#because damn nothing will be funnier than finally picking a name and then picking a fake thing its short for

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part V/VII)

"the perfect excuse"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley19 @dianarte

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language, drinking, makeout getting spicy

A/N: idk what happened here, this was not planned I'm just horny ig??? Anyway have this part that was definitely not meant to unfold like this but hey, I'm not mad, so enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before heading to the kitchen. There was no actual need of dressing up nicely, since we both would be spending New Year's Eve at the flat, but since Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione were coming, we decided to clean up for our guests.

"Hmm, smells good." I leaned on the doorframe, observing George finishing cooking.

"These past five months' messes paid off." He joked, grabbing a kitchen rag to clean his hands. "Can you keep an eye on it while I go get read..." He trailed off automatically when his gaze landed on me. "Woah— okay." He cleared his throat, eyes slightly widened at my outfit, and I couldn't help but enjoy a bit too much his attention. "You look really good— is that the new blouse?"

"Yup." I replied, a coy smile dancing on my lips as I stepped to him and picked the kitchen rag myself. "C'mon, go clean up nice for our guests."

It only took him a couple of minutes, since he might have had his suit ready.

"Mind lending a hand with the tie, love?" He requested, stepping into the kitchen with his attention on the shirt's cuffs which he was buttoning up.

Damn, he looked so good; it wasn't even fair.

"Y/n?" He chuckled, finally looking up.

"Uh— yeah! Sure." I threw the rag over the counter and led my hands to the tie, taking my time to make the knot; maybe I wanted an excuse to have my hands on him.

We stayed in silence until I was finished; it wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't comfortable either— it was, in fact, stifling.

"There you go." I more like whispered instead of talking, sliding my hands down his chest briefly. His eyebrows were knitted, trying to decipher my demeanor; his hands caught one of mines before they fell limply on my sides, and for a second, I thought he was about to do something really stupid —something I had wanted to do for the last three months—, but then the bell rang and we stepped away from each other, going to receive Ron and Hermione as if that moment hadn't happened at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GINNY'S P. O. V.

I took a sip of my brandy as we laughed at Ron's joke, my eyes drifting to Hermione and then to Y/n's lap, where Teddy rested, giggling and blabbering nonsense at George's hand movements and funny faces.

George had confided me quite ashamed that he fancied Y/n about two years ago, but I knew the looks he gave her were of something more than a little crush, if you may.

Had I not known Y/n, I would be worried she was projecting Fred onto the younger twin, but the girl knew better than that, so when we got to experience how their domestic life unfolded during New Year's Eve, I felt nothing but happiness at the way Y/n laughed at my brother's jokes, or how she stared at him in pure adoration as he played with Tonks's and Lupin's baby.

"You're getting him waaay too exited, mate." Harry chuckled, extending his arms for Y/n to hand him the toddler. "He needs to go to sleep."

Teddy, who we had put to sleep in Y/n's room shortly after dinner, had woken up right before the New Year came to us, and, since he refused to go back to sleep, Y/n took on the task of entertaining him. George joined as soon as he witnessed Teddy's hair going rainbow-like at Y/n's actions.

"Actually, I think we all need to go to sleep." I said, leaving the glass on the table.

"Boo, you're supposed to be the youngest!" Y/n whined, earning a laughter from the rest.

"Ginny's right, though." Ron stood up and all of us followed his lead. "It's really late and I don't want mum to see us drunk when she wakes up."

"Not a good impression to make on your future mother-in-law, oi, Granger?" George's tease made Hermione's cheeks flush, murmuring an 'idiot' before giving him a hug. "Take care, all of you." He added after he and Y/n had hugged everyone goodbye.

The five of us exited the flat and apparated in the Burrow's yard in silence until Harry asked, "are they together now?"

"We don't know." I confessed with a grimace.

"Well, together or not, they're definitely fucking."

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

"I just said what everyone else's thinking." He defended himself, and none of us could deny it.

READER'S P. O. V.

We began to pick up the dirty plates, glasses and cutlery in order to take them to the sink and leave them there to wash them tomorrow.

"Oi, look what I found." George wiggled a firewhiskey bottle at me from the living room.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed the half empty ice cream tub I had just left over the counter, a couple of clean glasses, and I made my way to George.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"—and that was only in our... Third- no- fourth! year?" He finished the story, joining me in the giggling; I didn't doubt the story was funny, but I was sure it seemed ten times funnier because of the alcohol. "Wait- where were you back then?" He knitted his brows in confusion.

"A year below you." I laughed.

He snorted. "Below me," he took a look at his empty glass before reaching for the bottle with a laugh "hell, I wish."

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Sure you do." I wouldn't have laughed if I were sober, but then again I highly doubted he would have said that if he were sober. "Y'know- you can have me below you anytime you want, Georgie." I replied between lazy giggles, leaning on him so he would pour more firewhiskey into my glass too.

A loud snort left George, triggering one of my own. "Sure, darling." He loosened his tie and tossed it to the floor. "Why's it so hot in here?"

"Mmm... Must be 'cause of you." I threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Or... maybe's just the alcohol." I groaned at the feeling of my head spinning, and sat upright again to chunk the now full glass in one go. "I'm hot too."

"Oh darling... You can't even imagine how much— I mean... Every day— but tonight you look partic... particular...ly? Dashing." George was leaning back against the armchair's feet, his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed and an amused smile dancing on his lips. "Why must you be so bloody perfect?" I found myself staring a bit too much at the ginger. "There's still a conscious part of my brain that knows I shouldn't be saying this shit." An idle chuckle left his chest and one of his eyes peeked open. "I'm gonna blame the alcohol, aight?"

Right, the alcohol —The perfect excuse.

I laid my glass on the floor and got up, stumbling towards him. "Oi, careful— you don't wanna trip and fall." He laughed, steadying me with his hands as I plopped down on my knees besides him. "We won't make it to St. Mungo—" With one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek, I went for it, cutting him mid-sentece in the process.

It was one hell of a sloppy kiss, and I was so concentrated on doing it right that I didn't even hear the moan I sent into his mouth.

What the hell are you doing?, My mind screamed.

I attempted to pull away, but I felt George's hands on my sides, clutching my clothes in his fists to tug me flush against him. I took the cue and did my best to climb onto his lap and straddle his legs without losing balance.

What we were doing felt terribly wrong, and, the morning after, we would regret this little slip so much, but in that exact moment I could only think that his lips tasted like fire whiskey, strawberry and chocolate, and that the quiet moans slipping through them between the kisses were loud enough to quiet down everything in my head.

I stopped to take a breath, resting my forehead against his; our eyes locked, pupils blown out.

Heavy pants left our lungs, as if we had just run a marathon. It felt like the kiss had made a bomb go off, one that we had unconsciously been building up those past months.

It took an instant of looking at each other to know we thought the same; we wouldn't get this opportunity ever again, so at that point, we might as well carry on and pray for it not to be too bad in the morning.

This time it was George who smashed his lips against mines, teeth clashing and tongues going in each other's mouths. The situation was escalating quick; a tad too quick, I daresay.

He cursed and mumbled something about too many clothes, proceeding to pull his shirt over his head with my help, given that he could only do so much with that amount of alcohol in his sistem.

I could do even less, though. It was proven when I first attempted to get rid of my blouse.

I struggled to unbutton it, an awkward, dizzy silence falling among us before his hands travelled to mines "Wait... Lemme..." He frowned, finding that simple task as frustratingly difficult as I did. "Bloody..." A browned off grunt left his swollen lips.

"Tear it." I mumbled, letting my hands roam over his chest.

"You sure?"

I hummed, somehow impatient. "We'll fix it tomorrow." I captured his lips once more.

We'd fix it tomorrow.

I felt his hands fisting my shirt by the cleavage before giving it a firm tug, making my gasp; I wasn't expecting all the buttons to come off in one go, given his drunken state.

I didn't even have time to discard the piece of clothing before his lips attacked my neck, shutting my brain off instantly due to the sensation.

"You want this?" He whispered in my ear, his hands going up from my thighs to my back until they reached the clasp of my bra.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded vigorously, making the world shake around me so hard that I had to shut my eyes.

I felt a feather kiss on my shoulder and his fingers unfastening the bra; he was doing his best to be smooth, which wasn't a lot, but I could tell he was trying hard.

"You're so sweet." I blurted out as his fingertips ghosted over my skin while he removed the top from my body.

He tried to reply something, but articulating kept getting harder and harder as we went deeper into it, so he gave up on words and so did I; at least until his fingers slid between my legs and started to tease me through the fabric of my remaining clothes.

"Bed." I whimpered, unconsciously rocking my hips against George's hand whilst my own travelled to his crotch, feeling his erection and consequently earning a moan from him.

"D'you think we'll make it?" He inquired, already retreating his hand briefly so we could stand up.

Soon enough we were stumbling to my room, hands all over each other, bumping against the furniture and walls due to not being able to stand upright.

When we fell on the bed and tossed the rest of our clothes to the floor, it began to dawn on me how bad this was going to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My head was pounding violently in my skull; that's most likely the reason why I woke up. It took a moment for the blurry memories of the previous night to flash into my mind.

"You feel... so good..."

"Fuck- George— faster, please..."

"Y/n— I'm-"

"No." I shoot up, not acknowledging that Y/n was still asleep by my side. "Fuck no. Nononono." I ignored the terrible headache caused by the hungover and, grabbing my clothes, I exited the room. "No fucking way." I kept mumbling to myself, stalking to my dorm to throw on some fresh clothes.

I sat on my bed, my hands running through my locks, bringing back the memories of Y/n's tugs on them in the process.

"What the fuck did I do." I almost choked on the sentence.

[its-monster-mash]

Marko(Lost Boys) X Frog!Reader Imagines

Gender Neutral Reader

Content Warnings: gun, near death, brief mention of weed

• You spent most of your life on the East Coast, but you had a lot of family out west, including your beloved Grandfather. So when he passed, you dropped everything to attend the funeral

• You didn’t even recognize Edgar and Alan when you showed up at the trailer with your bag; last time you saw them Ed was just learning his first words(“Bullshit”, thanks Uncle Frog), and Al couldn’t even walk yet. Now here they are, a couple of Angsty sullen teenagers

• “You guys used to be so cute, what happened?” “We grew up.” “Oh please, what are you, 12?”

• You decided to stay for a while, help out with the comic book store while your Uncle deals with the legal stuff about your grandfather’s death. Dying sure was a pain in the ass, you guessed

• All things considered, you liked the work. You were a huge comic fan, and the store was slow enough that you had plenty of time to spend working on your own art. You hoped maybe you’d have your own comic some day, if only you could stick to one idea...

• In fact, you were so focused on your art that you forgot to lock up after closing time; so you were more than a little bit started when someone tossed a comic on your desk

• You look up to see a curly-headed blond man, with one of the most beautiful faces you had ever seen, and you can’t help but blush, he smiles at this. “New in town? I think I’d remember seeing you.”

• You notice his friends snicker as they mill around the store. So he IS flirting with you...this does nothing to help your blushing

• You try to collect yourself, ringing up his comic book as you explain your situation; about your grandfather, and how you’re staying with your uncle for a while...how you accidentally kept the shop open way late

• He seems infinitely more interested once he hears that you’re an artist, and absolutely wants to see your work. In fact, he doesn’t even wait for you to respond. “Is that your sketchbook?” Is all the warning you have before he’s snatching it off of your desk and flipping through it

• His jaw all but drops as he appreciates your work. “This is so sick!” Suddenly he’s pushing the sketchbook back to you. “Can you draw me?”

• Normally, you hate that question as much as any other artist, but you’d been dying to draw him since you saw his face, so you absolutely take him up on that

• It doesn’t take you very long to sketch him, and the second you’re finished he snatches it out of your hands, staring at it like he hasn’t seen himself in years

• While he’s busy being in awe, you snatch the sketchbook back from him, much to his surprise, and you hold up a finger to tell him to wait while you scratch your phone number onto the page. You hope he can read your terrible writing

• You tear the page out of the sketchbook, handing it to him. “Here, my phone number...you could call it sometime...if you want to.”

• Your heart flutters when he smiles, and you think you might die when his fingers brush yours when he takes the page. “I want to.”

• His spikyheaded friend nods at him, signaling it’s time for them to leave. “Name’s Marko, I’ll call you!”

• After a couple of late night phone calls, you never leave the shop open late again; Marko never failing to pick you up just after the sun goes down. You tease him about never seeing him in the daylight, like he’s one of those vampires from your cousins’ favorite comic

• “I’ve never seen you in the daylight either.” “Fair enough.”

• Unfortunately, your cousins overhear this little talk just outside of the shop; and one very early morning you notice them sneaking out of the house...you follow of course, you are the adult after all

• Following at a distance, you watch them climb into an old cave...very clearly labeled “Stay Out”. You wonder if maybe they go down there to get stoned with their friends or something...they have friends right? You consider leaving them be...but decide it would be so much funnier to bust them

• Except it isn’t funny at all. By the time you get down there, you hear your cousins’ screams. You frantically follow the sound, and much to your surprise you find Marko, his face distorted monsterously, ready to tear Edgar’s throat out

• You hardly even notice his friends, making a daring slide to pick up the stake Ed had dropped, and grabbing onto Marko. You aren’t strong enough to pry his grip off of your cousin, but the shock of seeing you here causes him to let go anyway. Ed scrambles to Al’s side, terrified under the gaze of the other vampires

• You press the point of the stake to Marko’s chest, and he looks at you with the most devastated expression. “Touch my cousins and he fucking dies.”

• Contempt and fear plays across the faces of the other vampires, guys you thought had become your friends since you started dating Marko; they didn’t know if you could kill him, but they didn’t want to take that chance. David nods for them to part so your cousins can start climbing out of the cave

• Marko...Marko looks at you with his golden eyes full of sorrow and anguish. Seeing him now for the monster he is, you know that the only reason you’re still alive is because he doesn’t want to kill you. You have a stake pressed to his chest, but you both know he could tear your throat out before you ever got the chance to use it

• “(Y/N), please, I-”

• As soon as your cousins reach the safety of daylight, you toss the stake violently to the floor, glaring into Marko’s eyes. You don’t even spare him a final word before you turn and walk away

• Every night, the phone rings; your Uncle doesn’t even bother to tell you anymore, just hanging up the second he hears Marko’s voice. If he knew the truth about what happened that night he’d be terrified, but as it stands he just thinks you had a nasty breakup; and you’re grown...so it’s not his business

• You hate yourself for it, but you miss him...you want to blame it on his Vampiric Charm, but you know in your heart that he never had to manipulate your feelings...they were real

• One night, you just can’t stand lying awake staring at the ceiling anymore. At damn near 3am, you leave quietly so not to awaken your family, and take off for your grandpa’s old shooting range

• Perhaps it was unwise to take yourself to a secluded area so far from any civilization in the dead of night, but you don’t care anymore. You load your grandfather’s old shotgun, the one he taught you to hunt with, and fire at the target

• Eventually, you hear a lone dirtbike pull up the long road behind you; you don’t even turn to look at him. “It’s four AM Marko, what are you doing here?” You fire at the target in the distance

• He walks up behind you, watching you lazily reload. “I could ask you the same thing.”

• “S’my grandpa’s range. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d get in some target practice.” *Ting* “You know that’s no good against Vampires, right?” “It’s not for vampires.”

• He can’t help but be frustrated with you; how could you just come out into the open like this? In the middle of the night? Were you stupid or suicidal?

• You don’t need to read minds to know what he’s thinking. He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off. “If you wanted me dead, I never would have left that cave.”

• “So why didn’t you do it? You know what I am now, so why didn’t you drive that stake through my heart?” “Even if I could have stabbed you faster than you could have killed me, your brothers would have torn me to pieces.”

• “My brothers aren’t here now.”

• You finally turn to look at him, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. Your heart tenses at the sight of the sun threatening to rise on the horizon. “If you don’t leave now, I won’t even have to kill you.”

• “No (Y/N).” You can see the tears in his eyes as he shifts into his monstrous form. “No, if you really want me dead, you’re gonna see it.”

• You’re confused at first, until you see the smoke beginning to rise as the first rays of morning light threaten him. “Marko, what are you doing?”

• He lets out an agonized hiss as his skin begins to singe. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

• Tears well in your eyes as you run to him, throwing your jacket over him in an attempt to shield him from the sun. “Knock it off!” You practically drag him into the old gun shack

• He collapses to the floor once you get him inside, too weak to stand. “If I’m gonna die, I want it to be you.” He sounds so raspy and exhausted

• You shake your head, tossing an old blanket over him. “Well too bad. You’re not dying on me today.”

[egelantier]

disco elysium

i fall into a proper gaming binge every half a year or so, and then forget that computers games exist altogether. my last bout of addiction was hades, a gorgeous roguelite about trying to get out of the underworld and dealing with family, bigger on the inside than it seemed outside. now i've spent a week headfirst into the beautiful madness of disco elysium, and i'm nowhere close to done. middle of the second playthrough, at least a couple more ahead, maybe three, maybe five - this kind of not closer to be done. finally, almost a decade later, there's a spiritual successor to planescape: torment, perfect, unique and compelling like nothing else. i'm head over heels in love.

(and a note: it's very much a game that can and should be played by non-gamers. it's a true click-and-pointer; the entirety of its action happens through dialogue. give it a try.)

in disco elysium, your character wakes up in an absolutely trashed hotel room, coming off a bender of epic proportions, fucked up beyond recognition, and fully amnesiac. it turns out you're visiting a (very much not) sunny town of revachol, a slowly decaying remnant of revolution and consequent war, and, well. you're a cop, and you're here to investigate a murder. namely, a murder of somebody whose dead body is still hanged in the backyard…

this is a horrendous mess, and you are a horrendous mess - bloated, amnesiac, confused, weird, pathetic, with a host of warring impulses and demands fighting for space in your head - but thankfully there's a pillar of stability and light in your dark world, waiting just downstairs: lieutenant kim katsuragi, your assigned partner from another station, a man with godlike sense of dignity and practically endless amount of quiet patience for your bullshit. together with him, you can investigate a crime, try to stop a small civil war, solve a couple of questions of the universe, and maybe, if you play your cards just once, dance a truly epic dance together in a shot-up church. there are also cryptids, karaoke, board games, collecting bottles for money, a mystery of a crashed police car, discovering your own feelings about the homo-sexual underground, and many, many other things.

(the gameplay: you have four sets of stats (intellect, sensitivity, physicality, interacting with objects) and, depending on how you distribute them, you play a wildly different character every time. there's no way to fail: your detective can be dumb as a bag of rocks but able to get by on intuition and muscle memory, or smart and horrible with people, or empathetic and weak, or - the combinations are endless. the game is conducted via a combination of red stat checks that you can do only once, and white checks that you can try, fail, up your stats and retry again. aside from a handful of cases, a lot of time it's easier - and funnier - to accept failures rather than try for a perfect go every time. you are a hot mess, after all. there are ten game days, a variety of sidequests and tasks, and almost endless variability in how you approach them. everything is connected, except for that one door.)

(there's also a political system, where you eventually pick up your political affiliation: a communist, a libertarian, a fascist, and a wishy-washy uncommitted liberal. the game has a lot of things to tell you about all your choices, most of them funny, some of them horrendous. there's no innocence here, and no way to weasel out of the consequences of your worldview; and you could also see that it was done by eastern europe people.)

and the thing is. the thing is, it's very much the kind of a game where you perform a field autopsy on a three days old corpse while a couple of preteen kids are watching avidly and offering their color commentary, and at some point you have to rummage in the corpse's mouth and feel its brain stem. a lot of very, very bad things happen or happened - to you, to the people around you, to the town around you, to the world around you. where in fallout you rolled into town with your stats jacked high and your blaster in hand, and solved ancient disputes and established peace, here the weight of the history is very, very heavy, and you're very, very small. you can't solve the decades of violence and war and trauma and colonization and poverty with the power of your save-scumming and pithy one liners, alas; but you can solve a murder. you can help a sweet and worried old woman. you can put your cheek to a kid's fuzzy plush toy, when offered. you can tell a person, gently, that their loved one is dead, and lie about how drunk they were when they did that. you can replace a taxidermied bird you broke. you can sit on the swing with your partner, waiting for the low tide, and whistle together - two birds on the wire…

it's the gentlest, kindest, sweetest, most hopeful game i've seen in the last decade. it's a goddamn manifesto to human spirit, and to how only - well, love - holds the world, always falling apart, together. a huge part of it is your relationship with kim, because believe me, whoever you are, most of your playthrough would be dedicated to chasing kim's approval and to winning his trust. but it also sneaks into all the cases, all the dialogues, all the little throwaway details. everybody is human; everybody is awful; everybody is holy, even you. oh, even you.

(there are storylines you can or can not discover. about why harry is such a mess - and it's awful and i loved how it was done, with empathy and grace and no judgement; about the state of the world, a bit of eldritch horror so throwaway and beautiful i would read entire volumes just about that; about the city of locusts; about a small girls' memory of playing in the reeds; about the scar of the revolution. suliram, ram, ram…)

(it's also brilliantly, awfully, absurdly, hysterically funny. Art Cop run alone makes me just about die. every failure is funnier than the other. you can be as weird as you want to - in fact, the game encourages you to be as weird as you want to be - and the world around will react accordingly, outperforming you in sheer absurdity. there's a war-and-peace sized amount of dialogue and description in the game, and it's written by some damn genius of pratchettian caliber.)

and, and and. honestly, the best way to get sucked into this game is not reviews, it's random quotes and screenshots, out -of-context spoilers - it's more or less impossible to resist. but please, oh please, give it a try.

>Someone's been walking around in your dreams lately, looking for something. Tidying up, rearranging. Storing away all the unrealized dreams, putting old pains in boxes. The worst nightmares have settled down for a while. A spot of light on the bedroom door after the dark. The fluttering of eyelids in the spring sun. A thought that arises, only to disappear again. And yet there's a pattern emerging…

>What if you didn’t lose your memory? What if something in Martinaise came and stored it all away. For you to slowly open one box at a time. So you can choose which parts to keep. Keep almost none of it. Only the flowers on the windowsill. Only the distant sound of a radio. Lose all the actors, the dark shadows, leave only the still lifes, the blissful distant wash of waves. If everybody knew -- you never did. She’ll be coming soon. That is all.

[george-mackay-macfine]

Let's Play a game - CH.3

Chapter three of let's play a game, as usual pick your own Jude. I know I have!

Tag list: @neocil @cjand10

If you want to join the LPAG tag list, let me know.

If Jude Hastings thinks he can show up at my family brunch and act like he wasn’t committing an act of war, he sure had another thing coming.

I was going to be the best’ girlfriend’ this man had ever seen. I was going to be such a convincing girlfriend that his parents would be begging him to propose to me by the time I break his heart. I was going to be that girl that all his friends, colleagues and all his family compare his next girlfriend to.

I was going to be the girl who destroyed Jude Hastings for other women.

“Hi.” I smiled at the female officer who sat at the front desk. She looked borderline depressed with her piles of paperwork around her. “I’m here to see Jude Hastings.”

“Name.” She drawled out.

“Darcy Edwards.” I plastered the fakest smile on my face as she picked up her desk phone.

“What is your reasoning to see Officer Hastings?”

“I’m his girlfriend,” I held up the picnic basket by my side as the woman eyes widened. “And I brought him dinner.” I put the basket on the bench and riffled through finding the container of cupcakes I’d baked - Oh yeah, I’d also baked dessert - “Cupcake?” I offered the now open container of sugary sweets to the woman who looked at them like they’d offended her entire family. “There is chocolate and vanilla.” She didn’t speak, just kept looking at me.

“Hastings… There’s a woman here to see you.” She looked me up and down. “Claims she’s your girlfriend.”

“Darcy.” I prompted right as she put the phone down.

“He’ll be out in a few minutes if you sit down.” She mumbled before looking back down at her open file.

I guess that’s a no to the cupcake, then.

I pulled the container back, shoving the lid back on and storing it back inside the basket before walking over to the waiting chairs. I put the basket on one and began to fiddle with my dress.

A long summer maxi dress with sandals was the best accompaniment to this whole dinner scheme of mine. Not only was it workplace appropriate, but it gave off this virginesque vibe which would only help me win over his colleagues.

Hastings would have no clue what was hitting him.

“Darcy?” I turned at the familiar voice. Standing holding the door open was Jason Sato. Hastings partner and one of the many people I’d gone to high school with who didn’t seem to want to leave this damn town. “I didn’t actually believe him when he told me you were here to see him.” He began to laugh.

“What do you mean?” I picked the basket up and walked towards him. “Is Jude coming?” I held the basket up slightly. “I made him dinner.”

“Is it poisoned?”

“What?” I faked as gasp - poisoning it would have been too obvious. “Why would it be poisoned.”

“Because the last time you made food for him, you put laxatives in it.” Oh yeah.

“That was high school, Jason.” I gave a giggle. Sweet and innocent. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to poison my boyfriend; he’s too cute for that.”

“It was only two years ago,”

“Was it?” I tapped the side of my head gently. “Bad memory.”

“So you and Jude finally put it all behind you, huh.”

“Sure did.” I smiled as Jude appeared behind him. “Hi Bunny.” I beamed at him. Relishing in the way, his smile dropped at the use of his new nickname.

“Bunny?” Jason tried to hold in a laugh as I nodded idiotically. “Wow.”

“What you got in there?” Hastings pointed to the basket.

“I made your favourite.” I lifted the basket some more. “Egg salad sandwiches and cupcakes.”

“Egg sandwiches are your favourite food?” Jason raised an eyebrow at Hastings. Absolutely not. He hated egg salad sandwiches.

“Picnic food it is.” Hastings amended.

“Did you want to join us for dinner?” I stepped towards Hastings, who wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me back against him. “I made plenty for everyone.” Jason looked between Hastings and me. “You don’t mind, do you, Bunny?” I looked up at Hastings with a wide smile, the smile only becoming broader as I heard Jason let out a snort of laughter.

“Of course not,” Hastings grimaced, leaning down kissing my cheek.

“I am only saying yes because I want to see more of this.” Hastings grabbed my hand and led me through the police officers towards their break room. I made sure to smile and wave at everyone who looked at us, cementing myself as the polite and sweet girlfriend I was.

“How has your day been?” I asked Hastings as I began to grab all the items out of the picnic table, laying them out in front of the two seated men. “Catch any bad guys today?”

“Not yet.” Hastings grabbed a can of root beer I put down in front of him. “How has your day been, babe?”

“Babe?” I pushed my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “You never call me babe.”

“What does he call you then?” Jason asked mid-bite.

“He usually calls me wifey.”

“You what?” Jason spun to look at Hastings while I struggled to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.

“What can I say? When I see something, I want I go for it.” He picked up one of the sandwiches. When he sat back down correctly, he looked at me again, maintaining eye contact as he began to smile. “But, baby. If you’re happy to let people know I intend to make you my wife, then I’m happy to call you that in public. I just thought you didn’t want people to know.”

A challenge.

“Of course Bunny.” I walked around the table and sat down in his lap. “You know I want nothing more than to win this big heart in here.” I tapped his chest. “If you want everyone to know you intend to marry me, then I’m okay with it if you tell them.” Do it, Darcy. Win this one. “It’d make me happy, actually.” I kissed his lips, fighting off the bile that rose with the action.

“Sato.” A voice bellowed from beyond the break room, giving me a reason to break the bile raising kiss. “Call for you at your desk, line three.” Jason stood up slowly, looking at us as if we were some mutation.

“Right, coming.” He called back to the voice. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” I smiled, watching Jason walk out, the door shutting behind him.

“Is this your feeble attempt at a surprise attack,” Hastings whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“You mean like yours from this morning?”

“I didn’t think we were playing dirty, Edwards.”

“We weren’t, then you crashed family Sunday brunch.”

“You needed your wallet,”

“Then you shouldn’t have lifted it from my purse.” I turned to look at him. “You started this. I’m finishing it.”

“Oh no, this is just the beginning… Wifey.” A twisted smirk covered his lips. “You know that comment I made about no more pranks.”

“Of course,” I remembered everything he said that morning.

“I take that part back.” He nodded towards my outfit. “After this little prank, I think everything is fair game.”

“Prank?” I shook my head. “This is no prank. I wanted to make my big strong man some dinner.” I poked his cheek as I spoke.

“You know I hate eggs.”

“No, I knew eggs give you insane gas,”

“Tamato, tomato.”

“Whoopsies.”

“I’m not eating them.” He looked at the sandwich.

“What’d I miss.” Jason sauntered back in.

“Nothing.” I turned back to him. “Jude was just going to try the sandwiches and tell me what he thought.” I spun around to face Hastings. “Isn’t that right, Bunny.”

“Darcy…”

“It took me a long time to make it all, the sandwiches and the cupcakes.”

“It’s lovely of you, Darcy.”

“Thank you, Julian. If only my boyfriend felt the same way.”

“Try one, man. They’re good.” Julian slid a sandwich over to him. Julian and I both watched as Hastings disgruntledly unwrapped the foil that wrapped the sandwich. Taking half of it, he brought it to his lips.

“Take a big bite! Make sure you get all the flavours.” I clapped my hands together. Honestly, I have never wanted anything more than for this sandwich to react badly with Hastings’s gut. The idea of people thinking he shit himself is nearly funnier than it would be if he actually shit himself.

“Of course.” He muttered, bringing the sandwich to his mouth. To my surprise, he took a massive bite out of it, more than I’d expected him t take. As he chewed, Jason and I watched on. “Wow,” He reached for the root beer, taking a long gulp. “Nice.”

“Try a cupcake now.” I grabbed one of the cupcakes and scooped the icing off with my finger. I was bringing it to my lips before Hastings redirected my finger to his lips. I felt his tongue work around my fingertip, sucking off all the sugary sweet vanilla icing.

“Okay, you two might just be enough to gross me out.” Jason broke us from our moment.

“That was my icing.” I sighed, pulling my finger back. I subtly wiped it on Hastings shirt, thankful that Jason couldn’t see.

“Delicious.” He laughed. “You should try one.” He looked over at Jason.

“Give me your finger, Darcy.” He winked at me.

“Sorry mate, But you’ll need to find your own girl.” His hands wrapped tighter around my waist.

“I should get going.” I unwrapped Hastings arms from around my waist. “I’ve got class tomorrow.”

“I finish in an hour. Why don’t you go to my place.”

“I don’t have clothes, Bunny.” I loved seeing a part of his soul die when I used that nickname, thank you, google.

“Well, go home, and I’ll swing by and get you on the way home.”

“He wants to romance you, Darcy, by the sounds of it.” Jason cackled, unwrapping a cupcake.

“Is that true?”

“Of course it is.” His hand ran down my back, stopping at the swell of my hip. “Romance is my middle name.”

“Now I’m sure your mother told me your middle name was Fredrick.”

“Oft.” Julian hissed. “That’s a sexy name right there.”

“Isn’t it just,” I giggled, throwing my hair over my shoulder. I knew by the look on Hastings’s face he wished I were dead right now, and I knew he could tell by the look on my face that I was loving this more than anything.

Payback is a bitch.

“I better go.” I picked up my purse and walked to the door. “Can you bring those back to me whenever?”

“I’ll bring them by tonight when I come to get you.” Jude stood and walked behind me. “I’ll be back.” He called over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” He swatted my ass, causing me to flinch forward. “Didn’t mind it the other night.” He winked.

“You bloody bastard.” I muttered under my breath as he scooted past me. “I’ll kill you.” I growled as he grabbed my hand, pulling me through the station. “When you get home, I thought we could take a bath together.” I began to rattle. “And maybe I can give you another facial, and we can watch the notebook.” I thundered as we passed by a group of highly masculine-looking officers. “Like we did last week, you seemed to like it. I’ll even use the pink face cream.”

“Jesus.” Hastings hissed, shaking his head. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t have to.” I passed him pushing open the same door I’d entered only minutes ago.

“I’m walking you to your car,” He confirmed, holding the door open so I could move through the threshold. “C’mon.” His hand grabbed mine, pulling me along behind him. We passed by the silent woman on the front desk and out into the warming summer air. “You are -“

“Incredible?”

“No.”

“Amazing… Phenomenal… Astounding… bewildering… bewitching…”

“Insane… mad… cretinous.”

“Oh a big boy word.” We’d reached my car by now, but Hastings still wasn’t letting go of my hand. “Can I have my hand back now?”

“I don’t know.” He leant back against the car, pulling me into his chest. “I rather like the way it feels in mine.” His other wrapped around my waist, holding my body tightly to his.

“I think we need to clear some things up.” I tried to pull my hand back from him. “This whole facade thing doesn’t have to happen all the time… only when we’re around people.”

“No, sweetheart.” He nuzzled his nose into the underside of my jaw, breathing deep. “I’m going to make you fall madly in love with me.”

“Whose says I’m gonna let you?”

“Whose says your gonna stop me?” His lips crawled up my jaw before moving across the skin of my cheek towards my lips. He flipped us over, so I was trapped up against the car “Darcy,” When did his voice become so husky, and why is it sending a shiver up my spin. “Whose going to stop me?” Why did the idea of his lips on mine seem so appealing? Why did I feel like I was starving? And without the feeling of his lips against mine, I was going to die. “I don’t think you’re going to stop me, Darcy.”

He was right. I wasn’t going to stop him.

Without a second thought, I pulled his head, so our lips met. His hand let go of mine and ran up, grabbing onto my face, keeping me locked to him. My tongue traced his bottom lip. I wanted more. His lips left mine again, kissing all over the skin on my face.

“Baby.” I grabbed onto his face this time and reattached our lips. My hands wandered the expanse of his body, feeling all the muscles I was reluctant to remind myself about. “Darcy, we need to stop.” I shook my head against his lips, my own going to his neck. His hands left my body completely resting against the car on either side of my head as I kissed his neck. “Believe me, I don’t want to stop this either, but if we don’t - We’re going to end up naked on the street, and I don’t think that’s appropriate for an officer of the law.”

Dammit, he was right.

“Your right.” I pulled away from him, my chest heaving. “I should save shows like that for when people are around.” He let out a chuckle.

“What games do you have planned in that twisted head of yours.” His fingertips tapped my temple gently.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I pushed his body away from mine, moving so I could open my drivers’ door.

“Well, was your show in there, was that how it was supposed to happen?”

“Let’s just say, it’s not exactly how I planned it - I expected more people wanting cupcakes, I mean they’re cupcakes c’mon - but it’s turning out better than I thought.” I stopped as I was about to step into the car. “You’re going to fall in love with me, Jude Hastings, and then I’m going to break your heart into a million little bits.” Disturbingly he smiled. Not the reaction you really wanted from a man when you tell him you’re not only going to break his heart but also shatter it into a million parts.

“I’m sure you will, Darcy.” He stepped back away from the door. “But I suppose the real question is, will I break yours first.”

“Don’t count on it.” I slipped into the car.

“I’ll see you soon.” He called out as I turned on the ignition. I rolled my window down and stuck my head out.

“You won’t see me if I don’t answer the door.”

“You will.” He winked before turning and walking back down the path we’d walked together moments ago.

As I took off, my mind was consumed by one thing.

Jude Hastings.

Thoughts of him clouded my senses as I drove, and the feeling of his hands on my hips as he pulled me closer to him left chills on my legs.

He was good, but I was going to be better.

[lost-inthedream]

Sf9 reaction to you dancing while cooking

☆★ Requested for the writting party 

I loved to write this one since it’s something I do myself.

➹ Youngbin:

Seeing you having your little dance parties while picking the ingredients for your recipe never fails to boost his mood.

“Are you gonna help me or just stay there like a doll?” you often ask him, hands on your waist faking annoyance.

He even suggest you upbeat songs to you to add on your especial cooking playlist. “I wanna see you dancing to this one too”.

➹ Inseong:

Is happy that you are happy and says that your food comes out so tasty because you does it with love.

Apreciates your spontaneity and asks you to teach him those little dance steps that he saw you doing once. But you do not remember having ever doing them.

Apparently all his friends know about your habit.

➹ Jaeyoon:

Keeps smiling to himself, since you both have your hands busy and he cannot hug and squeeze your frame saying that you are the ultimate cutie.

Suddenly asks faking hesitation "so... do you come here often? You seem like owning the dance floor"

The two of you do everything while moving in the rhythm. Probably not the most energetic songs, so you can chat over them.

➹ Dawon:

Starts to sing louder than the song playing and makes you stop because you are crying of laughter. “No, don’t stop because of my presence.” He tells you with the utmost seriousness.

When he is finally done being loud, the song can be heard again and you wipe your tears.

Shakes his body in a ridiculous way that can’t barely be called dancing but little by little you both are dancing together while your meal is getting done.

➹ Zuho:

You certainly remember his cute little dances in The Last Festival MV! It is exactly how he approaches you in the kitchen. Okay he goes even more dork, since there is only you and him.

Okay maybe you do have an audience. His cats look at the two of you with curious eyes and he plays with them waving his hands and shaking fingers. “Do we look cool?” he asks while taking you by the waist.

He might repeat it a million of times, but he loves these moments and he won’t shut up about it.

➹ Rowoon:

Takes you by the hand to be his partner in a dance “would you care to accompany me, lady?” and spins you with a bright smile.

Let go of you with a soft pat on your butt and immediately find a way to be useful during the food prepare.

Keeps staring and giggling at your moves which makes you playfully ask him if there is something wrong. “Nothing, baby. Please keep going”.

➹ Yoo Taeyang:

Cheers for you like if you were on a stage, shaking an imaginary lightstick (or a big wood spoon). Sings your name as a fanchant.

The first times he did it, maybe you stopped with the surprise, but after a few times you strike poses as a professional dancer and make faces.

“Y/N you’re the best!!” he laughs at you little jokes.

➹ Hwiyoung:

Follows you with a minimalistic dance but definitely sings along. He knows your playlists so well because sharing new addictive songs is one of your couple brand.

Loses himself in his dances as well, making little faces when distracted.

Since he is your personal dish washer, you stop to look him when he is doing his job. That silly dance looks even funnier because he is so damn well built.

➹ Chani:

Sits on a chair and stares at you like you were the most interesting movie. Okay I am singing that Adele song you look like a movie/ you sound like a song. Lovesick Chani is the cuter.He falls in love all over again when you make him smile easily like that.

“Oh, princess, can I record you?”

Starts to drum on the table, using random cutlery, and then being graced with your attention.

[moon-stars01]

~Sugar Rush~

Hoshi x Reader

Author:pseudomint

Summary: Kwon soonyoung finds himself becoming a regular customer in a local ice cream shop after meeting mingyu’s cute co-worker. Sounds normal—unless you leave out the fact that he dislikes sweets.

Pairing:Hoshi(Svt) x reader

Gene:Collage/University,Ice Cream polar,attempt at humor,flirting,Smitten Hoshi,Mingyu third wheeling,Jun and his pick up lines

Rating:Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count:6100

———————-

~SUGAR RUSH~

Hoshi stares at the cute, pastel building, decorated with stickers of ice cream illustrations on the big, glass windows and door. He checks his phone screen once again, only to see the exact picture of the building he found on the internet glaring back at him mockingly.

This is the place. He finally knows where Mingyu’s secret workplace is. Don’t ask him where he got the address from (he might have.. owed a certain pink haired devil named Jeonghan). All he has to do now is to storm inside the ice cream shop and make fun of Mingyu for all it’s worth.

Being friends with that guy for a long time, Hoshi has a vague idea of why would Mingyu hide his workplace. The guy has always been vocal about his worship for anything hip-related, evident by his love for classic Pop, several ear piercings, and fashion style. He’s studying art so that he can become a tattoo artist. Moreover, he has a history as a delinquent back in middle school.

So, working in a local, cute ice cream shop near their campus might not be included in Mingyu’s list of Top 10 Dream Jobs, even as a part-timer.

Hoshi stifles a grin as he pushes the door open, earning a chime from the bell above. The shop is quite vacant, save for three customers, minding their own businesses in three different seats, the ice cream on their plates or cups half-eaten. One of them is bobbing their head to the popular pop song that is heard through the wall speakers. As Hoshi continues to scan the pastel themed shop, his eyes finally land on the glass display, filled with various flavors and colors of ice cream.Hoshi can already feel a toothache—he’s never been a fan of sweets, after all.

Noticing the absence of the employees behind the counters, Hoshi spots a bell placed beside the cash register. His hand hovers above it, uncertain whether calling the shop clerk with a damn bell is even polite—obviously, this isn’t some kind of five-star gourmet restaurant. Not that Hoshi has ever been into one.

Thankfully, before Hoshi could dive further into his impromptu crisis, an employee emerges from the back door. He’s wearing a pastel blue uniform shirt and a pink apron with the shop’s logo on the left side of his chest. Such soft colors, contrast with the dark scowl on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, bastard?” Mingyu snarls, clearly aggravated by the mere of Hoshi’s presence alone.

And Hoshi can’t hold it back anymore. He laughs, folding his body in half, one hand clutching his gut as the other supports himself by gripping the counter. Fuck, this is funnier than he initially thought. No matter how he imagined it, the image of Mingyu and a cute ice cream shop just can’t be merged. Yet, here he is—the reality presented right before Hoshi’s eyes.Hoshi wheezes again.

“Stop fucking laughing,” Mingyu hisses, hands clenching on both of his sides. His face is flushed from anger with a mixture of embarassment. “This is why I’d never fucking tell you about this place!”

“Oh, it’s never about the place, ‘Mingyu,”Hoshi replies, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes. “It’s always been about you.”

Mingyu growls. “I’m seriously gonna kick you out.”

“I’m a paying customer,” Hoshi smirks back. “Treat me like one.”

“Then act like one,” Mingyu snaps, folding his arms across his chest, frown deepening. “Though I bet you can’t even handle the sweetness.”“Gimme the menu.”

“There’s one behind me, written on the chalkboard, asshole.”

“Wow, brilliant customer service,” Hoshi deadpans. “Don’t you have the printed one or something?”

“Aren’t you spoiled?” the hipster grumbles as he magically pulls out a menu, printed on a laminated paper from behind the counter. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to slap it against Hoshi’s chest.The act, however, is caught by one of Mingyu’s co-worker who’s suddenly coming out of the back room.

“Mingyu-oppa! Why did you do that to a customer?!” She screeches, horrified at her oppa’s rude behavior. She’s way shorter than Mingyu, and shorter than Kazuya. She has a (h/s) (h/c) hair that somehow looks soft and fluffy as the strands bounce everytime she moves.When their eyes finally meet,Hoshi’s lost the ability to speak.

Now, Hoshi’s never been one to believe in love at first sight, albeit having heard the idea of it in many sappy romance films. Hoshi’s also met many girls he considers as good-looking, but that’s it. There were no imaginary flowers or love-shaped bubbles or sprinkles of glitters around them, like a typical page of shoujo mangas. He didn’t feel his heart pounding harshly against his ribcages. He’s positive that he had never blushed at someone without any good reason.But his cheeks have never felt warmer than this moment.

The girl in front of him is unbelievably cute; she has an air of innocence around her that makes Hoshi want to scoop her up (no ice cream puns intended) in his arms and pinch those slightly chubby, round cheeks. Her cute button nose is perfect for a nose boop, and oh, how Hoshi wishes to nip her pink, plump lips.The girl’s tongue darts out to lick the very same lips, before she opens her mouth.

“Um.. are you okay? Is my co-worker hurting you?” She asks, brows furrowing in worry. Hoshi forces himself to look at her in the eyes, which is apparently a bad decision, because for the love of baseball, he’s never seen someone having such beautiful, molten e/c eyes—

“He’s fine,” Mingyu answers, shooting Hoshi a knowing look. “Sadly, I gotta admit that he’s a friend of mine, so don’t worry about him, y/n.”

“Oh!” Y/n brightens up, giving Hoshi an impression of a cute dog perking up its ears and wagging its tail. “Finally this l/n y/n gets to meet one of Mingyu-oppa’s friends!” She says joyfully with a voice a bit too loud. “May I also have the honor of knowing your name?”

Hoshi briefly glances at Mingyu, as if asking whether he should be concerned of Y/n’s odd, archaic way of speaking, but Mingyu’s expression works as a wordless assurance that it’s nothing to be worried about.Then, after eyeing Y/n’s extended arm as an offer for a handshake, Hoshi takes it firmly with a smirk.

“The name’s Kwon Soonyoung but you can call me Hoshi,” he purrs, his thumb tracing a circle on the back of Y/n’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Y/n.”His smirk broadens when a blush blooms on the girl’s cheeks.

“Uh—likewise!” Y/n retracts her hand too quickly. “Um, I’ll let you proceed with your order with Mingyu-oppa—“

“The thing is,” Hoshi cuts her off, leaning on the counter, showing a feigned, saddest expression on his face. “Mingyu was bullying me,” he sighs. The said guy promptly sputters a series of denials. “And this is my first time here. I think I deserve a discount for the bad customer service, don’t you think?”

Y/n lets out a scandalized gasp, giving Mingyu a nasty, chiding glare for treating their customer poorly, even if they’re ‘friends.’ “Then you have my approval!” She declares, jabbing a proud thumb at her own chin. “Don’t worry! I’ll tell boss about the discount later! Now, please pick any flavors!”Hoshi’s mouth twitches as a bubble of laughter arises from his chest. This kid is so gullible, so genuine, so interesting. He almost feels bad for tricking him.Mingyu kicks Y/n’s legs, “Idiot! Can’t you see that he’s tricking you?!”

When y/n shoots a puzzled look at Hoshi, Hoshi’s laughter breaks free from his mouth. In return, he gets a bristling y/n who goes out of her way to be on the other side of the counter just to shake Hoshi’s collar and send him colorful insults. Not the most professional thing an employee should do to a customer, but it’s worth for Hoshi’s own entertainment.In the end, Hoshi’s the one who gets kicked out of the shop before he causes more commotions.

Hoshi comes back at Mingyu’s next shift, mentally convincing himself that he’s here to annoy the hell out of the hipster, not because Mingyu accidentally reveals the fact that y/n has the same schedule with him.Yeah, right.

He peeks over the big windows, and hesitates. The shop is more crowded than his last visit, as expected from weekends. It’s mostly filled with couples and giggling high school girls. Hoshi decides to sit on the unoccupied outdoor seats by the window, waiting for the beeline to lessen.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for the patrons to decrease. By the time he enters the shop, the jingle of the doorbell earns him an automatic response from y/n who’s not even looking at the door. “Welcome to—“ she glances at Hoshi, then frowns. “—oh, it’s you.”

“Oh? Do I see another bad customer service?” Hoshi smirks, strutting closer the counter.

“I’ll show you customer service,” Mingyu threatens, glowering at him.

Hoshi holds up his hands in defense, grinning, “easy there, ‘Mingyu”

“So, are you going to order, Kwon Soonyoung?” Y/n squints at him in suspicion. Pushing aside his inner glee of noticing a mundane detail such as Y/n remembering his full name, Hoshi ponders of giving her an honest reply or not. Will they kick him out once again if he admits that he can barely handle sweet things?

“Hoshi?” Y/n’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his previous scorn is replaced with an owlish blinking. It makes Kazuya more aware of how y/n’s long eyelashes brush her cheeks whenever she closes her eyelids for a brief second.Pretty.“Hoshi!”Hoshi coughs and answers distractedly. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll order something.”

Mingyu stares at him like he’s grown a pair of horns, but it’s more like that he can’t seem to grasp that Hoshi, of all people, agrees to order something sweet.

“You sound uncertain, but worry not! The ice cream here will change your mind,” Y/n chirps with an eye smile. Hoshi can feel a thousand of cupid arrows piercing through his fragile, gay heart.

“Right, because Hoshi absolutely loves ice cream,” Mingyu mutters under his breath beside his co-worker with a blatant sarcastic tone.Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it, much to Hoshi’s relief.

“So...” Hoshi drawls, scrutinizing the menu near the cash register. “Do you have a flavor that isn’t too...” he grimaces at the next word, “sweet?”

“That’s impossible, go home.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mingyu.”

“I can recommend you some,” Y/n replies, ignoring Mingyu and Hoshi’s glaring contest. “We have wasabi flavor, bitter melon flavor—“

“Some extreme recommendations you have there,” Hoshi sweatdrops.

“Hey! They taste fine, I guess,” Y/n looks hesitant herself. Hoshi wonders if the girl even understands basic marketing strategies—she could’ve at least pretended to be confident with her promotion. “I mean, I’m sure they’re better than natto flavored ice cream or anything.”

“You hate natto?” Hoshi smiles in amusement, inwardly happy to know one fact about Y/n.

“I despise it!” Y/n huffs, not even bothering to conceal her disgust. “Anyway! If you’re not interested with our out-of-the-world flavors, maybe you’d love our triple shot espresso ice cream! If you’re still not convinced, we still have a variety of diet frozen yogurts that are guaranteed to be low-sugar!”Hoshi hums at the mention of anything caffeine-related, “triple shot espresso ice cream doesn’t sound bad. Get me the smallest cup, y/n.”

“Roger!” Y/n beams, giving a military salute before she busies herself with Hoshi’s order. Her moves behind the counter are swift, practiced, and surprisingly not clumsy. Her hips sway a little to the beat of the music—whose great idea it is to play a suggestive jazz music at a fucking ice cream shop in Saturday afternoon?—but Hoshi’s not really complaining. In fact, he enjoys the show a bit too much; he doesn’t even realize that he’s been propping one arm on the counter to support his chin while watching y/n with a mushy smile.“Wipe that disgusting expression off your face,” Mingyu comments, unimpressed.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah? As if I could overlook someone who looks like they’re seconds away from jumping my co-worker in public!” Mingyu hisses this time, still considerate enough to lower his volume.“Don’t worry, I’ll do that in private,” Hoshi winks.

“That’s not what I—“

“Do you want any additional toppings, Hoshi?” Y/n unintentionally interrupts their bickering. She’s now holding a small paper cup of a coffee-colored ice cream, head slightly to the side in an adorable manner, waiting for Hoshi’s response.

Although Hoshi’s brain is already short-circuited due to the amount of metaphorical sweetness that Y/n radiates, he still manages to croak out a reply of “almonds are fine”, in hoping that if the ice cream is still too sweet for his liking, the almonds would be able to balance the sugar.

Mingyu handles the payment without initiating any arguments with Hoshi for once, probably wanting to speed up the process of Hoshi leaving the shop. Either way, Hoshi has to leave indeed. He has other things to do, too.

“Thank you for purchasing, please come again~” come a chorus of synchronized phrase from Mingyu and Y/n; the former sounding bored and forced, while the latter sounding more cheerful.“I will,” Hoshi retorts jocosely, then flicks his gaze over Y/n, “if Y/n calls me her oppa, too.”

“Okay, Hoshi-oppa,” y/n breathes out without missing a beat. Her face instantly bursts into a myriad shades of red, complemented by a small, shy smile etched on her lips, and-Hoshi suddenly thinks he has a severe case of heart palpitations.

He inhales sharply, and turns his heels towards the door. “It’s decided, then,” he chuckles over his shoulder, giving his last smirk towards y/n, and exits the shop.

(He eats his ice cream on the way to his apartment and is genuinely surprised at the rich taste of coffee instead of sugar.It adds one more reason to visit the shop again.)

 Hoshi’s next visit includes an unwanted guest, much to Hoshi’s distaste.

For a better term, he was following Hoshi in secret. Usually, Hoshi would easily sense something behind his back, but the particular street that the ice cream shop is located at is always busy. It’s to be expected from a street that connects commercial, academic and several residential buildings. That being said, the crowd of people makes it hard for Hoshi to notice whether someone is following him or not.In the end, Jun makes his presence known loudly by the time he enters the shop.

“Oi, Hoshi! You refused to hang out with me just to buy some ice cream?!” he stomps his foot on the ground. “Wait, I thought you don’t like ice—“

Hoshi, who’s currently leaning on the counter right in front of Y/n, automatically massages the bridge of his nose and quickly interjects the purple haired before he spouts something unnecessary. “Jun, did you really follow me all the way here?”

“Does it matter?” the purple haired shrugs, sticking his nose up in the air. “I’m here now. That’s what you get from ditching me.”

Hoshi sighs in exasperation, “I did not ditch you. I told you to reschedule our hang out.”

“Same thing,” Jun scoffs stubbornly.

Mingyu bashes his forehead on the counter, emitting a depressed aura all over the shop. “Great. There goes all of my peace at work.”

“Oh, Mingyu! Fancy meeting you here!” Jun greets with a grin. “So you’re the reason why Hoshi’s here?”

“No,” both Mingyu and Hoshi say flatly.

“Um, are you going to order?” Y/n, who’s been observing the situation, speaks up, attracting a pair of black orbs towards him. Then, Jun regards Hoshi and Y/n, back and forth, in a thoughtful manner.

“Oh ho? I see now,” he grins wickedly, elbowing Hoshi to the side and takes over his place, resulting in the dancer stumbling and hitting the glass display of ice cream. Paying no attention to Hoshi’s heated glare, Jun leans over the counter and brings his face closer to Y/n. “You’re pretty cute, I guess. Hoshi has a good taste.”Y/n makes a choking noise from her throat, and Hoshi’s left eye twitches.

“Who the heck are you?” Y/n scrunches her nose, taking one step backwards defensively.

“Wen Junhui, but you can call me darling,” Jun smiles flirtatiously. Y/n only stares back with a palpable discomfort on her face.

“...Then, are you going to order?” She repeats hesitantly.

“Sure. As long as you’re included as the bonus.”

“Uh,” y/n frowns deeper. “May I know the flavor of your choice?”

“Anything would do,” Jun answers, “but if you were an ice cream, you’d be my favorite flavor.”

“What?”

“And I know you’d like me too,” jun then lowers his voice into a whisper, like he’s going to tell the world’s deepest secret, “because I have an 8” popsicle down there.”

Mingyu’s shoulders are shaking from laughter, finding the whole situation amusing and ridiculous. Any other day, Hoshi would, too, but right now, he only feels a second-hand embarassment from Jun’s abhorrent pick-up lines. Even y/n looks utterly unimpressed by Jun’s flirting.

“Alright, Jun, that’s enough,” Hoshi interjects impatiently. “No one wants to know about your nonexistent 8” popsicle dick.”Mingyu laughs louder.

“Tch, you’re no fun, Hoshi,” Jun glares at him childishly, then whirls his body towards Y/n crossing his arms in his usual bossy manner. “Fine, I’ll order something. Get me a big cup of butterscotch and vanilla ice cream with marshmallows and oreos on top.”

“...Coming right up,” slightly taken aback by the change of attitude, y/n mutters and wordlessly scoops the ice cream into the cup, while Hoshi is inwardly cringing from the amount of sugar Jun’s order has.

The purple haired pays and finally leaves the shop, not before gesturing a V-sign to his eyes and then to Hoshi’s—indicating that their conversation isn’t over.

Hoshi shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be discussed in the first place,” he mumbles under his breath. Jun dragged himself into this situation. Then again, Hoshi’s known Jun long enough to tell that the purple haired wasn’t seriously flirting with Y/n. The dancer could properly make his fangirls swoon if he wanted to.

Looking back to his prior act, however... it’s almost as if he was testing Hoshi, because his eyes were holding a familiar knowing gleam—the exact glint in Mingyu ’s eyes when Hoshi first met y/n.

“But seriously, who is he?!” Y/n fumes. “I can’t believe he made a dick joke straight to my face!”

“He’s Hoshi’s ex,” Mingyu grins, nudging

y/n with his elbow. The younger blanches, mouth gaping upon hearing the information.

“Yup, and I’m totally dating you, Mingyu,” Hoshi rolls his eyes.

“R-really?!” Y/n’s eyes grow as wide as a saucer. Hoshi bites back a grin, almost forgetting how gullible Y/n is.

“Relax, we’re lying,” he snorts. “Can I take my order now?”

“Oh, right!” Y/n straightens her back, although she doesn’t seem to be convinced by Hoshi’s reassurance.

Hoshi selects the exact menu he ordered on his last visit, although this time he chooses a cone rather than a paper cup. He also makes a mental note to try another variety of topping next time.

“You two looks close,” y/n comments all of a sudden as she works behind the counter. It doesn’t take a genius to know who Y/n is talking about.“Jun’s my childhood friend,” Hoshi

smiles, quirking an eyebrow at Y/n’s pout. She’s sulking, for some unknown reason, albeit Hoshi has a silly, vague (and hopeful) idea of it. “Rest assured, there’s nothing between us,” Hoshi continues, watching how Y/n subtly relaxes her shoulders. “That goes for me and Mingyu, too,” she adds as an afterthought. Mingyu has never nodded so aggresively.

“That explains why you guys are on a first name basis,” Y/n says abashedly, avoiding Hoshi’s gaze. “B-but! Your relationship is none of my business, of course! This

l/n y/n was just curious, please forgive me for prying!”

Still blushing, she shoves the cone under Hoshi’s nose. Hoshi chuckles and takes it, purposely brushing their fingers together, deepening y/n’s blush. Satisfaction sprouts inside his chest—even without any cheesy pick-up lines, y/n’s naturally a blushing mess around him.Adorable.

“This is sickening to watch,” Mingyu groans, “now pay up, bastard.”

Out of reflex, Hoshi gives him another snide remarks about bad customer service (again), to which Mingyu retaliates with another empty threats.

The doorbell jingles as two chatting customers enter the shop, and at the same time, it’s Hoshi’s cue to leave. He looks back at Y/n, who’s unexpectedly staring at him in silence, and grins cheekily when Y/n flinches due to being caught.“See you next time,” Hoshi says in soft tone, before he playfully boops y/n’s on the nose.

Y/n doesn’t—can’t—reply because she has to serve the next customers, but she manages to send a meek smile towards Hoshi’s direction.

Fuck, Hoshi thinks later, as he ambles back to his place. He can’t believe he finally had the balls to nose boop y/n. He can’t erase y/n’s blushing face from his mind. He can’t stop smiling giddily right now—passersby are probably whispering about him, but he couldn’t care less.All he cares is that he’s honestly in some deep shit.

~~~~~~

 Hoshi spends the next few weeks coming to the ice cream shop. He sometimes misses a day or two, partially due to being exhausted by dancing practice or just college in general. Another reason is because he’s fed up with eating ice cream (no matter how much he’s come to tolerate it a little ever since coming to the shop) and his diet as an athlete doesn’t allow him to overeat anything sweet. Which is ridiculous, since he doesn’t have other excuses to see Y/n; visiting the shop frequently without buying anything would be weird. Though, as days go by, he becomes more creative with his orders, like switching to low-sugar frozen yogurts or an iced Americano float (with the float being removed, much to Y/n’s confusion). Soon, he also finds out the existence of food—such as toasts and grilled sausages—in the shop’s menu.(“You need to stop ogling at Y/n and pay attention to our menu instead,” Mingyu once chastised wryly.)

Regardless, Hoshi enjoys most of his visits. Y/n is a fun person to talk to; Hoshi is often swayed by her personality and ends up being more talkative than he actually is, earning a frown from Mingyu. Later, Y/n reveals that she’s a dancer at Hoshi and Mingyu’s rival college, and she has jokingly asked Hoshi several times to dance against her.Hoshi’s never given an outright answer, however. As much as he wants to meet up with Y/n outside of the shop, he wants it as a date.

And that’s where the problem lies. He doesn’t know how to properly bring it up. He could ask Y/n in the shop, right beside Mingyu, but getting rejected in public would be awkward. In the end, that thought is always buried to the back of his mind.

Today is no different. Hoshi visits the the shop again—after being absent for a week prior—with no intentions of bringing up the date. As usual, he only wants to see the dancer. Even before stepping his feet inside, his heart thumps in anticipation to Y/n’s welcoming smile. So, as soon as he pushes the door open only to notice the absence of one of the workers behind the counters, his face falls.

“Asshole, I should’ve gotten offended of how disappointed your face is when you saw me instead of Y/n,” Mingyu scowls, to which Hoshi grins sheepishly. “She’s gonna be late today. I know what you’re thinking—she’s fine. There aren’t any dangerous emergencies or something like that, calm down.”

“I am calm,” Hoshi replies, burying his hands into his pockets. “I know she’s gonna be fine. She has such a caring co-worker after all,” he smirks at Kuramochi, who huffs in slight embarassment.

“Shut up. Who knows what stupid thing she’s gonna do,” the hipster’s lips curl downwards, an attempt to hold back his smile. “Anyway, since she’s not here yet, I can finally interrogate you.”

“What is there to interrogate?”

“What is y/n to you?” Mingyu ignores his words, giving him a pointed look instead. “If you’re only playing with her, Hoshi, I swear – “

“Oi, can’t you trust me a little?” Hoshi sweatdrops. “Do I look like some kind of heartthrob? You know me better than that, ‘Mingyu.”

“With your face, it’s easy to become one.”

“Very flattering.”

“Anyway, I’m being fucking serious right now,” Mingyu glowers at the dancer solemnly. “Tell me what you want from her.”

Hoshi eventually sighs, and briefly scans the whole shop. Luckily, it’s one of the weekdays, so there aren’t many customers inside. Besides, they’re too engrossed in their conversations or electronical devices to eavesdrop on Hoshi and Mingyu.

“Look, I don’t want anything from her,” Hoshi begins slowly, but he’s only rewarded with a skeptical look from Mingyu. “Okay, maybe I’ve been meaning to ask her on a date, but—“ he narrows his eyes at the hipster. “Wait, she’s single, right?”

“Isn’t it a bit too late to be asking that?” Mingyu purses his lips into a thin line.

“Oh, Hoshi, you’re here!”

Both the hipster and the dancer whip their head alarmingly to the familiar voice. There stands y/n with her trademark grin, her bag slung around her shoulder. Panic blossoms inside of Hoshi’s chest—he didn’t hear the jingle of the doorbell, and judging from Mingyu’s startled response, he didn’t, too. They don’t know how long has the dancer been standing there. It’d be bad if Y/n managed to hear their conversation.

So, Hoshi studies y/n’s facial expression, searching for something, but the dancer only looks perplexed—probably due to Hoshi’s sudden stillness.

“Hoshi?” Y/n blinks up at him, making Hoshi more conscious of their height difference. Eyes trailing down to her neck, the pastel-colored collar of the shop’s uniform peeks out of her oversized sweater that falls until her mid-thigh, with the sleeves covering up her whole hands.

Sweater paws, Hoshi’s mind shuts down as tiny Hoshi’s inside his brain run in circles, screaming “ABORT! ABORT!” with high-pitched voices. She’s fucking wearing sweater paws.

“Hoshi-oppa!” Y/n frowns, successfully drawing Hoshi’s attention. “Don’t zone out like that, you’re scaring me.”

“Right, sorry,” the dancer mutters as he watches Y/n disappearing into the back room, before she shows up again without her sweater while tying the apron on her lower back.

“I see that you haven’t ordered something!” Y/n grins brightly, this time placing both of her hands on her hips. “So, what are you here for today, Hoshi?”

Hoshi, still distracted, racks his brain to all of the menu he’s ordered in the past. Triple shots espresso ice cream with almonds. Iced americano float, but without the float. Wasabi ice cream because he was feeling adventurous. Hazelnut spread and sliced banana on toast—

No, that’s not What hoshi wants all of this time. He wants—

“You,” he blurts out, mumbling, unaware of Mingyu choking in the background. However, when he notices the lack of response from the dancer, the haze in his brain suddenly dissipates, and everything becomes crystal clear again. “Shit, I mean—“

“Okay,” Y/n says, e/c orbs shyly peeking from underneath her lashes towards Hoshi.

“I was—huh, what?” Hoshi pauses, dumbfounded.

“I said okay,” Y/n averts her eyes, playing with the hem of her apron. “You can have me.”

Hoshi stares and stares, trying to process Y/n’s affirmation. That sounds too suggestive—too good to be true. Maybe his brain is tricking him. Maybe this is only a scene that he unconsciously creates inside his mind which is brought to life in a form of hallucination.

But when Y/n starts to fidget under his gaze, Hoshi lets his brain register the fact that this is, indeed, a reality.

As the gears inside him begin to work again, Hoshi doesn’t pass the chance to poke some fun at Y/n’s answer which basically serves as a free teasing material for Hoshi to use.

“Oh? How bold,” he then comments, smirking in satisfaction as he observes how realization gradually dawns on Y/n’s face.

“I didn’t mean to phrase it like that!” the dancer exclaims defensively, her cheeks now tainted with red. “Y-you were the one who blurted out weird things in the first place!”

“Sorry, sorry~” Hoshi grins unapologetically, to which Y/n pouts at. “But, as tempting as it sounds, you should let me take you on a date first, y’know,” he continues, his playful grin faltering a little due to slight nervousness.

To his relief, Y/n utters a timid “okay” and nods, a tint of pink still decorating her cheeks. At that, Hoshi doesn’t bother to hide the ever-growing smile on his lips and an excited glance to Mingyu who’s pretending to read a magazine and acting all disinterested, albeit the small curl on the corner of his mouth tells otherwise.

The next thing Hoshi knows is him exchanging phone numbers with the dancer and discussing their date in a short stretch of time due to the arrival of a group of customers.

Hoshi doesn’t get any ice cream that day, but he does get something—someone—sweeter in return.

 ~Three months later~

 Hoshi sips on his hot, black coffee, the steam fogging up the lenses of his glasses. He steps aside when a patron comes out of the shop hurriedly, but he manages to halt the door from closing with his right knee. Hoshi then opens the door big enough for his body to get inside as the familiar chime of the doorbell greets his ears. The shop is silent, empty without customers, highly caused by the “CLOSED” sign on the door with a red, thick font.“I’m sorry, we’re already closed—“ Y/n says from Hoshi’s left side while stacking some brochures. When she finally turns her head towards the door, a beatific smile appears on her face. “Oh! Hoshi.”

Hoshi smiles back, placing his coffee on the counter and leans towards Y/n, to which the latter eagerly closes the gap between their mouths. They share a quick kiss as a greeting, before Hoshi withdraws slightly.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing over

y/n’s. He steals one or two more kisses, just because he can’t help himself.

“Hi to you too,” Y/n whispers, giggling. Hoshi cradles his lover’s cheeks with one of his palms, prompting Y/n to nuzzle against it. From here, he can also make out Y/n’s e/c eyes twinkling in delight—so captivating and blinding that it stupefies him.

“For someone who’s on her last day of work, you sure look happy,” Hoshi comments, arching an amused brow.

“I am happy!” Y/n replies, pulling away fully to finish her tidying duty. She moves swiftly behind the counters, the sole of her shoes creating noisy sounds against the tiled floor. “But not in a way you’re thinking.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Hoshi says, bringing the paper cup of his half-drunk coffee to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I like this job,” Y/n confesses, finishing her work and untying her apron. “My co-workers are nice, and my boss is generous to give me discounted ice cream.”

“I think the latter plays a bigger part,” Hoshi teases, knowing Y/n’s sweet tooth.

“Shut up,” the dancer juts her tongue out. “Meeting you here is what makes this job more special,” Y/n casually states, offering a smug smirk at Hoshi’s flabbergasted expression.

“Wow, Y/n,” he breathes out, before whistling with a shake of head. “You sure become bolder with your words nowadays.”

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?!”Y/n questions, pupils turning cat-like.Hoshi hums. “Well, you used to blush so much around me—“

“That’s – “ as if on cue, red creeps up to y/n’s cheek. “That’s because you always gave me those kind of eyes and used that kind of voice—!”

“What about now?”hoshi smirks, revelling in the way Y/n gets all worked up because of him. A nasty personality he has, indeed.

“Ugh, I’m not gonna talk about it!” the dancer scrunches her nose, a habit that Hoshi’s taken to notice whenever Y/n is frustrated. “Anyway! I was talking why I feel happy to quit work! It’s because I can spend more time with you now!”If Hoshi’s heart pulsates rapidly due to the abrupt swarm of affections in his veins, he does a great job of hiding it. “The real reason why you quit is because of the upcoming dancer season. We’d still be busy, either way,” he points out instead.

“Must you be so pessimistic, Hoshi?” Y/n pouts, looking a little dejected. Hoshi exhales guiltily.

“My bad,” he chuckles, ruffling the crown of Y/n’s head. “You know that I’d always try to make time for you, right, Y/n?”

“Of course you do, you whipped asshole. Only you would come to a shop that sells something you dislike.”

“Mingyu-oppa!” Y/n jumps due to

Mingyu’s unannounced appearance from the back room, before gawking at his revelation. “Wait, what? Does Hoshi not like ice cream?”

“Ask him yourself,” Mingyu shrugs.

Y/n immediately whirls towards Hoshi, displaying her best puppy face to lure the truth out of her boyfriend. And concede Hoshi does, not before shooting daggers at a snickering Mingyu.

“Yes, y/n, I don’t eat much sweets. You happy now?” he admits reluctantly, tugging the collar of his jacket in embarassment.

“Oh my god, Hoshi!” Sawamura bounces on her feet. “After all of this time, you didn’t come here for the ice cream?!”

Hoshi sighs, not before downing the remnant of his coffee and throwing it in the nearest trash bin. “I don’t see what the issue is. It’s not like I exactly loathe ice cream, I just can’t handle it if it’s too sweet—“Y/n, however, wastes no time to approach Hoshi on the other side of the counter, circling her arms around Hoshi’s neck and kisses him hard on the mouth.

The hipster groans in agony, covering his face with his right palm. “This isn’t the outcome that I wanted,” he bemoans, lamenting in his misery.

Hoshi laughs nasally, eyes closing in pure mirth as Y/n continues to pepper kisses on his face. It eggs Mingyu even more as he seethes in irritation.“Okay, stop it, Y/n! Why the fuck are you so pleased at the idea of Hoshi trying to get himself diabetes for you?”

“Oi, that’s too exaggerating, don’t you think?” Hoshi sweatdrops.

Y/n ends her ministration and frowns at Mingyu. “But Mingyu-oppa! If I were in Hoshi’s shoes, I’d do the same! But currently he’s not working in a natto-based restaurant or something, so I shall reward his bravery in some other way!”

“Don’t do it here,” Mingyu snaps, “I’ve cleaned and locked all shit in the back room while you were busy with that idiot. Grab your bag and sweater and just go home.”Teary-eyed, Y/n beams brightly, “I express my sincerest gratitude for you,

Mingyu-oppa!” She exclaims, before dashing to the back room to collect her belongings.“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu waves her off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s my last day too, figures I’d do more than usual.”

“Aw, it wouldn’t hurt to admit that you care for her, ‘Mingyu,” Hoshi coos.

“And you!” Mingyu then throws the dancer a resentful look. “You owe me for all of the time you’ve made me into a fucking thirdwheel, bastard!”

At that moment, Y/n has come back, already clad in her warm, oversized sweater, and proceeds to stand next to Hoshi. That’s when an idea strikes him.

“Thirdwheel?” Hoshi asks, tilting his head at Mingyu in a faux innocuousness. He pulls his unsuspecting girlfriend closer by the waist, to which Y/n lets out a soft gasp. “Whatever do you mean by that, Mingyu?”

“Huh?” Mingyu croaks out, widening his eyes when Hoshi lowers his head to Y/n’s face with a shit-eating grin.

“What are you – shit, don’t you two dare making out again – give me a damn break, I’m trying to close the shop here! If you two don’t stop right now, I’m gonna kick out both of you with a fucking broom – oi, did you hear me?! Alright, for fuck’s sake, Y/n, save the moan for later and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE—“

[innittowinit]

Can you pick me up? my uni burnt down (Chapt. 2)

Relationships: Sleepy bois inc (all fics i write are platonic)

Summary: 

 In which Techno goes to England for University, his building catches fire in the night, and he isn't prepared for the difference in climate between England and California. SBI fluff ensues

Chapter summary: 

After waking up, Wilbur has the great idea that they should do a sleepy boys stream. Tommy doesn't get told about this id

Words: 1785

Language: English

AO3 Chapt. 1

Listen, waking up on a sofa, with a thin blanket shared with 3 men was never going to be the best morning. His back hurt and his legs were numb from Wilbur having sprawled out over the three of them as he slept. 

Stretching his arms back, he recounted the events of last night. God, it really was only a few hours ago, he was so tired. Had this been last year, he would have been able to stay up for days on end and then just crash for an entire weekend. It wasn’t last year though and Techno had gotten himself into a fairly healthy routine, he couldn’t exactly be sleeping through his uni classes anyway. 

“Alright you two” Hearing Philza’s voice, he propped his head up, “Get up, you can’t lay around all day”

A groan came from the mass of blankets and cushions that happened to be Wilbur, who was curled up in the centre of it,

“Phil it's so early and we went to bed so late. It’s fine to sleep in”

“Okay” he chuckled, humouring his tired friend “It’s midday Wil, im taking the blankets away now”

Techno thought it was much too early too, as he tugged the sleeves of Wilbur’s hoodie down a little further so they could act like gloves. 

“Do you mind if I use your PC to try and find out what’s going on with my classes at some point? They'll probably send me an email or something” He grumbled, standing up so he could stretch his back out properly, following Phil slowly to the kitchen.

“That’s fine, it's up in my room, do what you need”

Breakfast was nice, it had been a while since Techno had had time for it honestly, and even longer since he had been able to eat with people he cared about. He had a couple slices of buttered toast and a bowl of some british cereal which he didn’t really like but he didn’t want to be rude so he ate it anyway. 

“You wanna stream together later?” Wil asked through a mouth full of food, earning a snort from Phil. This was nice. 

“Yeah maybe, you use face cam though, I’m not like against showing them my face but y'know, it is what it is” he shrugged, spooning another mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, he had to admit it was very bland, he much preferred the sweeter ones that were more popular in America. 

“Well think about it, if you decide you don't want them to see you, you can always just sit off to the side and I'll turn my monitor so you can still see it. My office is big enough for it anyway, it’ll be like where Niki was during that one MCC remember?”

Techno nodded and carried on eating, they really were 3 very sleepy boys right now. Maybe he’d take a nap once he found out what was going on with his classes. 

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

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

Streaming without any gameplay to comment about and with facecam on? Techno wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. That just didn’t really sound like something he was going to enjoy.

It was nerve wracking and he always seemed to glance at the camera too much when it was pointed at him. He knew the fans would be disappointed if he didn’t do it though, When Wilbur tweeted out saying that he and Phil would join him in a ‘you laugh you lose’ he watched as the replies freaked out. 

You could say he was just a bit camera shy, he wasn’t incredibly insecure, sure there were things he didn’t like that much but everyone had things like that, it just made him nervous to know that people were looking at him. 

He’d be okay with his friend’s though, he trusted that they’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation. He knew if he got overwhelmed he could sit outside the frame. 

It would be okay. 

“Hey hey chat” Wilbur mumbled into the mic, making it loud enough so that everyone could hear but it still sounded like he was whispering. 

“We’ve got the blade here, bet you weren’t expecting that huh chat? Or maybe you were, maybe you read the title of the stream, bet there’s someone watching who didn't think he’d be here though” he finally turned the music off and switched from his ‘starting soon’ screen to his regular camera. 

Wil went through the rules, it was the normal stuff, he added in some jokes here and there, prodding Techno and Phil to talk at times. They’d already agreed that this wouldn’t be for youtube, since that seemed to add a bit too much pressure for Techno, but hey, he still had to welcome his chat. 

“Okay!! First media share! Lets go”  

After a series of videos, some funnier than others, Techno had started to loosen up a bit. He was getting more comfortable with the camera and while he’d probably cringe while looking back at the footage, at least he was having fun right now.

He had a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t usually there when he was streaming alone, sure it was usually fun but nothing was better than being with his friends while doing it, there was really only one person who was missing. 

As if on queue, chat started spamming Tommy’s name, for a moment Techno thought he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud, before he looked between Phil and Wilbur, who both seemed equally confused. Moving Wilbur’s mouse over the chat to pause it, Techno tried to read some of the messages. 

“Oh he tweeted something” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket without a care. Maybe some irl streamers would have used the computer but knowing Wilbur’s history, he doubted it could run Chrome and streamlabs at the same time. 

Looking at the tweet he felt a little pang of guilt. It was lighthearted and jokey but he knew there’d be a little truth to it. He nudged the other two and read it aloud to them. 

‘Damn guess I’m not a sleepy boy after all’

The air felt a little thick after that, they hadn’t meant to exclude Tommy; all of the excitement of Techno coming to stay had just made it a little hard to arrange to have Tommy here after all. 

Still, they probably should have still told him though. They were supposed to be each other's family.  

“Hey chat I think we’re gonna have to end stream early.” Wilbur finally piped up, deciding it wouldn't be right to carry on when they had hurt their friend, not that chat needed to know that though, he didn’t want to embarrass Tommy. 

“I feel kinda sick and I don't think you all wanna watch me vomit right? Yeah so it’s best we end it now” 

Techno sniggered to himself at that, in games Wilbur always seemed to be very cunning but he supposed he wasn’t very good at lying when it was about something he actually cared about. Said something being Tommy.  

After raiding Fundy, the trio hopped straight onto discord. 

Tommy didn't answer the first time he was called. 

Or the second. 

Finally, after three calls, Tommy decided he’d talk to them. 

“You are all a bunch of dick heads, you know that? What the hell! Why wasn’t I invited to the sleepy boy’s stream! Wilbur you bitch!” Through all the vulgar language and the constant yelling, it was clear that Tommy was genuinely upset. 

He had every right to be, as far as Techno was concerned. From his point of view his friend’s had just gone off and hung out without him. He just hoped he’d calm down once they explained everything.  

“You know I thought we were friends! I thought we were brothers! But if you don’t wanna hang out with a ‘kid’ you can just tell me and i’ll- i'll go!” He was still yelling, as usual, it was clear he was trying to make this into a joke where he could overreact but Techno noticed the small sniffles and the quiver in his voice. 

By the looks on Phil’s and Wilbur’s faces, they recognised it too.  

“Listen, Tommy” 

Wil was the first to talk, it made sense, it seemed that Tommy trusted him the most at times. Sometimes Techno could be a bit too cold and sometimes Phil could get a bit too overbearing.

Techno understood this, he didn’t take it personally, he knew it was only natural that you have people you trust with your emotions more than others. It didn’t mean Tommy didn’t love them just as much, just that they weren’t his ‘go-to’ when he felt down. 

Techno felt the same way sometimes. Feeling’s got complicated and personally he thought Phil was the best to talk to about that, the fact that he was older and had his life sorted out gave him a sense of comfort, like he could trust him because he knew what he was talking about. 

“We didn’t plan a meetup, it just sorta happened. Phil was at my place, helping me record, and then Techno’s Uni had a fire and he needed a place to stay while they’re making it safe again” Wilbur sighed as he heard Tommy moving on the other side of his mic. Techno wondered what he was doing. 

“We would have invited you, had we known that we’d all be in the same place Toms” 

Phil took over, giving Wilbur a little sympathetic smile. The brunette so obviously felt guilty about the situation. 

“But when we got the call from Tech’ it was past 3 in the morning and it was tipping it down with snow, as soon as we got home we all slept. We decided to do a stream this morning but never once did we intend to try and make you feel like you aren’t welcome with us” 

Finally it was Techno’s turn to talk...Fuck.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental guy, he struggled to show his emotions and he just assumed everyone he cared for just knew that he cared for them. He rarely had to say it out loud. God okay. He just had to swallow his pride and go for it. 

“Tommy you are a sleepy boy and you are our brother. We did kind of a dick move today and if I was you I’d probably be upset too. I know I didn't like seeing you guys playing without me during MCC and that wasn’t even any of our decisions. We should have called you or something. I know I kinda tease you a lot but that’s just how I show I like people. Listen Tommy if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to make those kinds of jokes with you. It’s not funny if it’s hurting you though..”

Techno bit his lip, this wasn’t as hard as he had anticipated but it was coming out like word vomit. 

“You’re young Tommy but you’re so talented. We love you”

There was some more rustling, it sounded like Tommy was wiping his eyes. Maybe the boy had expected a yelling match, only for it to turn out to be very emotional. 

“I love you guys too.. If you ever exclude me ever again though I’m getting my vlog knife out”

[popculturebuffet]

The Legend of the Three Caballeros: Mt. Fuji Whiz and Thanks a Camelot Reviews: Thank God, No Daisy (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Saludos amgios and welcome to the final sprint of THE RIDE OF THE THREE CABLLEROS. If your wondering if this is a bit soon.. that’s because it is. While I planned to do the episodes as is before.. this bottom half of the series so far has been so good I couldn’t bare waiting days to get to the next episode just as things are getting really good, especially after the last episode’s cliffhanger. So today, I intend to FINISH the series, with an epilogue next week for my look at the cabs as a whole via a top 12 moments list. Plus i’m already excited for the next retrospective, so there’s that. And yeah Kev’s funding ANOTHER one and you can too.. serioulsy just shoot me an ask for any solo episode or arc you wan’t covered. But now’s not the time for shameless plugs, it’s the time for adventure and to sew up a cliffhanger! So come with me after the cut for some ghouls, ghosts and arthur won’t you?

PREVIOUSLY ON LEGEND OF THE THREE CABLLEROS:

And now the conclusion...

Mt. Fuji Whiz:

First off... let’s talk about the episode titles for the series since I don't think I have yet. 

It has bothered me for the ENTIRE run of the series how terrible most of them are. There all a pun of some kind on something involved with the episode.. but out of 13 episode titles the only ones I like are World-Tree Caballeros, No Man is an Easter Island, Stonehenge Your Bets, Nazca Racing and Thanks a Camelot. And most of them fit the theme of the episode with the exception of Stonehenge: World Tree is a clever pun they couldn’t NOT use, no man fits the theme of the episode as bad as that episode is, Nazca Racing is just another good pun and fits the race at the end, and thanks a Camelot while a very simple one, fits the story of that episode, i.e. everyone's dissatisfaction with Arthur’s training. More on that later. Point is the rest are just.. really cringe inducing puns. And I do LOVE a good pun.. but that’s a GOOD pun, not obvious ones about a “pyramid life-crisis” or a play on gee whiz in 2018 for god’s sake. And the finale title is just.. really awful as they gave up entirely and named it after square dancing for HOPEFULLY no adequate reason. And look the series is a comedy first with the action second, pun titles would be fine.. their just so bad it sucks all the pun out of them. See what I did there? THAT’S a pun. And not even a great one, but it’s still better than this. It feels like the titles were an afterthought and it’s obnoxious. and frustrates me every time I have to type them out. And with only four episodes left I had to get it out sometime. 

So moving onto the actual episode we pick up with the ending of last episode: Death killing the Cabs and Team Sheldgoose. And as we see shortly. he wasn’t bluffing. We pick up with them in the underworld in a dmv line. My god.. it’s even worse of a beaurcrcy than Beetlejuice. Feldrake informs the cabs where they are and Donald, being Donald, dosen’t have the patience to wait in line with the bilions of souls down there, especially since the take a number thing gave them a number that needed to be printed on both sides.. and their at 4. Good gag though. So Donald storms out the moment he sees and exit and our boys head into the city of the Damned. Sheldgoose meanwhile decides to do his best Karen and demands ot speak with the manager.. whose another Sheldgoose it turns out. Uh-Oh.  After the credits our boys explore the city and hoping not to get hit with more ghost cards, find shelter in a little tavern owned by none other than Clinton Coot, Donald’s Great-Grandpa and father of his grandmother Elvira Coot. Clinton initally mistakes the boys for their ancestors, and is disapionted in meeting donald, but once he learns their the ones that inehreted his Cabana, he’s exastic to meet and learn about them. We also learn he had a collection of fragile frontiersman figurines.. which cleverly, are all various versions of Scrooge from life and times. His second cowboy outfit from the side story “The Vigilante of Pizen Bluff”, his prospector outfit from “Terror of the Tranysval”, his klondike prospecter outfit and him finding the goose egg nugget from “King of The Klondike” and him bitterly hauling a sack of his loot into town from the same story. Also some palet swaps of all but the last one because animation is expensive. Panchito.. destroys them all while putting down his pIzza. “NOTHINGS BROKEN”. Clinton then invites the boys to have a sip of his memories, literally he drains some out and despite their relcutance the cabs take a chug.  They reveal prettty much.. every nagging question about the cabana. Clinton, after finding out about his ancestor Duego Duck, the original cabs version of donald, Clinton traveled the world and the 7 seas, everybody’s looking for something.. and he was looking for every trace of the cabs, and their mysterious ally, who we know as Xandra. He gathered all of it, hence the massive collection of books and magical treasures in the cabana, eventually finding their hidden lair and building his cabana on top of it, founding New Quackmore with Sheldgoose’s own great grandmother.. who betrayed him and took the institute from him. His consolation prize was finding Ari and the atlas but he couldn’t open it like the boys and is curious what they found. I absolutely love this and while I feel Clinton’s history would’ve worked better as an overaching mystery, there were seeds for all of this planeted throughout the season, with Sheldgoose being in charge despite the name and Clinton being involved, Shelgoose’s mention a sheldgoose has always been president, and the tease last episode. Still would’ve liked MORE exploration and build up to this , but what we got was facenating upgrading Clinton from a footnote on the duck family tree, to a throughly loveable character: A guy who was so fascenated by his ancestor’s adventures he became an adventurer himself and who lovingly catalogued eveyrthing the guy and his friends ever did.. and had some heartrending reasons why we’ll get to. 

 As Jose leads in with not what but WHO, and likely tells clint about their adventures, a clever way to get that exposition out off screen, we cut back to the world of the living. Xandra is beating herself up, if not literally over things, and while the girls just suggest going to the underworld via zoom point, Xandra points out that won’t work. There’s only one way in: Charon, the greek ferryman of the dead.. and she realizes that’s exactly how, while the girls try a seance.  I’ll just cover the séance stuff now. The girls hold a séance to summon the boys, finding some unfinished business (A piece of said pizza) and having ari dress like a fortune teller because eh why not. There’s some good gags and stuff, but it’s mostly plot irrelvant, only hurting Panchito’s brain at first, then summoning him just as their about to fight a Tengu, with humphrey eating the pizza finsihing the buisness. Not a bad plot at all and certainly refreshing after all the Daisy nonsense last episode, but nothing really important.  Meanwhile let’s also get to Xandra’s subplot, which is both mroe relevant and funnier and again i’ll be covering all at once for convience. Xandra finds that the horn to summon Charon... is now a sax.  Huh so THAT’S what pamela anderson’s character CJ was doing when she was introduced on baywatch. 

Anyways turns out Charon’s reinvented the old boat and since Xandra’s an immortal he offers her a free ride. It’s now a cruise ship with him as the captain, voiced by voice acting legend Jim Cummings who does a fantastic job. The reasonings also brilliant: he wasn’t getting many WILLING souls with his creepy old setup, so he reinvinted things and now has a packed house, plenty of coins and a nonstop party. He even gives us an add for the buisness... this whole thing is fucking amazing and deserves to be praised and is the series at it’s best: taking something mythic and giving it some wacky but still clever tweaks. Xandra eventually gets annoyed as he isn’t going into the city so she can’t look for the cabs and takes the wheel, cursing her to be the captain now, but she just uses that to get in and finds clinton who agrees to guide her to the boys... we’ll get to where he guided them in a moment. 

And that moment is now, Clinton tells the boys there is a way out, but it involves fighting the Tengu, which is misdentified as a falcon despite, even as someone with only a surface knowledge of yokai, I knew it’s modled after a crow, or at least some versions are as it turns out.. and so is the one here so how did they screw that one up?

Point is they need to get past it, and are on a timer as when the Creepy combination of jack skeltington and that moon from Majora’s mask that’s in the sky sets and night ends, their stuck. But first they run into a guard who says they have to fill out paperwork.. and his superior is intend on that, his superior being unsuprisingly sheldgoose, who got the gig since his family runs the afterlife. Oh goodie the rich also somehow run death....

But Donald decides FUCK PAPERWORK, throws it in the air and they run for it with Sheldgoose sicing the tengu on them, which looks awesome by the way. Panchito disappears as mentioned before just as they get a plan but returns in time to free his friends and they triumph.. only for Sheldgoose to not take this lying down and summon his entire family to kick their assses. So both sides power up: having learned the trick from clinton earlier, the cabs inflate.. part of their bodies while sheldgoose forms a voltron style fusion made up of his ancestor’s heads.. with the caveman as the crotch. 

So a fight insues that’s fluid and beautifully animated, and Xandra even arrives to provide backup, with Charon relieving her because he’ could loose his five star rating. I hear you man I struggled just to get my island up to a four. So it becomes a gorgeously animated and awesome fight with Clinton joining inn, finally able to be one of his heroes. He also reitarates something he told donald, that it’s not the journey.. it’s who you take it with and part of his love of the cabs was never having companions like that. Donald takes it to heart and our heroes take their leave, Clinton finally having achieved his lifes’ work. They decide to see japan because why not. Maybe they’ll run into hannibal there. 

And to tie things off, Shelgoose and Feldrake, whose spent the etnire epsidoe still in the staff depsite being dead and...

And find.. a demonic version of Donald in a devil costume, from that short with the devil and angel Donald's.. okay I have some questions. 

He sends them back and we’re out

Final Thoughts for Mt. Fuji Whiz: One of the series best. It’s well paced, has an amazing concept and both sideplots have some form of relevance while being utterly hilarious, especially the charon one. Seriously best bit character of the series calling it now. Already headcanon him as part of the ducktales universe. Along with a lot of this actually. IT’s good stuff and despite the series falts episodes like this prove why it really needed, and still needs, a second season. 

Thanks a Camelot:

Our heroes return to the land of the living with Xandra and to the Cabana, and while Donald wants to relax a bit, Xandra being an ass shoots that down. Though her reasons are valid: Feldrake has been stepping up his game with every scheme.. which is true. HIs last two schemes, not counting his post mortem one, only BARELY didn’t kill them and actually did kill them, and him too but that wasn’t on purpose. They need some good old fashioned hero training so Xandra’s taking the to king arthur and camelot, which of course are still around, to get it and since his training involves leaving everything behind, they leave htier weapons and other stuff behind including their amulets.. which haven’t come up since but are now since their important to the finale i’m guessing and they’ve been wearing the whole time. The girls are tagging along too as they want to document things because the plot says so but their entertaining so fine and leaving Ari and the Bear to guard. And the barrier.. more the barrier.  So with our heroes off Feldrake decides they need to strike and Sheldgoose has a plan to get around the barrier to get Humphrey’s spark: hide inside a cake and have humphrey so overcome by his desire for cake he comes to them. Feldrake is unimpressed but it works.. and even better as he drags them in.. but apparently while Feldrake’s protections are keyed to our heroes bloodline.. coot’s only extneded to feldrake. Which makes sense: he was friends with a Sheldgoose and probably didn’t consider her an enemy till he’d already set the spells, and cleverly, and i’d forgotten this till writing this review: Sheldgoose has already BEEN on the Cabana grounds once and to the doorstep, in the first episode when he visited the yardsale and in the finale of the second when he showed up to give Donald his check. So the show even showed it.. we just didn’t think about it or assumed having the ring meant he couldn’t now. But nope Sheldgoose is inside and Humphrey’s knocked out. 

Back in merry old Camelot, I apolgoize for having a deficit of spamalot and Monty Python refrences, our heroes meet King Arthur, voiced by former star of said spamelot John O’ Hurley, who I was going to give a good treatment and go into his career.. then I found out he’s VERY conservative, pro trump even post riot and generally kind of an ass in how he conducts himself soooo instead a hearty

Does a good job here, still a weasel fiesta. So King Arthur trains our heroes.. via motivational statments, trust falls and what not with his knights who get the same traning, one of which is Gallhad, a frog voiced by the same guy who viced Kermit on muppet babies. Yayyyyy. The girls wonder off, finding Merlin, whose busy with spells and such and clarfying which one is which. They give him june’s phone as Merlin has a video game addiction but Arthur forbids it because well. he has a problem why wouldn’t he.  Ruined Todd Chavez’s life it did. I mean it’s exceptional now but it took a bit of living on a drunken horse with serious issues couch. 

Anyways, Donald soon gets fed up because.. hes Donald. And because.. Tony kinda leans on the more classic constantly angry donald in this one, since he DID help write the lines. It’s not BAD mind you.. but I prefer the melding of his comics and shorts self other works did, the smug ego and everyman desperation to be noticed and liked from the comics mixed with the ego but also tons of rage of the shorts. Kinda like how Daffy had his own egotistical smartguy version merged with his screwball version for the Looney Tunes Show.. which i’ve been rewatching lately. Even better than I remember, highly underated. 

My point is this Donald, as we approach the end .. isn’t for me. He’s just not as intresting as the cloudcuckoolander panchito or the smootha nd wise jose. He ballances them well, being the more direct angry one to panchito’s unpredicablity and Jose’s smooth compemplation. He’s not BAD, and i get why some would prefer this one over Ducktales, as he’s more in line with his classic characterzation.. but I just prefer a more nuanced Donald and this one isn’t it. He spends most of the series either complaning, pissed off, or pining for an ungreatful she demon. There’s not a lot of notes compared to Jose or Panchito, as Jose isn’t just a ladies man or a charmer but a fairly smart guy who has pretty damn good plans and Panchito isn’t just spacey but, kind brave and with his own moral code. They just got more fleshing out as things went and Donald didn’t and it’s disappointing. 

So Donald gets fed up with the training, and calls out it’s only motivatoinal, with the other cabs agreeing, if more tactfully, and the knights.. also agreeing, pointing out King Arthur dosen’t even do his own goofy self motivational exercises and abandon him.. at the worst possible time as the girls conjur up a super powerful magical dragon. So the knights leave him to it and Arthur is too cowardly to face it. So the Cabs do what he won’t and charge in to defend the holy grail, called the grail of immortality here for ..r easons, and fight the dragon.. and Arthur joins them, inspired to finally get his groove back and gives the knights a rousing speech and even reconclies with donald. So our heroes fight the dragon and nearly die, before the rest of the round table pitches in, and the girls find the dragons scroll and impulsively burn it.. which destorys it. So the day’s saved, and Arthur apologizes to everyone and decides to give the boys proper combat training as thanks. Also we get a really funny bit with Merlin, who throws the phone into the fire.. and much like the dragon, apparenlty it was tied to the employee who activated it because he suddenly and horrifcly burns up. PFFT. Dark but beautfiul

But of course what about the Sheldgoose subplot. Well I saved that for now to cover it all at once SO: Sheldgoose pokes around, being annoyed by a dart board of his face and what not and tries to find something to fish the spark out with... but Ari finds him and proves to be entirely useful, beating Sheldgoose down into the treasure chamber and getting inot a fight with him. Sheldgoose holds pace.. until Humphrey wakes up and with the odds against him they throw him out. Meanwhile Feldrake zaps a dog that was going to get peed on him but when sheldgoose is ejegted is surronded by dogs and clearly didn’t escape as he dosne’t want to taklk about why he smells to sheldgosoe. He is ABOUT to berate him for failure again.. but Sheldgoose points out he swiped something more important: The amulets. 

Proving once again Sheldgoose is the real power in the team. 

Final Thoughts on Thanks a Camelot:  This was a fun one. While finding out about John O Hurley was... unfortunte.. he does a decent job and the episodes a fun take on camelot with, as usual , really excellent gags, pacing and a hell of a fight scene with a dragon. Good stuff as usual

NEXT TIME; It all ends! It’s a visit to some yeti’s before one final dance betwen good and evil and one last set of episodes for this retropsective! Be ready! 

[ravenpaw-93]

Denial, Self Sabotage, and Acceptance: The Three Stages of Falling in Love with Your Flatmate

3.5k words

Summary:

After forging an unlikely friendship during N.E.W.T year Harry and Draco became inseparable. It only seemed natural they should become flatmates. However, after two years of watching them tiptoe around each other, their friends have had enough and devise a plan to make them realise they're in love.

Harry sat at his and Ron's usual table at The Dragon's Den staring moodily at worn oak tabletop as he waited for Ron to return with their drinks. He looked up as a shot glass and a pint of beer slid in front of him. He immediately downed the shot with a grimace.

"Damn, mate. Rough day?" Ron asked arching an eyebrow as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table. 

"You could say that." Harry retorted bitterly, taking a swig of beer. "Flatmate problems." 

He and Draco had gotten a flat together after Hogwarts. They'd become close friends during N.E.W.T year and both had taken positions at the Ministry, Harry with the Aurors and Draco the Goblin Liaison Department. They figured they'd probably end up spending so much time together at separate places it just made sense to get a flat together and split expenses. They'd managed to coexist rather peacefully the past two years, until this week. 

"What'd Malfoy do this time? Dirty dishes in the sink? Leave your wet clothes in the wash?" Ron snorted rolling his eyes.

"He's got a date." Harry muttered, downing the rest of his beer.

"Oh." Ron replied dully. He took a sip of beer and his eyes widened. "Oh. So we're finally acknowledging that, are we?" 

"Acknowledging what?" Harry asked, waving one of the cocktail waitresses over.

"Your three year long massive crush on Malfoy." Ron answered as if it should be obvious. 

"Crush? I haven't got a crush on Draco. We're flatmates, we usually hang out on Fridays. He just ditched me last minute, is all." Harry argued before turning to the approaching waitress and ordering more drinks.

"Are you really that fucking thick? Or are you in denial? It's one or the other." Ron snickered. "I mean that in the nicest way possible."

"Neither." Harry said stubbornly.

"Oh, come off it. It's me, you don't have to lie. In fact, I'm insulted that you actually think you could lie to me about this. I'm not bloody stupid." Ron argued, rolling his eyes.

"Thanks." Harry said as more drinks were brought to their table. He downed a shot before continuing. "I don't know what you're on about. I'm not lying."

"Then you are in denial." Ron shrugged, pursing his lips as he watched Harry take another shot. "We've been here less than twenty minutes and you've taken three shots and downed a whole beer. You're too bothered for it to just be Malfoy cancelling movie night or whatever the hell it is you two do."

"I asked you to come out with me to have a good time." Harry sighed. "Can we please talk about something else. Anything else." 

"Fine. But sooner or later you're gonna have to face this. Getting pissed and bringing some rando home with you for a quick fuck isn't gonna make the shit go away." 

"Who says I'm going to?" Harry rolled his eyes drinking his beer.

Ron stared at him, his 'shut up Harry, I know you' expression fixed on his face. He finished his beer and shook his head exasperatedly.

"Whatever, mate. So, did you get your new trainee today?" 

"Yeah. Can't remember his name to save my life though. He seemed decent enough." Harry shrugged, grateful Ron finally dropped the subject. He wanted to forget about Draco and the hollow pit he caused in Harry's stomach.

"Lucky you. Mines an absolute moron. I'll be dead by the end of next week." Ron groaned.

Harry allowed himself to get lost in conversation about the trainees at work with Ron. Laughing at his stories of his idiot trainee, who by the sound of it, barely made it through the academy. He felt the misery he'd been feeling since finding Draco's note after work finally begin to leave him. After a third beer and another round of shots he was feeling rather pleasant. Everyone around him seemed much funnier and, many of them, much prettier than they had when they first arrived. Though, that was probably just the Firewhiskey talking. But in the end Ron was right, he found an attractive bloke willing to accompany him home. He was just tall enough and just blonde enough that, for one night at least, Harry could pretend he was someone else. And afterwards, when the man was gone and Harry was alone in his bed, he tried not to hate himself for it.

***

"Harry?" Draco called as he walked through the door of their shared flat, having just ghosted possibly the worst date he'd ever had. "You home? You wouldn't belie–" 

He stopped mid sentence as he entered the main area of their open concept flat. All the lights were off, aside from a table lamp and there was a note on their breakfast bar. He picked it up, frowning at its brevity. 

Went to the pub with Ron, don't wait up. -H

Harry's notes were usually paragraphs. He flipped the paper over, but the other side was blank. His frown deepened and he felt an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach. He shrugged it off. Harry probably just left the note at the last minute. And even if he hadn't, it's just a note for Merlin's sake. He didn't have to write Draco a novel every time. He rolled his eyes, annoyed with himself, as he selected a bottle of wine from the rack in the kitchen area. He Floo'd to Pansy's trying to convince himself the slight aching feeling in his heart was residual disappointment from his date and had nothing to do with Harry's uncharacteristically short correspondence. 

"Thought you had a date?" Pansy asked in lieu of greeting him as he stepped out of the hearth.

"Hello, nice to see you, too, you harpy. Did I miss something? Is it 'National Shit All Over Draco Day' and no one told me?" He huffed, plopping down dramatically on her sofa.

"What's got your wand in a knot?" She asked, rolling her eyes.

"First off, Blaise set me up on a date with a total barbarian, then you can't even be bothered to say hello like a civilised human and Harr-you know nevermind. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to get wine drunk on your sofa." 

"Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad." Pansy replied, summoning a cork screw and two wine glasses.

"His manners were atrocious. He didn't even tuck his shirt in. He ordered the cheapest wine possible and he laughed like a fucking seal. Clapping and all. I Apparated home from the loo half way through my meal, Pansy. I can assure you, it was horrific." He whinged, filling his glass.

"You hardly gave him a chance." Pansy retorted.

"It wasn't going to work." He replied shortly.

"Of course not." Pansy rolled her eyes. "What were you saying about Potter?"

"I didn't say anything about him." Draco covered his lie by sipping his wine.

"Darling, I love you, but you're a terrible liar." 

"Seriously it's nothing. I'm just narked off because my date went badly." Draco wasn't sure if he was saying that to convince Pansy or himself.

Afterall, it was just a stupid note. He couldn't be sure what sort of tone it was intended to be read in. He was the one in a bad mood, so he probably just read it that way because of how he was feeling. He and Harry were fine before work, Draco was just reading too much into it. Pansy merely stared at him, her lips pursed and one eyebrow arched dangerously high.

"It's stupid. The note he left letting me know where he was going to be was just really short. He usually leaves long notes, so in my bad temper I got annoyed over it." Even to himself that sounded feeble.

"You look sad, not annoyed." Pansy pointed out.

"Sad?" Draco asked scathingly. "I am not sad. It was a shitty date yeah, but it wasn't as though I thought I'd found my future husband." 

"Well if it's not your bad date it must be the note from Potter and the massive fucking pash you've had on him for years." Pansy countered, smirking over the rim of her glass.

"Me–a pash–Potter?–don't be absurd." Draco coughed, drips of red wine staining his grey trousers. He sincerely hoped Pansy would think the flush creeping up his neck was from nearly choking to death on his wine.

So what if he had a tiny crush on his flatmate? Harry was handsome, kind and funny. Who wouldn't have a crush on him? It wasn't as though Draco had any intention of acting on it. In fact, the whole reason he agreed to the date Blaise arranged was to get his mind off those feelings. Only, the date was a disaster and Draco had spent the entire time thinking Harry would never do this.

"Oh don't even try it, Draco. I've known you since we were two years old. The only person who doesn't know that you love Potter, is Potter. Just how the only person who doesn't know Potter loves you, is you. You're both so fucking stupid it's infuriating." Pansy argued, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Draco gaped at her, floundering for something to say in return. 

"You're barking. I think I would know if Harry was in love with me, wouldn't I? And I would certainly know if I was in love with him, which I'm not." Draco replied, taking a large gulp of his wine.

"Like I said, fucking stupid, the both of you. How can you not know? I'm surprised the two of you haven't suffocated in the sexual tension."

"Sexu–What sexual tension?! You've lost your bloody mind."  

"No, I haven't. Just think about it." Pansy conceded.

"Whatever, fine, I'll think about it." Draco huffed, finishing off his wine.

And he did. After stumbling into his and Harry's sitting room at one thirty in the morning and making his way to his room he lay in bed considering Pansy's outburst. He racked his brain trying to think of any instance that Harry may have even hinted at having feelings for him, but could think of none. As far as the supposed 'sexual tension' maybe there were a few times when eyes had lingered a bit longer than what could be considered accidental, particularly when joggers were involved. Or they'd leant in just a little too close to each other. But that was normal, wasn't it? Perhaps he would just have to pay closer attention tomorrow when he woke up.

***

Harry heard Draco stumbling down their hallway, swearing under his breath. Once Draco's bedroom door swung closed, Harry opened his eyes and squinted at his alarm clock across the room. One thirty. He tried to ignore the flare of jealousy that surged through him. He had no right to it, given what he'd just done. He had no room to be upset that Draco was just now getting home from his date. But he was. He turned over sharply in his bed and immediately had to fight down a wave of nausea. Great, he thought, just what I need, a fucking hangover to wake up to. He huffed, adjusted his pillow and willed himself to fall back asleep. 

His head was pounding when he woke up and he had the worst taste imaginable in his mouth. He groaned as he sat on the edge of his bed, squinting in the sunlight streaming through his open window. He took a hot shower and brushed his teeth before rummaging through the medicine cabinet for hangover potion. He grabbed one of the only two left and gulped it down. The cool soothing effect on his aching temples was instantaneous. A quick fry up and some strong tea would have him feeling much better, or so he told himself as he set to cooking. However, even after finishing his breakfast he still felt miserable. It seemed greasy food and tea had no effect on residual guilt. Harry's sulking was interrupted by Draco walking groggily past, on his way to the kitchen.

"Late night?" Harry asked, in what he'd meant to be a lighthearted manor, though it sounded more accusing than anything.

"Yeah I got wine drunk at Pansy's." Draco answered arching a brow at Harry's tone as he opened a cupboard for a mug.

"Pansy's, right." Harry snorted, he knew it wasn't fair to take his bad mood out on Draco, but he couldn't stop the bitter jealousy. And honestly, who did Draco think he was kidding? Obviously he went home with the bloke, he had every right to do so, but why lie about it?

"Erm, okay?" Draco muttered, shutting the cupboard door roughly."What's your problem? 

"No problem, just don't know why you lied about being at Pansy's when I know you were on a date." Harry replied in a clipped tone. 

"Why would I lie to you? Especially over something so stupid. I went on my date, he was a complete Neanderthal and I left twenty minutes in. I came home thinking we'd watch a film or something but saw your note don't wait up. So I went to Pansy's." Draco snapped flinging himself into a chair at the breakfast bar.

Well done, Harry, he thought bitterly, You've just made a complete arse of yourself. He gave Draco a few minutes to cool off before speaking again, trying to squash his own guilt.

"I'm sorry. I feel like a shit because I got pissed last night and did something stupid that I regret and I took it out on you. I'm sorry your date was terrible. He doesn't know what he missed out on." Harry mumbled apologetically.

"It's fine. I've got to get ready, I'm supposed to be at my mother's in ten minutes. We'll talk later, yeah?" Draco asked, getting to his feet.

"Sure." Harry said with a nod and with that Draco strode from the room avoiding Harry's eyes.

Merlin, he felt like a tit. He should have just listened to Ron and went home alone. Something about the way Draco had said 'don't wait up' had stuck in Harry's mind. He sounded hurt. Which at the time is what Harry wanted. A selfish part of him wanted Draco to feel as gutted as he did, he regretted that now. Fuck, but he's made a mess of things hasn't he? He was shaken from his thoughts by Ron stumbling out of the Floo.

"You look like shit." He said, taking a seat in the other arm chair.

"I feel like shit." Harry retorted.

"They make potions for that." Ron snorted.

"Oh there's a potion for guilt brought on by a spectacular display of self sabotage?" 

"What did you do?" Ron groaned.

"Exactly what you said I'd do. And then because I was angry at myself for it, I picked a fight with Draco." 

"Goddamn it, Harry." Ron scolded, putting his face in his hands. "You've ruined everything."

"Well I feel like that's taking it a bit far. I mean yeah I fucked up, but Draco won't stay angry long. He never does." Harry replied defensively.

"No you idiot, Blaise, Pansy, Hermione and I planned this perfectly. Blaise set Draco up on a fake date to make you both wake the fuck up. But now you've gone and thrown a wrench in the whole fucking thing." 

"You did what? That's insane!" Harry replied incredulously.

"We had to do something, mate. You two have been driving us barmy for three years. Clearly, you weren't going to figure it out on your own." Ron explained rolling his eyes.

"So on a scale of one to colossal how big of a fuck up was this?" Harry asked nervously, still in a state of disbelief. 

"Mega colossal. The whole plan is scrapped. Pansy'll have to come clean with Draco and then so do you. Whatever happens after that is on you."

"Wonderful." Harry grumbled.

"Just be honest. That's literally all you have to do. I'm going to Pansy's to break the news. You've got this. No more self sabotage." Ron said bracingly, stepping back into the hearth.

"I'll do my best." Harry promised.

Ron called out Pansy's address and disappeared into emerald flames. Harry sat and contemplated what he was going to say to Draco. He only hoped Draco wouldn't be too angry with him.

***

His and Harry's tiff had left Draco in a rather foul mood. He sat sullenly through brunch with his parents picking at his food and only half listening to his father drone on about his blasted peacocks. He wasn't used to Harry behaving that way. If anyone started a row for no reason it was usually Draco himself. Halfway through their meal a house elf brought him a letter from Pansy telling him to come by her flat before going home. He suffered through another hour of his parents' company before leaving for Pansy's. She was waiting for him on her sofa looking mildly uncomfortable.

"What?" He asked suspiciously, taking a seat next to her.

"You're going to be angry with me. But just know, I did what I did out of love." She began calmly.

"What did you do?" He asked slightly panicked, he prayed she didn't go and talk to Harry or something equally as stupid. Especially with the way they'd left things this morning.

"Blaise, Weasley, Granger and I may have come up with a plan to send you on a staged date to make you and Potter realise that you're in love with each other." She said quickly.

Draco was certain he didn't hear her properly. No way were they all really stupid enough to think that would actually work.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked dangerously, narrowing his eyes. "You set me up on a fake date?!"

"Well it worked, sort of. Things got a bit fucked up, admittedly, but still."

"It most certainly did not work. We had a row this morning and now we're barely speaking." Draco huffed.

"You absolute idiot, Draco Malfoy. He's jealous that you went on a date with someone that isn't him." Pansy said exasperatedly.

Draco considered her words for a moment. That would certainly explain Harry's behaviour the last two days. Merlin, how did he not see that before?

"Oh." He said in astonishment. "He was jealous." 

"Fucking hell, finally you get it!" 

"I need to talk to Harry." Draco said getting to his feet.

"Yes, go now. Before you lose your nerve." Pansy said encouragingly.

He clambered into the Floo throwing the powder down as he called out his home address.

"I think we should talk now." He said grinning a little, as he stepped in front of Harry.

"Yeah, we definitely should." Harry agreed with a forced, nervous smile. "Come sit down?"

Draco took a seat on the edge of the sofa next to Harry chewing on his lip nervously. 

"I'm sorry about earlier, accusing you of lying. I was jealous just like I was yesterday when I wrote that note before going out with Ron. I did something stupid and impulsive and I feel horrible. But I have to be honest, I understand if you get angry, I'd deserve it." Harry paused and Draco felt as though his heart had stopped beating. "I got pissed and picked up some bloke from the pub and brought him home. I just wanted to stop thinking about you for a while and how miserable I felt that you were out with someone who wasn't me. But it didn't work, the whole time I was with him I wished it was you. I'm not proud of it, but it's true. So when I accused you this morning I was out of line. I'm so sorry, I wish I could just re-do yesterday. I would do everything so differently."

Draco stared at Harry for a moment while he digested everything he had just said. Mostly he felt relieved, overjoyed even, that Pansy had been right. He was a bit disappointed in Harry's way of coping, but it was understandable and Draco didn't intend on holding it against him.

"I mean I'm not pleased to hear that you fucked someone else, but I can't fault you for it. I only went on that stupid, apparently fake, date to try and stop having feelings for you. I'm still upset that you accused me of lying, but I forgive you." Draco replied giving Harry a hopeful smile. "And for the record, I don't want you to date anyone that's not me, either." 

"I don't intend to." Harry returned, giving him a crooked grin.

"Good." Draco said leaning in toward Harry.

"Good." Harry murmured as he closed the distance between them.

Draco felt a thrilling swooping sensation in his abdomen as they kissed. Harry's lips were soft and warm against his own as they parted allowing Draco's tongue to slip past and slide delicately against his own. Draco's skin tingled pleasantly as goosepimples erupted over his body. He brought a hand up to tangle in Harry's wild hair, wondering briefly how he'd ever gone a day in his life without kissing Harry like this. He felt as though everything had fallen into place, like everything suddenly made perfect sense. Kissing Harry just felt right, and he couldn't wait to do it every day for the rest of his life. 

[kumeko]

A/N: I’m having fun writing this. Part 3 of the  @marveltrumpshate fic I wrote for @wombatking

Summary: There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am, to an empty room, with an empty bathroom, and the kitchen all to herself. Kitty hit the jackpot.

…

…

…

…

There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am. Absolutely luxurious. Kitty wanted nothing more than to sprawl over her bed, languidly stretching before she finally rolled off. Unfortunately, her right leg was a dead weight to all of this, so she had to settle for lazily yawning and spreading her arms above her. The birds had been awake for hours, her dormmates equally so, and she had the most glorious sleep. She hadn’t even noticed when Rogue had left for training, her roommate for once not waking her up with her extensive morning prep.

 For a girl who claimed that she didn’t care what others thought of her, she spent an awfully long time in front of the mirror. Kitty chuckled at the thought. Rogue was full of strange contradictions and the more she learned, the more she liked. It was strange to think that at one point they’d fought like cats and dogs.

 Well, if Kitty were honest, they still fought sometimes now, but they always made up after.

It was harder than she expected, to get off the bed. Her leg felt weird, her movements even more so—her legs didn’t feel in sync, her left far too light and quick, her right too slow and heavy. Walking was a strange hop and dance. Dressing even more so. She half-wished she had Velcro pants, like the ones Spike used for his stupid “my pants ripped off!” joke. The only problem was that they were ugly. On the bright side, she was more than used to putting a little pain in for her fashion.

 As she passed by a window, she caught sight of Jean and Amara running through the obstacle course, sweaty and tired. “Glad that’s not me,” she murmured, grinning as she stepped into the for-once-empty bathroom.

 She’d been wrong. The best part of her broken leg wasn’t sleeping in, it was the fact that there was no rush. No one knocked on the door, asking her to get out. Kitty didn’t have to bounce impatiently on her feet, waiting for the door to open so she could rush in. Nope, the bathroom was all hers, for however long she wanted.

 So was the kitchen, so was the tv—if she’d realized how good it was, she’d have broken her leg ages ago. Maybe in six weeks she could break the other one. Chewing on a piece of toast, she idly flipped through the channels. News, weather, Say Yes to the Dress, Psycho—

 “Ready to go?” Scott said, suddenly appearing behind her.

 Kitty almost dropped her toast, surprised.  Instinctively, she turned off the TV, flushing a bright red. “I, that—” She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling flustered. This was fine! Technically allowed! No one expected otherwise!

 Yet it was one thing to relax when no one was around, and another to do it in front of her slightly sweaty housemate. Scott’s hair might be carefully combed, but his skin still had a light sheen to it from all the exercise. Noticing her stare, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

 He’d always been a slightly dense brick. Fighting back her embarrassment, Kitty scarfed down her toast and stood up. “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

 “Alright then. I pulled my car up front, so just slip in.” Scott picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, instead of a reality show, you should try watching the news.”

 If Kitty could have, she would have stomped to the car.

 -x-

 “Hey girl!” Kitty got no other warning before a pair of slightly tanned arms wrapped around her neck, hugging her tight. Tabitha pressed her cheek against Kitty’s, her messy hair tickling her neck. As usual, her perfume was as loud as she was. “Heard you got hurt.”

 “Tabitha!” Kitty laughed, leaning into her friend. She’d been getting lonely anyways, sitting in the playground as she was. Kurt had gone to get lunch and unfortunately the track team wasn’t practicing, so she couldn’t even stare at them. “Did Amara tell you?”

 “Didn’t have to, I have eyes.” Tabitha let go and rested her hands on her hips. “I hear Blue is now two for two for training accidents?”

 “It was my fault this time, not his.” Kitty rubbed her neck sheepishly. To be honest, the other time hadn’t been entirely his fault either—Tabitha had a little to do with it. Gesturing at her leg, she explained, “I broke my leg, so now I’ve got that ugly thing.”

 “I know training sucks, but I didn’t think you’d go that far to get out.” Tabitha whistled as she saw the cast. “Damn, that’s clunky.”

 “I know, right! It’s like I have snowpants or something.” Kitty rapped on the top of her cast. “It’s so thick! I don’t want to know what’ll smell like after all of this heat.”

 “You’re lucky it isn’t summer, or you’d be roasting in it.” Tabitha scrunched her nose, her lips curling with disgust. “Broke my arm once, on a job, and not only was I utterly useless after, I reeked like Toad.”

 “Seriously?” Kitty didn’t have to ask to know what sort of ‘job’ she was referring to. Wincing, she looked at her cast again. Tabitha had to be exaggerating, right? “It’s not that bad, right? I can’t get it off for six weeks. I don’t want to deal with smell on top of everything.”

 “Just spray some perfume on it.” Tabitha winked. She mimed spraying it on. “Works like a charm.”

 “Eww.” Kitty glared at the offending cast, her heart sinking. Just how stinky could the thing get? She groaned. “So either I smell like Toad or a flowershop.”

 “Hey, the choice is yours.” Tabitha grinned, shrugging. “I bet Logan won’t like either smell.”

 “I don’t think Rogue or Kurt will like it either.”  Resigning herself to her fate, she hoped they’d still hang around her after six weeks were up.

 “Cheer up, it’s not that bad. You get a lot of sympathy goodies.” Tabitha crouched next to the cast, a marker in hand. She started doodling something, just out of Kitty’s sight. “People open doors for you, give you seats, sometimes even food—”

 “You shouldn’t eat things strangers give you,” Kitty warned, worried about that last one. Sometimes, she was amazed Tabitha made it to high school. More often, though, she was impressed the school hadn’t burned to the ground multiple times, considering her short temper. “And what’re you drawing?”

 “You’ll see!” Tabitha replied cheekily, her brow furrowed as she finished her masterpiece.

 Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

 “I’m pretty good at that, ask anyone.” Tabitha smirked up at her. “How’re the geeks taking this? Bet Logan ain’t happy.”

 “They’re like, the only bad part.” Kitty grimaced, remembering Scott’s lectures. And she had to get a ride from him for the next six weeks—her mornings were going to be so ruined. “I swear, Scott and Jean won’t shut up about it, and Logan’s just counting down the days till he can make me suffer again.”

 Tabitha stood up now, laughing. “Sounds like ‘em.” Hand on her hip, she gave her a wry look. “Honestly, you should just ditch that whole scene and join me. It might not be the best place to stay, but it’s the funnest.”

 There was absolutely no way Kitty was staying in that rundown house the brotherhood claimed was ‘livable’. She’d been there a handful of times, and each time she wasn’t sure how the place hadn’t been torn down. At the very least, it had to be filled with lice or something. “I’m not that desperate.”

 “Yet.” Tabitha pocketed her marker and waved before waltzing away. “Lemme know if you change your mind.”

 “Not happening!” Kitty laughed, watching as a garbage bin exploded.

 -x-

 Kitty lay on her bed, examining her cast by her tablelamp light. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d gotten to use that thing without having to cram for a test or something. Today was actually full of firsts—she finished her homework without having to rush, she had dinner on time, and hey, she saw an episode of her favourite drama on time instead of catching a rerun.

 Even now, she was lying in her bed, at 11pm, and not bone-tired for once. Across the room, Rogue snored lightly as she slept, too tired from training to complain about the light. The house was utterly silent at that this time and if it weren’t for the lights-out rules, she’d have snuck around to see just how different the house was at night.

 For now, she bent over her cast, running her fingers along the different signatures she’d collected. After Tabitha had signed it, the rest of her friends popped in, one after another, all ready to make a mark. The once white cast was now a collage of signatures and messages. Rogue had written her name in purple ink, with nothing else added to it, and Kitty couldn’t figure out if it was because she didn’t have anything she wanted to write, or if it was because she was too embarrassed to put anything.

 Feel better soon, Honey, Kurt had written in blue ink, and Kitty smiled as she pressed her fingers on the pink heart he’d drawn beside his name. It was utterly cheesy, but she liked that about Kurt.

 There was a picture of a grumpy Logan next to Spike’s name, and Kitty covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He was a terrible artist, and that only made it funnier. Logan was either a furious hedgehog or he was some new evolution of a bear. Definitely not human, at the very least.

 Finally finished with all the easy to read signatures, Kitty leaned forward and strained her neck to see what was on the back of her cast. More importantly, to see what Tabitha had spent so long drawing. Biting her tongue and squinting, she could just make out the picture.

 It was a dick.

 Of course it was. She flopped back on her bed, and silently swore revenge.

[sinner-as-saint]

Capital Letters 2

Bucky Barnes AU

 Part 1: Capital Letters.

 Big, BIG thanks to @pchynana for the suggestion. The idea they sent was incredible! They are a true ray of sunshine; a literal angel who is the sweetest ever and so easy to talk to! Show them some love, babies!

 Run-through: Heartbroken, betrayed and used, you managed to find a way to escape your heartless boss. Little did you know, that this act of yours would affect the arrogant beast in ways he couldn’t fathom; and may even lead him down the path of guilt?

 Themes: SMUT, slight non/con elements, language, angst

 A/N: Since none of you were having any of my sadistic fuckery, here’s another part of Capital Letters. Hope you like it! Also, is this turning into yet another series?!?!

   Two weeks later, a new you surfaced.

 Two weeks of seeing his smug face, and being his little helper; the torture was finally over. Two weeks later, you slapped your resignation letter on his dark, wooden desk – almost as dark as his heart, and walked out of his office without letting him have the last word.

You didn’t even bother to see his face. Which, again, was probably amused and glad that you were finally leaving.

You said your goodbyes to Peggy and walked out of the wretched office. You didn’t even turn around to spare it one last glance.

   Finding another job after that was a little bit difficult. Almost every interviewer pried to know why you had left your previous job. Given he was a rather well-known and respected persona, a damn good excuse was needed.

You always made up some lie about how the distance affected your life and how you believed that your wage was insufficient.

 You were applying for jobs relentlessly, giving out CVs and tried online applications like a mad woman. And finally one day, you received a letter from the team who worked for the one and only, Thor Odinson.

 Your eyes widened as you gradually took in each and every word they had written; black on white – an excitement formed in you.

Not only was Thor Odinson one of the best adventure and romance writers out there, but he was also the biggest competition to J.B Barnes.

People loved Thor Odinson, it’s just that he was always seconds best to J.B Barnes.

A sinister smirk formed on your face; guess life wasn’t planning on treating you like shit forever.

 You had applied for the position of a personal assistant. And the letter in your hand mentioned that you had been accepted for it.

You placed the carefully folded letter on your kitchen counter, and stared at the paper in joy and disbelief.

You were now, officially, Thor Odinson’s PA?!

  ---

  Working for Mr. Odinson was a pure delight. He was the complete opposite of the previous a-hole you worked for.

Thor was jovial, vibrant and gentle. The first time you walked into his office; you were intimidated by the man.

His short brown hair, his muscular body, his voice – they all made you feel so small. He had heterochromia and his eyes were the most striking and the most intimidating part of him.

But as you worked for him and formed a rather pleasant relationship with your new boss; you realized that he was a gentle giant. He was always so polite, and truly cared about those who worked with him.

 You made new friends at your new work place; two lovely ladies named Wanda and Natasha. They were vibrant beings as well.

You were content with what you had. You were much more confident, and a month and a half later – you were over Bucky.

You couldn’t forget him entirely, but he was like a bad dream. And the thought of him didn’t make you cry anymore, but every once in a while, when his name popped up on your social media, or any magazine; a void formed at the pit of your stomach.

Yet, you were certain that if you ever saw him, you’d be able to walk past him like he was just another stranger.

  And just like always, whenever you made any bold claims; life put you to test.

  ^^^

  Guilt.

Guilt was all he felt when the sound of the letter hitting his desk was heard. You didn’t even look at him, but he caught the pain on your face.

A pain he caused. A pain he was, heartlessly, responsible for.

He accepted the resignation, it was the least he could do.

Bucky knew what he did was wrong; immoral even. He had used you like a pawn in a game. He had toyed with you in the most selfish ways possible.

 The guilt consumed him.

However, on some days, his ego got the best of him.

 I’m J.B Barnes, I can do whatever I want.

He’d tell himself to fire up his dangerous ego.

Yet, when he heard the news that you were now working with Odinson – a wave of guilt and anger washed over him.

He hadn’t realized that he was keeping track of where you were. He wasn’t stalking you or anything, he just asked his team to keep an eye out of where you went next. And being his loyal pets, they did.

They informed him that you were now working for Odinson, as his personal assistant.

 He pretended that the news didn’t affect him. He pretended not to care about the fact that the woman he used for selfish purposes was now rubbing it in his face, and was also working for his biggest competition. He pretended that none of it affected him.

But it did.

 A strange feeling took over him the first time he accidentally ended up at the same restaurant where you and your new boss were having lunch along with another, red head. A colleague maybe?

A weird, unfamiliar feeling washed over him as he watched how you laughed at something Thor Odinson said.

An itch, a yearning probably; or perhaps was it an unhealthy infatuation?

He shouldn’t care. He told himself so over and over again.

Yet he found that he stayed there, unmoving, at the back of the spacious room, and didn’t leave until you did.

He noticed some changes in you. Was it your hair, was it shorter or longer? Was it your face, or the red lip you wouldn’t sport when you worked in his office?

Why did he care? You were just- just another girl he had fucked.

Right?

 He couldn’t believe how comfortable you were around Thor. You looked happier, you were glowing.

And he stroked his ego as he smirked, thinking about how the glow you had on right now was still no match to the one you had right after he had fucked you.

A strange fire formed inside him as he noticed the way Thor was looking at you, even in the presence of the other woman. He looked at you like you were the finest piece of art ever made. He looked at you with . . . pride?

Thor let his gaze roam over you. He looked enamored – by you.

 But then, Bucky realized that he was looking at you the same way. So, he lowered his eyes back to the screen of his phone - ashamed. Your laughter rang in his ear and for a second, just for a split second, he wished that he was the one to make you laugh like that instead.

 ^^^

  Having lunch with Thor and Natasha soon became a habit. Outside work, your boss was slightly more open. He was funnier and he could make you laugh like no one else.

However, each day, you had to deal with Nat’s daily dose of teasing – telling you how Thor “definitely has a crush on you.”

And every day, as a ritual, you had to tell her that “It’s nothing like that.”

 She’d roll her eyes at you, mumbling about how it was all too obvious.

 You could see why people would think that you and your boss were having a thing. You both spent all your time at work together, behind closed doors and wherever he went, you went with him.

He assigned a driver to pick you up in the morning and to drop you home in the evening because he’s nice like that.

From a third point of view, it could be seen as something it is not.

 Truth is, you didn’t want it to be more. You knew better than to get involved with your boss given your past experiences. You knew Thor was nothing like Bucky, but you were still very cautious of beautiful, powerful men who made you weak in your knees.

 ---

 Thor’s driver dropped you off at your apartment building and you thanked him, and rushed inside. As soon as you walked out of the elevator, and onto your floor; you couldn’t help but recognize the smell which lingered in the air.

Intense and fresh, it resembled the cologne of someone you knew. And despised at the same time.

 Cautiously, you walked towards your apartment door and mentally cursed as the scent had gotten heavier in the air.

If he was here, you would lose your shit.

 You rapidly unlocked your door and checked your watch in the process, it was quarter to nine. Dinner with Thor and Natasha was quickly becoming a thing as well.

It was rather late, he wouldn’t be here, would he?

 You walked into your own home with pure terror in your eyes. From the front door, you could see the living area perfectly, and the kitchen partly.

And there was no sign of an arrogant asshole. Yet, as weird as it sounds, you could smell his cologne in the air. Faint and lingering, it was definitely there. Unless, of course, you had collapsed into madness.

 You dropped your keys on the coffee table, and removed your heels. You stood in the middle of the living room and looked around – paranoid.

 The night was silent, and the only thing you could hear was your shallow breaths.

 You made your way into your bedroom, and as if life needed another way to kick you in the face – there he was, in all his glory, sitting on your couch, in your room, in your apartment.

 Bucky had found a way of making a comeback in your life.

  He looked up at you, a smug look on his face; mocking the fact that you believed you had gotten rid of him.

 “I’m gonna say this once, get the fuck out or I’m calling security,” you threw your purse on the bed and faced Bucky fearlessly.

He scoffed.

 “First of all, your security is terrible. All I had to do was tell them I am your boyfriend, and they let me in with ease. Second, watch that tone. That’s no way of talking to your boss now, is it?” he sassed.

Bucky stood up from the red couch and walked towards you. He looked just a powerful as the last time you saw him.

Dark grey suit, black satin tie, his hair was up in a bun, unshaved yet well maintained beard

He was hoping you would take a few steps back, but you didn’t. Much to his surprise, you stood right where you are and stared into his blue eyes with no emotion. Other than annoyance.

 “You’re not my boss. You’re invading my space, just- just leave,” you spoke calmly, not wanting to ruin your perfectly fine mood.

 He smirked as he walked towards you, his eyes very briefly flicking to your king-sized bed then back at you.

You gulped.

He wouldn’t touch you, would he?

Would you let him?

  He approached you slowly, and stopped when he stood right in front of you.

 “You really want me to? I could stay, and remind you how good it felt when you were under me, moaning and squirming until you begged me to stop. Something tells me you would prefer that,” he spoke, extending his hand out and tracing a line from your jaw to your collar bones.

His fingers were soon replaced by his lips as he pulled you into him, kissing your skin while mumbling what he intended to do to your body.

You wanted to push him away, and show him the way out and make sure he never comes back. But his explicit words had you captivated. And no matter how much you tried to resist, both you and him knew that you would give into his touch just as easily as the first time.

You were ashamed, but also very aroused simply by thinking about what it felt like the last time he touched you.

You were very well aware of the way he used you, and how much of a selfish asshole he was; yet you couldn’t fight it.

 “Your dress looks nice, you got all dressed up for him? You like him, huh? Just remember one thing babe, Thor can never make you feel the way I do, and if you let him touch you I swear to God I wi-,”

 “How the fuck do you know all that? Are you spying on me, you sick fuck? Jesus, get the fuck out! Now!” you yelled, pushing him away.

And when you did so, you could visibly see something flipped inside him like a switch. He looked more feral, more determined.

 Without another word said, he grabbed your arm and threw you to the bed which wasn’t too far away, so you fell perfectly in the middle of it.

Bucky climbed on top of you and adjusted your body so your head laid on your pillow as he straddled you.

You tried pushing him of you but he was stronger and your attempts were in vain.

 “Bucky!” you shouted again and he smirked, darkly.

 “Oh you’ll scream my name all right, just give me a second,” he mumbled as he loosened his tie, took it off and tied it around your wrists.

He then secured your bounded hands to the headboard.

You hadn’t realized that you had stopped struggling until you felt him tightening the knot around your wrists.

You just laid there, under him, breathing heavily while he undid the buttons of his shirt then proceeded to undress you.

He undid your pants and then unbuttoned your white blouse. Bucky then realized how much he preferred you in white. So pure, and innocent; just waiting for him to take you and mark you as his own.

He unclasped your nude, strapless bra and lifted it off your body, then dragged your matching thong down your legs.

In less than a minute, you were naked under him. He allowed his hungry eyes to roam all over your bare body as he grew more and more smitten by each passing second.

He straddled your thighs and bent down to kiss your lips. As soon as his lips touched yours; you couldn’t fight it anymore; your mouth refused to listen to your pleas and invited him in like a traitor.

His tongue slipped into your mouth and his hands each took your breasts; toying with them and earning soft moans out of you.

The sounds you made fueled his lust like no other woman could. After you, he had quite a lot of women in his bed, but none satiated his hunger quite like you did. Perhaps that’s why he quickly became obsessed with you; finding out where you are at all times, finding ways to enter your home and finally having you under him.

 “Bucky . . .,” you had meant for it to sound like a warning, yet it turned out like a moan as he tugged on your bottom lip.

 “I’m right here,” he whispered against your skin as he nibbled on it mercilessly, ignoring your pleas and groans; he was determined to make you surrender.

 He kissed his way down your body, peppering your skin with his feathery touches. He kissed around your breasts, down your stomach and around your belly button.

He placed soft kisses on each of your hip bones which caused you to tug on the restrains around your hand as your eyes rolled back for a moment.

 “Seems like you missed me, babygirl,” he whispered right above your wet core, his warm breath fanning against your folds; making you lightly thrust your hips upwards.

He chuckled.

 You opened your eyes and looked down your body. He had left a trail of wet kissed along your skin, and at the end of it, was him – kneeling at your feet, mouth dangerously close to your entrance and eyes looking up at you in hunger.

His large hands wrapped around your thighs and he separated your legs further apart, settling in between them; eyes clouded with mania.

 You watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours – almost challenging as he placed his mouth against the most sensitive part of you. His tongue slipped inside your folds and he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, the tip of his tongue lingering at your bundle of nerves.

Involuntarily, a loud moan escaped your mouth and your back arched off the bed. Seeing your reaction, he hooked his hands around your thighs and secured you in place; pinned to the bed and against his skilled mouth.

Bucky closed his eyes as he relished the taste of you, his tongue teasing your entrance and his beard scratching the soft skin of your inner thighs as your legs wrapped around his head, cradling him as he lapped up your arousal.

You focused your vision back on him; his beard and lips drenched with your arousal, the lower half of his face hidden from you as he dove deeper into you with each stroke of his tongue.

 You felt the pressure building at your abdomen, and you knew you were so close to your release. Surprisingly, he was on his way to grant you your release, if your phone hadn’t rang.

 Your groaned; both at the sound of your phone and at the feeling of him lifting his mouth off of you. He panted as he rose off you for a brief second. He looked at your face, his appetite still not satiated, and the sight of his bread dripping with your arousal was sinful enough to make you blush instantly. A few strands of hair fell out of his messy bun and he looked, indeed, feral and cocky and arrogant – yet majestic.

The kind that made you want to jump on him and kick him out at the same time.

 The two of you looked towards your purse which was at the end of the bed, in annoyance. Your phone rang incessantly inside of it.

Groaning in frustration, Bucky reached over and grabbed your black purse. He opened it, and fished out your phone, and shamelessly checked who the caller was before you even had the chance to protest.

His jaw ticked as he studied the screen.

 “Why the fuck is he calling so late at night?” he showed you the screen and questioned.

 “None of your business, and untie me right now, that’s my boss, he probably needs something,” you spoke as the name ‘Thor Odinson’ flashed on the screen.

 Bucky smirked. The phone rang, while a devious plan formed in his mind.

 He slid his thumb across the screen and immediately tapped on the speaker icon. And Thor’s voice could immediately be heard.

 The situation was so messy it gave you a headache. You were tied to bed, with your ex-boss and the man you loathe so much straddling your naked body while your current boss called you to probably talk about something work related.

Fuck.

 “Hello? Y/N? Are you alright, what took you so long? Are you okay?” Thor’s concern could be heard and it was something Bucky didn’t like.

He placed the phone right next to your head and got back to kissing your body. His actions shocked you for a moment.

 “Yeah, I- uh, I’m good, I just- Oh fuck!” you swore as Bucky spread your legs even further and attached his mouth to your core in no time. His tongue poked your entrance and you felt like you were slowly losing your mind.

And you had to desperately hold on to your sanity because you still were on call with your boss.

 “Is everything alright, Y/N? It sounded like you were in pain, should I come over, are you sure you’re okay?” Thor asked again through the phone as Bucky licked lazily around your clit, flicking the little bud with the tip of his tongue.

You bit on your bottom lip, careful as to not let out a moan.

Damn you, Barnes!

 “N-no, I’m good. I’m okay,” you panted. “Is there anything you needed, Mr. O- oh holy shit!” you couldn’t hold back the moan as Bucky slipped one finger through your entrance.

Bucky smirked and kissed the glistening skin along your wet folds. You tried scooting away from him but his grip around your thighs was very firm.

 “Y/N, a-are you with someone at the moment?” Thor asked, and the hint of confusion and hurt was hard to ignore in his voice which came through the phone.

 At his question, Bucky slipped another finger into your entrance and curled his fingers inside of you; earning a quiet, breathy moan out of you.

You blushed at Thor’s question. 

 “What? No, no I’m just, I stubbed my toe and I- I fell. Sorry for swearing, that wasn’t at you, I’m- what is it you need, sir?” you asked.

The degree to which this situation was unethical and immoral was blowing your mind.

 Bucky growled when he heard how you addressed Thor. You never called him ‘sir’. Why?

He placed his tongue back into your folds, stroking your walls with his fingers at the same time. He applied just the slightest bit of suction on your sensitive bud and your bucked your hips into him; panting and turning your face as far away as you possible could from the phone.

You tugged on the restrains at your wrists again, and desperately failed at releasing your hands.

You closed your eyes as your body betrayed you and allowed the pleasure to wash over you.

 “I, uh, yeah I’ve been wanting to ask if you probably wanted to join me for dinner tomorrow. Just to celebrate the success of our recent publishing. No pressure, of course, I understand if you-,”

 Bucky pinched your skin as soon as Thor’s suggestion was heard by both of you. He lifted his mouth off you and hovered above your squirming body. Slowly, he removed his fingers from your entrance and forced them through your already parted lips.

He pumped his fingers into your mouth, coated with your own arousal, and licked along your jaw and finally kissed underneath your ear.

“Answer him,” he taunted in your ear, low enough for you to hear him, but Thor not to. He knew damn well you couldn’t speak with his fingers in your mouth.

You moved your head around, hoping he would remove his fingers from your mouth. And eventually he did, and left you panting.

 “I- uh, s-sure. Of course, I’ll be there, sir,” you replied, eyes closing as Bucky nibbled on the skin at your collar bone. His beard scratched your skin and you were ashamed to admit that despite all that happened, you still liked the feeling of it.

He growled against your skin again as you agreed.

 “Okay, alright. See you tomorrow then, Y/N. Good night,” Thor spoke and much to your relief, he ended the call.

Now you only had one man to deal with. The one teasing you.

 Bucky’s hand slipped in between your legs again, and he didn’t hesitate before slipping his fingers back in your entrance.

You moved your hips as to meet each thrust of his fingers, and chased your orgasm quickly because he had teased you enough.

You were on the edge, and with a couple more strokes of his fingers against your walls, you came, hard. Gushing at his hand while your walls clenched around his fingers; you moaned his name out loud again. And at the sound of it, his pants tightened even more.

He groaned as he placed his mouth back on yours. He untied your hands and threw the tie somewhere on the bedroom floor.

Instinctively, your hand flew to his hair, gripping and tugging at his roots as he kissed the life out of you. This would have been a different scenario if he was someone who really cared about you, but given he was here just to feed his ego; you couldn’t stand the gorgeous asshole.

 Once freed, you flipped the two of you. With you on top, his bulge pressed right against your throbbing entrance. It was your turn to straddle him now.

His hands lazily ran up and down your sides as you kept kissing him.

Bucky moaned when you moved your hips on top of his clothed hard on. He moaned into your mouth as you bucked your hips against his relentlessly.

He wasn’t used to having women be on top of him; usually he was the dominant one in bed. But with you, something was different.

He let you take control, and just when he thought you would undo his pants and cater for his throbbing member, you rubbed your wet core against the very firm tent in his pants and chased another orgasm. Your legs shook as you straddled him, coming again.

You moaned in his mouth as he tried to lift you off to have his way with you, but before he could, you grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head.

You kept grinding against him, moaning against his cheek and the friction caused him to almost fall apart as well.

 “Fuck! Baby, I- just let me touch you, please,” he pleaded and you smirked against his bearded face. You tightened your grip around his wrists just in case he’d wanna free his hands, and moved your mouth to his ear.

Just like he did to you earlier.

 “You seriously think you can walk in here, barge into my room, have your way with me and I’m gonna give in to you completely?”

You spoke, kissing underneath his ear. He shuddered, and you figured that it probably was his sweet spot.

Bucky groaned, but remained silent.

“You’re tempting, Mr. Barnes, very tempting. But enough is enough, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” you spoke again, moving your hips against him just the slightest bit.

You could feel his cock twitching under you. And you loved it.

“You were really good to me today Bucky, but I’m gonna need you to get the fuck out before I call the cops and ruin your reputation forever, understand?” you whispered, allowing your lips to linger around his weak spot before lifting off of him.

 You didn’t care about the fact that your breasts were completely exposed, or that he wouldn’t even hide the fact that he was hard under you. You let go of his hands and the immediately held you at your waist, preventing you from moving away from him.

 “Y/N, I’m s-,”

 “Get out. Now,” you left no room for negotiation. You got off him completely and got out of bed. He sat up immediately and tried reaching out but you moved away from.

He couldn’t bear the sight of you, naked yet unreachable.

 Bucky knew he could’ve easily silenced you, and have his way with you whether you were completely willing or not. But he had fucked up already, and he needed to win you back – if possible.

 Making his way out of your apartment building and getting into the driver’s seat of his car, Bucky made up his mind.

You were his. And he wasn’t going to let Thor take you away from him.

On the other side, Thor smiled as he ended the call; hearing that you had agreed to have dinner with him the next day. Perhaps this would be the first of many dates. 

He had been enamored since day one. Ever since you walked into his life with your pretty face, your body which made him stutter, your calming voice and your easy-going manner; he was falling for you hard and fast. 

 Meanwhile you were in your room, sat on the floor, naked and deep in thoughts. Why did you let him touch you again?

And most importantly, why did you like it?

 Your gaze instinctively flew to your bedside table. Bucky’s recent book was still there, and on top of it was Thor’s recent book as well.

Bucky Barnes brought out the animal in you. While Thor made you feel safe.

A choice was to be made.

Would you make the wise one?

-

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[aconitemare]

[Rory/Paris] Tacos - Paris

AO3

Summary: “Red, purple, green — where the hell is it?” Paris mutters wildly, and then she’s off across the room again, her hair whipping over her shoulder, the scent of strawberries-and-cream in her wake. 

“Perhaps I’ll go blonde,” Rory muses and wonders, briefly, if Paris is trying to find the right panties for her date. 

Rory counts Dean’s breaths on the phone. One, two, three, and he says something. She replies back. He laughs softly, and there’s another beat before he says something again. She replies, not fully paying attention to either of them. Behind her, Paris is a flurry of activity. Rory’s eyes keep getting dragged over to her, flashes of long, blonde hair whirling across the cramped floor of their hotel room.

Dean says something again. Rory responds without thought. This is nice. She enjoys this. She enjoys sitting in the chair, listening to Dean and his slow, unwinding laugh and his unhurried words. He talks like they have all the time in the world. And Rory would like that very much, to just always be in this little hotel room, watching Paris bounce off the walls like a pinball while Dean’s soft voice brings home to her. 

“My plane gets in at three,” Rory informs, flipping the pen between her fingers. She has a notebook balanced on her thigh, Dean’s name written in the corner with nothing else. Her idea was to simply write down whatever thoughts she had while talking to Dean on the phone, and instead of saying those thoughts, just write them down on the paper and then come up with something else to actually say right now. 

But she can’t concentrate on Dean with Paris speculating over the rate of growth concerning stress-induced back acne. This is a legitimate concern of Paris's, and it’s hilarious, because Paris never breaks out. It’s kind of impressive, really, how smooth Paris's skin always is. Rory’s jealous, for sure.

Rory wonders if it’s worth telling Paris this, that Rory envies her. Paris is finally nearing Rory’s chair, her fitted dress changing the square-like silhouette of the Chilton uniform Rory is used to.

“My plane gets in at six,” Dean says.

Rory almost tells Paris that she looks nice, turns around in her seat to tell her that, but Paris is in a fit, throwing scraps of clothing out of her bureau and onto her bed.

“That gives me three hours to look presentable,” Rory tells Dean. 

“Red, purple, green — where the hell is it?” Paris mutters wildly, and then she’s off across the room again, her hair whipping over her shoulder, the scent of strawberries-and-cream in her wake. 

“Perhaps I’ll go blonde,” Rory muses and wonders, briefly, if Paris is trying to find the right panties for her date. 

“I strongly request that you don’t,” Dean says.

But no, Rory realizes with a hint of disappointment. It’s just a bunch of cardigans on Paris's bed. So not her designated panty drawer, like Rory had thought. That would’ve been funnier. Weird place for cardigans, though, the top drawer of her dresser. That seems more of a closet thing, doesn’t it? 

She almost says as much to Dean, but he probably wouldn’t know what she was talking about, she’d have to slow down and explain just to capture the sheer chaos that is Paris, and then it would just be weird because she’d be talking about Paris's possible underwear locations to her boyfriend in front of the said Paris. Would that be weird? What even is the proper etiquette here, because Rory would like to think she’s reached a point in both her relationship with Dean and her friendship with Paris where she can feel comfortable to talk to the former about the latter’s underwear.

Dean says something again, something warm and nice and cozy like the bed Rory misses back home, and then Paris has stopped in her mad dash.

“Hey — hey! Stop being cute! I need help here!” Rory swings around in her chair to see Paris's arms lifted above her head, sweeping her hair into a ponytail. 

“I have to go,” Rory says immediately. “Paris is having a meltdown.” 

“Why?” And Dean’s voice is genuinely curious, which Rory likes. She likes it when others ask about Paris. He’s a good boyfriend to ask. 

“She has a date tonight,” Rory answers, biting her tongue on a very funny joke about Paris treating the idea of dating someone with the same severity as a journalist entering an active battlefield in a foreign because the airfare was covered.

Oh, she can tell him that in the letter! 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Paris scolds behind Rory. 

Rory turns around again. Paris has her hands on her torso, her long fingers curving over her hips. 

“How do you know he sounded surprised?” Rory asks, because there’s no way she can overhear soft-spoken Dean over the cacophony of panic in her mind. Or maybe she can. She’s Paris, after all. She’s always ahead.

“Because I’m a genius, Rory,” Paris retorts, standing in the middle of their room with her hair down again. Now that she’s closer to the light, Rory can make out the faintest tinge of red in her locks. Paris, a strawberry blonde. Who would have thought?

Paris drops her arms with a loud clap against her legs. “I have deep and powerful clairvoyant abilities,” she continues, nodding her head rapidly so that her hair falls over her shoulders, framing the delicate silver necklace above her breast. But her eyes are fierce and irritated, and Rory remembers that despite the bliss granted earlier by her debate victory, Paris has a habit of talking to you like you’re a very stupid child when she’s snapped. Which is the norm for Paris, honestly, with her recent bout of sanity being the true cause for concern. 

“Oh, boy,” Rory says, more because well-timed condescension works best to quell Paris's rising venom than out of real dread. 

“For example!” Paris commences, “I can instantly deduce that when someone hears the name, ‘Paris,’ in the same sentence with the word, ‘date’ — jaws will drop. Confused looks will cover faces. Words like, ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ and ‘Quick, Bob, get the children in the minivan because the world is obviously coming to an end’ will immediately fly out of people’s mouths!”

Dean’s steady breaths have all but been drowned out by the increasingly loud and hurried words spilling out of Paris. “I have to go,” Rory repeats. 

“You sure it’s safe?” Dean asks, and it’s a joke, Rory thinks, but it reminds her of Jess and how everyone thinks she’s in danger from standing too close to passionate people. Like they’re radiating life and she might catch it. 

“I’ll be fine,” Rory answers. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“See you Friday. I love you.”

Paris hits the desk or something and when Rory looks over, her hair has gotten somehow crazier in the last minute and her hair face is red in anger. “That’s it! I’m shaving my head!” she declares.

Something like panic, maybe some shared psychosis thing from Prolonged Paris Exposure, strikes Rory’s heart and she leaps from her seat, throwing Dean a quick “gotta go” before hanging up and covering the distance between them.

“Okay, Paris,” Rory starts out firmly, and then consciously softens her voice, “you have got to calm down. ” 

Paris is busying herself with trying to tie a ponytail so punishingly tight that it would put 13th-century Flagellants to shame. “I had a black sweater and now it’s gone,” Paris rushes out, and Rory wishes she could temporarily be inside Paris's head just to make sure that Paris is aware that no lives are at stake over her wardrobe for a date she couldn’t be bothered to stop stuffing her face with a sandwich for when accepting. 

“I’m now just talking about right now. In general, you need to calm down.” Rory does her best to inject some authority in her voice. Maybe like their teacher. Max — Mr. Medina, Rory corrects herself — was always good at getting Paris to show up with his magically “we come in peace, Paris Geller” voice. 

No such luck here, unfortunately, Rory’s powers to calm remain quite unmagical. 

“He’s almost here!” Paris insists, having finally wrangled her hair into submission. “I’m not dressed, my makeup’s not done, and I haven’t gone through the Zagat yet to pick a restaurant!” 

Rory has to give it to her, that’s a lot to do in a very short amount of time. This may be one of those rare moments where Paris is genuinely underprepared and not just indiscriminately anxious. Although still, she could win awards for the sheer height of this mountain she’s managed to build from one humble molehill. 

“Why don’t you just let him pick out the restaurant?” This is the easiest problem to fix. And besides, he asked her out, he should have know. The asker-outer is the one responsible for the first date itinerary.

Unfortunately, Paris's brows only crumple further down her nose, which Rory has the passing thought is quite straight and elegant. What is Paris, a prize horse? Who likes noses? Should Rory be thinking about noses more, if this is going to be a thing for her?

“What if he doesn’t have a Zagat?” Paris asks, and Rory is almost certain he doesn’t have one because Rory wasn’t aware of the critical existence of the Zagat until her and Paris shacked up together. Or, no, that’s the wrong phrase. That’s something grandma would say about a couple she didn’t like.

“Well then, he’ll wing it.”

Cohabiting? Yikes. Roomed? Yeah, that’s what it is. Bunked. Even better. She wishes her mom were here to discuss this terminology with. 

“‘Wing it’?” Paris demands. Rory nods, and this sets Paris off. Damn. “How come other girls get planned out dinners?” she asks, and Rory would point out that she may actually be getting a planned-out dinner, that Rory has no idea Jamie’s degree of Zagatness or general knowledge of the city they’ve been in for months, but there is no stopping a speeding train. 

“Roses, candy, rose petals thrown on the floor — and I get ‘wing it’!” Paris exclaims.

Rory shoots for an optimistic smile and says, “Well, you don’t know that you’ve got ‘wing it.’” And who gets rose petals on the first date? Should Rory be getting rose petals? Probably not, she’s not really a rose petals girl, although apparently Paris is, and Rory does wish her the best in this quest for de-limbed flowers. Paris deserves them.

“No, I do, I’ve got ‘wing it,’” says Paris. She looks down at the ground then. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Rory asks, because there’s a lot at the moment that Paris seems like she can’t do. Reading the Zagat, for example.

“Date,” is what Paris says instead, however. “I can’t date ,” she repeats, heavy weight falling on the last word. “I’m not genetically set up for it.”

And there’s the resigned self-hatred that always gets Rory to care in the end, because even though Paris isn’t much of a puppy, Rory still gets no pleasure in kicking her. 

Rory’s brows pinch. Correction: she gets no pleasure in seeing Paris kick herself. That’s just wrong, after all, and totally in defiance of the checks and balances overachievers like Paris need. “Not true,” Rory gently assures, because if Paris does all the kicking, there will be none of her left when it’s Rory’s turn. How will she ever be able to put Paris back in her place if all she can think of is the time Paris cancelled her first and only date when he was right outside the door so she could cry into many different colored cardigans? 

Paris leans forward with her eyes bugging out as if she can impress upon Rory, through proximity, the scientific veracity of undateable genes. “I get no pleasure out off the prospect or the preparation. I’m covered in hives. I’ve showered four times and for what? Some guy who doesn’t even have the brains to buy a Zagat so we don’t wind up in a restaurant that’s REALLY just a front for a cocaine-laundering ring?”

Paris's speech begins over-enunciated and gradually picks up speed until it’s just a slur of sounds vaguely Germanic in origin. There’s no way Rory is calming her down at this point. It’s time for action. They are now women of action. Rory rests both her palms on Paris's shoulder and pushes her down so that Paris's butt lands at the edge of her bed. 

“Sit,” she orders and heads to the desk. She gathers Paris's open makeup kit while behind her, Paris rambles on. 

“It’s a dare. He was dared to take me out.” And Paris's tone implies she thinks she’s onto something. “I bet Trent Lott was behind this.”

Rory sits down on the small bed beside Paris. “Trent Lott did not dare Jamie to take you out,” Rory says without inflection, having now acquired a solution to implement that doesn’t require cycling through tones until she finds the Magical Medina one that compels Paris to hold all her questions till the end.

When Rory twists around, eyeshadow and brush in hand, Paris is fully turned into her, legs crossed and hands on the small space between their laps. 

“Close,” Rory instructs, and Paris does without argument, an instant flutter of eyes. On command, her face smooths out, making herself a canvas for Rory. And Rory, for her part, doesn’t linger in the scant air between their faces, doesn’t think about how she never imagined Paris would trust her enough with her face or do something just because Rory said to.

Rory chooses a light lavender color to tie the pink roses of her dress with the black lace lining her shoulders and chest.

“Jamie likes you, and he asked you out because he likes you. Now look up.”

Again, just like that, Paris's eyes flutter open to stare at the ceiling. They’re a deep, dark brown that Jamie might even find soulful. Rory would call them intense. She adds a hint of eyeshadow to the corners of Paris's eyes, not for any reason in particular, as she’s going so light you can barely see it. But she likes the effect anyway, she thinks, because Paris's eyes do look pretty, upturned and blown wide and not staring Rory down but looking where she tells her to.

 “Maybe I shouldn’t go. I mean, what if I fall for him and he doesn’t like me?” 

“Then you’ll find someone else,” Rory says simply, because it’s true. Paris could leave her date tonight and find someone within the hour. She’s beautiful in a way she’s not at Chilton. If Tristan had seen Paris like this, in this rosy dress that brings out the soft blush of her skin, that dips low so you can see the wild rise and fall of her breaths — well, maybe Jamie wouldn’t have had the chance to. So it’s for the best that Paris is in her and Rory’s room smelling of strawberries and cream for the first time, and not somewhere else before they had been.

Not quite friends.

Paris's voice is quiet now and a little tremulous. “But what if there is no one else?” 

Rory doesn’t think that’s a terrible option. She sets the eyeshadow down. “Then you’ll buy some cats,” she answers, grinning, because Paris brings out the cruelty in her. 

This is evidently not the right answer, though, because Paris's breath hitches and her next sentence is more forceful. “I wish knew if he was right for me, you know? So I don’t — put myself through all of this for nothing? I mean, women fall for men who are wrong for them all of the time, and then they get sidetracked from their goals.”

Rory concentrates on getting the bronzer onto the puffball and does not think about the day of her mom’s college graduation, or how Rory sat on a bus for hours thinking of nothing but how hard her mom had worked for this after everything with dad in high school, and whether Louise was actually going to send her the notes she had missed from cutting school to be with the boy her mom hated.

“They give up careers and become alcoholics,” Paris continues, “and — if you’re Sunny von Bulow — wake up in a coma, completely incapable of stopping Glenn Close from playing you in a movie.”

Rory determinedly listens to none of this, merely brushes Paris's high cheekbones with a layer of bronzer that transforms Paris in seconds from the primrose princess she had dressed herself as and into something much older and dangerous. 

Rory’s eyes safely navigate away from Paris's face to her shoulders, near where her long ponytail whispers at her neck. When Paris stops talking, Rory announces, “I think you should wear your hair down,” and stands up to correct this.

“How do know if a guy’s right for you?” Paris asks. Rory already has her fingers up, slowly working their way into the elastic so she doesn’t accidentally pull too hard.

“You just have to feel it,” Rory says and hopes she comes off more confident than she is. Paris's hair falls out effortlessly once she finds the right looseness, and it pours through Rory’s fingers like satin. 

“All I feel is my back breaking out,” Paris says miserably.

Rory runs her fingers through the tresses of blonde hair, separating them into thirds and combing through them. “You’ll know, okay? You just have to let it happen.” Rory drapes some of Paris's hair over her shoulder, letting the waves cascade down her the expanse of warm skin exposed by the low neckline. 

She parts more of Paris's hair, arranging the new section so it comes down her other shoulder. “And then, probably when you’re not looking, you’ll find someone who... complements you,” Rory settles on.

Paris does not sound sold, though. “Meaning?”

Rory allows herself to play a few seconds more with Paris's hair before retrieving the brush. “Someone who likes what you like, or listens to the same music,” she explains, beginning the brush at the crown of Paris's head and following through to the ends. “Or likes to trash the same movies,” she adds, because now Reversal of Fortune is on her mind and it was somehow both audacious and popcorn-binge-inducing levels of boring. 

“Someone compatible,” Rory concludes. But then she remembers Dean, Dean who likes every book Rory likes, who Rory hadn’t kissed like her heart was in his mouth that day at Sookie’s wedding. She adds, “But not so compatible that they’re boring.”

“Someone who’s compatible but not compatible,” Paris says slowly, like it’s a math problem. And maybe it is to Paris, who tends to look at the world like it’s a miscalculation she can’t figure out or a test she didn’t study for.

But Paris looks so human now, made of pinks and golds, lace and satin. Skin and breath. “Yeah, kind of,” Rory answers. She fancies herself a bit of a teacher at the moment, though she never would’ve pictured Paris a willing student. It’s a nice thought, Rory having a hand in softening Paris. 

She suddenly wants to see Paris's face, just to know if there’s something different about it. She comes around the bed. “I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes,” she explains, brushing her fingers through Paris's hair. She does look softer, Rory thinks, and it’s almost staggering to realize that she’s petting Paris Geller’s hair — and Paris isn’t growling or trying to bite Rory’s arm off. 

Hot and cold, this girl, Rory muses, this maybe-friend who sabotages her every move at The Franklin then shows up at her house with stress-red eyes needing a study buddy. Who dresses up like Romeo then forgets the kiss.

Rory slides the brush through Paris's hair, pays attention to the way the gold shines in the dim light of their room, how it brushes against her rosy skin. “But I don’t know, there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s going to do at all times,” she admits. “It’s just really — exciting. ”

When Rory looks at Paris, though, Paris is smiling. Grinning, actually, with her brown eyes lit up in some emotion Rory thinks she’s seen before but somewhere else, not here, never between them. 

Rory drops her hands from Paris's hair and steps back. She feels like she’s walked too far off in an unfamiliar place and needs to retrace her steps. “Look, just have a good time,” she says, waving the hairbrush before whirling around to the desk. “You’ll figure it out.” 

There’s a black jacket draped over the chair near it, flowers embroidered across the fabric. Perfect. Rory grabs it.

“Yeah, well, I hope I figure it out fast,” Paris says, sounding a lot more glum now than she had seemed just seconds prior. “Before I throw up.” She’s smoothing the wrinkles in her dress out, hands gliding down her thighs. But her eyes are on the floor. 

Rory helps her into the jacket before Paris can spiral into her next mood. Whatever it is, Rory thinks she might have caught it. Maybe her mom was right about “empaths” and “sharing people’s energy.” It would stand to reason Rory would feel so off from Paris. Paris has a lot of energy all the time . She’s all over the place, and she's been all over the place Rory lives in for the past three months.

A knock sounds at the door. Paris's head snaps up like an alarmed gazelle on the Nature channel. “That’s him,” she says, resignation mixed with a touch of dread.

Rory clasps her hands together. “Turn around?” she requests.

Paris obliges, straightening her jacket as she faces Rory. Rory envisions Jamie opening the door and seeing her. She wonders how Paris will look to him, if he’ll think she’s pretty, if he’ll not know quite what to make of her standing like this — in smooth satin, with lavender eyelids. 

“Well?” Paris prods.

Rory works her jaw. “Perfect.”

Paris's brown eyes are imploring, almost puppyish. “Promise?” she asks, like Rory might not actually find Paris beautiful. Like it’s important Rory does. 

“Swear,” Rory says as solemnly as possible. 

“Thanks,” says Paris. There’s a moment where Paris looks so impossibly soft and open that Rory feels she’s stepped into another world. She almost steps forward, too, before the door apparently closes because Paris suddenly orders, “Now get in the closet.”

Rory’s heart freezes in her chest while her mind hurriedly rewinds the conversation, checking for errors, slips, any evidence that maybe she’s gone too far, said too much when she should’ve stayed quiet. “What?”

“If he comes in here and sees you, he won’t want to date me anymore.”

“Paris, that’s crazy. He’s seen me. He’s seen me for weeks.”

“Yes. In conference halls, crowded lecture halls, badly lit banquet rooms with crappy food smells — not at night when it’s dating time and he’s thinking about dating and you’re standing there, looking all dateable.” 

Rory’s face scrunches. She’s wearing an orange t-shirt with a giant 76 embroidered across the front. She doesn’t even know what 76 is for, she has no memory of ever even buying the shirt and is fairly certain it materialized in the wash in the same way socks disappear from the dryer. “I’m not looking dateable.”

“Please? I can’t risk it — at least if there’s nothing to compare me to, then I’ve got a fighting chance,” Paris says with a glossy, trembling lip. How long has Paris thought Rory looked dateable? Just today, with this shirt? They see each other every day, they wake up feet apart in their pajamas, and Rory doesn’t think she looks all that different now than she did this morning.

There’s another knock at the door, this one louder and longer, and any irritation Rory feels is snuffed out by the look Paris shoots her. Rory lets out a sigh and tries not to drag her feet too much, but she dutifully grabs her notebook and a flashlight on the off-chance Jamie takes his time getting out of here. “When you get home, you need to get a new therapist, because the one you have is really not working.” Then she walks towards the closet like a complete fool and lets Paris close the door on her. 

Rory expects Paris to immediately answer the door with Rory out of the way, but she actually hesitates a few seconds. Rory can see her shadow through the bottom crack of the door. Paris takes a deep breath, then says, “Thanks for helping me get ready.”

For a quick second Rory should probably be ashamed of, she wishes she had messed up Paris's makeup. She wishes Paris wasn’t on the other side right now, looking perfect as she closes Rory’s door and opens Jamie’s. 

“Any time,” Rory dully answers. 

“Hi, ” she hears Paris say. Jamie says, “Hello,” and it’s the dumbest reply Rory can think of. Hullo. He follows up with the generic compliment, “You look very nice.” So much for exciting.

Rory has to bite back a laugh when Paris replies, “This is a really good sweater,” with astounding awkwardness.

“So, shall we get going?”

“Oh, sure, sure.”

“Do you like Italian food?”

Rory rolls her eyes in the dark, but Paris merely says, “I love Italian food.”

“Good. I’ve made a reservation at a great place. Or, at least, that’s what the Zagat guide says.”

Rory wants to set this stupid Zagat on fire. Paris nearly exhales on a dreamy “you’re perfect” to him. Rory’s heart plummets. She lets herself sink to the floor, knees pressed against the closed door, even though she can hear them leaving already. 

So, she stays in the closet and opens her notebook, flashlight balanced so she can look at the pages. Dean’s name is still at the top, but all she can think to talk about is Paris. Maybe Dean would be okay with that, but maybe he wouldn’t. Talking about Paris isn’t the same as talking about Lane. And she doesn’t want to talk about Paris right now, anyway, not really. She’s annoyed with herself, because certainly a lot more has happened to her over the summer that Dean would think is cool, but all she can come up with is that time Rory convinced Paris to try street tacos with her, after some particularly crappy conference food, and Paris admitted that Rory had good instincts. 

Maybe she could talk to Dean about Zagat guides. Although Jess would have more to say. And he would even point out how stupid and unnecessary they were. She moves down the page, writes Jess across a line, and beneath that, writes Tacos - Paris. 

She stares at all the names on the page for a long time. Then, figuring screw it, writes beneath both columns:

Joke about Paris on the battlefield

Zagat guides - useless?

Blonde hair - y/no?

Orange t-shirts - dateable? 

She knocks her head back against the wall and switches the flashlight off. “Perfect,” she says aloud. In her head, Paris asks, Promise?

[whitmanpumpkin]

okay, bear with me?? i saw this post and it’s been a downward spiral for the last four days or so? so, yeah -- we’re doing this.

being married was a mistake, and this wasn’t a statement you’d come out of nowhere with. 

you’d been able to brew over the idea for months -- long months without much entertainment except for the evening news and a few neighbor’s potlucks. there had been plenty of embroidery sections against the sound of radio soap operas and the sensation of pricked thumbs, as well as a couple of walks through the park close to the house and cul de sac you lived in. and in all of these moments, you brewed over the same fact: marrying your high school “sweetheart” had been the worst choice of your life and you didn’t know how to get out of it. 

there had been a few times you contemplated running away. if you moved to a city like new york or los angeles, nobody would know you; you could do everything all over again and with the hindsight few were allowed. 

but then you were brought back to reality with the notion that by running away, you might make the situation worse for everyone. the scandal it would cause your parents? could you ever come back home? a loveless marriage didn’t seem nearly as bad as those outcomes, even if it meant more solitary time in a home that felt more like a prison. 

with a husband that spend long weeks and months away from the homestead, selling globes and encyclopedias, you didn’t really know a life that involved taking care of another person for more than a couple of weeks at a time. sometimes, you swore that the man you married felt more like a guest in the house than the person who’s name was on the damned lease. 

so, as his car peeled away once more and for another trip, and you waved from the doorway, you really thought about trying to escape. again. because you weren’t quite sure how many more months away from a social life you could stand. 

with no children in the mix, and neighbors who seemed too interested in their own lives to come by, you relegated yourself to the continuation of embroidery patterns and trying new cooking techniques. 

the first snow of the season fell at the beginning of december, when you’d been in the house and on your own for the last thirteen days. you were just taking out a loaf of bread from the oven when a knock came on the door. and it was an odd sound, really, even if it was so trivial in it’s nature. being at the end of the cul de sac, you rarely had visitors and never when your husband wasn’t home. 

but nevertheless, you tossed your oven mitts off to the side of the kitchen and headed to the door. on the way, you scooped up your heels and placed them firmly on your feet -- just to make sure that whoever was on the other side of the door wouldn’t see you so indecently. 

and peaking through the peephole, you found a smiling mailman and a rather large box. 

unlocking and opening the door, you greeted the man as he explained the delivery. “you’re y/n y/l/n, correct?”

“i could be,” you jested as he handed the box over. your arms jerked slightly, not expecting the heavy weight of the parcel. the mailman came to help, rushing to move his hands back under the box as support. and you caught his eye for just a second too long, which let you take in the blue irises and the way his right eye seemed just a little uneven from his left. and you wanted to remember it for some reason. 

you looked away first, eyes scanning the empty streets for someone who saw a moment that didn’t exist. 

he helped you carry it in, setting the large and heavy thing down by the kitchen table. and then he tipped the brim of his hat to you, and headed out the door with a gentle goodbye. 

and over the course of the next week, you made a habit of greeting the man. and he would always smile and tip his hat, and there was a twinkle of something in his eyes when he did so. 

by the next week, there had been an interesting development. 

you weren’t dreaming about the mailman. 

it was easy to tell yourself that the first couple of nights, but then it happened a third time. and a fourth. and by the fifth night, in a lonely bed, you had to accept that these feelings sort of existed. they could never be acted on, of course. but where was the harm in talking to the man?

at first, you just watched him make his way down the street, from the window under the guise of reading. he’d finally come by, and you’d watch him from over the cover of your book as he rifled through his canvas bag and pulled one one to two letters -- just like he’d done with the rest of the residents on the street. and then would come the knocks -- three gentle taps against the wood frame of your door -- that would have you standing up and heading towards the entryway. 

and as you peeled back the door to see him with a beautiful smile, you couldn’t help but smile back. because he just seemed so kind. he’d even small talk with you. which was probably one of the best things about your day; having that little extra human interaction (especially with him) is what made the whole day worth it. 

he liked the smell of your cooking. he actually told you that one afternoon, when you were just finishing up a pot roast that would feed one for the evening. but, it could feed two, you guessed. “would you want to come in and try it?” you had asked.  

bill, which you had learned was his name a few days ago, looked hesitant at first. he glanced between you and the kitchen, and then his empty mail carrier. finally, he shrugged and figured “what’s the worst that could happen?”

so, that was how you ended up with bill sitting across from you at a small kitchen table. the dining room wasn’t set up -- which bill said he didn’t mind. and it was alright, because you secretly liked having him so close. if you just reached out your hand a little more, you could slip a hand into his or at least rope it around his wrist gently. but those were the thoughts that kept you silent as you took another bite of the potatoes you’d prepared. 

“your food is delicious,” he said inbetween forkfuls of the cuisine. you smiled bashfully. “if i could cook half as well as you, then i wouldn’t need to buy so many t.v. dinners for one.”

you couldn’t help but ask, “you’re not married?”

and he paused. his eyes slowly came up to meet yours, a brow hitched up in an inquisitive manner as he asked, “did you think i was?”

you guessed not; you just figured someone as kind and attractive as him would have to be married to a lovely girl and spending his weekends taking her on beautiful trips. but, maybe that was you projecting something onto him that didn’t need to be spoken of. so instead, you shrugged. “i guess not. i never saw a ring.”

“but you were looking?”

and you blushed. “i’m too inquisitive for my own good.” 

“i don’t think so,” he replied. 

and his smile caused your heart to stop for just a few seconds, because this was something a little more intimate than that wide-toothed grin he gives everyone as he tips his cap.

he gave you the same wonderful smile the next evening, when you invited him in for dinner again. 

you had never been more happy that your husband picked a home at the end of the cul de sac -- it had meant more isolation and a cheaper price originally. but now, it meant you could have a handsome mailman over for dinner.

and not just once or twice, but enough times for it to be considered a regular occurrence. by the sixth dinner, you offered him a glass of wine. he accepted with only minor disagreement. and into the second glass, he wasn’t hesitating at all. he even made sure that you were getting a third glass as you continued a story about the neighbors down the street and their horrid dog -- which bill laughed at. 

you adored his laugh. 

and he loved getting one out of you. which was often. because he seemed to have such a natural funny bone, and everything he seemed to say was funnier than the last statement. 

bill placed his fork back onto the table, another plate cleaned. “i’m going to have to start letting out these pants, y/n. your cooking is too good.”

“i could do that for you, if you needed.”

“i wouldn’t expect you to. besides, there’s no reasons that a, uh, a married woman as kind as you should have to let out anyone’s pants but their husbands.”

“i’m sure he’d never know.” you tried to wave the thought of the household man away. he hadn’t been home in five weeks, and you were starting to think that his postcards were ornamental. maybe he’d never come home. 

bill sighed. “but i would. and i couldn’t do that to you.”

“even if i wanted to?”

he paused. his eyes wouldn’t come to meet yours; they stayed very still on what seemed like a pointless and printed flower on the tablecloth. “y/n,” he started with heavy caution. “you’re not talking about the sewing anymore, are you?”

you were about to answer, your mouth opening to try and flounder out a response as he clambered to his feet. “please don’t answer that.” 

and then he was gone. 

the next day, the mail was left in the box outside your door. 

and the same with the day after that. 

on the third day, you waited by the window and watched as he filed through his bag quickly and deposited the few letters you had into your mailbox. but then he looked up, and he met your gaze, and nothing needed to be said. because you were still married, and he was too nice of a person and too much of a gentleman to ever do anything. so, it was going to be up to you.

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Super angst scenario please! Whirl’s reaction to seeing his bot s/o receive empurata. Like, he’s forced to watch them get it

Whirl woke up with a groan, helmet aching and his processor lagging. Frag, what happened? He was out with you, just chatting and flirting as usual when something made him pass out. But what?

“W-Whirl.” His train of thoughts stopped and his optic powered up faster than it’s ever done before at the sound of you whimpering his name. You were in a shady looking room, something that looked like an old mebay. Both of you were restrained in large chairs, situated face to face to one another. You looked scared and Whirl doesn’t like seeing you scared.

“Where are we?” Whirl asked as he starts struggling in his bindings. No use, they’re not budging one inch. “You saw who brought us here?”

You tried to shake your head but a metal head band was keeping it in place. “I don’t know. One minute I was with you but then everything went black and the next thing I knew I was here.” You glanced around nervously while clenching your hands. Whirl followed your optics and saw a vide selection of medical tools laid out on a table next to you. That didn’t bode well. “What are they gonna do to us?”

“Nothing!” Whirl exclaimed with bravado. “You know why? Because I am gonna get out of this damn thing and kick their asses!” Seeing your Conjux act so confident and brave made you ease up, a small smile appearing on your face. Whirl was just about to say something else to reassure you when suddenly the door to the room opened. In walked a bot Whirl had never seen before but judging by the self-assured look on his face he didn’t like him one bit.

The door was behind your chair so you could not see who walked in. The bot walked up to your chair and from behind it he put his hands on your shoulders, causing you to flinch at the unexpected contact. Whirl felt the strong urge to rip his hands away from you.

The bot smirked and stared straight into Whirl’s optic as he talked. “I’ve looked forward to this day for a long time and now I finally get to take my revenge on you”. A sneer appeared on his face. “I am gonna make you pay for what you did to me, Whirl.” Hearing his name said mech just cocked his head to the side.

“Sorry buddy but I don’t know who you are. You got the wrong bot. Tell you what though, if you let both of us go right now I will be kind and just beat you up a little. Deal?” The bot only laughed, a cold laugh devoid of any joy. The laugh of a bot scorned.

“Still just as witty I see!” he said while wiping of tears that weren’t there. “Ah, that will just make it even funnier to break you.”

If Whirl had possessed a face he would have quirked one of his eyebrows. “Break me? You should just give up right now, many have tried to break me but none have succeeded.” Instead of getting frustrated the bot just smiled, a dark and truly sadistic smile.

“That’s because they’ve gone about it the wrong way. No, the best way to break you... Is to break those close to you first.” Saying this the bot dug his claws into your shoulders, causing you to whimper in pain. Realizing what the bot meant Whirl started to struggle in his binds all over again while swearing up a storm.

“Fragging coward! Spike sucking slaghead! Don’t you dare fucking touch them!” He desperate tried to lunge at your captor but all that achieved was denting his armor. The smile on the bot’s face grew even more sinister. Slowly he made his way over to the table full of medical tools and picked up one of them, twirling it around in his hand.

“Tell me Whirl...” he said as he turned to stare straight into Whirl’s optic again. “How did it feel to receive empurata. Or rather, tell your dear Conjux. After all...” The bot brought the tool close to your face. “It might help them prepare for what's to come.”

You started to cry and Whirl screamed in rage, promising a slow and painful death to the bot. And he continued to scream until his vocalizer went out. But Whirl never stopped fighting to get out, to try and save you. He had to. If he didn’t he would go insane with how useless he felt. He couldn’t even cry in your place when the sadistic bot took that away from you.

[9ateez-multiau-bot]

Ateez Treasure 9!au (Soft/Regular) Hyerin’s ships

Hyerin’s ships/ship type - Ateez and Non-Ateez (pt 1)

ATEEZ Ships

HyeHwa or ‘2Park’: One word; mother-birds. Being the eldest two in Ateez, Hyerin and Seonghwa often have a very sibling-like relationship. As one of the eldest in her own family, Hyerin often treats Hwa as her little brother - teasing him, joking around and helping him clean after the chaos that is Ateez.

Habits they share? THAT GODDAMN TONGUE. Hyehwa do not know how to put that thing away, and lord do they know the effect it has on Atiny. She might have a smaller tongue than he does, but there are more than enough fan-cams where her tongue makes an appearance during a performance. Especially during their Wave and WONDERLAND promotions.

Seonghwa and Hyerin were on vlive together, singing along to the song the elder of the two had chosen. They were enjoying themselves until a certain lyric started playing.

“~And nothing can compare to when you’re naked~”

Seonghwa smiled awkwardly, before smirking softly at the camera. Hyerin however, was grinning with a knowing look as she licked her lips. Damn she was glad she was fluent in English

-

RinJoong: Producing. Covers. 98′ line. First trainees at KQ.  What don’t these two have in common? Although these two aren’t roommates in the dorms, Hyerin often likes to rest her head against Joong’s shoulder as she works on her own tracks, handing her headphones over for him to see if it sounds okay.

Covers are what these two do best together, and they are always seen at each other’s recordings, cheering the other on or waiting with food. Their studios at KQ aren’t that far apart from each other and many times Hongjoong and Hyerin are the last to leave for the dorm, Hyerin dragging the tired younger home with her.

Finally. Hyerin was done for the day (well - it was one am) and she could feel her bed calling to her. She wasn’t alone, Hongjoong was there too and the last text she sent to him  was an hour ago and he hadn’t replied since.

“Hyerin?” Hongjoong turned his head when he felt her arms on his shoulder, taking him out of his concentration.

“You. Me. The dorms. Hurry and save” She took his headphones off him and set them down, leaving the room and waiting outside for him. Hongjoong was glad she stopped him; he would have been there for hours.

-

YunHye; He’s an energiser and she’s his hype-woman. Yunho tends to join Hyerin in her dance covers, the pair danced so much together as trainees. Because of Hyerin’s habit of forgetting to eat while in her studio, she’d given him the code for the door and he’d usually bring food of some sort.

When neither of them are busy, their favourite wind-down together is playing video games. What can you say? They’re both young adults in their 20′s and games are fun! Until...it becomes 2 am the next day, and they’re sleepy as all hell.

Shooting was over for the dance cover and it was the last thing they had to that day. The pair was exhausted but somehow, Yunho had managed to bounce back and had pulled the older female back onto her feet.

“Noona! Come on, one last dance!” He persuaded, bouncing as he started up the music from his phone. Man, was Hyerin exhausted - but one last dance wouldn’t hurt.

-

SangRin; We all know Yeosang most likely curses in the dorm, but he is definitely not alone. Hyerin and Yeosang are very much swearing buddies - an unwritten agreement between them that they can swear at each other(within reason) without consequence.

All atiny know that Yeosang is savage. And all atiny know that Hyerin is blunt and has a sense of dry humour. Put these two together and they are unstoppable. Of course, that typically shows itself when the two are on camera, each using the other as a rebound for witty comments.

Yeosang was asked who would be the leader for the chaos that was the 99′ line. “I guess it’s me,” when asked why, he mentioned that he was the only normal one. Unable to hold back her laughter, Hyerin shook her head.

“You aren’t normal either!”

-

RinSan; Holy lord they are so affectionate towards each other. If she could, Hyerin would adopt San as her little brother. Despite his amazing skill, San didn’t have a dance background. Hyerin did - and she would spend her time helping him improve, often encouraging him when he was down.

Hyerin enjoys treating the members to food and drinks, and San is the one she usually brings with her. Mainly for coffee, and mainly because San enjoys eating good food. Win-win situation. What could be better?

“I haven’t come alone today Atiny...I’m here with San!” Hyerin turned the camera as the pair walked to the cafe. She was recording a daily vlog on her off day and wanted to bring San with her to a new cafe she’d found.

“Hello everyone~ Noona! Will we be getting dessert too?” San had wrapped his arm around Hyerin’s, puppy eyes as he asked his question. She nodded, chuckling and ruffling his hair.

-

HyeGi; Okay - atiny are sure there is something between these two. The long glances, teasing and comfortable touches have prompted a lot of fan fiction shipping. If WooSan are one of Ateez’s most popular ships, HyeGi fits into that category nicely.

When Mingi was recovering during the WONDERLAND promotions, Hyerin would often video call him from her studio to make sure he wasn’t lonely in the dorms. Of course - he did the same when Hyerin was home resting from a migraine and virus during the last week of their Say My Name promotions.

Pale. Weak. Sick. Hyerin was stuck in the dorms as she dealt with a nasty flu and throbbing migraine. She’d been vomiting every other hour and was laid down in bed with her lights dimmed as low as possible - the bright light just making her head hurt more.

“Noona? I brought you something to eat...” Mingi whispered as he turned the light on to a groaning female curled up in the corner of her bed. Setting the food on her desk, he climbed into the bed with her, letting Hyerin climb into his lap and rest her head on his chest as he whispered-rambled on about his day.

-

WooRin; He’s so energetic, bless him,  there’s no way he can’t get Hyerin to join him in his antics. Hyerin didn’t know how he would always find the time to deal with her introverted, stubborn self - but she’s glad any way.

All atiny remember Ateez’s debut, right? And that high-pitched ‘Will you be my friend~?’ just as Wooyoung waves and she tilts her head in an dangerously-sweet way - Hyerin’s lines. Practice for that specific part was always funnier when the two started messing around - she’d hug him instead, ruffle his hair, pinch his cheek gently, you name it - she did it.

Hyerin was sitting in the corner of the practice studio, headphones on as she analysed her latest dance video. In one of her more self-critical moods, and her mind was focused on what she could improve. She looked up, however, when Wooyoung placed a coffee beside her.

“Noona~ you’ve been looking at that for hours - the video was great! Come play with me?” Wooyoung pouted, sitting beside her, resting his head on her shoulder at looking at Hyerin with puppy eyes. Sighing, she put the device away and nodded, getting up and picking the coffee and younger male up. How could she say no to that face?

-

JongRin; Ahh...how to describe these two? Both love affection, but on their own terms, so late nights watching movies together after talking about it is perfect. Atiny have made countless observations on their affection-style; ‘I don’t mind, as long as I initiate it’.

Of course these two are like siblings - he’s the maknae and she’s the 2nd eldest. She spends a lot of her time teasing him, but really - she’s just in awe of how this kid could have a voice that sounds like it was gifted by the angels. In the words of Hyerin; “Please never stop singing. Ever.”

Hyerin was sitting cross-legged in her bed, book in hand when Jongho walked in with snacks. They had agreed on a makeshift movie-night and the laptop was open already. Putting the book to one side, she brought the laptop closer and pat the space beside her - Jongho getting comfortable beside his Noona.

Half an hour in and they were both yawning. Chuckling, Hyerin paused the movie, turned off her laptop and laid down, inviting him to lay beside her. Already comfortable in the same space, he agreed, laying next to Hyerin as she turned the lamp they were using off.

[harrytheweedman]

Season 4 episode 2

 LatriWhat is up you junkie whores. Who’s ready to rumble?! Well its for sure not these queens. Before we get too ahead of ourselves lets talk about one of my favorite running gags. I love at the beginning of each episode after a girl has gone home, she is featured in the next episode holding the check for 100,000. Not only is it funny as hell, it’s super petty. Damn I love Rupaul. I wish that this fun little gag was in every season. It’s such a small thing but I think it’s very effective and so hilarious. 

Before any real fun happens we see the queens fill the required screen time with what seems to be super casual and not at all produced conversations. Jiggly wipes away Alisa’s lipstick message and everyone agrees that Jiggly should have been gone instead. I can never tell if they’re joking or being genuine, but to me it really does seem like they wish Jiggly had gone home.

Lashauwn talks with  Latrice about the outcome of last week. Everyone though that Lashauwn was going to win last weeks challenge but she agrees that she didnt win because she’s too quiet. Duh she’s too quiet. Nobody likes a quiet drag week damnit.

Moving to the mini challenge, it is once again something ridiculous. The girls have to make pads, get into quick drag, then strut their stuff through the workroom. As expected, most of the girls look like shit and some think they’re funnier than they actually are. Madame LaQueer can’t even seem to get her damn pants up. Jiggly splits her pants right up the crack. Fun fact tho: This challenge was responsible for giving us the iconic Willam look that become sort of her symbol. 

 Phi Phi, Willam and Chad had the juiciest booties they win the challenge and become team captains. I was not surprised that Latrice was picked first. Like she said, shes a big bitch so who’s gonna out wrestle her. I was not surprised that Madame LaQueer was chosen last and I sure as hell was not surprised when she said that she was not athletic. Bitch no one is surprised. Your pants fell down and you were sweaty from walking. Girl bye

Anyways, the teams were as followed: Phi Phi, Lashauwn, Latrice and Kenya; Willam, Jiggly, the Princess, and Dida; Chad, Sharon, LaQueer, and Milan. On each team there are a pair of “good” guys vs. a pair of “bad” guys. Each pair has really stupid names so I shan't be getting into those. Google if you're curious. 

After that they get into their teams and practice for the big matches. During practice Madame LaQueer hurts her ankle, insert eyeroll, and that makes Team Chad very nervous. Lashauwn is nervous because she’s quiet and wresting is not for quiet people. The Princess is also quiet but her main problem is that Jiggly is crude and obscene. So basically, each team has one weak link so that no team has any advantages.

Each wrestling match starts out with one pair of wrestlers (queens) in their dressing room and then the pair they’re facing off against with flexes on them and talks shit then they take it to the ring. Overall it’s a pretty dumb challenge. Professional wrestling isn’t fun to watch so seeing a bunch f drag queens flounder and act poorly through a wrestling match inst a good time. All three teams do, at least in my opinion, a piss poor job. You can see how fake it is and the outfits are super cheap looking. Nothing really stood out for me in this challenge except fro Lashauwn’s terrible acting and Jiggly’s potty mouth.

Once the wresting is over it’s time for the runway. As they’re getting ready the queens take this time to talk shit about their performances. Jiggly is worried about the Princess because the Princess wasn’t as obnoxious as her. I don’t consider that a bad thing.

The theme of the runway is Girly Girl Couture. I don’t understand how or why the runway themes are chosen are but they make no sense. Like what does girl girls have to do with wrestling? I don’t know but Rupaul thinks they hold hands.

Team Chad wins the challenge for some reason with the overall winners being Chad and LaQueer. If I had to guess why they won, it would be because they had the most fleshed out characters and they really stayed in character. Chad and LaQueer were the most committed bad guys and as a team all four were probably the strongest. LaQueer thinks that this means the other girls will regret picking her last. Think again sis.The queens exit the stage and the real judging starts.

First up is Willam. All the judges thought that Willam’s acting sucks, which is so hilarious to me considering she considers herself to be an actress. She’s always boasting about it being her day job, but she can’t act for shit. The judges didn’t even talk about her runway look, so I’ll take care of that. It’s trash. She looks like a cheap whore that wondered into the the studio lot. Her shorts are so short that I can see her fucking taint. To me, Willam is not a star.

Dida Ritza is next and as expected, her wig is dehydrated. I don’t know why she keeps wearing cheap ass blonde wigs. Put some effort in girl. The judges said that she would be better as the pretty ring girl that hold up the sign and I disagree. She couldn’t do that either.

The Princess is next and her look gets mixed reviewed. The judge liked the dress but hated the hair. I hated both. We’ve seen what she’s capable of and this look was a bit of a let down. The dress makes her look short and fat and the hair looks like a big comb over. He moves in the ring were also not favored. The Princess said that she was a very zen person and was really trying. Well apparently she didn’t try hard enough and goes to the bottom. The Princess did not earn the respect that she deserved. The judges and Jiggly did her dirty.

Jiggly is next and her outfit is awful. I hate that she never seem to have a silhouette or a concept. The most interesting thing was the lollipop she had, but you'll soon find that Jiggly always has food on her person and it’s less interesting the more you realize that. Jiggly threw the Princess under the bus for being too quiet and the judges felt that Jiggly was carrying the pair. I disagree. I feel like Jiggly was just obnoxious and annoying and instead of working together she just bulldozed over the Princess. Nobody likes a bully Jiggly.

Phi Phi is next. The judges hate her look because she looked old. Her runway didn’t give me girly, it gave me more single mom of three realness, but it wasn’t bad. The look wasn’t terrible but it for sure didn’t match the theme. The judges, especially Michelle, really liked her in the maxi challenge. Phi Phi was pretty funny in the ring. She plays dumb bitch pretty well. If the rest of her team had been better she probably would have won.

Lashauwn is next. I loved her runway look. I thought it was so cute and creative. It was nice to see something that wasn’t basic on the runway. Most of the judges liked the look but one of the guests judges hated it. I don’t remember his name so he isn’t important or relevant. I agree with the judges about her performance. You could see that she out of her element and not really trying in the ring. Her lack of confidence is what lands her in the bottom two.

Kenya Michales is next. I found her runway look to be cute but the judges went bananas over it. They said that she looked like Lil Kim or Niki Minaj which I get. They loved her performance in the ring. I liked her energy but if Latrice wasn’t her partner I dont think it would have been as good. They fed off each others energy and were good together. Separately not so much. That one guest judge who I hate said that she’s the one to beat. Which is so not true. If she was the one to beat she would've won this challenge or even the one from the week before but she did not. Kenya is pretty, but I don’t see any talent.

And finally we  come to Latrice. Her runway look is my least favorite of the episode. It is so basic and so pedestrian. I think it is ugly and it does not give me girl, but old white lady that Latrice stole this outfit from. The judges didn’t even commit on this monstrosity of a look and honestly, they should be ashamed. The judges loved her performance in the ring because she was throwing Kenya around. So like I said for Kenya, they were good together but as individuals they aren’t as strong. 

So once again the queens retreat to the untucked lounge and the judges talk shit and say things we already heard, but this time meaner. 

It pisses me off that the Princess is in the bottom two but her partner isn’t. So instead she faces off against Lashauwn, which is probably a good thing since they both sucked in the lip sync. Both of them gave a pretty lackluster performance. Not that the song they chose was super upbeat or fun. I find Bad Girls by the Donna Summers to be a little boring myself but hey, its not my show. For some reason Lashauwn thought it would be cute to do the whole thing without shoes. Don’t ever take your shoes or your wig off during a lip sync. You will go home. So its not shocking that the Princess stayed and Lashawun sashayed away. The Princess wasn’t much better, but she kept her shoes on.

So that’s it for this episode kids. Tune in next week for commercials and RuPaul forcing his music on us