delight and soon sends us all on our way, except for me.

"y/n can I talk to you for a second?" he asks and I make my way over to his desk after having gathered my belongings. "I wanted to speak to you about your presentation" he starts off, showing his slight discomfort in discussing the topic.

"Was there something wrong with it?" I question not sure what might've gone wrong.

"Oh no the presentation was fine, in fact it was excellent but I noticed that your name was the only one included on the presentation as well as the fact that you gave the presentation solo. Did your group members not contribute to the project?" he asks curious as to how this whole situation all went down.

"No they did not" I say plainly giving him the bare minimum.

"Do you think you could explain the situation to me?" 

I explain not only the lack of participation but also the pitiful excuses they gave me to somehow compensate for their lack of effort.

"One of them told me about the passing of their great aunt so I was aware that he wouldn't be giving the presentation but what happened to the other two?" he prods further pinching the bridge of his nose.

"One of the others didn't send me their research on the agreed upon deadline last night so I had to write their part as well as take care of the tasks I had delegated to myself" I explain. 

"And the other?" he asks finally understanding the situation that I had been left in.

"He didn't bother showing up to any of the planned out meetings we set up" I say hoping that I can go now.

"I see that he's a graduating senior this year. He had told me that he had some sort of ceremony to attend to over seas but I see that he had attended all but the last two classes so his attendance hasn't been much of a problem. Don't you think it's a bit harsh to leave his name out of the presentation completely?" he questions hoping to level with me. 

"No, not at all. If he had shown up and contributed to the project in the slightest then maybe but he didn't lift a finger. I understand why he missed the classes but expecting someone else to do the project that he was assigned was negligent on his part so I do not see any reason as to why he should be given credit for it" I finish hoping he'll understand my point of view.

"Okay, thank you for taking the time to explain it to me, you can go now" he says dismissing me.

"Okay" I say and give him a shallow bow before making my way out of the building.

~~~~~

When the day that final grades rolls around I'm hit with a bunch of texts and calls from the free riders that no doubt failed the class because of the executive decision I had made.

I go through and block the three of them before going on my way since I won't be needing any sort of contact after this train wreck of an ordeal. As I make my way to the PC cafe I frequent I hear talks of a story that sounds very familiar.

"I guess Jungkook can't graduate because someone snitched on him for faking attendance and they also took his name off of their final project" one guy says.

"Wasn't he supposed to go study abroad this summer?" a girl chimes in.

"Well I guess he's screwed now. I don't think a program like that wants to take on a slacker like him" another guy says, openly bashing him.

"Yeah he said he's gonna kill the person that did that but he never bothered learning their name. He tried to find them but no one knows who they are" the first guy says.

"What's their major?" the girl says hoping to see if she could help find them. "Something along the lines of computer engineering".

I shiver at the thought, 'I think I pissed off the wrong guy. I guess all I can do is avoid anyone by the name of Jungkook and fly under the radar. Considering that I always do I don't that'll be much of a problem.

I log into the same computer I use day in and day out with the intention of relaxing for a bit but I'm interrupted by a text that I had thought I had been waiting for for the past few days. 

'Hey y/n it's Hana, I got an internship for the summer and it looks like I'm going to be pretty busy with it so I don't think I'll be able to help you with the gaming application you are trying to develop. But on the plus side I do have a friend that has some free time this summer and I told him about it and he said he would be interested in taking it over for me'

'Oh okay that's too bad, I really liked your art style' I say selfishly wishing she would make time for it.

'Oh he's a lot better than me and I feel like he can definitely do your game a lot more justice than I can :)'

'Oh okay do you think you could give me their number at least?' I ask hoping I can establish contact as soon as possible. 

'I don't have his number since I ended up breaking my phone and lost all of my contacts but I told him the time and place we were planning on meeting so he'll meet you there. His name is JK'

I thank her for putting in the effort to find a replacement and close out our conversation.

Leaning back in my chair and taking off my glasses I'm left feeling stressed at the uncertainty of how this project is going to progress but I just hope that whoever she's sent as a substitute is able to work on this as efficiently as I know she would've been able to.

She was kind of slow at responding and making time for this but when she had the time she would really put her all into it, really making up for lost time.

I take a deep breath to release some of the tension I can feel building and decide to head back to my place to formulate a new plan of action and prepare a new proposal. 

~~~~

Sitting in the little study room I had reserved in the library for the day this JK guy and I are supposed to meet I find myself checking the clock, watching and waiting for his arrival.

'He's late. It's four fifteen and I explicitly explained to Hana what time we would be meeting here. I could always count on her to be a few minutes late but so much for good first impressions with this new guy. Maybe I'll give him a few more minutes. He could've gotten the address wrong or maybe he got lost and is just trying to find the right room.'

Another fifteen minutes goes by and I can clearly tell I’m losing my patience.

'How could someone be this late? What if he changed his mind and Hana just couldn't bring herself to tell me? Or maybe he just blowed both of us off because he didn't really want to do it in the first place? Whatever, I'll give him a few more minutes and then I'm leaving' I wait for about five more minutes until I finally can't take it anymore 

"This is ridiculous, I'm just waisting my time at this point" I say out loud mentally exhausted from having to wait this long, not even caring if he were to show up now.

I gather up my belongings but as soon as I reach for the door handle to leave it swings open and almost hits me in the face. I step back just in time to be met with a wall of muscle barging into the room without regard for anyone else and look up to see a man two heads taller than me looking down on me.

"You're the designer?" I ask hoping that I've made the correct assumption. 

"Oh um yeah" he says as he continues to keep eye contact, almost studying me.

'Yeah?' 'That's all I get? Showing up this late and I don't even get a sorry? Who does this guy think he is?' I think to myself fuming even more from seeing the stupid look on his face. Little did I know just how much this little 'arrangement' was going to mess up the rest of my life.

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[searchingfortheuniverse]

Side A - I Hate To Hear That You Won't Come Home

Part One of my gift for @terresdebrume! This one sort of snuck up on me because I wanted to make sure I'd written as much as you deserved for your gift after I'd already finished writing Part Two, so you get surprise bonus Webgott. I hope you like it!

Rated T, mainly for swearing. The title comes from Listen to the Man by George Ezra and the fic can also be found on AO3. This one is intended to be read first, but it doesn't really make too much difference.

Pairing: Joe Liebgott/David Webster, referenced Bill Guarnere/Babe Heffron Summary: After the war, Joe Liebgott seems to have disappeared; Web isn't letting him go that easily.

When the door opens in front of him, David flinches.

It's not that he's actually afraid, or startled, or any of those things. It's just that this is a deeply uncomfortable situation and he doesn't really know what to say.

"... Webster," Grant says, and it's hard to tell if the delay is a result of shock or the brain injury.

"Sergeant. Grant. Uh... Chuck?" David can't help the way he cringes at his own inability to decide how to address this man he's known for years.

"Jesus Christ," Grant says. There's a slight hesitance and a mild slur in his voice that never used to be there, almost a hitch allowing for extra time to think, but other than that he's doing pretty well for a guy who got shot in the head. "I'm embarrassed for you at this point. Come in."

David follows him in the door, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat hook Grant directs him to. He finds himself guided to a small kitchen and he watches as Grant makes him a cup of coffee. It's noticeable that one hand can take less weight than the other but David keeps his mouth shut. Eventually, there's a mug in front of him and Grant sits in the chair opposite him at the table.

"So, uh... How's the recovery going?"

David hits himself mentally. What a stupid question. Grant must be sick of being asked that by now.

"It's fine," Grant says, "Living the fucking dream." He sticks a cigarette in his mouth and lights it, then offers one to David almost more out of habit than deliberate choice. David takes one anyway. "What are you really doing here, Webster? You haven't come all the way out here to ask me that. It's not like we were close."

After a moment, David sighs and admits it. "I'm looking for Liebgott."

He's never seen anyone look less surprised than Grant does right now, which... Well. It feels almost like it should be insulting but he's not quite sure why.

"I don't know where he is any more than the rest of the company," Grant says, "So showing up here was sort of a stupid idea." His speech is worst on the S sounds, David notes absently.

"You must have some idea, though," David argues, "He wasn't that far from you. You must have at least an old address or something."

Grant shrugs with just his good shoulder. "Nope. All I know is he definitely went back to driving his cab. Outside of that, nothing."

"I'll leave you in peace, then," David says, because it's not like he and Grant were ever actually friends in a way that wouldn't leave this as the world's most uncomfortable conversation, "You want me to grab you anything? For your hospitality?"

"It was coffee and a smoke, Webster," Grant says, unimpressed.

"Still..."

"If you want to bring Liebgott round when you find him, I won't object," Grant adds, "And you can bring a pack of cigarettes at the same time if you want. Or some more coffee. I probably actually have a harder time with the coffee."

"Sure thing, Sergeant," David agrees, and he leaves as Grant rolls his eyes.

From the moment he leaves, his quest begins in earnest. Grant's confirmed two important details for him: Joe really did come back to San Francisco, and he's driving a cab. So David starts hailing cabs.

It's like the most ridiculous vacation in history. David climbs into a cab, asks the driver if they know Joe Liebgott, gets a negative response, and then asks them to drive him to a popular tourist destination so he can at least make the most of his stupid search for a man who doesn’t want to be found. He's giving up on the third day and about to ask to be taken back to his hotel when the answer changes.

"Liebgott? Shit, I know Joe Liebgott."

It's almost embarrassing how fast David finds himself sitting up straight in the back seat. It would be embarrassing, even, if not for the fact that this is a much smaller step in the search for Liebgott than crossing the whole damn country and so this is probably not at all embarrassing in comparison.

"You do? Do you know where I can find him?"

"Sure do. Saw him not ten minutes ago heading to the Third and Townsend Depot to see if there were any fares down there. If he hasn't had one, he'll still be there."

"Jesus," David says, "Thank God. Can you take me down there?"

"Pal, as long as you're paying, I'll take you wherever," the cabbie says with a shrug and a grin.

Once they've arrived, he flings more notes than necessary in the driver's direction, throws a hasty "thanks" over his shoulder, and disappears into the throng of pedestrians. He emerges again with a better view of the taxi rank, squinting even so slightly as he tries to see—

His breath leaves him in a rush at a flash of a half-genuine smile on sharp features as Joe Liebgott reaches for a woman's suitcase. David doesn't even notice his feet carrying him forward until he's there, saying words that are probably the biggest social faux pas he's ever made (which is really saying something) but which he can't regret because Joe is there.

"Hi, sorry, can you find a different cab?"

The woman stares at him in astonishment.

"What the—?" Joe starts.

"I'll cover the cost of another one for you, I'll pay you extra, but I need this one."

Dumbstruck, the woman blinks. Then, to David's blessed relief, she nods, clearly deciding that arguing with this insane man isn't worth the hassle. He thrusts more of his money in her direction, and she shrugs at Joe before reaching for her case and backing away.

"What the hell is your problem?" Joe asks, clearly livid.

"What the hell is your problem?" David retorts. "I'm not the one who vanished and stopped talking to everyone!"

"No, you just stalked me and cost me a cab fare!"

"Alright then, I'll pay you to drive me somewhere!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

As a final act of defiance, David sits in the passenger seat rather than the back, tilting his chin up stubbornly as Joe glares at him from the driver's seat.

"Where the fuck am I driving you, then?"

David snaps out the name of his hotel, then folds his arms. It's silent in the car for a good few minutes, which for them is quite impressive. Eventually, though, David caves.

"You never wrote to me."

"You never wrote to me either," Joe retorts.

"You never gave me an address!"

"Yeah, and anyone else would think that was a clue!"

"I did write to you," David admits quietly, "I just... didn't know where to send it."

"You– What?"

"I wrote to you, Joe, it's not that hard to understand!"

"Fuck you," Joe says, but it sounds more like a filler, something reflexive.

Once again, that uncomfortable silence fills the cab, and David's reminded forcibly of a jeep in Europe. All they're missing in this awkwardness is Skinny in the back.

The drive seems much longer than it should be. It quickly becomes apparent that that's because it is; a few landmarks pass that David knows are in the opposite direction to his hotel. Instead, they end up on a residential street. His confusion must show on his face, because Joe rolls his eyes.

"Fucking Christ, Web, are you coming or not?"

David blinks at him. It's only now that he sees the house key in Joe's hand. He scrambles out of the vehicle, hanging back slightly until the door's open and then practically bolting inside. He's... Well, he's not surprised. A little incredulous, maybe. He's definitely not surprised that Joe's house is tidy and... normal.

"This is a nice place," he says, and then, almost unable to help himself, he adds, "It's yours?"

He's willing to admit that he deserves the flat look he gets in response. The words he hears next, though, are tired, not accusatory as he'd half-expected.

"What are you doing here, Web?"

Now that it's come down to it, all his words have left him. He hesitates, lips parted as if his mouth has started trying to speak while his brain is still considering, and then manages weakly, "I didn't want to lose you."

"We've been through this," Joe says tiredly, "There's nothing to lose. It was a war thing, Web. Nothing else. It can't be."

"I don't believe you," David snaps, that familiar will to argue with Joe bubbling up inside him.

"Alright, fine, you don't believe me. Now what? It doesn't change anything!"

"Sounds like it's working out for Guarnere and Heffron," David counters.

Joe blinks. "What the fuck–?"

"They're living together," David says, and– There. A flicker in Joe's eye, a hesitation. "They're making it work."

"How?"

"I… I don't know," David admits, "But we can figure it out, right? I want to figure it out."

There's a long moment. David's heart is in his throat, watching as Joe's gaze flicks down to his mouth in a way it usually does when he's about to kiss him. And then, finally, Joe says, "Fuck. Okay."

And then he really does kiss him.

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites in Mighty Solars Issue #4: “Fighting for Family” Ch. 1

On a Misty midnight, Chester Basil and his mafia crew were busy counting money they mugged.

Chester Basil: This has been a long time coming, fellas. Three years on the plates alone, but I think you'll find the product was worth the wait. Go ahead. filtered Take a good look, boys...

Goon #1: Sheesh, Mr. Basil, I can't warn the difference.

Goon #2: I can’t either!

Chester Basil: You'd need one of them neutron microscopes, mate. It's identical down to Ben Franklin's stubble.

Basil plucks it from the goon's hand. As he steps over to the suitcase and places the bill back with the stacks of other bills.

Chester Basil: I want it laundered through the casino at a half mil a week. Three-quarter mil by March. Anybody has a problem with that?

Mob Members: Oh no. Not at all

Then suddenly, Quasarblast breaks through the window as the mob gasp.

Mob: Hey! What? It’s Quasarblast!

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: It’s over, Mr. Basil.

Chester Basil: Oh shit! I’m getting out of here! Man, attack!

No sooner does the first two goons have their pistols out then Quasarblast turns invisible and kicks the guards’ ass as they cry out in pain.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that!

Another goon takes a swipe at him from the side. Quasarblast turns invisible to fool the goon and then turns visible again decks the goon with a left. Another from behind, Quasarblast brings up his elbow to the fellow's jaw. A third goon literally jumps on his back.

Goon #3: battle cry

Quasarblast flips him over into Goon #1, who has retrieved his gun and is about to fire just as Goon #3 comes smashing in. The gun goes off harmlessly as they demolish a glass display of bric-a-brac on Basil as the fighting continues off-screen, he sweeps up the briefcase and bolts out the door. But then, Quasarblast sees him trying to escape and turns invisible again.

Chester Basil: the suitcase is snatched out of his hand and it starts floating suddenly What the fuck is this witchcraft?!

And then, Quasarblast knocks out Basil and then turns visible again as he ties up Basil and his goons and turns him to the police.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: You just met the wrath of Quasarblast!

Police Officer: Thank you Quasarblast! You done it again!

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: No problem and oh hey! Meet you at the ceremony tonight!

Police Officer: Sure be there!

Quasarblast winks and flies off.

Later…

Quasarblast made it home and head inside without anyone looking as he turns back into Korvo Solar-Opposites, then he sees Terry and turns invisible. He then surprise Terry with an invisible kiss as the two husbands moan and Korvo turns visible again while they blush lovingly. Terry laughs.

Terry Solar-Opposites: So, how is my favorite superhero?

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Doing fine my sweet Shlorpian.

The two husbands kiss again. Then, Yumyulack and Jesse then started playing Quasarblast with Jesse wearing a mask that look like Quasarblast’s mask and Yumyulack playing as a super villain.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: Die motherfucker! Die!

Jesse Solar-Opposites: pretends to turn invisible Boom! I’m invisible!

Phoebe MacCarthy: offscreen Kids, you damn better not be wrestling!

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: Uh, no we’re not!

Jesse Solar-Opposites: We’re being careful!

Then, an alarm goes off on Korvo’s phone as he smirks and turns back into Quasarblast.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Duty calls!

Korvo, now Quasarblast, flies off and made it to the ceremony, which is happening live on camera. The audience cheer for him as he prepare to make his speech.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblasr: Good evening citizens. It’s so nice to see you all on this day.

Reporter: And it’s so great to see you too. So, tell us. How does it feel to be accomplished?

Quasarblast grows confused.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Uh what do you mean?

Reporter: I mean during those time you fought more bad guys, you’ve been pulling amazing stunts. Have you done it all by yourself?

Quasarblast then realizes his whole family is watching, who are confused. Then, Quasarblast looks down and realizes he must do the right thing. Quasarblast laughs nervously.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Actually, I can’t take credit. My family helped me.

The crowd’s gasp in shock, but then grows touched as they feel their heart’s warming up and truly understand what he meant.

Crowd: Aaaw.

Meanwhile at the Solars’ house…

Terry Solar-Opposites: Aaw. Korvy. That’s so sweet.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: I guess he wanted us to have credit too.

Yumyulack sniffs and Jesse teases him.

Jesse Solar-Opposites: I saw that tough guy.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: laughs nervously Nuh uh! You’re crying! wipes a tear nervously

Phoebe MacCarthy: terrified Oh shit, he shouldn’t have said that.

Terry looks confused.

Terry Solar-Opposites: Why?!

Phoebe MacCarthy: Because, now people think there are more Mighty Solars out there! They think Quasarblast has a family of other alien heroes!

Terry gasps.

Pupa Solar-Opposites: Oh no!

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites and Jesse Solar-Opposites: Oh shit!

Back at the ceremony…

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: It’s true. My husband, three kids and nanny helps me out whenever I need them. Because, they’re like my strength, without them I am nothing. Because, I love them all unconditionally.

Quasarblast is trying hard not to panic.

Person #1: No way! You just got here and your family are supers too? Where are they?

Quasarblast gets nervous.

Korvo Solar-Opposites/Quasarblast: Oh uh, they’re not ready to come out yet. They just got their powers and are uh waiting for the right time…?

People: Oooooh. Why didn’t you say so? Yeah.

Person #2: Sounds good enough to me!

Reporter: Well there you have it folks? They are more Mighty Solars out there? And if they are, who are they?

Quasarblast leaves and groans in frustration.

Later at home…

Korvo is sitting on the couch remorsful while Phoebe, Yumyulack, Jesse and Pupa sit down next to him in concern.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Why did I say that?!

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: Aw cheer up Korvo. I think what you did was brave. At least no one found out about your identity.

Jesse Solar-Opposites: Thanks for giving us credit Korvo. That was really sweet.

Korvo sighs.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: I know, but everyone believes that Quasarblast has a family that are heroes.

Jesse looks concerned.

Phoebe MacCarthy: But they don’t know about your identity. That’s all that matters. I think you did the right thing by giving us credit. That was one of the honorable things a superhero will do

Jesse Solar-Opposites: Besides, we may not be superheroes. But, I’m sure one day, we’ll have our own powers and fight right beside one day.

Korvo smiles.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Thanks guys.

Jesse Solar-Opposites: Come here you big lug.

The family then gets in a group hug when suddenly…

Terry Solar-Opposites: offscreen Oh, we’re having a group hug?! Me next! Me next!

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Alright, Terry you can join on the- cries out in shock

Yumyulack gasps.

Pupa Solar-Opposites: Terry?

Terry Solar-Opposites: What?

Jesse Solar-Opposites: Jesus Jessica Parker!

Phoebe MacCarthy: Oh… my… God…

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Terry, don’t freak out but-

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: YOU’RE A FUCKING HUMAN!

Suddenly, a human’s hands was shown as Terry’s gasp was heard. Then, the camera shifts towards a mirror where it shows reflection of Terry, now a human. Terry screams.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Oh my God… I look amazing! The Solars got confused Wow. You gotta touch these ears! I can’t believe I got a nose, and a hair, and dick and a shlong!

Korvo covers his mouth in shock.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Oh… my poor darling… what has happened to you? It’s my fault! starts crying I shouldn’t known! I-I-

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Hey hey. Why the tears, boo?

Korvo Solar-Opposites: I am so sorry Terry. If I hadn’t been so distracted as Quasarblast and stood up for you and-

Human Terry kisses Korvo.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: hugs Korvo Shh… it’s okay sweetie… it’s okay…

Pupa Solar-Opposites: Yay!

Jesse Solar-Opposites: I can’t believe my daddy is a human! This is so cool!

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: Holy shit! Do you have a butthole?!

Korvo Solar-Opposites: NO! IT’S NOT COOL! THIS IS A SERIOUS SITUATION! IT’S NOT LIKE HE CAN JUST TURN BACK INTO A SHLORPIAN!

Suddenly, Terry did turn back to his normal Shlorpian self, much to the other’s shock and surprise.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Whuh? How?

Terry Solar-Opposites: I dunno. It’s just a cool trick I learned.

Korvo then gets out a scanning device and goes surprised.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Holy shit. I think this is a natural Shlorpian reaction on being on the planet for too long. The form must’ve taken up a unique shape shifting ability on what planet they have been on.

Pupa gasps.

Jesse Solar-Opposites: No way. I have no idea we can do that.

Terry Solar-Opposites: Well, that’s what I get for succumbing to the temptish. Wait, does the Pupa have one?

The Pupa starts straining much to Korvo’s discomfort.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Oh my goodness! Pupa, are you okay?

Suddenly, the Pupa started floating and glowing as he screams a little and turns into a human. The Solars gasp because as they open their eyes, the Pupa has turn into a human toddler girl.

Phoebe MacCarthy: Aaaw. That’s so adorable!

Korvo faints. Then, he wakes up upon seeing Human Pupa looking at his reflection.

Human Pupa Solar-Opposites: Pigtails!

Yumyulack Solar Opposites: Why is the Pupa’s form a girl?

Jesse Solar-Opposites: D’aw, it’s so cute!

Korvo Solar-Opposites: I don’t know. Wait. Does that mean I could have one?!

Jesse-Solar Opposites: uses the scanner Oh, you’ll have the ability to turn human in 16 days.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Oh, well what about you two?

Jesse then scans her body.

Jesse Solar-Opposites: Hooray! In five days! I can’t wait to see what mine looks like.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: And me?

Phoebe MacCarthy: scans Yumyulack Oh, in 11 days.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: God damn it!

Korvo sighs.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Well, I supposed this could work as new civilian identities. Because, with me as Quasarblast, I don’t think we should walk around Earth anymore as aliens. It’s the only way guys. I hope you’re not disappointed.

Yumyulack Solar-Opposites: Are you nuts?! This is awesome!

Terry hugs Korvo.

Terry Solar-Opposistes: Korvy, whatever comes when the rest of you develop the ability of turning into humans, we’ll get through it. Together.

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Oh. Come here you.

The two husbands then embrace in a kiss while the kids, after Pupa turns back into his normal Pupa self, and Phoebe hugs them

Korvo Solar-Opposites: Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?

Special thanks to @avaveevo, @asikreading, @themagicwolf6677, @king-of-squishmallows and all of my watchers for their ideas and support.

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 280, Replies Part 1

1) “Machia is down in the pit, and the kids are pressing in to avenge the Fall of Kamui and Midnight. And also to preemptively avenge Ojiro. All seemed lost, until a pink menace jumped in the fray. Now, let us see if Mina is going to save the day, in Chapter 280: Red Riot.

…

okay, something tells me this ain’t gonna be about her specifically”- I mean, in a sense, their backstories are meaningfully intertwined about the same event, with each one having a knock-on effect on the other, pushing them forward into becoming better heroes with their attempts to emulate the heroism and effort they see in each other, so it’s kinda impossible to separate them. They even have contrasting abilities, Kirishima hardens himself from the outside-in, mina softens things around her in an external matter.

2) “DAMMIT MINA EVEN GOT AN ABOMINATION SHIPPED STRAIGHT FROM THE BOILING ISLES HOW IS THIS CHAPTER NOT ABOUT HER”- Well it is, it’s just that Mina’s still an ordinary girl underneath her bubbly peppy personality, and even she needs to be saved now and then…especially from old fears. 3) “Everyone that survived is alright? I already see that kaminari is need of a stone to the head to see if it puts his screws back into place, but seemingly everything is fine. ”- If you’re gonna die, at least you’ll appreciate the small comforts more on the way out. 4) “AND THERE GOES MY GIRL STRAIGHT INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH AFTER SHE GAVE A DEATH FLAG A FEW CHAPTERS AGO OKAY I’M STARTING TO THINK THAT OJIRO IS NOT THE PERSON I SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT RIGHT NOW”- The problem with the kids raising death flags all over the place is, the danger level is just so high – it’s impossible to tell who’s actually going to make it or not anymore until the dust settles and the bodies can be identified. I’m not even fully certain all of 1A will make it out of this, especially since Tomura’s being directed specifically to target one of them.

5) “DON’T- DON’T GIVE A MOTIVATIONAL INNER SPEECH WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO RUSH RIGHT INTO THIS MONSTER’S MOUTH MINA, DON’T DO THIS TO ME”- The panelling literally showing that Machia is the old fear that will freeze Mina in place when he speaks.

6) “It is a true fuckstorm over here jesus. The league is being pushed back and is about to be overrun, now only something truly horrible can save them from this pickle”- The walking act of god that was mindlessly steamrolling you before ‘waking up’ and actively targeting you fits the bill.

7) “DONT YOU FUCKING THROW THAT DEATH FLAG INTO ANOTHER PERSON MINA, COME THE FUCK ON!

I MEAN, I’M GLAD THAT YOU ARE DOING EVERYTHING TO SURVIVE THE GRIM REAPER, BUT THROWING IT INTO YOUR TEACHER’S BACK IS NOT COOL

THROW IT INTO MINETA INSTEAD, HE WAS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE”- That was actually Mineta speaking, and Mina remembering his words. When she says that she’s gotta ‘melt it away’, she means the uncertainty that’s handing over her and the others as to their teacher’s wellbeing, and the faint hope that she’s still alive, if they can just settle matters with Machia quickly enough and come to her aid. Whilst she seemed to brush it off before, Mina was actually doing the same thing she did with Machia before, putting on a brave and confident face to reassure others despite her own fears, taking the pressure off of others, but putting it all on herself instead…and that much pressure, in a crises moment, can cause you to unexpectedly crack at the worst possible moment.

8) “It is, of course, through, but I have a feeling those guys on your back wouldn’t enjoy the ride that much.”- The commandment he was given, empowering him like the voice of the lord himself, and whatever he has to do to fulfil that order filtered through his low-mind state. 9) “OH THAT IS ABSOLUTELY NOT GOOD

I HAVE A FEELING HE WASN’T REALLY CARING MUCH ABOUT THEIR ATTEMPTS TO STOP HIM, UNTIL NOW

NOW HE IS PISSED

AND GOD HELP WHOEVER ENDED UP CLOSE TO HIS MOUTH IN A MOMENT LIKE THIS… “- When the hurricane that barely missed you and still almost killed you from collateral damage stops, turns around and starting focusing on you personally….. 10) “OH HEY- I REMEMBER THAT SCENE

So it was Machia back then? Oh, that’s interesting- a little worrisome that he was just walking around and nobody gave a shit, really worrisome I must say, as much as much as what he’s about to do now that he’s mad”- Machia’s a big guy, but for some inexplicable reason he has the weird ability to become absolutely undetectable and unseen by others for long periods of time, despite the fact that people should be searching for him and that he sticks out like a sore thumb. His ‘Mole’ and “energy saver” quirks are useful if he’s hiding for a long period in places like the mountains, but the guy just seems to somehow have the ability to just ghost around the place however he wishes when he’s not ordered by his master to wreak the joint in a loud and spectacular fashion – and we know what it’s not a Quirk he has either. Even more concerning is that he was on a direct mission from AFO at the time, which apparently succeeded, but again, nobody noticed it. AFO’s plans have proceeded like a dream so far, regardless of what the heroes did, but even at this late stage in the game, we still don’t know what they are really – it seemed like he wanted Tomura to actually succeed him as a villain in his own right, but now that he’s actively trying to overwrite his consciousness, that’s out the window, and it’s again unclear what goal he wants to achieve through all this chaos. 11) “I also remember that, you were terrified, but even so, you didn’t let that stop you Mina, and that was exactly what made Kirishima fall in love with you.”- That time, she had a few moment to mentally prepare herself. This time, in this split second, it catches her off-guard and the fear makes her freeze up and not be able to think straight.   12) “OH NO THAT AIN’T GOOD THE VISUAL METAPHOR OS REGRESSING TO THAT SCARED, YOUNGER SELF- THAT USUALLY COMES RIGHT BEFORE SOMEONE GETS THEIR SPINE CRUSHED IN HALF BY SOMEONE’S ELSE JAWS”- Mina thought she’d conquered her fear, but it was there all along, and it came back to haunt her at the worst possible second….luckily for her, there’s a guy in her corner who’s done nothing back face his fears head-on to become tougher for it all this time. 13) “Mt. YEET “- Her neck is almost certainly broken now. Machia is done being gentle.

@thelreads

[secretobsessionstuff]

ok I'm not sure if you're taking promt requests, but I have one here: sick!dakota, inspired by something that happened to me a while back. I had to go for a formal event, and I ate something Fancy there that didn't settle right. I felt burpy, bloated and sick all night, and had to throw up. thankfully I got home without incident, but I did get sick with a stomach bug like right after. if you don't want to take the prompt, that's fine. have a nice day, brilliant author!

Thanks for the great request! And for making me blush with that compliment. I changed the prompt just a little because of course I didn't want Dakota to go home without incident ;)

Please excuse the ridiculous reference to an old meme that I slipped in this fic. I couldn’t help it. 

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

As a child, Dakota never thought he’d have enough money to give to charity, let alone donate enough to partake in a fundraising gala. Even that word Gala felt like an ill-fitting suit, much like the one he wore at that very moment. At a Gala. That he’d been invited to. He was overwhelmed by the entire affair. 

That night’s special event was being hosted by the Canadian Academy of Sport and Exercise Medicine—an organizing that Dakota supported as soon as he got a disposable income. 

Donating was not something that his family could afford to do, at least not consistently. Every Christmas, Dakota used to ask his dad for a five-dollar bill to give to the bell ringers. Nine times out of ten, he was given a loonie. Still, Dakota happily dropped the coin in the collection bin and wished the stranger a merry Christmas. 

The suit that Dakota now wore should have reflected how far he had come in terms of money. He had worked hard as a teenager to afford to go to university. He worked hard as an adult to get to this point of financial security. He wasn’t rich by any means (not by a long shot), but he had enough to justify his presence at this fundraiser. He definitely had enough money to buy a better suit than the one he wore, but that was a task that he’d been putting off. 

The jacket’s sleeves were tight around his arms and the fabric of the pants pinched awkwardly around his hips. The buttons on his shirt were working overtime to keep his belly from bulging out, but that might have been because he was bloated after eating the cream of vegetable soup. He’d certainly be needing a better suit for his wedding. For now, his old suit would have to do. 

Blair, of course, looked stunning in her stormy blue floor-length chiffon evening dress with lace sequins. None of those fancy words belonged to Dakota. That was how she described it to him. All he had been capable of saying was a string of incoherent babbling as she emerged from their bedroom that evening. Stormy apparently meant a greyish-blue and the rest of those words must have meant so fucking hot you don’t even know. That was Dakota’s apt description after getting over his momentary shock. 

Dakota paid more attention to Blair than the many, many speeches that were given throughout the night. Halfway through the event and he was already sick of hearing the phrase “We thank you for your contribution”, despite being one of those contributors. 

Eventually, even his fiancée couldn’t hold his attention, not with the way his stomach ached. So maybe it wasn’t just the speeches that were making him sick. His belly churned and whined, trying to digest the first meal he’d given it that night. The soup had been creamy, but not nauseatingly thick. It was a pale orange with chunks of broccoli and carrots drowning in the velvety broth. 

He didn’t understand why he got so nauseous all of a sudden. It was like the soup kept boiling inside him. The event took a while to start, so Dakota should have been starving but he was far from it. That first plate was enough to make him full. He didn’t want to imagine the other courses that were on their way. He could smell shrimp, and steak, and chocolate waiting their turns. 

“I’m a registered dietitian,” Blair finished saying to a man sitting at their table. There was eight people all seated in a circle, perfect for networking and gossiping. 

“And what about your husband?” asked the woman who was next to the man. They were an older couple and so soft spoken that Dakota didn’t look up to realize that he was now a part of the conversation. 

“Oh, he’s actually still my fiancé,” Blair said with a smile. She put her hand on his arm to get his attention. “Dakota?” 

“Yes?” He looked up, tearing his eyes away from the empty soup bowl. 

“The Dhillons are asking about your job,” she said, gesturing to the couple. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dakota tugged at the collar of his jacket. It did not have any give and was therefore terrible for fidgeting. All his fiddling did was remind him how uncomfortable he was. He cleared his throat. “I’m in sports rehabilitation.” 

“No wonder you’re both supporters,” Mr. Dhillon said approvingly. He nodded at the two of them “Dakota, was it? How did you get involved with CASEM?” he asked, using the organization’s acronym. 

Dakota began giving his answer with less enthusiasm that he would have liked. His voice sounded awkward and strained to his own ears. More than once, he had to interrupt himself to swallow a burp. His voice got deeper with each suppressed belch, as did the ache in his middle. The more he spoke, the more air he swallowed, and the more bloated he got. 

It was after Mr. Dhillon’s second question, that Dakota failed to keep a burp from bursting from his mouth. It was loud and very wet. “Excuse me,” he quickly mumbled with a napkin pressed against his lips. He wiped the corners of his mouth, feeling his face grow warm. The other people at the table, all in the middle of their own conversations, spared surprised glances at him. After that outburst, he hurried up his reply and looked down at his lap. The tips of his ears were on fire. 

In fact everything about him was on fire. He was hot and icky. Yes, icky was the only way he could describe the sensations in his body. Icky with an inkling of bleh. 

Thankfully, Blair took up the next question. She gave him a curious look before answering the nice couple. 

Dakota wished he could turn invisible. Not only was he blushing, but he desperately wanted to rub his gurgling stomach. It was very unsettled for some ungodly reason. Dakota felt like a proper sac of poop, squeezed into his too-tight suit, and sweating like a pig. 

He did not feel well at all, he quickly realized. His gut churned as if he somehow ate ten bowls of soup instead of one. He could feel sweat dampening his clothes, making the bottom layers stick to his skin.  

When another burp bubbled up from his belly, he managed to cover his mouth in time. His hand couldn’t muffle all the sound, but at least he didn’t feel any piercing eyes fall on him. 

He must have sat there with his hand clamped over his mouth for longer than he thought, because he suddenly felt Blair touch his leg. It made him snap his eyes open, which he hadn’t realized he closed in the first place. 

Blair leaned over and whispered to him, “Are you feeling alright?” 

He shook his head. That was all he did. All he felt safe to do. 

“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Blair said to the people at their table. She stood up, keeping her hands on Dakota’s shoulder until he rose as well, then she led him out of the dining hall. 

Dakota walked with his head down and his palm pressed into his abdomen. They passed many other tables of finely dressed guests, but he didn’t try to smother the burps that rose in his throat. Standing up caused all the air in his belly to shift, and he couldn’t force it down any longer. A particularly wet belch coated his tongue in a thin layer of creamy acid. It tasted strongly of broccoli. 

When the crisp night air hit Dakota’s skin, he had a second to wonder why Blair hadn’t led him to the bathroom. That was where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be. Only just then he was picturing his bathroom at home. He also wasn’t wearing this straitjacket of a suit in the daydream. 

As if she were reading his mind, Blair said, “There were too many people in line for the bathroom. I didn’t think you wanted to throw up in front of a crowd.” Her eyebrows knit together in concern as she watched him pace around the parking lot. “You are going to be sick, aren’t you?” 

Dakota nodded. “I feel disgusting, Bee. The food isn’t agreeing with me at all.” 

He put his hands on his knees and breathed deeply through his mouth. Pressure built up inside of him, slowly rising in his throat. “I don’t—” he cut off when a belch splashed the back of his tongue with acid. “Ugh fuck. I don’t know what happened, but it hit me hard.” 

“Did you eat too much before leaving the house?” 

“No,” he replied, intending to elaborate, but he paused to release a bubble of air caught behind his tongue. It was sour and thick. “No, I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I guess I forgot.” 

“You?” Blair began, incredulously. “You forgot to be hungry?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t on my mind. I’ve been thinking about this goddamn gala.” Dakota huffed. Being outside helped cool him down, but the sticky heat was still trapped inside his layers of clothing. “God, it’s hot. And I hate this fucking suit.” He started to helplessly shrug off his jacket with some difficulty. 

“Come here,” Blair said shaking her head at him. She removed the jacket from his shoulders and patiently slipped the tight sleeves off his arms. The jacket itself was damp. Similar patches of sweat marked his dress shirt in the underarms. A dark line ran down his spine. “Wow, was there an indoor pool party that I missed?” 

Dakota was in too much discomfort to banter. “Ugh my stomach is killing me.” He bent over again, letting out another long chesty burp. The tail-end of the burp made a funny sound in his throat, like sloshing of liquid that settled back down in his belly. He did not think that his belly would stay settled for very long. In fact, the next belch was more of a gag. 

Blair heard the change as well and got close enough to put her hand on his back. She wrongly assumed that the heat beneath her hand was from him being uncomfortable and overly warm. All she knew what that he looked as green as a seasick passenger, ready to feed the fishes. “Alright. No one’s around. Just let it out.” 

Dakota’s throat bobbed as the nausea increased. His mouth filled with saliva that he let drip onto the ground between his feet. He waited for the next burp, knowing that it would bring up a sludge of sick. 

And it did. 

The meaty belch was practically drowned out by the rush of vomit that gurgled up his throat. A splatter of orange coloured the pavement between his feet. Bigger chunks of green and brown dotted the puddle. Dakota didn’t get to admire his artistic creation for long because the next wave forced his eyes shut. 

Blair hissed sharply through her teeth, hearing the strain in his guttural heaves. “Oh Kota. That’s it. Get it all up.” 

Obediently, he did as he was told, retching up the most expensive soup he ever ate. And it hadn’t even been that good. It only cost a lifetime of learning to manage money. But at least he could barf knowing that degenerative joint problems were being treated all across Canada. 

He could still hear the speeches being made inside, but the aching pulse in Dakota’s belly overpowered the noise. It was just him and his roiling insides. And, of courses, Blair’s soothing touch on his back. 

When the liquid at Dakota’s feet was roughly the amount that could fit in a fancy bowl, he straightened up. He wiped his mouth on his white sleeve and sighed. “I think I’m done.” 

“You sure?” Blair asked. “You missed a spot on your left shoe.” 

Dakota looked down at himself. His shoes were indeed splattered with orange vomit. Flecks of it splashed on his legs. “Look at me. I can’t believe they invited this to a gala.” Strands of dark brown hair fell in front of his eyes, no longer held in place with the product in the rest of his hair. 

Blair gave him a sad smile. “Well, I suggest we get this home,” she said, gesturing to his dishevelled self. “Do you think you’re truly done? Was it just the food that upset your stomach?” 

“I think so.” Dakota sniffled. “I hope so.” 

When they got to their car, Blair gave him back his damp jacket.

“Thanks,” he said deadpan as he took it from her hands. “I’m really sorry. You look like a…a—I can’t even describe how good you look, and I’m sweating through my clothes.” 

Blair laughed softly at him. So soft it was like falling snow. “I don’t care.” She kissed him on his cheek as she helped him into the car. “I love you, sweaty.” 

Dakota groaned at the reference. “Yeah, yeah, man door hand hook whatever. Get in the car.”

…

That should have been it. Dakota should have gone to bed, aching and annoyed, but done with vomiting. 

That was not the case. 

He woke up in a cold sweat four hours into his sleep, feeling like he ate a full-course meal earlier that night. The nausea slammed into him so hard that he made the split decision to run to the bathroom rather than wake Blair like he wanted to. He had a funny hunch that he would wake her anyway with what he was about to do. 

His knees stung from crashing down on them in front of the toilet, but he was hardly aware of that pain. His whole attention was given to the upheaval in his belly. 

He lifted the toilet seat just in time to catch the surge of sick that rushed out of his mouth. This made zero sense to Dakota. He hadn’t eaten that much during the day, yet he still let out a torrent of vomit. It burned his nose as the forceful wave came out of his nostrils. 

He sniffled and spat into the bowl, staring at the contents with disbelief. What the heck was going on with his stomach? The pain gnawed at him as if it spent the day building in strength and intensity. 

As he predicted, Blair came shuffling into the bathroom, squinting in the light at her fiancé who was drooling over the toilet. He inhaled a sharp breath before gagging and filling the bowl some more. 

She kneeled next to him, watching as his body rejected everything he fed it within the last twelve hours.

“Oh baby, you’re really sick. This is…this is bad. It can’t just be from something not sitting right. Do you have any other symptoms?” 

Dakota blinked tears out of his eyes, trying to think. But how could he think when everything was hell? “God, I don’t know. I feel like crap all around.” He tripped over his words as Blair started to walk away. “Wait, wait. W-where are you going?” 

“Relax, I’m just getting the thermometer.” 

“Oh…good. Don’t leave me.” 

Blair pouted at him. “I’m not. I just think you might have a fever.” 

With the thermometer in hand, she sat down next to him again. She put the device in his ear, waiting for the measurement. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “Still okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, just hurry.” 

“Then stop moving,” she said, holding his head still. The heat coming from his scalp made the thermometer obsolete. She could already feel the fever burning through him. When it read his temperature as 102°F, Blair was not surprised. 

She could not tell him right way because as soon as she took the thermometer out of his ear, he pitched forward, belching up a smaller gush of vomit. Blair hated the way he moaned and hugged his belly. “Aw, Kota. I think you caught a stomach bug, baby.” 

His roiling stomach agreed whole-heartedly. There was definitely a nasty little bugger worming its way through his digestive track. Pretty soon it would turn his bowels to water, but for now it made his stomach throb with nausea. 

Dakota groaned and rested his head on Blair’s shoulder. “I feel awful, Bee.” 

“I know,” she cooed, entwining her fingers in his hair. “Only thing to do is wait it out together.” 

[scp-10000]

This is a list of which Hermit is what Zodiac sign based off a post from a Hermitcraft facts blog, and some information from the fine folk at the Hermitcraft Subreddit Discord.  

Now I’m sure we’ve all seen Zodiac memes, memes about what each sign would do in what situation.  They are mostly made up, as with all things astrology, but they can still be fun to read sometimes.  Let’s have a look at some and see how they apply to Hermitcraft Members.  Note before we go in, this is just my personal opinion.  If yall think different, don’t be afraid to say so.

Right off the bat we’re starting with one that looks like the rough outline of a fanfic.

Aries- I could go either way with Tango and Stress being the first to die, but at the same time that feels way to mean.

Taurus- Okay, I can definitely see Cleo and Keralis leaving the server for like a couple days and finding out basically everyone died.

Gemini- Gem, False, and Pearl stealing the server’s briancell to find out who’s killing everyone sounds about right.  Though the killer would now have to find a way to kill False, The Queen of Hearts, Heads, and Body Parts.

Cancer- While I can’t see TFC trying to call out and get a response from a murderer, I can see one of the other three(Probably Joe) calling out the killer as a joke, and then the other two joining in to antagonize them like Phasmophobia players trying to piss off the ghost...and then all getting killed for it.

Leo- Grian and Etho I can see trying to fight a killer.  Cub and Scar might say they could, but they’d probably not get as far as the other two.

Virgo- Beef would probably try to give a dramatic speech before giving himself up to try and save the others, but this is a murderer and not Perry the Platypus, so they ain’t gonna sit patiently and wait for Beef to finnish.

Libra- I can definitely see X telling Bdubs and Ren to stay calm only for them to freak out.  It could probably also work for him telling all the living Hermits this too, with the same results.

Scorpio- Oh yeah, Wels is definitely running out that door.

Sagittarius- It’d probably take a lot of convincing or mind control to get Mumbo and Zed to just turn on their friends and help someone kill them, or not a lot at all.

Capricorn- Same reason as above.

Aquarius- I think I can go either way with xB being the one who makes it to the end.

Pisces- Impy will scream or get scared, but not at literally everything.

Next up is one based off weather they’re clean or dirty minded.  Quick reminder a fair few Hermits have made some innuendos.

Aries- Tango does have his moments.  Stress I’m not 100% sure on either way.

Taurus- You come onto my post and disrespect Papa K and Cleo like this!

Gemini- I can see False and Pearl being a bit dirty minded.  Gem, no.

Cancer- I can see TFC being clean, and Hypno and Joe toeing the line.  Doc, after the compensation joke in season 6, no, that mofo is dirty minded.

Leo- Etho and Grian I can see going either way.  Cub and Scar I see as being clean minded but accidentally making innuendos.

Virgo- Beef can go either way.

Libra- Again, you disrespect Ren by saying he is not a top tier innuendo generator.  X and Bdubs can go either way.

Scorpio- Wels could probably go either way, but be very good at hiding it if he was dirty minded.

Sagittarius-  Nope, those two made too many innuendos for me to think either of them are clean minded.  

Capricorn-  Nope, Jevin and Iskall aren’t clean bois.

Aquarius- I can see xB going either way.

Pisces- That one’s accurate.

Is actually Bill Nye- I can see them all being good, smart lab partners.

Wait what?- You dare tell me Cubfan135 with his Astrophysics Degree wouldn’t have a fucking clue what’s going on in a science class?  Those are fighting words.

I just want a good grade- Doc and Cleo are both capable of getting more than just a good grade.

“Accidentally” blows up the school- Unfortunately, this is the most accurate one based off Mumbo and Zed.  I can imagine them both being the kid in the meme below.

In short, Zodiacs aren’t accurate, but they’re funny.

[imagineimaginez]

Grammys

Tw: mentions of anxiety

Billies speech is orange

Putting on your mascara, your hands couldn't help but shake a little. Billie had invited you to an afterparty she was going to, she knew you didn’t like crowds or meeting a lot of new people at once but she wanted you there and liked to always extend the invite to you even if sometimes you did oblige. You couldn't turn down this invite because it was billies after party for the grammys and you wouldn't miss that for the world.

*incoming facetime call*

Hearing your phone vibrate you put down the mascara seeing “babyyy 🖤" pop up on the phone you were quick to answer. “Hi baby” billie says with a gleam on her face, instantly your nerves subduing a little. “Hi my love whats up?” you say putting on your last coats of mascara. “Nothing just on my way to come get you, are you ready?” “ yes ma’am” “ok well get your sexy ass downstairs cause im gonna be in there in 5 minutes. I love youuuu” “I love you more baby” you say giggling as you end the call.

Grabbing your purse and throwing your essentials in you felt the anxiety start to rise instantly. Looking in the mirror you took a big deep breath. “Y/n you’re gonna be fine, it’s billies night and you’re gonna have a great time, now get it together” you say to yourself. The little pep talk helped somewhat but you couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach. You felt your phone vibrate on your vanity text from “babyyy🖤“come down baby hurryyyyyy” turning off the lights in your apartment you headed down to her.

Billie was such a softie when it came to you. She always wanted you to feel loved and special, even on her night. Opening the lobby door you see billie standing outside the car holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers with a little smirk on her face. “Baby what the fuck, you look gorgeous.” butterflies, instant butterflies. “Thank you babe” you say, grabbing the flowers from billie and giving her a slow but loving kiss. “Congratulations my fucking grammy winner” you say against billies lips. “Um I don’t know why but that made me so honry” Billie says laughing while kissing you again. “Thank you though baby.” She says giving another quick peck.

Pulling apart, Billie opens the car door for you as you slide in, Billie shortly after you. The driver starts driving off. You and Billie felt like you were on cloud 9. The whole car ride she kept taking pictures and videos of you, she couldn’t believe how good you looked. Your dress fit in all the right places, your hair looked perfect, and you smelled amazing. Before you knew it you were at a huge mansion, you heard the music blasting from down the street and what would probably excite most, scared you but you had to push it aside, for billie.

Without realizing you must’ve be doing your anxious tick shaking your legs up and down because you felt billies warm hand on your thigh. “y/n, baby you wanna talk before we go in.” snapping out of your thoughts you turned to billie “no bills i'm fine, why?” billie looked at you with a stern face. “y/n dont lie to me baby what’s up” she says holding both of your hands in hers. You couldn’t lie to billie not even if you tried, so you turned your eyes to her beautiful blue ones that were awaiting an answer. Taking a deep breath “I’m sorry bills I don’t want you to worry about me not on your night. I just have anxiety about all the people and if I look ok, and having to talk to so many people, I'm just nervous I guess, but I’ll be ok” you quickly said while staring at your lap.

Billie grabbed your face into both her hands “My love just because its “my” night does not mean my love and care for you go away” she says tucking your hair behind your ear. “First of all you are the most beautiful girl I have ever fucking seen and you’re damn well gonna be the most beautiful woman there tonight, and you’re not going to be alone at all tonight, you’re gonna be right by my side.” I wouldn’t even be here without you so really it's our night mamas.” Wiping a small tear from your eye you felt such a relief that Billie could only give you. “You pulled her into you giving her a hug just wanting to feel close to her for a second. “What would I do without you eilish?” you say against her hair. “Honestly I dont fucking know.'' Billie says. You both started laughing. She always knew what to say and when, you loved her for that.

Getting both of yourselves together billie gets out the car opening the door for you, she grabs your hand to get out. Walking with her hand in hand billie whispers in your ear “Also don’t even worry because the way you look in that dress, I don't think we’re gonna be here too long.”

thank you so much for reading! requests are open <3

[kafka-ish]

the drunken words you spoke last night (1) | b.d.

one thing leads to another and before she knows it, y/n's longtime crush becomes a casual fuck.

word count: 2,893

warnings/included: nsfw (explicit smut -- male x female, pretty vanilla), fem!reader, angst(?), also a lot of this is written in italics cuz of flashbacks

a/n: sorry it's been so long since i've written anything!!

-

It was never supposed to end up like this. Just one quick fuck was all it was supposed to be; which lead to another one, then another one, then another one…

y/n watches as Bill scurries around the room, searching for his shirt. She’s noiseless and he doesn’t know she’s awake yet. He does a good job at being quiet, making sure not to disturb what he thinks is a sleeping y/n. The grey baseball tee he wore to her place last night turned out to be underneath her bed—how it got there was a different story. The silence is broken when Bill opens the door and is met with a large creaking sound.

Don’t look back, don’t look back, don’t look—

He regrets it immediately when he sees y/n, her back against her bedframe. She’s wide-eyed from watching him with such intent.

“Hu-hey.” Bill swallows the saliva gathering in the back of his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t nuh-know—”

“It’s fine.” y/n says her words with such ease and for a moment Bill’s jealous. He wants to know a life without speech therapy, a life without the nickname Stuttering Bill. And most of all, he wants to know a life without loving someone who won’t love you back.

“So, you’re not staying?” y/n does her best to conceal the insecurity in her voice but it’s hard. She doesn’t want to come off as needy or clingy, but she wants a response she already knows the answer to.

“I duh-didn’t want t-to wake you.” Bill shrugs as he says this. Half of it was true—he really didn’t want to wake y/n but seeing as she was already up his excuse fell flat.

“Right.” It takes everything for y/n to not roll her eyes as she replies through gritted teeth.

“So…” Bill’s left foot is digging into the carpet and his fingers find themselves intertwined together.

“So.” y/n herself is picking at loose strings from her worn-out comforter. Her eyes avert from their previous lock on his figure and she doesn’t know what to do with the lump in the back of her throat. She’s annoyed—no—furious.

It was never supposed to end up like this.

“Hey,” Bill answered the door in low-rise sweats and shirtless. “What’s u—”

He’s cut off and taken aback with a messy kiss. It’s bold, breathtaking, and smelled like vodka—nothing he’d ever expect from y/n. Once the shock had passed, he felt his eyes flutter shut and he became lax under her touch.

“I need you,” y/n mumbled helplessly in between kisses. Her fingers which had previously been confidently intertwined around his neck were now reaching for the ends of her shirt.

“W-Wait—what?” Bill’s still hazy from the blunt he smoked earlier and everything’s going so fast.

“You heard me.” Uh, not really. She pressed another kiss to his already swollen lips and the feeling of his skin on hers feels a hundred times better than what she imagined it to be. “Fuck.” Her hips press up to his, but Bill can’t revel in the delicious spark their jeans create every time her hips meet his.

The Denbrough’s front door is still open.

“y/n,” Bill spoke. He tried to say it firmly, but it came out as more of a breath than an assertion.

“Hmm?” The noises coming from her are downright pornographic, which only made Bill wonder what the rest of the night will be like.

“I have to shut the door,” he whispered. His breath tickled her neck and y/n felt her face grow hotter—if that was even possible. Reluctantly, y/n relieved Bill of her possessive grip so he could shut the door. But, immediately, he noticed he’s cold—freezing, even. But how can Bill be cold in the middle of July—Maine’s hottest month?

y/n’s quick to reassume her previous position—arms swung around his tanned neck, hips bucked up desperately to meet his.

“Wuh-we should take this somewhere more comfortable. Sh-shouldn’t we?” Bill only stuttered when he’s nervous now. It’s cute.

She pressed a quick kiss onto his jawline. If there weren’t remnants of her lipstick on his skin, he’d assume he was dreaming. “Okay,” she hummed into the spot her lips had just previously grazed over. Bill shivers.

He led the two of them up the stairs and into his room. The trip is slow. Bill’s careful to make sure y/n didn’t trip or snag her top on the railing. What a gentleman.

“Bill,” she whined.

That night, Bill decided his favorite sound was her voice calling his name. He’s always loved the sound of y/n’s voice and the way his name rolled off her tongue (“Bill, watch!” “Bill are you coming?”). But this was different. Tonight was different.

“Bill, I need you.” He turned to y/n who wore a pout as she followed Bill closely into his room. It’s pitch black but Bill doesn’t need to turn on a light to know his way around.

The back of y/n’s calves hit his bed with a light thump followed by another whimper.

“Shh,” Bill cooed into her hair…

y/n awoke that morning with her too-tight tank top and faded denim shorts replaced with one of Bill’s graphic tees that drape over her figure like a dress. She finds half of her eyeliner and lipstick-stained on Bill’s grey pillowcase and there’s an empty space next to her where Bill once lay.

“Fuck,” y/n whispered to herself. She can’t remember the events that happened last night, and the pounding in her head doesn’t make it any better. But the way the sheets around her creased and wrinkled, and the way her collarbone peaked out of Bill’s Led Zeppelin tee made her skin crawl and her stomach turn.

“Hey.”

Bill’s scratchy morning voice startled y/n. His perfect tall and slender figure slanted against the doorframe and y/n had to compose herself under his sheets the way she’s done all her life.

“Hi,” she swallowed thickly. Her breathing started to pick up along with her pulse and when did it get so hot in here?

“Do you want breakfast?” Bill made a motion towards the kitchen downstairs. “My parents aren’t home still. I guh-guess they’re still out.” Bill’s parents were always “out”.

y/n only nodded.

“Look, about last night—”

“Whatever happened last night, I can—”

“Did you mean it?” Bill cut her off, not even listening to the word vomit spilling from y/n’s splotchy lips.

“Mean what?” y/n’s ungroomed eyebrows furrowed together inquisitively because what the fuck? What on earth happened last night that could have left Bill Denbrough wondering for answers in the morning?

“Wuh-when you said that stuff about needing me.” From the flushed cheeks and timid words, y/n could tell Bill felt awkward saying to her what he’d just said.

Mortification took the form of y/n y/l/n that morning. The tiny hairs on her neck started to rise and goosebumps shot a trail down her forearms.

Bill crept forward after he didn’t receive a response. His face was only a few inches away from y/n’s. The swoosh of his I-just-woke-up hair framed his hairline like an auburn halo. To make matters worse, the morning sun shone directly on his skin, giving him a god-like glow.

“Did you?” His minty breath hit her face. Colgate.

Instead of watching his swimmingly blue eyes—swimming for answers, an indication, anything—she watched his lips. She admired how rosy they were even in the morning. She admired the curl of his cupid’s bow. She admired how soft they looked and felt as she bit the bullet and shoved herself forward to kiss him.

This kiss is different from last night. It’s daring, yet nervous; sweet, but awkward. It’s not the same as her desperate kisses from when she was wasted. This kiss is slow, thoughtful—

Bill pulled away. His breaths grew heavy, and his eyesight got hazy. The only thing he could think to do was go in for another kiss. So, he did. He’s quick to capture her bottom lip with his and cup her jawline in the palm of his hand.

Bill’s impatient now. His parents were gone, and he had a beautiful girl in his bed. What else was a teenage boy to do? In a flash of flesh, Bill’s shirt was gone.

“Do-do you want this?” He asked before he made the effort to remove any other articles of clothing and possibly embarrass himself further. Of course, Bill would be perfectly fine with getting off in the other room with just his bruised ego and bare chest to keep him company.

But y/n was fast to reply “yes” and press yet another kiss on Bill’s swollen lips. Their flesh pinned against each other’s elicited a feeling inside the two that both y/n and Bill had never felt before.

“You smell good,” Bill murmured against her shoulder. The words slipped out of his mouth like a hockey puck on ice. “I bet you taste even better.”

y/n grew flustered at the sudden statement. It wasn’t like Bill to confess something like that—at least not to her. Before another moan, like the ones from last night, could claw its way out of her throat, y/n caught Bill sliding the elastic of his grey sweats down his long legs.

He’s in his boxers. y/n could only catch glimpses of streaks of greens and yellows but didn’t get a chance to look at them for long as her attention was redirected to taking off her—Bill’s—shirt.

Although he knew it wasn’t gentlemanly, Bill could only stare at y/n’s bra-clad chest. It’s just black, simple, classic. But it hugged y/n’s figure effortlessly and contorted her shape perfectly.

“Bill?” y/n wondered aloud. His silence worried her, but she has nothing to worry about—she’s got Bill hooked like a fish.

Her meek words snapped Bill out of his trance, which allowed him to press another kiss onto her lips before he trailed down to her neck. Each graze of his lips turned her into a moaning mess. Bill wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn’t, not from when he remembered the events from last night so vividly.

His lips lingered a little longer on a certain spot just above her collarbone that made y/n’s lips part so erotic-like, Bill thought he might cum at the sight.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to release just mere seconds in of making out with his dream girl—even if it pained him.

He released his lips from her skin, leaving a bruise. Bill chuckled to himself. At least, if he can’t have her, he can pretend he does for these few moments until she leaves for home and covers his mark with her trusty concealer.

Their lips clashed again. It was hard and rough—y/n’s more dominant than she let on and before either of them realized, she was on top: legs straddled Bill’s torso, nimble fingers gripped at his skin where a shirt used to be, and her lips viscously stained his red with what was left of her lipstick from last night.

Bill’s the one to moan this time. The sound was throaty and gruff, which sent shocks straight to y/n’s core. She bucked up, causing Bill to moan again and the cycle repeats.

“Fuck, y/n, I need you.” y/n liked this side of Bill: the bolder, dominant side; the speak-your-mind side. But most of all, y/n liked Bill.

She giggled at his words. She loved the way his voice cracked with desperation and the way his fingers began to clutch her skin tighter—like she was his.

The delicate sound of y/n’s voice only made Bill want her more. The tent in his boxers grew impossibly harder—a contradicting feeling of pain and desire at the same time.

“Please.” It wasn’t long until Bill’s groans turned into pleads. The rough palms of his hands coast across her bare skin, causing goosebumps to form and hair to raise. “Please.” The fast movements of y/n’s clothed clit on his plaid-covered dick matched the fast beats of y/n’s pounding heart.

Ba-dumb. Ba-dumb. Ba-dumb.

“Plu-“

“Tell me what you want,” Bill’s voice easily sliced through y/n’s pathetic whines, “using your words,” he instructed clearly.

“I wah—” Another whine. “I want you.”

At that, the rough pad of Bill’s thumb started to massage the sharp edge of y/n’s jaw. “I need you to be more specific, baby.”

Baby? Bill’s never called her that before. Actually, Bill’s never had a girl as beautiful as y/n on top of his lap before but here he was, the tent in his boxers being barely relieved by the girl by his dreams.

“I—” The sensation of the fabric against skin felt too much to bear but she wanted more. “I want your—your cock in me. Please.” She said this through lazy lips and heavy lids.

“F-f-fuck.” Bill groaned at the vulgarity of her words. Never in his life would he expect y/n to utter something as filthy as that. But never in his life would Bill Denbrough ever expect to be offered the chance to fuck her. “Okay, baby, hold on.” His calloused palm slowly slipped its way down from the slope of her jaw to her neck where fingerprints were left and then down to the clasp of her bra.

The damn thing. As hard as his hand grasped and as hard as his fingers twisted, the clip wouldn’t budge.

“Need some help?” y/n giggled, as she noticed Bill’s pained expression. Effortlessly, she unhooked the cursed contraption. It was as effortless as how the piece of fabric once made her look so perfect. But perfection didn’t change once the garment left her skin. Bill then realized that it wasn’t the strawberry-stained lips or the dramatic smokey eye or the tempting clothing that made y/n perfect. y/n was already perfect on her own; everything else was just a prop.

Bill’s once furrowed brows softened when y/n began to take the lead. His bare back pressed further into the mattress in the same motion y/n’s chest leaned into his.

Her crotch just barely brushed his and Bill couldn’t take the ‘almost there’ feeling anymore. “I hate these,” he bit. His hand swooped down to peel off the lacy string of fabric in one harsh motion.

“This is a little unfair, isn’t it?” y/n posed. Her eyebrow raised a little the way it always did when she asked a question. Her hands were cold when they made a trail down his chest and to his boxers. “Now we’re even,” she giggled when she finally released him from his confinements.

In an instant, Bill’s erection had slapped his stomach and y/n found herself near salivating at the sight. Her thumb just barely brushed the tip, letting out a hiss from Bill.

“Baby—”

“Shh…” Before Bill could get another word out through choked moans and deep breaths, y/n led his cock to her heat. Immediately, she let out a whine at the stretch of Bill which he chuckled at. “Bill..”

“Yes?” Bill couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that he was making her feel this way. He was the one whose name she was moaning. He was the one she was fucking.

“Bill…harder…” Her moans were like a record Bill would never get tired of hearing. His right hand moved to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear before his fingers gripped her scalp while his left hand moved just below her butt, allowing him to thrust deeper.

Moans turned into whines and whines turned into screams as Bill set the pace faster and harder. Each thrust hit deeper each time, hitting a spot no boy had ever found before. “Bill, I’m—” But y/n’s words were cut off when Bill’s lips captured hers in a kiss. His hand still found itself tangled in her morning hair. His other hand still tightly gripped on her ass which would surely leave a bruise. His hips bucked up once more, leaving y/n in a moaning mess, unable to hold herself above him anymore. With shaky arms, y/n allowed herself to collapse on Bill’s chest. Their breaths mixed and their pants synced.

Tenaciously, Bill pressed a kiss upon y/n’s sweat-slicked forehead. The feeling of his lips was gentle and tickled as they dragged down to her cheekbone.

It was never supposed to end up like this, y/n could only think to herself now as she watched Bill walk out of her room and presumably out the front door. Of course, he’d be back the next night. Ever since their first drunken encounter with each other, casual sex had become second nature to y/n and Bill—like learning how to tie your shoes or riding your bike. But it was at this moment when y/n realized how she wanted more.

Hickies and torn shirts would never be enough to satisfy the aching need for something deeper; the feeling that made her stomach drop every time she caught Bill looking at her; the feeling that made her throat dry up every time she tried to speak to him outside of moans and cries; the feeling that made her heart skip a beat at the thought of him; the feeling of want—and only want—for Bill Denbrough.

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

A/N: i don’t think this is my best work at all :( but i’ll post the part 2 straight away!! didn’t know tumblr has a word limit now wtf

p.s; tell me what do you think of this fic!!

(Y/N) had begged for somewhere else to spend the Summer. She couldn’t go back to that place, not when there were too many memories that awaited her. No one seemed to listen to her, and her father continued to check something online.

“Rafe Cameron.”

“(Y/N),” she had smiled, and she thought about how gorgeous a boy could be. This man before her; with his hair messily parted and that goddamn blue eyes had her holding her breath, and she wasn’t in her usual demeanour.

“You come down here often?” Rafe asked, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) watched as he chugged on his beer, and gave her another sly smile again.

“Um, not really. This is my first summer here.”

“That’s nice,” he shrugged, “Welcome to Obx.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, liking how Obx already is. She made a mental note to tell her friends back home about this island, and most importantly; Rafe Cameron.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

(Y/N) never really accepted any boy’s invitation for a walk, because all the boys in the city never had good intentions with her. She never dated anyone, never bothered to do so.

“Sure,” she smiled, and walked alongside the dirty-blonde boy to the far end of the beach. He sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, and laughed.

“You look nervous.”

“You could be a mass murderer.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect person to spend the summer with?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, the moonlight from the sky illuminating his features. God, he really is beautiful. “I guess.”

“So would that be a problem if I killed someone before?”

(Y/N) laughed easily at the joke, bumping her arms against his. She felt a jolt from the touch, and swallowed her saliva. “No.”

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

(Y/N) had thought of that moment as nothing but a joke. A playful joke, meaning to flirt with her. The next few weeks were spent with only them two, sometimes in his house or (Y/N)’s stay. They were inseparable; always attached by the hips morning and night, and (Y/N) knew about all of his problems.

“Try it.”

“What? Coke?” She asked, bewildered. She looked down to the table, her hands fidgeting, and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up to Rafe again, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiled, pulling her by her wrist and seated her beside him. She felt the jolt again, but she had gotten better at ignoring it.

Rafe lowered his hand, a finger placed on his left nostril, and snorted the line of white powder. He grunted, throwing his head back, and after a few seconds, he gave her a smirk.

“Your turn.”

(Y/N) smiled back, reaching for the rolled up bill before lowering his head to the last line. She took a deep breath, still so shaky, and snorted the powder before she could change her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind was all over the place. She could feel her forehead getting clammy, and before she could do anything, Rafe cupped her face in his large hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he expressed, looking straight into her eyes. (Y/N) didn’t realise she was starting to cry, and stared back into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, rubbing comforting circles on her temples. (Y/N) relaxed under his touch, “Such a pretty girl.”

“I thought you’re friends with that Cameron boy,” her father suddenly said, shaking her out of her memories. (Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts, and gave her father a grimace.

“So? I don’t want to see him.”

“What happened between you two? You used to ask me to move to Obx,” her father laughed, still clicking on the mouse to the laptop.

“People change, dad,” she muttered, and made her way back to her bedroom to be alone with her thoughts.

“Rafe! You don’t have to do this,” (Y/N) gasped, her hands around her mouth. She looked around the gazebo by the lake, her eyes brightening against the beautiful fairy lights and veins decorating the railings.

“It’s your last week here,” he shrugged, helping her to her seat before sitting for himself. He pointed to the food displayed before then, “Steak. Your favourite.”

“You are amazing,” she expressed, her eyes suddenly glassy. The lake never looked so calming, and (Y/N) wished she could capture this exact moment in her head.

“Just thought you should see the other side of Rafe Cameron,” he shrugged, his lips forming into a smile. “I’m glad you came down here to Obx.”

“Me too,” she breathed, and went for the food. “I’m so glad to have met you.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, cutting his steak into small pieces before biting into one. “Didn’t you called me a mass murderer the first time we met?”

“It was a joke,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’ll still like you even if you are.”

She didn’t know the truth behind her words.

“You will?” He looked up to her, grinning. “And just like?”

“Just like. What are you playing at, Rafe?” She faked groan, putting her cutleries down and clasping her hand together. “What? You’re going to propose to me or something?”

Everything happened so fast; Rafe chuckled, awkwardly running his fingers through his fair, messing with his slicked back hair. She liked this messy hair better, but she liked anything about Rafe Cameron, messy hair or not.

“No.”

Rafe held out the tiny velvet box in his hands, and (Y/N) never saw a prettier smile than his.

“No,” she repeated, her breathing heavy. She was too shocked by this, only meaning the proposal part of her speech as a joke, and looked into his sincere eyes again.

“I’m not proposing to you,” he laughed, getting down to one knee and opening the box to a beautiful diamond ring. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, mesmerised. “I will though, in the future.”

“Oh my god, Rafe, I can’t accept this,” she gasped, watching as the diamond glinted under the bright light. “You’re too much.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he smiled, “And a proposal to ask you to become my girlfriend.”

He sucked in a breath, and (Y/N) swore her heart stopped. She never thought of herself worthy as these kind of moments, but here she was; all teary eyed, her hand against her heart to calm her crazy heartbeat.

“Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

She laughed, wiping the tears that had rolled down to her cheeks, and cupped his face into her hands. “You’re so fucking dumb. Of course I will, asshole, without this whole dinner thing. You could ask me while we’re in the swimming pool and I’ll say yes.”

Rafe laughed, melting into her hands, before taking out the ring he had saved up for (by not buying anymore coke) and asking for her permission to slide it over her ring finger.

(Y/N) nodded, holding her breath, and the diamond ring slid to her finger, and she gasped at how pretty it looked. She wondered about how much it had cost Rafe to buy the ring for her, but pushed the thought away when Rafe tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

(Y/N) laughed, “I told you you’re too fast, Rafe.”

Rafe smiled, inching closer to her, and (Y/N) just instantly stopped thinking. He was so beautiful, so angelic, and she wished she could stay at Obx forever.

“I love you, (Y/L/N).”

“Rafe,” she expressed, placing her forehead against his, “I love you too, okay?”

(Y/N) groaned, deepening her face against the soft pillow. She felt like screaming, but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She would do anything for Rafe, and the next few days after that proposal went too fast that she felt like God was being unfair to her. He made her feel so good, and no one had made her feel the way he made her feel.

She felt like she was in heaven.

Until that one, certain Friday; the day before she went back to New York.

“Rafe, please,” she cried, pulling him by shirt as he pointed the gun at the sheriff, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Rafe, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She looked at Ward, who looked afraid as well, and sucked in a breath. “You told me-”

“Shut up!” He grunted, his own fingers trembling on the trigger. “Fuck! Shut up.”

She didn’t know what to do. Sarah was looking at her for help, but she had tried her best to console him. She tried to reach for him again, to which he quickly pushed her away.

“Do that again, and I’ll kill you next.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up!” He yelled again, and before she could do anything the pulled on the trigger, and the sheriff fell to the ground with widened eyes.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) jolted from her position at the knock, and groaned when her mother came in. She scooted away, giving her some space on the bed, and laid with her face planted against the pillow again.

“You never told us about what happened with you and Rafe,” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to go to Obx for the summer?”

“I want new boyfriends.”

Her mother laughed, “Okay. Then find new boyfriends in Obx. The blonde boy who helped us carry our bags the first time we arrived there can be one.”

“JJ?”

“He’s always around the island too, helping people for money,” she shrugged, “That’s a good kid. Doing honest work for honest money.”

“I’m not actually looking for a boyfriend, mom,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well,” she stood up, “You better be looking for one. We’re spending the summer in Obx, and that’s final.”

. . .

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes against the glowing sunlight of North Carolina, her body screaming with pain from hours of sitting in the same position. She heard the pilot said something, her mind still woozy from only being caffeinated, and placed her head against the seat again.

“It’s a bright day, like it’s waiting for us,” her mother exclaimed, fixing her sunglasses before walking down the stairs to the road. (Y/N) groaned, still so tired, and she wished for nothing but to stay in her room with Netflix to watch.

“Hey, Mr (Y/L/N),” JJ smiled, and (Y/N) noticed the fake exterior he was trying to portray. “Come down here for another summer again?”

Her mother, who admired JJ’s ‘honest work’ gushed out to beside him, asking about his school and his works. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, not interested in making any new conversation, and she looked back at the area where the incident took place.

JJ caught her looking, and when her parents and the little brother had entered the car, he went to her to help her with her bags.

He crouched down, wrapping his fingers around the handle, and quickly whispered. “You saw, right?”

“Huh?”

“What Rafe did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and went into the car before he could say anything else.

God. Just how she expected her first moments after arriving in Obx.

“Hey! Welcome back!”

“You called the Camerons?” She groaned, looking at her father for some kind of useless explanation. After the brief conversation with JJ, she wanted nothing that could remind her of Rafe and hoped she could stay in her room for the whole 2 months.

“(Y/N), wait-”

She barged into her room for 2 months, noticing the old posters she had put up the year before, and thought about how happy she was at that time. She felt nothing now, and she couldn’t wait until the end of summer.

“Fuck!” She yelled, her head feeling so light, and placed herself before the naked bed. She sighed, trying to calm herself down, and thought of the ways to ignore the certain boy a few miles away.

Maybe he’s in college.

Maybe he’s going to leave her alone.

Maybe he has found someone new.

She felt a tug at the thought of the last sentence, and she couldn’t explain why she would even be devastated over him finding a new girl. That’s good, she guessed, at least she doesn’t have to think about staying away from him again.

Maybe she should spend her time with the pogues; JJ’s friends. They looked fun to hang with.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“I’m not in the mood,” she grunted, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “What do you want?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?” She huffed, “We just arrived. Shouldn’t you clean your room or something?”

“Okay. But can you bring me to the beach after I’m done?”

“I’ll think about it,” she expressed, but after a few hours of sweeping and mopping the dusty room, placing the new bedsheet over the mattress and taking down her old posters, all she wanted to do was get out for some fresh air. She had slept most of her time in the plane so she wasn’t feeling like taking a nap at all, and she guessed it would be appropriate to bring her little brother to the beach.

She walked to her room, her hands around her waist. “Hey, you’re- where the fuck did you get that?”

“What?” He asked, raising the frame with his sister’s arms around Rafe, smiling happily at the camera. “This? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Throw that away!” she yelled, “I said throw that away!”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, throwing the frame into the big plastic bag before dusting the dust off of him. “Can we go to the beach now?”

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She huffed, watching as he changed into his swimming shorts, “And we’ve been cleaning for 3 hours. You’re not half done yet.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door. “Just wait for me downstairs.”

The ride to the beach didn’t take long, and (Y/N) actually felt peaceful riding the bicycle and letting the breeze hit her square on the face. She had laughed at a stupid joke by her little brother, and she thought about how she could do this for the next 2 months.

“I wanna learn how to surf,” he said, letting the water soaked his feet and dumped his feet into the sand. “Do you?”

“You’ll forget how to when we’re back in New York,” she mumbled, gazing at the sky, “Also your body’s too weak to fight the waves.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, “What are you going to do for the summer, (Y/N)? Are you going to be with that-”

“No,” she quickly said, curling her toes at the feeling of the water soaking her feet. “I’m not going to be with anyone.”

“Isn’t that your friend?”

“Ha-ha, nice joke,” she laughed falsely, still closing her eyes against the bright sky. “Who’s the friend? Is it Rafe?”

“Hey.”

(Y/N) sat up straight, her heart beating wildly, and what greeted her sight sent shivers down to her spine, and she quickly clutched onto her little brother’s wrist before pulling him away.

“Ow! What are you doing? (Y/N), let me go!” Lucas groaned, looking back at the boy who wanted nothing but to talk to his sister. “Rafe, help!”

“Shut up, you bitch,” she groaned, still pulling on his wrist. She knew about the possibility of leaving a claw mark on his skin, but she wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“Help me, Rafe! She’s going to kill me!”

“I said shut up!” She yelled, her chest heaving now, and she didn’t care about her hair that was hanging loosely from her hairclaw.

She didn’t know if Rafe was chasing after her, and she didn’t dare to look back.

“Ride your bike home,” she fumbled with the handle, “Now. Please, now!”

“Okay,” Lucas groaned, “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Rafe.”

“Go!” She yelled, already set to cycle back home, with her clothes all wet and sticking against her skin. She couldn’t breathe, and she hated the sight of him. She cycled back home hurriedly, tears streaming down her face, and she wished she had stayed home.

The night after the day on the beach she didn’t bother to come down for dinner, only staying in her room and browsing through Netflix. She didn’t feel like doing anything, and she hated how quick her mood was ruined.

She didn’t think about seeing him that quickly, especially after just arriving on the island that morning. This was exactly the problem; she couldn’t face him, not after what he did, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him to the authorities. She was pushing him away, but at the same time protecting him.

The next morning, she felt shittier than ever. Being in the small island, where everywhere she goes could remind her back to Rafe, she decided to stay in bed and browse through more movies, only going downstairs for a glass of water before going back to her room. She was glad Lucas and her parents were enjoying most of their time here in Obx, and she would do the same if it weren’t for what happened last year.

She was scared. She was mad at herself too, because she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about what she saw. As much as she hated him now, a part of her still loved him.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“No, no, baby, please-”

“Don’t call me baby, I swear to fucking god!” She yelled again, getting into the car and watched as Rafe desperately banged against the car window, pleading for her to hear him.

“It’s not what you think-”

(Y/N) cried, her head painful, and slowly slid the diamond ring from her finger before lowering the window by a slit and throwing it outside. Rafe watched the ring roll away but didn’t care to fetch it, only trying to speak to her through the tiny slit.

“I had to do it, please,” he begged, “Please. Baby. I can’t do this-”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and sped away.

That was the last time she had ever seen Rafe, and she knew he tried to contact her with different phone numbers every day, but she had blocked every single number. The trouble stopped after a while, and (Y/N) realised how much she had been missing him.

Who could she confront about this?

Who could she tell?

She couldn’t. She loved him too much.

A week after settling in their summer home, (Y/N) was tired of all the screaming and nudging by her mother for her to get out of the house, and ‘get a life’. She didn’t feel like having a whole summer of just hanging out at the beach, not when the last time she had went there and bumped onto Rafe, so she decided to keep her distance off Figure 8 and made her way to the other side of the island.

She had only been there twice with Rafe before, to pick up something at Barry’s (he told her not to worry about it), so she never really quite get used to the road around here.

She stopped the jeep by the side of the road, glancing at the signboard and the road behind her. Did she go too far? Or was this just the wrong way?

She rested her back against the car door, already tired, and decided to just wait until she was good enough to drive home.

It was half an hour later when she heard the roaring of a motorcycle, and she quickly got to her feet, her chest suddenly heaving.

“Yo? You’re okay?”

“Huh?” She fixed her hair, “Um- yeah. Just resting.”

JJ nodded, “You should turn off your engine. You don’t want to-”

Just right on cue, the engine stopped completely and (Y/N) groaned, getting into the car to turn the engine again. It made some noise, until silence fell between them.

“That’s what I’m saying,” JJ said, “Where are you heading to?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” she sighed, getting out of the jeep and shutting the door angrily. Good. Just like how she wanted her day to be.

“Let me send you back home,” he offered, pointing to the black ride behind the jeep. She shook her head, her mouth forming into a tight smile.

“That’s alright, I can-”

“Walk back home? Come on, you’re far from Figure 8, and you’re 50 minutes away from The Cut on foot.”

She didn’t exactly wish for this, but it would help.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, helping her up to the motorcycle and placing her hands on his shoulders for some balance.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before?” JJ asked, half-amused. “No, no, because you look nervous.”

“I’ve just never ridden a bike with you driving,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you send me to the taxi stop or anything?”

“Really? Why can’t I just drive you home?”

She groaned, “Just send me to the taxi port, Maybank.”

He laughed, putting his helmet on, and (Y/N) placed her hands against her ears at the loud sound of the engine.

(Y/N) hate to admit it; but the ride to The Cut was the most thrilling thing that she had ever felt in months. She felt a smile slowly forming onto her face, and JJ swore he could see it too from the side mirror, and when they finally stopped at the taxi port, she was so happy she felt like buying a bike for herself.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Minus one point for no helmet.”

“I didn’t know I would see you laying by the side of the road,” he rolled his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone. “But where’s the fun when you’re all safe?”

She hummed in response, “I’ll see you around then.”

“So you’re just going to get an expensive ride back to Figure 8? Why wouldn’t you let me send you off?”

She knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was scared of Rafe seeing her on JJ’s bike, knowing that he’s not on good terms with the pogues, and the last thing she had ever wanted was to make him feel like he was being replaced.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much, JJ,” she sighed. “Besides, you can see me for the next 2 months everyday if that’s what you want.”

He grinned, “Good offer. Will think about that soon.”

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side before making a move to reach for her phone. JJ watched as she filled in her passcode, went straight to Contacts, and handed him the phone.

“What’s this?”

“Oh god, you’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Put in your McDonald’s order.”

JJ laughed again, his fingers sliding over her phone screen easily to fill in his number, and he handed her the phone back after saving his name as ‘Handsome pogue’.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N) smiled, this time sincerely, and she thought about the possibility of spending her summer in The Cut with JJ where she knew there would be no troubles awaiting her.

It was safe to say that JJ and (Y/N) were inseparable after spending so much time together the next few weeks. Everywhere JJ goes, (Y/N) would be there with him, either by helping him with his work in the restaurant or running for groceries to deliver with him. She liked it with him; he took her mind off Rafe, and that was everything that she needed.

JJ knew about the girl’s relationship with Rafe last year, but he was careful not to cross the invisible line. He was gentle with her, always studying her reactions at certain places (he was sure Rafe had taken her to those places before) and in return, she knew everything about him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she bit her lips, letting the water soaked her jeans as they laid on the sand, gazing at the view. She felt sorry for the blonde boy after knowing the truth about his father, and wished she could help him in any way.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’m bringing you to meet my friends. Would you like that?”

“Your friends?” She raised her brows, “Like Kiera and Pope?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

(Y/N) thoughts went back to the many times Rafe had told her about the pogues, but she always saw them as a tight group of friends who always had each other’s backs. She never had that kind of friendship before, especially living in New York where almost everyone is fake, and sometimes wished she could have something like that.

“Okay, yeah,” she nodded, “Would they like me?”

“You’re kidding? You’re amazing!” JJ gushed out, throwing his arms onto the air before slapping the water, resulting in a splash across her face.

She gasped, “Fuck, you’re fucking dead.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it-”

The conversation turned into a water fight, their screams filling the air and attracting everyone’s attention, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment, with JJ, and she wished she could do this forever.

“Stop it!” JJ laughed, pushing her down to the sand before pinning her arms on top of her head. He watched as her chest heaved, a smile playing on her lips.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

(Y/N) pulled him into a kiss, her fingers wrapping themselves around his jawline and allowing the water to completely wet their whole body. JJ softened into the kiss, still so shocked, but he never felt better than ever.

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling. “You’re red in the face, JJ.”

“Huh?” He smiled, and quickly pulled her up with him. “Let’s go to the Chateau. Get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not meeting your friends looking like this, J,” she rolled her eyes, pushing him away slightly. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss against her forehead that left her all breathless.

“Why not? You’re still pretty.”

She made a face, but let her body be pulled away by JJ to his bike. She was nervous, of course, to see his friends, but she decided it was time anyways.

If she was to date JJ, then she would have to meet his friends and talk to them eventually.

When (Y/N) first entered the chateau, she didn’t know what to expect. Pope and Kiera were friendly to her, but she could feel the strange vibe between her and Kie, but they were both trying to be polite not to mention anything.

(Y/N) knew there was somebody missing from the group, but she didn’t dare mention it to anyone. JJ had hinted about this to her before, something about John B getting convicted, but she had tried her best to stray away from the topic.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Kie smiled, clasping her hands together and laying her back against the chair. She watched as JJ whispered something to (Y/N), feeling her heart tightened when she laughed, and shook her head. Kie would never let anyone like her trouble her.

“JJ, truth or dare,” Kie said, crossing her arms. Her question was directed to JJ, but she watching (Y/N) intently.

“Dare.”

“Come on, we’re short of one person who could think of the best dares,” she said, and (Y/N) realised the piercing tone and attention towards her. She sucked in a breath, not sure if she was just stating or directing the statement to her in a satirical manner.

“Okay, truth,” JJ rolled his eyes.

“Do you miss John B?”

“Kie-” Pope groaned, “Not the time.”

(Y/N) watched as he glanced at her, but quickly pulled away when he realised she was staring at him too.

“Okay, since you guys wanna be such assholes,” Kie sat up straighter. “(Y/N), truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Of course you’re playing,” Kie laughed, “You’re fucking with JJ now right? You gotta show-”

“Shit, Kie, what’s your problem?” JJ sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not your friend!” She suddenly exclaimed, “She fucking saw Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin but decided to keep her stupid mouth shut because-”

“Stop it!” JJ yelled, pushing her against the seat. “Kie! Not right now!”

“What do you mean not right now?” (Y/N) asked, disbelief lacing in her tone. What was even happening? She was having the best time of her life a few hours ago at the beach, and now this?

“Oh, did your boyfriend not tell you?” Kie laughed. “It’s all an act for you to confess to him that you saw Rafe kill Sheriff Peterkin. Don’t fucking act dumb with me, (Y/N), you saw, and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gritted her teeth, “I never saw him kill anyone.”

“Bullshit!”

“Kie!” JJ yelled, using all of his power to hold off the struggling girl. He motioned for Pope to take over and tried to reach (Y/N), only for her to walk straight towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, I don’t mean it-” he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before pulling her close. “I don’t-”

“You betrayed me,” she said. “Are you that stupid? So you planned about helping me to the taxi stop so that I can confess whatever it is about Rafe? Is that your fucking plan?”

“No, oh my god, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck! I know I can never trust you guys,” she hissed, pulling her hand away before walking towards the door. She groaned again when she realised the lack of a vehicle to drive home, but she rather walk back home than be in the same distance as JJ or Kie or anyone else.

She walked alone all the way to the main part of town so that she could hire a cab, and just to make her day any better; the rain suddenly decided it was time to cool the island, and (Y/N) was left to soak.

She put her arms around her, shivering slightly, looking back at her previous way and wondering how much time she had spent walking from the Chateau. If only she had driven all the way from Figure 8 to The Cut, she wouldn’t have had to waste her time walking mindlessly.

A few minutes after, she saw a car pulling up beside her. She decided to ignore the black vehicle in hope for whoever it is to finally give up.

“Get in, (Y/N).”

Part #2

[pettygangfriend]

Earn me 2/2

Pairing: Rio x reader. Part one here

Requested by: @appropriate-writers-name sorry it took so long to post the second part, but as you can see it’s pretty long, lol. I hope this was somewhat like what you had in mind💞

Warnings: none, may find some curse words.

Word count: 1509 (Im so sorry, lmao.)

“Either way, my world doesn’t revolve around no man. Remember that.”

The last thing you said to Rio before parting. It was also the last time you had spoken to him, or even heard from him. If you were being honest with yourself, it really did sting. But after a week of sitting around, hoping for a text or a phone call, you decided it was time. It was time to try something new, or, someone new.

Which is exactly how you ended up in your position, right now. Sitting at a tiny table at a bar/restaurant thingy you’ve never been to, with a man you’ve never seen before.

“So what do you do for a living, anyway?” You ask the guy in front of you, trying to make some small talk.

He wasn’t really the smoothest talker- scratch that, he wasn’t much of a talker at all. But as you were only 15 minutes in, you’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I make and sell t-shirts.” He didn’t even bother to look at you, being too busy slurping away at his spaghetti.

“Oh thats nice!” You answer, trying to sound somewhat interested. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s not, but it pays the bills. Actually, it doesn’t really, but at least it kills some time”.

You just stare at him with the most confused look. What the fuck does that even mean?

You’re so busy being weirded out, and making a mental note of asking god what you did to deserve this, that you almost didn’t notice a familiar face entering the place, taking a seat at the bar. Rio. His eyes fall on the guy in front of you, looking him up and down, smirking.

A million different emotions and thoughts you had managed to push away, came flooding back, immediately. You do your best to ignore his presence, but his burning eyes on you making it hard to. So after a good 3 minutes of pretending to listen to the pasta eating weirdo in front of you, you decide to find out what the hell Rio’s doing here.

“Please excuse me for a second while I go use the bathroom” is all you say, before getting up from your seat, your eyes catching Rio’s curious ones.

Once you enter the bathroom, it doesn’t take long before he enters shortly after. He locks the door behind him, and turns around to face you. You just stand there, crossing your arms. You sure as hell wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying the first word. I guess that’s one thing you guys had in common. Pettiness.

“So first you’re giving me your little speech about needing more, and what not, and now you’re getting it on with some stranger?” He asks you, taking a step closer towards you. “Doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

Letting out a scoff, you bring yourself even closer to him. “When someone ghosts you for a week long, you it does make sense.”

“I had thing’s to do. I’m a busy guy, you know”

“Not busy enough, if you’re out here lurking around on my date”

Apparently you had said something funny, as Rio throws his head back laughing.

“Date? Come on, ma. You know you deserve better than-“ he points around him, the bathroom looking like a scene from a bad movie. “Better than this.”

“What I deserve is someone who’s willing to make an effort, even if it’s this” you copy his movements, pointing at your surroundings.

Alright, that was probably a lie, you did deserve more than this shithole. But you weren’t lying about someone making the effort to go out.

“And that someone is that guy? The one with the spaghetti stain on his shirt?” He says, sticking his hands inside his pockets.

“Well, I don’t see it being you, either. So why don’t you just leave this place, sure you got some more important things to do”

He holds your angry stare for a moment, nodding his head slowly.

“Grab your stuff, we’re leaving this dump” is all he says before wanting to turn around, but you’re quick to pull him back by his arm.

“What do you mean ‘we’re leaving’?!” You whisper yell at him, absolutely dumbfounded.

“What part don’t you get? You wanted someone to take you out, so I’m going to take you out.” He tells you, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

A part of you wants to grab your coat and bolt out of there with Rio, but the other part needed a little more convincing. You couldn’t just leave the other guy behind, right?

“Are you crazy? I can’t just leave him!”

"You really thought that was going somewhere?"

"Yes! He was cute.. in a way" making Rio raise an eyebrow. "Okay maybe not cute, but he was nice!"

“Well either you’re gonna tell him, or I will. Or both of us, that’s cool with me too” he says, already smirking at the look on your face. You hate giving in right now, but at this point you would do anything to get out of this ‘date’.

“Fine. Let’s go”.

After a -not very sincere- apology, you feel like you have moved from one awkward date in a dump, to another awkward one in a fancier place. Honestly, you couldn’t even call this a date. It was more like you shooting Rio angry glares, while he gave short answers to your hundreds of questions.

“So why did you take a whole week to decide on wanting to take me out?”

“Something came up, so I had to go take care of some business out of town.”

“What business?” “Nothing that concerns you”

“Why did you decide you wanted to go out with me, all of a sudden?” “I had time to think.”

“Think about what?” “You and me. Us.”

You let out a deep sigh, his short answers starting to make you wish you hadn’t come with him at all.

“You know what, maybe this was a bad idea. I should just go-” you say, starting to get up from the chair, but Rio takes a hold or your wrist, before moving his hand down to hold yours.

“Don’t.” You look at his face, only to find his usual cold stare, now replaced by a more insecure one. You sit back down, waiting for him to continue, as he’s still holding your hand.

“Look, I don’t really know how to do all this” he starts, referring to the whole ordeal of two people sitting together romantically. Something that was the most normal thing in your mind, yet not in his.

“I’m know how to boss people around, I know how to make money, stay on my game. It’s what I’m used to, it’s what im good at. I’m not used to a ‘normal relationship’, and all the things that come with it. It’s not something that fits into my kind of life”

“If it doesn’t fit into your kind of life, then what am I doing here?” You ask him, already preparing yourself for the disappointment.

Rio looks down at your intertwined hands for a second, giving it a soft squeeze, before pulling your hand more towards him.

“Because when you’re with me, I feel like I can be myself, you know? Like I can finally breath, after the crazy ass day I had. But when you’re not, I feel like there’s something missing, like I need-” Rio thinks for a second, trying to find the right word. And he did. “More.”

All you can do is stare at him, taking in all the words pouring out of his mouth. A warm feeling forms in your stomach, knowing that all this time, he felt the same way. He just didn’t know how to express himself.

“And after I realized that, I tried to figure out how to tell you. You were right about me taking too long, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want-“

“I do.” You’re quick to cut him off. “I’m just happy you came to me. And we don’t have to jump in the deep end, let’s just take it slow. That way, we can both get used to new things” you tell him, sending him a smile, which he happily returns.

“I’d like that, mama.”

The both of you let out a sigh of relieve, finally being able to make things right. This wasn’t going to be easy, but that didn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re on the same page, entering a whole new chapter.

After a nice dinner, where you guys had lots of time to talk about regual things for once, he had decided to take you home.

“So,” he says, making you look over at him. “Does this mean I have to meet your parents?”

You look at him, wondering if this man is actually being serious right now. So much for taking it slow.

“Oh baby, you ain’t ready for all that”

If you’d like to be added to my Rio taglist, please let me know! ✨

@appropriate-writers-name

@gemini0410

@sesamepancakes @vicmackeybullshxt

@chrmdnbeautiful

@thickemadame

@isisafrofairy

@stitchesbystults

[romioneficfest]

Saying the Words

Title: Saying The Words Prompt/Day: The Burrow's Living Room (Day 03) Tumblr name:  Rating: PG-13 Brief summary: Ron works up the courage to tell Hermione something important. Then he has to do it again. Any possible triggering/warning tags: Curse words

*****************************

Exhaustion had left them nearly dead on their feet, the adrenaline rush of battle long gone, leaving two weary teenagers in its wake. Hand-in-hand, Ron and Hermione shuffled up the stairs and collapsed into his bed in Gryffindor tower, unwilling to separate even for a moment.

His arm wrapped around her protectively, her head rested on his chest, tucked perfectly under his chin as they escaped into a cocoon of safety. They had lived. They had a future, hopefully together.

Ron stared up at the ceiling of his four poster, building up his courage while cradling her small body to him. Suddenly energized, he couldn't contain himself any longer and the words started spilling out of him at a breathless pace. Words he'd wanted to say to her for years. How much she meant to him, how much he admired her, and how long he'd held back from revealing his true feelings.

How much he loved her.

Never in his life had he been so eloquent and passionate, his voice low in the empty room. He'd practiced the speech in his head a thousand times, but it came out even better than expected. His maturity and the growth he'd made were on full display, spurred on by wanting to be better. Both for himself and for her.

He finally stopped, his chest pounding. He felt as light as feather, the burden of years of hidden feelings finally off his chest. He awaited her response, but all that came was a snore.

She clearly hadn't heard a word and must have fallen asleep almost instantly, surrounded by his warmth. They had been through a lot, after all.

"Bloody buggering fuck," he whispered under his breath.

He silently cursed a few more times and closed his eyes, groaning despondently under his breath as the deep tiredness and disappointment claimed him.

He'd have to confess his feelings one more time—when she was actually awake to hear them.

~*~

The next morning, everything changed. The somber mood around the castle put a hold on any romance, the weight of everything that had happened, the mourning and loss, took priority.

The next few days were split between Hogwarts and The Burrow. Everyone was suffering, not only from Fred's death, but those of their friends and schoolmates. They threw themselves into work in both locales, the only viable way they had not to sink into their collective sadness.

Mrs. Weasley insisted that the usual sleeping arrangements remained, and no one was in the mood to challenge the grieving mother, no matter how old-fashioned it seemed. They all accepted it, even Ron, who was aching to spend more time with Hermione so they could support each other through this difficult time.

Despite that, there were rare moments where they had a minute or two alone. Just as Ron was about to break into his speech again and tell Hermione everything he felt, they would get interrupted.

First it just seemed like bad luck, but every time it happened, Ron's frustrations increased. Whether it was Neville or McGonagall asking for their help with another task, or one of his siblings barging in at the exact wrong moment, it seemed like fate was working against him. Ron knew Hermione would want to retrieve her parents soon, and he needed to tell her before then. He desperately wanted to go with her, knowing she'd need his support.

After missing yet another a chance to tell her, when Ginny unceremoniously burst through the door of his Dad's shed to let them know breakfast was ready—stopping only to waggle her eyebrows at him as she dragged Hermione away to help her set the table—Ron's frustrations reached its peak. He would have to deal with his nosy family first.

~*~

With another long day of rebuilding Hogwarts over, the family Flooed into The Burrow's living room late in the evening, one-by-one dropping into whatever seating was available. Arthur and Molly bade their children good night and went straight upstairs.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked as she flopped her head onto Harry's shoulder, stifling a yawn.

"She's still helping Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing." Ron replied. "You can go to sleep if you want, Ginny. I'm sure she'll be back late, so I'll wait up for her."

"Can't sleep without a good night kiss?" George teased innocently, causing his siblings to snigger, easing the tension of the long, tough day.

Ron rounded on his family. "I haven't had a second of privacy with her, thanks to all of you." He stopped to run a hand through his hair. "Are you purposely trying to mess this up for me?"

"No, but it is rather funny. Besides, we know why you want some private time," Charlie responded, making a kissing face.

Ron sputtered, his ears turning red with fury, his frustrations from the morning returning and boiling over. "It isn't like that."

Percy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's perfectly fine, Ron. We were all young once."

Ron clenched his fists. "IT. IS. NOT. LIKE. THAT."

"Then what is it?" Ginny asked.

"I WANT TO TELL HERMIONE I'M IN LOVE WITH HER!"

He hadn't heard the whoosh of the Floo behind him during his outburst, but Hermione's squeaked gasp was unmistakable in the dead silent room.

Ron was a statue, unwilling to turn around and make things even more awkward, certain that he'd said far too much. That he'd ruined things with his effing feelings. His siblings stared at him sympathetically, as if they weren't to blame for the whole debacle.

Arthur suddenly cleared his throat from the landing of the stairs. "Upstairs to bed, you lot. Give your brother some privacy."

Fleur stopped to give him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, before grabbing Bill's hand. Harry gave him a shrug and Ginny had a huge grin on her face as Ron watched them all ascend, leaving him and Hermione alone.

Ron took a deep breath and steeled himself, before turning around to face her. Even though she looked completely knackered, she was the most beautiful girl in the world to him.

"Hi."

"Hi," she replied.

"So, er, you heard that."

"Yes." Hermione's eyes searched his, her voice low. "Did you mean it?"

He stared back, trying to get any kind of indication of what she was thinking or feeling. She seemed frozen, but her eyes betrayed her vulnerability as they teared up. He just wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let go.

"I, um, yeah. I did mean it. That wasn't how I wanted to tell you, but I meant it. I had a whole speech prepared and everything."

"You did?"

He nodded slowly, still unsure of her reaction to such a big step. "I said it the night after the battle, but you fell asleep and didn't hear a word of it."

Before he could react, Hermione was in his arms, kissing every inch of his face.

"I love you, Ron. I love you," she kept repeating. So caught up in their embrace, they failed to register the shouts and catcalls from the now packed landing.

She gripped him fiercely as he hugged her to him, his face buried in her bushy hair as he sported a giant smile on his face.

"Alright, show's over."

Bill steered the family back up the stairs, leaving them in silence.

Ron couldn't help but whisper in Hermione's ear. "Do you think I'll ever get to snog you without an audience?"

"Now seems as good a time as any."

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

[neon-junkie]

Vanity is a Sin - Chpt.1

Summary: The last person you expected to fall for is that pretentious man, Javier Escuella, but maybe you're not so different from him after all?

Pairing: f!Reader x Javier Escuella

Word Count: 2709

Rating: SFW

Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Arguments, Bickering, Denial of feelings, Reader has a lot of self-doubts.

Notes: I’ve wanted to write a Javier multi-chapter fic for aaaages, but wanted to do something different for it. So, enemies to lovers it is, my fave trope hehe, but we don’t see much of Javiers negative side, so let’s explore that :0

Next Chapter

It's another chilly day at Horseshoe Overlook. Despite your occasional shiver and constant goosebumps, you're thankful that you're still not stuck in Colter, but that still doesn't mean you can't wish to be somewhere warmer. It seems no matter how many layers you put on, you can't quite get warm, and you question how other gang members are walking around in their summer attire, especially Arthur.

You shiver again and accidentally manage to prick your finger with the needle you're using to sew somebody's patchy pants. "Fuck sake," you mutter under your breath, looking at your finger to inspect the damage. It's nothing, and you know it's nothing, but you're in a grumpy mood, so everything feels tenfold, especially the sting to your fingertip.

You sigh, looking up at the sky, questioning why whatever being that lives up there continues to rain on your parade. It's not just you that's in a bad mood, the whole camp seems off, but Dutch continues to attempt giving his many uplifting speeches whilst he poses in his tent with a cigar in hand, not lifting a finger to do even some basic camp chores.

He's doing the same now, and your eyes gaze over him as you stop staring at the sky. There he is, the man himself, the big boss, his voice cracking every so often; that always brings a smile to your face. Your eyes follow around the rest of the camp: Hosea is the only one stood listening to him. Molly's on the other side of her tent staring into her pocket mirror because for some reason, she no longer has to pull her weight. Bill is still asleep. Mary-Beth and Tilly are beside you, still sewing away. The O'Driscoll is still tied to the tree. Strauss is... doing whatever he does. And there's Javier, gussying himself up in Arthurs mirror, no surprise there.

You'll never understand how these boys get away with doing the bare minimum, whilst yourself and the other women are the only thing keeping this camp together. Everybody knows that if the women decided to up and leave in the night, the men would end up setting the camp on fire, probably attempting to cook their own dinner... no offence to Pearson. There's a fair few, such as Arthur and Hosea, who are able to survive on their own, but you've seen Arthur attempt to do tedious jobs before and just like you, he pricks his fingers every time he sews. At least Hosea has an excuse, being in his grey years, his bones not able to move as they used to, but he makes up for it in other ways.

But Javier? What does he do? Apart from prance around the camp in his designer crocodile boots, spending an hour shaving his moustache every morning... why does he even shave his moustache like that? You asked him once, and he replied "It rubs off from all the friction." Sure, Javier, because you're obviously a very wanted man.

Unfortunately, Mary-Beth and Tilly take quite a liking to him. They've confessed what you would view as sins before, saying they both have a soft spot for the man, to which you scoffed then laughed, and ended up choking from laughing too hard.

"Why are you laughing? I don't see why you two don't get along? He's real sweet and..." Mary-Beth had begun droning on, and you eventually interrupted her with a "Where do I start?"

Needless to say, neither of them agreed with any of your opinions of Javier, apart from him not pulling his weight as much as he makes out to. But oh, he plays guitar, so that means he doesn't have to do any chores because he blares out his music all hours of the night. You've told him to quit playing so you can sleep many times, seeing as your tent is right by the campfire, to which he always glares at you and plays louder. He once even had the audacity to wake Uncle up and begin shouting Ring-A-Dang-Do.

You took your revenge by waking up early and pouring water in his boots. He knew it was you the second he put them on, sighing and glaring at you, but not being confrontational for once. At least he started putting a curfew on his music after that.

You've been manifesting in your thoughts for a while now, not realizing your name is being called out. "Huh?" you almost yelp as somebody taps your shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Tilly asks. "You've been staring into the distance again, didn't even hear us callin' your name."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking," you explain as you turn your attention to them.

"About what?" Mary-Beth questions.

"Nothing that's worth my time."

"Oh, boys?" Tilly questions, making all three of you laugh.

"Unfortunately."

"Well, Mary-Beth and I are all finished here. We're gonna make ourselves look decent and head into town, you coming?"

"Yeah. Let me finish up this, and I'll meet you by the wagon," you reply.

"Alright."

The pair excuse themselves, heading over to their tents to begin looking 'presentable', even though you would happily argue with them about that. They always look incredible, flawless yet effortless, whereas you constantly feel like a drowned rat...

You watch as they wander off, saying hello to Javier, who's still stood in front of Arthurs mirror. He's not even having a shave, he's just been stood there checking himself out for the last ten minutes, or however long it's been. Your brows furrow and you force yourself to tilt your head down, focusing on your final stretch of sewing, eventually finishing up, so you can put them back on the laundry pile and begin getting ready for your day out.

Going into town with your girl friends is always relaxing, something to get you out of camp, when you're not trailing in and out on your own accord. Yes, you know damn-well how to shoot a gun, along with all your other basic survival skills like hunting and fishing. Dutch was reluctant to take you on heists at first, calling you "another Karen, a woman who wants to get her hands dirty when she's needed here."

Dutch wasn't expecting you to put your money where your mouth is, trailing back into camp a few days later with more than enough cash to keep the camp happy. Only that was somewhat of a waste of time now you look back on it, your share being lost somewhere in Blackwater, along with the rest of the camps hard work and progress. Back to square one, yet again...

The sound of a thud startles you, looking over your shoulder to see that the final crate has been loaded into the wagon. The shop helper gives you a wave, and you beckon him over to tip him; he pours out his thanks before going back inside.

"Back to camp?" you question as you turn your focus to Mary-Beth and Tilly, who nod in agreement.

With a flick of the reigns, the three of you begin leaving Valentine, only popping into town to grab a few camp supplies and treats for yourselves. You've fancied a new outfit for a while, and you're excited to try it on later, maybe make yourself look nice so you can... sit by the campfire...

What else is there to enjoy in camp?

The path you're following leads you straight back to Horseshoe Overlook, and you warn the girls of the bump before crossing over the train tracks. A familiar figure can be seen in the distance, and as they approach, you realize it's Arthur on his new mount. He pulls up beside you as you stop the wagon, tipping his hat to the three of you.

"Where are you going?" you question.

"Just headin' into town. I didn't know you girls had just been there," Arthur explains.

"We only went to pick up supplies. What are you going for?" Tilly questions.

"Javier and Charles wanted to meet me at the Saloon, said I'd drop by this afternoon. They must already be there."

"You should get going then, you know what Javier is like," you complain, the words slipping from your mouth.

Arthur laughs at your statement. "You're right," he agrees. "But you two will learn to get along one day, you've gotta if you're gonna be in the same camp together."

"Arthur, there are plenty of camp members that don't get along. You and Micah, for instance?"

"...Yeah, you're right," Arthur hums in frustration. "Forget I said that then... Well, I best be going."

"See you later," the three of you reply.

Arthur gives another little nod and taps his spurs, heading into town, whilst you whip your reigns again and begin your return to camp. 

 By the time you arrive, it's almost sundown, and your evening is spent unloading the wagon and scoffing down your dinner. The night is free to do as you please, so just like you told yourself earlier, you get changed into your new clothes and make yourself look presentable, taking a seat at the campfire with the others and joining in on their story telling.

The evening is going well, relaxing and peaceful for once, even with Uncles banjo playing. All until the sound of heavy hooves come thudding back into camp; you turn to see a handful of the gang members returning from their night in town, only they don't seem too happy. They're huffing and grumbling, nursing what appear to be wounds, and it's easy to piece everything together and realize that they been in a bar fight.

A few of your fellow camp members get up from their seats at the campfire to go and check on them, and as much as you do care, you don't want to overcrowd them. You get up and make your way over to Pearson's wagon, picking out another bottle to drink. You're spoilt for choice, a nice selection of whiskeys and gins at your service, something different from cheap, warm beer.

You pick up a bottle and begin reading the label, checking the alcohol percentage and debating how drunk you want to get tonight. You don't overhear the sound of footsteps approaching, your mind paying no attention to sounds like that as you hear them all the time, but the sound of somebody speaking directly behind you makes you jump.

"That for me?" they ask. You peer over your shoulder to see Javier standing there, his hand rubbing his chin where a bruise is beginning to form.

"Why would this be for you?" you scoff, turning your body to face him, the bottle in your hands.

"Your poor camp member has just been in a fight, yet you won't help nurse them?" Javier questions with a laugh.

"That's your own fault, plus I ain't your mother."

You begin to walk off, but the comment Javier makes forces you to stop in your tracks. "Mary-Beth and Tilly would."

"Go and ask them then," you roll your eyes, turning to face Javier again. Who does he think you are? He begins to softly laugh and the sound makes you gag, so artificial, just like the rest of him.

"But what if I want you to help me? Surely you don't dislike me that much."

"I do, so I'd suggest you ask them."

You try and walk away yet again, and Javier mutters something under his breath. "You'll learn to like me eventually." Another scoffing sound escapes your lips as you frown at him, leaning against Pearson's table and crossing your arms, your bottle in hand.

"You know, I've never seen you wear purple before. It suits you," you smirk.

"Oh, very funny," Javier says as he raises his eyebrows. He approaches you, his strides small and slow, stopping right before you. His hand moves away from his bruise, his skin turning a deeper purple as every second passes, but your eyes are drawn to his; They're dark and blown, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, staring into yours. He's too close for your liking, you can smell the tobacco in his system with every exhale, his breathing deep, still clearly worn out from the fight.

"What's your issue with me?" Javier asks. "I mean, I've never done anything to upset you, not that I know of, but you've always had something against me."

"I've told you before," you begin as you uncross your arms, placing your bottle down on the table and resting your hands on your hips. "You don't do shit around this camp. You'll drag a sloppy score in here and there, but your vanity distracts you from doing some proper work, chores and what-not."

"Vanity?" Javier repeats the word with a laugh. "There's no harm in looking good, at least you're putting some effort in tonight. Did you buy this today?" Javier asks as he goes to tough the fabric of your blouse, but you swat his hand away.

"You're as bad as Micah," you spit at him.

"Mhmm, we both know that's a lie. For starters, I do a lot more than him around here, and you know it-"

"Please, will the pair of you quit it already?" Dutch calls out as he approaches. He must have noticed the way you two were stood so close, squaring up to each other, both too egotistical to let the other talk them down.

Dutch puts his arm out between your bodies, lightly pushing both of you away, forcing you to take a few small steps back. "I've said before that you don't have to get along, but these pathetic arguments happen far too often. Either you both drop this, or I'll have to find a way to make you get along," Dutch threatens, and you know he'll stay true to his word.

You don't bother saying anything, glaring at Javier once more before turning heel and walking away. "You forgot your drink," Javier calls out to you.

"Seems I've lost my appetite," you call back, and you overhear Dutch sigh at your comment.

Part of you feels sick, and you're unsure if that's from the adrenaline pumping in your veins, or the nerves Javier has shaken into you. Why was he stood so close? Your noses were almost touching, and you wouldn't be surprised if he kissed you just to wind you up even more. You try to keep your mind clear as you enter your enclosed tent, taking off your makeup and getting ready for bed, but you can still feel Javier's hot breaths on your skin.

You debate having a towel bath, wanting to wipe away the sin of being so close to that irritating man, but you're already in bed with no motivation to move. As you roll over, the sound of his guitar grows outside, forcing you to place your head under the pillow in an attempt to drown the music out. He's a good musician, and you're happy to admit that, but why does everything about him have to be so... him?

The perfectly coordinated outfits, the way his steel toe boots are always shining, the effortless yet pristine ponytail he always wears, the confidence and vanity in everything he says. He's like one of those flawless characters you've found in awfully written books, no weaknesses or downfalls, no ugly days, everybody loves him, yet his artificialness makes you sick.

And he knows it makes you sick, and he loves to play on it. Tonight isn't the first time he's got up close and personal with you. You know he studies your every move, watching your body language, checking to see if blush grows on your cheeks, searching for your insecurities. The comment he made earlier is still on repeat in your mind... "at least you're putting some effort in tonight." What a smug bastard. He knows how low your self-esteem is, yet you weren't expecting him to pull a Micah and make a comment like that.

But this is what he wants. He wants it to settle in your brain, to weigh you down and make you feel even worse. You just have to not let that happen, but that's easier said than done...

[honouraryweasley12]

Saying The Words

Written for the 2021 @romioneficfest.

Also available on FF.net.

Exhaustion had left them nearly dead on their feet, the adrenaline rush of battle long gone, leaving two weary teenagers in its wake. Hand-in-hand, Ron and Hermione shuffled up the stairs and collapsed into his bed in Gryffindor tower, unwilling to separate even for a moment.

His arm wrapped around her protectively, her head rested on his chest, tucked perfectly under his chin as they escaped into a cocoon of safety. They had lived. They had a future, hopefully together.

Ron stared up at the ceiling of his four poster, building up his courage while cradling her small body to him. Suddenly energized, he couldn't contain himself any longer and the words started spilling out of him at a breathless pace. Words he'd wanted to say to her for years. How much she meant to him, how much he admired her, and how long he'd held back from revealing his true feelings.

How much he loved her.

Never in his life had he been so eloquent and passionate, his voice low in the empty room. He'd practiced the speech in his head a thousand times, but it came out even better than expected. His maturity and the growth he'd made were on full display, spurred on by wanting to be better. Both for himself and for her.

He finally stopped, his chest pounding. He felt as light as feather, the burden of years of hidden feelings finally off his chest. He awaited her response, but all that came was a snore.

She clearly hadn't heard a word and must have fallen asleep almost instantly, surrounded by his warmth. They had been through a lot, after all.

"Bloody buggering fuck," he whispered under his breath.

He silently cursed a few more times and closed his eyes, groaning despondently under his breath as the deep tiredness and disappointment claimed him.

He'd have to confess his feelings one more time—when she was actually awake to hear them.

~*~

The next morning, everything changed. The somber mood around the castle put a hold on any romance, the weight of everything that had happened, the mourning and loss, took priority.

The next few days were split between Hogwarts and The Burrow. Everyone was suffering, not only from Fred's death, but those of their friends and schoolmates. They threw themselves into work in both locales, the only viable way they had not to sink into their collective sadness.

Mrs. Weasley insisted that the usual sleeping arrangements remained, and no one was in the mood to challenge the grieving mother, no matter how old-fashioned it seemed. They all accepted it, even Ron, who was aching to spend more time with Hermione so they could support each other through this difficult time.

Despite that, there were rare moments where they had a minute or two alone. Just as Ron was about to break into his speech again and tell Hermione everything he felt, they would get interrupted.

First it just seemed like bad luck, but every time it happened, Ron's frustrations increased. Whether it was Neville or McGonagall asking for their help with another task, or one of his siblings barging in at the exact wrong moment, it seemed like fate was working against him. Ron knew Hermione would want to retrieve her parents soon, and he needed to tell her before then. He desperately wanted to go with her, knowing she'd need his support.

After missing yet another a chance to tell her, when Ginny unceremoniously burst through the door of his Dad's shed to let them know breakfast was ready—stopping only to waggle her eyebrows at him as she dragged Hermione away to help her set the table—Ron's frustrations reached its peak. He would have to deal with his nosy family first.

~*~

With another long day of rebuilding Hogwarts over, the family Flooed into The Burrow's living room late in the evening, one-by-one dropping into whatever seating was available. Arthur and Molly bade their children good night and went straight upstairs.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked as she flopped her head onto Harry's shoulder, stifling a yawn.

"She's still helping Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing." Ron replied. "You can go to sleep if you want, Ginny. I'm sure she'll be back late, so I'll wait up for her."

"Can't sleep without a good night kiss?" George teased innocently, causing his siblings to snigger, easing the tension of the long, tough day.

Ron rounded on his family. "I haven't had a second of privacy with her, thanks to all of you." He stopped to run a hand through his hair. "Are you purposely trying to mess this up for me?"

"No, but it is rather funny. Besides, we know why you want some private time," Charlie responded, making a kissing face.

Ron sputtered, his ears turning red with fury, his frustrations from the morning returning and boiling over. "It isn't like that."

Percy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's perfectly fine, Ron. We were all young once."

Ron clenched his fists. "IT. IS. NOT. LIKE. THAT."

"Then what is it?" Ginny asked.

"I WANT TO TELL HERMIONE I'M IN LOVE WITH HER!"

He hadn't heard the whoosh of the Floo behind him during his outburst, but Hermione's squeaked gasp was unmistakable in the dead silent room.

Ron was a statue, unwilling to turn around and make things even more awkward, certain that he'd said far too much. That he'd ruined things with his effing feelings. His siblings stared at him sympathetically, as if they weren't to blame for the whole debacle.

Arthur suddenly cleared his throat from the landing of the stairs. "Upstairs to bed, you lot. Give your brother some privacy."

Fleur stopped to give him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, before grabbing Bill's hand. Harry gave him a shrug and Ginny had a huge grin on her face as Ron watched them all ascend, leaving him and Hermione alone.

Ron took a deep breath and steeled himself, before turning around to face her. Even though she looked completely knackered, she was the most beautiful girl in the world to him.

"Hi."

"Hi," she replied.

"So, er, you heard that."

"Yes." Hermione's eyes searched his, her voice low. "Did you mean it?"

He stared back, trying to get any kind of indication of what she was thinking or feeling. She seemed frozen, but her eyes betrayed her vulnerability as they teared up. He just wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let go.

"I, um, yeah. I did mean it. That wasn't how I wanted to tell you, but I meant it. I had a whole speech prepared and everything."

"You did?"

He nodded slowly, still unsure of her reaction to such a big step. "I said it the night after the battle, but you fell asleep and didn't hear a word of it."

Before he could react, Hermione was in his arms, kissing every inch of his face.

"I love you, Ron. I love you," she kept repeating. So caught up in their embrace, they failed to register the shouts and catcalls from the now packed landing.

She gripped him fiercely as he hugged her to him, his face buried in her bushy hair as he sported a giant smile on his face.

"Alright, show's over."

Bill steered the family back up the stairs, leaving them in silence.

Ron couldn't help but whisper in Hermione's ear. "Do you think I'll ever get to snog you without an audience?"

"Now seems as good a time as any."