#but I’m a pens fan for life if you wanna talk I’ll be here

[coffee-at-annies]

I’m logging off for the night but I’ll still be around in a general sense. If you wanna talk feel free to tag me, send an ask, or hit up my dms. If it seems like I’m not upset, that’s super a lie I’m just not screamingcryingsobbing on main bc I prefer to keep that shit in dms

[linklethehistorian]

salutations mr linkle the hyrule historian tumblr can u direct me 2 the last anon that said ur wrong bc i think they're great n I wanna give them a kiss on the lips!!!! anyway was it not u that said the OFFICIAL!!!!!!! 15 translation was wrong n bad so i dont think the opinions of anyone who considers rimbaud a doormat n wrote the abomination that is cherish are valid

anyway anon if ur reading this ilove u pooks u me n bitch tree anon n bully anon should b poly or smth we'd make beautiful children

Hmmmmmmmmmm, well I don’t remember anybody saying I was wrong, honey. 🤔 Last anon just asked me a question about if I’d ever considered something, and I answered! 😊

Anyway I’d love love love love to help you two hook up bc that’s so sweet and I want to meet your future children so much! 🥺💕💕💕 I could be a part of a real life love story! 🥺💖💖💖💕💕💕💕💕 So cute!!! I don’t think Bully anon or Bitch Tree anon would be into it unfortunately at first, since they send me little hearts and cutesie things these days…. I’m sorry about that. 😔 Oh well! I’m sure when they hear your dedication to reach out to me they’ll still want to give you kissies somehow ‘cause they’re so dedicated to me too, just in a very loving way.

And yee! I did say the ‘official’ translation was bad! Thank you so much for remembering my words and sticking around my blog so long. 🥺💕 Anyway yeah, that unfortunately happens sometimes, and by sometimes, I mean a lot, ‘cause a) there are people out there who unironically think it’s okay to take creative liberties in translating because it’s their right as someone taking the time to do it (can’t be assed rn but if you search around this site enough, you’ll find an entire thread of translators talking about this), b), there are people who write for a lot of series they’re not into and therefore aren’t aware of all the context of previous novels, c) there are people who just slip up and make mistakes! Happens all the time unfortunately and most people don’t understand that if you misunderstand or change one thing it can change everything, and d) people who are tasked with translating 99% of the time never even talk to the people team of people who actually published the original, much less are in contact with the author themself! Mistranslations and drastic creative liberties happen a lot for example in the fandom I came from (The Legend of Zelda), which you can see a bit here! And if you still don’t believe me, you can go ask Dear old Author Neil Gaiman, who has even had some of the characters in his books turned from lovers to sisters and everything, a lot of the time completely without his knowledge until fans point it out to him! If you scroll his blog, I’m sure you’ll find those posts for yourself, assuming he doesn’t see an ask from you on if it happens. ‘Tis a sad thing, but Asagiri-sensei likely doesn’t even know when a mistranslation happens, much less do these people sit down and ask him things directly before doing their thing. He certainly doesn’t have involvement overseeing the process; that’s an unreasonable thing to ask of someone when it involves other languages they may or may not even be fluent in. And all the proof we need that it’s wrong is that the JP novel and the Stage Play (both things that Asagiri was directly, heavily involved in and/or directly penned the words of/material of the script for himself) both contradict it. If you’d like to take on that claim, since you’re implying I’m wrong, have at it! The burden of proof is on you, so, I look forward to seeing you send me the individual JP source lines of the Eng translations you want to take a crack at defending and a long wall of educational text explaining why each part of the English translation got it 1,000% right, directly in my in-box. If not, have a good day ‘cause I’m sorry, but I got limited time and other things to do right now, baby. 💕 I’ll eventually get to it myself some day, but right now I have other articles to finish first, art to make, and a fic to keep posting.

Speaking of which…OMG YOU READ CHERISH? 🥺💕💕💕💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💖💖😊💖💕🥺💕🥺💕💖💕💕🥺💕💖💕💕💕 That’s so sweet OMG OMG OMG! I’m glad you enjoy my beautiful ‘abomination’ enough to read and keep up with it! Don’t worry sweetie, the next chapter is on its way!

See this is why I love love love love love love love my ‘haters’ so fucking much, I adore y’all, I’d kill for y’all, OMG. You give me so much dedication and time, I know how much y’all adore me and I adore you right back! My beloved super fans. 💕💕💕💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺 Every ask I get and vague post I read makes my heart flutter, frfr, I’ve actually got an album I keep of screenshots of y’all’s posts to give me the motivation to keep doing what I do whenever I’m down. 🥺💖💖💕💕 This one goes in the collection for sure ahhhh 💖💖💕💕💕 I’m so important to people OMG IT’S SO CUTE AND SWEET

TAKE CARE OUT THERE ANON! PLS SEND ME MORE MESSAGES I LOVE THEM. I WAIT WITH BATED BREATH 💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💕💖💖

GOOD LUCK ON YOUR DATE!!! PLEASE MAKE BABIES WHO ARE ALSO OBSESSED WITH ME, I CAN’T WAIT 💕💕💕💖💖

[bnhamixjuice-sfw]

ANON REQUEST: Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa: spot an ex he had a bad break up with, he sees her walking around struggling to hold on to a bag of groceries while pushing a stroller with a toddler in it that looks awful lot like them, and the he awkwardly confronts them when the bag falls out of her hands.

Tags: Manga Spoiler, Mention of cheating, Angst to Fluff.

Hawks

“I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean what? to deny that I’m your girlfriend in front of the media ‘cause you had a job agreement with the commission not to reveal me! okay Keigo you’re doing this for what reason exactly? Hero Reputation? More women you can use to cheat behind my back again and expect me to forgive you? I–I don’t want this kind of life anymore!”, you wailed in pure anguish roughly wriggling your wrist away from his firm clutch.

He felt suffocated when he needed to let you go for all the things that he did to hurt you, holding back the urge to chase you outside when you frantically closed the door, not looking back anymore on him. Leaving the top pro hero falling on his knees, lonely between these four walls of his house.

After all this time he can’t forget you, longing to see your face everywhere he goes even on pro hero awarding events or his usual patrol work with Endeavor looking for you through the crowds, praying to see your smile again that he misses the most.

His life was crumbling apart without you, but luck was on his side today when he spotted you not too far from where he was signing autographs for his fans while stealing some glances. As always, you’re still beautiful standing there.

Trying to fix your grocery bags while clasping the baby-carriage’s handle. He hesitated at first to approach you thinking you’re probably waiting for your husband to pick you up and your child. And that’s when a tuft of yellow hair popped out.

“Mommy look it’s Hawks, Awtoglaph pweasee awtoglapph”, his excited pleas reached Hawks’ ears. pointing his fingers towards your ex-boyfriend who waved a hand on both of you.

Soon red feathers clumped together on the ground, preventing your bag to fall.

“Wow what do we have here, a kid full of energy today, so where do you want me to sign your autograph?”, stooping down beaming a smile with his eyes crinkling behind his yellow visor making your child gasp in awe.

He knew instantly that his suspicion was right seemingly looking at his own reflection with those golden honey orbs and black lines on those eyelids and small bump protruding behind the kid’s shirt, red feathers similar to his, messily cramped inside.

“Ke–Hawks here… ”, almost calling out his first name when you handed him a notebook and a pen.

Slightly feeling his gloved hand against your palm.

“Hawks look I hab wings too–”

“Honey we need to go home now or else you’ll miss your favorite show again, now say bye bye to Mr. Hawks”, you interrupted, sneaking a warning glare on him not to tell him anything before gently freeing your child’s wings out from his shirt’s makeshift holes.

“Little fledgling I guess your wings were moulting, so did your Daddy tell you about it”

“Hab no Dawdy but Oh you see… Mommy Lov’ Dawdy so much that she booboo cries” you were shock-stricken softly hushing your child out of embarassment.

“Well kid make sure to tell your Mommy not to cry okay cause Daddy loves her so much, yes don’t forget to tell that to her every day I–”, he stammered with his voice started cracking, overwhelming him with emotions too easily, swallowing the lump forming on his throat.

“Your father loves you too kid trust me, and surely there’s not a single day he’s not thinking of your Mommy, his only Dove–Ah I think I’m taking too much of your time Miss I-I’m so sorry”, halting it immediately, muffling a few sniffles before finally signing his signature.

Your heart began thumping so loud, not expecting him shamelessly grabbing your hand, burying you into a warm embrace in public.

“Wait Keigo stop this, everyone’s taking so many pictures of you”

“No I don’t care anymore, listen Dove I’m so sorry and I still love you, come back to me please I promise I won’t hurt you again, I’ll do better this time just let me make up for it, and for our son”

You can’t blame yourself for giving in, accepting him wholeheartedly knowing this is what you promised to him once.

To never let your future child experience the same heartache he suffered from his past.

Dabi

He regret those cruel words that came out from his mouth the first time he was too fed up of your constant admonishment of putting a rest on his revenge against his family forever since you cannot bear to see him exhausting his body anymore, starting this heated discourse again between you.

“You always bring this up y/n every single day and it’s too annoying already, why are you siding on Enji too much Babydoll… come on just say it you really want us to have a perfect family, so cool to have a child with this debilitating quirk too right?”

Sucking your inner lips anxiously avoiding to tell him something about that last one, you felt his grip on your sholders constricting furiously waiting for you to answer him back, but your tears spilling from those precious eyes made his stomach churn in guilt realizing what he had done when you began screaming on his face that everything’s over, shoving him away and locking the door of your house shut.

He knew how much of a dick he was, the worst break up that’s been haunting him everyday with your terrified face forever etched on his mind

It’s been a long time since the last time he saw you after you moved from your old house and he cannot find you everywhere until today.

He saw you pushing a stroller on the side of the road and having a hard time balancing the bag of groceries on your other hand.

Perhaps you found someone better than him and additionally having a child; a normal child considering he’s not the father. that’s what he thought until something caught his attention.

Squinting his eyes, he was slack-jawed to find a familiar cerulean orbs and red hair on that young boy giddily calling you Mommy.

He took this rare chance of talking to you again by catching your bag of groceries that you clumsily dropped, your eyes met recognizing your ex-boyfriend instantly when he removed his mask. piercing eyes gazing down below observing your child’s similar features.

“Babydoll why didn’t you tell me about him, our son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dabi and refrain from calling me that nickname anymore, also stay away from MY son before I call the police”

You breathed heavily snatching back your grocery bag from his grasp, clutching the stroller’s handle in pure anger.

“Daddy you meanie, go home”, tugging his pants with those tiny hands.

It hurts you to see your own child begging for his father to go home, when you can’t even tell him how you often show his own picture to your child that’s why he recognized his own father easily, keeping him close to his heart and memory forever.

You can’t hate your only child’s father.

He was expecting him to cry on his intimidating face when he bent his knees down to look at his child closely, ignoring your earlier threat by patting his son’s head seemingly accepting this foreign fatherly instinct.

“Kid look I’m obviously a bad guy, I don’t want you to get in trouble so maybe next time when your Mommy allows me, don’t worry I’ll probably see you again next time pepperoni haired kid”, chuckling when he saw his son’s childish pout, letting him pinch his stapled cheeks annoyed at his nickname.

“Y/n this is goodbye then”, flashing you that thin smile noticing his lips quivering a bit as he stood.

Shoving both of his hands inside his pockets before turning around to walk slowly away from both of you ignoring your child’s tantrum cries calling for him to go back.

“Ssh… sweetie don’t cry okay–Wait Touya!”

He stopped on his tracks when you yelled his real name again, like how you used to call him that before out of endearment.

“We’re going to stay here from now on so same address, the usual okay knock thrice and use our anniversary day on pressing the doorbell and don’t forget our password, listen I’m doing this for our child only so you better show up tonight or I won’t ever give you a chance”

He disappeared quickly after that, and tonight he never failed to show up incessantly ringing the doorbell many times even greeting you that typical password; a kiss.

A yearning kiss, hands intertwining the moment you opened your heart once again.

Aizawa

“Shouta you keep missing my calls these past few weeks when I needed you the most, you barely have enough time to visit me when I was sick the whole week and now you’re late, fine I don’t wanna hear your excuses anymore”

Those bitter words pierced him like thorns, seeing you slip out that engagement ring from your finger and placing it on a table whispering those bitter words he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“It’s better if we end this relationship now before we regret something, I–I can’t imagine my future being married with you or even having a child with you who pathetically seek for time and attention from his workaholic father, sorry Shouta”, you covered your mouth trying to bite back your tongue from spilling about your unborn child.

Running outside the restaurant leaving him heartbroken that he can’t further speak out his words anymore because everything that you just told him was painfully true.

He doesn’t deserve you, blaming himself for not appreciating you enough despite of your effort of enduring the hardships of having a pro hero fiance who often risk his life for his students. A man who can’t even spend a time to take care of you.

Nevertheless, he wanted to mend back those strings that binds you to his heart, always pouring out his loneliness on visiting that Cat Cafe on his day off every week reminding him of memories you two share.

You often take him there to spend a date knowing he’s fond of cats and snapping lots of photos of him every time he ends up sleeping on the corner with cats huddling close to his face nearly suffocating him.

Keeping your engagement ring to him all the time was the only thing that calms him down whenever he’s in dire situation on his job, thinking how much he wish to meet you here again.

Unbelievably seeing you again one time, rubbing his weary eyes once and twice to know if it’s truly you. Indeed, he can’t forget that familiar caring smile of his beloved, finding you outside the cat cafe currently having a problem of organizing your bag of groceries.

“Mawmmy, neko pweasee I wanna touch it!”, your daughter began whinning clapping his hands to get your attention.

He can’t believe his own eyes when your child resembles him too much with that obsidian dull eyes and sleek black hair minus for that pigtail hairstyle but that scowl seems a carbon copy of his own.

“Wait Baby I–”

“I think you need help Y/n”

You were flabbergasted to find your ex-fiance taking a hold of your bag of groceries with his whip that was about to hit the ground and voluntarily offering his Neko tote bag for you which you persuaded him not to.

“Mawmmy pwease I want that too, Neko”, her tiny hands reaching out determined to get it no matter what.

“Baby no–”

“Well your daughter love cats so much, you can give this to her, please just a friendly gift”, taking out something from his pocket leaning down a bit to his side to rummage on that keychain, letting you see his necklace around his neck with that old engagement ring of yours dangling.

“Found it, here kid I’m not sure if you’ll like this”

“Aww Mawmmy have that too um…right Mawmmy, so no thanks Mister”

There’s no way you were married that’s what Shouta suspected when he saw you not wearing any ring, and obviously that cat keychain was closely similar to his anniversary keychain that you two bought for each other.

“Y/n I can drive you two back to your house if its okay–”

“Mawmmy please say yes”

You sighed in defeat not having a choice in the first place and also giving freedom to your child to spend time with her father who doesn’t know about this.

His car was still the same, sitting beside him and your child now sleeping behind after getting so tired ogling on his car’s cat accesories.

You chuckled upon seeing your daughter’s face on the mirror messily drooling, leaning slightly on your side to wipe the corner of her mouth.

“Darling is she our daughter”

“Eyes on the road Shouta, and yes so what will you do about it. Do you expect me to ask for any financial support from you oh maybe spending your precious time for our daughter that I can’t even get from you years ago”, you sarcastically uttered, stabbing him rudely with those truthful words he was unprepared to hear from you.

“I understand if you’re still mad at me y/n, but I just want you to let you know that I want to set things right first before asking you to forgive me. Because I don’t want to miss this opportunity again to tell you how much I wanted to talk to you or maybe to see you in your white wedding dress”

You can’t resist how determined he was to get close to you again, feeling his hand slowly making its way on you.

Giving back that engagement ring to whom it truly belongs, and that was you, a dream he wanted to come true despite it being too impossible.

Turning your head away to wipe your own tears, proposing for the second time that you have been waiting to hear from him all along.

“She’s your daughter Shouta and don’t you dare make her cry of I’ll scratch your face harder than what your cat does”

“That’s too kind of you, I mean my cat misses your deadly belly rub too, you named him Mr. Pickles right, well I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his Mom again and his new sibling soon”,

You both exchanged soft giggling catching up on one another by starting the conversation about your lives and so on and so forth, and apparently your child was eavesdropping on both of you.

Your daughter muffled a “Pro hero mission success” after accomplishing her goal, peeking a bit to see you wearing that shiny ring.

She knew it the first time she saw that stranger recognizing him from one of the picture you often place under your pillow, her daddy.

Well she did inherit Shouta’s intellectual skills after all.

Do not repost this fic/headcanon.

Disclaimer: I don't own My hero academia nor its characters and plot.

[gojology]

Job Benefits. (Part One)

new beginnings ‧₊˚✩彡. - chapter one.

you can find part two here : part two : undesirable

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader

warnings : cursing

wordcount : 1960

a/n : something that i’ve been working on for a while now. this is self indulgent as all hell and i’m starting a new series n idk when it’ll end necessarily but ceo gojo is all i need in my life. also i have like 300 million requests to go through but i PROMISE i’ll get them done! i just need to finish my valentines event thingy and i’ll be open! 

it has come to my attention that gojo is his surname and i’m too lazy to fix anything other then the first name basis part im so sorry LOl

         It’s no secret that you like working the office.      Even as a child you enjoyed the formal atmosphere when you walked into your parent’s workplace, and even better, you enjoyed organizing stuff. Growing up, your favorite pass time was cleaning and organizing which caused you to excel in school, coupled with your natural smarts. Your peers would constantly tease you, telling you that you were a boring kid- but hey, you’d be making lots of money, and what better job would there be for you, aside from being someone’s secretary?      Those were the first words that came across your mind as soon as you stepped into the prestigious building, heels rhythmically hitting the stainless floor, suitcase in hand. It was also the first lie that you’d tell yourself in there.      You had known about this company even as a child. One that sold just about everything, the most notable being luxurious clothing, but something the company was also well known for? How attractive the family was.      Sure it was a bit weird, but in defense of the general public their appearances were rare, only once in a while you’d see the family on TV. Waving in their limousine, blowing kisses and doing things rich people do, or maybe ignoring the cheering crowd of journalists and news reporters, hell like you knew.     Catching glimpses of the wildly white haired family was something every paparazzi threw themselves at, and picking up a magazine or going to search something on the internet would be sure to be chock full of pictures of the esteemed family. The highlight of the family being the son, just because of how handsome he was, and also happened to be the most publicly known and fawned over family member-     Gojo fucking Satoru.      Luckily for you, he was your boss, so you could probably reveal the tiniest of secrets and make major bank. Unluckily for you, he was childish as all hell, not to mention you found childish people incredibly annoying. The worst thing? You were his secretary.      That could only spell out doom for a man like him, and a woman like you, who only wanted to get business done and nothing else. You two truly did not mix.     Two months prior, you had gotten the job and was finally excited to have stable income after graduating. Your hirers didn’t tell you anything about having to babysit a manchild though.     And so, that’s how you found yourself sitting in the comfortable plush leather office chair, fumbling under the piles of paperwork and fan letters, cursing your boss’s name under your breath for being so unconcerned with work. Scheduling appointments, interviews, sending e-mails of unacceptance to eager authors asking to write an auto-biography, that was your life.      You’d be content with it if your boss was normal.      As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s like he heard you think.     “(Y/N)-chan~!” you hear a familiar sing-songy voice down the rather short hallway. Your office resided right next to his, and it would only take him 30 seconds or so to walk down to your door, presumably to annoy the hell out of you. You grunt, blowing a stray hair out of your face.     This also meant that you could hear him sing from his office, even through the thick walls.      Choosing to ignore it, you instead furiously typed to another business executive’s secretary who had just emailed you about a meeting between Gojo and- well you weren’t quite sure who.      “(Y/N)-chan~ I know you hear me, don’t you know it’s disrespectful to not listen to your seniors?” his playful, deep voice was growing closer, and you straighten your back, sighing. You didn’t sign up to be a daycare worker, yet this was what you found yourself doing most of the time.      “I’m sorry, Satoru-sama, please instill me with your great knowledge, oh wise one.” rolling your eyes and rubbing your temples, you glance up from your laptop, bracing yourself for whatever would happen next. Gojo leaned on the frame of your door, head ducking slightly. He was way too tall to walk under it without any issue.      He was unnecessarily calm though, normally he’d be jumping around your office, making a mess of things, but his body language told otherwise. He was slacking off from his duties, obviously, so you weren’t too sure why he’d be acting so... Chill.     With his arms crossed, he gave you a mischievous side eye.     Growing impatient, you stand up, your knuckles grinding against the tabletop. Your brow knitted together as he peered down on you, almost tauntingly, and you hated it.  “Listen, boss. I have a lot to do today, for you, might I add as I am your secretary- and if you’re going to sit around I don’t think I’ll get to these emails and phone calls and everything fast enough. May I kindly assist you with anything? If not I’ll have to ask you to go back to... Whatever you were doing.”      Gojo looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, like he didn’t expect such a sassy remark. “Oh my, sweetie. Someone has a naughty mouth... To your boss of all people? How mean! I don’t think I remember putting, ‘allowed to be rude to the Satoru clan’ down on the job benefits.. What’s with the formal tone as well? So unnecessary, just be yourself when you’re talking to me.”     He sauntered closer to your desk, and your breath hitched, this was one of the first times you’d seen him up close like this, and you swore that you could hear your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest. You don’t know what that could mean; but what you did know was that you wanted to slap him or punch a hole into the glass window right behind you and throw him off the 15 floor building. Leaning in close to your ear, he whispered:      “Or, if you wanna stick with the business voice- call me sir. Got that?”     You nod before looking down at your desk, feeling your body heat up for seemingly no particular reason. Did this guy have any knowledge of a private bubble? Whatever, this was your superior. If it was any boss you’d probably be fired by now. You were lucky to be forgiven.     “Yes, sir. May I comment on something... Er, sir?”     “I’m all ears.” standing back up from leaning over your incredibly messy desk, you looked up at him, he looked down at you in response, with beady little “innocent” eyes through his circular shades.      “I didn’t mean to be sassy, I only wish for this relationship to be professional and nothing else.... I, um, truly do apologize and I ask for your forgiveness.” you studied the wall as you say this, fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your pencil skirt. It was a bit awkward to talk to him as if he wasn’t a kid, but it did feel certainly refreshing.      “Is that so?” you turn your head to look back at him as a sign of respect, an eyebrow of his is raised, and a smug smirk is playing at his lips. He talked with such an aura of arrogance around him, you instantly regret being respectful. Yet, you restrain yourself from slapping that stupid smirk off his stupidly handsome face.      Why did all the handsome ones have to be so annoying?      Fuck, no, that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. Even though it was only in your mind, you felt so embarrassed, and had no idea why. It wasn’t like he could read your thoughts, and it was just a mindless compliment, nothing flirtatious about it.       Finally, he spoke. “Aw. (Y/N), I knew we picked well when we hired you. So respectful and professional! What more can I ask for out of a secretary? I humbly accept your apology- but first please do something for me.” he whistled in the other direction as he picked up one of your cute stationary pens, hastily sliding it into his blazer’s pockets.     “Yes, sir?” you brace yourself for impact yet again. Not noticing that he stole one of your favorite pens.     “Slack off a little. None of my secretaries ever worked this hard. I’ll slide in an extra hour for lunch, you can go watch a movie or something-”      “No. Satoru. Contrary to your other secretaries, I actually enjoy work.” standing up now, you stomp over to Gojo, who was now giggling like a 7 year old girl. You hadn’t realized that you had called him by his first name, but honorifics wasn’t on your mind right now.     Your chest stuck out as you shoved him out of your office with your bare hands, maybe as a way of looking more threatening, as if that’d ever work against him.     “Get out of my office!” You hope your eyes are staring daggers, if he ever looked back at you.     Gojo looked at you like he was shocked, tipping his shades down just slightly as you were pushing him out into the hallway. As if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, so he had to see it with his actual eyes- but eventually laughed before accepting his eventual fate.      “On a first name basis now, aren’t we? You’re straightforward! I like straightforward girls though, it works out in your favor.”     “Shut it.”      He made sure to stiffen once in a while just to piss you off so that you couldn’t push him as easily, and before long he was back to his office.       “Cya (Y/N)!” giving you a wave and a wink, he grinned. “I’ll be sure to visit you again, your office is fun!”       That was just one of the unusual interactions that Gojo Satoru had with you, but you knew now that it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  ‧₊˚✩彡.      It didn’t take you long before you realized your favorite pen was gone.       Almost immediately, you figured out who the thief was.       It was evident by now that your relationship between you and your boss wasn’t normal, to say the least. You just couldn’t quite wrap your head around why he stole a cute carrot pen, it certainly wasn’t his style. Well, you weren’t quite sure honestly, but the way the magazine front covers posed him was... Sexual.       Maybe the hot guy liked cute carrot pens and was too scared to buy them by himself, but, it was 2021. Toxic masculinity was basically extinct.      This wasn’t on his mind when he stole your pen, though. Gojo Satoru was smart when he wanted to be. To be quite honest, he just wanted to annoy you more. It made him curious, how could one enjoy work? And be cute at the same time?     The logic made no sense to him. Attending meetings, doing interviews- this was all very boring work to Satoru, and he couldn’t wrap his head around that you enjoyed that. He hadn’t asked to inherit the company, but yet here he was now. Shit, maybe he’d ask you if you wanted the company.      He yawned before drinking his coffee, just how he liked it before taking a sip he straightened his tie, just to make sure he looked extra clean and fresh when you busted down the door, ruffling his fluffy white hair as he did so.     Gojo hated the work environment, just to be straightforward. One thing he did enjoy was the complementary luxury coffee machine, alongside several sugar packets. Placing his impossibly long stick-like legs onto the table, he sighed happily.      Cute girl being his secretary, drinking yummy coffee, the sun rays warming up the back of his head, he was truly living the life.     And then he heard it.      Loud steps against the tile floor.      And then, his door flung open.         

[geminidentitycrisis]

The Scent of Leather and Hairspray

Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada x F!reader ONESHOT

(WARNINGS! - swearing)

---------

Sooooooo, I have a new favorite Pro, I guess haha

I hope you enjoy, and if you're underage, pretend you're older because I get it, I'd be Hot For Teacher too, but he's not a pedo sorry......

----------

You sighed as, upon exiting the store where you just purchased a frozen drink, the men you passed to enter that store started catcalling you. Just what you needed at the end of a rough day...

"Hey Honey, you'd be cuter if you smiled...!"

"Don't listen to that shit, babygirl, you're sexy as hell, c'mere and hang out a while...?"

Ignoring them the best you could, you kept walking, but they didn't take that very well. "You think you're too good for us, that it, stuck up bitch? Where you think you're goin'?"

You could hear their footsteps approaching behind you and turned to face them after sipping from your drink.

"Guys, please, I've had a hell of a day today and my quirk would probably scar you both for life and what do you say we just don't do this, huh?"

They exchanged glances before fixing you with threatening glares. "You think you're tough, babygirl? We'll see how tough you are when we get through teaching you some respect..." the first one said.

"HEY!"

A voice called from behind you and suddenly an arm was draped gently around your neck. You froze, being caught off guard tended to prompt a panic response when you were so tired.

You smelled leather and an overwhelming scent of hairspray.

"What's the trouble, my homies? Pretty sure ya heard the lady, she ain't jammin' to the vibe ya layin' down, ya dig? Beat it."

Heart skipping a beat or two, your eyes grew wide and a blush flooded your cheeks. "That voice...?!"

You whipped your head up to see the one and only Present Mic.

"Ah! I knew it! I knew I recognized your voice, I catch your radio show every day! You're the Sound Hero, Present Mic!" he flashed a grin down at you, winking.

"Oooh, you've got good ears, Listener! Thanks for Hypin' me up like that! Always great ta meet a FAAAN!" he responded in his commentator voice.

One of your would be tormentors interrupted angrily. "Hey, peacock head, why don't you mind your business?"

"PEACOCK...?! You boys best get ta steppin', aight?! Don't make me beat you up in fronta this pretty girl!" he replied in annoyance after his attention was so aggressively stolen from you.

The blush came back in full force and you couldn't contain a dreamy sigh as your lashes fluttered, eyes lidding contentedly now that you felt safe again.

*he said I was pretty~!* you thought.

"You believe this banana hair lookin' motherfucker? You're about to get your ass whooped, fruity!" the other threatened.

"Hey bro, watch your language! There's a lady here!" with the arm around your shoulders, Mic carefully raised it and guided you behind himself as the two started walking towards you both.

"Enough..."

Another voice came suddenly from the other side of the parking lot and everyone, with the exception of the blonde who was guarding you, turned to see Eraserhead.

Suddenly these jerks weren't so confident.

"Get lost, both of you, and go straight home or I'll bring the two of you in right now for loitering and harassment." he said calmly but with deep authority.

Mic crossed his arms, glaring at the duo as they ran off after a mere moment of hesitation, his cheeks puffed out slightly. "What a couple creepozoids! You okay, Pussy Cat...?" he quickly spun around to check you out, striking a dramatic pose while pointing at you, the trademark grin already back in place.

You smiled up at him with admiration sparkling in your eyes, clasping the cup you held in both hands and tight to your chest, stepping closer to him.

"Yes, thanks to you! You're my Hero~!"

Mic felt his own chest swell with pride a bit, the grin on his face getting bigger as he relaxed his stance and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

Usually by now the damsel has already flung herself on Aizawa, but not only were you praising him, you recognized him from just his voice and he was impressed at that.

"I can't believe I was just rescued by my favorite Pro, I am your #1 fan! Please, are you patrolling the city tonight? Please let me buy you a coffee or tea or something?? Just as a thank you...?"

Hizashi laughed rather loudly, one hand emerging from his pocket to be placed over his chest.

"HAHA! Aaaww, how can I say NO when you ask so sweetly?! Coffee sounds like a rockin' idea right about now!"

"Ugh, we don't have time for this, Mic..." Eraserhead complained tiredly.

Eyes rolling in exasperation, the blonde groaned twice as loud. "ugGHHH!! Don't be such a buzzkill, yo! I'll get you one, too, just chill!" with that, he trailed after you back into the store.

You watched as he doctored up the coffee you poured for him, blushing again when he threw a hint of a smirk your way, using the tip of his finger to lift the gold tinted shades he wore and showing you his emerald green eyes. "Don't worry, I'll pay for my boring friend..."

Smiling, you bounced on your heels. "Damn right you will, I'm not HIS fangirl, after all..."

This promoted a slight blush to his face, but he maintained that knockout grin. "Ha! Well, good thing his best friend is here at least, lucky for him I tagged along tonight, huh??"

"Lucky for both of us..." came your soft reply from over your shoulder as you turned to walk away, your hips swaying temptingly had definitely not escaped his notice.

He followed you to the checkout counter and placed some money beside yours, his ungloved fingertips brushing against your own when he does. Leaning down closer to you, he cocked his head, pushing his shades down his nose this time and raising a brow.

"Does my #1 fan have a name...?"

Your smile bloomed again, blushing up at him. "It's  _______...but I might prefer you calling me Pussy Cat...~"

Saying that last bit, you applied a sensual undertone which he picked up on instantly, making his blush spread over his face and grow darker as he chuckled in amusement.

When you guys walked out the door, you noticed Eraserhead seemed really annoyed but tried to ignore him, looking up at the Voice Hero hopefully.

"Listen, I know you're both busy, but if you have just one more second to spare, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me if I could get your autograph..."

Looking away awkwardly, he made a pained expression. "Aw, man, I dunno, we are kinda in a hurry here and stuff..."

You felt your heart sinking when he startled you with another loud laugh. "Hahaha, gotcha! JK! Of course I will, I ain't gonna leave ya hangin' like that, no way, that ain't my STYYYYYYYYLLLE!"

Giddy with excitement, you let out a tiny squeal, quickly fishing out a small notebook and pen from your purse as he set the cups down. When you handed it to him, his fingers brushed yours again, making you bite tenderly at your bottom lip.

They were so warm and soft...

He had started to whistle a cheerful little tune as he spun the pen between his fingers before starting to write in your book, it took longer than you expected, clearly longer than Eraser expected, too.

"Say goodbye to the girl, Mic, it's time to keep moving!" he didn't yell, exactly, too lazy, but he had raised his voice since last.

"YEAH, YEAH, I HEARD YA!!! Gimme a sec, ALRIGHT?!" the volume of the blonde's reply actually made your eardrums flinch and quiver this time, but you smiled anyway as he defended you again.

"There ya go! And hey, just to spite my buddy over there, I wouldn't mind walkin' ya home ta make sure ya get there safe."

The blush came right back, clutching the book to your heart, you gave a weak smile. "No, no, it's okay, really...I took up too much of your time already, and I only live around the corner from here..."

Eyes closing momentarily while you gathered yourself, you took a deep breath before confessing. "...I cannot express how grateful I am for you...not just for saving me tonight, but also for your talk show, hearing your voice over the radio gives me strength and motivation every week...it means the world to me...thank you..."

Beckoning him by flexing a finger, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek when he leaned in curiously.

Eyes widening, his whole face became scarlet red and his grin stretched from ear to ear. "AW, YEAH!"

He jumped, pumping his fists in the air and then proceeded to shoot you with his finger guns while  winking again. "Listen, I dropped my digits on that piece'a paper ya got there, Shawty...hit me up sometime if ya wanna chill! I'm down for whatever!"

You were caught off guard by that and checked the page he signed for you, finally reading what he wrote down as he rambled on as background noise about how he wasn't a creep like those other guys and you could say no without worrying about him making a scene, he just had to shoot his shot, I mean you DID kiss ME first ya know...

"For my #1 fan, _______...Thanks for the coffee and stay outta trouble! ...and maybe call or shoot a txt, if your feelin' this funky vibe, too? Live loud, Pussy Cat ;) don't ever let anyone try an put the mute on ya! XOXOX PRESENT MIC!!!"

Followed by his phone number, and there were little hearts drawn around the page.

You were already blushing when he surprised you again by returning your gesture and swooping in to plant a kiss on your cheek this time.

Reaching up to touch the spot, you smiled up at him shyly. "I can't wait...please be safe out there..."

"You got it! SEE YA SOON!" The Pro nodded vigorously, giving an enthusiastic wave of goodbye before grabbing his and Eraserhead's drinks, practically bouncing with every step.

It made you giggle, but you were trying not to get your hopes up too much. For all you knew, he gave his number out to every girl that asked him for a signature.

"Are you happy now...?" Shouta grumbled, taking the cup being offered as he turned to resume patrolling. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HECK YEAH I AM! I'M ON CLOUD NINE RIGHT NOW, I JUST MET MY FUTURE WIFE!!!!!!!!"

You heard him very clearly, the blush traveling all the way down your neck this time, and you couldn't help another small giggle, your heart fluttering with happiness like the wings of the butterflies in your belly.

He just had that effect on you.

Glancing down at the notebook in your hand as you sipped your quickly melting frosty, you noticed in the bottom right corner was a little arrow, below which was written the word "flip".

You looked up again but the two Pro Heroes were already gone.

Curiously, you flipped over the page.

MARRY ME?!?!!

a. YES!!!!!

b. a

c. b

That smooth sonuvabitch had you blushing and giggling all night.

[missjanjie]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Rosnali

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make. Ship: Rosnali Word Count: 2174 Rating: T

ao3 | ko-fi

Bonus: Denali's Playlist for Rosé

-

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “...you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[blueskrugs]

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider​ said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened. 

length: 4.7 words 

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture. 

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen. 

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand. 

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him. 

He threw your pen at you. 

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours. 

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though. 

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing. 

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke. 

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver. 

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead. 

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine. 

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago. 

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives. 

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact. 

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much. 

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours. 

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said. 

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND. 

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life. 

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by. 

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?” 

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then. 

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before. 

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock. 

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time. 

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile,  and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly. 

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit. 

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it. 

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text. 

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do. 

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark. 

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table. 

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug. 

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock. 

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again. 

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking. 

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted. 

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?” 

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that. 

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018. 

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores. 

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.” 

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you. 

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have. 

[theichabbieclub]

Slashers (or something) reacting to their s/o singing a song from Positions (Ariana Grande)

TW: Implied smut, slight NSFW

Michael Myers (six-thirty)

You were washing the dishes as you started to sing.

"I know I be on some bullshit. Know I be driving you crazy."

Was the first thing Michael heard. Well, he thought this song was accurate af. He loves you. You did drive him crazy a lot.

He didn't let his presence be known until he heard you sing

" So come here and give me so kisses. You know I'm very delicious."

He was all over you instantly, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder, heading directly to the bedroom.

Michael could careless about the soapy suds and water splashing into the floor.

Jason Voorhees (west side)

You basked in the warmth that cascaded from the fireplace. You sat on the soft rug in the living, right in front of the fireplace.

It was cold outside, snowing hard as Jason prepared lunch for the two of you.

Chicken noodle soup. You could almost taste it. The warm broth and the seasoned chicken.

You smiled as you began to sing softly, your fingers brushed lightly against the smooth but soft frabic of the rug.

"I don't wanna think too much. I just wanna feel. You know that it ain't no rush. Let me keep it real."

You sat with Jason in the living room, with a folding table in front of you. You allowed the soup to bring warmth to your body.

You sang as you laid your head on his chest.

He really enjoyed your voice. You stopped to eat a few bites but didn't continue afterwards.

Jason tapped your throat with his index finger ever so gently.

You got the indication that he liked your voice. A smirk spread across your lips and you started singing again.

"Just let me be in your life, like that. In your life like that. I'll bring the life right back. I'll bring the life right back."

Candyman (pov)

You sat in your car, your hands feeling the heat that flowed from the vents. Your eyes looked at the golden sky. It looked so pretty.

You started off a humming and that slowly turned into singing you heart.

You sat back as you sung.

Your window was down slightly and you didn't even notice Daniel.

"You know me better than I do. Can't seem to keep nothing from you. How you touch my soul from the outside? Permeate my ego and my pride."

He smiled but decided not disrupt you, not yet anyway.

Daniel sighed silently in content, listening to your heavenly voice.

"I wanna love me. The way that you love me. For all of my pretty and all of my ugly too. I'd love to see me from your point of view."

He walked around your car and you finally noticed him, smiling as he appeared in your passenger side of your car.

You wrapped your arm around his arm and laid your head on his shoulder, snuggling close to him as the two of you took in the sight of a stunning sunset.

Thomas Hewitt (nasty) (implied smut) (female reader in this one, sorry)

He had been in a mood all fucking day and night. Thomas had went into the basement to blow off stream and you had gotten increasingly horny

You had decided to record and send a cover of a song to Thomas.

Maybe that would get him out of that rut.

"Got me all up in my feels. In all kinds of ways. I be tryna wait but lately I just wanna keep it real." You sang, biting your lip as you made eye contact with the camera.

"No more playin' safe. Let's take it all the way. I'm just saying I just wanna make time for you. Swear it's just right for you. Like this pus*y designed for you." You arched your back as you continued to sing.

You finished the song and stopped recording before sending it to Thomas' phone.

You heard fast and hurried footsteps getting louder and louder. You mentally prepared yourself for him.

Hannibal Lecter (TV) (just like magic)

This was the first time that Hannibal had heard you sing.

"Heard it's tricky at the top. Gotta keep slim ego for a thick wallet. Losing friends left and right. But I just send them love and light."

Your voice was so heavenly as you wrote in your notebook, your pen gliding effortlessly across the page.

Hannibal knew that you were a bit self conscious about your singing.

Sooner or later, he was going to help you be more comfortable about your singing.

But for right now, he just stayed out of sight, sighing as your smooth but soft voice.

"Good karma, my aesthetic. Keep my conscience clear. That's why I'm so magnetic. Manifest it. I finesse it. Take my pen and write some love letters to heaven."

Dracula (aka: @thecount-dracula ) (positions)

Whenever you think he's not around, he is. Yeah good luck being alone.

You had started on a recipe for some bread an hour ago and now you were covered in flour, flecks of it on your skin.

You sighed at the flour covering every surface in your kitchen. This is going to be a bitch to clean but you didn't really care. You had the week off.

You sang quietly to yourself as you cooked.

"Heaven, sent you to me."

You stopped singing and jumped slightly as you heard Dracula's voice.

"Heaven? Are you certain about that, Y/N?"

You choked on a laugh as you continued to prepare your bread.

Bubba Sawyer (reader has long hair, just a warning) (my hair)

You were cuddling with Bubba, the soft sound of the fan filled the vicinity of the room. There was currently a thunderstorm happening outside and the two of you had finished your share of chores earlier in the day before the storm.

You pulled away and slightly pulled at the the ponytail that your long locks were in and soon enough your hair had fell down your back.

You noticed Bubba eyeing your hair and you smiled.

"I'mma give you some instructions that you can't be scared to try. I want you to touch it softly like the way you do my mind." You sang softly.

Bubba glanced at your hair, his eyes diverting to you. Confusion flashed in his expressive eyes.

"It got body and it's smooth to touch. The same way as my skin. Don't you be scared.. to run your hands through my hair."

His fingers ran slowly and gently through your hair as he pulled you closer to him.

Bo Sinclair (obvious) (1st time writing for Bo. You've been warned)

You had your headphones in as you sang, scrolling down your twitter as you were extremely bored.

Everything was fucking spotless.

Bo smirked when he had came home from work, and heard your voice.

"Ooh. Hard to think when I'm under you. Tell you all of my dirty truths..."

He was in the room in 0.6 seconds flat. Had you not had your headphones in, he would've scared the shit out of you.

"This what you sing when I'm away, doll?" He came into your line of vision as you laid on your bed.

Your cheeks became warm with embarrassment.

God, this was going to be a long night.

Brahms Heelshire (love language)

You danced around, in just your underwear and an oversized sweatshirt.

Brahms heard you singing some quite provocative lyrics and he was rushing to get to you.

"Been a minute since I had something so sweeeeet."

You smiled as the song continued. It was so catchy.

"If you're gon' keep speaking my love language, you can talk your shit all night."

Brahms finally made it to you and he instantly pulled your body to his chest. You squealed slightly.

"That's the- B-Brahms." You moaned out as he attacked your skin with soft but quick kisses.

It wasn't long before he was leading you to the bedroom.

Damn, you didn't even get to finish your dance party.

[nostalgiabones]

Big Sister // C.H

So here is the next installment of the Second Baby series - Mara finding out about the new arrival! I’m not sure how happy I am with how this turned out, but hopefully it’s better than I think. Feedback is appreciated as always! Thanks for all the love on this series so far 🥰

Word count: 3.5k

1. Finding Out 

“Have you got everything, Mara?”

Calum checks her backpack, full of the necessities for Luke and his partner to take care of Mara for a few hours. You were yet to tell anyone else of your pregnancy; just a sweet, exciting little secret between the two of you. Calum sleeps with a warm hand over your stomach, his fingertips finding a home under his t-shirt that you stole to sleep in. You’d finally got a doctor’s appointment for your first scan, to make sure everything is okay – it felt like so long since you first took the test, even though it had only been a few weeks.

You hand her stuffed elephant to her, knowing she’d be upset if she left it behind. It’s worn and well loved, after going everywhere with Mara for the past almost four years. It had been covered in food, ended up in the pool, and been through the wash more times than you could count, but Mara still loves it.  

“Yep,” Mara perches on the edge of the bottom step whilst Calum ties her shoelaces. It was something he had been trying to teach her for a little while, but she was taking her time trying to get her head around it. If you were in a rush, she’d happily just let you or Calum do it. “Will you come back soon?”

Calum nods in response, finishing her laces before dropping a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll only be gone for a few hours, okay? You’re going to have lots of fun with Uncle Luke and Delilah, honey. You might even be able to take Petunia for a walk.”

With Luke and his partner becoming parents to Delilah in the week following you finding out about your own baby, Calum felt bad asking him to babysit when they had their own family to take care of. Luke had waved his concern off though, of course, reassuring him that Mara was always welcome at their home, no matter how busy he was. If anything, you and Calum were just curious to know how Mara was around Delilah. It would be an indication of her reaction to your own news.

You worried your own nerves had rubbed off on Mara, as she seemed a little anxious about going to Luke’s, when she’d usually be excited. She didn’t know you were going to the doctors. Luke didn’t know either. Mara isn’t the biggest fan of the doctor, and you know it would only worry her more if she knew that was where you were going.

Something you were trying to keep in mind was how much of her environment Mara absorbed. The night you found out you were pregnant, she knew you were sick, and your morning (or, all day,) sickness hadn’t let up since then. You didn’t want to scare her, and things would make much more sense once she knew about the baby. Calum had taken over most mealtimes in case her food made you queasy, and you were unsure of how much she noticed.

“Okay, lets go,” You take her hand in yours as Calum locks the house, helping her into her car seat so you can head to Luke’s. During the short journey she points out what she can see along the way, as well as singing along to whatever was on the radio. “Oh look, Mara! There’s the baby.”

You spot Luke standing in his doorway with Delilah in his arms, the sweet three-week-old baby curled up in his hold. Seeing Delilah just makes you more excited for your own new arrival – that you get to have a newborn all over again.

“Lilah!” Mara exclaims, running up to Luke and wrapping her arms around his legs in a sweet hug. Luke’s free hand lands on her head, hugging her back the best he can with Delilah in his arms. “Hi Uncle Luke!”

“Hi, sweetheart,” He greets her, moving out of the way so she can step inside.

“Thanks for watching her today,” You tell him, lightly brushing your hand over Delilah’s hair in a silent greeting, careful not to wake her. “You’re brave taking on another child with a newborn in the house.”

“I told you, anytime. I’m an expert now anyway,” He jokes, rocking Delilah in his arms as he speaks to keep her settled. “Where are you headed to?”

Calum answers before you have the chance to. “We just have an appointment to go to.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Luke to know — more just that you were determined to keep it between the two of you for a little longer. The doctor’s appointment would provide the reassurance you were looking for, but you wanted Mara to be the next to know.

“Okay, we’ll be back to pick you up in a few hours, Mara.” You lean down to kiss her cheeks, saying goodbye before standing up again. “Be good.”

“I will.” She replies, hugging Calum before the two of you head back to the car. “Bye bye.”

***

“So, you’re around 8 weeks?”

You nod at the doctor’s question, a trembling hand held tightly in Calum’s as you lay on the bed. His thumb rubs soothing circles over the back of your hand, trying to ground you.

“I think so, yeah. If we worked it out right.” You reply, biting your lip from nerves as the doctor nods in response. The anxiety of the first few weeks of a pregnancy would never go away; it was difficult to keep a secret but would be even more difficult to tell them devastating news if it came. It was safer this way, and you enjoyed being in the happy little baby bubble with Calum for a while.

“Okay, we’ll be able to tell in a moment.” She informs you, before asking you to lift your jumper so she can get to your stomach. “Sorry, this will be cold. Is this your first baby?”

You shake your head, a smile on your lips as you think of Mara. “No, it’s our second. We have a three-year-old daughter.”

“Aww, how lovely. Is she excited to be a big sister?”

“We haven’t told her yet,” Calum replies. “But we’re hoping she will be.”    

Calum lifts your intwined fingers to his lips, brushing a soft kiss over your knuckles to distract you as the nurse squeezed the gel over your lower stomach. You shivered at the sensation, laying your head back on the bed as you tried to relax. It felt like a lifetime as the nurse ran the doppler over your barely there bump, waiting to hear the sound that every parent loves so much.

“So, there’s not too much to see since you’re so early on, but there…” She points to the screen, a small flicker in the centre of the screen, the first sight you and Calum got of your baby. “There’s the baby. And if you hold on a second...”

Tears spring to your eyes as you gaze at the screen. It’s not much, but they’re there, and it’s a relief that everything seems to be okay.

“Look at that,” Calum murmurs, chuckling as his other hand wipes the tears from your cheeks. “There they are.”

The nurse flicks a switch on her machine and suddenly, the room is filled with the whooshing sound of your baby’s heartbeat.

“There we go,” The nurse smiles at the healthy sounding heartbeat, confirming that everything is okay. It’s the sound you’d never get tired of – making everything suddenly feel very real, like there’s definitely another baby growing inside of you. “Everything looks and sounds great. Would you like some photos printing?”

“Yes please.” You reply, unable to focus on anything other than the tiny dot on the screen that would soon grow into your baby that you would raise and love. Calum couldn’t help but get emotional too – it doesn’t feel like anytime at all since you were here to have your scan with Mara, and now she’s almost four. It makes him realise how much she’s grown, and how nervous he is to tell her about the new baby in case she got upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being sad, especially since it would be such a huge change to her life.

***

“Uncle Luke, can we do some drawing please?”

Mara looks up from her plate at her place at the dinner table, where she had been eating her lunch, made by Luke’s partner.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let me just put Delilah down and then I’ll get the pens out, okay?” Luke answers, moving Delilah’s moses basket into the kitchen with his free hand, so he could watch her. He stands and rocks Delilah for a moment, making sure she was sound asleep before setting her down in the crib.

“Delilah is little,” Mara comments, watching as Luke tucks Delilah in, stroking over her light tufts of hair to soothe her as she settles.

“She is, honey.” Luke chuckles at her comment. “You used to be as little as Delilah too. You used to fall asleep on me like she does.”

“Really?” She exclaims, and Luke smiles at the wonder on her face. He loves watching Mara grow up and learn about the world, and answer as many of her endless questions as he can. She had been inquisitive ever since she could talk – “why?” being one of the first words that she learned. He sees so much of Calum in her. He’d always catch her just sitting quietly, taking in her surroundings – always observing without saying much. He sometimes wonders what she thinks so deeply about in her three-year-old mind, and he usually finds out when she asks her questions. “Did I cry as much as she does?”

Luke laughs again at her question.

“Sometimes,” He replies, having just settled Delilah from crying for a good ten minutes. Mara had seemed unbothered, distracted by his partner making her lunch, but she clearly had paid attention to it. “All babies cry a lot because they can’t talk and tell you what’s wrong. Once you were on the tour bus with us, and you cried all night because you didn’t want to go to sleep.”

Now it’s Mara’s turn to laugh at him. She clasps her hand over her mouth and giggles, clearly finding the story very entertaining as Luke gets out the pens and paper he has stored for her visits.

“What do you want to make?” He asks her, hoping it’s not anything too creative – he once tried to do origami with her, but in his new-dad sleep deprived state, he’s not sure how well it will go.

“I wanna make a card for mum,” She says, a concerned furrow of her eyebrows as she speaks. Luke notices how she wrings her hands together as she talks, a sign that she’s usually nervous about something. “Her tummy has been poorly.”

Luke pauses for a moment, wondering if that has anything to do with the appointment you had gone to, his mind filled with questions.

“Oh, has it? How?” He asks, and he’s not sure how much she knows, yet he’s worried that something is wrong.

“She gets sick when she wakes up.” Mara responds, and it tells Luke everything he needs to know.

Morning sickness?

Suddenly Luke feels as though he knows what’s going on, but he can’t be certain, and it doesn’t seem like Mara knows anything more. “I think that’ll be nice, honey. I’m sure your mum will love that.”

She’s quiet as she colours, needing Luke’s help to draw out the letters to spell ‘Mum.’ He notices she’s getting better at staying in the lines, considering her age. Luke thinks back to the day you, Calum and Mara met Delilah, how Calum’s eyes lit up when his partner asked about a second baby. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now from what Mara had said, it makes sense.

It’s not too long before there’s a knock at the door, and you and Calum are back to pick her up.

Mara is too focused on her drawing to pay attention to you speaking to Luke’s partner, her tongue sticking out in concentration. Calum sneaks up behind her, but doesn’t want to scare her, especially if it could ruin her drawing.

“Hey, you.” Calum taps her shoulder gently and her head snaps up, turning around at the sound of his voice. “What are you up to?”

“Hi, daddy!” She squeals as he picks her up, hugging her against his body as she wraps her legs around his waist. “I made this card for mum.”

“That’s so sweet, baby, do you want to give it to her?” He replies, knowing you’ll be joining them in a moment. He’s not sure of how much she’s told Luke, or if he knows anything at all.

You exaggerate a gasp as you spot the card in her hand. “Is that for me, baby?”

“Yes, for you!” She exclaims, handing the card to you from her spot on Calum’s hip.

Luke decides to pry as much as he can without overstepping.

“Oh yeah, Mara mentioned you’ve been sick in the mornings, are you okay?” He asks, a smirk on his lips as if he knows that you’re both going to understand his prods.

His question catches you off guard, knowing Mara had told him so innocently – yet it’s given Luke a huge hint as to what’s going on. Calum looks down at his docs and clears his throat, avoiding eye contact with Luke. “Oh, I’m fine, I’ve just had a stomach bug recently.”

Luke nods but narrows his eyes at you, and you change the topic of conversation before it can go any further.

“I think it’s about time we get you home, hey?”

***

“What if she gets upset?”

Calum sighs at your words and presses a kiss to your hairline, watching as you rub your thumb over the scan photo in your hand. The day had come to finally tell Mara about the new addition to your family, and you were nervous. You couldn’t bear the thought of your sweet daughter getting upset about such a big change to her life.

“We have lots of time for her to get used to it, honey.” Calum reassures you, his fingers grazing over the small, slightly raised bump under his palm. It wasn’t much, nothing that anyone outside of you and him would notice, if you looked close enough. It was small enough that Mara wouldn’t know any different, but you didn’t know how long it would stay that way. “The sooner we tell her, the more time she has to adjust. I don’t think she’s capable of being angry at you.”

You relax into him for a second, your head pressed against his chest as he holds you in the soft comfort of your bed. Mara is still asleep as far as you’re aware – there had been no sign of her calling for you from down the hall or joining you in your bed for a morning cuddle. You thought that a good time to tell her would be after breakfast, so she’d had time to wake up properly.

“I’ll go get breakfast started,” Calum murmurs, brushing his lips over the spot behind your ear. “Meet you downstairs. Stop worrying, okay? It’s going to be fine.”

You lay in the bed for a moment, taking a deep breath, before heading down the hall to get Mara up.

“Mara, honey, can we talk to you?”

Mara looks up from her toys, still comfortable in her pyjamas as she plays for a little while after breakfast. You’re cosy on the sofa, a throw strewn over your legs, as Calum sits next to you. His hand slips into yours, squeezing gently to ground you. Mara hops onto the sofa, snuggling in between the two of you, so you can talk to her.

“So, you know how Uncle Luke and your auntie have Delilah now?” Calum starts and she nods, waiting until you continue. “Well, how would you feel if we have another baby, to live here with us? And you got to be a big sister?”

She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, like she didn’t quite understand what was going on.

“I have a baby in my tummy, Mara.” You smile, giving her a minute to take in what you were telling her, as Calum runs his hand up and down her back, in a comforting gesture. “Do you want to see?”

You pull out the scan photo and set it in front of her, so she can see for herself. “They’re very small for now, but look, that’s the baby,” you tell her, pointing to the small blob in the middle of the photo.

“A baby?” She asks, her big, brown eyes gazing up at you. You nod, brushing her curls out of her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart. How do you feel about that? Are you happy?” You ask her, unable to tell how she was feeling.

“Yeah,” She replies, a small smile on her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes like her usual happy smile does. She sits quietly for a moment, her feet swinging against the edge of the sofa. “When will the baby be here?”

“Not for quite a while, honey. So, we have lots of time to get ready, okay?” Calum reassures her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “It’s okay if you’re not excited right now, we know it’s a big change for you, but you’ll be able to help us with the baby as much as you want. They’re going to love you so much, little moon.”

She nods, her eyes not leaving the scan photo in your hand as she observes it. You notice her eyes are lined with tears, and you’re unsure whether it’s from being sad or just overwhelmed by the information. Your heart aches at her not being as excited as you had hoped for her to be.

“They’ll be just like Delilah, baby, but they’ll live here with us so you can cuddle them whenever you like.” You tell her, hoping it’ll help her to warm up to the idea. “You’ll be such a good sister, bub.”

Calum thinks about his relationship with Mali, his own sister – how he loves to have an older sibling to look up to, and he knows Mara will be that for the new baby. He had always wanted a big family, so Mara always has someone around, like he did with Mali. Even if she doesn’t seem to be excited now, he knows she’ll warm up to the idea eventually.

“So the baby is in your tummy?” She asks, looking at your hoodie covered middle, as if she was trying to see. “Is that why your tummy has been funny?”

You sit up, lifting your hoodie so she can look at your stomach, even though there’s not much of a bump to see yet.

“Yeah, honey, right in there,” You point to the middle of your stomach. “And they’ll keep growing until they’re ready to be born. My bump will look like your aunties did, with Delilah. And yeah, the baby made me sick, that’s why it was funny, but it’s okay.”

“That’s not very nice of the baby.” She frowns, concern in her eyes as she looks up at you.

Calum chuckles at her words. “It’s not the baby’s fault, honey. They’re just trying to grow, and that’s what makes mum sick.”

She reluctantly cuddles into your side and places her hand over the middle of your stomach, patting the spot tentatively. “Aww, you’re so sweet Mara. Are you okay?

Calum’s gaze catches yours and you share a look, both reassured that the fear of telling her was over – yet you can’t help but feel anxious about her reaction. You know she isn’t yet truly happy, since you know how she is when she’s happy, and it’s not as quiet as she’s being right now.

“Can I go back and play now?” She asks, and you nod, kissing her cheek and holding her for just a moment longer.

“Of course, Mara. Love you so much, okay? Having another baby doesn’t change that, I promise. You’ll always be our first baby.” You brush your pointer finger over her cheek as she looks at you, waiting for you to finish talking before she nods, sliding off the sofa with a “love you, mumma” before she goes back to her games.

Calum shifts closer to you, knowing she didn’t react how you had hoped. You hide your face in his neck, trying to hide your own eyes filling with tears as his fingertips smooth up and down your back.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” He murmurs quietly, so only you can hear. “She’ll come around, I promise.”

You just hope that he’s right.

***

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[artificialqueens]

Somewhere in the Crowd There's You (Rosnali) - Joley

Summary: Denali and Rosé were best friends all through middle and high school, but had to part ways after graduating in 1998. But even years later, the one thing that always connected them were the mixtapes Rosé would make.

(bonus: denali's playlist for rosé)

ao3 link

“Denali, so help me god if you’re late to graduation you will not make it to college!” her mother shouted up the stairs.

Denali groaned and rolled her eyes. “I’m coming!” she yelled back down to her. She pressed ‘stop’ on her CD player and popped the cover open, taking the disk out and putting it into its correct sleeve in her CD book. It was a smaller one, as it only contained her most precious ones - the mixtapes Rosé had given her over the years.

The two of them had been best friends since they had both transferred to the same Manhattan school in sixth grade, Denali coming from Alaska and Rosé from Scotland. Both of them had felt out of place and immediately sought refuge in each other and had been inseparable ever since. And one thing that had always been consistent in their friendship was Rosé’s love of burning CDs and giving them to her, whether it was for a special occasion or just because she thought Denali would like it, and she always did.

“And don’t even think about trying to take your walkman!”

She huffed, looking at it waiting for her on her bed. “Fine,” she threw her gown over her dress and grabbed her cap before hustling out the door.

Any attitude she might have had disappeared the second she got out of the car and saw Rosé. she sprinted towards the taller girl, launching herself into her arms. “Rosie!”

Rosé scooped Denali up without hesitation, one arm wrapped around her waist and the opposite hand holding her thigh. “Hi Dee,” she cooed, spinning around with her before eventually setting her back down. “I got something for you.”

Denali giggled as Rosé reached up under her gown because of course, she would manage to get away with wearing pants at graduation. She beamed from ear to ear as Rosé placed a CD in her hand. Written in pink glitter gel pen over masking tape was ‘Denali + Rosé: Class of ‘98’, with a heart over the ‘i’. She looked at the tracklist and smiled when she saw one was highlighted - that meant Rosé had recorded herself singing, and that was her favorite part. “Super Trouper?” she tilted her head, noting it was the only song on the list that hadn’t come out during their time in high school.

She shrugged, a tinge of pink ghosting her cheeks. “I like ABBA and the song made me think of you.”

“I love it,” she quickly assured, hugging her tightly before sliding the mixtape into her macrame crossbody bag. “Come on, we better go take our seats so we can say goodbye to our childhood.”

Rosé arched her brow. “Bit grim when you put it that way, but let’s go.”

After graduation Rosé and Denali went to dinner together with their families, then back to Denali’s house for a sleepover, likely one of the last ones they would have before college. But they didn’t want to think about that, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had together.

It wasn’t easy for either of them, and Denali was left with a difficult decision. When she was twelve, she acknowledged the fact that she was attracted to girls, but decided it was best to not do anything about it. At sixteen, she realized that it wasn’t just girls in general, that would be too easy to ignore. For the past two years, she had accepted the fact that she was in love with Rosé, but too paralyzed with fear to do anything about it.

So, she made a mixtape. Each song one declaration of love after another. And it had been sitting in her closet for a week now while she tried to talk herself into giving it to her best friend. She knew it was now or never, tonight had to be the night.

“Something on your mind?” Rosé gently prompted.

Denali hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m just gonna miss you,” she told her, sitting next to her cross-legged on the bed. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right?”

“Of course,” Rosé assured. “We can call each other and talk on AIM when we can get to the campus libraries,” she suggested, resting her hand on Denali’s thigh and squeezing gently. “I think we can make it work.”

She chewed on her lip and nodded. “If you think so, then I do too.” She glanced back at her closet, thinking, her heart racing. Rosé cared enough about her to want to make their friendship work. Maybe there was a chance…

“Hey,” Rosé prompted to change the subject, “I rented Cinderella with Brandi from Blockbuster, you wanna watch?”

Denali nodded, letting her fear quell her desire to give her the disk. “Yeah, I’ll go make some popcorn.”

Six Years Later

Manhattan felt almost as foreign to Denali as it did when she first moved there. Despite the nostalgia that filled her when she walked past Broadway, recalling seeing RENT there with Rosé for her eighteenth birthday, or the other little things that brought her back to her teenage years, she felt odd, out of place. It made her stomach churn with the way everything seemed to change.

It didn’t help that, despite all of the promises they had made to each other, she had lost touch with Rosé sometime after the start of her sophomore year. Their lives had gotten so busy, so involved, it just dissipated and she had to try her best to move on.

And most days Denali was able to go about her life as normal. She returned to her apartment with lunch for herself and her roommate. Her new normal. “Liv! Come eat!”

Olivia promptly emerged from her room, a piece of paper in her hand. “Check out this flyer I snagged from the café a few blocks over. They’re having a karaoke night tonight, we should go,” at Denali’s hesitation, she jutted out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “C’mon, please? They’re gonna have alcohol.”

With a jokingly dramatic sigh, she acquiesced. “Okay, fine, but don’t even think about trying to drag me on stage before I’ve had at least three drinks.”

After lunch, the two of them got ready for the night, doing their hair and makeup and picking out just the right outfits for the modern y2k-era nightlife. The walk to the café was about ten minutes and they were able to get a table before the room started to fill up. Her attention faded in and out as people started to perform, nursing her drink and picking at the chips on the table.

“Alright, who’s next?” the event host prompted, scanning the room. “You, in the pink, right this way!” There were some scattered cheers as a woman took the stage, but Denali didn’t look up until she started singing.

Olivia noticed the sudden alertness in her friend. “What, you’re an ABBA fan?”

“No, no I know that voice,” she insisted, shushing her to focus on the stage better. There was no way, it couldn’t be…

“But I won’t feel blue like I always do. ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s-” Rosé looked into the audience, her eyes meeting Denali’s and her breath hitching in her throat, nearly missing the last word, but when she got it out, it was as if she were singing to her once again, “…you.”

Before Denali could decide what to do, Rosé was making a beeline for her, then she was standing right in front of her, looking more beautiful than Denali could’ve ever anticipated. “Rosie?” she asked softly, afraid it was too good to be true.

A broad smile stretched across Rosé’s face as if she were wondering the same thing until that moment. “Denali!” She yanked the smaller woman to her feet and pulled her into a tight embrace, one that neither of them ever wanted to end. “When did you move back to New York?”

“Couple weeks ago officially. My parents moved out to Long Island, so I was staying with them while I was trying to find a place. That’s how I met Olivia, my roommate,” Denali explained, gesturing to the girl still sitting at the table.

Olivia offered a polite wave and smile in response. “It seems like you guys have some catching up to do, I’m gonna go on stage next then, um, keep myself busy,” she decided and scurried off.

“Let’s go outside,” Rosé suggested, the two of them leaving the café and sitting on a bench in front of it. “I’ve missed you so much. What have you been up to?”

Denali shrugged. “Got my BFA in dance, worked with a few different companies either performing or choreographic. And last year I was in Zumanity, which was quite the experience,” she blushed a bit as she recalled that, unsure if Rosé was familiar with the type of show it was, “and now I’m here as a full-time dance teacher and choreographer. What about you?”

Rosé’s eyes did widen at the name, feeling her face start to redden as her mind started to wander, wondering what sort of things Denali had performed on stage. While she hadn’t seen the show, she had seen commercials when watching TV late at night. She’d nearly missed her question, clearing her throat and centering herself. “Oh, well, my life hasn’t been as interesting as yours, I got my BFA in musical theatre, did various off-Broadway gigs, and… you’re going to laugh… I’m the understudy for the lead role in Mamma Mia here on Broadway.”

“Mamma Mia… the ABBA jukebox musical?” She covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh, a bit of giggling slipping through. “A little on the nose, isn’t it Rosie? But I’m very happy for you.”

“Maybe so, but I’m much more interested in this Zumanity stint. I mean, I always knew you had that skill level but that’s a… unique setting,” Rosé retorted, her interest, and perhaps something more, very piqued.

Denali looked down and grinned. “It was. Everyone there was incredibly talented too, it was so freeing, so queer,” she said, then hesitantly looked back up to reaffirm, “which I also am, you know, gay.”

Rosé chuckled softly and nodded. “I kind of suspected as much, just with the way you reacted when we saw RENT,” she recalled, then quickly followed up with, “I am too.”

An eight-year-long weight lifted from Denali’s chest at the confession. “Do you wanna come back to my place? It’s just a couple of blocks over, we can have a sleepover like we used to,” she suggested.

“I’d love that,” she grinned, and as they walked back to the apartment, she had her arm slung around Denali’s shoulders, not passing up the first opportunity in years to keep her close. Even though it was an apartment she’d never been in before, the fact that it was Denali’s made it feel familiar.

Denali toed out of her shoes and set her purse down. “I have something for you,” she said suddenly, disappearing into her bedroom before Rosé to question her. She rifled through her closet, pulling out a box tucked away and grinning when she found the items she was looking for. It was still a risk, but this time she knew it was one worth taking. She took a deep breath, then rejoined Rosé in the living room. “I kept every mixtape you gave me, still listen to them sometimes,” she said, holding up the CD book in one hand.

“You did?” Rosé put her hand over her chest, beaming warmly. “Dee, that’s so sweet.”

She smiled, biting her lip and looking down, trying to fight away the nerves that crept back up. “I, um, I made you one too. I was going to give it to you after graduation but I chickened out,” she confessed as she handed the mixtape she had hidden among her possessions all these years to the woman she made it for. “I think the tracklist will explain why.”

Rosé’s lips parted in surprise as she gently took it from her. “To Rosie, with love,” she read the title before turning it over to see where Denali had written the songs in silver sharpie. And, sure enough, it was one love song after another, songs she knew well, that she knew the shorter woman spent her time carefully picking out each one. “Oh, Dee, this is beautiful. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you gave it to me back then.”

Denali swallowed thickly. “I guess more importantly, what are you gonna do now?”

There was only a half-beat of silence before Rosé smirked, setting the disk on the dining room table before cupping Denali’s face and kissing her deeply, moving one hand from her face to wrap her arm around her body and pull her close. “I’ve always loved you, Denali. I’d just resigned myself to seeing you as the one that got away.”

Denali relaxed, arms looping around Rosé’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[ultimate-distaster-material]

-Saiouma Oneshots- Kindergarten Teacher! Kokichi x Parent! Shuichi

>Quick Disclaimer< In this story, Monaca is nice- Her legs are actually disabled as well. I tried to mention everyone who is in the actual story's POVS. The adults are 22 whereas the kids are 5. Kirigiri and Shuichi are childhood friends too.

This story is very long, it was made to show my appreciation for all of the support. Sorry it took so long for me to update.

!TW!

Family Issues

Mentions Trauma

Mentions Dead Bodies

kIsSinG (Ok I'll stop)

KOKICHI POV

“So, Nagisa. I heard you’re getting a new caretaker?”

I looked at Nagisa, pitying the poor boy. He never had good parents. They would always force the youngling to work, days over days, sometimes hitting him to help him stay awake. That’s his reason for being very smart at a young age.

I would always stay here with him in the afternoon, occupying him so he doesn’t have to go back home.

“Mhm! I heard he’s a boy, I hope he’s nice!”

I smiled at the small boy. Even with all the despair he has been through during his life, he still had a glimpse of hope resting in his heart. I admired him for this, he was very strong for pulling through all the drama, especially as a child.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss going here when I grow up. Will I ever see you again?”

“I mean, I could probably get in contact with your new caretaker, and could visit you once in a while…”

“I don’t wanna leave this place…”

I comforted him as his tears threatened to fall from his eyes, tracing random designs on his back, listening to his troubles. I suddenly heard a knock on the door. I energetically got up from my seat, Nagisa following close behind me, and then opened the door.

There was a man with teal blue hair and a detective uniform standing at the door. He looked kinda sexy-

“Hello, Mr. Detective~ You here for something?”

He stared at me before handing me a few slips of paper. Adoption papers? Wha-

“Who are you?”

Nagisa was a little scared, as he was a detective. The poor boy probably thought that the man was here for something serious.

I hushed Nagisa as I pulled him infront of me, giving him a good view of the man.

“My apologies…I’m Shuichi Saihara. Nice to meet you.”

I nodded at him and decided to introduce Nagisa and myself/

“I’m Kokichi Ouma, and this is Nagisa. Judging by the adoption papers, I’m guessing you’re here for Nagisa?”

He nodded and shook the hand I held out to him. He had such a calming voice…

“Are you mean?”

“I promise I’m no-“

“You smell like coffee.

“Wha-“

“Nagisa, it’s not ok to interrupt people y’know.”

Nagisa muttered a small ‘sorry’ to me and the man before getting his bag. He peered up at me with teary eyes. I could tell he didn’t want to go with a new parent, due to trust issues. I sighed and pat him on the head.

“You better take care of him.”

Shuichi smiled at me, reassuring that everything was going to be fine. I held out my phone with my contacts open.

“Phone number?”

I asked him as he took my phone (and ran off with it) and he handed me his, and we both entered each other’s phone number. Nagisa smiled as I showed him my phone, his eyes gleaming with hope and joy. I couldn’t help but smile back at him. Shuichi even grinned at us placing his hands gently on Nagisa’s shoulder. I waved them goodbye as they waved back, Nagisa ranting to Shuichi about me. I’m glad I was able to make him happy. I walked around the small room, arranging everything back into its normal places and counting all the items to see if they were still there. 10 paint brushes, 2 art easels, 20 pencils, 5 paint palettes, 40 books and 7 whiteboard markers. Looks like I’m running low on markers, I’ll grab some in the morning. I smiled and locked the door behind me. I strolled down the street under the glowing sky, showing colours of orange, yellow, red, and peach. I sat calmly at the bus stop, taking off my painting apron and stuffing it into my bag neatly. I placed earplugs into my ears and started playing my favourite playlist.

Soon the bus arrived, squeaking its brakes as it parked into the bus stop. I sighed and planted my feet onto the ground as boarded the bus. It didn’t take long to get home.

||Time Skip Cuz Lazy||

I jingled my keys as I brought them out of my pocket, slotting them into the lock and opening the doors to the kindergarten. I walked in, turning on the fans by a little, and the lights. I began to write whatever was happening onto the big whiteboard and restocked my pens. I smiled as children and parent sprawled into the room, yet keeping an eye out for Nagisa. If he had any new scars or bruises, or darker eyebags, Shuichi won’t be waking up the next day. I waited about five minutes, everyone was here, but the two people I had been waiting for.

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and I spotted Shuichi giving the small child a piggy-back ride. I smiled as they both grinned back at me, Nagisa climbing off the adults back and running over to me.

“Kokichi! You won’t believe it! He let me use his magnifying glass and we went to the park. He even pushed me on the swing! I love my new dad!”

I grinned wider, glad Shuichi was giving him a good treatment. He even said he loved him.

“That’s great Nagisa! I’m grateful that Shuichi has been treating you right.”

Shuichi lovingly hugged Nagisa.

“I better go, or I’ll be late for work! Bye, have a good day you two! I love both of you!”

The young boy I waved goodbye as the detective briskly walked out of the kindergarten building, waving us goodbye, blushing. Wait, he loved both of us…?

||POV Change||

SHUICHI POV

I walked out the door, blushing crazily. I can’t believe I said that. I’m so embarrassed…

I hopped into the car, driving down to the detective agency. When I had first met Kokichi, I thought he looked a little cute, but I just ignored my thoughts. I’ll just tell him I was talking Nagisa and his non-existent imaginary friend…yeah I’ll just do that.

I arrived at the agency, closing the door gently behind me and taking in a deep breath. The aroma of coffee wafted around the area. No wonder I smelt like coffee…According to Nagisa anyways.

“Good morning Mr. Saihara. You looked like you’ve slept well!”

My partner, detective Kirigiri. I grinned at her, starting to tell her about Nagisa. She nodded at me while I spoke, thankful that I finally had something to cheer me up. I had been so busy with work lately that I was so tired to even show much emotion.

“So, Shuichi. We have a new case to work on.”

“Hm? What’s it about?”

“Just a new murder case, the usual.”

I nodded at her getting my file reports organized and ready. She gave me some evidence, suspect reports, reports of the victim and the time and place of the murder.

“It seemed to be planned too…”

I muttered as she passed over a small picture which showed the room.

“Huh?”

I pointed at the picture, spotting a nearly invisible ‘escape route plan’ peeking out of the screen. You could only see half of it though.

“That’s new…”

“Wait…How did you know this wasn’t there? Weren’t you at the crime scene?”

“It was a photo in the victims camera roll. You were correct, I was there, but it seems like the killer needed this to escape.”

“That makes sense.”

“So, the killer must’ve either been scared they would mess up, has a bad memory or had minimum time to figure this out…”

She agreed with me and pointed to the wall again, pointing back to the photo.

“There seems to be something white in the vents that we never checked.”

She stated bluntly while narrowing her eyes to get a better look.

“You’re right! Why didn’t you check the vents though…?”

“Rats.”

“Wha-“

I shrugged it off and looked back at Kyoko, then the picture again. She smirked at me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You wanna check it out, don’t you.”

“Kinda-“

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

I followed her out of the building, and we entered the car park, halting to a stop right infront of a shining, neon purple motorcycle. It gleamed in the sunlight and Kyoko continued to smirk at me.

“Chickening out?”

“N-No..”

“Good.”

She grabbed a helmet off the dark purple handlebars and gave it to me, claiming to have a spare one in her bag that she could wear. Which she did.

She hopped onto the motorcycle, gesturing for me to do the same. I gulped and lifted my leg over the seat and sat down, trembling.

“Hold on tight!”

I didn’t hesitate to do exactly as she told me. She revved the engine, and we took off down the road, her purple hair flowing viciously in the wind. I was petrified. We were going veryfast. I gulped as I felt the wind blow in my face. I rested my chin on Kirigiri’s shoulder, avoiding her purple hair flowing into my face as we raced around the city. The city lights were blurred, and people looked like smudge marks. I peered down at the road, barely able to adjust to the distorted white line and concrete. I felt a sickening dizziness, and my head just couldn’t keep up with my blurry surroundings. Yet, I felt like I was in heaven. The glorious wind blowing in my face, the soothing noises of the motorcycle engine, and the feel of Kyoko’s warmth. I closed my eyes, loosing touch with everything around me. I was in my own little world. That was, until I sensed the motorcycle slow to a halt and Kyoko’s small weight lift off the motorcycle. But since I was laying on her, she lifted me up too without realizing, and my body went tumbling forward, Kyoko’s doing the same.

“Sorry…”

I sighed and apologized, staring at the ground. She arose from the ground, dusting off her uniform and patting me delicately on my back.

“No worries, Saihara-Kun. Just be careful next time.”

I nodded as we barged into the murder scene, nobody being there.

“Watch out. We cannot predict anything. Expect the unexpected.”

I remembered her wise words and examined the room, Kirigiri assisting me by lifting me up, since I weighed less, and I unscrewed the vents to see a rat. Great. I sneakily snatched the paper and Kyoko lowered me back down to the ground, peering over my shoulder to see if anything useful was written on the small piece of white paper. It read,

Sorry, my dear friend.

“So, the victim was the culprit’s friend….

“Seems so.”

“Wait, why wasn’t it near the victim then?”

“When we arrived, the fan was on, making it completely possible to blow into the vents, in which the paper could slip through, and the rats could’ve possibly taken it.”

I nodded to show my agreement and we inspected the room a little longer. I spotted her typing on her phone a few moments later, sighing.

“Saihara-Kun.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you gonna leave your kid at kindergarten or…”

Shuichi blankly stared down at his wrist, reading the time.

2:12

Nagisa’s kindergarten ended at 2:00. He was over the other side of the city. He would be very late, as they had no car.

“Take my motorcycle. I want to stay a bit longer anyways.”

“Really? Thank you Kirigiri-San!”

I rushed out of the building, grabbing a sleek blue helmet and boarded the motorcycle. The wheels screeched as I raced across the city, my hair spasming in the wind. The motorbike’s wheels whirred as they rolled along the road, forcing the motorbike to drive faster. My hands gripped the handlebars incredibly tight, fearing the vehicle would stir out of control if I didn’t have power over the handlebars.

There it was. The kindergarten. I zoomed towards it, halting to a stop in the parking lot. I rushed inside, panting heavily as Kokichi and Nagisa were staring at me. The small, blue-haired boy ran over, enveloping me in a tight hug. I lovingly hugged back, patting his back in the process.

“Where were you? Parents shouldn’t be late, y’know.”

I gulped and peered up at the kindergarten teacher, mentally scolding myself. I knew I shouldn’t have been late. If it wasn’t for my partner, I would’ve left Nagisa there until I suddenly realized that he wasn’t anywhere nearby.

“Kokichi, don’t blame Dad! He had a really important case today!”

“Alright, just tell me next time.”

I muttered a sorry, and nodded, showing my understanding. The kindergarten teacher walked up to me, swiftly patting Nagisa’s head for a short period of time, then shifted to face me. I gulped, fearing I would get in trouble for not being a ‘good parent’.

“Why’d you call both of us cute.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about-“

“Why.”

I looked to the side, shivering a little and sighing. I soon peered back at him.

“Look..”

My ahoge resembled a deflated balloon. It was deformed, bent at every inch.

“It just slipped out, okay…?”

He looked at me, unamused, rolling his eyes and sighing.

“Totally…”

“Well, Nagisa and I have to go…”

“Alrighty! See you Nagisa!”

“What about me-“

“What about you?”

I rolled my eyes as I watched Kokichi ruffle Nagisa’s hair. He looked down at the boy expectantly.

“Nagisa has wanted to ask you something, but he’s clearly too shy…”

He nudged Nagisa knowingly, as the small boy stuttered out words.

“Well…I was wondering if some of my friends could have a sleepover…I’ve never had one, and…”

There was an awkward silence as my mind scanned over what I had planned next week. Nothing.

“Or not! T-That’s fine t-too!”

He looked sad and embarrassed at the same time, fiddling uneasily with his fingers, making eye contact with the ground.

“No, its fine! I was just trying to remember if I had anything scheduled next week…We can have one!”

Nagisa’s eye lit up, sparkles glimmering in his blue orbs. He shined so brightly as he bounced around the room excitedly. Then I realized something.

“Wait-“

“What?”

Kokichi looked up at me, clearly waiting for an answer.

“How am I gonna get Kyoko’s motorbike back to her-“

“You drove a motorcycle.”

“Yes-“

Kokichi jingled the keys on his short fingers, swaying them from side to side. He stared into my eyes, smiling.

“Want a ride then? I could pack the motorbike in the back of my car and drop it of to ‘whatever her name is’.”

“Kirigiri.”

“Right.”

The three of us strolled out of the kindergarten, after Kokichi had tidied up all the mess and checked up on everything, locking the doors behind us as we exited the building. Hopping into the car, we all drove off down the road, me directing the other adult towards the crime scene. Leaving the car, I unpacked the motorbike as Kokichi and Nagisa followed me in. I shifted to look back at the others.

“Uhm, I don’t think Nagisa should see this…”

“Why?”

I leaned into Kokichi’s ear and whispered to him.

“Dead body.”

He bobbed his head to show his agreement, Nagisa looking back and forth at us, confused. He held an arm infront of Nagisa, restricting him from going further, as I entered the building.

||POV CHANGE||

NAGISA POV

I watched as Dad entered the house, a bit worried. Why couldn’t I go in there? I decided to ask Kokichi.

“Why can’t I go in? What’s even in there?”

“Something you don’t want to see.”

I gave him a look of uncertainty, waiting for Dad to come back. I was a little worried, so I decided to start a conversation.

“I think you like Dad, am I right?”

“He seems pretty nice, probably would be a good friend.”

“No, you like Dad in that way. Not friendship, love.”

His eyes widened as he blushed furiously.

“W-Why would you t-think that, N-Nagisa?”

“So, you do like him.”

“N-No! I don’t!”

I rolled my eyes a little. It was so obvious. The whole time Kokichi and I were waiting for Dad, he was talking about him. Literally the whole time. I remember our conversation, word for word.

||Flashback||

“Alright! Time to go everyone!”

Kokichi opened the doors, the young children flooding out of the kindergarten. He sighed as he looked around after all the young kids were safely returned to their parents.

“Nagisa, where’s Shuichi?”

“He told me he was investigating today, apparently it was really serious!”

“Right…”

Kokichi sat on one of the chairs, relaxing his legs and leaning against the table. I did the same, and looked at him.

“Y’know, Shuichi is kinda hot.”

“Wha-“

“His hair is pretty, don’t you think?”

All I could do is agree. Kokichi peered down at his watch. 2:10. He sighed.

“I’m just going to text him-“

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“He never answers when he’s at work…”

Kokichi fiddled the phone in his hands, clearly annoyed. Probably wanted to see Shuichi. Who knows?

“I know someone who does answer their phone though.”

He peered at me and handed me his phone. I cheerfully took it and tried to memorize their number. Typing it in, I quickly added the number to Kokichi’s contacts and texted the person. I had seen their number when Shuichi and Kokichi exchanged phone numbers.

‘Hello, do you know Shuichi Saihara by any chance? If so, do you know where he is?’

‘Yes, Shuichi is my work partner at the detective agency. We are currently investigating together. Who is this?’

‘This is Nagisa, his adoptive son. I’m texting him on my kindergarten teacher’s phone. I just wanted to tell him that kindergarten ended 12 minutes ago.’

‘Thank you Nagisa. I will have Shuichi know. He sure is forgetful.’

‘Thank you! Can I please know your name?’

‘Kyoko. Kyoko Kirigiri.’

‘Wait, how do you know my number?’

‘I memorized it when I saw Shuichi and my teacher exchange numbers. Sorry if that’s creepy or anything…’

‘It’s fine. I have to go now. Goodbye Nagisa!’

‘Bye!’

I turned off the phone, the glowing screen fading into pitch black darkness. I peered at Kokichi, telling him that Shuichi should be here soon.

||Present Time||

We were still waiting for Shuichi when I spotted Kyoko and himself exit the huge building. Kyoko stared at me, grinning slightly.

“Are you Nagisa?”

I nodded as she walked up to me, ruffling my hair playfully, then glaring at Shuichi. I could see him gulp and look away.

“And you are…?”

“I’m Kokichi, Nagisa’s teacher.”

“Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, smiling at each other joyfully.

||POV CHANGE||

KIRIGIRI POV

I’m a little disappointed in Shuichi if I’m being honest.

Leaving your kid who’s in kindergarten with his teacher?

I mean, me and Shuichi have known each other since we were kids and happened to get into the same agency. I know Shuichi. He is forgetful, but not this forgetful. I mentally facepalmed at his previous actions and shook hands with Kokichi.

Nagisa and Kokichi look like they have a close relationship.

I disconnected our hands, watching as Kokichi signalled for Shuichi to enter the car. The two closed the doors behind them, waiting for Nagisa to say goodbye. The younglings hand reached for the door handle, struggling to open the car door. I went to assist him, just to realise it was locked. Shuichi and Kokichi strained to unlock the doors from the inside.

How did this even happen-

“D-Dad!”

Nagisa panicked as he saw the two people he seemed to be the closest to stuck inside the black and white car. I sighed as I saw the trapped kindergarten teacher flirt with the parent. Shuichi literally looked like his parents were a combination of a tomato and strawberry. I watched them as they continued to flirt together. I mentally facepalmed and refocused on the incident infront of me.

I saw Nagisa’s confused face as he walked up to peer through the window, prying into their business. I gently tapped the window, catching their attention.

“Are you two lovebirds done?”

I yelled from the other side of the window. They both were facing me, furiously blushing. In full honesty, they look like they dyed their faces bright pink.

“I’m going to break the window- “

“NAGISA DON’T- “

Too late. Nagisa had grabbed a rock off the ground and pounded it against the window.

“Really- “

“Sorry I was panicking…”

“It’s fine…”

“I guess we’re driving back with a broken window.”

“I guess they call you a detective for a reason!”

Kokichi laughed at his own joke as Shuichi giggled as well. It was so obvious they liked each other, they were so blind and dense. I could tell they liked each other, yet they were uncertain the other loved them back. I sighed and grabbed my purple helmet, putting the blue one Shuichi used in my sleek black bag.

“I’ll be going now.”

I waved goodbye as I hopped onto the motorbike, smiling as my purple streaks of hair flowed relaxingly behind me as I sped down the road. Out of the corner of my eyes. I could see the Kokichi pull Shuichi into a quick kiss through the car’s windscreen, Nagisa just staring in horror. Poor innocent thing.

-BONUS SCENE-

||TIME SKIP||

||W.O.H SLEEPOVER PLANNING||

||3RD PERSON||

“Hey Nagisa…Hey Jataro…I was thinking, I really want to get away from my parents…Do you know anything I could do?”

Kotoko raised a finger to her chin, in deep thought, looking a little depressed. Jataro looked sad as well.

“I just want to get away from everyone…”

Nagisa peered down, sad from seeing his friends loose hope. Monaca wheeled herself over to join our conversation.

“I just want someone to notice me…”

Masaru sat on the ground soon after, despairful.

“I just want to have a peaceful household…”

Nagisa peered down at the ground, wanting to encourage his friends to be joyful. Sure, he had trauma as well, but there is still happiness. He just began to spit out words of reassurance to his small group of friends.

“Jataro, why would you want to disappear from everyone? We are all here. We want you to be here. What’s that point in leaving everyone if everyone needs you here?”

He peered up at Nagisa, who was staring at him, the boy’s wise words causing a smile to form on his face.

“Monaca, we are your friends We notice you. Stop acting like nobody does, because if you haven’t already guessed, you are our friend. We notice you. Why would I be talking to you if I didn’t know you were here?”

She smiled at the blue haired boy, watching as some of the other kindergarten teachers came over. Komaru, Toko and Nagito stood there, watching their students, along with Kokichi who the whole time had secretly been there, unnoticed.

“Masaru! Kotoko! I think I have a solution to your problems!”

Nagisa shouted as the teachers watched, inspired by the boy’s acts of hope. Nagito especially. Toko had to slap a hand over his mouth so they wouldn’t interrupt the kids. Nagisa thought of the time where he was talking to Kirigiri while saying his goodbyes. She had told him these exact words.

“Shuichi has been so happy since he adopted you, y’know. I’ve been thinking about what my future would be like if I had a child. Say, did you know any that need a better home? I do want more than one though…”

“There is a solution I might have, but I need to check. Also, my Dad agreed on the idea to have a sleepover!”

“Sounds great!”

Everyone cheered in unison as they started planning what they would do, also deciding what snacks to bring. Monaca was spinning in her wheelchair in excitement, Masaru pushing her around in circles while Jataro inspired them to continue. Kotoko and Nagisa were drawing each other with crayons, Kokichi sitting on the other side of the table, spreading conversations.

Soon enough, it was time to go home. They all wished each other goodbye, as Kokichi drove Nagisa back to their house. They parked in the driveway, to see Shuichi waiting for them on their front porch.

“Good afternoon you two! How was your day?”

Kokichi ruffled Nagisa’s hair as he explained his day to Shuichi, also asking if he could tell Kirigiri about what I had found out.

“Ah- Sorry, Kyoko wants to see me. I will tell her the news as well Nagisa.”

“Bye!”

The small boy and Kokichi cheered and waved in unison, watching as Shuichi peered back at them, about to leave.

“Bye! I love both of you. And this time, I mean it.”

[kalaluchi]

chapter 05: Jagged Stone

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Marinette was confused.

How could two people go from comfortable banter to awkward silence in a span of two days? She’d heard of going from 0 to 100 real quick, but she’d never thought it’d happen to her.

More accurately -- to her and Adrien.

She stared at the back of his head, wondering where she’d gone wrong, as Mme. Bustier droned on with her lesson.

Marinette had really thought she’d finally gotten over the shy-awkward-start phase after the whole movie “date” last Friday. (She still wasn’t sure if that had been meant as an actual date, or as a chill friend hangout. And frankly, she was too scared to ask.)

But then the weekend came and they’d barely talked. (Though she’d been secretly hoping for a random good morning from him or something -- even just once.) She’d been busy baking and cramming assignments and random projects, and just like that the weekend was over.

It was now Monday, and she was sad to think all her efforts to become closer had gone down the drain. They’d exchanged greetings as she made her way to her seat that morning, but it was now 2 periods after lunch, and he hadn’t spoken to her at all. There weren’t even any of the corny memes he used to send when they were both bored in class.

Not that he’d been ignoring her, though. It just seemed like… he’d forgotten about her or had nothing more to say to her.

She probably could have reached out herself… but every time she was about to approach him, she felt like she was walking on eggshells. One wrong step, one wrong word, and something would crack.

She groaned, painfully aware that she was probably overthinking things too much. She checked her phone for the 10th time that period -- no new messages.

Marinette let out a sigh.

One apparently much louder than she’d intended.

“Anything to share with the class, Marinette?” Mme. Bustier’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She bit her lip, her ears red. “No, Mme. Bustier. Sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed.

She thought it was absolutely worth it though, because just then Adrien offered her a small smile in sympathy before turning back to face the front. So there was hope for them yet.

She sat back in her seat, deep in thought again. On impulse, she leaned forward and tapped Adrien’s shoulder while Mme. Bustier was facing the blackboard.

“Do you, uh, can I borrow a pen?” Marinette whispered in his ear.

If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought Adrien was blushing slightly from the sudden interaction. “Here you go,” he replied in the same quiet voice.

Her fingers tingled when they brushed his during the exchange, but she thanked him anyway. She really had no intention of using the pen (she’d never leave home without her beloved pencil case, with all the colorful pens and markers, please) so she decided to wait until class ended to return it and use it as an excuse to start a conversation.

Brilliant! This must be what Alya feels when she comes up with one of her schemes.

.

.

.

An hour later, as Adrien began packing his bag to go home, Marinette tapped him on the shoulder nervously. Her brilliant-a-period-ago plan was starting to not feel brilliant at all.

Nevertheless, she held out the pen to him, smiling. “Thanks for lending me this a while ago. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled easily. “No problem. You looked like you needed some life-saving,” he joked.

Marinette couldn’t help but scoff at that. “I can save myself, thanks,” she muttered, in a tone sharper than she intended.

“Of course,” the blond backtracked hastily. “I didn’t mean to assume, I just--”

“Is… that a Jagged wallpaper?” Marinette asked suddenly, immediately forgetting the earlier offense.

“Uh, yeah. You listen to Jagged Stone?”

“Listen to Jagged? Get out, I practically breathe Jagged! Wow, I can’t believe he didn’t come up once in our conversations…”

“Well, I… didn’t really peg you to be a Jagged girl, honestly. No offense, though, I really don’t know why it didn’t occur to me. I mean, now it seems obvious. You’re nearly as cool as him.”

“Shut up,” Marinette laughed, waving away the compliment. “No one is as cool as Jagged. And it’s okay, I didn’t peg you to be a Jagged fan either.”

“You’re kidding. How could I not? A great singer, and a great player too. Piano, guitar, you name it! Heck, I bet he could even play, like, a lyre or something.”

Marinette scrunched her nose and raised an eyebrow. “A liar and a player at once? Can’t say that’s exactly my type. I’ve met too many of those, thanks.”

Red spots bloomed in Adrien’s cheeks as he sputtered, “No, I’m not-- that’s not what I--”

“I’m joking,” she interrupted, honestly surprised at his reaction. So annoyingly endearing.

“Oh.” Adrien sighed in relief, as Marinette bit back a smile.

There was an awkward pause as she thought of what else to add.

She had just opened her mouth when Adrien blurted, “There’s actually a Jagged show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, part of the Jagged Worldwide tour, right? I’ve got my room all set up with 3 flavors of popcorn to eat while I stream it.”

“Actually,” Adrien said somewhat nervously, “I may or may not have an extra ticket to the show, thanks to the Agreste brand and all.”

“Get out,” Marinette deadpanned, in shock.

(Adrien noted that that was the second time she’d said that in the last five minutes, and chuckled internally. How cute.)

“So, you wanna go?”

There it was again. That… awkward is-this-a-friend-thing situation. Marinette’s conscience told her no, don’t fall for his trap! He definitely only sees you as a friend, you’ll just get hurt if you hope for more! Which, true… but then again. This was Jagged. How could she say no?

“I’m in.” She beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet. Even though the concert was on a school night, she was fairly sure her parents would let her go once they found out it was another ‘date’ with Adrien.

“Hey, Nino! Marinette said she’s game to come with us to the concert tomorrow,” Adrien called over his shoulder at his best friend.

“Sweet! See you there, my dude! I’ll pass the news on to Alya.” He gave a last wave before leaving.

Ah. So definitely not a date. At least she was aware.

Unless… a double date? Marinette groaned inwardly. Why did things have to be so complicated? She could almost feel the headache she was going to get from all this. (Especially now knowing that Alya would be involved.)

.

.

.

Marinette had never seen so many people in her life.

If she thought her bakery’s end-of-the-month sales were insanely crowded, that was nothing compared to the mass of people at the concert grounds, tightly packed and eagerly awaiting the arrival of their favorite singer.

As usual, something went wrong right off the bat. Their little group of four had gathered outside the grounds at 4:30pm sharp, but it hadn’t even been five minutes since they’d entered and already Alya and Nino were nowhere to be seen.

Marinette panicked immediately, obviously, frantically searching for the telltale brown-red-tipped hair of her best friend.

Adrien calmed her down immediately, saying that the lovebirds probably wanted to ‘spend some alone time together.’

Had Marinette been in a normal state of mind, she might’ve noticed that this practically reeked of another of Alya’s schemes. As it is, she simply allowed herself to be led by the blond-haired boy.

“Let’s go this way so we’re closer to the stage,” Adrien said gently, steering her one way. “Here, you can… hold my hand so we don’t get separated,” he added softly, taking her hand in his.

Soft. She was surprised to find that his hands were smooth and uncalloused. Well… she didn’t know what she had expected, but she thought they were absolutely fine as they were.

They finally made their way to the front as the singer stepped onto the stage to an eruption of cheers. She had to bite back a pout as Adrien dropped her hand to clap his own. She was about to suggest they link hands for the entirety of the concert, but all thoughts disappeared once the music started playing. She let herself get lost in the song, letting go of all her fears and doubts just this once, dancing to the tune, jumping to the beat.

A few minutes in, Adrien leaned in close. “I love this song,” he said, speaking directly into her ear to be heard over the crowd’s screams.

“Me too!” she shouted in reply, hoping in her heart it were actually words of endearment he’d said.

Once the first five songs ended, Jagged Stone stepped up to the mic, and a quiet hush spread through the crowd, waiting with bated breath for what he would say.

“I just want to thank everyone here for coming,” he started, pausing when the crowd roared their approval. He laughed heartily. “Never in my life would I imagine I’d be getting crowds like this, especially right here in Paris. Not many people know this, but I didn’t always like the name Jagged Stone. I mean, as is, it’s really nothing, right? It is what it is: a stone that is jagged. That means cut different from the rest, sort of sharp around the edges, prone to hurting others. Who would want that, right? Growing up, I was told I’d probably amount to nothing, so maybe I should choose a safer, more secure path. But then-- and here’s the key-- I grew up. And look where I am now.”

Marinette whooped along with the other concert goers, wanting her support to be evident.

“See, that’s the thing,”Jagged continued, on a roll. “These things take time. I came to love the name Jagged Stone. Because over the years, stones that are jagged smoothen around the edges. They become toned, weathered. They become the kind of precious stone you see being used in jewelry, maybe. Suddenly they’re something beautiful, valuable. Meaningful. Are they different from what they were before? Of course. But are they still themselves? Absolutely. Was that greatness there all along, right from the start? Without a doubt.

So to everyone out there: don’t rush it. Everything moves at its own pace. You may seem sharp around the edges, but that’s just how we are. Other people might not know how to approach those edges, afraid of getting hurt. But give it time. The ride will smoothen out. I want you to remember that there is already something valuable in each of you, even at this very moment. It’ll just take time for you to get used to that something, to hone it into the best version of you.

And speaking of time, I’d like to thank you all for the time you’ve given to be here! With that I’ll be performing my last song of the concert, my brand new single: Miraculous!”

.

.

.

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Ten minutes later, Adrien and Marinette had navigated their way out of the thick of the crowd, and were making their way to the meet-up spot as previously discussed.

“Definitely,” Marinette agreed, taking a bite of the cotton candy she’d bought. “That speech before the last song? That was my favorite part.”

“Really? He played six songs and not one of them classifies as your favorite part?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Marinette scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Stop judging. It just… hit close to home, I guess.”

“Oh… Well, uh, I don’t really know any of the context, but you do know you’re pretty amazing, right? As you are right now.”

Marinette took another bite to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said meekly, unsure of how else to respond.

“There you are!” a voice called. Marinette suddenly found herself enveloped in a tight hug. “I can’t believe we got separated right at the start! Nino here wouldn’t even let me go look for you because we’d found a great spot, he said.”

“Hey!” her boyfriend protested. “You were the one who said let the two lov-- oof, did you have to step on me foot?”

“Oops, accident,” Alya said lightly. “So anyway, how did you two find the concert?”

“It was fun,” Marinette replied softly, wrapping her arms around her best friend’s waist.

“Yeah? Something interesting happen?”

Marinette laughed. “No, I guess not. It was just… I don’t know, it seemed pretty--”

“-- miraculous,” Adrien finished, and they all had to agree.

As they headed back, Marinette reflected that maybe it wasn’t so bad she’d been treading on eggshells just the other day. Maybe her relationship with Adrien was just like what Jagged had said in his speech. At the moment rough at the edges, either party cautious of how to proceed in fear of hurting the other or getting hurt. And that was okay.

Because eventually, it would smoothen out.

And eventually, maybe, just maybe, it would bloom into something beautiful-- something hopefully more than friendship.

All they really needed was time.

previous | next

[donutloverxo]

Love the way you lie

Part one

Note - this is a prequel to love the way you lie. I know y'all wanted a sequel not a prequel but I thought this would be fun. I'll get the third and last part out soon!

Summary - You begin a relationship with your boss Mike.

Warnings - smut, unprotected sex(i still stand by my advice of never rawdogging mike), addictions, emotional cheating

Pairing - Mike Weiss x reader

Word count - 2.7k

Masterlist

“Babe come on! Just come by at six” Ray whined over the telephone and you had half a mind of slamming the phone and hanging up on him.

“I don’t want to watch you play video games for the whole evening! I’d rather be at my office party” You snapped. Your relationship had been sort of nice in the beginning. You were in your twenties and still a virgin, you decided to lower your standards and compromise a little bit so you wouldn’t be so alone anymore. You didn’t know you’d be stuck with a complete man-child.

“What? You hate those things. Just last week you were whining about how boring the small talk is” You had to hold the phone away from your ear just so you wouldn’t hear his annoying shrill voice.

Last months party was boring and grey. But that’s because he wasn’t there. He was in a rehab facility for over three weeks. You never even knew he had a drug problem until Paul told you he had overdosed and been admitted to a rehab. You couldn’t really tell if there was much of a difference between sober Mike and coked up Mike.

“Why do you even want to see me so bad?” You rolled your eyes.

“Look I tried to cook I really did!” He whined again “But it’s just so hard babe. Just come over here and make your lasagna? You’re so good at it. I promise I’ll thank you anyway I can”

You yelped as you heard Mike’s voice over the intercom “Please come into my office “ he said and you felt goose bumps and shivers in your entire body just hearing his husky voice.

“Yeah I’ll be right there” You stammered cringing as you abruptly hung up on Ray without even saying goodbye. You collected your notepad and a pen, Mike often liked to bounce ideas off of you. With how fast paced and clever he was you could barely keep up but you tried your best to impress him. You quickly took out your lipstick, touching up your lips a bit and heading towards his office.

Maybe it was wrong of you to be fixated on a man that wasn’t your boyfriend. A mess of a man at that. But maybe you were more of a mess than him. He was a lawyer, a smart man who actually made some difference and did real work. And you were just a secretary who still lived with her mother. What would HE see in you?

You knocked on his door and entered to see him surrounded by scattered papers. “You called Mike?” You asked standing straight, suddenly hyper aware of your posture.

“Yeah I think I – I –“ He trailed off looking at a file

“Mike?” you promoted him to speak.

“Yeah yeah. I thought I needed help but maybe not” He said still looking at the papers and scratching his forehead with his pen “I think I’ll take off early today” He finally looked up to you.

“Oh but the party!” You blurted out. You really need to learn how to bite your tongue. He quirked a brow at you urging you to speak. “I was hoping you’d be there” You shrugged shifting suddenly feeling so uncomfortable.

“Yeah” He nodded leaning back on his chair tapping his pen against the edge of his table “Wouldn’t your Boyfriend be opposed to that” He said the word with such venom. It almost made you hopeful.

But hopeful for what? Nothing was going to happen. If nothing else you are a good person. You’d never cheat. “Why would he mind?” You shrugged playing dumb.

He scoffed at that “You know I’m very good at reading people. And you’re too obvious. Not a very good liar. You’d make a terrible lawyer”

You scowled at him “Well that’s good, I’m not trying to be one. You don’t exactly make it look so glamourous”

“I didn’t mean to offend you” He chuckled at your little outburst which only annoyed you even more “That why you don’t wanna see him tonight? You were talking on the office line sweetheart “

“Well yeah that and...he’s just boring now” You couldn’t remember the last time you two went on a real date. Mike only hummed at that and it was then that you noticed his leg shaking incessantly under his desk. “Mike” you walked around his desk to stand next to him. You didn’t know a lot about drugs, but from movies you could tell that restlessness was a sign of withdrawal. How could he still be going through withdrawal? “Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. Maybe you could call Paul. Would that help him? You didn’t know if he had any other friends.

“I’m fine” He stated and steering his leg shaking to a halt. “So you wanna go to that party tonight?” He asked but you had a feeling he was just trying to change the subject.

“I don’t Mike. I don’t think it would be right” You wanted to say how you should both be ashamed to even consider something like that but held your tongue.

“Why?” He asked tracing his thumb over your knuckles.

“I have a boyfriend. And you’re well...”

“I’m clean now” He frowned.

“I wouldn’t know” You snatched your hand out of his hold and snapped back to reality from your fantasy. “If you don’t need anything else I’ll be on my way” You left his office before he could stop you. It was one thing to daydream about another man, another to actually indulge in that it.

***

You ended up not going over to Rays Or the party. If he was so hungry he could order take out or something. You were done putting up with his bullshit and told him you needed space over the phone. Maybe it was a dick move to not do something so sensitive personally but you needed to get to it before you change your mind.

You were in bed after dinner letting your mind wander to Mike, and how his suspenders made his shirt cling to his body and gave you a nice view of what lays underneath. All that working out and the disgusting green smoothies he drinks surely paid off. With one hand in your cunt, dipping in your folds and thinking of him. Of how much better it would be if it was his hand. You couldn’t actually get yourself off, you needed to buy one of those special toys for women. But it was still nice to just tease a bit.

Your self care session was interrupted by your mom calling out for you. You groaned pulling your hand out and wiping it off on your sheets. You climbed out of bed to go downstairs to see what the ruckus is about. As soon as you unlocked and opened your door you were greeted with the man you were just dreaming about.

“Mike?” You didn’t know what he could possibly be doing here this late. “Are you drunk?”

“No I am not drunk” He said as if he was scolding you “What you don’t want to invite me in?” He teased.

“What are you a vampire? Come on in” You stepped aside to let him in. You cringed at how messy your room looks, with your sheets all bunched up and your clothes sprayed out all over.

“You sleep in that?” He looked you up and down.

You were wearing your white cotton nightie that ended just above your knees. “I know it’s not the sexiest but it makes me comfortable”

“I never said it wasn’t sexy” He said as if he was stating a fact.

You stared into his eyes in hopes of intimidating him to make him stop ogling you. But it didn’t work. He kept unabashedly checking you out. You now recalled your lack of bra and panties.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you” You took a step back as he stalked towards you with a predatory gaze.

The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed. “I – think you should leave Mike” your voice wavering “I’ve got work tomorrow. And you do to”

He hummed at that playing with the helm of your nightgown “You really want me to leave?” He asked looking up at you.

You wished you could give him an honest straight answer. He was your dirty little secret. Someone a good girl like you shouldn’t be thinking about. Not when you had a boyfriend. You never thought you’d get to actually live out your fantasies. You considered the consequences. Did you really want to give your heart to someone who would probably break it? You scoffed to yourself. He wasn’t here for your heart. He only wanted what most if not all men want.

He kissed your forehead and murmured against your hair. “You make me feel good you know. Life isn’t so bleak when you’re around.”

“I don’t do that. Hook ups or whatever you call them.” You said breathing in his musky scent. It was getting harder and harder to say no.

“That’s alright” He pulled back cupping your face and staring into your eyes “you’re not the kinda girl someone hooks up with”

He crashed his lips onto yours stealing your breathe. Whatever doubt you may have had were gone in that instant. His beard so soft and fuzzy against your mouth. His lips were so cushy, his kiss so fierce.

He pushed you back on your bed making quick work of removing his suspenders along with his shirt and pants. You couldn’t help but stare at his naked fit body covered with various tattoos. You had never been a fan of them, but they all looked so beautiful littered across his body. You gasped at the sight of his erect cock hitting his abdomen.

He loomed over you pushing your nightie off of you. Desperate to see you naked, finally. “We have to be quiet” You rasped in between kisses as he rid of you of your nightie “My mothers downstairs”

You moaned and cursed on the mattress as he worked you up with his fingers. Making you come undone on them within minutes. How he figured you out so well and so soon you’ll never know. You hesitated and almost pushed his head away when his broad shoulders settled between your legs.

No one had ever gone down on you before. It was amazing, miserable and sensual at the same time. Just when you thought you’d achieve your peak he stopped making you whine. He lined his cock up to your entrance. Slowly sinking in. And you looked as you saw your juices smeared all over you mouth and beard. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

It was unlike anything you had felt before. It was never that good with Ray. Mike didn’t last long the first time but made sure to only finish after you. He cuddled you in your small bed before he made love to you again. Properly and slowly this time. Giving you both the time to truly enjoy yourselves.

You asked him to sneak out in the middle of the night so your mother wouldn’thave to see him leave. She did gave you an earful about having such relations with an addict. And how she couldn’t believe you actually found someone that was worse than Ray.

***

You knew that the next day Mike would pretend nothing had happened. You’d both probably forget about that night soon enough. You and the all your coworkers were stunned when he greeted you with a kiss on your lips. As if you’d been together forever.

He asked you to be his girlfriend at lunch. Which you said no to, obviously. You were a lady and you were to be wined and dined. Which he did. He took you out on several dates almost everyday. He took you to his house so you could spend some time together peacefully. And you immediately left seeing just how messy the whole place was.

“It just needs a feminine touch” He had said back then.

So you made him spend the nights at your place. After tolerating the sneers and snide remarks from your mother for a while, he quickly cleaned up his house, made proper cabinets and book shelf’s for all his scattered papers and books. He even got flowers to lighten up the place every once in a while. He didn’t need your mother third wheeling you both.

You were spending more time at his house than your own. He gave you your own drawer and you were practically living there. You were surprised at just how much of a ‘normal' boyfriend Mike was. He was always considerate of your needs. He did sometimes have a problem of giving you unwarranted advice when you bitched about your day to him

“When women talk they just want to be listened to” You shut him up and he threw his hands up surrendering to you. He didn’t give you any solutions or advice unless you asked for it.

He worked a lot more than you. So whatever free time he had he liked to spend with you. You were a bit worried that he didn’t really have any friends. Sure you could consider Paul to be a friend but they weren’t that close. And Paul barely knew anything about Mike.

The sex was... well amazing. Mike knew exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands. He had a high appetite and with the way he worshipped you, you had absolutely no problems feeding it.

“Say yes” He growled before wrapping his mouth around your clit furiously sucking on it.

“I can’t I – “ you could barely speak or even comprehend what was going on. It was the same fight on a different day. Him wanting you to move in with him. So you can spend more time together. And for you to quit your job, which to be fair was boring. Being the picture perfect 90s housewife couldn’t possibly be any worse.

So he stopped again when you were just about to meet your end. He edged you and you knew just how relentless he was. He wouldn’t stop until you said yes. “Yes! Oh god yes! I’ll do whatever you want Mike. Just please please let me cum” You wailed as tears escaped your eyes.

Shoving three of his fingers inside you he fucked you through your orgasm. You almost blacked out. He laid on his side next to you propping himself up on his elbow. He was grinning down at you. “You’ll quit your job too.” He stated but you knew it was more of a demand.

“I can’t do that. I said I’ll move in with you no” You looked at him before closing your eyes again. Still recovering from your earth shattering orgasm.

“Why not?” His grin dropped instantly and he frowned at you. “I will take care of you. I need you at home.”

“I – what if we break up...” you trailed off. Even if you didn’t want to entertain the idea. It was very much possible that you would.

“We won’t. Why? Do you plan on breaking up with me?”

“No I just” You rubbed your temples really needing a cuddle session and not this conversation “I just need security. It’s not like we’re married or even engaged” You sighed and added “yet” just so he wouldn’t think the worst again.

“Then let’s” He murmured tracing a finger along your belly button.

“Let’s what?”

“let’s get married” He pressed kisses on your jaw and down your neck.

“I – wait are you proposing?” You asked completely confused.

“I guess I need to spell it out for you” He gave you an unimpressed look “Marry me”

And really you couldn’t find a single reason to say no. He had battled his demons and won over them. He had a stable job which made him happy. He promised to take care of you. You were scared of the unknown future. But come what may you’ll both face it together.

***

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Fic tags - @captainchrisstan @chaneajoyyy

[real-talk-time2004]

I wanna talk about stims

Like can we talk about stims for a quick moment?

First off, what is a stim? By definition it’s referred to as “self stimulating behaviors, usually involving repetitive movements or sounds”.

Stims have a wide variety of choices depending on what people normally do, it’s not a definite autistic trait however most autistics do use stimming as a form of self calming or soothing.

However stimming can mean something else entirely, just because you stim does not mean you are autistic, there can be a variety of reasons why you stim. For example, you could just generally feel anxious or nervous, you could have restlessness, or you are just very energized.

There are a bunch of different kinds of stims too. The most common are nail biting, hair twirling, cracking knuckles or other joints, drumming your fingers, tapping a pen or pencil, jiggling your foot, tongue clicking or even whistling.

However there are also some more extreme stims such as head banging, like against an actual object, or biting whether it be on an object or a person. These stims are very prominent in young kids with adhd or autism.

Now there are some less severe but also not as common stims (some of which I didn’t even know until I looked this up) which could be rocking yourself back and forth, pulling hair, repetitive blinking, rearranging or moving things, scratching or rubbing your skin, licking objects, staring at moving fans or any other rotating object, flicking or snapping your hands and fingers, repeating words or phrases excessively, and smelling objects or people.

I know. Crazy right?

Now all of these stims you may have done at least a few times in your life, but not all of them relate to autism. The common stims are very prominent in neurotypical people and neurodivergent people. So stimming is not a for sure way of diagnosing your autism or not, however it’s always a start or a place to come back to that creates the foundation of autism.

Here are some examples of my stims as a self diagnosed autistic teen:

Repetitive blinking (I literally did not know this was an autistic thing I did until I looked it up and it blew my mind)

Repetitive noises (I make weird little grunts that sound like I’m clearing my throat and it drives my family insane)

Chewing pens and pencils (always gotta have something in my mouth)

Rocking

Twirling hair

Messing with the strands on my jackets. You know those things on the hoodie that you can pull and the hood gets smaller; I literally cannot stop rolling those strings up as I sit in class it’s become a habit now

Scratching/rubbing my skin (specially face)

Picking at scabs

Biting and punching (this is usually when I’m very overwhelmed and stressed. Kinda like when a child had a tantrum; this is what I do)

Cracking knuckles

Drumming fingers

Jiggling my foot

Nail biting

As I was writing this list I realized how much I do dear lord.

Anyways

Stimming does not always equal neurodivergent or neurotypical, there’s a wide variety of stims and reasons for stimming.

If you are struggling with self diagnosing I would look at a variety of symptoms that autistic people have

And here’s a tip for you

If you’re realizing your autistic later in your life, it means you’re doing something called masking or camouflaging (I’ll explain this in my next post). In the meantime, do some research. I’ll try to help out as many of you as a can but doing your own research for your own symptoms really does help.

Stay safe

-Kay

[muchadoaboutbucky]

Red Carpet Man (oneshot)

Red carpets are definitely not Bucky’s thing… but this one’s a little more rewarding than usual.

PAIRING: Bucky x Native American!Reader

WARNINGS: anxiety (public situation), smut

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy​. Do not save or repost my work. 18+ only! Remember to support indigenous creators (I’m one of them) by boosting our work and buying directly from our stores and online shops!

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Bucky doesn’t know how you do it. Walking in front of the cameras, flashing lights, screaming fans and reporters—you do it like it’s nothing, but he can barely bring himself to force a smile and maybe stutter a few rambling sentences to the recording devices stuck in his face. 

He can already hear the bustle of people outside, car horns honking impatiently for people crowding the street to get out of the way, the beat of helicopter blades soaring overhead, news outlets desperate to be the first to catch glimpses of the famed Avengers...

He’s only been in Los Angeles for a day and he already doesn’t like it. 

You’re at the mirror, applying a favorite lipstick that always gets him riled up. He doesn’t know why he likes the color red on you so much, but this little splash of red against creamy olive skin goes perfectly with the floor-length dress, all ruby chiffon and satin, a split in the skirt of it that goes all the way up your thigh. Bucky eyes it hungrily as you turn away from the mirror and tuck your lipstick back into your little red clutch.

He’d rather stay here and mess around than go out and have to deal with… people.

Three sharp raps on your hotel door signal that it’s nearly time for you to go downstairs and join the others in the lobby. You barely acknowledge it, instead filtering through your little collection of necklaces. Bucky watches you compare pendants, assorted jewels and pearls, until you finally settle on a small silver chain with a diamond pendant. 

“Babe?”

He stands when you hold the necklace out for him. He takes the nimble clasp and lets you adjust your hair so he can clasp it around your neck. It’s too easy to take advantage of your position, and he presses a kiss to the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You smell real good, like jasmine and vanilla, and it makes his heart skip a beat as blood decides to try and rush elsewhere—

“Mmm, nice try, mister.” You turn in his arms, winding your arms around his shoulders. “We have to go downstairs.”

Bucky grumbles. “Let’s just stay here. Say we got food poisoning from that sushi Stark got last night.”

“Definitely not.” You shake your head and press a light kiss to his lips that leaves a little red print. “You need to get used to these press events, baby. You can only miss so many before people start wondering where the famous Sergeant James Barnes has gone off to.”

“Sergeant James Barnes,” Bucky clarifies, running his hands down the back of your dress, “is busy trying to make some love to his girlfriend and it’s nobody else’s business.”

“It will be someone’s business if we turn up late. Again.”

“What can I say? I don’t like to rush things.”

You giggle and rub away the lipstick left behind on his lower lip. “When this event is all over, I promise I will make it very worth your while.” When he tenses, refusing to let you out of his arms, your eyes fill with sympathy. He really doesn’t want to go out there. “I’m not gonna leave your side,” you murmur, “I’ll stay where you can see me, we won’t be out there longer than an hour. I promise.”

He groans, letting you pull out of his embrace. “I hate reporters.”

“You don’t have to comment on anything,” you explain, “just stick by me, pose for the cameras, and then we’ll be onto the Q&A. And trust me, if I know Tony, he’ll be doing most of the talking.”

***

Bucky has to fight to shield his eyes from the glare of the setting sun reflecting off the buildings across the street. You loop your arm through his, walking at his pace as you trail behind Steve and Tony. Nat’s close behind, your reinforcement to make sure Bucky doesn’t turn and bolt back inside.

The instant clamoring swells up in a deafening wave the second they step outside. The rapid clicking of camera shutters, shouts from reporters, screams from excited fans… oh, God, fans. Nobody here is gonna like him, not after everything he’d done as the Winter Soldier has officially been made public…

“Calm,” you whisper in his ear, “they know we’re together, baby. It’s okay.”

Bucky flinches as several shouts of his name resound from twenty feet away, mixes of “James” and “Sergeant” and “Barnes” that make his head spin. He ignores them, offering tight smiles and hanging back with his hands tucked in his pockets when you decide to approach the reporters. He watches closely, eyeing the way you smile and practice your little flirty routine as you answer the questions thrown in your face. 

A flash of silver and red catches his eye. He turns his head and spies a gaggle of people huddled beside one of the metal barricades, some with their phones out—the red had apparently come from a phone case. They’re cheering and waving, and he raises his hand in a curious wave before turning his gaze away. You’re finishing up with the reporters, and you blow a little kiss to one of the cameras before sauntering back to him, leaving Natasha to fend for herself. 

“Looks like those people over there really like you.” You let Bucky wind an arm around your waist. “Wanna go say hi?”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Baby, c’mon,” you plead, “it’s good to let the public get to know you. Besides, having fans is a good thing.”

He eyes the group suspiciously. They’re mostly women, some teenagers sprinkled in, cheeks flushed with excitement at the prospect of seeing him… not Tony, not Steve… him.

“You’re in their history books,” you murmur, “they get to meet a hero.”

Bucky swallows thickly. “How, uh… how do I talk to them?”

A little smirk crosses your face. “Remember the first time you flirted with me? Bring all that sweet charm right back up and they’ll love you forever.”

He blushes hard when you rub your hand up his arm. “Are you sure?”

“Well, you got me to stick around,” you reply, “pretty sure a couple of idolizing teens is way easier.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and glances over at where Tony’s scribbling frantically on posters and pictures held out by what look like hundreds of fans. “And what if they want me to sign stuff?”

You reach into your clutch and pull out a metallic gold Sharpie. “Do that cute loopy thing you sign all your things with.”

His shoulders roll back, and he adjusts the button of his jacket—subconsciously, most likely—and you rise up on the toes of your four-inch heels to nuzzle his cheek before giving him a stealthy pat on the ass and sending him on his way. Bucky swallows any nerves that creep up into his throat as each step takes him closer to the group of excited girls, who only bounce and whisper excitedly as he approaches. 

“Hi, ladies,” he says, trying to keep the nervous flutter in his voice under control. The chorus of “hi!” and “ohmygod!” that fills his ears in reply makes his cheeks burn, and he uncaps the pen, reaching out to sign a handmade poster that reads TEAM BARNES.

It’s a full five minutes of signing his initials, JBB, over and over again. He manages to engage better than he thought he would, even managing a few quick seconds of eye contact with several young women who bat their eyelashes and blush furiously as he delivers winks and lopsided smiles. The sudden appearance of an infant named after him literally takes the words out of his mouth, and with the mother’s permission he reaches over to let the curious baby grip onto his right index finger. It’s quite touching, considering he’s been wanting to talk with you about babies for a while.

By the time he’s done, you’ve moved a long ways down the red carpet to occupy yourself with a one-on-one camera interview. He feels surprisingly light and happy, and he waits patiently for you to take notice of his presence and invite him in. The reporter talking to you blushes, apparently excited to get him in as well.

“And we’re joined by Sergeant James Barnes,” she says, as the cameraman turns to bring her into the frame, “so, Sergeant, it’s been a while since you’ve made a public appearance like this. How are you finding it?”

Bucky’s brain struggles to find the right words quick enough. “Took some getting used to, I’m still, uh…” he shoots you a quick glance, as if to make sure what he’s sharing is okay. When you give him an encouraging smile, he continues. “I’m still adjusting to this kind of life. Fortunately, I got this one—” he loops his arm around your waist, fingers splaying out against your hip, “to help me out. She’s been real good to me.”

***

“Goddamn.”

Bucky slumps back against the mattress, tipping his head back as you drape yourself next to him, a sweaty thigh slung over his hips. You’re panting hard, muscles still tensing and trembling from the last near-hour of enthusiastic lovemaking. 

“I’ll say,” you reply, running a palm over his bare chest. “So, you had fun?”

He grins, looping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s always fun with you.”

“I meant the press.” You laugh and squirm a little closer. “You look like you had fun with those people.”

He smiles, cheeks flushing. “Someone named their baby after me.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” You press a kiss to the side of his neck. “I wish I’d seen that… imagining you with a baby does things to me.”

Bucky chuckles. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted one.”

“What, a baby?” You sigh and trail the tip of your finger over his lower lip. “I was thinking about it, but with what we do… are you sure you’d wanna have a baby?”

In response, he rolls on top of you, nudging your thighs apart to make room for him. “I want to,” he confesses in a whisper, lips brushing against yours. “Besides, even if it takes a while, it’s fun to try.”

Your arms wind around his neck, pulling him down into a deeper kiss. “I guess you’re thinking of trying right now?”

Bucky glances at the digital clock on the nightstand. “It’s only ten,” he says, “I’m willing to try all night.”

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[kyonetsu]

Okay: A Yugioh Fanfic

A/N: This is an old fan fic I wrote back in 2014 based on some real life experiences. I’ll probably be posting more of these later; hopefully no one minds! It’d be nice to get into a groove for writing these again, but for now I’m just gonna reread them and try not to cringe.

Warning: Depicts anxiety, depression, poor self talk

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Hints at Seto x Katsuya

I won't break. I can't let that happen—not now, not ever.

Seto Kaiba stared down at his shaking hand and quickly stifled the tremor with a sudden grip to the wrist. There were so many emotions reeling through his mind and body, and he didn't know how to deal with them. You have to beat it. You have to, he thought to himself as he stared hollowly at his laptop screen. Familiar voices wafted into his ears and the trembling in his hand threatened to return.

I just have to make it through the day. Then and only then can I deal with this stupid... So stupid. Why am I being like this? I'm so stupid.

The brunet leaned forward to hide his face behind the screen as his eyes tried to focus, eyelashes fluttering and eyebrows tensing.

It hurts. Why does it hurt so much?

More students filed into the classroom where Seto sat in the very back. His eyes darted to the bottom of the monitor, noting that the teacher would begin the lesson in only a few minutes. That meant...

"Oh, man. I thought I was gonna be late," a grumbling and somewhat out-of-breath Katsuya murmured as he took his seat, a seat right next to the teen CEO.

Please don't look over. I don't want anyone to see me like this. No one can see. Only me. I don't even want to see this. I don't want to be this person anymore. I just want to be okay. I just want to be okay.

"'Ey, Kaiba. Ya got a pencil I can borrow?"

Seto's eyes widened at the sudden query and his mouth went dry. He pretended to be reading something on his laptop to avoid answering, but of course that would not work on the persistent blond.

"What, ya got cotton in yer ears? Hello?"

Seto gathered all the strength he could muster and turned his head to glare at the teen to his right. "Does it look like I have a pencil, Mutt?" he whispered harshly in return and went back to looking at his screen.

Good. That was good. Good and convincing.

Katsuya rolled his eyes and continued. "Okay, do ya have a pen? I bet all you big wigs have fancy pens."

The brunet scowled. "Fine, if it'll shut you up..." He reached down to his briefcase and pulled out a ballpoint pen, tossing it over to his classmate. Just as the object entered the air, his hand began shaking again. Instantly he slammed it down onto the desk with his other hand and mentally prayed that the other boy hadn't noticed.

"Thanks, man," Katsuya replied with a smile. The smile slowly melted into a slight frown and a hand reached out for the CEO. "Kaiba, what's wrong? Are ya okay?"

That question... Why did you ask me that question?

Seto visibly stiffened as the question swirled around in his mind. His eyes were wide with fright because he knew what was going to happen. He looked over at Katsuya as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

The blond stared dumbly at the sight. "Are you..." Before he could finish his question, Seto roughly pulled his arm away and wiped at his face.

Why did he have to ask me that? Why? Can't he see that I'm not?

The taller teen froze as a new thought occurred to him.

Can everyone see that I'm not?

A strange fear filled Seto Kaiba's chest as he abruptly slammed his laptop closed and shoved it into his briefcase. I can't let them see me like this, his mind screamed. I can't.

Faces turned in confusion as the young businessman rushed out of the classroom, the door rattling as it closed from the sheer force of its opening. Hush filled the room; the only sound that remained was the tick of the clock on the wall.

Katsuya blinked at the classroom door. "What just happened?"

What's wrong with me? Why am I like this? How did this happen to me? Why me? I don't want to be like this. I just want to be okay.

Seto raked his hands through his hair as he slid down the wall of the bathroom stall, more tears spilling down his face. He lowered his arms to his lap and stared blankly at the metal partition. His right hand shook as both rage and terror coursed through his veins and his fingers involuntarily curled to form a fist over and over again.

Why won't it stop? Why won't it go away? Please make it go away. I just want to be okay. Please.

"Kaiba? Kaiba, are ya in here?" Katsuya's concerned voice echoed through the men's restroom. He noticed that the very end stall door was closed and he could see what looked like someone sitting on the floor. The blond rushed over to the metal door, crouching down in front of it. "Kaiba, is that you?"

"Go away," Seto said roughly, his voice cracking and hoarse. "J-just leave me alone."

Katsuya knitted his brow, placing his hand on the stall door. "C'mon, ya know I can't do that," he replied. "Now how about ya unlock this thing and let me help ya?"

"No! No, just go!" the older boy shouted, his heart thumping louder in his chest than ever before.

Please, just go. Please. I can't let anyone see me like this—especially not you.

"Fine, then I guess I'll just hafta force my way in."

Seto's eyebrows lowered as he took in the other boy's statement. "What..?" His eyes darted to a sudden mop of golden hair inching in from underneath the stall door. "No! Get out of here, Jonouchi! Please, just go!"

"Nothin' doin'," Katsuya replied as he slowly pulled himself fully into the stall and sat up. His heart stopped as he took in his classmate's appearance. He was sitting with his knees up to his chest and his eyes were wide with fear. Even in the poorly lit stall, the blond could see the ruddy color blotched across Seto's face. He had been crying. "Kaiba..."

"N-n-no, stay back!" the young CEO pleaded, his hand shooting out as if to keep the other boy from approaching further.

"Kaiba, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help," Katsuya reasoned and tried to get closer. "Just let me help ya."

The brunet quickly got to his feet and backed into the corner of the stall, his hand still outstretched. "You can't. You've done enough."

"What? What're ya talkin' about?" the younger teen asked, standing up as well. "What've I done?"

"Everything," Seto practically growled. "You... You did this to me. This is your fault! Your fault!" In one swift motion, he picked up his briefcase and hurled it across the stall, barely missing Katsuya's head. "Y-you... You did this..." he murmured as he slid down the wall once more, staring listlessly at the cowering boy across from him. "It was you. It's always been you."

Kaiba stared at the laptop screen as he typed out his thoughts. One of his therapists had mentioned stream of consciousness writing to help him sort out his feelings, and with much trepidation, he decided to try it. Words flew from his fingers and tears fell from his eyes as the thoughts he unleashed took hold of his heart.

"I gravitate toward him and I'm obsessed. He's there in my mind when I don't want him to be. I don't want him to get the wrong impression of me because that would be unfortunate. I want him to be my friend and I can't help flirting because he's so handsome. He's very manly and he's got this face that I'm drawn to. I can't quite put into words what it is but my eyes go to him. I think that he likes me and that's unfortunate, too. I don't want him to like me in any way more than friends but the idea of someone showing that interest in me is kind of invigorating. I'm still attractive. Why do I feel so ugly sometimes? I can't let anyone see me like this. I'm so ugly. My insides are rotting with these ugly thoughts. I don't want to die. I just want this to go away. I don't want to freak out anymore. I don't want to push anyone away anymore. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to be happy. It's so scary out there and in here. Why doesn't anyone seem to understand? I just want to be okay. I just want to be okay. Why can't I be okay?"

Seto stared at his words with a newly found panic.

I'm not okay.