#boredom doodles over the last week or so

[lilcatastrophe]

.. doodle meshi

[hwajin]

✞ 「 .✶۪ .° ✞ : 𝐇 𝐈 — 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 !! : a series

☆ — chapter one; Soda Pop : teaser

✞ 「 .✶۪ : see series masterlist and warnings here

✞ 「 .✶۪ : every chapter will have it's own warnings atop the general ones

✞ 「 .✶۪ : this part will appear altered in the series

You sat behind your shabby, wooden desk in the hot, sweat-scented classroom, dimming out the chattering and gossip all around you with your earphones, scribbling doodles and lyrics into your notebook. Your blue pen materialized hearts and clouds and words into your yellowish piece of paper as you waited for Mr. Hwang to enter the classroom, as you waited for the two hours of boredom to pass as quickly as it was possible – or for your teacher to talk of a subject which could interest you, for that matter.

The heavy creak of the door and the following footsteps were the reason you stopped the music which blasted in your eardrums before taking out your earphones, the silhouette of your teacher strutting through the now murmuring classroom, whispers which sounded like questions, and a general confusion spread between the students; unbeknownst to you, yet, as you packed away your phone and opened your notebook on last weeks’ notes, before you finally converted your eyes to the front, finally caught a peak of you teacher; though it wasn’t the teacher you’ve expected to walk into the classroom, not Mr. Hwang, and your jaw would have hit the rough wood of your table if you’d had been any slower at gathering yourself. The man – not a stranger, though unseen and unthought of by you for the past five years – made his way into the spacy classroom, brown briefcase in hand, white dress shirt hugging the lines of his muscles, the ones on his arms exposed as he’d rolled up his sleeves. His attire was missing the tie you remembered him in, and, different to five years ago, the two top buttons of his shirt lay open around his chest – not showing inappropriate skin, though enough to tease, almost, to make you drool in your seat. His black dress pants moved with him as he settled behind his desk, briefcase on the table, one watch-adorned wrist making its’ way into his pants’ pocket leisurely as he looked around the class. He was visibly older, now that you had a good view of him – smile lines deeper, skin more textured, a certain calmness writing his pleasant features –he was just as attractive as you remembered him to be; more so, you’d dare to argue.

“Hi, my name is Mr. Bahng. Professor Hwang suddenly fell ill, unfortunately, and I’ll be his substitute teacher for the time being. I normally don’t teach college classes, but other professors sadly didn’t have the time – I’m well acquainted with Professor Hwang, though, so I agreed to take over his class for a few weeks.”

He was friendly. A charming smile adorned his face, a slight blush played around his nose as he looked around the room, looking at each student for a second or two before locking eyes with the next. For closure, for trust. Then he locked eyes with you, and it felt just like five years ago, when you were fresh eighteen years old, and a bored high school student in your last year before graduation.

☆.☆.☆

“I’ve never been so excited for class, oh my god.”

You had sat giddily in your seat, anticipating the arrival of your new music teacher. You had only seen him once so far, last week, when he had freshly relocated to the high school you’d gone to, and had been, quite literally and much to Felix’s misery and irritation, head over heels for the man – not because your friend had borne a crush for you; simply because you’d been utterly annoying with your high school love for your teacher. You’d known your yearning had been futile even back then, had known that Mr. Bahng wasn’t possibly interested in a mere girl who had just turned eighteen, yet you’d been young and in need for fun distraction, for amusement. And if that meant drooling over a young, hot teacher who had been just your type, it seemed, then you couldn’t complain.

Next to you, Felix had huffed in amusement as you kept eyeing the entrance door of the classroom, then the clock on the wall in front of you, then the door again. He had prepped his material for class already, in much contrast to your own entirely empty desk; saved for a piece of paper and a pen borrowed from your dearest high school friend.

“Your crush is getting unhealthy… he’s not gonna fuck you, you know.”

Felix hadn’t been judging, yet his voice had been teasing. You’d shot him a glance, had tsked at him which your friend returned with a mocking impression of you – fluttering eye-lids, airy lashes, a dumb-ish smile adorning his face.

“I know he’s not gonna fuck me… that’s not the point, though. Class is boring, and you take your academics way too serious to distract me from it.”, you’d retorted sarcastically, which Felix had accepted with a light-hearted scoff, going back to his notes from last week. You hadn’t been wrong; he wanted to get into college, and with good grades preferably. He’d known you had other priorities; he’d respected, enjoyed, even, your passion for music, and you’d had always have the talent for it. The two of you had always been inherently different, though it had never bothered your friendship in the slightest.

Just as Felix had been about to retort with a snarky comment – or another far too accurate impression of your behaviour whenever Mr. Bahng was around – the door to the classroom had opened, and your music teacher had walked in – dress shirt buttoned up all the way, sleeves rolled down even in the hot weather, a careful tie adorning his fit. There’d been fewer lines of muscle back then, though they had been prominent enough to drive your teenage mind utterly insane. Your eyes had been glued onto him as he had welcomed the class, and Felix had struggled containing his laughter; you had been bashing your eyes at him, and you had been wearing a stupid smile around your lips at a mere look at him, just like your friend had mocked about earlier – and you had been either unaware of it, or you hadn’t been bothered enough to care.

You had eyed your teacher the entire lesson, and as much as Felix had wanted to stay focused, he had giggled and laughed at you, amused at your heart-eyes for someone so entirely unattainable. More often than once you had been in need to copy Felix’s notes because your thoughts – and eyes – had been elsewhere than the board, and more often than not Felix had pretended to stop helping you out in class any further, until you’d gotten over your crush; only in light hearted manner, though, because he couldn’t truly deny you of his help, would have felt far too bad to. Though, Felix had always admired your self-reflection in the matter of Mr. Bahng – there hadn’t been one incident in which you’d been unaware of the hopelessness and the unattainability your one-sided love presented – much to his dismay, because during free windows you would complain about it to no end –; and altogether, you had never spoken of love, in the first place. It had been butterflies, distraction from lessons, stupidity and immaturity – and you had always been aware of it; had always been aware of the impossibility.

Now, five years later, that same teacher was standing before you, substituting your music professor, looking as good as you remembered him to; better yet, even. He stood before you — and everything seemed suddenly less impossible, palpable, almost.

series taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/ removed!): @chrizzztopherbang @qtieskz @rylea08 @miss-fallon @sikebishes @h0n3yj4y @lashaemorow

general taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @astraystayyh

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 3

Before you knew it, hours melted into days, and suddenly the whole week had flown by in a blur. Over this time, you had taken to visiting Aeson, creating a routine. Around the start of his shift, you’d appear, you’d talk, laugh at the poor customers buying a smoothie, talk some more, and eventually he’d start teaching you how to use your wings.

It was a wild ride, quite literally. Your wings unfurled and, for a few glorious minutes, you soared through the sky like a majestic bird. The wind underneath your baby-white feathers not only felt good… it felt right. Each beat of your wings propelled you higher, carrying you away from the confines of the city below.

There was a freedom in flight, a sense of liberation that you definitely didn’t feel walking on the ground below. The air rushed past you, teasing strands of hair and fluttering against your skin like an affectionate lover. You reveled in the sensation, feeling weightless as you soared through the heavens.

It never lasted long, however, as your horrible stamina always bit you in the ass after a few minutes. Your wings would ache and your chest would heave, signaling it was time to land. You had learned your lesson to listen to the signs, lest you want to crash-land into another bird bath.

At one point during your lesson, after he had helped you safely land, Aeson had broken and dropped to his knees, begging with clasped hands in mock desperation for you to “get a job” so the two of you could “go bowling or something.” You refused to even be associated with the smoothie stand, though you spent most days there. However, getting a paycheck didn’t sound like a half bad idea.

That’s how you found yourself mixing drinks and handing out pastries at the cozy coffee stand right across from Aeson. Working there proved to be a pleasant surprise. The tasks were straightforward, the pay was remarkably high and, best of all, the food was a vast improvement from the smoothies. As customers streamed in and out, you found yourself constantly busy.

Meanwhile, across the street, Aeson was struggling to stave off boredom. With no customers to tend to, nor annoying angels to entertain, he took to doodling on the chalkboard menu. Usually he sketched caricatures of your customers, or occasionally, crude doodles of you. Although you always laughed, your attention was often divided, torn between the amusing drawings, and the constant searching.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the promenade, there was always one thing on the back of your mind– those stupid, pretty, elusive wings. Ever since that fateful first encounter, they seemed to tease you, either appearing fleetingly in the crowd, or in the corner of your eye. Each sighting left you both exhilarated and frustrated, like chasing after a breeze that always seemed to slip through your fingers.

The first time you had seen those wings was when you were leant over the counter, chatting and laughing with Aeson. He had made a stacked pyramid of smoothie cups, working hard to make sure it stayed balanced. At each slight wind, he jumped to keep it safe. Obviously, your natural reaction was to start flicking your wings to make him sweat.

As you laughed particularly hard at one of his faces, a pair of golden wings came batting down, sending Aeson’s tower of cups crashing. He let out a small, pathetic whimper, ducking to pick up the mess. You, however, spun around indignantly, ready to defend your friend. Although, by the time you finished your rotation, they were gone. Since then, they seemed to keep reappearing.

As you were on the verge of catching a glimpse of the elusive owners of those golden wings, your moment was rudely interrupted by a customer. With her platinum white bob and a dominating demeanor to match, she practically oozed bitch as she approached the counter.

Greaaat.

Forcing a nervous smile, you greeted her with strained politeness. "What can I get you?"

"Just one coffee," she replied curtly, shoving the exact change into your hand before you could even finish speaking.

"Ah, thank you..." you muttered, mentally bracing yourself for what was sure to be an unpleasant interaction.

While you prepared her drink, you stole a quick glance over at Aeson, only to find him proudly displaying his latest creation – a not-so-flattering portrait of your less-than-friendly customer. You managed a weak smile in response, too apprehensive to react any further.

Finally, you finished the drink and handed it over to her, eager to move on to the next customer before she could cause any more trouble. But before you could make your escape, she leveled a sharp gaze at you.

"Are you two courting?"

You blinked in confusion, taken aback by her sudden question. "Excuse me?"

With an exasperated huff, she pointed an accusatory finger in Aeson's direction. He, in turn, scrambled to erase his incriminating doodle and ducked down behind the counter, guilt written all over his face. “Are you two dating. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Realization hit.

"Oh, OH! Oh, heaven's no!" you exclaimed, “He's the only friend I have here!"

"Sad," the woman remarked with a sip of her coffee, her tone dripping with condescension. "But good. See you later."

And just like that, she flew off, leaving you to bask in her weird comments. With the shake of your head, you got back to work, ignoring Aeson as he tried to mouth something about a… flute?

—

After a long day of bustling activity at the coffee stand, you were more than ready for a change of pace. As your shift finally came to a close, you couldn't wait to meet up with Aeson for another round of flying lessons. Hanging up your apron, you scanned the promenade eagerly, and there he was, Aeson, leaning casually against a lamppost with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Hey there!" he greeted you with a wide grin as you approached. "Ready to take to the skies again?"

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding with anticipation. Together, you set off down the sidewalk, chatting animatedly as you made your way to your favorite spot for flying practice – a quiet park nestled away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

As you entered the park, a sense of tranquility washed over you, the sounds of the city fading into the background as you found yourselves surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds.

You spread your wings, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation course through your veins. Aeson took the lead, his movements graceful and fluid as he soared effortlessly into the sky, beckoning you to follow.

With a deep breath, you launched yourself into the air, the wind rushing past you as you ascended higher and higher. The world fell away beneath you, replaced by the vast expanse of the sky stretching out in every direction.

Together, you laughed and cheered, reveling in the sheer freedom of flight as you performed loops and dives, weaving through the clouds with the ease of birds in flight. With each passing moment, you felt more alive than ever before.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, you reluctantly descended back to earth, your hearts still pounding with adrenaline.

“Oh hey!” You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. “We’re really close to my house! Want to stop by and grab a water?”

Aeson teasingly smirked. “Ah, inviting me in for a drink, are we? So forward.”

You swat the smug bastard as he squawks, attempting to dodge. You chase him down the street until you end up in front of your apartment door. It unlocks as you get closer, and you slow down to walk him inside.

He immediately makes himself at home, snooping through your kitchen drawers and pictures. You ignore him, choosing to search your pantry for bottles of water. As he reaches the fridge, however, his face pales.

“Why do you have an invite from The Adam?”

[ashpkat]

ash dump ideas u never completed or just had on me

idk what fandom. and idc

feel high but also dead rn so j need some brain juice.... please, dickmaster ash the smash.....

oh boy i can do you one worse better. here’s an unfinished first chapter of a cassidy blake fusion au idea i had for magisterium. (u don’t need to know what cassidy blake is to understand but it’s by v.e. schwab)

Call had always been able to see ghosts. Somewhat. He could feel ghosts than he could see on a regular basis, it required a little work to actually see the ghosts. There were some rules. The Veil rule, for instance. How ghosts could only be seen in the Veil. With one exception of course.

Some people think ghosts only come out on Halloween, or during the night. That was not true, not by a long shot. Just because people couldn’t see them doesn’t mean they weren’t there. They could be anywhere, in some poor old lady’s garden, the bread aisle of the supermarket, the front seat of a bus, anywhere. 

Call could feel when a ghost is near. It was something reminiscent of the pitter patter of rain on a window, or maybe someone lightly tapping him on the shoulder. In other more severe cases, sometimes it was like a pulsing headache or someone digging their nails into his brain. 

It happened at random. And this certainly wasn’t the first time he felt it, and it wouldn’t be the last, either. Call was sitting in his desk during Algebra when it began, the tap tap tap. Like always, he tried to ignore it. Key word was tried. It chiseled away at his focus, and there was only one way Call knew that would make it go away. If he went and saw for himself.

Which more often than naught, he doesn’t want to go do. He can tell Aaron doesn’t either, because across the room when Call met his eye, met the intense glare he’s giving him from his seat. Very intense, like terminator laser death intense (Calls never seen the Terminator, so he doesn’t know if they actually shoot lasers but he thinks they probably should because that would be cool). 

Aaron couldn’t feel the tapping, but he knew his best friend well enough to realize when Call does. 

Call shifted in his seat, bouncing his leg absentmindedly. It had gotten stiff and painful from sitting down all day. The teacher just kept droning on. 

“When you get the variable X in this scenario isolated then you’ll have to…” Mr. Graves wheezed out as if he’d been smoking for thirty years. Knowing the amount of stress his students cause him, he probably had.

People around the room were getting antsy with their boredom. No one could even stay still. Rafe wqs sleeping with his eyes open, Kai doodles on their shoes, Kylie and Lacy were giggling and passing notes to each other. 

It was nothing good, Call assumed, because nothing good comes out of popular kids. That’s what Kylie and Lacy were, popular. He could tell because of their bleach blonde hair and perfectly painted nails and how they all looked like carbon copies of eachother. 

They’re usually all had similar personalities too — being general assholes. Kylie has once told Call not to get too close because she thought his bum leg might be contagious. Call fumed for at least 2 weeks after that (and still, 7 years later, he still was).

Maybe he should’ve wanted to be popular, but that was never his style (both literally and figuratively). There were just too many rules, like laugh at jokes but don’t laugh too loud. Smile but not too wide. Wear the right clothes. Play the right sports. Care, but don’t care too much. Etcetera, etcetera.

Call had rules he lived by, like rules with Aaron, but those were different.

 Kylie flicked the note in front of her, over to Lacy’s desk, but she missed and it floated to the floor like a leaf in the wind. From his seat, Call can see Aaron strike a rare, impish grin. 

“I know just what will get your mind off this ghost tap,” said Aaron. Call looked over at him, cocking an eyebrow with mild surprise.

The thing about Aaron was this: he could be popular. He could be the star quarterback. He could be the teenage heartthrob of the school. But he couldn’t.

Because Aaron was dead. He’s a ghost.

Aaron got out of his seat and sauntered over to Lacy’s desk, she’s retrieved the note and is stifling a giggle as she scribbled a reply.

He read aloud over her shoulder, but Call was the only one who can hear him, “Top ten cutest boys in the school,” Aaron feigned surprise, “not to spoil anything but.. number one is Ryan.”

Call rolled his eyes. He could see as Lacy turned around and placed her response on Kylie’s desk, her arm went straight through Aarons torso. Aaron shivered. Then, he turned his body to face Kylie's desk, gingerly putting his fingers on one of the many multi-colored pens that lined it. He focused all his attention on it, scrunching up his semi-transparent tan face. It doesn't move.

In movies, poltergeists could throw TV's and slide beds across the floor. But in reality, it took a lot of ghost energy to cross the Veil -- which is what Call dubbed the little curtain that separated the living and the dead. And the ghosts who do have that energy are typically super old and not very pleasant. Luckily they've never had to deal with one of those. Call was secretly glad that Aarons wasn’t made of all that stuff.

Aaron caught Call staring at his pen escapade and sheepishly smiles, as if he knew he's probably not supposed to be doing that. Then he gracefully clipped himself through the floor and reappeared next to Call. 

He perched himself on Calls desk, effectively hindering what little attention Call was paying. 

“I’d say that didn’t get your mind off it, hm?” Aaron cracked a half smile.

Yeah, actually maybe a little, but now all I can think about are Ryan’s chiseled abs, Call thought to himself, careful not to speak aloud. That was one major perk of having a ghost best friend, he never even had to open your mouth to have a conversation, with the mind link and all. He doesn't quite understand why their minds are linked, however.

“Better than thinking about ghosts right?” Aaron said, but as he does Call could feel the tapping getting stronger. Like an itch at the edge of his vision, pulling and begging for him to look that way. Aaron sighed and shot him a sympathetic look as he hopped down from his desk.

It really only made Call think more about ghosts, and not just the one pestering him, somewhere far in the school, but also Aaron. Call doesn’t know how long it’s been since.. the incident. He tried not to think about it too loud, since Aaron typically gets a little upset when Call mentioned it— how he got stuck actually being a ghost.

He couldn’t have been dead for too long, since there’s not anything retro about him with his floppy blonde hair, Nikes, and Marvel T-shirt. And also because he’s only showed up as of lately, and lately being the last 2 years. It was when Call was 12, and his dad had gotten some weird antique with some weird ghost boy seemingly attached to it. 

“I prefer the term corporally challenged.” Aaron rolled his eyes at Call.

Quit reading my thoughts you freak, Call shot back at him, can’t I get any privacy? 

“It’s not my fault you’re a loud thinker,” he retorted. “Also for the record, I wasn’t attached to the antique! I was following the pull back to you. Things aren’t haunted like that. You know that’s not how it works.”

Thats not what my dad says, Call hid his laugh with a swift cough into his hand. A few people turn and look at him anyway. He sunk lower into his seat and eyes the clock. The tapping was getting worse.  

Calls dad, Alastair, had always been a little obsessed with antiques and the history behind them. Lately, he had been inching towards supernatural territory. Actually no, not just inching, it was a full on sprint into spectral space.

It was like a switch being flipped in his brain, and all Alastair wanted to buy now are creepy old dolls that looked like they would be haunted but weren’t. Call would’ve known if they are. And it wasn’t like Call could ever tell his dad that, because he’d go crazy and try to interrogate him. Alastair had even been talking to some medium that claims he can see ghosts, but Call doubted. He’d met the guy and he couldn’t even see Aaron, so that was enough evidence for a faker for him. 

Maybe he’s going through a midlife crisis, Call thinks to Aaron. He just crinkled his nose at Call and shook his head.

”I don’t think Alastair believes the medium can actually see ghosts,” Aaron said slowly. “Maybe he just likes the company. If you’re catching my drift.”

Call tried hard to not let his face twist up and make it look like he was constipated. No? Whats the drift i’m missing here?

”You know,” he sighed, “that they’re not just chatting about ghosts? They’re getting… romantical?” At Call’s blank face, he gave up the ghost (ha) and soldiered on. “Is the tapping still there?” Aaron asked, even though Call was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

Sure is, he replied and rubbed the back of his neck. Like a knock, knock, knocking on the base of his skull. It was telling him that there’s some serious paranormal activity going on. Call sighed. He could certainly do without all this spectral nonsense, he couldn’t wait for Summer. Because in Summer, Call could get full nights rests without hearing the tap of the Veil and rather the sounds of Alastair tinkering with cars in the garage. There's something odd about the Hunts house, because Call found that it’s strangely quieter than the rest of the town, especially in Summer. Six weeks of quiet, six weeks of Summer sun and reading comic books with Aaron, six weeks of almost feeling normal with his best friend. All Call has to do was make it through these final days.

Call raised his hand like the dutiful student he was. Mr. Graves saw him and gave him a stern look, already knowing Calls question wouldnt be about math.

“Yes, Callum?” He exhaled, sick of him even though he hadn’t even spoken yet.

”Can I use the bathroom?” Call shuffled in his seat and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling, but the tapping was persistent. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Aaron sigh and frown. It didn’t take a genius to understand where Call planned to go with this.

”Can’t it wait?” Mr. Graves sighed wearily, “I’m in the middle of very detailed instructions. You’ll miss them.”

Call scowled, ”You know I’ll miss them anyway, even if I was in the room, now c’mon I really gotta go!”

Mr. Graves looked considering, eyeing Call like he was some disease-ridden freak. Then he sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose with his pointed and his thumb.

"Fine. But make it quick, do not dawdle," he waved him off and turned back to the board.

Call was already out of his seat and snatching the hall pall before Mr. Graves could even think about finishing his sentence. He shuffled out of that stuffy classroom as fast as his leg would allow. In the hallway, Aarons slightly transparent head popped out of a wall, and he didn't look too pleased. Call hardly spared him a glance as he limped down the staircase, his footsteps audible in the nearly silent hallway

"Can we just be normal for once?" Aaron asked, sounding a bit sad. He’d floated down the steps instead of walking, which Call was jealous of. If he was undead, he’d sure love to go without the constant pain in his left leg.

"You're a ghost. And I can see you. That's not normal, so I doubt normal is something we could even achieve." Call hissed at him, the tapping was pulling him somewhere weird.

Call back tracked. It pulled him like a rope attached to his gut right down into a completely seperate hallway.

A locker door swung open and hit Aaron in the face. Call instinctively flinches, but he passed through it like it was nothing. He appeared to be sulky.

"Well you could at least try and be normal," he muttered.

"Whats that supposed to mean?" Call stopped dead in his tracks and glared in the other boys direction. Aaron held his hands up in surrender. He looked apologetic enough for making Call mad, which irked him a little because Aaron was just too nice.

The thing was, they both knew that Call wasn’t a normal boy and Aarons not a normal ghost. There was an accident, snow and ice, cars screeching, and slipping into darkness. And then Call was whole again, flash forward 13 years, and a ghost soon-to-be best friend showed up in Calls house. (a/n: fix/ ??? dunno if i want this to be canon)

Call turned away, skulking off and letting the tapping pull him away. He doesn't even have to think about where he had to go. He ducked into the library, the librarian was somewhere in the backroom, therefore, she couldn't and wouldn't bother Call. Call slunk in between the rows of books. By now, the tapping was more a thudding. This was probably, no, definitely where he needed to be. Aaron appeared in front of him, bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

“I mean this: have you ever tried to ignore the tapping? Just wait it out?” Aaron crossed his arms, “I know, I know..”

“Do you though?” Call exclaimed, but quickly lowered his voice when he realized where he was, “We’ll be quick, in and out.”

Aaron frowned, “But…”

“In and out.” He repeated.

After contemplating silence, the tension in Aarons body eased and he sighed, “fine. Rule number 9 of friendship, friends don’t leave friends in the Veil.”

“Bingo.” Call shot him quick finger guns.

Behind him, Call reached for light airy fabric. It’s wasn’t actual physical fabric, but it was the only tangible way to describe crossing over into the Veil. He pulled it away and let himself fall. Then it was all black and Call felt sharp cold air pierce his lungs, his fingers turning icy, and his whole body becoming overwhelmingly cold.

And then it was again, Calls was back to his normal self. Except, he wasn’t. Not in the veil. He was slightly more translucent than before, and there’s a glowing blue, almost grey, light inside his chest. Beside him is Aaron, looking more solid than not— however he lacked the glowing light inside, telling Call he is indeed still a—

“Ghost?” Aaron sighed, “You’re thinking a lot today? What’s up?”

“Now is not the time for our therapy sessions,” Call snapped back.

(the ghost is jennifer? idk? canon book was that ghost died in a fire but maybe the bookshelves crushed her / someone pushed the shelves?)

(call goes home. uhhh. oh yeah the medium is constantine this is another alastine au. alastair is like surprise we’re going on vacation to salem and call is Fuck)

the only other notes i had for this was

Salem, Massachusetts

(3 locations minimum:

Burying Point Cemetary,

The Witch House,

Protectors Ledge,

House of the seven Gables,

Rockafellas(I HAVE AN ACTUAL FUNNY IDEA),

The Salem Inn,

Wicked Good Books(Tam), Gallows Hill)

- Ghost boy!Aaron

- Ghost Hunter!Call

- Ghost Hunter!Tamara

- Regular boy!Jasper deWinter that gets dragged along w/ Tamara

- Big bad!Maugris, steals Souls in hopes to get a body because he’s a fucking idiot and doesn’t know that’s Not How It Works LMAOOOO

- one sided calron :( but call doesn’t end up with any one in the end

- this is future ash i don’t remember how aaron died but i think he got murdered? idk it was really really weird. in cassidy blake, jacob (the ghost best friend) drowned to death trying to get smthing for his sibling but. eh. aaron has no siblings)

- deadass remember nothing abt this au. btw don’t remember what the funny idea was for rockafellas im so sad i remember losing it at SOMETHINg

Anyway

YO reblog this shit if you want me to share more of my unfinished ideas / chapters

[stumachersfavoritegirl]

His favorite Girl <3

Prologue

It's 8 am exactly when I open the door to English class. "You're late", the teacher scoffs and I throw my hands up in surrender. There's no way I'm getting detention again for defending myself. 'Just roll your eyes and let him have this one' I tell myself as I basically run to my chair to sit, placing my books on the desk. I sling my backpack on the back of the seat and get a quick glimpse over my shoulder of Stu Macher. He's wearing a yellow knitted sweater with visible tears around the collar, with a white shirt underneath. His left hand is decorated with silver rings while his right is completely bare. He's dwindling with his pencil in his left while his right gently taps his knee. His cargo pants are a darker shade of olive and his black boots were definitely meant to be a statement piece, as he taps his right foot on the ground repetitively. He's loudly listening to Slipknot in his headphones while he gently bumps his head to the base mouthing a few words, I watch him discreetly, smirking as I witness his dimples make a few appearances effortlessly. I turn away quickly before our eyes meet but I let my ears listen to what he is, "Killers are quite". It's one of my favorite songs off their album "Mate.Feed.Kill.Repeat" and I can't help but smirk to myself. As the teacher begins the class, I open my notebook to doodle in the meantime, scribbling some Mrs.Macher(s) here and there before beginning to copy the notes on the chalkboard. I rest my elbow on the desk and hold my head up with my hand sighing. Ugh, I could've swore he went over this last week. I turn subtly to get a glimpse of Stu again. I hate that his seats behind me. Whenever I need a little break from boredom in class, staring at his features was always entertaining. Those piercing blue eyes, dimples that would penetrate his cheeks, a smile so big you couldn't help but not smile too. His 6'4 lanky frame, he towered over everyone he approached, those long fingers he'd sometimes decorate with rings. The back of them were so veiny, and whenever I'd catch a glimpse of him pulling his sleeves back, I could see the veins trail up his arm perfectly. He always almost hid his frame but you could tell he was toned underneath the sweaters and baggy shirts. I began to fantasize about what underneath his shirt would reveal and it was hard to not get lost in the fantasy of Stu Machers possibly but most likely 8 inch penis. How girthy it'd be, would it be veiny? Would there be a curve? How well would he know how to use it? Where did he learn how to use it? At this point, I'm getting ahead of myself, but it's hard not to. I feel my face beginning to heat up as I bite my lip, imagining all the different things he'd do to me. Missionary? Doggy? Ugh, just imagining straddling him as he aggressively just pou-wait... is he staring back at me? Wait, am I starring at him? Have I been this whole time? Fuck fuck FUCK! I quickly avert my eyes as I feel my face burst with heat. I know he can see how red my cheeks are from his seat which makes them burn even more. I cover my face, acting as if I'm just resting my head in the palm of my hand again. I didn't look behind me for the rest of the class, but I swear I could feel someone burning holes into the back of my head.

////////////////////////

The bell finally rings, and I quickly close my notebook and gather all my textbooks and school supplies. My face is most likely still bloodshot red from the trauma of Stu Macher finally catching me staring him down like a creep for god knows how long. Stu Macher was completely out of my league. I'm 4'11, with a warm olive skin tone and freckles that decorate my entire face. My eyebrows are bushy and never tamed, my hair is rarely washed therefore it's always in an updo. My glasses are way too big for my face and my dad would never let me dress like Tatum, so unfortunately, I'm stuck with wearing my older sisters hand me downs which entailed to overalls, long skirts, sweats, mom jeans, baggy sweaters, oversized hoodies and loose shirts. Anything possible that could hide my already small but chunky frame. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I stand up, slugging my backpack over my shoulder, exiting the class. I'm completely avoiding anything in his direction in fear he's already looking at me in disgust. But to my disbelief, a hand appears on my right shoulder as I reach the doorway. It almost startles me, and I jump slightly. "Woah, a little jumpy there huh?" He teases me as he looks down at me and it makes me completely flustered. "It's me Stu, you know me, right?" His face forms a grin and I blush profusely as I quickly nod, pursing my lips together and looking away from his gaze. He turns to face me and begins to walk backwards besides me "You're y/n right? A few buddies of mine let me know you're the Woodsboro hookup for all and every homework assignment possible. " He says, scanning me up and down, never looking behind him to see if any traffic is headed his way. Every student that passes him makes a note to barely graze him. His grin is spread from ear to ear and I look down as I barely mumble, "What do you need help with?"

"Small voice for a small girl huh?" He quickly lifts his brows and winks at me before continuing, "I need your help with algebra..." he says as he playfully face palms himself and sticks his tongue out, "Of course right?" He says as he laughs at himself. He faces forward and begins to walk besides me normally. "And...maybe English but I'll have to get back to you with that one." He points at me while crinkling his face with uncertainty, then stands in front of me, completely blocking my path and I almost collide into him, but he grabs my shoulders before I can and looks down at me, with the biggest puppy dog eyes I've ever seen. His sharp blue eyes penetrate my dark green ones and I almost feel helpless. "You got me, right y/n?" He says, tilting his head a little to the right. My eyes are darting every which way to avoid his, I stick to looking down and I gently nod. He burst into excitement and makes a "cha-ching" motion with his hands, before quickly bending down to bear hug me. The only thing I can do is stand there in complete and utter shock from the amount of physical contact we've had in the last 4 minutes, and probably the most I'll ever have with him for the rest of the school year. I already know my face is blood shot red because as he's walking away he says, "Thanks, I'll see you at your locker after lunch, okay! And take off that sweater man, you look real real hot." He burst into laughter before he takes off running down the hallway. Everyone steps out of his way as he laughs manically, cutting the corner sharply. I'm still stuck in the place he left me at, I'd probably stand there all day if people hadn't started bumping into me to get to their classes. "Get out of the way, sheesh" I hear someone mutter as they brush past me, and it completely snaps me out of his trance. I push my glasses farther up my nose before tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ear, blinking rapidly as I join the crowd of students in the hallway treading dreadfully to their next destinations. Holy shit, what the fuck just happened? I can't believe Stu Macher just spoke to me, not even, h-he touched me, h-he hugged me. Jesus...and all you did y/n is stand there awkwardly? I wasn't even laughing at his jokes, I didn't even hug him back! Urgh! I mentally face palm myself as I reach my locker. I headbutt my locker gently as I look down at the floor, shaking my head. How much of a loser could I be right now? He tried to make me laugh at least 3 times and I just sat there like a Dimwit looking down. How could I not hug him? How could- I lose my train of thought as I begin to smell something. It's a musk that comes over me, it's a hint of marijuana with something else. Almost earthy, very vetiver. I look down at my shirt before grabbing the collar to lift to my nose. I inhale deeply and close my eyes as I let his smell wash over me, as I let it take me somewhere calming, and it does. I let go of my collar before opening my eyes, fixating it on my locker combination, completely relaxed. Well, at least I have another chance to fix it. I'm seeing him after school today, aren't I? I can't screw it up this time. . I have to talk to him, I have to try and tell him how I've always felt. God, I mean why do I have to be such a pussy? There's literally nothing that's stop- my thoughts come to a screeching halt as I watch Tatum Riley walk past me in the hallway. Her hair flows in the wind as her hips sway from left to right gracefully, her black chunky sandals drawing everyones attention to her and I know she loves it too, attention whore. She's walking around the hallways in the shortest plaid skirt she could find and a fitted long sleeve turtleneck. Popping her gum in a frenzy and my insides cringe. What does Stu even see in her? I roll my eyes as I grab a few textbooks from my locker and close it. Fuck Tatum Riley, it's my turn to be Stu Machers "Favorite Girl."

[firstaidspray]

When this week is over I think I'll share all my Gosling doodles from work, and i mean EVERY SINGLE ONE since I started the job. They're stuck on a calendar in the office as a group (except for the first two I did, of K and Holland, which are here at my house) but I also have pics of them individually. At first I just did it on my first day bc I was bored but then it became a daily routine. I pick a random image of him from my phone and then doodle it right when I get to work. Sometimes I'll pick a specific character if I'm in the mood for him (for example I watched The Nice Guys last night so I drew Holland today, same with Drive and Driver the other day) but mostly I just pick a random photo. It's a fun way to commit time theft and combat boredom and show my obsession for Babygoose 💖

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Some fantasyAU Virgil sketches and doodles!

When boredom strikes, y'know?

Honestly I think my art flow has been broken because of coming back to school this last week, I don't have the time to sit down for six hours straight to draw, so things take longer ;-;

So there'll probably be more paper doodles or sketchy things now than there were over the summer xP

[call-me-the-cassie]

Between the Lines

Written for @liiilyevans for the Potterverse Gift exchange. This got out of hand and developed into a multichapter fic, but I'll try to post a part every day. Happy holidays!

No one could reasonably expect to meet their soulmate in Introductory Mechanics, mused Lily halfway into her first class of the semester, but the boy with messy hair sitting two rows ahead of her would do quite well as the star of her daydreams for a while.

If she were the sort to lie to herself, Lily would have pretended that he hadn’t caught her attention the moment she walked into the lecture room and saw him already there, looking unduly excited about what was supposed to be the toughest class that year. As someone who considered such deception beneath her, however, Lily freely admitted that she was instantly attracted to the bloke, his enthusiasm for lectures scheduled at 8:00 AM notwithstanding.

Dear bloke in grey hoodie, she started writing absentmindedly as Professor Flitwick went on about the quality of work he expected from his students,

You must really love Mechanics, to be so awake. You’re hanging on to Flitwick’s every word, it’s almost sickening. I would not have thought you’d be a teacher’s pet. Can you not feel the boredom in the air? Does it not lull you to sleep? I’m no mechanics hater myself, but it’s simply too early for this. You’re not an early morning person, are you? I thought you were cute, but this might be a deal breaker. I can’t daydream about a guy who likes doing things at 8:00 AM, it would never work.

I’ll wait till the next lecture to judge you harshly, but you’re on shaky ground. You’re lucky I like your hair.

Later, Lily.

As far as letters went, that was probably not her best effort, but Lily had no intentions of sending the grey-hoodie-messy-hair dude her silly little note. No, she’d just been trying to stay awake while Flitwick went on an unrelated tangent, that was all.

I’m already tired of this class, she texted her roommate after the hour was finally over and she left the depressingly dull room.

That’s why I’m not there:), Mary texted back, and how Lily envied her new friend’s ability to skip classes without the slightest bit of guilt. She, however, didn’t work that way, so she resigned herself to the long, exhausting semester looming ahead.

Two days later, Lily had almost forgotten about the messy haired boy when she walked into her second mechanics lecture, determined to not let her mind drift away from the topic at hand, no matter how sweet sleep may seem.

Her good intentions lasted all of twenty minutes, before Flitwick started a brief recap and her attention wandered away.

She glanced lazily around the room, her eyes brightening a little when she saw the boy who had caught her attention a couple of days ago.

Dear grey hoodie bloke, she wrote again,

I can’t tell if you’re still listening to Flitwick, but you seem suspiciously awake to me. What’s your secret, grey hoodie bloke? Is it those doodles you’re doodling right now? At least, I assume you’re doodling, because there’s nothing to write here. Unless you’re so much of a swot that you’re taking notes of a RECAP. You’re not, are you? I mean, I admire due diligence towards work, but this is just pointless. It’s okay to zone out a bit, really.

Oh crap, he’s moved on to the next topic. Later, grey hoodie bloke.

Lily had to admit that Flitwick was a good teacher, but it was pointless trying to deny that no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t maintain her focus through his slow paced teaching, not so early in the day.

She also had to admit that her missives to the boy she had christened grey hoodie bloke certainly made things more interesting. Her notes were interspersed with random observations written to him, and it kept her attention centred in the lecture room.

His name was James Potter, she found out a week later when they both hung back after class to ask Flitwick a few questions about an assignment. He seemed a pleasant enough fellow, she decided, despite the fact that he was almost annoyingly perky in the early morning classes.

I’ll look past your morning chirpiness, she wrote another day,

But only because I’m planning on asking to borrow your notes later, so your state of alertness works to my advantage, really. You’re an unwitting minion in my diabolic plots, Potter.

She caught him before leaving, and he relinquished his notes with a smile that made Lily’s heart beat a little faster, but he seemed to be in too much of a hurry to stay and chat.

“You can return them tomorrow, yeah?”, he asked, and when Lily nodded in reply, he rushed out the door with a friendly wave in her direction.

If Lily was disappointed with the length of the conversation, she at least had no reason to complain when she found that his notes were thorough enough to suit her purposes.

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Hawks x Reader Warnings: N/A Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4.5k Synopsis: You're surprised when your best friend tells you she's dating pro hero Hawks. As you get to know him throughout his frequent visits to the tea shop you work at, your uncertain despisal of him may just turn into romance. 

When your best friend told you that she was dating the number two hero you laughed in her face. “It’s true!” she pleaded. Her eyes gleamed against the hanging lights in your kitchen. She looked as if she were a lovestruck middle schooler doodling hearts and writing her initials in the margins of her notepad. But you knew her like the back of your hand and you were well aware of her habit of compulsive lying.

You spent the following week teasing her relentlessly for making up such an outlandish lie. Yui Nakamura, your best friend in the world. She was an up-and-coming actress who claimed that she was slowly taking Japan by storm.

“I guess I just caught the number two hero’s heart from my last film,” she told you. It was all she could talk about for a solid week, leaving you rolling your eyes and sticking your tongue out in a fake gagging motion every time his name was brought up.

It wasn’t until she brought him into your place of work that you finally realized she was telling the truth. The small jingle bells tied to the doorknob of the shop rang as you were crouched behind the counter, sorting loose tea leaves into their respective jars.

“This is my favorite place to get an iced tea in this hot weather,” her sickeningly sweet voice cooed.

Your ears perked up. Grabbing one of the jars of tea leaves, you stood up with a big smile on your face, ready to greet your friend. That smile, however, didn’t last long. Instead it was replaced with a punch in your gut and a ringing in your ears as you saw the person standing in front of you holding hands with your best friend was the number two hero in Japan.

You should have known something was off when the few people sitting in the leather chairs and at the counter looking out into the street had gone silent. Everyone’s jaws were slack in amazement at the hero before their eyes. A few people whispered about how much more handsome he looked up close or how they didn’t realize how vibrant his wings actually were.

The only person who didn’t look shocked or happy that he was there was the number two hero himself.

“(Y/n)!” Yui exclaimed. “How’ve you been?”

“Um, good,” you managed to choke out. Your eyes never left the winged hero.

“I see you’ve noticed my boyfriend,” she giggled. Her happy-go-lucky smile never left her face. It seemed as though her biggest wish had come true. It’s no secret that she had been pining after the hero for years, playing back footage of his rescues and showing them to you over and over again. She would always cover her eyes when watching his fights because she “couldn’t bare to see his beautiful face get hurt” and you would have to tell her when the scary parts were over.

“Hawks,” you spat out.

His golden eyes dug daggers into you. “Yes?” His tone was uninterested and very clearly bored. It left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I, um, well I, ya know, I didn’t–”

Yui cut off your stumbling with a fluttering laugh, the kind of laugh they romanticize in a shoujo manga. “(Y/n)-chan didn’t believe me when I told her you were my boyfriend,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Now come on, Hawky, what do you want?”

Hawks visibly cringed at the nickname she had given him. Hawky, like the sport but spelled like the bird. Even you could admit that it was pretty bad.

“I think I’ll have the iced hibiscus tea,” she said. Her hands fumbled for her wallet.

“I’ll take a small sencha.” You never expected the winged hero to drink tea. It seemed so unlike him. He seemed much more of a coffee kind of person, needing the extra energy to fulfill his hectic life.

“All right, your total is 540¥,” you said. As you brewed their tea, you couldn’t help but keep an eye on Hawks and the little things about him. Sure he was attractive, but was that really enough to satisfy your friend? He didn’t seem very interested in her as she tugged on his sleeve like a little kid clinging to their parents.

As you called their names with their orders in hand, you were surprised when neither of them went to grab their drinks. Instead, Hawks sent two of his feathers to grab them out of your hands. They were so delicate yet so strong.

Yui smiled as the feather fluttered around her before presenting her drink in front of her.

“Let’s go,” Hawks said, still with a look of boredom plastered to his face, but maybe there was more to him than you thought.

You got to know Hawks a little more during the next few months. It’s true that when you first met him he was not your cup of tea. He and Yui would come into the shop and as Yui chatted your ear off about all the sweet nothings he would tell her, Hawks always seemed to zone out or lose interest in the conversation relatively fast. From the outside it looked like he didn’t care about her and that made your blood boil. But there had to be more to it, right? You’re sure that Yui wouldn’t bother with someone who didn’t seem to care about her.

It was at the end of summer when Yui told you the exciting news. She was cast as a major role in a new film and would be flown to Yakushima Island for the shoot. As she told you the good news, her smile never faltered. It was as if all her dreams were coming true and the different pieces of her life were being put together like a puzzle.

“I’m really happy for you,” you said while pouring hot water over a tea bag with oolong in it. “I can’t wait to see the film when it’s released.”

“I can’t wait for you to see it too! It’s going to be rough being away from Hawky for so long but I think we’ll both manage.”

You turned around before she could see you rolling your eyes at the ludacris nickname. You’re not sure how it managed to stick throughout the months, and every time you hear the words pass her lips it triggers a shudder to run through you. “When do you leave?”

“Next week. You have no idea how excited I am, (Y/n).”

You were happy for her, you really were. Yet part of you felt like you were being left behind, stuck in the mud. While she had her handsome top pro hero of a boyfriend, you spent your nights alone and as she went off to chase her dreams of being one of the most famous actresses in Japan, you were still pouring hot water over tea leaves as you have been for the past two years. It didn’t seem fair, but you would never let her know that.

The next week went by quicker than you had hoped and Yui was off to the airport. She, of course, stopped by for one last cup of tea before she left.

Once she was gone the leaves began to change. Red, orange and yellow leaves fluttered through the air onto the ground and gusts of wind would push them across town, occasionally dropping them off in front of the tea shop’s door.

This time of year was always your favorite. The smell of cinnamon and spice floating through every tea, pastry and coffee shop always made you smile in delight. A new shipment of pumpkin tea had just arrived and you couldn’t resist ducking down to stick your nose in the box and smell the leaves through their packaging under the counter.

The homey smell ravished your senses. Your mind was instantly filled with wonderful fall memories. Jumping in piles of leaves as a kid, drinking hot tea by the window and watching the rain outside trickle down the gutter of your childhood home. Carving pumpkins and dressing up in inappropriate halloween costumes back in your college days. It all came back.

“Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

The all too familiar voice of Hawks startled you, and as you leapt up out of shock, you hit your head on the counter top. “Ow,” you croaked. Reaching for the fridge next to one of the display cases of teas, you grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and placed it on your head. “Hi.”

“Hello to you too.” There was a cocky grin on his face, unlike what you’ve seen of him before.

“Yui’s out of town.” Why was he here? There was no reason for him to be if his girlfriend was gone. Since he started showing up with Yui, the shop had gotten much more traction. More people had shown up asking when the pro hero was coming next or which seat he sat in. You were sick of it all.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t get a cup of my favorite tea from my favorite barista.” His cheeky smile grew and you beat yourself up for blushing at him compliment.

“What’ll it be then? A small sencha?” You grabbed one of the small to-go cups in preparation.

“Nah let’s switch it up a bit.” He eyed the list of teas up and down, ogling the glass containers with delicate tea bags placed inside. “What box were you sticking your nose in just now?”

You looked down at your feet in shame, cheeks heating up at the memory. You had hoped he would forget about what he just saw or at least wouldn’t mention it out of pity for you. “Pumpkin tea. It’s a new shipment that just came in.”

“Huh,” he pondered. “Is it good?”

Your head shot up. “Seriously? You’ve never had pumpkin tea before?”

“Nah the commission doesn’t really like it when I eat or drink things that aren’t in my diet.” He wove his hand through his blonde locks, pushing them back out of his face. “They’ve been a bit more chill about things since I started dating Nakamura, but I’m still on a pretty strict food regiment.”

The fact that he referred to your best friend by her last name almost made your heart ache. For how much she doted on him he barely seemed to care. “That sucks,” you said. “Do you want to try it?”

He chuckled a bit. “Yeah, let’s give it a whirl.”

You heated the water and poured it out in a hot stream over the tea bag. “Here you go. That’ll be 280¥.”

He slid the coins over to you and held the piping hot to-go cup up to his nose, breathing in the heat and letting it run through him. A soft smile overcame his features and he pressed the cup to his lips, letting the brew hit his tongue. His eyes shot open. “Wow. That’s incredible.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t it really good?”

“It is!” He smiled up at you and you couldn’t help but drink in every detail of it. It was a happy and relaxed smile, one that a child would give after tasting candy for the first time. His eyes grew brighter than the sun as the tea coated his taste buds and pulled him into euphoria.

“Um, excuse me?” a small voice croaked from behind Hawks.

He moved to the side, revealing a small young woman holding hands with a little boy. He was chewing on an action figure and as he pulled the head out of his mouth you could see the bright flames of Endeavor coated in a layer of thick saliva.

“Hey there,” Hawks said. “I’m sorry, do you need to order?”

“No no no!” The rosey cheeks of the young woman deepened as chills of embarrassment filled her. “My son here is a really big fan and, well, we were hoping we could get an autograph.”

You weren’t sure how something like this would play out. You’ve seen the stares and the hushed whispers people give when watching Hawks and Yui in the shop. They almost look too scared to approach him, yet this flustered woman came out of nowhere.

“Yeah of course!” Hawks’ cheeky smile widened. He squatted so he was eye level with the boy. “What’s your name, little guy?”

The kid slid behind his mother’s hip, unsure of what to do or say.

“I see you like Endeavor. You have good taste. He’s one of my favorite heroes too.”

You watched in awe, jaw slack as if you had been slapped in the face, as you watched Hawks laugh and ruffle the kid’s hair. He signed a notebook that the kid’s mother gave him and just as he was about to say goodbye, the kid shot his arms up in Hawks’ direction. You could feel yourself melt on the spot as he picked up the giggling boy, spinning him around. It was so unlike him to do that, but at the same time it was everything you had ever imagined in the stories that Yui would tell.

That was the first time that you realized you were beginning to fall for your best friend’s boyfriend, and after that nothing would be the same.

Hawks came in and out of the shop more and more frequently, only now ordering a small pumpkin tea. As the days went by, the weather grew colder. Chilly winds howled past the store and jingled the chimes out front.

Hawks sauntered in, giving you the grin and nod he was now accustomed to.

“Small pumpkin?” you asked, gripping your scarf and holding it closer around your neck.

“You know it,” he winked.

You hated how every time he walked up to the counter your breath would hitch and your heart would skip a beat. The little wink he gave you definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you. You hid the flushed feeling by burying your face up to the tip of your nose in your scarf.

“So what’s been going on in tea land?” he asked. His fingers danced across the display of cup sizes and tea cakes to the side of the register. They stopped, resting on the side of the jar labeled “TIPS” in a fat black marker over bright colorful construction paper.

“Same old,” you replied. “How’s hero work?”

“Same old.” The two of you had grown comfortable with minimal conversation, almost finding it endearing that the two of you could communicate so much with so few words.

“And Yui?”

Hawks took a moment before answering. You looked up from the tea you were preparing but averted your eyes the second you realized he was staring at you. “I’m thinking of breaking up with her.”

You couldn’t pay attention to what he said next. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears at hearing his words. He was breaking up with her. The recent nights you had spent fantasizing what it would be like to be the one held in his arms at night seemed more in your grasp. The thought scared you a little.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“Huh?” He snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sorry, I think I zoned out a little.” You could feel your face heating up. “Why are you breaking up with her?”

“It’s been about four months,” he said, still toying with the rim of the tip jar.

It bothered you a little how he kept looking at it. Either put in a tip or leave it alone, you wanted to yell at him.

“Four months,” he repeated as if he needed to double check. “That’s when our contract is up, at least.”

You were confused. What was he talking about? “What do you mean?” The skepticism on your face made you look like a puppy being taunted with a bone.

“Heh, you’re cute when you’re confused,” he said. “Our relationship,” he trailed off in thought, trying to find the right words. “It was never real, I guess. Never has been.”

As Hawks spoke about the contract the two of them were under, that her agent and the people working at the commission made them sign, your jaw became more and more unhinged.

“Why did they force you to date in the first place?” The shrill of your voice was hard to tame.

“Her agent knows my people well,” he admitted, referring to the commission. “And they thought this would be good for her publicity. They were right since it got her the big movie she’s working on, but they told us if nothing happens after four months we can end it.”

“I see.” You were still trying to put the pieces together in your mind. “So you never really loved her.”

He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “I thought that was pretty obvious,” he admitted. “Look, I know she’s your best friend and all but she’s kinda hard to be around and to get along with at times.”

Deep down you knew he was right, but hearing it come from someone that you knew Yui loved and trusted made your blood boil. What made you feel even worse was the growing hope within you that if Hawks didn’t like someone like her, he could possibly fall for someone like you.

He looked down at his phone to check the time. “Shit, I have training with my intern in ten minutes.” As you slid his drink towards him he fished into his wallet to pay. Taking out an extra bill, he folded it up and put it in the tip jar. “Promise me that when I break things off with her you’ll be there to comfort her?”

The question took you off guard but you nodded anyway.

He smiled a deep and genuine smile that showed so much more emotion than could be understood by the human brain. “Thanks. She’ll need a good friend like you to keep her company.” And with that, he dashed out the door quicker than your eyes could follow.

A week went by and you heard nothing. Hawks didn’t come into the shop to tell you how it went and Yui hadn’t texted you with any of her usual updates for how the movie was going. It wasn’t until you were locking up shop on a Friday night that you received a FaceTime request from Yui. You texted her, assuring her that once you got home you’d call her back. You knew that he did it and she needed to hear from you right now.

Snuggled into the plush fabric of the side-of-the-road sofa in the middle of your living room, you called her back. It only took one ring before she picked up. Her face was blotchy and red and the makeup she wore on set was streaking down her features.

“What happened?” you asked, fully aware of the situation.

She explained in detail everything that had happened, from the warm tea she was holding in her dressing room when he called her to break things off to the way his eyes shimmered with both sadness and relief as he told her what was on his mind.

You tried to reason with her as she blew her snotty nose into tissue after tissue. Phrases like “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you” and “You’re better than him anyway” often came up. Truth be told, you were only paying attention to her side of the story half the time. You slipped in and out, mind wandering over to where Hawks may be and how he must be doing.

“Maybe he had a reason for doing it,” you finally said once she had started to calm down.

“What?”

“Do you think he, I dunno, wasn’t happy?” You shrugged a bit. Your eyes traced the rhombus patterns on your carpet as they avoided Yui’s saddened expression. “Maybe he just wanted to be a free bird is all.”

You looked up from your carpet and came face to face with Yui’s eyes. Once doughy and glossed over with a thick layer of gelatinous tears, they now held a form of anger and hurt that you have never seen from her. “How could you say that?” she asked. “How could you even think of taking his side?”

“I’m not taking a side, I–”

“Yes you are!” Her face was turning red and as much as you wished to defend the man you had caught feelings for you also wanted to be there for Yui. “I don’t know how you could defend him right now, you guys aren’t even friends.”

Hearing her say that hit you deep in the chest. Of course she didn’t know how often Hawks had swung by the shop. Of course he wouldn’t tell her.

“You barely know him, (Y/n), so why are you defending him?”

Why were you defending him? Even with Yui out of the picture, there would still be a slim chance that Hawks actually felt the same way you did. He’s the number two hero, an icon in more ways than one. His fangirls pooled at his feet constantly. Why would you, just a simpleton working at a tea shop, have a chance with him?

“I can’t even talk to you right now.” She was looking down, refusing to make eye contact with you through the small screen.

“Yui, I–”

“No. Just,” she trailed off. “Call me when you know whose side you’re on.”

And with that she hung up and you were left alone. You felt terrible, like the worst friend in existence. You needed something to calm yourself down after the shitshow you had a feeling would be your last conversation with her for a long time.

Your shaky figure got up off the couch and went into the kitchen, putting up the water for a cup of tea. Your hands visibly calmed down once you gripped the hot mug with the pumpkin tea bag swirling inside.

“Hey baby bird.” As you walked into the living room, the person lounging on your sofa startled you. You let out a scream and the hot tea sloshed out of your mug and hit your chest, the thin material of your shirt and the knit sweater you dawned doing little to nothing to stop the burning sensation. “Ah shit.”

Hawks ran up to you and pressed the sleeve of his hero costume against your chest. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

The wince you gave him let him know his answer. “What are you doing here?” you managed to croak out once the heat subsided. “And how the hell do you know where I live?”

“Followed you home,” he said like it was nothing.

“So you stalked me.”

“I like to call it stealth training.” The grin on his face resembled a snarky cat and as pissed off and angry you were about him and Yui and everything, you couldn’t help letting out a laugh.

The aura between you two was both friendly and awkward. It seemed as though you both wanted to say something but didn’t know what. As Hawks kept rubbing his sleeve against your damp clothes, his eyes trailed over your face and tried reading into what you were thinking.

“I talked to Yui,” you finally let out. “She’s mad at me.”

“So I heard.” He stopped moving and rested his arm on your shoulder. “You deserve better friends.”

You looked away. “No. She does.”

He let out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You, (Y/n), are kind, compassionate, care about your customers and you actually take time to listen to others. And I know Nakamura would say the same thing.”

Somehow the use of your friends last name didn’t bother you as much as it used to. What did cause you to blush was the sound of  Hawks saying your own name. The sound of it leaving his lips had an imprint on you like no other.

“And those,” he continued, “are some of the many reasons why I started to fall for you.”

You felt a sting in your cheeks as they grew hot from his words. He liked you? Did you hear that correctly? He fell for you? The same way you fell for him? The only thing you could think to do was let out a “huh?”

And Hawks let out a toe curling laugh. “I like you. Have liked you for a while now.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were so overwhelmed with emotion. All you could even think to do was stare at him with your mouth agape.

“Hello?” he waved his hand in your face. “Earth to (Y/n).”

You shook your head and the rest of your body, getting any jitters out. “Um, yeah.”

He barked out another laugh. “So, do you got something to say to me or are you gonna leave me hanging?”

You took a sharp inhale. “I think that I might also like you,” you said. “A bit.”

“Now was that so hard to say?” He took a step forward, raising a hand to cup your face. He wasn’t ready, however, when you stepped away, shielding yourself from him. “What’s wrong?”

“Yui is what’s wrong.”

It dawned on him how difficult and confused you must’ve been feeling, especially if you’ve liked him for as long as he’s had feelings for you. Yui Nakamura is your best friend so of course having feelings for her boyfriend, her ex boyfriend, would make you fall into a pit of despair.

“I’m sorry.” You turned away, walking back to your kitchen.

Even though you clearly wanted to be left alone, Hawks followed you and stayed in the door frame as you put up water for another cup of tea. “You remember when I caught you sniffing the heck out of that box of Pumpkin tea?”

You made a disgruntled noise of agony as you buried your head in your hands.

He chuckled. “That’s when I realized I had feelings for you. When did you know you had them for me?”

You sighed. “Look, Hawks. I really wish that things were different and that Yui wouldn’t be mad at me, but–”

“It’s a simple question, baby bird.” He reveled in the nickname.

Your eyes wandered over to the kettle and the soft heat that rose from the stove. “I think it was when I saw you give that kid and his mom and autograph and, I don’t know, you’re just...really good with kids is all.”

“Is that really all?” His cocky smirk struck you and you couldn’t help but hit him playfully.

“Shut up, asshole.” The kettle went off and you grabbed two mugs, placing pumpkin tea bags in each. “I like you, but I love Yui.”

“So I’m assuming that it would be inappropriate for me to kiss you right now?”

You handed him one of the now full mugs, your face lowered to hide your subtle embarrassment. “You are correct.” The two of you stood there in the middle of your cramped kitchen, neither darring to take a sip. “But,” you started. “We can maybe cuddle on the couch a bit and talk, if that’s something you want.”

His golden eyes brightened. “Yeah, baby bird. I’d like that.”

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Their Girl

Loosely based off of several cases that have, unfortunately, taken place in schools.

Mabel defends herself when a boy touches her, only to be the one to get in trouble. Not on her grunkles watch.

~~~~~~~~~~

“In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the - Anyone? Anyone? - the Great Depression, passed a - Anyone? Anyone? - a tariff bill. The Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act, which - Anyone? Raised or lowered? - raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the Federal Government.”

Mabel leaned back in her desk chair to stretch. It was cold in the high school, but luckily her seat was right in the sunshine, warming her up like a lizard on a rock. Her baggy yellow sweater fell off her left shoulder and she let it without giving it much of a second thought, then watched some birds on a tree as the Economics teacher droned on.

“Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work, and the United States fell deeper into the Great Depression.”

Tenth grade was too young to learn about something so boring. This was for suckers who paid money for it, like college students. Mabel held her breath to keep herself from snorting over her own inner thoughts. Grunkle Stan would be proud of her, she thought, and her thoughts wandered to him and Grunkle Ford, until she was snapped back into reality. Literally.

“Today, we have a similar debate over this, anyone know what this is? Class? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone seen this before? The Laffer Curve.”

A boy behind her (his name slipped her mind at the proper moment) was playing with her exposed bra strap. It felt like he had grabbed it, barely pulled it back, and let go. At first, she thought maybe it was an accident. Unlike, but possible. But then it happened again, this time the boy pulled the bra strap far enough that when he let go it slapped against her skin a little. It didn’t hurt, and the teacher’s boring voice drowned out the noise, but still.

“Anyone know what this says? It says that at this point on the revenue curve you will get exactly the same amount of revenue as at this point.”

Mabel turned around sharply at once and gave him a deadly glare. “Stop it.” She whispered firmly.

The boy grinned menacingly, and sneered just as quietly, “Make me.”

Mabel whipped her head back, making sure her long ponytail hit him in the face, but though her actions stopped him for a moment, soon he was back to pulling on her bra strap, each time pulling back farther and farther.

“This is very controversial. Anyone know what President George H. W. Bush called this in 1980? Anyone? Something-D-O-O Economics. Voodoo Economics.”

A loud snap sound echoed, a yell of pain and aggravation, and then Mabel Pines stood so sharply her chair fell backwards, turned around, and punched the jerk in the face, left-hook boxing style.

“Ms. Pines!” The teacher scolded loudly.

The whole class was on the edge of their seats. All the kids had seen what happened; the ones sitting closest to the pair had been well aware of what was going on since the beginning. While they were hopeful the jerk would get what’s coming to him, they all knew that wasn’t likely. Not under the most sexist teacher’s nose.

“To Mr. William’s office. Now.” He growled.

“But he was touching my bra!” Mabel defended. “He was invading my personal bubble even though I told him to back off!”

“It’s a very small classroom, Ms. Pines. And maybe he wouldn’t have touched it if you didn’t have it out for the whole world to see.” The man said coldly and pointed to the door. “Now please leave my classroom.”

Mabel knew there was no point in defending herself. She did a quick glance around the room to see if anyone would defend her, but no one looked ready to jump into the line of fire. She understood why. This guy had a bad reputation. Mabel loudly stuffed her notebook filled with doodles into her backpack, took it and her small purse, and stomped out of the classroom.

She did manage to catch the blood coming out of the boy’s nose and grinned.

At Mr. William’s office, the sweet secretary with old-lady glasses offered her a mint and was very nice to her. But soon Mr. William entered the room and had Mabel enter his office. Apparently the teacher had called ahead so Mabel didn’t have to tell the principal what happened, leaving the girl to feel like she was walking into the Lion’s Den.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper left his Robotics class to meet up with Mabel, who normally would be leaving Economics, so they could walk to their last class, Language Arts 10, together. Economics emptied pretty quickly thanks to the boredom, so Dipper was a bit confused when he didn’t see his twin sister out in the hall, and wondered if she was in the bathroom.

He saw a fellow student who shared Mabel’s Economics class, Rose, leave the ladies’ room, and so he asked, “Hey Rose, is Mabel in there?”

She shook her head. “Nah, didn’t you hear? She got sent to the office for punching Jeremy.”

Dipper grinned with pride, but it quickly went away; Mabel would only do that if Jeremy was doing something. “What’d he do?”

“Smacked her with her own bra strap.” Rose pulled down the neck of her t-shirt and demonstrated, “Like this.” And she pulled her bra strap and let go, making it snap.

“Are you kidding me?!” Dipper yelled and his eyes landed on the teacher to his right, standing with his arms crossed and looking out for rule-breakers.

The young man growled in his throat like an angry dog, ready to tell the jerk off, but he felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled out his phone while Rose walked away. Dipper calmed down a little, sighed, and walked to the lockers to lean against them as he responded to his newest text. He had no intention of going to Language Arts. He’d be on his way to the office soon enough in case his sister needed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford re-read the maps and plans for Spring Break with an exciting grin all over his face. Soon the kids would be out of school and take a bus to the pier where he and Stan had docked the Stan O’ War II, then they would sail alongside the California shore, fishing, sailing, and occasionally swimming, for a whole week. They had been planning this since the holidays, when they had all facetimed for five hours while the old sailors were on the shores of the Netherlands. The kids had practically begged to go on the boat with them, and so they agreed to sail alongside Russia and visit California, planning to then re-visit Alaska quickly before sailing down to Oregon for the summer.

Stan climbed up from the cabin below as he pulled on his white t-shirt. “How much longer until the kids are free from prison?”

Ford rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “Ninety minutes. And it’s a twenty minute drive, so it’ll be about another two hours, Stanley.”

The youngest of the pair by fifteen minutes groaned and collapsed on the couch. “I could always hotwire a car and we could see them now. We can pretend one of us died and so we need the kids now.”

“Stanley, no.”

“Stanley YES!”

Ford chuckled and rolled up the map. “Text them if you miss them so much.”

“Maybe I will.” Stan snorted and pulled out his phone to text in the group chat. “Surviving okay, kids?” Just a casual greeting, and he and Ford were pleasantly surprised to get a little buzz back not a minute longer.

“Not really.”

Stan raised an eyebrow while Ford had his back to him and was organizing his papers. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Little dots appeared and reappeared. Stan knew what that meant. Dipper was being careful how he answered. Stan decided to check, and sure enough Mabel hadn’t even seen the texts yet. When he got a small paragraph back, Stan nearly crushed his phone in his fist. “WHAAAAAT?!”

Ford jumped a foot in the air and held his chest. “Christ, Stan, what…”

“Check your phone, Genius! We’re going to Piedmont. NOW!” And Stan slapped on his beanie and stormed out of the cabin of the ship with a slam of the door.

Ford picked up his phone, which had been lying face-down on the table, and once he was caught up on messages, he matched his twin’s anger and made sure his ray gun was in his blue hoodie as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel sat in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest, letting Mr. Williams go on his tangent. According to the school nurse, she had broken Jeremy’s nose. Good. That’s what he gets for touching her. But apparently Mr. Williams disagreed, saying things like how her actions were unlawful and that she had no right to punch another student.

“Under no circumstances should you ever punch a fellow student, Ms. Mabel.” Mr. Williams said firmly.

“But he was touching me!” Mabel quickly injected, in some effort to defend herself. “He was pulling on my bra strap and smacking me with it! And I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Mr. Williams snorted as he reached into his desk. “Well maybe next time you won’t wear such revealing clothes? How else are people supposed to pay attention to the lesson?”

Mabel felt her heart drop. She looked back down at her sweater, her purposely baggy yellow sweater that she had knitted herself a few months ago. This sweater - in fact, none of her sweaters - had ever been a problem before. Mabel plucked at her top and said in a quiet, timid voice, “But I made this.”

Mr. Williams glanced up from what he was writing for a second, before mumbling bitterly with his cold eyes on his paper, “Let the professionals make your clothes, okay? If you don’t want to find yourself in trouble then try wearing suitable clothing.”

Mabel felt her entire face turn red. She was so angry and so hurt and she saw no possible way out of this, so she decided to bite her lip and hide the lower-half of her face in her sweater, shrinking in her seat and lifting her yellow sweater up a bit.

“Now, I am giving you three weeks of detention.” Mr. Williams said. “Two for violence and invading a student’s personal bubble, and one for breaking dress…”

The door opened sharply. Mabel turned and her jaw was wide open to find her great-uncles at the foot of the office. At first she was jubilant to see them again, but then terrified to see them so angry. She had never seen them so mad. She knew they could be scary when they wanted to, but they had always seemed like soft old teddy bears to Mabel, what with their fluffy gray hair and warm hugs and squishy tummy-tums to snuggle against. Mabel was a little unhinged to find their faces darkened with anger. She could see a vein popping out of Stan’s forehead. Ford appeared to try to be collected, but his aura was as black as an imploding star, matching his brother’s quite well.

Mabel stood on shaking knees. Her uncles softened, ignoring the cold look Mr. Williams was giving them, and Stan was at her in an instant, with Ford right behind him, rubbing her shoulders and looking over her. “Mabel, sweetie, are you okay? Did he hurt you? I swear to Moses if that…”

“I’m okay, Grunkle Stan, I promise.” Mabel soothed, trying to smile, but she was still really nervous. “I… Wow, it’s great to see you guys, I missed you, but why are you here?”

“Dipper contacted us.” Ford said softly. “Said you were in trouble. What exactly happened?”

“She pu-...”

“I didn’t ask you.” Ford growled at Mr. Williams. Mabel actually shivered. She was so used to hearing a smooth, warm, comforting voice come from him, that hearing it growl like an animal like that startled her. “I am talking to my niece.” His eyes moved back on Mabel and he was instantly much warmer and not as scary. “What happened, pumpkin?”

“I was in Economics when this boy, Jeremy, was plucking at my bra strap.”

“Please show us exactly what he did.”

“Does it matter?!” Stan snapped. “He touched her!”

“Stanley, please,” Ford gave him a firm look, then returned his attention back to their girl. “Humor me.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. She had pulled her sweater down so it had covered both shoulders and sagged a bit on her chest. Now she moved it so her left shoulder was completely exposed, and she pinched at her strap. “It started like this,” She barely lifted it up, having little effect or sound. “But then after I told him to stop, he did this.” And Mabel pulled back far enough that when she let go it made a harsh slapping sound against her skin.

“Wait a minute,” Stan had caught a glimpse of it the moment she lowered her sweater. He gently turned her to look at the back of her shoulder, and he saw red. Literally. Her skin was reddening from the aggression. Not enough to swell or require ice, but enough to indicate just how invading and violent the action had been.

Stan was growling in his throat. He squeezed Mabel’s forearms reassuringly and said, “We’ll handle this, pumpkin.”

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Williams said firmly, still acting professional and snobbish. “Your niece here has violated several school rules and even went as far as to break a student’s nose.”

“You did?” Stan asked and patted her back. “That’s my girl!”

Mr. William’s nostrils flared. “Gentlemen, that is not what we should be teaching young…”

“While breaking cartilage is unfortunate, sir,” Ford said coldly, stepping forward, “It’s abundantly clear that she was only defending herself. Not only did the boy have no right to touch her, in any sense, in any manner, she was even gracious enough to give a verbal warning before she acted as she had to to get the boy to stop.”

Mr. Williams crossed his arms over his chest and snarled, “Well maybe if she hadn’t dressed in such a distracting way Mr…”

“Oh HELL NO!” Stan marched forward and slammed his fists down on the desk so hard he actually left cracks in the wood from the impact. “YOU’RE NOT PLAYING THAT GAME, ASSHOLE! NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH!”

Ford made no attempt to silence his twin. In fact, he was smiling cunningly, like a policeman letting his dog go after the target. He gently walked Mabel to the door and ushered her outside. “Why don’t you wait outside, my dear? Dipper is waiting for you with a snack and some water to calm your nerves, you look a little shaken.” He said quietly.

Mabel dipped her head and smiled, unable to find the words, but Ford understood and closed the door after her.

Dipper was, in fact, there with a package of peanuts and bottled water in his hands for her. They sat in the cool office, listening to the conversation. While exact words were muffled by the walls and door, it sounded like Stan and Ford both were yelling and cursing at the principal. While Dipper and Mabel probably should have been more nervous, they weren’t; they were calm and they both knew that everything would be okay.

About half an hour later, just when the old men’s throats were getting a little sore, they left, leaving Mr. Williams to try to kill a small fire on his desk. Stan swiftly pocketed his lighter and smiled warmly at his kids. “Let’s ditch this hellhole.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel was sipping some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows while Dipper was in the shower and her uncles elsewhere on the boat. She rubbed her shoulder with her free hand, elbows on the table, as she thought about the day. While she was grateful to not be in trouble and that the whole situation was over, it didn’t feel over. At least, the feelings it gave her hadn’t gone away.

The door opened and she smiled to see her favorite uncles coming inside. “Hey there, pumpkin.” Stan greeted warmly, but grew a little concerned. “You okay?”

Mabel blinked and tried to make a more convincing smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“That principal rattled you pretty good.” Stan pulled out a chair and sat next to her, rubbing her back. “C’mon, what’s on your mind?”

Mabel looked down at her hot drink, sighed, unsure of how to properly express her emotions, but managed to settle with, “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ford said firmly and stood on her other side. She looked up at him and the old scientist said, “What happened to you was completely unfair and should never be tolerated.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. “It’s just that… not only should Jeremy not have touched me, but you’d think people would have my back for defending myself, but… they made it seem like it was my fault…”

“Mabel Pines,” Stan moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently. “That was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You dress how you want and punch any guy that touches you if you don’t wanna be touched, and don’t let anyone tell you you should act differently.”

Mabel smiled weakly and nodded. “Okay.”

Stan chuckled and ruffled her hair. “That’s my girl.”

“Now hold one minute, Stanley.” Ford teased and wrapped Mabel up in a one-armed hug, making her giggle and hug him around his waist. “You were always terrible at sharing. She’s my girl, too.”

Stan smeared playfully and tickled Mabel’s ribs to loosen her grasp on Ford, pulling her into a big bear hug as she laughed. “Nu, uh. My girl.”

Mabel rolled her eyes as the twins only kept up the charade for another minute, filled to the brim with appreciation and power.

[imomomi]

         The doodles first started when he was 16. Little stars on his wrists when he woke up, a flower curling on his palm before class, an inky sketch of some mountains on his thigh. Rationally, he knew what they were, why they were there, but it didn’t stop the initial stab of disgust at seeing the ink on his body. He washed it off frequently and often right away. By the end of the week, the drawings became less frequent. The loss of them did not hurt, but a stab of anxiety followed when he woke inkless and alone like always. Kiyoomi had never written back. The idea of writing—what if the ink was toxic and made him sick, what if they were allergic to something and it somehow leake---he took a breath, shaking the thoughts from his head.

          He didn’t hate the idea of having a soulmate. It made life easier knowing that he didn’t need to waste his time looking for a partner. He preferred it when things were clear cut, easy to understand, and with a visible end in sight.

          Not where people can see, he wrote on his thigh, just high enough that it wouldn’t show when he was playing. His handwriting was chicken scrawl and despite his attempts to make it neater, he never managed it.

          He waited minuets, checking with such frequency that not even cleaning his room had taken his mind off it. Words didn’t always make it through. No one knew why or how the process worked. Scientists debated that the reason words didn’t appear were because communication as a human method, poets wrote about the mysteries of soulmate marks and fate, but Kiyoomi thought it was simpler than all of that. Soulmate marks lead you to your soulmate when you were ready. Relationships were messy and complicated and despite how alone he was at times, he didn’t want one right now.

          A single word followed, written so neatly it could have been its own font.

          Ok.  

          The eighty-eighth floor of MSBY’s headquarters was not a place that Kiyoomi ever dared enter. He was content in receiving his paycheck on the day he was meant to and waiting for contract negations to raise any issues. Atsumu had managed to sneak his way into the Management and Finance department the first week he’d joined the team. Apparently, the gossip among their teammates wasn’t enough to quell his nosy behavior. How he’d managed to convince him to join in on his lunch-time venture, Kiyoomi wasn’t too sure. All he knew was that he regretted his decision already.

          Couches were scattered in the main room surrounding large flat-screen T.Vs that played the news in a constant cycle. A large-open kitchen faced the back wall where a couple of people hung around, holding steaming mugs. Two people sat at one of the couches, intensely focused on a video-game they were playing. All around the floor, leading up the offices down the hall, were flowers. Some hung from the ceiling, spilling over the pots with vines drifting downwards. Large bouquets in crystal vases littered the tables. Kiyoomi could feel his nose twitching.

          “Come on,” Atsumu said, leading him down the hall where several offices were tucked against the floor to ceiling windows. They came to a stop in front of a corner office where a small shoe rack lined with slippers, some still in the plastic casing, rested outside the door. A pair of pale pink slippers were on the top shelf, bunny ears plastered obnoxiously at the front.

          “Take off your shoes. Y/N-chan hates dust. I’m pretty sure she ripped out the carpet with her bare hands when she got here.”

          “I’m surprised you’re actually doing it,” said Kiyoomi. Too often had he watched in disgust as the man went home wearing the same sweaty clothes he’d practiced in.

          “Y/N almost had a heart attack the first time I came in here, kinda made me feel bad not to listen after that,” Atsumu admitted. Kiyoomi struggled to rearrange his features to hide his doubt at the words and failed.  

          “Yet, when I tell you to stop stealing my face masks and towels, you never listen,” he said, dryly.

          “That’s different. She’s a girl. You’re Omi-Omi.”

          “So, if I miraculously gain a vagin-” Kiyoomi started.

          “Do ya ever shut up? I’m not arguin’ with ya in the middle of the hall,” Atsumu hissed, his accent coming out stronger in his annoyance. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. If anything, it was Atsumu who started every one of their arguments, but his own boredom didn’t help.

          “No need to be so sensitive,” said Kiyoomi.

          “Put the damn slippers on,” Atsumu said, shoving the unopened packet into his gut. Sakusa smirked beneath his mask, gingerly opening up the slippers.

          They were in the office for a full ten minutes before anyone arrived. Atsumu took the time to make himself comfortable in the leather chair behind the desk, making the various figurines of the team fight. Prototypes for the upcoming season, thought Kiyoomi, glancing at the little chibi version of himself in curiosity. The door snaps open and a woman walked in harried and tapping on her phone. She wasn’t dressed in office clothes, rather in an oversized hoodie with the name of a foreign university splashed across the front and leggings. The pink slippers that sat outside were on her feet.

          “I thought I banned you from here last week,” she said with a groan, tossing a bag down onto the couch. She nodded to him in greeting, but otherwise ignored his existence.

          “I bought a friend as a peace offering,” Atsumu said, throwing a hand in his direction. Y/N’s gaze fell to him briefly, brow furrowing.

          “I don’t accept,” she said, turning to glare at Atsumu. “Human trafficking is bad. You would have learned that if you actually made it to college.”

          “Sorry for joining the team,” said Atsumu. He stood from her desk, letting her settle in. Kiyoomi watched the two interact, wondering how long they had known one another.

          “Please, I can replace you any day,” she muttered.

          “We all know you love me too much to do that.”

          “When I finally jump from the roof, I want everyone to know it’s your fault.”

          “Take me with you,” Kiyoomi muttered, shooting Atsumu a look of disgust. Her lips twitched and she offered him a smile. Kiyoomi averted his gaze immediately, not liking that her attention finally focused on him. There was something unnerving in her gaze.  

          “What do you want?” she asked.

          “Business as usual. Sakusa needs you this time, not me,” Atsumu said.

          “I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” she drawled.

          “I was brought against my will,” Sakusa acknowledged. She picked up a pen and notepad from her desk, clicking it rapidly as she started to scribble.

          “We can file a report,” she joked, “I’m sure the papers would love to hear how Miya Atsumu was involved in a scandal with his teammate.”

          “Suddenly, I’m regretting all my life choices leading up to this moment,” Atsumu said.

          “You didn’t before?” Sakusa asked. Y/N laughed and Kiyoomi hated how the sound filled the air, bouncing with a levity that he’d never experienced on his own. People like Atsumu---and it seemed like Y/N---had a way of taking up space and never letting it go. They were loud because they thrived on the attention and Kiyoomi who had been surrounded by people but, alone all his life flinched away from it.

          He pushed the thoughts away, explaining quickly and concisely that Atsumu had brought him here to specify how he wanted the locker room set up before games. Kiyoomi anticipated resistance to his requests but was shown a brutal efficiency that he can’t help but admire. Y/N listened attentively, taking notes, and asking questions, before promising that they would implement a new cleaning schedule before their next practice. They leave as quickly as they arrived, but part of him expected more and is left empty with the thought that there was something incomplete about their meeting.

           That night’s drawing was a little cat curled up in a box. It looked like any other stray that he might see in Tokyo, but there was something endearing about the way its eyes were closed in two tiny smiles. Kiyoomi traced it idly. It must have taken a long time, he thought. The urge to draw something back filled him, but he has neither the talent nor willpower to sit and draw on himself for any length of time. Unlike when he was younger, the drawings came less frequently and always at night.

          He watched; brow furrowed in confusion as words appeared beneath the drawing. The rare sight had his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

          Azabu, Tokyo.

Masterlist || Next

Taglist: @haikyuuopalite​ @cuddlesslut​ @sckusa​ @imuziawi​

[esmealux]

I'll bite. 13 and 35 look like they might be fun together. 😈

Thank you so much for this fun prompt, Shelly ❤ The opportunities seemed endless, but in the end I went with this. I hope you like it.

Once again, I screwed up at brevity, so this is 1.9K (:

13. Someone does something stupid + 35. 'You wanna bet?' 'Care to wager?'

Never make a bet with the Devil.

A deal, if you must. But do not bet against him.

Not because he’ll take your soul or anything; he won’t even necessarily take your money.

But because he can’t handle it. He can’t. He’ll stop at nothing to win, and when he doesn’t—when he can’t shoot down a bottle of vodka with a slingshot from 400 feet away, or blow a soap bubble with his nose, or fly to Sweden and back in under thirty minutes (the latter he did do, but a drug test showed he’d taken EPO)—he’ll walk around in a pathetic cloud of self-pity, sulking and pouting to an unbearable degree for days on end.

So if you care about the Devil, don’t bet with him. It’s for his own good.

It really is.

And yet-

Chloe picks up the dirty plates from the coffee table as gunshots fire around her. It makes her a little uneasy, how real it sounds through their newly installed surround sound system. One so expensive she doesn’t even want to know.

Their just as overpriced (and unnecessarily big) TV is bathing Lucifer in white-blue light as he stares at the screen intently. He did want to watch the movie with her, but she’s not much of a Weaponizer fan, and she’d like to clean up before she snuggles up next to him on the couch and inevitably falls asleep. As she’s gathered all the dishes in her arms, however, she can’t help but pause and glance at the film for just a second.

‘Yeah, like that could actually happen,’ she snorts, watching the car jump across a considerable gap in a bridge, flip mid-air, and land on all four wheels on the other side. ‘I mean, no one’s ever done that.’

As soon as the words leave her mouth Chloe knows she’s made a mistake.

Lucifer pauses the movie—because God forbid he misses five seconds of a film he’s watched thirty times—before he looks up at her with a lifted eyebrow and a devilish grin.

‘Is that a challenge, Detective?’

Chloe glares at him, her jaw clenching. ‘It’s not possible,’ she states firmly, which is even worse, because now he can only reply with-

‘Care to wager?’

Chloe wants to kick herself.

‘There’s no way in Hell you’re doing that,’ she tells him, nodding towards the paused screen before she heads for the kitchen to start the dishwasher.

‘Why? Because my worried girlfriend won’t let me?’ he calls after her. ‘I’m invulnerable, remember?’

Chloe refills her wine glass, generously, and returns to the living room.

‘No,’ she objects, careful not to spill Pinot Noir on the couch as she settles against Lucifer’s warm, silk-clad side. ‘I just know you’ll never forgive yourself when your beloved Corvette rams into a cliff.’

Lucifer gasps and scoffs. ‘As if I’d ever risk such a sweet beauty like that!’ He plucks the glass out of her hand and takes a sip. ‘And even if I did, she would not, because I would succeed, first try.’

‘First try? Really?’

Chloe grabs the remote and replays the last fifteen seconds. Looking at it a second time, it’s even more ridiculous. The background is so obviously a green screen it’s not even funny, the flip is clearly made using some sort of outdated CGI, and they haven’t even bothered making it look like there’s a real person in the car. Also—Chloe doesn’t remember much from school, but she’s pretty sure the entire stunt defies physics as the car leaps, practically flies over the 150 feet gap, all the while rotating 360 degrees sideways.

‘Maybe third,’ Lucifer admits.

Chloe shakes her head and sighs.

‘I can do it, Detective.’ He looks at her like it’s a threat. ‘And I will.’

Oh, he will definitely try. The determination in his eyes leave no doubt about that. But he can’t possibly copy that stunt with an actual car and an actual gap. There’s just no way. And she shouldn’t spur him on. She really shouldn’t. But the idiot’s gotta learn at some point, and if she’s gonna have to deal with his childish disappointment (and she will), she might as well get something out of it.

‘Fine,’ she shrugs. ‘What are we betting?’

He grins at her, brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

‘If—nay, when I win,’ he answers promptly, and Chloe rolls her eyes, ‘I’ll finally get that thing I’ve always wanted.’

Chloe stares at him, comepletely clueless. If his tone and stupid smirk are anything to go by, it’s not a pet shark he’s talking about.

‘One... re-enactment for another,’ he clarifies slowly, his dark gaze gliding over her body before his eyes flicker to the glass doors leading to their terrace—and their outdoor hot tub.

Chloe fights the urge to roll her eyes again.

‘Okay,’ she agrees, internally reminding herself it doesn’t really matter. She gives him a cocky smile. ‘And when I win?’

Lucifer chuckles as if he finds her adorably naïve. Asshat. Still, he says, ‘You’ll get anything you desire.’

Chloe thinks. There’s not much she desires he wouldn’t give her anyway. She could have him do paperwork for a month, but he’d just mess it up, and she’d have to listen to his complaints about ‘torturous boredom’ and ‘purgatory’. She could also go for something funnier, like have him wear t-shirt and sweats to work for a week. But that would just be cruel, wouldn’t it?

‘I don’t know,’ she tells him, but the words are barely out of her mouth before Trixie’s enthusiastic voice sounds behind them.

‘I might have an idea!’

Lucifer sighs and gives Chloe an unimpressed look before he shifts slightly in his seat to look at her daughter.

‘Alright, but only because your mum lacks creativity like a sober Faulkner.’

Trixie walks around the couch and comes to stand in front of them, a mischievous smile on her face.

‘Please don’t tell me it’s a unicorn on the cheek,’ Lucifer huffs, taking another gulp of Chloe’s wine.

‘It’s not,’ she assures him and holds out her iPad for him to see. It’s a doodle of a small, fluffy goat with pink fur. ‘I was thinking something more… permanent.’ With the hand that’s not holding her tablet, Trixie pats a spot on the left side of her upper chest.

Lucifer slowly removes the wine glass from his lips, and the sheer horror on his face makes Chloe snort with laughter.

He stares at the small, inarguably adorable drawing like it’s a personal insult, glances down at his chest with dread, and looks back to Trixie.

‘You little Devil,’ Lucifer grumbles, but there’s no trace of hostility in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little impressed. He grabs Trixie’s iPad from her outstretched hand and studies the pink kawaii buck for a second, as if he’s seriously considering saying yes to the deal.

Eventually, he sighs. ‘I’m in.’

‘Lucifer-’ Chloe immediately begins to protest. He’s not gonna win this bet, and she knows how downright intolerable he’ll be when he’ll have to get a cute, chubby animal—one that, to him, represents mockery and misconception—tattooed onto his skin. She's tired already, just thinking about all the whining she'd have to deal with.

But it’s too late. Her boyfriend and daughter shake hands, and the deal is settled.

Chloe palms her face.

‘Wait, what do you get if you actually manage to… whatever it is this time?’ Trixie asks, her small hand still clasped in Lucifer’s.

Chloe looks up at him, heat creeping up her cheeks. Their eyes meet shortly before he looks back to her daughter, visibly conflicted.

‘Eh…’

It’s not so much a word as it is a breathy, high-pitched sound, partly stuck in his throat. But it’s answer enough for Trixie.

‘Forget I asked,’ she quickly says, her face scrunched up in disgust. ‘I’ll be in my room.’

She takes her iPad back and leaves them alone on the couch.

‘So, I guess it’s tit or tat, then,’ Lucifer remarks with a chuckle, glancing down at Chloe’s chest.

She snorts and smiles, despite herself.

‘But, I mean-’ He grabs the remote and plays the scene a third time.

He must not see the same utterly absurd and almost comically impossible stunt she (still) sees, because he leans down and whispers in her ear, ‘Better start rehearsing your lines, Detective.’

Chloe shakes her head at him and snuggles closer to his body.

*

‘You’re lucky I like your mother,’ Lucifer mumbles as the needle pinches ink into his chest.

He’d driven off in a ‘cheap’ Porsche this morning and returned eight hours later, looking like he’d literally been fed to the wolves and with no Porsche.

‘Hey honey,’ she’d greeted him, hiding her smirk behind her cup of tea. ‘How’d it go?’

He’d answered with a grunt, blamed the Germans for making their cars too ‘praktisch’ and the Italians for not making theirs fast enough (he’d controlled for variables) and finally concluded it was all his dad’s fault because He ‘created that pesky gravity’.

Then he’d handed her an ornate, black business card and looked at her as if he’d picked his own casket.

Chloe had bit her cheek and hugged him before driving all three of them to the high-end tattoo parlour he’d requested.

‘You okay there?’ she asks him, letting him grip her hand tighter. The fact that he isn’t feeling any actual pain—‘any physical pain, Detective!’—makes his wincing all the more pathetic. Still, she feels a little bad for him.

‘No.’ He bends his neck to peer down at his chest, and pouts. ‘I’m not.’

Trixie grins beside him. ‘I think it looks cool!’

‘Of course, you do. You’re a twelve-year-old girl.’

The smile on Trix’ face turns into a smirk. ‘A twelve-year-old who girl you lost a bet to.’

Sighing deeply, Lucifer turns his head to scowl at her like she’s his annoying little sister and not the stepdaughter he’d go to the ends of the universe for.

‘It’ll be gone in a few months,’ Chloe reminds him, earning her a funny look from the tattoo artist.

The muscle in Lucifer’s jaw ticks. ‘It’s not even finished yet and I already hate it more than I ever did my bloody wings! How am I supposed to endure this… horned cotton candy for months?’

Chloe takes a deep breath. She brought this on herself. She knew she shouldn’t have made that bet with him. She knew he’d be an insufferable drama queen.

She also knows, after hours of hearing him moan, that he’s not gonna shut up about ‘deceitful special effects’ and ‘useless laws of physics’, much less the ‘vile, little creature marring his muscled chest’. Not unless she does something.

So Chloe does something.

For the second time in her life, she gets naked in—and out of a hot tub.

‘No moaning, then,’ she tells him, giving him a stern look.

Lucifer looks her up and down in awe and hunger, dark eyes lingering on the tiny red bikini he knows she’ll take off in a matter of seconds. ‘Now, there’s a promise I can’t keep.’

‘About the wager,’ she clarifies, but he’s not listening.

With a sigh, Chloe sinks into the hot, bubbling water, loosens her bikini top, and gets into character.

She is never, ever betting with the Devil again.

[thatsamericano]

True Colors Shining Through

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Smaller appearances from Germany, Veneziano, Canada, England, France, and Japan.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for mild cursing. Brief moment of possible homophobia from an unnamed nation, but it’s up to interpretation.

Word Count: 1647

Summary: America surprises everyone when he shows up to the world meeting in a rainbow colored business suit, including his boyfriend Romano.

A/N: Written for @hetalia-writers-monthly, for the June concrete prompt “rainbow.” Inspired by this post from @bitchapalooza. Title taken from the Cyndi Lauper song “True Colors.”

Germany was grumbling to himself as he arranged a stack of papers in preparation for the world meeting. “It would be nice if people could respect everyone else’s busy schedule and actually show up to the meeting on time.”

“Ve, don’t stress out so much, Ludo,” Feliciano said. “Almost everyone is here, except for America and whoever is supposed to be sitting next to him.”

Romano paused in the middle of his boredom-induced doodling long enough to roll his eyes at his little brother. “It’s Canada. America’s brother.”

“Right, Canada! I wonder why they haven’t showed up yet.”

Savino shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Beats me.” But he was wondering why Alfred hadn’t shown up yet. When they spoke on the phone last night, Alfred had been quite enthusiastic about some “surprise” he had planned for the meeting. He was also thrilled that he’d get to spend some time with Savino after the meeting, because the distance between them usually limited how much time they could spend together in person. Of course, Alfred being Alfred, he had expressed his excitement in the sappiest way possible and left Romano a blushing mess by the time the phone call ended.

America and Romano had only been together a few weeks, and they hadn’t gone public with their relationship yet because it was so new. They were still figuring things out about themselves and each other. Fredo knew he’d probably have to “come out” at some point, but unlike Savino, he didn’t have a label for his sexuality that made sense to him. All he knew was that he was happy with Romano and that anyone who gave him or his boyfriend crap for it would deserve some creative insults (if they were human) or a punch in the face (if they were a nation and therefore able to withstand Alfred’s punches without dying). Savino agreed strongly with Alfred on the latter point, and he didn’t mind waiting a bit until Alfred felt more comfortable telling people about them. For now, it was nice to have their relationship be just between them, without having to face the scrutiny or opinions of any other nations.

Romano idly continued doodling until the door to the conference room opened. He glanced up as Canada ducked his head into the doorway. “Sorry we’re late, eh?”

“It’s alright. Please take your seat,” Germany replied.

Canada turned his head to whisper to someone behind him, and then he walked into the room, followed closely by his brother. Romano’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw what Alfred had worn to the meeting.

It was only a business suit in the most technical sense of the term. The jacket, the trousers, and the tie were all striped with the colors of the rainbow. Or more specifically, the colors of the rainbow pride flag. Alfred’s ridiculously loud outfit contrasted with the darker and more muted suits everyone else was wearing. The only part of America’s outfit that was normal was his white shirt, his normal briefcase, his glasses, and his black patent leather shoes.

A stunned silence fell over the room, and it was only broken by a few hushed, baffled whispers. Alfred glanced over at Savino to flash him a quick smile before he sat down, but he didn’t explain himself to anyone. Apparently, he didn’t feel the need to, just like Savino didn’t feel the need to respond to his little brother poking him in the arm and asking him what was going on. Not that he would’ve been able to tell Feli what the fuck was going on, because he was just as confused as everyone else.

England, who was sitting on America’s right, was the first person to speak. “Alfred, what the bloody hell are you wearing?!”

America laughed and pulled some papers out of his briefcase. “It’s a business suit, dude. I’m pretty sure they have those in England.”

“I think what Angleterre was trying to say is that your outfit today is a bit more… how you say, flamboyant than your usual attire,” France pointed out as diplomatically as he could. “Especially for a world meeting.”

“It’s Pride Month. Being flamboyant is kind of the point, isn’t it?”

France blinked in disbelief, and the whispering from before increased into a steady, background hum. Romano heard someone from across the room scoffing and asking why America had to “show off” instead of wearing a pin like anyone else would have, and Romano turned to glare spitefully in their general direction. Sure, wearing a rainbow business suit to a world meeting was over the top in a way only Alfred would be, but America had every right to “show off.” Savino wouldn’t let anyone talk about his boyfriend like that.

Japan cleared his throat. “Alfred-san, forgive me if this is an intrusive question, but are you trying to tell us that you’re gay?”

“Don’t worry bro, it’s fine. And to answer your question, yeah. I’m not sure of my exact label, but I am into guys, or at least one guy in particular.” A broad grin stole over his face, and then Alfred looked directly at Savino and winked at him.

Savino’s face instantly turned scarlet, because Alfred’s wink and his grin made him flustered beyond all reason, damn it. America’s blatant statement, along with Romano’s reaction, naturally prompted even more gossip. The loud cry of “ha, I knew it!” from Lithuania was not particularly surprising, and neither were Spain’s or Feli’s comments on how much Savino was blushing, but they were embarrassing. Of course, true to form, Fredo verbally declared that Savino’s blushing was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, which was flattering, but the kind of compliment he was much more accustomed to hearing in private, not in front of literally the entire world. Romano’s face was so warm that he probably could have fried an egg on it.

Savino glared weakly at his boyfriend. “You’re only making it worse, asshole.”

“I’m only being honest, babe,” Alfred said plainly, like it was no big deal. “Everyone here can see how cute and handsome you are.”

Savino couldn’t help it. With Alfred saying sappy things like that and looking at him like he hung the moon, he cracked a smile. Alfred grinned back at him. They continued staring into each other’s eyes as Germany stood up from his chair and attempted to get the meeting back under control.

“Unless anyone has any further surprise announcements, I’m going to begin my presentation.”

America quit staring at him for about half a second to acknowledge what Germany had said. “I think we’re good, dude.”

Once Germany started talking, Romano did his best to pay attention. He took a few notes, idly sketched in his notebook, and glanced up to roll his eyes fondly whenever he felt America gazing at him like the obvious dork he was.

Eventually, it was time for the scheduled lunch break. As Romano was packing up his things, he overheard Poland telling Hungary that he was totally going to wear a pink sequined dress to the next world meeting, because America shouldn’t be the only one getting to wear whatever they wanted. Hungary laughed and said he had a point.

Alfred started to come around the other side of the table, and Feli nudged his shoulder and smirked. “I’ll have lunch with Germany today. That way you and your ragazzo can have some alone time.”

Savino could only stammer out a couple syllables before his little brother was rushing off to catch up with Germany. As Feli was latching onto the macho potato’s arm, Alfred slipped into the space beside him. “Hey, Vinny.”

“Hey, caro.” He glanced up and down Alfred’s body, then smirked as he looked up into his eyes. “Interesting outfit.”

Alfred blushed and smiled, shyer than he would have in front of anyone else. “You like it? I stumbled across it online when I was looking for something else, and it called out to me, like the stuff Billy Mays used to sell in infomercials. I had to buy it.”

Savino snorted. “It is very… you. I wouldn’t have expected to see it at a world meeting, though.”

Alfred fidgeted with the hem of his jacket sleeve and glanced away with a worried look on his face. “It was okay that I told everyone about us today, right? Before we went in, Mattie said I probably should’ve consulted with you beforehand, but I’ve just been so happy and proud to be with you, and I didn’t want to have to hide it anymore. I didn’t even think to—”

Savino gently took hold of his hand, which stopped his boyfriend’s nervous babbling. “It’s okay. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come out today. And knowing you, I figured that loud, public declarations would be part of the deal sooner or later.”

Alfred chuckled and laced their fingers together. His smile was equal parts relieved and adoring. “Okay, cool. Glad I didn’t mess that up too badly. Are you free for lunch?”

Savino huffed out a laugh. “Feli just ditched me for the potato bastard so I could have ‘alone time’ with you.”

Alfred giggled. “That’s really nice of him. I feel like I owe your brother a million dollars.”

They continued chatting back and forth, and Romano wasn’t sure if it was Alfred’s gleeful, lovestruck tone, his sweet words, or the fact that they were holding hands, but he felt warm and content as they went into the elevator and as they left the building and walked down the sidewalk together. He held Alfred’s hand until they took a table at the restaurant, because he was just as proud to be in this relationship as Alfred was, even if he was more inclined to show it with body language than rainbow colored business suits.

[pastaaa-bird]

Day 4:historical

@aphrarepairweek2021

Sorryforbeingadaylate

Oh warning for very minor swearing(only happens three times) but other then that there is nothing inappropriate and also there is implied period typical homophobia in this

Summary: An 80s human AU where a stressed out Chiara (nyo Romano) is saved from going crazy by a hero(Amelia aka nyo America)

Basically this is just fluff, fluff and more fluff

Chiara Vargas was a second a way from flipping her desk and raging down the halls, or at least she would be if she had not possessed just enough self control to hold back on the urge.

“Fuck fuck fuck….” Chiara muttered, the sound coming out muffled from her face being squished against her desk in failure.

“OH, CHIARA” came a high pitch voice down stairs.

Reluctantly she lifted her head to the sound.

“WHAT?I'M BUSY”,she yelled back, mentally cursing her brother for disturbing her sulking.

“A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU",

“WHO IS IT?”,

“YOU'LL HAVE TO COME DOWN AND SEE",

After managing to hold back a bitter protest she stood up then stormed down stairs.

“This better be worth my time, Feli or l swear to Dio l’ll-",

Chiara came to a halt once she saw the girl beside Feliciano.

“Hey!” a cheerful voice as usual from the smiling blonde with pink sunglasses in her hair, dressed in her demine shorts,  red t-shirt and long white socks with a pair of roughed up old sneakers.

“Amelia- uh hi there" She replied while awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket, embarrassed at the realisation that she had heard her yelling.

“Nice to see you calm down, anyway l’ll you two ladies to it”, he winked at Chiara who rolled her eyes at the look, not sure whether to love or hate that it felt the exact same to when her grandfather would make comments about her bringing a boyfriend home.

He disappeared into the sitting room to join Valentino on the couch.

“I was wondering if you would want to hang out, we haven't done that for ages”,

“Oh right, ugh l don't think l can”,

“Sure you can! You're not busy are you?”,

“l am, study”,

Amelia raised an eyebrow at that.

“Study? Our exams aren't till two weeks" ,

“I know, l know but l'm sick of revising everything on the night before the exam, besides l need as much of time as possible to understand this crap",

“Ah fair enough- how about l help ya with it? math l'm guessing?”,

Sighing at the memory of her many failed attempts at completing and understanding equations and formulas she nodded.

“Yeah, but are you sure?”,

“Definitely!”, stated Amelia with both hands on her hips and standing tall to her eagerness for the task.

“Alright then...",

A while later Chiara found her self back at her desk with Amelia standing beside her reading over her practice questions, nervously waiting for the results.

It felt like an eternity before Amelia finally looked up and spoke.

“And…that's like sixty five percent right!”,

“Sixty five?! Where did l go wrong this time?!”,

They had been at this for quite some time now. Despite Chiara’s frustration she stayed relativity calm for the most part thanks to Amelia’s encouragement and little jokes that made her either outright laugh or complain due to what she claimed was annoyance even if though she did find it humorous.

“Symbols, you forgot them again, there's supposed to be a measurement symbol at the end of this to say whether it's centimetres squared or cubed or meters squared- eh you get the point...", she paused then continued.

Miss Kirkland is your math teacher, right? She's real strict when it comes to small stuff like that so she takes off a lot of marks”, explained Amelia while doodling with the pen in the corner of the practice sheet of paper Chiara had used.

Miss Kirkland, certified smartass- even if it is technically her job to be one. Now, Chiara didn’t exactly hate her but she was far from a favourite in terms of teachers she was forced to put up with.

She hated how Miss Kirkland loved to call on those who she knew where not paying attention, there was a sense of snobbishness when it came to the way Miss Kirkland would proudly correct the unsuspecting student with a smile that more closely resembled a smirk.

“l hate this, I'm so close to getting this right but l keep screwing it up”,

“Come on it's fine! You've made awesome progress since when we started! It's only been like what….an hour? Give yourself some credit",

“…l guess you're right. But I'm also stuck for other things- like history and geography suck",

“ Wanna head to the library? They got good resources for both”, questioned Amelia now looking up from her doodling.

“Nah, I've had enough school for today. Let's do something else, anything in mind?”,

“Ooh! A few things-“,

Understandably Chiara was not surprised when they had arrived at the arcade on their bikes.

“Is this becoming an addiction for you?”,

“Ha-ha very funny, you have your obsessions and l have mine”,

“You even call it obsession, keep all this up and l'll be hosting an intervention for you",

This time Amelia genuinely laughed in response, Chiara savoured every second of the sound.

They were stuck there for a while, when it came to Amelia's great interest and Chiara’s competitive attitude it was easy to guess that there would obviously be competitions to see who could score the highest.

To Chiara’s dislike Amelia ended up winning proportionally more then she did followed by listening to the victory taunts from Amelia.

And it seemed that as quickly as they arrived they where off again.

“No, no, no, nah, no, nope, no”,

“Oh come on! l thought you weren't a quitter”,

“I have my exceptions, this is one of them",

Roller skating, she wanted Chiara to roller skate. Clearly Amelia wasn't aware of the fact that Chiara would likely crawl into the ground out of embarrassment if she would likely- no when, when she would end up falling flat on the floor.

“l'll help ya along! You'll be fine", urged Amelia tilting her head to the side with pleading eyes.

Upon arrival to the centre she instantly felt her heart sink knowing what would be expected her. After much convincing from Amelia and equally as much rants about what could go wrong from Chiara- she ended up agreeing to at least attempting to skate.

Chiara felt her chest tighten and face heat up once she suddenly felt the hand of Amelia intertwine with her own, guiding her into the skating area after they got their roller blades.

It was fascinated to see how effortlessly Amelia could move, practically gliding with ease although at a much slower pace due to guiding Chiara along. For this moment anyway, Chiara forgot how to feel anxious.

The last destination for the day was the local diner.

“Two milkshakes please, a double chocolate for myself and a strawberry and banana mix for her”,

“Coming right up, dear", replied the waitress.

“Oh and don't worry l'm paying, l owe ya for last time with the ice-creams” reassured Amelia after she placed their order.

It was the small things that Chiara adored about Amelia the most, how she remembered her favourite foods was one of them. Along with her passing small notes with funny faces on them to her whenever they shared a class and she had noticed that Chiara was dying of boredom.

They sat on the high chairs in front of the counter top as they awaited her drinks, Amelia flapped her hands with giddy excitement once they were received, Chiara couldn't help smile at the sight.

She thought about sharing the milkshake together, putting the straw in her drink like those shitty romantic movies Amelia loves so much. It would be cute wouldn't it? Cuter to see Amelia's reaction to the gesture! She smiled to herself at the idea.

Then her face dropped.

No, no they couldn't, not here, although her smile was brought back again by looking towards her girlfriend who had all her attention on blowing bubbles into her drink.

“Should you really be playing with your food like that?”, she questioned placing the straw into her own drink.

“Might as well make the most of it when my folks aren't here to tell me off ", Amelia shrugged in response.

Chiara found her self agreeing with that mentality and joined in with the childish behaviour.

They cycled back to the house, it was getting dark already.

Amelia was invited in and the two walked past the living room seeing Feliciano and Valentino with their eyes still glued to their precious TV.

At peace now they were sat together on the back porch. There was a small garden behind the Vargas' house, it was closed off by the tall fence( put there mostly so the neighbour's cat couldn't hope over and ruin the vegetable patches or flowers).

The air was humid all day and was beginning to cool down with the sun getting lower and the clouds moving in.

For what could have been anywhere from a minute to a thousand years the two spoke about anything and everything, the topics seemed to flow so easily, naturally changing with ease.

Finally the two sat in comfortable silence, looking towards the sky who’s colours had turned into oranges, yellows and pinks.

This is what Chiara so deeply enjoyed, how they could just sit together and feel so secure.

Routinely this what would be done for one another if the other was upset and asked for so, this time was often spent with their hand held or being hugged by the other.

 There would be times where Chiara in particular would wish to be alone, in cases like this Amelia would go prepare or buy a snack for whenever Chiara is feeling okay again, it gave her something to look forward to when she needed to be alone with her own depressing thoughts.

Sometimes when Amelia would be upset she would just want to vent and vent with no words of “it will be okay" or “look on the bright side of things", Chiara was there to listen and agree with the difficulty of whatever situation she found herself in.

Chiara's head was rested on Amelia’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around her in response to it.

Now it was getting cold, thankfully she still wore her jacket…but maybe…

“Amy?”,

“Yeah?”,she quietly answered back to the nickname.

“It's getting a bit…chilly don't you think? Would you, would you like my jacket?”,

“Oh...Uh sure.If you wouldn't mind that is”, a blush covered Amelia’s cheeks, she was rarely flustered or at least visibly.

The jacket was a gift to Chiara for Christmas from one of her relatives, it was given oversized to her but she kept it since it seemed more comfortable like this. On Amelia the jacket finally looked normal, it fit her well and looked quiet lovely.

They went back to silence until Chiara broke it again.

“Thanks by the way. I really needed today- to get my mind off of all this stupid fucking stress l've been trapped in lately",

“Of course. We all need a break now and then",

“You could say that again…l love you" Chiara looked up, her chin now on Amelia's shoulder.

Amelia glanced down at her and grinned.

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart"

The end

Okay now for me rambling

Uhhhhh l read through this and l don't think l made any mistakes? I'll edit this if there are and sorry if you saw any, idk l'm bad at checking for mistakes and l don't have someone to proof read for me

Oh and Valentino is human Seborga and alsooo not sure if l made it clear but Feliciano does know about their relationship and also Chiara is Bi and happy to feel valid in her relationship with Amelia as if it were the exact same as when she is with a guy and not something taboo in this time period

ALSO damn, sorry this isn't that particular to the 80s- l did leave out things l was originally going to add in though! Like l was going to have Felicianio and Valentino have a movie marton but according to Wikipedia they werent common around then and the ones that did happen were anime soooo y e p

Also thought about adding in a house cord phone but eh idk it felt nicer to have Amelia visit instead of having Chiara call her or if l tried writting it as Amelia calling and then showing up it just felt forced and weirdly put in any way l tried to write it in

AH l am so worried that this is boring or cringy, like l honestly can't tell if it is or is this fine-ehh l guess l've written worse um yeah if you've read this far thanks :)

(I'm editing this for mistakes and wtf 90 is so high why would she be shocked- damn l think l know why l originally wrote that, l was thinking Amelia said ONE of the questions is 90% right but before it l said she was correcting multiple questions so it reads as multiple questions being 90% right all together ANYWAY l corrected it so it's fine again okay bye -AND it turns out l missed some mistakes yet again-editing this for the 3rd time rip)

[kim-monsterlings]

Gwynna - F Firbolg x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; mentions of deceit, flirting, an obsession with fruity lip gloss, kissing, sort of strip tease (reader), nipple play (kissing, touching), fingering + orgasming, fluff

Wordcount: 2708

“Tropemas” Summary: for months, the firbolg hadn’t made any progress in her module, until you found out she had already passed it

Notes: Gwynna was my absolute favourite to write and I fell in love with her so this was me intending to personally save best for last - though my gnoll Ollie comes close second. This was intended to be my last tropemas story, but things got away with me and Farren the lich will be here soon. For now, enjoy my absolute sweetheart Gwyn <3

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Being lied to stung. It stung like an anchor breaking the surface of the ocean as your stomach fell, knees weak and heart aching, but not all lies. Only some.

This lie did the opposite.

Finding the firbolg you had tutored for the last eight weeks leaving a classroom she had no business being in - not with her grades, not without passing the module she came to you for help in - hadn’t left you struggling for breath. Beyond the fog clouding your thoughts, the deceit turned you against the wall before she saw you too.

In that same classroom, Silverstone - a silver fox of a wyvern-shifter - had taught you the year before, in the year Gwynna studied in. Only he taught the optional module, and it was all he led. If Gwynna hadn't passed the one you tutored, her compulsory module, she couldn't have taken it.

Which seemed odd, as she'd failed her past two exams.

The library remained ever quiet when you set up your usual booth with old textbook notes and the textbook itself, decorated in part by Gwynna's doodling as she tired of your lessons; small flowers matching those she wove into her bright hair, like the flowers she grew at home far from the city, or small notes you later stumbled upon, on paper torn from her notepad, and always little compliments: 'you looked cute today', 'i love your perfume', 'try the tea with honey i promise you'll love it!'

Many of your prior tutees had passed the module with your help, yet Gwynna’s grades only worsened since spending longer hours with you. Her lack of focus had changed how you tutored, though it was obvious now her inability to settle wasn’t through boredom or confusion, but because she already knew it all.

You greeted the golden-skinned firbolg with the same smile as always, smothered in her warm hug. Standing “only” at seven foot - apparently short for firbolgs - and always carrying the scent of the woods and flowers, you returned the close hug and breathed deep. She was glowing in the sunlight, wearing wide, flared trousers and a warm jumper.

"I bought tea," you said. Her wide ears twitched as you handed her a cup. "Three sugars, no honey."

"No honey?"

"They didn't have any, Gwyn. It's a university library café." Her sigh lifted your smile, and maybe a little cruelly, too. "I wanted to try something today. Practice exam."

Her voice weakened. "Tea without honey and a practice exam? Do you hate me?"

The knot in your chest forced you to take her hand with a small squeeze before her crestfallen face ruined you. She played you too well after weeks together: always with the soft, doe eyes and pinned back ears. Gwynna exhaled - her next words inevitably to question if she still had a test, until you closed her warm fingers around a pen.

Baby blue eyes narrowed. "What are you doing for an hour?"

“Looking over some old material.” You smiled, not ignorant to her throat bobbing. The textbook for Silverstone’s module rested before you. “Never hurts to refresh it.”

Her lips parted on a breath many times, so close to speaking. It was your pen bitten by her teeth and not the first - you had separate pens for her now. She hadn’t yet opened the test when she straightened. "Did you reconsider tutoring more modules?"

“Like Silverstone’s?” Beneath overgrown bangs, she looked to you with a soft nod. “Maybe once you pass your module, I’d reconsider.”

The pen returned to her glossy lips. On the first evening of coffees and yawns, Gwynna asked of other modules but this was the only one you tutored. Not even a week later, she failed her exam. Had it counted toward her final grade, the sessions would have been far longer beforehand and from then - until a second mock she again failed, the nights together in your corner of the library ran long after dark.

With her final only over a month from today, her grades from practice exams were still low. You almost wanted to see how long she could pretend for.

"Do you want to try the tea?"

The small, paper cup dripped damp marks onto her unopened test paper and you smiled. "Don't distract yourself, Gwyn."

"I'm not! Isn't yours so plain?"

"Will you at least try the test if I try it?"

In the same sweet tone you pretended to reconsider tutoring for Silverstone, Gwynna passed her tea. “I might.”

The sweetness stuck on your tongue; too sickly, far too hot, but you loved it. Not for the tea but the fruity flavour of her lipgloss on the rim. It wasn’t the tea warming through you, tightening your chest. Her lips curled; she could read you too well, but not well enough to know why you were flushed.

"Finish the test."

Every new question, she stalled. Her pen spun in her slender fingers or her tail twitched by your hip. Those feigned moments of confusion had before guilted you for failing to help her, but tonight you sipped your tea and watched when her forehead scrunched.

Then she would deliberately choose the wrong answer.

"Worst score yet, Gwyn." Only someone with a complete understanding of which answers were right could fail so spectacularly, but she winced all the same. “Your mock next week,” your said quietly - there wasn’t one, not with the final so close, but Gwynna had no idea as she looked up. “Would a change of environment help? If could bring honey tea to yours.”

“No.” The pain sharp in your chest couldn’t be only the desire to catch her in the act of failing, but you fought it. Gwynna brushed her long fringe from her rounding eyes before touching her hand to yours. "I have sweeter tea at home."

"Friday?"

Friday worked.

From then to Friday, you shared one more evening bundled in the corner booth. Gwynna never once touched a pen or a textbook in the session. For hours, she leaned against you, legs pressed tight and her tail wound to your ankles. So far your favourite night together as she spoke of home - even inviting you back in the holidays to the woods. Despite her teasing for your scrawled handwriting, nothing warmed you more than her warm hands taking yours, tracing the smudged ink and she held it until the end of your session.

Dressing in the outfit she always complimented most on Friday evening was coincidence, nothing more.

Her single flat off wasn’t far from you, both living off of campus, though Gwynna distanced from city centre. The flat’s cosy quiet led you into a tiny lounge where she hugged you close - “look at you! So pretty,” she’d whispered, leaning down - before leading you round with a hand in yours to the smaller kitchen.

In plain sight, Silverstone’s textbook tucked beneath the module you taught on her coffee table. 

"Before I make tea," she hummed, filling the kettle. Her hair swung in a thick plait down to the middle of her back as she turned, eyes bright. "You're not making me do another practice test are, you?"

"Would you throw me out if I did?"

"Yes."

“Maybe later,” you teased. Her lips twitched but she held a frown until reaching for mugs on a shelf much taller than you. “How are you finding things?"

Her voice warmed the small room, backed by the small clinks of her spoon in the mugs. Without asking, she made your tea how you liked - frowning and grumbling at the lack of sugar as she did, before offering you a biscuit. Homemade, so you couldn't resist.

"How do you find our sessions, too?"

Gwynna blinked over her shoulder before winking. "Highlights of my week."

Streetlights softened the smile on her dark lips. They glistened with her fruity lipgloss, pulled into a wider smile when you welcomed the hot tea in her favourite mug; favourite for her favourite person, she'd whispered, and the golden tint to her skin flushed.

"I forgot to ask..." She hummed so gently you nearly refrained from asking, scared of upsetting her. Though she had lied to you for weeks, so spoke softly, casually. "How do you find Silverstone? Do you like him?"

"Oh, I love him! He teaches almost like you, actually-"

If you hadn’t reached for her hand, her sweet tea and mug would have shattered by your feet. From curses to apologies, she stammered, quieting the more she backed away from the kitchen. She never moved her hand from yours.

Silverstone had been your favourite lecturer. To hear her compare you was a high compliment and a reassurance that your style of tutoring wasn’t an utter failing. Had she not refused to look back at you, the compliment would’ve meant much more.

One, soft gasp came at her legs pressing back against the sofa. She had nowhere to run to with her fingertips still brushing yours. Her fringe shadowed her closed eyes. With every call of her name, her ears turned back, so you tiptoed. Her frilly collar tickled your palm but it was enough to lower her for your lips to meet.

All seven foot of her fainted back. Her arms stroked around your waist until you followed her down. She lost all timidity in settling you on her lap and turning her face against yours, foreheads together.

"You kissed me. You just kissed me."

"And I'd do it again, Gwyn.” Her breath came as a whine when you loosened her collar to stroke her neck. “If you let me."

Her kiss was your answer. She tasted of sweet fruits, more than just the gloss of her lips, more than the tea still warm on her tongue, like she was yours to taste and hold. The warm hand then stroking your hip tightened, gently running lower until she was squeezing your ass and shifting you closer across her wide thighs.

"I never meant to lie," she whispered. Like the reminder of her deceit could lose you, she ran her nose to yours and indulged again until you gasped. "That was... that was a lie. I did mean to lie to you. I didn't want you to stop tutoring me, and-"

“Gwyn, none of that matters. Not when you’re trying to undress me.”

Even leaning back beneath you, her face rose above yours. She softened her kiss and her fingers before tentative on your back dipped beneath the waist of your trousers, low enough you hummed into her lips and louder with her tongue sweet to yours. Loose strays on her nape ran through your fingertips, holding her closer with parted mouth kisses following your jaw lower. 

"When did you pass the module?"

She mumbled something into your throat so low you couldn't hear, and sighed. "The day after we met."

"Gwynna, that... you never needed my help?"

Her cheeks flushed a warmer shade. "I nearly corrected you sometimes. I'm sorry! I'm," she rasped, curling you close when you reared back, jaw fallen low. "I can make it up to you?"

Heat rounded her stare, eyelashes fluttering in a deliberate, blatant look down and up to your warming face. She was the one to unbuckle your belt, but you rose from her thighs with a parting kiss to stand, bending lower to undress.

Gwynna curled her fingers into the edge of the sofa cushions. Standing before her in only your underwear made you hesitate, but her soft, whispered plea undid the clasp of your bra. Her groan muffled behind bitten lips though she never once looked away when your thumbs tucked behind the hem of your underwear, and they fell.

Nothing could delay her any longer with you bare and in reach. The strength of a firbolg dragged you returned to straddling her lap. Her thighs spread wider and parted your legs, bound close at her mercy. Though with the way she trembled, a whisper of your name before she lifted a hand to your chest, you had never felt more in control.

"How are you going to make it up to me, Gwyn?"

Her smile was your last sight before she stole your breath and tasted your moan. Sweet and warm, delicate like the careful touch exploring you. The smooth pad of her thumb stroked your nipple and shivers bloomed beneath her touch

Her lips silenced you. Sweet and warm, delicate like her touch as she explored you. The pad of her thumb stroked your nipple and she ran her fingertips down your spine, sending small shivers through you.

Not following the falling of her palm left you crying and holding her shoulders tight. Her finger stroked low and entered you to the knuckle. Gwynna’s laugh softened to a shy smile.

“Like this,” she said and curled her finger to stroke deeper, following your fluttering walls around her. “Is this okay?”

That she asked warmed you, but you were quicker to burn when your body clenched against two crooked fingers. “More. More, please.”

It was an oversight, not to follow her fallen hand; an oversight making you cry and curse and clutch her shoulders tight when she eased a thick finger between your legs, a sheepish smile lifting her lips when she looked up.

“More,” she echoed. Only her hand cupping your nape held you from falling back when your back arched in pleasure. With her fingers finding a hastening rhythm, her thumb brushed against your clit before rubbing it firmer. “More?”

She held you tighter when you panted, “give me everything.”

Her blouse fell loose on her arms under your hands until your bodies pressed flush, the heat of her stirring through to where her fingers slowed. Gwynna stole the breath you desperately needed when your eyes rolled back, the coaxing of her three fingers lifting you to your peak.

Gwynna’s breathing deepened with yours. Each stroke of her fingers came against your hips grinding down, her hair loose under your tugging. “What do you need? You’re so close,” she hummed, nestling against your chest and sucking your nipple into her mouth. “So pretty.”

She was there, touching you where you needed to be touched, breathing as hard and as hot as you were. "How does it feel? What do you need?"

“I need you. To touch-”

Her cosy flat erupted with light. Gwynna’s kisses marked your chest above your racing heart but never slowed the firm touch on your swollen clit. Through your legs trembling and walls clenching around her still moving hand, she prolonged the intense pleasure until your cries softened into quieter moans against her shoulder.

Warm arms curled you to her chest, slumped and still tingling. Her nose bumped yours and on lifting your glossy stare, her lips parted to suck your release from her fingers. The teasing wink as she licked you from her lips made your stomach flutter.

"Was that okay?"

"More than okay," you mumbled. "Lie to me anytime."

Her forehead creased. "We never finished our tea."

"Gwyn, we won't finish them."

Nestled into your throat, her lips pulled up. She nibbled at your jaw and laid close, the both of you swaying until the rush faded and your breathing slowed. In the pause before you begged Gwynna to carry you to her bedroom - your legs still trembled, her hand running up to your thigh - you tipped her chin up. Her eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss which you surrendered too before swallowing a laugh.

"You'll find this funny," you began, and she hummed, tucking hair behind your ear. "I planned on asking you out when I was no longer your tutor."

Gwynna's wide ears drooped. "This took so long because of me?"

"That depends." As you had, she shivered from the brush of your fingertips running along the cups of her bra; it would be off in minutes. "How long have you wanted me?"

"Why do you think I wanted you as my tutor?"

“Take me to your bedroom,” you whispered.

Gwynna laid you down on her bed, where the night drifted passed in many kisses and returned favours, until you woke to do it again.

[gabywantsafriend]

Dopamine and Oxytocin: Brian Johnson x Reader

(Not my GIF)

Requested by tmntthristy - “Is it ok if request a brian Johnson x reader where they meet in detention”

Hi sorry it took me so long to respond to your request, love :( I hope you enjoy it, though! -Gaby :)

Warning: Mentions of drugs, Swearing

“Ah, Ms. L/n. Right on time,” Vernon greeted without looking up from his clipboard. He flipped through his papers. “Let’s see, first time in detention, eh?” You nodded. “So you’re in here for cursing out Mr. Galvin, correct?”

“To be fair, sir, he was making sexist comments. He needed some words of wisdom to deflate his pathetically large ego.” Allison snorted, mouthing “Good one!”  which you replied with a thumbs up. Vernon sighed, “Very unlike you, Ms. L/n. You’re not really the type to speak your mind,” he hinted at your quiet nature, “Alright, well take a seat. Anywhere’s fine.” You sat next to Brian as you’d talk to him the most during class. Plus, you weren’t very close with the rest of the kids. The vice principal then proceeded to lecture you all on the importance of morals and good conduct; you know, all that boring shit. He then proceeded to his office after a last warning of, “And no funny business, got it?”

Once Vernon was out of sight, the group chattered away about their week and how they managed to get into detention. You found out that they called themselves “The Breakfast Club,” and that they see one another on the second Saturday of each month to catch up. They had  agreed to keep their friendship private as they were from completely different social backgrounds. They seemed close, much to your dismay as you were an introvert with few friends and weren’t the best at socializing. Great, nine glorious hours of being left out.

You actually followed Vernon’s instructions and managed to finish your essay within the first 45 minutes. You didn’t have anything better to do. The next four hours comprised of you doodling on your notebook and were seemingly peaceful except for Bender’s occasional taunting. Boredom took a hold of you eventually as even your thoughts couldn’t keep you entertained. The group was sprawled out on the floor, passing around a blunt as they cracked up about anything and everything. Yep, they were high as a kite. 

You were having a whole, blown-out debate in your head whether you should join them. Your logic kicked in. Y/n, are you insane? A single drag can lead you to addiction and you’ll never get into a good college and no one will hire you because of your messed up state of mind and no one’s ever gonna love you because drugs will be your number one priority. It’ll tear your life apart-

“Hey, can I have a go?” Fuck it. All five of them whipped their heads to look at you, faces painted with astonishment.  “Well, well, well. She speaks!” The criminal mocked with a shit-eating grin, kneeling and looking to the heavens as if he just witnessed a miracle. “I’m anti-social, not mute, you fucking moron,” you retorted. The rest of them snickered. “You’re cool,” Allison nodded in approval, passing you the blunt. You stared at the rolled up weed in between your fingertips. As you inhaled the foreign material, you cough a couple of times before you feel the drugs slowly take effect, you squint as the world seems to blurrily spin around you. The next thing you know you’re laughing uncontrollably. 

“Alright, if you could have a super power, what would it be?” Brian asked while kneading through his eyebrows, making sure they were still there (the weed toyed with his sense of touch.) The group of high teenagers were all over the library. Andrew was running around the room with Allison on his back, his arms outstretched while he made airplane noises to make her laugh. Bender let out a giggly “Ouch! You’re tugging too hard, babe!” as Claire braided his hair behind a bookshelf. The four were paired up, consumed in teen romance. Brian huffed after looking around, realizing that their attention wasn’t focused on him and his weird questions. He closed his eyes momentarily, basking in the peaceful state of mind that the drugs caused him to be in.

“I’d probably shapeshift.” The nerd squinted at you, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. “What?” You waved your hand in a “move over” kind of motion and he obeyed, scooting a little to make room for you. You laid down beside him, staring at the ceiling. “You asked about super powers, didn’t you?”

You heard him. You, the pretty girl who sat in front of him at History; you, who pushed him out of the way as not to get hit by a dodgeball during P.E; you, who occasionally engaged small talk in class; you, who he had admired for the longest time, were paying attention to him. 

He masked his growing smile with a sly, “Oh yeah, I did ask that. I didn’t know Marijuana gave me short-term memory loss,” he laughed quietly. “I wanna have super strength, by the way,” he said as an answer to his own question. “Lame.”

You both then proceeded to talk for what seemed to be hours on end (except for when one of you had to use the restroom.) You spoke about everything and nothing at the same time; your conversations simultaneously switching from serious discussions to little things that made zero sense. From childhood traumas to favorite nursery rhymes, crying about the pressure of having strict parents to cackling about who could sing the national anthem in a higher pitch. You weren’t sure where all of these stories and ranting and weird ass humor were coming from, nor were you sure if you’d remember any of the things you’ve rambled on about by the time the drugs wore off. But after listening to this random nerd from History class, you were sure of one thing:

He’s really pretty. 

You took subtle glimpses of him so he wouldn’t catch you staring. You took mental notes of how his eyes seemed to smile while he’d let out a hearty chuckle, how he’d pick at his fingernails when he was nervous, how his voice cracked every now and then, or how he’d do anything and you’d be utterly bewildered. 

And he’s beyond intelligent. From what you’ve observed based on hours of chatting, he’d think for a moment, most probably choosing the best words to use, then rant to you as if delivering a whole speech, complete with an introduction, body, and conclusion. “His mind is pretty, too,” you thought. 

“Woah, you okay? Your pupils are huge.” You shook your head lightly, getting your head out of the clouds. “Well, that’s what happens when you space out while you’re extremely high,” you nagged playfully. “I don’t think it’s just the Marijuana, Y/n,” Brian stated as-a-matter-of-factly. You squinted at the nerd as you challenged, “Oh yeah? Then what is it?” 

His fucked up mental state gave him a surge of confidence as he cleared his throat and explained, “Well, scientifically speaking, there are these ‘love hormones,’” he drew air quotes with his fingers, “called Dopamine and Oxytocin that affect the size of our pupils. These chemicals usually get boosted in your brain when you’re romantically attracted to someone-”

“Wait, wait, wait- so, you’re saying I’m attracted to you?” You sat up, scoffing incredulously. He stopped mid-tutoring to turn his head toward you, you doing the same. He sheepishly grinned, “I don’t know, maybe? I mean- I hope I’m right because I like you a whole lot.” 

You sat up abruptly, causing Brian to be startled. “What? You’re joking, aren’t you? I swear to God, Johnson-” His stomach churned unpleasantly at your reaction, you looked disgusted. He was sitting up now, cheeks aflame with embarrassment as he began to stutter out strings of apologies and explanations.

“I-I’m so sorry! It’s just that y-you’re so pretty a-and you’re really kind and-and I couldn’t help but-but like you! I’ve l-liked you ever since the m-moment you first introduced you-yourself to class last year. Shit, this is so humiliating!” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so stupid for thinking you’d like me back,” his timid voice was muffled by his palms, making it even harder to understand, but you did.

The next thing you knew, you were moving his hands away from his face, placing a small peck on his pink lips. It was delicate and quick enough to miss. However, he didn’t miss the way his stomach erupted in butterflies; or how your lips were soft against his. He wouldn’t miss it for the world. His eyes, previously squeezed shut, went wide after the little display of affection.

You laughed lightly. “What’s so funny?” He questioned with the goofiest grin on his face, still in a small state of shock and euphoria.

“Your pupils are so blown out, dork. Like they’re absolutely massive!” You said in between giggles. His hands found their way to your cheeks and now it was his turn to kiss you, longer this time. It was sweet and full of admiration. He pulled away to speak.

“Maybe it’s because I like you so much.”