#besides in overachieving mouth but whatever

[mikaswannabe]

carla living au: 💘💛🌻☀️🌸🥰😚

dead carla au: 💔🖤⛓🏴‍☠️⛈😓😞

[ms-spkhd]

okay look: this blog may be deader than a doornail, but by god am i going to revive it so i can ramble on about a steddie how to train your dragon au

now hear me out--Eddie, obviously, is hiccup. an eccentric, outcast underdog of the highest degree. he may not be looking to prove himself like hiccup is, but the idea still works. what really matters is that he's different. he doesn't fit into the mold of what a dragon-killing viking should be, and maybe he takes a lot of pride in it.

what he doesn't take a lot of pride in, however, is his absolutely mortifying crush on Steve Harrington, the local dragon-slaying overachiever, chief's son, and all around air-headed jock whose confident douchebaggery has Eddie reeling at the very idea that he very much is attracted to him.

besides his humiliating crush on Harrington, Eddie sets his sights on two things more productive: discovering whatever there is to know about the dragons his village is so obsessed with killing, and aiding his uncle Wayne's blacksmith shop. and Eddie loves wayne, odin's beard he does--he calls Eddie his fucking son--but the old man puts a lot of belief on his beanpole excuse of a viking nephew.

like, wayne looks Eddie in the eyes with those sad, tired eyes of his, calls him son, and asks him to carry on his life's work. and who is Eddie to say no to him? he likes building shit. he has an eye for the artistic. he'd give the whole world to that old man just to make him the slightest bit proud of him.

case in point: he's hauling an actual catapult to the top of an empty hill in the middle of the night so he can give one of his newest builds a little test run. launch a spare bola into the forest, why not.

so, once he heaves the bola into the mouth of the catapult (which does a real number to his pissant limbs), his eyes wander to the inky night sky above him. they trace the blinking stars, and he feels this odd calm wrap around him. he can't even place the last time he's felt this at peace before in his life. it's never been so quiet.

he dashes the thought once he sees a blot of black nothingness engulf the stars, bit by bit in quick succession. like a shadow soaring through the night sky. something is out there.

a fucking night fury.

"shit." Eddie's hand slips, and down goes the lever. out goes the bola.

"shit!" clearly, it hits. a bellowing roar echoes from the sky, and there's a great rustle and thud as the dragon makes impact with the forest's trees.

Eddie stumbles backwards in shock. his mind is racing, positively buzzing like a hive of bees in his head. he hit a night fury. like, actually shot it down from the sky. using one of the bola catapults that he built.

now, Eddie, non-conformist that he is, wouldn't usually want to brag about taking down a godsdamned night fury with his own catapult to the common viking, Harrington be damned, but this. this is a real achievement. he can hold something above his stupid head and his beautiful hair. his ego demanded it.

and even if he wanted to stay tight-lipped about the situation, wayne still has to know.

and come the morning, he's got to prove it somehow.

"can't son," wayne says gruffly. he lugs the axe head he's been diligently hammering on into a bucket of cold water at his feet, then looks at Eddie with those droopy eyes. "someone has to keep shop, and I ain't discouragin' you from your little..." he trails off, yanking the steel from the bucket, "adventures."

frigg bless his heart for at least encouraging Eddie's bullshit, even when he's not an active participant. and maybe that's the worst part of their relationship, Eddie thinks, that wayne would very gladly shoulder all that burden, all that extra work just so Eddie could..well...be himself.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, even when he knows his uncle is right, but wayne shakes his head. he's got a solemn look about him, worn and frayed on the edges. it shuts Eddie up real quickly.

it's a wordless agreement.

so, Eddie turns heel, ready to make his way to the forest, and promptly collides with Harrington. the asshole probably sidled up behind him to collect whatever weapon Wayne's making without even considering that his nephew was trying to goad him into seeing a night fury. which said nephew took down himself mind you.

whatever. asshole.

"odin's beard," Harrington huffs, running a hand through his, sigh, perfect hair, "do you ever watch where you're going, munson?"

"apologies for not making way for royalty, cheifling," Eddie snaps, and stomps off. he can practically feel Harrington's dumbfounded stare even when he's out of sight. chiefling. that's a good one.

what he really should be focusing on is the night fury in the forest. the forest that he's lost in. the night fury that he shot down that's in the forest that he's lost in.

jord help him.

"--and you really went and did it, Edward," Eddie mumbles to himself, tone manic. he digs the toes of his boots into the soil as he walks, "you hit a dragon and you fucking lose it. you do something right--then poof! gone into thin air!"

"classic. fucking. munson"-- he kicks a sizable pebble on the ground in frustration--"blunder!"

it makes impact with the trunk of a fallen tree.

no--the tree is snapped in half. like something heavy fell against it. like a dragon. like a night fury.

quickly, he stumbles over the broken tree, over a few rocks, and he finds the body of the night fury, bound at the legs by the launched bola.

it's still. dead still.

Eddie swallows, hand unsteadily reaching for the knife at his side.

the night fury is a stark black, sleek and scaly. Eddie imagines how smooth it would be if he slid grazed the dragons skin with his hand. atop its head is a smatter of grey spots, from the tip of its head to its snout. kind of like dust.

Eddie blinks.

it's so...fragile looking. and, gods, he fucking killed it.

"look at it," he whispers to himself, half in pride and half in utter, stomach churning despair. "look at what you've done."

breath caught in his throat, Eddie pokes the belly of the dragon with the toe of his boot, just to make sure.

its eyes shoot open, belly sucking in quickly as it takes a sharp breath. it's leg pushes against Eddie, shoving him backward onto his ass.

"shiiiiiiiit!" he chokes out, quickly bringing himself to his feet. his legs wobble like a newborn lamb, and he crowds his back against the rock behind him.

his stomach pools with fear, and obviously, he does what he does best--

Eddie's halfway through a pathetic attempt to climb over the rock to get the fuck out of there, when the night fury whimpers behind him. his head turns slowly, heart beating like war drums, and he finds the dragons eyes trained on him.

Eddie thinks he might die.

he slides down the rock, grunting as he lands on his feet, and he stalks carefully toward the beast. he's white-knuckling his knife as the night fury's eyes keep following him 'til he ends up at its feet.

chest heaving, Eddie raises the knife, and the night fury drops its head in defeat.

but Eddie resolves not to kill the dragon. instead, he takes the rope binding the night fury's wings and begins cutting it, putting a whole lot of elbow grease into the effort.

and when he's done, the dragon stirs, pushing Eddie to the ground with its front legs, the pressure almost crushing the bones of his shoulders into powder.

it roars, spittle landing all over his face, and Eddie screams in response. using his entire chest.

the night fury reels backwards in surprise, blinking rapidly, then staggers further into the forest, leaving Eddie in the dust.

Eddie's shaky hands meet his shoulders in an attempt to sooth the pain. the shock. the confusion of it all.

Eddie--he...he did something. something incredible. he built a bolas and shot it into the night sky and hit a night fury. something no other person has ever done. not even perfect Harrington and his perfect hair and his perfect resolve when slaying dragons.

he hit a night fury--black and spotty--and found it in the woods. near death.

and he freed it.

if he were Steve Harrington, would he have freed it? would he have felt a sliver of empathy for the creature, or would he follow in the footsteps of his father and put it out of his misery?

does Eddie even want to be like Harrington? no. he doesn't. not in a million godsdamned years. he may be beautiful and strong and capable, but Eddie is nothing like the chiefling. and he's proud of it.

Eddie stares out into the mess of trees in front of him, listens to the distant stomping.

without scooping up his knife, he turns and runs.

[camgoloud]

TRICK OR TREAT!!

(this is in response to this halloween fic writers ask game; please feel free to send more asks if you're curious!)

in the spirit of halloween, here's an excerpt from the otgw fic i started last year but will almost certainly never finish! it's called "all the good words have left my mouth" (in reference to novo amor's song halloween, of course) and it's a post-canon fic about wirt experiencing The Horrors (daily life as a neurotic overachieving teen in the american midwest during college applications season. also the anniversary effect. also social anxiety. you know how it is.)

~

“It’s just—” Wirt says, and sighs, and grips the steering wheel a little harder in lieu of gritting his teeth, and forces himself to meet Greg’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Writing these applications—I don’t know. Nothing I come up with is ever any good.”

“But Wirt,” Greg protests, “you’re a great writer! You write all the time! You’ll do fine.”

“Well, yeah,” Wirt says, “but—” He’s struggling. He doesn’t know how to put this into words. He doesn’t even really know what he wants to say. Story of his life, right? “But that’s poetry,” he comes up with. “It’s different.” It is different. Just because he’s written some poetry in his journals doesn’t mean he’s prepared to—no one ever bats an eye if your poetry is full of beasts, and bluebirds, and half-baked metaphors trying to get at what it feels like to drown, not like they do at prose, which is supposed to be taken at face value, and besides, most of his poetry isn’t actually any good either, anyway. There’s a reason he doesn’t run around showing it to people. 

But it’s true, is the thing. It’s true in a way that none of the half-written essays he’s put out before immediately discarding in the past several weeks are true. Somehow whatever happened-or-didn't-happen to him and Greg that night is the truest, most real thing that’s ever happened to him in his life and in prose he can’t even talk about it. Let alone in six hundred words that also have to make him look like a promising student, or at the very least like a sane person. 

[storiesforallfandoms]

the girl next door ~ rodrick heffley;diary of a wimpy kid

word count: 1675

request?: yes!

waaaavyguurl “hey! could you do a rodrick heffley imagine where in rodrick rules the fem!reader has just moved in a house next to the heffley’s and she’s in maths class with rodrick. she’s kinda a genius, so he asks her to help him with hw and they start dating ?? maybe with an insert of greg who understands they’re together when he sees them dancing at the party ?? thank u <3″

description: in which rodrick falls for the smart girl next door

pairing: rodrick heffley x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

His mother had been adamant about the entire Heffley family going to greet their new neighbors just a day after they moved in. Susan spent the whole night making brownies, with Manny’s “help”, and had them boxed up and ready to go the next morning.

“What if they’re allergic to brownies?” Greg asked after Frank had to literally drag him out of bed.

“They’re made from scratch, so the only allergies in it are dairy and gluten,” Susan responded.

“Why couldn’t this have waited till tonight?” Rodrick groaned. “Give them some time to breathe before we scare them off.”

“If we wait too long we’ll look like rude neighbors!”

Rodrick rolled his eyes. He was sure none of the other people on the block had went to meet the new neighbors yet, but there was no talking Susan Heffley out of something once she set her mind to it.

She made the boys dress up in their nicest clothes, which for Rodrick was a pair of jeans without holes in them and a plain black t-shirt, before they made their way across the street. Rodrick let out an annoyed sigh as Susan knocked on the door and they waited.

A girl that looked about Rodrick’s age answered the door. Rodrick couldn’t help but stand up a little straighter as her eyes wandered over the family before her. “Uh...hi?”

“Hello!” Susan greeted. “We’re the Heffleys; I’m Susan, this is my husband, Frank, and my boys, Manny, Greg, and Rodrick. We just wanted to come over and welcome you and your parents to the neighborhood with some homemade brownies!”

“Nice to meet you,” the young girl greeted. “I’m (Y/N). You guys actually just missed my parents. They both work morning shifts, they won’t be home until sometime this evening.”

Rodrick held back his desire to tell his mother “I told you so”.

“Wait, so you’re here by yourself?” Greg asked. “That’s so cool!”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I appreciate the gesture none the less, and my parents will, too. I’ll tell them you stopped by, they’ll probably invite you guys back for dinner sometime.”

“That’d be great!” Susan said. “We’ll wait for your call!”

Greg and Manny were the first to break away from their parents, excitedly running back to the house to play video games and watch cartoons like they normally did on a weekend morning. Susan chased after Manny, telling him not to run across the street without her, while Frank just silently left. Rodrick stayed a moment, trying to think of something to say to (Y/N).

“I-I guess I’ll see you at school on Monday,” he finally managed to say, immediately cringing at the stupid thing he decided to say.

(Y/N) smiled at this, though, and responded, “Yeah, I’ll see you Monday. It’ll be nice to already know a friendly face.”

Rodrick smiled back and nodded. (Y/N) closed the door as Rodrick turned away, silently celebrating to himself before joining his family back at the Heffley household.

~~~~~~

That Monday, Rodrick tried not to seem too obvious as he looked around for (Y/N) at school. He couldn’t hide his disappointment when he couldn’t find her the first half of the day.

When she walked into his sixth period math class, Rodrick smiled widely and waved at her. She smiled back and quickly sat in the empty seat next to him.

“Hey! I finally found you!” she said. “This school is so big, and there’s so many people!”

“Yeah, it is pretty big,” Rodrick responded, lamely. “How have your classes been so far?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “They’re, you know, classes. I feel like I can’t form an opinion on anything yet.”

Before Rodrick could ask anymore questions, the teacher came in to start the class.

Math class always dragged on, but that day it felt like it was going at a pace even slower than a snail. Rodrick wanted nothing more than for the class to just end so he could talk to her more.

“The answer is six,” (Y/N) whispered to herself.

Rodrick looked over at her. “What?”

(Y/N) looked at him. Her face was confused at first until she realized she had spoken out loud. Before she could respond, the teacher asked, “Do you two have something to add Miss. (Y/L/N)? Mr. Heffley?”

The two exchanged a look before (Y/N) responded. “The answer to the equation is actually six. You mixed up on your second to last calculation.”

A snicker came from her classmates as the teacher rolled his eyes at her. “I can assure you my calculations are correct Miss. (Y/L/N).”

“I’m not saying they’re all wrong, just the second to last calculation.” (Y/N) rose from her seat and made her way to the whiteboard. “May I?”

“Oh sure, since you know everything.”

(Y/N) ignored his sarcastic tone and erased everything that was on the board except for the starting equation. Rodrick watched as (Y/N) rewrote the entire equation down to the last step, in which she changed the workings to equal six.

The entire room seemed to hold their breath as (Y/N) turned to their teacher. He had a blank expression on his face before letting out a sigh. “Okay, I see your point. Well done Miss. (Y/L/N), now go sit down.”

(Y/N) returned to her seat next to Rodrick, her cheeks tinted pink.

When class finally ended, Rodrick and (Y/N) left together. “That was so impressive! You’re, like, a math genius.”

“My parents have been teaching me basically since I was born,” (Y/N) explained. “They basically made me an overachiever since birth.”

“That’s cool, though. Maybe you could help me with my homework sometime.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Yeah! I’d love to!”

~~~~~~~

Rodrick watched (Y/N) talk to some friends in the living room from his spot in the kitchen. He couldn’t help but smile when she laughed at whatever one of the girls had said.

(Y/N) had really opened up in the months following her moving in. She had gained a great group of friends and had opened up a lot to the people in their grade. She was no longer the shy new girl, but now the smart, semi-popular girl that everyone loved.

“How long till you tell mom and dad about (Y/N)?” Greg asked as he came to stand next to his big brother.

“Disintegrate child,” Rodrick hissed. “Wait, how do you know about me and (Y/N)?”

Greg scoffed. “Come on, Rodrick. You’ve never looked at a girl the way you look at her, among other very obvious tells. You are totally in love with her.”

“Whoa, whoa. Back it up little bro. In love is a strong word. I like her a lot at the most.”

“Like who a lot?”

(Y/N) walked up to the brothers and threw an arm over Rodrick’s shoulder. He felt his heart starting to race at just her close proximity, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his face knowing she was there next to him.

Okay, maybe I love her a little bit.

“What lucky girl has taken little Rodrick’s heart?” (Y/N) continued with their “friends” bit.

“You can drop it. Greg knows about us.”

(Y/N) sighed with relief as she dropped her arm from Rodrick’s shoulder. “Good. There was no way I was going to be able to pretend that Rodrick liked someone else. I was sure I was gonna crack.”

Rodrick wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder and kissed her forehead. (Y/N) leaned into his embrace, a dreamy smile on her face as she peered up at her boyfriend. Greg looked between the two of them, an amused smile on his face.

“I’m happy for you guys,” he said. “But, just remember (Y/N), you could do so much better than Rodrick.”

Rodrick untangled himself from Greg just long enough to feign a threatening punch. Greg took off as soon as Rodrick’s hand went up, disappearing into the crowd of party people around him. Rodrick shook his head and rolled his eyes as (Y/N) laughed.

“He’s smarter than you give him credit for,” (Y/N) pointed out.

“Don’t give him too much credit, it’ll go to his already massive sized head,” Rodrick warned her.

(Y/N) laughed before giving Rodrick a quick peck on her lips. “So, Greg has already figured us out. When do we tell your parents?”

Rodrick sighed as he pulled (Y/N) tightly against them. “Realistically, they’re the next step. I don’t need Greg having anything else he can hold over my head as leverage or blackmail. But...I really don’t want you to meet them. Not because I don’t think they’d like you, they already love you more than they love the three of us. It’s just...mom is super overbearing, especially with girlfriends. The last one I had that I brought to meet them, mom straight up asked her if she planned to ever have kids and get married after graduating high school.”

(Y/N) covered her mouth to try and stifle the laugh that came out. She had met Susan Heffley a few times in passing when doing homework with Rodrick, and even in the few times she had met Rodrick’s mom, she knew that Rodrick’s story was not an exaggeration.”

“Dad is just boring,” Rodrick continued. “He doesn’t do much besides work and collect figurines. He’ll probably ask you if you’ll talk me out of being in the band and actually doing something with my life.”

(Y/N) leaned into Rodrick again. “I won’t push you. You have your reasonings for not wanting me to meet them, and I understand those reasonings. But, just so you know, they’re not gonna chase me away from you. I’m in this for the long haul, Heffley. You’re stuck with me until you get tired of me.”

Rodrick smiled and kissed (Y/N) again. “I’ll never get tired of you, (Y/L/N).”

[works-of-fanfiction]

Together - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham takes care of the reader after a particularly hard couple of weeks.

Warnings: Literally none - straight up, good old-fashioned fluff.

Word Count: 2.8k

Side Note: I haven’t written since 2019 or something like that, so forgive me if this isn’t the best!

————-

Sometimes you wonder whether your job is actually worth the exhaustion - your hand comes up to turn out the office light, exactly two hours and seventeen minutes later than you’d expected. Maybe it’s too much to ask for the work day to end at your contracted time. You scoff at yourself at the sheer thought, like your managers would ever treat you like a human being.

The tube ride home feels longer than usual, and you’re completely unable to focus on the book balanced in your lap. You’d always tried to be one of those leave work at work people - ‘don’t take your work home with you’ everyone says… but it’s impossible. You were good at your job, no doubt about that, but that came with the downside of being taken advantage of. People aren’t going to do their own dirty work when the overachiever down the corridor can do it for them. Though, how could you ever refuse? Why would you risk saying ‘no’?

Swinging the apartment door open, you drop your bag onto the ground and nudge it further to the side with your foot. Your loud entrance does not go unnoticed by your droopy-eyed boyfriend sprawled on the armchair. The first thing you feel when you see him is guilt. You don’t want to be the reason he forces himself to stay awake. You don’t want to be so fragile that he feels he can’t go to bed without seeing you first to make sure you’re alright. Once he catches sight of you, a weak smile spreads across his lips as he drags himself to his feet and shuffles over to where you’re standing. You paste a fake smile onto your face, hoping you can lie and pretend you had a good day so he can finally get some sleep.

“Hey sweetheart.” Graham mumbles, holding out his arms for you to fall into. You do just that, your head sinking onto his shoulder, inhaling his scent like it’s the last chance you’ll get. He holds you tightly in the doorway, supporting your body weight as you limply cling onto him. You claw at the back of his shirt, gathering the fabric between your fingers as if he could slip away any moment and disappear. His only response to this is to squeeze you as his chin rests on your head. “Hard day?” He finally asks, separating the two of you and holding you at arms length.

You don’t want to be a burden and you’d already come home from work two nights out of five this week feeling like this. You begin to shake your head, hoping that the lie will be easier to tell if you don’t speak, but as you stare into Graham’s eyes, you know he doesn’t buy it. The look on his face is all too familiar; he can read you like a book and he knows damn well that you’re not OK. Your head shake slowly evolves into a nod, and you don’t hold back the first sob that leaves your lips. Graham immediately catches you in his grasp again, holding you as you cry into his chest. He doesn’t waste time trying to find the right words to say to you because he knows that’s not what you need. You don’t need a soppy, motivational speech or a string of “it’s okay”s. Instead, you’re comforted by the beating of Graham’s heart and the warmth from his body as he carefully steps back and begins to guide you into the living room. You stand up straight and slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together in that perfect way that just feels right. No matter where you are, as long as your hand finds his, you know you’re safe and that everything is going to be alright.

As you go to sit down, Graham stops you and helps slide your coat off of your shoulders. You sniffle, quietly thanking him as he tosses it over the back of the armchair. You sink onto the sofa, the throw blanket from the back already slipping off and bunching up behind you. You adjust, your fingers pinching at the stray hairs sticking to your tear-stained cheeks. All you can do is stare at your feet, your eyes tracing the triangular patterns on your socks - Graham’s socks that you’d put on in a hurry that morning. The extra bit of fabric hanging off the tip of your toes makes that evident. You’re too focused on the ground beneath you to hear Graham go into the kitchen.

He boils the kettle, reaching into the very back of the cupboard to find your favourite mug - a round cream-coloured cup with a black cat’s face painted onto it, wearing a pair of red glasses. He’d bought it for you in Camden as a silly little gift, but you fell in love with it the moment you saw it and have treasured it ever since. Though you barely use it, as you can’t trust your own clumsiness and you’re too scared you’ll break it.

Graham makes your tea just the way you like it and carefully carries it into the living room. He remembers to bring the half-eaten packet of custard creams with him too. He’s not sure you’ll want them, but he usually sneakily dips one into your tea when you’re not looking so they won’t entirely go to waste. With one hand, he pushes all the clutter on the coffee table to one side, and places the cup down in front of you with the cat facing in your direction. You look up, a small smile on your face as you spot the mug. Graham squeezes through the gap between your knees and the coffee table to sit down beside you.

“That was the last teabag, so drink up.” He gently teases, pointing at the cup. A small exhale of air from your nose is all you can muster to show your amusement as you reach forward and take a slow sip. It’s perfect, and that feeling of sad happiness washes over you. You’re happy to have Graham; happy that he’s there for you and happy that he remembers your particular taste in hot drinks. Who else would know that one sugar is not enough but two is too much? Who else would measure one and a half teaspoons and make sure it’s stirred in completely?

But the sadness still remains. You’re sad that he’s making the tea to try and cheer you up; sad that he’s used the last teabag and he’s going without a drink of his own. You’re sad that he’s sat here watching you cry one time too many.

It’s silent for a while. It’s clear he’s waiting for you to speak first but you’re not sure what to say. You feel like you’ve said everything a thousand times already, and the last thing you want is to be the broken record constantly spinning in the room.

You gulp down half of your tea before putting the mug back on the table. You turn to face Graham who scoots forward, eager to be there for you and ready to listen. He sits cross-legged, his sleeves rolled down to cover his hands with just his fingertips poking out. Your own fingers pick at a stray piece of thread hanging from the hem of your shirt, wrapping it around your forefinger then unwrapping it over and over. “I really really don’t like that place, Graham.” You whisper, part of you not wanting to hear your own admission. You’d fought hard for that job and were ashamed and embarrassed that it hadn’t gone the way you’d planned. Graham nods in understanding, moving closer to you to wrap an arm around you. He pulls you into him, your head resting on his shoulder as he rubs your back lovingly.

”I know, love.” He presses a kiss to your temple, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just having him beside you and feeling his touch is enough to calm the heavy beating of your heart and steady the shaking of your knees. “But hey, it’s Friday night which means tomorrow is Saturday. We have the entire weekend to do whatever we want! The entire weekend to not think about work for a single second.” He encourages, standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You reach over to grab your mug and quickly finish the rest of your drink. You grab a biscuit and bite half of it, feeding the other half to Graham. Crumbs fall from his mouth and he tries to catch them in his other hand but fails. You smile sadly, the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, before taking his hand and letting him lead you to your bedroom. He sits you on the bed and grabs a fresh towel from the wardrobe. “First, let’s wash off the day, hmm?” He smiles and you nod in response. He leans over and kisses your forehead, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the bathroom to run a bubble bath. He fills it with your favourite coconut-scented bubbles and fumbles around in his pocket to find his lighter to ignite the candle on the windowsill. It’s almost completely melted away, but he’s certain there’s enough there for it to stay lit for tonight.

He hangs the towel over the radiator to warm it up and tests the water before calling you in. You shiver as you shuffle past Graham, then lower yourself into the water. You hiss at the heat at first, but you’re soon submerged and used to it. You look over to Graham who’s knelt on the floor beside you. “Aren’t you getting in?” You ask, lying down and covering yourself with the bubbles. He shakes his head, rolling his sleeves up and pushing his glasses onto the top of his head.

“This is for you, love. You deserve to relax.” He reaches into the bath and strokes your shoulder softly. He spots a hair tie on the counter and grabs it, then stands and leans over to help tie your hair back. He scrunches it all together and ties it into a messy bun on the top of your head. It doesn’t look the best but it does the job. You look at him and smile, grabbing his arm and giving it a loving squeeze. In that moment, all you can think about is how lucky you are to have Graham. Even something as simple as him tying your hair up makes your heart swell. You wish you could stay in this room with him forever and never face any responsibilities.

You sit up to grab the soap but he beats you to it, the sponge in his other hand. “What did I say about relaxing?” He starts, eyebrows raised. “Let me.”

“Graham, you don’t have t - “

“I want to.” He cuts you off, dipping the sponge into the water and rubbing it together with the soap. You lie back down and he slowly starts to wash you, leaning over the bathtub to reach your legs. You watch as the water spills over the side a little and dampens his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind. His fingertips lightly brush your thigh and you flinch as it tickles you. Graham laughs, doing it again on purpose until you’re practically kicking your feet like a paddling dog.

“Graham!” You squeal, grabbing his wrist and using all your strength to stop him. He splashes you in the face and you splash him back, just missing him as he ducks out of the way.

“You’re going to be the one cleaning that up later.” He jokes, gesturing to the small puddle behind him. You cover your mouth with your hand, laughing quietly as he shakes his head and continues his path up your body with the sponge. He’s gentle throughout, making sure not to scrub too harshly. You move so he can wash your back last, before he wrings out the sponge and places it back on the edge of the tub. “All clean.” He smiles, drying his hands on his jeans. You lie back, not wanting to get out just yet.

“Tell me about your day Graham, tell me something good.” You say, closing your eyes and letting the bubbles cover you again, or what’s left of them at least. He pushes his glasses back onto his face and ruffles his hair, sitting against the door with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“We rehearsed a couple songs today. We didn’t get through the whole setlist as Dave wasn’t feeling too well, and what can we do without the drummer, eh?” You keep your eyes closed as you listen to Graham talk. You could listen to him talk about music and the band for hours. You’re unbelievably proud of him and you know you’ll never get tired of hearing about every new song, music video or ridiculous lyric Damon has come out with. “Alex bought everyone lunch which was nice. Damon thought he’d broken something and was trying to butter us up or bribe us with the food!” He laughs, the sound so infectious that you can’t help but laugh with him.

“Was he bribing you?” You ask, opening your eyes and looking over at him. Butterflies dance inside your stomach as you admire Graham under the glaring white light above his head. Even in poor bathroom lighting he’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbows and you can see little pen scribbles on one of his arms, most likely rushed notes from rehearsal. He never did allow himself the time to just find a piece of paper. His hair is sticking out a little at the front, probably from where his glasses were sitting previously. His cheeks are a rosy pink colour, as are yours, caused by the humidity in the room.

“Nope! He was just being nice.” He grins, standing to grab the towel from the radiator. He holds it out for you and you get up, quickly getting out and wrapping yourself in it. You mentally praise his genius for leaving it on the radiator, thankful for how warm it is. It’s exactly what you need, especially on a cold night in the middle of February.

He leads you back into the bedroom and runs over to close the window to keep you warm. “Alright, pyjamas or - “

”Can I have one of your shirts?” You interrupt, looking towards his set of drawers in the corner. “I don’t want the one you’re wearing, you’re all… soggy.”

He laughs at your choice of words before rummaging through his middle drawer to find the right shirt. He tosses it over to you and it’s one of your favourites; red, long-sleeved and fleecy on the inside. You slide it on with your usual stripy pyjama pants and let your hair down. Graham strips off and takes your laundry into the bathroom to put into the basket. Whilst there, he roughly dries the floor and blows out the candle. He then does a quick scan of the apartment to make sure everything is switched off and the door is locked properly before getting into bed with you.

It pours with rain outside but you love the sound against the windows. Graham hoists himself up against the bed frame and you lay your head on his chest, throwing your left arm over him. Both of your legs wrap around one of his and he keeps you close with his arm around your back. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” He asks, his hand drifting upwards to play with the ends of your hair.

“Can we go to Covent Garden and get cinnamon waffles and ice cream?” He chuckles at your response and the specificity of it.

“Ice cream in this weather?”

You nod, your hair tickling his bare chest. He pulls you in closer and adjusts the blanket so you’re covered properly. “Anything for you, sweetheart.” He kisses your head, and you sit up a little to face him. You stretch upwards to kiss him, his hand staying in your hair as he kisses back. You can still taste the sugar from the biscuits on his lips, and you smile into the kiss before lying back down and closing your eyes. You both whisper “I love you”s before you press one last kiss on his shoulder. Graham’s soft breathing coupled with the rain outside begins to lull you to sleep. He stays awake, stroking your hair and watching your feet fidget beneath the covers.

“You don’t have to go back to that job next week. I’ve got things covered until something else comes along.” He whispers, and you barely register his words as you hum in response and nuzzle your head into his chest. In that moment, everything feels OK and Graham knows that as long as you’re together and you have each other, that nothing can bring either of you down for too long. Once your breathing evens out, he closes his own eyes, but not without telling you how lucky he is beforehand. You’re not awake to hear it, but that doesn’t matter.

[imthepointe]

We’re Not Really Strangers

Jay’s not really sure why Cole has always been so touchy with him, but he decides to welcome the physical contact- to an extent. And so he resigns himself to a great and terrible boundary of friendly intimacy with his best friend; more than strangers but never more than friends, perhaps destined for something greater.

In which Jay is one-hundred percent, entirely straight.

a/n: 4302 words, tw for internalized homophobia

When Jay first met Cole, he first noticed his arms. His really nice, lean, smooth arms. They were unusually buff for a thirteen-year-old, and reflected years of mountain climbing and muscle building. The very next thing he thought was what? because that was a weird thing to notice in a guy.

In his reckless adolescence, the little lightning ninja chalked this first and silent observation up to the fact that pre-teens shouldn’t be so buff and that it was only natural for him to notice Cole’s inherent, smoulder-y attractiveness.

Because Jay liked girls. He liked their skin, their long hair, and…

It doesn’t matter. Jay liked girls, exclusively.

Five years later Jay can’t imagine a life without Cole. He’s his partner in fighting, combat, and training, but also in just day-to-day life. Their conversations range from fighting about which flavor of ramen is best to more serious topics such as relationships...with family.

Jay remembered when Cole had first opened up to him about losing his mother and his rocky relationship with his father. He had looked down, until finally, Jay scooted just a little bit closer to him. His side pressed into Cole’s, and the earth ninja crumbled, allowing himself to be emotional and sincere. And when it was all over, Cole put his hands on Jay’s and thanked him; Jay ignored the warmth in his chest, attributing it to the vulnerability of the conversation and the delicacy of the talk.

But Cole’s physical presence persisted. It started during gaming nights, when the two were so close they were practically on top of one another, their thighs touching and oh god Cole’s bicep flexing against Jay’s arm as he gripped the game controller tighter.

Jay decided he didn’t mind the contact and allowed Cole to continue being close.

During training, Cole would not miss any opportunity to help Jay stand from the ground, extending hand to help him up and gently pulling the blue ninja to his feet. During physical combat training, Cole would win- and rather it was because Jay liked when Cole would swiftly pin him down to the ground or simply because the earth ninja was a better fighter than he, Jay wasn’t sure.

As they were sitting for dinner, Cole’s hand would brush against Jay’s. It was fleeting and probably an accident.

This was the problem: Jay found himself thinking about Cole’s muscles much more than he thought about kissing nameless girls. But he maintained that it was only because Cole was his best friend and naturally a pretty handsy guy- not to mention he does have stellar muscles, anyway, so it was only natural that they were noticeable to Jay.

But this resolve crumbled one hot summer day during training. They were both seventeen.

“You all have such cool places to keep your weapons,” Jay complained. Kai, Zane, Cole, Jay, and Lloyd were all out in the monastery’s courtyard, taking a small break from the morning’s rigorous training.

“Do we?” Zane asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Jay said, dragging the “s” sound. “I just have to carry my nunchucks.”

Kai suggested he get a belt that would hold them, and Jay liked that idea, until the belt finally came.

Kai had made it for him. Jay was grateful- he really was- but this was by god the ugliest thing he had ever laid eyes on. Not to mention it weighed about as much as he did, and it hardly even was able to hold his nunchucks.

But as to not disappoint the fire ninja, he tried to put it on. Tried. Unfortunately- or perhaps fortunately, Jay’s not sure- Kai was also not an expert in design and practical effectiveness.

“Kai, this buckles in the back,” Jay said. “I can’t get it on.” Internally, Jay breathed a sigh of relief. At least he for sure didn’t have to put the belt on now.

But when Cole offered to help him put the belt on, he quickly accepted.

So Cole took the belt and knelt down beside the blue ninja, buckling the buckle (in the back!) with gentleness and care. All throughout practice, Jay found himself annoyed by the cumbersome feeling of the belt, even if he did have a place to store his nunchucks. But, the next day, when Cole offered to help him put the belt on again, Jay said yes before his mind could catch up.

Jay was uncomfortably comfortable with it all. When he should be trying to focus on training, all he can think about was Cole’s warm and calloused hands gently touching his hips, steadying them to buckle his stupid little nunchuck belt.

The third night after the belt incident, the lightning ninja was in his room, mentally reprimanding himself for stewing over Cole’s likely innocent acts of kindness- not because he wasn’t grateful for Cole’s help and generosity, he really was, but because he should be used to Cole’s touchiness by now.

And that was that. Cole has always been a little bit more physical in his...affections, and had no issue giving gentle touches and reassuring looks to anyone. That was right, Jay supposed. It didn’t matter because the entire situation was just Cole being the nice guy that he was. If it had been Zane with a belt fiasco, the earth ninja wouldn’t have hesitated to help him clasp the buckle either. Jay wasn’t even sure why he was so worked up about the whole thing anyways.

He dismissed the thought. Plus, no matter how physical Cole was, it didn’t matter, because Jay liked girls anyways. He really liked Nya, who, despite being the only girl he had ever had some sort of connection with beside his mother, seemed to like him too.

So he drifted off to sleep, dreaming about kissing her... but everytime he closed his eyes and conjured up this mental picture, she didn’t have a face.

---

A week later, after dinner, Jay and Cole were alone playing some game when the black ninja set his controller down and assumed an aura of stoic-ness about him.

“What’s up?” Jay asked.

“I’m bisexual,” Cole responded.

Jay’s mouth hung wide for a moment, before he mustered a smile and a “cool!” and cracking some stupid joke like leave it to you to overachieve. But he had also noticed the strength and vulnerability of Cole’s tone. When he came out then, he might have been scared, but he wasn’t afraid. Jay even remembered finding it admirable how relaxed Cole remained.

And then the moment was over, ending with Cole muttering “just wanted to let you know.” Jay didn’t mind, and they resumed gaming.

Minutes later, the door opened to reveal Kai, Lloyd, Zane, and Nya.

“C’mon, lovebirds, Wu wants us to try out some new training technique. He said-”

“Lovebirds? That’s a new one, Kai,” Cole interrupted, a light and playful smile on his face. He seemed to be handling Kai’s words with considerably more lightheartedness, either not putting more than two cents to Kai’s words or just not caring regardless.  

But Jay cared, a lot. He jumped from the couch and met Kai’s eyes.

“And at least I’m straight!” Jay shouted in a valiant display of defense, perhaps more as a reminder to himself than the others. He felt his cheeks burn and his stomach twist; he regretted saying that almost immediately.

(Jay would spend the next week regretting his reaction, loathing himself for his intonation and word choice. Soon, though, the regret turned into a serious analysis of why he cared so much about Kai’s tease, but this rhetorical question stumped even Jay’s genius. Because- in that moment- Jay wanted whatever it was Kai thought he and Cole were.

The lightning ninja came to the conclusion that he and Cole were naturally going to be drawn to spend time together, because obviously. They were best friends, and Jay couldn’t imagine not spending time alone with the earth ninja. It’s what kept their friendship so strong.)

“Okay, uh,” Kai stammered, glancing to the side, as if he were trying to avoid something. “It was a joke. I was kidding.”

Nya scoffed. “Let’s just go,” she said, turning to leave. Lloyd and Zane followed her path in suit, presumably towards the monastery’s courtyard to do whatever it was Wu wanted them to do. Then Kai inhaled quickly and turned, and Jay made a move to follow, but something stopped him.

He spared a final glance back at Cole, who he expected to still have a kind expression. Instead, he was sitting on the couch, head in his hands, and cheeks twinged ever so slightly pink.

Jay shook his head and left him alone.

They didn’t practice together that night; Jay practiced with Nya and left Cole alone with Lloyd. Afterwards, everyone had gone inside to shower and head to bed, save for he and Nya.

“Hey,” she called. “Thank you for practicing with me tonight.” Jay’s shoulders stiffened.

Surely it was at least 11 at night by now, completely dark outside. He could hardly see Nya standing directly in front of him.

“You’re welcome. I…” he trailed off, trying to think of something he should say. “I really wanted to. And you’re a good partner.”

“Yeah?”

Jay smiled. “Yeah.”

Then their hands brushed. It was silent for a moment, the only sound the small, labored breaths coming from the two ninjas. They were close, and Jay was elated. This was exactly how it was supposed to happen. This is always how it happened in the books he read or the shows he watched.

Then Nya smiled, and Jay smiled, and then he kissed her.

He supposed it was nice. Even though he couldn’t really see her, he liked kissing Nya. He had thought about it for quite some time. They pulled apart, and Jay looked at her once more, as if he had just seen her in this light for the very first time.

“Thanks again, Jay,” she whispered. The water ninja turned to head inside, but he stopped her, catching her hand.

“Nya,” he said, and it sounded more like a question than a statement. “I like you. I really like you.”

“But you wish I was Cole?”

Jay felt his heart drop and face flush, before he was spitting defenses left and right. That was not what he was expecting after he kissed the girl of his dreams.

Nya didn’t know what he felt. How could she? But as Jay almost expected himself to be angry with her, he wasn’t. His heart began to rapidly beat, and suddenly he wanted to leave this conversation so badly he probably would have faced a djinn again if it meant he could wish this all away.  

“Don’t play dumb, Jay,” she laughed. Her smile was kind. “You two hold hands all the time. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You just think you like me.” She took his hand, despite the fact that it was shaky and sweaty from anxiety.

“Listen to me, Jay. Take a deep breath.”

The lightning ninja almost protested, but remained silent, deciding anything he said might just dig himself deeper. “I think you’re great,” Nya began. “But…” she looked off in the distance, probably at the mountains far away. “Trust me. Think about it, and you can talk to me later if you want. Truth is, Jay, I love you, and care for you. And I’m observant.” She let go of his hand, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and went inside the monastery, leaving him alone.

He had one single, fleeting, yet distinct thought as he watched her turn away: Nya’s never been wrong before.

---

Somewhere between denial and anger and bargaining and depression there was Jay. Cole- or, at least, the thought of him- started to keep him up at night, in a real bad way, because every time he closed his eyes he saw him. It was like a rhythm known only to him, the way Jay would push the earth ninja as far away as possible from him during the day but at night wish he was closer than ever.

He was repelling Cole, ever since that night, that terrible, terrible night, when Cole trusted him and when Nya stepped out of her place. He didn’t want to, though. Still, Jay took no initiative to restore their intimacy they once had, even though his heart ached for it.

Of course, though, nothing gold can stay; as the weekly movie night rolled around, he found himself sitting next to the black ninja on the couch, maybe just a little too close for comfort.

But the chosen movie is boring. He was looking at the screen, yes, but his mind was somewhere else- maybe on Cole, whose head was nearly resting on his shoulder, asleep soundly and taking in small, shallow breaths; maybe it was on Nya, who was watching the movie, seemingly very interested in whatever the plot was but probably not really; or Kai, Lloyd, Zane, and Pixal, the latter of which were holding hands and smiling, and Kai and Lloyd fixated on the movie.

See, that was the thing about relationships Jay never really understood. How did Zane know he liked Pixal? Zane was a robot. How did he ever fall for her? Was it human nature, or lack thereof? Or something more innate?

“I believe the term for it is ‘pansexuality,’’' Zane had once said, a couple months ago. “I love Pixal because of who they are. I do not think it is in my coding to see...” he paused, thinking. “...gender. I simply love her regardless, and they love me. I firmly believe that’s what matters most.”

Jay had liked that. Maybe he could be comfortable with that, but his eyes drooped from fatigue before he could stew over it any more.

When he finally awoke, he and Cole had shifted considerably. Everyone else was gone- the movie probably long over- but Cole was nearly on top of him, curled into his side, his face relaxed and soft from sleep. His hair is brushed over onto his face in soft waves, his eyelashes fluttering, mouth slightly open.

Surely Jay must be half-asleep, because he feels the urge to continue dozing like that, his arms wrapped around Cole and at ease in his comfortable presence. But there’s something else, too: a warning. His mind was screaming at him, telling him that this was too close, that friends don’t touch like this. Sure, he and Cole had always displayed their friendship in more physically intimate ways, but this was too far…

He pried himself out of Cole’s arms, stumbling off the couch.

“Jay…?”

Cole had sat up from his position, eyes weary and dreamy. Jay just smiled, ignoring the flushing panic and embarrassment- oh, god- burning bright. “It’s late,” he said. “Go to your room and sleep.”

He did. And Jay somehow managed to make it back to his room, too, despite nearly falling over into Cole’s arms multiple times from the sheer self-humiliation of it all.

---

It went like this: Jay spent half of the next day lying to himself, that no, he did not want to be in a relationship with his best friend who happens to be a guy, and then the later half realizing that he had been lying to himself for much, much longer than a day.

He and Cole weren’t just friends. They weren’t acquaintances, but for some reason, it felt like they were strangers all over again. If they were taken back to the very first day they met- brand new faces, a fresh start- would things have gone differently now that Jay...knew?

He didn’t want to really be lovesick strangers. He wanted something forever. The most terrifying part- besides maybe Nya being right- was that his entire being was yearning for a relationship with Cole.

His mind was racing all through dinner that night, meaning he had nothing to say. It had been an easy day, no missions, just lazing around, and Jay hated it, because he needed something to preoccupy himself with. Nya spared him a few loving glances with a glint of mischievousness in her eye, but otherwise, no one seemed to notice his unusual silence.

After dinner, Jay busied himself; he didn’t think a single thing when he saw Nya tell Cole something, and then when Cole precariously disappeared out of the monastery, and after dinner was over, he volunteered to clean the kitchen. Zane had thanked him, and Jay was alone to wipe down the counters and do the dishes.

Methodical and logical- cleaning was a matter of the brain, not the heart, and thank the FSM for it. The blue ninja’s heart was growing tired. He cleaned until the kitchen was spotless, then retreated to his bedroom.

It was too cramped. Everywhere reminded him of Cole, of Nya; the picture on his nightstand, the one on his desk, where he could see his hand wrapped loosely around Cole’s pinky finger. He needed out, and he needed out fast, and he just needed a place to collect his thoughts and get some fresh air.

It was at least midnight by now, but Nya was in the living room, so he told her where he was going to make sure no one worried (a habit formed due to the unnaturally large number of times one of them has been kidnapped, or worse.)

“I’m going for a walk,” he mentioned in passing.

“Really?” she didn’t sound surprised. “It’s late.”

Jay fidgeted. “Yeah, I’m sure. Plus it’s a nice night out. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

He walked out of the monastery and into the courtyard, relishing in the initial breeze that hit him. He would walk down the mountain and back up and be fine.

But a walk turned into a jog, and soon into a sprint. He wondered briefly why he thought he could run away from this realization, leaving it all behind in his bedroom at the monastery. And at least, for a few moments, it succeeded; the burning sensation in his chest and side stitches gnawing at his muscles made him completely forget about the whole situation. But soon, he asked himself why he was running down the monastery’s mountain, and the whole thing came back to Jay, and he audibly groaned.

He wished things could return to normal. He wished he could be normal. But for now, he was only concerned about placing one leg in front of the other as fast as he could despite the strong protest of his lungs.

He quickly tired out, doubling over to place his hands on his knees as soon as he reached the bottom of the mountain. The warm midsummer night breeze offered little reprieve from neither his anxiety nor his feelings for Cole.

“Jay?”

Speak of the devil.

It must have been an odd sight, Jay thought, to see him there, just after 12 at night, heaving and sweating to no end.

Jay sucked in a breath. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here…” Cole trailed off, before glaring at Jay. “What are you doing here?”

Jay couldn’t meet his eyes. His heart was beating out of his chest, and no, it wasn’t from his impromptu run down a mountain. The FSM must have been playing some sick joke on him, because not only was he facing a life-altering realization tonight, now he had to face said person who had been the catalyst for this life-altering realization.

What the fuck.

Cole’s face shifted from that of possibly some unreadable shock to concern. “I was watching the stars, but I take it that was not what you were doing,” he sighed, taking one step closer to him. “Jay, what are you doing here,” he repeated slowly.

The prospect of explaining the entire thing to Cole seemed silly. Maybe because Cole should already know, or maybe because he had been in denial for nearly five years of his feelings and oh god the anticipation and anxiety were overwhelming. And so Jay opened his mouth to say something to Cole that might satisfy his queries, but all that came out was a choked sob.

The tears began and didn’t stop, not when Cole reached out a strong and steady arm and whispered reassurances like “hey, it’s okay,” and “shh, there.” The tears didn’t stop when Cole said “let’s get you inside,” and swooped Jay up in his arms and carried him all the way up the monastery’s steps up the mountain.

Jay cried harder at the prospect that this might be the last time he’s ever in Cole’s arms like this, bridal style.

And finally, Cole made it inside, shirt stained from tears that weren’t his and dotted with sweat from Jay’s temple. He took Jay to his bedroom and laid him down on his bed, before covering him up and sitting on the foot of his bed, as far away from arm’s reach as possible.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Jay sniffed pathetically, sitting up from where the earth ninja had tucked him in.

This time, Jay instigated the closeness.

He slid his hand towards Cole, close but not touching. The other ninja held out his arms, and for the first time in a week, Jay quickly consented to falling into his embrace. It was a warm hug, with Cole’s strong, sturdy arms around Jay’s shaking frame.

Jay spoke, voice just above a whisper. “I think I might be gay. Or something. I dunno. Men.” Cole hugged him tighter, and the embrace grew more sincere.

Cole was about to say something, but Jay shushed him, as he had become aware enough to realize that a.) this might be far too intimate and b.) he just made Cole carry him, crying, all the way from the base of the mountain to the top.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he was overcome with some relief that had been just out of grasp for the last five years. He pulled away from Cole and wiped his eyes. “I’m not sure why I’m crying.”

“That’s okay,” Cole smiled. “I don’t mind.”

“No, I’m serious,” Jay said. The pair remained quiet, eyes downcast, some unspoken feelings of tension hanging in the air. “ I came to terms with my sexuality and then I- I just ran all the way down the monastery mountain like a lunatic and I probably really smelly and gross and you still hugged me and carried me. I’m sorry.”

Cole gave a soft smile and a small, gentle laugh that made Jay’s stomach flip, but he could almost sense the upcoming conversation:

Hey, Jay, how’d you realize you might be queer?

Oh, nothing, besides the fact that I often pictured your face on Nya’s when I kissed her (once) and that you sitting right here in front of me makes it pretty easy!

Jay nearly squeaked- yeah, no thanks. He’d rather not do that tonight. Instead, he laid back down on Cole’s bed.

“We don’t have to ever talk about it, if you don’t want to. But I do want you to know that this won’t change anything between us, okay? Like- I won’t stop being your friend…”

Jay felt a twinge of guilt, so he closed his eyes, perhaps pretending to be overcome with sleepiness.

“...and I’ll still love and support you unconditionally. As a partner and friend. Nothing will change because you’re gay, I promise.”

The lightning ninja isn’t sure what spunk possessed him in that moment, but when he found himself saying “what if I want things to change?” before his mind could think clearly, he nearly punched himself square in the jaw for his sheer audacity.

Cole blinked from the foot of the bed. “What?”

Jay composed himself, staring at the ceiling, and decided it was now or never to confess his feelings. “What I guess I mean is that I’d be okay with a change. Maybe not for the worst. Because I like you, Cole. Like- like like you. And you’ve always been touchy with me, and now I want those touches and hand holdings and long hugs to mean something.”

At first he was afraid he had upset Cole, because the black ninja didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. But then, in a swift and fluid movement, he was lying in his bed beside Jay and spooning him.

“This means something,” he said. “And really, for me at least, it always has.”

Jay cuddled into Cole. This was nice. And now that he was comfortable, it was even better. No more suppressed feelings, no more denial. He could admire Cole for who he truly was- yes, a good training partner, with nice wavy black hair and dark skin that looks like amber in the afternoon light and biceps and abs that could rival a god, but also as a crush. A support. A partner...not only for training.

Jay was nearly asleep in Cole’s arms when he whispered, “can I kiss you?”

The earth ninja looked at Jay. “I’ve been waiting for you to since the day I met you,” he said, and their lips met with enthusiastic and warm vitality. Cole’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to his muscular body, and Jay wondered why he didn’t do this sooner.

“By the way,” Jay whispered, “I always hated the feeling of the nunchuck belt. I just let you put it on me because I liked the way your hands felt around my waist.”

“And you just now realized you’re gay?”

---

Nya peeked into the room and, admittedly, felt a little relieved when she saw Jay in Cole’s arms, both sound asleep.

She was so glad she had told Cole to go stargazing that night.

[wri0thesley]

whoops i wrote a thing based on your thing

(vague mha spoilers ahoy)

"There should only be two heroes on patrol that day," Hawks insists, adjusting his coat tighter around himself and looking at the poor excuse for a safe house Dabi had directed him to. The outside of this hellhole is falling apart, and the inside isn't much better. The floorboards creak ominously with every step, the windows rattle with the slightest breeze, paint is peeling off the walls, and he can't count the number of suspicious stains on the ceiling (Is that one water? Mold? Blood?). Despite looking on the verge of collapse, the living room is surprisingly tidy. It's obvious that someone has taken up the challenge of making this place barely livable, and it certainly wasn't the burned lunatic beside him.

"What are their quirks?"

Hawks came prepared, already having tipped off the Hero Commission about who to assign. "Water and metal." Dabi slams his fist on the pockmarked table in front of them, clearly annoyed that it's a poor matchup for him, and the rickety construction of this death trap makes half the room rattle.

"Well that's just fucking convenient, isn't it?" He sneers at the hero and narrows his eyes. "It's almost like someone planned it to-"

"Dabi?"

Hawks jumps in his seat, startled by the new voice. He'd assumed they were alone; Dabi didn't seem like the type to trust his random side pieces enough to have a meeting with them in hearing range. He turns automatically to get a better look at you, and freezes.

You're cute, he notices first. Hair disheveled and wearing an oversized night shirt as you walk out of the dark bedroom, rubbing sleep from your eyes and trying to hide a yawn. "It's late, come back." You finally notice the hero sitting on your couch and your body stiffens with concern. He watches you put a hand instinctively over your stomach and fuck, he can't stop the horror from flickering across his face as he realizes how swollen your belly is. No way. No fucking way.

“Yours?” He mouths the question silently, and his stomach drops when the villain smirks and gives a little nod. He’s going to be sick.

Dabi stands and walks over to you, resting a stapled hand on your shoulder to turn you back around. “Doll,” he coos in a voice oozing with fake affection. “You shouldn’t be up, you know it’s not good for either of you.” He taps the swell of your stomach and the innocent, trusting smile you give him makes bile rise in Hawks’ throat. “I’ll be done in a bit, okay?” You glance back at the man in your home as the father of your child practically shoves you through the doorway. “He’s not gonna do anything, I promise.” He makes sure the door is firmly shut before returning to business, a sickening grin on his face. “The fuck are you looking at?”

Hawks fights back the urge to vomit. “Didn’t figure you for the dad type, is all. Congratulations.”

Dabi doesn’t even try to hide his laughter. “You’re smarter than you look, bird boy. Soon as that kid’s out of there, I’m done.” Hawks makes a sound of disgust and Dabi rolls his eyes. “What, like I’m just supposed to stick around and raise it? Happy little family with daddy reading bedtime stories in between bouts of arson?” He cracks himself up.

He doesn’t realize it, but it hits a nerve and the hero’s jaw clenches so hard his teeth might crack. It hits too close to home for him, watching some poor fool with too much sympathy for the wrong person ruin their life trying to be helpful. He knows firsthand how hard that that kind of life is, how badly it can fuck up a kid, it’s almost a relief hearing that the piece of shit doesn’t plan on staying.

“Might as well get what I can out of this arrangement,” Dabi goes on, ignoring the obvious discomfort. “You see how big those tits are? Turns out they’re real overachievers in the milk department, poor thing’s practically begging me to suck it out.” He licks his scarred lips at the thought of it. “Pussy’s still great too, shame the little bastard’s gonna pop out and ruin it.” He sighs, almost regretful at the thought.

Hawks squirms, thoroughly uncomfortable at the conversation and avoids eye contact. “Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna head out and we’ll figure this out later. It is gettin’ pretty late, gotta be out there early tomorrow and keep up appearances, y’know?”

Dabi stares at the bedroom door. “Whatever,” he says without a care until he suddenly turns to him with a sickening grin. “You want a turn before you go?”

Hawks’ eyes widen and he waves off the offer. “I...you want...no. Uh, no thank you.” His face feels hot as he turns to leave, ignoring the unforeseen tightness in his own pants at the invitation. He doesn’t want to think about why the idea is so appealing to him.

Dabi’s quickly distracted and heading back to you. “Your loss, pigeon.” He doesn’t notice Hawks dropping a feather under the couch, he sure as hell won’t be the one cleaning under there later, along with a phone number you can call for help if (when, really) you need it. “Hey doll, rise and shine. Daddy needs to get his dick wet.”

Hawks makes sure to slam the front door loudly, but he can still hear your quiet protests already turning to breathy whines as he makes his way out. There’s a sinking feeling in his guts when he takes flight, wondering if you’ll really be okay the next time he'll see you.

[mismess]

Jeremy went to pick up coffee.

Now Jeremy didn’t always drink coffee in the morning but this day he was asked to get some, so while he’s there he might as well indulge. He could use a boost of energy anyway.

So on his usual drive to work he took a small detour to a local coffee shop, he got two coffees, one medium roast with extra milk and sugar, one dark roast with milk and one sugar. He didn’t think to get more, he wasn’t told to get more so why would he?

This dark roast with milk and one sugar had to do with a call, a call he got early in the morning, around 6:30 am, which is too early and it probably woke up half the house, it was Scotty calling from work, Jeremy didn’t think Scott really registered what time it was, he sounded out of it, but still profusely apologized about his request for him to pick up coffee.

This leads back to a scene from earlier in the week, the coffee pot in the break room had been broken leaving the Fazbear employee’s caffeineless, which isn’t a problem for him but Scott seemed rather upset about it, he did recall him often having a cup in hand, might explain some of his jumpiness, perhaps Scott should cut back on the caffeine actually.

Just another unhealthy habit Jeremy thought to himself

But the thing is Scott almost NEVER asks anything of anyone, even if he probably should, so of course Jeremy agreed. He can’t turn down the one time he’s asked for something, even if it fueled that habit, it was the least problematic of them anyway.

So Jeremy picked up the coffee.

As he arrived at the pizzeria and walked inside, the main entrance opened up to a large open room, to the left were tables that costumers sat to eat pizza and watch the animatronic band perform, the flooring was black and white tile while the walls had star patterned wallpaper with colorful images of the band along on some of the walls, other walls had a few drawings from past costumers put up on display. To the right of the entrance he saw Fritz in their usual spot, in the prize corner near the games, while all their jobs were rather loose in nature and you simply go where you’re needed, that was their ‘main’ job, they take tickets and exchange them for prizes, Fritz was often leaving that post however to help a kid cheat at ski ball or something.

The place had been open for just around an hour, there was a couple of older kids lingering around on the arcade games but it was far from busy. Fritz didn’t take notice that Jeremy had arrived as they were messing with the little prizes behind the counter, such as the finger traps and those rubber poppers. He liked those poppers if he was being honest, and sometimes took one for his own enjoyment.

Jeremy walked past the prize corner and towards the break room, it always felt rude to talk to someone unless they were close enough to him, -what that distance was exactly he didn’t really know himself, depended on the mood and person-, or if said person directly talked to him first, and it felt silly to walk all the way up to someone just to say hello and turn away. So he stayed quiet. This sometimes labeled him as rude either way if someone expected a greeting and he didn’t supply.

He opened the break room door to find Scotty sitting at a table, slumped forward propping his head up with his hands while rubbing his temples with his thumbs, but when he heard the door he looked up, almost in a startled fashion, but that friendly crooked smile he always has on quickly replaced his nervous face.

Jeremy liked that crooked smile, it always leaned towards the right of his face, showing off his dimple on that side.

Underneath his smile however he looked tired, and it seemed like he just got more worn down with every day that went by. Scotty’s always been an overachiever when it came to work, he took long hours and probably did the equivalent of three people's jobs at the same time, but lately it seemed like it’s taken a toll on him. Jeremy’s tried to discourage this behavior in the past but that would usually just end with Scott finding a way to weasel his way out of those conversations.

There wasn’t much to the break room, it had a couple of plain tables strewn about with mismatched chairs surrounding them, a counter against the wall to the left of the entrance with a microwave sitting on it, the coffee pot formerly sat next to it as well, with a couple of cupboards above it that didn’t house much of anything besides a few cups, and at the end of the counter a fridge.

“I’m here.” Jeremy announced, giving him a quick smile

“Oh thank God! I have such a headache-” Scotty said as he shot out of his chair and walked over to Jeremy

Jeremy held out the dark roast with milk and one sugar to Scott

Scott took it and realized he wasn’t being very polite, “OH- Sorry, uh- Hello! How ya doing?” he asked, but quickly followed it up with another question “ Oh, how much was it?”

“Um. I’m fine. And you don’t have to worry about payment.” Jeremy reassured him

“Nonsense!” Scott said, reaching into his pocket “You are NOT paying for my addictions... Ah-!”

“- That’ll do!” Scott said while handing him a crumpled-up wad of spare change, just looking at it Jeremy could tell it was way too much for one dark roast with milk and one sugar.

Before Jeremy could say anything the break room door swung open again as Fritz walked in

“Ooooh, coffee!” Fritz said as they walked by Jeremy “Didn’t get me one~?” Fritz said in a tone that seemed playful, but Jeremy couldn’t quite tell if it was. He’s never been good at picking up tones very well.

“I didn’t know you wanted one, I’m sorry.” Jeremy said. He should have got more coffee, for everyone.

“Nah it’s ok, Jere, I’m joking, I’m sure Scotty called before I was even here.” Fritz said leaning on Scott’s shoulder while he sipped on his dark roast with milk and one sugar

“Wait a minute-” Jeremy started as he realized what time Scott really did call at “You did call from here right? Just how early did you get here?”

But before Scott was able to answer Fritz piped in instead "Dude, he’s BEEN here since 12 last night!” they gave Scott a friendly nudge, but as Scott pulled the coffee away from his mouth he gave out this nervous chuckle

“Wait- wait- Scott, you’re working the night shift?” Jeremy asked, he suddenly felt a sense of dread at the mention of it

“Um. Uh- Yeah, heh...” Scott said awkwardly

Jeremy hadn’t realized Scott had taken over the night shift, no wonder this man seemed more exhausted than usual.

“But you’re here during the day all the time!” Jeremy stated “Ok- Just how many double shifts do you take?”

“Uh- W-Whatever I’m a- asked..?” Scott said with a nervous grin, his shoulders raised up as if to brace himself, he put his coffee down on the table

“Scott-- God the night shift-- Do you LEAVE?”

“O- Of course! I can’t live here!”

“You say that like you would if you could!” Jeremy was obviously showing frustration in his voice, he didn’t mean to but the amount of work this man did stressed Jeremy out, and the night shift stressed him out even more

“Well- I mean- I’m not doing anything else anyway-” Scott started

“Well you should! Scotty you’re already working so many hours, do you sleep?! You have to realize this isn’t healthy-!” Jeremy was cut off by the break room door opening again

William stood in the doorway, his usual calm demeanor did not seem to be about him today, his brow furrowed and shoulders hunched in a manner unlike him “... What is going on in here?” he asked

“- Brought up Scott’s poor work-life balance, now the boys are fighting.” Fritz told him

William pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed “... Ok. I don’t care- There’s currently no employees out on the floor and a birthday party in an hour, can we stop the chit-chat and get things moving.” he snapped

“Yes, you’re right, William!” Scott quickly moved past William out the door on to the floor, obviously glad to find a reason to stop the conversation. William followed.

Jeremy took a deep breath as he watched him walk away “... You think Scotty works too much too, right?” he turned to Fritz, hoping he had an ally, fearing he might be coming off a little too overprotective.

“Oh definitely,” Fritz replied “He’s stubborn when it comes to work tho, you can’t get that guy to sit down. Seeing as you didn’t know he’s on the night shift I guess you haven’t seen his schedule, you should take a look, that thing is a MESS.”

Fritz walked out the door as well, leaving Jeremy alone with his medium roast with extra milk and extra sugar. He didn’t like the mood that was left hanging in this room, he felt bad for getting upset with Scotty, his problems wouldn’t improve just cause Jeremy got fussy with him. But Scotty always pushed these things aside, insisting they could “bring it up later” or “it’s not that bad” or simply just changing the subject, he didn’t know how to talk about it with him without getting fussy at this point.

It seemed like most of their recent conversations ended in frustration. Scotty grew a lot more distant after The Bite, and didn’t tell him about anything anymore, and if asked he would brush him off, he stopped having lunch with him or Fritz and usually spent most his time working or talking with William so any time for socializing was spent elsewhere. He missed his friend.

He didn’t want to just drop it but he didn’t know what more he could do, if Scotty didn’t want his help he can’t force him to talk to him or make him take less hours.

... The night shift...

Jeremy had sworn off the night shift after his first and only week on it, he didn’t like thinking about it, but the reason it was so bad was the animatronics weren’t right, they had something wrong with them, which is why they were scrapped. Those animatronics that seemed out for his blood weren’t in use anymore, and with them the problems of the night shift were gone. At least that’s what William said, Jeremy had no intentions of seeing that for himself, just the thought gave him anxieties.

But that means at least Scott would have the 6 hours to just sit down and relax, right?

He still didn’t think it was good, and Scott definitely should be taking more time off, but maybe Jeremy’s reaction was a bit unwarranted. He would apologize for his harsh tone when he got the chance.

Jeremy took both his medium roast with extra milk and sugar and the half-drunken dark roast with milk and one sugar and put them in the break room’s fridge, maybe they could drink them at lunch together later he thought.

and he got to work.

[a-tale-of-legends]

I gave failed. I couldn't resist. Alexis x Leon "mini" fic. Obviously takes place after TBWS. And of course spoilers for that as well.

Twisting one of his dreads in-between his finger, Alexis stated down at his phone frowning. He stares at the last text message they sent each other: heart emojis. Admittedly when Alexis first sent the emoji it was by accident. He mentally kicked himself for the dang thing and wished nothing more to crawl into a whole- 'we just started dating, it's far to earlier to be sending heart emojis!' he told himself. Because heart emojis equal I love you and they literally just started dating, I love you'd is such a big thing for that, bit to mention he didn't know whether or not Leon would be comfortable with that- oh wait he sent an heart emoji back. Totally didn't make his heart flutter and explode( wait, right, no more hiding emotions. It totally did).

That was the last text the sent each other. Well. Okay maybe not the last text, which brings the current problem. Leon hasn't been answering his texts. He hasn't been answering anyone's texts. Or phone calls! It's been almost a week now and it's been radio silence from him. Naturally everyone is worried- knowing Leon, he's probably busying himself with work. He is the new chairman, after all. But still. It's getting worrisome.

Alexis supposed this is karma. He's done the same for two years and after what happened during the gym challenge, he wouldn't be surprised if this was Leon's way of getting back at him. Why wouldn't he? He's been nothing but a pain-

" Yo," Elliot's voice snaps him out of his thoughts with a jump. He looks up to see Elliot, still on her pajamas, holding two boils in her hand. She brings one down to his level and Alexis slowly takes it....Cereal?

" Eli it's-" he checks his phone, " 12 pm, breakfast past".

" Glad you noticed, "Elliot says as she slowly sitting next to him on the couch," You came downstairs and went straight to the couch. Didn't even eat breakfast. So I'm giving you some.... or brunch or whatever old ladies call them," Alexis snorts at that, taking a spoonful of cereal, glancing at his sisters bowl. He almost choked.

" Wha- how come you get a hot bowl of soup?!" He exclaims, while Elliot shrugs.

" Because I already have breakfast, and now I'm eating lunch. Besides,you don't have to worry. Cereal is technically soup-"

" Don't even start," Alexis glares and his sister who bites in a laugh. Alexis looks at the bowl again, specifically Elliot's hands. Judging from the smoke coming out of the bowl,the soup must be pretty hot. How is she- oh right Reshiram.

" And careful with the heat Eli," Alexis warns and he can see the eyeroll.

" I know,"

" I'm serious. Just because your resistant to fire and heat doesn't mean it can't hurt you. Especially if-"

" Okay, okay I get it,mom," she playfully shoves Alexis to the side, no real annoyance and malice in her voice. Alexis giggles, making sure not to spill his cereal.

" But if we're on the topic of being a worrying parent-" Elliot points to the Alexis' phone, " You've been starring at that all day. And your no Raihan, so what's up?"

Leave it to Eli to be blunt about the situation. She wasn't always like that though. Who's fault was that?

" Ah, well...." Alexis looks down at his phone again, hoping for it to suddenly flash and a message from Leon shows up. But it doesn't, " Leon hasn't been answering my messages...and I'm worried," Elliot hums with the spoon in her mouth, taking it out of her mouth and waving it around.

" Yeah Raihan told be about that. He says something about him, Piers and Sonia going to his window on his g-max Duraludon and force him out the tower," she chuckles at the thought. Alexis doesn't chuckle back, biting his lowe lip in worry.

" I just- he's already been through so much. Overworking and overachieving ever since he was a kid! I thought he would know it's okay to take breaks after the Darkest Day but he's just. Locked himself into a tower again. I hardly see him now, and when I do he looks tired. Happier, but still tired,"

" Hm, yeah. From what the kids told me, I wouldn't be surprised. He got.... possessed, Alexis. I don't think someone's going to be alright after that,"

Alexis shutters, pushing the images the kids told them out of his head. He doesn't want to think about that right now.

" But that's not all of your worries, is it?" Alexis deflates. Of course.

" It's stupid," Elliot raises a brow. He sighs, seeing she's not going to relent not anymore and he takes a breathe.

" I know that Leon isn't the type of person to do this and that we've already talked about everything that happened during the gym challenge, but I can't help that this is his way of telling me off?" He pauses, waiting for Elliot to speak. She simply stays quiet, looking at her brother intently. So he continues.

" A-and I know, I know he's not like that but what if....what if he's regretting this? What if he's realizing that is getting together was a mistake? That I'm not the person he should be giving his love to. What if-"

" Okay first of all," Elliot finally cuts him off, " Your right, Leon is not that type of person. Number two, you are 100% deserving of love. This is not an argument, you are,"

" Number 3, i'm glad your realizing how much of a douche you were, but you didn't stay a douche. You stopped, reflected and your trying your absolute best. Not just for me, not just for Leon, but for yourself. Your growing and changing, Alex. Do you really think Alexis at the start of this vacation would have opened his heart to the idea of getting a boyfriend? No! But here you are,"

She puts her spoon into her bowl, and using that free hand she places it firmly on her brothers shoulders. She gives him a determined smile.

" You two are going through a lot right now. Both of you are still healing, but still have your own issues. You're insecure about people accepting you and Leon is shutting himself out of the world. What you both need to do is to talk. I am 100% percent confident that you two will reach a better understanding of you do,"

Alexis considers his sisters words. She is right, she always seems to be. He knows full well that his actions has hurt people, and that he wants to make it up to them. He also knows that no one is entitled to forgive him. But Leon did. But now he's shutting himself out. Leon was there for him, it's time for Alexis to do the same.

" Okay.....but how? He's hardly out of the Battle Tower,"

" Then climb the ranks of the Battle Tower!" Alexis blinks. Twice. Three times for sure.

" What? Eli I-, I just got back into it! And my Pokemon are still new to it all, so something as competitive as the Battle Tower-"

" Then just use your team from home, silly. Give Cleric a call and and they'll send them over! Easy peasy," Huh. He never thought about that.

" I'm still rusty....but I'll try," he gives Elliot a small smile and she cheers.

" Hell yeah! It's gonna be great, I promise. And if that fails, you can always join me and the others on g-max Duraludon!"

" Y-yeah....um," Alexis fidgets a bit, his cereal beyond soggy. He can feel his face heat up, his voice becoming incredibly small, " Should I...wear something....nice?" He asks bashfully. He feels like he's going to explode.

" Alex."

" I'm just wondering!"

" Alex."

" HE WEARS A FANCY SUIT! I JUST WANNA LOOK THE PART!"

" Oh man, your down bad. I'm 100% sure that if you came to the Battle Tower in your pajamas, he would think your an angel on earth. You are his boyfriend, after all,". Alexis feels the heat in his cheeks rise even more. Boyfriend. He's still not used to it.

" But if you wanna look nice, I can give you some of my clothes. Which can always ask for instead of stealing-"

" I have done no such thing,"

" Right. You can borrow some of my clothes and then go to the Battle Tower, climb to the top and BAM! Talk things out with Lee. And if your feeling scandalous,"

"S-scandalous? What-"

" You can give him a kiss on the cheek!"

" ELI!"

Elliot laughs again as Alexis pouts, eating his very soggy cereal.

____

He would be the first one to tell you he didn't except to get this far. He fumbled here and there- of course he did, he hasn't battled properly in forever- but man was it fun. It was so good to use his old team again. Seeing Bloom breakdance as she uses her moves, watching Archie run to pick up speed to give swift attacks, feeling the synergy between him and his pokemon. It felt amazing.

By the time he reached Leon he was almost out of breathe, but with a smile on his face. Kai besides him seems to be happy too, nuzzling her snout in his hands, to which he quickly scratches her chin.

There before them was Leon, turned in such a dramatic fashion.

" Welcome challenger- Alexis?!" He gawks, as Alexis shyly waves at him. Leon stands still for a moment, before breaking into a smile and practically running towards him.

" Alexis! You're here! You battled! You're here!" He beams as he picks Alexis up and spins him around. The heat comes back to Alexis face as he giggles. When Alexis is back on the ground ( though still being held by Leon), Leon looks him up and down. The blush on his face is much more noticeable now.

" Oh wow, you look great! I-I mean you always look great- I mean-" Leon sighs looking up at the clear sky ceiling then back Alexis ( who quite frankly is still processing all of this), and gives him a small smile, his words softer than a Wooloo.

" You look wonderful, dear,"

Okay.

Okay yeah.

That's cool.

Dear.

"Okay," was all Alexis could manage to squeak out. His mind is buzzing between the ' look good good' to the ' always look good' to the little spin they did to ' you look wonderful' to fucking dear. Arceus give him strength.

" And you managed to battle your way to the top! I told you you could do it Alex. Your amazing, see?"

... Arceus, this man just won't let him process-

" Okay," he squeaks again, this time shuffling a bit closer to Leon as a means to hide. It won't work, he knows it won't work, but he can try.

" Did you come to battle me?" He says sweetly. That was when Alexis remembered his mission. He stores all the compliments into the back of his mind for now, and steps back from Leon, his face serious.

" U-um. Actually I just came here to talk. But we can do that too, if you want."

Leon's eyes widen for a second, before returning to normal, tilting his head.

" Talk?"

" Yeah you've....you haven't been answering any of my calls or texts. Anyone's for that matter! Hop and Naomi have been worried! We're all worried Lee,"

Leon doesn't respond, his eyes flicker in trying to come up with a response.

" I'm fine, Alex. You don't have to worry," Alexis' heart sinks.

He steps away from Leon's hold, hugging himself. He's beginning to wonder if this was what Elliot felt whenever he told her not to worry.

" Please don't lie to me," he says sorrowfully. Taking a good look at Leon, it's all to clear. He looks tired. There's clear bags under his eyes, his hair looks disleveled and he looks as if he hasn't eaten properly in days. It's all too familiar.

" Your not fine, Leon. Look at you! When was the last time you've slept well? Eaten well? I understand that being Chairman is new set of responsibility, but you need to rest! You have to tell us what's going on! Please!"

Leon doesn't respond. He looks away, down at the floor then up at the sky. Alexis can see the distress in his eyes. Alexis braces himself.

" Not.....not here. Not in the Tower," he says slowly, " We can talk. I....I owe you all that but. Not here, please,"

Alexis nods slowly, taking steps back to Leon. He has to go on his toes to cup his face in his hands to which Leon graciously holds.

" Are you mad at me?" Leon whispers. Alexis shrugs.

" A smidge. I'm more worried than anything....are you mad at me?" Leon shakes his head.

" No....no! Alex why would I be mad at you?" Ah. He wasn't prepared for this part.

" Not here," Alexis mimics. He genuinely doesn't know how to start that whole conversation, " But we'll talk,". Leon gives him an unsure nod, leaning away from his touch.

" We should- I guess we should go, heh?" Alexis nods back,taking Leon's hand into his own.

" Mhm. Let's." He guides Leon out of the Battle Tower, and onto the Corvitaxi back to Postwick. They don't talk, but their hands are still intertwine. For once, despite himself, Alexis is hopeful. Elliot did say things would work out. 100%.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ A little piece for my sweet @bringmelily​ who isn’t feeling well! I tried, okay. Best I could do with the limited time I had. 

❧ About: A fluff fic where your best boy(friend) Rintarou comes to take care of you when you’re ill. 

❧ WC: 1.3k 

❧ A/N: enjoy, I hope I did Rin justice! 

With practice coming to a conclusion at a quarter after five, Suna’s first instinct was to check his phone before entering the shower, a choice that earned him several comments from his fellow team-mates. The middle blocker dismissed the artificial groans and insults with a lazy smile and a little shrug to indicate his lack of care towards their opinions. Though, any humour that could be traced along his features instantly vanished when he saw a missed call and text from your parents. For a moment, he simply stared at the lockscreen, cursing internally as he clenched his jaw. He knew you were sick, but not that sick. Last night you complained about a headache that stretched across your forehead, but he assumed that was prompted by lack of sleep. Clearly, he was wrong. Why else would your parents be calling him and texting him?

After sending a text to reassure your parents that he would be heading over immediately, the volleyball player placed his phone into his bag then proceeded towards the locker-room to retrieve the remainder of his belongings. It only occurred to him after his shower that he may have accidentally lied to your parents, he wouldn’t immediately be heading to your apartment. He had one stop to make first, that is to purchase a few items that would be essential to nurse you back to health. 

When he did finally reach your apartment, two plastic bags were draped against his wrists as he fished for his keys in his pocket. Based on the information provided by your parents, your roommate was currently on a trip, so he elected to skip the curtsey of knocking. Truthfully, even if he did knock, the sound would not have registered on your ears. 

Once the front door was ushered open, his eyes naturally landed upon the limp figure resting upon the couch. There were dozens of discarded tissues decorating the ground around you, resembling a collection of discarded papers by an overachieving writer. 

It took you a few seconds to notice that someone had entered the apartment.

You blinked your heavy eyelids in extended intervals, struggling to determine the identity of the intruder. Only when your boyfriend was stood a few paces away from you were you able to connect the missing pieces.

“Rin… are you wearing three masks? Your ears are red.” Pressing your elbows into the cushion supporting you, an attempt was made to bring yourself into a seating position. Seconds later, when your arms caved from the pressure, a groan exited your mouth. When the hell did the world drop an elephant on you? And why!?

“Glad to know you can still see, y/n.” The sarcastic remark was issued in a higher volume, to account for the fact there were three layers of fabric acting as a barrier. By the pout registering on your lips, he had to resist the urge to tug on your cheeks, like he usually did. Even with the visible signs of illness adorning your features, he still found you sickly adorable.

With Suna biting back a snicker at the clever remark he made to himself, your pout only became more exaggerated.

“I’m on my deathbed and you’re still sassing me.” Whining out your words, you removed the Kleenex box from your chest, relocating it to your face.

“There’s only so much I can do in the circumstances.” Suna shook his head, exhaling a sigh at your attempt to hide from him, before removing the cardboard piece from your face and placing it onto the coffee table. “So, tell me. Did you eat?” As the question was posed, his gaze wandered away from you, towards the kitchen where the takeout he bought was sitting on the counter. Your appetite would usually become non-existent whenever you were ill, but there were certain foods you could not refuse. And he made note to only invoke this trap card whenever you were ill or upset at him.

“Yes.” Rubbing your eyelids, you battled a yawn causing your features to contort. Thankfully he missed the not-so-pleasant sight. What he did catch, however, was how the affirmation was spoken in a slightly higher pitch.  

“…Anything beside painkillers?” The expression that was now on his visage was emanating suspicion with a touch of disappointment. If you weren’t completely drained, you would have asked him if he was your mother.

“…No.” To spare yourself from the irritation that would likely be sparking in your boyfriend’s eyes, you shifted on the couch, turning your attention to the back pillows. But the black-haired male had known your answer even before it left your lips, and there was no irritation present in his irises. Rather, there was determination – all he wanted was for you to feel some sort of relief.

“Alright, let’s get started on that then.”

The middle blocker plated the meal in a manner that radiated elegance, and even managed to write ‘get well soon’ with a chocolate syrup. You never understood why syrups would be used at fine dining establishments. Outside of aesthetic purposes, they were useless. How were you supposed to eat it? Were you supposed to lick the damn plate?

But you appreciated the sentiment behind your boyfriend’s attempt, though you wished he would have accompanied it with some ice cream…

“Thank you, Rin.” The expression of gratitude was partially incoherent as you kept the spoon tucked inside of your mouth. Maybe it was the delicious food that brought your taste buds to sing in joy, but for the first time all day, you felt strong enough to bear a smile. “Are you gonna stay the night wiff – with me?”

“Yes, I’ll stay the night ‘wiff you’. How else will I make sure you don’t die?” Suna lifted his attention from the fibres of the carpet below him, continuing to tug at the individual threads absentmindedly. He knew maintaining a safe distance was required under the circumstances, but he was itching to wrap his arms around you.

“Aw. You don’t want me to die.” Removing the utensil from your mouth, you waved it in the air, with excitement.

“If that’s surprising to you, I’m seriously concerned.” The action brought him to raise an eyebrow, as his eyes followed the movement of the spoon.

“It’s not, it’s not.” A gentle laugh pushed past your lips as you shook your head to sooth his concerns. After lowering the spoon onto the empty plate, curiosity took reign over your tongue. “But I gotta ask. Did you only come because my parents called you?”

“No, idiot.” His response was stated with a scoff of disbelief. While time management was certainly not his forte, nothing was more important than your health. “I came because I’m here for you through sickness and through health… Or whatever way that saying goes.” The cheesiness of the retort only dawned on the middle blocker after it was vocalized. And unfortunately, he would not be granted the opportunity to recover from it.

Upon hearing his explanation, your heightened emotions instantly brought liquid to form at your waterline – a sight that Suna Rintarou was not prepared for. As a whine sounded within your throat, he presented his best poker face, to mask the emotions chewing on his stomach.

“Shut up.” The command was exhaled with an artificial grunt as he forced his gaze to the carpet that he was viciously picking at.

“Rin!” Curling your fingers into a fist, you rubbed at your eyelids roughly, reminding yourself that you were not allowed to touch him until you were better. But maintaining distance was an onerous task when your boyfriend was spewing a freaking marriage vow. 

“Let me finish.” He mistakenly assumed that you were declaring his name in protest, not because you were suffocating in adoration towards him. “Shut up and get better so I can kiss you when you make that damn face. Alright?” A faint smile tugged at the ends of his lips as he propped an elbow against his thigh in order to rest his cheek against his folded fingers. 

Needless to say, between his clarification and the smile gracing his lips, the amount of liquid parading down your cheeks increased  substantially.

Sure, you were in pain, but you were also so damn happy.

[organabanana]

Leaves of three, let it be [1/?] || harlivy

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i'm sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Series: Part 1 of the Cliché a Week 2021 series

Summary:

Aided by a terrible hangover and a severe lack of impulse control, Harley accidentally drinks an unknown substance at Ivy's apartment and suddenly remembers why Ivy goes by Poison Ivy in her professional life. Luckily for Harley, she's immune to Ivy's toxins. Unluckily for Harley, she may not be immune to her love pheromones, and turning into a human-plant hybrid is not her idea of a good time.

Telling Ivy so she can give her an antidote may seem like the obvious course of action, but there are very few things Harley hates more than disappointing Ivy with her poor decision-making skills. Besides, like Selina said, if she'd drunk pheromones she'd be in love with Ivy by now, right?

And Harley Quinn is absolutely not in love with her best friend.

Notes:

This was (loosely) inspired by Prompt #1104 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor: “Hey, do you know if potions expire?” “I think it depends on the potion. Why?” “Well, I was really hungover this morning and grabbed the wrong glass and I feel super weird right now.” And "Everyone knows they’re dating except them” from the Cliché A Week Challenge by @montocalypse. The plan is for this to be 4-5 chapters at most BUT I'm not ready to commit to a number just yet so we'll see how that goes!

[ao3 link]

Harley wakes up with a pounding headache that makes her wonder if someone stole her bat and tried to crack her skull with it last night. 

"Ughhh..." she groans, squeezing her eyes shut. Her mouth feels like sandpaper. Her throat feels like... like sandpaper. Listen: she's not in any kind of mood for elaborate, imaginative similes right now. Everything is pain and/or sandpaper. Deal with it.

"Fuck me." It comes out in a whiny, pathetic little voice, and Harley is almost more pissed off about that than about the hangover itself. Where is she, anyway? She forces herself to sort of... perceive  the world around her without moving a muscle or opening her eyes, which may not be the best approach but it works anyway because she totally knows Ive's apartment by smell.

As friends do.

Once that's settled, and she knows she's in fact safe (how could she not be? She's at Ivy's!) Harley moves her right hand and feels around for the bedside table, but apparently she didn't climb into her usual side of the bed (friends have sides of their friends' beds, obviously) because what she feels on her right side is soft and warm and definitely not a bedside table.

"Sorry." She mumbles, affectionately patting Ivy's ass before turning over to the other side and trying again. She does find a table this time, and she nearly cries in relief when she finds a little water bottle waiting for her parched lips to drink.

Score.

It's only when she's downed the whole thing that she realizes two things:

One, that did not  taste like water.

And two, there is a reason Pam goes professionally by Poison  Ivy.

"Shit," Harley stage-whispers, blue eyes now wide open as she stares at the empty bottle in her hand, "shit, shit, shit."

Harley knows she's not dying. She knows she's immune to toxins, and she's cuddled the fuck out of Ivy (as friends do) on enough occasions to know she doesn't break out in hives at Ivy's touch. But the thing about Ivy is, she's kind of an overachiever. There aren't just toxins to worry about. Harley could be about to turn into a fern or something, and nobody could do anything to prevent it.

Well, except Pam.

But you know what? Considering the kind of mood Ivy gets in when Harley makes a less than stellar choice, she's gonna risk turning into a plant rather than waking her up.

"Morning, sunshine." Selina walks -- nay, prances  -- into the bedroom looking flawless as always, which is pretty fucking unfair considering her presence at Ivy's can only mean she was there for whatever hangover-causing shenanigans they all happened to get into last night. But of course, Selina Kyle is above looking like shit while hungover. 

" Selina ," Harley all but hisses (which is fitting, considering Selina's... you know), showing her the empty bottle, "I fucked up."

"When do you not  fuck up, Harley?" It comes off as both smug and somehow charming, which is, again, pretty fucking unfair. "What did you do this time?"

Harley shows her the empty bottle once again, shaking it slightly like she cannot  believe Selina isn't getting the gravity of the situation right away.

"What? I don't get it-- ohh ." Selina lets out a quiet chuckle that sounds almost like a purr. "Yeah, you fucked up."

"Dammit, Selina! What if I turn into a fucking succulent?"

"Oh come on, don't be dramatic. What color was it?"

Harley stares at her. "Don't you think I'd have known not to drink it if I'd looked at it?"

"I mean, I tend to assume people look at things  before putting them in their mouth. But you did  fuck Joker, so..."

"Hurtful." A beat. "Fair, yes, but still. Hurtful."

As if on cue, Ivy rolls over in her sleep, draping her arm across Harley's lap. Harley smiles, momentarily forgetting the bottle and its contents and the potential result of her having drunk them, because Ivy is just such a good friend. Protecting her from Selina's... well. Selina-ness even in her sleep.

"You guys need some privacy?"

Harley doesn't stop gently tracing the vines on the back of Ivy's hand, but she does look away from soft green skin to shoot Selina a teasing look. "Aw, does someone need scritches? Here, pussy pussy..."

Selina rolls her eyes. "Fine. Turn into a fucking sequoia for all I care. At least you'll be good for climbing."

The soft movements of Harley's fingers stop as Selina's words fully sink in. "Wh- what?" Harley's voice sounds a bit deflated, like one of those sad clown balloons after a sad balloon fart.

"I'm just saying. Pheromones and chill forever as a human-tree abomination? Kind of her signature move."

Harley just stares at Selina, horrified at the prospect of spending the rest of her life as a brain-dead tree and trying (and failing) to come up with a plausible reason why there is no way Ivy's pheromones were in that bottle.

"Anyway!" Selina sighs, stretching her arms up over her head. "I should get going. I have cats to feed."

"Wait. Wait!" Harley stage-whispers, and she's suddenly extremely thankful for Ivy sleeping like a log.

Heh. Like a log .

"You can't leave me, Selina! What if you're right?"

"Oh, come on, kitten," Selina says over her shoulder, already on the way to the door, "if it was pheromones you'd be in love with her by now."

The sound of the door slamming shut behind Selina is enough to finally wake Ivy, and Harley feels her best friend's arms tighten around her as Ivy stretches awake.

"Mmmhey, Harls." Ivy mumbles, voice rough and heavy with sleep as she moves even closer to Harley. 

Normally, Harley would've just sunk back into the most comfortable bed ever (there's a reason she rarely sleeps in her own!) and gone in for a round of lazy morning cuddles. She'd have basked in the smell of Ivy in the morning (freshly cut grass sparkling with dew drops) which is so different from the floral notes of Ivy at any other time of the day. She'd have pressed a kiss or two to Ivy's warm skin, felt her lips tingle with the sweet taste of a poison she's very much immune to, and maybe even fallen back to sleep listening to Ivy's heartbeat and the soft rhythm of her breaths.

You know. As friends do.

But today, thanks to Selina (the fact that nobody forced Harley to drink that stupid bottle is irrelevant, of course), Harley can't relax. She stiffens, even, becoming virtually un-snuggable and making Ivy fully open her eyes to give her a questioning look.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, Ive!" The enthusiasm is as fake as her smile, and the way Ivy's eyes narrow tells her it's been very much noticed. "Bit hungover, that's all."

It takes a couple of seconds for Ivy to speak. Like she's pondering whether to mention there's never been a hangover bad enough to keep Harley from getting her cuddle on or to just let it go for now. Harley's delighted to see the second option win in the end.

"Want me to give you something for the headache?"

"Nope!" Harley's on her feet in two seconds flat, practically jumping away from Ivy's warm body and her warm eyes and the warm offer of some nice natural drugs. "Thanks, though. You're sweet as pie, butter...fly."

"Butterfly." Ivy deadpans from the bed, looking more and more like she's mere seconds away from researching actual mental health facilities in Gotham (Arkham does not  count).

"Buttercup doesn't rhyme with pie. Listen, I should go. I have so much to do. There are-- well, you know! Havoc won't wreak itself, right? Gotham needs me."

"To... wreak havoc."

" Pre cisely. Gonna wreak it real good. You know me! Won't settle for a half-wroken havoc." 

"Wro... ken?"

"Oh, for sure, for sure!" What is she even saying? Harley grabs her bat and swings it a little like she's holding a purse and not a weapon, but thankfully she doesn't break anything in Ivy's room, which is great. "Text ya later, yeah?"

Ivy looks like she's struggling to even begin to process everything that's happened in the five minutes she's been awake. And honestly, Harley's grateful for it. She hasn't noticed the missing bottle, and she's not forcing Harley to stay and answer questions, so it's a win/win/win situation if you ask her. You know... other than the potential mutant tree issue.

"Okay!" Harley grins. "Good talk. Bye, Red. Love ya!"

Shit . 

Harley freezes for a moment. She's told Ivy she loves her before. Of course she has! She loves Ive, and Ivy loves her. They're pretty vocal about that. But today isn't just any other day. She always loves Ivy as a friend, of course. As her best friend she adores and would absolutely kill and die for. The most important person in her life. The one person who's ever made Harley feel safe and loved and appreciated unconditionally. She loves Ivy in a way that makes her feel like her heart is a bit too big for her ribcage and sometimes it gets so crowded in there she's afraid she may pop a rib out of its socket or something, but then Ivy holds her and everything settles again.

You know. A friendly kind of love.

But does she love  Ivy? Harley looks at her hands like she's expecting a few leaves to have sprouted there already. 

"Harley. Seriously, are you okay?"

Ivy's voice snaps her out of her funk, and Harley knows she needs to get out before she's forced into a whole conversation about this thing. 

"Peachy keen, Pam-a-lamb." Harley forces herself to walk towards the door without looking back, just in case. Just in case suddenly Ivy's surrounded by a pink fog of love, or whatever the fuck people see when they look at her while under the influence of her pheromones. I mean, she can't look even more  beautiful than she does normally, right? That's not even possible. So it must be like... a heart emoji filter or something. She really  doesn't want to find out. "Talk later!"

***

Harley looks at the melting cheese on her third egg sandwich like she's expecting it to hold the meaning of life. Or, at the very least, an answer to today's big conundrum. Is she or is she not turning into a tree?

And sure. Sure! She could ask Pam. This would be solved immediately, she knows. She could just ask Pam what was in the bottle and confess she's drunk it and just... put up with her mood for a while. No big deal! Except she really fucking hates disappointing Ivy, you know? When she gets all... cold and detached, and feels more like lettuce than lush tropical foliage. 

Listen, trust her, okay? Sad salad buffet lettuce Ivy is just the fucking worst.

So she takes a bite of her sandwich and tells herself whatever she drank can't have been anything too dangerous. It's been a couple hours now, so she should've felt some kind of effect, right? She should be feeling a bit plant-y, at the very least. Maybe a bit nauseous or something. But she feels fine. 

Well-- not fine , fine. She's still kinda rattled, but that's Selina's fault.

She's fine.

***

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

Ivy lets Selina handle the entry point (you'd think Gotham millionaires would've given up on skylights by now) and looks at Harley with a mixture of concern and distrust in her eyes. She clearly hasn't forgotten about their conversation in the morning.

"I'm fine!" Harley swings her bat around just to loosen up her bat-swinging muscles. She's fine. Not a plant, not in a love fog, not in any way dying. Totally fine. And , most importantly, not dealing with limp lettuce Ive. "It was just a hangover."

Ivy's eyes narrow just enough to make it crystal clear how little she trusts Harley right now, but for once Selina Kyle makes Harley's life easier instead of harder when she speaks.

"Ladies. This is a truly riveting conversation, but I have shit to do.”

“Like fucking a bat-fucking bat?” It may be a cheap shot, but it makes Ivy stiffle a laugh, and Harley kinda thinks that makes it the best joke ever.

But Selina simply cocks an eyebrow at Harley. “Are you sure you want to discuss regrettable sexual partners?”

Ouch. “Fair enough,” Harley concedes, already jumping through the hole Selina’s cut in the glass, “come on, we have an oil tycoon to kill.”

“Not an oil tycoon, Harls.” Ivy glides down on a vine, looking all majestic like some kind of forest nymph, and Harley simply has to stare and smile because how can she not? Look at her friend! “He’s been using an experimental fuel that causes—“

“Does it matter?” Selina sighs like even interrupting Ivy is exhausting, plucking a shiny gold ornament from a nearby table and making Harley wonder (honestly, not for the first time) if she just keeps shiny trinkets hidden in her catsuit like a magician to make it seem like she’s finding them everywhere. “Guy’s loaded.”

“It matters to me, Selina. Not all of us have the moral compass of a magpie.”

Harley giggles at Ivy’s joke. You know what? It may not even have been a real joke, because Ivy’s sense of humor is not exactly her best quality. But it was funny anyway.

“And if it matters to Ive, it matters to moi .” Harley points at herself with her bat and winks at her best friend, and honestly, who the hell cares what this guy does, exactly? Maybe he’s single-handedly destroying the Amazon, or maybe he just happens to walk through the grass instead of using the little paths when making his way across the park. Whatever it is, it’s important to Ivy. And if it’s important to Ivy, it’s important to Harley. And if it’s important to Ivy in a way that makes her smile like she does when Harley winks at her? Well, then this is absolutely Harley’s top fucking priority.

Things get interesting as soon as they turn a corner and step onto the plush carpet of the experimental fuel (hey, she actually listens when Ivy speaks) tycoon's private wing. And you know what? Harley's delighted to hear the alarms go off and a bunch of goons crawl out from their hidey holes like buff armed cockroaches. She knows Ivy and Selina prefer the whole... well, you know. In and out, clean and easy kind of approach to murder and robbery, respectively. But Harley's an action gal. She has the energy to burn and a bat to swing, and most of all, she has shit to not think about.

So she's delighted when this guy's goons happen to be relatively okayish at fighting, which is much more than can be said for most men she fights in this city. 

"I'll go deal with him before he can escape," Ivy says, already walking towards the door to his office. "You guys all right out here?" 

"We're great ." Selina says in that tone she has where she pretends she's annoyed but you can tell she's having a blast. 

Honestly. Who wouldn't  be having a blast? It's like whack-a-goon!

"So," Selina says as soon as Ivy's out of earshot, which Harley can appreciate as an act of friendship, "no pheromones, I take it?"

"Nope!" Harley punctuates the word by slamming her bat into some guy's face. "None at all."

"Huh."

"What?" She's distracted enough by Selina's reply that she actually takes a punch to the face, which only manages to piss her off. She turns to look at the guy who delivered the blow just so he can see the look in her eyes before she completely obliterates his face. "Holy shit, dude. Can't you see we're having a fucking CONVERSATION !?"

For the next few minutes, Harley focuses on getting rid of the last few men around them so they can finish talking. Sure, beating up idiots is fun, but that little 'huh' was just mysterious enough to grab Harley's interest. What could possibly be so huh-worthy about her being fine? 

By the time they're done, there are a number of unconscious goons scattered all over the place. Harley pants, using her hand to wipe blood (mostly not hers) and sweat (mostly hers) off her face as she catches her breath.

"Whew. That was fun, right?"

Selina, as usual, manages to look spotless even if Harley saw her deal with several men with her own two eyes. Is Selina Kyle secretly magic? 

Could be.

"I've had better." Selina uses one of her claws to unlock an ornate little box and gather the jewels inside. Can she smell  expensive stuff? "Come on, let's go get Ivy."

"No, no, wait." Harley lowers her voice like she's scared Ivy may hear them somehow. "What did you mean earlier?"

"What do you mean, what did I mean?"

"You know," Harley motions in the general direction of the spot where Selina was when they were talking before, "with the huh."

"The what ." 

"The huh, Selina! The huh!" Dark olive eyes narrow in confusion (and annoyance), and Harley groans because she can't believe Selina Kyle is being this thick. "I said no pheromones. And you said huh."

"Oh, that." Selina uses a polished silver platter as a mirror to reapply a lipstick Harley is frankly not sure where one would even carry in a skin-tight leather jumpsuit. The more time she spends with Selina, the more convinced she is she just doesn't abide by the laws of physics. 

And the more time she waits for Selina to elaborate, the more Harley realizes she just... isn't going to, apparently.

"Uughhh!" Harley groans and uses her bat to smash a nearby sculpture. "You're killing me, Selina! What the fuck did you mean!?"

Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow (Harley can tell it's happening under the mask) and gives Harley a look like she can't believe she'd have the audacity to speak to her in that tone. 

"I meant," Selina's tone is a warning, like she wants to make it clear she could have made Harley suffer more if she wanted, but she's choosing not to, "I found it surprising. You looked a bit loved up to me."

"What? Pffft." Harley lets out a chuckle and nudges one of the pieces of the sculpture with her foot. "Cut back on the catnip, Selina."

Loved up. Ridiculous. Does she love Ivy? Of course. Is she loved up? Of course not . There's no heart emoji fog. None at all.

"If you say so." Selina gives her A Look. The kind of look says she doesn't believe Harley, and she wants Harley to know that even if she won't engage in an argument about it right now. Selina Kyle can say a lot with one look. 

For a moment, Harley considers pushing the issue. She could insist. She could give her a list of reasons why she's absolutely not loved up at all whatsoever. She could tell Selina how what she shares with Ivy is actually true friendship, and Selina would know if she was capable of bonding with anything other than cats and jewelry. She could tell her how there's nothing even remotely mind-foggy about her feelings for Ive (she could bring up she's seen that mind fog in action the many times Ive's put Batman under her spell, even). Harley could tell Selina how her brain always feels a bit foggy in a vague kind of way -- just foggy enough to keep Harleen quiet and let Harley take the wheel -- but being with Ivy makes her feel more lucid, more real , than anything else in the world. How when Ive says she loves her Harley feels it right in her bones, in the very marrow of them, in the deepest, darkest, longest-forgotten parts of her brain where no other feeling can ever reach.

She could tell her how wildly different all that is from a silly potion-induced love fog. But she doesn't think Selina would understand their friendship even if Harley actually spelled it out. So she doesn't.

Instead, she silently follows Selina towards the office where Pam's been doing her thing. Where Pam's still doing her thing, actually, and Harley can't help but smile and lean against the doorframe to watch her best friend doing what she loves most (after Harley) in the world: eco-conscious murder.

"I fucking swear ," Ivy hasn't realized they're there, so she must be talking to what Harley can only assume is the tycoon himself even though only one of his legs can be seen outside the enormous mouth of a very happy-looking carnivorous plant, "how hard is it to not print out e-mails? Look at all this shit. Do you know how many trees had to be killed so you could print out your shitty... whatever the fuck this is?" 

Ivy groans like she's frustrated she can't use her powers to just will all the papers scattered everywhere to turn back into trees. There are vines everywhere -- like nature reclaiming the furniture and the walls and the floors and really every surface of his office. There's a strange beauty to it, Harley thinks. Haunting, like those pictures of abandoned buildings covered in grass and moss and weeds. Even when she's angry -- and oh, she's angry  right now -- Ivy really can't help but make the world a more beautiful place, can she?

Even when she was on the other side of the reinforced glass, wearing her glasses and her white coat, Harley never fully understood why Poison Ivy was lumped in with the rest of the psychos in Gotham.

Harley doesn't know how long she stays there. Selina's happily working on the safe next to the carnivorous plant, and Harley's more than content to just watch Ivy in her element for a while.

And then, it happens. 

Ivy's going on a rant about a bunch of single-use coffee cups she's found in the trashcan by the desk when she suddenly stops in her tracks. Harley can't see what she's looking at until Ivy turns around with a small flower pot in her hand, a sad-looking, mostly dry plant limply hanging off its side.

"Fuck him."

Ivy touches the plant and her brow furrows, and Harley knows she's feeling the thirst and the pain in the little plant as if it was her own. "You're okay now," Ivy says as the plant starts to recover, and her voice is so soft -- so full of love for a dry, nearly dead plant -- that Harley swears she feels her heart grow at least a couple sizes. She watches her best friend breathe life into a little plant, watches it turn from brown to green, brighter and taller, watches it sprout new leaves that make it look like it's stretching after a long sleep. And then she watches a bright yellow flower bloom, and when Harley finally manages to tear her eyes away from the flower to look at Ivy instead, she swears she feels her heart stop dead in its tracks.

Ive's always beautiful. Always, without fail, no matter what time of day or night, lounging at home or brooding in an Arkham cell. Pam is beautiful always. But Harley doesn't think she's ever seen her look more beautiful than she does right now, with her hair slightly disheveled after a fight and some blood (not at all hers) splattered on her face and clothes. It's the way she's smiling at that little plant. The way her smile grows and softens when she notices Harley looking at her. Harley's so enthralled by Ivy that she doesn't realize what she's thinking until it's been running through her mind for a while.

God , Harley's in love with her.

And that's when she realizes. That's when she hears the proverbial record scratch in her brain and her eyes widen in horror because there it is. There's the pink fog before the botanical mutation, right? I mean she can't exactly see a literal pink fog, but she may as well. She can feel her heartbeat all over the place. The butterflies in her stomach. The nearly all-consuming need to grab Ivy and kiss her until neither of them can breathe. 

"Shit. Shit, Red, shit, shitshit shit ."

Ivy's no longer smiling. At all.

"Oh God, Pammy. I fucked up." Harley feels her eyes well up with tears as she rushes towards her best friend because this is no longer a hypothetical: this is happening. She did  drink something dangerous. And suddenly keeping Ivy from finding out and getting mad at her feels less important than fucking surviving. "I fucked up, Ive, I drank a potion and now I'm turning into a fucking plant, please  tell me you have an antidote."

"Harley. Harl, look at me." Ivy looks so genuinely concerned Harley's sure the ridiculous amount of love she can see in green eyes must be part of the potion's effects. She's hallucinating, isn't she? "What potion? You're immune, Harley, you know that. Calm down."

"No, no! Not poison, I mean--" Harley shakes her head but has to stop when Ivy places her hands on Harley's cheeks to hold her head steady and look into her eyes like she's wondering if Harley's on drugs or something. "I mean a love potion, Ive! Shit, I thought it was water and I just drank the whole thing and I thought maybe it was nothing because I felt fine but now I know for sure  I fucked up because I'm so in love with you like-- just feel this!" Harley grabs one of Ivy's hands and moves it from her cheek down to her chest, pressing it right where her heart is still skipping all over itself. "Right?"

"I-- I don't-- Harl, what potion ? You're immune to all of my--"

"The pheromones! I don't know what it was! God I'm such a fucking fuck-up and now I'm just-- shit I hope I at least turn into a rhododendron bush or something because I don't want to be a succulent, Ive. Don't let me turn into a succulent." Harley's really crying now, black mascara running down her cheeks and staining Pam's hand as she struggles to breathe through her words. "I know I should've told you but I didn't want you to be disappointed and now I'm in love and it's just-- Selina, you tell her!"

"Selina?" Ivy turns around like she's just realized Selina is still in the mansion, let alone in the room with them. "What's going on?"

Harley was expecting Selina to tell Ivy exactly what happened that morning. She was expecting Selina to tell Ivy all about Harley being an idiot who drinks things without looking first, about the pheromones and chill, about Harley's refusal to tell Ivy right away. Instead, Selina looks... almost like she's the one who's been caught in a lie.

"Selina, what the fuck did you do?" Ivy's voice sounds like she's mere seconds away from feeding Selina to the plant, too. Harley can feel the anger like tingles where Ivy's hands are still pressed against her skin. "What did you give her?"

Selina lets out a sigh. "Margarita mix."

"What?" Harley feels a lightbulb go off inside her brain. That  was the weird taste when she drank whatever was in that bottle. Fucking margarita mix. But just.. "Why? What the fuck, Selina? Why would you let me think it was pheromones? I know Batman doesn't actually fuck bats, probably. Come on, it was a joke! Mostly!" 

"Will you relax?" Selina sounds like she can't believe Harley may be a bit agitated after spending a whole day thinking she's going to die and/or mutate into a plant. "I'm sick of watching you two idiots pretend that ," she points in the general direction of Harley and Ivy, "is just a couple of gals being pals. Figured I'd help you out."

"Help!?" Harley could just-- God , she could just smash Selina's face in with her bat. But she suddenly realizes there's a much more pressing issue to handle before revenge can even begin to be considered. "Shit, Red," Harley takes one step back to look at Ivy, and for the first time ever she's surprised to see she can't read the look in her eyes, "I didn't mean-- you know I didn't mean any of it, right?" For a split second Harley swears something like pain flashes behind green eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "I was just worried and I-- I got in my head about it. But you know I didn't mean it. You know , right? Pammy?"

It takes Ivy a few seconds to answer, and when she does she sounds... different. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

For some reason, it doesn't sound as reassuring as Harley though it would.

"Come on, Ive--" Selina tries to keep talking, but Ivy cuts her off.

"Listen, we're done here. So I'm just gonna..." Ivy shakes her head like she's trying to physically clear it of thoughts and feelings and general clutter, "I'm just gonna go home."

Harley feels like she's stuck to the floor. She just stands there, silent and frozen in place as she watches Ivy leave. She knows this isn't right. She knows something  just happened -- something she can't quite wrap her brain around right now. All she knows is Ivy's leaving, and she wants her to stay but she doesn't know how to make her body move or make any noises until her gaze drops to the desk and she sees the little plant right there.

"Ive!" Harley grabs the pot and runs out just in time to see Ivy's vines lifting her up through the same skyline they used to get in. "Ivy, you forgot the plant!"

But Ivy doesn't come back.

[jkbabiey]

{JJK} Say it ⤇ 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing:  fuckboy!jungkook x student!reader

Word Count: ~2.88 K

Genre: actually... I don’t even know; some angst in the beginning, and then there’s that flirty smutty tension between the reader and kook; college!AU

Warnings: Jungkook seems to be a dick and Y/N can be kinda rude but it’s fine, she’s a sweetheart. There are some very soft mentions of sex and a very very annoying kook omg

YOU SHOULD PAY ATTENTION TO THE DATES IN THIS FANFIC

22nd of August, 2023

It was about 3 am when you heard the doorbell. 

It was him.

Your irritation had nothing to do with sleepiness or with the late-night hour he chose to come by. You were awake, there’s no way you’d be able to sleep. You haven’t slept well since the night he let you go. Your irritation had to do with him; he wouldn’t be at your door if he wasn’t drunk or horny, and the fact that he didn’t understand this type of “meetings” wouldn’t be happening after that same night, pissed you off.

You were extremely pissed off.

Your anger was long gone as soon as you opened the door. He wasn’t drunk, and he sure as hell didn’t look horny, he was completely broken. His eyes were red and his face was puffy, he was a mess. If this had happened a month ago, you would have hugged him right away, trying to give him as much as a sense of comfort as you could and right now, you were trying to fight the urge to do exactly that. You had spent almost three weeks trying to convince yourself that he was a bad person and you weren't willing to give up all of your progress. Even though the look he was sending your way was yearning - almost begging - for some comfort coming from you.

His gaze was intense. He stared at you as if begging you to do something, he was lost, he had been for a long time now. He was begging you to let him in, and let him do whatever he wanted. He wanted you to do what you always did, he wanted to feel you. He wanted to feel as if he wasn’t as lost as he actually knew he was. You always made him feel like at least something in his life was worth it, and that something was you.

“Please let me in.” his voice was hoarse. 

You didn’t budge. You just stood there, looking at him dead in the eye. What the fuck were you supposed to do in this situation? You were so hopeless about anything that had to do with him at this point you couldn’t even speak. 

You didn’t say a word, but he understood just what was going through your mind. He knew how caught up in your thoughts you could get and how much of a rational person you were. But right now there was nothing minimally rational you could do. Nothing about your relationship was rational.

He stepped closer to you and closed the door behind him, not breaking the eye contact once. That has always been his way to get more intimate with you, to make you open up to him. 

His hand made its way to your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. His heart softened when he noticed the way you leaned into his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as his face got closer to yours, you could see the guilt in his eyes, even though your vision was already blurred up by the tears that managed to well up in your eyes.

His free hand rested on your shoulder, trying to push you towards him, but you stayed still, refusing to give in.

“Please Y/N… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said that night, I just, I’ve never felt like this with anyone else before you, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, or say, or how to deal with any of this- fuck” he paused, taking the hand that was previously resting on your shoulder to his face, rubbing it harshly. “ and I am sorry…” he finally finished.

Your tears were already running free, and your face was probably a mess, but you didn’t care.

“Say it,” You said sternly even though your voice was already wavering. He knew what you were referring to, of course he did. He was a very intelligent guy, even though he usually pretended no to be.

“I’m telling you what to do now, Jungkook, just say it,” you whispered, closing your eyes for a moment.

He looked at you, pain evident on his face, he didn’t want to say it. Not because he didn’t feel the same way you did, but because he wasn’t brave enough to admit that he feels, that he can feel something as dangerous as love.

He opened his mouth several times, just to close it again. He couldn’t say it, he was so afraid. 

Yeah… Jungkook was afraid. 

He was known by everyone around the city for being fearless. Because that was what he wanted people to think. He smokes, his body is embellished with tattoos, and he has fucked almost every girl in the town, forgetting their names the day after.

... But Jungkook was all talk.

He liked to be known, desired and even feared by some, but now, here he was, begging you to let him in.

Neither of you knew what to do. You were both scared. But then you understood he wasn’t able to cross that line, and ignoring all the urges to kiss him right there, take all of his worries and insecurities off his chest and the doubtful look off his eyes, you decided to put an end to that.

“Get out.” 

11th of February, 2023

You were completely covered in work, sitting on your living room’s floor. Anatomy books all around you. This had already became a very typical Saturday night for you. Your house was a complete mess, you didn’t even manage to find time to eat, how would you have time to clean your small apartment? 

Med school wasn’t easy, it was far from easy. There was so much effort you had to put into it. You barely had a social life. Actually, all you had was your sister, your best friend, and a few friends from med school. You weren't particularly the social butterfly, and you couldn't really blame med school for that, you never liked to have many people around you. If you want to be a doctor, you have to forget having a life apart from the hospital, your full attention has to be directed to studying so you can save lives in the future. 

The thing is, you’ve wanted to be a doctor since you were 14 years old. You worked your ass off so that you could have the perfect grades, and get into med school without any problem. You knew it was going to be hard from the beginning, but you were a girl that like challenges, you loved being challenged; your competitive nature implied it. You have always liked to get things the hard way. Easy was boring.

You’ve always set your goals very high. You were an overachiever. And you were stubborn, you would never give up on your dreams. These were great characteristics for an aspiring doctor. You were sure you were on the right path.

Your studies were interrupted when Maggie, your sister, barged into your house. She had a spare key, you gave it to her when you moved into this apartment. She has always been your confidant, you told her every single thing that happened in your life. She knew everything there was to know about you, and you knew everything about her. Your relationship has always been awesome, you’ve always treated each other as best friends and not really as sisters. 

You had told her how stressed you were about med school the night prior, and you could hear in her voice how worried she got about your mental health, even though, the situation wasn’t that bad, she tended to exaggerate. So it wasn’t really surprising that she was in your apartment, all excited, telling you, you were going to a party tonight because you needed to get loose. 

And even though you could see how happy and full of good intentions she was, you almost laughed at her face, well... actually, you really did laugh, a lot. It was just a really funny and almost ridiculous idea. It was really stupid of her to even think you would waste a night of study, for a party. You didn't even like parties!

You hated parties, actually!

You've always been kind of an introvert. You liked to have your own space, you loved to be alone, you loved to read, and you didn't like having other people invading your personal space. 

"What are you even saying?" you asked, still laughing.

Your sister's expression fell the moment you said that, almost mocking her.

"We are going out, I already talked to Vicky, she's coming with us. Get ready, you have one hour, we are leaving at 9pm and we still have to pick Vicky up"

Vicky was your best friend, you were so surprised Maggie got her to leave her house. Vicky was also an introvert, she was even worse than you.

"Hurry up!" she screamed, already impatient.

You were left staring at her, completely dumbfounded, before she grabbed your arm and pushed you into the bathroom.

You were already in Maggie's car. The tight black dress you were wearing was utterly and completely uncomfortable. The three of you were already on your way to the party, you couldn't be more panicked. You haven't come to a party since you were 15, you didn't even know how to act in a party, what were you supposed to do? You looked at Vicky, in the backseat, she was just as nervous as you were, you couldn't find her situation more relatable. Your eyes crossed and you both knew what each of you was feeling at that exact moment.

It had always been like this. You've always understood and known each other like the back of your hands. Your mothers were best friends, and when she was born, you were only one year old. You grew together and got used to each others' presence. Now you were almost inseparable. 

When you got to the party, the smell of smoke and the loud suggestive music invaded your senses. You weren't used to this kind of environment, and you didn't like it, not one bit.

In the middle of the party, Maggie was already on the dance floor, and she had already denied dancing with at least 5 different guys. Everyone was just so drawn to her, you couldn't blame them. Maggie was absolutely stunning, she had always been the pretty girl of the family. Vicky was seated beside you at the bar when Maggie came and basically pulled her to dance. She tried to do the same with you, but she gave up as soon as you sent her your most intimidating gaze.

"Sorry, can I get a cosmopolitan, please?" you asked the bartender. If your friends dragged you here, you should, at least, drink something, right?

The bartender gave you your drink a bit after matched with an apologetic look, probably used to seeing other people in the same situation you were. 

Sipping your drink you looked up to see all kind of people dancing and laughing at each other. This couldn't really be considered dancing, all everybody attempted to do was grinding on each other, exchanging partner if their rhythms of grinding weren’t similar. Disgusting. Purely disgusting.

Your discomfort only increased when your eyes locked with another pair of brown orbs, that were already fixed on yours. His gaze was intense, so intense that he got you shifting in your seat and adjusting your dress, so it would cover your legs properly - if that was even possible. He must have noticed your agitation because you swear to god, you saw him smirking. You tried looking somewhere else, but his gaze was fixed on you, and at some point, you forgot the nervousness you had felt some seconds before, giving up on keeping your eyes away and looking straight at him. All your confidence was long gone when he decided to stand up and started walking towards you, never breaking the eye contact.

You haven't really noticed how attractive that stranger was but now that his face was lightened up by the red neon lights of the pub you were in, you could see it perfectly. His face was flawless - his dark hair was pulled back as if he had just run his fingers through it, his gaze was sharp and intense, you could see he felt challenged, looking straight at your eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and apparently moisturized and you could clearly see how chiselled his jawline was. 

For your contentment, he looked away first, but kept his eyes on you, analyzing your body now. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, but the muscles beneath it were definitely noticeable. His arms were also muscular and he had some tattoos covering them. The tight jeans he was wearing left you almost drooling at how muscular and defined his tights seemed to be. His steps were languid and slow. The tension between you two was palpable, and while you were focused on his eyes and the desire that they exuded, everyone else was gone, it was just the two of you.

What a fucking prick... 

"Hey princess," he said when he got to your side, sitting in one of the fancy stools that stood by the bar after pulling it closer to yours. 

If he thinks that with that little fuckboy talk he's going to take you to bed, he's wrong. So wrong...

"You should get back to your friends." he was taken aback by your words, it was obvious by the way he looked at you, but the surprised look didn't last long, quickly being replaced by that stupidly desirable smirk he'd been wearing since his eyes laid on your figure and a soft tilt os his head.

"You were so excited looking at me across the room... Acting all confident. Now that I'm finally here, you send me away... Am I making you nervous, baby?"

"God, you're so full of yourself... Is that your tactic to get girls to go home with you?" you looked at him, clearly annoyed. 

It was clear he wasn't liking how rude you were sounding, but you couldn't care less. 

He laughed a bit, low and hoarsely, amused by how feisty you were, getting even closer to you, after poking the inside of his cheek.

"You think I want to take you home?" he looked at your eyes defyingly, clearly mocking you. His face was so close to yours that you could see the rage he was feeling and hiding, almost flawlessly, through his eyes. "I wouldn't want to take you home." he stared, waiting for you to snap. God, he was so rude.

"Fuck off," you said with a neutral voice, daring to send him a little ironic smile.

"I'm not sayin' I'm not up to fuck you, but not necessarily in my house" he chuckled in a low tone and looked at you with the same challenging look he was wearing earlier. He was severely testing your patience, but you were determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your cool.

You looked at him. The disgust you were feeling was evident, he noticed it.

"When are you going to shut the fuck up?" you asked, almost losing your patience, which you'd been preserving for a long time now.

You stood up, ready to leave him there. 

He was ready to say something else but noticing you had already left he was left staring at your uncovered back and your hips that were adorned by your tight little black dress. 

You knew you were one hell of a woman. You've always had your insecurities just like everyone else, but you knew how beautiful you were on top of all those imperfections.

You looked back and smirked when you saw him staring at your ass, biting his bottom lip.

You sat in a velvety sofa in the bar, still holding your drink, but the thought of those lips and shiny eyes was still haunting you, and the fact that he was still persistently staring your way wasn't helping. You felt your body relax a bit when he finally stood up and stepped towards the dance floor.

A while later, Maggie and Vicky were walking towards the couch you were sitting on and threw themselves on it, completely wasted.

"Hey, I gave your number to a really hot guy. I think you're getting laid in the next week!" Vicky screamed at the top of her lungs excitedly and you wondered who she could be talking about, running your eyes through the unfamiliar faces that filled the bar.

“Finally!” Maggie added to Vicky’s exaggerated statement.

Your heart stopped the moment your eyes locked with the ones you've been dreadfully thinking about for the last hour. He was smirking as if he had heard your friends - which he probably did. 

He studied your expression falling as realization fell on you. He had won. And when you found yourself lost in his eyes from across the room, imagining what he could do to you, you were pretty sure you had lost.

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Seventeen

**Have some supportive boyfriend Louis fluff**

"Did you have a favorite?" Louis frowned looking over at Harry, "song. Did you have a favorite song?"

"Oh…yeah of course I did. I have two tied at number one."

"Which ones?" Harry asked sitting on the edge of the full-size mattress that was tucked in the corner of the room on a small wooden frame.

"Dive and All of the Stars. I love them all, but those two made me cry and All of the Stars obviously was when we were long distance and applies to the future when you go on tour again. Then Dive tells me about your doubts and worries when we were dating but not labeling it." Louis said as he sat himself on Harry's lap wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, "I love them all though, but those two are incredibly open. Then obviously I'm biased with If I Could Fly. What about you? Which one is your favorite?"

"Who says I have one?"

"I do."

"In this album it's Strong because I wrote it when I was back here, and we had all these months together and you've...made me want to be me." Louis ran his fingers through Harry's hair

"You give me too much credit, you and your fans both do. I didn't do anything except love you." Louis said, "what's your favorite on the other album?"

"It's a song that I haven't decided if I want to keep yet or not. It's not on the CD, but it's on my phone."

"If it's your favorite then why not keep it?"

"Because it's not...me " Louis rolled his eyes grinning as he stood up

"Harry you have worn a large button up and loose pants, you have worn a pink tropical flamingo shirt with black skinnies, you have worn thigh hugging black velvet bell bottoms with a vertical striped black and white shirt, then you wore waist high white pants with a sunflower shirt tucked into them, and lastly today you wore all Gucci. So, tell me what image you're going for exactly." Harry blushed looking away but Louis made him look at him, "and for the record you have looked amazing in all of it, I just don't think you should limit yourself to one image when it's not you. I think you can be such an amazing role model of young people who stands out and breaks gender roles in clothing when you're ready to. I will hold your hand while you wear a suit and tie and while you wear a dress and heels. Whatever you want to wear I'll be the proudest boyfriend to hold your hand and whether that is tomorrow or in five years, I will be there for every messy step to every high wall we come across. If this song is something you can't let go of then don't, don't make yourself stick to one genre for the comfort of the world."

"I love you so much." Harry said staring at Louis

"And I love you." Louis said, "can I listen to it?"

"If you can find it you can listen to it. You'll know it when you hear it." Harry said as he stood them up and pulled the covers back. "Good luck."

"I'll find it when you least expect it." Louis said as Harry crawled into the bed with his back against the wall, louis followed him and laid down, so they were facing each other. "Goodnight darling."

"Goodnight."

*********

Louis scrolled through Harry's songs for the third time since he took the phone and hid inside the bedroom a few minutes ago. Louis thought it was Sweet Creature at first, but that turned out to be a sweet song about him and was considerably Harry. So, he continued his search for anything that struck out to him when he found it. It was a song with 'Kiwi' as the title and when he clicked on it was a new type of music and nothing like he had worked on before.

"Louis?" Louis jumped and turned to the closed door then looked down at the phone realizing thirty minutes had passed and he had been listening to the same song the whole time.

"Yeah? Yes? What?" Louis asked

"You alright?" Harry asked

"Yeah...yeah I'm great...I'm great. Why?"

"Because you've been in there for thirty minutes?" Louis opened the door just enough to pull Harry into the bathroom where he immediately pressed him against the door and kissed him passionately. Harry made a shocked hum sound before he moved them, so Louis was against the bathroom counter and Harry was pressing against him. Louis ram his fingers into Harry's short hair gripping it tightly.

"Wait...what did I do to get this." Harry asked pulling away

"You have to do something to get kissed?" Louis questioned

"No but you sort of did jump me and you were hard before we even started kissing. Wait were you wanking in here? Did I interrupt something?

"Oh you interrupted something but it wasn't my hand down my pants...yet. Now shut up and let's snog in a bathroom like teenagers and maybe get each other off without our families noticing our absence."

"What? No. Louis I can't do that to your mother not to mention that my mother would kill me."

"Fine." Louis said sighing as he gently pushed Harry away, "you're lucky this time." He said as he unbuttoned his jeans then shoved his hand down to adjust himself, so he was less obvious.

"Do you know where my phone is? I was looking for it earlier, but I couldn't find it." Louis grabbed the phone from his back pockets and handed it to him before looking down to button himself not noticing the frown that appear on Harry's face.

"There...alright... let's go." Louis opened the door and made sure  no one was lurking before he left. Harry joined him outside but instead of joining Louis he headed to where Gemma was. The rest of the time leading up to the meal was tense. At the table Harry sat on the other side of the table and on the other end when there had been an empty seat beside Louis. It made everyone look between them and sense the tension suddenly there.

"You and Harry okay?" Harry's mother whispered to him questioningly

"I thought we were." Louis told her before he stabbed a few green beans with his fork and shoved them into his mouth. The dinner was strained but it did end eventually just not without a few looks between him and Harry and weird silence.  After the dinner Louis got up and gathered the dishes then headed into the kitchen.

"Are we okay?" Harry asked setting the serving plates down on the counter beside the sink, "look if you found something then tell me and I swear to you I can explain because I'd never do anything to hurt you. I don't know what you could of possibly found but whatever it is-"

"What? Harry what are you talking about? Louis asked turning to look at him and ignoring the fact that their families are most likely listening in outside the doorway leading into the kitchen

"I'm talking about whatever I did to make feel so insecure in our relationships that you took my phone without talking to me first like we've always done whenever we had problems. I don't care that you took it I care that you didn't talk to me before and after the fact and I've been trying to think what you could have possibly found and I can't come up with anything because I haven't-"

"Harry no. I didn't go through your phone. I have no reason to go through your phone nor do I want to. The only time I've gone through was to find that picture when asshole and I were arguing on Twitter and it was only your cloud which you knew about. You told me where to look and I went to the month. That's it."

"Then what were you doing with my phone in the bathroom for thirty minutes because I'm not even on my phone for thirty minutes unless I'm doing something on my studio app."

"Well first I didn't tell you I had it because it was on the bed and I was going to give it to you but I just never did because we were both away from each other with our families. Secondly if I felt so insecure in our relationship that I had to take tour phone and lock myself in a different room to go through it I'd break up with you first. I don't want that type of relationship and neither do you. Thirdly I didn't tell you I was going to go through your phone because I didn't want you to be nervous the whole time it took me to find what I was looking for. Fourthly I went through your music I was in bathroom for thirty-eight minutes trying to find the song you weren't sure about. You were nervous the whole way up here when you knew I was listening to an album that you were proud of that you nearly missed the exit. So since you were nervous just mentioning this song I figured you not knowing I was going to look for it, which I told you I would last night and you told me good luck. I figured this way I could tell you after I found it. When you came, I was on my tenth repeat and the way that you found me should be some indication of what I thought of it."

"A song did that?"

"We both know he's an overachiever, he gets interested watching you stretch so yes listening to that song woke him up. Look I'm sorry Alright. If the roles were reversed and you were the one with my phone in the bathroom I'd think the same thing and I'd probably break up with you at the end if the day if it turned out you had been looking for something. It's not about trust to go through each other's phone it's about trust to not go through it and instead talk about it, which we always do."

"I figured we'd talk later, that we were waiting to not make this day weird."

"It became weird when you sat in the other end of the table."

"Phoebe asked if she could sit beside you and I said of course so I sat beside my sister. I didn't realize me sitting away from you for one meal would cause such a catastrophe, I'm be sure to never do it again and will elbow your sisters for the seat beside you next time. So, to be clear I didn't do anything?"

"I don't know, did you? Should I have went through it?"

"I don't think so. I mean I'm with you like all the time and most of the time-"

"I'm joking. No, you haven't done anything."

"So, we're okay?"

"Yeah we're fine."

"Well don't say fine...fine is what you say when you're still mad about something and-"

"Harry." Louis said laughing as he grabbed his face and made him look at him, "we're great. I didn't explain to you why I had your phone because I didn't think how the situation looked and you didn't ask because you assumed, we'd talk later when we were alone. We just didn't communicate that's all, but we're fine. I promise."

"Okay because the only think I could think of was Zayn's nude he sent on accident that I haven't deleted because I don't want to look at it again. But you were with me when I got it but I hadn't deleted it yet, so I don't maybe you were thinking-"

"Harry stop thinking." Louis said grinning as he looked at his boyfriend, "for the record I think the song is perfect and I think you should definitely consider adding it." Louis told him as he wrapped his arms around the back of his neck, "I love you."

"I love you too." Harry said kissing him sweetly, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for Harry. I honestly didn't even think how it would have looked especially considering how your past relationship was. We're okay though I promise. I'm not upset, you're not upset, we're fine. You think too much sometimes."

"I don't like leaving things unresolved."

"And it's not unresolved, we've resolved it. We talked about it and I don't know what else could be said about it honestly."

"Can we drive somewhere and talk about it?" Harry asked

"Harry, we have. We've talked." Louis told him confused

"But I don't feel like we have."

"Harry there is literally nothing else to talk about regarding this. It's been resolved." Louis said exasperated

"No, it hasn't Louis." Harry snapped taking Louis by surprise as during all their arguments or disagreements Harry was usually always very calm and controlled. Louis was usually the one that started to snap and yell first.

"Okay. We are not going to argue here if that's what is about to happen."

"Is there somewhere else you'd like to argue you at?"

"Use that tone with me Harold and you are sleeping in your car. Now let's go get a tub of ice cream or something and resolve whatever this is."

"Okay." Harry said quietly before walking out of the kitchen. Louis followed behind him noticing their families were still at the table.

"We'll be back in a few minutes." Louis told the group as he watched Harry head straight out the door after grabbing his keys.

"Are you two okay?" Anne asked

"Yeah I think Harry just doesn't want to say everything he obviously needs to say with so many ears around. We'll talk and get a tub of ice cream on our way back. Harry's been stressing about things he really doesn't need to be stressing about so I think it's getting to him. We'll be back in an hour. We're fine though, really."

"Okay dear." Louis left the house and got into the passenger seat looking over at Harry seeing tears in his eyes, "hey come on...let's just find a private spot and talk okay?" Harry nodded silently before starting the car and backing out of the driveway.

******

Louis followed Harry into the hotel room.

"I didn't want to risk us being overheard in the car or photos be taken." Harry explained

"I figured. Louis said sitting on the bed, "what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I feel like I broke your trust by assuming you went through my phone and making a big deal out of it."

"Harry you didn't make a high deal out of it and you didn't break my trust. I told you I understood considering how it looked. Come on say what you're avoiding."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. You're not saying something." Harry closed his eyes and sat down on the other bed, "I don't know...I've been feeling frustrated for a few days now and I don't know why."

"Frustrated how?" Louis asked gently

"I don't know. I feel....trapped...stuck. I feel stuck and it's pissing me off and I can't get out." Harry said tears filling his eyes

"Is it us? Our relationship?" Harry immediately shook his head

"The only thing I'm sure of is that I love you and I don't want to lose you." Harry said

"Well maybe the only way to make sure of that is for us to step back a bit. Maybe you need to find yourself before you can be with me." Louis said

"You're the reason I'm finding myself. Louis trust me it's not us...it's my head or I don't know, but it's not us."

"Okay. Then tell me what makes you so frustrated...tell me even if it doesn't make sense. When did it begin?"

"This week I think, and it got worse as the days gone on. It's going to sound bad but it's you...you make me frustrated and I don't know why and I'm mad at myself for getting annoyed at you for literally putting the dishes away. But I'm not mad at you or anything I'm-"

"Frustrated." Louis said grinning now which made Harry glare

"What's so funny?"

"Harry you're frustrated."

"Yes, I know I told you this already and I don't know why."

"No Harry." Louis said standing up to straddle Harry's lap, "you're sexually frustrated...when someone doesn't orgasm for long periods of time, they get pissy and snappy. Single people masturbate or have one-night stands or have toys to satisfy urges. However, when someone is in a relationship with someone their partner usually pisses them off by doing normal things like putting the dishes away. Usually the pissy one just tackles the unsuspecting boyfriend on a friend and has their wicked way with them, however if it's their first time experiencing this frustration it can confuse. It confused me my first time."

"Wait people get angry because of that?" Harry asked

"Yeah both male and female and considering we haven't had any bedroom activity in 10 days I'm not surprised you're pissy." Louis said, "next time just tell me you want a blowjob."

"But I don't want a blowjob." Louis jerked his head back from where he was about to kiss Harry, "no I mean...I've been meaning to bring up the topic but its not really something you say over dinner."

"Okay well say it now."

"I want your honest answer, I'm already expecting it to be a no so just a honest answer."

"Of course. Harry I'd never lie to you especially about something as serious as sex. Now hurry up because I'm getting hard just form the anticipation." Harry leaned back on his elbows while Louis stayed straddled on his lap

"Would you ever consider bottoming? Like...just once?"

"I have bottomed, multiple times. My last boyfriend preferred topping so most times I bottomed. He'd bottom every now and again, but -"

"No, I know you've bottomed. I meant with me. Would you ever bottom with me topping?"

"Yeah of course." Louis said immediately still confused as to why this was even a question in the first place

"You would? Just like that...you're not even going to think about it?" Harry asked shocked

"Why would I have to think about it? Harry of course I would bottom for you. I mean I'd want to top eventually but it wouldn't have to be frequently if you didn't want it to be. I love to bottom, and I love to top. Why wouldn't- Dickhead said he'd never bottom for you didn't he."

"He mentioned it briefly. We didn't talk about it, but he mentioned my size being an issue for anyone." Harry said

"Well I would probably have to be on top the first few minutes so my body could adjust at its own pace, but after that it would get easier with time. The first few times will have to be careful, so I don't tear but once my body is used to you I won't need as much preparation.  You're above average Harry, but you're not abnormally large. Your ex was just an insecure douchebag who probably had a smaller than average  cock and was made fun of for it in school. You have nothing to feel weird about when it comes to penis sizes." Louis explained, "now is this something you want to do? Have sex? Or is it something you want to talk about now, so you know later?"

"I wanted to take you out to a nice dinner tonight before I cancelled the plans to come here. Then I was going to let you listen to the songs either in the studio or in a nice warm bath. I was going to get rose petals and just throw them all over our bedroom and whether it was just a really nice cuddle, or we just explored the other's bodies or whatever we did I would know that you knew I meant every word and that I love and trust you so much."

"I already know that."

"I know you do, but I wanted to show you, but I don't know how to do that or if you want to do thar or if I'm even ready to bottom. It's not that I don't trust you because I do, and I love you and I want to share that with you. I just don't know what to do. I mean obviously I know what to do I just-" Louis cupped Harry's face and kissed him

"First step is to talk to me." Louis told him watching as Harry rolled his eyes grinning

"Obviously, I was going to talk to you. I had a speech all planned for when you came into the bedroom. I was going to tell you how much I love you and you were going to make a joke about me proposing too soon and to hold off and I was going to tell you to shut up for five minutes so I could talk." Louis laughed nodding

"Sounds like us. What else was going to happen?"

"I was going to tell you how amazing you are and how much you've helped me find myself and how much I wanted to spend my life with you. Then you'd interrupt and tell me if I get down on one knee, you'd say no just to spite me. I would look at you...probably the way I'm looking at you now." Harry said softly as he stared at Louis with love and tears shining in his eyes.

"I like this look." Louis said swallowing heavily, "what would you tell me you wanted to do?"

"I want us to go further, but I don't know how far I was comfortable with. Maybe all the way or maybe half. I want us to go as far as I or the night allows." Louis didn't know why he had tears in his eyes or even when they got there, but he cupped Harry's face and kissed him pushing down on his back.

"And we will...next Saturday night. I will wine and dine you and I will throw petals all over the bedroom and we will find out where the night stops and I will bottom or top. Whatever feels right and you can stop anytime. I promise."

"I love you." Harry said looking at him

"I love you too." Louis said, "unfortunately if we are gone any longer our families will get suspicious. We'll leave tomorrow morning and spend all day in bed getting all of that frustration out of you. Come on."

[honeybunchcalum]

𝒲𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉- 𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝐵  (part of ptersparkers writing challenge)

I’m a 5sos girl at heart, and this song really fit this fic, so I had to 

Summary: John B promises to help Winnie learn to let loose, the process of which involves skinny dipping, a bucket list, and some really good advice (and inevitable flirting, of course). 

Pairing: John B x OC

Warnings: language for sure, and some nudity 

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: HUGE thank you and credit to @alexandracheers for editing this fic and giving me feedback! She also has a fic for @ptersparkers writing challenge that you should check out!

The main character is based a lot on myself, so for all you borderline uptight and academic overachiever readers, this one’s for you to relate to! 

I also aged the pogues up a few years, so all the characters are 18/19.

GIF credit: @sharmans​

“What would you do if you weren’t afraid of everything?” 

The sun grazed over facial features as it set, blurring some and sharpening others. Yet another day of summer gone, but the opportunity for a hot summer night followed the horizon. 

“God, I don’t fucking know, everything and anything! Also, I don’t appreciate that generalization, I’m not afraid of everything,” she trailed off.

“I know you know,” John B said while flopping down onto the towel that he had just finished smoothing out on the sand. “There’s never been a time when Winnie doesn’t have the answer to something… especially when it’s about herself,” he mumbled the modifying words as to make sure she didn’t hear, but she did. 

A few seconds later there was a handful of sand sprinkled throughout his curls as she laughed.

Winnie was a “conscientious and goal-driven girl” as every professor of hers had described her. As she’d come to realize, those words are just the nice way of saying “uptight over-achiever.” 

She wished she could be something outside of that. Outside of a ‘certificate of achievement,’ or a picture perfect transcript. Do something for once and make a decision or mistake for herself. That’s what she had come down here this summer to do after all, right?

“Fine, then I shall rephrase.” John B shook the revenge-filled sand out of his hair and asked, “What are you afraid of?”

Knowing that would be an easy question for his borderline-uptight friend to answer, he quickly added a condition, “and not the standard ‘failing a paper, looking bad, or not being at the top of whatever-the-fuck class you’re in’ fear.”

“Well, you’ve basically got all my bases covered with those,” she replied. John B raised an eyebrow at the mention of covering her bases. 

“You’re so annoying,” slipped out of her mouth accompanied by the obligatory eye-roll. She laid down on her own towel not too far from John B (certainly more gracefully than he had) and looked up at the purpling sky. 

The beach was beginning to empty as all the vacationers returned to their rental homes. It was her and John B’s favorite part of the day. They basically had the whole beach to themselves aside from the late-night skinny dippers, but they weren’t due for another few hours. 

It was peacefully silent for what felt like hours, just the two of them side by side on the towels that John B always kept in the van for spontaneous beach trips like this. 

Winnie started to drift into her daydreams of her future--walking down crowded city streets to the subway in a fashionably professional outfit on her way to the courtroom for her breakthrough case. Then she flipped to her daydream of writing in a cozy coffee shop. Writing about anything and everything--even the hazel-eyed boy beside her and how he just lived, nothing more or less (and sometimes without thinking). But that was just John B, and she felt the need to document it beautifully somehow, and make sure she’d remember him just as he is. She knew she couldn’t get it more right than he was then, right next to her, just as he had been all summer. 

“So, what’s your answer?”

“What?” Winnie had already forgotten his question, and was definitely startled. 

“To my question... I saw ya thinking there,” John B chuckled and looked up at the sky as well, “unless you were off in your lawyer daydreams again.”

“Well maybe I was, but I also have an answer for you. I can think about multiple things at once, y’know?”

“I know a little bit too well, Winnie. You’re always lost in your thoughts about something,” he replied while playfully touching her arm. 

She started to feel a weight on her chest and in her throat, first off because John B was now staring directly at her, and more prominently because she knew her answer all too well, but didn’t want to say it. What if John B didn’t understand, or if it sounded dumb?

“John Booker Routledge,” she spoke strongly, “I am afraid of being ordinary, being stuck and not having the opportunities to do enough fun shit while I’m young, and also worrying too much about all of these things at the same time.” 

By the end of her proclamation, Winnie was in tears. 

“It sounds...s-so stupid,” she was laughing through some sobs now, “like I’m the one in control of my own life, a-and I can’t get it right. I want to be young and do fun shit, but I-I-just can’t because I feel like-like I know better than to knowingly do something stupid.” Talking through things, even while she was choking out sobs, had always made everything she was feeling make sense. 

“Look, you hang out with young and dumb every day,” John B laughingly pointed at himself, “and while I am a bit offended by your ‘ordinary’ fear-”

Winnie cut him off with a sob-filled, “I’m so sorry, John B, I didn’t-”

“I’m kidding, Winnie. I’m getting to my point here…” he reached out and held her shoulders. 

“...which is that you don’t know how to let go. And you’re already not ordinary, at least to me. And I can tell ya that JJ, Kie and Pope will tell you the same. I wouldn’t have been hanging out with you every night if you were.”

John B punched her arm to try to clear the seriousness in the air. “C’mon, you don’t really think I’d hang out with someone ordinary and boring, right?”

“Right,” Winnie replied.

“What was that, can you say it again?”

Dripping in sarcasm, Winnie repeated herself, “John B, you’re right.”

“Thank you.”

He turned away from her for a second and glanced at the purple sky that draped over the ocean, seeming to string words together in his mind. 

After a few seconds he started, “Coming from me, I feel like you can’t plan everything out. Some shit just happens--shit that you can’t make happen, Winnie, no matter how much of a control freak you are.” 

John B was right, she was a bit of a control freak; she’d admit it. 

“Like, do you think I was trying to make JJ stealing 25k from a drug dealer happen?” 

Now he could chuckle at the memory, and Winnie at the secondhand telling of the story since it seemed so outrageous. 

“Everything can’t be picture perfect, Winnie, a lot of things are messy” he was nervously fidgeting, which was very unlike him; John B was always so sure of himself. 

“And unexpected, like this--” he raised his hand and flung a clump of sand at Winnie.

She instinctively scoffed, but then laughed. At least it derailed the overly-serious energy that John B created. 

“You know, I was really starting to take you seriously, John B.”

“Ouch, Winnie,” he cracked a smile, “Well I’m glad you tried because it was part of my life-changing advice.”

“Which is…?” 

“You have to do what you feel is best for you right now. I’ve always told you, you need to be who you are now.”

“And throwing sand at me felt right to you in that moment?”

“Yes. But you have to admit that it’s good advice. My dad would always tell me, and it just stuck with me. So now, I relay it to you.”

Winnie let the words mellow around her mind for a few seconds. It was really great advice, especially for someone like her. She let her eyes scan the beach around her. She had an amazing landscape that was totally memory-worthy right in front of her. And more importantly, she had the time. The time to be here, in the moment, with her best friend. 

Although she had only been on the island for a few weeks, Winnie knew there was something special about John B. They were complete opposites in a way--an uptight law student from the city, and an easygoing surfer from the island. But they complemented each other: while she may have read more, he had seen more. And that’s what made them such a good pair.

They could both figure anything out, whether it was Winnie perfecting John B’s college essays and finance records for after his gap year, or the trademark stories of John B escaping trouble on the island. 

“Another philosophy I live by is that you should try everything once,” John B started. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that from JJ too,” she smiled, remembering the times in the van that JJ spilled his life philosophies while slightly under the influence. 

“Also, at the next kegger, you are definitely hanging with me, I’ll teach you how to have some fun,” John B added, as Winnie agreed, looking forward to it.

-------

After a few seconds, Winnie asked, “So it’s about 8:25, what are we doing right now? And what have you not tried?”  

“I see you took my advice to heart. There’s not too much honestly,” he nervously laughed, reminiscing about his countless long nights. “Your wish is my command on this lovely Thursday night. Whatever is on your, what I assume, color-coded bucket list,” he teasingly continued.

Winnie playfully scoffed. “Actually, it’s just highlighted, Mr. Routledge. Anyway.... I choose skinny dipping.” She spoke with a glow in her eyes and no hesitation, maybe she had planned out this moment for a while, waiting for this exact opportunity. But that’s one thing she wouldn’t admit.

John B’s jaw practically dropped to the ground. His eyes widened; she’d managed to pick the one thing he didn’t have experience with, which is impressive. 

The two had always poked fun at the nightly ocean skinny dippers; he never thought Winnie had the desire to partake in it. 

He ran his hand through his curls in an attempt to conceal his jitters. He would do anything for Winnie, and this is what she wanted. He couldn’t lie to himself--he would only consider something like this with her. As much as she trusted him, John B trusted Winnie. 

“No prob, sure, let’s do it,” the brunette slightly rambled. 

Winnie undoubtedly picked up on his fault of confidence. “Are you sure? We definitely don’t have to… I mean driving with the windows down is also pretty high up on my list.”

“Yeah,” he flashed a reassuring smile. One full of serenity and comfort. He pulled his t-shirt off as Winnie did the same, along with her shorts. The two awkwardly looked at each other, as if searching for each other’s cue to continue. Winnie gave John B an up-and-down glance, to which he knowingly turned around with an, “oh, yeah,” so she could further undress. 

It was dark enough on the shore now for the teens to be unrecognizable, but Winnie ensured that the towels they were currently wrapped in would be waiting for them right in front of the tide lines, in case the need for a quick escape dawned. 

There was an unspoken promise between them that lustful stares would not be exchanged, but quick glimpses would be inevitable. With that, towels were dropped, and John B started the countdown to rush into the water. Before “one,” Winnie already took off running towards the calm waves. 

By the time she was up to her knees, she was yelling, “Holy shit! That’s cold! Oh my God!” 

Seconds later John B was yelling the same before they both had dipped underwater to get used to the temperature. They came up from underwater with their faces almost inches apart. Their eyes locked for a moment. Nervous laughter followed as Winnie moved backwards, not remembering to keep her arm over her chest. 

“Shit, uh, sorry,” John B looked away from Winnie.

“It’s okay,” she giggled, “I don’t really care. I also don’t think there’s really a way to prevent that.”

Within a second, John B had started a splash war, and the rare serious energy dissipated. 

Ten minutes in the cold night ocean was more than enough. Luckily, no late-night walkers stumbled upon their antics. Now they sat on the sand peacefully wrapped in their towels. Winnie cuddled into John B’s chest. It felt as though time had stopped in her mind, yet the ocean continued, as did the waves and the heartbeat of her best friend both pounding in her ears. John B was warm, sweet, and wise. Especially now, with his curls a perfectly-laid sopping mess and his chest so comforting, the warmth took over. Winnie sought to ingrain this feeling into her mind. 

John B admired Winnie as the towel adorned her chest and the dull glow of the night slightly illuminated her face. He couldn’t deny it--she was very pretty. 

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked down towards the girl on his chest. “I knew you could let go, and not give a fuck, you don’t need me, Winnie.”

“No you did not know that,” she protested, “you’d told me I didn’t know how to let go like, 10 minutes ago.”

“Ok, yeah I did say that. But… would an uptight Winnie suggest skinny dipping, get me to do it with her, and also play it cool when I accidentally saw her boob?” 

Winnie thought about it: John B was right. In the moment, without overthinking, she did know how to let go and do whatever felt right to her at the time. 

“No…” she responded. 

“So you’re not uptight! I proved it to you, and I didn’t even have to argue with you about it-- HA!” John B retorted, pulling away from Winnie so he could now look her directly in the eye. 

“I guess, yeah. But you did go in the ocean with me, naked, for me to get to this realization.”

“Were you just trying to get me naked?” John B jokingly gasped. 

Doubled down in laughter, Winnie managed to respond, “No, definitely not, but you did it willingly, which was a win.”

“Well, I can say I did it.” John B seemed content, and he truly meant it. You should try everything once, right?  

“I’ve got the van radio and windows rolled down and ready for us, if you so desire.” 

“Why of course, Mr. Routledge, my prince charming, please fire up our carriage.” Winnie smiled, which was a repeated pattern throughout the whole night. The tears from earlier were forgotten, with aches from smiling too much replacing them.

They practically jumped into John B’s van, scantily clad, with Winnie’s hand already on the radio knob. She turned it to a station playing a summer song that would eventually become overplayed within the next few months, but that was ok. Maybe better, even, since each inevitable time this song was on, it would remind her of tonight.

Tonight. He’d truly seen her as a person, physically and emotionally now, with ease. He saw her as someone more than just an uptight student, and she realized that maybe she wasn’t always uptight, after all. He was willing to put aside his apprehensions and trust her, just as she’d come to trust him.

With the windows rolled down, and the radio almost unbearably loud, Winnie felt bliss. True and uninhibited, like this is what she was meant to be doing with John B, at this moment in time. 

Winnie’s eyes couldn’t resist scanning John B’s frame next to her. The way his calloused hands gripped the steering wheel, the flex of his arms, his wet caramel hair regaining its curl, and most notably, the smooth and tanned skin of his chest. He was damn gorgeous. And now gazing over at her. 

“Shit, he noticed me staring,” she thought. But he didn’t seem fazed or embarrassed by her gaze at all. He flicked her the trademark John B smile. “Like what ya see?” He gave an eyebrow raise.

“Oh, shut up,” she spit back and turned the radio up even further, starting to scream the lyrics to the catchy song. She felt the wind blow in her hair as the roads she drove down each day gained a newfound beauty.

-------

“I’m beat,” Winnie exasperatedly stated once John B pulled the van up to the Chateau. 

“Yeah me too, that’s enough ‘young and dumb’ for tonight. You don’t mind sharing the pull-out with Kie, right? I kinda forgot she was staying over tonight...” 

“Yeah, no prob,” Winnie responded. She really didn’t mind sharing with Kie, but secretly wished John B would invite her to his bed for the night.

She opened the screen door of the house, and after she got ready for bed, practically flopped on the pull-out couch. 

Kie groggily groaned, “Ugh, Winnie don’t do that, I’m tryna sleep. Why are you back so late anyway?” 

“Sorry, beach night with JB,” Winnie whispered, only to realize that the girl beside her was already asleep again. Winnie was practically shaking from her excitement as she looked back on her night, especially after John B threw a “g’night Winnie” her way.

------

Winnie knew she had slept too late when she’d woken up without Kie next to her, probably already at the Wreck for the breakfast shift. She stood up and made her way to the bathroom, peeking around to make sure that only John B was in the house and Pope or JJ hadn’t made a surprise visit. 

She’d wanted to make a move last night. Especially when he’d caught her staring. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror to psych herself up: it was now or never.

She rounded the corner to John B’s room and knocked on the doorframe, since he always left the door open. John B sat up and gave a raspy, “hey, Winnie.”

She cut to the chase, as she sat down next to him on his bed. “I think I overthought something I shouldn’t have last night.”

“Yeah, yeah, shoot, what is-”

Winnie cut him off with a kiss that was well-received. His lips molded to hers as his hand moved to her cheek and then to her hair. He pulled away. 

“Funny enough, that’s something that’s actually been on my bucket list, too.” 

“Well, I’m happy we’re efficient in crossing things off our list,” Winnie smiled into another kiss, now being the one to pull away. 

She was on her way to living the life she wanted.  

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

Tagging some of my mutuals: @noshamenion​ @darkrosekuwonu​ @cccatz​ @poguelifesurfshop​ @maybankiara​ @tothemoonmikey​ @singledadharrington​ @kindapinkskies​ @outerbanqs​

[elderkale]

chapter four

tell me we’ll never get used to it - chapter four

Sometimes, when it got to be too much—when she felt like the walls were closing in on her, when she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of the blood in her ears, when she couldn’t close her eyes without seeing blood and broken bodies and her—she would run.

Not anywhere in particular. Just run.

It was freeing in a way that little else was; to let go, and let her legs take her where they pleased, for her panting for air to drown out the voices in her head and the burning in her muscles wash away the tingling at the tips of her fingers. To just go, and let the world be someone else’s problem for once. At the very least, it let her move, and that was better than nothing.

Running, running, running. Always running. She never seemed to get any further, though.

Sometimes, she felt like she could keep running forever, until the stars imploded and the sun gave out, and the only limit was how far the universe could stretch. Other times, it was like she was being driven up a treadmill on her last legs, and the only thing keeping her up were adrenaline and what passed for will and whatever thing was chasing her.

Today, it was the latter.

She collapsed to her knees with a gasp, lungs rattling as she dragged in breath after breath. Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair, and she realized they were covered in scratches. Her face, too, probably.

She fell on her face and rolled over, throwing her arms out beside her. Her skin would be splotched with dirt, she knew, and her clothes, too, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

Besides, dirt was good. Told you things. Hid stuff. Crunchy.

She closed her eyes, letting her breaths even out and her chest stop heaving. Content, for the moment. It would be over soon, she knew, and she would have to stand up and trudge back to her flat and the rest of the world, but, for now, that was what she was. Content.

She let her mind drift as she played with the earth beneath her fingers, sifting through the pebbles and the loose soil. She could hear the branches overhead rustling in the breeze and the air was bitter with the sharp scent of pine. Elsewhere in the woods, an owl hooted, and the bushes nearby rustled.

Something dropped onto her forehead, sticky and warm. She twitched, wrinkling her nose as she rubbed it off. Water? But it hadn’t been raining—

Oh.

She stared at the streaks of red smudged across the back of her hand. Another drop fell onto her wrist, and she watched as it slowly rolled down her arm, staining the hem of her sleeve.

She looked up. There was a man in the trees—or something that had once been a man, at least. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that that’s what it was, anymore.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“Hi,” she said before it had even finished ringing. “There’s a body.”

*

No ID. Of course there wasn’t any ID.

Or clothes, for that matter. Theta made a note to check Missing Persons. She could only hope Mr. Doe wasn’t a recluse.

Or maybe he was. There’s appeal in that, isn’t there? Easy. Is easy what you want?

Nah. Easy doesn’t cost anything. No one goes to this much trouble for nobody.

So. Who are you, Odysseus?

There was a loud clattering noise, not unlike a box of tin cans being hurled out a window, and a screech of metal on metal that set Theta’s teeth on edge. Martha stood to the side, directing a group of SOCO who stood around a tree, steadying a ladder.

She knocked on his door, and it creaked open.

Branches, huh? Would’ve thought you’d go for thistles. Or is that the point?

Bet he was loud, wasn’t he? Rude? Bit of a dick? Or maybe he wasn’t. After all, you’re not normal, are you? You know it. He knows it. Knew it, at least. Somehow. Some way.

Pity. A mockery of kindness. That’s a theme, is it? Mockery, I mean.

But not quite?

“That’d be difficult, wouldn’t it?” asked Jack. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and his greatcoat buttoned all the way up to his neck. “The sticks, I mean.”

Theta huffed, breath misting in front of her. “I’d say so, yeah.” She licked her lips, chapped by the chill night wind. Her tongue brushed a scratch to the corner of her mouth.

Big lengths to go to. You don’t strike me as an overachiever.

“He’d have needed tools, then. Supplies. Pretty big ladder, too.”

“Mhm.”

What are you trying to prove?

“What do you think?”

“Big ladder,” she repeated. “Yep. Imagine carrying that through the woods.”

“Killer backache,” Jack agreed. Theta glared at him, and he put his hands up. “Okay, okay. But I meant about the body.”

Theta rubbed her wrist, absent-mindedly tracing the path his blood had made. “Fresh,” she said. “Fresh enough, at least. The blood wasn’t even congealed I found it—” she paused for a second. Jack raised an eyebrow, and she continued. “There’s no way he’d have been able to position him like that after rigor mortis.” Theta glanced at the removal team. Two officers held onto the bottom of a ladder, and another was making their way carefully up it. The rest stood in a small circle around them, watching. Absurdly, it reminded Theta of show-and-tell, or maybe the world’s weirdest fairy circle. Maybe. Did people stand in fairy circles? Probably not. “Two hours at the most, I’d say. Maybe more?” She shrugged. “I’m not forensics. Ask Martha.”

He gave her a look. “He worked fast,” he concluded. “Planned.”

Theta shrugged. “Or he knew how to relax the muscles. Or he kept him warm. Or maybe he positioned him while he was alive, or killed him here.”

Jack groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “So, basically,” he said into his palm, “what you’re saying is we’re looking for a either really pissed-off masseuse or an art major with serious anger issues.”

“If you like.”

Jack dragged his fingers through his hair. He looked tired, more tired than usual. But it was—Theta checked her watch—two a.m., so she supposed that was fair. Behind him, SOCO-with-short-arms hopped up and down, holding a saw by the tip of the blade up to SOCO-on-the-ladder. They looked to be struggling.

Jack sighed. “Body,” he repeated. “Arms out, legs together, stabbed through with sticks. . . remind you of anything?”

“No.”

“No, it doesn’t?”

“No, he’s not a martyr, Jack,” said Theta. “He didn’t die for our sins, either.”

What are you to me, a god without a voice?

“You’re sure?” He glanced over his shoulder skeptically. SOCO-on-the-ladder had finally gotten their hands on the handle, and was sawing at the branch the body had been stuck on. The rough, grating noise made the hair on the back of Theta’s neck stand up, and she dragged her palm roughly across the inside of her pocket.

“Yep.” She nodded.

Jack tugged on his ear and cast a weary glance around the scene. With a final creak and splintering crack, the branch was severed. SOCO-on-the-ground began shouting, and SOCO-with-short-arms and SOCO-with-the-lopsided-mask dragged a tarp to lay beneath the tree. SOCO-on-the-ladder yelled something, and threw the saw to the ground. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“What?”

Jack ground the tip of his cane against the dirt. “It’s late,” he said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She stared up at him. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. Go home.” He gave her a quizzical look. “What, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Just—” Two SOCOs walked by, pushing a stretcher, Johnny covered awkwardly with a cloth that didn’t quite do the job. The wheels rattled against the forest floor and there was a flurry of squawks as what birds hadn’t been scared off by the earlier commotion took flight. “I mean, first on scene, right? You don’t want to ask me anything?”

“You’ve already told me everything,” said Jack, brow furrowed. His expression cleared as it dawned on him. “Wait, are you asking me to interrogate you?”

“What? No.” She jammed her other hand into her pocket. “Just—”

“I mean,” a lecherous grin spread across his face and he wiggled his brows, “not that I wouldn’t mind—”

She smacked his arm and the leer vanished, replaced by a pained wince. “Stop it.”

He rubbed his arm, grimacing. “You’ve found bodies before,” he said. He frowned. “You okay?”

“Hm.” She rolled her heel against the ground, flattening the earth beneath it. “Yep.” She moved her foot, and the dirt sprung back like a sponge. “Yup,” she said. “Gonna head home now.” She turned and marched away, back the way she came. Branches were hanging limply where she’d broken them, leaves scattered over the ground and bushes drooping sadly where she’d burst through. She winced. There was a reason she always found another way back.

“You need a ride?” Jack called after her, but she was already gone.

*

“Another body.”

“Another body.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Is that a follow-up, or unrelated?”

“Everything’s related.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Guess so.” She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Theta peeled her hands away from her face and craned her neck to peer at him. He looked back, annoyance evident even upside-down. “Do you actually care?”

“Would you answer the question if I said yes?”

“Don’t need to. Already have.” She swung her legs over the back of the couch and sat up straight in one swift, fluid motion. “Why were you there last week?” she asked, blinking away the dark spots. “At the library?”

“Do you think it’s the same person?” he asked. “The copycat?”

She narrowed her eyes. “It fits,” she said. “Whoever killed these people was careful. Too careful. The Master’s never been this cautious, ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have to be. Desperate, too,” she added. “Younger, I’d say, smart enough, thinks he’s smarter than he is. Trying to make himself more important. Miming manipulation. Why were you there?”

“I told you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Did you ask Jack?”

“Not that,” she said. “I know how you got there. Why, though?”

He tapped out a beat on his armrest and, right as Theta was sure he was going to change the subject, said, “Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” she pressed.

He shrugged. “Call if a whim. An impulse. I was curious.”

“What, about a dead body?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Sure,” she said. “But it’s my job. It’s not yours.”

“Not exactly a crime, is it?”

“What?”

“Death,” he said. “Being curious about it, that is. Causing it. . .” He twisted his face thoughtfully. “Not so much.”

“You know, most people would be less calm around a body,” said Theta, hooking a foot over her leg. “Especially one that looked like that.”

“You weren’t,” he said.

Her nails skated up her shin, catching on her trousers. “Can I ask you something?”

“Can I stop you?”

“That night,” she said. “Well, day. Week? Not sure, sort of lost track of time.” She shook her head. “What did you do?”

“When?”

She clenched her fist, fabric bunching in her hand. “I think you know.”

The corner of his lips twitched minutely. “And I think you know.”

“Right, wrong question.” She dug her nails into the bundle of cloth until they throbbed. “Why?”

He clicked his pen. “What’s death?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “No. Not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He spread his hands innocently. “It’s just a question, Theta.”

“Answer mine first.”

He pursed his lips and dropped his hands. She held his gaze unwaveringly. He exhaled hard, nostrils flaring. “Because I wanted to,” he said stiffly.

“Why?”

He dragged his teeth over his tongue. “Try explaining an urge to a three-year old.” He shrugged. “Because I could. Because—” He shrugged again. “Don’t know. I’m the one asking the questions here.”

Theta dragged a breath in through her teeth and sagged back against the couch. “Jack,” she said slowly, “says death’s like a bramble. It clings to you, and holds, and leaves traces no matter what you do.” Or something along those lines. He’d been on his fourth beer, and slurring more than a few words.

“I know what he thinks,” said Koschei.

She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s all metaphors, right?” she said. “Can’t exactly get the answer wrong.”

“What’s your metaphor?”

She ground the point of her tooth against her tongue. Metaphors. Easy enough, right?

“It’s like a drug,” she finally said. “It lingers.”

“Do you think?”

She wet her lips. “It’s there,” she said. “Somewhere in the backdrop. In your memories, in you. It’s not something you can just wave your hand and get rid of. It’s. . .” She tapped her finger against her thigh. “Background noise. Something. You never stop chasing the high.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sort of?”

“Sort of?”

“Sort of. Is.”

“Background noise,” he repeated.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What do I think?” She nodded. He shrugged. “Could be any of those. Means different things to different people, right?” He titled his head by a fraction. “Everyone sees something else.”

Theta plucked at her sleeve. “I did miss you,” she said.

“You could have bothered to show it.”

When she left, she definitely did not slam the door shut behind her.

*

He remembered Theta, in the way a dried-out riverbed remembers the water, or a house remembers a master long since passed, or the Earth remembers space. Gone and far away, but always there, hovering over his shoulder.

He remembered towering stone walls, and empty classrooms, and fields and forests that stretched for what felt like miles. He remembered tires crunching down a gravel road, and chasing dandelion tufts under grey skies and even greyer clouds.

He remembered rocks scraping against his cheek, and the tang of iron, and watching as the river carried a pale, slip of a form downstream.

He remembered blood beneath her nails and holding her hand under a sky full of stars.

Manipulation. She would know.

It’s like a drug. It lingers.

God. Talk about ego.

[milky-mochi]

before you (2) | cyj

genre: nerd! yeonjun, nerd! reader, aged up! yeonjun, college! au, boyfriend! yeonjun

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader

summary: falling in love with choi yeonjun was like breezing through the chapters of a book, with highlights of him bookmarked in your head.

listen to: 🎶 me after you - paul kim 🎶

chapters: intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

the first time you realised you liked yeonjun, you couldn’t believe you had been blind to it for so long.

four months had passed since that first day of library club. since then, you and yeonjun formed a friendship you had come to depend on. it started out by sitting next to each other during lectures. then, it evolved into study calls, which turned into talking on the phone for hours. at the height of it all, your weekly study sessions.

thursdays were reserved for your time with yeonjun, when you both would sit at the cute little cafe across the road and pour over your books. misery felt a little less bad when done with another person.

initially, you were just there for the friendship. the study sessions became a source of comfort. the both of you were working hard to keep your reputation afloat, and yeonjun was the only one who understood your struggles. he felt your pain and your joy. there was sincere companionship in this boy that you had never found in anyone before.

eventually, these meetings meant more and more to you. they became the highlight of your day, before climbing its way into becoming the highlight of your week. before you knew it, you depended on it so much that just thinking about it brought you excitement.

but you didn’t even realise it then. you did, however, in one study session.

one thursday, your professor asked to see you after class. at first, you didn’t want to go for it. you were waiting anxiously to go see yeonjun instead. the temptation to give your professor an excuse and run off was overwhelming, but he did mention giving you some good news, and the overachiever in you had to give in.

picking up your phone, you speedily dialed yeonjun’s number. he picked up after only three rings of the dial tone, startling you. in the background, you heard the sound of cars driving by, indicating that yeonjun was already off campus.

“hey y/n! i’ll be there in a few, i’m walking over now!”

“hey yeonjun, i’m so sorry, i’m gonna be late. my professor has something to tell me so he asked me to meet him after class. i’ll probably be like, 15 minutes.”

you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting his voice to fall in disappointment or disapprovement and your heart to twist in pain. instead, his chirpy voice rang in your ears. “oh it’s okay don’t worry about it! i hope it’s good news?”

you sighed in relief, releasing a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. “he slipped that it was regarding a new opportunity, so it should be good?”

“hell yeah! go get that thing! whatever it is! i’ll wait for you at the cafe, yeah?” yeonjun said.

you laughed before humming in agreement. seeing your professor bidding you to come over, you ended the call and made your way over to his desk.

“hi professor, you wanted to see me?”

“right, y/n,” your professor started, gathering a stack of papers, “you know about the praestantia award right?”

everyone knew what the praestantia award was. it was the most prestigious scholarship a person your age could get. the scholarship was a guaranteed ticket to all the embellishments on your portfolio. all the opportunities you were dying for would easily be within your reach.

“yes of course, sir.”

“well it’s nomination period, and the english faculty has decided to nominate you under the language category,” he said, handing you an envelope. “i’ve emailed you the portal for the application, and these are the resources you’ll need to complete your application. thank you for all your hard work, y/n.”

receiving the envelope with a nod, you smiled graciously at your professor. your heart was beating out of your body with excitement. all your hard work had finally paid off into something you could be proud of. as soon as you saw your professor leave, you scooped your bag out and dashed out of the lecture theatre, heading straight for the cafe.

after running at top speed, you reached the cafe. grabbing the handles of the glass front doors, you swung them open. inside, yeonjun sat comfortably, staring down at his books. a single earbud was in his ear as he picked his pen up to write something down. his coffee sat patiently beside his pencil case.

“hey yeonjun i’m so sorry i’m late,” you sighed, sliding into your seat. after placing your bag down, you took another look at the table. raising your eyebrows, you asked, “what’s all this?”

yeonjun flashed you a sheepish smile. “well, you said you were gonna get good news, so i wanted your coffee to be here by the time you were. i got you a cake too!” he said, gesturing to the second drink and plate in front of him. “i got your favourite, hot white chocolate mocha, and the red velvet cake. i even got them to add marshmallows into the coffee, since we come here so often.”

you felt like melting, like said marshmallows were melting into your mocha.

he remembered your order. not only did he remember it perfectly, he remembered the coffee you drank for celebration, which was different from the coffee you drank when you were sad (a cold brew with coconut milk and extra sugar, yeonjun remembered that too).

“yeonjun, oh my goodness, thank you so much,” you gushed, “how much was the coffee and the cake? i’ll pay you back-”

“don’t worry about it,” yeonjun waved, melting you with yet another smile, “my treat. you deserve this, y/n.”

shit.

it was at that moment awareness knocked on the door of your mind. everything fell in place: all the stolen glances, all your smiles at the thought of him. this was the moment you realised your oblivion melted away to reveal what you had been blind to: you liked choi yeonjun.

it was, however, a very weird moment for you to realise. it was nothing like all the love scenes you had read in your books. usually the female lead came to this epiphany when the male lead hugged her in the spur of the moment, or when she got jealous of another girl, or even when he brushed his hand against hers to reach for something.

but no. you realised you liked yeonjun because he bought you coffee and a cake.

but it really did mean a lot to you. it meant so much that yeonjun cared for you enough to want to celebrate your good news, without even knowing what it was for. he made you feel seen. so, maybe, it wasn’t that weird at all.

“thank you, yeonjun,” you thanked him once again.

he smiled and told you to try the cake. you complied, picking up the fork and scraping a piece off its side. when you tasted it, your face lit up. yeonjun laughed at your smile and offered you a napkin to wipe the cream cheese frosting from the corner of your mouth.

over cake and coffee, you talked instead of studying, for the first time this semester. usually, your conversations would unfold on the way to the bus stop afterwards, and on the bus home. but that day was not a usual day, given the two new pieces of information that had shaken your world. that day, the both of you had synced mentally, subconsciously aware of the fact that both of you wanted companionship, and not to study.

you talked for a long time, about anything and everything. about all the weird times you’d experienced together: the time you caught two people making out during library club, the time your professor brought his dog to class, the time an old lady asked you guys for a recommendation on the cakes and then bought you said cake. you talked until every drop of coffee had been sipped and the white plate by your side held nothing but maroon crumbs.

once yeonjun realised that you were both finished, he asked, “by the way, what did your professor want to tell you just now?”

“oh,” you said, mouth full of your last bite of cake. you swallowed it before continuing with a proud smile staining your face. “he told me the english faculty is nominating me for the praestantia award. under the language category!”

yeonjun let out a laugh, a mixture of surprise, happiness and pride. he put his hand up, offering you a high five. “y/n that’s incredible! you deserve it so much!”

smiling brightly, you high fived yeonjun. in his excitement, yeonjun held your hand and shook it as he commended you on your achievement. he gushed about all the opportunities it would bring you, about how high you could fly with that award. he didn’t even realise your hand in his.

a blush crept up on your cheeks as you felt yeonjun’s fingers on your. how else could you respond when the guy you liked held your hand, and didn’t even realise it?

it took yeonjun a while, but when he did realise, he pulled his hand away, the same way you did the first time you placed your hand on his shoulder during library club. under his breath, he muttered a sorry as he darted his gaze away from you. you swore you could have seen a light pink dust his cheeks too.

yeonjun cleared his throat to try clearing the awkwardness lingering in the air. “well you did amazing y/n. i’m so proud of you! we should go celebrate.”

your ears perked up at his words. he wanted to celebrate your achievement? with just the two of you? your heart picked up speed as you nodded meekly, unwilling to reveal what you were actually thinking.

“where do you wanna go?” yeonjun asked, almost nervously, as he placed his hands on the table.

“the new bookshop across town,” you answered, almost too quickly. “i heard they have cats in it, and they publish their own poetry. they publish their books with the binding i like.”

“the ones with a wide margin before the text starts?” yeonjun asked. he didn’t know why he did, if he was being honest. of course he remembered your favourite type of book binding. you liked it that way because then you could read without creasing the spine of the book.

delighted that yeonjun remembered such a little thing, you nodded with spritely energy. “and they use e.b. garamond!”

looking at you geeking over the books, yeonjun laughed and promised to bring you there over the weekend. it excited you to no end. but you had to chastise yourself for being unabashedly thrilled to go to the bookstore with him. your heart swelled with unknown and unfamiliar feelings, categorizable only by whatever you had read in books. and yet, you told yourself that your life wasn’t a romance novel. this crush would go like all the ones you had before. it would result in a one-sided pining for someone who would never like you back. you told yourself not to get too ahead of yourself and to cut all this crush stuff out. yeonjun could never like you back.

but little did you know, yeonjun’s heart resounded with the same feelings for you.

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